I've been writing a lot of Frasier fan fic lately, and I know I have to stop for a while and concentrate on other this. However, this idea came into my head as I read some of the Niles and Daphne fics on here, as well as starting to rewatch the series and seeing Niles's love of Daphne unfold.
I have been wondering for a while what Niles was feeling and doing after Daphne had left him on the balcony the night before the wedding.
Alone on the balcony, Niles tried to control his reeling emotions as they stormed through his mind—or, more accurately, his soul. He could not decide exactly how he was feeling, for there was a mix of regret, grief, and hurt.
Niles knew that Daphne had not hurt him intentionally. He had asked her the question, and she had been honest with him, a quality he admired and wanted in people her was close to. Yet—that kiss, the kiss that Daphne had initiated, had filled Niles with new hope and almost certainty that she would choose him. Foolishly, he'd thought that the kiss was Daphne's answer. Then she had spoken the words that had shattered him.
"I think you can call me Niles now," he had breathed, and she leaned in for another kiss, but pulled away all too abruptly.
"No, I don't think I can…"
Niles thought she was speaking of calling him by his first name instead of 'Dr. Crane'. She likely meant it would be difficult to get used to, for he'd been 'Dr. Crane' to her for more than six years.
But what Daphne had said next made him feel as if he had turned to ice, numb, unfeeling, disbelieving.
"I can't do this. Donny is a good man…I made a promise to him. And Mel…you made more than a promise to her. And what if it didn't work out? We've never even been on a date together!"
Frantic to convince Daphne to rethink her words, Niles spoke once more, desperately.
"Take it from someone who knows. You don't want to spend your life thinking about a chance you didn't take."
"Goodnight, Dr. Crane."
And the last shred of hope burned into ashes at her words, spoken so decisively.
The scent of orange blossoms, which had seemed so beautiful when he and Daphne had been contemplating a future together, seemed to insult him. This night couldn't continue to be this beautiful when his heart was in pieces. Irrationally he thought the weather should fit his mood—cold, stormy, miserable.
He still had so much to think about, but Mel would no doubt be waiting for him. Reluctantly he slipped out of Frasier's room, relieved that nobody he knew was around—especially Frasier. His brother's inevitable sympathy would break Niles further and he was already feeling badly enough—and he couldn't go back to Mel with evidence that he had been crying. How could he explain?
"Honey, where have you been?" Mel asked sharply when Niles returned.
"I-I was just talking to Frasier," he said, truthfully enough. "We were talking about the wedding tomorrow. Daphne is like family to us."
"You might have said something," Mel returned acidly, as if Niles had been out all night instead of a couple of hours.
"I'm sorry…darling," Niles said, beginning his charade as the loving husband.
"Are you coming to bed?" Mel asked, with more than a hint of suggestion. How her temperament changed when she wanted something."
Niles shuddered inwardly. Now that he admitted to himself he didn't love Mel, that he had married her to convince himself he was over Daphne, the thought of being intimate with Mel seemed impossible.
But he had to play along, and he must have been convincing enough, for she seemed content, falling into a comfortable sleep moments afterward.
In the darkness, Niles did not sleep, for his mind went back to that kiss, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. It was tinged with bitterness and regret, for it was a hint of what he could have had if only he'd told Daphne of his feelings before it had gotten so complicated. There had been so many chances after he was free from Maris.
Was it wrong to relive that moment in his head, to fantasize about it when Daphne was as good as someone else's wife? Yet he couldn't control it. For just a few beautiful moments, he had been Daphne's and she had been his. They had melded together, so close that for the first time he noticed the soft scent of her skin—and of course, there was the familiar scent of her hair. How warm she had been, how soft and touchable. And those lips…those sweet lips…their kiss four years ago at the Snow Ball had been spontaneous and pleasing, but it had been nothing like this.
This time, on the balcony, the kiss had been meaningful, tender, and hopeful. It had been full of emotions they'd hidden from each other for so long, but in the end…
As bitter as remembering might be, Niles ultimately did not want to forget it, those few stolen moments when it had been just him and Daphne. He would relive it at will—though he prayed he would not subconsciously indicate what he was dreaming when he slept beside Mel.
For this was all he had left of Daphne, the woman who had stolen—and still possessed—his heart for seven years.