Author's note: This is my first ever fanfic!!! Please review and enjoy!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Frasier or any characters on it.

Chapter 1

Frasier was sitting in his booth, just finishing up the show for that day.

"Well, you know, Miranda, sometimes these feelings of inadequacy and inferiority can come from past experiences that haven't been dealt with. If you'll stay on the line, my producer Roz will give you the phone number of a therapist who may be able to help you... Well, that's all the time we have, Seattle. Good day and good mental health." Frasier pushed the button to end his show and took off his earphones. As he set them down on the desk, Roz came through the door, smiling. "Great show, Frasier."

Frasier smiled and stood up. "Thanks, Roz. And now… Niles and I have two tickets to tonight's opera. La Traviata. I've been looking forward to tonight for a long time. What are you up to tonight, Roz?"

"Tonight's Roger and my six month anniversary!" She prodded Frasier teasingly with the edge of the folder she was holding. "Come on, I told you that!"

"Oh, of course, Roz. How thoughtless of me to forget. Congratulations- I'm so happy for you two." Frasier took both Roz's hands in his.

Roz couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. "Oh, I know, Frasier!" She laughed the deep, hearty laugh that Frasier had been hearing so often those days. Ever since Roz and Roger had begun dating seriously, she had changed so much. Frasier couldn't put his finger on exactly what the change was; it's not as though he had noticed any unhappiness in Roz before she met Roger, but now it was as if whatever had been lacking was filled up. She seemed content.

As he congratulated Roz, Frasier forced himself not to think about his own love-life. He hadn't been in a serious relationship for over a year, and his last date had been disastrous- his companion had left before dinner was even over.

Ten minutes later, Frasier was driving home in his BMW. The September rain drummed on the top of the car and the windshield wipers fought to keep up with the steady pouring of water on the glass. As always when he was driving home, thoughts that he had neglected to think about during the day washed over him. Contrary to what a lot of people thought, Frasier did not have all the answers; because he was always helping other people with their problems, his own often seemed to take a backburner.

Where is my life going? Will I ever find the right person, he wondered.

The woman he went out with the previous Saturday surely hadn't fit that description. Frasier had asked her out on a whim. She was a customer at Café Nervosa whom Frasier had seen there almost every day. She was attractive and seemed friendly. They had shared a few smiles over their coffee cups. So he had gathered up his courage and asked her to dinner.

Frasier had surprised her as to which restaurant they were going to. But no sooner had they walked into Le Cigar Valon then his date, Janis, had looked around and said "Oh, God. This isn't one of those posh, pretentious French places, is it?"

Frasier had been taken completely off guard.

"Well, uh," he stuttered. "Actually, this is one of my favourite restaurants. But, if you'd rather go someplace else, just let me know. We don't have to stay here." Although Frasier tried to maintain a neutral expression, he couldn't completely hide his anger.

Janis, looking around at the restaurant, said "No, this will be fine," in a voice that clearly indicated that it wouldn't be.

From that moment on, there had been a tension between them that put a damper on the evening. Frasier tried to be diplomatic; he told himself that he should still give this woman a chance and that he shouldn't get caught up on little details.

However, as the evening progressed, the situation became more and more hopeless. Over a bottle of wine and appetizers, Frasier discovered that Janis had three cats, a fact which was further confirmed by Frasier beginning to sneeze and his eyes watering. She also loved karaoke and drove a school bus for a living. But Frasier, always fair, was still hanging on to a shred of hope and wasn't going to give up just yet.

A comment over main course, however, put the last straw down. Frasier had just taken a mouthful of duck when she dropped the bomb that she thought psychiatrists and psychologists were "a bunch of quacks." Then she quickly covered her mouth and said "Oops!" Frasier screwed up his mouth and struggled to maintain calm. But his conscience wouldn't have it.

"This," he roared, "is too much!" He threw his fork down on the table. "First you insult my taste in food. Then you insult my profession! You… you have absolutely no consideration for others! Oh, and I'm sorry, but we have absolutely nothing in common!" He was breathing quickly, his face red.

"Well," said Janis haughtily. She stood up quickly and walked out of the restaurant, ignoring the napkin that she had dropped on the floor.

Frasier was fuming. As he fumbled for his credit card, twenty fellow diners around him cleared their throats awkwardly and turned back to their dinner companions.

Frasier shook his head as he reflected on that date. Is that the way all my dates will go, he thought. And then, the question that he dreaded fought its way into his head as always. Was I wrong to divorce Lilith? No, no, no. He argued with himself as he thumped his hand against the steering wheel. Don't let yourself think of that again!

The rain was falling steadily as he pulled into his building's parking garage. He parked the car and got out into the hot air of the garage. Tonight was the opera, and he was determined to enjoy himself. He glanced at his watch- Niles was due to arrive soon.

He walked into his apartment to the loud blaring of the TV. His father, Martin Crane, was sitting in his yellow-orange recliner, leaning forward and staring intently at the screen, one hand clutching the armrest and the other halfway into a bag of pretzels. Eddie, Martin's Jack Russell Terrier, jumped guiltily off the sofa at the sound of the doorknob.

"Hi Dad," said Frasier as he put his keys down on the table by the door. Martin looked up briefly, said "Oh, hi Frasier," and turned his eyes back to the TV. Frasier smiled, shaking his head. He went over to the phone to check his messages. Only one- his set of Italian pans had finally come in at the cooking store. His mood lifted considerably with this piece of news. And after all, he said to himself, there will be other women. Don't despair, Frasier.

As if reading his thoughts, Eddie barked loudly from his spot next to Martin's chair. He tilted his head as he gazed unwaveringly at Frasier. Frasier jumped at the bark, and glanced, annoyed, at the dog.

Niles arrived a few minutes later, dressed impeccably in an Armani suit. "Well, Frasier, have I got news for you," he began. "Oh, by the way, did you get your opera glasses back from Mitzi Longwood? Because it would be a serious injustice to see La Traviata without them."

"Yes, without a doubt! Luckily she returned them to me last week." Frasier picked up his opera glasses from the table behind the sofa. "Are you ready to go?"

"Sì, sì," Niles replied, and walked through the door singing opera.

"Hey, keep it down over there!" Martin frowned at them from the recliner.

"Bye to you to, Dad," Frasier said sarcastically as the door closed behind him.