Frasier was not particularly surprised to hear Sam's voice on the other end of the line at 3 a.m. He was no stranger to all night ruminations on the subject of Diane Chambers, and knew the potential effect the pile of correspondence could inspire, even if he didn't know the content. Frasier had just doused his lights when the phone rang, and was wide awake when he answered.
"Hello, Sam."
"How'd you know…"
"Sam, it's me," he replied matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, I guess you'd be the one to understand. Listen, I just read the letters you dropped off…"
"And you're upset."
"No… well, yeah, I guess, but really, I just need to talk to Diane."
Frasier froze. He hadn't exactly thought through what might happen after Sam read Diane's letters, but suddenly the reality of what he'd set in motion struck, and he was momentarily flustered.
"Do you think that's wise?" Frasier queried.
A small part of him was worried about his indiscretion in acquiring and sharing the letters, but the bigger part was afraid for his friend. He knew the danger of going back to the Chambers well after it had run dry. The thirst she inspired could drive a man mad.
"Maybe not, but reading all this made me realize there's a lot left to be said between the two of us. At least… I've got some things I wanna say. I think I'll feel better once I do. I certainly couldn't feel worse."
"Sam, old chum, let me tell you from personal experience, you can feel worse. If there's nothing else I've learned from my time with Diane Chambers, it's that even rock bottom has a trap door in it."
Sam laughed in spite of himself.
"Yeah, she does have a way of digging in, doesn't she? I'm sorry man, I don't mean to laugh. There's nothing funny about any of this really, but if I didn't laugh I'd…"
"I know, Sam. I know," Frasier interjected ruefully, "I've done my share of that as well."
They sat in silence for a moment, neither wanting to speak with a lump in his throat. The very name Diane Chambers could make them well up if they weren't very careful, and time did nothing to diminish her effect. For all their myriad differences, Frasier and Sam shared a deep and abiding pain that only they two could fully grasp, albeit for different reasons: Sam for true love lost and Frasier for true love unrequited. Certainly none of their friends understood their anguish. Both of them caught endless hell from the gang at Cheers for giving Diane a second thought, but they both knew better. She was unforgettable- the kind of woman you wanted to protect and cherish and worship even as she extracted your heart with a grapefruit spoon, because despite all of her flaws and failings, you knew she never ever intended to hurt you. It was just her way. The pain was the price of loving and being loved by her. What no one else understood was that it was worth the cost.
Sam swallowed hard and recovered his voice.
"S-so can you help me? I haven't spoken to Diane in years, and I've got no idea where she might be these days."
Frasier knew where she was. At least he knew where she was last Christmas when he received his annual card from her- a form holiday greeting sent out by her assistant, it offered no personal information save for a return address, but delivered a swift sucker punch to his heart each year it arrived in his mailbox. He winced at the memory. For reasons he could not explain, he always updated her contact information in his address book even though he had no intention of getting in touch, lest he get pulled down that rabbit hole again.
"Wouldn't a phone call suffice?"
"No… no… I think this is an in-person kind of conversation."
"Perhaps you're right… perhaps you're right."
Knowing it was futile to argue the point, he gave Sam Diane's address and his heartfelt best wishes.
"I pray that you find some peace after all this time. You deserve it, Sam. Give Diane my lo—my regards."
Sam couldn't help but smile at Frasier's slip of the tongue. What was it Diane would call it? Freudian? Sam appreciated the irony of it all. More than that, he appreciated what Frasier was feeling.
"I will. And hey, Frasier… thanks."
"It was nothing, Sam."
"No, not for the address or even the letters… thank you… for… for what you did for her. For what you did for me."
Frasier was overcome by a flood of emotions for Sam, for Diane, and for himself. For so long he'd considered his career somewhat of a joke. He'd never reached the heights that were expected of him, and of late, he'd been in yet another professional death spiral. His personal life was nothing to write home about either, not that it ever was, really, trebling his misery, but in that moment, those words from Sam were a revelation. He really did make a difference. His life counted for something. His eyes filled with tears and he trembled in awe at this new consciousness.
"Thank you, Sam," he whispered, his voice finally breaking, "Thank you."