When morning came, she was curled in the arm chair by the window, her legs tucked beneath her. Despite the cold weather outside, she was warmed inside and out by Niles' blue sweater. She had succumbed.
Dr. Niles Crane. A few months ago, she could not have imagined feeling so differently about someone whom she had known for so long. A man, who in the course of so many years, had become her best friend. It was as ridiculous as the thought that she could fall in love with Frasier or Martin... or even Eddie. She ran her hand lightly over the sweater, taking in its softness. Ridiculous or not, this man had taken possession of her heart. No, not taken; for he had never asked. But she'd given it to him just the same.
Dr. Niles Crane. Mr. Crane's thoughtful youngest son. Donny's client. Mel's husband. Daphne shuddered at the harsh reminder; Mel's husband.
Oh God...
Sooner or later she'd had to face up to what had almost happened last night. To face up to what she had almost done. When had things gone so horribly wrong? A jigsaw puzzle... Nothing could be more innocent. Just she and her best friend, sitting side by side, as comfortable with one another as they had been before... Before Mel. Before Donny. And before his brother spilled Niles' secret, thus changing Daphne's life forever.
Niles had kissed her a few times... on the lips-and those kisses were always in friendship, even deceit. But she never gave much thought to how soft and warm his lips felt on hers. Now she noticed even more about him. That his arms, when he hugged her, provided more comfort and security than seemed possible from someone so slenderly compact.
The sweater had fallen from her shoulders and she shivered, pulling it back on. She shouldn't be thinking about his arms or his lips or any other part of him. He was married and as much as it hurt,she had to remember that. To forget, even for a moment, could prove disastrous. He did not love her, at least not in the romantic sense. He loved Mel.
The one time she faltered, allowing herself to believe that he loved her in a different way, it had serious consequences. He'd struggled for breath; his eyes glassy and terrified, frightening her beyond belief. Even after the scare had passed, her hand remained on his chest, anxious and in need of his breath. She simply could not let go.
And then he startled her even more. Why don't you like Mel? He had asked, the question adding to her guilt. She should have known that his answer to her request that followed... Tell me about her... would sting. Of course he'd be thinking about his wife; had been thinking about his wife since before he arrived at the Elliott Bay Towers. And she deserved the sting, listening to him list all things wonderful about his wife. He went on and on, each compliment unknowingly stinging her further. She had lied to him, had lied to the man she loved. And when he was finished with his praise of the former Mel Karnofsky... Now Mrs. Niles Crane... She asked the question that would hurt her most of all;
"Are you happy?"
"I'm happier than I've ever been." Was his reply. "I am in love."
And then she felt compelled to answer; to say the words that a best friend should say. I hope that your happiness will last forever. Their hands joined and they made a spark. A spark that nearly led to something beautiful. Something wonderful, something completely forbidden.
He had looked at her with such tenderness that she felt the pull of his gaze as he moved closer and closer. It was like a dream about to come true. But the sudden, silent reminder that she needed to take her thyroid pills shattered the dream like a fallen crystal vase.
Like a child, a coward, she'd returned to her room and began to sob, only to find that an angel in the form of her best friend had silently pleaded with her to talk to him. And she wanted to. God, how she wanted to. There were so many things that she wanted to say. So many things that she needed to say. But instead she said nothing.
After staring at the note and the glass of water for what seemed like hours, she finally used water from the faucet to wash down her pills and tried, with much less success, to wash away the tears that were falling faster than she thought possible.
She got as far as undressing, but had no strength left to change into her nightgown. She made her way to the bed and climbed in, holding a pillow to her face as she dampened it with her tears. Her sobs were muffled and she allowed her grief to run its course.
Sometime in the night, she rose from the bed and went to the dresser, opening it to reveal the sweater. And without hesitation she pulled it on, her numb mind knowing that it would bring her comfort. And then she sat in the chair by the window to wait for morning to come.