She could feel her heart racing as she turned to go back inside and she was grateful that the balcony door had been recently oiled. She certainly didn't want anyone to hear her come in. She crept into the living room and made her way to her room. Quickly she changed her clothes, choosing a blue t-shirt; one that fit snugly against her body with a plunging V-neck that revealed a hint of cleavage (another shirt that she normally avoided wearing in the presence of Martin or Frasier) and a pair of slim fitting jeans.
And then she began the familiar process of packing her overnight bag. It was, of course, already packed, but she rummaged through it, making certain that she had everything. Oh yes, she would need a night shirt. Her eyes moved to the revealing pink nightshirt that she'd just tossed onto the bed and before she could change her mind, she grabbed it and stuffed it inside, along with a clean t-shirt; this one in a bright shade of red with a decidedly more relaxed fit.
In the bathroom, she gathered the essentials; toiletries and the small prescription bottle. It was funny how the absence of something so small had made such a huge, yet silent impact on her life. She smiled, realizing that she would never forget to pack it again. The memory would always be there, reminding her.
But when she moved to close the door, the items shifted, revealing the object that she'd tucked far back into the top drawer of her bathroom counter. The familiar pink and blue box beckoned her to look at it, as though taunting her to the fact that she would most likely never need it. She glanced at it only for a second before hastily returning it to its place, hoping never to think of it again.
She felt a wave of dizziness come over her and she grabbed onto the counter and closed her eyes, willing the feeling to pass. It did, eventually, but she knew that it would return. And there was only one solution. She had to get out of the condo. She needed to clear her mind (and her soul) of such thoughts, ones that she didn't dare think. When her bag was fully packed, she flipped off the bathroom light and took one last glance around her room. She'd be back soon, perhaps as early as a few hours when no one would even notice her absence. But just in case…
She went to the kitchen and grabbed a notepad, emblazoned with the familiar logo of the nearby Hilton Hotel. How it ended up in Frasier's kitchen was a mystery, for he was a man who wouldn't dare set foot in a Hilton Hotel. They were "beneath him", he'd said. But she had stayed there when she'd first come to America, trying to get settled into a job and found them quite nice. Lavish, actually. Much nicer than anything she'd been accustomed to in Manchester. But then again, she supposed that Frasier would hardly find Manchester to his liking.
A pen in hand, she wrote a quick note. A lie really, but what they didn't know certainly wouldn't hurt them. All that really mattered is that they were assured that she was safe. And her note would confirm that fact.
Dr. Crane and Mr. Crane…
I'm writing this note in the middle of the night to let you know that I'll be gone for a while. Please don't worry about me. You see, I got a call from a friend and, well… I'm needed there. I promise to be back as soon as I can, perhaps as early as tomorrow morning. But as I said, please don't worry about me. I'll be just fine. I don't have a number where you can call me so I'll call you as soon as I can.
Sincerely,
Daphne.
As she wrote the words, she cringed at how wrong they felt and the lie within them. But it was the only way. She couldn't tell them the truth. Not this time. She could barely tell herself.
How could she possibly explain that she was leaving in the middle of the night to see Dr. Crane's youngest son and Frasier's younger brother, a man she'd just seen the night before and that it was his care and concern that had her fleeing back to his home, just to see him again? She couldn't stay at home; not when thoughts of Niles filled every part of her mind... and her body. Sherry was long gone, a fact that still bothered her somewhat, for she knew deep down that she was to blame for that. But what she was feeling wasn't about Sherry. It was about wanting to be with someone so desperately that she could hardly it was that need; that determination that had her rushing out of the condo and into the elevator, her heart making her feel things that she had no right to feel.