"I still want you by my side
Just to help me dry the tears that I've cried..."
Rod Stewart, The First Cut is the Deepest
It was a silly question, in his defense. How did anyone's hair smell? What would make it any easier for him to describe hers? ...Maybe because he'd spent six years learning? Maybe because he seemed to know everything about her?
Other men Daphne had dated... men that were no longer apart of her life had always commented that she smelled nice. They never elaborated. Just letting her know... Maybe Dr. Crane -- the only man to stay in her life for such a long time besides both of their fathers and brothers -- had managed to work it out.
He sighed, looking thoughtful. "Daphne's hair," he said quietly. He inhaled deeply through his nose, as though she were right in front of him, sighed again, and then spoke: "Most commonly," he began, still very quiet. "Your hair smells like peach blossoms, lavender and vanilla..."
She listened, very carefully, as he explained to her exactly how she smelled for certain events. On First Dates she was strawberries; when Out With Friends she was a combination of rosebuds and Johnson & Johnson baby powder; Special Occasions With Family brought about cloves and cinnamon; and Special Occasions were cherry bark and almonds... But the thing each scent had in common was the familiar lace of Calvin Klein's perfume Obsession.
God, he had her down to a science... Everything about her carefully explained and situated so that she made absolute and perfect sense. She could see it in her head -- Dr. Crane walking into a large filing room and reading through stacks upon stacks of notes all about her...
And somehow, she didn't mind.
He concluded his informed breakdown of The Way Daphne Smells, his scholarly and experienced tone giving Daphne a very good idea of what he was like back at school. She vaguely wondered how it would have been to meet him back then. To see a young, slightly more neurotic Niles Crane in a heated discussion -- the subject being something terribly controversial in the psychiatric world.
He would be leaning on the table, blonde hair falling out of place, his pinstriped shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his tasteful necktie hanging loosely over his shoulders. Whoever was sitting at the end of that table would obviously be intimidated -- you weren't to get into an argument with a person as stubborn (and ninety-percent-correct) as Niles Crane...
"Daphne?"
She looked up, a bit startled to find Dr. Crane sitting right next to her and looking very concerned. His eyes... his very wide, very blue, staggeringly lovely eyes were upon her, staring her down... His fingers were lightly brushing her shoulder.
"Daphne, are you alright?"
No, Dr. Crane. I'm afraid that you're making me very nervous, with your bloody eyes and your bloody hands... "Yes," she lied, feeling incredibly stupid. "I... I guess I lost my train of thought..."
He looked down at the floor and said "I know exactly what you mean,"
Daphne blinked, trying to get the vision of school-age Dr. Crane out of her head. It didn't leave. It merely joined in with all her memories of her employer's brother, taking up space in her head and possibly interfering with any dreams she might have in the near future.
No. Dreams she wouldn't be having in the near future. She would not be dreaming about Dr. Crane -- not only was it improper, but strange and ... and she had a feeling she might enjoy seeing those eyes in her sleep. But of course, that wasn't going to happen, because she wasn't going to be dreaming about him. Ever.
Who was she kidding? She was inches away from dreaming of him now.
He stood up, brushing off his trousers and looking down at her. "Are you sure there's nothing else I can answer for you?"
No, Dr. Crane. I need to know why you had to pick me, of all people, to fall in love with. I need to know why your eyes have to be so bloody blue. I need to know why...
"Yes, I'm sure. And I really appreciate that you were willing to let me in at such a late hour,"
"For you, Daphne, no hour is too unseemly -- nor is any day too busy."
Yes, I know.
She saw the look in those eyes as she stood and bid him goodbye -- his desperate petition for her to stay with him for just a moment longer, the silent voice of his need for her. And as much as it touched her, she didn't allow herself to stay. Perhaps because she was afraid of what would happen.
...Perhaps because she was afraid of what wouldn't.
Nonetheless, Daphne left the Shangri-La apartment complex with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, and a dull ache under her ribs. She realized why he had always seemed to look so forlorn.
Every time she left him his poor heart broke.