"Did you say "no, this can't happen to me,"
And did you rush to the phone to call
Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind
Saying maybe you didn't know him at all
You didn't know him at all, oh, you didn't know"
Jeff Buckley, Last Goodbye
He said it.
This was very peculiar, as when Daphne had first heard the news, she had been terrified of Dr. Crane trying to woo her immediately. She had sat alone in her room for quite some time, being very afraid.
I will not love Dr. Crane out of pity, she had repeated to herself over and over, until the night swallowed her up and she had fallen asleep. And then she had nightmares that her mantra had not worked, and she and Dr. Crane had been involved. Then they had a horrible argument and Daphne no longer felt comfortable around any members of the Crane family...
She awoke from those dreams in a trembly sort of fright, terrified that something would happen and she'd never be able to see her family-away-from-family ever again... She felt, on those nights, as openly horrified as Dr. Crane felt when he dreamt she had married some appalingly muscular brute, and the only thing he could do about the whole thing was sit at the bar and drown himself with brandy and tears.
But of course, she didn't know about that.
Daphne watched Dr. Crane fall to the floor with wide eyes, all memories and dreams and visions of him replaying over in her mind until she was sure she wouldn't be able to stand the overload. She stood completely still, sure of what was going on and yet not quite positive. I will not love him out of sympathy. I will not love him out of sympathy. I will not love him out of sympathy...
The thing she wasn't realizing, although she didn't know it, was that she didn't love him out of sympathy. She loved him because he was kind, and thoughtful, and had always been willing to listen to her. And for some reason, she didn't care if he had an ulterior motive. He wanted to spend time with her, at least. Which is more than she could say for several other people she had been acquainted with...
She approached him quickly, kneeling down by his head. Oh, Dr. Crane, she thought, sighing.
He opened his eyes, and there was a very long pause.
"God," he whispered.
"Dr. Crane?" Daphne said, looking down into his slightly dilated eyes. "You took quite a fall... Are you alright?"
Another pause, although this one was much longer.
"No, I don't exactly think I... er... What were we talking about?" He looked at her innocently, and blinked.
Oh my God. "Dr. Crane, I think you might need to go to the emergency room."
He chuckled. "First, you might want to tell me where the hell I am. It looks suspiciously like the floor of my house, but I don't know what you'd be doing there. Here. Wherever... You haven't got an aspirin, have you?"
Her eyes widened. "Um... No, I haven't. But get up, please. We need to get you to the hospital..."
She grabbed his arm, and began helping him stand, all the while counting off the immediate signs of a concussion... One of which was lack of coordination. He was leaning on her from the second they got out of the door and into the elevator, his arms slung around her shoulders as though he were one of her drunk brothers. She tried not to notice his warm breath on her face, but that was rather hard... His lips slightly seperated and his eyes halfway closed.
"Daphne," he said, a few floors before ground level.
"...Yes, Dr. Crane?"
"You smell wonderful."
The ER waiting room was relatively empty, which was something that Daphne had rarely seen before. Usually it was stocked with injured people and their worried families. Usually she could stop to talk to other people, commenting on the weather or the Seahawks. And now... Now, for some strange reason, it was just her and Dr. Crane.
She looked over at him, rubbing his head and his eyes, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. She wished she had a comb. She could fix him up to look appropriately neat and tidy... She knew he'd die if he realized he was out in public looking like some sort of sleep-deprived heathen.
"Damn this headache," he breathed.
She smiled. It was exactly what she had been expecting him to say.
A nurse entered, looking around the nearly vacant room until she spotted its two occupants. "Niles Crane?" she said. She ended up having to help Daphne carry Dr. Crane into the examining room.
There was another long wait before the doctor even entered the examining room. Dr. Crane was now lying on the table, the paper beneath him crunching loudly each time he moved. Daphne was sitting next to him, patting his hand and trying to make small talk. That was hard, as he paused for a very long time before answering anything, and he seemed to be falling victim to a relatively short attention span. And every once in a while, he seemed to be on an incredibly wild emotional rollercoaster...
He was crying when the doctor finally came in.
Ten minutes later, Daphne and Dr. Crane walked -- or, in Dr. Crane's case, staggered -- out to the car with a prescription for painkillers and an appointment for concussion-related physical therapy. She looked at him from the drivers seat of her car, his eyes still unfocused and frustration written on his face.
There were times she was glad that the elder Dr. Crane and his father weren't at home.