"You can't resist her
She's in your bones
She is your marrow
And your ride home
You can't avoid her
She's in the air
In between molecules
Of Oxygen and Carbon dioxide"
Weezer, Only in Dreams
It had been decided that Niles would not be able to stay with his family. Although Frasier was at work -- and several other places -- during the day, Dad was home, and watched all those blasted sports shows from dawn until dusk. Niles, in his condition, couldn't handle the noise and the confused shouts of the gruff football players coming from the television.
At first, this had posed a problem: There was a need for someone to make sure the younger Dr. Crane took his medicine, remembered to get to his daily physical therapy, didn't stand up and fall victim to a dizzy spell... Of course, Frasier was at work all day, and Dad couldn't possibly get over to Niles's. That left one person, and that one person volunteered much before anyone else realized there would be a problem:
"I could go look after Dr. Crane," Daphne had said, fully enthusiastic. "I can leave him for a while each day so that Mr. Crane can still get his excersizes done, and when he's healed I'll move right back over here." Sweet, caring, beautifully attentive Daphne. Always volunteering, assisting...
And that had been that.
Quite frankly, Niles would have been openly giddy were it not for the near-constant nausea that plagued him. And coupling that with his dastardly headache... It was no way to inspire happiness. But he felt as light as air when he watched her carry a duffel bag, pillow, and blanket into his house. Cheerfully glancing about and brushing her hair from her face. Even the dreary surroundings of his Shangri-La apartment were brightened by Daphne Moon's exquisite beauty.
"Well," she said. "Where should I put my things?"
He hadn't thought of that. The obvious choice, of course, was to give her full reign of the bathroom, and let her sleep in the bed. Firstly, because she was a lady. Secondly, because she was Daphne, and deserved the best anyone could give her. And thirdly, because Niles would rest easier with the knowledge that she had once been to the place where he always dreamed of her... But she might find that a bit improper, maybe even shocking. She might just insist that he return to the majority of the Crane family's residence, and put up with the sports and the screaming fans and Frasier's unbelievably self-absorbed ways...
"You can put your clothes in the bathroom," he said, his eye twitching. "And that closet over there houses the bed..."
She raised an eyebrow, looking over at the hideous closet doors. "Dr. Crane..." she said, "I don't think I could sleep knowing you were confined to the sofa,"
"Confined? Heavens, no!" he said. "If I feel too crowded, I can always shift camp to... the floor,"
Daphne pressed her lips together, seriously considering the situation. "Have you ever slept on the floor?" she asked, her tone skeptical. "You don't strike me as the type..."
"Well... Yes, I have. And not only have I slept there, but I lived there... once." Although she didn't know it, Niles was referring to the time he heard his mother discussing the possibility that Shakespeare's plays had been written by Francis Bacon. And the floor had been the area under the piano.
"If you say so, Dr. Crane..."
So she took the bed. However, the two of them weren't sure if that turned out to be a positive or a negative thing. Daphne was, for the most part, very comfortable with sleeping in the bed. It wasn't particularly lovely, but it was made better by the fact that Dr. Crane was willing to give up his own comfort. If she went home to visit, she was made to stay with Billy, and they alternated between the bed and the ancient pink armchair...
But on the downside, she wasn't sure Dr. Crane could sleep. She could hear him muttering things under his breath, tossing and turning, counting sheep...
Niles, meanwhile, was having trouble sleeping because of Daphne. She was barely six -- possibly seven -- feet away from him. Sleeping. In his bed. And he was dangerously close to having another panic attack... he could feel his lungs preparing themselves for the onslaught of oxygen... He could hear her breathing. Soft and level. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale... She rolled over, and in the small amount of light that came in through the window, he could see her face from the corner of his eye.
Where the hell is a paper bag when you really need one?
She opened her eyes, staring right at him. "Dr. Crane," she whispered.
"Hmm?" Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I'm going to die...
"Are you having trouble sleeping?" She sat up, the stream of light falling across her eyes and nothing more.
He laughed, although it sounded more like a nervous chuckle than a carefree titter. "Er... No. In fact... I'm just on my way to Dreamland now."
Lying was not his forte.
She got out of bed and turned on a lamp, looking down at him with a small frown on her face. "You're all red, Dr. Crane." she said. "I think you might have a fever..."
Daphne sat down on the side of the sofa and pressed a hand to Niles's forehead. Then she pressed two fingers to his throat, feeling his pulse. Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale...
"My goodness," she said. "You're heart's racing, Dr. Crane. I think you might need to calm down a bit..."
And so, Daphne had offered to give him a short massage -- for relaxations sake. People can't very well get to sleep when they're tense and ill at ease, she had said. That was the problem with America: Everyone got worked up over everything, and then tried to sleep it off. They couldn't just drink it off, they had to try and sleep, and then their lack of sleep made them angry, and then there were angry drivers, angry door-to-door salesmen, and angry old people -- the last being the most dangerous, of course. Niles agreed completely, even though he really had no idea of what point she was trying to make. All that mattered, he reasoned, was that she was sitting behind him, her hands rubbing his shoulders as he listened to her intruiging views on the world today.
If anyone ever had a talk show, it should be Daphne. And he told her so.
She laughed and said: "You know, Dr. Crane, I really don't know where I'd be without you."
And vice versa...
"...You've always been willing to listen to me. And the hell with your reasons, at least you cared,"
How could I not?
"Made me feel important,"
My God, you are important. I'm quite sure I'd die without you...
"...Loved me." Her hands stopped working their magic. There was an eternity of silence, punctuated only by the breathing of the two people in the room. "I'm not just something one can have fun with, and then leave," she whispered. "Not to you, at least. I don't think you know how important that is to me..."
"Daphne," he replied, the sound of her name sending shivers down his spine. "I wouldn't look at you if you asked me not to,"
Her forehead hit the back of his shoulder with a small thud, and he could feel her face being pressed against him. He wanted to turn and put his arms around her, as he had done so many times before. He wanted to kiss her hair and murmur how much he loved her... But he would wait. He would, could wait until she asked him to.
After a few moments, she sat upright, and placed her hands back on his shoulders, as if to restart the massage. But she didn't. Instead, she petitioned: "Please turn around, Dr. Crane..."
He did so immediately, switching positions so quickly that he got dizzy again. But he steadied himself... He could wait to be sick after Daphne had left. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.
More silence.
"You know," he began, feeling slightly awkward with all this nothing echoing in his ears. "There's a movie I saw once that I think you might enjoy... It was called... Well, I can't really remember what it was called, but it had a beautiful plot. Um. Let's see... It was French. And it had that fellow... The one with the rather large nose... It was about --"
"Oh, for God's sake, Dr. Crane," she said, and kissed him.
Niles was thrown into a state of complete euphoria, his brain tingling and his lips being pressed against Daphne's. He was sure his heart would stop out of exhaustion, as it was furiously pounding in his somewhat thin chest. The only thought in his head, however, was that this was surely the best way for ones heart to stop. Being kissed freely by the one and only woman he loved.
She pulled back very slowly, drawing a deep breath. He looked her in the eye, and for a moment they just sat there, unsure of what to say. She straightened her blouse. He ran a hand through his hair.
"Well," he said, the shock of the event having worn down for a splitsecond. "I think you can call me 'Niles' now..."