Disclaimer: I do not own "Frasier" or any related characters. I also do not own the car rental company Hertz. The only parts of this story that I do own are: the plot and the character Brianna.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Don't forget to review this chapter, though.
Title: Blast from the Past
Rating: PG-13 . . . because I can!!!
Genre: General
Summary: When a woman from the past shows up, she unleashes an "interesting" havoc among the Crane family and friends.
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Chapter Three-Beware of Pity
Brianna Ackland stood in front of Frasier Crane's apartment door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She still was not sure if she was ready to go inside just yet. She did not think that she could take it if Frasier (or Niles) said that she could not stay with them and to get "the hell off of their property," as one of her ex-neighbors had so kindly put it when she had asked to stay with them for a few days.
She tugged nervously at the small duffle bag's strap, which was hanging on her shoulder. She then unzipped the bag slightly, stuck her hand inside, and pulled out a piece of gum.
As she chewed on it, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door once. Twice. Then once more. She heard a voice call from behind the door: "Coming!" Sighing deeply, she took a step back and waited.
The door unlocked and opened, revealing an elderly white-haired man, a cane in his right hand, about half-a-foot shorter than she was. She looked slightly taken aback when he first saw her, but his expression relaxed after a second. "Hi," he greeted cheerfully. "You must be Brianna, Frasier's friend." He stepped back from the door and motioned for her to enter. "Come on in!"
Brianna smiled politely at him and stepped inside the apartment. "Thanks," she said. "And I'm not really Frasier's 'friend.' I'm more like his . . . acquaintance." She stuffed her hands inside her jeans pockets and strolled around the living room, looking around at the apartment.
"Huh," she said, sitting on the arm of the couch. "This is a nice place Frasier's got here."
Martin shrugged, looking up at Brianna strangely, trying to remember her from somewhere. "Wait," he said suddenly. "Are you the same Brianna from Niles's high school?"
Brianna nodded. "Yeah, that was me."
"Well, you haven't changed much."
"And yet you still didn't remember me," replied Brianna, smiling, which caused Martin to smile as well. "Well, I remember you; you're Martin Crane, Niles and Frasier's father. So . . . you live here in Seattle?"
"Actually, I live here with Frasier," replied Martin.
"Really?" Brianna sounded more surprised than she had meant to, so she added: "Well, that was very nice of him."
As she stepped past Martin to look around the apartment, she saw Martin roll his eyes and she had to suppress a grin. Martin and his sons never seemed very much alike, and it had always amused her when the three of them had tried to do anything together.
Wow, she thought. This apartment is really, really nice. Their living atmosphere hasn't changed much. They live just like-
Brianna was struck with an all-to-real conclusion: They live just like my mom and Steve! Her mother, Rebecca Ackland (she had kept her ex-husband's last name for unknown reasons), and her thirty five-year-old hubby, Steve-dumb as a post but gorgeous nonetheless-or "boy toy" as Rebecca's friends and acquaintances called him, had almost the exact living situation as the Cranes.
As she looked around at the expensive paintings on the walls, the bottles of wine in the cabinets, and the fancy furniture (as well as an old yellow Barcalounger in the middle of the room), Brianna was hit with a feeling of nausea. Could it be that she simply left one rich living environment for another?
"Dad?" a voice from the back rooms called out, shaking Brianna from her thoughts. "Was there a knock on the door earlier-" Frasier appeared from the back and cut off his sentence as soon as he saw Brianna. "Oh, hello," he greeted, straightening his tie. "You must be Brianna Ackland." He walked up to her and held out his hand for her to shake.
Brianna looked at him and forced a smile. "Yeah. Oh, and thanks for letting me come over on such short notice," she added, shaking his hand.
"Oh, it's no problem," he replied, tasting the lie in his mouth. The truth of it was, her coming over had been a small problem; he had wanted to go to a wine-tasting convention downtown. But, in the end, he had decided that a person's problem should come before wine (although if his brother had heard him say that others' problems came before wine, there would have been an argument that he, Frasier, would not win. He was sure of that).
"Now," he said, sitting on the couch. "What seems to be your problem, and could you be more specific than you were on the phone?"
"Okay. Alright, here's what happened . . ." Brianna began telling her story from start to finish, beginning with how she knew Niles from college to her mother's feeble attempt at a set-up. Frasier seemed to be interested in her story and, she hoped, would figure out a way to help her find a job that she actually liked, and could find somewhere for her to live.
". . . so you see why I had to get away from my mother and, who she believed to be the solution to her mid-life crisis, Steve," she concluded, using her finger to draw consecutive circles on the armrest of Frasier's couch.
"Hmm," said Frasier, thoughtfully, holding his head in his hand. "I see your problem; your mother wanted you to be just the way she was and you fought against that . . ."
Brianna flashed him a quick "Didn't-I-just-say-that?" look, but nodded. "Yeah."
"Well, I respect your want to be who you truly are, but how could either my brother or I possibly help you?"
"Well . . ." She trailed off, not knowing exactly how to approach asking an almost complete stranger for a place to stay . . . like his own home. "I-I . . . uhh . . ."
The words got caught in her throat. She coughed silently. She never had this much trouble talking to other people. Usually she was very outgoing, always willing to ask someone for pretty much anything. But this favor she needed seemed a little . . . much.
"I . . . was hoping that one of you would . . . let me stay with you." There, it was out. "You know, at least until I can make enough money to stay in a hotel. Do you think that one of you would be willing to do that?"
Frasier stared at his guest for a few seconds. "Umm, well . . ." Now it was his turn for no words to come out. He did not want to come across as selfish or ignorant, but he was running out of room in his apartment. Unless she wanted to sleep on the couch . . . no, that would never work! He was putting his foot down on this. There was no way Brianna could stay with him.
As he opened his mouth to say so, he caught a glimpse of utter sadness and misery in her eyes, and before he could stop himself, he heard his voice say, "Uhh, sure; you can stay with me for awhile."
The sadness in Brianna's eyes washed away almost the instant Frasier said "sure." She threw herself foreword and flung her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" she squealed. In her head, that voice had sounded nothing like her, but she shook it off. "I can't tell you how much this means to me!"
Frasier, who had been caught off-guard by Brianna's unexpected hug, made a grunting sound that sounded slightly like "Uh-huh."
Brianna removed her arms from around Frasier's neck and grinned at him. "Although, Brianna, I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch. It's the only bed I have left."
"Oh no; I don't mind at all!" By the sound of her voice, Frasier guessed that he could have told Brianna that she was sleeping on the floor in the kitchen and she would not have minded.
"And don't worry about my clothes," she continued, standing up from the couch. "I'll just leave them in my suitcases; I don't plan on staying long. I'll find a job as soon as I can."
Frasier nodded, still wondering how Brianna had manipulated him into letting him stay. "Fras?" Martin called, coming out from his bedroom. "Is Brianna still-" As soon as he came out from the corner, he saw Brianna and snapped his mouth shut. "Oh, hello Brianna."
"Dad, Brianna's going to be staying with us a couple of nights," Frasier declared, giving Martin a "Be-happy-with-it" look.
Martin must have understood Frasier's look, because his face broke into a friendly smile. "Well, that's just great!" he said, coming down the stairs. "And you don't mind having to sleep on the couch."
Brianna shook her head and waved her hand. "Naw, it doesn't bother me. It's better than staying in a hotel with the-ahem-unwashed sheets." She grimaced slightly and shook her head in disgust. "In college, my friends and I brought a black light into a hotel room and . . . well; let's just leave the rest up to the imagination, shall we?"
She tucked her auburn hair behind her ear and looked at Frasier, who obviously had the thought of a black lighted hotel bed in his mind; he had a disgusted frown plastered on his face. "Frasier, could you show me where the bathroom is?"
"Oh, yes, it's right there," he replied, pointing to the powder room door. As Brianna stepped inside and pulled the door shut, Frasier looked at his father. "Dad, I know what you're going to say, but I couldn't help it! She looked so miserable and upset that I had to help her-"
"Frasier," Martin interrupted. "I don't mind having Brianna stay here. It could be, I don't know, fun. She could tell us stories about Niles in high school. You know, the version we never saw." He smiled a wicked smile and walked into the kitchen for a beer.
Frasier rolled his eyes. A knock on the door made him turn around and open the door. His younger brother Niles was standing in the doorway. "Hello Niles," he greeted, stepping back to allow his brother to enter.
"Hello Frasier," Niles replied.
"Oh, Niles," said Martin, entering from the kitchen, "I think that there's someone here you'd like to see." He cocked an eyebrow at his son and sat down in his chair.
"Really? Who?"
With perfect timing, Brianna opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the living room. "Wow Frasier," she declared, rubbing her hands together. "You really have a lot of-"
She cut off her sentence, looking at Niles for about a minute, him looking back at her. They both had the same look upon their faces: remembrance. "Niles?" she asked, stepping closer. "You have not changed a bit."
Niles stared at Brianna for a second more before he finally figured out who she was. "Brianna? Brianna Ackland? From high school?"
Brianna nodded. "Yeah, that would be me," she replied, shrugging a bit.
"You know, I'd say that you haven't changed at all, but . . ." Niles walked up to her, having to look up to meet her eyes. "You have changed."
Brianna shrugged again, smiling down at him. "Well, you know . . . the Irish are said to be tall . . ." After the last word left her mouth, Brianna thought, What? What was that?
Nevertheless, she shrugged off her off-the-wall comment and said: "So, how have you been?"
"Well," began Niles, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for Brianna to do the same, "I am now married to a woman named Maris."
"Oh really? What is she like?" asked Brianna, generally interested.
"She's-" Niles paused, searching for the right word.
"Unique," finished Frasier, sitting down beside Brianna on the couch.
"Ah," replied Brianna, giving Frasier an understanding look.
"How have you been?" asked Niles.
"Well, I've been living with my mother and her, umm, thirty-five year old husband Steve because they wanted me to be, I don't know, rich . . . or marry someone who's rich. You know, just for the money. A few days ago, I couldn't take it anymore, so I stormed out and here I am. Jobless and pretty much broke, but your brother was kind enough to take me in for a week or so."
"Really?" Niles asked, throwing Frasier a wondering glance. After all of Frasier's ranting about having so many people living with him, he was actually going to let Brianna stay with him? Interesting . . .
"So, what are you hoping to accomplish here?" he asked.
"Truly, I have no idea," admitted Brianna. "But trust me, I'll figure it out soon enough," she added, noticing Frasier and Niles exchange worried glances. "And I still can't thank you enough for letting me stay with you, Frasier," she said, smiling graciously at Frasier, who nodded nervously.
This should be an interesting week, thought Frasier. I'm letting a woman I barely know stay in my house until she finds a job, and she doesn't even know what she wants to do. Yes, this will be very interesting indeed . . .
To Be Continued . . .
A/N: Okay, I know that Frasier letting Brianna live with him almost immediately is kind of far-fetched, but go with me, please. ;-) And don't forget to review!