Title: His Home Was Empty
Author: Deja Vu
Summary: The season finale revisited, where a few of the important events haven't occurred, such as changes at KACL with Frasier and Roz, the appearance of Charlotte, Eddie's neutering, etc. Frasier/Roz.
Rating: Mild language, no violence, crude humor.
Disclaimer: I don't own Frasier, but this story is mine.
Characters: Frasier, Roz, Alice, and others.

HIS HOME WAS EMPTY

Frasier Crane stretched out on his couch, placing his arms behind his head. His apartment was blissfully quiet, and he intended to enjoy the strange state.

His father Martin had recently married, and Frasier had hardly seen him—or his dog Eddie—since. Thank goodness on that last account.

Niles had just had his first child, and he was caught up in the excitement, so Frasier hadn't seen him much lately either.

Frasier smiled, remembering the birth of his own son. He regretted that he hadn't been able to spend much time with Frederick as he grew older, but, then again, there were a lot of things he regretted in his life.

He tried to pull his mind away from this dismal thinking. For almost the first time since he moved to Seattle, he had some real peace and quiet! He needed to enjoy it!

He squirmed a little, trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch, but then he found his eyes gazing at a black chair which, though it was familiar, was placed in an unfamiliar place. After years of Frasier's complaining and wincing at the dreadful sight of it, Martin's tacky armchair was finally gone.

Frasier felt a smile growing on his face. "It's gone! It's gone!" he sing-songed softly to himself, unable to stop from dancing, just a little bit. He stared at the black chair for a few moments more, then, with a little bit of surprise, he felt the smile fading. The chair was gone—but so was his father and Daphne.

His home was empty.

Frasier couldn't help but drop his jaw in sudden horror. After years of desiring this much-deserved peace and quiet, he found he didn't want it any more. The silence, rather than being soothing, was deafening. He groaned.

Then the doorbell rang.

Startled, Frasier leapt up off the couch. Who could it be? Surely not his father or brother...

When he answered the door, he saw a deliveryman standing there with a clipboard. "Sign this," the man grunted, handing it to Frasier.

"Yes, of course," Frasier said, taking it and signing it. He looked a little puzzled; he hadn't been expecting any packages. "What is it?"

The deliveryman, a brown-haired nondescript balding man of about fifty, gave him a wicked smile. "Oh, you'll see," he said as he motioned at a few people standing behind him. They brought in their deliveries and set them on the floor, leaving Frasier standing gaped-mouthed, watching.

There was a rather suspicious blue "container" and an even more suspicious round and fluffy "thing," but Frasier ignored those for the time being and went straight to the big cardboard hole-filled box with a sense of dread.

At the top was a letter reading:

Hey, son.

I figured you might be lonely, what with us all leaving you. So I got you a gift.

Now, I know what you're thinking, but before you fly through the roof, at least look at her.

Martin

Frasier felt as if he might indeed be sprouting angry and devilish wings to fly through the roof; in fact, he felt like flying through the whole apartment complex and ripping everyone's roof to shreds! He took in a deep breath and then calmly went to the blue container, opening it carefully on the side and taking several steps backward.

A few moments later, something small and black poked out, followed by something not as small that was brown and white.

For several seconds, Frasier did nothing but practice his imitation of a beached fish. At last, he gasped in horror, "I'm staring at a miniature Eddie!"

The puppy blinked up at him with sad dark brown eyes, and he shook his head ferociously. "No, no, no! Just when I get some peace and quiet, Dad tries to spring this on me! Well, I won't have it!"

The puppy gazed at him a few seconds more and then sat back on its haunches and started to howl.

"Oh, don't cry," Frasier pleaded. He couldn't help but be affected against his own will—just a little—by the minute canine's pathetic yowling. After flailing his arms in desperation, he walked forward and awkwardly picked the dog up. He found a note hooked onto its collar. It read:

Nice to know ya got this close to this adorable Jack Russell, Fraze. Don't ya just love 'em?

Now, we both know you're gonna be lonely, and if you keep her, we'll be killing two birds with one stone.

See, one of Eddie's girlfriends had puppies, and this one was the runt, and no one wanted her. I couldn't stand to watch her keep getting rejected, so I took her and told Mrs. Whiteson I'd find her a good home.

Please, just try this out for a little while. I sent you everything you need to get started, and she's mostly house trained. ("Mostly housetrained," Frasier mouthed as he read the letter, scowling.)

Love,
Martin

Frasier scowled again. Of course his father had thrown in "Love" at the end. Stupid, conniving—

A howl broke through his thoughts, and he looked down at the puppy wriggling in his arms. "It's all right," he said, trying to soothe her. He awkwardly placed her on the couch, where she instantly started sniffing the various nooks and crannies. Frasier quickly surveyed the articles he'd been sent.

The fluffy round thing was a doggy bed, and the box was full of items such as puppy shampoo, a leash, an extra collar, a blanket, puppy food—

"They make food especially for puppies?" Frasier asked aloud, incredulous. Then he realized it was a somewhat stupid exclamation. They made baby food, why wouldn't they make puppy food? He sighed.

He turned back to the puppy, recognizing her to be in a 'sniff and squat' phase. Hastily uttering various chains of phrases which didn't quite make quite enough sense to record here, he rushed to her. "No!" he cried, grabbing the leash and swiftly hooking it on to her. He ran out of his apartment.

RETURN OF THE DOGEYE

After Frasier returned leading the puppy on a leash, he plopped automatically down onto the couch, exhausted. The runt tried to pull the leash out of his hands and then thought better of it. She extended her small body as best as she could on the side of the couch, scratching at it for Frasier's attention. He picked her up reluctantly and placed her on his chest. An evil grin spread across his face. "I wonder if I should call you Lillith?"

The puppy barked indignantly, walking right over to his face and staring down at him.

"Not another Eddie," Frasier groaned, trying to ignore the dog's staring. But he had the feeling she was not anything like Eddie, other than her appearance. At least, he hoped she wasn't. "Fine, I'll call you..." He frowned, then, on a hunch, looked at her ID tags. His father was one step ahead of him. Of course. "Jess," he muttered.

The puppy barked happily, though she was, of course, still staring at him.

His home was no longer empty.