Notes: This fic consists of a few tag-on scenes to 'Visions of Daphne', but as you shall see, it takes place in the most alternate of universes. The lyrics at the beginning and end are from 'Do What You Have To Do' by Sarah McLachlan. I own nothing, but I do love feedback.

Glowing Ember

by dorianblue

A glowing ember

Burning hot and burning slow

Deep within I'm shaken

By the violence of existing for only you

Daphne lay back against the pillow, pressing the icepack a little more firmly to her head. Her shiny new engagement ring caught her eye and she smiled. Dear, dear Donny. Any other man would surely interpret "psychic headache" as just an excuse not to sleep with him, but Donny just smiled and said he'd call around in the morning. He was so considerate that way.

Oh, but what a psychic headache it was. It was less the excruciating buzzing that signified a clawing at the psychic continuum (or that Dr Sternin was in town), and more a dull throbbing. She'd had that kind of headache before on the few occasions when she'd ignored her visions, which was why she almost always followed them – but as people kept reminding her, what was the point of going about her life looking for a man in a red bow tie astride a dragon? Of course, it was ridiculous – one of those instances where she'd clearly got her wires crossed. She'd agreed to marry Donny, and even if her head said no, her heart said yes.

She grinned girlishly as she thought of her fiancée. He was a wonderful man, and she loved him dearly. He'd also made her happier than she'd ever been in her life. So it was ridiculous to be worrying about superficial things like passion, or degrees of love, or the fact that she'd only known him three months; happiness had been handed to her on a plate, and the thing to do was to hold on and never let go.

Her headache seemed to be waning a little, so she half-sat up in the bed and reached under the mattress for her blue-and-purple notebook: her record of everything that had happened since her arrival in Seattle. Taking a pen, she began to write.

13 May 1999

Diary, you're not going to believe this. I can scarcely believe it myself! Donny has asked me to marry him and I've said yes!

I couldn't be happier – even though there were a few hiccups here and there. Namely, that I had a vision of a man in a red bow tie standing up at my wedding and declaring that he was the love of my life. Well, the thought that Donny might not be the one for me dismayed me, frankly, so I decided to get a second opinion.

So I went to Niles, for obvious reasons. I'm talking about the time I found that bowling bag in the back of his wardrobe, full of "gag gifts from Maris", as he'd said himself. In there, along with a baseball mitt and a Led Zeppelin CD, was a red bow tie. So I went to his office and told him everything.

"I know you don't believe in my visions," I began, "but your opinion –"

"– Is immaterial," he quietly interjected. "Daphne, this is your life. I can't tell you what to do."

"But the red bow tie," I persisted. "What do you make of that? I mean – what do you …" I trailed off, unable to articulate my thought – or rather, to come right out and say it.

He reached his desk and placed his hand over mine. The gesture I used to find so comforting, now disquieting. "Daphne, does he make you happy?"

I gazed at him. "Yes."

For a split second he seemed thrown. "I mean – really, really, really happy?"

I smiled. "He does, Niles."

He stared down at our hands, still touching. "Then that's all that matters. I wish you all the best, Daphne, and I'm not throwing you out, but – I have a patient in five minutes."

And so I made up my mind there and then to say yes to Donny. It's true I have a history of running away from commitment, and perhaps my visions are just a psychological manifestation of that fear, as Dr Crane would say. Anyway, any doubts were dispelled when I heard Donny's proposal – he said the sweetest, most sincere, most poetic things!

I love him, I really do. And I couldn't be happier, picturing the future with Donny by my side.

Daphne put down her pen with a satisfied smile. As was her custom, she flicked back through the thick notebook to read what she'd been up to precisely a year ago.

12 May 1998

Roz's baby was born today! Welcome to the world, Alice May Doyle!

She's absolutely beautiful – not a protruding ear or a lazy eye or a ridiculously oversized nose in sight. When I pointed this out to Roz, she laughed and said she hadn't even noticed – that she was just glad Alice was healthy and strong and no longer stretching her vaginal muscles to breaking point.

Everyone laughed then, long and hard, except me. I felt a little subdued, to be honest, though I was so very happy for Roz. It was more than a feeling of broodiness I had – it was almost a sense of loss. A sense of maternal instinct and protectiveness towards a son or daughter that doesn't even exist yet, and may never. And that made me feel lonely.

But then everything changed. Niles must have seen something in my face, because he reached over and took my hand in his, smiling gently. A glow rushed through me and I squeezed his hand, smiling back. We watched each other for a few seconds more, and his expression – well, it told me everything that I needed to know. That even though mistakes had been made, we'd make it through; that he was willing to be strong for me and that I could trust him; that one day, maybe someday soon, he'd give me all this.

And I loved him for it.

Daphne shut her eyes reflexively, trying to ignore the sick, familiar feeling of dismay in her stomach. Suddenly she felt tingly and uncomfortable all over. It's in the past, she told herself, it doesn't bear thinking about – but somehow she found herself flicking impulsively through well-worn pages, through bickering and fights, dates and milestones, his pathetic attempts to cling to his former social circle, the wedge that was driven between them, break-ups and make-ups, his ex-wife's efforts at seduction, his neediness, her need for him, Maris's hate campaign, his proposal, her refusal, their reunion the night of the heatwave, when he'd opened the door in a white half-buttoned shirt and she'd simply started kissing him …

The page became blotted with tears, the ink diluting itself in the moisture. With a trembling hand, she turned to a page she'd visited a hundred times before. Maybe it'll be cathartic, in a way … might get it out of me system …

21 January 1996

Diary, you'll never guess who's beside me as I write this. Beside me in BED, no less! It's Niles! The man formerly known as Dr Crane! In bed! With me! Excuse me for a moment, but … EEEEE!

As you know, I've long been of the view that Dr Cra Niles is really very nice-looking. And I've made it abundantly clear that that harpy of a wife of his doesn't deserve such a man. But those two facts never translated into attraction until … well, until last night. The Snow Ball.

The dancing was wonderful. His tuxedo was wonderful. Getting to call him Niles was wonderful. And the tango …

I don't know what possessed me. I guess part of it was how indignant I felt towards those idiot friends of his – I wanted to show them what I knew he was capable of. If I'm being honest, part of it was the champagne, too. But mostly it was the quiet, restrained passion that was not only clearly evident in his eyes, but which I started to feel myself, bubbling up inside me.

I couldn't help kissing him.

When he led me off the floor, my brain immediately reverted to panic mode, desperately trying to find a way to justify my behaviour. It had been too inappropriate, too presumptuous … just not me. So I babbled something about putting on a show for his friends, looking about me wildly, focusing on anything but him and the warm tickling of his breath on my fingers.

"'Daphne, you're a goddess, Daphne, I adore you ...' We fooled everyone, didn't we?"

When he didn't reply, I stole a sideways glance at him. To my surprise, he looked lost and more than a little hurt. "What's the matter?"

His frowning blue eyes bored into me. "I really meant those things."

I wasn't quite sure I'd heard. "You what?"

"I – I wasn't acting," he stammered. His hands were squeezing mine ever tighter, as if to convince me of his sincerity.

I swallowed hard. "You mean you really do –"

"– Adore you, yes," he finished. His eyes finally dropped from mine, and when he looked back up, it was with a sad, slightly embarrassed smile. "You were acting though, weren't you?" He said it more like a statement than a question.

"Niles, I –"

"It's okay, Daphne," he said, trying to sound trivial, but the tremor in his tone undermined him. "Just … forget I ever said it, alright? We can go back to being friends." He paused, managing to look me in the eye again. "I do treasure your friendship, you know. And not just because –"

"I treasure yours, too, Niles," I breathed.

He flashed that sad smile again. He just looked so vulnerable, and, in that instant, perfectly put together, that I got an overwhelming urge just to touch him again.

"Niles? What do you say to another dance?"

He patted my hand absently. "No thanks. It's getting late and I've danced enough."

So we left. And on the long, excruciatingly silent drive home, I found myself unable to take my eyes off of him.

He insisted on walking me up, of course. Ever the gentleman. By then he seemed to have gathered himself together and was making light, witty conversation. When we reached Dr Crane's door, he didn't say goodnight, or even "thanks for a wonderful evening." He just gave me a warm, wistful smile, and an equally warm, wistful hug, turning his head to kiss my cheek. Then he kissed my hand and turned to call up the elevator. I stood there like an idiot, my hand on the door, watching the back of his head. Not having heard me enter the apartment, he turned around, puzzled.

And that's when I moved over, slid my arms around his neck and kissed him, my mouth open, my hands buried in his hair. He was startled, I'm sure – I could feel it in him – but soon enough started to respond feverishly until we were pushed against the door, sighing into each other's mouths as we embraced the delicious tension between us. The door opened and we staggered back through it, our kiss momentarily breaking.

"Would you like to –"

"My God, yes."

And we stumbled across the apartment, finally making our way over to my room, which is how we ended up here. In bed. Together.

EEEEE!

And it was wonderful. He was wonderful. Almost frightful stamina and, true to his nature, very generous. I've never felt so worshipped in my life. And he's such a nice kisser, you know, and has such slender, smooth hands. Not all calloused and rough like –

Oh God, Joe! We're still together! Well, nothing for it, really. I'll call him this afternoon and break it off. Right now Niles is nuzzling into my shoulder, and I'm going to have to finish up before he

The entry ended there, and Daphne pulled the covers around her as the details of that morning and all the subsequent, blissful days came hurtling back. Right up that final night seven months ago, when it had all come crashing down. When she realised she had to resort to consulting her diary entries to remind herself of the good things in their relationship.

She shoved the notebook viciously back under her mattress, silently cursing Niles's name. The night of her engagement, and she was going to need a drink before bedtime to keep from falling to pieces.

Leaning against the balcony railing, a jacketless Niles shivered a little. Below him, the neon lights of late-night Seattle blazed together, making his eyes water. Well, it was either the lights, or the situation. Daphne. Donny. Engaged … His vision swam a little, which he was also vaguely aware had something to do with the reason Frasier wouldn't let him drive home, and why there were three empty bottles on the coffee table in the living room. He could have sworn he heard them clinking faintly …

He swung his head, and was straightaway locked into eye contact with … her. Daphne was standing frozen near the kitchen, holding a bottle as if to pour it – but instead of doing just that, she was staring at him. He stared right back.

Slowly she left the bottle down on the sideboard and floated towards him in the dark. She emerged into the cool air, still watching him. He regretted that he'd left his jacket on the couch – those slender, creamy shoulders were shivering uncontrollably.

"Daphne."

"Niles. I wanted to … thank you for your advice today."

"Don't mention it. I um … I never did get to congratulate you."

She smiled faintly. "You said you wished me all the best."

He nodded. "Yes, but 'I wish you all the best' means just that. 'I congratulate you' means 'I'm happy for you.'" He paused. "I want to be happy for you, Daphne. For both of you. I want to at least try."

She rubbed her arms against the cold. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Daphne, you shouldn't be out here. You'll catch your death."

"I'm fine, thank you."

"No really, you –"

"Damn it, Niles!"

He covered his mouth with his fist, turning away. She moved closer, and when he faced her again, his cheeks shone with recently-shed tears.

"I'm sorry, I – it hurts," he offered weakly. "I always just assumed that … once the divorce was final you'd … be waiting." He sighed. "Pretty arrogant, huh?"

His frank vulnerability disarmed her. "Well, I was waiting, you know. You were … the only man I could ever see in my future." She paused, and her tone became more gentle. "But then Donny …"

"I know," he cut her off, staring back out into the Seattle night. "You fell in love." There was no bitterness in his tone. "Daphne, what did you come out to ask me?"

She smiled wryly. There was still very little she could hide from him. "I um … I wanted to ask you about your reaction today. When I went to your office," she clarified. "Because …"

"Because you thought I'd tell you the man in your visions was me?"

She nodded and whispered, "Yes. But you didn't. Why not?"

Because I want you to come back to me because you want to, not because of some obscure hunch. Because I love you enough to let you find your own way. "Because then I might have to go through with it, of course. I mean, wearing a red bow tie to a wedding. How would I ever live it down?"

Her giddy laughter startled the night air. She whacked him playfully on the arm, and Niles could have sworn they'd reverted three years. But the cold glint of her engagement ring brought him back to reality, because it wasn't him who had placed it on her finger.

She shivered once again and before Niles knew what was happening she'd flung himself into his arms, holding on tight and doubling his body heat. He hadn't held her this way for months. When she released him from the hug, still smiling, his mouth instinctively hovered near her own. An awkward moment passed before he recovered himself and pulled back.

"Sorry, Daphne, I –"

She silenced him with a brief, tender, almost innocent kiss – a goodbye kiss. When she broke away he couldn't help but grin – before leaning in again. They stayed like that for a while, tentatively exchanging kisses, until they were clinging to each other for dear life, passionately kissing with a familiarity that was both frightening and comforting. The kiss ended and they stayed in each other's arms. No 'I'm sorry's, no 'I shouldn't have done that's, no 'I've got to go's – they were above all that nonsense, and besides, they both knew.

"Is it too late to tell you?" he whispered in her ear.

She sighed. "It's not a question of being too late – it's a question of, do you really mean it?"

"You know I do."

"Then say it."

He pulled back to face her, opened his mouth – and suddenly, he couldn't. He could not ruin this, the night of her engagement, for her; nor could he force her into a choice she'd already made. And besides, he was afraid …

She stared at him for a long moment before realising nothing was forthcoming. She swallowed, and her voice came out in a harsh whisper. "Goodnight, Niles."

"Goodnight, Daphne."

And suddenly Niles felt as though he himself had a vision of some distant, future balcony – Daphne facing him, another kiss, and one last let-down …

She left him standing there.

I know I can't be with you

I do what I have to do

But I had the sense to recognise

That I don't know how to let you go