In the Dark of the Night
Summary: Frasier fears that Roz's boyfriend is abusing her. Frasier/Roz.
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine for I am young.
"Ok, Casey, just stay on the line. I'm sure there are many things about your son that would cause you to-" Frasier Crane continued on his show.
"Um, this is Meredith," the caller interrupted. The annoyance in her voice was painfully obvious. "The one with the issues about my boyfriend," she reminded Frasier in the same tone.
Frasier looked slightly confused and glanced over at Roz. Perhaps his producer was playing some sort of prank on him. No, that was not the case, Frasier noted upon seeing his producer lying fast asleep with her head against the console. "Um, I'm afraid we're having technical difficulties," Frasier began lamely as he started playing the longest commercial he could find.
As soon as he was off the air, he removed his headphones and rushed over towards Roz. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered her name. "Roz?" He got nothing. He sighed, trying not to think about why Roz was so tired but instead think of a way to wake her. He moved a small piece of hair away from her face and called her name again.
Frasier frowned in slight frustration. He knew Roz had a social life with over the men half of the Seattle metropolitan area, but she also had a job that would require her to be awake. He moved in a little closer to her face and noticed for the first time a few light bruises on her cheek and forehead. As Roz turned in her sleep, he noticed there was another one. None of them looked very dark, but they were still present on Roz's slightly pale face.
"Roz," he called out even louder as he began gently shaking her shoulders. He instantly stopped and gently moved her shirt so that he could see her shoulders. He wanted to be sure that he was not pressing on any other bruises or other wounds. "Roz," he called again.
She was scaring him now. She would not wake up. Come to think of it, she missed a day of work the previous week. She sounded too vague for why she was at home, too. "Roz," he repeated her name soothingly.
Before he could say another word, Bulldog came into Roz's booth. "Doc, you know you have dead air, right?" he asked. He took one look at the sleeping Roz and the concerned Frasier. "What's going on?" he asked.
Frasier groaned at first as he was annoyed to see Bulldog standing there. He then smiled. "Bulldog, perfect," he said.
"Are you trying to pull me into your little sex game?" Bulldog asked. "'Cause if it means I can sleep with her, I'm in," he added.
Frasier shook his head. "No, you're not going to be in our non-existent sex game. I need you to cover my show. Just say it's a personal problem."
Bulldog shrugged as he walked into the other booth. He grabbed the microphone. "Hey, sports fans," he announced. "The doc had to leave in order to fool around with his producer, so I'm here."
Frasier groaned as he grabbed the microphone in Roz's booth. "Bulldog, we both know that's not true," he stated plainly.
"Right," Bulldog said with a laugh. "Roz would never sleep with you."
Frasier rolled his eyes but wisely decided not to comment further. His focus was back on Roz. His producer was still asleep and unaware of the events happening around her. He frowned, not wanting to shake her at the risk of putting his hands above some other injury she had carefully covered with her long sleeve shirt and pants.
Frasier looked around the booth for something- anything - that could be used to wake her. He finally gathered the papers in front of her and fanned them back and forth in front of her face in hopes that the cool air would wake her. He kept at it for a few minutes and sure enough Roz's eyes began fluttering open.
"Roz?" he asked again as he placed the papers down. He gently smoothed out his producer's hair. "What's going on?" he asked in a concerned voice.
"W-what do you mean?" Roz asked innocently. "Look, I'm sorry I fell asleep there. Alice, um, kept me up last night. She is teething now."
"Roz, you and I both know that Alice is not the reason you're so tired right now," Frasier said as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I saw you."
Roz smiled weakly as she acted as if she had no clue as to what was going on. "And I see you," she began. "Frasier, what is going on here?"
"I could ask you the same question, Roz," Frasier told her. He knelt down in front of her and held a mirror up to her face. "You know what you're looking at," he said. "I counted four of them the left side of your face and shoulders alone."
"Oh, god," Roz quickly exclaimed. "Zits? I-I-I can't be getting a zit. I have a date tonight." Her eyes were refusing to meet Frasier's. Frasier was a psychologist. He could probably see through her phony behavior.
"Roz," Frasier warned.
"It's true," Roz insisted. "It's with this, um, really top A-list guy around Seattle. We're going to one of your fancy-ass French restaurants."
Frasier stroked Roz's cheek gently. "If you need me, you know I'll always be here for you," he told her. He wanted to hug her, but he knew he should not. He did not know entirely what was going on. He just knew that Roz was not ready to admit to it yet. He just had to show his support.
Roz smiled weakly at Frasier. "I know," she said softly.
The clock flashed 1:35 AM. The first thing Frasier became aware of was the phone ringing. Has his ring always been set so high? Who would be calling him at this hour? He fearfully answered the phone. News in the middle of the night could only be described as bad. "Hello?" he asked as he fought back the urge to yawn.
"Is this Frasier Crane?" the voice at the other end asked.
"Yes, this is," Frasier said exhaustedly. "Who is this?"
"This is Jane Mirotsky, a nurse at Seattle General Hospital," she answered. "I have Roz and Alice Doyle in here, and you're listed as the emergency contact."