Chapter Two

Frasier immediately hung up the phone. He turned on his lights. After adjusting to having them on, he walked to his dresser and grabbed a shirt. He did not care if it was ironed or not. He threw a pair of jeans on over his legs and started rushing for the door. He grabbed his keys from the bowl beside the main door and left. He did not think he needed anything else. He frowned, rushed back inside, grabbed his wallet, and then rushed back to the elevator.

He was worried. Worried for Roz, for Alice. He should not have let them leave that night. He should have forced Roz to stay over at his place. Daphne certainly would not have minded. There were many things he could have done. He just did not know why he did not. He was mad at himself.

In his anger, he almost drove past the hospital. He caught his mistake and sharply turned into the parking lot. He parked and rushed inside. "Roz Doyle," he said. "I'm looking for Roz Doyle," he panted.

"She's upstairs," the nurse said. She glanced into the waiting room. It was pretty empty. "I'll take you there," she offered.

Frasier thanked her as he began following her down the hallways. The hallways were quiet. Haunting. He heard the faint humming sounds from machines. He sensed sadness from the patients. No one wanted to be there. He was included in that group, but he refused to leave until he knew what was happening with Roz and Alice. He had to stay for their sake. They were part of his family.

The elevator was equally as quiet. There was no music. There were no other people. Frasier was alone. He did not like that feeling. He had to break off the silence. He did not care what the topic was. There just had to be some form of conversation. "So, um, did you catch the Sea Hawks game last night?"

The nurse raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you attempting a normal conversation?"

"What gave me away?" Frasier asked.

"The fact that it's almost March. There has been no football anywhere for the past month," the nurse informed him. She turned and looked up at Frasier. "Don't worry," she said soothingly. "I get it all the time. You just don't want to talk about the actual reason why you're here."

Frasier frowned. Was he that transparent? "Were you on her case?" he asked. "Did you treat her?"

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said honestly. "I was running Triage. Roz was actually ambulanced in." The elevator doors opened and the two of them began walking down the halls. The nurse spotted Roz's doctor. "But there's Dr. Bowers. He can tell you everything you need to know."

Frasier again thanked her and rushed to the doctor. "Roz Doyle?" he asked. "I'm Frasier Crane. What happened? Will she and Alice be ok?"

The doctor started leading Frasier down the halls. They seemed the same as the ones downstairs. They had the same smell, the same exterior look. Frasier hated it. Roz was not a hospital person. "Alice is fine," the doctor said. "Hardly a scratch on her."

"And Roz?" Frasier questioned frantically. He knew how doctors worked. He completed medical school. Doctors almost always started with the good news, especially of the bad news was really bad.

The doctor sighed heavily. "She came in to be treated for a broken ankle and a bad cut on her forehead," he explained to Frasier. "Upon further examination, we realized that she also a couple of broken ribs. I want to keep her overnight, and then you can take her home tomorrow."

Frasier's mouth dropped open. He could not imagine the pain Roz was in right now. He wanted to see her, to hold her, to make her feel better. "Did she say how this happened?" he asked. "Who did this to her?"

The doctor shook his head. "We've been trying to find that out all evening. She won't give it up."

"Can I see her?" Frasier asked.

The doctor nodded as he pushed the door to Roz's room open. It was a semi-private room, but Roz was the only actual patient in there. Alice was asleep in the first bed. Frasier thought he heard sniffling from the other bed. He turned his head further, and his suspicions were confirmed. Roz was awake and in pain. He knew it instantly.

Frasier walked over to her bed and sat down. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "How long has this been happening, sweetie?" he asked her.

Roz tried to choke back her tears, but she found the task nearly impossible. "Three weeks," she finally admitted.