On these quiet evenings at his apartment, Niles Crane usually had music playing on his state-of-the-art CD player, or turned his sound machine to the sounds of a babbling brook or Brazilian rainforest, while he had his supper and then retired to the fainting couch with a sherry and a favorite book.

But tonight, Niles welcomed the silence. It was almost like a sympathetic entity, giving him the freedom to let his feelings run free, not judging him for the worst mistake of his life: letting his chances with Daphne Moon slip away until it was too late.

For not even an hour ago, he had sat and watched Daphne accept Donny Douglas' proposal. It had taken all his strength to keep his rising emotions in check and pretended his heart wasn't shattering.

Congratulating the happy couple was even harder. Niles knew he should be happy for Daphne, but right then he just couldn't manage.

It felt bittersweet when Daphne had later hugged him, apologizing for her reaction when he'd recanted his earlier advice, words Niles knew he should never have said in the first place. In his heart, he knew he'd only said them in and attempt to hold onto her.

Frasier and their father had been right; it hadn't made him much of a friend. But it had still hurt to take those words back, knowing it could be all over. But, as the old adage said…"If you love them, let them go."

The apologetic embrace Daphne gave him haunted him; how he had wanted to sink deeper into her arms, to hold her like a lover would, but it was too late.

Unable to hold in his pent-up emotions any longer, Niles collapsed onto the fainting couch and broke down, weeping bitterly.

He'd always prided himself on his ability to maintain his composure—until tonight.

"Daphne…" he choked on her name, and his slow tears became sobs.

But now he sobbed unashamedly; here, in the solitude of his apartment, wishing he could turn back time. Niles knew he had only himself to blame for missing so many opportunities to confess his feelings to the woman he adored.

The fear of rejection had been so strong that even those few times he'd almost managed to tell Daphne the truth, he'd ended up backing down.

Would he ever stop wondering "what if…"? Now he realized that rejection couldn't have possibly felt worse than what he was feeling now.

Regret. Regret taking over him until the pain was almost physical, and he knew that even if he managed to move on (and right now that seemed impossible) he'd still spend his life thinking about a chance he never took.

Somehow, Niles managed to ascend the stairs to his bedroom (despite it being well before the time he usually went to sleep; he didn't even have any appetite for dinner), where he slipped into his pajamas and then buried himself in bed, praying for sleep to come quickly, to take him away from the pain for a while. This proved not to be difficult; exhausted from the emotions of that night, from his unabashed crying, he felt himself slipping into slumber.

And then the doorbell rang.

"Of all the times for visitors," he muttered. "I bet it's Frasier, here for 'Operation Rescue Niles'."

The ringing sounded again as Niles took a moment to splash cold water on his face in an attempt to erase all evidence of tears.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said insincerely as he flung the door open. But it was not his brother who stood there.

"No problem, Dr. Crane."

It was the doorman, William—or, as he preferred, 'Mr. Bill'.

"This was left with me by a lovely young woman. You weren't in at the time, so I promised to give it to you," Mr. Bill explained as he handed him a gift bag. "She said it was to thank you for getting her daughter into a pre-school."

"Oh, that would be Roz," Niles muttered to himself.

Suddenly, Mr. Bill chuckled good-naturedly.

"Having a pajama party tonight?" he jested.

Niles looked away, feeling chagrined. He must look ridiculous, wearing pajamas when it wasn't even seven o'clock.

"Very funny," he snapped, and instantly regretted being rude to the friendly, elderly veteran. But Mr. Bill only smiled and wished him goodnight; he was one of the most easygoing and forgiving people Niles knew.

Once he was alone again, Niles opened the package, welcoming the distraction. The tissue paper fell away from the object—a rather bizarre sculpture of a dragon.

"Oh, Roz…"

A/N: 'Mr. Bill' is based on the real-life Mr. Bill, a fellow volunteer at my local hospital. He's like a secod grandfather to me.