For several seconds he stared at her, and she at him. The sight of her was so completely unexpected that he could hardly believe it was real. His breath caught in his chest and for a moment he was at a complete loss for words.
"Daphne, I-I'm sorry for barging in like this." He stammered. "I used my key because I didn't think that anyone was at home."
Her mouth opened but it was a few seconds before she spoke. "I-me plans changed." Her eyes moved to his hand… his left hand; the hand that displayed his wedding ring. The ring he wore even though he was not yet married.
He knew that she would ask him about the ring on his left hand, and then ask him when he'd gotten married. She might have even been angry with him for not inviting him to the wedding, for he'd told her time and again that she was just as much a part of his family as Frasier and his dad were. And of course she'd assume that Frasier and his dad were in attendance when she was not.
She had causally mentioned to him once before that if she were ever to get married, she would make certain that Niles, Frasier and his dad would be much more than just guests; they'd be a special part of the ceremony, standing in the wedding party alongside her husband to be. Even though he hated the idea of her being married to anyone else, he'd hugged her in response, touched by her kindness. The fact that she so readily included him meant the world. He may not have been married, but the ring on his left hand suggested otherwise. He moved his arm behind his back, doing his best to avoid her gaze.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion." He apologized again. "I won't stay long. I promise."
"You're not staying?"
"Um, no. I'm going to the cabin. I just came by to get the keys. Frasier left them for-." He searched the immediate area, finally spotting them on the sideboard; the exact spot where Frasier said they would be. "Ah, here they are. He picked them up, clutching them in his hand.
"I thought your-um, Mel was in Atlanta for a conference."
Surprised at Daphne's comment, his eyes met hers. But she immediately looked away, as though she'd said something wrong. And he wondered how she knew.
"I heard you mention it to your brother." She replied, as though reading his mind. "Before…"
"Oh, well, yes. She's in Atlanta. I'm going to the cabin alone."
There was another awkward silence before he spoke again.
"Well it was good to-." He froze, noticing her, really noticing her for the first time since he'd arrived. Something was amiss.
"Are you… all right?"
"I have a bit of the flu." She replied. Her voice was no longer calm, but raspy. Dear God she really was ill. What in the world was she doing standing in the living room? And from what he could tell, she'd been there for a while, doing housework, of all things. The idea that she wasn't taking care of herself angered him for reasons he couldn't explain. But she was a health care worker. She knew better.
"You should be in bed." The statement was harsher than he intended, but he could no longer hide his agitation. The silent thought and the way that he'd spoken to her so directly brought a feeling of guilt. But he quickly recovered. "Would you like me to make you some soup? Do you need to see a doctor? I'd be happy to-."
"No, I'm fine, really."
For the first time in his life, he didn't believe her. The signs of illness were all there; her uneven skin tone, her red, puffy eyes that looked tired (yet beautiful) and her disheveled hair. He wondered if she might be running a fever. His hand went to her forehead and then slid down her cheek, expecting to find warmth, but instead her skin was surprisingly cool.
He was about to insist that she let him take her to the doctor, just as a precaution. But he felt his heart breaking when she suddenly burst into tears.