Disclaimer: I do not own "Frasier" or any related characters.  The only parts of this story that I do own are: the plot and the character Brianna.  And yes, I know that I used a Brianna in my other story, but it's not the same one.  Just so you know!

A/N: This is the first of a series of "Brianna" stories that I have come up with.  So, if you would, please read, review, and tell me what you think, and if you'd like more!  Thanks much!  Also, this story takes place early second season.

Title: Blast from the Past

Rating: PG-13 . . . because I can!!!

Genre: General (FWI: This is NOT a romance story, so don't worry)

Summary: When a woman from the past shows up, she unleashes an "interesting" havoc among the Crane family and friends.

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~Blast from the Past~

Chapter One-Brianna Ackland

     At an airport in Miami, Florida, sitting near GATE 14, was a young woman, no older than thirty-five-years-old.  Her eyes were locked upon the book she held in her hands: Stephen King's novel, 'Salem's Lot.  It fascinated her, as nearly all of Stephen King's books did.  The suspense, the fight, the twisted humor . . . she loved it all.

     Her ears perked up at the sound of the intercom being turned on.  A male's voice, sounding almost computer-like, was projected over the speakers: "Now boarding at GATE 14, non-stop flight to Seattle.  First-class passengers may now begin to board."

     The woman gently laid her book down upon her small duffle bag and pulled her ticket out from the hip pocket of her jeans.  She knew that she was not first class.  Hell, she was lucky that she was even able to afford a plane ticket, but nonetheless, she removed her plane ticket and peered at the row number: 26A.  She slipped the ticket back into her pocket, thanking God that they began boarding from the back. 

     She picked her book back up, folded the page over and shut the book.  She crossed her legs, waiting patiently for her row to be called.  "Now boarding rows twenty-five and higher," the man on the intercom announced.  She smiled softly, standing up and stretching her back.  As she kneeled down and picked up her duffle bag, she noticed that there were two men waiting in line to board the plane.

     She got in line, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, as well as getting a good look at the two men, one of which, she assumed, would be sitting next to her.  Since she stood at a height of six-foot-three, she was reasonably taller than both of the men, but she silently hoped that she would be seated next to the smaller of the two men, so that she would be able to maybe trade seats with them, in order to get an aisle seat so that she wouldn't be too cramped.

     As she handed her ticket to the ticket agent, she emitted a deep sigh.  Why was she even going to Seattle?  Well, she knew why, but did she even think that anything, or anyone, there would be able to help her?  Although she did not know for certain that she would be able to find a job in Seattle, she knew that there was someone there who would (hopefully) help her.

     The ticket agent handed her back her ticket, smiling up at her as she did so.  "Enjoy your flight."

     "Thank you," she replied.  As she strolled down the hallway, she looked at her ticket: ACKLAND, BRIANNA, it read, the letters of her name gleaming up at her.  She stuck the ticket into her pocket in disgust.  She hated her first name; it never seemed to suit her as a person.  But she never dared tell anyone this, as she was named after her late-grandmother, whom everyone in the family seemed to worship as some sort of goddess.

     Her family.  One of the main reasons that she had to get out of this Godforsaken city as fast as she could.  They never seemed to appreciate who she was.  They wanted her to be like the rest of them: rich, uptight, and stuck-up.  At first, she had tried her hardest to become what they wanted.  She had gone to Duke University and had received a Master's Degree in law, and all the while she had been upset and miserable.  She never even tried to look for a job; she simply stayed in her parent's house.

Her parents hadn't been particularly pleased about their daughter living with them, but it also didn't anger them.  They enjoyed having one of their five children living at home with them, but it didn't stop them from trying to turn Brianna into exactly what they were.  She had resisted terribly, and after a year of trying, they gave up, leaving Brianna to live in her room, broke and jobless.

   For about ten years, Brianna had worked on what she truly loved; the arts.  She loved everything about it, except for actual art, such as painting and sculpting.  She would spend the entire day playing her guitar and singing.  It filled her with such mirth that she would actually forget that one day her parents would kick her out . . .

She got onto the plane and walked down the small aisle to where her seat was.  She had to crouch down slightly so that her head wouldn't touch the roof of the plane.  Finally, after attempting to squeeze past the other passengers, she managed to find her seat: 26A.  She sighed in relief; it was the aisle seat.  In the middle seat was the short man who had boarded the plane before her and next to him was a teenage boy, who was obviously riding alone for the first time.  Brianna could literally see beads of sweat begin to form at his hairline.

     She sat down in her chair and placed the duffle bag beneath the seat in front of her.  She glanced to her right; the man caught her eye and smiled.  She smiled back, but soon tore away from his stare.  She was a beautiful girl, many people had told her so, but being stared at always made her feel uncomfortable. 

     She ran her fingers through her auburn hair, still anxious as to what to expect when she arrived in Washington, or, as her friend from Missouri pronounced it, Warshington.  Luckily, she had lived in Seattle for nearly eight years when she was younger, so she assumed that there had to be someone she knew still living there, right?

     High school had been an interesting experience for her.  Her freshmen year, she had gone to Murphy III High School.  That summer between freshmen and sophomore year, her parents decided that she should go to a more advanced school.  She was (almost) immediately accepted into Auburn High.  She had hated that school, but had made quite a few friends there . . .

     "Excuse me, are you using that pillow?"  Brianna looked back over at the man beside her.

     "Oh, no, you can have it," she replied, handing the small white pillow over to the man, who placed it beneath his head and closed his eyes.

     Auburn High.  That was the school where she had befriended the sweetest, but strangest, boy.  She had never liked him that way, although her classmates believed otherwise.  She just thought of him as a friend who would always help her, no matter what.  That summer, her parents had decided that they were moving to Florida, Miami, to be exact, and she never saw her friend again.  Until now.

     "Would you like something to drink?"

     Brianna was shaken out of her thoughts.  She looked at the flight attendant, who was leaning on the drink cart.  "Oh, yes please.  Umm, can I have just a Pepsi?"  The flight attendant nodded and pulled a Pepsi can out of the cart and handed it to Brianna.  "Thank you."  The flight attendant nodded and went on to serve the man and the teenage boy.

     Well, at least she hoped that she would meet up with her friend again.  She had gone to that online site ("Reconnect with friends and old high school flames"-Reunion.Com) and couldn't find anything that said he had left Washington.  Finding him probably would have been easier if she could remember his last name.  It had been bothering her ever since she thought about going back to Washington.

     Anger boiled in her stomach as she remembered why she wanted to leave in the first place.  It had been her mother, of course, but what they did . . . it had made her so angry that she had tossed all of her belongings into a suitcase (or two) and had waltzed out of that house before she even realized what they had done was wrong, if they ever even figured it out.

It had been just two days ago.  Her mother had called her down to "meet someone special."  Someone special, ha, it was a laugh.  It was just her mother's feeble attempt to get her away from their house and loaded up on money.  She had gone down the stairs, expecting to see some old guy from the country club that was staying for dinner.  Boy, had she been surprised. 

     As soon as she came to the bottom of the stairs, she saw, with shock, that there was a young, tall, brown-haired man sitting on the couch, talking to her mother.  As she entered the room, they had both erupted into a standing position and hurried over to her.  Honey, her mother had said, this is Shawn.  He'd like to take you out to dinner.  Her mother had given her a knowing wink, which clearly said, "He's rich, sweetie.  Please marry him."

     That had been the straw that broke the camel's back.  She had looked back and forth from Shawn to her mother, turned on her heel and run up the stairs to her room.  She threw all of her important stuff into suitcases and walked down the stairs towards the front door.  Before leaving for good, she had turned to her mother (and Shawn) and gave her a memorable farewell: I apologize, Shawn.  Mom, I don't know if you've figured it out yet, but I'm not you or Grandma, okay?  I am who I am, and I know that you don't like who I am, but, you know what?  I don't care.  I'm leaving, and I'm not marrying some rich tycoon with a 41K balance in his bank account like you did.

     Oh, the look on her mother's face had been priceless.  She had felt great all of yesterday, at least until she figured out that she had nowhere to go and barely any money in her savings account.  But what was her friend's last name?  She couldn't figure it out.  Niles Something.  Something . . .

     She gasped as something wet and cold splashed onto her chest.  "Oh, my God, I am so sorry!" the man beside her apologized, handing her all of his napkins.  "I'm so sorry."

     Brianna began to wipe off her shirt.  Luckily, it was a blue shirt, not a white one, and the liquid had been water.  "It's okay; don't worry about it," she insisted.  Her shirt was pretty old anyways.  It had rips here, tears there, and even a blood stain from when she had gotten into a fight with her roommate in college, which, she still insisted, was not her fault.  Her roommate had taken her (Brianna's) volleyball and was threatening to throw it out of the two story window, just because Brianna refused to let her join her study group. 

     Man, some people just overreact to the simplest things.  She didn't even feel bad when she fractured her roommate's nose after her roommate had punched her in the stomach.  Just a run-of-the-mill catfight.

     Niles Something.  Niles . . . it was a bird, right?  Some kind of a bird.  She shook her head.  She simply could not remember, and it was giving her a headache.  Niles . . . oh, why think about it now?  As soon as she got there, she would look in the phone book and spend the day looking for anyone with the name "Niles."  What a great day it was going to be . . .

     She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and glanced at her watch.  It was only ten fifteen in the morning; she would arrive in Seattle at about one in the afternoon.  Perfect; that left plenty of time to find Niles Whatever-His-Name-Is.  She crossed her legs and pulled out 'Salem's Lot, becoming deeply immersed in the vampire horrors.

Seattle-Café Nervosa

     The two Crane brothers were sitting at their table in their favorite café.  "Frasier?" said Niles, a question in his voice.

     "Yes Niles?" he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

     "I have a dilemma."  He leaned towards his older brother, as though not wanting for any passer-bys to hear.  "I have a patient who, how do I put this?  He . . . has a high self-esteem.  Now, since you are a-" He cleared his throat. "-celebrity, I was wondering if you had any advice on how I should deal with his predicament."

     "Well," Frasier began, glancing at his watch.  "Oh, I'm sorry Niles, but I have to go do my radio show.  I promise, we'll talk later."  Frasier stood up and walked towards the exit, pulling on his jacket as he did so.

     "Okay," murmured Niles, sarcastically, setting down a tip and leaving the café as well.

Seattle, Washington-One O'clock

     Brianna Ackland shifted slightly in her sleep, her head propped up against a pillow, which the stewardess had given to her not long before.  She awoke to the sound of the captain's voice over the intercom.  "Attention passengers, we are now preparing to land, so please return all chairs and tables to their upright positions, and thank you for flying with us."

     She sat upright, pulling the pillow out from behind her and placing it on her lap.  "Oh boy," she whispered, biting her lip.  She was terribly nervous about what was going to happen in her new life in Seattle . . .

To Be Continued . . .

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think!  Thanks!  Much love!