At the Heart of It All

by Val McCaffery

Chapter 1 : Letting Go

Click.... click..... click..... click.

The sound of the locket case opening and closing took on a rhythmic beat.

Niles gazed at her picture but the pain of seeing her smiling face, her brown eyes looking deeply back at him and her auburn hair falling gently around her shoulders, overwhelmed him all too quickly. After a fleeting glance, he found himself compelled to snap the polished gold cover shut.

Click.

But after a few seconds he couldn't stand not looking at her, so he once again opened the smooth, heart-shaped piece of jewelry to steal another glimpse of his beloved… Daphne.

Click.... Click.... Click...

"Niles?"

Click.

"What is it, Frasier?" he answered, with a tired sound in his voice that showed so clearly all of the burdens of his heart over the last few months.

Niles turned around and returned the pendant to its resting-place in the breast pocket of his crisp linen shirt. This was as close to his heart as he could get it without surgery.

"Nothing really," replied his brother. "I just wanted to know if I could get you anything?"

"Get me anything?" thought Niles. "Well, let's see... how about a new heart. This one of mine is beyond repair, you see ... or a quick and painless way to put me out of my misery, one that wouldn't cause my loving family too much grief - there has been enough of that ... or... or... "

"No, Frasier," Niles found himself telling his brother. "You've done just about all anyone could do. I... I just need some time a… alone for a little while, I think. Thanks..."

His words disappeared into the darkness of the bedroom.

"Oh, Niles!" said Frasier, coming up behind him and placing his hand on his younger brother's sagging shoulders.

Niles' body tensed slightly at the touch of another person invading his territory, his personal world of grief. He turned his pale face towards Frasier's comforting voice.

"Niles, I think I should stay with you for a bit. You haven't really given yourself a chance to grieve properly, you know. What with all the funeral arrangements and the doctors and the loss of the ba...."

"Please!" Niles fairly shouted, not in anger, but more in self-defense. "Please... Frasier, I know what happened. I was there, remember?"

"I am more afraid that you will never let yourself forget," Frasier almost whispered.

"I know you didn't mean that to be cruel, but I am having a hard time not taking it that way right now," Niles hoarsely responded, his throat tightening with emotion. "Why would you ever want me to forget Daphne? You know that isn't possible! And even if I had a conscious choice in the matter, you know I would never t... take that path anyw... way!"

The last few words were rushed out with a strangled, high-pitched sound as Niles jerked his body stiffly away from his brother.

"P... please leave now, Frasier," he stammered.

Niles' voice cracked slightly. His words had a finality about them, as if to clearly discourage any further endeavors at communication. He lowered himself slowly until he was perched rigidly on the edge of the bed.

Niles watched as Frasier tenaciously moved around in front and sat opposite him in a chair. He knew his brother had purposely positioned himself like this. That way, Frasier would be close enough to reach out and grasp Niles' trembling hands, which were very busy at that moment nervously picking at the imaginary pieces of lint on his neatly pressed trouser leg. Frasier never did appreciate the comfort that Niles found in this type of repetitive movement. Niles didn't draw back, but his whole body stiffened even further under the touch of Frasier's hands.

"Niles, I don't want you to forget Daphne," Frasier said with kind determination, "I want you to forget the pain of her absence."

"Can't be done, brother!" Niles said with an edgy laugh. He pulled his hands free of his brother's grip and rubbed his creased brow. "God knows I have tried! Sleeping aids, alcohol, talking to myself... t... tr... tried to tell myself that it was for the best, that she was only suffering, that she is in a better place now - that's what she said, didn't she – before she d... died."

Niles had to stop. His head suddenly drooped and his body convulsed slightly. He took a large gulp of air, trying to regain his composure. It was a vain attempt.

The uncomfortable silence became deafening.

Like a hammer blow, Frasier's voice finally smashed the uneasy stillness.

"Niles, the one thing you haven't really tried is talking to others about it."

Niles knew that what Frasier had said was not only compassionate but it was also totally reasonable. But that didn't seem to matter. No words of sympathy or support were enough to soothe his suffering. No rational advice seemed to ease his constant rage at the inherent unfairness that had been imposed upon him. There was no solution to appease his current torment. The only thing that could really have helped him was something that was an impossibility. He wanted Daphne back.

Frasier studied the agony on the face of his brother. It was a look that he had grown accustomed to over the last few months.

Everyone was concerned for Niles' well being. They had all seen his malaise building, but had been almost afraid to talk about it.

Strangely enough it was Roz who had been the first one to say anything out loud. It had happened in the parking lot of the hospital on a day that was sympathetically gray and threatening rain. Frasier could still hear her raspy twang as she had interrupted his troubled quietude that afternoon.

"Frasier," she had said, with a hint of dreading in her voice. "Frasier, have you noticed that Niles isn't handling this too well? I'm worried 'bout him."

"Good old Roz! She comes on all tough and sarcastic, but underneath she has a heart of pure marshmallow," Frasier thought. "She'd be the one to finally say what we all have been thinking for the last little while"...

It all started so many months ago with what seemed like the very best kind of news. They weren't actually trying to get pregnant, but ever since the wedding a year ago, they had decided just to "let nature take its course," as Niles had put it to an inquiring Frasier on a muggy afternoon at the Cafe Nervosa. Then he added for good measure, "As if it really is any of your business!" in a semi-serious, huffy tone.

Niles could be so insufferable in his arrogance sometimes, Frasier thought. But when he was joyful about something, his unbridled enthusiasm made up for all the snippiness. And Daphne's "bump news," as she put it, was a time for joy!

By the time Daphne went to the doctor's to confirm the results of the home pregnancy test, she was almost at the end of her first month.

She and Niles could barely contain themselves long enough to anxiously call everyone to gather at Frasier's apartment so that they could announce their good tidings. There were champagne toasts all around except for Daphne, of course. She prudently had sparkling water. After the proud parents-to-be had departed, Frasier swore that he hadn't seen such a goofy look on Niles' face since that morning in Nervosa when it was revealed that Daphne and he had indeed begun to consummate their relationship.

Later, when Frasier came to think back on those moments, it seemed like a particularly cruel twist of fate to him that someone as meticulous as Niles when it came to anything concerning Daphne, hadn't noticed some of the signs of trouble earlier. Niles had mentioned to his brother, in one of his daily pregnancy updates, that Daphne had been feeling fatigued and looked a bit paler than usual, but both of them had attributed this condition to the nausea caused by morning sickness.

Daphne was considered to be in a higher risk category because of her thyroid condition, but their ob-gyn, Dr. Hewitt, assured them that with careful monitoring of her hormones, the chance of a miscarriage was not as great nowadays as it had been in the past. As Niles said to Frasier, "In all likelihood we can expect a normal pregnancy!"

Unfortunately, things didn't always turn out the way they were expected.

When the symptoms began to increase in severity, instead of subsiding as time elapsed, everyone knew that something more serious was happening to Daphne than just a queasy tummy. Further examinations determined that there was indeed a serious problem with a disproportion of hormones that had been masked by the common characteristics of her pregnancy.

As soon as the thyroid dysfunction was detected, Daphne was classified as very high-risk and given special medical attention. But the undetected imbalance had already done its damage and a miscarriage seemed imminent in spite of some very valiant efforts on the part of Dr. Hewitt and the hospital.

To most people, Niles appeared to be in control of his feelings. He didn't really look chipper. No one expected that. But for a few weeks, Frasier noted, Niles seemed uncharacteristically restrained. No hyperventilating, no panic attacks, not even any indecisive questions to his wiser, older brother on what to do next. Niles just took up the reins and seemed to be riding that fated horse to the finish line.

Sure, he had some moments where he wasn't really in it. If there was any lull in the conversation, he would stare off into space and it took a lot of prodding to get him back from whatever personal hell he had fallen into. Sometimes his eyes would well up with tears and he would excuse himself from the table. Just when Frasier thought that someone should go check on him in the bathroom, out he would come displaying a frozen grimace of a smile. It all seemed to bring back memories of the famous 'party face' he used to throw on when Mel wanted to glide through some social occasion and all was not merry.

But considering Daphne was hospitalized and the highly anticipated arrival of a new grandchild for Martin was in jeopardy, most people would have categorized his behavior as strong or brave.

Everyone except the people who knew him best, that is.

Frasier had noticed it, but didn't want to say anything because

articulating it to others would only worsen the situation - like a jinx or curse. If he asked Niles how things really were, he would get that damned 'party face' and a pat reply.

"Fine... fine... considering... " and then Niles would avoid eye contact and give some excuse like he had to go to the office because things were "really ... really piling up, what with all the visits to the hospital and the doctor's office during the day." And with that he would rush off in that awkward gait, as only the younger Crane boy could, looking like an overgrown adolescent struggling to keep his balance on the moving sidewalk in a carnival funhouse. It would have appeared almost comical to some, but Frasier knew this stilted style of walking was an outward manifestation of the inward stress Niles was feeling and could only shake his head with concern.

That was before they lost the baby.

No matter how many times Niles read the pages of the medical report, it always said the same thing. He flipped open the textured cover of the file and took a long drink of the double scotch he had poured himself.

"Extremely low levels of sodium pregnanediol were indicated in Mrs. Crane. The pregnancy was compromised as a result and a spontaneous abortion occurred on October 16th, in the final month of her first trimester."

Niles read and re-read the clinical wording until it was burned in his brain.

That was all that was left of their hopes for a child. That cut and dried report and a tiny teddy bear that Niles had bought Daphne as a gift the day after she had announced to him that the results on the stick were positive.

He tucked both of those reminders away in his "Daphne folder" that he kept in the drawer of his nightstand, sighed with a low moan and closed his eyes.

Niles did not know at the time that the misery those objects inspired were only a precursor to the nightmare that was to follow.

Within two weeks of Daphne being admitted into the hospital for cramping, bleeding and anemia it was all over. Niles took the whole day off and spent it with her, by her side every step of the way. She seemed particularly tired by the ordeal and lost a lot of blood during the miscarriage. Niles remained very distraught by this aspect, but decided not to over-emphasize it, so as to not unduly worry Daphne when she seemed so vulnerable. He just wanted her out of the hospital and back home with him as soon as possible.

He was there in her room, quietly talking about trying again when she had her strength built up, when Dr. Hewitt and two other doctors from the hospital suddenly appeared.

"Dr. and Mrs. Crane, I would like you to meet some colleagues," interrupted Dr. Hewitt in a particularly somber tone. "This is Dr. Sampson and Dr. Cheung." He paused and cleared his throat. "They're from the oncology department of the hospital."

Niles tightened his grip on Daphne's hand. He glanced at his wife and then back at the three figures in the doorway. Dr. Hewitt closed the door.

"Yeeesss," Niles said slowly "W...why would you want to see us?"

He blinked twice in rapid succession, as if to clear his mind for the onslaught that was sure to follow.

Niles focused his attention intently on the doctors, but he could hear Daphne in the background whispering, "Oncology, that's.... that's cancer, isn't it?"

"Well," Dr. Cheung took over, "when we were doing some routine blood tests on Mrs. Crane, we found some abnormalities in her white blood cells."

Daphne gasped. "Oh God! It can't be true! No!" she whispered hoarsely.

Niles gently reached out and hugged her, cradling her in his arms. "Shh, shhh, my love." he comforted. Niles looked up and swallowed some air before speaking, "Are... are you sure? Don't you have to do more tests?"

"Of course, of course," said Dr. Hewitt quickly. "And the sooner the better. We've scheduled her for a bone marrow test and some blood examinations tomorrow."

"Which do you suspect it to be," Niles asked dryly, "myelogenous or lymphocytic leukemia?" His voice took on a clinical tone, submerging his urge to scream. If that was what it took to get through this, then for Daphne's sake, he would do just that.

"We don't want to say too soon," said Dr. Sampson. "Without the proper tests."

"Please," Niles said curtly, his voice rising with the obvious stress he was experiencing. "I'm a doctor too! I know you have an idea of what you are looking for. We want to face this head on. I...we want to know!"

"We suspect it is acute myelogenous leukemia," Dr. Sampson replied bluntly.

Niles closed his eyes. He could feel his world slipping away.

"We've just lost our baby and now you tell me I have cancer," said Daphne tearfully but with a determined sound in her voice. "Could my husband and I have some privacy, please?" Niles squeezed her hand gently in support.

And with that the doctors retreated, leaving them alone.

After Daphne had been diagnosed with leukemia, Frasier noticed that Niles seemed to withdraw even more. No more attending family dinners to lift his spirits. No more stopping into the cafe for a cup of espresso to compensate for his dwindling sleeping habits. No more chatting on the phone with him, trying to evade answering questions that evaluated Daphne's condition. Oh, he didn't exactly hide anything from anyone about her situation. He dutifully reported to them the pertinent facts that they were entitled to know. It was just that everything had to be pried out of him, as if under protest.

"Yeah, well ... you see, that's a tough one actually," Niles would respond haltingly, when asked about her prognosis for survival. His eyes would dart back and forth, wildly trying to focus on anything except the face of the person he was talking to. Finally he would settle on some inanimate object like the cuff of his shirt or his jacket button, as if concentrating on that would give him the strength to get his answer out. He would tug several times at the selected anchor to his thoughts, stalling further and then finally blurt out his words in a rush.

"Survival...yeah, well the doctors all seem to think it to be about 14 per cent ... maybe, maybe less because of the severe hemorrhaging she had with... with the m… miscarriage." Having delivered his obligatory accounting, he then would revert back to his tried and true method of escape and claim, "I have to go." Now, he didn't even offer a half-assed excuse as to why he had to rush off. It was a command performance that Frasier had seen encored dozens of times in recent months.

Whenever the others managed to catch a glimpse of Niles going in or out of Daphne's room, or corral him for a few moments in the hallway to get briefings on her status, they came away mostly appalled at the deterioration of his body as well as his spirit. The corporeal effects of the strain were very evident quickly enough. No sleep and little food were the volatile cocktail he was serving himself up in abundance. His angular face grew even thinner than usual. He exhibited all the signs of sleep deprivation - dark circles enveloped his eyes and his skin took on a decidedly sallow tone. His countenance, during any snippets of conversation, was one of either fixated blankness or edgy inattention.

When Frasier, Martin or Roz would come by unexpectedly to see Daphne, he was always there by her bedside, but then he would silently slip away and let the others take over the conversation. Later, as if he had been watching the whole time by the door, he would make an instant reappearance, just when the good-byes were being said. It was like a wall was going up between him and the outside world. The only person he would let into this fortress was Daphne - she was the queen, and only occupant, of his private little world.

One time, Frasier inadvertently intruded in on their time together. He knew he should have declared his presence, but he couldn't help but play the role of the spy on this occasion and stand quietly, with the door slightly ajar, listening in on Niles as he talked in hushed tones to a semi-somnolent Daphne. It wasn't so much what Niles was saying that mesmerized Frasier so. It was the manner in which he said it. When Niles spoke to Daphne his whole presence seemed soft and calm. This was a side of Niles that he never showed in public any more. There was no edge or anxiousness in his tone. His voice took on a low-sounding, musical quality. Frasier grasped he was witnessing Niles' attempt to give Daphne what amounted to an emotional transfusion. The words he used weren't important, the transposing of his feelings of love to replace her pain was the primary purpose of this exercise. It was evident to any observer that he was trying to infuse some of his life and energy into Daphne, all the while, leaving none as a reserve for himself. Frasier knew Niles well enough to recognize that this was a sacrifice that he wouldn't even question. Daphne was the centre of Niles' cosmos, but now it was a universe that was imploding with each passing day. This was the heroic act of a despondent person.

It was then that Frasier finally understood the true magnitude of Niles' love for Daphne, and the depth of his grief. At first he felt humbled to be a witness to such devotion, but then he was overcome with shame at having trespassed into the private territory of a man whose world was breaking apart. As an act of contrition, Frasier bowed his head in humiliation, backed out of the doorway silently and headed toward the elevators, before Niles became aware of his proximity.

"I think he should get some help, don't you?" opinioned Roz, as she and Frasier walked to their cars that gloomy day in St. Bart's hospital parking lot. "My God, he actually looks worse than Daphne and she's the one getting chemo!"

"It's hard trying to talk to him, Roz," Frasier said with a sigh. "You know that yourself. He seems so removed from everything."

"Well, don't you know someone?" she persisted. "Someone who can ... can... I don't know, stop him before he destroys himself?" Frasier noticed that Roz wiped her eyes quickly before he could ask her if she needed his hankie. "It's bad enough that we are losing Daphne. I ... we can't afford to see him in this condition."

"He just won't accept what's happening and this is his way of dealing with it," Frasier paused before opening his car door. "We can't help someone who is unwilling to help himself. He loves her so much, Roz. It's just too much for him to bear right now. Daphne is going home soon for a couple of weeks of bone marrow recovery. That might cheer him up. At least she'll be with him in a non-hospital environment and during that phase of the treatment patients tend to feel a bit better."

"Oh, it's all so useless!!" Roz bellowed as she turned and thumped her fist on the car's hood. "She is just going to die anyway in the end!! It seems like pointless torture!"

"Oh, Roz, we mustn't give up hope," Frasier started to step towards her as he spoke. "Even if it is just for Niles' sake!"

"But... " Roz wheeled around suddenly and looked up to find herself staring into Niles' ashen face just behind Frasier's shoulders. "Niles, what are you doing here?"

Frasier turned suddenly at the sound of his brother's name and almost bumped into him.

"Is… is everything all... all right?" Frasier sputtered. "I mean with Daphne. Nothing's happened, has it?"

"Nooo, nothing's happened," Niles said wearily. "I just saw you two over here... and I was on my way out for a bit... and thought that there might be... something wrong and… " He trailed off with a breathy quality to his voice.

"No! No, nothing's wrong with us!" Roz interjected with a bit too much animation. "I just forgot to ... to get my parking tag and Frasier was offering to... to help me with it!"

It was such a pathetic lie. Niles looked blankly at her. Frasier gave a mental sigh of relief. Maybe Niles was so stressed out that he just didn't notice how lame Roz's excuse was. Or maybe it was the fact that if he questioned her, he would have to open the whole can of worms and face a lot of the feelings that he seemed to be avoiding lately with his friends and family.

"Well, I... I have to be - " Niles sputtered out a response.

"Off... yes, I know." Frasier quickly finished his brother's well-rehearsed line.

"Yes, well... " And with that, Niles hurried off to his car.

"Oh, Frasier," moaned Roz. "Do you think he heard us?"

"Of course he did!" snapped Frasier and then realised that Roz was just worried, like he was, and it wasn't right to take it out on her. "I'm sorry Roz," he muttered, "I didn't mean that."

"Well, that is really going to push him over the edge!" she said with regret. "Me and my big mouth! Now you have to go and talk to him."

"You know, Roz," said Frasier with deliberation. "Normally I would agree with you, but I think, I think that would be a really bad idea right now. I think, for once... I think he needs to be alone for the moment. Sometimes a man just needs some privacy. I'll call him later, or at least try to."

"All right." Roz seemed appeased. "How come Martin didn't come with you today?"

"He is dealing with this in his own way," Frasier confessed. "He just can't stand seeing Daphne waste away like this. I think it reminds him too much of when Mom died. He'll show up, but just not as frequently as you or I. I talked to Daphne - she understands."

"Gee, I never thought of it from that stand point," Roz said. "It would be tough on Martin like that, wouldn't it? She is like a daughter to him, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," was all Frasier said as he hugged Roz and got in his car,

"And like a sister to us," Roz sighed before climbing into her own car and revving the engine.

"Like a sister," repeated Frasier and he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "That is for sure."

"It's all so useless!!"

Roz's words echoed in Niles' head.

"It seems like pointless torture!"

"...useless....torture!"

"TORTURE!"

His eyes popped open. He had a sensation of falling. He grabbed onto the edge of the fainting couch with his fingers in a desperate bid to keep from tumbling over the edge. But it was all an illusion.

"Oh, my GOD!!!" he cried at the top of his lungs "How am I EVER going to g...get through THIS? DAPHNE!!! DAPHNE!!! OH GOD!!! OH GOD!!! OH GOD!!!"

He stopped suddenly and started to whisper out loud to himself. "She's going to live and she's going to get better and she's going to be all right

and -"

It was his rosary chant - a direct pipeline to a merciful God. He sat up hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.

"You can't do this!" his internal voice admonished. "You can't go on like this or you'll go crazy!"

".... she's going to come home and the cancer is going to be in remission," he insisted to no one in particular, his voice gaining in volume as he went on, "and we'll have a baby and we'll live happily ever after."

It was like a mantra to him. Say it out loud enough and it would drown out that terrible inner truth.

"Face it, you coward!" his private voice exhorted. "She's going to die very soon and there is nothing you can do to stop it."

His worst fears were gaining strength.

"NOOOooo!" he howled, his cries echoing off the walls of his

living room. "No, no, no!"

He pounded the cushions with his fists.

Exhausted, he slumped down on the couch and wept until he was empty of all emotion. This battle was over for now.

When he couldn't cry any more, he finally slept. And in the early morning light, he got up and slowly began to prepare the house for Daphne's return.

End of Part One (To be continued)