They made it to the emergency room without further incident or discussion, edifying or otherwise, beyond the typical battle over who got to control the radio dial.
“Isn’t Bulldog’s show on?” Marty said as he reached for the dial and flipped it to KACL.
“Dad, no,” Niles said. “I really need to relax right now.” He turned the radio to the local classical station, which was playing “The Rites of Spring.”
“Well, why the hell do you think I want the sports on? I don’t want to think about Daphne’s condition any more than you do.” The station went back to Bulldog.
For about ten seconds, before Niles put “Rites of Spring” back on. “Then just let your mind drift, dad,” Niles said. “Drift along with the music.”
“Drift along with the baseball scores,” Marty said sarcastically, and once again reached for the dial – only to have Niles stop him.
Then followed a few seconds of handslapping, which ended only when Frasier said, “Knock it off, would you?” They both pulled back their hands and harrumphed. “My god, I’m worried about Daphne too, but that’s no excuse to be behaving like a bunch of kindergarteners.”
Niles and Marty muttered apologies.
“Besides,” Frasier said suddenly, “It’s my car and I want to listen to NPR.”
This set off a new wave of handslapping around the radio dial, the upshot of which was that no one got their way, and they spent the rest of the drive in silence. Grumpy silence.
When they got inside the hospital Daphne was giving her medical information to the nurse behind the counter. “Really,” she said. “I feel fine now, I don’t even need to be checked in . . .”
“Nonsense, Daphne,” Niles said. “You need to be looked after.”
“And you are?” The nurse said. Her name tag read Fitzgerald.
Frasier stepped forward. “I’m her employer. I wasn’t there when she collapsed but my brother and father were.”
“Stick around, then,” Nurse Fitzgerald said. “The doctor might have a few questions.”
“You two are sure, then?” Daphne asked Niles and Frasier.
“We’re sure,” Frasier said, and Niles concurred.
Daphne nodded. “Alright, then,” she said. “As long as you’re sure.” She sighed and said. “I just hate putting on these silly hospital gowns.”
“Yeah,” Marty said. “But you gotta remember, those things aren’t built to make us feel better. They’re built to make it easier for the docs to poke and prod you.” He laughed. “One time after I sprained my ankle I left my gunbelt on under the gown. Damn doctor must have jumped ten feet!”
“Yes, dad, your tales of wacky irresponsible handgun use never cease to amuse,” Frasier said.
Daphne said, “I can never get the silly things tied anyway. My bum’s always sticking out, naked as the day I was born.”
“Really,” Niles said. “Maybe I could just go in there with you, then. You know, make sure you have it nice and snug.”
Firmly, Frasier said, “I don’t think that will be necessary, Niles.” A doctor came out and escorted Daphne back to an examination room. Niles began to follow until Frasier grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“You’ve been doing this sort of thing for five years now,” Frasier commented mildly. “I’d think you’d have learned better by now.”
“It’s Pavlovian, I think,” Niles said, sitting down in the waiting area.
“Ah,” Frasier said. Then he looked at Marty. “You see –“
The ex-cop said, “If you so much as BEGIN to explain who Pavlov was, I’ll make sure Daphne’s not the only one who spends time in the emergency room.” He made his way over to the seating area, where he accidentally put his cane on the foot of one of the other people waiting there. “Excuse me,” he said as the woman yelped in pain.
“No problem,” the woman said, reaching down and rubbing her foot.
Frasier started when he heard the voice and glanced over. It was the same young woman who’d assaulted him in the alley! He sidled up to Niles, keeping his back turned the entire way across the room.
Niles watched him the entire way over. “Prepping for a career in interpretive dance, are we?”
“Niles, do you see that young woman sitting next to dad?” As Niles started to look around Frasier, he hissed, “Don’t look!”
“I’m sorry, but I seem to have left my x-ray goggles in my other suit.”
Frasier harrumphed. “Make it quick, then,” he said. “I don’t want her seeing me.”
As Niles stole a glance, he said, “She doesn’t look dangerous.” Marty had picked up a copy of the Times sports page.
Frasier said acidly, “Did you expect her to be wearing a sign saying, ‘Dangerous lunatic’?”
“Certainly would make our jobs easier.” At Frasier’s glare, Niles continued, “It is an odd coincidence that she’s here, though.”
“Odd, nothing. She’s stalking me!”
Right then a doctor came from the exam room entrance and said, “Miss Summers?”
The woman got up. “Yes?”
“Mr. Giles is fine. Nothing to worry about; he just needs to avoid strenuous activity for a while.”
“Thanks,” she said, sounding concerned. “Can I see him?”
“Yes, the nurse is just finishing up now. You can go on back.” The young Miss Summers did precisely that, disappearing from view around a corner.
“Yes,” Niles said. “I see what you mean. Just can’t stop bothering you, can she?”
The same doctor then came up to Frasier. “Are you the ones who brought Miss Moon in?” Marty dropped the newspaper and came over as Frasier and Niles nodded as one. “How do you do, I’m Dr. Olmstead. She seems to be fine -- we can’t detect any lingering symptoms. You can go in and see her if you like.”
“Is it anything serious?” Marty asked.
“Almost certainly not,” Dr. Olmstead said. “Still, there’s no point in not making sure, right?”
“I’d have to agree with you,” Frasier said.
Dr. Olmstead laughed humorlessly. “Then maybe you’ll have more luck convincing Miss Moon than I am. All she wants to do is get dressed and go home.”
“We’ll give it our best shot.”
“Then come with me.” All three followed the doctor back to an examination area partitioned off by curtains. Daphne was there sitting off the edge of an exam table.
“Did you hear what they want to do to me?” Daphne fairly shreiked. “They want to keep me here while they run some tests! I told them it was just one of me psychic flashes and they don’t believe me!”
“Imagine my surprise,” Frasier said.
Marty shot him a look and said, “Look, Daphne, you know I don’t like hospitals any more than you do. But I think this time they might be right.”
“What?” Daphne said, shocked.
“You didn’t see how you looked when you collapsed,” Niles said. “We did.”
“And you, Dr. Crane?” Daphne asked Frasier quietly.
“Well, I didn’t see it,” Frasier said. “But it certainly can’t hurt.”
“Very well, then,” Daphne said to Dr. Olmstead. “Poke me, prod me, run your bloody machines, get out your leeches, but I don’t think it’s going to do any good.”
“Oh, come now, Daphne,” Frasier said. “It’s not like that and you know it. For God’s sake, you’re a health care worker yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Crane,” Daphne said apologetically.
“Besides, they usually do the leeches first these days.”
Almost spluttering, Daphne was about to fire off an angry retort when a voice came from over the curtain, “Do I detect the voice of an Englishwoman?” The voice was also British, though quite refined. Frasier thought he’d heard it before . . .
“Yes – yes, you do,” Daphne said. “Manchester born and bred. You?”
“London. It’s just odd hearing the voice of a fellow expatriate so far from home.”
“Daphne Moon.”
“Rupert Giles.”
“For goodness’ sake,” Frasier said. “If the two of you want to have a conversation there’s no point in having it through a curtain.” So saying, he reached up and pulled the curtain back . . .
And recoiled in horror. Because in addition to the fortyish Englishman he’d expected – who had been with the woman who assaulted him in the alley – there was the young woman herself! Frasier jumped back and yelped out, “It’s her –“
At the same time Daphne said the exact same thing!
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