Danielle:

All right. As I write this, I have a) Dulcey, pressuring me to write this; b)

Eve sharing pictures of a certain blond Canadian actor, and c) Seema

screaming about the fact that Bebe is going to be in the premiere. No, wait,

that was me. Fair enough; both of us. And laughing about pretty much

everything in general.

Now that I've managed to settle things down a tad, let's see. During the,

shall we say, production of another story Dulcey and I were working on some

months ago, we discovered that we had become addicted to Sadness. Yes,

capital S. So this is our result. This story is based almost entirely on an

improv that we did online one day. Ninety percent of the dialogue comes

directly from it. This story is actually the prequel to one we wrote before

it, and we've prosed (not a real word; refers to turning an improv into a

story, or 'prose' work) it for your benefit, so you will understand the later

story to come. Much longer, much Sadder, and it has a much better ending than

this one.

I owe everything to my strange, Sadness-obsessed writing partner, and all the

memories surrounding this story... four hands and three arms, and whatnot.

Thank you for being odd, and for yelling out "Toothpaste!!!", and doing all

the other things that make me fall out of my chair laughing.

I apologize for my lack of wittiness; just tonight I have learned that Bebe

Neuwirth, whom we love very dearly, is going to be in the season premiere,

and we might just be able to attend the filming. (I guess it wasn't enough to

meet her in New York four times in four months. ;) So right now, I'm still in

a bit of a daze. Enjoy the story. :)



Dulcey:

This is my second attempt at author's notes, since Danielle and Seema practically died laughing at my first version. Somehow, I'm always funniest when I'm not trying.

I admit, I've done my fair share in torturing characters, although Danielle's done more than she'll admit to. :P This entire experience has been as hilarious to experience as it has been Sad to read. Here's to crummy hotel rooms, napkin sketches that look like teapots and Egyptian statues, hanging out with our favorite celebrities, and all the other events of the past six months. I hope we never get over this craziness. :)

During our time writing this story and the other one, we developed a fondness for taking our favorite scenes/phrases from books and movies, and slipping them into whatever section we were currently writing. Not so much in this story as in the other one, but you might come across a line or two that sounds familiar. Chances are, we liked it and decided to include it in our story. If the owners of these stolen words happen to read this, please don't sue. We're just having a little fun, and if we *were* making a profit off of this, we'd have stayed somewhere a lot nicer than the Aladdin Hotel.

Enjoy!



Out of Bounds

A collaborative fanfic by Danielle ([email protected]) and Dulcey ([email protected])



Belize was nothing short of a disaster.

After I talked to Lilith, I stood by the phone for an hour. I might have stayed there all night if Claire hadn't crawled out of bed to look for me. Most of that hour was spent trying to justify to countless imaginary people why I had called my ex-wife in the middle of the night to ask her why I was having a sexual dream about someone other than my girlfriend.

Why didn't I just go to Niles? I always did. And he always came to me. Granted, we more often than not drove each other to within a degree of being certifiable, but we were close. We trusted each other. Although in all fairness, our choice wasn't entirely optional; we had no one else, really. No one who understood our egomaniacal, elitist quirks, the inherent need to flaunt our intellect, or our unearthly obsession with analysis.

We were shrinks. It was our job.

And yet I'd spent twenty minutes looking for a phone card, another five looking for my wallet with which to purchase said phone card, and another eight searching for a phone that worked... just to call Lilith. All these years I'd convinced myself she drove me insane. That I couldn't stand to be in the same room with her. That I shared in my family's amusement of classic jokes about her. I forced myself to not only remember but focus on everything that drove us to divorce, and that had always been enough to keep any feelings I had for her from resurfacing.

Until now.

I saw her a few times a year, when I visited with my son. Our son. We never spoke much, but I still found myself occasionally looking at her the way I used to. I couldn't help it. She was strikingly beautiful. In every possible way. I avoided it at all costs. It had taken so much of myself to get over her, and I couldn't do it twice. So I would watch her come, and leave, and listen to my family's quips, and go to bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of a time we'd shared a laugh at Cheers over something Cliff had said, or a time we'd gotten so turned on that we actually stopped the Mercedes on the highway and pulled over to the side of the road.

She hadn't told me she loved me in over nine years. Not until that night in Belize.

There was one time that came close. Two Thanksgivings ago... I had consented to let her stay the weekend so we could work on the article together. It was an unusual two days. We became closer, and comfortable, and tried to hide it from everyone else and ourselves. And for the first time since I'd left Boston, I allowed myself to admit that I would miss her. But once the pain settled in, I stopped myself quickly.

On the night before she left, I got up for a drink of water and found her curled up on the couch, looking out into the dark air. She sat up when I came out, but didn't say anything.

"Can I sit down?" I asked softly.

She cleared a space and offered me half of her blanket.

I sat down and stared at the darkness. "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head, and for a few minutes we were both silent. At length, she spoke. "I've enjoyed this weekend."

I smiled weakly. "Me too." Yes, I certainly enjoyed the weekend, and why are you leaving tomorrow? Stay with me. Let me love you like I used to. Don't make me have to forget you again.

I couldn't believe I was letting myself think those thoughts.

As though reading my mind, she let out a sniffle. I turned to see that this was only the tip of the iceberg; tears were streaming down her face. "Lilith..." I breathed, putting my hand on her shoulder. She leaned against me, and it didn't take much more coaxing before she allowed me to hold her in my arms. And it felt so wonderful.

She didn't speak any more that night, and neither did I. We simply fell asleep like that. There was nothing to say. When I woke up on the couch early the next morning, she had returned to Daphne's room. A note was folded on the coffee table. I picked it up. My heart melted at the sight of her beautiful handwriting.

'Thank you for tonight. Love you.'

Later that morning when she left, I helped her into her coat, then held onto her arm as I leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "I love you too." She looked at me for a split second, then turned away, and was gone.

Since then we had spoken a few times on the phone where we weren't discussing Frederick or planning visits for me to see him. Once she called me late at night to ask me if I'd ever forgiven her for the affair. We talked for four hours. I cried with her. And when it was over, we both went back to pretending we meant nothing to each other anymore. That we weren't getting closer. That we didn't still love each other.

It was getting harder to do that.

And this time I had come to a sort of crossroads without even knowing it. I didn't love Claire. I couldn't. And she was so right for me, which was the irony. Lilith was right... Lana challenged me. But I couldn't challenge her back. She'd never let me. She had to be alone on that. I was surprised to admit that I was glad to have her in my life as a friend. She made me laugh. She made me let loose. She was outrageous, and shameless, and embarrassing, and I enjoyed her company for all that and more.

But I could never love her, not the way I loved...

I forced the thought from my mind.

The rest of Belize was a blur. I avoided at all costs Niles and Daphne and their sickeningly perfect attachment to one another. It was hardly the help I needed in the situation I was in. Dad heard one mention of Lilith's name and practically went into seclusion.

I called Lilith again the night I got home. Claire was tired and went home. Daphne stayed over at the Montana. And Dad was asleep. I could call her without having to explain to anyone why I was doing so.

That night we talked until five in the morning. And I stopped forcing myself to believe it meant nothing. I was growing close to her and dammit, there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I wouldn't have wanted to. I had nothing to lose right now. I couldn't lose her while we only spoke on the phone. The distance comforted my fears of abandonment, as well as increased my longing to be near her.

She called me the next night, and again we spoke for hours. Before long we were locking ourselves in our rooms every evening, talking until all hours of the night. I didn't know what was happening between us. Sometimes we would bare our souls to each other, and other times we kept the conversations on safe subjects... such as my discomfiting and stagnant relationship with Claire.

Which brings us to tonight.

I was so reluctant to let Claire go. When I'd found her, it was as if I'd found my life. The life I'd been trying to get ever since I left Boston. The life I thought I was protecting by pretending for so many years that Lilith meant nothing to me anymore. And now, the only time I felt I was truly finding my life was when I spent hours on the phone talking to the person who took it away from me so long ago...

And who could very well have the power to give it back.

I crept out of my bedroom, making sure to close the door to its edge to avoid any possibility of waking Claire. I'd been home three weeks, doing my best to keep dates with Claire simple and few. She didn't question me, and this was only the second time we'd spent the night together since Belize.

The living room was darker than usual, and after attempting first to dial the TV remote and then Dad's glasses case, I found the phone and punched '4' on the speed dial.

One ring... two. "Frasier?"

I smiled to myself. "How did you know?"

"Just a feeling." Not to mention the fact that I didn't think very many people called her at four in the morning her time.

"Did I wake you?" I asked guiltily.

The sound of papers rustling came on the other end of the line as I heard books and notepads being plopped down on the floor. "Not tonight," she assured me. "I couldn't sleep, so I was reading instead."

I glanced at my watch again to make sure I had gotten the time right. "Good Lord," I noted. "It's four in the morning there." My voice softened. "Are you okay?

"I'm fine," she answered quickly. "Just the occasional bout of insomnia."

The couch became conveniently available, and I collapsed on it. "You should have called," I told her.

"I'm fine," she repeated, more softly this time. "And it's good to hear your voice. Now tell me what's going on."

Oh, right, I had actually called to talk about something. I always seemed to forget that the minute I heard her voice. Then all I could think about then was how much better everything could be if we were at least in the same room.

"It's Claire," I began with a sigh, wondering why I was still bothering to pursue this issue when I knew what I had to do. "Well, it's Lana," I corrected myself. "Well, it's both of them. Oh, I just wish you'd tell me to give up on them both.

"The relationship with Claire isn't turning out as you'd hoped?"

It still perplexed me as well. "Everything seems so right on the outside, I mean... we're so perfect for each other... but that's where it all stops. I just feel like there has to be more than being 'right' for each other."

She paused for a moment, as though pondering whether or not that was a question. "You feel you'd connect more with Lana?" she finally asked.

"Oh, God ,no. The woman drives me mad." I fell silent. "But part of me still wonders... should I take that chance with Lana?"

"Would it be worth it?" she asked straightforwardly. I couldn't answer, and she quickly went on. "Let me ask you a personal question," she said softly. "Do you think you could ever be happy with Claire?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "I... don't think I ever could. There would always be something in the back on my mind, wondering... what if I'd given Lana a chance..."

Lilith sighed. "Frasier, you need to stop focusing on names. Find out who the woman is who's going to make you happy... then you look for her. Don't make this a trial and error game. Know what you need... and don't settle for anything else. Just go out and... find her"

"But Lilith," I whispered, "what if I can't find her?"

She was thoughtful for a moment, and I could almost see that small reflective smile spread across her face. "Perhaps you've already found her, and just don't know it."

I let her words echo in my mind, wishing she would say them again just so I could verify that I heard her correctly. What could she mean by that?

:"Perhaps I have," I answered finally. After a long pause, I smiled. "Lilith... thank you for putting up with me."

She pulled a blanket around her. "Anytime."

"In case I don't talk to you tomorrow..." I went on quickly, "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered.

"Frasier?"

That was Claire.

I spun around to see her standing at the edge of the hallway in my robe. "Oh my God," I said to myself.

"Who are you talking to?" she asked quietly, taking a few steps towards me.

"I have to go," I whispered to Lilith, dropping the phone on the couch. "Oh, no one," I told Claire, rising to my feet and attempting a smile.

"Oh," she commented, taking another step towards me. "So you said 'I love you' to no one in particular, but you've never once said it to me?"

I froze. "Claire, she was--that was just a friend."

That's right, Frasier. Keep telling yourself that.

Instead of moving forward, she stayed planted firmly in front of the couch. "Why were you talking to her about me? And what did you mean about giving Lana a chance?"

"I..." I have no idea what I meant about Lana, honestly. If she wanted the truth, I was tempted to say I was falling in love with my ex-wife. That wouldn't sound strange or anything. "I'm very confused right now," I finally admitted quietly. "I think we should talk."

"There's nothing to say," she stated, starting towards the hallway.

"Of course there is!" I insisted. "Oh, Claire, I didn't mean for this to happen."

"It's obvious you've already made up your mind," she observed, avoiding my gaze, "so if you please, I'd like to get dressed and get out here."

Before I could react, she disappeared into my room and emerged moments later, messily half-dressed and buttoning her blouse.

"You're leaving?" I asked in desperation.

"I don't think there's anything more to stay for, Frasier. You just told someone that you're not happy with me."

"But it's not your fault," I tried hopelessly to explain. After all, if even I couldn't understand it all, how was *she* ever going to? "You're an incredible woman, and truly there is no reason I wouldn't want to be with you..." I told her honestly--unable, however, to draw a conclusion. "It's just that... I can't." Yes, that made so much sense. "I'm so sorry," I finished.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered, one hand on the doorknob. "Good-bye, Frasier."

I let a pause escape, wondering if I should even say anything at all. "Good- bye, Claire," I finally managed, keeping the same modest tone. In a split- second she was gone, and it wasn't until the moment she left that I realized I had let everything I had slip away. She was gone, and I certainly didn't feel that anything could happen with Lana. I'd lost everything...

Everything, that is, except the one person who actually meant something to me.

I let myself fall onto the couch. The phone rang. I snatched it off the couch and punched the talk button angrily. "Hello?"

"Frasier?"

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry. Hi." If one thing could make this whole fiasco all right, it was the sound of her voice.

Lilith was quiet for a moment, and I could almost see her staring at me, waiting for an explanation. "What happened?"

"She heard everything," I answered dully. "It's over. She's gone."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and I knew she meant it.

The soft couch pillow caved in as I rested my head down on it. "Oh, Lilith, what have I done?" I demanded woefully.

She took a deep breath. "Do you really think that an unsuccessful relationship is better than none at all?"

"Of course not," I sighed. I hated it when she was right. "It's just been so long since I had anything work out... it's just one failure after another. I wanted to do almost anything to avoid that."

"I know the feeling," she whispered.

I knew she certainly did. I remembered Brian, and while I had never favored him, I was sure Lilith had tried to convince herself she loved him, the same way I convinced myself Claire was the one for me.

"Lilith, why are you still single?" I suddenly blurted, not even realizing where it had come from. "I--I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come out that way."

I was relieved that she seemed to take it as a compliment rather than as an insult. "I don't know," she reflected quietly. "I suppose because I haven't found anyone I loved enough to marry."

"That's not an easy thing to find," I agreed and, in spite of everything, I felt myself smile. "We should make a pact."

"A pact?"

"You know, an agreement," I went on. "Ten years from now, if we're still single..."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "We marry each other?"

"Well, or kill each other, but..." She began to chuckle and it was a relief to hear hr laugh again. "Either way," I concluded.

Her joy soon subsided, as did mine, and for a moment we didn't speak. "You never fail to make me laugh."

I had a sudden image of her at that moment... curled up against a mountain of pillows, tiny nightlight and a glass of water by the bedside, and that little blue nightgown of hers. "You're an extraordinary person, Lilith," I told her on an impulse. "Don't ever change."

"I won't if you won't."

"Agreed," I answered softly.

Neither of us said a word for a moment; it was a common occurrence of late, then all of a sudden one of us would say something hilarious or else entirely out of line, and, if it happened to be the latter, another silence would follow before one of us could gather the courage to admit that it hadn't been out of line at all... and that was the pattern that was bringing us closer every day.

To avoid either, Lilith finally spoke up, but just barely. "Well, I should probably get some sleep."

"Please do," I replied quickly. "You promised me you'd take care of yourself."

"I suppose I'll have to," she replied nonchalantly, "since you're not here to do it for me."

Moments just like that...

My heart broke at her words. She meant it so desperately, and tried so hard to make it sound like a simple comment. I felt so miserable, and helpless. I wanted to be there. So badly. And I was afraid of how much I wanted that. "Oh, Lilith..." I breathed. "I wish I could be," I admitted to her, almost before admitting it to myself.

"I just miss you, that's all," she whispered.

It was the first time she'd said that to me. We'd discussed vaguely and indirectly how we wished we weren't so far apart, or how hard it was to sleep without talking to each other until the very last minute... but never had either of us come out and stated something so significant.

She missed me.

What did that mean?! Did she want us to... I couldn't even say it.

All I knew was that... "I miss you too," I found myself saying. And meaning it. And it scared the life out of me. I saved myself quickly. "I should really, uh... it's late," I finally decided.

"I'll let you get some sleep."

"Okay." I didn't hang up, and neither did she. I had to smile.

"You didn't hang up," she observed.

I pulled a nearby afghan around me. "Neither did you."

She sighed softly. "It's just... I don't feel lonely when you're on the phone."

"Exactly," I whispered, standing up with my afghan and making my way back to my room with the cordless. "I'd much rather fall asleep this way," I said, crawling into my bed and pulling the covers around me.

"Me too." Suddenly I heard the sound of her secret cookie box being opened. I'd learned of it about a week ago and now enjoyed the familiar sound. "I always feel safe when you're with me."

I smiled. "As long as you have me and Toll House, right?"

"Right," she answered with a chuckle.

I drifted aimlessly. "Well," I mused, "you know I've always had the inherent urge to protect you... from what, I'm not sure."

She removed a cookie from the box. "You always took care of me," she noted wistfully.

My mind went to places it shouldn't have gone to, but before I could stop myself... "Lilith?"

"Yes?"

"Never mind," I replied quickly, hating to be so obnoxious, but knowing there was no way I could have continued with that train of though, and I wasn't quite up to improvising at this hour of the night.

She dropped the box back on the nightstand. "Tell me," she pleaded.

"I can't," I answered quickly and firmly.

A sigh escaped, although I knew she was doing her best not to be upset. We both hated it when the other one refused to say something we knew they wanted to say. Eventually we always managed to pry it out of each other. But this time I couldn't.

"Can you tell me someday?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully.

"All right." Her voice was soft and tolerant, and I knew that, because she loved me, she was going to let the matter drop.

But I couldn't.

"Lilith, what do you want more than anything in the world?"

Now it was her turn to be reticent. "I can't say." I kept silent. "They say if you tell your wishes to anyone, they won't come true," she informed me.

For an odd reason, I felt a smile form on my face. "This isn't your birthday, and you're not blowing out any candles," I justified.

"Oh, I suppose I want what everyone wants," she answered easily, obviously ducking out of the issue in the most efficient way possible. "Happiness, love, a fulfilling life..."

I felt my hand clutch the phone more tightly than was necessary. "Tell me." I didn't know why I expected her to grant me this privilege; after all, I hadn't told her what I was thinking only moments before when she'd asked me to.

An extended pause ensued, and when she finally spoke, her voice trembled, and I knew she was crying. "I'm afraid to say it," she sobbed.

"I know," I assured her. And I was afraid to hear it, I almost added.

Another pause, but not as long as I had anticipated. "I want to see you," she whispered.

This time the silence filled both our rooms. The cookie box was silent. I even toned out the ticking of my clock by the bedside. All I could hear was our own breathing, nearly synchronized, and identically terrified.

"Okay," I breathed at last.

Suddenly the entire world seemed to light up. "You mean it?"

I meant it. "I mean it," I told her. This was it. I couldn't go on any longer wondering. It was more painful than anything that could possibly happen to us in person. I had to see her. "Meet me somewhere," I went on. "Anywhere."

She found her voice again, and along with it, her reasoning. "How about Chicago?" she suggested breathlessly. "That way, neither one of us will have to fly across the country."

What? What did she just say? We were *meeting*? Maybe I hadn't heard this right. Or maybe now it was just sinking in... or maybe it hadn't even sunk in yet. In which case I had a few surprises ahead of me.

"Okay," I heard myself say. And I loved myself for it. "Tomorrow?" I continued shamelessly, shocking myself.

"I'll be there."

"I love you," I told her. The one thing I'd said that didn't surprise me at all.

"I love you too."

We hung up, and the silence was back, but it wasn't true silence. The entire world was rejoicing. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop smiling. My stomach wouldn't settle for a second. And I was so scared.

* * *

I spent the next ten minutes on the phone with Delta Airlines, another five with Joe's mother, and another good portion of the night wondering what on earth I was going to tell my son.

My plane didn't leave until noon. I could tell him about my overnight psychology conference when he woke up. The very thought of lying to him made me sick to my stomach, but I knew this was in his best interest. At this point, he didn't need to know what was happening between his father and me. Especially considering *I* didn't know.

I lit my bedside lamp, dimming it as much as I could while still being able to see, and reached under my bed, dragging out my suitcase. In the next ten minutes, I ran frantically around my room, throwing in the most random items that met my eye.

Finally making my way to my bathroom, I raided the medicine cabinet, scanning the labels hastily. Headache pills... those flights were always enervating. I tossed it across the room into the suitcase. Cold and flu tablets... who knows what I'd pick up there. Across the room they went. Birth control pills... well, obviously.

I stopped, bottle in hand, poised to toss.

Obviously?

All at once I lost my strength and slumped down on the edge of the tub. What was I doing? Everything was happening so fast... I hadn't even had the chance to be terrified yet. And I certainly didn't want that phase to come the minute I met Frasier in Chicago.

In less than twelve hours.

Oh, God.

I stared at the bottle in my hand. I certainly hadn't had much use for these lately.

As my eyes began to sting with oncoming tears, I stuffed the bottle back in the cabinet in a rage. What did I expect to come out of this, anyway?! We hadn't been together in so long, there was no way we could... how should I even know if he was even considering...

I contemplated how I wanted to end that sentence as I crawled back to bed. It wasn't long after that that I fell asleep... clothes sprawled about the room, objects surrounding the half-full suitcase... and my bedside clock, ticking away the hours that may lead to one of the most extraordinary days of my life.



Frederick was in a wonderful mood the next morning. I couldn't decide if that was lucky for me or not. He was so happy to be able to spend a night at his best friend's house, and I had to keep my own mood light to prevent him from suspecting anything out of the ordinary.

The plane ride was hardly as dreadful as I had expected. Nevertheless, I couldn't eat their honey-roasted almonds, and even the sparkling water I ordered was hardly enough to contain my jitters. That, however, was nothing compared to the moment the plane touched the ground, and the realization hit me.

I was in Chicago.

And so was Frasier.

As I sat huddled in my seat with my little black suitcase, waiting for the passengers in front of me to debark, my heart began pounding faster and faster. He was there, waiting for me. This wasn't a phone conversation. I wouldn't be lonely tonight. I wouldn't go to sleep hating myself for being so far away from him. Hating him for being so far away from me. Hating the continent for being so damn wide.

I reached the end of the walkway, which I was convinced was a full mile long, and stepped out into the sea of people. I had no idea what he would even be wearing. We'd spoken a few moments on the phone this morning, to confirm flight schedules and whatnot... but mostly just to say 'I love you' and confess our mutual anxiety.

It felt like meeting a blind date, almost... or a pen pal. The only peculiarity is that we'd known each other for over fifteen years. Oh, right, and five of those we'd been married.

As much as I craved more time to agonize over these nerve-wracking thoughts, my time was up. I spotted Frasier in the crowd, standing quietly behind everyone else, his eyes already fixed on me. Suitcase in hand, I stopped in my tracks and stared, letting the throngs of people brush past me.

I couldn't move.

Thankfully, Frasier could, and did. He slowly wove in and out of the crowd, nearing me with every step, and before I knew it I could smell his cologne and we were face to face.

"Frasier."

He flashed that beautiful smile. "Hi."

I didn't know whether to hug him or shake his hand. Please, I begged silently, don't make me do this by myself.

"You're here," he finally breathed, almost in disbelief.

"As are you," I noted. I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to tell him about the crazy stewardess on the flight, or my adventures, now amusing in retrospect, when I had attempted to locate my gate and almost ended up on a flight to Brazil.

But I could only stare at him, wishing I could touch him, but not daring to.

His eyes darted around nervously. "I didn't know if you'd really come," he said quietly.

I may have been nervous, but there was nothing I could do to peel my gaze away from him. "I was afraid you'd back out," I admitted.

He looked at me again, as though he still couldn't quite believe he was here... the fact that I was here didn't seem to be much of a surprise. It was his own presence that appeared to shock him the most. "Where are you staying?" he finally asked.

It was a good question, and one I had pointedly hoped he wouldn't ask. Where was I staying, so he could come pick me up for dinner, and drop me off afterwards. I wasn't after a cheap one-night stand, but something told me we would both want to be together tonight... even if we just talked, or fell asleep on the couch... if I could ever get past this uneasiness that kept me from leaping into his arms at that very moment.

"I--I don't know yet," I stammered sheepishly. "I thought I'd get a room when I got here." Considering I thought we'd be sharing it, I added mentally.

He began fidgeting anxiously. "I'm at the Hilton," he informed me.

"Then I'll get a room there too," I added quickly... obviously too quickly, as he suddenly stared at me. "If... that's all right with you."

Out of the blue, he appeared to relax, and looked up at me again. "Lilith..."

Ask me to stay with you. I'll say yes. "Yes?"

He lowered his voice, as though the room were filled with eavesdroppers. "It's four hundred a night, maybe we should..." It was obvious he wasn't going to say another word.

I wanted so much to say 'I love you.' But I held back, and even suppressed my smile, as hard as it was. Apparently I knew him better than I gave myself credit for. But he already knew that. "I wouldn't mind if you wouldn't," was all that came out.

"Okay," he answered in quiet relief.

I expected him to begin leading us out of the gate, considering he had been here before and I hadn't, but instead he suddenly reached out his hand and took mine. I took a step towards him and found his other hand, and we stood there, staring at each other in the middle of the crowded gate, as people streamed by... and we didn't notice them at all.

He leaned in towards me, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. But he simply whispered into my ear, "I'm glad you're here."

I squeezed both his hands smiled at him. "Me too."



He took me to dinner before we had a chance to unpack. Our room wasn't ready yet, so we left our luggage down in the lobby and found a cab.

The restaurant was cozy and quiet... at least one thing about it suited us. I picked at my salad, alternately looking at my fork and looking up at Frasier's progress with his soup. He was still fiddling with that little carrot chunk.

Finally he looked up, just when I happened to be staring at him, no less. "Can you believe we're here?" he asked, shaking his head slowly.

"I was just about to say the same thing," I smiled. A lie, naturally... I hadn't been just about to say it, but I'd been subconsciously thinking it ever since I spotted him in the crowd at the airport.

He smiled back, his expression a picture of wonder and confusion... some excitement, certainly, but mostly fear. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he confessed to his soup.

"Me either," I told him softly, and he looked up at me. "What's wrong with us?" I finally asked aloud, having meant the question only for myself. "We never have this problem on the phone."

I wasn't even sure what 'this problem' was. Losing the ability to say two words to each other? We spent hours on the phone every night, talking about nothing, and everything... and now we finally had what we'd been longing for weeks... and it was as if every one of those incredible conversations had never taken place.

"I don't know," Frasier replied quietly, stirring his soup. "I suppose it's different now, because…" He broke off and began dipping his spoon in and out of the soup. In. Out. In. Out.

"Because you're just as terrified as I am?" I asked softly, finishing his thought.

He nodded. "And because we have something to be terrified about."

"We can't be," I stated emphatically, hoping that if I convinced Frasier, I could convince myself as well. "And yet, I'm so confused." I stared down at my hands, and began playing with my ring again. "I don't know what to do."

Frasier reached across the table and took my hand. "Then let's leave," he told me, his voice more confident than I'd heard it all evening.

I wanted to so badly, but I forced myself to hold back. "Are you sure?" I breathed. Frasier nodded, and the last threads of my self-restraint gave way. "Then what are you waiting for?" I asked seductively.

He didn't need to be asked twice. He got up, took my hand, and whisked me back to the hotel at no time at all.

* * *

We made it back to the Hilton in ten minutes. I spent the next five struggling with the confounded room key, which refused to work. I almost broke it several times as I repeatedly jammed in into the slot. In every way possible. Stripe to the left. Stripe to the right. Stripe on front. Stripe in back.

"Dammit!" I swore as the little red light blinked at me for the umpteenth time. I yanked the key out and shoved it in again, none too gently.

"Here, let me try," Lilith offered, reaching over and trying to take the key from my hand.

I reached over with my other hand and put it on hers. She looked at me in surprise, staring at me with those beautiful brown eyes of hers, asking a question she didn't dare speak aloud.

I gently squeezed her hand. "I would just like to take this unfortunate opportunity to tell you how much I love you."

"Thank you, Frasier." Her smile was like a ray of sunshine. "I love you too."

The door suddenly swung open, as if it were opened by a force unseen. I dropped Lilith's hand and slowly put the key back in my jacket pocket. We were here in Chicago together. In our hotel room, no less. And I was terrified.

Lilith gave me a frightened look of her own, and slowly walked into the room. I silently followed behind, glancing around our suite. There were embroidered towels in the bathroom. A mahogany desk in the corner. Little mints on the bed pillows. Bed. Singular. Oh, God, what was I going to do?

"Er," Lilith began.

"Um, there's…" I trailed off, not knowing how to finish. There's only one bed? That was obvious, and didn't need to be pointed out. I had no doubt that Lilith was thinking the same thing I was, namely, how had we gotten to this point, and where were we going to go from here? I stared at her, trying to pick up a clue from her reaction. Which so far, was nonexistent.

"I don't know what to do," Lilith confessed in a whisper. "I feel like calling and asking you."

I went over and wrapped my arms around her. She tensed up for a moment, and then relaxed into my embrace. "I'm so scared," she whispered.

I wanted to promise her that everything would be okay. I didn't ever want to let her go. I wanted to tell her this. Instead, "What are we doing?" came out of my mouth.

She sighed. "I don't know," she said softly, fiddling with my shirt sleeve. "I'm so afraid of ruining everything."

This was too familiar for me. I was getting too comfortable like this, and although I hated to do it, I pulled myself back, hoping that by obtaining physical distance, emotional distance would follow. "I don't know what to…"

Lilith looked terrified. "I don't either."

"Oh, God," I groaned, collapsing onto the couch.

She stared silently at the floor for a moment, then risked a timid glance in my direction. "Why don't we just hold each other until we know?"

I moved over, and she curled up beside me on the couch, her head resting on my shoulder. I put my arms around her and squeezed her tightly to me. "We'll be okay," I whispered, both to her and to myself.

She looked up at me. "I've missed you so much."

"I know," I said softly. "Me too. You have no idea how long I've waited to hold you again."

Lilith smiled. "It is rather hard to do over the phone."

"Yes, it is," I agreed.

"And no matter what happens, I'm glad to have seen you again," she went on. She slipped her hand into mine.

"The question is…" my voice dropped to a whisper…"What happens?"

"I'm not sure." She moved closer, and our faces were now inches apart. "What do you want more than anything else in the world?"

I pulled her closer to me. "If we tell our wish, it won't come true," I whispered. Then I bent my head and my lips were on hers. She kissed back fiercely, desperately, and there was no more conversation that night.

* * *

Two minutes ago, I had been fast asleep. Traffic noises were just barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner. Beside me, Frasier snored softly. None of these sounds could have been responsible for suddenly propelling me to wakefulness, but it didn't matter. I was awake, and that was all there was to it.

I turned over on my side and watched Frasier sleep next to me. He looked like a child, and I suddenly felt as if I was back home in Boston, looking in on Frederick. I reached over and gently traced his nose with my finger. He smiled in his sleep, but showed no signs of waking.

Tomorrow, we would wake up and decide that everything had been a mistake. Coming to Chicago, sharing a hotel room, and everything else that had happened tonight. Even though we had been divorced for nine years, I still knew Frasier well enough to predict his reactions. He would feign cheerfulness at first, order breakfast, talk about how intense last night had been. And he would grow more and more uncomfortable until he finally confessed that everything had been a mistake, and he was so, so sorry. I would assure him that everything was all right, and we could go home to our separate sides of the country.

It depressed the hell out of me.

I got up and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back in order to look out at the city. To the north, I saw the lights of Navy Pier glittering brightly. To the south, Buckingham Fountain was illuminated in green, blue, and gold lights. And in between, the lights from the skyscrapers reflected off of Lake Michigan.

It didn't seem right, somehow, that anything could be this beautiful when I felt this miserable. No one else had to look forward to the love of their life waking up and telling them that they were leaving, yet again.

And then it came to me. There was nothing I could do to prevent what would happen the next morning. But no one said I had to be there for it.

I sat down at the desk, mentally compiling a list of ways I could do it. I had always hated the sight of blood. I had barely made it through my surgery rotation in medical school. So that eliminated a lot of possibilities.

But I was still a doctor. I was perfectly capable of prescribing myself any number of lethal drug combinations. And unless I was mistaken, there was an all-night pharmacy located just a few blocks from the hotel.

I wasn't mistaken, and twenty minutes later, I was back in the room with more than enough sedatives to do the job. It was odd, really. Here I was, an experienced psychiatrist, and no only was I about to overdose on Valium, I couldn't even say it to myself. Kill myself. Commit suicide. End my life.

My eyes fell on the notepad and pen lying on the desk. Yes, I suppose I should leave a note. I snatched up the pen, and pulled a sheet of hotel stationary out of the desk drawer. Who was I supposed to address this to? Frasier? Frederick? My mother? Everyone I'd ever met?

"I couldn't take it anymore," I began, skipping right to the note. "Please don't feel guilty, or feel that there was anything you could have done to prevent this."

What a crock of shit. Now I knew why a lot of suicides never left notes. They were so damn hard to write. Then again, what did it matter how stupid this sounded? I'd be dead by the time anyone read it.

I wrote for the next ten minutes, filling up page after page of paper. When I finished, I stuffed the letter into an envelope and addressed it to Frasier, propping it on his nightstand where he would be sure to find it.

Well, this was it. I took a deep breath, and grabbed the bottle of pills, ready to go into the bathroom and get the whole thing over with. I took one last look at Frasier, who was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of everything.

I went over and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you," I whispered. "Please, forgive me."

He stirred faintly, and I stared down at him, seeing my son's face. Then Frasier's again. Then Frederick's.

I burst into tears. I just couldn't do it. I flushed the pills down the toilet, and stuffed the letter into my suitcase pocket, where no one would find it. Then I climbed back into bed, curled up next to Frasier, and cried myself to sleep.

* * *

When I half-awoke the next morning, I didn't realize I was away from my home and my bed... until, of course, I heard the soft, unmistakable breathing of someone beside me... and all the memories came flooding back.

I expected myself to be shocked, or horrified, or simply dreaming the entire affair. But instead I found myself smiling... you know, how you're not quite awake, and somewhere in your subconscious, you're thinking about something wonderful that happened to you, but you can't remember if it really happened, or it was just a dream. Then you wake up completely, and realize it was real.

Propping myself up on one elbow, I leaned over her, watching her breathe in and out, steadily, quietly... until something caused her to stir, and her eyes slowly opened.

A grin spread across her face. "Morning."

Lying back down, I rested my head against hers, our foreheads pressed together. "I couldn't decide whether I wanted to wake you, or watch you sleep," I whispered.

"I see you decided on the latter," she observed.

My ecstasy at waking up beside her faded quickly as I noted the anxious tone her voice had suddenly taken. I kissed her on the cheek, reaching up one hand to stroke her shoulder. "You okay?" I asked softly.

She nodded quickly, turning away. "I'm fine. Just a little... confused."

"Me too," I admitted, although neglecting to mention that the only thing I could possibly be confused over is how I could love her even more now than I did last night... but I didn't think that's what she was referring to.

Reluctantly, I gathered the courage to put her best interest at hand, despite how hard it would be. "If you want me to leave you alone for awhile..." I began, considering it unnecessary to finish.

I soon felt her hand clasp around mine. "No, don't leave," she pleaded. "Just... what do you see coming out of this?"

Ah, yes. The question we've been silently asking ourselves and each other since I first called that night weeks ago, from my hotel in Belize. I wondered how she's suddenly found the courage not only to ask it, but ask it so directly.

"Honey, I don't know," I told her, wishing I didn't have to be so honest. Wishing I could tell her it meant that we should get back together. That we should give ourselves another try. "But I love you," I added desperately, hoping that would convey everything I wanted to say but couldn't.

Her eyes stared at me, almost apologetically, and it wasn't before long that I was worried. "I love you too," she assured me. "But... I don't know if that's enough right now."

I shifted back to my side of the bed. "I see."

She leaned over me, putting her hand up to my face. "Oh, Frasier, I didn't mean it like that. There's nothing I'd rather do than stay here with you forever."

"I know how you meant it," I answered quickly. As much as I wanted to believe her, it was difficult... considering we hadn't even spent two minutes of our morning together before the big 'It was wonderful, but it was a mistake' speech came along.

But I softened my voice upon seeing her hurt expression. From the look in her eyes, I knew she was trying so hard to keep this from hurting either of us. "Maybe we should just..."

I would let her figure out the rest of that on her own.

"Slow things down for awhile?" she whispered.

While not the conclusion I had hoped for, I knew in my heart it was all we could do. Otherwise we would go home heartbroken... as it was, I'm sure we would anyway.

"I suppose so," I found myself saying to the ceiling.

She pulled me to her until we were both staring at each other, so close that I could feel her heartbeat. "I don't regret anything about last night," she told me resolutely.

"Neither do I," I replied. "Which is something of a surprise to me," I added. "Because I have no idea what I'm doing."

She collapsed against her pillow. "I don't either. I just don't want to lose you."

"You won't," I told her, snuggling up against her. I wanted to tell her to come back to Seattle with me, to dissolve any chance of us being apart ever again. But I decided on a subtler variation: "I'll always be here for you." Yes, I'll always be here, and she'll always be thousands of miles away.

Forcing myself up, I sat on the edge of the bed, silently pulling on my robe, until her voice made me pause. "What time does your flight leave?"

"Around nine this evening," I said quietly, not turning around. "Yours?"

"Eight thirty." She crawled over to my side of the bed and wrapped her arms around my waist. "We've got practically the whole day before we have to leave..." she observed.

I turned to face her, taking her hands in mine. Her eyes gazed up at me questioningly, but with more trust than I felt comfortable with. She trusted me far more than I trusted myself. "Lilith..." I began hesitantly, "if you'd rather we just said good-bye now, I understand."

Looking down, she pulled her hands away and began fiddling with a corner of the sheet. "To be honest, I'm tempted to run away," she confessed. "But," she went on, taking a deep breath, "I know that once I get back home, I'll go back to missing you terribly." Her gaze drifted back up to me and she gave a small smile. "I was hoping we could see some of Chicago together."

I nodded, my eyes never leaving hers. "Okay. If that's what you want."

She shook her head nervously. "Only if that's what you want."

This could go on for awhile. I took her hand, and that was all the convincing she needed before falling against me and resting her head on my chest. "Lilith," I began softly, stroking her hair, "we have to get past this."

"We're not like this on the phone," she sniffed.

"No, we're not."

"Maybe..." she began, sitting up and wiping her eyes with that same sheet corner, "we expected too much out of this meeting."

While almost afraid to ask, the answer could be one that determined our entire future together. "What did you expect?" I whispered.

"I'm not quite sure," she admitted, taking a deep breath and obviously attempting to say this in her most professional manner. "I was thinking... that once we saw each other, everything would fall into place." Her voice immediately lost its formality as she softly continued, "But it hasn't. Not yet, anyhow."

Our eyes met, and stayed there, as we both attempted the impossible; that is, reading each other's minds. Was there more to it than that? That 'everything' simply hadn't fallen into place as expected? Would it ever? More specifically... would we ever be brave enough to let it?

"I think it's too soon," she finally said.

Dropping my head to stare at our hands, clasped together, I sighed. "I think you're right." If we were going to be honest, then I was going to go all the way. "I was so afraid I would let you down," I confessed. "I... I had no idea what you were expecting."

She lifted one hand up to my chin, until I was able to look at her again. "You could never let me down."

In that moment, it was growing obvious that in only seconds, we could lose our resolve and do something insane, like get remarried or fly to Paris. And, realizing this as I did, she ended the moment with a less intensely emotional approach.

"We got to see each other again," she noted with a smile. "And we had a lovely night together..." she added, her grin taking a turn towards alluring. "And... it looks like we'll even get some sightseeing in."

I was tempted to make a quip about how I'd gotten in all the sightseeing I wanted last night, and what a tourist attraction it had been... But instead, I smiled at my own thoughts and nodded. "Okay. Where would you like to go?"

She shrugged. "Why don't we play it by ear? See where we end up?"

However desperate I was to know if she was secretly referring to our entire relationship, all that came out of my mouth was, "That sounds wonderful."

* * *

Our first stop was right across the street from the hotel. "You can't come to Chicago and not see the Art Institute," Frasier explained to me as he guided me to the building, which was guarded by two large stone lions overlooking Michigan Avenue. He insisted on taking my picture with one, then grabbed my hand and pulled me inside, just beating a crowd of schoolchildren on a field trip.

"I'm so glad we're here," Frasier murmured to me as we stood by the marble stairway, examining the map of the galleries.

"Me too," I agreed. "I always enjoy seeing new things with someone special."

Frasier looked at me in surprise. "You've never been here before?"

I shook my head. "Actually, I've never been to Chicago before," I confessed.

He shook his head, as though he couldn't believe it. "It's an amazing town," he assured me. "Almost like a low-key version of New York." He nodded toward the staircase. "Shall we go upstairs?"

I hadn't heard that phrase in years, and the old implication made me blush. "What did you say?"

"The Impressionists," Frasier explained, looking every bit as confused as I felt. "They're upstairs."

"Oh," I stammered, turning away in the hope that Frasier wouldn't notice my crimson cheeks. "I'd love to see them."

I should have known better. When I finally faced Frasier again, he was grinning uncontrollably. "Why, what did you think I meant?" he teased.

Was there any way out of this? Not likely. I may as well get this over with, and let Frasier have his laugh at my expense. "I'm not used to you talking about the Impressionists when you say that," I mumbled to my shoes.

"Fair enough," he agreed good-naturedly, taking my hand and leading me up the marble staircase.

At the top of the stairs, the paintings in the gallery took my breath away. "Oh, Frasier, these are beautiful," I breathed. I moved closer to get a better look. The artist had captured everything perfectly. The overcast sky. The puddles of rain on the cobblestone street. The entire work was

exquisite.

Frasier was smiling at me, obviously enjoying my reaction. "Aren't they extraordinary?"

I nodded breathlessly and began working my way around the gallery, attempting to soak in the beauty of the works before me. Renoir. Monet. Cezanne.

"Good Lord," Frasier commented. "This one reminds me of that one I bought you for our anniversary."

I allowed myself a moment to smile at the memory. "I still have it, back at home."

"You do?" Frasier asked in disbelief.

The surprise and amazement in his voice broke my heart. "I could never bear to get rid of it," I answered softly.

He grinned mischievously. "Well, I must admit, I still have the pictures you gave me for my birthday."

"Frasier!" I exclaimed, unsuccessfully attempting not to laugh. "I never would have done that for anyone else."

He touched my face. "I still can't believe you did it for me," he whispered.

"I was scared to death," I confessed softly.

Frasier's eyes danced. "But now you're glad you did it?"

I smiled in spite of myself. "I don't regret it. Especially since you liked them so much."

"I suppose you don't want to know how many people asked for copies," he grinned.

My jaw dropped. "You showed them to people??"

He smiled. "I'm just joking, moon-pie."

I shook my head. "Frasier, you're hopeless."

We walked for several minutes in silence, passing painting after painting. I stopped in one gallery, in front of a beautiful Van Gogh, staring at the colors and trying to engrain them in my memory. "I'm glad we could be here together," I said quietly.

"Me too," Frasier agreed. He, too, was staring at the Van Gogh. "Spending time with you like this is simply…priceless."

I smiled. "Remember doing this on our trip to Paris?"

He laughed softly. "Did we even leave the hotel there?"

"I remember seeing the Musee D'Orsay, so I suppose we must have," I answered.

"Oh, of course," he agreed thoughtfully. "That was beautiful."

"It was a wonderful trip," I remarked wistfully.

"I've always wanted to go back," Frasier agreed quietly.

"Me too," I agreed. "I don't know what it would be like without you, though."

Frasier moved closer, so that his breath was warm on my neck. "I would never go back without you," he whispered in my ear.

I didn't trust myself to speak without my voice breaking. I took his hand in mine and turned it over, feeling comforted by its warmth.

Frasier put his arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. Not another word was spoken.

When lunchtime rolled around, seemingly faster than usual, we visited a sandwich shop and decided to eat out by the river. I was surprised how little either of us cared about grass stains or ants, or the fact that it was far too windy to be eating outside.

I reached into the paper bag and pulled out two small packages. "Which one is yours?"

He picked one up, turning it over. "Should be the one *with* mayonnaise."

I snatched it back, handing him the other one. "Here you go."

We opened our respective packages in silence, until Frasier discovered an alarming blunder. "For God's sake, they forgot the mustard!" he whined.

As I pushed back my giggles, he looked up at me sulkily. "Oh, Frasier, it's all right."

He proceeded to peel off the pickles off one side of his bread. "This coming from the person who requested cheese and lettuce only."

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Will you stop complaining if I give you half of mine?" He nodded, and I broke my sandwich into two halves, giving him the smaller one. "There."

He grabbed it out of my hands so quickly that a slice of cheese fell onto his shirt. "Oh, lovely," he mumbled, searching for a napkin. "It's not funny!" he added, shocked to find that I was trying a little less hard to suppress my laughter. "At least give me a napkin!"

Pointedly ignoring his request, I plucked the piece of cheese off his shirt and tossed it into the water, unable to speak through my hysterical giggles.

"Now there's a stain," he whined, staring down at the yellow spot, just as the remainder of the napkins blew away with the wind.

"Oh, Frasier, how do you yourself into these situations?" I laughed, and he stared at me. I got one look at his horrified expression and fell back onto the grass, surrendering entirely to the hilarity of the situation.

"Oh, fine, you know what?"

In one swift instant, he put his sandwich down, leaned over and kissed me. I was hardly one to complain and, although understandably caught off guard, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"I guess that did the trick," he whispered when we finally pulled apart.

"I'm not laughing anymore," I noticed.

Regret flashed across his face. "I'm sorry..."

I shook my head firmly. "Don't be."

His arms pulled me closer, if that was even possible, and he reached one hand up to stroke my cheek softly. "I love you."

Doing my best to forget how very far apart we would be in only a few hours, I blinked back the tears and kissed him again. "I love you too."

We both sat up, brushing ourselves off, and, when opportunity permitted, brushing each other off as well. I swept a leaf off the back of his shirt, trying not to laugh at the grass stains. I figured they would match the cheese stain in front very nicely.

"If you're so upset about your shirt, why don't we go buy you a new one?" I finally suggested, finishing the last bite of my sandwich. He waved off the proposal with a shrug, but I remained adamant as I tugged on his shirtsleeve. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Oh all right, I'll go," he sighed, rising to his feet. "For you."

* * *

The small clothes shop was a cozy, albeit outrageously priced, little spot just up the river. Lilith was busy discovering outfits with a vehemence I'd hadn't previously been exposed to in the area of shopping.

"Look at these!" she exclaimed, carrying three different shirts. "This would look wonderful on you."

"That is entirely not my color," I complained.

To prove me wrong, she held it up to my chin and turned me around until I was facing the mirror. "Of course it is, it brings out the blue in your eyes."

I couldn't help but smile. "Lilith, it's green." I reached for a more crimson-colored item. "How about this?"

She shrugged. "I never thought red was your color," she admitted, digging through another pile of her findings and pulling out a fine navy blue garment. "How about this one?"

I took the shirt in my hands, fingering the material carefully. "That actually would not look altogether terrible on me."

"Go try it on!" She pushed me into the nearest dressing room.

Emerging some moments later sporting the new shirt, I approached her. "Well?"

She walked up to me with that luminous smile. "Oh, Frasier... you look so handsome," she said softly, adjusting the collar and straightening out a wrinkle in the sleeve.

I grinned, looking down. "Fine, I'll get it."

I took her hand and we proceeded to the checkout counter, but all at once I stopped in my tracks. "Oh, wait," I mumbled to myself, dragging her back to a particular rack of eveningwear and snatching up a dazzling scarlet number. "What about this?"

She raised one eyebrow suspiciously. "You might want to shave your legs before trying that on," she advised.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "I mean for you."

Her voice was timid and pleasantly surprised. "For me?"

I nodded. "Will you come to dinner with me tonight?"

She smiled, leaning forward and giving me a quick kiss in front of the entire store, making me without a doubt the happiest and proudest man alive. "I'd love to."

I squeezed her hand. "Okay. Do you like it?"

She stared at the dress on the hanger, feeling the silky material with a finger. "It's beautiful... but don't you want me to try it on first?"

That would probably be a wise choice. "Certainly," I nodded. "I'll... wait here." No, really, Frasier; just follow her back into the women's dressing rooms, I thought to myself, rolling my eyes.

The next five minutes were spent entirely on pacing the floor. Twice, salespeople asked me if I needed any help, and I replied that I was simply waiting for my... my... Lilith, I finally decided. I was waiting for Lilith. They both gave me odd looks, but smiled cordially and went back to their duties.

After several eternities, the dressing room door creaked open, and Lilith appeared from behind it, shyly stepping out into the room. "Well," she began tentatively, turning around in a circle, "how does it look?"

My jaw dropped to the floor, my mouth went dry, and my eyes were peeled.

She smiled alluringly, approaching me slowly. "I take it your silence is approval?" she inquired.

I nodded, taking her hands in both of mine and finding my voice long enough to stammer, "Wow."

Her smile, resplendent as ever, kept me mesmerized. "Thank you," she answered softly.

I reasoned that the only way to resist the urge to take her right then and there, in the middle of the store, was to keep talking. "You know what we should do? Take a ride on one of those boats we saw earlier."

She nodded. "I'd love to. Although maybe I change first..."

"Well," I replied quietly, looking at my shoes, "if you need any help..."

She swatted me on the arm playfully before returning to the dressing room, and as I reflected on the most overwhelming past twenty-four hours, I collapsed on a nearby couch.

* * *

Returning to the river, we discovered that the boats left every half hour. We barely caught the three thirty launch, and to my surprise, Frasier and I were among a small handful of couples. The sky was gray and overcast, and threatened to rain at any moment, but Frasier insisted we sit on the top level, in order to fully appreciate the view of the city as we floated by.

Frasier and I huddled together on a bench as the boat chugged down the river. I stared up at the buildings, trying to take everything in at once. "It's a beautiful city," I commented, more to myself than to Frasier.

"Yes, beautiful," he echoed. I turned around to see him gazing not at the skyscrapers, but at me. He smiled sheepishly at me.

Music began playing softly from some hidden speakers in back of the boat. I leaned against the rail and smiled as I recognized one of my favorite songs. Frasier must have been thinking the same thing, since he joined me at the edge of the boat and put an arm about my shoulders. "Lilith..."

I knew the question even before he asked. "Yes, Frasier?"

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, staring down at me.

I smiled. "I'd love to."

He took me in his arms, and there was no boat, no city going by us, only Frasier and me and the music. Take my hand, take my whole life too...for I can't help, falling in love with you...the words brought tears to my eyes, and I ducked my head against Frasier's shoulder, determined not to let him see.

"I love this song," I whispered, surprised at how unaffected my voice sounded.

"Me too," Frasier agreed softly. "Can I ask you something?"

I blinked back the tears and looked up into his face. "You can ask me anything."

He gently ran his hand down my back. "Do you think we made a mistake?"

I stepped out of his embrace, hurt by his words. "I thought we were having a good time today."

"Oh, honey," he whispered, taking me by the shoulders. "I don't mean today."

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. "Then what do you mean?"

"I meant..." He broke off, and dropped his arms. "Never mind."

"Tell me," I pleaded, catching him by the hand. "Please."

"I meant..." He broke off and swallowed. "I meant, ten years ago."

I caught my breath. This was something I never even dared think about, let alone talk about. It was in the past. I had always told myself to move forward, and never look back. We couldn't recreate what just might have been. And yet, here we were. Together, in Chicago, discussing our

relationship.

"I don't know what went wrong," I confessed, playing with a button on Frasier's shirt. "We were so happy at first."

Frasier shook his head. "Let's not think about it now," he said quietly. "I just want to enjoy being with you."

I nodded in agreement. "I've missed this so much," I mused quietly. "Just being near you."

Frasier gently traced the side of my face with his finger. "I don't ever want this moment to end," he whispered.

"Me either," I agreed. As I spoke, the last notes of the song faded away, and with it, the exclusive world consisting only of the two of us. Other sights and sounds began infiltrating my consciousness. The chugging of the boat's motor. The green hue of the water below.

Frasier looked down at me, trying to smile. "I guess we can't have everything."

I took his hand in mine. "I'll always remember this," I promised.

He smiled sadly at me. "As will I."

He put his arm around me again and we watched the buildings creep by. The boat slowed down, and finally docked, and the two other couples who had shared the top level with us disappeared down the staircase.

I began to follow them when Frasier caught my hand, and I turned around to look at him. "Thank you," he told me quietly. "For everything."

I kissed him on the cheek. "And thank you," I replied. For a moment we stood there, staring at each other, not daring to breathe a word.

I was the one to break the silence. "I suppose we should go change for dinner," I proposed quietly.

Frasier nodded. "Okay." He followed me down the stairs, off the boat, and we began our trek back to the hotel.

* * *

As we sat nibbling through dinner... or at least rearranging the food with our utensils... I glanced up at Lilith every few seconds, to see if she was any closer to saying something. Before long I was just staring. I could always use the excuse that I couldn't help noticing how incredible that dress was on her... which it was... but the real reason was that I simply never wanted to forget a moment of this day.

At last, she spoke, and she even added a smile. "Maybe we'll actually get to eat dinner tonight," she commented.

I forced a weak smile. "I'd like that." Maybe so, I thought. Although at this point, neither of us showed any signs of eating whatsoever.

The words had barely left my mouth before she set her fork down on her plate. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite."

"Me neither," I said to my soup. "I think the lettuce did it for me."

"I can never eat when I'm depressed," she sighed, shaking her head and looking away. "And right now, all I can think of is how much I'm going to miss you."

Considering I wasn't busy holding a fork or anything of the like, I reached one of my free hands across the table and took hers. "Will you call me when you get in tonight?" I asked desperately seeking reassurance that this wouldn't ever be entirely over.

She looked back at me, staring into my eyes. "Of course," she whispered, attempting another smile. "I can't fall asleep now without hearing your voice."

I knew exactly how she felt. My lonely nights were so much easier to handle when the last thing I heard was her voice on the other end of the telephone. "Neither can I," I told her. "Lilith, promise me you won't forget this time," I pleaded.

"How could I? I remember every moment when I'm with you."

We were both silent for a moment, staring directly at one another, and I could only suspect we were thinking of the same 'moment'... specifically, a very special one from last night. We had been lying quietly in bed, our eyes wide open, unable to fall asleep. I was curled up against Lilith, my face buried in her hair. Out of the blue, she turned her head to whisper in my ear... "If I could relive one moment for the rest of my life, this would be it." I kissed her deeply, and we remained wrapped in our embrace for the remainder of the night.

I would never forget that.

"Okay," I replied aimlessly, not knowing where it came from or how to go on. "I have to tell you for the eighteenth time," I continued, backing up to safer subjects, "that dress is incredible on you."

She blushed, staring at her uneaten plate of food. "Thank you. And I have to say, I've always found you irresistible in blue."

I squeezed her hand and smiled. "So that's why you made me buy this."

"It was selfish, I know," she confessed.

"I don't mind a bit," I said quietly and, to my surprise, picked up a forkful of food and put it in my mouth. Eating... I could do this. It wasn't as hard as I thought.

To my relief, Lilith proceeded to do the same, and after a moment she picked up another forkful and held it out to me. "Here, try this."

I complied obediently, and stared at the empty fork afterwards. "What on earth is that?"

"Shellfish," she replied.

"It's actually... not bad," I decided reaching for another small bite. "Feels good to be able to eat again, anyhow," I observed. Although, in all actuality, I wished I had remained hungry. It would give me something to think about other than the fact that in less than two hours, she would be gone.

"This really is a nice place," Lilith noted, finally able to eat as I was.

"It is," I agreed. "We'll have to come back next time."

She stopped, fork halfway up to her mouth, and stared at me. It took me a moment to realize what I had just said, how forward it truly was. Not that I didn't want there to be a 'next time'... although what I wanted most was for this time to continue forever.

"I mean..." I began quickly, attempting to redeem myself, "not that we... I didn't..."

"I know what you mean," she said softly, staring down at the table. There was nothing more I could have said that would fix anything, so I remained quiet. "It's such a beautiful city," she went on, eager for a chance of topic.

I nodded, suddenly getting an idea. "I want to take you somewhere after dinner," I told her.

* * *

Frasier gently covered my face with his hand as the elevator doors opened. "Okay," he instructed me. "Close your eyes."

I obeyed, and Frasier led me out onto the observation deck. "When can I open them?" I complained.

"Hold on a moment," he instructed me, guiding me over to a window and taking my hand in his. "All right. Now."

I opened my eyes. "Oh, Frasier," I whispered. The lights of Chicago were spread out in front of us. Down below, matchbox sized cars crept along the streets. The Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier was turning, and out on the lake, the last few speedboats were returning to shore. "I've never seen anything so beautiful."

Frasier put an arm around my waist. "I thought you'd like it," he whispered in my ear.

"I love it." I put my arms around his neck and kissed softly on the lips. "Thank you."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I decided. "And there's no one I'd rather see it with than you."

He smiled and pulled me closer to him. "I wish we could stay here forever."

"Me too," I agreed wistfully. In the last few minutes, I had forgotten just how little time we had left together. Now, reality was once again intruding on us, tainting the joy of the moment with dread of what was to come. It was seven fifteen. In a little over an hour, I would be on a plane back to Boston, and Frasier would be out of my life yet again.

I wanted, no, needed to make the most of our few remaining moments. "Frasier?" I whispered. He turned to me, and I put my hand on his arm. "Kiss me?"

He stared at me in surprise for a moment, then wrapped me in his arms and covered my lips with his. I held on to him tightly, afraid to let go. I was afraid of leaving, and returning to my lonely life in Boston. I was afraid of once again waking up to an empty bed. And I was terrified of

losing Frasier from my life.

Frasier gently stroked my cheek. "Are you all right?" he asked, unable to mask the concern in his eyes.

I tried to smile. "I just wanted to remember you kissing me in this beautiful city."

He ran his fingers through my hair. "I'll never forget this," he assured me, lightly kissing my forehead.

I rested my head on his shoulder. "Me either."

We stood in silence, looking out at the lights of Chicago. I was trying desperately to memorize every detail: the moon reflecting off of Lake Michigan, the smell of Frasier's aftershave, the comforting warmth of his arms around me. I didn't ever want to forget this. As much as it would

hurt to remember, it would be a thousand times more painful to lose this time we had spent together.

"Lilith?" Frasier regretfully pulled himself away, and took me by the shoulders.

"Yes?" I stared back at him, memorizing his beautiful blue eyes as they watched me sadly.

"It's getting late," he said softly.

I nodded slowly. "You're right." I glanced down at my watch. Seven twenty- nine. "My plane leaves in an hour."

Frasier nodded, but made no effort to move. I didn't either, and we stood there, staring at each other, unable and unwilling to end the moment. I choked back a sob. "I don't think I'll ever be able to say just how much I love you."

"Oh, Lilith," he whispered, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I love you so much."

I bit my lip, determined not to cry in front of him. "We'll have to do this again sometime," I declared, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "When the timing is right."

Whenever that was. If that ever was. I had to believe that it would come someday. It was the only thing that could keep me going.

"Yes," Frasier agreed quietly. "When the timing is right."

I sighed, and reluctantly left his embrace. "I suppose we should get to the airport now."

"Okay," Frasier agreed reluctantly. He took my hand, and we went to wait for the elevator.

* * *

The airport was typically busy, but quieter than I had expected. It lacked the crazy morning bustle that I was used to when traveling. People were eating, preparing for a night-long flight, or talking quietly on their cell phones.

And then there were the others, like us, who stood in front of gate T3, one of us unable to step onto a plane that would take them to Boston, and the other unable to let them.

We both stared at the walkway until the last passenger had boarded, and all at once Lilith turned and threw her arms around me, holding me so tightly that I wanted to take her on my plane with me, just so she wouldn't have to let me go. "I'm going to miss you so much," she said, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

"Me too," I whispered. "Call me as soon as you get in."

"I will," she promised, pulling away and picking up her suitcase. "And Frasier..." she continued, lowering her voice. "Even though it didn't work out... I'm glad we had this time together."

Even though it didn't work out, she said. What did that mean? That it was a nice try, but who are we kidding, we could never get back together. Or that it merely didn't work out this time around? That we *would* be given one more chance... or that we hadn't entirely lost this one.

But all I found myself saying was, "So am I." And it was the truth. I wouldn't have traded today or last night for anything.

She settled back into the no-nonsense person I had first known her to be, then soon learned that it was merely a cover up. "Well," she began, straightening her clothes, "I suppose I should get on the plane now," she said quietly. "And I don't want you to miss your flight."

No. No, don't leave me. Please. I can't bear it. "Okay." What? Where had that come from?

"I love you," she said timidly, and her shyness broke my heart.

"I love you too," I whispered, kissing her gently on the cheek, unsure if she would want me to do any more than that.

Her voice was barely a breath. "Good-bye."

I couldn't concern myself with what was appropriate now. I grabbed her arm, she turned around, and I pulled her to me, covering her mouth with mine, and she dropped her suitcase on the floor as her arms went around me.

Weeks, even days ago, I would never have imagined I would be here, now, kissing the only woman I ever wanted to be with for the rest of my life... and *knowing* that it was this woman.

"Good-bye," I echoed when we broke apart.

She kissed me once more, quickly, almost as if to make sure I was real, gathered her suitcase in one hand, and boarded the plane.

I was so terrified I would never see her again.