So there we were, standing not two feet away from each other (the trailer bedrooms aren't exactly spacious), just staring. Waiting for someone to break the silence.

Niles looked away first and turned around, surveying the furniture. He hesitated, then plonked himself down neatly on the nearest bunk, hitching his jeans as though he wanted to keep some invisible pleats aligned. I warily sat myself opposite him. Our knees nearly collided and we had to tuck ourselves in to avoid any awkward contact.

"Daphne," he said. The sound of his voice was like a touch and I shivered.

"Yes?" I replied.

So far so good.

Niles laced his fingers together and stared at them. "I owe you an apology. I wasn't telling the truth earlier."

I paused, wanting to get the whole thing straight in my head. "To me or to Maggie?"

"To you."

"Oh."

He didn't say anything more. He just studied his hands.

I tried to offer some clarification. "You spared me your feelings because you thought I'd be upset by them?"

"I *knew* you'd be upset by them. You'd already *been* upset by them." He managed to look at me, then. "And to be honest with you, Daphne, sparing you my feelings is something I'm pretty good at."

And wasn't *that* statement nothing short of loaded.

"So why did you decide to come clean, this time?" I asked cautiously.

"Because I'm fed up!" he barked, suddenly roused. His hands flew up and then fell down to the bed again. His wild gesticulations made me remember that he'd been downing champagne like there was no tomorrow, and I bristled.

'Fed up'?

'Liquored up', more like. And what woman doesn't want to learn that it took quantities of alcohol to ring a declaration out of her suitor?

More quietly, Niles elaborated. "I'm fed up with pretending. I'm fed up with wrestling with the advantages and disadvantages of being honest. It's too much and I'm tired and I want it all to end!"

"Niles."

He lifted his head and I saw genuine conflict in his eyes. I forgot about being annoyed. It was a difficult thing, to know I was the cause of his distress. "I'm sorry. I know you don't reciprocate my feelings, but ... well, for some reason, this evening, the time seemed right."

"What makes you think I don't reciprocate?" I asked softly, holding myself in check.

"Daphne, you don't have to be coy with me. I came down here so we could just clear the air and get on with the business of being friends. We ... we are still friends, aren't we?"

"Yes, of course we're friends. No, I'm not being coy. Really. Why are you so sure I don't reciprocate?"

"Because Maggie heard you tell your brother last night how you really feel about me, that's why!"

It took a moment, before my thoughts reversed by twenty-four hours and I recalled the vehement denial I'd thrown at Michael. I sagged and shook my head. "Yeah, well, perhaps you're not the only liar in this room," I observed.

I felt a change come over him like a rush of air. It made me look across. "You ... you didn't mean that?" Niles asked tentatively.

"Of course I didn't! Did Maggie tell you exactly what I said?" Niles nodded. "And you really thought I was telling the truth! Just what kind of a using, manipulative bitch do you think I am, Niles Crane?"

"I didn't think anything like that."

"Hell's bells, you really *must* be in love with me," I decided wryly.

When he answered, his voice was low and tremulous. "You have no idea."

"I do now."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Now you are definitely being coy."

The change in his mood was extending to encompass both of us, by that time. There was an atmosphere settling in that tiny, cramped bunk room, and it wasn't of hurt feelings or misunderstanding or rejection, it was of relief and seduction and ...

Well, I'd better stop there, or I'll end up making it sound like an episode of 'The Love Boat'.

"Okay," I said, infected by his surge of honesty. There was a slight jolt as our relaxing bodies caused our knees to meet, and I hauled myself back with a flinch. "Fact is, I think I do reciprocate."

"You do?"

I might as well have claimed ownership of a fully house-trained, pet rhinocerous, from the disbelieving look on his face. It would have been funny, had it not been so deadly bloody serious.

"I do."

"Then why did you run away?"

Niles was looking like he was fighting the urge to lean closer. He shifted uncomfortably, looked to one side and picked an invisible thread from the cover of the bedspread. With the motion, I remembered that this was Niles Crane, my employer's chair-dusting brother, not just an attractive, available man with sparkling blue eyes. The seduction left the air with something akin to a sigh, and I suddenly realised I'd been right, I'd been absolutely right, when I'd argued with my brother minutes beforehand.

"I ran away because I knew that changing things between us would be too difficult."

We paused. Niles frowned at the wall behind me. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, then repeated the actions. He was beginning to resemble one of his ex's posh goldfish, when he finally asked quietly, "Do you still feel that way?"

I swallowed the burning in my throat and nodded. "Yes, I do." Niles dropped his head and stared at his lap. "And I think, in your heart of hearts, that you know I'm right," I added, needing to make this a mutual decision.

He shook his head mutely, before murmuring, "I don't know."

It wasn't the reassurance I was looking for, but perhaps I was just being selfish. "Thank you for being honest, anyway," I added.

His eyes lifted to look at me. I could see that I'd hurt him yet again. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you know." At my frown, he expanded with, "About my feelings, I mean."

"It's better to have these things out in the open," I agreed, reverting seamlessly back to 'liar' mode.

"And I hope we can continue our friendship."

"I'd like that."

"Well!" I watched him visibly gather himself, and he stood up. "Shall we rejoin the celebration?"

When I got to my feet, we were standing so close, I could have leaned in and kissed him without moving a step. "All right," I said. He smiled tightly and made to turn away, but I reached out and touched his arm. He actually winced at the touch, and his reaction cut like a knife. "Could I ask one favour?"

"Anything," he acceded, and the word was breathed with such sincerity, I wondered for a moment whether I'd made the wrong call.

"Would you mind giving me a hug? I really think I need it."

Niles didn't answer, not for a long, suspended interval, and the tension between us charged to the point where the hairs on my forearms were standing to attention. Then, in a voice which sounded on the verge of breaking, he simply stated, "I'm at your service."

He held his arms open and I moved into them. I tried to use the warmth of his proximity to alleviate the cold knot of loss which had settled in my chest. It didn't work.

There were other bits of me which were working all too enthusiastically, though.

Still embracing him, I pulled my head back to look at his face. Before he shrouded his features in a reassuring smile, I noted a gaunt expression of grief tinged with the desperate heat of desire. I could see it clearly, despite its fleeting appearance, because it was everything *I* was feeling.

My eyes dropped to look at his mouth. I parted my lips, wondering how it would feel to let all the complications go hang and just throw myself at him. My breath hitched. I even formed the words and was ready to let them tumble out: 'Oh, what kind of an idiot am I?!'

Then there came the faint sound of laughter from the other end of the trailer, and the moment was over, and I pulled away. Without bothering to disguise my sorrow, I turned to the doorway and pulled the handle.

The door felt like it weighed a ton.

Or maybe that was just me.