A/N If you haven't read my other story "Darkest Hour", I'd suggest reading it before you read this as "Miles" is a continuation of that story and may contain spoilers.

The rain pounded against Frasier's bedroom window, providing a unique backdrop to the intense novel he'd been engrossed in for the last hour. Not even Eddie could distract him, although that didn't stop the dog from barking loudly to get Frasier's attention.

Annoyed, Frasier rose from his bed and ushered the pest out of the room closing the door behind him.

Finally... some peace and quiet.

He settled back into his book, drawing himself into the mystery. When the phone rang, causing yet another distraction, he sighed with irritation. It rang again, and he picked up the receiver, barely unable to hide his frustration.

"Hello?" He snapped, the word coming out gruffer than he'd intended.


Frasier gasped and tears filled his eyes at the sound of the young voice.


"Yeah, Dad. Of course it's me!" Frederick retorted.

"Dear God..."

Frasier was overcome with unimaginable relief and happiness. It had been so long; much too long since he'd heard his son's voice.

But maybe things were okay now. Lillith must have come to her senses.

Ever since that horrible day when his ex-wife forbade him to ever have contact with his son again, Frasier had been completely beside himself.

It had been months and yet it felt as though he hadn't seen his son in decades. Time was precious; especially the time spent with your children.

Why couldn't Lillith have seen that in the beginning? Then none of this would have happened.

But this whole fiasco had been his fault. He was the one who inadvertently gave a child some advice, wanting only to help the child deal with a bully.

Instead the child followed Frasier's advice to the letter and confronted his enemy ( a boy who was much older and stronger) resulting in a disastrous trip to the hospital.

Understandably, the father was livid, and Frasier prayed daily to make things right again.

But then Lillith had intervened. She'd heard the whole radio drama play out on the airwaves while at a conference in Seattle.

It was then that she cut off all contact between Frasier and the son she knew that he cherished so deeply.

Frasier knew he would have been happier had he received a life sentence in a maximum-security prison.

Because taking away his son was like a knife to the heart.

"Dad, are you okay?" Frederick was asking now.

"Oh... Yes. I'm so sorry Son. . I'm just... so happy to hear your voice."

"Hey Dad, I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier, but it's just that Mom's been-."
There was a pause followed by the faint sound of footsteps, resonating on what was most likely the immaculate linoleum floor in Lilith's gourmet kitchen.


"Frederick, what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I-I was just talking to Dad! I missed him so badly and I-."

"Hang up! Now!" she barked, the words sounding more like those from a drill sergeant rather than a loving mother.

"But Mom, I-."

"Frederick, how many times have I told you that you are forbidden to have any more contact whatsoever with your father?"

"Mom, come on! I just-."

The line went dead; the dial tone buzzing in Frasier's ear as though he were listening to the flat lining of a heart monitor.