Author's Note: A bit of late night inspiration after I heard about the shirt returning/rejecting scene in 12.18 involving the Roomies (since my watching of ER has been sketchy as of late). Have since watched said scene and am rather broken hearted over it, really. Even though there's no rhyme or reason, I really wanted to write something from Neela's perspective. So, here we are! Cheers.
Note2: Edited 05/10/09. Added some emphasis, expanded a bit here and there, changed a few words. Also, the ending's a little different and there's more references to Gallant. Think that's about it.
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of NBC/whoever else owns the rights to ER. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.
Best Friends
by, Caliente
Best friends.
What does that even mean, anyway? And who asked him, right? Friends. Pah, who needed them? She'd been... fine before, really. Just fine. Happy...ish, even. Or close enough. And that'd been all right by her, thank you.
Then he just had to come and screw it all to hell, didn't he? It was Ray at his best. It'd been so easy, playing house under the guise of roommates. So easy that he hadn't even noticed until she was alredy in too deep.
And that was it, wasn't it? They'd just been playing. Fooling themselves—each other. In the world of their little apartment, it all seemed so straightforward. Like it made sense. They were friends. They were roommates. Simple as that.
Only it wasn't really. It wasn't simple at all. Because it wasn't real—any of it. She was married, damn it, and he... he wasn't Michael. He was Ray. Her co-worker Ray. Her friend Ray. Her roommate Ray. Just Ray. Her Ray.
But he couldn't be her Ray. He couldn't be hers when she already belonged to someone else. It wasn't fair, not to either of them or Michael. Especially not to Michael, off fighting halfway around the world.
It'd been real, see, and that was the problem. There'd been a moment where he was more than just Ray. More than just her friend or roommate. That was why she had to leave. Why it had to end. Tonight. For her, for him, for Michael.
Best friends. If only. If it had only been that. Then maybe she could've stayed. Maybe it would've been okay. But they weren't best friends, not really. They were something else entirely. Something that they couldn't be.
Because she had Michael and he had his own issues and they were far too complicated without really even being anything tangible at all. Things weren't meant to be so difficult. It was time to recognize the truth—it simply wasn't meant to be.
(And as she left him behind, standing on the sidewalk, she could almost believe that, too.)