A/N: A very long, and perhaps somewhat long-winded, account of what Neela could be thinking and feeling about Ray, the accident and everything else that has happened between them. A companion piece to Aftermath: From the Bayous. I'm a little dissatisfied at the lack of depth of emotion they seem to give Neela on the show, although I do understand that she's meant to be quite reserved. Well, this is my interpretation of how she might have felt and might be feeling. I may have taken a few liberties here and there, and perhaps my tenses are a little shot – I had some difficulty with this particular piece of writing. Hope you guys like it anyway.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story, nor do I have any rights to events which have occurred on the television show ER.
The months that had passed since the accident had been spent in torment. There was the grief, the pain of separation and then the horrible guilt that refused to go away. The guilt that was amplified by the scathing looks she received from Katie. She knew she shouldn't care, that despite everything she thought she knew Katie knew nothing at all. But that thought did not put an end to her despair. Instead, it was a reminder of how much worse it all really was.
The games she and Ray had played with each other were but a small part of a much greater thing, she realised later; much larger than just Gates and the madness that had ensued. It began even before Michael had gone. As soon as she had agreed to be his roommate there was that undeniable tension between them which she had equated to clashing personalities and a slight preconception on her part. Her quiet intelligence and knack for order and organisation constantly at odds with his more carefree, and careless, approach to things; including medicine. She had hoped he would grow out of that, for the sake of her sanity. And he did; but she never thought it would be because of her.
The bond between them had grown so tentatively she could not even pinpoint when they had crossed over from indifferent roommates to best friends. She had just taken it for granted, had been more preoccupied with her own life and Michael. Things began to escalate in the months after her marriage and Michael's continued absence. At the back of her mind, she knew it had begun even as she laid her head on his shoulder as they watched the World Poker Tour episode he had recorded especially for her; his assertion that he would do anything for 'his roomie' something she would always keep close to her heart.
That they had spent much of their free time together, rather than apart, afterwards had not registered in her mind at the time. She enjoyed the solace of Ray's friendship in the absence of her husband, who she had constantly worried about. In those brief hours, as they huddled close together in the dark, cowering at the terrifying images on the television, she had felt a connection she knew had been missing for a long time. With Michael in Iraq and Abby constantly with Luka, Ray became a constant that she felt she could depend on. Until the morning of the medical conference she was due to speak at, she had been unaware of the danger she was in.
Being that close to Ray while he was barely clothed, his skin still warm and hair artfully dishevelled, looking into those warm green eyes still cloudy from sleep, she felt a spark that she failed to recognise before. A few more seconds and she knew that something would have happened, something she didn't think she could handle. Not when Michael was out there risking his life and relying on her faithfulness. And the funny thing was she knew it wasn't only her. She had seen the playfulness of the moment leave his gaze, only to be replaced with an intensity that she could not withstand. So she ran away.
The pained look in his eyes that evening as she announced her intention to move out lingered with her for a long time. But it was nothing compared to the heartbroken expression so clearly etched into his face as she was packing up to leave for Abby's; the hurt look she could have easily avoided if only she had taken his token of farewell. He wanted to kiss her that night; she had felt him lean in as they both stood in the doorway to her old bedroom. She almost wished he had; but he let her walk away instead. That was just the first of many selfless acts he would do for her.
When the news that Michael had been killed reached her she had felt an immense guilt, and a large part of that guilt lay in her confusing feelings for Ray. He had, on the day she had left his apartment, as much as confessed that there was something more than friendship in his regard for her. And she could not say, in all honesty, that her feelings for him had been as innocuous as she had contrived them to be. And then there was poor Michael, dying in such a horrible way for such a noble cause while she was entertaining forbidden feelings for another. It had torn her up inside. It was even more mortifying to realise that at times, in the months leading up to his death, she had felt nothing much more than a kind of friendly affection for her husband. Ray had been the victim of all her self-loathing, though she could never blame him for her own feelings. She had pushed him away in her grief when she should have held him close. It was something she regretted even now.
After that, life became a whirlwind of emotions and desires. She didn't even want to think about some of the finer details. All she knew was getting involved with Tony had been one mistake after another; and hurting Ray in the process was the biggest mistake of all. She had been blind to everything except her own needs, she knew that much. She did not want to be reminded of the guilt and it was so much easier to keep on breaking his heart rather than her own. The words he spoke as he lay on that hospital bed haunted her, no matter how much she tried to deny them. That he admitted to falling in love with her had left a cold feeling in her heart as she looked on at the stumps that were what remained of his legs; of his livelihood. And she couldn't help but feel that he was right, about everything.
There wasn't anyone she could lean on right now. Not even Abby, drowning her sorrows in liquor, and definitely not Tony. She wished she could talk to someone, anyone. But that wasn't her way. Everyone always thought of her as the level-headed one. Or the control freak. It didn't matter, it was all the same. Sometimes she just wanted to scream that she wasn't okay, that she was suffering enough without having them rub it in; that she blamed herself enough to encompass all the blame they were so eager to place upon her. But what she really wanted was to talk to Ray. The distance between them had grown to be so much more than just the miles between Baton Rouge and County.
She could not, in all honesty, put into words her feelings about him. Did she love him? She wasn't sure. But what she did know was that her best friend, the best friend she ever had, was slowly slipping out of reach and she was letting it happen. It was unfair that things had turned out as they had, but they did and she was powerless to do anything except shed her pride and make the first step. She knew what she had to do.
Staring at the phone, she felt tempted to pick up a pen instead and knew that that would not be enough. She didn't even know if a simple phone call would suffice, but it was a start. If only she could build up the courage to do it. And the more she stared, the less courage she felt. But she was saved from taking the plunge herself. The sound of the phone ringing took several seconds to register in her mind; when she finally answered it, a single tear ran down her cheek when she heard the husky voice on the line.
It was Ray.