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Author's Note: This is one of those ideas that just won't go away, no matter how hard I try to banish it to a point in the future where I have the time to write it. So here you go, it will be a series of letters between Ray and Neela after the accident. How far I take it kind of depends of how much time and inspiration I have on it, but please let me know what you think. (With regards to the date on the letter, I can't remember exactly when the wedding was, and Ray's subsequent departure, but assume the letter is, as is stated, roughly a fortnight after that – if anyone knows what date that is likely to be, and feels strongly enough about it to tell me, then please feel free!)

Chicago

27th May 2007

Dear Ray

I'm sorry it's taken me a couple of weeks to write to you, I wanted to let you settle in and get your head around being back at home before bombarding you with correspondence. Also, I had to dig out your mum's address, which took me a while – you know how messy I can be.

I… I hope you're reading this letter Ray, although I understand completely if it's already scrunched into a ball and thrown in the bin. I'm sitting here, looking out of the window (I'm staying with Abby and Joe at Luka's at the moment – Luka's father is ill and he's gone to Croatia for a while and Abby asked if I wouldn't mind staying with her) with the pen hovering over the page, and I've suddenly realised I don't have the slightest clue what to say to you. There's already three failed drafts in the wastepaper basket – well, near the wastepaper basket; I'm not much of a shot. I don't think there are any words for what I've done to you. All I can say is I'm so, so sorry about the accident. If I hadn't called you just then or if I had gone after you when you left the party or if I had had the balls to face up to everything that was going on when you wanted me to, then none of this would have happened. I'm sure it's no consolation to you at all, but I will never, ever forgive myself for that.

When I look back, there are so many things I wish I had said, and done, and not said, and not done. There were a million little moments between us that if I could change, I would. God, if only… Most of all, I wish I hadn't been such a bloody coward – if only I had been braver, more sure of myself then… Well, there's a lot more to say, but I want to know for sure you're reading this before I say anything else.

Listen to me; I think every sentence in that paragraph had the word "I" in it about a dozen times. Please tell me about you. Greg said he had spoken to you and you're going to the hospital every day for PT. What does it involve? You know what us surgeons are like, we don't have the slightest clue what goes on after we put the stitches in. Well, okay, we do a bit, but I would be really interested to hear how things are going. I've sort of got a bit of time on my hands right now, and there's only so many cheap novels a girl can read.

I'm trying really hard to keep this letter light. I don't know why, as there's nothing light about all this, but I can't help but look back at the times when things were light between us and remember how good it was then. You drove me up the wall (and I'm sure there were times you wanted to wring my neck as well – do you remember the time I couldn't shut the kitchen window and half the apartment ended up full of snow?) but I was so happy then, the happiest I think I've ever been. There was so much… hope then. I haven't felt like that since Michael died; there's been only twice since then I've come close, and I think you know when. Once, the evening in your car and then at the wedding. Ironic, huh, that it was Hope who interrupted that hope. Sorry, I shouldn't try to be funny, again, not my strong point.

Okay, that's all I'm going to say for now. I don't want to churn out some massive essay that weighs the poor postman down, not yet anyway. I don't want you to feel compelled to reply, but it would mean more to me than I could put into words if you did. And I don't know if it matters or changes whether or not you do want to reply, but as I said at the hospital, Tony and I really are over. I've told him in no uncertain terms, and he understands.

Love

Your Roomie