Hello. This is my first Reela fic, so please be gentle Admittedly, I haven't watched masses of ER, so if some facts are wrong or misused, I say sorry in advance. Please review!
Disclaimer: I don't own nothin'.
Raw Emotion.
"Neela, this isn't fair on me. What about my needs? My wants and fears? Don't you think I want to make this marriage to work too? Don't you think that this is breaking my heart as much as it's breaking yours?" his voice echoed through the empty apartment, as the anger rose in the young man's chest. He clenched his fists in frustration, and tried to control his temper while he still had it within reach.
"Actually, I don't think your heart is breaking, Michael. I just think that your safety blanket's suddenly been ripped apart. I was never a wife to you, never a lover or a friend. I was a convenience, a normality that you could give or take however you pleased. I was simply always there. You knew that you could come back here, and I'd always be waiting for you with open arms, and now I've finally turned my back on you, you suddenly want to make this sham of a marriage work again?" Neela's voice rose with passion as she placed the force of her heart behind her words. She'd wanted to say this for so long, she'd felt it for an age, but her heart and head hadn't been connected for a long time.
"This isn't fair on me, as soon as I finally move on, get over you and find a new centre to my life; you come back and try to rip my plan to shreds." She finished her speech with an undignified sigh, and rubbed her palms together in what she hoped looked like a sombre fashion. She couldn't live her life like this anymore. She had finally gotten her life together, in search of happiness once again. She'd written a final letter to Michael, one final montage to release all her emotions and pain, and with that final letter, she'd felt she'd set herself free. She'd posted it and felt a huge weight lift from her chest, she felt like she could finally breathe again.
But then Michael decided to come back from Iraq to sort this mess out, a mess he couldn't see he had caused. He had stormed back into Neela's life and pulled the rug from under her feet once again.
"Neela, I love you so much, you mean the world to me. While I was out there in Iraq, in the war, all I thought about was you. You were the thought that kept me warm at night, and the vision that gave me a reason to keep going. You stopped me from giving up, you saved me." Michael placed a gently hand on Neela's shoulder. She flinched beneath his pressure, and felt uncomfortable under his watchful gaze. She refused to meet his eyes, and only concentrated on a small mark on his shirt, right next to his left armpit.
Michael, after realising the discomfort his wife was in, removed his hand from her body, and placed it back against his own in a dejected manner. "I saw what loneliness did to those men out there, Neela. They went crazy, knowing that there was nothing left for them when they got home. But I wasn't lonely, sure I was alone, but I never felt it. Because no matter where I was, or who I was with, or what I was doing, I knew you were there with me. Looking over me, helping me and loving me." Before Michael had even finished his sentence, his wife was straight in there with a response. She spat each word out with venom and resentment, and it chipped away at Michael's lasting soul. He was falling apart in front of her, but it seemed she didn't to notice as she oured out all her built up frustrations and emotions.
"What about me? I never felt you here with me when I needed you! When I was crying my eyes out, unable to sleep, who do you think rocked me to sleep in their arms? And when I was vomiting in an alleyway after a rough night trying to down my sorrows, who was there holding my hair and walking me home?"
"Neela," Michael tried, wanting to put an end to her words. They pained him, and she knew it, yet she wasn't willing, or able, to stop. Neela has visions of all the memories she was bringing to light once again. She had a blurred image of each incident, and she remembered them with a softness that was unexpected. She saw herself crying with desperation and sorrow in Ray's arms, as he kissed the top of her forehead affectionately. He'd rocked her for 2 hours straight before she'd fallen asleep, but he didn't pause once. He was as determined to get her to sleep as she was, and he knew that while he couldn't stop her pain, he was most certainly going to give her the gift of rest. He'd slowly cradled her in his arms, whispering reassuring words into her ears, as he sat up in his bed. He'd stayed awake all the time she was asleep, simply watching her. He didn't want to risk him sleeping only for her to wake up. He cared about her too much to think of himself.
Neela also saw herself doubled over her limp body, pouring out her guts onto an empty alleyway floor while Ray winced behind her, holding her hair back and rubbing circles on her lower back with his hand. He'd waited until she was over, and sat on the floor with her a while, making sure she was over the worst of it, before walking her home and putting her to bed. Neela knew Ray was a jackass most of the time, but it was those moments, those stolen instants that made Neela feel for him something that she'd admittedly never felt for Michael. Neela was terrified of her own heart, and kept trying to convince herself that she wasn't falling in love with her roommate, her friend and colleague. But it was to no avail, Neela was falling and she knew it, but what frightened her most, was that is she was falling, would he be there to catch her?
"No! When I was put down by patients, or even another doctor, or when I had to run into a burning building, why weren't you the one to shout at Platt in defence of me, or the one to console me when all I needed was a hug? Why was it always someone else doing those things for me, when all I needed was you? Michael, our marriage is over; you closed the lid on whatever feelings I once held for you." Neela shook her head in defeat, and felt the tears stinging up behind her eyes. She rubbed at her forehead tiredly, and pleaded with herself to stay strong for just a little bit longer. Just a little bit. She'd never broken down in front of her husband, and she wasn't about to start.
"Neela you don't mean that, you didn't mean what you said in that letter. You still love me, I know it. You can't switch off a feeling so strong as easily as that." Michael was on his final legs, he was begging Neela, pleading with her for one final chance. One final lifeline. Michael felt like his life was crumbling down around him, and it was like he could do nothing to stop it. No matter what he said to Neela, or how we tried to prove it, she wasn't budging.
Neela fell down onto the sofa behind her with a dull thud. She placed her head in her hands slowly, and forced the tears to go. She was stronger than this, she didn't cry. She was Neela, hardly anyone had seen her cry, and most of them were mistakes that Neela wished more than anything she could remove.
"Michael," she started, looking up at him as a single tear fell from her left eye, swimming down her cheek until she roughly pushed it away with the back of her hand. "I don't think I ever loved you." She stated the truth with such certainty; it caused Michael to lose all breath that was once situated in his body. He opened his mouth to say something, anything as a weak attempt at a reply, but his lips forced themselves shut with a bitter snap. He couldn't look at his wife any longer; he didn't trust himself or his temper. So without another word or glance, he grabbed his coat that he'd earlier flung across the room in rage, and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. As soon as the door shut, he stopped. He fell back against the door behind him, and slid down it, pulling his knees up to his chest.
Neela's face found its self back into her hands, but this time she wasn't forcing her tears to stop. She was pushing them through her eyes with force, needing the comfort of a raw emotion to bring the life back into her. Her body rocked with the sobs that her heart was beating out, each set of blows louder than the last. She thanked god that Ray wasn't in to see her like this, or she would have had to hold her emotion in for longer than capable. She didn't like showing her emotion, and hated the fact that people would think less of her if they saw her cry. She knew as soon as Ray saw her cry, he'd changed, and he treated her different for days afterwards. She'd done things that would usually send him into a frenzy, but over the days proceeding her tearful confessions, he'd simply let them pass, and with a genuine smile he'd let her be in peace. But she didn't like to be treated different, she liked him being a jackass. She liked his sarcastic comments and energetic arguments. They gave her something to look forward to; something to pinpoint on her day and know that he'd say or do something in jest that would send her into fits of laughter. Of course not all arguments were fun, or laughable, but to her, any interaction with Ray was an interesting interaction.
She couldn't remember where Ray was tonight, but she was beyond sure that he wasn't working. If she had been more rational then she would have moved herself to the bedroom to save the embarrassment of Ray walking in on her, but she was beyond the point of caring as she changed her position on the sofa. She took her head out of her hands for a moment, before moving so her back was resting again the side arm rest. She brought her knees up to her chest, and rested her head back into their original sanctuary of her hands. Her hair fell around her fingers, brushing against them with every rack of her body. Her chest felt like it was closing in as her cries became more intense, not to mention louder.
Neela felt like her world was caving in, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. And that's when it happened. That's when the nightmare became reality.
"Neela, I want a divorce."
I have more chapters written up, but I'll see how the reviewing goes first before posting them.