Not This Time
Disclaimer: I don't
know why anyone would think these characters are mine…they're not...
Rating: T (language,
and later perhaps some sexual references)
A/N: Set a few months
after the start of season 13. Any info up to then is fair game,
though I don't think this will be particularly spoilerish…and
this was originally written very soon after the start of the season, so if any
of this happened, I'm psychic and I didn't even know it! I'm not sure if Ray and Neela will ultimately have a romantic relationship or if they'll just stay bestest good friends :)
Summary: (RayNeela-ish) Neela has a family crisis and Ray refuses to let her push him away again.
Chapter One: Truths Surface
After many painful weeks of humiliation and patient waiting on her part, Neela was finally allowed to help with surgeries on a regular basis now. She was performing a complex procedure when her pager went off. She felt it vibrate against her hip. Neela made no indication of recognition of the page. Her hands continued with their steady work. It vibrated for about two seconds. Given the nature of the surgery, the page would have to wait until later. She had exactly, she looked up at the clock, 23 minutes left in which to finish. This was Abby's patient and she had come in to check on the progress. Within minutes, her pager went off again. And then again. Finally, Neela had enough.
"Abby," she asked her friend, without looking up from what she was doing, "can you take my beeper please?"
"Sure." As Abby unclipped if from Neela's waistline, it went off for the fifth time.
"Who is it?"
"It's a, uh, 410 number, 410-955—this is Johns Hopkins. Who do you know at Johns Hopkins?" It buzzed again in Abby's hand.
"No one."
"Well, someone knows you and really wants to talk."
"There is a reason she's not answering the page. Or do you not understand that concept down in the ER?" Dr. Crenshaw sneered.
"I realize that, thank you," Abby glared at him as she spoke. He was concentrating on the patient as well, so he didn't see her.
"Abby, please call whoever that is on my behalf."
"Sure."
"Let me know who it is when you find out."
"Of course."
"I will be available in," she glanced at the clock again, "eighteen and a half minutes." Abby looked up at the time, 11:51 AM.
"Is this now a social surgery?"
"No, Dr. Crenshaw, Abby was just doing me a favor. She was being nice." Abby smiled at her friend even though they weren't looking at each other, and wouldn't be able to see behind the surgical masks anyway. Neela had finally figured out a way to play Dr. Crenshaw's game. For every sneering comment he made, she could jab him right back. Abby stepped out of the OR. She went downstairs to the doctors' lounge near the ER. Picking up the phone she dialed the number that had been paged to Neela's beeper 17 times.
"Johns Hopkins Hospital, how can I help you?" a perky woman answered on the second ring.
"Yes, this is Dr. Abby Lockhart, calling on behalf of Dr. Neela Rasgotra. She was paged from this number several times."
"Hold on one moment, Doctor." Abby heard the hold muzak for about three seconds before another woman picked up.
"Neela," the woman started.
"No, this is Dr. Abby Lockhart," replied Abby, clearly very confused, as Ray stepped into the lounge.
"Who?"
"I am calling on behalf of Dr. Neela Rasgotra." Ray gave Abby a puzzled look.
"Yes, Neela, I need to speak to her." Abby recognized Mrs. Rasgotra's angry voice immediately, once she had spoken more than two words.
"Mrs. Rasgotra," Abby began, "Neela is in the middle of surgery right now—" she was cut off.
"This is important!"
"Mrs. Rasgotra, I'm sorry, but she can't talk right now. She asked me to call for her. Can I deliver a message?" Ray was alarmed by the call, even knowing almost nothing about it. The Rasgotras rarely called their daughter, and never at work. After Abby had been given a message, she hung up the phone, slowly.
"Abby?" Ray asked. "What was that about?"
"What time is it?" Abby asked, her voice quiet, constrained by worry. Ray looked at his watch.
"11:57. Why?"
"Twelve minutes."
"What?"
"Neela has twelve minutes left in her surgery."
"What's going on Abby?"
"That was Neela's mom."
"Yeah."
"At Johns Hopkins."
"Why is she there?"
"I need to talk to Neela," Abby said to herself as she started out of the lounge.
"No, Abby, what are you talking about? Why was her mom calling?"
"It's her dad. He's at Johns Hopkins," Abby started, pausing to figure out what to say.
"You can't tell her in the middle of surgery, Abby. Especially if you can't even get it out here, and it's not even your parents." Abby nodded. After pacing for a few seconds, she sat down. "Coffee?"
"Sure." Ray handed her a mug.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I just don't know how to tell Neela this."
"Can you tell me?"
"I probably shouldn't. But I haven't the faintest idea how to tell Neela this, so maybe you can help, but you can't say anything to her, ok?"
"Why not?"
"Well, not until I do. She asked me to tell her as soon as I knew who it was."
"Fair enough. I do want to talk to her though. She won't want to talk to me, I'm sure, but there are a few things I need to say to her."
"Ok. Mr. Rasgotra had a heart attack last week. They treated him in London, but there was some problem. It was unclear from what she was saying. But the long and short of it, is that he is now at Hopkins."
"They flew him from London to Hopkins?"
"Yes. Johns Hopkins is one of the top hospitals in heart surgery," she said, pointing out the well known fact.
"What the hell happened?"
"I don't know, Ray!" she answered unnecessarily loudly.
"Abby, calm down. I was asking rhetorically."
"Sorry." He shrugged.
"I think you can say exactly that when you tell her. Maybe just...make sure she's sitting. I should probably get back to work. Let me know when I can talk to her."
"Ok." Abby knew Neela and Ray were cordial, but hadn't really talked about anything of much substance in weeks, or maybe even months. But, Ray was her friend as well, so she agreed to tell him.
"Thanks."
-o-
"Abby!" Neela said to her friend loudly upon entering the lounge.
"Neela!" she answered, surprised.
"Why didn't you come back? You have my pager; I need that!"
"Neela, sit." Neela tentatively sat next to her friend. "How was the surgery?"
"I finished early, obviously, it all went smoothly. Who was paging me?"
"The call was coming from Johns Hopkins Hospital."
"I know that, you pointed it out in the OR."
"It was your mother."
"What?"
"Your mother."
"No I heard you. What about?"
"Your father." Abby swallowed, preparing herself to explain the details.
"What are you talking about?" fear crept into Neela's voice.
"Your father had a heart attack. They treated him in London, but there was a complication."
"What was the complication?"
"I don't know. Your mother wasn't very clear about it. And she didn't really want to be talking to me. She wanted to talk to you."
"Ok. What did she tell you?"
"So there was some complication and they flew him here to Hopkins, and he's currently in surgery, or soon to be."
"What?!" Abby bit her lip, not quite sure what to say. "My mum was calling to say he's in surgery?" Abby nodded. "She didn't call when it first happened? Or when they arrived in the States? She calls when he is going into surgery?!" Abby guessed that her friend wasn't really expecting answers, so she remained quiet. Neela grabbed her beeper from Abby's hand, and walked over to the phone. Once she was transferred to her mother a heated conversation started in Punjabi. It ended abruptly when Neela slammed down the phone.
"Neela?"
"What?" she snapped back.
"Is everything ok?"
"Ok?! No, everything is not ok!" Neela fell back into the wall, and slid down until she was sitting on the floor.
"You should go home."
"No," Neela replied quickly standing back up. "No, I need to get back to work." She headed toward the door.
"Neela!" Abby rushed to get between her friend and the door. "You are not in a state to go back to work. You need to go home and take care of yourself. Now."
"You sound like Ray."
"Yeah, well, sometimes he's right." Neela glared at Abby. "Speaking of whom, he wanted to talk to you."
"I can't talk to him right now."
"Do you want a ride home?"
"No, I'm not going home."
"You're either going home or talking to Ray."
"No, Abby, I am not going home, I am not talking to Ray, I am going back to work."
"This isn't a question Neela." Abby received another glare. "Sit." Neela scoffed, but did sit. "Just gather yourself for a minute, ok?"
"It would help if you stopped talking," Neela spat. Abby nodded and left. Neela leaned her elbows on her knees and let her head drop into her hands. When did things get so complicated? she wondered.
--o--
"Neela?" A man's voice snapped Neela back to reality. She lifted her head, though it was not to identify the speaker. She recognized his voice.
"What do you want Ray?" she asked angrily.
"Are you ok?"
"I'm fine."
"I was asking as a formality. Abby told me what happened." Neela clenched her jaw.
"She had no business doing that."
"Well, she did. Do you want a ride home?"
"No, I am going back to work." Neela stood up.
"You should go home."
"What makes you think you know what I should do?"
"Abby agrees with me."
"Do you follow everything Abby agrees to?"
"No, but I do in this case."
"I need you to leave Ray."
"Will you talk to me later?"
"Sometime," she answered vaguely, taking a few steps to the door. It was the answer he had been getting for months now. 'Sometime' never came.
"Neela, listen to me," Ray said with quiet forcefulness, grabbing her arm turning her toward him, just as she had put her other hand on the door knob.
"No, you listen to me." She shook his hand off her arm, and kept her other hand on the door knob. "You need to leave. I can't talk to you right now."
"Damn it Neela," his volume started to increase. "When Michael died, you told me to stay away, and I did. I tried my best to stay away. You made it pretty easy by doing everything in your power to push me away."
"I did not—" he cut her off.
"Yes you did. Don't even try to deny it. Everyone agrees with me." This was the argument he'd been wanting to have with her for weeks. He was tired of waiting, of being the back up. He continued, "then, when Gates decided you weren't worth his time, I still tried to be your friend. He was never good enough for you, but it seemed to be what you wanted, so I let it be. You trusted him and he took advantage of you. Then, I tried to be there when he wasn't. And again, you pushed me away. And I did stay away. That's what you wanted, so that's what I did. But you know what? Not this time. Neela you've been falling since the day Michael left after your wedding. You loved him, he left you and then he died. After that you trusted Gates, and he left too. What's stayed the same through all this Neela? What has remained constant? What is the one thing that hasn't changed? Me. I've been here, but you seem to want nothing to do with me. And yet, it keeps coming back to us."
"No, you just came in here."
"If you truly felt how you've been acting, and saying you've felt, you would have left by now." She suddenly became very aware of the fact that her hand was still on the door knob. It was true—she could have left at any point. She slowly dropped her hand. "You would have walked out on me. Again. But you haven't. I'm not saying you should marry me, like you did Michael, or date me like Gates. I'm just trying to make you see that I care about you. I am your friend. Because face it Neela, you need me."
"No, I don't. You just won't leave."
"Is that how you see it?" He nodded slowly. "Ok, alright. Well, then I ask you, who's going to catch you Neela? You're going to keep falling, because at this point you can't stop yourself. You can't do it on your own, no matter how much you try. Who's going to catch you?"
"I am not falling."
"Really?" he asked, indignant.
"No!" she answered forcefully.
"What are you going to do when you go home?"
"I don't know. Why does that matter?"
"Answer the question."
"I don't know! Go to sleep, or go out to the bar."
"Uh huh. What did you do last weekend?"
"I worked on Friday. Then I was off Saturday and Sunday."
"What did you do Friday and Saturday nights?"
"I went out with some friends."
"And what did you do the weekend before, when you were off?"
"I was at home."
"And at the bars."
"What's your point?"
"You have had more to drink in the last few months than you did for the year and a half you lived with me!"
"So I go out more, what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. It's not that you go out. It's that you drink."
"And you are one to talk?"
"I am now."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Yes, I used to drink too much, but I recognized that, and I cut down, Neela."
"You stopped drinking so much because your band left."
"That too. But it wasn't just that."
"What does this have to do with anything, Ray?"
"I'm trying to make you understand what you are doing to yourself, and what you are throwing away."
"I'm not doing anything to myself. I am not throwing anything away."
"Yes you are."
"Fuck you, I am not. My work has not suffered from any change in my habits, on the contrary I have moved rapidly through my surgery elective."
"Are you happy?"
"Not right now! My fucking father is in the hospital and my family waits until he is in surgery to tell me, and now you are standing here telling me how horrible everything is. Yes, everything is just a bucket of sunshine!"
"What would make you happy?"
"If you would shut the hell up, and leave me alone." She saw his jaw tighten.
"Go home. Go home and I'll leave you alone." He pointed to the door.
"Fine." He nodded. She opened the door more forcefully than necessary.
"Good night," he said, his voice having returned to guarded compassion that he had used around her for months.
A/N: So, I have several more chapters of this written, but I don't know if I will finish the story, or if it is better as a one-shot. Should I continue? Let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what you couldn't care less about...
It's finals time...review and make my day!
