Disclaimer: same ol', same ol'…I don't own ER or any part or character of it. The people mentioned as Ray's friends in future chapters I did make up, except Brett.
Rating: M (graphic self-injury, a lot of strong language)
Spoilers: None
Content Warning: Graphic self-injury. A lot of swearing.
A/N: It's another dark one from me…sorry...what can I say? I'm a dark person…this story has a lot of the same themes/ideas/concepts as a few of my other ones. I don't really intend for them to go together. AU. It's kinda sad but will end well. The rating is mostly for Chapter 1. It gets tamer after that.

Caught

Ray looked at the clock when he walked into the apartment. 4:55 AM. He groaned. He hated working this shift during this time of year. It always seemed there was a huge influx of people 20 minutes before he was going to leave. Things would keep coming up, until he was arriving home nearly four hours after his shift was supposed to have ended. He shook the snow off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. If it hadn't been for his last patient—the kid who threw up on him, or the mysterious sticky substance on the banister, he would have gone straight to bed. Unfortunately, he had to shower. First he went to the kitchen sink, washing his hands and splashing cold water on his face, hoping that would be enough to keep him awake long enough to shower. He dropped his stuff in his room and went to the bathroom. The light was on, and the door was mostly shut. He figured Neela had left the light on by accident. Why would she be up this late? Or should I say this early? He pushed open the door.

"Hey!" Neela gasped. She was sitting on the edge of the tub, one foot propped up on the opposite knee. She was fully clothed, and dry—she hadn't just showered. "Get out!"

"Sorry," answered a very confused Ray. He took a step back. "I didn't think you'd be up at this hour." He was about to turn around and leave, when the blood running down her propped up leg caught his eye. It dripped onto the linoleum floor. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Get out! Now!"

"Are you ok?" There was a syringe and bottle of something, Lidocaine, he guessed, on the counter. Next to that was a scalpel. All three things had her bloody fingerprints on them.

"Does it sound like I am asking for help? No! Get the fuck out of here," she shouted at him. Pieces of the situation were slowly coming together.

"What happened to you?"

"Out! Get the fuck out, Ray! What part don't you get?" He noticed she wasn't standing to close the door or push him out. He looked at her hands. They were both occupied, holding hemostats, one with the suture needle, the other empty. Scissors, the finger holes also stained with her blood, lay on her thigh.

"But…No…You…" he kept starting sentences, and then not knowing what he was asking, start a new one. He was exhausted. He wasn't even sure what he was seeing was real.

"Goddamnit, Ray! Leave!"

"I can't. I…You've got to tell me what's going on…"

"I don't have to do anything. You need to leave."

"Umm, no, morally, I can't."

"Then shut the fuck up, and let me fucking finish what I am trying to do."

"Neela! What happened?"

"Jesus Christ, Ray, I cut myself on something."

"On, or with?" He eyed the scalpel. She didn't answer him, tied off a stitch, and cut the thread. "Neela?" She started another stitch. It took some time because her hands were shaking slightly. Even the slightest tremble can make it hard to correctly place a suture. "Neela!" She still ignored him, removing the needle to restart the misplaced stitch. "Damnit, Neela. Give them to me." He gave her about two seconds to comply before he started to pull one of the hemostats out of her fingers. She handed him the other tool. He quickly tied off three more stitches on the gash on her calf. After he cut the thread on the final stitch, he tossed the hemostats, with the needle locked in one, and the scissors on the counter.

"Please leave now." Neela was finally speaking at a normal volume.

"No," Ray answered simply.

"It wasn't a question. Get out." She started to raise her voice again.

"No," he repeated. "None of this suggests that I should leave you right now."

"I am telling you," she shouted.

"Neela, you probably can't even stand right now, let alone walk back to your room. And I want to shower."

"Fuck you." She took some toilet paper, and soaked up the blood that had not yet dried on her leg. She tossed it in the trash basket. She slapped Ray's hand away when he tried to help. "And yes I can stand, and walk. I haven't had any trouble the past few days at work, even with this one." She twisted her opposite leg to show another sutured cut.

"Jesus, Neela."

"Obviously, I can take care of myself!" She threw more pieces of blood soaked toilet paper in the garbage, and stood up. She held onto the edge of the counter for a few moments.

"Look at what you're doing! No, you obviously can't."

"Move." Ray was standing in the doorway.

"No."

"Do you want me to get stuff to clean this up?" she threw her hand in the direction of the blood on the floor.

"No. I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on!"

"No!"

"Then we'll stand here all day. I'm not moving until you tell me."

"Come on, Ray. I'm 28 years old, I can take care of myself!"

"Maybe you can, but this," he motioned around the room, and to her leg, "is not ok. That is not taking care of yourself."

"Fine. I cut myself. Is that what you want to hear? I used a scalpel on myself."

"No, it's not what I want to hear, but if that's the truth…" his voice trailed off.

"Yes, it's the fucking truth! Now move." She tried to push him to the side. He didn't move. "The longer you wait, the harder it is to clean this up, so I would appreciate it if you would move."

"Go to bed." He stepped to the side. "I'll deal with this. You go to bed." She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "Neela, it's five o'clock in the fucking morning, please don't start with me."

"Fine. Fine, I'll take my things and I'll leave." She turned to pick up the tools Ray had tossed onto the counter.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He stepped forward to slap her hand away.

"They're mine!" Unfortunately, she had already picked up the hemostat that had the needle locked in it. The needle pierced his palm as he tried to hit her hand away. Her hand froze.

"Ow, shit." He gently pulled the needle from his hand. He looked at him, sheepishly, implying she was sorry, but not saying it. "You're unbelievable. Go. Go to bed." She didn't go right away, so he added, "now."

"Fuck you, Ray, I'm going." She left the room with, much to his surprise, only the very slightest limp. She slammed her door hard enough that he heard it bounce back open. He sighed, and returned to the kitchen. There were some Clorox wipes under the sink.

"These will have to do for now," he mumbled to himself. After wiping up the floor and sink, Ray took a very brief shower. He brushed his teeth, then plugged the sink and filled it with water to let the scalpel and hemostats soak. Either he or Neela would deal with them later. He went to his room to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of boxers and threw his towel over his shoulder. On his way back to the bathroom to hang up his towel, he paused at his roommate's room. He leaned on the doorframe, just looking at her, wondering, among other things, what could have possibly been going through her mind to make her do such a thing. How could I have not noticed the other one? Are there more?

"Is there something you need?" Her voice startled him out of his train of thought, and he jumped.

"No, I was just…" his voice trailed off. What was I doing?

"Just?"

"Umm, just…just looking at you."

"Ok…well you can leave now, and shut my fucking door."

"I didn't open your door—" She cut him off.

"I know that."

"I just thought I'd tell you…" he started to defend himself, then decided to drop it. "Good night." He slowly pulled her door shut.

"Night." Her voice caught, trying to hold back tears. He pushed her door open again.

"Neela?"

"What?" She shouted, exasperated, no longer restraining her tears, which now freely fell down her face.

"Will you talk to me tomorrow? About this." His voice was very soft, caring, but also slightly frightened. She didn't answer him. "Neela?" When she still remained quiet, he walked over to her bed. She was lying on her side, had obviously heard him, and was consciously not answering. She looked at him, and much to his surprise she even held eye contact. "Will you?" He reached down and pushed some hair that had fallen on her forehead. She still didn't answer. He sighed and turned to leave. She caught his hand, so he stopped and turned back to her.

"Can you stay?"

"What, like until you fall asleep? 'Cause I'll probably—" she interrupted him.

"No, like stay…here."

"Uhh." She moved herself away from him on the bed. "Like, here?" He pointed to the spot where she had been lying. She nodded. He hesitated.

"Or not," she averted her gaze, slightly embarrassed.

"No," he answered, realizing how she must have understood his pause, he clarified, "I mean yeah, I'll stay." He draped his towel over the corner of her door, and then got into her bed. He lay on his side, facing her.

"Thank you," the words barely came out of her mouth. If he hadn't seen her lips move, he may not have even realized she said something to him. He smiled.

"Good night." This time it was her turn to smile, albeit a weak and sad smile. He fell asleep very quickly. He ended up lying on his stomach, with the arm closer to Neela spread out to the side. Before Neela let herself go to sleep, she lifted his arm, and tucked herself under it. He instinctively pulled her body a little bit closer. Very quietly, Neela cried herself to sleep.

Neither of them moved much in the night, and when Ray woke up, his arm was still around Neela. He didn't remember putting his arm around her like that, but he didn't want to move. He watched her for several minutes as she slept.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, knowing she couldn't hear him.

R.E.V.I.E.W.S. --Really Every View Includes Extremely Worthy Statements