I don't own the characters. They are owned by NBC and Michael Crichton and all those who write, produce, and etc…ER. If I did own ER, Neela and Ray would be together…since they're PERFECT for each other.

I don't own Westlife (if I did, Kian would be in red silk boxers all the time and have his hair dyed brown so those dreamy blue eyes POP!…LoL) or the song. However, like millions others, I do own the CD the song is on, but that's just about it.

Anyhow, this is a little drabble (maybe?). I was listening to Westlife (hence the title of this story) and this popped into my head. I hope my muses aren't continuing to be rusty and that you enjoy!

When I see how my path
Seem to end up before your face
The state of my heart, the place where we are
Was written in the stars

WRITTEN IT THE STARS by Westlife

I adjusted my coat to protect myself from the cold Chicago winter. After being in Baton Rouge for the past two and a half years, I would have to get used to the subzero weather again. I sighed as I stepped out of my apartment. I had found a great apartment on South Dearborn and was half excited about returning to County.

I was getting on with my life and part of the healing was returning to County. Not just as a doctor, but as an attending in the Emergency Department. Again. As I walked towards the train, I knew that I'd run into her. I heard from Sam that Neela was still there in surgery.

I found my heart pounding as I found a seat on the El. I wasn't sure how I'd respond to meeting her again. Would I still have the same feelings? I knew I loved her then and I worked hard to forget her, but as things go, you never really forget your soul mate.

I had interviewed with Dr. Anspaugh over the phone and he seemed happy that I wanted to return. I wasn't sure what all to expect my first day, but I wasn't expecting what I got. I walked through the doors of the ED, because of working there previously, I expected busy, but I got bombarded.

"Hey, Ray." Greg Pratt slapped a chart against my chest. "Can you get curtain two? Little girl with possible stomach flu."

"Gotcha!" I looked at the chart as I walked towards curtain two. I laughed to myself how, despite being gone for two and a half years, they were acting like I had just gone on a week's vacation and I was back.

"Hey, Ray. Glad you're back." Sam smiled as she passed me.

"Thanks, Sam. Glad to be back." I pulled a stool towards the bed and sat. "So, Christina, you're not feeling well."

"No." The young girl replied.

"Where does it hurt?" I asked as I stood up and put my stethoscope on.

She pointed to her lower right quad. "Hurts right here."

I listened to her breathing and her heartbeat. "Okay. Tell you what. I'll grab a nurse and see if she can help me figure out what's wrong with you, okay?"

Christina looked at me and painfully smiled. "Okay."

I left the curtain and found Chuni. "I need a full set of vitals on curtain two."

"Got it, Ray." Chuni rushed off to get the vitals.

I made my way back to the front desk, where Frank sat eating a doughnut. I smiled to myself. Some things never change. "Oh, Barnett." Frank said, nearly splattering me with powder. "Got a message for you."

I took the pink sheet from him. "I've only been on shift for an hour and someone calls?" I was a little surprised.

"It was your mother. Wanting to make sure you were okay." Frank looked at me, obviously wanting to say something. For the first time since knowing him, he didn't. He just looked at me. "How are you doing so far?"

I shrugged. "Fine."

Chuni came to the front desk. "Curtain two's temperature is 104.2 and she's vomiting."

I slammed the message on the front desk and ran back to curtain two. Sure enough, little Christina was vomiting. I looked immediately to her mother and father. "I need to ask a few questions."

Her mother looked at me like I was crazy, but nodded her head. "Okay."

"How long has she had the temperature?"

The mother shrugged. "I don't know. Two or three days. But, we thought it was just the flu."

I snapped my head up from palpitating the young girl's abdomen. "What made you think flu?"

Her father looked at me. "She hadn't been hungry for the past two days and she's been really tired."

"Any diarrhea?"

"Yeah. And she's been going to the bathroom quite often." Her mother softly stroked her daughter's sweaty forehead. "We've given her all the children's over the counter medications we could think of, but nothing's helped."

As I palpitated the lower right quadrant, Christina howled in pain. "Chuni, page Surgery." Immediately, her parents started asking questions. "She'll be fine. I'm going to get surgery to look at her. From her reaction to her lower ab being touched and the symptoms you've told me about, I'm positive she has appendicitis."

Chuni came back and cheekily grinned. "Surgery's on their way."

"Thanks, Chuni." I smiled back. I looked by at the parents. "Your daughter's going to be fine. County has some of the best surgeons."

"Yeah. Especially one in particular." Chuni's comment was out of place and she looked at me. "I'm just saying, Ray."

"Okay." I looked back to the parents in an attempt to change the subject. "Surgery should be down here in a bit to look at her." As I picked up the chart, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Ray?"