Woke up this morning with this story almost complete in my head. I've been a lurker for years but this is my first fanfic EVER. How is it? Please R & R.

*

She finds the room. She opens the door. She moves into the Physical Therapy room. She looks slowly around. She holds her breath, starts to smile. It's bright. It's him. His back is towards her. He is writing, talking. He's with his patients. Her heart is filled to almost bursting with how she feels and how proud of him she is. She knows she will never hold back ever again. He looks…there are no words for him and all he means to and for her. He is her past, her present, her future, her all. She is blinded by him and what his eyes have been telling her for so long, all that she once denied and ignored. She thinks she hears violin music playing a rock melody. She feels lighter, wholesome, calm, complete. He sees her. She finally breathes, almost not believing this is real. She smiles softly, a tender look in her glowing eyes. She is herself now, comfortable in her own skin and with her choices. Everything has fallen away now that they've led her here. She is his. She is home.

He writes, talks, and continues to the next patient, Steve. He feels something in the air. Glances up, about to ask the patient… He sees her. Double-take. His breath catches. He grins and wonders if he's hallucinating. He turns to Steve. "Can you excuse me for a second?" Steve nods and takes the clipboard. "Thanks." He quickly checks to see that he's still standing. He slowly walks towards her. He shakes his head, almost not believing his eyes. She looks…there are no words for her and all she means to and for him. She is his past, his present, his future, his all. He is blinded by her and what her eyes are telling him, finally showing him. He thinks he hears a rock melody with clashing guitars. He feels like he's walking on air and not his carbon-fibre toes. He smiles softly, breathes, his eyes free to show it all. He is himself now, comfortable in his own skin and with his choices. Everything has fallen away now that they've led her here. He is hers. He is home.

They meet, still smiling softly at each other.

He finds his voice, deepened with joy. "Finally…You really here?"

Neela answers, tranquilly happy. "Yeah, I really am."

They are still fighting the full grins and belly laughs, still fighting to not touch each other, their hands in their pockets. The ever-present flames, the visceral tension of holding back in case they consume each other, the deep and instinctive connection, they're all beating against their hearts and minds and bodies and souls. They tremble in the bright, warm light. This is their serenity, their torturous paradise, their heavenly hell, their rapturous torment, their restrained love. They are here, with each other, home at last...

*

At Last – Etta James

At last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
Oh, yeah, at last
The skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in clovers
The night I looked at you
I found a dream that I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to rest my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known
Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile
Oh, and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
For you are mine
At last

*

It's Sunday, mid-morning, warm. The bright sun is slanting through the louvred glass windows and the shades of their bedroom. Rock music plays softly in the background. The sheets are tangled, like their bodies and hearts. They are breathing heavily, trying to pull the covers up.

Teasing. Smirking. "God, Roomie! You're insatiable!"

Blushing. Smirking. "Oh, shut up Ray! Always complaining!"

Smiling, slightly concerned. "How's the morning sickness?"

Smiling reassuringly. Cuddling. "Surprisingly not there."

Grinning. "My medicine's working!"

Wryly smiling. "Yeah, our Sunday morning workouts will always make me feel better."

Smirking. Pushing a curl of hair behind her ear. "Only Sunday morning's a workout? What about all the other days and times?"

Affectionately. Smoothing his tousled hair. "Bloody wanker."

Tapping her nose affectionately and wrapping his arms around her. "I know."

Pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. Smiling. Softly whispering. "I love you Ray."

Smiling back. Softly whispering. "I love you Neela."

Playfully. "You still have to do the laundry this week."

Groaning. "Neeeeela…I hate laundry!"

Grinning. "I know. But your mum says you have to start doing it. Builds character and all that. It's why I have so much. I had to do both of ours."

Acting miffed. "The things I put up with. That's the last time you two get together and share tips on how I should be handled."

Grinning, blasé. "Whatever."

Grinning almost evilly. "I can't wait till your mother gets here for when the twins come."

Glaring. Snorting. "Don't remind me. I think they're going to gang up on us, you know."

"I can't believe they like each other so much. You do realize they'll be inseparable then."

"Constant nagging."

"Constant conspiring."

"Well, at least we'll have my dad here..."

"Oh yeah, what a comfort...I won't be able to touch you without him glaring at me."

"Maybe you can tell him how I got pregnant."

"Thank you Neela but I happen to love my life. Although, technically, you did all the work that time..."

"Raaaaaaaaay...."

Pause. Looking at each other.

"Well Dr. Mrs. Neela Kaur Rasgotra-Barnett, I'm hungry. Make me some breakfast."

"You still haven't recovered from the last time I did that!"

"I still don't get how you can do complicated surgical procedures and burn the eggs every time."

"See, it's always the little things that get me."

"Oh okay, so I'll remember never to give you that huge ruby you saw last week at our 40th anniversary."

"I'm the soon-to-be-huge mother of your minus-5 months' twin children. Burnt eggs and a ruby ring are the least of your problems."

"Fine, fine, I'll keep on doing the cooking if you keep at the laundry."

"Wow! Negotiations! Speaking of which, I still think we should have the kids' names start with the same letter. They're already different sexes so something has to be similar."

"Um Neela, they're going to be born on the same day and they'll be our children...How much more similarity do you want? Besides, you're trying to change the subject."

"Noooo, I just think-"

"You laundry, I cook!"

Good-natured ribbing continues.

They head to the bathroom.

*

The End.