What Exiles Feel
by: Eyes-of-Pearl
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: ER belongs to its respective owners.
Author's Note & Synopsis: Don't worry, I'm working on the next chapter for Kokoro. But, I got a sudden inspiration for this one-shot. This is a different take on the episode "I Don't." AU. Guarantee Reela angst. You have been warned! Inspired by the song, Better Than Me, by Hinder. I owned nothing.
What Exiles Feel
There was a slight drizzle today. The cold air chilled her to the core, despite her present attire of a dark dress shirt and matching pencil skirt. She stood at the edge of the freshly made bed. Muffled voices around her filtered in but didn't registered in her mind. Her forlorn eyes made note of the vaguely familiar faces that periodically walk in front of her, but she wasn't interested in striking a conversation with any of them.Anxious eyes glanced over her way, conveying sympathy. She only felt an incredible sense of sadness, so fierce that she could scarcely draw in the next breath. Suddenly, she felt confined but this time, there wasn't any place that she could escape to.
Dr. Gregory Pratt came up beside her. He held up an umbrella over both of their heads. His lips were parted but no sound came out. He didn't need to say anything because there were no words that he could offer to lessen the pain. So instead, he sealed his lips to a grim line, letting the silence channeled his grief.
"Why did he have to love me the way he did?" she asked.
I think you can do much better than me
After all the lies that I made you believe
Guilt kicks in and I start to see
The edge of the bed
Neela had nearly fainted when she got the call, so Pratt insisted that he drove them over. Guilt probably weighed heavily on him too, as he was the one who sent a very drunk Ray home by himself.
The wait had been excruciating. Minutes melted to hours, hours dragged into even longer hours. It was the worse form of torture - being kept in the dark and not knowing. She sat stiffly in one of the chairs. She wondered how she must have looked - still in her formal attire, hair done up in cascading curls and her mascara smearing across her eyes.
After ten long hours in the OR, the chief surgeon for the case, came out and delivered the heaviest blow that pretty much killed her. "I am truly sorry. We couldn't save him. His injuries were too extensive; he lost too much blood... I am sorry."
She had let out a feral scream at the news - something so primal and raw that stemmed from the pit of her stomach. She hadn't react this way when two military men came to tell her that Michael Gallant had died in the line of duty. Pratt tried to catch her, but she collapsed to the ground, bringing him with her. Tears spewed out, but she couldn't help sobbing into his chest, and screaming, "No, no, no. He has to be ok."
Wish I never would've said it's over
Cause we never really had our closure
This can't be the end
She never realized how much it pained him to wait. The extent of his sacrifice spoke volumes about his unconditional love for her, so she had no comeback to Katey's accusation: You did this, you selfish bitch. Nobody else. You did! Now, you live this!
She would forever live with the knowledge that she could never tell Ray Barnett how she really feel.Perhaps, that was the reason why she insisted that she be the one to clear out his apartment. It had been hers, not so long ago. She still remembered where they kept the spare key, in the upper right corner on top of the door frame.
She had been assaulted by memories the moment she opened the door. Ray had undoubtedly cleaned up the place prior to the wedding because the apartment was uncharacteristically clutter-free. Still, she found the presence of him everywhere - his guitar over in the corner, beer bottles on the coffee table, a t-shirt wedged between the cushions.
She stopped at her old room. Ray hadn't found another roommate after all and left her room the same. She walked over to the closet and found a box with her name on it. Unexpectedly, she felt vulnerable and scared. She didn't know what to expect, didn't know what she was about to find.
Gathering up whatever strength that she had, she opened the flaps and began to cry at the sight of the contents. Ray had collected everything that reminded him of their "roomie" days together. She found post it notes that they used to leave each other on the fridge, old tapes of the World Poker tournaments that Ray used to have ready for her. She even found a scarf that she thought she had lost when she moved out...
While looking through your old box of notes
I found those pictures I took
That you were looking for
She pulled out everything, pausing periodically to just stare at the innocuous objects that Ray had cherished - things that reminded him of her. At the very bottom, was an old napkin with the initials NR+RB scribbled on it.
If there's one memory I don't want to lose
They had gone to the bar one night after work. While waiting for the drink, she decided to doodle on one of their napkins. She had put down their initials and drew a heart around it. It was pure fun but one intense look from Ray was all it took for make her blush. They had shared their first kiss that night in his SUV. He had leaned over the gearshift, lips were just mere millimeters away from hers. One touch and she felt herself intoxicated and overwhelmed by his pure passion.She didn't know that he had kept that napkin as a token of that night.
But I remember
What it feels like beside you
I really miss your hair in my face
And the way your innocence tastes
She remembered the CD that he had given her at the wedding. She had looped it on her stereo system and had been listening to it ever since his death. It was a way to keep his voice alive in her mind, drowning out the present, as the pastor began the service, "We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of a colleague, a friend and a brother ..."
The drizzle garnered in strength, more of a shower rather than steady fine drops. Pratt gripped the umbrella firmly for them both.
"He deserves much better than me ..."she murmured.
"Don't say that. He loved you."
"He died thinking that I didn't care. He was checking my messages when he got hit by that truck."
"Neela."
"Dammit Pratt! I love him and now, he's dead."
With that, she ran. Nobody would fault her for doing so and she knew that Pratt won't follow. Her hair splattered on her face. The tears mingled with rain as she stopped at the edge of the graveyard. Starring heavenward, the memories from the wedding and their last real conversation came crashing back...
"I don't know what to do."
"No offense, but um ... not knowing what to do has become your baseline."
"This isn't easy for me, Ray. I'm having a pretty hard time ever since, losing Michael. I still haven't quite ... I mean Tony was new. He has no history... You made me think about things from before. Maybe I rushed into it because it made moving on easier."
"So, I feel like history to you?"
"I couldn't separate you from Michael. I couldn't be with you without feeling guilty."
"What about now?"
"Now? Not sure that's matters anymore."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that Tony and I are done ... " she shouted to the skies above, "And ...
I can't pretend... I won't think about you when I'm older
"That I love you and I will always love you but you will never know that!"
She sank down to the grass. Hands stretched outwards fingering one of the tombstones in front of her. She realized that this was what it felt like to lose something just within inches of your grasp. There was an incredible anguish knowing that a part of herself would never heal, because Ray Barnett was dead.
They bore within their breasts the grief
That fame can never heal -
The deep, unutterable woe
Which none save exiles feel.
— W.E. Aytoun, The Island of the Scots (1849)
Fin