Disclaimer: All ER material, characters, and storylines are the property of the creators and writers of ER, not myself.

Author's Note: This is intended to be a very different story from my last one 'Home'. After that, great fun though it was, I wanted to have a go at something a bit more challenging, so this might not be the easy, escapist read that the last one was, in fact, I'll warn you now, it probably won't be. However, after this is done, I think I will probably write a sequel to Home, as I think there's still a lot of fun left to be had there, and I will be in need of a nice bit of fluffy romance again (and I got a feeling from my final reviews of that story that maybe you wanted more).

But back to this story, it is set from the time of Neela moving out in the previous season. What might have happened if when Ray leaned towards her, she didn't turn away? What if Michael didn't die? What if…

Oh, and please note the rating. I have rated this M for a reason that will become quickly apparent in this chapter. Content such as below is not intended as being a key feature of this story, but it is likely to crop up from time to time given the darker, more adult nature of the story.

Choices

When he came home with the pizza, he never expected to actually find her stuff packed, ready to leave. He hadn't thought she would actually go. When she had spoken to him about it, he had only agreed because he hadn't believed her. He hadn't believed she would leave him, yet here she was putting things in boxes and talking about organising her mail to be redirected. His heart felt like a stone when, listening to her, she didn't even sound like she wanted to stay, but the look in her eyes belied her words, if only he could get her to admit it. The platitudes he tried to offer sounded trite even as he was saying them, and if someone had said that to him, he knew it wouldn't make him stay either.

It wasn't even disappointment, hurt or anything like that he was feeling as he stood floundering, trying to think of how to dissuade her. It was just like a deep, black, never ending cloud had descended on him, and he didn't think it would ever lift if she went. How had things come to this?

He knew though, exactly how. Fear. Fear of admitting his feelings, fear of needing someone so completely, and to the exclusion of all else. Fear of feeling so strongly about one person. Fear of being left with nothing. Which, now, he was. All his memories of happier times; of deep looks and accidental touches and hidden meanings suddenly became like sand slipping through his fingers and he didn't know how to stop it.

And so now they were standing in the doorway, so close he could smell on her hair the coconut shampoo she always used. She held out a t-shirt to him, and he recognised it to be one of his own, long since missing. Their hands touched ever so slightly as he reached out to take it from her, and the electricity coursed between them as it always did.

'I've been looking for this for like a month.' He didn't know what else to say, not wanting to tackle the whole question of why she had his shirt. Again, too damn scared.

'I… I rather liked sleeping in it.' She refused to look up at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the t-shirt they still held between them. There was a tiny quaver in her voice though, which gave away the amount of emotion she was feeling.

There was a long moment while they stood there, fixed and frozen in time. Ray tried to pluck up the courage to say something or do something, to make her stay, but he didn't know how. Even staring losing her in the face, he was still too scared to tell her how he felt and lay his cards on the table, his heart bare.

But as they were standing there, so close his mind wouldn't let him form one coherent thought, he found himself leaning towards her. If he couldn't find the words to beg her to stay, maybe an alternative to words would work.

He edged toward her so painfully slowly that he gave her plenty of chance to walk away. But she didn't, she was utterly rooted to the spot, mesmerised. Her heart was pounding in her chest, blood rushing to her head, and her legs felt like they couldn't hold her up for another second. She willed him both to stop and to carry on. She wanted to feel the pressure of his lips on hers, the touch of his skin on hers so badly, but her heart was full of guilt. She was married. She was married to a good man, who she loved very much, even though maybe she wasn't as in love with him as she once thought she was, and the idea of betraying him to satisfy her own desires was anathema to her, but this was Ray, and she couldn't stop herself.

Finally, she lifted her eyes, and saw her own desire reflected in his tenfold. He wanted her, she knew, and if she didn't do or say something to stop him, he would have her. She should go. In fact, she had to go, right now, if she was ever going to get out of here. She tried to summon up an image of Michael in her head to galvanise her into action, but she couldn't; it simply wasn't there. This man standing in front of her now filled her heart and her mind, and there was no room for anything else.

The last fraction of an inch between them faded to nothing; their lips met, and instantly a fire was ignited that neither of them would ever be able to forget. They kissed hungrily, roughly, tongues vying for possession of each other's mouths. He bit her lower lip hard, wanting to hurt her like he was hurting, as well as pleasing her. She cried out, but they both knew it wasn't a cry of pain.

His hands were tangled in her sleek black hair, pulling her closer to him, not ever wanting to let her go. He took a step forwards, pushing her back so now it was her pressed up against the doorframe, rather than him. He pressed her into the wooden frame hard, using his body to trap her there.

But she was happy to be trapped. She snaked one arm around his neck, pulling him down to her, forcing him to kiss her more deeply. Completely lost in her passion for him, she used her other hand to pluck at the hem of his top, wanting to feel his skin. When her fingers reached their goal, and she raked her nails up his chest, they both moaned in satisfaction.

He broke away from the kiss for a moment, breathing hard. She tried to pull him back to her, but he resisted. 'For the love of God Neela, don't leave me. You can't.' His voice was full of emotion, and she felt like he was looking into her soul.

She kissed him again, which he took to be her reply. He felt one slender leg wrap itself around him, and he disentangled one of his hands from her hair to slide underneath her to support her. The feeling of running his hand up the underside of her thigh, even with the material of her trousers separating him from her skin, took his breath away, or what he had left of it, which wasn't a lot.

'You're right Ray, I can't.' She took her lips from his just long enough to get the words out. 'But I can't leave Michael either.'

Ignoring the dead, dull, sinking feeling in his chest, Ray just carried on. He wanted to stop, to do the right thing, but it was far too late for that. The taste of her, the feel of her, the smell of her, was too intoxicating for him, and he knew he couldn't stop, not now, not ever.

So he said the words that maybe she didn't want to hear, but right now, were the easiest to say. 'Did I ask you to?'

The rational part of him that still remained was screaming at him to be a man, to be brave and say what he really wanted. Which was "Leave him. Choose me, please, choose me." He wanted to shout it at her, to force her to pick either him or Michael, but he couldn't make himself do it, because of that damn fear of what would happen if she didn't pick him. Surely, he reasoned, having part of her was better than none at all, although even as he thought it, he knew that his heart would never be happy in this state of limbo.

And then her other leg began to creep up his, and before he knew it, she was wrapped around his waist, kissing his neck, biting and sucking at him as she went. He could feel that she would leave a mark, but he didn't mind. It meant he was allowed to do the same, and he wanted to see his mark on that perfect brown skin of hers.

They staggered to his bedroom, and fell onto the bed. He landed heavily on top of her, pushing the breath from her lungs, crushing her, but she didn't mind that it hurt. It helped block out the emotional pain. Why couldn't he have made her choose between them? Because right now, arching her back and tipping her head back to allow him to trail a line of kisses down her throat, she couldn't imagine picking anything but this. He hadn't though, he had said the easiest thing for both of them, and while she resented him for not making her think about this, she was grateful as well.

His fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt, but he was shaking too much to be able to undo them, and he didn't have the patience to try, so he just ripped. Immediately his lips went to the new skin exposed to him, making Neela writhe and gasp beneath him.

'Please Ray,' she begged. 'Please, don't make me wait.'

He didn't. Quickly, he removed the rest of her clothes in much the same way as he had her shirt. He wasn't sure how much of it would be wearable again, but he didn't care. The clothes were already forgotten as he cupped her breast with his hand, gently teasing her nipple first with his thumb then his tongue.

He slid down her, kissing her stomach, then further down, stopping short of what she wanted, teasing her. He wanted to make her cry out his name over and over, enjoying too much that it was his name, not her husband's, that was coming from her lips.

Not being able to wait any longer, she helped his pull his top over his head, throwing it away to join the pile of her own clothes. Her hands went to the fastening of his trousers, and like his, were trembling. As she undid the button, and eased down the zip, she reached inside and he groaned.

'I mean it, Ray. I want you.' He was in no position to do anything other than exactly what he was told.

He kissed her again, stifling her moans, and not letting her speak anymore. If he heard her voice, he was worried it might remind him of what she had said, how she had refused to give up her husband, and he didn't want to remember. He just wanted a night of forgetfulness, something to keep out the ever present and all pervading feeling of loneliness that had been haunting him since her wedding day.

As he entered her, she cried out his name, pleading for more. 'Don't stop. Please Ray, harder…'

It wasn't like this with Michael, he had never roused her to this consuming passion which scared her as much as it pleased her.

They moved together faster, harder, her nails digging deeply into his back, hurting, even drawing blood he suspected. Months, God, years actually, he thought, of tension between them was at last being released. Finally, they came together, both not being able to help a cry escaping from their bruised lips.

The moment it was over, Ray rolled off her and immediately Neela felt cold and empty. Without the pressure of him on top of her, pushing out every single thought before it could even formulate itself in her mind, reality came crashing back down on her.

She was married to another man, not the one lying next to her who had just a second ago been making her writhe and moan in ecstasy. Icy fingers of guilt crept around her heart. Michael was off fighting in a war, and here she was happily at home, screwing her roommate. A little voice in her head tried to tell her that it was so much more than that, that her feelings for Ray ran a lot deeper than she was pretending to herself, but she pushed it out of her mind. She was an adulteress, she had cheated on her husband, broken her marriage vows, and she hated herself for it, and Ray for letting her.

Ray felt disgusted with himself, and from they way Neela rolled away and turned her back on him, he thought she must be equally so. He felt such a coward for not making her talk to him. He knew, in a funny way, that she had always trusted him to do the right thing, but now he had wronged her badly. But… It had been too good to regret completely. Everything that had gone before paled in comparison to Neela. Just thinking about it made him want her all over again, but he stopped himself for reaching out for her.

He felt so ashamed. She was his friend, the best friend he had ever had, and he had just wantonly used her. Except, of course, it wasn't just about the sex for him. He couldn't bring himself to even think about the L word, but unlike the procession of girls who had gone before, he cared about Neela. He cared what she thought of him, what she felt about him, and cared far too much, at that. But he knew after what he had just done, he didn't stand a chance of persuading her that she meant more to him than just a casual fling. In fact, she meant the world to him, but fear froze the words before he'd even formed them in his mind.

Taking one last look at her back, paler than its normal colour in the moonlight, he too rolled over, facing away from her. Finally, feeling colder and more alone than he ever had before, he fell asleep, thinking that in all his dreams of Neela, it had never ended up like this.