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Notes: Hi! This is Chapter 1 of "Two Worlds." I told myself that "Airplanes & Hospitals" was going to be my last story, but lo and behold I couldn't stop myself from starting another one. This contains major spoilers for the season finale and next season, so if you don't know what's going to happen and don't want to know what's going to happen, don't read this. I should also tell you that I think the chapters in this story are going to be significantly shorter than in my previous stories. Alright, let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own ER.
The deep reds and purples of the sunset sky never ceased to amaze Ray. He was sitting on his mother's porch, waiting for the bright yellow sun to disappear behind the horizon and for the moon to take its place as emperor of the sky. This had become a nightly ritual, a supposed temporary refuge from his own mind. He spent his days in a maze, disoriented and in a state of confusion. One minute he would pick up his guitar and play a few notes of a familiar song, and the next he would feel like throwing it against the wall. When he wheeled himself out onto that porch, it was with the hope that for just a few minutes, even moments, he could forget. He could forget all of the pain, all of the helplessness, all of the memories that haunted him day in and day out.
His mother had done all she could to make him feel like he was coming home, to a place where he had spent his childhood and carried fond memories. But she could see that this wasn't home for Ray; Baton Rouge may have been where he was born, but it was not where he was meant to be now. Ray was her son and she wanted him to stay, but as a mother she prayed for nothing but his happiness and that would only be achieved if he went back to Chicago. She had realized that a long time ago; she just didn't know when Ray would do the same.
The first few days had been the most difficult. Ray had never been more helpless in his life and it killed him to think of all of the things that he now couldn't do without someone by his side. He had fought it at first—he had tried to convince everyone that he was fine, that he didn't need any help and he didn't appreciate them treating him like he was a little kid. And then it hit him. After a few nasty falls, some rough bruises, and a fractured finger, Ray finally began to understand that this was permanent and there was nothing he could about it. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was stuck in this damn wheelchair and he couldn't do everything on his own.
A few weeks after he came to Baton Rouge some of his old high school friends stopped by to see him. He wished they hadn't. The look of pity in their eyes was enough to enrage Ray to the point where he almost kicked them out, but his mother diffused the situation by offering his friends something to eat, which they promptly and politely refused. They didn't come back.
Ray didn't want pity. He didn't want help. All he really wanted was to be alone.
As a doctor, Ray had seen so many amputees that he had lost count. Never had he asked any of them what it felt like to go through life feeling incompetent and incomplete; it was as if losing a part of your body meant losing a part of your soul. He had been a doctor, damn it! He was used to traumas and GSWs and a room full of patients waiting to be seen, running around for as long as 36 hours straight without any sleep. From the life he had made for himself, he now went to spending his days in a room in the corner of the house, doing nothing but letting his thoughts slowly eat him alive. And no matter how many times he told himself that he could continue his work he somehow felt that it wouldn't be the same. Maybe someday he would have enough strength left in him to go back to being what he once was, but that day was not today.
The sky had turned a darker shade of blue by the time Ray realized that the sun had set already. Staring into the night, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the middle of his chest as a distant memory was awakened. He had seen that shade of blue before. He had seen it on a slender and petit body, with dark, flowing hair and a smile that sent shudders down his spine. Just as quickly, the memory faded and Ray's eyes narrowed at the thought of her. He didn't know why his mind tortured his soul like this—he didn't want to think of her. He didn't want to be reminded of what they had come so close to becoming only to have it all come crashing down in a matter of moments. No, it was over. Ray didn't want to see her, he didn't want to hear from her, he didn't want to hear of her. And he would keep telling himself that.
Ray abruptly turned away from the agonizingly dark blue sky and wheeled himself through the door and into the house.