Disclaimer: I do not own ER, I really like it though (most of the time).

Just to say, ta to reviewers, and again, may I reiterate for Neela fans she may well be popping up again: in what form, however, I know not. (Not as a zombie or anything don't worry!) Also, to whoever did write the story 'Lost' that I referred to in the last note, forgive me for attributing it to the wrong writer! I did try and find out who it really is but I just can't find it again... so sorry : ) (Update: I've just found it, the writer was xander1girl. Crisis resolved. )

24 Hours Later- Chicago Police Department

"I demand to see your chief inspector," bit a more than usually riled Kerry Weaver, throwing her fist down on the front desk of the police station.

"Please Madam" came a voice from behind a towering pile of papers on the desk, and a spotty young man who looked as though still in his teens emerged. "If you could take a seat..."

Dr. Weaver shot him a look of pure aggression. "I am in no mood for messing around this afternoon. You are currently holding one of my doctors in your cells who should not be there and I wish to know why!"

Abby Lockhart, spoke up, a little gentler than her colleague. Out of breath from trying to keep pace with Kerry on their walk from the hospital, and eyes bloodshot from a night spent tossing and turning and crying, she knew she looked less than glamorous, but this morning she didn't care.

"Please officer...his name is Ray Barnett...if we could just see him for a moment? You must be aware of the circumstances. This isn't right...He's...You must be able to imagine the trauma he's going through..."

Abby blinked a few times and tried not to think about the events that had happened in the past 48 hours. Just twenty minutes after Ray had woken up from his fainting episode the officers had swooped down on him, convinced that this was the only possible suspect for the unspeakable crime that had been committed upon his own loved ones.

Abby kicked herself for not being able to do anything. Collapsing had been Ray's body's way of taking his mind away from the shock of what he had just faced. Abby wished despite herself that perhaps Ray had been out cold for a little longer, so that she could have figured out something, anything, that would keep him from the clutches of the men in blue. But the truth was that apart from the very real trauma his heart was going through figuratively, she had had no reason to keep him in the hospital for medical reasons. She had had to give him up to the cops.

The young officer looked from Weaver's still stern face to Abby's again. He hesitated then smiled sadly, a look of understanding.

"I appreciate the problem, I really do, and if it was up to me...well..." the brown haired rookie broke off, and looked around him as if he wasn't meant to be speaking so frankly on the issue. "The thing is, I'm afraid to say, that he's not said a word since he got here. And unless he starts to speak up, to properly testify his innocence... then we're going to have to hold him indefinitely."

Kerry opened her mouth and looked as though she was about to protest.

He cut her off. "He is currently the only suspect we have and unless some kind of substantial evidence comes in soon...well it could get to the stage where he has to be taken to trial."

Kerry looked mutinous again but this time Abby beat her to it. This was all getting a little out of hand.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this..." She shot suddenly. "What about a little thing called motive? How on earth could he be capable of..." Abbey could barely bring herself to think of the horrific act.

"Who on earth could accuse him of..." She wiped a tear and took a breath.

The young policeman looked mildly distressed and lowered his voice further. "I'm not currently at liberty to expand on the topic..." he looked around. "But I will say this... and I know its not what you want to hear but...we have reason to believe that there is in fact a motive..."

Abby was grateful that the young man was assisting them, but this was getting to be too much.

"What motive? That they were having arguments? That their marriage wasn't perfect?" bit Kerry, and Abby felt a little proud of her. "Because everyone knew that they had ups and downs...it doesn't mean that he would..." Kerry trailed off and raised her eyes to the heavens. Abby wondered for just a second whether the fiery little doctor was holding back tears.

Then, all at once the soft look was replaced by hardness again.

"OK sonny..."

Kerry put her hand on her hip and looked steely. "Tell your senior officer...Inspector Grabbinsky I believe...that the people at County are currently assembling a team of the best lawyers available...so this motive had better be good otherwise we'll be organising our own investigation into the handling of this case. D'you hear?"

"Yes Ma'am." quibbled the officer, and Kerry pushed her way through the reception doors, not waiting for her colleague.

Abby remained where she was. She thought for a second.

"How is he?" She asked quietly.

The young man smiled sadly. "Not great," he surmised. In fact, the officer thought to himself, one of the worst he'd seen. The doctor had just sat in his cell crying so loudly that it could be heard in the rooms above. He was on suicide watch and they had had to restrain him several times from causing damage to himself by banging his head against the wall.

Abby understood. She shifted her coat onto her other arm and turned on her heel to leave.

"Wait..." called the young officer suddenly. A soft blush crept over his young face.

"Was she as beautiful as she looks in the pictures?" He asked timidly.

Abbey turned back around to look at him, and as she smiled for the first time in days, a hiccough came up involuntarily.

"You have no idea..." she said, and looked down as she pushed through the door.

Two floors down, Ray lay on his cot, his eyes anchored to the ceiling. He couldn't cry anymore. There was literally nothing in him. His insides, which only three hours ago had seemed a vast swell of tears, had been exhausted. Now all that was left were heaving lungs and a heart that was beating so loudly it resounded throughout his body. He tried to shut his eyes, but they were there: his wife and children. He knew this was likely to happen but it did not comfort him. He didn't want to be haunted by them, because that would mean accepting that they were gone, that this hadn't all just been a giant, horrible misunderstanding. Closing his eyes meant accepting. And so he resolutely kept them open staring at the paint chipped ceiling, hoping that he could faint again, to give him some moment's respite.

And yet his eyelids kept drooping down, willing him to sleep, willing him to dream. He didn't want to do that. He knew that if he fell asleep he would wake up and they would still be dead, that with every passing day this truth would become more real, they would become more dead, and he would have to start thinking of them as such, he would have to accept.

He would not sleep, he would not compound them to mere memory. He would not answer the questions asked to him by the policemen who watched nervously through the shutter of his cell door. He didn't care what they thought. They wanted to force him to talk about what had happened, but how could he, how could he bring himself to imagine...? No, he would not think about it. He would simply empty his mind.

It wasn't working. He rolled over and squeezed his face into the pillow.

Let this end God, he thought. Just let this all have been a nasty dream.