Disclaimer and Rating: see chapter 1.
A/N: (1) Thanks for all the nice reviews. It's been a ridiculously long wait, and I hope this will be worth it. (2) I can't really figure out how to transition the Roomies back to a real friendship, given their attitudes toward one another in the first chapter. Even in this chapter, they don't really follow the same characterization they have in chapter 1, any constructive criticism on that would be appreciated. (3) I have no idea how medical insurance works in England. I highly doubt my proposition in this chapter is even remotely feasible, but it makes my story work. And I know we know from "I Don't" that Neela is 'Neela' in Ray's phone, not 'Roomie,' but again, for the sake of my story…that's how it is. I wrote the original draft of this before we knew that anyway. I made up the parts of Neela's family that they don't tell us about in the show. (4) And lastly, Mario's Little Pizzeria is not a real place, to my knowledge.

Now I'll shut up and get on with the story!

Chapter Two: Pizza and Speed Dials

That evening, after talking with her mother, Neela sat on the couch running through her conversation with Ray over and over in her head. Each time she went over it again, she realized some other truth Ray had pointed out that she vehemently tried to deny. She got up to get some water, or something to drink—her mouth was parched. She looked in her fridge, confirming yet another correct observation from Ray. The contents of her fridge were predominantly ingredients for mixed drinks—lime juice, cranberry juice, tonic soda, limes, orange juice, diet coke—and beer. The freezer held little more than ice and vodka. No, Ray's not right. I just need to go grocery shopping. That's all. The realization was like a punch in the gut. She was trying to justify something unjustifiable. She was in denial. This was unhealthy and she knew it. Pushing that thought aside, she decided that she needed some sort of food, and decided on pizza. What would be better on a Friday night than some pizza?

She picked up her cell phone and pressed the number her thumb naturally fell on—four. Medium…why don't they make small?…cheese and anchovy, or should I branch out, and get something— the person on the other end picked up while she contemplated what she should order.

"Hello?"

"I'd like to place an order."

"What?"

"Isn't this Mario's Little Pizzeria?"

"No, Neela, this is Ray." Shit. She hung up the phone. When she lived with Ray, speed dial four was Mario's Little Pizzeria. When she moved out, she bumped Mario's to number five and Ray took the number four position. She hadn't lived with Ray in almost a year.

-o-

Ray looked at his phone in his hand. Soon after she moved in, they had several ridiculous conversations about speed dial locations, and which was a 'place of honor' so to speak. He smiled at the absurdity of the topic. But, it made him recall that on Neela's phone, Mario's used to be four. If she was trying to call Mario's and got him, it meant he was now number four. It was things like that that confirmed he meant something to her. It was the tiniest things, but they added up. He remembered entering his number into her phone a few years ago. He was entry number 97. Instead of his name he had written 'AAA Your Favorite Person,' with the three A's in front of it so that it was sure to be the top entry in the phone book. She had punched him and said he could have speed dial eight if he wrote his name correctly. After all, why should her roommate get a place of honor? Why would she have to call her roommate? He agreed to change the entry to his name, but put himself at the more desirable five instead of eight. She didn't change it until she moved out. For him though, Neela had always been speed dial number four.

He was pulled out of his reminiscing when his phone started vibrating in his hand. He looked down at the caller ID. Roomie. She'd always be speed dial four and she'd always be his Roomie.

"Hi."

"Sorry about before." He laughed. "I forgot I changed my speed dials."

"I figured."

"I thought it would only be polite to ask if you wanted some pizza since I was going to try to order it from you."

"Uh, sure, if you're offering."

"It's the nice thing to do. And I need something to get my mind off of my dad, or I am going to go bonkers." Plus, as much as I deny it, I do miss you, she added mentally.

"Want me to pick it up on my way over?" She smiled.

"Yeah, sure. I'll call it in now."

"Make sure you dial five this time," he joked.

"I will." She hung up. After placing the order, she wondered if inviting him over was a mistake. She decided she'd tell him a few details about her dad, then change the subject. They wouldn't get into anything too serious, she promised herself.

-o-

Ray arrived a short while later. Neela indicated she was sitting on the couch when he came, so he brought the pizza over to the coffee table.

"Do you want a beer?" she asked, going to the fridge. "And don't you dare make some comment about alcohol," she added sternly, with no hint of humor.

"Sure," he answered, "and I wasn't going to."

"My parents don't want me to go down to Maryland," she said plopping down on the couch next to Ray, handing him his beer.

"Why not?"

"They say there is nothing I can do, 'so why don't I just stay in Chicago and work?'" she asked imitating her mother's voice. She then continued, "they'll come here as soon as they discharge him."

"Well, they're kind of right." He took a drink. "Though I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear."

"That is correct."

"Did you find out what happened?"

"Yeah."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Last week, last week, my dad had a heart attack. Why they didn't tell me then is beyond me. He was discharged after a few days, but when he went back for a check up mum said there was something wrong in one of the tests, she didn't know which one. I'm guessing the echo, but that's just a guess."

"It's a good guess."

"They wanted him to get surgery. Mum knows the reputation of Hopkins because we discussed it ad nauseam when I was looking at medical schools and residencies and such. She asked if my father could have the procedure done there. They said insurance would cover the procedure, not the travel, nor any complications arising from the flight. But if she was willing to pay to get over here and understood the risk of flying, it was her call. It baffles me that she still wanted to come here. So here they are. It apparently just occurred to mum that she should give me a call to say they were going to be visiting in a few days." In a voice mocking her mother, she added, "and oh-by-the-way your father just had a heart attack and surgery so we can't fly home for at least a week. " She scoffed. "They can fly to Chicago, but apparently not England," she finished sourly.

"Is he ok now?"

"Yeah. He was still under anesthetic, but apparently everything in the OR went smoothly."

"Is your whole family coming?"

"Yes. And they refuse to stay at a hotel, since I have a place here in which they can stay for free. I hope my brothers and sister know they will be sleeping on the floor."

"I've still got an extra room at my place. Your family is welcome to use it."

"I can't impose them upon you."

"You're not. I'm offering. Besides, I'm offering a place for them to sleep, I said nothing of the kind of host I'll be. My schedule is pretty damn full for the next few weeks, so I really won't be home much. But the offer is out there. I have an extra bed and a couch, which I know is not a terrible place to crash, it's actually quite comfy."

"I know." She nodded, smiling at the memory. "I fell asleep my fair share of times on that couch." He chuckled. "I appreciate the gesture. I'll let them know."

"Good. Let me know when you do, so I know how much I have to clean up."

"You could clean up anyway," she laughed, "even if you don't have guests, having a clean apartment is not a bad thing."

"And you're one to talk?" he jabbed playfully, looking around Abby's apartment.

"I bet your place is worse! And I know I have to clean up. I was going to after dinner."

"It depends how you define 'worse.' I have more clothes lying around, but you've got take out containers and stuff."

"Hey now, some of this stuff is Abby and Luka's. They still come here sometimes. And that," she motioned to one corner of the room, "is Joe's mess."

"Oh, and are you going to make him clean that up?" Ray laughed.

"No! I'm just saying, yes this place is a mess, but it's not all my mess."

"I know, I'm just giving you a hard time," he explained gently.

"I know," she answered softly.

"So how often do Abby and Luka come around here? It looks like you're pretty moved in," he said, changing the subject.

"Pretty much. I've claimed the bed and most of the closet. They're here about once every two weeks." Ray got up to put the rest of the unfinished pizza in the fridge.

"I can do that," Neela said, starting to stand.

"Nah, I got it. I have to get up anyway." She gave him a curious look. "Bathroom," he explained. She nodded in understanding.

Ray put the pizza in the fridge, but before leaving the kitchen, he looked at the things covering the front of the refrigerator. There were several magnets from drug companies. A few were used to hang the work schedule. Her shifts were highlighted in bright yellow. Next to the schedule was a picture of him and Neela. It was from Abby's birthday party a few years ago. Ray had his arm draped casually around her waist. They were both holding drinks, and laughing. Along the top of the fridge were, what Ray guessed, pictures that belonged to Abby. They were above immediate eyesight of Neela, like she had pushed them out of the way to make room for her own decorations. There was a picture of Joe from when he was a few weeks old, just after he had finally been disconnected from the various monitors and machines that he had been attached to. Next to that was a picture of Abby, Luka and Joe, smiling, happy to be home together. Then there was a picture from Neela's wedding. It was her and Michael's first kiss as husband and wife. Even Ray had to admit it was a sweet picture. However, he couldn't help but notice that it was pushed to the top, and the picture of him and Neela was down at approximately eye level. Like the speed dial thing, he thought, it's the little things that added up.

Ray walked back over to couch when he was done in the bathroom. Neela had apparently gotten up to get a drink and was sitting there, curled up on the couch swishing a glass of water, daring it to spill out.

"Neela?" he said quietly, not wanting to startle her and actually make her spill the water.

"Hmm?" she answered without looking up.

"I think I'm going to head out." She looked up at him. "See you tomorrow?"

"No, I talked to Dubenko, and he's giving me a few days off."

"Crenshaw agreed to that?"

"No, Crenshaw's still being a little bitch. But Dubenko has some thread of humanity in him."

"Well, I'll see you when you come back?"

"I guess."

"Let me know if your family needs my apartment."

"Ok. Thanks." She stood up. "And thanks for picking up the pizza. How much do I owe you for it?"

"Don't worry about it. It's on me." She opened her mouth to argue, but Ray had anticipated that and cut her off before she could start. "It's like 12 bucks. And I ate about five dollars worth." She sat down.

"Fine," she answered, defeated.

"Are you, um, are you going to be ok? I mean, you said you wanted to take your mind off your dad, and then basically all we talked about was your dad."

"But I wasn't alone," she said quietly, "and that makes a difference." He smiled.

"Ok. I'm going to go now. Let me know if you need anything."

"I'm fine," she responded a little sharper than she intended.

"Are we doing this again?" he asked, agitated. "Really?" She shot him a glare. "C'mon Neela, we both know you're not 'fine.' You know what? Never mind. See you later." She started to get up. "You don't need to get up. I'll let myself out." Neela hesitated, but then sat back down. "Good night."

"Good night." The door closed and she sighed. She enjoyed his company, and there were moments where it was like they were friends again, but their conversations never went beyond small talk. A year ago he would have playfully harassed her about the speed dial thing. She would have asked him to stay longer. They would have broached the topic of the contents of her fridge when he returned from putting the left over pizza in there. He would probably convince her to do her grocery shopping right now, 'because,' he'd say, 'it's fun to go to 24-hour places at 11 PM.' They had done that once before. They couldn't justify ordering take-out for the 7th night in a row, so they decided to get groceries and make their own meal. They were the only customers in the store. It was fun. They ended up getting ready made sandwiches in the deli, so they might as well have ordered in.

-o-

He felt like he should have said something about her fridge. Aside from lettuce, some left over soup, a few cold cuts and condiments, the contents were all mixers, and beer. He guessed her freezer contained a few frozen dinners, some chicken, ice and vodka. It upset him. If there was one person who could really turn things around for her, he really believed it would be him. He knew all her idiosyncrasies. He could tell when to push her and when to step back. On the now rare occasions that she would actually make eye contact, when he asked how she was doing, she didn't have to say anything, he knew the answer just by looking in her eyes. He knew it meant something was off if she had tea instead of coffee. He knew it all, but she wouldn't let him put his knowledge to use. He sighed heavily, and turned away from her apartment building.

I have pieces written about her family's visit, but they're kind of vignettes, and don't connect. I don't like where I originally took this story, and I'm not sure how I'm going to finish it. I don't like posting chapters I am not pleased with, so it might be a while. Thanks for reading.