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What we remember from childhood we remember forever - permanent ghosts, stamped, inked, imprinted, eternally seen. Cynthia Ozick

Ray paused in the act of throwing clothes into a gym bag when he heard the door to their apartment close quietly. Well, as quietly as the squeaky hinge allowed. He shook his head, smiling slightly at the small curse that came from Neela when the sound echoed through the mostly silent apartment. Even though his increased income had allowed them to get a better apartment, it seemed that every building manager in the city of Chicago was required by law to ignore tenants' complaints unless fifty dollar bills were in play.

Satisfied that they weren't being robbed, Ray stuffed the fist full of shirts into the opened bag and crossed the room to stick his head out the door.

"You didn't have to be quiet," he said with a small smile. "I'm awake."

She jumped at the sound of his voice behind her and whirled to face him, her black hair fanning out as she turned. She was still wearing the scrubs that she'd changed into at the hospital; a testament to just how tired she was. She never came home with scrubs on.

"You scared the life out of me," she accused, tossing her keys irritably onto the kitchen counter. "And how was I to know you were awake? I didn't hear the pounding of drums or the screech of guitars on my way up."

Ray knew that he should have been resentful of the long drawn out argument between them, but right now it was just what he needed. A little bit of normalcy when his entire world was going to shit. Without a word, he walked over to her and took her in his arms, just inhaling the scent of her shampoo that no hospital smell seemed to be able to banish. He could feel her confusion at his actions, but to her credit, she said nothing for the moment; just wrapped her arms around his middle and held him.

After a few long moments just feeling the warmth of her body against his, she lifted her head to look up at him in confused amusement.

"What was that for?" she asked, her voice low and gentle; just as it was when they made love. He swallowed hard as he mastered his body's response to the sound. Now wasn't the time, though he wished for nothing more than to find forgetfulness in her.

"I just needed that," he said finally, closing his eyes. "Listen, Neela…"

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice sharpening a degree. "I know that tone."

Ray nearly laughed. She knew him so well.

"I have to go to Miami."

She was silent so long that he opened his eyes to see her face. Her dark gaze was firmly fixed on his face as if waiting for a retraction. When it didn't come, she sighed and looked away.

"What's he done this time, Ray?" she asked, tension tightening her voice.

For a moment, Ray felt a measure of anger fill his gut at her disgusted tone, but squashed it. After all, hadn't that been his first reaction when he'd gotten the call? Neela had every right to be angry. The last time a call had come from Miami had been six months before. Ray had been nearly insane with pain from physical therapy, and his father had called for money for another DUI. By the end of the call, Neela had been forced to peel the phone from his hand to stop the yelling. She'd finished the conversation for him, telling his father in no uncertain terms just what she thought of his request. And in the end, she'd been the one to wire the money. Even against her better judgment, she'd done it.

"It's not that this time," he said finally. "Dad died."

Her eyes snapped to his face, widening to roughly the size of saucers as her hands rose to cover her mouth in mortification.

"Oh, bollocks," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't…"

"You didn't know," he said, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. "But I understand. Believe me."

"How..?"

"Amy said it was a heart attack," he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. He turned, limping back to their room. "She said it was quick, that he didn't feel a thing." He started stuffing jeans into the bag with the shirts he already had in there. "But I have to go help Amy get his affairs in order. Go to the funeral. Endure a wake most likely." He paused, running his hands over his tangled hair. "I don't even have anything to wear to a friggin funeral…"

He stopped ranting when her hands gently grasped his wrists, pulling them away from the bag. Her compassionate eyes searched his face before she stepped into his arms.

"It's okay," she said softly, her breath searing him through his shirt. Ray closed his eyes, and crushed her to him.

"This is such a mess. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be feeling right now. All I know is that if I stop moving, then I'll have to think about it, and I don't want to."

"I know," she said. "It's hard to know what you'll feel when this happens, but there really is no way you are supposed to feel, Ray. Whatever you feel is what it is."

He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on her. If anyone knew that bitter truth it was her. She'd lost her husband in war, had nearly gone insane from grief and guilt. Ray had watched helplessly as she'd tried to deal with it alone. He was grateful that she could understand what he was going through at the moment.

"All I keep thinking about is if I'd been there, he wouldn't be dead. If I'd cared more then he wouldn't have been a drunk…"

"None of this is your fault," she said softly. "He made his own decisions. He was a grown man."

Ray pulled away, knowing she was right, but dammit…it was hard to accept that. He was a doctor. He was supposed to save lives. It was his job to heal… But then anger decided to step in. His father hadn't had a care for his own life for years. If he had, he wouldn't have drunk himself into oblivion on a regular basis.

"It pisses me off, Neela. If he'd just taken care of himself, then this wouldn't have happened. Maybe we wouldn't have been like…like strangers…" He blew out a breath, and rubbed his face with his hands, his eyes searching their closet for something he could wear to a funeral. "I don't know. Maybe once I get there it'll be easier to deal with."

"You're going alone?"

Ray hesitated before looking at her.

"Baby, the last thing I want to do is go there alone," he said slowly. "I want you with me. But work is short staffed as it is, even with Jason there. They can't spare anyone else…"

Never in his life had he thought that he would be saying anything like this, but the look in her eyes was enough to tell him that he'd made the right decision. Her eyebrow rose in a sarcastic arch, but in her eyes was pride and a touch of amusement.

"Why, Ray…I do believe you've grown up to become a doctor."

A slow smile crossed his face before he laughed.

"Don't let it get around."

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Ray gingerly eased himself into the cramped seat of the airplane feeling more alone than he'd felt in years. Settling his head back on the seat, he closed his eyes and let exhaustion take him. The seat beside him was a looming reminder of what he was leaving behind him…and what he was rushing toward. The former was a far more comforting thing than the latter, and he wished yet again that he could simply forget that he'd ever answered the phone.

Neela's face rose behind his eyes, her smile soothing him like nothing else could. He smiled at the memory of her words as he'd entered the security checkpoint.

"Call me when you get in. And don't think I won't hop a plane if you don't."

She wasn't the most expressive of women when it came to showing how she cared, but he'd learned to read between the lines. Neela, he'd found, was fiercely protective of those she loved. Even to the point of being a pain in the ass, but he couldn't fault her for it. It was a nice change in his life to have someone actually give a crap whether or not he hurt. Besides, he gave as good as he got, and often the "fights" led to much more interesting and pleasant activities. It wasn't just sex. Sex he'd had before…many, many times. Before, sex was something he did for no other reason than to fulfill a physical need. What he had with Neela was far more…intimate than that. It filled some void that he'd been unaware he had.

His eyes snapped open when the pilot announced that they would be taking off, and he sighed, shaking off his thoughts. Just thinking about her made him miss her. He had enough to occupy him that was hurtful without adding that.

Unbidden, a vision of his father's face flashed through his mind, and it was all he could do to keep himself together. Old memories, like needles, stung him as they came faster and faster. His father teaching him how to hit a baseball. A birthday party, his father beaming as he held the camera. The low voices at night that always sounded like fighting. Finding his father crying on the floor of his room, a letter clutched in his fist.

Ray closed his eyes, mentally willing them to stop as the plane leveled out in the air. He didn't want to remember any of this now. He didn't want to remember the fear, the frustration and pain that those memories evoked. He didn't want to feel the anger that invariably came whenever he thought of those times. Maybe later when he had no choice. But now…now all he wanted was to sleep. Exhaustion was like a weight, holding him down. If he could only sleep…

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Seven year old Ray entered the house as he always did after school, his clothes muddy from tussling with his friends on the playground. It drove his mother nuts when he came home like this, but he couldn't seem to help himself. It wasn't his fault that he always fell down. It just happened. And what was he supposed to do when Ryan or Carlos jumped on top of him when he did? Just jump up and say no? He had to show them that he wasn't a baby, didn't he?

His mind still occupied with the wrestling match he'd been involved in that day; he didn't at first register how quiet the house was. He dropped his bag to the floor next to the door…another habit his mother disagreed with vehemently. It wasn't until he'd taken a few steps into the living room that the silence pierced his brain. An unnamed fear settled in his chest as he listened for the familiar sounds of his mother cleaning or cooking. There was nothing. No sound of pots or pans. No sound of muttering from his room as she picked up his clothes. There was just a glorious absence of sound…

No. That was wrong. There was a sound. A sound that set Ray's heart racing in ever deepening fear. Slowly, he made his way to his parents' room where the sound was coming from. He felt like the people did in the scary movies he wasn't supposed to watch but always did. Like he knew there was something bad behind the door, but he couldn't stop himself from opening it.

"Don't be a baby," he hissed at himself, even though it did no good. He was scared of the sounds behind the door. He was scared of the silent house. He was just plain scared.

He stood in front of his parents' room for a long moment, just listening, trying to decide if he wanted to go in. The sounds were muffled by the door, and he couldn't imagine what they were. It sounded like crying, but that was crazy. His parents didn't cry. They were adults. Adults didn't ever cry when they scraped a knee, or fell down. Of course, Aunt Amy cried all the time, but that was just Aunt Amy. After a long moment, he reached out a trembling hand and turned the knob, pushing the door inward.

There was a startled intake of breath from his father as their eyes locked. His daddy was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, a sheet of paper wrinkled up in his fist. Ray's throat closed up in terror as his daddy's wide bloodshot eyes searched his face. His daddy had been crying. Crying hard like Ray did when he got hurt. For a long time he couldn't move, his heart beating in his ears as he stared at his father.

He took a step into the room, not even realizing that he was moving. Then another. And another. All he could see were the tears on his daddy's face. When he was close enough, he touched his daddy's cheek, marveling at the moisture that came away on his fingers.

"Don't cry," he said, but was cut off when his father grabbed him up and held him close. Even though it scared him, Ray allowed his father to hold him as he began to cry again…

"Sir? We've landed."

Ray jerked awake, his eyes wildly searching for his father, the remnants of the dream still clutching at him. All he found was the concerned face of a flight attendant staring down at him. His heart was pounding in his chest as he reached up to scrub a hand across his face. He wasn't surprised to find that his hand was shaking as he did so. Even after twenty years that memory had the power to take him down.

"Sorry," he muttered to the mildly pretty woman. "Bad dream."

Her carefully sculptured eyebrows came together for a moment before she nodded uncertainly. Then the fake smile was back in place.

"Well, enjoy your stay in Miami, sir."

Ray managed to keep his face blank at her empty platitudes before he rose from his seat to pull his carryon from the overhead bin. Slinging it over his shoulder, he made his careful way down the aisle to the exit.

The airport was a bee hive of activity reminding him of County on most days. No one was running, but that was to be expected. After 9/11 no one ran in an airport unless they were running from something…usually with about a thousand security guards after them. Ray blew out a breath, and made his way from the terminal, counting the minutes until he could get some aspirin. His leg had stiffened up in the cramped space of the plane, and was ready to buckle. He just hoped that Amy had found a way to be here on time.

He didn't have to worry on that score. When he left the terminal, Amy and Uncle Gene were waiting for him. He nearly smiled at that. It was a well known fact that if you wanted Amy to be anywhere on time, then Gene had better drive her.

His aunt offered a soggy smile when she saw him, moving forward to meet him, her round arms outstretched. She was only a little taller than Neela and had always carried twenty extra pounds on her frame. Despite the extra weight, she was pretty… a prettiness that shone through her green eyes to the kind soul beneath. Amy was everyone's mom, everyone's favorite sister…whatever role you needed at the moment, Amy was it. Giving not only herself, but often a plate of whatever it was she was baking at the moment. It didn't really matter what it was, there was always something. Ray bent a little to return the hug he knew was coming. It was best not to argue on that score either. Amy would hug whoever she damn well pleased.

"I'm so glad you came," she said, her voice wavering.

Ray swallowed down the retort he felt rising. Like he'd had any damn choice in the matter. But he didn't say that. He turned his attention to his uncle and offered a small smile.

"How are you, Gene?"

His uncle was everything that Amy wasn't. Where she was small, Gene was tall. Thin as a rail, it was a wonder that a strong Miami wind didn't blow the man away. Dark hair mixed lightly with strands of silver fell over his wide forehead into eyes almost as black as pitch. Gene held out his hand, his dark eyes assessing Ray in that unnerving way he had. Ray didn't flinch from that look as he took the man's hand for a matter of fact handshake. Gene was a lot like Neela in his manner, seeming almost cold on occasion, but when it came to those he loved, the man was like a bear.

"You look tired, boy. And doesn't that girl of yours ever feed you?"

For the first time since this nightmare began, Ray laughed.

"You're one to talk," he snapped back smartly. "You'd think that Amy never fed you."

Gene's stoic expression softened slightly in amusement. Everyone knew that one thing no one could be around Amy was hungry. She would feed the whole neighborhood.

"Stop it, the both of you," Amy cut in with a laugh and a small sniff. "Gene, take his bag. Is that all you brought?"

Ray nodded as Gene took his bag. He refrained from saying he could carry it himself. Amy was just…Amy. Her tender feelings would be hurt if he didn't allow her to take care of him. Before he had time to blink, Gene was gone, Ray's bag thrown over his thin shoulder. Amy tucked her plump hand in the crook of Ray's elbow and gently tugged him toward the exit after her husband.

"I really am glad you came, Ray," she said softly, her green eyes swimming with tears. "I've missed you."

He didn't know what to say to that as she led him outside into the warm Miami afternoon. He took a deep breath, his eyes carefully taking in his surroundings. He'd expected to feel…something at seeing the city he'd grown up in. But he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

"Welcome home," Amy said softly.