Title: The Hours Home

Author: BelleG08

Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.

Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic.

NOTE: I couldn't leave you guys hanging! Your reviews are so thoughtful, especially your thoughts on the show itself. Thanks you guys! You are too great.

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Chapter 10

It was the most exquisite sight he had ever laid his eyes on, her unguarded pensive self, staring out of the glass windows. He could see her face in the glass, reflected by the light, creased in thought. Those deep, lucid brown eyes that he remembered so well were dark now, stormy and obviously clouded by contemplation.

And devoid of any apparent meditation, his mouth screwed to a small smirk. How many pennies he would give for a mere thought of hers.

It was like this that he found her in the corner of the Commodore Grill. Her small, hands resting atop the black tablecloth, her nimble fingers running along the shine of the silverware, her thick, luscious mane of rich hair falling straight about her small frame, she was the maximum picturesque vision of beauty, and the supremely terrifying painting of danger.

This little girl was the single most intimidating thing he had ever encountered in all of his thirty years, the most petrifying, thrilling thing he could ever imagine.

And he could only smile in appreciative irritation for his absent friend's scheming ways. Of course his dear friend would leave him at the lobby of the restaurant, feigning a forgotten memento upstairs, urging the Maitre de to take him to the table without waiting. Of course his best compadre had something up his expensive jacket sleeve when he jot out of the area with nothing but a wink and a wave. Of course Brett would do something like this.

Something like trying to bring him together with his old roommate.

It had taken years and years of practice for Ray to perfect the soft quirk of the eyebrow, slight purse of the lips, precise balance of disinterest and amusement playing in his eyes: his ultimate badass stance. And it was with this confident carriage that Ray approached his unbeknownst dinner date.

"Careful," he mused as the maitre de stepped away, stopping before her, "You're catching flies. I here the New York ones are the worst too, weird accents, smell like hot dogs and cheap doughnuts," Neela snapped her gaping mouth closed. Her cheeks flushed instantly. Ray laughed. "Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to greet me hello?"

She sputtered, flabbergasted with emotion.

Neela was so overwhelmed, she was sure she would burst into wholly awkward, blubbering tears.

Ray's smile was sincere now, reaching his eyes, crinkling with age in the corners. "Ok, let me help you,"

His touch was electric and heart stopping all at once. That was all Neela's nerves could register as he proceeded to hold her arm, pulling her to him. And so he held her in a tight embrace, reveling in the sweet aura that was Neela.

He was intoxicating, spicy in smell and warm in touch. He could have sworn he heard her sigh as her cheek touched his chest. Regretfully pulling back, she finally managed to speak.

"What are you doing here?" she breathed, her eyes glazed in a drunken daze.

"Brett," Ray smiled with a shrug, his arms still tightly wound about her middle. "I'm his plus one and I think he ditched us on dinner,"

"Remind me to thank him later," The words spilled from her mouth before her filter could catch it. An alarmed, embarrassed air suddenly crossed her face. She shook her head apologetically.

Ray beamed. His voice was low, a whisper almost. "I will," They stood together for what seemed like an eternity, smiling into each other's eyes, holding each other's bodies, drinking in what felt like a dream.

"Excuse me," the young waitress bashfully interrupted the obviously private moment. "Could I offer you a drink?"

Ray smiled even larger, if possible. Without even glancing at the girl, he answered. "Champagne, please," he dropped his voice, "I think we're celebrating,"

-- er --

There were many things incredibly familiar to Neela: getting a coffee at the infamous Jumbo Mart, running an ultrasound on a perforated ulcer, even functioning on a little less than three hours of sporadic sleep per twenty-four hour period. But sitting at a dinner table with her ex-roommate after years of utter miscommunication and unsaid feelings? No, she never would have guessed that it would come as easily as it had that night.

"Are you working out a lot? You look like you've lost like fifteen pounds since the last time I saw you,"

She shrugged, spooning a bite of her crème brûlée. "I try to work out. It doesn't mean that I get around to it. I think I'm kind of emaciated actually. It's more like running the stairs between the ER and the OR. I mean, I live on untoasted poptarts and day old coffee,"

"Well I guess some things just don't change," he chuckled. He pushed his chocolate cannoli to her. "Trade?"

"I was waiting for you to offer," she smiled, eagerly taking the present.

"So," he paused, his spoon hovering over the edge of the caramelized sugar. "I was starting to think that you fell off the face of the planet…or, you know, died,"

She stared down at her fudgy dessert, not knowing how to answer the questioned purple elephant in the corner, "I," Neela stuttered.

Ray craned in neck down and forward, daring to reach her artfully dodging eyes, "I tried calling you, a lot, emailing, and texting. At one point I was thinking of sending smoke signals,"

"I know," she whispered suddenly very fixed with the whipped cream decorating the edge of her square plate.

He inhaled, lolling his head and rolling his eyes in a very Ray-like manner, "I know…I know when you called, you heard…uh," he blinked profusely, trying to find the words, "The situation that I was in-"

"You aren't obliged any explanation to me, Ray," She brushed him off, cutting and sharp.

"Hey," his voice softened. He reached over, hovering his hand above hers. With a great leap of faith, he grasped her tiny appendage, "We broke up…a long time ago,"

She nodded, "I know," her answer was laced with sheepishness, "Brett told me,"

"Heh," he snorted, taking a bite from his creamy French dessert, "Good old Brett," Their waitress approached the table again, asking if they required anything else. When answered with a thankful couple of 'no thank-yous', she graciously left the black tab on the table. Simultaneously, the two dinner attendees reached for it.

"Ray-" Neela urged, firming her grip.

"Neela," he warned her in return, leaning his head to the side with wide eyes.

"Let me pay," she argued, "It's the least I can do,"

He narrowed his eyes, "For what? Getting duped into eating with me? Right,"

She scoffed, "I don't mind,"

"Be real, Neela. I know what they try to pass off as a paycheck at County," he rolled his eyes. "I'll pay,"

"At least let me split it,"

With a final irritated smirk, he used his strength advantage and tugged the check out of her hands. "That's the stupidest thing ever," he raised his dark eyebrow to her. "So I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear it come from your mouth," Her jaw dropped. "Catching those flies again,"

"Ray!" she chewed at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Neela, I'm from South Louisiana and in the past 21 months that I've been back there, my mom has rubbed off on me a lot more than I want to admit, not to mention she's come to frighten the living daylights out of me again like a scared little seven year who just got caught stealing a Snickers from wal-mart. It also means that if Jacey ever caught me allowing a lady to pay for anything, even decades after my formidable years, she would still feel very right in spanking me. So please take mercy on my spineless ways, and let me pay for this damn dinner,"

She could not help the laugh that emitted from her dark lips. Raising her hands in defeat, she smiled, "I concede. Far be it from me to stand in the way of your Southern Values, however fearfully induced they are. It's all yours,"

"Thank you,"

He stood from the table, after placing the cash in the small black, monogrammed folder. Neela followed suit. He smiled, allowing her to lead their way out of the restaurant adjacent to the hotel. Silent minutes later, they stood before the golden elevators, each succumbing to their personal twitches of discomfort.

Ray was the first to speak after taking a quick glance at his phone. "It's only like nine-thirty. Do you have an early morning tomorrow?"

She mentally ran through her itinerary. She definitely had a speaking to attend at eight-thirty. "No," she lied, "Nothing early,"

His face flashed his signature, heart-melting smile. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

It was her turn to grin. "I would,"

"Great. Well how about we change into some street-safe clothes and meet back here in like ten minutes? Put on your boogie shoes, Neela. We're in for a fun one,"

-- er --

"I would never have coined you as a piano aficionado,"

"What, the only classical instrument lover can be the banjo-disguised-as-a-big-violin-playing Neela Rasgotra? That's kind of snobby,"

She shook her head. "You're impossible,"

"I'm just witty," he shrugged. "But going back to what you were saying. Yes, I do know how to play the piano. Every great musician has tinkered on the black and whites and secretly yearns to be a world-class pianist," He lowered his voice, "Although they'll never admit it,"

"That's not very rock and roll,"

His eyes were wide in incredulousness. "Are you kidding me? Sure guitar and bass and viola," he nudged her, "Are all great for string solos. But pianos? Pianos can make the purest, greatest, most harmonious music – in all genres, no less,"

"Hm," she ruminated, "Never thought of it that way,"

"Well of course you wouldn't. You grew up across the pond in such a sheltered way. You probably thought Madonna was good music,"

She dangerously narrowed her gaze. "Oh you mean the land of the Beatles and The Rolling Stones?"

"You didn't listen to them," he pointed his finger at her. "Your idea of oldies rock is KC and the Sunshine Band. The kingdom of Britrock was wasted on you. I'm surprised you even know who the Rolling Stones are, apart from the magazine,"

She deadpanned. "I'm Indian, Ray, not remedial,"

He chuckled, "Touché,"

The two walked the cold streets of midtown Manhattan, their gloved hands shoved in the pockets of their overcoats, their lips blue with the wind chill, their eyes dancing across the lights of night.

It was almost one in the morning, and Neela could rightfully say that she was no longer a virgin to the Karaoke Bar Stage.

She did not know how Ray managed to drag her into the shady joint. Maybe it was the promise of something in the likes of warm beer. She made a note to never try that again. But nonetheless, Doctor Barnett had a way of forcing her out of her comfort zone and into the limelight, void of fear and awkwardness.

She smiled in reverie as they walked down the sidewalk. The drunken crowd at the bar cheered her on as she bumbled through the electronic books, searching for her proper song. It was only then when, Ray keyed in a combination with a devilish smile. Her eyes cringed in horror.

"Ray!" she yelled at him. "I can't sing Journey!"

"Everyone can sing Don't Stop Believing!" he challenged her, "It's an institution. It's a creed for our generation,"

"It's not even our generation," she muttered as the piano recording flooded in.

He refused to meet her eyes gazing only at the plasma television screen, "Stop ruining the mojo and sing about the city boy from south Detroit, Roomie,"

And so the two belted out those grand words, and she felt alive again. She felt free and real and liberated and all the things that Neela would never have strung along with her name. It was easy with Ray. It was simple when it was just the two of them and nothing else. It was…it was like home.

The night flew by and in an instant they were back at the Grand Hyatt, laughing about the fat drunken man in the corner of the bar who wanted nothing more than to join them on the stage. He, however, did not receive the memo that it was not a strip joint.

"I have seen some gruesome things in our line of work, but that probably takes the cake," she chortled with a shake of the head. The two stood before her door reading 2432, still reflecting over their karaoke experience.

"Nah, remind me to tell you the story about the big girl who used to follow Skunk Hollow. Now that was something," he shuddered at the mental image. "Neela," he started.

"Yeah?"

"Back in Chicago," he left off for a moment, searching for something in her brown eyes. "Things are…"

She squinted, trying to understand his question. "Things are…okay," she nodded, "If that's what you're asking,"

"They're okay?" he stressed the word, fully pulping it to a meaning. "Like they're okay,"

"Yes," she shrugged, "They're okay," her brows were furrowed.

A silence fell between them, void of awkwardness or apprehension. It was more of a quiet, pensive hush, a questioning of what to do next.

Ray breathed, flicking a white flake of snow from Neela's shining, black and burgundy hair. "I had a great time tonight,"

"Me too," she whispered, all too aware of his closeness. She bit her lip, inadvertently sending his gaze to her mouth. "If you want…I can skip tomorrow,"

"I don't want you to get in trouble with Lucien," he told her thoughtfully.

"I won't," she convinced him, almost pleadingly.

His full mouth moved to a smirk. "So you're gonna play hookie to hang out with a boy? Kind of Catholic-School-girl-ish, don't you think?"

It was her turn to smirk, realizing that even in their short reunion, he was already rubbing off on her. "Only if you're into that kind of stuff,"

He smiled, really smiled – not a smirk or a chuckle or a sarcastic leer, but a smile – teeth bared and all. He took another step forward, his hand cupping her chin his mouth breathing husky words onto her quivering lips. "You know me too well,"

And in an instant, he captured her lips in his. A shock jolted through her body, electric and stimulating, dirty and pure and rocky and smooth and hot and sweet all schizophrenically at the same time. When she opened her mouth in attempt to invite him in, he backed way with a sly smile. She subconsciously pouted. Had she done something wrong?

Ray saw the confused look in her dark eyes, threatening to fall apart. He gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek, his other hand grasping hers. "You need to sleep. Believe me, tomorrow's gonna be a hell of a day, Roomie,"

She nodded slowly. Ray shook his head. Leaning in, he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Good night, Neela," He waited for her to enter her room before walking away, a skip to his metal step.

Neela leaned for support of anything on the other side of the metal door. Her heart raced so quickly she was sure she was about to have a heart attack. And with an idiotic smile, she whispered to no one in particular.

"Good Night, Ray,"

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A/N - yay REELA. This is for you patient readers who are graciously enduring these trying weeks. We're all survivors of the Roomie fandom!