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Notes: Hi! This is Chapter 13 of "Two Worlds." I'm not sure how long this is going to go on for, but like I said, at the rate I'm going it might take a while. Thank you for being patient. To all reviewers, past and present: you're pretty much the only reason I'm writing this, so you're all awesome and I appreciate your words of encouragement. After the season finale, I've been in a rather gloomy mood about ER and as a Roomie/Reela supporter I know I shouldn't give up, but one can't help but feel a bit down about it all sometimes, right? Anyway, let's hope things turn out the way they are meant to.
Disclaimer: I do not own ER.
Every time Neela made this trek to the front door, her insides would turn; she never knew what to expect. A door slammed in her face? A 'Come on in'? So many scenarios had gone through her mind in the past week that if she kept imagining things she was sure she would lose sight of what was real and what was not.
Neela had come to try again, in the hope that maybe his words—'Go home'—had been spoken in pain and anger rather than a true reflection of how he felt. There was nothing left for her but hope.
As the door slowly opened, a quiet gasp of surprise escaped her lips; Ray had opened the door. Seeing him in front of her, Neela's mind purged itself of everything that had been weighing on her since she had arrived in Baton Rouge, including Abby's warning about her residency, until the only thought, the only word, left was 'Ray.'
Attempting to gauge his thoughts as she looked into his face, Neela said with a smile, "Hey."
Ray looked worn and more tired than usual as he replied with his own, "Hey." Seeing her stand in front of him did nothing to resolve the confusion and ambiguity he had been dealing with the last few days, but just having her there seemed almost...comforting. After three days of wondering, of picturing her scars in his mind and reliving the words she had tried to say the first time she had stood before him, he couldn't help but feel relieved that she was still here, still in Baton Rouge.
"...Uh come in..." He said a bit awkwardly, maneuvering his wheelchair so that she could get through the door. He noticed that she was wearing a long-sleeved blouse again. Neela's eyebrows raised just enough to reveal her amazement—he had actually invited her in. Just a few days ago he had refused to even let her know he was home, and now...Don't get your hopes up, Neela, she chided herself. For all you know he could be inviting you in only to tell you he never wants to see you again. Her face fell at the thought.
She sat gingerly on the couch as if she would have to get up again in just a few moments. Venturing to start the conversation she asked, "How's your Mum?"
Ray was still attempting to wheel himself into a comfortable position opposite the couch, but he replied as he was doing so. "She's fine—she went out to get groceries." He figured that was probably what she was asking—he had seen the look on her face when he opened the door. He couldn't say he blamed her.
"Oh, I see." This was going to be more difficult than she expected; having become so used to communicating through his mother, she now found that she didn't know what to say when the first face she saw when she walked through the door was his.
Just say it, Neela, she prodded herself. "...umm listen, I was wondering if you wanted to go to that botanical garden your mother was talking about? It's really nice out..." Neela knew Ray never left the house, and she thought that maybe if they spent even a little bit of time in the sun he would realize what he was missing. It would do him good, she thought. But Neela would rather bite her tongue than tell him that—she had come to discover his almost resentful attitude toward anything that even remotely resembled concern. What his family and friends labeled 'caring' he labeled 'patronizing,' and now was not the time to delve into a conversation about his psychological misconceptions.
It took what seemed to feel like ages for Ray to answer, but Neela was well rewarded when he did. Almost hesitantly he said, "...Yeah...okay." Since he had come to Louisiana, Ray had ventured to go outside once, and that one experience was enough to turn him off of the thought for the next few months. The stares, the pitying glances in his direction, the whispers, and the almost frightened eyes of children passing by—they all made him feel like a monster. And it wasn't that this feeling had suddenly disappeared at the awareness of Neela's question; it was just that a certain air of—was it confidence?—seemed to fill his heart as she stood there. He felt almost positive that he would still get stares, but it didn't really seem to matter anymore. It was at this realization that he had agreed to go.
Neela tried to contain the sudden beaming smile that was now radiating from her face. She couldn't contain it from her voice, however, as she said, "Great." As Neela sat patiently waiting for Ray to get ready, she tried the best she could to prevent her newfound optimism from getting the better of her.
Ray wheeled himself into the living room and towards the door, but Neela's voice stopped him before he reached the door. "Umm, should we leave a note for your Mum?...So she doesn't get worried?" Ray noticed the use of 'we' rather than 'you' and realized it was because of him. Lately it was as if everyone was always extra careful not to rile him up—'we should leave a note' certainly seemed better than a somewhat deriding 'you should leave a note.' He couldn't say he blamed her for being cautious; after the way he'd been treating people, he couldn't say he blamed anyone for being so.
"Yeah, there's a notepad in the kitchen." A quiet sigh of uncertainty escaped his lips as he watched her disappear into the far end of the house. He didn't know what to expect from Neela or from himself; all he could do was wait and see.
O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O
The short ten-minute walk to the garden went better than Ray expected. He didn't know if it was because Neela was gently strolling next to him, or if he failed to pay attention to anything but the feel of the warm glow of the sun on his face, but being outside actually wasn't that bad. They reached their destination in silence.
The botanical garden was breathtaking. The aroma of each and every flower invaded Neela's senses as she and Ray began their expedition at the very front of the high-arched greenhouse door and made their way down the beautiful path. Thankfully, it was wide enough for Ray's wheelchair to get by without Neela having to walk behind him.
Neela ventured to start the conversation, Mrs. Barnett's words replaying in her mind. "So is this where your Mum and Dad met? Is that why he proposed to her here?"
"Yeah, she really likes flowers—as you can probably tell by her front yard—and she happened to be here one Saturday when my Dad brought his Biology class on a field trip." Retelling the story made Ray think of all the times he had heard it over the dinner table through the years.
Neela smiled—she could just imagine a much younger Mrs. Barnett sitting on one of the vintage wooden benches and watching the likely very handsome Mr. Barnett talking about chlorophyll and photosystems.
Ray continued, "They used to garden together every weekend. Even if there were no more weeds to pull out, or if there was no more room to plant anything else, they would still end up spending hours in the back yard. Drinking lemonade, actually..." and he let out a chuckle at the memory.
"They must have really loved each other," Neela said quietly, her words dissipating into the bright Louisiana sunshine streaming into the greenhouse. She instinctively turned her head away and looked at the ground. She hadn't meant the words to mean anything but what they were: a recognition of the powerful light in Mrs. Barnett's eyes as she had mentioned his name. But Ray took it as a cue to go on.
"She really loved him, and at some point he really loved her, but he left—I still don't know why. At first she started dating every guy that knocked on her door just to stop feeling alone..." He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "I guess she thinks he'll come back. She still looks at his picture every night..." he chuckled as he finished.
Neela blushed slightly at the image of Ray's picture sitting in a frame next to her bed. I know how she feels.
O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O
They had reached the daisies. Neela was instantly reminded of a particular line in "You've Got Mail": Meg Ryan, in a state of cold-medicine delirium, had said to the ever-charming Tom Hanks, 'Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?' It made her smile every time.
Neela thought this was the perfect time to let Ray in on a secret. She looked at him sheepishly and said, "I used to eat flowers when I was little."
Ray couldn't help but laugh as she faced at him with a look he had grown to love when they were roommates—it always meant she was about to divulge something that made her look completely ridiculous, but she didn't care because it was Ray...her best friend Ray.
He returned the look as he said, "You what...flowers? Neela!"
"What? I was 5! Didn't you do anything stupid when you were 5?" She dared him to say 'no.'
Ray knew he had been caught in a trap. "I ate glue."
Neela let out a snort. "Ray, that's worse than flowers!"
"I know, I know...they had to pump my stomach." He laughed in spite of himself. "Yeah it was bad..."
"Well if it makes you feel any better...I was at my friend's birthday party and we were playing outside, and I sort of...umm...I ate half their garden and her mum had to take me to the hospital." She grimaced at the memory. "Needless to say, I wasn't invited back."
This time Ray let out a laugh so forceful that he had to clutch at his stomach as tears began to form in his eyes. As if contagious, Neela began to laugh just as hard as she looked at his face twisting with utter amusement. Neither of them had laughed so hard in what seemed to be ages.
After the attack had ceased, Ray managed to smile mischievously at her and say, "That does make me feel better, thanks."
Neela responded with a look that said, 'Very funny' as she rolled her eyes.
They walked on in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts, unaware that they were thinking the exact same thing: This is nice. Neela was glad he had agreed to come—the outing was certainly doing him good. And Ray was enjoying himself in spite of his hesitancy to do anything these days. But there was something that still weighed on his mind more than anything else, and despite his reluctance to move away from their light-hearted banter, he had to know. Even if his mind was too muddled to know what he felt or didn't feel, what he wanted or didn't want, he needed to know what had happened.
Clearing his throat, he began with a newfound firmness in his voice. "Neela, what happened in Chicago after I left?"
"Umm...well Luka went to Croatia, and Dr. Moretti became Chief..." Ray cut her off before she could continue, aware that all she was doing was repeating everything she had told him during dinner.
"No, I mean what happened to you."
"I...I stayed with Abby and Joe for a while..." She didn't know what else to say. Neela was afraid of what he was asking, clearly struggling with how to respond.
Ray realized she wouldn't tell him unless he asked her outright. "Why are there scars on your stomach and on your arm?"
Neela paled. He had seen the scars on her arm, but how did he know about the one on her stomach? It doesn't really matter how he found out, does it? She looked down at her shoes while trying to find an answer to his question, pushing the truth further and further into the back of her mind. "...They're nothing..." she finally said, unable to fabricate a lie to tell the one person she said she would always be completely honest with.
He should have known she would do this, but he wasn't letting her get away with it. "No, they're not." They had stopped walking and were now in the middle of the pathway, facing each other.
"Really Ray, it's not a big deal..." She shook her head emphatically, trying to make him see that pushing the point wasn't worth it. She was here for him, and what had happened to her was over and there was no point in bringing it up. Her pain had been nothing compared to his and despite her friends' insistent remarks that it wasn't true, she kept on believing that she had deserved every bit of it.
"Neela." Ray's voice was low and firm, and his eyes dared her to try to delay a truthful answer to his question any longer.
She continued looking down at her shoes. "The...the day you left, I went to an anti-war rally and...a bomb went off and everyone started running and...this guy knocked me down and I couldn't get up..."
The color drained from Ray's face as he remembered the images he had seen on the news, realizing that all the while Neela had been in the midst of the chaos. And her injuries...
"You had to get surgery?" He said quietly.
"Ray..." She began, intending to signal her refusal to tell him anything more, but was quickly cut off by the insistence in his eyes as he looked deeply into her own. "I ruptured my spleen..."
"And?" He knew she wasn't telling him everything—he could tell from the way she was fidgeting.
She let out a low sigh of frustration. "...and my lungs deflated...I had some broken ribs, and the bones in my arm shattered."