Disclaimer: As before

Author's Note: Okay, I probably shouldn't give this away for you to use against me, but I respond well to guilt trips and, I presume by complete coincidence, two of my charming reviewers happened to ask me on the same day about another chapter for this story which made me feel sufficiently bad to give myself a kick up the arse and get on and write this. So there, now you know, the more you nag, the more you get! This chapter, by the way, is a bit of a bridge towards the final part of this story, which of course will be based around the parts of the show that I know you have all been waiting for, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I can't say that I'm entirely happy with it, but have a read and please tell me what you think.

Breakfast with Michael had been awkward. Not painfully, toe curlingly awkward, but uncomfortable all the same. It was the politeness that was annoying her, Neela realised after the second cup of coffee. They were both being too polite, the conversation was stilted, both of them trying so hard to skirt around the massive unmentionable subjects that stood between them that the denial of the problems turned out not to be a denial at all, just a different, more silent, way of acknowledging them.

Although she had expected it to be her, in the end it was Michael who was the first to lose his temper at the break-your-teeth-on-it brittle formality.

'Is this what it's going to be like Neela?' he said, throwing his fork down on his plate with a flash of anger she couldn't assimilate with his normal, mild character.

Immediately, she was contrite. He was really trying, she could see by his earnest expression, and she'd said she would give him a chance. Sitting here talking to him like a stranger, even though that was what he felt like, wasn't much of a chance, although she was yet to be convinced he deserved more. If she didn't feel so damn guilty herself, would she honestly have let Michael get away with this?

'I'm sorry Michael. I'm… I'm trying okay? I'm sorry that it isn't good enough.'

At that, he shook his head. 'No, I'm sorry. I told myself last night, and I meant it, that I was grateful for any slight hope that you might give me that our marriage wasn't over, and yet here I am this morning complaining, making demands.'

'Look,' she said in a fair tone, 'this isn't going to be easy. It's going to be bloody hard. There isn't some kind of guidebook that we can follow to help us out here and I don't know what to do. It's just… I don't think I trust you right now, and it's going to take me a while to learn to again, but I can't when you're not here. It's hard having to wait. It's – it feels like everything is on hold for this indeterminate length of time, and I find that difficult.'

She thought that was a fairly accurate assessment of the small part of her feelings that it was all right to share with her husband. She did feel betrayed by him, perhaps not terminally so, but certainly seriously, and now the chance had been taken away for the time being to work through their problems, she felt as if they were stuck in some sort of limbo. Married but not together, estranged but not divorced.

As for the rest of it, Ray, the baby, even if she had been able to talk to someone, she had no idea what she would say. God, it was all so screwed up. Her head was an utter mess and she didn't know what to do to unscramble it.

'It's okay Neela. I get that I'm asking the earth from you and offering very little in return. All I can say is that in time, in a few months or however long it's going to be, I promise to be every inch the husband you want me to be. I really will be. I love you so much.'

She was moved by her words in spite of herself. He really did mean it. But then, if he didn't, then this whole situation would be ten thousand times easier. She sensed he was waiting for her to respond with a similar declaration for love and she thought about it, deciding whether or not she could say it. She wanted to part on good terms with him, Ray's advice of the night before echoing in her head, and she wasn't sure if lying to him would leave too bitter a taste in her mouth.

In the end, she said it. She might mean it in a different way than he did, but it was the truth. 'I love you too Michael.'

'You do?' He didn't quite look surprised or disbelieving, just as if he hadn't entirely been expecting to hear those words. She wondered how far he would pursue it. She knew that in their arguments last night, while she hadn't explicitly said anything, Michael had known that there was something, something to do with Ray, that she was skirting around and he was too intelligent a man to have forgotten about it.

'Yes Michael. I do love you.' She reached across the table and took his hand in hers, surprised at how warm it was. Hers was freezing. She tried a small smile. 'I married you, didn't I?'

'Yes, you did.' He seemed encouraged by that thought. 'Can I ask you something?' he began tentatively.

She sighed; this was it, unless she could deflect him in some way. She looked briefly at her watch. 'Michael, you've only got a few minutes before you need to catch a cab. I want this to be a happy parting, as happy as it can be. I want to be able to think of you while you're gone and look forward to you coming home. I'm not going to deny that we have a lot of talking to do, but I'm not sure now is the time. I'll still be here when you get home, that I promise you.'

'Will you though, Neela? Will you really?' He looked at her searchingly, and she realised that was as close as he would come to asking her outright about Ray.

She squeezed his hand. 'Yes, I promise.'

It wasn't until after he had gone, after she waved the cab down the street and began to walk home, that she got a terrible, overwhelming feeling that she was never going to see him again.

The days after he left passed into weeks, and the feeling faded. She spoke to him on the phone a couple of times a week, and the rational, logical side of her brain calmed down enough to discount any silly premonitions that her fevered, hormonal imagination had conjured up. Still though, she didn't share her feeling with anyone, not even with Ray. To say it made it real, possible, and that was something she absolutely couldn't contemplate.

Much as she didn't want to think about the baby, she made an appointment with an obstetrician over at Mercy, as she knew she was due her ten week scan. Abby had recently announced she and Luka were having a baby and she was positively glowing with impending motherhood. When Neela looked at her, she glowed with jealousy. Abby looked so damn well, not to mention the happiest she had ever seen her, and yet Neela felt at her very lowest ebb.

The worst were the emotions. She was up and down all the time, all over the place. She could cry at a soap opera these days, go mad at some poor unfortunate in the doctor's lounge for drinking the last of the coffee, and yet, weirdly, remain unmoved at her own situation. She seemed stuck in some rut of denial that she didn't know how to pull herself out of.

The day of the scan dawned grey and depressing. Both she and Ray had a rare day off together and an enormous part of her that she was finding it difficult to argue against wanted to forget about the scan and just spend the day with him. She didn't care what they did, but she was painfully aware that their days in the apartment together, for what reason she wasn't sure yet, were numbered, and she was reluctant to waste them.

He wandered into the kitchen at around eight o'clock, early for him on a day off. He must have heard her moving around. He smiled at her as he perched himself on the worksurface, and she tried to ignore the fact he wasn't wearing a t-shirt.

'Morning,' he said. 'What are you doing up so early? Are you expecting a call from Michael?' How many men, she wondered, would be able to ask that question without a trace of bitterness? He was so selfless, just trying to be neutral, chatty, whoever she wanted him to be.

'No,' she replied. 'Not today.' She left it at that. 'Would you like a cup of tea?' Since the pregnancy, she'd given up the vast quantities of coffee she used to drink, and switched to tea, even though some smart alec scientist maintained that contained just as much caffeine. If Ray had noticed the switch, he hadn't commented.

'I'd love one thanks. Would you like me to make it?'

'No, it's fine. You can be on pancake duty.' Funnily enough she was reminded of the morning Michael had left and their breakfast together. This, between her and Ray now, was as easy as that had been awkward. How? How did he manage to make her just relax and be herself like he did?

'No worries.' As he began to whisk the mixture, he turned towards her. 'So, what plans do you have for the day? There must be something, else you'd still be hibernating until lunchtime.' Then he gave her that fantastic lopsided smile of his. 'So would I be for that matter.'

'Oh, I've got a few things I need to do,' she said vaguely, hoping he wouldn't question her, even though she ached to tell him. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a parallel universe, where life wasn't so complicated, and Ray would be going with her to this scan and they would be a happy young couple in love, excited about their forthcoming child. Then she dismissed the idea; it was too dangerous to allow herself to think like that for more than a few seconds, but she knew when she looked at him, she couldn't quite eradicate the sadness in her eyes.

Ray watched her carefully as she pottered around the kitchen, clearly distracted by something. God, he wished she'd just talk to him. He knew there was something bothering her, he could just tell, and it would be convenient to put it down to Michael's absence, but some deep instinct told him that it was more than that. But then, what could be more than having your new husband desert you for a war zone?

It upset him that she was keeping things from him, but he reflected sadly that what else could he expect? She wasn't his Neela anymore, she never really had been, except for that one night. He didn't have any right to quiz her. Although… they were friends, weren't they? Best friends. That must mean something.

'Neela,' he began. 'You'd tell me, wouldn't you, if there was something troubling you?'

She jumped a little, and turned towards him. He thought how tired she looked, almost ill. 'I…' She tried to say something, but she wasn't sure what the right answer was, so she gave him a shrug instead.

'I mean it Neela. I hate that you don't confide in me. I wouldn't mind so much, but I don't think you're talking to anyone else either, and you look so… lost all the time. As if you need to let it all out.'

'Ray, I…'

'I don't mind what it's about, it can be about Michael if that's what you need it to be. I'm worried about you.'

He was looking at her so tenderly, so full of care that Neela felt her heart melt. She took a halting step towards him, and before she knew what was happening, she was enveloped in the biggest, tightest hug she thought she'd ever felt. His arms were strong and comforting and she felt so wonderfully safe and protected that she never wanted to be anywhere else.

'Oh Ray,' she said shakily, knowing that he would be able to feel her tears against his bare chest, 'I wish I could.'

He held her away from him, and used one hand to brush away her tears, allowing his fingers to linger on her cheek. Her eyes were glistening, and she was looking at him so soulfully he felt himself drowning. 'You can,' he whispered hoarsely. 'I swear to God Neela, you can tell me anything.'

For the fleetest of moments, she considered it. Right now, she felt that he really would do anything for her, that he really would stick by her with this baby, that her dreams really could come true. Then she came back to reality. That's all they are, Neela, she told herself. Dreams.

Her voice was barely audible when she finally spoke, but she knew he heard her. 'I just wish things could be different.' And from the way he squeezed her tightly, and the way she heard his breath hitch in his throat, she knew he wished it too.