Due to technical difficulties, this chapter is a little late in coming. Thanks for your patience. We also want to let you know that Chapter Five is in the works so don't panic when you hit the end of this one. More is on the way! :) Hope to hear from everyone on this one!

JF&KMA

4

"How long are you gonna be gone?" he asked later, as they were getting ready to leave.

"I'm not sure," Neela said rummaging around in her bag. "A few hours at least. She hasn't a thing to wear so we're starting from scratch. Where are my bloody keys?"

Ray scooped them off the counter and dangled them in front of her face.

"Looking for these?" he asked, holding them out of her reach when she tried to grab them.

"Hand them over, Ray."

He grinned. "Sure. For a kiss."

"You are insatiable, aren't you," she snapped irritably.

"Completely."

She did her best to glare at him, but couldn't quite manage it. The way he kissed and the way she felt when he touched her, there was no way she could remain angry with him.

"This is bribery you know," she said as she lifted her lips to his. Unlike before, this kiss was soft, gentle even, but somehow it devastated her more.

"Good God! Get a room, why don't you!" Emily said as she huffed by them.

"I'd better go," Neela said with a laugh.

"Don't buy the whole store, babe. She doesn't need to be spoiled."

Reluctantly, she pulled away and followed Emily to the door. His heart skipped a beat when she smiled over her shoulder at him as she left, closing the door behind her. Good God, she was beautiful.

But his smile faded almost the moment the latch clicked. Though his heart was about to burst from the thrill of finally being with her, he still had things to do. The worst of it was calling his mother. He pulled air into his lungs and blew it out in a vain attempt to calm his nerves. He was not looking forward to this. Not one little bit.

He had told Neela the truth. Once he'd left his parents' house, he'd never looked back. It had been three years, and he only thought of that time when the dreams came. Then, the memories were too close to give him peace. Things had gotten better when Neela moved in, but they never quite left him. When she had come to live with him, he'd finally had someone there to take the edge off the nightmares. But now, he was knee deep in them, and it didn't sit well. In fact, he felt sick to think that he would have to revisit those memories.

He snatched the phone from the base and sat on the couch where he stared at it. How could such an innocent looking piece of plastic and wire suddenly seem so ominous? He laughed nervously, feeling as if he were about to go crazy, and began punching numbers. He dialed from memory. He had thought to call a thousand times over the years, if only to see how Emily was doing, but it had never seemed to be the right moment. But as the sound of ringing began over miles of telephone line, he knew that it was now or never.

"Barnett residence."

For one brief second, Ray considered just hanging up on his mother. Her voice hadn't changed. It was still the carefully neutral voice that she always used when she answered the phone. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see her there in the alcove of their house. Her blonde hair, so like Emily's, perfectly styled, and dressed in a smart pantsuit. It amazed him that he could picture her so vividly, but that wasn't the worst of it. How could she be so…so calm when he knew that her daughter was missing?

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom."

She was silent for so long that he thought the line had gone dead.

"Ray? Is that you?"

"Yeah. How are you, Mom?"

"Good!" she said, almost too brightly. "It's good to hear from you. How have you been?"

He pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it, wondering if he'd called the right number. She hadn't heard from her own son in years and was acting as if nothing had happened.

"I'm fine," he said finally, pressing the phone to his ear. "Great, in fact."

"I'm glad to hear it, Ray."

"So what's been going on there?" he asked lightly. If she wanted to play the denial game, then so could he. He still remembered the rules. It was a well loved and time honored pastime in that house.

"Nothing really," she said with a dramatic sigh. "Your father just signed on a new partner at the firm, and I'm trying to plan a dinner for him."

Just the mention of his father gave Ray a sick feeling in his gut. Christ! Why would she think he cared about that?

"Listen, Mom, I was wondering if I could talk to Emily."

"Emily?" she echoed, and the hair on his neck rose at her hollow tone. "Why do you want to speak with Emily?"

"I just wanted to say hi. Maybe ask her about school. See how she is."

This time, the silence seemed to scream at him, and he actually winced.

"I'm sorry, Ray but you can't talk to her right now."

"Why not?" he asked quickly. Just tell the truth, Mom, he thought to himself. For once in your life…

"She's at school right now. You know that."

His disappointment at her quickly turned to anger. He clenched the phone in his fist so hard that he heard his knuckles crack. Even now, she wouldn't acknowledge the truth. One child, she hadn't heard from in years; the other was now a runaway, and still she pretended that everything was all right. He didn't understand it. He had never understood it and probably never would.

"That's right," he said, careful to keep the anger from his voice. "I guess I wasn't thinking."

She let out a forced laugh that sounded only this side of hysterical.

"That never was your problem, Ray."

"What?"

"Thinking. You always did think too much."

He frowned. "What is that supposed to…"

"I'm sorry, Ray, but I have to go. I'll tell Emily that you called."

Ray clamped his lips together and forced himself to breathe.

"I have to get ready for work anyway," he bit out.

"I'm glad you called, Ray," she said brightly. "And I'll let Emily know that you were asking for her."

"Sure," he said, not quite able to hide the sarcasm. "Bye, Mom."

He didn't even wait for her to say good-bye before he hit the button ending the call. With a sharp curse, he threw the phone across the room where it shattered against the wall in a rain of black plastic and multi-colored wire. Resting his head in his hands, he replayed the call in his head, hearing her words over and over again.

You always did think too much…

She's at school right now…

Everything's fine…nothing's wrong…

Everything was just peachy.

He cursed and jumped up from the sofa to stalk to his room. He wished Neela was there. Right then, he could have used her strength to lean on. He felt as if he was about to fall into a thousand pieces, just like the phone. Clothes flew as he searched for something to wear to work. He hurried to get dressed, needing to get away from the apartment before he finally lost it. He slipped on his shoes and threw his bag over his shoulder, but stopped just inside the door. The remains of the phone were still scattered across the floor. He stared at them, hardly seeing them. An old memory suddenly surfaced, blinding him. His dad, standing over him, the phone in his hand, throwing it across the room. Watching as it burst, spilling its high tech guts all over the floor.

Ray closed his eyes and dropped his bag at his feet. His anger drained away, leaving him feeling exhausted. What was he doing? He didn't lose control like this. He didn't punch his friends and throw things against the wall. That was how his dad operated. He'd promised himself to never be like that, but here he was, acting the same way.

Feeling ashamed of himself, he knelt down and began to gather all the pieces. He dumped them in the trash, found a scrap of paper, and wrote a short note to Neela to explain why their phone was gone. He'd buy a new one after his shift and try to call Brett. He winced, thinking of what he had done to his friend. It was going to take a lot of ass kissing to get Brett to forgive him, but he'd do it. Whatever it took.

With that, Ray dragged his bag over his shoulder, and left, wishing only to get this day over with.

When he walked into the ER, however, he knew that his day was far from over. The reception area was overflowing with patients and crying children. The piercing shriek of a baby was like salt on his already wounded nerves. He hunched his shoulders and kept moving. It was all that he could do. Keep moving or go insane.

"Morris is looking for you," Frank said dryly.

Ray shot him a quelling look and skirted the desk without a word.

"I said…"

"I heard you, Frank," he snapped, rushing past.

"Sorry I bothered you. Just thought I'd give you a heads up that his highness is looking for you."

Ray rolled his eyes and kept going. He didn't have the patience for Frank's crap. Not today. He straight armed the locker room door, and tossed his bag on the bench. Changing into scrubs, he mentally prepared himself for his shift, hoping he could get through it without having a meltdown.

"There you are!"

Ray sighed and finished tying the knot on his scrub pants. Morris was the last person he wanted to see right now.

"I tried to call you, but didn't get an answer."

"Our phone's broken."

"Oh. Well, I was hoping you'd be early. We're swamped out here."

"So I gathered," Ray said, slamming his locker door. "Can't get anything by you can we?"

Morris gave him a blank look before shoving three charts into his hands. Ray grabbed them more out of self-defense than any wish to take them.

"You can start with these. A scalp lac on a ten year old that can't steer his bike away from trees. An eight year old with a broken arm and black eye. Sibling rivalry gone bad. And an adult male with a possible orbital fracture caused by an iron frying pan."

"A frying pan?"

Morris clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "That's why I'm not married," he said cheerfully before sweeping from the room like a bad wind. Ray stood there for a minute, just staring at the door. Then he glanced at the charts in his hand and shook his head. Time to act like a doctor.

It took hours before he had a moment to breathe. He'd sewn up the little daredevil and sent him home. The eight year old was overjoyed with the bright blue fiberglass cast he received, and proceeded to annoy his sullen brother by flaunting it. Not wise, in Ray's opinion. The twelve year old had already "accidentally" broken the kid's arm, and Ray doubted that their tired looking mother could do much to curb their enthusiasm. The man he saw in curtain four did in fact have a fracture in his cheekbone, but it was not more than a crack. Ray admitted him anyway for observation; just in case there was something else that didn't show up on the CAT scan right away. He didn't want to be the one to send a slow bleed home to die. He was just clearing the board when he heard Abby say his name.

"Yeah," he said, turning toward her.

She studied him for a minute before tilting her head with a perplexed frown.

"You look wrecked," she said. "Rough night last night?"

"You have no idea," he muttered, before he swerved around her to retrieve another chart.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked.

"Nope."

"It might help."

Ray opened the chart and scanned the details, deliberately ignoring her.

"Whoo! That bad, huh?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"All right, but I gotta tell ya, you're scaring the kiddies."

He whipped his head around, surprised.

"What?"

"Well, you almost bit Frank's head off when you came in. You've done nothing but snap and snarl all day. I was just wondering what's going on with you."

He grimaced and shook his head. Though he hated to admit it, she was right. He had been sharp with everyone today. All he wanted was to go home and get this thing with Emily taken care of, but he was stuck here. He didn't have a plan. He didn't have the slightest idea who to talk to. It wasn't like he wanted the sordid tale of his past tossed around, and he sure as hell didn't want them looking at him like he was the freak of the week.

"I'm fine," he said. "I just have some things on my mind."

"That's a first," Frank said from the desk where he had been listening. Ray held his hands out and gave him a warning look.

"Mind your own business, why don't you?"

Frank opened his mouth to say something else, but Abby cut him off.

"Shut up, Frank," she said in a voice reserved only for the feeble. When Frank turned away, she looked back at Ray. "Why don't you take some time away? I'll cover for you."

"I can't do that. Will you look at this place?" he asked, looking toward reception where it seemed to be standing room only. "I can't leave you in the lurch."

"Yeah, well, you aren't doing anyone any good acting like someone peed in your Fruit Loops this morning. Besides, I'm not telling you to go for the day, just to get some air, clear your head."

He glanced again at reception.

"Don't think, Ray, just go. Be back in an hour."

He sighed and gave her the chart.

"Thanks, Abby. I appreciate it."

"You owe me," she told him, as he walked away. "Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"If it's that bad, you might consider talking to someone. Wendell might be free. Maybe she could point you in the right direction."

A slow smile crossed his face. That would be perfect. Who would be better than a social worker to know what to do in this situation?

"I owe you big time," he said, backing down the hall.

"I know you do," she said smugly and turned back to the desk.

Feeling better than he had since last night, Ray punched the button to bring the elevator down. He hoped that Wendell wasn't too busy to talk to him. If she couldn't help him with this mess, then he didn't know who could. When the doors slid open, Ray bounced inside, hit the button, and waited impatiently for a miracle.