Hey, thanks to every one who reveiwed, it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to know people like the things i write. lol
So same thing applys as in chapter 1 italics indicate thought , ENJOY! xoxoxox
He couldn't avoid her forever, he knew that but he just needed some time to get his head around what had happened. He had taken some time off work as he was "sick" but he knew that Weaver would only believe that for a couple of days and he would have to see her at work eventually.
Ray was slumped on the sofa watching daytime TV when there was a knock at the door. He dragged himself up from his seating position and shuffled over to the door. He peered through the viewer. Shit! It was Neela. Just he was about to open the door he realised, in horror that he didn't look the slightest bit ill.
He walked away from the door trying to think of what he could do.
"Ray, open the damn door, I know you're in there!" came the voice from behind the door
Shit! Think Ray, think. Ah ha got it! He tousled his hair so it stuck up in all directions and, grabbing a blanket off the sofa, he wrapped it around himself. As he walked back to the door he let out a pathetic fake cough and leaned forward to reach the doorknob.
"Hey Neela, how are you?" Ray said in a croaky voice.
"God Ray, you don't look ill but you sound awful."
Ray smiled to himself; he may have just gotten away with skiving work.
"Erm, is there anything I could help you with?" he said as she stepped into her old apartment.
"Yeah, sorry, I came to pick up the rest of my stuff to take to Abby's." she said.
"Oh." was the simple reply, and with that, Ray went and took up his place again on the sofa.
"Aren't you going to help me?" Neela questioned.
Well you didn't need any help the other night, Ray thought irritably, but swallowing his pride, he got up, and letting out yet another pathetic cough, he picked up one of Neela's boxes.
Ray was back and was sitting on the sofa engrossed in strumming cords on his guitar. His mind wandered back to when Neela was there. They had hardly said one word to each other. He wished it could go back to the way things were, but he knew that they could never go back. There was no going back. The past was in the past, he knew that. Yes Ray knew that, but that didn't mean he had to like it, and he most certainly didn't. What scared him most was the fact that he would have to rely on his memories, he would never be able to relive them properly; he could only do that in his head. With the rest of his life stretched out before him, it was in that moment that Ray realised that he had all the time in the world to think about what had been and what could have been. What a great life he was going to have.