Author's Note: First of all, thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! You guys are awesomeness incarnate. (: Let's see, a few continuity notes (this story was written before season 13)… Why is Carter there? Because I like Carter, that's why. Same thing goes for Albright (I don't like that new guy, ew). For all intents and purposes, Sam's story in season 13 can apply. Either way, she's been back. And, in my land, Kerry's still the boss lady. I think that about covers all the discrepancies! Any others can be attributed to the slight AU vibe that's been built. Yeah.
Disclaimer: Check chapter one!

Three Steps Backward
by, Caliente

Chapter 2: The Middle, Part 1

It was safe to say that Archie Morris loved the sound of his own voice. He loved it far more than most people liked listening to it, and rarely, if ever, picked up on that fact. "Miami's hot, you know," he was saying as he followed Ray Barnett through the halls of County General. "And I bet there're a lot of old people. I hear Florida has a lot of old people."

Ray sighed, rubbing his eyes and shook his head once. "Don't you have someone else you can bother, Morris?" he asked in a tired voice. This was on the list of things he'd like to do if and only if hell froze over. "I'm trying to do some work here."

The redhead ignored him, oblivious as always. And egocentric. For reasons unknown, he was taking Ray's departure rather personally. Like they'd been friends or something. Weird. "I mean, I know it can seem appealing—have you seen Nip/Tuck? With the… I mean it's so…" Archie shook his head. "But it's not really like that. I'm sure." He paused and Ray prayed he'd go away. "Hey, sure you don't need another roommate or something?"

Damn. He never was that lucky. Why was he never that lucky? "No," Ray answered soundly. "Besides, you just got back, man. You can't leave again." He smirked as he caught sight of Dr. Albright and nodded his head in her direction. "They need you here."

Archie's face lit up as he looked at her. "Did she say something about me while I was gone?" he asked hurriedly under his breath, eyes never leaving the attractive surgeon. Ray'd probably be right there with him, if she weren't such a colossal bitch. Not even waiting for a response (not that Archie would've listened, anyway), and apparently forgetting about his original point, the other doctor wandered toward her awkwardly.

Smirking to himself, Ray ducked his head and moved back to work. That couldn't have worked out better if he'd planned it that way. Looking at the chart in his hand, then the patient in curtain two, he smiled gently. "All right, Mrs. Goldstein," he said, taking a seat by her gurney, "when did you first notice the pain in your arm?"

From the moment she set foot in County General, Neela could feel the eyes on her. Whether they were still because of Michael or now caused by Ray, she couldn't be certain, but what she did know was she was at the end of her rope and about five seconds from biting the head off the next person who crossed her path. Frank became her first victim.

"Hey Rasgotra," the desk clerk greeted in his usual guttural tone, "Weaver said to find her soon as you get in."

Neela glanced up from the messages left for her to see the sympathetic look on his face. A grimace formed on her lips. "If you have something to say, Frank, just say it," she prompted, irritation evident in her voice. "Otherwise, stop looking at me like I'm some kind of bleeding time bomb."

Trying to look nonchalant and macho, the former cop shrugged. "Hey, if it was me and I lost my husband and my ex-roommate-with-benefits or whatever, I'd be a little down. Wouldn't want you to freak out like that creep Clemente did."

"Frank!" the nearby Sam admonished, a look of disgust on her face.

The older man rolled his eyes and looked at her. "What?"

The look on Sam's face said it all. "Just stop it!" She shook her head. "Honestly, you're getting to be as bad as Jerry."

Frank looked highly offended at that comment, but wisely chose to answer the now ringing phone, grumbling about uppity nurses and uptight residents. Neela, on the other hand, had a look of horror on her face. "Roommates-with-benefits?" she asked Sam as she headed toward the elevator that would take her to Weaver's office.

"Don't look at me," she responded with a shrug. "I just work here."

Frowning, Neela nodded her good-bye. Rolling her eyes at the sheer audacity of a claim like Frank's, she ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach that told her it wasn't really such a large leap to take, considering how things had been between her and Ray before she moved out. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms as she focused her attention on waiting for the elevator. That was a lot safer a topic to be thinking about.

For John Carter, visiting County General when he wasn't working there was like visiting his parent's house when he wasn't living there; awkward and familiar. He'd been hanging around for the better part of an hour, listening to the gossip and visiting with his friends in the ER while Dakarai received what they hoped would be his last treatment from the best doctors in County.

He was in the admit area when Ray found out he was there. "Carter," he greeted with a half-smile, offering his hand. John shook it with a small smile of his own. "What brings you back from the exotic life?"

"Just a visit," John replied, his smile growing. "A friend from Darfur needed some extensive treatment, so," after manu long arguments, "I managed to convince him to come here and get it."

Raising his eyebrows with curiosity, Ray nodded. "I'm glad your friend's getting the help he needs."

"Yeah, me too," John agreed. It'd taken a lot or work to get here, but at least now Dakarai had a shot at living to keep up his work. There was a pause between them and Ray was about half a second from returning to his work when John spoke again. "So, I heard you're moving down to Miami in a few weeks." He smirked slightly at the younger doctor. "Gonna be hot there, you know."

Shrugging, Ray put his charts down. "It's hot here, too. At least in Miami there isn't any snow." The less abuse for his van, the better. That van was his baby and it deserved better than that.

"True," John agreed with a nod. He eyed the doctor standing before him for a moment, then leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. "I'm just surprised, I suppose." He gestured to the space around them. "This place—it has a knack for pulling you in."

Ray followed his gesturing, eyes lingering on Neela's name on the board. "Yeah…" He looked back at John. "I guess I just needed a change."

"Has a knack for doing that, too," John commented wryly. Then he smiled. "I know we didn't always get along, Barnett," he started, uncrossing his arms again and offering his hand this time, "but good luck in Miami. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Shaking the ex-attending's hand, he found himself unable to smile back. "Thanks," he replied as he picked up a new chart, though the sentiment rang hollow. He'd already found what he was looking for. Unfortunately, she hadn't wanted to be found by him. "I'll see you around."

"See you," John replied, smiling when he caught sight of Abby walking toward him with a friendly look on her face. Ray watched them catch up for a moment, ignoring the strained feeling in his chest. Then he turned away and headed back to work. The sooner this shift was over, the better.

Few people had ever thought nice words when thinking up adjectives to describe Kerry Weaver. But she was not without compassion for both her patients and employees. A fact that was evident as Neela entered her office—the look on her face mirrored Frank's far too much for her liking. "You, uh, wanted to see me?" she prompted as her greeting.

"Please, take a seat, Neela," Kerry said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. Neela complied readily, preventing her body from going rigid as best she could. "I know you're busy, so I won't keep you long. First of all, I wanted to congratulate you on your surgical elective."

There was a small lull, and Neela smiled tightly. "Thank you, Dr. Weaver."

Kerry returned her smile, though with more sincerity than Neela could muster. "Secondly, I… I just wanted to check on you."

Neela blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I know how hard it can be to lose—" Kerry cut herself off, closing her eyes for a moment. "Michael was…" Neela's eyes widened and her jaw went slack. Michael? Even Weaver wanted to talk to her about Michael! God. This was… it was… "He was a good doctor. A fine soldier. A great man." Neela's mouth went dry, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. "I want you to know, if you're having any trouble or need someone to talk to…" She patted Neela's hand gently. "We—I don't want you getting yourself into anything you can't handle right now."

Taking a calming breath, Neela couldn't stop her eyes from narrowing at her boss. "With all due respect, Dr. Weaver, I'm fine." The lie tasted bitter in her mouth, but she ignored it. "And I am perfectly capable of doing my job. I think I've proven that much by now." She stood stiffly, eyes locking onto Kerry's. She wasn't afraid. She could handle this. She was strong. "So, if that's all…"

Kerry nodded once as she stood as well. She was tempted to call after the young doctor as she hurried from the room, but held herself back at the last moment. She couldn't force Neela to talk with her about Michael any more than anyone else could've forced her to talk about Sandy after she'd died.

Outside Dr. Weaver's office, Neela stalked angrily back toward the ER. She was tired of everyone treating her like she might break down at any moment. Hadn't she proven she was tough enough to handle it? Honestly. The lot of them could just go sod off. She was just so… so angry. Angry with Weaver and Frank and everyone else for their sympathy. Angry with Pratt for knowing Michael better than she had. Angry with Ray for… everything. Angry with herself for failing him.

Without her consent, tears sprang from her eyes. A few even managed to roll down her cheeks before she shoved her way into the nearest bathroom and splashed some water on her face. "Calm down," she ordered her reflection, ignoring the quivering of her lip. "Toughen up. You've got work to do." Patting her face with a paper towel, she took a few deep breaths and blew her nose. She would not lose it. She would not lose it. She would not.

Straightening her outfit, she ignored the sadness visible in her own eyes. "There," she whispered, carefully tucking her hair behind her ears and ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach that told her things were going to get worse before they got better. "Much better." She nodded one last time to herself, then set back toward admit. To work. The only thing she had left. Shame it wasn't more of a comfort…

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