Disclaimer: I don't own Ray, Neela or ER in general. They belong to NBC and all the other people who have something thing to do with this show.
Wrath
It wasn't until after he knocked that he realized this was a stupid idea.
It seemed simple enough, an easy 5 step plan: 1: Knock on the door. 2: Don't tell her how you feel. 3: Have dinner with Neela and her husband. 4: Continue to not tell Neela how you feel. 5: Leave.
Simple. Quick. Efficient. Completely idiotic.
He knew fully well that it was never, ever going to work. He could pretend all he wanted that he was sure of himself and that he knew what he was doing. Truth be told, he was very close to the so-called breaking point – here meaning that he was very close to really breaking something. Be it his sanity or someone's nose; he didn't care. All he cared about was whether she would be there when it happened, and what she would think of it.
It happened like he had told himself it wouldn't. He wasn't going to kiss her on the cheek. But he did it anyway and he felt that flutter in his stomach, wondering if she felt it too. He wasn't going to shake (dear, sweet, perfect) Michael's hand. But he did, because he was a self-destructive prick and needed to feel his hands itch to punch his (dear, sweet, perfect) face. He wasn't going to sit across from her during dinner. But he did, and he couldn't stop staring at her the whole damn time. He wasn't going to drink alcohol. But he did, the moment bottle left his wineglass he scooped it up and drank. He wasn't going to say or ask anything inappropriate. But he did and that was when it all shot straight to hell.
All it took was: "So, Michael, are you going back to Iraq?" Which he had honestly meant to be a question of pure interest. But things rarely turned out the way he meant them.
Neela's face changed to a grim expression he had never seen before. Michael's grip on his fork tightened. He had obviously said something wrong. He had to continue being a bastard, of course, because he'd already had far too much wine and his mind wanted to see how this turned out.
So instead of letting it go, he said: "Oh, am I intruding?" Neela looked at Michael expectantly. He looked like he wanted to die. Ray's mind was having a field day. Trouble in paradise. Hallelujah seemed to fit.
"No." Neela said.
"Yes." Michael answered at the same time.
Unhealthy behaviour, this was. Very unhealthy, but he revelled in the tension and the anger that was beginning to form in the air just the same.
"He's thinking about going back." Neela said, staring at her husband angrily.
"Neela, please…" Michael said.
"Wait. You're leaving?" Oh, he was evil. He was crazy. He was going to burn in hell, but first he was going to enjoy this as much as he very well could.
"No, I'm just thinking about-" Michael began.
"Not asking my opinion." Neela cut him off. She shook her head. "I'm only his wife, you know? No need to ask if I want my husband in the same country as me."
"Neela, I haven't even decided anything yet!"
"You wouldn't leave me alone, Ray? Would you?" She asked him expectantly.
Okay, wrong turn to the conversation. He was not supposed to be dragged into this. He was supposed to be a semi-innocent bystander. Maybe throw a little wood in the fire every once in a while. Not be asked a question he couldn't even lie about, now that his mind was so foggy and the woman he loved and her husband were staring at him with great expectations.
"Of course not." He answered, because that was the only answer that his mouth wanted to give. "I'd be crazy to."
Which, again, was the wrong thing to say (once he started it was hell for him to stop). Even in his semi-drunken mind the alarm went off. Danger! Danger! Danger! Damn right there was danger. One angry face turned into two angry faces. The tension had doubled and the anger that had been in the air once had long since become infuriation. By now they had both risen from their chairs.
"I seem to remember you telling me to leave." Michael grumbled. Oh, said his mind, new information!
"I was angry, Michael." Neela pointed out. "And it's not like you stayed away, so there's another disregard for my opinion. It's like you don't even try."
"I try, Neela. You just don't seem to care. All you care about is him." He gestured at Ray, who was still sitting in his chair. Neela sighed.
"I'm sorry, what?" Ray stuttered. This conversation was involving him too much. Not that his presence stopped them from continuing. It was like they hardly noticed he was there.
"When are you going let that go? He's my friend!"
Michael scoffed. Oh, what a change from dear, sweet, so-damned-perfect Michael to angry, bastard, far-from-perfect Michael. He wasn't quite sure which he preferred; the competition or the threat. Neither one sounded good in his ears.
Michael's hand came down hard on the table, shaking Ray out of his reverie. He could have sworn he saw tear form in the corner of Neela's eye when that hand connected with the table. That single maybe-tear shocked him out of his clouded state into one that just simply pissed off. What the hell did this guy think he was doing? No-one, and with no-one he meant absolutely no-one, yelled at his Neela like that, and they damn sure couldn't make her cry.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Came out of his mouth before he could stop it. He noticed that he had also stood up. Not that he cared, really, he'd gone long past the point of caring about whether he was going to hurt or embarrass himself; he was obviously going to do that anyway. "What the hell did she ever do to you?"
"Ray, just…leave it. It has nothing to do with you." Neela said, staring straight at her husband.
"Like hell it doesn't." Michael snarled. He looked from Neela to Ray bitterly and said: "I never thought I'd get a wife that needed both a husband and a boyfriend. But hey, I guess some women are just naturally slu–"
Before he could finish his sentence Ray's fist connected with the side of his face. He'd flung himself over the table in rage, and with that knocked both of them on the floor. Nobody insulted Neela.
"One more word and I'll make you wish you were never born." He growled. He nearly scared himself. His began to raise his fist again, for threatening purposes.
Neela screeching: "Ray!" stopped him. Shit. He'd nearly forgotten she was there. He'd nearly forgotten where he was. He'd even almost forgotten what it was like to punch people. Shit. That hurt.
He took a deep breath and slowly stood up. "I'll be home if you need me." He said, looking at her with pleading eyes. Please, need me. She simply nodded, but made no attempt to move to either him or her husband. As quickly as he could he made his way out of the apartment. Out of the building. Out of this whole gigantic mess.
This had gone terribly wrong. He hoped with all his heart that he could make it right, but he doubted it.
Good job, Ray. Good job.
You jealous moron.