Hello, all! Yes, we've completed another chapter...lol. We want to thank everyone who read and/or reviewed the last chapter. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts. :D We've had a few other projects going at the same time so we want to say sorry for the delay. We hope that this chapter will more than make up for it. Please let us know what you think, and as always...

Yours,

butterflyswest and Erin Allen

4

"I know it sounds crazy," Neela said as she finished telling Abby what had happened. She sighed heavily and looked down at her cup of coffee. "Maybe I am."

Abby frowned.

"How can a dream be crazy?" she asked. "You've been through a lot the last couple of days. It would be amazing if you didn't have some really off dreams."

Off dreams? Neela looked at Abby as if she'd never seen her before. This had been more than just a strange dream. It had felt too real, too…coherent to be just another dream.

"It didn't just feel like a dream, Abby," she said stubbornly. "It felt like more than that."

Abby raised her eyebrows.

"Like what? Like a visitation?"

"When you put it like that it does sound crazy," Neela said sullenly, sipping her coffee. She grimaced at the bitter swill they were passing off as coffee in the cafeteria. Was it a rule that everyone who worked in a hospital was required to make coffee that tasted like poison?

"Honey, I'm not trying to belittle what you believe. All I'm saying is that maybe your subconscious is just trying to tell you something, and this was the only way you would accept it."

"Tell me what? That I should stay with Ray? That I should ignore the fact that my husband just died? That…"

"You should live," Abby finished. "You know that you've had feelings for Ray for a long time. Everyone can see it but you, it seems."

Neela looked away from her friend's piercing gaze. Bloody hell! And she'd thought that she'd been so careful. She hadn't wanted anyone to see that. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge them herself. It galled her suddenly that she had been so transparent.

"Everyone?" she asked in a small voice.

"There have been rumors, but nothing that I didn't kill immediately. I knew that you cared about him, but I wasn't going to say anything."

Neela rested her arms on the table and buried her face in them, suddenly too tired to think.

"I think, that you just need to take some time. Think about things. You need to be there for Ray. You really do need each other right now." Abby looked down at her cup and shook her head sadly. "It looks like you're the only family that Ray has."

New pain settled around Neela's heart at her words. It made her sad to know that, though she had still had family of a sort to fall back on, he'd had nobody. Only a name on a sheet of paper. Fresh tears filled her eyes to know that he had considered her his family, and she had turned her back on him. She'd gotten in a cab and had driven away.

"What am I going to do, Abby?" she asked brokenly.

"Do you care about him? Do you care about him as more than just a friend?"

Neela blew out a breath and lifted her head to look at her. She couldn't deny it. Not anymore. When she had been a married woman, it wasn't something that she would ever have admitted to. She felt safe, protected from those questions by the ring on her finger. But now, there was no ring, at least not one that meant anything. There wasn't anything there that she could hide behind anymore.

"Yes, I do," she whispered, dropping her eyes to hide her tears. She shook her head. "I think I've always had feelings for him." She shot Abby a pleading look. "I don't want anyone else to know about this."

"I won't say a word, you know that, but I think that everyone already knows."

Of course they did. Or at least they thought they did. Would they understand, she wondered? Would they understand or would they judge her? She couldn't help the way she felt. She couldn't make it go away though she'd tried. She had done everything in her power to do the right thing, both for herself and him. But right and wrong had faded from black and white to shades of gray in the past hours. The lines she had come to rely on were now blurred. There were only two things that were clear to her anymore.

Ray needed her, and she needed him.

Suddenly she smiled softly and looked at Abby.

"This is going to be complicated."

"Yes, it is, but I'll be here for you."

"I know." She shook her head. "I just can't lose him. Not like I lost Michael."

Which was her worst fear.

000000

When all was said and done, there was really no decision to make. Neela took up residence in the ICU. None of the nurses had the heart to make her leave. She'd only just lost her husband, and she obviously cared a great deal for the patient in their charge. Not to mention there was the not inconsiderable matter that she was his next of kin. They couldn't in good conscience cut her out of the decisions concerning him.

She was there when he started breathing on his own and the tube was removed. She was there when he was moved to his own room. She was there to watch tearfully as the doctors did test after test on his brain function, trying to find out why, after two weeks, he still remained in a coma. She refused to accept their assessments, and continued to talk to him, hold his hand, read articles from Rolling Stone magazine to him as he slept away. Sometimes, she just sat and watched him, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts as she watched over him.

It was enough to make them cry.

Neela was starting to resent the watchful eyes of the nurses and doctors. They watched her as closely as they did him. Seeming to wait for her to crack, to break down in some way. Even more disturbing, was the fact that they seemed to expect it, as if the lack of tears on her part was simply a sign that she was too long gone. That she was above caring about anything. That she was rapidly losing her mind.

The only one who kept her sane was Abby. She came every day to relieve her of her vigil, let her leave long enough to get the few things that she needed to live. Clean clothes, new magazines or books to read to Ray, a hot shower every now and then. She'd even taken an afternoon and bought every CD that she could remember him listening to, and had brought them back to the hospital. She'd placed the earphones in his ears and had let the music play on and on, hoping for some sign that he could hear.

But there had been nothing. Not one twitch or moan. Not one indication that he would ever come out of the coma that the doctors were now beginning to believe irreversible. She refused to accept it. She could only stare at them, stone faced, as they spoke until they trailed off to silence and finally left, shaking their heads.

Things finally came to a head on Monday of the third week. Neela was reading to Ray, stubbornly clinging to hope, when Albright entered the room. Neela glanced up and could only stare at the woman who had saved Ray's life. Her dark eyes stared back at Neela with not a little impatience, which was not unusual. What was out of the ordinary, was the lack of concern that Neela felt about it. She had changed in the past weeks it seemed. This was her boss, her attending, and she didn't give a tinker's damn if the woman was irritated with her or not.

"I've spoken with Dr. Rinehart," Albright began without a greeting. "He thinks…"

"I know what Rinehart thinks," Neela broke in. She glanced at the bed. "I won't discuss this here where he can hear."

A look of contempt crossed the other woman's features.

"He's suffered significant neural damage, Rasgotra. You as well as any know what that means. Just because he's breathing on his own…"

Neela rose to her feet and placed the magazine on the chair carefully, deliberately. Suddenly, she was afraid that if she didn't keep tight control on herself, she was going to kill the woman.

"Leave," she said tightly, turning back to face her. "Leave now before I…"

"You have got to stop this, Doctor. You are a surgical resident, and you need to complete your program. You can't just…"

"I said leave," Neela suddenly shouted. "Take your arse out of here before I kick it out. My residency can rot for all I care."

Albright's mouth dropped open in shock. She glanced at the bed then back again.

"You really have gone insane," she said a touch smugly. "You would give up your career for this?"

"You're bloody well right I would," Neela spat. She paused, pulling great lungfuls of air, struggling to control herself. When she felt she had a handle on her temper, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Albright. "I believe that you know your way out."

Albright's face reddened for a moment, and she clenched her fists at her sides before she marched to the door and snatched it open. Abby was just outside and jumped back as Albright stormed out, nearly barreling her down as she passed. Abby frowned and shouted at her before she entered the room to give Neela a questioning look.

"What the hell was that all about?"

"I told her to get her ass out before I kicked it out," Neela responded as she returned to her chair.

Abby's mouth dropped open in shocked amusement.

"And you did that because…"

"I wasn't about to listen to her threaten me. I know where my responsibilities lie. She wanted me to come back to work."

Abby nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Well, I'll give you one thing, I don't think that anyone has ever told her no before. I've never seen her so pissed."

"She can rot for all I care."

Abby laughed and crossed the room to stand by Ray's bed. Her hand absently rubbed her distended belly as she spoke to his inert form. As always, he slept on, oblivious to her presence. She sighed heavily and looked back at Neela.

"Why don't you get out of here for a while, honey. Get something to eat and a shower. I'll stay with him."

Neela nodded. It was routine by now.

"I'll be back in an hour or two," she said both to Ray and Abby. Ray didn't respond.

"Take your time, Neela. You need some fresh air. You need to take care of yourself too, you know."

Neela refrained from rolling her eyes by sheer force of will. If she had a dime every time someone said that to her in the past weeks, then she wouldn't have to worry about working for the rest of her life.

She left the room with one last look at Ray, and headed down the hall to the elevators. She ignored the measured looks of the nurses and the half wary looks of the doctors that walked by. She would have laughed if she'd had the energy. She'd become a downright terror in the ward since she'd set up shop in Ray's room. There was not a staff member on the floor that hadn't been given the sharp edge of her tongue for one reason or another. She straitened her spine and glared back at them until they looked away and stepped into the lift before the doors had completely opened. She jabbed at the button until they closed, cutting off the sight of their pity.

Neela slumped against the wall, fighting tears. The confrontation with Albright had taken more out of her than she had wanted anyone to see. She had refused to accept that Ray might not wake up. She wouldn't even consider the possibility. But she couldn't deny what logic told her. That the longer he remained in the coma, the less likely it was that he would come out of it. She swallowed back the sob that was building in her throat. There had to be something she could do. Something that she hadn't already…

Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened. There was one thing that she hadn't done yet. Sheer excitement lent her new energy as she shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the elevator doors to open. She slid through them as they opened, heading for the bank of pay phones at the end of the corridor. She snatched up the nearest receiver and dialed for the operator.

"What city please?"

"Los Angeles, California."

"The name of the party you want to reach?"

Neela gave her the name, and prayed that he was listed. Her heart thrilled when a canned voice came on, reciting the number in an eerie monotone. She memorized the number quickly, and cut off the call. She dialed the operator again and placed the collect call, hoping to God that he was home.

The phone began to ring on the other end of the country, and Neela had to force herself to breathe. If he wasn't there…

"You got him."

Neela breathed a sigh of pure relief as the operator asked that the charges be accepted.

"Oh, hell yeah!" Brett said brightly. "Dr. Neela! Did you finally decide that you were going to run away with me?"

Neela closed her eyes against the spate of tears that threatened. He didn't know. He had no idea of everything that had happened in the past weeks.

"Brett, I need for you to listen to me," she said. "It's important."

"What? Did that husband of yours leave you? Need me to come…"

"Michael died, Brett," she broke in. "A month ago in Iraq."

There was silence on the other end of the line and then a gust of breath.

"Jesus, I'm such an ass hole," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Neela. I didn't…"

"I know," she said, more surprised at his use of only her first name than at the sincerity in his tone. "But that's not why I'm calling."

"What's wrong?" he asked. "What else happened and why are you calling me?"

She swallowed hard, wishing that she had the words to break it to him gently. Wishing that she were a writer or poet instead of a doctor. Perhaps then, she could have been able to say what she needed to eloquently. But she was neither.

"Ray's been shot," she said bluntly.

"Shot," he echoed. There was a long pause before he spoke again, and when he did, there was a sharp edge to his voice that she had never heard before. "How? What the hell happened?"

"There was a shootout in the ER and he was caught in the crossfire," she said, swiping at a tear that had slid past her lid. "He's in a coma."

"How long?"

"Three weeks," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I don't know what else to do, Brett. I've tried everything I can. The doctors think…"

She couldn't go on. She wouldn't say what they believed. For some reason, she felt that if she repeated what they said, with her own mouth, that it would be placing merit in what they said. She couldn't do that. Hope was all she had left at the moment, and she wouldn't give that up.

"Will you come?" she said finally. "He needs his friends here with him."

"Jesus," she heard him say. Maybe it was the distortion of thousands of miles of phone lines, but she thought she heard a sudden tremor in his voice.

"We'll be on the next plane out," he said. "I don't care if I have to beg, borrow, and steal, we'll be there as soon as we can get a flight."

Neela drew in a heavy breath and leaned her head against the low booth.

"Thank you, Brett."

"Thanks for calling me, Dr. Neela." He paused uncertainly. "Have you been with him the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said simply. "We'll see you in a day or so."

Without a good-bye, he hung up, leaving her shaking. She gently cradled the receiver, and could only stand there, staring at the phone. Now that it was done, she was exhausted. The band had been one of the only things that Ray had cared about at one time. He'd lived and breathed his music, leaving medicine on the back burner as a secondary concern. Brett had been his band mate, his drinking buddy, his best friend. But the band had moved on, left him alone with only…

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she ran her hands through her hair. The guilt she had felt over Michael was nothing compared to the remorse she now felt, tearing away at her soul. Ray had not had anyone after she'd gone. No one. He didn't even have family that he acknowledged.

Save her.

She drew a deep breath, trying to bring herself under control. She wouldn't cry. Not yet. Not here. If she was going to cry anymore, she wanted it to be with relief…with joy. She was tired of mourning, of feeling sorry for herself. The band was coming back to Chicago. If anything could wake Ray up, then perhaps it would be them.

Pushing away from the wall, she made her way blindly through the halls to the ER doors. She ignored the greetings from the nurses. She didn't even acknowledge Pratt when he called her name. She wasn't ready to talk. She wasn't in the mood to break down. There was too much that she had to do.

And she wanted to be prepared for it.