Title: It Happened One Night (Chapter #3)

Author: Undertoad

Rating: PG

Content Warning: Maybe a word or two…

Italics are flashback/dream of Neela's. Notes at the end.

When they had lived together, Neela had always been the early riser. She did not like to be rushed. She liked having time to spare in case anything unexpected might arise. Like, for instance, when Ray's overnight guests or band mates decided to use the shower for forty-five minutes.

The last few months, because of her trouble sleeping, that had changed. Whenever she could grab a few minutes she would take them. That often meant rushing to get ready for work and, as of late, getting to work generally fifteen minutes late.

She woke up before Ray. It was weird, to say the least, to wake up in their apartment and know that it was no longer theirs. It was his alone.

She had no real home.

She was subletting Abby's place. But as Abby had said in her own words, the apartment was no place to raise a child. Abby, of course, had mentioned this offhand to Neela about her child. Abby had no idea of Neela's predicament. They weren't exactly as close as they use to be.

Abby had taken to treating Neela like a china doll since Michael's death. Abby no longer spoke to Neela about her Luka issues or anything else related to her personal life. Neela understood in a way, figuring that Abby assumed that she would not want to hear about all her baby makes three experiences. But she missed her friend.

That was one of the reasons that Neela had become so close with Tony Gates. He didn't treat her any differently then he had before Michael's death. Granted, they hadn't known each other for all that long, but it was a welcome change from the usual. Everyone else at the hospital always had that same look in their eyes: pity.

She didn't want their pity.

She just wanted everything back to normal. Well, as close to normal as she could get. But she knew that this baby was going to make the road ahead a lot harder than it would have been.

For a long while after Michael had passed, Neela had been content with just going through the motions. But she quickly found it to be a very lonely and painful existence. It was hard to see her friends pity her but just as hard to stay away from them so she wouldn't have to.

She had never realized before then just how much she liked having someone to come home to or someone to call at the end of the night; even someone to eat lunch with and chat about everything and nothing.

Growing up she had never had a moment's peace at home and had often prayed that she'd get some time to herself. Now that she had it—she found out that it wasn't at all like she imagined it would be. The silence was what really got to her. She couldn't sit still. She had to do something to occupy her time.

Time was a blur of work, television, beer, and even a few cigarettes. She knew better. But being a healthy and functioning member of society was not at the top of her list.

Neela knew that her grief was not anything unique to her. She'd been to funerals and lost distant relatives but had never lost someone close to her. She didn't know how to deal with it.

Medical school had taught her how to manage death and maintain a professional demeanor in the face of tragedy. So she knew how to detach herself and how to behave at work. But using the same strategies in her personal life had been wholly ineffective. She felt numb. Ever since she had returned to work she felt as though she was on display. She felt as though they were all watching her, waiting for her to break down like she was expected to.

Whenever they asked she was always "fine". And for a while she thought she was. But living numb was no way to live. And the night she broke, he was there. One moment he had been comforting her and the next moment they were in her bed. It wasn't about sex or companionship—it was about letting herself feel something.

It was weeks later, while she was leaning over the toilet seeing her lunch--in the five minutes she had between surgeries--that she suddenly figured out what might be happening. By then, she hadn't talked to the man in question for weeks and she convinced herself it was the flu.

But, just in case, she no longer self-medicated herself with alcohol or cigarettes. She quit cold turkey and found out that withdrawal was a bitch. But it was easy to blame all of her symptoms on withdrawal.

But her symptoms didn't go away with time.

It was becoming a problem at work—she had run out of excuses. So before her shift on Monday morning she had made an appointment with Dr. Coburn.

On Tuesday she had worked late into the night and had made the mistake of picking up the results of her pregnancy test right after. Had she waited she might not have wound up walking through the pouring rain to Ray's doorstep or have found herself in his arms.

Because for the last few months this was exactly where she had wanted to be.

She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest and hear his heart beat. She closed her eyes and willed herself to go back to sleep. It had been months since she'd had a decent night's sleep and the irony that she had found it with him was not lost on her. She didn't want to get up just yet even though she knew she should.

--

When the tears started again her head was against his bare chest. She could feel the change in how he held her against him. And she knew that he felt guilty, just as guilty as she felt.

She chastised herself for not calling on Abby instead. She knew that at Abby's she would likely just get in the way—with the new baby and all—but Abby would have let her and this definitely would not have happened.

Neela pulled away first so that he wouldn't feel compelled to hold her all night. She knew that he didn't want to but he would. She couldn't look at him.

When he reached out for her, she pulled away. She stood, crossed the room, and went into the bathroom to change.

She took her time cleaning up and changing. When she was finished, she chose to sit on the side of the tub and wait for him to leave. She hoped that he would get the message. She didn't want to see him. But she knew that he would wait because she knew that he would want to make sure that she was okay.

She wasn't. This would not have happened if she was of sound mind.

He knocked lightly on the door, "Neela?"

After she didn't respond he offered with concern in his voice, "Everything all right in there?"

She felt like saying "bloody wonderful" and plastering a fake smile on her face. She'd bet money that he'd believe it.

"I'll be out in a second." She offered, chickening out.

She figured that once he was gone that she might be able to figure out how the hell they had ended up like this in the first place.

He was dressed when she came out of the bathroom. He sat on the unmade bed putting his shoes on. He stopped when he heard her at the door.

"You okay?"

"No," She paused, frozen in the doorway, "I'm not."

"I didn't come over here to—"He began; she could hear the regret in his voice.

"I know," She interrupted him, " We both know that this shouldn't have happened. I think it'll be best if we pretend that it didn't."

"Neela—"

"Please, just leave."

He stood and crossed the room towards her. He stopped a few feet away.

"You use to talk to me. I thought that's why you needed me tonight. That is why I came over. I can still listen, Neela."

She couldn't look at him. She brushed past him towards the bed and pretended to focus her energy on making up the bed. She tried to make her voice seem detached from it all, "There is nothing left to say. It doesn't accomplish anything. No matter how much I talk about how I feel it isn't going to change anything. My husband is still dead. I am still alone."

He walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away and made quick work of brushing the tears from her eyes before she met his gaze.

"Neela, you have a lot of people that care about you. There are a lot of people that are trying to help you and you aren't helping yourself by pushing them away."

"It's easier like this," She paused, tearfully, "…just, please, go. I'm due at work early tomorrow."

She turned away from him and it seemed as though he finally got the idea.

He sighed, "I'll see ya there," He paused, "Maybe you'll be more up for talking then."

They didn't speak at work. When they did see one another his eyes had a way of never meeting hers.

--

When Ray woke up, Neela had fallen back to sleep. She was curled up against his side. Seeing her in daylight she looked exhausted still. He wondered inwardly if she had been having trouble sleeping like he had been.

He tried not to move so he wouldn't wake her. He figured she needed the sleep. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to find that it was still early. It wasn't even nine.

Her words from last night were still at the forefront of his thoughts.

I'm positive it is not anything he wants to hear.

He being the father of her baby; someone who was not Tony Gates or her deceased husband Michael. Judging by what he had seen of her last night he deduced that the night in question had to have happened soon after she lost her husband. Perhaps even before Tony Gates even got into the picture.

Ray had a headache. And suddenly almost nine o'clock in the morning seemed like a good time for a beer. Or something stronger.

He felt her shift against him. He watched her as she slowly adjusted to wakefulness. When her eyes opened their eyes met and he could tell it took her a moment to remember the events of the night before. She pulled away from his embrace and suddenly his side felt vacant.

"Breakfast?" He offered, standing up quickly and trying his best to ignore the awkwardness of the entire situation.

She shook her head, "I'm good."

"When was the last time you had something to eat?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Lunch yesterday," She paused, "But I have no desire to see a meal twice this morning so I think I'm better off without."

"Neela, you—" He stopped in mid-sentence when her eyes found his, "…how about some juice, at least?"

A shadow of a smile graced her lips, "As long as it isn't that kiwi-strawberry stuff you like. As if I wasn't nauseous enough already."

He smiled back, albeit awkwardly, and poured her a glass of juice. She gave it a little sniff just to make sure it hadn't gone bad and took a sip. He watched her from over the rim of his own glass as she finished her juice.

He didn't know what to say. For months he had wanted this—to wake up with her in the morning, to have his roomie back—but this was not at all how he figured it would happen. And he had definitely not expected her to be pregnant.

He swallowed thickly and combed his fingers though his spikes.

"I'll go check if you're clothes are dry." He muttered half-heartedly, before turning and leaving her alone in the room.

He picked up her clothes but lingered in the bathroom a little longer than necessary. He had never figured it would be this strained between them. Before this, everything had always flowed so well. They had known each other so well. Then, the only secret they had kept from each other, was how they felt.

"Ray?" Came her voice, summoning him to the other room.

She wasn't alone when he came back in the room.

Shit.

She made quick work of taking her things from him. She slipped on her pants and shoes but decided to forgo changing back into her shirt. She shrugged on her jacket and it was only then that she let her eyes meet his.

"I'll see you at work, Ray." She muttered before turning to leave.

He watched her get to the door before he called out her name. But she didn't turn or acknowledge that anything had been said. He was frozen in his spot for a moment before bypassing his guest and throwing open the door.

This time he wouldn't let her walk away so easily.

He took the stairs two at a time and caught up with her a block down from his building. He grabbed her arm and forced her to turn and meet his eyes.

"Neela—" He paused, taking a moment to steady his breathing.

"You don't owe me an explanation," She began, sounding defeated, "I would have known if I hadn't pushed you away. I'm happy for you."

"But you're not happy." He stated like a fact.

Her eyes fell to the ground for a moment, "Let me go, Ray."

He pulled her closer, his voice barely above a whisper, "So you can avoid me—and everyone at work--and go through this alone? You came to me—has anything changed from last night?"

She shook her head; he could see tears welling up in her eyes, "It isn't fair for me to burden you with this. I haven't been a friend to you in months and I'm grateful for last night. But I was just a bit overwhelmed—but I'm okay now."

She pulled her arm from his grasp and he let her. It fell to her side but she didn't move and neither did he.

"Do you remember that night when you came to my gig and reamed me for ditching that kid when he needed me?"

She nodded.

"You said that I abandoned him when he was making the most important decision of his life. He trusted my judgment and when I left he let his mom talk him out of it." He paused, "You came over last night because you said that you trusted me and you didn't want to screw it up. And I'm not going to let you just walk away. I told you last night that I wanted to help and that hasn't changed."

"But it has—you're seeing someone."

"What does that change between us? You were married to Michael!"

She flinched when he mentioned Michael and he immediately regretted it. But she wasn't put off by what he said. She knew what his intention had been.

"You're right," she sighed, "…it doesn't change anything between us. It's always been there between us. But the timing is never right. Either I'm married or you're shagging your way through your groupies—doesn't that tell you something? I'm pregnant, Ray. There is another guy that is gonna be in my life for the foreseeable future and a kid to think about. Kids need stability. If we are meant to be, then it shouldn't be so hard. Maybe its better that we never try."

Try?

Try as in a relationship together? Ray got her point loud and clear.

Before he could say anything she offered, "I'm sorry I brought this to you. I know that I hurt you—not just with this, but over these last months. And I don't deserve your friendship but I appreciate the fact that you let me in, you listened, and you didn't pressure me to tell you more then I was comfortable with. But I need to do this myself—which is not to say that things will go back to how they have been at work. But don't stop your life for me—I don't deserve it."

She turned to walk away and he called out to her, "Neela?"

She turned to face him and all his words fell away. She was exhausted and not just physically but emotionally. She didn't need more complication in her life. She had enough to deal with in the present. So, he took the cowards way out.

He smiled, "I'm on in a bit. Want to grab some lunch together in the cafeteria later?"

She nodded and turned to walk away. He watched her walk away until she turned a corner and he couldn't see her anymore. Then he turned back towards his apartment and sighed, not really interested in his guest and what they likely had to say about finding Neela there so early in the morning.

It has been far too long and I apologize. Life has gotten in the way. But I plan on finishing this story and I've got it outlined. So, God willing, it will be. Thank you to all of you that have read this and the previous chapters and have remained interested.