Disclaimer: As before

Author's Note: Well, here you go, part two… of three. It was beginning to get really long, so I've split it up, and you're going to have to be patient for a little bit longer I'm afraid. Sorry! With any luck, the ending will be up tonight when I've finished editing it. Sorry it's been a little while in coming, but things have been a bit hectic around here recently. I tried to get it up last night, but I was exhausted so I'm afraid I put it off until now. Thanks for the heaps of reviews on the last chapter; it's been a while since I've had that many reviews for something so it was great to get them.

It was about nine o'clock by the time Ray eventually got back to the apartment. He'd let his shift roll on for an extra couple of hours than it was meant to, but he was working on the principle that that would give Neela and Gallant, who would no doubt be out having dinner somewhere by now, the time to get ready and go out. He thought he'd slip home while the place was empty to have a quick shower and grab a change of clothes before heading out himself. He decided it was only fair that the two of them had the place to themselves for the night, and besides, he couldn't say in all honesty that he particularly wanted to lie in bed and listen to the happy couple going at it on the other side of an all too thin wall, so it was a late night bar for him.

If he managed to get lucky, well, then at least he'd get a bed for the night, but if not, it was the call room sofa for him. He'd already accepted the fact that either way, he wasn't in for a lot of sleep tonight, although he had to say he rather hoped it was the former. The call room sofa was lumpy, uncomfortable, and possessed distinctly fewer charms than a pretty brunette or buxom blonde.

As he creaked open the front door however, he got a bit of a surprise. There was a light on in the hallway and a quick glance told him Neela's coat was still hanging on its peg by the door. He groaned to himself quietly. Obviously the reunion had gone so well that they hadn't even made it to the restaurant. Well, they probably wouldn't notice him here anyway, he reasoned. He'd just make sure his turn around time was pretty swift.

He had almost reached his own bedroom when he heard an odd noise, a sort of sniffling sound, and it appeared to be coming from Neela's room. He paused in his steps and listened hard. It wasn't exactly the sort of noise he would have expected to be hearing. It sounded like she was crying.

'Neela?'

He realised then that there was no sign of Gallant. No coat on the peg, no bag in the hall, nothing. Where was he? What had happened? Ray felt a pang of rage rise up in his chest. If that thoughtless, ungrateful bastard had upset her…

There were some more sniffles, and that made him even more certain that she was in tears. Letting his bag fall to the floor, he went over to her door, and knocked on it quietly. 'Neela, are you all right? Can I come in?' When he didn't receive an answer, he reached out hesitantly to the doorknob. She hadn't invited him in, and he was reluctant to force his company on her if she didn't want it, but she was upset and he was worried about her. He pushed the curiosity over what had gone wrong in the big welcome home to the back of his mind. Making up his mind, he pushed the door open tentatively, unsure of what he might find on the other side.

In the half light of the room, lit only by the beside lamp, glowing softly golden, he could see she was sitting cross legged on the bed, dressed in a massive thick bathrobe, and absolutely sobbing her heart out.

Immediately, he rushed to her side and, sitting closely next to her, pulled her into a comforting hug. Straight away, she nestled into his shoulder, and cried some more, not caring what Ray thought of her, with her streaming eyes and running mascara.

'What's wrong Neela? What is it, what's happened?'

There was such care and concern in his voice, and it made her cry with even greater intensity. Each sob hitched heavily in her throat and she felt like they were taking her over. Tenderly, he began to rock her, stroking her hair absently and murmuring nothings to soothe her almost like you would a child. The need to comfort her, to try to take away her pain, was overriding everything else. He did wonder though, what had happened, to turn the excited, happy Neela she had been earlier in the locker room into this crying mess now.

Eventually, through the sobs, she found her voice, and managed to squeeze out, 'M-Michael's leave has been c-c-cancelled. He won't be home for another m-month.'

'Oh Neela,' he said, upset for her. He knew how much she had been building herself up to this moment. It had half killed her that Michael had wanted to go back to Iraq so soon after their wedding, and she had been so low when he was gone, and so, so excited at his return. She must be devastated at this latest turn of events. He squeezed her a little harder, trying to show his sympathy.

'I m-missed him Ray, I want him home.'

'Shh, shh, I know you do. He'll be home soon, before you know it.'

He continued to rock her in his arms, and after a very long time, Neela began to feel some of the grief and disappointment ease with Ray's comfort. He felt warm and strong against her, and she felt utterly safe in his embrace. There was something about they way he was holding her, arms encircling her firmly, one thumb very gently stroking the soft skin at the nape of her neck, that made her feel like he would always be there to look after her like this.

It was a silly thought, she knew. In only one more month, Michael would be home and everything would be okay again. She would be able to start her marriage properly, and she and Ray would… well, they'd be friends. Just as they were now.

The sobs had eased at last, and she reached up with one of her hands to wipe away some of the moisture from her cheeks.

Ray watched her as the crying began to tail off, winding down from full blown sobs to fits and starts. He still held her tightly though, enjoying the feeling of her small, slight body in his arms, her head against his shoulder and the warmth of her tears spreading across his t-shirt. At that moment, he felt like he wanted to hold her forever, and a selfish little part of him wanted her to carry on crying so he didn't have to let her go. He berated himself for the thought even before it had fully formed in his mind, but he couldn't quite manage to force it away either. After a while, he felt her stir and she lifted her hand to wipe away some of her tears.

And as she did so, he noticed something on the back of her hand. There was a pattern of curlicued stripes swirling across her skin, starting from the tips of her fingers and dancing over her hand. Among the loops and twists were dots, tiny flowers and, right on the inside of her wrist, there was what looked like a butterfly.

The lines were a very dark reddish brown, and utterly beautiful, far more creative than any tattoo he had ever seen before. Straight away, he was completely transfixed by it, and he felt rise up within him a deep, burning need to see where those lines went, to follow them from the tips of her dainty fingers up her arm to wherever their destination was with his eyes and, God help him, his lips.

Ray had become suddenly still, his fingers no longer caressing her and his arms stiff and unmoving. Alert to his sudden change, Neela eased herself away from him a little and studied his face. He was staring at her hands with the most amazing expression. He looked totally absorbed in what he was seeing, and she watched carefully as his hazel eyes flickered from hand to hand, fingertip to wrist, taking in the patterns there.

She was going to explain, but there was something in his face that made her hold her tongue. He almost looked too serious, too intense, to interrupt. If he wanted to know, she was sure he would ask.

And, eventually, he did. 'What…?' he said quietly, not meeting her eyes but continuing to follow the lines on her skin. He was tracing them on the back of her hand with one, feather light finger.

'It's a henna tattoo. It's an old Indian tradition for brides on their wedding day to get painted for their husbands. I missed out on doing it then, so I thought for tonight… but, well.' Her voice tailed off, leaving her abandonment unsaid.

She realised then just how little Ray ever did mention Michael actually. Apart from the odd word of sympathy, or listening when she wanted to talk about him, Ray never asked how he was, when she last heard from him. Day to day life between them was as if Michael didn't exist. Why was that?

He was still looking at her hands, and, proud of the tattoo even though it had been wasted, for nothing, Neela was eager to show it off. She had been sitting cross legged, her feet tucked well underneath her, so Ray hadn't yet seen that her feet and legs were done also. 'Look,' she said, and stretched her legs out in front of her. Her feet were covered in intricate designs just as her hands were, but as the robe only came to just below her knees, Ray could see on her legs that the lines continued far further up than her feet alone. She felt her pulse quicken a little when she realised he was wondering how far they went.

'Nice, isn't it?' she said casually, blinking against the rush of blood to her head. 'Not that it matters now though. It's kind of gone to waste.'

'Nice?' he croaked. 'Neela, it's beautiful.' His voice was deeper, more serious and huskier than she had ever heard it before. His intensity sent a shiver down her spine and a thrill coursing through her veins. She felt the pain of Michael, of his voluntary absence, of his cancelled leave, of hopes disappointed and promises broken just four short months into their marriage, fade to nothing, and he passed from her mind. All there was room for, at that moment, was Ray, sitting before her, comforting her, there for her, just as he'd been all along.

The finger that had been gently winding its way across the patterns on the back of her hand was caressing her more firmly now, following the lines over her wrist and as far up her arm as the sleeve of the bathrobe would allow. This time, when he asked a question, he managed to hold her gaze and the new depth of his eyes surprised her. She felt like they were pulling her in, as powerful as any rip current, sure to drown her. 'How far does it go?' he asked in a hoarse whisper.

'Well, I sort of got a whole body thing done.' She felt shy all of a sudden, and she didn't know why. This was Ray, she told herself, her friend, her roommate. He'd seen her when she was drunk, and after a double shift, and first thing in the morning when she'd forgotten to take her make up off the night before. If she hadn't been embarrassed then, why now?

She knew the answer though. This Ray now was a different person than the one she'd been living with for the last two years. There was none of his usual laid back air, his flippancy or his humour. She'd never seen him this serious before, he wasn't even smiling. And she had to say, it scared her a little.

He looked at her, a very deep look that she didn't understand. He seemed to have an intensity about him that was entirely new. Then, slowly, he spoke. 'Can I see?'

'Ray,' she exclaimed, shocked at his request. 'I'm… I'm not wearing anything under this.'

He nodded slightly, as if he was assimilating that new piece of information, then let go of the hand he was holding, and moved his own hand to the neck of the bathrobe. Tugging gently, he pulled it away from her a little, exposing her shoulder to the cold air and his hot gaze. She could almost feel her eyes burning her skin.

'Can I see?' he repeated.