Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Spoilers: Everything up to 11.17, "Back in the World".
Content Warning: None for this chapter
Rating: FRT
Chapter 2
Neela wasn't any better by the weekend; her bladder was just as bad, and she was even more exhausted than she'd been at the beginning of the week.
That Saturday brought the first of Chicago's summer heatwaves, punctuated by a gaggle of Girl Scouts with the stomach flu. And by the following Monday afternoon, she was feeling the effects of both - and it was going on four weeks since she'd last heard from Michael.
The apartment was stifling; the temperature outside already well into the 90s. The air conditioning was running, but she still felt too warm. Ray was long gone to work by the time she woke at noon - bladder about to burst; stomach feeling as though she'd just gone twenty rounds on a roller coaster and violently protesting at the mere thought of food.
She considered calling out sick, but with the heat, the ER would be slammed and they'd need every doctor they could get. Besides, with her out, Lewis would probably pull Ray for a double to cover, and she couldn't do that to him; he'd already worked two in the last week.
Gathering her things, she bypassed the kitchen completely and headed for the bathroom, deciding that a cool shower would probably make her feel better. She emerged twenty minutes later; slightly cooler and a little less nauseous, but just as exhausted. She glanced at the clock. Half twelve. Just enough time to grab an extra forty-five minutes' sleep.
She woke again at quarter past one, nausea back in full-force and nature calling. Again. She sighed as she made yet another trip to the bathroom. Suck it up, Neela. Swallowing hard, she shouldered her bag and grabbed her keys. With her stomach on the rag, there was no way she was taking the El.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Jane scurried along, hiking her slipping bag onto her shoulder. She was late and the attendings were going to pitch a fit. Preparing to be dressed down, she opened the front door to the ER and stopped dead.
Two men - one large, the other medium - were at each other, tripping over chairs and knocking into equipment as someone shouted for security.
She turned to Sam, who happened to be sprinting by with two syringes. "What happened?"
"Fight broke out at the Cubbies/Yankees game," the nurse replied, obviously annoyed. "Idiot medics brought both guys here and parked them in chairs."
Jane turned back to the brawl. Jerry and Malik were trying to restrain the larger man while Carter, Ray, and Morris grabbed at the other. The attending just managed to avoid the bigger man's fists. She winced; Ray and Morris weren't so lucky. The rocker caught one to the eye; Morris took the other in the jaw and was sent sprawling sideways, rolling to avoid the mess of feet.
Security arrived moments later and wrestled both men to the ground. Carter took a syringe of Haldol from Sam and injected one while Malik took care of the other.
"Okay, people," Ray announced to the patients in chairs, "show's over. You can all go back to...uh...waiting."
Haleh approached and handed him an ice pack. He put it over his eye and scowled at Carter.
"How come every time we get in the middle of a fight between patients, I'm the one who gets hit?"
Carter grinned and slapped the intern on the back. "Just lucky, I guess." He looked down at Morris. "Hey, Morris, you okay?"
The younger man groaned pitifully - bleeding from a gash above his left eye - and held his jaw, trying to sit up with little success.
Carter shifted his gaze until it landed on her, standing near the entrance. "Hey, Jane?"
She looked over at him. "Yeah?"
"Take care of Morris, would you?"
She shot Carter an uncertain look. "Uh...sure."
He turned back to Ray. "Come on, let's get an eye-film on you."
Well, at least no one had noticed she was late.
0-0-0-0-0-0
A pair of black boots filled his vision, and Morris pulled his head painfully upward, squinting his eyes to make out the owner's face. "Jane?"
"Yeah." She squatted, helping him up by the forearms. "Come on, you should get checked out."
He blinked, trying to stop the room from spinning. It didn't help. "Uh...yeah."
She kept her hands on his shoulders, guiding him down the hall as he staggered toward an empty exam room. He'd be able to walk a lot better if he wasn't so damn dizzy. He swayed and nearly fell, but she caught him, steering him through the exam room door.
"Maybe you should sit down," she suggested, helping him up onto the exam bed.
"Yeah," he groaned, closing his eyes, "that might be a good idea."
God, his head hurt. Why was that again? Oh...right. Patient. Huge fist. Jaw.
Ow.
"You've got a head lac from when you hit the floor, and you're gonna need stitches, but first I have to check for a concussion. How many fingers am I holding up?"
He opened his eyes and found himself with an excellent view of her chest. Oh wow... "Well, there's two of them, and they're very nice, but they're definitely not fingers, Jane."
"Up here, idiot."
She sounded annoyed. He glanced up at her. Looked it, too. Wow, she was hot when she was mad. And she smelled like peaches. Why had he never noticed this before? Wait a minute...where the hell was this coming from? This was Jane.
And she was snapping her fingers in front of his face because he'd zoned on her and ended up staring at her chest again. Oops.
"Morris! How many?"
He felt himself blush. "Uh, sorry. Two."
"Headache?"
"Oh yeah."
"Dizzy?"
"Kinda."
"Nauseous?"
"Not yet."
"So, dizziness and headache, but no LOC, no blurred vision, no nausea..." She examined his head. "Huge goose-egg. Sounds like it could be a mild concussion. Do you think you need a CT?"
He shook his head, realizing too late that it was probably the wrong thing to do. Pain exploded through his head, throbbing behind his eyes. "Ow."
She winced in sympathy. "Sorry. Let me get a suture kit."
"Hey, Jane?"
She turned. "Yeah?"
He gave her a pleading look. "Ice pack too, please?"
She nodded. "Sure."
His eyes drifted down again, and he admired the view as she turned and left the room. He'd never noticed before - probably because it was always covered by a lab coat - but she had a really nice ass.
And Goddammit, where the hell did that come from?
He didn't really have much time to think about it, though, because she returned with the ice pack and suture kit. She handed him the ice pack - which he gladly applied to the huge knot at the back of his head - then irrigated the lac and went to work stitching him up, biting her lip in concentration.
Damn, she was cute.
And he couldn't stand the silence, so he filled it with incessant chatter. The Cubs game, the fight in chairs, his dog, her cats, his cousin Winnie's ferrets...
God, Morris, you're babbling. Stop before you do something stupid.
"And by the way, I'm really sorry for staring before but I just realized how cute you are and hey, you wanna go to Ike's for a drink after shift?"
Like ask her out.
She faltered as she tied the last suture and pulled off the sterile drape.
Pratt poked his head in the room. "Hey, Jane? I need you in Exam 1 when you're done."
"Oh, I'm done," she replied too quickly and too brightly, stripping off her gloves.
Pratt nodded. "Meet you up there."
The door closed, and she went about disposing of all the materials in the proper receptacles before turning back to him. "You should get your jaw x-rayed, and I should...go help him with that," she said quickly, nervously slipping out of the room.
And she hadn't even answered him.
Shit.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Neela grimaced, ignoring the stares from commuters as she straightened up from where she was bent over the trash bin - having finally lost the battle with her nausea after passing a hot dog cart. She fished in her pocket for the pack of gum she always carried and popped two pieces in her mouth to chase away the taste. Sighing, she trudged onward toward the ambulance bay and entered through the triage doors.
Alone at the desk, Jerry looked up and waved briefly, returning his attention to the person on the other end of the phone. Acknowledging him with a small smile, she dropped her things off in the lounge and made her way back to admit.
She looked over at Jerry as he hung up the phone. "Where is everyone?"
The big man shrugged. "No idea." He looked at her more closely. "You feeling all right? You look kinda green."
"Yeah, just a stomach bug. I think I caught it from those Girl Scouts on Saturday."
The phone rang again and he turned to answer it as Ray came up to admit, his greeting muffled by the wadded towel pressed to the right side of his face. The brow she could see furrowed as he looked down at her.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, fine. Just a little under the weather." She narrowed her eyes. "What happened to you?"
He waved her off. "It's nothing; don't worry about it."
"He took a fist in the eye trying to break up a fight in chairs," Sam helpfully supplied as she made a notation on the board.
He shot the nurse an annoyed look. "Thanks a lot, Sam."
Neela's eyes filled with concern and she looked up at him, trying to pull the towel away. He leaned out of her reach. "Let me see."
"It's fine re-"
"Ray."
She spoke sternly and he finally relented, removing the towel holding the ice pack from his face. Neela winced and sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth. It was a cracking shiner; beautiful purple and blue.
"Did you get a film?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Nothing's broken; it's all fine." He looked down at her as he put the ice pack and towel back on his face. "It looks worse than it feels, honest. And hey, if you think this is bad, you should see Morris."
"Ray, man," a voice called, "I have got to talk to you."
She turned to see Morris coming toward the desk. His jaw had swelled to twice its size - and he had a lovely purpling bruise across the entire bottom left of his face. Ray was right; he looked far worse by comparison.
Ray rolled his eyes at Neela. "Speak of the devil." Sighing, he turned to the redhead. "What do you need, Morris?"
"It's kinda...personal."
Another sigh. "Lounge, then?"
The other man nodded and Neela watched them walk away with a frown. Grimacing as her nausea returned, she plucked a chart from the rack and headed for chairs.
"Sally Logan?"
A blonde woman stood up. "That's me."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Ray went to the counter and poured himself a mug of coffee. Turning around, he eyed his colleague. "Okay, what's going on?"
"My head hurts, I can barely talk, and I think I just asked Jane out."
He clapped him on the back. "Way to go, man."
The redhead looked at him. "Not quite. She kinda freaked, actually; went off to help Pratt with something."
Ray winced. "That doesn't sound promising."
"Thanks," Morris replied, deadpan. "So what do I do? I mean, I don't even know if I meant to ask her out."
"Well, obviously you did, or you wouldn't have said it."
The other man looked hopeful. "You think?"
Ray sighed. "Okay, do you like her?"
"Well, yeah."
"Do you want to go out with her?"
"Yeah..."
"So what's the problem?"
"This is Jane, man. She's not impressed by the same stuff as other girls."
Yeah, I doubt she'd find stapling a fake Santa Claus's head shut very impressive. "Then maybe you should try being yourself."
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly beating the girls away with a stick, here. People don't like the real me."
"Well, you said yourself she's not impressed by the same stuff as other girls. If trying to impress her doesn't work, maybe being yourself will."
Morris sighed. "It's worth a shot, I guess. Of course she never actually gave me an answer..."
Ray took another sip of coffee. "And you're never gonna get one unless you ask."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Having spent the last hour catching up on charting from her last four patients, Neela looked up as the doors opened to admit paramedics wheeling in a large man. Putting the chart she'd just finished in the proper basket, she fell into step alongside the gurney; Lewis, Sam, and Chuny falling in on the other side.
"What've we got?" Susan inquired, steering them toward an open trauma room.
"Fifty-five year old male, complaining of chest pain. Tachy at 120, resps shallow."
"Okay," Susan said as they wheeled into the trauma room, "let's get an EKG and a portable chest. Someone page cardiology."
"On it," Sam replied, moving to the phone.
Neela looked down at the patient. "I'm Dr. Rasgotra, this is Dr. Lewis. Can you tell me your name?"
The man opened his mouth to speak, but let out an enormous belch instead; the smell was enough to send Neela scrambling for the nearest emesis basin as she lost her battle with nausea for a second time. Fleeing to the corner of the room, she leaned over the basin and deposited the small bit of lunch she'd managed to find time to eat between seeing patients. Vaguely aware of her colleagues working on the patient in the room, she felt a hand on her back, and shifted her eyes to see Chuny offering her a towel.
She took it and wiped her mouth as Susan looked over at her. "Neela, you okay?"
Her face reddened with embarrassment. "I just...need some air."
Chuny wrinkled her nose and shot her a glance. "Don't we all."
Susan nodded. "It's okay, go; we've got this."
She managed a weak smile before making her way through admit and out the bay doors. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the wall, trying to regain control of her rolling stomach.
"Hey, Neela, I gotta talk to you."
Slow, deep breaths. Right. That should help.
"Okay, so I was taking care of Morris after that fight in chairs this morning. Carter made me. Anyway, he kept staring at my chest! Morris, not Carter. Then he started talking about stuff while I was stitching him up. You know, idle chatter?"
Sounds like someone else I know.
"And then, he asked me out to Ike's after shift! I got nervous, and Pratt came in and asked for some help with something and I just left. I mean, I didn't even answer him, Neela. What should I do?"
Her stomach lurched and she ran for a nearby trash can. When she was done, she pulled the pack of gum out of her pocket and chewed on two more pieces. Jane was looking at her, nose wrinkled in distaste.
Neela shot her an embarrassed look. "That wasn't your answer."
The other woman frowned. "God, I hope not."
"You did say you wanted to get noticed by him."
"Well, yeah, but I didn't actually think it would happen! And he has a concussion! What if he didn't mean it?"
She remembered the way he'd been so keen on talking to Ray earlier and realized that it had to have been about this. He was probably having a similar reaction; she just hoped Ray had given him decent advice.
"What if he did? You won't know unless you talk to him."
"I'll look like an idiot."
"Or you could spend the rest of your life wondering what if." She sighed. "Look, Jane, if you don't take this chance, you might not get another one. Just talk to him."
The other woman frowned. "I guess you're right. Thanks."
Neela managed a weak smile. "You're welcome. Tell Dr. Lewis I'll be in in a bit. I just need some air."
Jane nodded, then headed inside as Neela walked over to the wall of the hospital once more and leaned back against it, still trying to calm her churning stomach.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Ray stood at admit, catching up on his end-of-shift charting, the ice pack and towel long abandoned. His writing hand slowed as he picked up a snatch of Sam and Chuny's conversation.
"Hey, you think Neela's all right?"
"Yeah, she's probably just embarrassed," the Hispanic nurse replied. "You know, for losing it in the middle of that trauma."
He looked over at them, brows furrowed. "She lost it?"
"Well, more specifically, her lunch," Sam clarified.
Ray blinked. "Wait a minute, she threw up?"
Sam wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, but in her defense, the patient belched huge. It smelled so bad, I almost lost it."
Chuny smirked. "That ought to teach him to lay off the chili dogs."
Sam grinned. "Seriously."
"Is she okay?"
Chuny nodded her head toward the doors. "I think so; went out for some air."
"Thanks," he answered, then turned and headed for the ambulance bay, but the doors opened before him, admitting his roommate.
She looked up at him. "Hey."
"Hey." He eyed her closely. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
"Sure? You still look kinda barfy."
Her hands flew up to cover her face and she groaned. "Good God, does everyone know?"
"I don't think so. Sam and Chuny only told me 'cause I asked."
She groaned again and buried her face deeper in her hands before dropping them to her sides and looking up at him once more. "I've been 'barfy' all day. It's probably just a stomach bug that I caught from those Girl Scouts on Saturday."
"Well, I'm off, but you want me to cover so you can go home?"
Neela smiled and shook her head. "Nice of you to offer, but I'll be fine. Feeling a lot better, actually." She shot him a rueful grin. "I think the fresh air helped."
"Sure?"
She nodded and held out her hand. "Sure. Ready to sign out?"
0-0-0-0-0-0
Jane wheeled her cart of supplies to be restocked into Exam 3. This was turning out to be the day from hell. Samson and Delilah had gotten into the bathroom trash and dragged it all over the apartment - and one of them had seen fit to cough up a hairball right next to her bed, so when she got up, she stepped in it.
Her hot water had cut out halfway through her shower, leaving her looking like a poodle had crawled onto her head and died. Then, to top it all off, Archie finally notices her, and what does she do? She flees the room like her hair's on fire and doesn't even give him an answer to his drink invitation - which she isn't even sure he meant to make because he had a concussion when he asked her.
Super.
She sighed and shelved the bandages, moving onto the boxes of gloves as she thought about what Neela had told her out in the bay. Take a chance. Sure, that was easy for Neela to say; she had the exotic look going; everyone noticed her. She, on the other hand, personified the words "Plain Jane". Hell, no one even remembered she was in the trauma room when there was a mix-up with those two John Does a few months back.
She'd learned to live with being plain and unnoticed, but all of a sudden, Archie was staring at her chest and asking her out for drinks - and she didn't quite know what to make of it. So she did what she always did when she got flustered.
She ran.
Neela's words of advice in the ambulance bay came back to her. Just talk to him. She sighed. She was an adult; she could be mature about this. After all, she still had to work with him every day.
Right. She'd find him after she was done.
The door opened and she flicked her gaze toward it.
Or not.
She kept restocking as he came to stand near her; not quite in front, not quite to the side. He couldn't really smile with his jaw swollen, but she had to give him credit for trying.
He cleared his throat, his whole body set stiffly, nervously. "Uh...hey."
She snapped her eyes back to the shelf. "Hey."
An awkward silence filled the air between them, punctuated only by the sound of the supplies being restocked.
"So the x-ray came back fine; nothing's broken."
She hesitated a beat before answering. "That's great."
More silence.
He rapped his knuckles against his skull and gave a nervous laugh. "My mother always said I was hard-headed."
Finishing with the gloves, she moved onto boxes of sterile gauze. He cleared his throat again and she heard him take a deep breath.
"So, about Ike's-"
"Right. We don't - I mean, I don't expect -" Damn, she was making a mess of this. "Your head...and you probably weren't thinking -"
"Actually..." He drawled the word and she glanced at him. He smiled as much as his jaw would allow. "I was thinking we could make it dinner."
Her stomach fluttered and she smiled back. "I think I'd like that."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Neela woke earlier than she'd planned the next morning, thanks to nature's call. She'd hoped she could ward off whatever was wrong by drinking a ton of cranberry juice, but it didn't seem to be helping. An appointment with Urology was probably in order; she'd ring them when she got into work and see when they could fit her in.
The apartment was silent as she made her way to the bathroom, which meant that Ray had either gone out somewhere or he was still sleeping. Considering the two doubles he'd pulled last week, she was betting on the latter.
Heading back to her room, she made her bed and checked the clock on the nightstand. Half three. She had to be at work by seven, but first - she glanced around the room - she had to put through some of the laundry she'd been neglecting for the past two weeks or she wouldn't have anything to wear.
Sorting through the basket in the corner, she took out what she was planning to wash another day. Then, hiking the basket up onto her hip, she swung by the kitchen for the detergent and tromped down three flights of stairs to the building's laundry room. Finding a suitable machine, she went to work putting the first load through, telling herself to look on the bright side.
At least she wasn't nauseous.
0-0-0-0-0-0
The ring of his cell phone woke him from a deep sleep, and his hand fumbled for it. "'Lo?"
"Ray! Dude!"
He groaned. "Nick, it's -" He glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand and sighed. "Almost four."
"You work last night, man?"
"No, but I pulled two doubles last week; I'm wiped."
"Too wiped to jam tonight?"
Ray grinned as the fogginess of sleep began to fade. "I am never too wiped for that. And Neela's on at seven, so yeah, come on over."
"Okay if I pick up Bret and Riles and head over now?"
"Yeah, man, sounds good."
"Awesome, we'll be there in thirty."
"Perfect. Gives me enough time to grab a shower."
"Later, man."
"Later."
Ray disconnected the call and dragged himself out of bed. The apartment was far too warm for a hot shower, so he decided he'd better make it a cool one. Collecting his clothes, he padded down the hall towards the bathroom, passing Neela's open door on his way.
Glancing in, he saw that her bed sat pristinely made and smiled; she must be feeling better. The smile gave way to a frown as he realized her room was empty. She couldn't have left for work already, so he wondered where she'd gone.
His eyes caught the pile of clothes in the corner and he noted that her laundry basket was missing from its usual spot. Off doing the wash - definitely feeling better. Smile returning, he continued on to the bathroom and emerged from it nearly thirty minutes later; just as Nick's signature knock sounded on the front door.
Making a detour past his room, Ray tossed his pajamas onto his bed and moved to answer the door.
"Hey," Nick greeted him with a grin as the three men filed into the apartment, "the roomie around?"
"Nah, she's off doing laundry."
"Yo, Barnett," Riley called from the kitchen, "you're outta beer, man."
Ray sighed. "All right. I'll run down to the place around the corner and get some. You guys hang here; I'll be back in a few."
Sliding on his shoes, he pocketed his wallet and grabbed the apartment keys before slipping out the door.
0-0-0-0-0-0
The large fans were going, but they only succeeded in blowing the hot air around. She was starting to feel lightheaded from the heat, and prayed that the clothes would finish soon so she could collect her laundry and get out.
Just a little while longer, Neela. You'll be fine.
She repeated it to herself like a mantra as the next ten minutes passed like hours. She was never so glad to hear the buzz of the dryer. Swiping the back of her arm across her brow, she pulled the second load out and shoved it into the basket along with the detergent; she'd do the folding upstairs. Hiking the whole thing back up on her hip, she trudged back up to the apartment.
It hadn't been so bad, lugging it down to the laundry room, but she had gravity working against her now, and she was feeling worse with every step she climbed. By the time she reached the apartment door, she was so lightheaded and her legs and arms felt so shaky, it was a wonder she hadn't toppled backwards down the stairs.
She struggled through the door to find Ray's friends in the living room. Bret and Nick, she knew well; the other she'd only met a couple of times, and she couldn't recall his name. R-something.
Nick rose from the couch - followed by Bret - and came forward to take the basket from her, flashing her a grin. "Hey, Dr. Neela, how ya doin'?"
"Hey, Nick, Bret," she replied, forcing a smile as her vision darkened and she swayed backwards.
Bret's hand shot to her elbow to steady her. "Woah, you okay?"
Neela took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Just a little lightheaded, that's...all."
And then she was drifting backwards again, vaguely aware of a pair of arms catching her as everything went black.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Ray hummed to himself as he entered the building; case of beer in one hand, grocery bag of chips and snacks in the other. He set the beer and snack bag down under the mailboxes so he could check theirs in case Neela hadn't thought to when she'd come down to do the laundry. Fishing out the key, he unlocked their box and peeked inside.
She hadn't.
Reaching in, he grabbed the stack of mail and sifted briefly through it, eyes catching on the familiar white envelope with the red and blue edging and the postmark from Iraq. Locking the mailbox back up, he smiled and shifted the letter to the top of the pile, debating whether he should swing by the laundry room and give it to her now.
He decided against it; he could drop the beer and the snacks off, then come back down. That way his hands would be free to carry up the wash for her if she wanted. Putting the mail in the bag with the snacks for easier carrying, he collected it and the beer and headed up to the apartment.
"Hey," he called as he entered, "I got chips, too. And maybe we can order a pizza or someth..."
He trailed off as he took in the scene. Bret, Riley, and Nick were standing over the couch, looking down at his roommate, sprawled out across it.
Nick turned toward him, eyes frantic. "Ray! Dude, you gotta do something!"
The beer and the bag of snacks dropped simultaneously from his hands and he nearly tripped over an amp in his mad scramble to the couch. Elevating her feet on the arm of it, he looked into her flushed face and fought down the surge of panic in his chest as he hit his knees; hand already moving to the underside of her wrist.
Relief flooded through him at the strong, steady pulse that beat beneath his fingertips. "What happened?"
Nick shrugged. "She came in with the laundry, and she didn't look so good. We asked her if she was all right and she, like, fainted."
Ray looked up. "How long has she been out?"
Nick frowned. "Couple minutes. It happened, like, shortly before you came in."
"Did she hit her head on anything?"
Riley shook his head. "Bret caught her. Dude, we were about to call an ambulance or somethin'."
She hadn't hit her head, so that ruled out a concussion or other head trauma, and she was wearing a camisole, so he didn't have to loosen her collar. Leaning down, he listened to her breathing, calming further when he heard it was normal.
He glanced up at them again. "Did she say anything?"
"Just that she was lightheaded," Bret supplied.
Ray turned to Nick. "Get a towel out of the drawer in the kitchen and soak it in cold water."
He nodded and returned with the requested item in less than a minute. "Here you go, man."
Ray took it from him without a word and started wiping her down. Face first, then her neck and the top of her chest exposed by the camisole, then her shoulders, and finally her arms. He handed the cloth back to Nick and told him to wet it again. He did as instructed, and Ray was in the process of wiping her down a second time when her eyes fluttered open.
0-0-0-0-0-0
She blinked a few times. "Ray?"
He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Hey," he smiled softly, relief evident in his expression.
She frowned. "What happened?"
"You passed out; almost gave the guys a heart attack."
She shifted her gaze to the other three standing above her. "Sorry."
Bret smiled down at her. "S'okay. How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by the bloody El," she replied in a tired voice. Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, I have to be at work!"
She struggled to try and sit up, but Ray pushed her back down with gentle hands. "Only way you're going to the hospital tonight is as a patient."
"I'm fine."
"You passed out."
She fixed him with a hard stare. "Did I hit my head?"
He deflated a bit. "Uh, no. Bret caught you."
Her gaze shifted to the side. "Thank you."
"Anytime," Bret grinned, but it abruptly faded as Ray shot him a look and he cleared his throat, elbowing the others. "We're, uh...gonna take a raincheck on the jam session and get going. Feel better, Dr. Neela." He turned to Ray. "We'll call you, man."
Ray nodded. "Take the beer."
She watched as they headed for the door; Nick stopping to grab the case of beer on his way out. Neela turned back to Ray. "You didn't have to kick them out."
"Yes I did, because you, Roomie, are going to get checked out."
"I've already been checked out. I didn't hit my head, so I can't have a concussion. My vision's not blurry, I'm not nauseous - thank God - I don't have a headache..." She sighed. "If I can diagnose myself, I'm fine, Ray. Probably just a lack of food and this God-awful heat."
He narrowed his eyes. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Well, I had some yogurt and a banana for lunch in between patients yesterday," she gave him a sheepish look, "but it came up in the trauma."
"God, no wonder you passed out." He sighed. "Okay, you win. But I'm calling you out sick. And you're eating. Right now."
She nodded and silence descended, holding for several moments before she finally glanced over at him and spoke. "I'm sorry I ruined your night."
He smiled and gave a small laugh. "You didn't ruin it." His expression sobered. "But you did scare the hell out of me."
"I'm sorry."
He sighed. "It's okay. Just try not to do it again, huh?"
She smiled softly. "Deal."
He snapped his fingers as though he'd forgotten something and pulled himself up. Picking up the bag by the door, he pulled something out of it and returned to the couch, smiling as he held out a familiar envelope with an Iraqi postmark.
"By the way, this came for you today."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Ray shadowed her all the way to her room, arms held out on either side to catch her if she got lightheaded again. She'd rolled her eyes and sworn she was fine; feeling much better after some food and a cool shower. She was going to read her letter and relax, so he could quit worrying anytime.
Even so, a shred of panic lingered, and hours later, he stood in the open doorway, watching Neela sleep; needing to see that she was still there and still breathing.
He let the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest reassure him, and smiled as she shifted position. She was facing him now, with one hand curled against the pillow and a faint smile curving her lips; face a mask of peace he hadn't seen in weeks.
That letter must've been good. Whatever it was, it had certainly done the trick. He was glad. She was his roommate, but she was also his friend and he wanted her to be happy.
Sparing her one last glance, he moved quietly to the living room and made up the couch, sprawling himself across it as he stared up at the ceiling. Realistically, he knew that it was most likely the heat and lack of food, and she was probably fine now. But just in case she wasn't, he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, if she did pass out again, he was hauling her stubborn little ass into the ER to get checked out.
And this time, he wasn't taking no for an answer; he didn't give a damn what she said.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Neela made her way from the El station towards the hospital. The sun was just setting, taking the scorching heat of the day with it, and for once she was glad to be working the night shift.
She was still rather exhausted and queasy again, though not as bad as Monday. Her bladder was a different story, however, and she was definitely going to give Urology a call and get herself an appointment with someone because this was bloody ridiculous - she'd gone before she left the flat, she'd had to stop again once she'd gotten off the train, and she just knew she'd be paying a third visit when she finally got to the hospital.
But exhaustion, queasy stomach, and overactive bladder aside, she couldn't help the smile the split her lips. She'd read the letter so many times she had it memorized:
Dear Neela,
I'm sorry I haven't called, and I'm even sorrier it's taken me this long to write. Things are hectic here, as I'm sure you probably see on the news. We had a few close calls with RPG blasts, but I'm fine, so don't worry.
Actually, that's a lie; I'm not fine. I miss you. I wish I'd had more time with you in Chicago, and I wish we'd gotten to say a real goodbye before I left. More than that, I wish we'd gone out on an actual date before we - well, you know. But I guess we're always doing things backwards, aren't we? Still, I don't regret it, and I wouldn't change it. And when I get back from my tour, we'll do things right. Dinner, movie, dancing...the works.
Now, unfortunately, duty calls. We've got a mess of wounded coming in and I'm needed. But then, you know how that goes. Tell everyone at County I said to say hi. Oh, and tell Pratt he still owes me a rematch on that pool game.
Love,
Michael
She crossed to the other side of the street to avoid the smell of the hot dog cart that had set off her stomach on Monday and continued on. Arriving at the ambulance bay, she entered through the triage doors and waved hello to Jerry before making a beeline for the ladies' room.
She was just coming out of a stall when Abby entered. "Hey." Her former roommate eyed her carefully. "You feeling better?"
Neela moved to the sink to wash her hands. "Yeah. I've just been tired. Well, exhausted, actually. And I think I'm coming down with a bladder infection or something; seems like I've always got to go."
"Heard you threw up in a trauma on Monday."
She blushed. "Oh that. It's just this stupid stomach bug I got from a bunch of Girl Scouts on Saturday. Monday was awful; I could barely keep anything down."
"Lewis told us Ray said you passed out yesterday."
"Well, I hadn't eaten anything since Monday, and I went down to the laundry yesterday and it was so God-awful hot in there...I guess the stairs back up didn't help. But I'm much better today. Still pretty tired, and kind of queasy, and this bladder thing is annoying, but-"
Abby frowned. "Do your breasts hurt?"
Neela stared at her. "What kind of question is that?"
"Just answer it."
She thought for a moment. "Well, now you mention it, they are more tender than usual..." She eyed her suspiciously. "Why?"
Abby took a deep breath. "Neela..." she began, sounding as though she were unsure of how to say what it was she wanted to.
"Just spit it out already."
Abby drew in another breath. "Think about it. Exhaustion, nausea, frequent urination, tender breasts...fainting. Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"
Neela gave an incredulous snort. "What! No!"
But even as she denied it, her mind was running through the possibility. Michael had arrived in the States the first week in June, and her last period was...the blood suddenly drained from her face as she finished calculating.
She stared at Abby like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. "Oh shit."
