I'm beginning to feel that this is my tale of redemption. I think I'm trying to challenge your preconceptions of the characters with this fic as you probably can tell, but some of its harder to do than the rest, as was the case with this chapter, it's hard to think bad of Ray, but it's probably my favourite so far! Hope you enjoy. Thank you for all the great reviews, you're turning me into a review junkie!
I couldn't believe that they'd made the decision for me, all I had wanted was to go back to my apartment, never my home, and sleep. I didn't want them fussing around me, I only wanted peace and quiet and to be left alone. But they overruled me; it was Greg's apartment or be admitted to psych, which would have been even worse. I knew I was being ungrateful; I should have been pleased that they cared so much but I could only wish that they'd let me be.

There were so many questions. Why? What happened? Then apologies, the understanding looks, the pity. The sympathetic voices that I just wanted to be quiet. I had to deal with them all. The 'if you talk to us you'll feel better' sentiments, how could talking make what I'd done better? It would never bring Michael back; it would never give Ray his legs back.

They never left me alone; I wasn't capable of looking after myself, or being trusted on my own, according to them. Greg gave up any social life that he had to look after me, and when he was at work I was shifted from pillar to post, days spent with Abby and Joe, nights with Tony or Morris or Hope. Sam, Haleh, Chuny, Lucien and even Dusty were all on 'Neela-sitting duty' at some point over the weeks.

I was shepherded to my therapy sessions; hours spent with Katey, discussing my feelings, my anger, my guilt. As a doctor, as a surgeon, I'd never really given a lot of thought to the psychiatric side of treating a patient. Psych was for the loopy folk, the ones who spoke to aliens, or were aliens, the ones who thought they were somebody else, or someone was coming to take them away; it wasn't for me, relatively sane, relatively intelligent, just a simple person who'd become too tired to live what her life had become, to accept that she'd made it that way.

I had to try to put aside the fact that Katey blamed me for Ray's accident, trying to forget that her boyfriend had been in love with me, not her. But having to address the fact that I was in love with him. Having to confide in her that I also blamed myself for his accident, for how I'd treated him during that year. Trying to find the starting point, when had I first started to feel guilty, had something happened in my childhood to make me feel like this? The first time I felt this guilt, I remember was the night before Michael asked me to marry him. I was lying in bed with my boyfriend and I didn't want to be there; I wanted to be in the bed, in the room next door, with my roommate. But I pushed it, and those feelings, aside, and I kept pushing it away, until that conference with Lucien, and those cocktails, when I admitted that the only place I wanted to be was with Ray, and I could no longer push the guilt away.


'Hey man, are you busy?'

'Nah, just watching a bit of TV' he looked at Neela asleep on the couch, and for the first time in the weeks she'd been staying he felt that it would be okay to take the call.

'Anything good on?' Greg looked at the screen; it was the same thing they'd been watching every night that week.

'Celebrity Poker'

He heard Ray laughing down the phone 'Celebrity Poker? When the hell did you start watching that?'

'I've got a houseguest at the moment who rather likes it, and if it makes her happy I'll watch it' it didn't make her happy; it just briefly dented the haunted look in her eyes.

There was a long pause on the line, and when he spoke Ray sounded pensive 'ah, who's this houseguest, anyone I know?'

'Your old roommate, she's going through a bit of a hard time, so I'm keeping an eye on her for a while' a cautious response, testing the water to hear his reaction.

Another long pause, and this time when Ray spoke his voice was harder and more biting 'I kinda guessed, no one else I know watches that. What's wrong with her then?'

She stirred slightly beside him, and he realised that this wasn't the place to have this conversation. He took the phone into his room and closed the door 'she's suffering from depression, she's had a tough couple of years, and they've caught up with her, but we're trying to get her through it'

He heard a bitter laugh 'is that all? She should try losing her legs if she wants a tough time, what the hell's she had to deal with?'

He felt something snap inside him, his grip on the telephone tightening. How dare he belittle Neela's problems? He couldn't see her suffering, when he closed his eyes he didn't see her lying in the bed in her apartment, the evidence of her despair all around her, he didn't have the daily fear of answering the phone to hear that this time she'd succeeded. 'What's she had to deal with? You're joking right? Where should I start? Her husband died less than two months after she married him, her best friend was in an accident that she blames herself for, she was almost killed, and that's just the big three, the list goes on and on, but surely that's enough?'

Silence.

Silence and then…

'What do you mean, she was almost killed?' Ray asked almost hesitantly, with fear of the answer evident.

'She got caught up in that anti-war march here six months ago, she fell and was trampled, we almost lost her, she was pretty badly hurt' at the time he'd thought nothing worse could possibly happen to her, but he would happily trade the present Neela for the Neela of six months ago, but wouldn't that just be postponing the inevitable? Wasn't she already on this path by then?

'Why haven't you said anything before?' There was the tiniest trace of concern in Ray's voice, and Greg knew he should try and work on it, but he was just so angry and tired that he wasn't sure he could muster the energy.

'You've not asked about her' in all their conversations she was the only person he hadn't asked about, and Greg, knowing how he'd felt about her, hadn't wanted to broach the subject.

'You're kidding me? Shit, surely you thought I would want to know that!' Tension resonated down the line.

'I thought you didn't care about her anymore, for fuck sake Barnett, according to Neela, she's called you almost every day for the last six months, you could have asked her how she was, but you won't even speak to her' would it have cost him that much to talk to her? Perhaps if he'd done so, they wouldn't be in this mess.

'I don't care, she's dead to me, any feelings I had for her are gone, she means nothing to me. God, all of this, it's her fault, you know, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be in this shitty wheelchair' the denial was so strong, too strong, Greg could see straight through it; this guy was still in love with Neela. His voice belied his words, but it was clear that he wasn't going to admit it any time soon.

'Get a grip man, it was an accident, an accident, she didn't do this to you, she didn't pour the drink down your throat. It was nobody's fault; you need to stop blaming her if you're going to move on with your life. She's beating herself up over your accident as it is'

'Fuck off Greg; you don't know what you're talking about. She should be, she should be blaming herself, you don't know how much she messed me around, playing me off against Ga…'

Greg hung up; he couldn't talk to him when he was like this, not when he was seeing her at her weakest, not when he knew what the guilt was doing to her. He'd almost come out with it at the end. Almost hurled the words down the line, to see if Ray was capable of feeling the same level of pain as Neela, but he couldn't do it. Despite his harsh words the guy had suffered enough and her attempted suicide was something he didn't need to know about yet, if ever.