Fic: Stolen Moments Part 1
Title: Stolen Moments
Author: Starryjenr
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: The names of characters contained herein are the property of the copyright holder of "ER." No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and said characters are used here without permission.
Spoilers: None
Content Warning: None
Neela and Ray of course, what else would I write, share a moment. Its a two parter, I did consider a third part, and started to write it, but I think its better without, let you work it out the story behind it without me writing it for you, part 2 will be up later today or tomorrow at the latest. Hope you enjoy, I think its kind of bittersweet, but let me know what you think. Working on my other stuff as well, so we'll see how it goes.
Stolen Moments
He looks so peaceful as he sleeps, his face relaxed, his forehead smooth, the weight lifted from his shoulders. Its not the first time I've noticed, not the first time I've watched him. He's been back six months, six long, exhausting months. I don't think I've ever been as proud as I was that day seeing him walking back to work. It was just over a year since I'd seen him, I remember thinking he looked older, his brow furrowed, his face etched with pain, sorrow, grief, I'm not sure which, maybe it was all three. From my hiding spot I breathed him in, filling my body with the sight of him, the long over due sights and sounds like a drug to me, pumping through my veins, making me feel more alive than I had in months. I've watched him ever since, sneaking a glance, a moment just to luxuriate in his presence; nobody says anything, nobody notices at all.
He rarely left my mind after his accident and while I was recovering I'd find myself wondering how he'd reacted to his injuries, if he was once again rebelling against society with his punk rock music, crazy hair and insolence or if he'd managed to hold onto the maturity that he was growing into. That day, and since, it was clear that the latter was true. He was an older version of the Ray I'd come to love, more serious, the smile less eager to shine, the light not so bright in his eyes. But we all age, and grow more serious as life takes its tolls, how could we not? The new Ray works the holidays, picks up shifts nobody else wants, leaves to sleep and eat and then returns, the ER is his life now, not the nine to five job he once considered it.
I watch as a lock of hair falls across his forehead, only enhancing his boyish charm, and despite telling myself not to, I lean forward and brush it away. He's a light sleeper these days, awake at the first sign that he's needed, but he doesn't stir at my touch, the corner of his mouth turning up the only indication that he's even aware of it. What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through his hair, lower my lips to his, its one of those fantasies that I never grow tired off but it'll never come true, I've had my time and I accept that. The slight smile intrigues me and I wonder what's going through his mind, what he's dreaming of, I wonder if I'm present in his dreams as he always is in mine.
Last week I overhead Greg and Morris teasing him about a woman he was going out with, a statuesque, model like blonde, if they're to be believed - they were never like me, I was the anomaly in his life as he was in mine - dinner and a movie, Italian and action I would guess, he saves the horror for those who appreciate it or those he wants to torture, I'm not sure which it was for me. It was like a knife to the stomach. I spent hours in the ladies restroom, perched on the toilet seat, my legs pulled tight to my chest as the jealousy gnawed away at me, as I let my mind imagine what he was doing, what he was saying, whether he was touching her the way I always wanted him to touch me. I know the jealousy is unjustified, I know I pushed him away, sent him mixed signals, but the pain still made my chest tighten and salt water sting my eyes, and then my cheeks, as it descended.
The day after Morris was ribbing him about his date, something about how successful it must have been as he'd not seen him looking this rough since the first year of his residency, when he'd come in having partied all night. He was right, he was dishevelled, in a sexy sort of way, but when you looked closely his face was grey, his eyes hollow, raw pools of pain, and lines were etched in his skin as if carved into stone. He'd raised those hollow pools to Morris and no more was said, even Archie knew not to go any further when faced with that look. I'm not sure what happened that night, I've not heard any more, but he's not left since then, napping in the break room between shifts, allowing me to spend some more precious moments with him, memories to stow for later.
I'm used to him being around now, I don't think I ever believed he'd be back, but then after his accident, I never thought I'd hear his voice again and then one day I picked up the phone and there he was, and all that pain I'd caused us both seemed to fade away. I hear his voice all the time now, shouting out orders, teasing the nurses, I see his face every day, but the one thing I want the most is to touch him, really touch him, to feel his skin against mine, to smooth out those lines of pain, to make him smile again, but those are things I can't do.
I hear a change in the atmosphere outside the room, an urgency that wasn't there before, and I know that this time with him is about to end, I'll sneak away before he wakes, as he rushes away to repair another broken person, to save another life. One day I'll hear on the grapevine that he's leaving or getting married or some such thing, but until then I'll keep collecting these stolen moments with him, the man I loved for the rest of my life.
Author: Starryjenr
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: The names of characters contained herein are the property of the copyright holder of "ER." No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and said characters are used here without permission.
Spoilers: None
Content Warning: None
Neela and Ray of course, what else would I write, share a moment. Its a two parter, I did consider a third part, and started to write it, but I think its better without, let you work it out the story behind it without me writing it for you, part 2 will be up later today or tomorrow at the latest. Hope you enjoy, I think its kind of bittersweet, but let me know what you think. Working on my other stuff as well, so we'll see how it goes.
Stolen Moments
He looks so peaceful as he sleeps, his face relaxed, his forehead smooth, the weight lifted from his shoulders. Its not the first time I've noticed, not the first time I've watched him. He's been back six months, six long, exhausting months. I don't think I've ever been as proud as I was that day seeing him walking back to work. It was just over a year since I'd seen him, I remember thinking he looked older, his brow furrowed, his face etched with pain, sorrow, grief, I'm not sure which, maybe it was all three. From my hiding spot I breathed him in, filling my body with the sight of him, the long over due sights and sounds like a drug to me, pumping through my veins, making me feel more alive than I had in months. I've watched him ever since, sneaking a glance, a moment just to luxuriate in his presence; nobody says anything, nobody notices at all.
He rarely left my mind after his accident and while I was recovering I'd find myself wondering how he'd reacted to his injuries, if he was once again rebelling against society with his punk rock music, crazy hair and insolence or if he'd managed to hold onto the maturity that he was growing into. That day, and since, it was clear that the latter was true. He was an older version of the Ray I'd come to love, more serious, the smile less eager to shine, the light not so bright in his eyes. But we all age, and grow more serious as life takes its tolls, how could we not? The new Ray works the holidays, picks up shifts nobody else wants, leaves to sleep and eat and then returns, the ER is his life now, not the nine to five job he once considered it.
I watch as a lock of hair falls across his forehead, only enhancing his boyish charm, and despite telling myself not to, I lean forward and brush it away. He's a light sleeper these days, awake at the first sign that he's needed, but he doesn't stir at my touch, the corner of his mouth turning up the only indication that he's even aware of it. What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through his hair, lower my lips to his, its one of those fantasies that I never grow tired off but it'll never come true, I've had my time and I accept that. The slight smile intrigues me and I wonder what's going through his mind, what he's dreaming of, I wonder if I'm present in his dreams as he always is in mine.
Last week I overhead Greg and Morris teasing him about a woman he was going out with, a statuesque, model like blonde, if they're to be believed - they were never like me, I was the anomaly in his life as he was in mine - dinner and a movie, Italian and action I would guess, he saves the horror for those who appreciate it or those he wants to torture, I'm not sure which it was for me. It was like a knife to the stomach. I spent hours in the ladies restroom, perched on the toilet seat, my legs pulled tight to my chest as the jealousy gnawed away at me, as I let my mind imagine what he was doing, what he was saying, whether he was touching her the way I always wanted him to touch me. I know the jealousy is unjustified, I know I pushed him away, sent him mixed signals, but the pain still made my chest tighten and salt water sting my eyes, and then my cheeks, as it descended.
The day after Morris was ribbing him about his date, something about how successful it must have been as he'd not seen him looking this rough since the first year of his residency, when he'd come in having partied all night. He was right, he was dishevelled, in a sexy sort of way, but when you looked closely his face was grey, his eyes hollow, raw pools of pain, and lines were etched in his skin as if carved into stone. He'd raised those hollow pools to Morris and no more was said, even Archie knew not to go any further when faced with that look. I'm not sure what happened that night, I've not heard any more, but he's not left since then, napping in the break room between shifts, allowing me to spend some more precious moments with him, memories to stow for later.
I'm used to him being around now, I don't think I ever believed he'd be back, but then after his accident, I never thought I'd hear his voice again and then one day I picked up the phone and there he was, and all that pain I'd caused us both seemed to fade away. I hear his voice all the time now, shouting out orders, teasing the nurses, I see his face every day, but the one thing I want the most is to touch him, really touch him, to feel his skin against mine, to smooth out those lines of pain, to make him smile again, but those are things I can't do.
I hear a change in the atmosphere outside the room, an urgency that wasn't there before, and I know that this time with him is about to end, I'll sneak away before he wakes, as he rushes away to repair another broken person, to save another life. One day I'll hear on the grapevine that he's leaving or getting married or some such thing, but until then I'll keep collecting these stolen moments with him, the man I loved for the rest of my life.