E.R./X-Men: Allegiance [2/8]
Title: Allegiance
Fandoms: E.R./X-Men Movieverse
Spoilers: Up to the end of E.R. season 13, rewriting "I don't," rewriting X2, and ignoring everything that came afterwards on both fronts, except for some backstory borrowed from X3
Characters: Ray, Neela, Jean, Xavier, Abby, Cyclops, Kovac, Gates & pretty much all the X2 ensemble
Pairings: Ray/Neela, canon pairings
Wordcount: ~ 33,000 words
Rating: teen (PTSD, discussion of child abuse, mutant hate, things going boom)
Summary: Ray doesn't need the Professor to tell him that you can't outrun your past. But that doesn't mean he'll stop trying - even when his mutant powers destroy the life he has built in Chicago, and William Stryker targets his old team.
AN: This fic is a reimagination of X2 (and parts of E.R.), pretty much like the story might have worked out if Ray Barnett was a central comicverse character who thus had to have been a part of the movie. I hope that many people will have fun reading it no matter the fandom combination is so obscure! Thanks to gabilar94 for answering questions about Boston, and to millari, who did a fabulous job betaing. She, BTW, doesn't know either fandom, so if you're considering reading this despite only knowing one of them, I think it's absolutely worth a shot. Plus, there are fandom cheat sheets.
Fandom Cheat Sheet for those who don't know E.R. -- Fandom Cheat Sheet for those who don't know the X-Men Movieverse
Prologue -- Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Ray dropped the inventory clipboard onto a tray. It was the only sound in the room; there should have been an echo, but the alloy of the infirmary walls absorbed it. Again, he had a look around. The room was a research lab gone field hospital rather than a place to patch up bruised knees, except that it was neither underfunded and understaffed, nor drowning in patients without medicare. It was nothing like any place he'd ever worked at.
It didn't look like any patients would be coming forth, any time soon.
A shudder ran down his spine, the sound of his steps swallowed up by the silence. Eric Lehnsherr had left around the same time Ray had started college, almost ten years ago, but everything about the basement laced in steel still screamed of his presence. Lehnsherr had always made Ray uncomfortable, but just in that way adults did if they wouldn't take your shit. It was crazy to think that he was rotting in a plastic prison now for trying to stage a coup d'etat. He'd been great at teaching physics.
Then again, it was crazy that there was a Lockheed SR-71 parked in a hangar no fifty feet from here. It was crazy that he knew how to fly it. Playing soldier in a fight to give more rights to freaks and...
Ray suddenly was overcome by that terrible need to get out and run as far and fast as he could. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have to be here. There should be some other place, any place where he could go.
At least, a place where they said "I told you so" aloud instead of patting his shoulders and showing him to his old room, the one they'd kept for him as if they'd known he'd fail.
Family is where they have to take you in.
The sudden voice behind him made him jump.
"So you're the new guy, huh?"
"Whoa," he said. "Didn't see you there."
The girl that had materialized in the middle of the room smirked. She was the picture of a teenager happiest when she could best an adult, hands buried in the pockets of a screaming yellow coat, noisily chewing and popping a pink gum bubble. Maybe thirteen, she was a mix of a child's soft features and a teen's bravado.
"And hey, I'm not new," Ray added. "I used to go to school here." Kids at least he could deal with. Xavier claimed they projected emotions more honestly and thus appealed to his empathy, but Ray chose to believe they were just easier to satisfy. "I'm Ray Barnett. Call me Ray."
The girl glanced at his hand cautiously before taking it. "I'm Jubilee. Are you really a doctor? You don't, like, look like one."
"Why's that?"
"It says Hail Satan on your shirt."
"Come on, it's a great shirt. The Dead Kennedys went on tour with that shirt." He grinned at her. "So, it's nice to meet you, Jubilee. I've been a doctor for three years, so I think I'm qualified." He'd have been a R4 two months from now, had been hoping they'd offer him an attending spot along with Abby in the end. No need to think of lost chances, though. It was over. He'd dumped his cell into a waste bin in Chicago. "Did you come to get medical attention, Jubilee?"
"Nah, maybe next time. I just thought I'd say hi. Everybody says you gonna be part of the X-Men, but Dr. Grey says you're just gonna be the new doctor because she's too busy." As Jubilee spoke, he'd picked up the inventory list again and put it back on the shelf where it belonged. She followed him curiously. "Mr. Summers says he'd be okay with you on his team although you're a bit of a prick."
Ray forced himself to chuckle. "Aw, I'm sure he only meant it in the best of ways."
So he was pretty sure that Scott hadn't told Jubilee that to her face; probably she or one of her telepath classmates had snooped. It still annoyed him to hear that the conversation had even taken place, though. He'd made it pretty clear that he'd come back because he'd had to leave Chicago, not because he'd suddenly developed an overwhelming need to fight for mutant rights. Westchester was just the place to go if you screwed up, he thought bitterly.
A way to escape from the look in people's - Neela's - eyes when nothing good could come out of facing them anymore, anyway.
"So, Jubilee," he said, trying to focus on the labeled boxes on the shelf. If he was supposed to take care of the kids during emergencies, he better knew where everything was stashed. It was still creepy, though - most of this equipment he only recognized because Clemente hadn't been able to shut up about it. "Tell me about you. How long have you been here?"
"Oh, a couple of years," she said. "I, like, lived in a mall for a while before the Professor found me. As a kid. But it's better here. Better food. So you really gonna be an X-Man, huh? Miss Munroe told us all about your powers. She says they're pretty cool and powerful, but you don't like testing them out because you're so careful. What's your call sign?"
"It's 'It's none of your business,' because I'm not going to be an X-Man." He smirked at her on his way over to the next shelf, laughing at her when she gave him a look. His call sign had been Threshold, sounding just as ridiculous to him as the whole idea of using one overall. Sid Vicious, Pat Smears - hell, yes, Threshold - no, thanks. "Why were you living at a mall?"
"Aren't you supposed to be asking me what my powers are?"
God, there it was again - the reason why he hated this place. He hung his head for a second, taking a deep breath. "What are your powers, Jubilee?"
"What?" She sounded puzzled. "Aren't you curious?"
He forced himself to stay patient. "What are your powers?"
There was a moment of calculating pause. "I make fireworks," Jubilee said. "I project pyrotechnic energy plasmoids." It was recited in that smooth way that came from saying it a lot even if you weren't sure why you should bother. "Want to see?"
"In a room full of medical equipment? That would be a no."
"You're weird." It was half an accusation, half a statement of fact.
It was obvious that Jubilee was a nice kid, in that obnoxious way that Ray always knew to appreciate in that age group. But his apartment in Chicago and his band and the ever-busy County were gone, replaced by a basement built by Magneto and a team of so-called superheroes waiting for him to just jump at the chance of playing along. Replaced by a kid asking about things he'd spent the greater part of his adult life trying to forget.
There were things 'Ro could have said to him in Chicago. She could have reminded him that plenty of mutants lived an open life even if it was hard and dangerous - like Hank going off to have a career in politics, Jean and Scott getting engaged and talking of children. But she hadn't, because 'Ro had barely survived being beaten to death by her village when she was twelve. And Ray--
(Fifteen again and all fight draining out of him because his classmates staring at him in awe and shock and fear was one thing, but his father stepping into the living room and his face hardening was another. There was no fighting him here, no dignity, just begging and recoiling from--)
He could taste the adrenaline in his mouth all over again, feeling bile rise.
Making himself turn and face Jubilee, Ray saw she had jumped onto the exam table, dangling her legs and looking at him innocently while awaiting a reply - a bizarre sight, in contrast with the memory. The girl's jaw was still at work on the gum. He didn't have to wonder if Neela had tried calling him again, Ray tried to remind himself. It wouldn't change a thing.
"It doesn't matter what people's powers are, Jubilee," he heard himself say. "I know that's what everybody here likes telling you, that it's a great thing to be a powerful mutant, but they're getting it wrong, alright?" Lehnsherr would have said it the loudest. Xavier and Scott and Jean liked to act like they were so different, but weren't. But at least Ray wouldn't have to face Neela here, or Kovac rightfully looking at him like Ray was about to have a go at him with an axe. Nobody here was preparing Jubilee for that, but thinking it away didn't make it real. He himself had just been reminded of that the hard way, and it hurt. "The fact that you have a mutation has nothing to do with who you are. You're what you want to be. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise, okay?"
"Yeah, you're weird," Jubilee said.
Then, "The Professor says your mutation sucks for being a doctor like Dr. Grey's."
Geez. "I'm pretty sure the Professor doesn't even know that word." More harshly than was necessary, Ray pointed at the door. "Now get out of here before somebody starts looking for you. I'm pretty sure kids aren't allowed on the lower levels without an injury."
"Weird," Jubilee mouthed at him and he managed to quirk his lips in answer, but she was already moving, years of experience with workaholic scientists having taught her when to let go.
Blindly, Ray reached for a chair to roll closer, slumping down on it and leaning onto the exam table to bury his face in his hands. He really didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to be doing here. Except for how everything else he'd tried had failed. He and 'Ro had gone back to his apartment to pick up his clothes and guitar; he couldn't believe there'd been nothing to take but his guitar. All his other possessions were just based on that nice little lie he'd cooked up. Work stuff. Pictures. Knickknack Neela hadn't taken along when she'd left.
Careful digging had revealed that Gates hadn't filed for assault, so the one way in which he wasn't facing a worst-case-scenario was in that he wasn't dealing with a lawsuit. Or a dead body. God...
("We should have drowned you at birth," Joshua Bartlett said. "We should have..."
Ray took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from shaking, willing the images away.
Here he was, stuck at a place that owned a military jet, responsible for stopping the world's greatest terrorist, when the big guns where nothing he - any mutant - should ever be allowed access to. Kids like Jubilee propably dreamed about being an X-Man.
He was still shaking.
Ray. Are you alright?
The abrupt intrusion made Ray want to scream from frustration, hit one of those fucking dampening walls or kick one of those damn fancy shelves. Instead, it just made him shudder all over. He didn't want to be here. He'd never wanted to be anywhere less.
Something is happening at the White House, the Professor continued in a steady mental voice when he didn't offer a reaction. Come to my office immediately. The others are already on their way.
It has nothing to do with me, he felt like projecting in answer yet didn't, brushing his hair out of his forehead unable to chase that terrible feeling of failure out of his bones. But the Professor seemed to have heard him anyway, or maybe he just knew him that well.
It has everything to do with you, Ray.
The voice was gone then like it had never been there, gone with it the illusion of calm the Professor projected that hadn't worked in the first place. It had been Neela who'd been able to set him at ease about himself, making him wish he really was the man she saw, making him wish it was possible for him to confess. Never Xavier. Xavier with his joy in using his powers and the machines he built to amplify it even more just made him want to be somewhere else.
His father's voice seemed to be ringing in the infirmary, mixing spite with disgust.
Muttering a swearword as a way of grounding himself firmly in the present, Ray picked himself up. Xavier might have bowed to his preference of being called by his real name, but it still looked like he was about to go and find out what was happening at the White House - just like any other X-Man.
---
Taking two stairs at a time on her way down to the E.R., Neela felt like she'd stop being able to breathe once she reached it, yet everything in her screamed to get there quickly. She'd traded away an appendix for Heather's E.R. consult without thinking.
"In a hurry to get somewhere, Neela?" Lucien shouted after her at the elevators, and she barely turned to throw him a question.
"Have you seen Ray?"
The look of pity following her made an answer unnecessary. Neela grimaced. It had been stupid to think that Ray would have shown up for this shift if he hadn't before.
The news had made it through all of County - everybody had been at the wedding. An attending from ICU had been unveiled to have studied mutations in med school, classifying Ray with cheerful schadenfreude, words like psionic manipulation and alpha mutation and combat power circulating from surgery down to the morgue. Psionic powers were found to be often connected with telepathy, and the occasional nurse was now convinced that Ray had manipulated their minds.
It's called candy, Neela thought with spite. Candy and smiles, and he didn't even bother being subtle about it. It had had nothing to do with mutations.
Heads up, she walked down the hallway. "You'd tell us if he'd hidden any mutant body parts from us, right?" Morris had asked her. Nobody was quite ready to believe that she truly hadn't known. It had made her face burn, not just because of what people assumed about them, but also because she felt so stupid, never having noticed anything wrong. And because they thought she'd helped him hide.
Because Neela wasn't so sure that she would have.
The very same Ray who had shared an apartment with her for over a year, who'd made her heart flutter whenever she got close to him was mutated. In his brain. Like the ones they treated sometimes, the ones that everybody tried to ditch because they sometimes smelled funny, and often were altered - standing in line with the homeless and crazies. It was mind-boggling, him and them, two pieces that refused to fit together.
And now Ray had vanished. Eyeliner and affronting shirts and defiance and everything, he was gone, retreating from the battle right at the kick off.
Nobody approached her, the E.R. unusually deserted. Neela saw the reason when she reached Admit: The whole staff seemed to have gathered there, mingling with visitors and patients around the TV.
She frowned, pushing past the nurses.
"What's going on?"
Sam answered without turning away from the screen. "There's been an attack on the President. They say there was a mutant in the White House and he just beamed himself into the Oval Office or something."
"He couldn't get past the FBI and got out," Malik supplied, eyes fixed on the screen. "President's supposed to be alright. But it's just one of the first reports. Man, they could be lying to prevent a panic."
"What?" Neela managed.
It was one of those things. She couldn't possibly have heard right. Things like this didn't happen, particularly not now.
"Mutant freak killer looks like the blazin' devil," Frank said.
It was impossible not to think of Ray. Neela turned to the TV with a cold feeling in her guts. She'd already been in America back on September 11th, drowning in the dread of starting med school in a foreign country but unable to not be frozen by fear alongside everybody at what had seemed to be the start of a world war. It was like that again, she could feel it, people all over the states rushing for their remotes, hospitals and offices and stores coming to a halt.
All that came to mind reflexively were the pictures from the media of the lion-like man found dead under the Statue of Liberty last year, furred beasts and hulks making the news by throwing over cars and hunting children. Terrorist activity. Altered patients grinning at them. And Ray - ramming a wall of air against everybody with a flick of his wrist like it was nothing, even when drunk.
Oh my god. Neela stared at the screen. News anchor alternating with pictures of helicopters circling the White House and snippets of security camera footage mostly showing smoke; newslets rapidly flashing across the screen. Words like assassination attempt and state of emergency and mutant terrorist organizations flashed out at her.
"...have yet to release any more information on the hunt for the mutant assassin," the news anchor said breathlessly, sky above the White House behind her obscurely bright and blue. "Washington airports remain closed as a statewide search is initiated for a being that has been described as blue-skinned, tailed and horned like Satan himself." There was a pause when she listened to her earpiece, turning towards the camera with wide eyes. "We can now show you the first clear picture of the assailant released by the FBI. This is going to run on all channels. The safety of America relies on your help. Have you seen this mutant?"
The picture changed to show what seemed to be an enlarged part of a video still, pixeled but cleared up with contrast and light. Neela heard people gasp behind her, but her eyes were glued to the screen when she stared at the... thing. It had been captured in motion, blue scales covering its face and its fangs bared, eyes wildly twisted to look at something outside the frame. Its face seemed more rectangular than that of a human, long and gaunt. Traditional genetics said that it couldn't exist.
"We now have a number for you to call if you can give the Secret Service any hints about the origins and identity of this being. Please call 9-1-1 immediately if you encounter it, or report any information directly to 2-0-2, 5-0..."
Swallowing convulsively, Haleh turned and rushed out of the room. She tried to keep it quiet, but everybody knew her niece had gills.
"That means war," Pratt said what they were all thinking, standing in the middle of the crowd with the remote. He hardened his face. "Doesn't matter that that Magneto guy is locked away now. There's still enough of those terrorists out there and now they've declared war on us."
Us. Them. There was something ugly about those words even here and now, when they were the first words to come to mind. Neela wrapped her arms around herself when she shuddered, feeling too cold.
"What did you expect?" Sam said. "They're treated like shit by everybody, it's hardly surprising they've started lashing out. Can you blame them?"
"For attacking the President? Damn right I can," Pratt shot back.
"Yeah, doesn't anybody else think there's something weird about that attack?" That was Tony. Turning like she had been slapped, Neela hadn't even noticed he was there. Despite the situation, she had to resist an urge to hide behind Frank.
"What do you mean?"
Tony shrugged; the cut on his forehead still wrapped, he'd otherwise been fine to start his shift. Dr. Kovac had told Neela that he'd decided against pressing charges, but he had called her about a dozen times ever since, probably to gloat. She'd never called him back. "I'm just saying," he said. "The last big thing on the agenda was the Mutant Registration Act, right, and that one never made it. So they got what they wanted, didn't they? So why attack the President now?"
"Maybe things aren't moving fast enough for their liking," Frank cut in."President's not exactly a mutie lover. It's why I voted for him in the first place."
"Anybody think that it might not have been terrorists at all?" That was Abby, who Neela also hadn't noticed before, her slender frame half hidden amongst the crowd. "It could have been just that one unstable guy." Finding her co-workers throwing her looks, she raised her hands in defense. "What? We treat them here every day. He could be schizophrenic or just pissed."
"Just another reason why we need that Registration Act," Frank said, and Pratt nodded.
"You've got a point there."
Three feet over, Sam looked like she was considering the notion while, at the same time, throwing guilty looks in the direction Haleh had left. It was too much to take in, and Neela found herself opening her mouth just to close it again, entirely out of words.
"Anybody else think it's fishy that Barnett vanished just before this happened?" Frank quipped.
Just like that, Neela had trouble breathing. Her chest was too tight.
"Oh come on, get a grip," Tony, of all people, said with a disbelieving laugh. "Ray?"
"Yes, Frank, Ray's secretly Lex Luthor and he'll come haunt you with his death beam now for figuring him out." Abby said in a distracted tone that sounded like she was focusing on the television again.
The knot in Neela's chest loosened a little, though each attempt to breathe still felt painful.
This can't be happening. It can't be happening. The words kept repeating in her head.
"Neela, hey, are you alright?" It was Tony, suddenly by her side - too close - and lowering his voice so that nobody would hear.
"I'm fine," Neela muttered, edging away. Bollocks.
"You seriously think Ray could have something to do with the attack? Are you kidding?" Sam sounded flummoxed, but not quite ready to dismiss the notion out of hand.
"You heard what that ICU quack said about how he has a combat power?" Frank shot back. "Maybe it's time somebody forced the hospital administration to have a look at who they hired back when. It's about time somebody checks Barnett's police record, too. I should have done that ages ago. You never know what you'll find."
"Are you really alright?" Tony repeated stubbornly, ignoring the others.
"I need to get out of here." Getting out of here would be a splendid idea. Neela needed air, room to breathe. As she spoke, she was already moving, fighting her way past Malik towards the ambulance bay.
"I'll come with you."
"I don't need you here," she managed and, when his hand wouldn't immediately leave her shoulder, repeated louder, "I don't need you here!"
She didn't care that Tony had taken the mutants' side. She wasn't even sure that she did so herself. The last thing she needed right now was to have Tony looming in her back and having to explain again what she meant when she said it was over. Just because Ray was a mutant didn't mean she'd want to be with Tony again. It wasn't either or.
"Hey, Gates, give her some space." Abby's voice, and whatever the expression on her face, Tony was gone, a safe empty space forming around Neela. A moment later, it was filled by her friend materializing at her side, displaying that great gift of providing what everybody needed exactly at the right time. "Want to go get a cup of coffee?"
"I'm not sure anybody will be making coffee anywhere right now," Neela managed. The President had been attacked by a mutant assassin, one now on the loose. Everybody would be glued to the telly.
"I don't think they even know we have a democracy at the kiosk." Abby crooked her head. "They won't know if we don't tell them? Come on."
Neela followed her without further resistance, grateful that her friend was taking the lead.
---
It was later that day when Neela and Abby found themselves at Ike's, waiting for Luka, who was attending his last department head meeting as Chief. Neela was scheduled to accompany them home on the El and babysit Joe while the newlyweds spent the evening out. It was a meager surrogate for the honeymoon delayed by closed airports. There had been reports of a suspected sighting of the assassin in Rockford just an hour ago - news anchors gloomily hinting that he might very well have the power to appear in any place. Ever so often, the blinding lights of a police patrol car driving by would illuminate their table. Neela couldn't help but look up and follow them with her eyes every time.
Nevertheless, it was a good thing to still see that shy kind of joy on Abby's face, like she kept rediscovering that it was there, or like she felt it would be out of place. The personal part of the wedding, at least, had been a success.
"Have you talked to Gates again?" Abby asked. Neela was nursing a coke, missing Ray holding a beer at the ready for her something fierce. After spending the day filled with anxiety about all the conflicting emotions he had left in his wake, it appeared now she was too exhausted to sort them out. She'd have to sit down and research mutations at Abby's.
There was that dizzying sense of loss, because Neela just knew he was gone for good - she still had a key to his apartment, having found it missing his clothes, his guitar and his fish, still nothing there hinting at what he was. She just didn't know if she was missing Ray, or the person she'd thought he was, the one that had turned out to be a carefully cultivated lie.
The last item on her list of things to deal with was Tony Gates. Neela rolled her eyes. "He came after me twice today," she said. "I think he's waiting for me to tell him I want him back out of some twisted sense of gratitude because he didn't press charges against Ray." Then, out of an entirely different emotion, "I can't believe he just left." Not meaning Tony. Not meaning Tony at all.
It was obvious for Abby, too. "Well, can you really blame him? Everybody is growing pretty mad at him at this point. Hell, I'm not sure I'd think it was a good idea if he'd stayed." She shrugged, playing with her glass. "No offense. But a mutant doctor at County? Even if Anspaugh stood for it, how is that supposed to work?" Taking a sip of her drink, she added, "And concerning Gates, I'm not surprised that he doesn't give up that fast. He isn't the type."
"That's the fucking problem I'd been having with him in the first place." In the back of her mind, there was a voice telling Neela that this had bad break-up written all over: Tony wasn't that bad a bloke, she knew that, but Neela was just exasperated by him and everything he did at this point. She wanted to be angry at him, him and his insufferable habit of conquering his women and besting his men. Ray... she didn't dare guess anymore what Ray had been thinking. But Ray had been drunk. Tony should have sucked it up.
Sighing in annoyance, she resolved to prop up her chin on her hand. "I can't believe they wrecked your wedding like that. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. It's not fair."
Abby paused for a moment. Then she said, "You know, I'm not even that sure about what to think of mutants." It was a strange non sequitur, except maybe it wasn't. Listlessly, Neela conceded that she didn't know. "Or that he's been lying about it, although I'm not sure I can blame him. It's really hard to judge what's going on if we don't even know what kind of a mutation he has. It might be a lot more harmless than we're making it be. Or worse. But really? After all that has happened today, I'm just happy he got out before the attack. I hope he's at a place where he can hide."
"How do you think you'd have reacted if he'd just come out to you?"
Abby crooked her head. Like Neela, she didn't know any mutants personally. "It isn't really like being gay or black, is it?"
"Homosexuality can't get people killed," Neela pointed out reasonably. Gays hadn't attacked the President, although god knew they had a reason to do so. But gays were no more harmful than heterosexuals. People of color were just that; Neela should know. Mutants, on the other hand, were often dangerous. Fearing them made sense.
"Yeah, nothing like safer sex for mutations." Abby shrugged. "I don't really know. Do you?"
Neela just grimaced, chin still resting on her palm when she was too tired and frustrated to lift it. Fact was that she didn't know anything. It was ridiculous - she was a damn surgeon and yet she turned out not to have a better understanding of the mutant issue than anybody else.
Yes, Ray had always manipulated people and lied - one day he was from Louisiana, the next from Florida, depending on what he wanted to achieve. She'd never know where he was from if he hadn't deconstructed the setting of Philadelphia for her one night to cheer her up. But he was still Ray. Petty and lazy lies, not important ones, not professional ones, the ones Weaver had kept waiting for up to the day she'd left. He'd never lied to Neela after a while, or so she'd thought. It still seemed like just another annoying character quirk.
Maybe Ray was still Ray. Maybe he was an entirely different person. As long as he stayed gone, she'd never know.
Psych 101: People tended to think things were connected just because they happened at the same time. The attack on the President didn't change anything about Ray. Neela resolved that she had to start believing that or she'd just lose her mind.
Clothes rustled. Looking up, she saw that Abby had turned to wave at Dr. Kovac standing in the entrance. Walking over, the attending dropped down on an empty chair. Taking a moment to kiss Abby hello, he focused on Neela without wasting more time. "Neela, I think you'd want to know this first. There have been news about Ray at the department head meeting."
Across the table, Abby perked up. Neela couldn't help a sense of dread filling her. It had to be something terrible on a day like this. Ray was fired. He'd face charges. The hospital had made up their mind about a mutant policy, and nobody else would ever hire him again.
"What is it?"
"I'm afraid he's gone for the time being. He's requested a sabbatical to work for a research project in New York, by mail, and it's been granted. It's expected that he's going to drop out of his contract by the end of this year of residency."
"Wait, what?" Abby said. "When did County start granting sabbaticals to residents?"
Neela's hand had dropped to the table with a thud. It rather felt like her attempt to decide on a facial expression remained unsuccessful.
"It's a very prestigious research project by one of the leaders in the field - a Hank McCoy," Luka said. "The administration feels that it would be very fortunate for County to be associated with his work." He focused on Neela, putting on the reassuring air that worked so well for patients and interns. "This is a good thing, Neela. It means the hospital won't institute an anti-mutant policy. An association with this McCoy would prevent that. So Ray will be able to apply at other hospitals with a good vita." Hesitating for a moment, he added, "I think you should also know that the request came with a generous donation to the hospital fund. They couldn't afford to refuse it."
It took a moment for Neela to come up with words. "That can't be right" she said. Her first instinct was denial - too much new information at once. "You have to have misunderstood something."
"It was made perfectly clear."
"He paid them off?" Abby repeated, dumbstruck. "Ray?"
Ray who had lived on the hospital roof during his first week in Chicago. Ray whose publication list existed only in the abstract. Ray who wasn't even from New York. How much money did you need to bribe a hospital into a change of policy?
"His benefactors did, anyway," Luka said. "Apparently, McCoy called Anspaugh personally this morning to talk about the proposition." He gave them a meaningful look.
Luka continued answering Abby's questions about the meeting, about who had taken what side using which arguments. His own insecurity about how to handle the mutant issue shown through - but who was Neela to criticize Luka? Apparently, the one department head to take a stand for mutant rights had been that weirdo from Psychiatrics.
If she could just talk to Ray, she could figure it all out. All she needed was one chance at looking at him and talking to him and finding out if he really was a different person from who she had thought.
Because if he was still the same man, her feelings for him didn't change. Her realization that she could be with him, that she was allowed to without feeling guilty, didn't stop applying. Michael had been dead for over a year, and it had been time she cleaned up the mess she'd left in the wake of his death. Assuming that Ray was still... Ray. It had been time to take the initiative for once.
But... maybe.
Maybe it still was.
"They do research in mutant genetics?" Abby was saying.
There had to be contact information at HR. If there was a research project, there was data on it, and Neela knew the name of the head of the project - Hank McCoy.
If she really wanted to, Ray had left a way behind to track him down, a way to get all the answers she needed from him. She'd just have to make herself deal with it all heads on. It wasn't like being gay or a person of color, but it was still Ray.
Neela refused to spend the rest of her life wondering about yet another what-if.
on to the next part
Fandoms: E.R./X-Men Movieverse
Spoilers: Up to the end of E.R. season 13, rewriting "I don't," rewriting X2, and ignoring everything that came afterwards on both fronts, except for some backstory borrowed from X3
Characters: Ray, Neela, Jean, Xavier, Abby, Cyclops, Kovac, Gates & pretty much all the X2 ensemble
Pairings: Ray/Neela, canon pairings
Wordcount: ~ 33,000 words
Rating: teen (PTSD, discussion of child abuse, mutant hate, things going boom)
Summary: Ray doesn't need the Professor to tell him that you can't outrun your past. But that doesn't mean he'll stop trying - even when his mutant powers destroy the life he has built in Chicago, and William Stryker targets his old team.
AN: This fic is a reimagination of X2 (and parts of E.R.), pretty much like the story might have worked out if Ray Barnett was a central comicverse character who thus had to have been a part of the movie. I hope that many people will have fun reading it no matter the fandom combination is so obscure! Thanks to gabilar94 for answering questions about Boston, and to millari, who did a fabulous job betaing. She, BTW, doesn't know either fandom, so if you're considering reading this despite only knowing one of them, I think it's absolutely worth a shot. Plus, there are fandom cheat sheets.
Fandom Cheat Sheet for those who don't know E.R. -- Fandom Cheat Sheet for those who don't know the X-Men Movieverse
Prologue -- Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Ray dropped the inventory clipboard onto a tray. It was the only sound in the room; there should have been an echo, but the alloy of the infirmary walls absorbed it. Again, he had a look around. The room was a research lab gone field hospital rather than a place to patch up bruised knees, except that it was neither underfunded and understaffed, nor drowning in patients without medicare. It was nothing like any place he'd ever worked at.
It didn't look like any patients would be coming forth, any time soon.
A shudder ran down his spine, the sound of his steps swallowed up by the silence. Eric Lehnsherr had left around the same time Ray had started college, almost ten years ago, but everything about the basement laced in steel still screamed of his presence. Lehnsherr had always made Ray uncomfortable, but just in that way adults did if they wouldn't take your shit. It was crazy to think that he was rotting in a plastic prison now for trying to stage a coup d'etat. He'd been great at teaching physics.
Then again, it was crazy that there was a Lockheed SR-71 parked in a hangar no fifty feet from here. It was crazy that he knew how to fly it. Playing soldier in a fight to give more rights to freaks and...
Ray suddenly was overcome by that terrible need to get out and run as far and fast as he could. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have to be here. There should be some other place, any place where he could go.
At least, a place where they said "I told you so" aloud instead of patting his shoulders and showing him to his old room, the one they'd kept for him as if they'd known he'd fail.
Family is where they have to take you in.
The sudden voice behind him made him jump.
"So you're the new guy, huh?"
"Whoa," he said. "Didn't see you there."
The girl that had materialized in the middle of the room smirked. She was the picture of a teenager happiest when she could best an adult, hands buried in the pockets of a screaming yellow coat, noisily chewing and popping a pink gum bubble. Maybe thirteen, she was a mix of a child's soft features and a teen's bravado.
"And hey, I'm not new," Ray added. "I used to go to school here." Kids at least he could deal with. Xavier claimed they projected emotions more honestly and thus appealed to his empathy, but Ray chose to believe they were just easier to satisfy. "I'm Ray Barnett. Call me Ray."
The girl glanced at his hand cautiously before taking it. "I'm Jubilee. Are you really a doctor? You don't, like, look like one."
"Why's that?"
"It says Hail Satan on your shirt."
"Come on, it's a great shirt. The Dead Kennedys went on tour with that shirt." He grinned at her. "So, it's nice to meet you, Jubilee. I've been a doctor for three years, so I think I'm qualified." He'd have been a R4 two months from now, had been hoping they'd offer him an attending spot along with Abby in the end. No need to think of lost chances, though. It was over. He'd dumped his cell into a waste bin in Chicago. "Did you come to get medical attention, Jubilee?"
"Nah, maybe next time. I just thought I'd say hi. Everybody says you gonna be part of the X-Men, but Dr. Grey says you're just gonna be the new doctor because she's too busy." As Jubilee spoke, he'd picked up the inventory list again and put it back on the shelf where it belonged. She followed him curiously. "Mr. Summers says he'd be okay with you on his team although you're a bit of a prick."
Ray forced himself to chuckle. "Aw, I'm sure he only meant it in the best of ways."
So he was pretty sure that Scott hadn't told Jubilee that to her face; probably she or one of her telepath classmates had snooped. It still annoyed him to hear that the conversation had even taken place, though. He'd made it pretty clear that he'd come back because he'd had to leave Chicago, not because he'd suddenly developed an overwhelming need to fight for mutant rights. Westchester was just the place to go if you screwed up, he thought bitterly.
A way to escape from the look in people's - Neela's - eyes when nothing good could come out of facing them anymore, anyway.
"So, Jubilee," he said, trying to focus on the labeled boxes on the shelf. If he was supposed to take care of the kids during emergencies, he better knew where everything was stashed. It was still creepy, though - most of this equipment he only recognized because Clemente hadn't been able to shut up about it. "Tell me about you. How long have you been here?"
"Oh, a couple of years," she said. "I, like, lived in a mall for a while before the Professor found me. As a kid. But it's better here. Better food. So you really gonna be an X-Man, huh? Miss Munroe told us all about your powers. She says they're pretty cool and powerful, but you don't like testing them out because you're so careful. What's your call sign?"
"It's 'It's none of your business,' because I'm not going to be an X-Man." He smirked at her on his way over to the next shelf, laughing at her when she gave him a look. His call sign had been Threshold, sounding just as ridiculous to him as the whole idea of using one overall. Sid Vicious, Pat Smears - hell, yes, Threshold - no, thanks. "Why were you living at a mall?"
"Aren't you supposed to be asking me what my powers are?"
God, there it was again - the reason why he hated this place. He hung his head for a second, taking a deep breath. "What are your powers, Jubilee?"
"What?" She sounded puzzled. "Aren't you curious?"
He forced himself to stay patient. "What are your powers?"
There was a moment of calculating pause. "I make fireworks," Jubilee said. "I project pyrotechnic energy plasmoids." It was recited in that smooth way that came from saying it a lot even if you weren't sure why you should bother. "Want to see?"
"In a room full of medical equipment? That would be a no."
"You're weird." It was half an accusation, half a statement of fact.
It was obvious that Jubilee was a nice kid, in that obnoxious way that Ray always knew to appreciate in that age group. But his apartment in Chicago and his band and the ever-busy County were gone, replaced by a basement built by Magneto and a team of so-called superheroes waiting for him to just jump at the chance of playing along. Replaced by a kid asking about things he'd spent the greater part of his adult life trying to forget.
There were things 'Ro could have said to him in Chicago. She could have reminded him that plenty of mutants lived an open life even if it was hard and dangerous - like Hank going off to have a career in politics, Jean and Scott getting engaged and talking of children. But she hadn't, because 'Ro had barely survived being beaten to death by her village when she was twelve. And Ray--
(Fifteen again and all fight draining out of him because his classmates staring at him in awe and shock and fear was one thing, but his father stepping into the living room and his face hardening was another. There was no fighting him here, no dignity, just begging and recoiling from--)
He could taste the adrenaline in his mouth all over again, feeling bile rise.
Making himself turn and face Jubilee, Ray saw she had jumped onto the exam table, dangling her legs and looking at him innocently while awaiting a reply - a bizarre sight, in contrast with the memory. The girl's jaw was still at work on the gum. He didn't have to wonder if Neela had tried calling him again, Ray tried to remind himself. It wouldn't change a thing.
"It doesn't matter what people's powers are, Jubilee," he heard himself say. "I know that's what everybody here likes telling you, that it's a great thing to be a powerful mutant, but they're getting it wrong, alright?" Lehnsherr would have said it the loudest. Xavier and Scott and Jean liked to act like they were so different, but weren't. But at least Ray wouldn't have to face Neela here, or Kovac rightfully looking at him like Ray was about to have a go at him with an axe. Nobody here was preparing Jubilee for that, but thinking it away didn't make it real. He himself had just been reminded of that the hard way, and it hurt. "The fact that you have a mutation has nothing to do with who you are. You're what you want to be. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise, okay?"
"Yeah, you're weird," Jubilee said.
Then, "The Professor says your mutation sucks for being a doctor like Dr. Grey's."
Geez. "I'm pretty sure the Professor doesn't even know that word." More harshly than was necessary, Ray pointed at the door. "Now get out of here before somebody starts looking for you. I'm pretty sure kids aren't allowed on the lower levels without an injury."
"Weird," Jubilee mouthed at him and he managed to quirk his lips in answer, but she was already moving, years of experience with workaholic scientists having taught her when to let go.
Blindly, Ray reached for a chair to roll closer, slumping down on it and leaning onto the exam table to bury his face in his hands. He really didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to be doing here. Except for how everything else he'd tried had failed. He and 'Ro had gone back to his apartment to pick up his clothes and guitar; he couldn't believe there'd been nothing to take but his guitar. All his other possessions were just based on that nice little lie he'd cooked up. Work stuff. Pictures. Knickknack Neela hadn't taken along when she'd left.
Careful digging had revealed that Gates hadn't filed for assault, so the one way in which he wasn't facing a worst-case-scenario was in that he wasn't dealing with a lawsuit. Or a dead body. God...
("We should have drowned you at birth," Joshua Bartlett said. "We should have..."
Ray took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from shaking, willing the images away.
Here he was, stuck at a place that owned a military jet, responsible for stopping the world's greatest terrorist, when the big guns where nothing he - any mutant - should ever be allowed access to. Kids like Jubilee propably dreamed about being an X-Man.
He was still shaking.
Ray. Are you alright?
The abrupt intrusion made Ray want to scream from frustration, hit one of those fucking dampening walls or kick one of those damn fancy shelves. Instead, it just made him shudder all over. He didn't want to be here. He'd never wanted to be anywhere less.
Something is happening at the White House, the Professor continued in a steady mental voice when he didn't offer a reaction. Come to my office immediately. The others are already on their way.
It has nothing to do with me, he felt like projecting in answer yet didn't, brushing his hair out of his forehead unable to chase that terrible feeling of failure out of his bones. But the Professor seemed to have heard him anyway, or maybe he just knew him that well.
It has everything to do with you, Ray.
The voice was gone then like it had never been there, gone with it the illusion of calm the Professor projected that hadn't worked in the first place. It had been Neela who'd been able to set him at ease about himself, making him wish he really was the man she saw, making him wish it was possible for him to confess. Never Xavier. Xavier with his joy in using his powers and the machines he built to amplify it even more just made him want to be somewhere else.
His father's voice seemed to be ringing in the infirmary, mixing spite with disgust.
Muttering a swearword as a way of grounding himself firmly in the present, Ray picked himself up. Xavier might have bowed to his preference of being called by his real name, but it still looked like he was about to go and find out what was happening at the White House - just like any other X-Man.
---
Taking two stairs at a time on her way down to the E.R., Neela felt like she'd stop being able to breathe once she reached it, yet everything in her screamed to get there quickly. She'd traded away an appendix for Heather's E.R. consult without thinking.
"In a hurry to get somewhere, Neela?" Lucien shouted after her at the elevators, and she barely turned to throw him a question.
"Have you seen Ray?"
The look of pity following her made an answer unnecessary. Neela grimaced. It had been stupid to think that Ray would have shown up for this shift if he hadn't before.
The news had made it through all of County - everybody had been at the wedding. An attending from ICU had been unveiled to have studied mutations in med school, classifying Ray with cheerful schadenfreude, words like psionic manipulation and alpha mutation and combat power circulating from surgery down to the morgue. Psionic powers were found to be often connected with telepathy, and the occasional nurse was now convinced that Ray had manipulated their minds.
It's called candy, Neela thought with spite. Candy and smiles, and he didn't even bother being subtle about it. It had had nothing to do with mutations.
Heads up, she walked down the hallway. "You'd tell us if he'd hidden any mutant body parts from us, right?" Morris had asked her. Nobody was quite ready to believe that she truly hadn't known. It had made her face burn, not just because of what people assumed about them, but also because she felt so stupid, never having noticed anything wrong. And because they thought she'd helped him hide.
Because Neela wasn't so sure that she would have.
The very same Ray who had shared an apartment with her for over a year, who'd made her heart flutter whenever she got close to him was mutated. In his brain. Like the ones they treated sometimes, the ones that everybody tried to ditch because they sometimes smelled funny, and often were altered - standing in line with the homeless and crazies. It was mind-boggling, him and them, two pieces that refused to fit together.
And now Ray had vanished. Eyeliner and affronting shirts and defiance and everything, he was gone, retreating from the battle right at the kick off.
Nobody approached her, the E.R. unusually deserted. Neela saw the reason when she reached Admit: The whole staff seemed to have gathered there, mingling with visitors and patients around the TV.
She frowned, pushing past the nurses.
"What's going on?"
Sam answered without turning away from the screen. "There's been an attack on the President. They say there was a mutant in the White House and he just beamed himself into the Oval Office or something."
"He couldn't get past the FBI and got out," Malik supplied, eyes fixed on the screen. "President's supposed to be alright. But it's just one of the first reports. Man, they could be lying to prevent a panic."
"What?" Neela managed.
It was one of those things. She couldn't possibly have heard right. Things like this didn't happen, particularly not now.
"Mutant freak killer looks like the blazin' devil," Frank said.
It was impossible not to think of Ray. Neela turned to the TV with a cold feeling in her guts. She'd already been in America back on September 11th, drowning in the dread of starting med school in a foreign country but unable to not be frozen by fear alongside everybody at what had seemed to be the start of a world war. It was like that again, she could feel it, people all over the states rushing for their remotes, hospitals and offices and stores coming to a halt.
All that came to mind reflexively were the pictures from the media of the lion-like man found dead under the Statue of Liberty last year, furred beasts and hulks making the news by throwing over cars and hunting children. Terrorist activity. Altered patients grinning at them. And Ray - ramming a wall of air against everybody with a flick of his wrist like it was nothing, even when drunk.
Oh my god. Neela stared at the screen. News anchor alternating with pictures of helicopters circling the White House and snippets of security camera footage mostly showing smoke; newslets rapidly flashing across the screen. Words like assassination attempt and state of emergency and mutant terrorist organizations flashed out at her.
"...have yet to release any more information on the hunt for the mutant assassin," the news anchor said breathlessly, sky above the White House behind her obscurely bright and blue. "Washington airports remain closed as a statewide search is initiated for a being that has been described as blue-skinned, tailed and horned like Satan himself." There was a pause when she listened to her earpiece, turning towards the camera with wide eyes. "We can now show you the first clear picture of the assailant released by the FBI. This is going to run on all channels. The safety of America relies on your help. Have you seen this mutant?"
The picture changed to show what seemed to be an enlarged part of a video still, pixeled but cleared up with contrast and light. Neela heard people gasp behind her, but her eyes were glued to the screen when she stared at the... thing. It had been captured in motion, blue scales covering its face and its fangs bared, eyes wildly twisted to look at something outside the frame. Its face seemed more rectangular than that of a human, long and gaunt. Traditional genetics said that it couldn't exist.
"We now have a number for you to call if you can give the Secret Service any hints about the origins and identity of this being. Please call 9-1-1 immediately if you encounter it, or report any information directly to 2-0-2, 5-0..."
Swallowing convulsively, Haleh turned and rushed out of the room. She tried to keep it quiet, but everybody knew her niece had gills.
"That means war," Pratt said what they were all thinking, standing in the middle of the crowd with the remote. He hardened his face. "Doesn't matter that that Magneto guy is locked away now. There's still enough of those terrorists out there and now they've declared war on us."
Us. Them. There was something ugly about those words even here and now, when they were the first words to come to mind. Neela wrapped her arms around herself when she shuddered, feeling too cold.
"What did you expect?" Sam said. "They're treated like shit by everybody, it's hardly surprising they've started lashing out. Can you blame them?"
"For attacking the President? Damn right I can," Pratt shot back.
"Yeah, doesn't anybody else think there's something weird about that attack?" That was Tony. Turning like she had been slapped, Neela hadn't even noticed he was there. Despite the situation, she had to resist an urge to hide behind Frank.
"What do you mean?"
Tony shrugged; the cut on his forehead still wrapped, he'd otherwise been fine to start his shift. Dr. Kovac had told Neela that he'd decided against pressing charges, but he had called her about a dozen times ever since, probably to gloat. She'd never called him back. "I'm just saying," he said. "The last big thing on the agenda was the Mutant Registration Act, right, and that one never made it. So they got what they wanted, didn't they? So why attack the President now?"
"Maybe things aren't moving fast enough for their liking," Frank cut in."President's not exactly a mutie lover. It's why I voted for him in the first place."
"Anybody think that it might not have been terrorists at all?" That was Abby, who Neela also hadn't noticed before, her slender frame half hidden amongst the crowd. "It could have been just that one unstable guy." Finding her co-workers throwing her looks, she raised her hands in defense. "What? We treat them here every day. He could be schizophrenic or just pissed."
"Just another reason why we need that Registration Act," Frank said, and Pratt nodded.
"You've got a point there."
Three feet over, Sam looked like she was considering the notion while, at the same time, throwing guilty looks in the direction Haleh had left. It was too much to take in, and Neela found herself opening her mouth just to close it again, entirely out of words.
"Anybody else think it's fishy that Barnett vanished just before this happened?" Frank quipped.
Just like that, Neela had trouble breathing. Her chest was too tight.
"Oh come on, get a grip," Tony, of all people, said with a disbelieving laugh. "Ray?"
"Yes, Frank, Ray's secretly Lex Luthor and he'll come haunt you with his death beam now for figuring him out." Abby said in a distracted tone that sounded like she was focusing on the television again.
The knot in Neela's chest loosened a little, though each attempt to breathe still felt painful.
This can't be happening. It can't be happening. The words kept repeating in her head.
"Neela, hey, are you alright?" It was Tony, suddenly by her side - too close - and lowering his voice so that nobody would hear.
"I'm fine," Neela muttered, edging away. Bollocks.
"You seriously think Ray could have something to do with the attack? Are you kidding?" Sam sounded flummoxed, but not quite ready to dismiss the notion out of hand.
"You heard what that ICU quack said about how he has a combat power?" Frank shot back. "Maybe it's time somebody forced the hospital administration to have a look at who they hired back when. It's about time somebody checks Barnett's police record, too. I should have done that ages ago. You never know what you'll find."
"Are you really alright?" Tony repeated stubbornly, ignoring the others.
"I need to get out of here." Getting out of here would be a splendid idea. Neela needed air, room to breathe. As she spoke, she was already moving, fighting her way past Malik towards the ambulance bay.
"I'll come with you."
"I don't need you here," she managed and, when his hand wouldn't immediately leave her shoulder, repeated louder, "I don't need you here!"
She didn't care that Tony had taken the mutants' side. She wasn't even sure that she did so herself. The last thing she needed right now was to have Tony looming in her back and having to explain again what she meant when she said it was over. Just because Ray was a mutant didn't mean she'd want to be with Tony again. It wasn't either or.
"Hey, Gates, give her some space." Abby's voice, and whatever the expression on her face, Tony was gone, a safe empty space forming around Neela. A moment later, it was filled by her friend materializing at her side, displaying that great gift of providing what everybody needed exactly at the right time. "Want to go get a cup of coffee?"
"I'm not sure anybody will be making coffee anywhere right now," Neela managed. The President had been attacked by a mutant assassin, one now on the loose. Everybody would be glued to the telly.
"I don't think they even know we have a democracy at the kiosk." Abby crooked her head. "They won't know if we don't tell them? Come on."
Neela followed her without further resistance, grateful that her friend was taking the lead.
---
It was later that day when Neela and Abby found themselves at Ike's, waiting for Luka, who was attending his last department head meeting as Chief. Neela was scheduled to accompany them home on the El and babysit Joe while the newlyweds spent the evening out. It was a meager surrogate for the honeymoon delayed by closed airports. There had been reports of a suspected sighting of the assassin in Rockford just an hour ago - news anchors gloomily hinting that he might very well have the power to appear in any place. Ever so often, the blinding lights of a police patrol car driving by would illuminate their table. Neela couldn't help but look up and follow them with her eyes every time.
Nevertheless, it was a good thing to still see that shy kind of joy on Abby's face, like she kept rediscovering that it was there, or like she felt it would be out of place. The personal part of the wedding, at least, had been a success.
"Have you talked to Gates again?" Abby asked. Neela was nursing a coke, missing Ray holding a beer at the ready for her something fierce. After spending the day filled with anxiety about all the conflicting emotions he had left in his wake, it appeared now she was too exhausted to sort them out. She'd have to sit down and research mutations at Abby's.
There was that dizzying sense of loss, because Neela just knew he was gone for good - she still had a key to his apartment, having found it missing his clothes, his guitar and his fish, still nothing there hinting at what he was. She just didn't know if she was missing Ray, or the person she'd thought he was, the one that had turned out to be a carefully cultivated lie.
The last item on her list of things to deal with was Tony Gates. Neela rolled her eyes. "He came after me twice today," she said. "I think he's waiting for me to tell him I want him back out of some twisted sense of gratitude because he didn't press charges against Ray." Then, out of an entirely different emotion, "I can't believe he just left." Not meaning Tony. Not meaning Tony at all.
It was obvious for Abby, too. "Well, can you really blame him? Everybody is growing pretty mad at him at this point. Hell, I'm not sure I'd think it was a good idea if he'd stayed." She shrugged, playing with her glass. "No offense. But a mutant doctor at County? Even if Anspaugh stood for it, how is that supposed to work?" Taking a sip of her drink, she added, "And concerning Gates, I'm not surprised that he doesn't give up that fast. He isn't the type."
"That's the fucking problem I'd been having with him in the first place." In the back of her mind, there was a voice telling Neela that this had bad break-up written all over: Tony wasn't that bad a bloke, she knew that, but Neela was just exasperated by him and everything he did at this point. She wanted to be angry at him, him and his insufferable habit of conquering his women and besting his men. Ray... she didn't dare guess anymore what Ray had been thinking. But Ray had been drunk. Tony should have sucked it up.
Sighing in annoyance, she resolved to prop up her chin on her hand. "I can't believe they wrecked your wedding like that. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. It's not fair."
Abby paused for a moment. Then she said, "You know, I'm not even that sure about what to think of mutants." It was a strange non sequitur, except maybe it wasn't. Listlessly, Neela conceded that she didn't know. "Or that he's been lying about it, although I'm not sure I can blame him. It's really hard to judge what's going on if we don't even know what kind of a mutation he has. It might be a lot more harmless than we're making it be. Or worse. But really? After all that has happened today, I'm just happy he got out before the attack. I hope he's at a place where he can hide."
"How do you think you'd have reacted if he'd just come out to you?"
Abby crooked her head. Like Neela, she didn't know any mutants personally. "It isn't really like being gay or black, is it?"
"Homosexuality can't get people killed," Neela pointed out reasonably. Gays hadn't attacked the President, although god knew they had a reason to do so. But gays were no more harmful than heterosexuals. People of color were just that; Neela should know. Mutants, on the other hand, were often dangerous. Fearing them made sense.
"Yeah, nothing like safer sex for mutations." Abby shrugged. "I don't really know. Do you?"
Neela just grimaced, chin still resting on her palm when she was too tired and frustrated to lift it. Fact was that she didn't know anything. It was ridiculous - she was a damn surgeon and yet she turned out not to have a better understanding of the mutant issue than anybody else.
Yes, Ray had always manipulated people and lied - one day he was from Louisiana, the next from Florida, depending on what he wanted to achieve. She'd never know where he was from if he hadn't deconstructed the setting of Philadelphia for her one night to cheer her up. But he was still Ray. Petty and lazy lies, not important ones, not professional ones, the ones Weaver had kept waiting for up to the day she'd left. He'd never lied to Neela after a while, or so she'd thought. It still seemed like just another annoying character quirk.
Maybe Ray was still Ray. Maybe he was an entirely different person. As long as he stayed gone, she'd never know.
Psych 101: People tended to think things were connected just because they happened at the same time. The attack on the President didn't change anything about Ray. Neela resolved that she had to start believing that or she'd just lose her mind.
Clothes rustled. Looking up, she saw that Abby had turned to wave at Dr. Kovac standing in the entrance. Walking over, the attending dropped down on an empty chair. Taking a moment to kiss Abby hello, he focused on Neela without wasting more time. "Neela, I think you'd want to know this first. There have been news about Ray at the department head meeting."
Across the table, Abby perked up. Neela couldn't help a sense of dread filling her. It had to be something terrible on a day like this. Ray was fired. He'd face charges. The hospital had made up their mind about a mutant policy, and nobody else would ever hire him again.
"What is it?"
"I'm afraid he's gone for the time being. He's requested a sabbatical to work for a research project in New York, by mail, and it's been granted. It's expected that he's going to drop out of his contract by the end of this year of residency."
"Wait, what?" Abby said. "When did County start granting sabbaticals to residents?"
Neela's hand had dropped to the table with a thud. It rather felt like her attempt to decide on a facial expression remained unsuccessful.
"It's a very prestigious research project by one of the leaders in the field - a Hank McCoy," Luka said. "The administration feels that it would be very fortunate for County to be associated with his work." He focused on Neela, putting on the reassuring air that worked so well for patients and interns. "This is a good thing, Neela. It means the hospital won't institute an anti-mutant policy. An association with this McCoy would prevent that. So Ray will be able to apply at other hospitals with a good vita." Hesitating for a moment, he added, "I think you should also know that the request came with a generous donation to the hospital fund. They couldn't afford to refuse it."
It took a moment for Neela to come up with words. "That can't be right" she said. Her first instinct was denial - too much new information at once. "You have to have misunderstood something."
"It was made perfectly clear."
"He paid them off?" Abby repeated, dumbstruck. "Ray?"
Ray who had lived on the hospital roof during his first week in Chicago. Ray whose publication list existed only in the abstract. Ray who wasn't even from New York. How much money did you need to bribe a hospital into a change of policy?
"His benefactors did, anyway," Luka said. "Apparently, McCoy called Anspaugh personally this morning to talk about the proposition." He gave them a meaningful look.
Luka continued answering Abby's questions about the meeting, about who had taken what side using which arguments. His own insecurity about how to handle the mutant issue shown through - but who was Neela to criticize Luka? Apparently, the one department head to take a stand for mutant rights had been that weirdo from Psychiatrics.
If she could just talk to Ray, she could figure it all out. All she needed was one chance at looking at him and talking to him and finding out if he really was a different person from who she had thought.
Because if he was still the same man, her feelings for him didn't change. Her realization that she could be with him, that she was allowed to without feeling guilty, didn't stop applying. Michael had been dead for over a year, and it had been time she cleaned up the mess she'd left in the wake of his death. Assuming that Ray was still... Ray. It had been time to take the initiative for once.
But... maybe.
Maybe it still was.
"They do research in mutant genetics?" Abby was saying.
There had to be contact information at HR. If there was a research project, there was data on it, and Neela knew the name of the head of the project - Hank McCoy.
If she really wanted to, Ray had left a way behind to track him down, a way to get all the answers she needed from him. She'd just have to make herself deal with it all heads on. It wasn't like being gay or a person of color, but it was still Ray.
Neela refused to spend the rest of her life wondering about yet another what-if.
on to the next part