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shallownessTitle: By which I will be known
Fandom: ER
Rating: PG
Characters: Ray, Neela (implied Neela/Ray.)
Word count: 448
First published: March 2006
Summary: Does what you’re called matter? Does it matter when and who says it?
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I make no profit from this piece of fanfiction.
Notes: With thanks to SpikeDru for the beta. All idiocies are mine. Post 12.11 ‘If Not Now’. Vignette. Angst.
By which I will be known: shallowness
He’s sitting in the ambulance bay, though it’s snowing. At some level, Ray knows he’s been sitting here too long, but, right now, staring at concrete seems to be about all it’s safe for him to do.
He only looks up when he hears her approach, knowing she’d find him eventually. His friend Neela – Dr Rasgotra. They’d all asked if she was going to change her name, but no she bloody wasn’t, not now they all knew how to pronounce it properly.
He’s not sure if it’ll be lecture or pep talk, but Ray rouses himself to acknowledge her. He even smiles, though it’s the kind of smile that’s really a plea for alcohol.
“It’s not so bad,” Neela says, “you can—”
“I kinda accidentally resigned today, for the band, and then I got pushed out of said band.” There’s about a ton of finality to his interruption.
“Oh.” Her response is to come to sit next to him, though she has no extra layers of coat and scarf wrapped around her petite body.
“I’m not good enough, apparently.” Staring ahead, he tries hard to be light about it, but he’s more concrete than snowflake. “I tried to do the right thing, concentrate on being a good doctor, and then, just as the band is getting somewhere…”
“Everyone knows what it’s like to be torn in two,” she says.
He looks at her then, her face framed by her dark, upswept hair, and reads her regrets. For a second, it feels as if she’s years older than him.
“Well, there’s no hurry on you guys moving out, now,” he cracks, “because once I’m unemployed, I’ll need you to cover the rent.”
“You’ll get your job back,” she says, returning to the now, because it’s a chance to boss him with certainties. “Just don’t call Weaver ‘Missy’ or ‘Kerry’, or do something monumentally stupid, like try your charm on her.”
He just stares at her, “Missy?”
“Morris tried it on Allbright, according to the nurses’ grapevine.” Neela’s grin at the idea is tempered as she raises her hand to rub her face. But when she lowers her hand, it comes to his arm, squeezing for a little. “Just be professional, Dr Barnett.”
“Be a grown up, you mean?”
They smile at each other then, because he knows he isn’t going to get his dream of going to California, and she and her husband will move out soon, to move on with their lives. But she came out to look for him today, and she believes that he can get his job back tomorrow.
More than a little sincerely, he says, “Thank you for the advice, Doctor.”
Fandom: ER
Rating: PG
Characters: Ray, Neela (implied Neela/Ray.)
Word count: 448
First published: March 2006
Summary: Does what you’re called matter? Does it matter when and who says it?
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I make no profit from this piece of fanfiction.
Notes: With thanks to SpikeDru for the beta. All idiocies are mine. Post 12.11 ‘If Not Now’. Vignette. Angst.
He’s sitting in the ambulance bay, though it’s snowing. At some level, Ray knows he’s been sitting here too long, but, right now, staring at concrete seems to be about all it’s safe for him to do.
He only looks up when he hears her approach, knowing she’d find him eventually. His friend Neela – Dr Rasgotra. They’d all asked if she was going to change her name, but no she bloody wasn’t, not now they all knew how to pronounce it properly.
He’s not sure if it’ll be lecture or pep talk, but Ray rouses himself to acknowledge her. He even smiles, though it’s the kind of smile that’s really a plea for alcohol.
“It’s not so bad,” Neela says, “you can—”
“I kinda accidentally resigned today, for the band, and then I got pushed out of said band.” There’s about a ton of finality to his interruption.
“Oh.” Her response is to come to sit next to him, though she has no extra layers of coat and scarf wrapped around her petite body.
“I’m not good enough, apparently.” Staring ahead, he tries hard to be light about it, but he’s more concrete than snowflake. “I tried to do the right thing, concentrate on being a good doctor, and then, just as the band is getting somewhere…”
“Everyone knows what it’s like to be torn in two,” she says.
He looks at her then, her face framed by her dark, upswept hair, and reads her regrets. For a second, it feels as if she’s years older than him.
“Well, there’s no hurry on you guys moving out, now,” he cracks, “because once I’m unemployed, I’ll need you to cover the rent.”
“You’ll get your job back,” she says, returning to the now, because it’s a chance to boss him with certainties. “Just don’t call Weaver ‘Missy’ or ‘Kerry’, or do something monumentally stupid, like try your charm on her.”
He just stares at her, “Missy?”
“Morris tried it on Allbright, according to the nurses’ grapevine.” Neela’s grin at the idea is tempered as she raises her hand to rub her face. But when she lowers her hand, it comes to his arm, squeezing for a little. “Just be professional, Dr Barnett.”
“Be a grown up, you mean?”
They smile at each other then, because he knows he isn’t going to get his dream of going to California, and she and her husband will move out soon, to move on with their lives. But she came out to look for him today, and she believes that he can get his job back tomorrow.
More than a little sincerely, he says, “Thank you for the advice, Doctor.”
