I own nothing.

Muse: Jon Bon Jovi "Make a Memory". A good tune for listening. Totally sets the mood.

You want to steal a piece of time?

...just breath, there's nowhere else tonight we should be.

- Bon Jovi, Make a Memory

Through the Storm

Sometimes, it was just easier to look outside and watch the clouds cry.

And tonight, said clouds were bawling up a storm.

Neela Rasgotra stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, her small, nimble fingers clutching at the smudged fiberglass as she stared across the vast runway. A strike of lightning struck a mere few miles away and Los Angeles International Airport seemed to quake in it's after. Neela did not flinch.

For the umpteenth time, she checked her fancy wrist watch. It was much too shiny for her liking; much too easily destructible, much too easily dirtied for its worth, but it was a gift. And so out of necessity, and plain ease, she wore it. It saved her a trip to the store to pick up a new Timex after an overzealous fraternity boy threw up the contents of the prior night's kegger all over himself and his attending surgeon, including her ten-year old partner of a watch. It seemed to be that the gleaming hands were now laughing at her against the black face of the timepiece. Just as it had been thirty seconds prior, her plane was utterly and completely late.

And judging from the inclement terror outside, it would be for a very long time.

She sighed a silent, self-scorning scold. Why oh why did she choose to leave for vacation two days after everyone else did? Two days ago, the weather was damn near perfect, not a cloud in the sky, not a drop of humidity, zero to negative twenty-eight wind factor – perfect flying weather. She had checked it herself. But no, she needed stay and work for a bit. She needed to keep an eye on a few patients until they left post-op ICU. She needed to oversee the new interns on their first surgical rotation.

But she knew the truth.

Neela needed to be alone.

Clutching her designer carry-on, she turned on her heel and made her way back to the central terminal. If she must endure the rain alone, the least she could do was enjoy a drink. Finding the closest bar, she dropped to seat at the corner of the long, wooden slab. There was once an old Japanese woman she treated, who was in her own right slightly altered due to vast amounts of opiates that she self-medicated with. She was readily rambling on and on about setting a proper table and the dangers of sitting someone at the corner of the table. It was bad luck, apparently. Something about corners were just bad luck.

Neela didn't really know why the thought suddenly popped into her head, but she had to disagree. She loved corners, they were perfect ninety-degree angles. They fit, showed order. They were clean and simple. And as of yet, knock on wood, had served as no such bearers of bad luck in her life. Shrugging away the attention-hogging silly memories, she quickly ordered a simple glass of wine. No need for a hard drink then, just something to nurse really.

She used her forefinger to run along the edge of the pristine goblet, going on and on in lazy circles. The noise around her was deafening. She couldn't quite make out a single word, though. But all she heard was noise, loud, booming, muffled noise - articulated with the occasional roll of thunder and crash of lightning. She was never a fan of the rain, and yet never a foe. She merely just did not think once or twice about the falling precipitation. It was part of life, part of the natural cycle. It was science in its purest form. But then, as she sat at the bar, she could only stare at the menacing rain and feel nothing but desolation.

But maybe it was just that she hated airports.

That, Neela hated. Airports were like obtuse, one-hundred and eight point seven degree angles. There was no order, never any perfection. Everything was late, never early, or much less on time. They were loud and never quite clean enough. Airports were just a huge hassle on the way to some place better.

She snorted at the thought, maybe just some place else.

Using the back of her hand, she felt her face on both cheeks followed by her forehead. She had the tendency to redden after the slightest bit of red wine. Damn, she had forgotten. Save for the every day fights of apple or orange juice, she normally enjoyed white, champagne, or even sparkling wine – nothing too heavy if she drank. She just couldn't afford to get too plastered anymore. Waving down the bartender, she asked for a bottle of water.

"Make that two, please,"

The voice caught her off-guard, her finger still in midair. She could pinpoint that voice anywhere. Neela visibly gulped, sending alarm signals to her brain, causing vast amounts of epinephrine, not to mention cortisol, to be released from her adrenal glands. Neela had just gone into alarm mode at a mere four syllables. And yet it wasn't the words that caused her heart rate to quicken to a deadly pace, or her sweat glands to pull into overdrive. It wasn't the words that dried her mouth, or forced her normally nimble, calm, surgeon hands to tremor uncharacteristically. It wasn't the words that made Neela feel like someone had just punched her in the stomach.

No, it was just the fact that her ex-roommate and proverbial leading man of her quintessentially horrendous badly ended love story of life was the one who uttered them.

She stood still, immaturely praying to whatever deity she really didn't believe in to will the owner of such a deep, luxurious, tantalizing voice to disintegrate and never have seen her. She wanted to close her eyes for fear of her peripheral vision catching a glimpse of the man. But she was still in public, and a woman who closed her eyes at the bar just screamed something that she was not.

"Hi," the voice spoke directly to her this time.

Willing herself to calm down even a nanobeat, she huffed a much needed breath.

"Ray," she managed to choke out.

"You can look at me, you know,"

I'd rather not. "I'm waiting for my water," Her traitorous cheeks flamed; wine need not aid the cause.

"I think the bartender knows where you are without starring daggers into his bowtie," she could sense his shift of weight on the stool next to hers. She had no witty comeback. Sensing as much, he continued. "So what's up?"

Her head turned so quickly at his simple words that he feared her neck may just snap. "What's up?" she hissed. "You don't see me for five years and you ask me what's up?"

It was the first time he had looked her in the eye in a very long time. Her brown orbs were staggeringly dilated, so dark they were nearly black. But they were breathtaking. Her lips pursed to a perfect scowl, causing her cheeks to point upwards with a blush too pretty for words.

In all of her off-guard anxiety, and slight fury, Neela was still as beautiful as ever.

Shaking his head, he blinked a few times. "I think it's a proper greeting for two people who haven't been acquainted in awhile,"

She expelled the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. He had a point. But logic was the farthest thing from her mind. At that point, Neela didn't even know if she possessed a mind anymore, much less the ability to use it. All she could feel was the heart beating straight out of her chest and the man who haunted her dreams sitting three inches away from her,

Maybe that old Japanese woman had a point after all.

"I'm waiting for a plane," she managed to grate out as the bartender returned with two cold bottles of water.

"Thanks," Ray smiled before clicking his tongue at her. "I don't think it's coming,"

"Shut up," If looks could kill, Ray surmised then that the bottle in Neela's hand would have already sublimated to gases of oxygen, hydrogen and whatever it was that plastic was broken down to; he couldn't quite remember at the moment. "What's up with you?" she basically spat out, her hands ringing the item in hand.

"I'm waiting for a plane too," he smiled, leaning against the counter, his abdomen swiveled in her direction.

"Lovely, I don't think yours is coming either,"

He shrugged. "I'm in no hurry,"

"Doesn't surprise me," He grinned. Her wit was back in full force, and he missed it terribly.

"You're tense,"

She rolled her dark eyes, biting the side of her mouth. Tense wasn't even a suburb of what she felt at the moment. "Just a tad stressed," her voice was saccharine sweet, an obvious show of her annoyance.

He snorted. Stress fit Neela like a glove. She thrived under stress. It was like her worst enemy and best friend rolled into one. But no, at that moment she wasn't quite stressed. She was merely angry and resentful, and a few other emotions he need not think of, all at once.

"Are you flying to a conference or something?" he sipped the ice cold refreshment.

"No," her answer was curt.

"Vacation?"

"Yes,"

"Cool…where?"

She pulled the rectangular ticket from her nearby purse, shoving the paper under his nose. "Hawaii,"

"Fancy. Are you - " he frowned in thought, stopping himself before the next question could tumble from his mouth.

Her brows furrowed down in the classic Neela fashion, his sudden and out-of-character hold of tongue not falling out of notice. Almost as if losing an internal battle, she threw his question back. "And you? Where are you off to?"

"The Philippines,"

"What are you doing in the Philippines?" her curiosity massively overshadowed her attempt at disinterest.

"A buddy of mine is down there with a group, doing some relief work in the province areas on a few of the smaller islands – the ones farther away from the metro areas,"

"And they need help with Rehab?" she didn't quite feel as condescending as she sounded.

He somehow knew that.

With a small smile, he shook his head. "Maybe, but mostly just physicals and medicine – basic general practitioner stuff,"

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, leaning back in his seat, "A month or two, maybe three. I might be taking some time off and go into Manila or the beaches for some fun in the sun too. I did my research. So it's all up in the air,"

"And your job won't miss you?"

He shrugged leisurely in a very Ray-like matter. "I don't think anyone will," he chuckled at both his cryptic answer and the incredulously unimpressed look at his companion's face. "The hospital's really cool with it, plus I've got a lot of good people on my team,"

She nodded in thought, flashes of emotion streaming through her eyes, each one caught by Ray. "That's nice," Taking a gulp of her still wine, she began to tread in dangerous waters. "And how is…everything?"

"Good," he nodded, capping his water bottle. "Good…how are things with you?"

"Wonderful," she replied all too quickly.

"That's great," he smiled.

The two fell into a slight funk of silence. The deafening noise reiterated about them. She heard another clap of thunder. Counting silently, she knew that the real storm was beginning to close in, and what they were undergoing at the moment was nothing in comparison.

"My mom…and everyone still ask about you,"

A bolt lightning struck visibly in the window behind Ray, momentarily lighting up the area as if it were daytime. Neela's face dropped.

"Ok, that's great. I need to go," she dropped the first bill of cash she touched to cover her expenses and tore away from the bar. Grabbing her Italian leather bag, she stepped away.

"Wait-" Ray stopped her, grabbing her sweater-covered arm. She wrenched away the appendage, as if she had been burnt. Shaking his head, he followed suit, quickly replacing the fifty-dollar bill that Neela had so haphazardly thrown with a more sensible twenty. "Neela,"

"Stop following me, Ray,"

"Wait a second!" he called to her. After years of practice, Ray had basically mastered the fine art of prosthetic limbs. But Neela was damn fast when she wanted to be. "Neela," he finally caught up to her before the Continental Terminal.

"What do you want from me?" she basically yelled. That area of the airport had been eerily quiet at the time, due to the absence of the masses that were congregated on the other side of the terminal. Her voice echoed eerily about them. Her eyes were shining with the dew of a fresh set of tears. And his heart broke for the third time that day.

The first was when he woke up that morning. The second was when he saw her standing by herself at the window. And this, the third, made nothing any easier.

"What do you want from me?" she articulated again. "What do you want from me, Ray? I can't do this. I won't!"

He stared into her eyes, eyes that held years and years of painful memories, eyes that were the ever open window to her stormy soul, eyes that held him for longer than he wanted to admit, eyes that could hold no true, real malice even if someone were to bottle the stuff up in a syringe and inject it directly into her pupils. And in those eyes, he saw only a fraction of the turmoil that he knew.

"Screw this and screw you, Ray. I'm not your charge anymore. You made that perfectly clear the last time we saw each other," her chest rose and fell like pistons in engine, rhythmically teasing his horridly, hormone-ridden photographic memory. Many times before had he seen such action, but from different circumstances. "You denied me, Barnett. Not the other way around,"

He shut his eyes tightly.

Ray had imagined this moment everyday for the past five years, what he could say, what he could do. He had imagined what it would feel like. But nothing prepared him for this. He had nothing, no words to offer, nothing but dumbly standing there as they both relived the worst day of his life.

It started out small, the little things.

He knew that she hated the heat. It always caused her hair to puff up in the most ungodly of manners, and she was annoyed. Well she wouldn't actually say it, but he could see it in the bother of her eyes. Every time she would step out of their apartment and into the courtyard, her eyes would flash and he could feel the crackle of her anger. He knew she wasn't mad at him, per se. But he knew that she was mad at Baton Rouge because it sucked for her hair.

But she wouldn't complain, because it was just hair.

He knew that she hated driving. That was half the reason why she loved Chicago so much, with the vicinity of her apartment to the hospital, she could always just catch the train or walk. But there in Louisiana, they had no such forms of transportation. He could see the hate in her eyes too. And when she was rear ended one day because Baton Rouge drivers were shitty, he knew that she was upset. He, again, could see it in her eyes. When he arrived at the scene, her dark eyes were laced with fresh tears of frustration and fear.

But she didn't complain then, because she loved being with him.

And it was no secret that she was the smartest surgeon in the hospital. Everyone knew as much. She was smarter than her drunken senior attending, smarter than the chief of surgery, smarter than her residents and interns and surgical techs. Neela was the genius of the genius wing, therefore no one challenged her. And while anyone else would feel perfectly perfect with such a status, he knew that Neela didn't.

And yet she didn't complain, because she loved him.

And that in and of itself was what worried him, because the Neela that he knew had no problem complaining. And he realized in that moment that Baton Rouge had changed her.

But it wasn't just the complaining and the hair and driving that bothered him, that made him know that his beloved was transforming. It was other things. It was the way that she would silently pick up his dirty laundry off of the couch without a fight, the way she began shopping everyday, and playing tennis with snooty doctors' wives, and "did lunch," in a way that Neela circa 2005 would have made fun of. It was the way she never threw down with him after he came home drunk, only wordlessly opening the door and leading her into their bedroom, pushing his hair back while he passed out. Nights like that became more and more frequent.

And then he knew his Neela was gone the day he visited her wing of the hospital. He walked stood outside of scrub-in area and watched as she robotically scrubbed from her fingertips to her elbows. But it was her eyes that betrayed all. It was always her eyes that said all. Up until that point, despite everything else, it was doing medicine that always made her happy, from an appendectomy to a quadruple bypass. Without fail, Neela could always find her happiness in doing her job. Only then, he saw all he needed to see in her eyes, for they had lost their spark. And once that was gone, so was everything else.

And so after six months of being together, this Neela was not his Neela anymore.

For Neela was Neela Rasgotra and this was her atonement, she felt that she deserved all of this. For everything that was in the past, for everything that was so long ago that he was far beyond already. So she would put up with it all, whatever he threw at her, with a smile because she was so scared of losing him - because she had given up her whole life, her whole being, for him – someone, who he felt, was completely undeserving.

And with such knowledge, he allowed their relationship to fall to shit.

He started picking fights, upsetting her, giving her something to be mad at, for only the opportunity to see the Neela who he fell in love with, the woman who used to yell at him and whip him into shape, the woman who stood her ground. He wanted her back; he needed her back. For if she never came back, it would be his fault.

And so his behavior became second nature, with cold and frigidness ensuing indefinitely. If he wanted to be totally honest, it was a huge cocktail of things. It was the fact that as happy as he was to have her consciously stomp back into his life, it still turned everything upside down. It was the fact that he didn't know how to act around her anymore, how to be. They had never gone on a single date together before and suddenly they moved in together? And maybe it was the fact that Ray just didn't know how to be in a relationship, a real, adult relationship. There was a reason he wanted to be a Rockstar (and still at time wished he were). Relationships were hard, and sometimes they sucked like a Bangkok whore supporting a family of nine.

And it was the night of the anniversary of her coming to Baton Rouge that he did what he needed to do

They were silent. It was the first time in a long time that they had nothing to say to each other.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" her voice was almost nonexistent. He didn't know if he heard her say the words or just read her lips. She held her carry-on close to her side. It was a print, Vera Bradley or something like that. He got it for her for Christmas because that's what she put on her list. Her knuckles were a stark white. "I don't know why you're doing this."

"I need some time," he managed to grapple out. His voice was scratchy, like it used to be after a concert.

"Some time for what, Ray?" There was accusation in her voice, the kind that he used to pray to hear, the kind that just screamed 'Neela'.

He dropped his head low. Maybe this wasn't the greatest way to do this. But in for a penny, in for a pound. He was desperate and scared and utterly confused. They were supposed to fly into Chicago that weekend. Archie Morris was getting married and everyone was getting together again. It was supposed to be fun. She had been looking forward to it for weeks.

But she had her luggage and when he met her at the airport after work, he was empty-handed.

"I can't do this. We're not working. We haven't been working for a long time," he wanted to cry. It was like an out of body experience that he knew, years later, he would regret like the plague.

She bit her lip, moving forward and grabbing his arm with such force that he figured he would be a triple amputee by the time she was done with him. Pulling him the nearest alcove, she searched in his eyes for something, anything. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I…I don't know," he said coldly.

"You need time? You need space? You're breaking up with me? Is that it? Are we reduced to two bumbling teenagers now that you can't do it in a proper manner…like normal people?!" She licked her lips hurriedly. "You know I've put up with all of your crap wordlessly! I've given you everything that I am. I have been nothing but sweet and loving and downright obedient to you! What the hell else do you want from me?"

"I don't know!" he almost yelled, causing those near them to jump.

He didn't know.

"All you know is that I should get on that plane to Chicago all alone, is that right?"

He expected the tears to fall as her eyes darted back and forth between his. They were there, freshly lacing her brown orbs. Her lips were trembling in a way that he knew broke his heart.

But he said nothing.

Because hurting her was the only way to bring her back.

"What do you want me to do?" she was pleading now. The malice was gone, the accusation fled. Her voice was nothing but pure mercy, begging for something.

"Just…go," he told her quietly, leaning in and kissing her perfect lips goodbye.

He turned his back, breathing in counts, not quite understanding what he had just done and what it would cost him.

"Do you not love me anymore?" If his life were a movie, or a TV show, he was sure that there would have been a single violin playing and nothing else in the background – it was just that sad of a moment. He gulped deep, and shook his head from side to side. The words just wouldn't come out.

So he walked away.

And then Neela did what he wanted. She left Baton Rouge. She left him.

And she never came back.

The rain pounded against the hotel's windows. It pushed and shoved and bullied the room as it feebly stood against the daggers of precipitation. And yet the chaos outside was nothing compared to what she felt within.

Life was funny sometimes.

It was mean most of the time.

And tonight, it was downright nasty.

Her heart was probably beating a thousand beats per minute as she fumbled about her sub-par hotel room. Pulling on the complimentary robe from the closet, she deftly made her way to the bathroom, wanting nothing more than a hot shower to wash the night away.

Her mind hazed as she stood back in the substantial shower stall, the porcelain fixtures staring her in the face as the scorching water burned her dark skin. That was how she wanted it to be at that very moment. She didn't want to think. She didn't want to feel. She didn't want anything to go on in that genius mind of hers, nothing but the feeling of nothing.

But alas, of course the only thing she could get was the opposite. Her mind fixated on one thought and one thought only:

It was mean, the theory that there was one and only one person in the world for an individual – the "soulmate" ideal. It was mean and cruel and quite honestly, ridiculously stupid. It was especially stupid when you think you've met that one special individual, turn your life inside out and upside down for him, only to have it all fall to pieces in a matter of a year.

Now that…that was mean.

What was even worse was the scary thought that after a half of a decade, and countless hours of life experience, there was still a huge part of her that entertained the possibility that the 'soulmate' ideal was, in fact, real and did happen to be her darling Ray Barnett.

She sputtered underneath the falling bathwater, coughing as the thought crossed her mind. She was treading in dangerous territories now, waters that she had shut away into the crypts of her past a long, long time ago. After semi-successfully pushing all coherent thought away from the following hour and a half, Neela finally stepped out of the shower. The bathroom had long gone and was replaced with nothing but blinding, breath-suppressing steam. It was soothing, she soon realized as she stood silently amidst the mist of foggy air, her long hair dripping down her back, her clean skin dewy in the humidity, her eyes seeing nothing but white vapor.

It was like seeing her brain in front of her – nothing but a mess of vague, muddled, confused, suffocating fog.

It took her another ten minutes to wrap the robe about her body again and finally step back into the freezing cold room. She distantly heard her phone ringing, but nothing possessed her to go and retrieve it. If it was important, a message would be left.

A loud wrapping at the door caused her to momentarily jump, realizing that there was a reality behind the protection of a hotel room. And as she heard the voice coming from the other side, she had to admit…it was a dangerous reality.

"Neela," Ray's raspy voice called out. "I know this is your room,"

She shut her eyes tightly, not quite knowing how to react.

She could hear the door creak under Ray's weight. He was leaning against it. It muffled his voice as he tried again. "Please," The mercy pleading from his voice hit much too close to home for her comfort and she suddenly wished she was still in the oxygen-deprived bathroom, drowning underneath the showerhead again. It would be infinitely better than hearing Ray plead with her door.

Not quite knowing what possessed her to do so, she made her way to the door, leaning her back against it and falling down, her knees reaching her chest.

"Please, Ray," her voice implored as she closed her eyes against threatening tears. "Please don't do this,"

"Neela, please…just let me talk to you,"

"I don't want to talk!" she suddenly reacted. "I don't want to hear whatever the hell you have to say! You denied me, remember? You left me. Not the other way around. So you don't get to run around following me. You don't get to care anymore. You don't get to ask questions or tell me that everyone asks about me. You kicked me out of that, or have you forgotten?"

"No…" she heard him trail off. "Please, Neela," he banged on her door loudly, causing her to wince from the other side. "Let me just say something," He continued to bang loudly on the door, so loud that she heard her neighbors doors wrench open, other peoples yelling over the banging, also begging her to let him in. Against her better judgement, she yanked the door open.

He basically stumbled inside her room, still clad in the jeans and Ramones T-shirt he was wearing at the airport. It did not take her two looks to realize that it was the same shirt she bought him for his twenty-seventh birthday.

Her heart broke just a little more.

Her lips were trembling as she forced out her next few words. It was as if someone were ripping them out of her soul, letter by letter. "I don't care what you say. You broke me; do you understand that? You put me in the worst place I've ever been in my entire life. And after everything that I gave up, everything that I poured out to you…that's not FAIR."

"I know," he dejectedly admitted. After finally being let into her bedroom, Ray was suddenly speechless. He had no idea why he stood outside her room for the past hour. He had no idea why he couldn't sleep before he waited outside of her room for the hour. He had no idea why he was doing anything. All he knew was that he belonged there, if only for tonight.

"You said you didn't love me." Her voice was grave, dark and ominous. It spoke more than what she actually uttered. She was voicing her feelings of betrayal, loss, anger and resentment.

"I lied."

And then he did the only thing he knew to do. He walked forward, and crushed her body between the wall and one hundred and ninety pounds of aroused, undeniably in love, male. And then he kissed her.

Defying a night's worth of better judgment, hours of mind-cleansing, and years of moving on, Neela kissed him back. And it was worth it.

If she were coherent enough to think, she would know that her body was on fire from his touch. That she moaned his name into his open mouth as he sought entrance into hers, that she shuddered as his tongue grazed against her own, massaging in the most loving of embraces, punctuated with little nips from his teeth at her own lips. The kiss was purely melodic and utterly sinful at the same time.

Whatever fight she thought she would give him faded away as his gentle hand made its way to the knot of her robe. He paused momentarily, just enough for her to catch her breath, just enough for her to look into his sparkling green eyes, dilated to the point of blackness, seeking her approval and permission. He paused just enough for her to stop and think.

She was not a cheater, but god help her, nothing could stop her now.

As if they could choose when and where romance would strike them. As if they could be naïve enough to dream of control such a force so powerful, so primal.

As if they had a chance.

With her dark orbs glazed with a sheet of tantalizing lust, Neela silently nodded her head, reaching her arms upward and bringing him by the neck, back to her swollen, Barnett-bitten lips.

This something was scary, for she was no longer in control of her own emotions. It was chaotic, and dangerous, and frustrating. And damn it, it was entirely irresistible

In one swift movement, he slid the cheap robe from her shoulders, hoisting her up, allowing her to wrap her legs about his middle, and carried her to the bed. And he stared at her, the nude, beautiful, woman of his dreams before him, her chest bobbing up and down in desperate need to refill her oxygen debt. Gently laying her down on the bed, he felt his heart leap from his chest as she moved to straddle him. Taking the reigns, Neela slowly removed his gifted T-shirt, using her will power to stop herself from ripping it from his body. Ray smirked as an unguarded face of approval lit her features once his shirt fully gone. He gave himself a silent pat on the back. He knew those countless hours he wasted his free time away at the gym weren't completely for naught. He allowed his hands to wander her smooth, supple body as she continued her ministrations on his lower half.

He knew her body inside and out, like a gorgeous, alluring, tempting, back of his own hand. He leaned forward, shooting his tongue out to what he knew from countless times as the uber sensitive spot right beneath her left her. He felt goosebumps raise on her sides as he sucked at the pulse point. Her mouth opened in the most tormenting of ways as her eyes closed in bliss. Feeling like he could last no longer, yet wanted to make this dream last forever, he turned her over, so that she was now underneath him. With a devilish smile, he began to kiss down her neck, continuing down the valley of her breasts, giving ample time to both of her dark peaks. His mind raced as he heard her breathy moans, the way she began to grind her bottom half against his boxer-covered arousal. With a deep breath, he continued on, dropping kisses onto her curved abdomen. He stared up at her as he reached his destination. Her eyes were all but nearly drawn back into her head in lust. Knowing what she loved, he buried himself into her womanhood, savoring in all that was Neela, the sounds, the smells, the tastes that he had longed for for so long that he knew nothing else. She writhed against the bed, calling out his name like a song meant only for his ears. And when he knew that she was close, he unceremoniously dove into her like a sixteen year old going down for the first time. Nothing could describe the feelings that erupted within him as he felt her walls clench and her body shake with pure ecstasy, knowing that it was he and only he who brought her to that point. He crawled up the bed and cradled her body against his as she recovered. She shook against his bare chest, pressing lusty kisses against his chiseled physique.

And without warning, Neela began to return the favor.

And as she mounted herself atop him, her eyes daring to stare deep into his soul as they found the rhythm they had never lost, Ray knew that nothing could get any better than this – than being with the woman he loved in a dingy hotel weathering the inclement battles of rain outside.

He silently vowed to make this night last forever.

It was hours later that she found herself breathing deeply against her lover's dewy chest. He had just fallen asleep and she could do nothing but think.

And she was finally perceptive enough to realize the truth of the matter: that she belonged to him. She could not even begin to fathom when the process had actually begun. But it had just been completed, and here it was.

She was his.

There were no talks between them, no professions of undying love, no apologies our grand gestures. But their actions spoke tremendously louder than their words. And it was apparent to her, that Ray still loved her – and nothing could convince her otherwise. And so her mind danced with possibilities. She had obligations, another life, responsibilities, yes. But wasn't this what the point of living was? To be happy…to being with the one person who could complete you in ways that no one else could? Was this not what she as a human being should be doing? Living her life as if it were to end tomorrow…living her life like she was meant to live it?

She snuggled closer to her companion, breathing in his scent of sex and aftershave and hotel soap, listening as the windows shook from the thunderstorm that was the outside. Her heart beat violently into her naked chest as she hugged him close to her body, reveling in all that was Ray. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her phone, now on silent, lightning up on the nightstand. And although small pangs of guilt prickled her skin, nothing caused her to feel regret. When you love someone you want them to be happy, right? Isn't that what all of those romantic comedies said? Well she was the happiest she had been in ages. And maybe it was because she was with her soulmate. Maybe it was because she saw a choice ahead of her, a choice that she knew had consequences, but a choice all itself.

And she would take it. She would choose to be with Ray. She would choose to be with Ray over and over and over again.

Everything else in her life would fall into place. Because they were meant to be. And that night, as she finally fell asleep cradled in his embrace, listening to the sounds of rain pounding against the building, she there was no more fog in her mind. It was clear.

Neela awoke soundly the following morning, stretching her limbs out with a smile. Rolling over, she opened her eyes. And in the instant she expected to meet those of her love, she was met with a small piece of hotel stationary.

With the most regretful feeling of dread and anxiety, her shaking hands returned. And through already fresh tears, she took the piece of paper, reading over the scratchy, ever-Raylike writing.

Last night was flawless. The most amazing, beautiful, greatest night of my life. And I love you with all of my heart, you have to know that. But you have a life, and things that go along with it. And as much as we have tried, our lives just don't fit together anymore. Nothing will get any better than my time with you, Neela. Nothing we could ever have will ever be better than spending that dark, stormy night with you in my arms. Nothing can ever top perfection.

Forever yours, Roomie.

PS – I took the first flight out and by the time you read this, I'm going to be halfway across the Pacific. The concierge called and said that your flight leaves at 10:00 am sharp.

Don't miss me. Just remember me.

Nothing registered in her mind as she sat on the empty bed, suddenly feeling utterly cold and alone. Glancing at the clock, she knew that she had to get a move on.

An hour later, she stood in the terminal, her leather bag in hand. With a deep breath, she picked up her ringing phone, the picture on the caller id caused her to wistfully smile as a little girl with curly, light brown hair and hazel eyes sitting atop her blond, wet-suit wearing father smiled back at her.

"Hello darling," she spoke into the phone.

"Hi sweetheart," the accented voice replied, "Darling, say hello to your mum," A muffled squeal caused her heart strings to tug in a manner words could not describe.

"I'm about to board now,"

"I saw on the news; the weather was killer," he commented. "Your daughter's been complaining to me saying that it's not a vacation without you,"

"I'll be there soon enough," she forced a smile.

"We love you, Neela," his warm voice assured her. "And we'll be at the airport waiting. See you soon,"

With a silent nod, she hung up the phone. Staring out of the large windows, she narrowed her eyes against the world. The rain wasn't pouring anymore. And unlike the storm that barely made it through the night, she was unsure if this too, would pass.

And as she squinted up, looking through her bloodshot, puffy eyes, through the glass windows and into the bright morning sky, she inwardly noted that although the clouds weren't crying anymore, a greyness loomed ahead, threatening the light of the new sun.

Fin