Figment of Emotions	  Figment of Emotions by Ashley Sametz

  

 <PRE>
 OK, so it's summer and I'm bored and I just came back from a jog where
once again I discussed story ideas with my dog. Well, I was struck with
this one for some God unknown reason, but I liked it and here it is. One
more thing. The premise of this was stolen from a defunct (aren't they
all?)Canadian series called "Catwalk". That's all I took, I swear, just
one idea. (I'll be more specific at the end, I'm not giving anything away)
But hey, William Shakespeare did it a lot too. Oh, another thing... Ray
And Stella! I know, I know. Lots of yous think she's a callous bitch, but
I like the character and I believe that deep down, she still wants Ray
(Don't we all). Once again, I'm using a song to convey feelings, though
it's more of a song from Stella's POV. Oh, and another thing...I never
could find the names of Stella's parents, or her maiden name. I made a
name for her parents, but never thought of a decent last name. There are
some hard to follow scenes in this story, but if you transferred it to
celluloid and it would make perfect sense (Yeah, that's a hint to Paul
Haggis/Robert Lantos). It flashes from Ray's thoughts to real-time events.
Read it, you'll know what I mean. TYK to a specific member of the opposite
gender who will remain nameless (even he doesn't know who he is) who
helped inspire the Ray/Stella scene. You'll never know how much of my
writing (especially writing like this) has been aided by you. Hope to see
you again next summer. Figment of Emotions Ashley Sametz, 1999 

 

 Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap 

 Ray Kowalski repeatedly hit the lid of his pen on the paper sitting in
front of him. He glanced at the wall clock and groaned inwardly at the
view. Eleven fifty-seven. He dropped the pen, sighed, closed his eyes and
buried his face in his hands, massaging his face. "Focus...." he muttered
into his palms, "Focus." He stared back at the report sitting on his desk
which had now become his adversary. "Forget this, I'm goin' home." He was
just about to stand up when a familiar voice stopped him. "Giving up,
Ray?" He didn't turn around on account of his cheeks turning crimson.
"Ahh, no. I'm just, you know, stretching." He felt the heat recede from
his face and he turned to face his ex-wife. "Why are you here Stell?" "Guy
in interview one." She flipped open the manila folder in her hands and
began leafing through its contents. She began to walk away. "Ya need a
ride or something? It's late." 

 "Don't worry, Ray. I've got a ride coming." Her heels clicked on the hard
linoleum as she exited the bullpen. Ray sank into his chair, dejected. He
looked at the report once more, filled in the date and completed half of
it. Standing up, he grabbed his sportscoat off the coatrack. He flung it
over his shoulder and grabbed it loosely with his index finger. He
sauntered out of the bullpen, bidding the few detectives who had also
fallen back on their paperwork goodnight. He was surprised to see Stella
standing just inside the front doors, staring outside. "Who's comin' to
get you?"  "A friend." Ray nodded casually. "A...guy friend?" Stella
turned around to face him. If looks could kill, Ray would be  

 dead on the floor. "I don't think its really any of your business, Ray. I
never probe your personal life, why do you do it to me?" "I'm not probing,
Stella. I was asking a question."  "Well, in that case, it is a man."
"Hm." Ray poked his lower lip out slightly and nodded once more. Dammit,  

 why couldn't he ever talk to this woman? "Want me to..uh...wait with 
you?" His eyebrows rose, hopeful. "It's up to you." "I'll stay." Ray
stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He  

 rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet trying to think of
something clever to say. "It's freezing in here." Stella complained.
"Don't you guys have heat in this building?" Ray was given an opportunity
and he took it. He took the jacket off his finger and put it over Stella's
shoulders. "Better?"  "That wasn't an invitation for you to give me your
coat, Ray." Stella snapped, but left the coat around her shoulders
nonetheless. "I wasn't	

 coming on to you Stella, I was being nice." Ray looked at his ex-wife's
face, but she continued to stare outside. "Well, you don't have to do it.
We're not married anymore." 

 "I know that." Ray hung his head. Did she always have to remind him? "No
you don't, Ray." She turned to stare him in the eye, the way she did when
she reprimanded him. "Every time I come by, you always drop everything
and-" "I do not!" Ray resented how childish he sounded but couldn't help
it. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, feeling clumsy. "Yes you do!
And every time I mention a friend, you always ask if it's a guy. We're
through. We've been divorced long enough for you to realise I don't love
you like I did." Ray peered up from a mess of spiky blonde hair. "Oh,
don't give me that look Ray." "Give it a rest Stella!" Ray shot back,
feeling more assertive. "I get the point! I'm pathetic, OK?!" "I'm glad to
see that you've realised that." They held each others glare , like two
kids in a schoolyard staring match. Stella won as Ray dropped his gaze to
the floor. "You've changed, Stell."  "Yeah, well, maybe you should too."
She took the sportscoat off, and held it distastefully in her hands. "I
don't know. What if I end up  

 with an attitude like yours?" Ray bit his tongue. Maybe that was a bit
too harsh.  "What is that supposed to mean?!" "What do you think?! Every
time I try to act with...what's it called,  

 chivalry, you always knock me for it!" "Then don't be courteous to me!" 
"That won't be hard." Stella turned back to gazing out the window, but the
fire in her eyes  

 was still present. "Where the hell's my ride?" "Don't deflect this,
Stella."  "What do you want me to say?!" "I don't know, maybe an
explanation for why you hate me!" "I don't hate you! I-" "Excuse me." The
feuding couple turned to the voice. "I've got officers	

 trying to work in here. Take it outside." Welsh said sternly, then
disappeared down a hallway. Stella sniffed and looked at her watch. "I'll
give you a ride."  "Ray! I just-" "Not because I want to, but because I'll
probably loose my job if we  

 keep standing her. Lets go." Stella gave her ex-husband one last cold
glare as he pushed open the door. She followed him to his car.	 * *  

 Not a word passed their lips as they drove home in the darkness. Splashes
of lamplight illuminated the desolate streets. Bothered by the silence,
Ray leaned over and turned the radio on. 

 "Love is hard, love is strong, you will never say that you were wrong.  I
don't know when I got bitter, but love is surely better when it's gone.
'Cause you wanted more more than I could give,	

 more than I could handle... 

 They cringed simultaneously, but Ray didn't bother changing the station.
Stella just made him feel like crap; he could at least make her feel a bit
uncomfortable. He smirked slightly. 

 You wanted more, more than I could bear, 

 more than I could offer, 

 for love that isn't there"  "What was that for?" "What was what?" "Your
smirk." "Nothing. I didn't smirk." Ray kept his eyes on the road and
listened  

 to the underscoring guitar. Stella glared at him. It made Ray uneasy  and
he looked to her for a moment. "I don't get you, Ray.". "You never did."
He stared out the windshield. "You never got me, either." "Probably not. I
still don't. One second, we're buddies, then you decide  

 to go postal on me for giving you my jacket. How am I supposed to
understand that?" Ray looked at her, then back out the windshield. "You
never were very good at that." 

 "At what? Understanding you?" Stella shrugged. "No, what are you trying
to say here?" "I don't know."  "You don't know." "Well what about you,
Ray? We've been divorced for two years, and yet you still come on to me."
"Woah woah woah! I do not come on to you!" "You do so!" "When? When did I
do that? And you can't say the jacket thing, 'cause  

 I do that for Frannie too. Ask her." "That time at Christmas, you asked
me to go out-"	"It was decorating a tree, Stella." "You still had no need
to do that." "Why not? We did it before." "When we were married!"  

 "...I don't know when I got bitter, but love is surely better 

 when it's gone..." 

 "What about when you invited me into your apartment?" Ray pointed out.
"What about that, hun? That wasn't me coming on to you, it was you coming
on to me." Stella gave him another glare. "What's that look for? You're
angry because I was finally right?" "No, Ray, You're not right! We both
got caught up in the moment, I had a bad relationship going, I felt
lonely-" "You felt lonely?!"  "Yes!" "Then that's my excuse too!" Stella
was about to respond, but never got the chance. A moment after	

 Ray's sentence had left his lips, he cursed. Glass shattered and tires
screamed, struggling to stay on pavement. There was an amazing crunch of
metal. At a loss for things to do, the two passengers did the only thing
they could. They shielded their faces and Stella let out a frightened cry,
reaching for Ray's arm.   * *	"Yo, Yo. Hey, he's awake." Ray's head felt
fuzzy, like it was packed with cotton. His eyes were  

 open, he knew that, but all he could see was navy blue. The hell...?
"Mr.Vecchio ?" 

 Ray moved his mouth a few times, then managed to nod and say, "Present."
The navy blue disappeared as the ambulance tech leaning over Ray's torso
sat back down. The two techs chuckled softly. Ray's eyes came back into
focus. OK... so he was in an ambulance with two guys. So he was here
and... "Stella..?" He said.  "What?" one of the techs asked. "My wife,
where is she? She was in the car, where is she?" "She's been taken to the
hospital as well." "Is she OK?" Ray tried to sit up, but was pushed back
down. "Woah, woah. You're pretty banged up. Stay still." Hearing that he
was  

 'banged up', Ray instinctively felt his face. A few cuts, and a nice big
one by the hair line. From the breaking glass no doubt. "Is she OK
though?" He asked again. No response "How's my car?" Ray asked, just
wanting for someone to answer. "Not too great." Said the other tech,
sticking and IV in his arm. "She's had it. You're lucky. Only minor
injuries from what we've assessed so far." Ray nodded slightly, and began
piecing things together. He narrowed his eyebrows as he realised
something. If the car was trashed and he was lucky....then what condition
was Stella in? Hold on, something wasn't right here.... "What hospital am
I going to?"  "Chicago Grace." "Stella too?" "Who?" "The person in the car
with me, my ex-wife." He caught the two techs exchange glances. "Um, I
guess so. It's a well equipped hospital, they  

 can handle anything." "What happened to her?" He asked again, this time
more forcefully. "What do you mean they can handle anything?" "Sir, you'll
have to calm down, OK? If you calm down, then we'll be able to do our
job." "I don't care if you can do your job or not! What happened to my
wife!?" "Sir, look. At this time, the condition of your wife is unknown,
all right? We don't know what's happened to her, she was taken away
first." Ray might not know medical procedure like these guys did, but he
knew the priorities. The more severe injuries were tended to right away.
If she was already on her way when Ray was put in the ambulance... "Oh,
God."  "Sir, look. We'll ask for you when we get to the hospital, OK?"
"Oh...God." "Mr.Vecchio..."    * *  

 Ray fidgeted as a three year old child would. The doctor gave him an
authoritarian glare. "Mr.Vecchio," The doctor said sternly, "The more
co-operation you give me, the sooner you'll be out of here." Ray nodded
and tried to sit still as the doctor gave him a final examination. He 
shone a pen light in Ray's eyes. "Hey!" he said, squinting. "Mr.Vecchio,
please." "I know, just warn me before you shine stuff in my face." Ray
relaxed  

 and let the doctor continue to check him over. "Well, Mr.Vecchio, you
have a clean bill of health aside from a few cuts a bruises. And watch out
for your ribs, they took quite a beating." The doctor replaced his glasses
and they promptly slid down his nose as he looked at his pager. "You can
be discharged at the front desk." The doctor picked up the chart on the
table. "You're a lucky man." Ray slid off the exam table and pulled his
shirt back on, wincing in the process. The doctor pulled back the
curtains, and stepped out into the hallway. "Hey, doc, wait a sec!?" Ray,
still struggling with his shirt, approached the doctor in the hallway. "My
ex-wife. She came in a while before me. Stella....do you have any  idea
where she might be?" "How severe were her injuries?" "I don't know. That's
what I want to find out." "Ask the front desk. But if she was just
admitted, you're going to have	

 a hell of a time trying to find her." Ray nodded, shook the man's hand
and went off in search of the reception desk. "Excuse me?" He asked the
receptionist, leaning over the top of the counter. "I'm looking for a
patient. Kowalski, Stella. Can you tell me where I can find her?" The
receptionist smiled at Ray and went to work trying to locate the patient.
"Kowalski, S." The receptionist announced. "How are you related?"
"Husband..ex-husband..." Ray sighed.  "She's in ICU...fourth floor. Room
427." "Wait, ICU? What's wrong with her?" The receptionist shrugged. "I
couldn't tell you. I only know room numbers.  

 But if she's in ICU....she's probably not doing so hot." Ray quickly
thanked the woman at the desk and ran to the elevators. He repeatedly
punched the 'Up' button. "Come on...." He impatiently paced the floor at
the elevators. When one finally showed up but was heading down, he let out
a frustrated groan and made his way to the stairs. Despite his injuries,
he ran.   * *  

 Ray jogged down the hallway, his eyes straining to catch the numbers as
he ran by. "What are you doing here?" Ray stopped in his tracks,
recognising the man. Stella's father. Ray moved his mouth but no words
came out.  "Well, son, what is it?" "I'm...sorry...?" he managed to say,
though he still didn't know what he should be sorry for. "You'd better be.
My daughter could die because..."  

 The rest of the words never registered in Ray's mind. She could die. She
could die, and it would all be Ray's fault. He looked to the floor for a
moment, searching for an answer in the speckled tiles. He couldn't  find
one. "Sir...how is she? They never told-" "She's in a coma, Raymond. My
little girl is in a..." once again, Ray  

 never let the rest of the words filter through his brain. He made a move
for the door. A wet-eyed, petite woman who had a stunning resemblance to
Stella, stepped out of the room as Ray was about to enter. "What do you
think you're doing, Ray?" 

 "I...wanna see her." Ray looked past the woman in front of him, and into
the room. The curtain was drawn around the bed. It was a private room. Of
course, nothing was too good for their little girl.... "I don't want you
in there." Stella's mother said sternly, placing a hand on his chest. Ray
flinched inwardly. "I want to see her." Ray repeated, this time looking
the woman in the eye. "Family only, Raymond." Her father said, staring
down Ray. Ray contained his rage. "You're no longer part of this family."
The man sounded almost pleased. "I was married to her. I should be allowed
to see her." 

 "You're divorced. She's in a coma because of you. You're not going near
my daughter, you understand, son?" Ray swallowed the lump in his throat,
struggling to maintain control of his voice in front of the imposing man.
"I love her."  "Get out of here." "I'm not leaving." "Get out, or we'll
call security." The two men were almost toe to toe.  

 "Go ahead, call security. I'm not leaving until I see her."  "Dear, go
get security." "Honey, you're going to cause a scene...." The small woman
wrung her hands nervously, staring at the two men. "I wouldn't want to
cause a  

 scene, sir." Ray said mockingly, not backing down from his position.
Stella's father took a step forward, his eyes reaming into Ray's. Ray
looked at him, expectant. "Sir?" The punch stung far more than normal, but
normally Ray hadn't just had pieces of glass extracted from it. "James!"
Stella's mother cried, horrified at her husband's behaviour. She did
however, seem slightly proud of the man. Ray reeled back in pain, holding
a hand to the right side of his face. Apparently the Novocain wasn't as
strong as he thought. A number of orderlies had now gathered and were
attempting to calm the furious man down. Ray straightened up, shot a cold
look at him and left in the opposite direction. "And don't even think of
coming back here!" Stella's father yelled. Ray put one hand to his head,
and pushed open the door to the stairs	 * *  

 Ray stared at his reflection in his coffee mug. It was small, quivering,
distorted. He sighed. "That's how I feel." Ray muttered to himself,
surprised at his own insightfulness. Placing the mug on his coffee table,
he stood up and wandered through his apartment, unsure of what to do. He
sank down onto his bed, sitting on the edge cupping his face in his hands.
He rubbed his eyes, momentarily forgetting how sore his face was. "Dammit
Ray..." He mumbled. "Damn." He flopped back onto his bed, his legs still
hanging off the edge. He glanced at his bedside clock and groaned softly
at the time. It was only two forty five. He was hoping that it would be
closer to dawn, maybe then he could do something, call someone. Despite
the events that had proceeded, Ray wondered for a moment if he could call
in sick or not. He laughed, barely audible. "Only you, Ray, would think of
a day off when your ex-wife's in the hospital." Saying it seemed to remind
him of what he had done. He shut his eyes and tried to will away the
wounding ache in his gut. When the first hot tears stung his eyes, he
rolled over onto his stomach, seemingly hiding from someone.
Guilt-stricken, sobbing on his bed, he repeated softly, "I'm sorry....I'm
so sorry..."   * *  

 He awoke with a jolt. It took him a few moments to become aware of
things. He hastily wiped a hand across his face, trying to erase the salty
tear tracks that had been left behind by the tears that made their journey
down his cheeks that night. He realised why he awoken so suddenly; the
phone was ringing. He stumbled into the kitchen, and picked it up. "Have a
nice sleep, detective?" Welsh did not sound pleased. Ray took a quick look
at his watch. He had anticipated dawn so readily only a few hours ago and
now had ended up sleeping until nine. "Sir...I'm calling in sick."  "You
don't sound ill, detective." "Sir..." Ray's voice hushed involuntarily.
"Stella's in the hospital." He managed to say. Welsh was silent for a
moment. "Oh?" "Yeah..." Ray put a hand to his forehead, trying to get rid
of the pain  

 radiating from it. He clenched his eyes shut, either to force the ache
away or to prevent himself from getting choked up; he wasn't entirely sure
himself. "I'll call later...if you know...anything happens..." "All
right...do you need anything?" 

 Yes, he thought. I need to see her, tell her I love her, say I'm sorry. I
need someone to tell me this isn't my fault. I need...coffee, I need a
shower, I need to get rid of this incurable ache that's inside me. I need
to go back in time, I need to talk to someone... "No. I'm good....for
now." Ray managed to say. "I'll call if anything comes up." Welsh
recognised this as Ray's polite way of signalling the end of the
conversation. He didn't press for any details, and hung up. Ray let the
phone linger by his ear for a moment, listening to the oddly comforting
hum of the dial tone. He soon found himself pacing again. He made a futile
attempt to clear his mind, or at least fill it with other thoughts but he
soon found his train of thought would flicker back to the accident. "How
did it happen?" He finally questioned himself. He was in total control of
the car until that corner. Was there something on the road? Did the tires
skid? Did he just loose control of the car? Maybe....maybe it was
intentional. He and Stella had just had a very heated argument and- "No,
I'd never do that." Ray shook his head, dispersing his thoughts. He looked
at the phone, contemplating a call to Fraser, his parents even, but the
idea was quickly dashed as he realised there was nothing for him to say
but "Stella could die." He stared at it a few moments longer, then nearly
jumped when it rang. He looked at the phone again, then finally picked it
up. "Hello?"  "Ray Kowalski ?" "Speaking." Oh, God, don't let this be bad
news. "This is special investigator Mullins. I was wondering if you could 


 come down to my office for a meeting?" "What's this about?"  "I need to
ask you a couple questions about Stella Kowalski." They think I did it on
purpose. They think I deliberately tried to hurt  

 her. "Who hired you?" Ray asked, though he already knew the answer. Very 
few people still called him by his factual surname. "Mr. Kowalski, I'm
afraid that information cannot be given to you." "You think I did this	

 on purpose."  "Mr. Kowalski, I would advise you to say nothing more. Just
come down to my office with your lawyer-" "I'm not bringing a lawyer, I
didn't	

 do anything!" 

 "I'm at Dowe, Cheatham and Howe, on 63rd street. I'm sure you've heard
of-" 

 *click* 

 With his emotions still struggling to make sense, he threw the receiver
across the room. "I didn't do anything!"   * *	

 "Mr. Kowalski, what are you personal feelings for your ex-wife?" Ray
looked at the woman as though she was even stupider than she seemed. "What
do you think? You've asked me that a million times, I said I still  love
her." "Were you ever jealous of the men she dated?" Ray fell silent for a
moment, trying to think of another word for 'yes'  

 that didn't sound so obvious. "Well, Mr. Kowalski?" 

 "Yes, OK? She was my wife. I was married to her, how could I not be
jealous?" The private investigator nodded and made a quick note on her 
yellow legal pad. "Did you ever...go to extreme lengths to...find
something out about her?" "I'm her ex-husband, not a stalker, OK?!" Ray
cried,	

 his patience wearing thin with this woman interviewing him. "I know you
think I did this intentionally! I didn't! I'd never do anything to hurt
her! I love her! Her parents never liked me and this is a chance for  them
do...I don't know, get back at me." "Get back at you for what?" "Marrying
her! I don't know! All I know is that I didn't want this to happen." "Can
you describe the events that took place up to the crash?"  

 Ray shakily exhaled and held his head up with his hands. He stared down
at the lacquered oak table for a moment before he nodded. "She was at the
station....she was defending someone I think, I don't really know. And she
stopped by my desk." "Did you carry on a conversation?"  "Yeah, well, a
small one." "About what?" "Why she was there, and what I was doing." "What
were you doing?" "Filling out reports." "What time was this?" "I
dunno...eleven fifty maybe?" Ray looked up in time to see the woman make
another note in the legal pad. "Do you always stay that late, Mr.  

 Kowalski?" 

 "No...not unless I'm working a shift. I was catching up on a report." The
woman nodded and continued writing. Ray couldn't help wondering what she
was writing. He tried to look at the paper, but he was tired and  his eyes
weren't functioning up to par. "Then what happened?" "Uhh...I finished the
report and left the station, but I saw Stella  

 just inside the doors waiting for her ride." "Were you aware she was
being picked up? 

 "Yeah, she told me when I offered her a ride." She made another note, and
Ray chided himself for telling the woman of the offer he made to his
ex-wife. "Then what happened?"	"Her ride never showed, so I gave her a
lift." "You waited with her?" "Yeah." "Why?" "Because..." Ray's mind
kicked into fifth gear as he frantically tried	

 to think of a reason to wait with Stella other than he wanted to spend
time with her. "Because...?" the investigator prompted.  "Because I was
worried...?" "About what?" "I don't know...she was all by herself, and she
was alone and...you  

 know." The PI nodded sympathetically and once again scrawled something in
the legal pad. She extended a hand across the table and Ray shook  it. She
stood up. "Well, Mr.Kowalski, thank you for your time. Is there anything
you'd like to ask me?" "Yeah. What happens now? I mean, I was  

 just questioned by a PI , so what now? Do I go to court? Am I, you know,
tried for attempted murder, what?" "Mr. Kowalski....we'll just have to see
what the outcome of this situation is first." She looked down at the man
who had buried his face in the crook of his arm, looking terribly pathetic
and vulnerable. "I understand what you're going through, Mr. Kowa-" "Oh,
so, how many people have you almost killed?" He asked, deadpan. "'Cause
this is number two for me. He first time, I was lucky. A woman almost died
because of my mistake. The next time, I might not be as lucky. That's my
wife, OK? I'm under suspicion for the attempted murder of my ex-wife! How
many times has that happened to you?" "I'm sorry, I just didn't..." 

 "Are we done?" Ray asked, trying to control his trembling voice. The
woman nodded. "Yes. Thank you for coming by. I'll call you if....if
something happens." Ray nodded and stood up. He ran a hand down his face,
stopped at his jaw and rubbed the stubble that had grown in the span of
the past two days. With everything else that was happening and everything
that wasn't, shaving was the last thing on his mind.   * *  

 "Talk to ya later, Frase. OK. All right, I will. Bye." Ray titled his
neck back and sighed. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, resulting in his
shoulder blades cracking. He tipped his head forward and hit the CALL END
button on his cell phone, as his home phone was temporarily out of service
after the receiver's impromptu impact with the opposite wall. Tucking a
pillow under his head, he lay back on the couch and shut his eyes,
desperately trying to fall asleep, or at least doze off for a bit. He
hadn't had any rest since the night of the accident and his body was
craving a rest. His mind however, had a totally different idea: Stay awake
and think of everything related to Stella and how much you love her and
how much you'll hate yourself if she dies. When she dies. Ray rolled over
onto his stomach and buried his face in the soft pillow. He exhaled
audibly into it and found himself wondering what his friends and loved
ones would be doing if it were he who was in critical condition. What
would Fraser be doing? Or thinking....	 * *  

 Fraser sat in his office at the Canadian Consulate, papers strewn about
his desk. However, for the first time in his life, he was not working when
he was supposed to be. Instead, he was thinking - worrying, really - about
his friend. He had been in a coma for two days and was still showing no
signs of improvement. Fraser had attempted to see him, but with the
condition Ray was in, only immediate family were allowed to visit. Fraser
had spent countless hours pacing the floor of his apartment, from one
window to the next disquieted and contemplating. If he did...die, nothing
would be keeping him in Chicago. True, he did have a job, but Thatcher did
seem keen on the transfer to Ottawa and if Fraser were to agree to it,
they'd be packed and gone by the end of the week. What about Ray's family
though? Both fake and factual? Mrs. Vecchio needed a son, no matter if he
was a biological one or not. And Ray's actual parents adored their son,
even though Damian didn't always show it openly. Perhaps he wouldn't
leave. How could a split-second wrinkle of time, one mistake on the road,
one person, change so many lives?   * *  

 Ray rolled onto his back. Yeah, Fraser might be there for me. What am I
saying? Of course Fraser would be there for me. We're practically
brothers. Thinking of brothers got Ray thinking of his own. And his mother
and father. If he were lingering on the line, would they worry? Would they
pace and make phone calls? Would mom sit by my bedside and cry? Oh, God I
hope she wouldn't cry....   * *  

 A loving hand stroked Ray's hair, familiar fingers disturbing the chaotic
brownish-blonde spikes. Barbara Kowalski had spent the past two hours
softly speaking to her son while doing this to his hair. "Raymond...I
remember when you were nine and had the chicken pox. I sat beside you for
hours, just telling you stories and running my fingers through your hair."
She smiled at the memory. "It stood up, I did it so much....but now it
does that on its own." "Barb, why don't you go get yourself a coffee."
Damian said to his wife as he entered the room. "You're going to make
yourself crazy if you keep sitting here." She nodded at her husband, but
her gaze never left her child. "Just a little longer, Damian." He put an
arm about his wife and squeezed her tightly. "He looks so....sick." "I
know...I know. But all we can do is wait. The doctor said that it's up to
Raymond. You know that." Mrs. Kowalski nodded once more, and rested her
head against her husband. "Damian, I'm so worried..." The woman said,
blinking back her tears. The tears didn't fall, but her voice hushed, 
frightened. "Barb...don't cry." "I can't help it," she wept, allowing the
tears to spill over . "He's  

 my son, Damian. He's not supposed to die before I do." "Nobody's dying,
Barb. Nobody's dying. We've got to stay positive, all right?" "All right."


 "We've got to stay positive...."   * *  

 What about Frannie? He questioned himself. When Fraser was dead-so to
speak- she dodged midday traffic for the guy. She wouldn't do that for me,
she won't even get a coffee for me. Nah...Frannie wouldn't worry. She
wouldn't even care.   * *  

 "Ma, I said so much bad stuff about him. I didn't mean any of it." The
youngest Vecchio clung to her mother as she sat on the living room couch
and sobbed. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, tinting her tears
water-colour black. Had she wanted to hide them, it would have been
impossible. She cried freely, not ashamed she was the only one weeping
openly. "Cara..." Mrs. Vecchio sighed over her daughter's head. "I
know....this is very rough on all the family. You've got to stay strong,
please, for Ray. For me." Francesca nodded, wiping the back of her hand
across her face, which resulted in her looking even more miserable than
she already did. "Mama, I'm so scared," Frannie whispered, her voice ready
to break again. "Me too....he's not my bambino....but love him...still." 

 "Ma, I do too. And I treated him so bad. I said so much stuff I didn't
mean. I never cared when he was late, I never warned him to be careful..I 
did it to Ray all the time. But..." "There's nothing we can do about that
now, Francesca. All we can do is pray and hope that-" "I should  

 have. I didn't even say goodnight to him when I left...If he dies, I
don't know......" Mrs. Vecchio rocked her distraught daughter back and
forth, trying to ease the pain. She shushed Francesca gently, running a
hand over her hair. "Shhh....he'll be OK, I'm sure. Raymond's not the 
type to give up so easily." "But he might if he thinks no one cares....Ma,
I care. I really do." "I know....shhhh....." "I care so much..."    * *  

 OK, so Frannie wouldn't care....big surprise there. Is that it? Those are
the only people who'd....oh, wait. Stella. Actually, Stella'd probably
throw a dinner party. Invite the guy that was supposed to pick her up and
they'd toast each other....   * *  

 She turned to the man she had been married to and her heart sank. He
looks so small, she thought. Looking small was not a good thing when you
only weighed one hundred and fifty-nine pounds. Stella took over Barbara
Kowalski's vacant seat beside the bed, and tried to make herself
reasonably comfortable despite the moulded blue plastic that had obviously
been moulded for someone with a much smaller posterior. "Ray....it's me,
Stella." She looked at him anxiously, awaiting a response. Tears stung the
back of her eyes when she said "You used to come running when I said
that." She took one of his hands in her own, rubbing his palm with her
index finger. "Ray...please. Wake up. I know you're in there, I know you
can hear me. Ray, you've got so many people worried.... I'm one of those
people." A lump formed in Stella's throat, preventing her from saying
anything more than fighting back tears. "Ray, look what you're doing to
me. I said we were over....I said we were over, and look at me. Here I am
losing sleep and not eating because of you. I promised myself I was over
you, and look at me. " She laughed slightly through her tears. "You'd
better not be faking this just for my attention." A tear dribbled down her
cheek but she brushed it away. She squeezed his hand tenderly. "Because
you always had it," Stella confessed quietly. "You always had it." She
paused, fighting back the tears. "Ray, I never meant half the things I
said. The things about you being a pain in the ass and never letting go, I
take it back." From a room down the hall, faint strains of U2's "With Or
Without You" wafted through the ward, setting Stella's pain to music. Her
gazed traced her ex-husband's face, taking in his unconventional beauty.
God, she loved him. She loved how he tried so hard to please, she loved
him for the man he tried to be and almost was. She loved how he'd laugh at
the most inappropriate of times, easing the tension. She loved how he
smiled at her, making her feel wanted and loved, and warm and complete.
Because deep down she knew it. She knew that they in fact were meant for
each other. They married because they loved each other. They still did,
only Ray confessed it. Stella didn't allow herself to; she didn't like
speaking of her lack of relationships. She had dated that stupid alderman
only to try her hand at dating again. It wasn't her fault she actually
ended up liking him, but was celebrating inside when he was arrested; it
made breaking-up so much easier. Her train of thought rebounded around in
her head and she found herself angry at the irony of it all. Here she was,
finally confessing to her ex-husband how much she loved him and wanted
him, and he couldn't hear a thing. 

 "...On a bed of nails she makes me wait....and I wait without you..." 

 She continued to stare into at the face of the man she fell in love with
when she was only 12. She smiled at the recollection of it; him trying to
impress her with his charm and dashing good looks, then proceeding to walk
into a wall because he wasn't wearing his glasses. He still held that
charm and those looks more than twenty years later. Maybe that's why she
was so drawn to him. That aura he had that almost gave him control over
people, Stella had experienced that first hand. There was nothing
overwhelming about his attitude, sometimes he had too much of it, but
under that tough-guy exterior, he was so many things. He was a scared
pseudopunk, a man who desperately wanted to be a father and raise a child,
a man with unconditional love for those he truly cared about, no matter
what they did to him. He had the soul and grace of a poet, but could
instantly shift his attitude and become a narrow-minded, cynical and
undaunting jackass within a fraction of a second. He was everything a girl
wanted and her parents hated, James Dean and Charles Dickens all put
together perfectly to make the absolutely wonderful human being that
Stella had fallen for. And kept falling for. Stella stopped staring long
enough to realise that tears were sliding down her cheeks and landing on
their clasped hands. For a moment, she just looked at the hand in her own
and was soon overcome with a wave of guilt and grief. How was it possible
that she used to cringe whenever she saw him, or whenever she smelt his
cologne on another man? She found it near impossible to believe that she
had made this man cry because of the spiteful things she said to him, and
actually meant. 

 "I can't live.....with or without you." 

 "Ray...come back to me."   * *  

 *Ring, Ring* 

 *Ring, Ring* 

 *Ring, Ring*  Blindly, Ray picked up the phone, faint strains of morning
light lurking just below the horizon. "Figures," he muttered. "The moment
I get to  

 sleep-" The electronic-sounding ring interrupted him. 

 *Ring, Ring*  He flipped it open. "Vecchio." "Ray, it's your mother ."
"Mom, what the hell are you doing, calling me at four o'clock?" "I just
got a call from the hospital, Stella's mother phoned. She couldn't reach
you on your home-" "What?" "Honey, Stella's not-" "Tell them I'm on my
way." Ray flipped the phone shut, stood up and	

 tossed it onto the spot on the couch he had just vacated. Not bothering
to even change, he snatched his car keys from the kitchen counter and
left, not even regarding to lock his door. Loosing his possessions was not
as important as loosing the person he cared most for.	* *  

 The moment the elevator doors opened, Ray was already moving. His boots
thumped the linoleum as he sprinted down the hall to room 744. A number of
people Ray didn't even know were pacing outside, some close to tears, some
already past them. "Anna," he said breathlessly, approaching Stella's
mother. "I came as soon as-" "Raymond...." She hugged the man tightly. 

 Oh God, bodily contact...what the fuck just happened to my wife? "Anna,
how is she?"  The woman's tears answered his question. "Oh shit..." Ray
said, feeling his heart collapse in his chest. "Oh, shit..." "She's not
dead, Raymond." Ray looked up, fear and guilt clearly playing on his
emotions. "Sir?"  

 he questioned Stella's father. "She's not....not yet, at least. We're not
allowed in there, the doctors are-" "She's flatlining!" a voice from
inside the room yelled.  "Get a crash cart! Code blue this!" Ray broke
away from the tiny woman and pushed past the commanding man blocking his
entrance into Stella's room. "Hey! You can't-" Ray blocked  

 the sound of his voice out of his head and pulled back the curtain. Three
doctors and a priest stood watch over the woman's lifeless body. 

 "Shit..." Ray breathed, wishing he had a more eloquent and probably more
tactful thing to say, truth being that his vocabulary had suddenly decided
to abandon him, leaving him with very limited expressions. "You can't be
in-" One of the doctors tried to hold him back, but Ray felt he had an
obligation to maintain. True, he was the ex-husband, but he had still been
married to the woman. He had more of a right in there  than the doctors.
"Stella!" "Start compressions." "Get him out of here!" "Start the
compressions!" Ray managed to find himself by Stella's side. He grabbed
one of her hands in his own. "Paddle!" The chaos surrounding  

 him made everything seem ten times worse. He wanted to get on his knees
and cry. He didn't care if these people could help her or not, he just
wanted to be alone with the woman that he had fallen in love with and
despite what he tried to tell himself, still was. One of the doctors
pulled Ray's hand off of Stella's, then nodded to the other doctor.
"CLEAR!" The way Stella jolted with the current of electricity made Ray
cringe. He allowed himself to cry; he could not control these tears.
"Nothing. Again! And get this guy outta here!"	"I'm not leaving!" "Who
the hell is he?" "Get him outta here, dammit!" "I love you, Stell!"
"CLEAR!" "Ray?!" Stella's voice. Suddenly, Ray was overcome with a
blinding headache and a tingly feeling down his arms. "He's back..." "Oh,
God. Thank you....." There it was again. Stella's voice. Ray spoke; at
least he thought he  

 did. He knew he was moving his mouth, but no sound came out. A moment
later he realised his lips were badly parched; bleeding even. He licked
them slowly then tried again. "Stell..." He whispered harshly. A shaking
hand enveloped his. 

 "Ray....I'm right here." Doctors were still bustling around Ray, checking
him over, monitoring him, but he didn't seem to notice. He closed his eyes
and wondered what the hell had just happened. "You were in a coma, Ray. We
got into a car accident the night you were driving me home...." "You OK?"
The hand squeezed his.	"I'm fine....you had me really worried there, Ray.
Don't ever do that again..." "Promise..." Soft lips kissed his knuckles
then the back of his hand. It was a dream? I was dreaming all of that? Oh,
God, thank  

 you. Stella...you're OK. I'm OK. We're OK. I love you Stella....did you
hear me say that? That was the last thing I said....God, I'm tired....But
I have my wife back... "Ms. Kowalski...if you wouldn't mind leaving for a
while....come back after he's rested..." She nodded, content that her
ex-husband was alive and safe. She walked out the door, leaving Ray to his
rest. A moment later, she stepped back in the room. "Ray?" She whispered
softly, an incredible feeling of affection striking her as she saw his
face. He was jolted from his sleep, but couldn't think of a better thing
to wake up to rather than Stella's voice. He moved slightly to acknowledge
her, too tired to speak coherently. "About what you said.....I love you
too." 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hope
you enjoyed.
 (Ash, I kept thinking "Hey, Ray's been in 2 crashes now! Man, he must
feel like shit, taking one life, and almost taking another *L*) The thing
I swiped was Ray being in the coma and thinking it was Stella. "You Wanted
More" Tonic
 "With or Without You." U2
 Now I'm done this story...and I still wanna write. Here's a list of
things I did over the summer BESIDES writing: Shopped for new school shoes
(I heard our principal was a uniform nazi), hunted for guys, went to the
CNE, went to Ontario Place, baby-sat, swam, worked out at the YMCA, went
to Wonderland where I met Gabriel Hogan (The guy from Traders...the hot
young one. Very nice guy), partied....broke the law but wasn't caught,
went up north (Go Minden, Ontario!), saw "Tank Girl" "Cruel Intentions",
"Varsity Blues", "The Blair Witch Project", "American Pie", "The Mod
Squad", "10 Things I hate about you", "Flipper", "The Horse Whisperer"
(Again, Tamara where were you when I needed you!?). and some
Supposed-To-Be-American-But-Filled-With-Canadian-Talent-movie starring
Gabe Hogan and Jan Rubes. Read books...."The Investigators", W.E.B.
Griffen; Pretty good but hard to follow. Even harder to follow than *this*
story. Half of "War And Peace", Leo Tolstoy; I think I'm just reading it
to impress my Grade 12 English teacher. (Ms. Bafundi, are you impressed
yet?) and I'm halfway through "Primal Scream", Michael Slade; REALLY good,
if you just ignore that dominatrix chapter... </PRE>