Disclaimer: I own zippo.

Author's notes: Do we need author's notes? This chapter is a little boring, but
just as important. The other parts of this story can be found here:

http://www.geocities.com/luka_abby


  "Lonely Bittersweet Rain" by Carolina


  Light, there's light outside. The sun came out. It was sunny outside? He
walked out of the hotel, feeling the warmth melting his skin and suddenly his
coat was too much to bear. What happened to the rain? The clouds? The coldness?
The pain?

  He took a deep breath, the air no longer freezing the hairs inside his
nostrils. Sunshine and clear skies are always attached to high moods and a
pleasant life. Like those allergy commercials. By taking one pill a day, your
sinuses will clear up, clouds will turn cotton white, and skies will be a
lovely shade of blue. Side effects include detachment, dissociation, depression
and alienation from the rest of the world.

  Thoughts of skipping the conference raced through him like a fake rabbit at a
dog race. He could just take that rental car, and drive all the way to the
beach. He could buy some food along the way, lay on the sand and wait for the
waves to hypnotize him, transport him to another time and era, and just be at
peace. Well, there were no beaches in Chicago, and there was one reason why he
wanted to go to the conference that day. That reason was strong enough for him
to buckle up and drive to the right place.

  As usual, he was the first one to arrive. He chose a chair in the middle to
camouflage himself between all the other medical practitioners, and he just sat
there, waiting for the stampede of doctors to rush in. Every once in a while,
someone walked in and sat far away from him, all of them reading newspapers or
medical journals. It never occurred to him to bring something to read while he
waited. So he sat there, like a gargoyle, guarding his row.

  Suddenly, like a shock of electricity, his body shivered. Like going through
a wormhole, he was suddenly in point C without ever stopping on A or B. He
looked around, confused at his sudden jerk and praying no one had seen it, if
they did, they didn't care. Confusion kicked in, that's point C.

  His hands turned cold, and even though there were only a few people there,
all minding their own business, he felt as if he was being watched, closely
watched, as if someone was sitting next to him with their eyes glued to his
skin. He looked around, and wiped his sweaty hands against his pants. His heart
was racing, his skin full of goose bumps.

  Like another lightning bolt, he stood up, almost knocking his chair down, and
rushed out.

  The sun was still shinning, nothing had changed, and the crisp breeze
prevented him from suffocating. He rested his hands on his knee caps and let
his head drop almost to the ground once he was out. Beads of sweat were making
their way down his temples and his back. The noise of the city and the traffic
surrounded him, but all he could hear was that damn deafening beep again; the
sound of silence. The relentless and mortifying beep.

  The hairs on his arms and back were still standing, so he stroked them down
and took a few deep breaths. His eyes were moist, and he felt like knocking his
head against the wall a couple of times. A few women who were passing by gave
him a weird look, so he tried to compose himself quickly. He had never been so
scared in his entire life. No, scared was not the right word, he had been
scared before. But this was different, like monsters under your bed or a
midnight trip to the cemetery. He was spooked, that was the right word. Reason
number 1638 to stay away from Chicago...

  Now he was scared (the right word this time) to go back in.

  "You're a man, Luka, act like one," he scolded himself. After taking a few
steps, he became more confident. "Men are not scared of ghosts."

  There were more people inside now, and he found his things under the chair he
had occupied before. After looking around for a moment, he wiped the rest of
the sweat on his hands against his pants again and sat down.

  The air was still dense and hard to breathe, but the presence of a few people
around him made it all much better. Still, he wondered if that other presence
was still there, looking at him, breathing with him and in him. For years he
had prayed for those haunting memories to stop following him. It was one of the
reasons why he moved... the farther away, the better. But now that he was back,
to the setting of death and desolation, he found himself being wrapped by the
truths and consequences of his actions.

  Sometimes he wondered why God hadn't taken his life already. He always
questioned why misery followed him around so relentlessly, why misfortune
always struck those he loved so much. He couldn't remember all the times he
laid in bed at night, creating the perfect plan.

  Slitting the wrists is one of the most popular choices among suicidal people.
But somehow he didn't want to leave a mess behind. He didn't want to scare
whomever was unfortunate enough to find him. That was an image he was sure
would stay in your mind forever. Jumping down a window had the same effect,
plus, what if he landed on his feet? He wanted to die, not to spend the rest of
his life on a wheelchair.

  The most obvious way, him being a doctor, was probably to take a bunch of
pills and sleep his way into sweet death. This was the one idea that he liked
the most, just close your eyes and hold on tight. The drawback? He had known
patients who, while in the middle of consciousness and death, have gotten to
their feet and gone for help without knowing it. "I don't remember calling
911." But they did. Apparently when your body doesn't want to die, it finds a
way to survive even against your will. So that was another idea he disregarded.
If he was going to do it, it would be one attempt and it would have to be
successful.

  So he thought of jumping off a bridge. The water had always been hypnotizing
and inviting. But he knew he'd start swimming impulsively. So many options, so
many reasons. But one stood out the most. One of them would end all this in 2
seconds, without the minimum amount of energy. A patient gave him the idea. "A
man shouldn't walk around the city alone at night. Give me a call, I'll hook
you up with a nice .45. I can get you a permission in an hour, no questions
asked."

  No questions asked, that was the best part. Why do you need this gun? I was
just about to blow my brains out. Great, here you go. Don't forget to tell your
friends about us!

  It was like seeing himself outside of his body. He saw himself as he entered
the small shop, sweating and nervous. He saw himself make the purchase and he
saw himself walk out. The more he thought about it, though, the more it seemed
like something which must be done. When he first held that gun in his hands,
something inside of him felt right. This was the one way he had fallen in love
with. This was the vehicle which would guide him back to his family and
friends. This was it, one moment, just pull the trigger. How hard can it be?
Just a jerk of the finger and boom. If it ever came down, that was it. And it
did come down that cold November evening. He had to be stopped. This was the
only and final attempt, the one Abby stopped.

  He could still remember that cold night and it still gave him chills. He had
killed his family and friends, he had killed a man. Luka Kovac was a murderer.
He was already responsible for at least 5 deaths, let alone all the patients
who had died under his care... why not one more?

  There was no note. The room was clean. Room service had been cancelled. He
would do it on the bed; with his head against a pillow. The gun felt heavy on
his hands, almost dragging him to the ground. He had cleaned it to make sure
there were no other finger prints on it, if he was going down, he was going
down alone. Everything was set; he had said his last prayer. He could still
feel the cold barrel against his temple, his eyes moist. His eyes closed and
everything went black, and the door knocked.

  For a moment he thought of doing it anyway, but the moment was gone. He
quickly hid the gun and cleaned his face.

  "It's me."

  He recognized her voice immediately, after she had left a thousand messages
on his answering machine. Without a single thought in his mind he opened the
door as if nothing had happen, or would have happened.

  "Can I come in, please?"

  The rest is history. The next day he threw the gun down the river. As he laid
there in bed that night with Abby, feeling her breathing against his neck, he
thought of leaving Chicago, start anew some place else. He had the same thought
every night, whether Abby was there or not. But suddenly one morning, it wasn't
his just his life anymore, there was someone else's. As small as it was, there
was now a small reason to stay. What would she say? How would she react? He had
tried to pull away from her, would she stop him from leaving if he decided to?
Suicide thoughts never crossed his mind again; leaving was just something he
did in the past. Would Abby like this tie? Would she hate this restaurant?
Would she dislike him growing a beard? Would she like it if he started playing
golf? Thoughts like these occupied his mind instead.

  Looking back he realized it was an addiction, Abby was the drug. But leaving
was not the cure. He still woke up wondering if Abby would like that tie,
thinking she'd love the weather in San Diego. After 5 years. Seeing her again
was not a relapse.

  But seeing that baby... he wasn't ready for that. He was ready for a wedding
ring, a big house in the suburbs, a tall man with a mustache and a nice car. He
wasn't ready for a baby. The more he tried to be happy for her, the more he
failed. He could have put it behind him if she would have married, but this...
it was too much. There were too many questions that came with it, one stood out
the most. Why isn't he in the picture?
 
  "You left." Well that was true. He left, he lived on the other side of the
country now. He chose to. He chose not to think. People say it's better to rip
a band aid off. One motion, and it's over. It's not over, it's not painless. It
always comes back to haunt you. It's not that easy. It's an infection waiting
to happen.

  Why people choose to do it anyway, he'll never know. Why he left? He'll never
know either. He knew the reasons, and when he put them all together it was so
overwhelming that even suicide thoughts came back. Life became insipid. The
woman he loved was no longer his. His job was pointless. His only friend was
gone.

  As he sat there, he let out a sigh and dropped his head back. In this day and
age, and you'd think they would have invented a drug that erased your long term
memory by now. If they ever did, he'd be the perfect poster boy.

  He looked at his watch, too early. The only noise was that of the air
conditioner humming. He thought of his bizarre experience earlier. It's
useless. No matter how much you try not to think about something, it's the one
thing you think the most. Could there be someone watching him at this very
moment? Hearing him? Touching him? The air conditioner shut down and the
silence came back. With it, its sound. That beep. That damn beep.


  ..."Mark? Mark, open your eyes! Starting compressions."...


  He still felt the nudging, and opened his eyes. A man next to him pointed to
the stage, where they were getting ready to start the conference. "Thanks," he
mumbled to the man.

  "No problem."

  He had an accent Luka couldn't recognize. The man sat back and never said a
word. People should always mind their own business.

~*~

  The sound of conservative applause filled the room, and Luka was the first
one to stand up. He waited at the base of the steps with a big smile on his
face as hundreds of doctors walked past him. Out of all the people he had seen,
Kerry was the only one who looked as if she had rejuvenated 5 years. The spark
in her eyes was almost blinding, her smile addictive. She hadn't seen him, and
he waited until she had walked past him to sneak behind her.
 
  "Good presentation, hardly no one fell asleep," he teased on her ear.

  Kerry turned around in a bolt with a big surprised look on her face. "Luka!"
She threw his arms around him, giving him a hug. "How are you?"

  Luka bent down to hug her, closing his eyes and glad about Kerry's positive
reaction. He was about to answer but she interrupted him. 

  "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she said, letting go of him.

  "I, wasn't going to, but the doctor who was supposed to be here canceled, so
they sent me," Luka said, playing with his knuckles as they began to walk out.

  Kerry looked up at him, watching as he pressed his lips together. The sound
of people walking and talking around them was almost deafening, so she almost
had to shout. "Do you want to go get some lunch? Catch up?" she asked. "These
sandwiches have been in the cafeteria for months, I'm surprised no one has
noticed."

  Luka smiled, and opened the doors for her, "If you're paying."

  "Ah," Kerry quipped. "As soon as they find out you're a lesbian, they want
off the hook."

  Luka just chuckled.

  Kerry stroked his arm hard with a big grin, "God, it's so good to see you
again."

  Luka smiled his first genuine smile.

~*~

  A disturbingly young waitress took their food order, and while trying to
remember, walked away to another table.

  "So how's Kim?" Luka asked as he took a sip of his coke.

  Kerry played with the straw of her lemonade, "We're doing great."

  "I heard you're all set for life?" Luka added.

  Kerry chuckled, "Yeah, basically. Kyle is 5, and Mollie is 3," Kerry smiled.

  "How did that happen?" Luka asked, playing with his straw, a hint of
wonderment in his voice.

  Kerry shifted on her seat. "Technology. We put our eggs together with a
donor's sperm and the first egg fertilizes was used. Kim carried them both."

  Luka shook his head, "Wow. Who's the donor?"

  "Anonymous," Kerry added. "We asked Romano, but he steadily declined."

  Luka laughed at the joke, "Well I'm glad." He took a sip of his drink and
looked up. "Which is yours and which is Kim's?" Luka asked.

  "We don't know," Kerry said with a smile. "And we don't wanna know. If
someday they want to know who is their biological mother, we'll take a test,
but for now we're a big happy family and not knowing actually draws us closer."

  Luka smiled, looking down. He twirled the liquid inside the crystal glass in
front of him, trying to hold himself back, trying not to ruin the moment. He
failed miserably. "Looks like everyone's doing that lately, I might have to
jump in and join the fun," he said sarcastically, not a hint of a smile on his
face.

  Kerry watched that for a moment, and then looked around hesitantly. "Heard
about that?"

  "Saw it," Luka said, dabbing his straw against the pieces of ice.

  Kerry didn't know what to say, if he wanted to be comforted, listened to, or
just kept company for a while. So she decided to gather some more information
before making a diagnosis. "You saw her?"

  "Last night," Luka said immediately. "She looks happy."

  Kerry raised her eyebrows while he was looking down at the table. "She's been
doing better since she got Lily."

  Luka scratched his head, still looking down at the way his napkin absorbed
the clear liquid coming down from his glass.

   She waited for another reaction, a sign of life, but got none other than a
blank stare which wasn't even set upon her. Something took a hold of her and
she couldn't stop it in time. "Luka, if you think it was bad for you, it was
hell for her. You just left, without a reason or an explanation. She stayed
with Kim and I for a while. Carter almost went crazy, trying to get her to
talk. I don't blame you, and I know no one else does. I don't blame Abby or the
things that she did in the past. But to this day I look back trying to find an
explanation strong enough, and Luka, I can't." She shook her head, staring at
him intensely; he still played with his napkin, as if he was being lectured.

  Luka finally moved, "I didn't want to hurt her."

  "I'm not blaming you, Luka. I understand that it was too much for you to
take. But we were all here for you to help you. And the next thing we know
you're gone, and Abby is crying in every corner of the hospital. Why?" she
asked emotionally without being accusatory. Now that she had him in front of
her, she didn't want to put him against the blade and the wall and give him a
spot to escape.

  Luka felt like he was being stabbed over and over. He closed his eyes to take
it all in and felt Kerry's hand on his.

  "Why didn't you just let us help you?" she asked again, in a more concerned
tone.

  He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was his napkin. So he picked
it up and started making little pieces out of it. "I don't know, Kerry. I never
thought I'd fall in love again. Abby and I had problems, and we fought and we
cried, but at the end of the day I still had this," he showed her all the
little pieces in his palm. "And it took me a long time to get this. A lot of
moving around and a lot of experimenting, but I finally had it. So it was just
enough to say I love you and I'm sorry and then everything was fine. That's how
it was with Daniela too, we fought like there was no tomorrow."

  He paused for a moment to try and answer her question, although he knew it
was futile. "It wasn't one reason, and it wasn't just all Abby. It was just
little reasons growing into one. Suddenly Abby was depressed, and I felt out of
orbit, and everything started to slip out of my fingers again," he let the
little pieces fall to the table and looked up. "I don't know why I left, Kerry.
Probably because I'm a coward. Abby left me, and..." he shrugged his shoulders,
"I lost my best friend because of a..." he pressed his lips together with rage
and calmed himself down. "I couldn't stay here after all that. If I would have,
I wouldn't be alive."

  Kerry couldn't take her eyes off his face. 5 years, the answer she already
knew, the one which left her with the same questions, if not more. She stroked
his hand. "I understand that," she said. "And like I said before, I don't blame
you, or think any less of you. You did what you thought you had to do and you
moved on. Must have taken a lot of strength and I admire you for that. But it
doesn't mean I don't regret it."

  Luka looked up and to the side, letting out a small sigh. "Thanks, for taking
care of her."

  Kerry smiled, letting go of his hand. "How are you, really?"

  Luka looked up and shrugged his shoulders, "Ok. I have a good job, good
friends."

  "Good," Kerry said quickly. The food came and they were in silence while the
waitress put their plates in front of her. When she was gone, Kerry picked up
her fork. "I heard you were in Dallas for a year."

  Luka smiled, "You stalking me?"

  Kerry chuckled. "I got my connections."

  Luka shook his head, "It was too cold, and my boss was a read head, so I had
to get out of there," he joked.

  Kerry kicked him under the table and smiled when he complained. "I'm glad
you're here."

  Luka gave her a crocked smile. "I'm glad you're glad." It was the only truth
he could tell, if they both wanted to enjoy the rest of their lunch. 

~*~

  The car echoed with Kerry's laughter and Luka's chuckles as he drove, trying
to keep concentrated on the road.

  "So Kyle says to Kim, 'I have two mommies, can I stay home the day after
mother's day too?' It was adorable," she said.

  Luka joined in the laugher, which subsided after a while. "What did you tell
them about you and Kim?"

  Kerry shrugged her shoulders, "We explained it to Kyle. I mean, he knows
enough, but I'm not sure he really understands. Mollie is too small, so we'll
wait on that. They still ask questions, though, and we don't keep any secrets."
She looked out the window and let out a sigh, "Sometimes I wonder what the
effects of not having a father will be, but I couldn't imagine it any other
way."

  Luka smiled, "Well, they have very good mothers."

  "Kim spoils them rotten," she shook her head.

  Luka parked the car, clearing his throat, somehow trying to find a way to
change the subject. While he was happy for Kerry, ecstatic, it was a little
painful to hear. He found that the parking lot was empty. "Looks like we missed
the rest of the conference."

  Kerry looked around, "Well, we'll borrow notes," she chuckled.

  Luka walked out and opened the door for her. He looked at her petite form for
a moment, not having felt this good for a long time. "It was nice to see you
again, Kerry."

  "You too," she stroked his arm. "When are you leaving?"

  He looked at his watch, as if he had a calendar there. "Um, four days."

  "Don't forget about us," Kerry said, and began to walk away with a smile on
her face.

  "Kerry?" Luka called out and watched her turn around, "Is everyone still in
the ER?"

  Kerry nodded, "Pretty much."

  He nodded, "I might visit you there before I go."

  "That would be nice," she nodded and turned around.

  "Kerry?" Luka called out one more time.

  Kerry turned around, squinting her eyes at the light of the sun going down.

  "How's Elizabeth?" Luka asked hesitantly, looking down at his shoes.

  Oh boy. But she shouldn't have been surprised. "She's doing well, Luka. They
both are."

  Luka just played with his lips, still looking down.

  "Luka, she never blamed you, no one did." She walked over, stroked his arm,
and gave him a smile he didn't see. "I'll see you later, ok? Don't be a
stranger."

  Luka looked up at her and smiled, "Thank you, Kerry."

  And the sun was gone.

~*~

  When he walked back into his hotel room, he found a bottle of wine on the
cooler, and a note attached to it:

  "Have to go out on business, can't have drinks with you. Compliments of the
house and hope you come back some day,
                          Don Burke"

  He smiled and tossed the note aside. Sweet wine. Came in very handy at the
moment. Good year too. The perfect night to get drunk alone.

  He took a quick shower and before getting down to business, picked up the
phone first.

  "Hello?" a feminine voice came on the other side.

  "Hey," Luka said, knowing she'd recognize that hello.

  "Hey, Luka," Irene said.

  Luka raised his eyebrows, "Are you busy?" She sounded busy.

  "No, what's up?" she said, seeming distant.

  "You sound busy," he said.

  "I'm not. What's going on?" she asked a little exasperatedly.

  Luka played with the chord of his phone for a while. "Nothing, just wanted to
see how you were."

  Irene let out a sigh, "Oh, I'm great. Costas called in sick again today, so I
had to cover for him. Not only that, but I have to work on his charts now,
which I have right here. I swear, if Tom doesn't fire his lazy ass soon I'm
gonna go Neanderthal on him."

  Luka smiled. He liked hearing her talk like that, it was cute, because she
had the most feminine voice he had ever heard.

  "How's the conference going?"

  "Boring," Luka said. He heard her roam around some papers, so he decided to
go straight to the point. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

  She seemed to take that in for a moment, and then started working again. "I
really want to wait until you come back."

  "Are you breaking up with me?" Luka almost interrupted her.

  Irene let out a sigh, "Luka, I can't do this over the phone."

  "You are, though, right? he pushed.

  Irene let out the same sigh, "Why do you always do this?"

  "What?" Luka asked in semi ignorance.

  "You always jump to conclusions like that, to make yourself miserable and
then it just... makes everyone else miserable too," she said furiously.

  Luka blinked, she was pissed alright. "I just want to know..."

  "Bye, Luka," she said and hung up.  

  He kept the phone to his ear until the busy signal came on, and then he put
it back on the stand. Well, it looks like she'd be going Neanderthal on another
person also.

  Without trying to give it much thought, he grabbed the bottle of wine and
walked over to the living room, where he turned on the news. A small pop
followed by a fizz was heard as he opened the bottle; he didn't even bother to
get a glass.
 
  He thought of Kerry. He thought of her questions and everything she had said.
Why? It was a bit unfair to ask that question because he didn't know the answer
himself. He felt worse now than he had ever felt all those years. He always
envisioned Abby getting on with her life, going about as if he had never
existed. He never thought she'd cry. The few times she did was in the dark
while they were lying in bed, and even that took forever to happen. He never
thought she'd have to live with Kerry. He never thought, that was the problem.
He never even thought he'd cry about it, or that he would react later on. It
just happened.

  Why? He couldn't stop thinking about that now. One day he was there, the next
he was gone with a simple good bye. Had Abby wondered why also? Probably. Had
it made her cry? Apparently. He didn't want that, and he wondered if it was too
late to fix it.

  As he took another chug of the wine, he looked over at the phone on the night
stand. The alcohol made the decision for him even before the idea made sense.

  Dialing those numbers again made him nervous. For the last 5 years he had
dialed them too many times to remember. Sometimes he couldn't make it to the
seventh number. Sometimes he waited until she answered to hang up. He wondered
if that made him a stalker or just plain pathetic.

  But this was different. This time, he'd talk. She answered on the third ring
and for a moment he couldn't find his voice.

  "Hello?" she asked for the second time.

  "Abby, it's Luka," he said nervously.

  "Oh... hey," she said in surprise. "I didn't think I'd hear from you again."

  Slap. He looked down at his feet. "Uh, um, I saw Kerry today, and I was
wondering if we could talk?"

  "You and me?" Abby asked.

  Luka looked around, "If you don't mind."

  "What did she say to you?" she sounded mad.

  "Nothing," Luka said defensively.

  She let out a sigh, "Luka, I don't think there's much to talk about, really.
And if you wanted to apologize, don't worry about it. Apology accepted."

  Slap part deux. "Abby," he said in a sigh. "I just, I don't wanna leave again
without us really talking. Please? Let's just have coffee or something."

  She seemed to think about that for a moment, but wouldn't budge. "Talk about
what?"

  Luka curled his mouth. "I don't know," he said ignorantly. "Too many things."

  There was silence on the line, as that annoying Barney song played on her
background. She finally let out half a sigh, "I was gonna take Lily to the zoo
tomorrow, they're closing it down for the winter."
 
  Luka perked up. "That's great! Let me go with you. We can talk, and I can get
to know Liliana better."

  "She's a baby, Luka, she's only interested in knowing Elmo better," she said.


  "Don't roll your eyes, Abby, they'll stay that way," he smiled, and knew he
had made her smile, he could see it.  "Is that a yes?"

  Abby thought for a moment, weighing her options and battling her own
trepidation, at the same time embracing it. "Fine," she finally muttered.
 
  Victory dance. "Great. I'll pick you up at 8, ok?"

  "Sure," Abby said.

  He smiled, "Thanks, Abby."
 
  "No problem. You're paying," she said and hung up the phone.

  Pleased with himself, he hung up as well. Looking at the bottle of wine, he
decided it would be inappropriate to show up with a hangover, so put the cork
back in and shoved the bottle in the mini fridge.

  He sat in front of the television as they mentioned something about floods in
Mississippi. He knew that even if he prepared a speech he wouldn't know what to
say. And since Abby was just full of surprises, he decided to improvise when
the time came. So he sat back and relaxed, feeling that after 5 years, he'd be
able to do the right thing, set things straight, and move on with his life.

  Point D: Denial.


To be continued...


~Carolina~
"I appear at times merry and in good heart, talk, too, before others quite
reasonably, and it looks as if I feel, too, God knows how well within my skin.
Yet the soul mantains its deathly sleep and the heart bleeds from a thousand
wounds." -Hugo Wolf