Second Chance
Part One
By Maggie
mt006j@mail.rochester.edu

Disclaimer: I make no claim to the rights to ER nor was any money made in writing this.

Author’s Notes: This story takes place immediately after “Homecoming” and thus contains spoilers. It operates on an alternate reality (i.e. what happens below replaces the subsequent episodes). Enjoy!

In every heart, there is a room
A sanctuary, safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along

I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I fear I said too much
My Silence is my self-defense

And everytime I’ve held a rose
It seems I’ve only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose

But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break

And this is why my eyes are closed
It’s just as well, for all I’ve seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you’re the only one knows

So I would choose to be with you
That’s if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions, too
And you can have this heart to break

— Billy Joel, “And So It Goes”

She had finally started living again. It had taken a lot, a new apartment, a new job, a new city and new people, but she had begun to find herself again. Digging through all the tears and fighting and harsh words and bitter regrets hadn’t been easy, but she had emerged unified and determined to make something better of her life. They always said that when life threw a test at you, it would hurt, but in the end, you would be better off for it. How much silly, even foolish, faith she had put in that, that she could just go through the motions, just work hard and survive and cry sad, burning tears alone. But it wasn’t so easy, and things never just worked. The test didn’t just start at 9:00 and end at 10:00 when you put down your pencil and for better or worse let your vulnerable efforts be judged. It was naïve to put so much heart in those maxims; they were shoddy, trite, insufficient and otherwise deceitful. “Always look on the bright side.” Didn’t that imply there was a bright side upon which you could look? That there was good? That things naturally balance out, good for bad, better or worse?

It never got better. There was no good life. For every small stab into her heart, fate pushed another blade not far behind. She had tried so hard to start over, to take the blows as they came and not to falter or waver, not to fall, just to keep struggling until she reached what she had been promised. But now… there would be no more.

Abby scrubbed a hand through her hair, pulling her fingers away with a sigh as the brown locks fell before her eyes. She braced her chin on her palms, blankly watching the blinking images TV across the room. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on much since she had stormed away from her ex, too consumed by fury and grief, and now was no exception. The whole day had seemed like some horrific, surreal nightmare, like she was outside her body and watching her own life destroyed. Her mind had numbed to the incessant questions about her now uncertain and precarious future. Her bent form exuded exhaustion, her eyes dulled by weariness and outlined in black. She shook her head and glanced at her watch. 7:30. It was already so late, the day apparently wasted without her noticing. Her mind lethargically chastised her. She had been about to leave, to get groceries and dinner, to go out and get some fresh, crisp, fall air into her spent body. In stead, she had opted for a smoke, and had sat her table, coat and all, staring blankly at the damn TV with a cigarette in her hand for a half an hour. A sudden bout of anger at all this pitiful wallowing struck her and she rammed her cigarette into the ashtray, smashing the butt down viciously. Tired of feeling sorry for herself, she stood quickly, snapped up her purse, and headed towards the door of her apartment.

She yanked it open violently while simultaneously scooping up her keys from the stand beside it, her mind swirling once again with tense fury and frustration. Taking one blind step, she rammed into something big and firm but soft. She backpedaled, cold surprise dousing her rage, stumbling and looking up. Her scowl faded. “Dr. Kovac?”

He reached a big, strong hand out to steady her, gently grabbing her shoulder. He smiled sheepishly. Abby, in her stupefaction, felt a warm tingle spread from her belly, and she right then sympathized with all the love-struck, drooling nurses. “Sorry,” he said.

She pulled her falling purse back up upon her shoulder, flabbergasted and confused at his sudden appearance. Of all the people she might have expected… “What… what are you doing here?” she stammered.

He looked down, his dark, thick hair falling over his brow. She resisted the urge to step up and brush it away. “I was worried about you,” he admitted after a moment. His hazel eyes met hers and she grinned slowly, lips so often pulled taut in a tight frown easing. “After you, um, stormed out today…” His gaze turned sympathetic. “Mark told me what happened. I’m sorry.”

The fire rekindled. “Mark told you?” she sharply and asked. Indignation and embarrassment burned red into her cheeks. She cringed. “God, does all of County know about this?”

He shook his head. “Just the ER.” She muttered a curse and looked away, immensely irritated. “Hey,” he said, “you made quite a scene today when you left.”

She realized he was only being honest with her, but the truth hurt, and her shame at her behavior seared her. So badly she wanted to just run and hide and never show her face again. She had tried so hard to earn his respect, as well as Greene’s and Carter’s and Weaver’s and all the others… God, what a child she had been…

He smiled at her knowingly. “Worse things have happened, Abby,” he reminded her gently. “And I might have done the same in your position.”

The sentiment was welcomed, but she doubted that he would have ever been so immature. He was calmest, quietest, most compassionate doctor she had ever met. He never got angry over petty disputes, he never belittled or wantonly admonished. Every patient was important to him, every colleague, no matter their rank, an equal. He was one of the few doctors she knew that she considered true to medicine, loving it for the help it rendered others, not for the status, the title, or the money. She had known today, for instance, that there was nothing they could have done to save Mrs. Bristol, the old woman driven in by her husband. Yet Luka had continued to work on her though it was futile, if only to alleviate the pain of Mr. Bristol. She truly admired that.

She shook herself from her thoughts and managed a twisted smile. “So…” she began awkwardly, shifting nervously in her stance, her stomach clenched. A tense, uncomfortable moment passed. Abby felt a turmoil spinning her mind, wondering what to say, how to act, as clumsy as sixteen year-old on a first date. Finally, she stifled her running mind and stammered, ill at ease with the silence, “You just came to check on me, then, Dr. Kovac? Because I’m fine.” She glanced at his face, but oddly, found herself doubting her own words more than he seemed to. “Really.”

“Call me Luka, Abby,” he prompted.

“Luka, then.”

He shifted his weight and slid his hands into his black jacket pockets. “Well…” He gave a short laugh and smiled. Abby marveled at his jovial face, astounded and bewildered. Ever since Carol Hathaway had left, Luka had been less than happy, moping, dark, secluded. It was pretty common knowledge thanks to rumor and gossip, that he had been sweet on her. And it had been equally obvious that she had crushed him when she had fled so suddenly to Seattle for another man. Abby hadn’t known much about the situation, but she had cared little for Hathaway initially. After learning of all this, her impression of the now absent head nurse had degraded to nothing but a manipulative man-eater. There had been a change in him in the last week or so. His smiles were less fleeting, his laughter less sporadic. He was obviously climbing from whatever pit of despair that had claimed him. They were all glad to see the change. “Actually, I came to see whether you wanted to go out and get some dinner or something.”

That took her aback. For a moment all of the anger and hurt and tears were forgotten as her heart mulled over this invitation. The warmth spread higher. “You and me?” she questioned in disbelief.

He shrugged. “You look like you need some company,” he said simply.

She genuinely smiled this time, deciding without a mere thought. “Yeah,” she said, her eyes softening, his warm smile and tender gaze assuaging her pain. “I would like that.”

He offered his arm and she took it, closing the door behind her.

Fifteen minutes later they were driving downtown. Abby had settled comfortably in the passenger’s seat, stealing glances at Luka when she could, paying little attention to the surrounding blur of lights and commotion. She was still overwhelmed by it all, her mind racing and her body tingling. Once again it was surreal, and she was out of her body, unable to accept the truth of it all, simply watching as she lived the experience. Another small grin twisted her lips as she recalled the other nurses swooning and dreaming that the tall, dark, and handsome Dr. Kovac would bless them with such a proposition as she had just accepted. She could imagine the looks on their faces when she told them of this.

“Something good must be on your mind. You’ve been smiling since we left your apartment,” Luka suddenly remarked, tearing her from her reverie. She almost jumped in her seat, and she blushed, suddenly glad he could not focus his attention on her and that, in the night light, he could not see her burning, embarrassed cheeks.

“Oh,” Abby stammered. “I was just… thinking how good it was to see you.” She flushed, floundering. “Well, I mean, somebody from County. I thought you guys would forget about me.”

“You make it sound like you’re gone for good.”

She let out a heavy breath. Might as well get it out now. She could feel the sour hate burn at the back of her throat like acid. “Might be.” It hurt to admit that to him and more so to herself. She shook her head, her eyes narrowing darkly, the flame of her elation pinched out of existence by the cold, squeezing fingers of truth. “My ex-husband seems perfectly content with ruining my life,” she muttered in fury.

Luka paused a moment, turning left, Abby’s anger almost tangible. Gently, he prodded, “If you want to talk about it…” There was no insistence in his tone, no curiosity, only the promise of an ear and a shoulder to lean on.

Abby turned her head, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve made some mistakes in my life, but marrying him… We were really young. He was a senior and I was a sophomore. We decided to get married when he graduated but before he went off to med-school. I worked nights and weekends to pay for the rent and the groceries while he studied. My parents had left me some money for my own med-school, which he immediately used, promising me he’d support me through. Bastard,” she hissed. “I never should have believed him. He said all the right things, you know? And it wasn’t even just what he said. It was the thought of being with someone. It blinds you until you can’t see anything beyond his shadow. He used me and my money, and now…”

Luka shook his head. “I know what it’s like.” Abby regarded him, pulling herself from her own pit of churning pain. He glanced at her. “Everybody gets a second chance, right? Things hurt you, and you keep going until you find it. Sometimes it’s hard, and sometimes you get distracted, but…”

Abby understood what he hadn’t said. He knew. It was generally fact around the ER that Luka had had a painful past, that he had lost his family. She idly wondered what it had been like, to lose so much at once, and then try to collect yourself in the wake of destruction. Things had been slowly eating away at her since she had separated from her husband, but never to that extent. And then Hathaway… She felt her heart go out to him.

“You have to keep looking.”

The words beat home. Abby nodded and looked away. Luka was right. She couldn’t let this beat her. She had worked too hard, spent too much, fought too long, just to sit quietly and slip into bitterness and anger. She had told the son of a bitch that she would get the money she needed somehow. And she would. But for now, she could just forget and enjoy herself.

A moment of comfortable silence passed. Abby looked up as her mind cleared and for the first time took note of where they were. The road before them was dark, sparse traffic speeding by. “Where are we going?” she asked, glancing towards Luka.

He returned her look. “Little Italian place outside Chicago. Excellent penne sauce. You like Italian, right?”

“Like it? I love it,” she said, smiling widely.

Luka gave a small chuckle. “Italian has become one of my favorite American cuisines,” he dryly commented, eliciting another laugh from Abby. “Well, it is not something we typically prepared in Croatia.”

“My mother,” Abby began, raising her hands, “came from a long line of Italian mothers. When the family got together, she, my aunts, and my grandmother would make enough Italian food to feed an army. I mean, my brothers are big eaters, but they shoveled off left-overs like there was no tomorrow. My father was Polish and had such a loud mouth-” Her eyes traveled to him and she stopped talking. Luka’s eyes were shifting suspiciously between the rearview mirror and the dark road before him. Concern prickled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. “Luka?” She glanced over her shoulder and saw the source of his attention. Close behind, far too close for comfort, was a car, its blinding headlights glaring into her eyes and causing her to wince. The tail-gaiting vehicle was weaving back and forth, wavering almost unsteadily.

“Asshole,” Abby muttered as she turned forward.

Luka shook his head and clenched his jaw. “No,” he began, concentrating on the dark pavement rushing beneath them at sixty miles an hour. “I think it’s a drunk.”

Abby glanced behind her once more, squinting. When her eyes adjusted, she saw the car swing to the left lane. She could feel Luka take his foot off the gas and the car begin to slow. She looked to her left as the other vehicle increased its speed, racing past them. There was the flash of a face, pale and unkempt, with wild blue eyes and a great ponytail of greasy brown hair. The masculine chin was narrow and covered in stubble. Thin lips mouthed a large curse at them as he thundered by. Abby shook her head. “We should probably call the police and warn them. I’ll check for the pla-”

It happened so quickly, they had no time to react. The car beside them swerved back into their lane far too early, and the back right of it smashed into the front driver side. Abby’s words escalated into a scream as the force shattered the world in an explosion of screeching metal, bursting glass, the squealing of tires deafening. Then everything was spinning. The world was a blur of black and smeared colors, and Abby felt her body wash in terror. A moment of weightlessness assaulted her as she was tossed. Then she was crushed violently into her seat. The pain did not register before everything died as black as the pavement.

The cold brought her back.

It caressed with icy needles her skin. There was black, and pain, a tight squeeze on her lower leg. Tears.

Wake up wake up wake up wake up!

Abby lurched forward, sucking in a deep breath. Her lungs painfully unclenched, her heart thundering in her ears, blood rushing in her head. Dizziness and nausea spun her world, and she gagged. Bile burned in the back of her throat as her disorientated mind struggled to make sense. For a moment, she could not remember anything. Where was she? What happened? Then, with a choked sob mixed with a gasp, it all crashed back into her.

She opened clenched eyes again and looked around quickly, shaking. Above her, the roof of the car was crushed down. There was glass everywhere, piercing her skin. Her leg was shooting with agony. It took a moment for her to recognize what had happened.

“Oh, God…” she whispered.

The dashboard was painfully pressed to her chest. She could barely breathe. Something warm was rolling down her temple, tickling her skin.

Her mind finally sorted her memories, and she whipped her head to the right. “Luka-” He didn’t respond. The roof was bent downward, separating them. All she could see was his blackened form. Panic swelled within her, fueling limbs paralyzed in pain and chill. “Luka, are you okay?” Nothing. She couldn’t hear him breathing. Shaking fingers brushed against his arm, but the crushing dashboard allowed for little else. He was cold. “Luka, God, answer…” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she let out a wrangled sob in horror.

The car was silent except for her painful weeping. It echoed in her ears, so loud, so harsh. Her mind whirled endlessly in terror and hurt and grief. Her husband, whom she had trusted with her most intimate possessions, and his deception, her shattered ambitions… it all poured out of her as the great river of tears streaked down her face. Despair threatened to consume her, black and sticky.

She would not let it.

Abby sucked in a deep breath. Stop crying, her mind chastised. Stop it, stop it, stop it… Over and over again, a chant of strength. She collected herself, stifling the sob pounding in her throat, concentrating on breathing. Her composure was slow to return but eventually did. You’re a doctor. Calm down and think.

She braced her hands on the gray surface and pushed as hard as she could. Nothing. It would not budge. Anger bit through her, and she slammed her palms down on it. She couldn’t be stuck in here. “Hold on, Luka,” she breathed more than said, forcing herself to think. Scanning around her, she searched for a way to free herself. Shaking fingers wrestled with the handle of the door, but it, too, was crushed shut. Cursing and struggling against the sting of tears in her eyes, she made herself look for some other alternative. She would have to go out the window.

Fumbling, she unlocked her seatbelt with a click. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she began to work herself free. Acutely she felt every cut, bruise, and tender scrape as she squeezed out of her seat, pulling her legs up from beneath the dashboard. She sucked in a pained breath harshly through her teeth as vicious agony spread along her foot, ankle, and lower leg, paralyzing, the limb wracking. Biting her tear soaked lips, she eventually carefully managed to free her trapped legs. Trying to ignore the debilitating pain, she pulled herself up on her good foot, her head crunched beneath the roof. She smashed her elbow into the skeletal remains of the window, shattering it and brushing it away. Grasping the top of the hole, she pulled her upper body out, the stray shards of glass cutting her clothes. Teeth bared in a strained snarl, she pulled herself out.

Abby hit the firm, cold ground with a yelp of pain and a thud. Her leg burned and pulsed with her thundering heart, and she collapsed there a moment on a bed of glass and shriveled grass. Catching her breath and willing her battered body into motion, she scrambled less than gracefully to her feet. Fear chilled her more than the air, her breath locked in her throat. The front of the car was mangled beyond recognition. They were now facing oncoming traffic in the ditch beside the highway. The skid marks stretched violently across the road. The car had hit the median, littering class and metal, flipped over, screeched across the other side of the road, and rolled upright into the ditch.

She felt dizzy and staggered, grabbing the trunk as she rounded the vehicle. Panic pulsed in her blood, her eyes widening in terror, as she saw the crushed driver’s side door. Her soul moaned. “Oh, God, Luka…” she cried, stumbling beside the window. She fell to her knees beside it, the pain in her ankle unbearable, afraid of what she would see. Shaking hands reached up to him frantically. His head was slumped against the mangled remains of the driver’s side door. Shadows obscured his form, the roof of the car pushed down to his lowered head. The steering wheel was jammed into his chest tightly. The airbag hadn’t inflated since the brunt of the force had been to the driver’s side, smashing the door in and effectively trapping him.

“Luka…” Tentatively her fingers brushed against his cheek. His skin was like ice. Her heart froze with fear and she couldn’t breathe, fearful that he was dead, for he certainly looked it, pale, blood drooling down his temple from a deep laceration along his hairline. His eyes were sealed shut, his face tightened in a horrid wince. A misty cloud appeared before his ashen lips periodically. Abby released a choked, relieved sob. He was still breathing. Cold tears spilled relentlessly and the tide in her battle against hysteria tipped again, panic rushing from her in a great deluge. Reason stampeded through her terrified desperation once more. Get it together, goddamnit. You’re supposed to be a doctor! Act like it!

She took a deep breath and summoned her medical training. She stroked his cheek, trying to rouse him enough to assess his injury. “Luka,” she said, louder. “Luka, wake up.” Nothing. Panic choked her again, but she angrily and vehemently pushed it down as she leaned closer to him, trying to coax him back, her will reaching out to him as if it were a tangible force. “Luka, please…”

The fluttering of those long lashes stunned her. The lids parted slightly and dark, unfocussed eyes met hers. Abby smiled through her tears. His breath was a raspy gasp then, and his lips moved, struggling to form words. “A… Abby….”

“Shh, don’t speak. Just look at my face.” She watched his eyes, observing their clouded gaze. He was having great difficulty focusing. Not a good sign. He had suffered some head trauma, the extent of which she could not ascertain. She needed to keep him awake and as focused as she could. “Luka, just hold on. I’m going to get help.”

Help. She spurred into action, ignoring the pain in staggering to her feet and charging back around the car. In her mind a plan formulated immediately, cutting through the haze of pain and horror, and she did not muse or tardy. She reached inside the car, cutting her hands on the spare shards of glass, searching for her purse. Her hands flailed in the dark. “Dammit, where is it?” Finally her fingers brushed against the leather strap of her purse and she hauled it up. Trembling fingers ripped open the zipper and she dumped the contents on the ground. She crouched, looking desperately through make-up, tissues, and other junk until she found her cell phone. Rising, she yanked the antenna out and dialed 9-1-1.

She stumbled around the car again as the line was ringing. Glancing frantically left and right, she cursed the fact that this highway was do damn deserted. She fell to her knees beside the driver’s door, the pavement cold beneath her knees. The ringing seemed to last forever, her heart thundering, and she reached into the car again, laying her warm hand against Luka’s chilled cheek. He flinched slightly, his eyes distant and delirious. Finally came a voice. “Emergency services.”

“Yes,” she said, breathless, her voice shaking. Stay calm, get help. Stay calm. “There’s been a car accident on-” She glanced around for a road sign and nearly cried when she couldn’t find one. “God, I don’t know what road this is-” Why hadn’t she paid more attention before? The dispatcher sensed the panic in her voice and immediately took control. “Calm down, miss. Tell me your name and the nature of the accident.”

“Abby Lockheart,” she responded, steeling herself. “I’m a third-year med student at County. We were hit by a drunk driver, driver side.” She stood and began to run down the road. Thankfully, a green road sign glinted not far in the distance in the moonlight. Abby squinted at it. Relieved, she pressed her palm to the bleeding cut on her temple as she read their location to the woman.

“Are you hurt, Miss Lockheart?” came the reply.

Abby struggled back, frantic and frightened. “No, but the driver — he’s hurt badly. Please, we need an ambulance here.”

“Give me the driver’s name, Miss Lockheart.”

Abby growled with anger at all this nonsense. There wasn’t time for this! She reached inside the car for Luka’s limp hand. It was cold and slimy with blood. “Dr. Luka Kovac, K-O-V-A-C. Please, hurry with the ambulance!”

“They are on their way, Miss Lockheart.”

“He’s trapped in the car. I can see a hairline wound right now, probable head trauma. Slow responses to visual stimuli. He’s having trouble breathing. I can’t see anything else from here.” She pressed her fingers to his wrist and swallowed hardly. “Thready pulse.” Please, God, hold on…

The serene, feminine voice was strangely cold and of little consolation. “What about the other car? Can you see it or the driver?”

Abby fought to keep from screaming at this woman. She turned and looked, struggling to rip her attention from Luka. She had not noticed before, but the other car, a white four-door with a newly added smashed rear left side, was on the other side of the road, in the ditch, facing them. The driver door hung idly open. “Car’s here, but it looks like the driver walked off.” Hot tears burned her eyes and she muttered a harsh, weeping curse. God, how could the greasy, drunk son of a bitch walk away from this…

Abby wiped away the tears, smearing blood on her cheeks, shaking to her core. “Miss Lockheart, I need you to be calm-”

“I am calm, damn it! Just send the damn ambulance!” she snapped.

“It’s on its way-”

She hung up. All her training told her to stay on the line, to talk to the dispatcher, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. The phone crashed the pavement below her. Weeping silently, she tenderly cupped Luka’s jaw. “Luka,” she said softly. He didn’t respond, his breath a raspy, rattling wheeze. She bit her lower lip until the bitter iron taste of blood assaulted her. “Please, Luka, just stay conscious and look at me. Please.”

The lids lolled over tearing eyes. She tried to smile, her wet lips trembling, blood, dirt, and tears staining her face. “They’re coming,” she assured softly. Her thumb gently stroked his cheek. Whispered words fled him on his breath. She struggled to discern them, but they were roughly foreign. She shook her head, sniffling. “It’s Abby, Luka. Please… stay here. Stay with me.” His eyes were gone, lost in dark pain and fear, distant. Her hands caressed back his thick hair from his brow. “Just hang on…” she pleaded.

He blinked slowly. “Abby…”

Those beautiful eyes, so lost in agony. That strong jaw slack, a face so often wide with compassion now taunt in a grimace of fearful pain. Abby choked and reached up to him, her anger bursting through the weakening dam of her emotions. “You stay with me, Luka! Open your eyes and look at me!” He moaned weakly. “Look at me, Luka, and just concentrate on my eyes. They’re coming to help. Just watch me. I won’t leave you.” She squeezed his hand. “I won’t let you go…”

His eyes opened and locked upon hers. A moment of lucidity flashed within them, a bright light against the dark void of unconsciousness. They connected, an intangible bridge between them, strong and timeless. Abby gasped out a sob and leaned forward. Her lips meshed with his, kissing him with the power of all her being, willing him the strength of her own soul and life. She tasted his blood and his pain and his dying warmth. His lips trembled against hers, but his kiss was strong in the endless moment of cohesion. A shared breath, a shared whispered wish, a shared heart beating between them.

Abby broke away with a sob and pressed her lips to his forehead, weeping for them, her tears falling upon his closed eyelids. She held him as his life bled into her, each of his struggling breaths blowing out a candle of her hope in life. Blaring sirens wailed in the distance, but they did little to warm the chill in her heart.

To be continued....