TITLE: Sea Change, part 2 of 2
AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh
RATING: R (mostly for certain graphic descriptions)
KEYWORDS: Angst; Romance; More Angst; Singing; Still More Angst;
Friendship; And A Cherry-Angioma Of Angst On Top.
LAST EPISODE SEEN: "It's All In Your Head"
TIMELINE: The few days following "Six White Flags Over Chicago"
ARCHIVE: If you must.
DISCLAIMER: ER and all its characters belong to Warner Bros. No
infringement of their copyright is intended. This story was written for
the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and may be downloaded for your
own pleasure.
SUMMARY: Aftermath of "Six White Flags Over Chicago"
SPOILERS: A few, very vague, for the later part of the "real" season 7.
Anything else that happens to correspond with future episodes is merely
coincidence.
PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Home and Dry; And Miles to Go Before I Sleep;
Through the Hourglass; Jupiter Aligns with Mars; Shopworn; Come as You
Aren't; Out and About; Up in the Air; Serpent's Tooth; Thanks a Lot!;
Shall We Dance?; Yes, Sir, That's My Baby!; Yule-Tied; Should Auld
Acquaintance; Running with Scissors; Six White Flags Over Chicago
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Not to be confused with the similarly-named Ernest
"Raging Misogynist" Hemingway short story, "A Sea Change". And, as
always, thanks to Miesque and Hollie for input and feedback.
PREVIOUSLY, ON MY-ER: Kerry's mentor, Dr Gabriel Lawrence, killed
himself with a gun stolen from former patient Loren Johnson (last seen
in Season 6 episode "Greene With Envy") who'd already used it to kill
her abusive husband, Pauly.




Kerry curled up under the covers, hugging herself and staring at the
wall as she thought of last night once again. She'd tried to stop him.
She'd tried to bribe him with news of her pregnancy. "Don't you want to
live long enough to see her? Please! Gabrielle Kovac, isn't that a nice
name?" She'd been babbling by then, trying to get him to put down the
gun.

Instead, the muzzle swung up and into his mouth... it was like slow
motion in her memory, in her dreams... she'd tried, at the last minute,
to swing her crutch at him. What she'd been hoping to accomplish with
that, she still wasn't sure. Maybe she'd hoped to knock the gun out of
his hand, or something equally futile.

Despite her effort, his hand had tightened on the gun, sending a shower
of blood and bone and brains through the back of his head, and more
blood gushed from his nose and mouth as his heart continued to beat for
a little while longer after his brain had been smashed beyond
functionality by the bullet. His arm, covered with blood from the splash
out of his mouth, jerked back with the force of the recoil, but his hand
held onto the gun in a... a death grip.

She'd staggered backwards, her crutch arm continuing its arc to shield
her face. There was a loud scream from somewhere in the room; the only
indication she had that *she* wasn't the one screaming was that her face
was pressed firmly into her upper arm. She'd dropped her arm in time to
catch herself from falling, and moaned softly at the sight of Gabe's
body lying there. So much blood... she clapped her hand over her mouth,
much as she had nearly a year ago, and moaned softly.

It had been something of a relief when Dr Malucci-- Dave had pulled her
away, out of the line of sight of Gabe's body, and then sent her into
the lounge with Randi. She'd expected to be annoyed by the young woman's
typical brashness (and at a time like this!) but Randi had been
surprisingly tactful and gentle, almost maternal towards her.

* * *

Randi couldn't help thinking of yesterday. She'd taken Dr Weaver into
the lounge... mostly to get her away from the sight of that body.
*She'd* wanted to get away from the sight of that body. "Somebody's got
to call the police," the woman had said softly and a little dazedly.
"There's all that blood all over the floor. And... will you call
Housekeeping?"

"Don't worry about anything, Dr Weaver." There was a ghost of a smile.

"Call me Kerry, would you? 'Dr Weaver' just feels too formal right now."

"Is... uh... it true what I heard? That you're resigning as Chief?"
Kerry snorted softly.

"By now I should know better than to be surprised that you've heard,
shouldn't I? I'm just surprised that the dancing in the hallways hasn't
started yet."

"I think the dancing won't be starting until after you've safely left
for the night," Randi deadpanned. Dr Weaver-- *Kerry* began to laugh,
but the laughter soon turned to little whimpers. Randi instinctively
took the older woman in her arms and rocked her gently, petting her hair
soothingly. "Sh, sh, it's gonna be okay," she whispered. It wasn't, of
course, but that was the only thing she could think of to say.

She'd gladly handed Kerry over to Dr Kovac; it wasn't that she'd minded
taking care of her boss, just that a few things had been stirred up by
the night's events. Things she tried not to think about, even though it
was inevitable when she worked in a place like this.

She parked her car, then walked down the rows and rows until she found
it. There wasn't a name on the plate, just the simple inscription "Baby
Boy Fronczak": she hadn't been able to bear coming up with a name at the
time. Danny had been embarrassed to be so relieved, and then shortly
afterwards he'd been gone too. She kissed her fingertips and touched
them to the plate, then set down the bunch of daffodils she'd bought on
her way to the cemetery. It was the first time she'd ever been here, the
first time she'd been able to deal with coming to this place.

* * *

"Dr Kovac? Dr Babic can see you now." The receptionist was new, but had
a number of years of experience working in medical offices; this one
knew better than to try to flirt with Luka, for which he was profoundly
grateful.

"Thank you."

* * *

The memorial service for Gabriel Joseph Lawrence was, Luka thought, very
nice. Kerry was nervous wreckage throughout the entire service, just as
she'd been the last few days, although she seemed to believe Isaiah when
he told her that he didn't blame her. Luka really just wanted to go home
and go to bed - he'd just got off a shift before the service - but he
was determined to be there to support Kerry.

And he definitely wasn't looking forward to the M&M in a few days that
would be following up the suicide. He didn't like presenting cases,
period, but standing up at the front of the room, with everybody
*watching* him? Teaching procedures to a couple of students, sure, no
problem, but speaking in front of so many people... ugh! And this was
undoubtedly going to be even rougher on him than usual, under the
circumstances.

Back at home, Kerry changed straight into her green robe, and headed for
the living room. Luka sighed as she put on one of her blues CDs and sat
on the couch to listen. He joined her, and reached for her hand - it was
slightly cold, and he chafed it gently. "Have you called Dr Babic yet
for an appointment? You still need to do that, remember. Talking about
it can help, you know."

"Yes, I know. You've been reminding me about that, every chance you
get." He ignored her irritable comment.

"So you *haven't* called her. C'mon. I know you've taken the week off,
but I really think you should do this. You were right there when it
happened, after all."

"I know where I was!" He flinched slightly at her sharp tone, and she
relented a little. "I'm sorry. I don't like to be pushed. It's just...."

"I know. I know it's bad. But I'm here for you, I'll help you." She
shook her head convulsively, and he put his arms around her.

"It's all my fault!" she whimpered into his shoulder.

"And he wouldn't have done it at another time?" She pushed away from
him.

"But he did it *then*! I should've been able to talk him out of it, or-
or... I don't know... but instead I stood there and practically *dared*
him to do it! I might as well have put the gun in his mouth and pulled
the trigger myself!" He growled softly in frustration.

"Shut up, and listen to me! You didn't kill him... no more than...
than..."

"Than you killed *your* family?" He stared at her, dumbstruck and hurt
by her blunt, quiet words, but pulled himself together with visible
effort.

"Don't push me away, like you pushed away that other man after your
parents died!" She glared at him.

"How do *you* know about Ellis?"

"I hear things, huh?" He didn't *really* know anything about this Ellis,
but he *did* know that Kerry's adoptive parents had died a little over
three years ago, and he'd heard from several different people that she'd
been close to somebody until around that time. It didn't take a *genius*
to assume that there was some kind of connection between the two events.
He was trembling a little with fear and anger, and he felt irrational
for being upset that the woman who meant the most to him in the world
was in such a state, and he couldn't do a damned thing about it.

"Luka, *please*. I just... I need to be by myself for a little while.
You can understand that, can't you?" She couldn't look him directly in
the eye, he noticed, and that terrified him beyond description.

"How long is 'a little while' - should I... look for someplace else to
sleep tonight, or...?" The question was quiet and hesitant, and she
shook her head.

"I really don't know." She wanted to take back the words, *all* of them,
as soon as she'd said them: she didn't *want* him to leave her alone!

"Oh. All right." His hand hovered over her shoulder for a moment, as
though to touch her, but he pulled back at the last minute and stood up
with a little sigh. She heard him get his coat out of the closet, and a
minute later the front door had closed behind him. Oh, *shit*.

* * *

He'd noticed the bar a while back, but had never - until now - been
inclined to actually go inside. Seemed like a nice enough place, though,
he decided when he walked through the door, and it was within walking
distance of home. He spotted a familiar-looking person reflected in the
mirror behind the bar. "Hey." Abby looked up from her diet soda and
smiled as Luka sat down next to her at the bar and wearily ordered a
beer.

"Oh, hi. How's Dr Weaver doing?" He just shrugged - how could a person
answer a question like that?

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." Abby idly played with the straw
in her soda.

"You're not worried about leaving her alone?"

"I should be, I suppose, but I don't believe that she'd ever do anything
to harm the baby."

"Yeah, I heard about that. Congratulations!" He was too absorbed in
thoughts of Kerry to notice the shadows in Abby's eyes, let alone to
wonder about them.

"Thank you. Um... how are you and Carter doing?" She smiled nervously.

"Doing? Uh, not at all. I quit as his sponsor, a couple of weeks ago."

"Just as his sponsor?" Abby looked at him suspiciously.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Really? I could've sworn I saw something between you two."

"What does *that* mean?" He simply shrugged. "What does that *mean*?"
She brandished a loose, ineffectual fist at him. "*What* does that
mean?" He finally relented, smiling.

"Just that lately he gets a look on his face whenever you're mentioned.
Like he wants to ask about you, but is afraid to." He took another pull
of his beer, and sighed.

After a few minutes of silence between them, he got up long enough to
buy a packet of cigarettes from the machine against the far wall, and
returned to his seat. Abby eyed the cigarettes with an interested
glance. "I thought you didn't smoke?"

"Consider this exceptional circumstances."

"Mm. Well, in that case give me one of those, too." He smirked at her.

"I thought you didn't smoke," he replied, carelessly tossing her own
comment back at her as he tapped a cigarette out of the packet and
passed it to her.

"My circumstances probably aren't as exceptional as yours, but it was
*crazy* in Pedes today."

"It's always crazy with kids," he noted with a fondly reminiscent smile.
His time with Jasna and Marko had been far too short, but it certainly
hadn't been boring. He lit his cigarette and courteously held out the
lit match for her to light her own, before shaking out the flame.

"Well, it's not like *I* would know," she mused, as she took the first
drag. He thought he heard a wistful tone to her voice.

"Your husband didn't want children?" She answered with an indistinct
mumble and shrug that somehow conveyed that *that* hadn't really been
the issue. "Then--? I don't..." he shrugged.

"I... didn't dare risk passing on Maggie's genes to my children. And I
didn't want my children to be as ashamed of *me* as she usually makes me
of her."

"That sort of thing - mental illness - isn't necessarily hereditary, you
know. How old was she when her symptoms became so... extreme?" Abby
shrugged.

"I don't really remember a time that she was ever *normal*. She'd take
her meds for a while, and then go off them again after she didn't 'feel
right', and my dad finally left when I was seven."

"That had to be hard for you, being left behind by your father." Abby
glared at him, and he shook his head, trying to dismiss the comment. "My
point is, if *you* were going to get sick, then you should have become
sick by now, hm?"

"Maybe." She slurped moodily at her soda, then sucked greedily on her
cigarette as she stared straight ahead.

"*Are* you involved with Carter on a personal level? You can tell me."
He saw the worried look on her face, and sighed. "Are you... concerned
about me reporting any relationship between the two of you?" She shook
her head vigorously.

"One of the informal rules in AA is that you don't fu-- er, sleep with
fellow alcoholics. And I was his *sponsor*!" He grinned at her. She was
acting too much like Nik had, when he was hung up on some girl, to
resist teasing her.

"But you're not his sponsor anymore. And he's not an *alcoholic*, is
he?" He saw the way she went bright red, and took a stab in the dark.
"*Oh*. Is that why you quit as his sponsor?"

"N-no! And it's not why I suggested that he start going to a different
meeting, either!" He choked back a snicker, but Abby could see the gleam
of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, god... now you remind me of Eric. My
younger brother," she explained, as she blew a cloud of smoke into the
air over the bar, where it mingled with the smoke of other patrons in a
thick haze. Mini-smog, she thought whimsically. "So why are *you* here?"

"Kerry just needed some time to herself." Abby grinned mischievously.

"Threw you out, huh?" He frowned, and thought seriously about the
question for a moment.

"Hm... I don't think that I would put it that way. I am, uh, respecting
her need for space." She snickered softly.

"Ooookay... *space*. You know, it's a good thing you aren't single," she
informed him in a sudden change of subject.

"Oh?" The question was cautious - he didn't want to give her anything
that even *resembled* the wrong idea.

"Yeah. If you were single, I probably would've thrown myself at you by
now. And I think it's pretty safe to say that *that* would've been a
*really* bad idea." He tried to be tactful, but his involuntary shudder
made Abby smile. "Exactly. It's kinda weird just being friends with a
guy - a *straight* guy - but... it's good."

"And your point is?" He pointed his cigarette at her, his eyebrows
raised dubiously, and she smiled as she stubbed out her own cigarette.

"My point is go home, Luka. You have something wonderful with Dr Weaver.
Don't blow it because you think you have to prove something to her, or
she thinks she has to prove something to you." He thought about that for
a moment, and made a vague gesture.

"We do need to work out some things," he admitted quietly, as he put out
his own cigarette and gathered up his coat from the bar stool, where
he'd casually draped it. "See you later, huh?" She watched him leave,
and sighed... now if only *she* could follow her own advice!

She looked down at the bar, and noticed that he'd left behind the
cigarette packet. Well, wasn't that just *spiffy*. The guy was cute -
well, dead sexy, really - and she wouldn't mind if he read the corporate
tax code aloud, with that accent of his, but he was *murder* on her
attempts to stay quit! *Men*....

* * *

The walk home was just cold enough to take some of the edge off the buzz
he'd been feeling from the beer, exacerbated by the warmth of the bar.
He'd been vaguely aware that his accent was thickening under the
influence of the alcohol, and he muttered softly as he walked, trying to
get out words like "thinking thick thoughts" with the "th"s intact. He
was also aware, though, that he was missing at least one in every three,
his tongue bouncing off the back of his teeth in the percussive "t"
instead of sliding out the properly sibilant sound.

He trotted up the front steps and fumbled with the key slightly as he
unlocked the door, and hung up his coat in the closet before removing
his shoes and nudging them into a semblance of order. He could hear yet
another of Kerry's blues CDs in the other room, and wondered if he was
maybe returning home a little sooner than she would have preferred. A
quick peek into the living room showed him that she was still resting on
the couch, looking lost in thought - he hated to interrupt her, but he
needed to talk to her. Or, failing that, just *be* with her.

She looked up and saw him, and jolted to her feet. He was startled when
she didn't even bother getting her crutch, but hopped quickly over to
him and vaulted into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck with a
glad little cry. "You came back," she said, surprise coloring her voice
to a degree that had Luka wondering who in her past had put that
uncertainty there. *Whoever* had done it, he could cheerfully throttle
the culprit.

"I promised I always would, didn't I?" was his only reply to that,
though, and she eyed him very seriously for what only *seemed* like a
long time.

"Ew. You've been smoking," she finally declared plaintively, but didn't
let go of him. It was just as well, since he still had his arms tightly
around her waist and was holding her securely off the floor, off her
feet.

* * *

They cuddled together on the couch; he wasn't quite sure what had
happened to his tie - he knew he'd had it when he came in the door, and
now the top few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, with nothing in
the way - but right now he really didn't care. "You have such beautiful
eyebrows," he murmured as he traced the line of the body part in
question.

"Eyebrows, huh? What brought *this* on?"

"Well, you *do*. And it's not a feature that usually gets the credit it
deserves." She rolled her eyes at him.

"You're *drunk*."

"Mm-hm. But you still have beautiful eyebrows." She kissed his neck.

"Thank you. Have I ever told you how irresistible you are when you're
drunk?"

"You have only seen me drunk..." he tried to count on his fingers, but
promptly got confused and gave up, "a handful of times. Anyhow, is it
et'ical for me to be irresistible when I'm not in full control of my
faculties?" Her only response to that was to resume kissing his neck.
"Oh, help. Help, help. Don't, stop, don't, stop, don't stop." His less
than half-hearted "protests" quickly had her giggling and squirming in
his arms in a rather pleasant way, and the way he was tickling her
didn't really help matters much, either.

Several minutes later, when their impromptu kissing-tickling-wriggling
session had coasted to a breathless standstill, they resumed their
previous cuddle. They were both considerably more rumpled than they'd
been when he'd first carried her over to the couch; he noticed that one
of the lapels of her kimono had fallen open and she was half hanging
out, and casually moved the fabric back into place. She seized his hand
before he had a chance to move it back to more neutral territory, and
held on to it. "Did... ah... *you* have a mentor when you were a med
student?"

Luka laughed softly, and brought her hand to his lips for a moment.
"Yeah. Dr Laurens. French. He, uh, was a big influence in getting me to
settle down, and be more serious." Kerry raised an eyebrow and smiled,
despite herself.

"You mean you weren't *always* 'tall, dark, and brooding'? He must have
been quite a man!"

"Mm-hm. Put his foot down with me... as often as was needed, and
occasionally on my ass." It didn't really seem like the right time to
note that he'd turned out to have more in common with Dr Laurens than
he'd ever expected.

"Is he still--" She thought she'd heard something strange in his voice
when he mentioned his mentor, but perhaps that was just the way the beer
happened to affect him.

"Alive? I don't know. He returned to France shortly after I finished
medical school, but I haven't heard of or from him since. I s'ppose it
would be nice to see what he's up to now, if he is still alive." He
yawned widely, moving his free hand barely in time to cover his mouth,
and Kerry smiled tenderly at him.

"You're about to fall asleep, aren't you?"

"Mm-hm. Been ver' long day." His eyes were half-closed, and he was
smiling serenely with the pleasure of oncoming sleep, intoxication, and
the close presence of a beautiful cuddly woman who smelled good. "You're
gonna call Nadira, and make appointment, okay?"

"Okay, okay."

"Tha's my cute liddle redhead," he mumbled as he gave in and closed his
eyes, and Kerry furrowed her brow bemusedly. *What*?!?

"Excuse me?" The only answer she got, though, was a gentle snore. She
sighed, and put her head down on his shoulder - she was pretty tired
herself, and didn't feel like getting up just so she could go upstairs
to an empty bed. The music was soothing, Luka's body was warm and solid
under her, and there was really no need to....

The CD continued playing, only now the music was accompanied by the
sound of two people snoring softly and rhythmically. Kerry shifted
slightly in her sleep, to accommodate her leg, and Luka's arm found its
way around her waist as he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep.

Inside her belly, their child floated dreamily with its thumb drifting
in and out of its mouth, rocked by the gentle rhythms of Kerry's own
body and no longer than one of the VHS tapes that were stacked
haphazardly around the TV and VCR. It didn't know about any of the
events going on outside the red world, didn't even know that there *was*
anything outside the red world. Still, there were mysterious sounds that
often filtered in over the background thrum - mostly a high-pitched
sound, but sometimes there was a deeper sound that rolled in. For a
little while, the world had been *wrong*, but now things was back to the
way they should be... all was good again.




POST-OP NOTES:

* Whaddya mean, "who wrote 'The Tempest'?" Sheesh. :-)

* Dave's serenade is the chorus from the Divinyls' "I Touch Myself". In
the words of Willow Rosenberg, "Oh, that's what that song is about?!"

* Thanks to
http://www.babycenter.com/refcap/pregnancy/pregnancysleep/7914.html for
the information on Sleep Aids During Pregnancy.

* Paul Laurens was a character in Madeleine L'Engle's book "And Both
Were Young", originally published in 1950, who had ambitions of becoming
a doctor. What with his backstory, I couldn't resist. It's a good
book... go read it. Better yet, buy a copy. ;-)

--
Ellen K. Hursh
Randi: "How'd your personality tests go?"
Mark: "I scored somewhere between serial killer and talk show host."