TITLE: Troubled Water

AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh

RATING: PG-13

KEYWORDS: KW/LKo romance; a little angst, a little romance, a little fun... and oh yeah, people actually do medical stuff in this installment.

LAST EPISODE SEEN: "Mars Attacks"

TIMELINE: Around "The Domino Heart"

CROATIAN: "Volim te" = "I love you"; "Trebam te" = "I need you"; Vrabac = sparrow; Beba = pretty much what it looks like (that is, *not* "the Bolivian navy on maneuvers in the South Pacific")

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: A couple of old ER plots revisited....

SPOILERS: Um... other than for "Domino Heart", "Random Acts" and the latter part of Season 5, I WISH. :-)

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Relative Safety; Off to a Rocky Start

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Season 7 spoilers? *What* Season 7 spoilers?

PREVIOUSLY, ON MY ER: Luka and Kerry began an affair after she'd interfered with one of his patients. They took in a movie, then retired to his boudoir for the night, where Kerry discovered two things about Luka: his bed is freakin' uncomfortable, and he has more than his share of carry-on emotional baggage from his past.

 

 

"Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down." --Paul Simon

 

 

Kerry awoke, very early in the morning, to the sound of laughter coming from another part of the house; a quick sweep of her hand across the bed verified that Luka wasn't lying next to her, and she struggled out of bed and to her feet, after retrieving her nightgown from the foot of the bed where he'd tossed it last night and sliding her glasses onto her face. What on earth, she wondered, had he found? Most of the books in her house tended to be very dry medical books and journals... management texts... cookbooks... some science fiction novels. None of that, despite Mark's opinion of _Managing Through Example: 12 Steps to a More Efficient Workplace_, would be anything to laugh abou-- She halted in her tracks, her crutch landing with a solid >thump<, as she realized that there *was* a book in the house that might elicit a few giggles... a book that had once been described as a "hoot", in fact. Oh, *no*!

Sure enough, she entered the living room to find him sprawled across the couch, reading her romance novel manuscript and sipping a cup of coffee - judging from the smell, it was that *really* strong, horrendous stuff he liked. *Ick*. He glanced up when he heard her, and immediately stood up respectfully, carefully laying the manuscript down on the coffee table. "Hi. There's some coffee, out in the kitchen."

"I'll keep that in mind, if I need to strip any paint," Kerry muttered as she crossed the room to give him a hug and kiss, and he grinned, delighted. He knew exactly what she thought of the coffee he made (she'd made her opinion clear enough before, with little gagging noises and pretending to stick her finger down her throat), but couldn't resist teasing her.

"Excuse me? What was that? Are you insulting my coffee?"

"Not at all. The next time I need a caffeine overdose, I know where to go." He rolled his eyes, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"There's nothing wrong with it. A *little* strong, maybe, but you can water it down. C'mere." He sat back down and patted the cushion next to him, then began rubbing Kerry's shoulders when she joined him; she relaxed against him with a happy little sigh. "By the way, I love your book, beba, " She stuck with the story she was pretty sure she'd managed to get everybody at work to believe.

"It's not mine - oh, *that's* good - Carol's the one who wrote it. Randi made a bunch of copies, and I must have brought one home by mistake at the time." He knuckled at a knotted muscle in the middle of her back until it yielded and relaxed, and she made a soft purring sound.

"No, no." He put his face against her hair and inhaled deeply... the lilac perfume she sometimes wore still lingered on her from yesterday. "*Carol* didn't write this. Why don't you want to admit that it's yours? It's very good, you could probably sell it for-- well, I don't know exactly how much, but I always see those books on the rack at the supermarket."

She sighed, not yet ready to confess, and tried one of the major arguments she'd used at the time. "Luka, why would I make my character a villain?" He watched her quietly for a moment before he spoke again.

"Because then you get to keep control of *some* aspect of how people see you. Besides, a well-written villain can be a lot of fun." He brushed her hair out of the way and kissed her neck; there wasn't really time to *do* anything, but that was a damned pretty neck... and shoulder... and back... and--

"I'm surprised to hear *you*, of all people, say that," she protested, pulling away as she turned to look directly at him, but he made one of his expressive, uniquely Mediterranean, whole-body shrugs.

"It's the sad difference between truth and fiction, Kerry. Fictional villains are interesting, to hold the audience's attention, but *real* villains are dull, petty sorts." He sounded weary as he said this, and Kerry tried not to think about what kinds of "*real* villains" he must have encountered in his life. Then he took a deep breath and forced a smile, though his eyes were still shadowed. "Hey, didn't you say you were going to show me some photographs?" He was surprised by Kerry's surprise - did she think he'd forgotten expressing interest the other night?

She got up and fetched a photo album from one of the shelves, then came back and let Luka draw her up onto his lap, enjoying the security of his arm around her waist and his solid chest against her back. as she opened the album on her own lap and he peered over her shoulder. He stopped her attempt to flip past the pictures of her as a very young child that the book opened to; she couldn't see his face, but she somehow knew he was studying the scrawny little girl who Joe and Louise Weaver had brought home one day, over thirty years ago. Long braids, her face a mass of freckles, barely able to walk even with crutches and leg braces... her expression somber even then.

Luka touched the edge of the photograph thoughtfully - he *knew* he'd seen those eyes somewhere before, on somebody else, but his subconscious was stubbornly holding back the information. "You were a very serious child," he mused, and wondered if the look on little Kerry's face had anything to do with her leg. He'd tried to ask her about her leg, why she limped, but she'd first tried to change the subject then - after that didn't work - out-and-out seduced him: afterward, it had taken him a few minutes just to remember his *name*, never mind what they'd been talking about. He grinned... maybe he'd ask her about her leg again at the next convenient opportunity.

She didn't answer him, just turned several pages to one of her - a younger version of herself - in a black graduation gown, standing between a fairly plain older woman and a handsome older man Luka could have sworn he'd seen before... of course, that must be Kerry's father. Her hair was long and curly (he decided it had to be a perm: he'd never seen any indication that her hair had anything more than a very slight natural wave), and she was the cutest thing he'd ever seen: there was a huge grin on her face and she had an arm flung around each of the people with her, as the woman held onto her crutch.

He pointed to the picture. "You're right, you *should* try long hair again. Maybe not with a perm this time, though," he said, then changed the subject. "These are your parents?"

"My mom, and... uh... Gabe Lawrence. My mentor in med school." He searched his memory - he knew he'd heard the name - and then nodded as he placed it. That would be why he'd thought he recognized the man - they'd exchanged less than ten words that day, but Luka had seen Dr. Lawrence's competence. Hadn't made the blow any gentler when Kerry'd dismissed him like that, of course, but at least he'd been replaced by an excellent doctor. Or rather, Dr Lawrence *had* been an excellent doctor - it was a shame, Luka thought, that the man's failing mental status had had to be the instrument of *his* permanent return to County.

"Oh. Do you take after your father, then? You don't look much like her."

"I don't know whether I take after my mother or my father, actually. I was adopted," she explained. "My mom and dad died a couple of years ago, and I took a stab at finding my biological parents, but it didn't work out." He was intrigued by the way her voice became weak, and a little squeaky, with that last admission.

"They weren't what you expected?"

"What? Oh. No, the detective came up with the wrong name. The wrong woman. It was a big disappointment, so I decided to quit looking, and move forward with my life." She wasn't aware of snuggling into Luka's arms as she said that, but she could feel him rub his cheek against the back of her head, like an enormous cat. He would have been appalled by the description: he wasn't much of a cat person, even though Pavle had told him once that that was because he secretly identified with the rotten little creatures too much. But then, Pavle had frequently been full of shit.

"That's too bad," he told her sincerely. "So you're not at all interesting in meeting any of your biological relatives? I mean, if your mother happened to find *you*, would you slam the door in her face?"

"I don't know. I've never really thought in those terms. I didn't want to think about it after Mrs. Brennan. The woman who the detective found," she explained. Luka nodded - she felt his chin move against her head - and hugged her. She rested her head back against his shoulder for a moment, then sighed. "Aren't you on in a couple of hours?" He yawned and stretched, but kept his arm hooked around her waist.

"Mm-hm. I need to head home pretty soon, so I can change my clothes and shower, and so on."

"You could always get your shower here," Kerry offered. "Or, uh, at least shave." He turned her around so he could look her in the eye.

"I already tried shaving with your Lady Schick once, Kerry. *That* was not very successful." He rubbed ruefully at his chin; the cuts had been small, so they were already nearly gone. It had seemed like such a *good* idea, too, to borrow her razor and save a little time by lathering with a little dish soap and shaving in the reflection of the toaster while waiting for a plate of leftover pot roast to finish heating up in the microwave. Unfortunately, he'd never before tried to share a woman's razor - it had been good for nothing but the leg hair that had taken the edge off it in the first place (but left just enough of an edge to nick him several times). Never, *never* again.

"No, I know. C'mon, let me see if I can find you something else, upstairs in the bathroom." She got up, and he obediently followed her, watching the wiggle of her hips that was slightly accentuated by her limp and thinking that the only thing he liked about that nightgown was the process of taking it off her. Even though they didn't have enough time to make love *properly*, they could surely still fool around a *little*... he didn't *think* he'd felt a panty line when she was on his lap a minute ago.

He lost his train of thought, though, when she led him into the bathroom and gestured, almost casually, at the area around the sink. "When did you do this?" She'd laid out a few new personal items on the counter - a toothbrush, a razor, a small tube of shaving cream, that she'd tied together with a little red bow - and now eyed him a little warily, as if expecting him to reject the overture.

"Last night, just before I went to bed. I guess you didn't notice, this morning?"

"I don't look at that area of your bathroom first thing," he protested, tapping the mirror over the sink. "I don't like to start off the day by scaring myself." He didn't look there, *ever*, but didn't say so: she'd take it the wrong way. "Just in--" he indicated the toilet, "and back out." He untied the bow, and selected the razor. "Thank you, Kerry. Is there anything you'd like me to keep at my place for you?" He frowned. "Some... pads, or tampons, or whatever it is you use?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, Luka, but I think it would be best if we spent most of our time here. I hate that bed, for one thing--"

"No, no, I understand. I wasn't happy about the idea of taking you back there. Uh, I was thinking about moving anyway... getting something a little nicer." She opened her mouth to speak, but he kept talking. "Don't worry, Kerry, I can afford it - I've been living in that place by choice, partly because it's a neighborhood where closed blinds and lights on all the time doesn't attract attention. And up until now it's mostly just been a place to *sleep*."

"Oh. I was going to suggest that you move in *here*."

"I wasn't hinting for you to--"

"I know you weren't. But think about it, okay?" He sighed.

"It's really tempting, Kerry--"

"Good! I'm going to go back to bed, and see if I can get a little more sleep. See you at work later." She used her crutch to help herself stand on tiptoe, and kissed him on the cheek before she limped away - she didn't want to give him a chance to turn her down without at least thinking about it, and she thought she'd heard a "but" in his voice. Kerry was a strong, independent woman, but she also liked falling asleep in his arms and waking up next to him. The thought of him living there all the time - not just when they were there together - held a lot of appeal for her. Different from the way she'd enjoyed having John living in the basement, of course, since she'd never even *thought* about being anything more than his friend: he was a sweet kid, almost like a little brother to her.

She'd worried at first that her eagerness to be with Luka had more to do with loneliness than actually feeling anything for him - sometimes she thought that it would serve her right, to live the rest of her life *alone*, after the way she'd treated people throughout her medical career - but she'd quickly decided that it had to be more than the desire for companionship, or even just sex, that had her anxious to be with Luka whenever possible. If that were the case, she should have enjoyed her Christmas dinner with the Six Sick Santas a lot more than she had: they'd had some funny stories, and had been very nice, but she'd found herself surreptitiously checking her watch and wondering how Luka was holding up with his holiday double shift.

She sat down heavily on the bed and put her crutch to the side, within easy reach, then pulled her glasses back off and dropped them on the nightstand before snuggling under the covers. She could still smell a trace of him - an indefinable, slightly musky scent that was unique... and soothing - in the bed, and she wriggled a little until she was a little closer to the center of the bed; she was tempted to simply grab his pillow and cuddle it close, but fell asleep while she was still considering the idea.

* * *

He watched her leave the room and heard the bedsprings creak a minute later, and turned back to the mirror... pausing as he saw his eyes reflected. He disliked mirrors, avoided them whenever possible, and usually managed to shave at his place without raising his eyes above the reflection of his chin, but he'd turned without thinking, this time.

He ducked down, breaking contact with his reflection, and began splashing his face, then examined the container of shaving cream. It wasn't the same brand that he usually used, but this was an area where he could be very flexible: just about anything beat trying to use nothing but cold, dirty water to soften his whiskers (he'd finally let his beard grow all the way in, to Daniela's displeasure). He squirted a small amount into his hand, and experimentally sniffed the little blue glob of gel. The scent was different from what he was used to, but it was very pleasant; he squirted a little more into his palm, and soon had his jaw and chin covered with the stuff.

He began to work, with smooth, sure strokes of the razor. Minutes later, he was done... and ready to leave, which he really didn't want to do. *Should* he accept Kerry's offer? He knew she was potentially putting herself in a spot, since she was his superior, but every time he became more and more reluctant to leave her, and go "home" to an empty apartment. Home... it had been years since he'd had anyplace he could really call *home*. The boat had been close, a soothing reminder of his coastal upbringing, but it had been damned lonely. He scowled at the mirror, and walked out of the bathroom.

He crept into Kerry's bedroom to see if she was still awake, but she had already curled up and begun to migrate to what they had both begun to think of as "his" side of the bed. She looked so sweet... he brushed the hair back from her temple, and leaned over - being very careful not to jostle the bed - to kiss her. She muttered in her sleep, and smiled as he gently caressed her cheek and murmured, "Sweet dreams, Kerry."

Once he was back downstairs, he began to head toward his coat and shoes, but paused when he noticed (for the first time, oddly enough) something through one of the kitchen windows. He went closer, for a better look, and his face lit up. "Oh, *wow*," he whispered, and found the back door after a little searching. It was some kind of small garden-cum-courtyard he'd spotted... or rather, it was *intended* as a garden: it would need some cleaning out and TLC before it could be productive, but he liked a challenge. There was a wooden bench here, too - placed so that it couldn't be seen from the window - and he could easily imagine sitting here with Kerry on a sunny summer afternoon, with the scent of flowers and the drone of bees hanging in the air. The garden - the *promise* of a garden - wasn't what convinced him that he should accept her offer (assuming, of course, it was still valid by the time he next saw her), it was just the deciding vote. He hadn't wanted to take on his grandfather's farm, but he still enjoyed working in the soil on occasion.

After he went back inside, he remembered there was one more thing he wanted to do before he left; the small beige address book was in the desk drawer, exactly where he thought he'd remembered seeing her put it away the other night after calling an old college acquaintance, and he paged through it quickly but carefully until he found the entry he was looking for. He quickly checked the name and number against the phone book, then snatched a sheet of paper from the notepad by the phone and copied the information before he put the book back in the drawer, exactly as he'd found it. He wouldn't be able to call for an appointment until after his shift had begun, but he'd have time to make a couple of calls and check it out a little when he was at his apartment, and make absolutely sure he wasn't going to be hiring an incompetent for the job.

He slugged down the last of the coffee and rinsed out both his cup and the carafe, *then* put his coat and shoes on and opened the door. He chucked the morning paper inside, then closed the front door firmly behind him and stared wistfully up at her bedroom window for a few moments before he turned to leave. C'mon, he reminded himself. You'll see her later today... just relax.

* * *

Kerry arrived a few hours after Luka, and was pleased that - while it wasn't especially busy - so many people were off doing something *else*. It was really uncanny, she thought, the range of subjects that were available on-line! She'd already found the data she needed for the meeting she had in twenty minutes with Romano, but now she futzed around with the computer until she'd found what she was looking for: a site that translated various Croatian words and phrases into English.

She looked around furtively, and pulled out a small sheet of paper - she'd listed as many of the words she'd heard Luka use in her presence (usually murmured in her ear, late at night) as she could remember. Some of them, she couldn't find at all... the ones she could find, the meaning made her blush. She thought of hearing him sigh "volim te" or "trebam te" when they were in bed, and shivered a little.

And then there were the words he'd shouted during his nightmare. As strong as he was, to see him so... *helpless*, caught in the grip of his nightmare - his night *terror* - scared her. He'd refused to translate what he'd said: Molim vas... ne napusti me... she stared at the words, which she'd written down at the first opportunity. Please. Molim vas was *please*, according to a Croatian For Tourists site she'd found. And then No something me. But *what*? When she typed in the mystery word, she accidentally repeated the last two letters, which she didn't notice until she'd clicked the icon for a translation, then growled in frustration: she would have thought that as bad of a typist as she usually was, she would work a little slower and check her work before-- wait a minute. Her "typo" had just yielded results: napustiti was "to desert". Please don't desert me. She stared at the screen and sighed; she had a pretty good idea what he'd been dreaming about, that night.

* * *

Luka stared, surprised by what the ambulances were bringing in. He'd become used to some of the strange people who tended to frequent the ER, but *this*...! Sequins and spangles everywhere, colorful outfits... he'd joked about the circus to a little girl on one of his first moonlighting jobs here, but either this was the real thing, or the weird people of Chicago were getting *much* weirder.

He snagged an axillary laceration from one of the ambulances, and calmly conducted the examination... wincing a little at the story of how Vito Camporsero had fallen from the high-wire and caught himself on a cable. *Ow*. Carol was back from maternity leave and had joined him on this trauma, but she was a little off her game after six weeks. "It's okay to be a little rusty, your first day back," he offered cheerfully, completely unfazed when Carol made a face and snapped at him. It'll take more than *that* to upset me today, he reflected. Even the news that the water was out... eh, that really wasn't anything to worry him: Kerry could handle it. He didn't envy her her job, that was for sure.

Dr Romano was called down for a surgical consult and, as usual, proceeded to make a complete nuisance of himself - he insisted on wrenching around the poor man's injured arm in order to determine the extent of the injury. Luka really felt for Mr Camporsero - they couldn't give him any morphine because his blood pressure was too low, but the man's howls of agony were starting to get on Luka's nerves. He and Chuny exchanged a smirk as Romano was finally dragged out by Vito's brothers, the other two "Flying Camporseros". Couldn't have happened to a *nicer* guy.

As soon as they had sent Mr Camporsero upstairs, to get his arm repaired, Luka found himself treating a young Chinese girl with a cut on her foot. Vincenzo Camporsero's story sounded a little fishy - the board that hurt her fell from *above*, but the cut was on the *bottom* of her foot? The girl was happy to demonstrate, after the Chinese woman translating for her had passed on the question: she gingerly stood up on the bed, and performed a one-handed handstand on the rail of the bed. It was an amazing stunt, and he told Vincenzo just that. The man promptly offered to 'comp' him two tickets to tonight's show... free tickets to the circus, how could he refuse? Kerry was one of the few people he'd want to take along to something like this, and it was just the sort of thing she'd enjoy. It would be worth getting all the injured would-be circus performers over the next few days (these people would be mostly children trying to recreate their favorite stunts, but there were always older people who were happy to prove that they were children at heart by doing extremely stupid things... usually after having consumed far too much alcohol).

Vincenzo had *just* handed him the tickets when Romano burst in, accompanied by a couple of guys from Security, and - after indignantly identifying Vincenzo Camporsero as one of his "assailants" - had him forcibly removed. He and Luka traded bemused shrugs, and Luka finished up with the girl.

When he was done, he deposited the chart in the bin, wiped the girl's name off the board, and went to find Kerry; she'd just come back downstairs from another of her meetings (that was an aspect of her job that he wouldn't be able to stand, having to be around that little toad Romano so often). "Hey, Kerry. I was just wondering if you had any idea how long it'll be until the water's back on."

"I didn't know it was *off*," she told him, displaying her water bottle as mute explanation for why she'd been nowhere near a faucet, and sighed. "Mark should have paged me about this."

"Take it easy," he urged. "It's been a little busy, maybe he hasn't had a chance." His own pager went off, and he rolled his eyes. "Okay, see you later." He squeezed her hand quickly, then trotted away before she could say anything more... like scolding him for touching her when they weren't alone.

* * *

He made the call during his lunch break, right after helping Cleo deal with a batch of kids with food poisoning, and - after being on hold for about fifteen minutes - was somehow able to set up an appointment for later that day. He rang off just in time - a college student came in needing stitches where he'd cut his hand on the blade of his girlfriend's ice skates. Sutures... they could do *that* with the water situation the way it was.

Luka carefully finished closing up the gash in the man's hand, and smiled. "Next time you will believe the rink attendant when he says the skates have been properly sharpened?"

"Yes sir," the man said sheepishly, as his girlfriend looked on and watched Luka apply the bandages.

"All right. Keep the sutures dry, and come back to have them removed in a week or so."

* * *

Luka sighed, and flicked his gaze to the wall clock for a moment. "Time of death, 1637. It was a good effort, but he was probably dead before he hit the floor. You have the death kit, Lily?" He sighed again and snapped off his gloves, then nudged Dave's shoulder; the young resident seemed a little subdued by their failure to revive the patient. "You aren't God, you know, we can't save them all. Sometimes it's just that time... sometimes the good guys lose, huh?" Dave had been all over the man, wanting to try *anything* to revive him. Luka had been ready to call it several minutes ago, but had been willing to humor Dave... up to a point. That point had been Dave yelling for a thoracotomy tray - it was bad enough that Luka was going to have to go out and tell a woman that her husband was dead, he didn't want her to have to remember her husband with a big spot on his chest where he'd been ripped open and then sewn back together. "Look on the bright side, Dave," Luka observed, a glint of humor in his eyes, "maybe the next one will be something very gruesome, just for you."

"Yeah... well..." Dave muttered, and had the decency to look embarrassed by the reminder of his earlier zeal. "It woulda been nice if we could've saved the guy."

"Of course! In the meantime, though, there are other things that need to be done. *I'll* talk to the wife - you're doing better on that, but I think Dr Weaver is still a little upset about the guy who brought in his brother's ducks and released them in the halls because he didn't like the way you'd broken the news to him."

"'Kay, I'll be right there. Hey, Dr Kovac?"

"Hm?"

"You think I go overboard too much, don't you? With chasing after traumas?" Luka smiled faintly, and held his index finger and thumb a few millimeters apart.

"Malo," he told Dave, nodding slightly but emphatically, and headed in the direction of the newly-widowed Mrs Paul Anderson. Dave watched him walk away and grinned, shaking his head.

"It's gotta be a woman," he told Carol. "He's acting goofy, and he ain't exactly the type of guy to get into the nitrous. He's *definitely* got it bad for *somebody*."

"You don't know that," she retorted scornfully. But she *could* see that Luka was behaving a little strangely. She was still a little too pissed off, though, about his offhand comment to her in the trauma earlier, to want to ask him what was going on... *rusty*?!? She'd been a nurse for a little over ten years - you didn't get rusty after being away for only a month and a half! How dare he!

"Hey, guys look like that when they're in love," Dave insisted. "Especially when they're in love with someone who returns the feeling." He silently counted: one... two... three. And there it was: Carol shot him a disgusted look-- *the* disgusted look. His work here was done.

"Like you'd know anything about *that*," she grouched at him, but he was - now that he'd managed to annoy her for the day - in too good of a mood to take offense, and he walked away from her, giggling.

* * *

Luka leaned across the front desk. "Randi, I'm going across the street for something to eat." She looked up from her magazine and nodded, smiling. He checked his watch as he trotted across the street - good, he wasn't that late. He placed his order to go at the counter, then turned to a heavy-set man with a goatee, and long dark hair caught back in a ponytail... in short, the guy looked ridiculous. The suit didn't help matters.

"You're Sam Broder?" Ponytail looked up at him, startled, and nodded hesitantly. Luka stared down at him calmly. "Luka Kovac. I understand that you did some investigative work for Kerry Weaver last year."

"Who told you that?" Broder demanded warily. Luka shrugged. He'd gambled that Kerry didn't update her address book too frequently, and that she might have put her PI's name in there at some point, but he'd only needed a few quick calls to find out that Broder was a competent investigator who had, in Kerry's case, run afoul of a series of regrettable (if stupid) mistakes and a client who'd been maybe a little quick to drop the matter. He'd been encouraged by the sight of Broder's name in the address book, in fact - it showed that, on some level, Kerry *didn't* consider the matter closed. (Or, it could just mean that she'd never got around to tearing out that page! he reminded himself.)

"It doesn't matter. It is true, that you were trying to track down her biological parents for her?" The man nodded again.

"Yeah. But she fired me, after a lead went bad. I guess she lost her nerve. A real pity--"

"Never mind that," Luka interrupted coldly. "I'm hiring you again, to do the same thing. But remember - you work for *me*, now. You speak only to me about this. If you call, and she answers, tell her you have a wrong number and hang up immediately. If you find anything, *I* will be the one to check it out. *Not* her. I won't put her through the same pain she had with your Mrs. Brennan - I won't raise her hopes unnecessarily. Do you understand me?"

The man nodded nervously (apparently, Luka decided, there were certain advantages to being tall, dark and extremely foreign-looking). "Where do you want me to start?" Luka laughed sharply and made a sweeping gesture.

"If I knew that, I would be doing this myself instead of hiring you, wouldn't I? Just try to check blood types first this time, huh?" He handed Broder a check that he'd written earlier. "Now go to it, huh?" he told Broder with an attempt at Dr Benton's brusque tone, then spoiled his own attempt to look stern by smiling. Broder muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'crazy foreigner' and left, after pocketing the check. Luka sighed. He hoped he hadn't made an enormous mistake by doing this, but family was so important to him and Kerry still hung on to her hopes of finding her biological parents, even though she *said* she'd given up. He rubbed his forehead, a little tired... oh, *please* don't let them be monsters, he prayed. Let 'em just be good kids who'd had no other choice at the time but to give their baby a shot at a better life.

Whatever Broder turned up, though, it would give Kerry some closure on her life - she could move on from the place she'd been for a while. Big talk, Luka, he mocked himself. You're still there half the time, yourself!

His order - a couple of sandwiches - came up, and he paid quickly; he took a half out of the container and munched on it, then took the container with him to the bathroom - he had used one of those portable toilets earlier, and the stench was unbelievable. The water was supposed to be back on very soon, fortunately... he suspected there were quite a few male patients who were avoiding the wait for one of those smelly portable toilets by using the pole of the basketball hoop as a handy target. He supposed it was just as well that he didn't play basketball - bumping against that would be one hell of a foul!

* * *

He came back in on the heels of a very soaked Jing-Mei, Carter and Mark hauling a man inside on a gurney, and decided that they seemed to have everything under control; he proceeded to Kerry's office, where he found her going through stacks of papers. "Hi. I just got back from Doc's - would you like a sandwich? Egg salad - probably not the healthiest choice, but still not bad." He opened the container and held it out to her, and Kerry unenthusiastically took a half; she seemed to brighten slightly when she actually began to eat. "Have you eaten *anything* all day?" he asked her, and smiled when her brow furrowed in thought. "If you have to think about it, draga... go ahead and have the other half. I got two sandwiches."

"I don't want to eat all your dinner, you're bigger than I am."

"Yep. But I'm low-maintenance, and you burn up energy like a little hummingbird - a cute little red-headed hummingbird. So *eat*. I can even go and get more for you, if you'd like." He wagged his finger at her in mock sternness, and she disengaged from the sandwich long enough to stick her tongue out at him. "Yeah, yeah." He watched approvingly as she devoured the sandwich. "Hey... you know the circus people who came in here earlier today?"

"I've been in meetings practically all day, but I heard a few interesting stories - I heard about Romano getting hauled out by the brothers of one of the patients, for instance." Luka chuckled.

"Yeah. Chuny and I had, eh, a ring-side seat for that one. The guy was being a jer-- well, he was being himself. The patient was in pain, and he was making it worse. I'd've done the same thing for my brother, if someone was hurting him." Good heavens, Nik had been there for him enough that hauling an unpleasant little man away from him would be *nothing*.

"Still, it wasn't an appropriate thing for those men to have done." Kerry was trying to keep her Boss-Lady tone of voice in place, but she clearly enjoyed the thought of Romano subjected to such an indignity. She lowered her voice. "You don't suppose Security got any footage of the event?"

"If they did, Romano's probably confiscated it and had it burned. You're off soon, right?"

"My shift is over soon, but I have a ton of paperwork. Probably another few hours before I can get away." He rested his chin on his folded arms, on top of her desk, and stared mournfully at her. "And don't try to guilt-trip me. I need to get this done tonight." He sat up; he was tempted, though only for a moment, to try to use the circus tickets as leverage to lure her away from the desk, but decided that would be unfair. (And, truthfully, he was still a little insecure about his place in her life, as to whether the idea of a night out with him would be a strong enough draw.)

"I'll stay and help you," he offered, but Kerry shook her head.

"No, there's no point in *both* of us suffering. Go on, I'll see you tomorrow." He cleared his throat softly.

"Okay. Uh, were you... serious, this morning? About--"

"About you moving in? Only if you're going to say yes." They shared a nervous little laugh at that; he knew *he* was doing this because he'd been hopelessly in love with Kerry ever since the moment that, while carrying Carol from the El platform to the hospital, he'd peered through the falling snow and spotted Kerry standing outside with Dave Malucci: it had been sheer instinct to call out to her. He leaned back in the chair, and propped his head up on his hand, watching her work.

"I'm glad you were serious, then," he told her. "I guess, since you're going to stay and work late, you'll call me when you get home?" Kerry hesitated, and Luka worried that he'd pushed her too hard. Instead, she reached into the pocket of her labcoat and brought out a keyring that already had two keys on it, and held it out to him. He leaned forward to take it, then paused. "You were that sure I'd say yes, hm?"

"It's the set John - Dr Carter - had," she informed him, almost primly. "I brought them along, just in case..." She waggled the keys at him, and he finally took them and slipped them into the pocket of his trousers. "If you want to head over to my house after you get off. That's the front door and back door." Her smile suddenly slipped. "Except that I didn't leave any lights on before I left, this morning. I'm sorry."

He smiled ruefully at that. "*Not* so sure, then?"

"I'm sure we can work something out for *that*."

"Mm-hm. But every moment I stay here talking to you is another moment you have to be here. See you tomorrow." He waved feebly - more of a half-salute, really - and got up. He still had another thirty minutes to go, he could probably get in a couple of sore throats and stitches in that time.

 

* * *

He sighed as he walked out the door - he really should have checked with Kerry, before accepting those tickets, but he'd let himself get caught up in his amazement: a one-handed handstand, like that, on the rail of the bed! Now, instead of taking in a show at the circus with the company of an amazing woman, he was leaving alone. Looked like he was going to spend the night at his own apartment... *alone*.

 

He saw the falling snow before he saw Lucy, sitting forlornly on the bench, freezing her butt off. Poor little vrabac. He saw the way she looked at Carter, and saw the way Carter treated her. What the hell. He took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders to warm her (most of the time, he only wore the coat out of force of habit anyway), and brushed aside her protests. "I'm European, we like to be gallant," he teased her. "Are you all right? You look upset." She shrugged.

"Yeah. It's just... it's never been easy for me to fit in here."

He considered a moment. "I understand that feeling. It's something I've become used to, though, moving around so much." Her next words startled him.

"Yeah, but you have Dr. Weaver."

"What?"

"You're together, aren't you?

"Oh. I...." It really hadn't occurred to him until now that their relationship - or rather, personal changes as a result of their relationship - might have been noticed by others. And here I thought we've been so *careful*, so *sneaky*! "We've... been seeing something of each other, yes," he admitted cautiously.

"That is *so* cool," she declared firmly. "I mean, sure it would've been nice if she could've mentored me, but you guys being a couple... *awesome*." Luka grinned.

"You know I have no control over your student evaluations?" Her eyes grew huge, and she looked appalled.

"*What*?!? You don't think I'd say that to get a--"

"Relax, I'm kidding. You're off, now? I have two tickets to the circus, and you look like you could use the diversion."

"No, I just came on."

"But you've been here all day...?"

"I came in early for a... a friend who had surgery today. Not that it did her any good in the end."

Lucy was the only other person he would have wanted to take to the circus; if she couldn't go with him either, then that had to be a sign that he wasn't destined to go. A pity, that he'd miss that little Chinese acrobat's act, but maybe he'd do more good here tonight, helping her. Besides, a circus was something that should be shared, should be watched with someone you could nudge and say "Look! Did you *see* that?", so going by himself was out of the question.

Lucy reminded him of how Jasna might have turned out, if she hadn't been killed... all that natural enthusiasm and curiosity, wanting to know everything, peppering him with "why why why" every day when he got home. Never mind that Lucy looked about as Dalmatian as the members of ABBA, he still felt a paternal protectiveness toward the girl.

An ambulance rolled up, interrupting whatever he'd been about to say, and Luka and Lucy got up to see what they had: snowmachine versus tree. Lucy was horrified by Luka's suggestion, that he talk her through intubating this guy - god, the *paramedics* hadn't been able to get him tubed! - but he persisted until she agreed.

He accompanied her back inside, all the while keeping up a running commentary on what she was going to need to do, and soon Lucy had managed to get the man settled. He followed her to the lounge, where she gave him back his coat and poured herself a cup of coffee as he flopped back onto the couch. "Are you feeling better? About training to be a doctor, I mean?" She nodded.

"I wish you could have been my teacher last year. Dr. Carter and I spent so much time arguing and fighting, it's a wonder I learned anything at all during my first rotation in the ER. I guess you don't need a student, do you?"

"No, but you should give Dr. Carter a chance, huh? He's not such a bad guy." Lucy shrugged, and smiled at him before she headed for the door.

"We'll see, Dr Kovac. G'night." He raised his hand in quiet acknowledgement, then levered himself up from the couch. He didn't really feel like going home now, but there *was* someplace he *could* go.

He found Kerry still at it, and quietly closed the door behind him when he entered the room. "Luka! I thought you were on your way out." He shrugged.

"I wound up staying to cheer up Lucy a little and help her with a procedure, so I thought I would come back and we could, eh, suffer through this together. Okay?" Kerry smiled and handed over exactly half of her stack.

Neither of them said much as they worked, but it was a comfortable silence; he was weirdly reminded of the rape exam they'd done on a woman's body, several months ago, the day... she'd hired him. His impressions of Kerry, up to that point, had been of a rather cold, officious woman, though he'd known that others seemed to like her, for some reason. She was pretty enough, in a non-obvious way... and that *hair*! Shockingly exotic.

They hadn't spoken more than a few words the entire time - he'd barely needed to ask for something, and it was in his hand... it was as though they'd been working together for years. As much as the exam had shaken him, it had been that odd rapport that had been on his mind when he was getting ready to leave, and head back to his boat. When she came in the lounge and offered him a permanent job, seemingly out of the blue - he hadn't needed any time to think before he accepted. Though she'd seemed surprised that he wasn't concerned about the pay....

* * *

The crowd roared its approval, startling Luka enough to spill some of the popcorn. Kerry grabbed at his arm and took the bucket away from him before it could fall from his hands. "Hey, there's Peng, the girl I treated earlier today for her injured foot." Luka pointed, and Kerry laughed as she looked in the direction he pointed.

"You're right, she *is* incredible."

"So are you," he blurted out, and turned to kiss her. Well, Kerry thought, there goes the *rest* of the popcorn....

 

 

 

POST-GAME WRAPUP: Kerry's typo changed the word from the imperative form (napusti) to the infinitive (napustiti). It seemed like a reasonable typo, and a reasonable plot contrivance to get the translation program to recognize the verb... especially considering that a lack of typing finesse on her part was suggested in "Random Acts". :-)