Doomed
By Miesque
miesqueslj@my-deja.com

RATING: PG-13 (language, vague sexual references)
SETTING: S7
CATEGORY: A Luka Kovac/Abby Lockhart fic
TYPE: Angst/comfort. Nothing whatsoever to do with romance. Rather like the Luka and Abby ‘pairing’, but I guess that’s the friggin’ point.

DISCLAIMER 1: I don’t own Luka Kovac and I have no interest in owning Abby Lockhart. NBC, Warner Bros., Amblin Entertainment, etc. do own them. Just borrowing them for a little while.

DISCLAIMER 2: Before all the Abby/Luka fans out there jump me for how I portrayed Abby in this fic, remember that I’ve seen some fic wherein Luka was pretty viciously trashed, so get over it, or better yet, just skip this one if you're a die-hard Abby/Luka fan. It’s just a cathartic piece for me, and it poured out of me in a matter of a few hours. So forgive me for not being terribly nice to Abby, okay? I could have been much, much meaner, folks.

QUOTES FROM: 1 Corinthians 13, starting with verse 4.
SONG: ‘Nothing’ by Dwight Yoakam

SPOILERS: for S7, ‘Benton Backwards’ ‘Flight of Fancy’ & ‘The Visit’

THANKS TO: My three wonderful friends (and editors) for constant and steady encouragement. And thanks to Ellen Hursh for the comments from Kerry to Abby WRT to how lucky Ms. Lockhart is to be working in the ER at all. ;-)



Love suffereth long,
And is kind.
Love envieth not;
Love vaunteth not itself,
Is not puffed up...

Abby woke up alone.

As usual, first thing in the morning, she wanted a cigarette, but Luka’s hotel room was restricted against smoking. She rolled over and was immediately startled to see he wasn’t there beside her.

The night before, she had come here hoping to comfort him in some way. Maybe to even get to know him a little. She knew next to nothing about him, except that he was good-looking and charming, in a weird kind of way. Strange how the other nurses in the emergency department didn’t seem to be all that interested in divulging anything to her about Luka. She only ever saw disapproval in their eyes when she asked them about them. It was as if they were all saying ‘Keep away from him!’, and Abby sensed that it wasn’t because they were trying to protect her.

Well, she’d heard that before! She had married Richard Lockhart, even though everyone told her it was a huge mistake. In fact, her best friend had told her that perhaps it would be best if she ran screaming from the church on their wedding day-that she was heading straight for disaster. But Abby had figured she could change Richard. Make him into the kind of man he should have been. Could have been, if he’d just tried.

Quickly, Abby pushed those thoughts aside. It was Richard's fault their marriage had fallen apart. He had done all the cheating and lying, after all. He had kept the whore in that apartment for almost a year before she’d found out about it. Abby was only ashamed that it had taken her so long to file for a divorce. At least by then she had been off the bottle.

Five years and counting, she told herself as she got up and began dressing.

Last night had not been as good as she’d figured it would be. With Luka’s dark, tragic looks and physique, she had thought he’d be very passionate in bed. Instead, he’d only seemed mechanical and uninterested in her. Like scratching an itch, actually, now that she had time to think about it. In fact, at the moment of climax (which had come way too soon), he’d called out another woman’s name...Maria? She wasn’t sure. That didn’t help Abby very much, anyway, to be having sex with a guy who was thinking of somebody else.

Afterwards, when Abby really wanted to snuggle into his arms and comfort him, Luka had withdrawn from her-in more ways than one. He had moved away from her in the bed, as if suddenly he realized where he was and who she was-and when that reality hit him, it seemed like he wasn’t terribly pleased.

Cold, hard reality hit Abby like a punch in the stomach. It had been a mistake. A huge, horrifying mistake. And she knew Luka knew it as well.

Abby wasn’t ready to give up, though, and she quickly pushed these hard realities away. Her reputation was at stake. After all, just two nights ago, Luka had killed a guy. In a weird, twisted sense, it had thrilled Abby to have a man be so protective toward her. But it wasn’t long afterwards that she had realized he wasn’t protecting her. She was apparently just a symbol of something, or someone, long gone from Luka’s life. She was barely even a part of the equation.

She had slept with him, after all. They had coupled only once, and the lack of heat and passion between them had been jarring and even...depressing. But they had had sex, and Abby struggling to equate it with love. Maybe he would love her. Maybe he would open up to her, tell her his secrets and his troubles. It wasn’t like he’d committed any kind of major crime, after all. He had killed a mugger who had attacked them. His reaction had frightened Abby, but it had been justifiable, hadn’t it? Maybe he’d gone over the line, but no jury would convict Luka of anything more than homicide in self-defense.

She had gone to bed with a damaged man, but to Abby’s thinking, it was all so easy to repair. She would help him, make him well, make him happy. She was, after all, strong enough to cope with Carter’s needs in AA. She would get Luka to open up to her, get him to talk about the mugging, and then it would all be okay and he would be grateful to her for getting better. He was a much better man than Richard, after all.

Abby smiled to herself as she pulled her shoes on. Yes, I’ll help Luka. I’ll save him. Nothing better, she thought as she headed out of his hotel room and back downstairs, than rescuing a tall, dark, handsome and mysterious guy.



Love doth not behave itself unseemly,
Seeketh not its own,
Is not provoked,
Taketh not account of evil

“You’ve got to be joking!” Kerry Weaver snapped, staring at Elizabeth Corday. “Luka killed a man...? Luka?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth nodded. “The autopsy report didn’t come up until this morning...”

“But...but...why didn’t anyone tell me?” Kerry flung her coat off and practically threw it into her locker. “I thought he was just having a hard time because of...I mean, this is a bad time for Luka right now, but this is not the man I know. Luka isn’t a killer!”

“I agree. He’s not a killer. But he did pound this man’s head into hard concrete at least ten times. His brains were...were mush, Kerry.”

“What happened? Do you have any specifics?”

“They were attacked by a mugger, who hit Luka with a metal pipe. Apparently, he was unconscious for just a few moments, then attacked the mugger as he was assaulting Abby, and...”

“Killed him,” Kerry said softly. She wanted to sit down, but no way in hell was she going to allow anyone to see her suddenly go weak. Carter’s troubles, she could handle. Mark’s whiny attitude, she could deal with. But lately, Luka had been out of reach, an island unto himself. Having read Luka’s personnel file, and his employment and medical records, Kerry knew that November was a hellish month for him and she had thought it best to keep her distance. But now, Kerry had a feeling she couldn’t afford to do that any more. If she kept her distance, Luka could be lost. Forever.

“Yes. Kerry, do you know something about Luka?” Elizabeth asked. “Something that could explain this behavior? I mean, I certainly can understand why he’d become violent toward a mugger. I would be, too, all things considered, but...”

“Elizabeth, I’m not at liberty to discuss Luka’s personal history with anyone. I can’t betray his trust to you or anyone else... yet.”

Elizabeth nodded and left the lounge. Mark met her at the admit desk, stooping down a little to match her gaze.

“What did she say?”

“She was stunned, Mark.”

“Well, I was too,” Mark nodded. “I don’t now Kovac very well, though...”

“No, none of us do. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”



Luka felt like he’d walked for miles. Maybe he had. He often went to the lake to think-to ‘cast his bread on the waters’, as the verse in the Bible went. Not that he fully understand that line. A priest had told him it had much the same meaning as ‘you will reap what you sow’, but it still confused him a little.

Anway, he was certainly reaping what he’d sown last night. Sow your wild oats and then pray for crop failure.

Great job, Kovac, he told himself. Screw a medical student, go straight to hell.

Well, she wasn’t technically a med student, but she was as good as a med student, since she was going back to school in January. I guess my chances of being a mentor to any student just went up in flames, he snorted.

Even worse, he had used Abby. Used her as an emotional crutch, in order to alleviate his own grief and pain. He would have accepted any offer from any woman last night. Just to feel a warm body in his arms, underneath his own weight, to feel that warmth around him. Legs, breasts, soft skin, smooth warm fingertips against his own skin, soft lips-he had, he knew, needed that. But no matter how he looked at it, Luka knew he didn’t love Abby Lockhart, and that fact made sleeping with her last night all the more damning. He hated himself for it. She had tried to comfort him, in her clumsy, unknowing way, and he had taken advantage of her misguided compassion for sex. Sex! He had gone for so long without sex, and yet had succumbed to the first reasonably attractive woman who invaded his personal space. Luka had never regarded himself as a man of steel, but he felt shame wash over him again. God, I wish I loved her, he thought. Then it wouldn’t be so bad. I wish I felt something for her... Right now, Luka didn’t even feel lust for her. He hadn’t last night. He had been on automatic, going through the motions because he’d felt that was what she’d expected of him at the very least. He had been nervous about his ability to control himself, and it had been fast, awkward, and unsatisfying. It had left him feeling inadequate, and he knew Abby felt even worse. She had reached for him not long afterwards, obviously hoping to try again, but he’d been so wracked with guilt he’d turned away from her...

However warm her body had been, however inviting she had been and willing to give him pleasure, he had gotten no warmth and certainly no pleasure from the experience. There was only a feeling of hopelessness and isolation during, and shame and guilt afterwards. As soon as she was asleep, he had got up and left, not wanting her to wake up and see the darkness that had settled around him again. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew he couldn’t lie to her.

How long had it been, anyway, since he’d been with a woman? Nine years now, he calculated. He hadn’t slept with a woman since Marje had been murdered. He’d been tempted a few times, in moments of weakness. The simple fact of the matter was, however, that in the past nine years he had made sure he was far away from women in November. In November, Luka Kovac took flight and stayed away from humans in general until December. Last November, on the very anniversary of his family’s death, he’d been called in to work at County and, to his utter surprise, Kerry Weaver had hired him on as an attending. The day had been pure hell for Luka, though he’d thought about submitting his name for an Academy Award nomination for the performance he’d given of appearing cheerful and diligent while all those ghosts were crowding around him, watching him perform a rape test on a dead woman and reminding him mercilessly of Marje. After all, Kerry hadn’t known that on that very morning, he’d stared for a long, long time at that bottle of aspirin, occasionally glancing at that bottle of vodka, until the damned phone rang and Kerry called him in. Oh, he’d thought about it before. He knew he’d be thinking about it again before the day ended. He always did on November the eighteenth.

Oh God, he suddenly thought, freezing in his tracks and staring out at the lake. I was in bed with Abby on the anniversary of the very day Marje was murdered!

Bastard!



Kerry saw Abby come through the ambulance bay doors, and she paused for a moment. Okay, there’s no time for foolish jealousy or anger. There’s only time for...pure terror.

“Abby?” she called, getting the nurse’s attention. “I need to talk to you.”

Oh, God, what did I do now? Forty seconds late? I couldn’t catch a cab! Abby grouched.

“Yes, Dr. Weaver?” she said, forcing a weak smile.

“Have you seen Dr. Kovac lately?”

“Yes. I...uh...saw him last night.”

“Did he seem depressed or agitated?” Kerry asked. Okay, for once in my life, I’m gonna go right for the jugular. No punches pulled. A man’s very sanity is at stake, after all.

“He was very upset,” Abby admitted. “But I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

“Abby, he’s not okay! He killed a man two nights ago. You were with him, for God’s sake!”

“He just needs some...some counseling,” Abby admitted. “He’s very str- ...”

“Shut up!” Kerry snarled “You have no idea...how can you be so blind? Do you honestly think that he’s only upset about having killed a mugger two nights ago? Or did you not bother to actually ask him anything about his life?”

Abby’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, Dr. Weaver. What Dr. Kovac and I do outside this ER is none of your damned business!”

Kerry flinched, and for a moment, everyone in the ER waited to see Kerry begin beating Abby with her crutch. Instead, Kerry closed her eyes and counted to ten.

“You know, Abby, you are extremely lucky. Dr. Coburn told me she wanted nothing more to do with you as an OB nurse, considering how you neglected your patients and failed to respond to pages. I’m the one letting you work down here as a nurse so you can afford to go back to medical school in January. If it were up to me now, you’d be bussing tables at Doc Magoo’s at minimum wage plus tips, so if you intend to keep working here you had better develop some degree of common sense and respect for my authority!”

Chastised, but sulking, Abby folded her arms across her chest and glared at Kerry. “He was upset last night,” she repeated coldly.

“Did he say anything to you?” Kerry asked, becoming very quiet again.

Abby remembered that she had not let him talk. In fact, all the time they were having sex, he hadn’t said a word-except, of course, when he’d called out that woman’s name. “No, he didn’t. He was very upset.”

Kerry rubbed her forehead, agitated. Damn, damn, damn, she thought. And he’s not due in until eleven.

“Randi, what’s the date?” Kerry snapped.

“November the eighteenth,” Randi replied, blowing a bubble.

Kerry stared at Randi for a long time, then crutched toward her office.



I couldn’t change your heart
I couldn’t change your mind
So I just had to learn to live
with this empty life you left behind.

You didn’t try to hear
You didn’t try to see
You just stared right through the teardrops
Like there was nothing
left of me.

Nothing but sorrow,
Nothing but pain.
Nothing but memories that whisper your name
Nothing but sadness, nothing but fear
Nothing but silence
Is heard around here.

Bridges were burned,
Lessons were learned.
Promises made that were broken.
Tender lies softly spoken...

You didn’t try to hear
You didn’t try to see
You just stared right through the teardrops
Like there was nothing
left of me.

Luka walked into the ER, saw Abby, did a quick turn and beat a path to the lounge. She followed him in, opening the door slowly behind him. He was already at the lockers, getting his labcoat out. She cleared her throat.

“Luka?”

“Abby, I’m only going to say this once, and I hope you take it in the...the spirit it’s given, okay?”

She stepped inside and waited.

“Last night was a mistake, Abby. A huge, stupid mistake. We are both at fault, but I’m most to blame.”

Abby swallowed, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. “Luka, I want to help you. Let me help you...”

“Stop!” He was standing there, staring at her. “You see, you can’t help me. You don’t even know me.”

“I could know you, Luka. If you’d let me.”

“Don’t you understand? Abby, you know I’m not in love with you. That’s why what we did last night was so wrong. Surely you understand that...that sex without love is...well, it’s idiotic, basically. I used you, Abby, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“So, what, are you gonna give me the ‘We should just be friends’ speech?” she snapped.

“No. I doubt we can really be friends. And do you want to know why?” There was a weariness in his voice that Abby only half-recognized, being so wrapped up in her own misery and shame.

“Why?”

“Because we don’t match. Our tempers, our personalities...we have nothing in common, Abby.”

“We could have something in common if you’d just let me...”

“No!” He pulled his lab coat on. “Listen, I don’t expect you to forgive me. I’m gonna have a hard enough time forgiving myself. What I did was reprehensible, Abby. I took advantage of your kindness last night and made a huge mistake. I’m grateful to you for trying to help me, but what we did...that didn’t help. It just made it worse. You can’t help me right now.”

“Listen, Luka, it was just a mugging! I mean, you killed that guy...maybe you went overboard...”

“Abby, it had nothing to do with the mugging. It was everything before.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, hoping he’d tell her. Maybe, she thought, if he tells me, it’ll make him feel connected to me. Maybe he’ll see how much I care...

“It doesn’t matter, Abby. It’s over.”

“No! Luka, please, I...”

“Listen, if we had anything to build on, Abby, I would be willing to give it a try. But there’s nothing, Abby. Nothing.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You can’t leave me! We spent the night together, Luka. That had to have meant something...”

“It did mean something, Abby. It meant we were doomed from the start.”

She broke down and cried, but Luka made no move toward her, to try and comfort her. He stood for a moment, watching her, uncomfortable. He couldn’t lie to her and continue a relationship where he felt no love for the woman. That would be even worse than breaking it off. At least it was being ended before any further damage could be done. He figured the women that had come on to him in the past had gotten over him fast enough. Carol Hathaway was living in Seattle with her boyfriend now, and Luka doubted he even entered her mind. Which hardly made Luka feel any better, considering that he’d done all that work around her house and helped with her babies. The women he’d met upon arriving in America-the young resident in Baltimore who had practically begged him to sleep with her one night around Thanksgiving; the nurse in New York City who practically jumped him at a hospital New Year’s party. He knew they had moved on quite happily without Luka Kovac screwing up their lives.

“I’m sorry, Abby. I won’t give you the load of crap about how you’ll find someone. That would just be me trying to let myself off the hook. I deserve to be on the hook, and for a long, long time. But I’m not going to let you hang there, too. You deserve to be happy, and I can guarantee you’d be miserable with me. And I’d be miserable with you. Last night, misery needed company but now it’s even worse and you don’t deserve to go through it.”

Abby wiped her eyes, and he saw anger there now. She was beginning to boil, and Luka braced himself. God, he wished he was more experienced at this. He’d never dumped a woman before. He’d been dumped once, by Carol, and he had a sense of how Abby felt. Denial first, now anger.

“You son of a bitch!” she hissed. “You used me! Used me and now you’re just throwing me away!”

“Indeed,” he nodded in full agreement. “I am a son of a bitch, I did use you...but I think the term ‘throwing you a way’ is a bit unfair, since I don’t see it that way. I’m letting you go before it gets ugly.”

“Oh, it’ll get ugly all right!” she snarled. “You’ll pay for this, Luka!” With that, Abby whirled and stalked out of the lounge, leaving him standing there, startled but resigned to whatever she threw at him.

Break out the hair shirt and ashes, he thought, looping his stethoscope around his neck and heading out to meet the day.



Abby ran into John Carter in the hallway, and when he brushed past her, obviously displeased with her, she rushed after him. “Carter?”

“Have a good time with Killer Kovac?” John asked coldly.

“No. Not at all.”

Carter turned and looked at her. “Really?”

She noticed that he sounded hopeful, so she took the bone. “No. It was awful. For all those good looks, he’s not much.”

John Carter was so relieved to hear that he nearly burst into tears of joy. He had been harboring a crush on Abby Lockhart since...well, since February, just minutes before he was stabbed by Paul Sobriki. Now, to know that Kovac-Dr. Perfect, as Malucci snidely called him behind his back-was less than adequate in the sack, was very heartening for John’s ego. He grinned at Abby.

“Wanna talk about it over coffee?”

“Sure,” she said. “Just let me get my coat.” Abby turned around and headed back toward the lounge, smiling to herself. Hopefully, John would have this spread all over the hospital in minutes, and Abby would have her reputation back. She had gone after the Bad Boy-the guy who killed a mugger on a first date, but now it would sound like she had dumped him. All tied up nice and neat, Abby nodded as she got her coat. He humiliates me, I’ll humiliate him right back. It’s only fair, she decided.



Kerry shook her head in amazement as she sat down in the lounge, a stack of charts in her lap. First, Abby’s mother had arrived in the ER, behaving like a total loon. Well, that wasn’t really the poor woman’s fault. Bipolar syndrome is a treatable disease and Kerry was hopeful that Maggie could be helped.

Peter Benton’s nephew...dead. The poor, poor boy. Poor Peter, too, though Kerry usually had a hard time mustering much sympathy for Dr. Benton, the original Cold Fish.

But what had been really horrible about that trauma had been Luka. Standing there, frozen, unable to move, while that boy went into V-fib. Dr. Chen had done all she could to snap Luka out of it, but when the boy died, Jing-Mei had come rushing up to Kerry, looking horrified. “Dr. Weaver, Dr. Kovac...he’s... something’s wrong!”

A sentence like that struck pure terror in Kerry’s heart. ‘Something’s wrong’. Indeed. Everything was wrong. Kerry had no idea how to cope with Luka’s problem. For him to have PTSD, and for her not to have recognized the symptoms...what, was she blind?! He had been combative lately, insubordinate, willful. Kerry knew he was as stubborn as a mule, but combative? Abrupt? Abrasive? No, that wasn’t the kind, gentle Luka she knew. So why hadn’t she done anything? Why hadn’t she cornered him, made him talk, tried to make him seek help?

Kerry didn’t know what to do. She had been denying it for so long, and now it was a cold, hard reality. One that she had to face. Facing it, of course, meant facing emotions she was afraid to deal with. If she went to him and tried to help him, he would think she was being patronizing. But if she stayed here, and did nothing...he would be lost. Maybe forever, in the most horrifying sense imaginable.

Her stomach tightened, and for a moment Kerry thought she was going to vomit. She struggled to her feet. Her senses were alert to everything in the air. Something-a fearful, hurtful thing-was hanging in the atmosphere, like a bad smell. What was it? Was it just her imagination? Was she making it all up in her head?

Luka had left the moment his shift ended. Turned his back on everyone, including Carter, who had a strange, unpleasant smirk on his face, and had rushed out the doors, clearly shaken after his argument with Peter Benton. Kerry remembered going outside after his freeze-up and watching him throw up in the trash can. He had never done that before. Not even when Lucy died, and Luka had liked Lucy. But even then, Kerry had been afraid to walk up to him, put her hand on his shoulder and offer any kind of comfort. What could she say? How could she make it any better?

The feeling was still there, though. Only it was much worse now. A real sense of foreboding. Kerry rarely relied on her instincts, but suddenly she couldn’t stand still and do nothing. If she didn’t act now, it might be forever too late.



Luka sat down on his bed and poured the vodka into a paper cup. It wasn’t like he owned any shot glasses or tumblers. A paper cup will do just as good a job for...

For suicide.

Suicide is painless, he reminded himself. I can get away from this pain. I’ve already been in hell, so how would the real thing be any worse?

He was holding the bottle of aspirin, reading the ingredients again and again.

Today is the day they died. Today is the day I had to watch my wife...my Marje...and my babies being led away to be shot. Vukovar is printed on my heart, like Calais on the heart of Queen Mary. I can’t get it to go away. I’m branded. Marked for life, cursed, damned. Doomed.

I deserve it, he told himself, drinking down a cupful of the hard liquor. It burned down his throat, and he coughed. Cheap vodka. He shook the bottle of aspirin, trying to muster up his courage, rather like giving a few shouts before jumping into a sty full of huge, angry pigs.

Heh, he laughed to himself. I remember that. Grandpa’s pigs getting loose, trampling over me and Dmitrj, the whole herd of the rotten beasts running down the hill toward town. God, what an awful day that was. Nothing like the smell of pig shit all over your body...

No, no, no, he thought. No good memories. No memories of laughter, of youth, and happiness, of innocence. Those are done away with now. They’ll be gone in a few hours. There’ll be nothing left of me. They’ll bury me some place...maybe I should write out where I want to be buried? No, just cremate me. Or better yet, just put me out in the trash.

He stood up and looked for a piece of paper. Might as well put things in order first, before I’m totally smashed. Write out a will. Sure, it won’t be notarized, but I’m sure Kerry will see to things being done properly-as if she’d fail to do that much for me. There won’t be anyone fighting over my estate, at least, as there’s no estate to speak of. Just a beat-up old Saab, a tiny, wrinkled picture of a woman and a little girl, a watch, a gold chain and cross, and a bank account last totaling $96,445. Send that to...hmm...no, not the Hathaway brats. Or are they the Ross brats now? Their dad’s a doctor. They won’t need to worry about money. Abby? No, don’t be stupid. That’ll make her think I’m killing myself over her. No need letting her get that kind of ego trip, much less that kind of guilt.

Vukovar. He straightened, nodding firmly. Yes, I’ll send it to the mayor of Vukovar. Contribute it toward building a memorial some day. I’ll send it in Marje, Marko and Jasna’s names. At least, then, they won’t be forgotten. I don’t want to be remembered. What have I ever done that needs remembering? I was born, I married, lost everything, came to America, and died. Big deal. By next week, I’ll just be a vague memory. That screwed up Dr. Kovac...where was he from? Croatia? Yeah. Poor guy. Killed himself or something, right? Oh well. How’re the Bulls doing?

He began writing quickly, forcing himself to remember to write in English. When finished with the makeshift ‘will’, he put it on top of the small desk beside his bed. Then he returned to his seat on the bed, grabbed the bottle and poured himself another drink. He shook the bottle of aspirin, then began trying to open it.

His hands began to shake.

Somebody stop me. Please, somebody stop me. He could have sworn he’d screamed it out loud. Not like anybody’d hear anyway, he thought bitterly.



Kerry crutched into the lobby of the hotel and rushed to the front desk. “What room is Dr. Luka Kovac in?” she asked quickly. Forget good English, she thought.

“One-two-one-four,” the woman answered. “Is he expecting you?”

“No. I want you to call 911 and tell them to get here ASAP, that Dr. Kerry Weaver from County General ordered it. Then I was the manager in case I need to get in the room.”

“Is this an emergency?”

“Why do you think I’m telling you to call 911? So we can rush flowers over here?! Damn it, call 911!”

The woman, looking vaguely disgusted, did as she was told. When she turned back to speak with the small redhead, Kerry was already rushing toward the elevators.



Abby deposited her weeping mother on her living room couch, then called John Carter. After a few moments of small talk, Carter nervously cleared his throat.

“Uh, listen, Abby...if you’re not busy Saturday night, I was hoping...uh...maybe we could go out?”

“Sure,” she said. She was flipping through an old issue of ‘Chicago’ magazine, and noticed an article on the richest families in Chicago. Turning a few pages, she came across the surname Carter. Glancing at the family stats, she saw a familiar name. John Truman Carter.

He’s rich, she thought.

Abby glanced at her sleeping mother, and looked around her cheaply decorated living room. Luka had told her he lived in that hotel for the cut in rent, the free meals, amenities. Obviously, then he had very little money. Sometimes, the needs of the heart aren’t as important as the emptiness of one’s pockets. You gotta live, Abby, she told herself. Besides, John’s cute and nice. I can save him, because he wants to be saved. He deserves to be saved, she reminded herself.

Screw Kovac, she thought bitterly. He may be ten times better looking, but face it: he dumped you. If he wants to be lost, then so be it. “I’d love to go out with you, John,” she said quickly. “I look forward to it.”

“Good. Great...I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“Yeppers. See ya, John.”

They hung up, and Abby leaned back in her chair to read and re-read the magazine piece. Millions of dollars, probably a big mansion, nice cars, trust funds...yes, it was looking better and better all the time.



Love rejoiceth not in unrighteousness,
But rejoiceth with the truth.
Beareth all things,
Believeth all things,
Hopeth all things,
Endureth all things.
Love never fails...

But now abideth faith, hope, love-these three.
But the greatest of these
Is love.

Kerry knocked on Luka’s door, the hotel manager standing beside her, looking a little bummed out. He had been roused from watching football and was in no mood to deal with a shrill little red-head. But he did feel concerned. He knew Dr. Kovac only vaguely, but had always liked the guy.

The door opened, and Luka stood there a moment, eyes wary. He was swaying on his feet a bit, and in his hand was an almost empty bottle of...vodka? Kerry looked past Luka and saw the medicine bottle on his bed. She lunged past him, crutched to the bed, and grabbed the bottle. It was still full-she shook it several times, then looked back at Luka, questioning.

“What?” he slurred. “Dja think I shtole it from the hoshpital?”

“No,” she said. “Mr. Collins, have room service bring up a pot of coffee. Luka, sit down.”

“Don’ wanna sit,” he said grumpily.

“Sit!”

Luka glowered at Kerry for a moment, feeling like a child being chastised for being naughty. But finally, he made his way over to a chair and sat down, groaning. “My head hurts.”

“It should. You’ve been drinking. And believe me, you’ll feel even worse tomorrow. Luka, did you take any of these pills?” she asked, her voice sharp and frightened.

“No. Could...couldn’t get the bottle to open. Been...been tryin’ to open it now for ten minutes...damn child-proof bottles...”

Kerry startled him-and herself-but putting her arms around him in one motion. She let her crutch fall to the ground with a metallic ‘thunk’, and cradled his head against her chest. For a moment, he made heavy gasping sounds, fighting back his tears, then he gave in. The sobs began to wrack his body, and she simply held on as he wept, wrapping her arms around him, resting her chin on top of his head.

“I’m a screw-up,” he said against her blouse, which was wet with his tears. “Screwed up...my head is a mess, my...I’m such a disashter, Kerry. So meshed up...”

“Shhh, honey. It’s all right. We’re gonna get you some help, Luka. I’m not going to let you go. I promise I’ll help you. We’ll all help you.”

“Don’t want any help,” he said. “I’m just so lonely...I’m so tired...”

“I know. I’m lonely, too, Luka. Maybe we’re all just tired of being lonely.” She lifted his head up to her and wiped his tears away. She flinched at the sight of his beautiful hazel-green eyes. They still unnerved her every time she allowed herself to look into them. They still made her heart skip a beat. He still made her shiver every time she was alone in the same room with him. Kerry had tried, many times, to convince herself that it was just a normal physical reaction any woman would have to a ridiculously gorgeous man. But that wasn’t the case. She knew the darkness that lived inside him, and she recognized a kindred spirit in him. He was like her-a wolf. No wonder, Kerry thought sadly, he and Abby didn’t seem to work. Wolves can’t mate with mice.

“Lonely,” he said. “Did something so dumb last night ‘cause I was lonely, Kerry.”

“I know, Luka,” she said. She did know. He had slept with Abby. Kerry had sensed that the moment she saw Abby come in that morning. Even worse-or maybe better?-she had realized that it hadn’t gone well.

“I hate myself. Hated myself for nine years now...”

“It’s okay,” she said, shyly touching his hair, stroking it back. “You can stop hating yourself now. You have a friend in me, Luka. I promise you...I...I...promise I won’t let you down. It’s gonna be hard, but you’ll be okay. I promise.” She meant every word. If necessary, she would have a lawyer draw up a contract: ‘Kerry Weaver vows to help and support Luka Kovac through thick and thin, no matter what happens, even if he calls her at three in the morning or when she’s mad at him. She will always be there for him. Always.’

Because he’s worth it, she thought, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

Luka felt soothed by Kerry’s touch. He didn’t know why, but he felt calmed now. She knew the darkest secret of his life, but she had held it in now for almost a year. She had proven faithful, and trustworthy. And Luka never trusted anyone completely. But if he didn’t start trusting someone, and soon, he knew he would give in to the demons around him and figure out a way to open that bottle of aspirin and end it all.

Kerry pulled away from Luka, but very gently. She heard the knock at the door, opened it and received the tray of coffee from room service. A few minutes later, the EMTs arrived, but she waved them out. Once things were quiet again, she moved Luka back to his bed, had him take his shoes off, and persuaded him to lie down. In a few minutes, he was asleep, clutching the pillow. Sometimes, he tossed his head and muttered. Kerry sat down beside him, and touched his face, whispering to him, soothing him as if he were a very frightened child.

After a while, when his sleep had deepened, she picked up the phone and began dialing.

Buckle your seatbelt, Kerry, she thought as the phone in Dr. DeRaad’s office rang. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

THE END

--
Giving money and power to government is like giving
whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.
~P.J. O'Rourke, "Parlaiment of Whores"
You can't have everything. Where would you put it?
~Stephen Wright

Eclipse, all nags compared to thee
Excite contempt and laughter
There never was a horse, I do believe
So much run after.
~18th century English doggerel