Hooked On A Ceiling
Part One
By Miesque
miesque48@hotmail.com

RATING: PG (mild language)
SETTING: End of S7
CATEGORY: A Luka Kovac/Kerry Weaver Story, 1/? (Allegedly humorous, depending on your POV)

SONG: ‘Buttons and Bows’, written by Jay Livingstone & Ray Evans

SPOILERS: Maybe a hint or two of stuff that happened in S6, and hints of stuff in spoilers about S7.

THANKS TO: My three wonderful friends (and editors) for constant and steady encouragement.

The elevator doors opened, and Kerry fought her way through a pack of much taller doctors and nurses. Sometimes, she used her cane for effect, knocking people in their shins to get them to move. She did so today, mainly out of spiteful bad temper. She was immediately regretful, however, when her cane came in contact with the shin of Dr. Kovac.

"Ouch!" he yelped. "Damn it, Kerry!"

She glanced up at him, suddenly wishing a hole would open up and swallow her. Great, Kerry, she told herself. You’ve hurt this man several times already, so why not whack him on the shin with a metal stick for good measure?

The other people in the elevator did the usual ‘limited space’ thing-all facing the doors, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Elevators were a great place to observe human behavior. Kerry had often felt an urge to turn around and stare at everyone-make eye contact, start talking...start singing tunes from ‘Paleface’-anything-to see what would happen. Pandemonium, Kerry figured. Today, in order to avoid apologizing to Luka yet again, she began humming ‘Buttons and Bows’, then began singing softly to herself. She had a fairly nice alto voice, but she could sing melody when necessary.

East is east and west is west
And the wrong one I have chose
Let’s go where I’ll keep on wearin’
Those frills and flowers and buttons and bows
Rings and things and buttons and bows
Don’t bury me in this prairie
Take me where the cement grows
Let’s move down to some big town
Where they love a gal by the cut o’ her clothes
And I’ll stand out
In buttons and bows

I’ll love you in buckskin
And skirts that I’ve homespun
But I’ll love ya’ longer, stronger, where
Yer friends don’t tote a gun
My bones denounce the buckboard bounce
And the cactus hurts my toes
Let’s vamoose where gals keep usin’
Those silks and satins and linens that shows
And I’m all yours in buttons and bows...

Luka observed his boss behaving strangely and wondered if she’d been raiding the medicine cabinets-she did look a little wild-eyed, but then again, there was still Carter stalking about, bitching about random urine tests and such. Doubtful, he decided, that Kerry’d be doing the same. Usually, she was a rather steady, if nasty-tempered woman. This was a side of Kerry he wasn’t quite prepared for. He had no problem with her no-nonsense Drill Instructor approach. People like that he could deal with. People who skirted issues, told lies, deceived, used and manipulated...now they were people he loathed and wanted nothing to do with. Thus, he liked Kerry. She said what she thought and didn’t give a damn how people felt about it. Yet, for some reason, she was always rather careful with him. He figured maybe it had a little to do with what he’d told her back in January, but that wasn’t important now. When he screwed up or disobeyed an order, she was just as hard on him as anyone else. Or was she? He did his best to avoid screwing up, and certainly had no trouble with her orders, because they were almost always perfectly reasonable. If he felt any need to argue, she was always surprisingly willing to listen, even if she disagreed.

The other doctors and nurses in the elevator were standing up straight as swizzle sticks, not moving a muscle, all staring intently at Kerry’s forehead. She had turned around and was facing them. She made eye contact with each of them as she sang. Luka prepared himself for the breaking point, looking up at the numbers lighting up above the door. 12, 11, 10, 9, 8...then locking eyes with her until she made kind of a shuddering move and moved her gaze to a hapless OB nurse.

There was a loud ‘ding’, the doors opened, and a stampede that would make John Ford laugh with glee began in full. Four doctors and three nurses surged forward, fighting past Kerry as if she’d sprouted leathery wings, fangs, horns, and a pointed tail. In moments, the only people left on the elevator were Luka and Kerry.

She turned around and looked at him, catching what she was sure was a sparkle in his pale green eyes. Was he laughing? He had met her bold gaze as she sang, showing no sign of discomfort, and had actually seemed rather amused at her unusual behavior. Now, she was intrigued. Luka was, she knew, a rather withdrawn man who generally kept to himself. Not only that, she was in on a terrible secret about his past. Ever since he’d told her, she had felt a strange understanding between herself and Dr. Kovac. He was so respectful toward her, and she had developed an equally strong respect for him. This was not a man to be trifled with-or deliberately hurt. Before Luka came along, Kerry hadn’t given a damn if she hurt people. Well, not really. It did bother her afterwards, of course. But with Luka, she always found herself thinking before she spoke. Considering his feelings before she acted. Weird, she thought.

"What floor?" Luka asked politely.

"Uh...ground floor of course," she answered quickly.

He nodded. "Ground floor...ladies’ apparel, hand-painted china, home appliances and second-hand jewelry..."

Kerry raised an eyebrow, and saw that light in his eyes again-that gleam of humor. It only made him more attractive. She wasn’t above seeing that in a man. He was gorgeous. Unlike anything she’d ever seen before. The beautiful eyes, the black, greying hair, the olive skin, those cheekbones...and not only that, he was shockingly nice. Not bland by any means, like Mark Greene, but kind and gentle. That had surprised her, because most of the truly beautiful or sexy men she’d known in her life had been...well, jerks.

Depending on the lighting, Luka could look older or younger...or, strangely, both. Right now, he looked older than his years, and Kerry guessed he was around her age, possibly a year younger. At times, there was an almost cherubic, youthful, innocent quality about him. And yet, there was always a rather world-weary, sophisticated, almost calculating look about him. He was so quiet, so steady, so completely in charge of himself-he was very tightly controlled, but Kerry sensed explosive passion in him. She had seen it a few times, under varying circumstances, and it had further intrigued her. Still waters, Kerry knew, run very deep.

She was still pondering when the elevator suddenly lurched. Luka steadied himself and looked around, momentarily disoriented. The light overhead blinked but continued to shine. Kerry almost fell, and was grateful-though she’d never say so-when he reached out and caught her arm, steadying her as well.

"Don’t worry," Kerry said. "It’s all right." She regretted saying that-she sounded patronizing. He was six-feet, four inches, perfectly healthy, intelligent, and had already been through hell. Being stuck in an elevator was nothing, she figured. Probably like riding ponies and getting your face painted at the park.

"We’re not moving any more," Luka said after a few ticks. The elevator was stuck, but it wasn’t something she wanted to admit, or even contemplate, right now.

"Yes, I gathered that," Kerry said sarcastically. She flicked her eyes back at him again, startled that she was worried about hurting his feelings. He didn’t seem offended. In fact, he actually smiled. Slightly.

"Kerry..."

"You’re not claustrophobic, are you?"

"No. But I am afraid of plunging to my death in an elevator."

"This isn’t ‘L.A. Law’, Luka," she said. She opened the telephone box and was stunned to see no telephone.

" ‘L.A. Law’?" he asked, confused.

"There’s no damned telephone!" she shrieked. "My God...what kind of system do we have here?!"

Luka almost blurted out, ‘The one you’re in charge of’, but eyed her cane instead. He knew Kerry wouldn’t hit him with it on purpose, even in a fit of rage, but he wasn’t stupid...

He peered over her shoulder and saw a small button with what appeared to be a talkbox above it. He pushed the button, and in a few seconds, a voice squawked at him. "What?"

He and Kerry looked at each other. "Who is this?" Kerry shouted.

"The great and powerful Oz."

"Must be related to Randi," Luka said.

"This is Dr. Weaver, the ER chief," Kerry said, her voice so laced with acid that Luka felt an urge to step away in case she spat on him. He knew he’d die instantly. "Dr. Kovac and I are stuck in this elevator!"

"What does that have to do with me?"

Kerry got so angry she banged on the talkbox with her cane. "Listen, you little...!"

"What is your name?" Luka said, keeping his voice more friendly.

"Mick."

"Mick, this is Dr. Kovac. We are stuck somewhere between the..." He glanced up. "The fifth and sixth floor. Please call whoever needs to be called in this kind of situation and get us out of here."

"Whattaya, claustrophobic?"

"No, I’m not..."

"But I’m sure you’ll be suffering from iatrophobia when I’m through with you!" Kerry shouted.

"Kerry, you need to calm down," Luka said soothingly.

"Mick! I swear to God you won’t be able to get a job digging ditches when I’m..." Kerry was in full rant mode now, so Luka decided it was time to shut her up before she said something that might compromise their chances of survival.

"Kerry, go over there and be quiet!" Luka snapped, pointing to the far wall of the elevator. She looked startled, but instinctively obeyed. She leaned against the wall and scowled at him, surprised at how she had immediately given in to him. That was a first. Kerry Weaver never gave in to anyone...but Luka Kovac was certainly not just anyone.

"Mick, call the police, fire department, whoever, and tell them to come get us out of here. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Mick said, evidently chastised.

Luka banged the phonebox door shut then looked around the elevator. He sighed and went to examine the panel on the other side of the doors. There was an inspection sign hanging above the buttons, and it read,

 6-12-1996 Inspected by Harold Rowlandson

6-13-1997 Inspected by Harold Rowlandson

6-12-1998 Inspected by Harold Rowlandson

6-15-1999 Inspected by Harold Rowlandson

6-14-2000 Inspected by Freddy Hall
 

"They should have let Harold keep the job," Luka muttered.

"What?" Kerry said.

"Nothing. We’ll be out of here in no time, I’m sure."

"No time," Kerry repeated caustically. "What, are you one of those people who believe time doesn’t exist? Because I have a feeling we’re going to be spending quite a bit of ‘time’ in here, whether it exists or not."

"I’m not a physics professor, Kerry. Just a doctor. I barely grasped Occam’s razor or any other part of his shaving kit. I didn’t get the Pythogorean theorem or even Freud’s explanation of the ‘id’."

Kerry eyed Luka for a moment, skeptical. He was one of the few people she knew that she figured ‘got’ damned near everything. Just because he often acted a little clueless didn’t change the fact that, underneath that sweet, ‘just-got-off-the-boat’ charm was a sharp, intelligent, even shrewd mind. Oh, he knew about Occam’s razor. Kerry figured he could field dress a rifle in fifteen seconds, cook a gourmet dinner, identify the flora and fauna of Northern Minnesota and repair a leaky roof, all without getting a spot on his lab coat. Underneath all that niceness was a mind Kerry could appreciate-he was nobody’s fool.

He pulled off his lab coat and loosened his tie. Then he held out his hand to her. Almost immediately, she slipped her fingers into his and was surprised-and secretly pleased-when he very gently and very carefully helped her sit down on the ground. Then, to her further pleasure, he folded the lab coat and had her use it as a pillow against the wall.

"There...comfortable?" he asked, still standing...towering over her like Colossus of Rhodes. And thinking about that, Kerry remembered that Luka was from Croatia, which wasn’t far from Greece, which wasn’t far from Rhodes. She figured he probably had a bit of Greek blood, and since the ancient Greeks liked to claim descent from the gods, then Luka could probably say he was descended from Helios, the sun god. Kerry’s imagination was, she knew, getting the best of her, and she rubbed her eyes and tried to get her head on straight again.

"So what do we do until we get out of here?" she asked. She caught a gleam of something in his eyes for just a second, then pursed her lips and looked down, embarrassed.

Luka dug in his pocket and pulled out a deck of playing cards. "I just bought these in the hospital gift store," he said. "They’re not Hoyle, so at least they won’t be sliding around. I hate plastic cards."

"So do I," Kerry said, watching as he deftly removed the cellophane wrapper and tapped the cards out. She recognized that motion as that of a smoker.

"Chain smoker?" she asked.

"I quit a few years ago," he answered, glancing up at her, knowing where that question came from.

"Good for you," Kerry answered. He dealt the cards quickly. She picked hers up and assessed them. Two pairs, but low sets. Not good.

"What’s the pot?" he asked. He had sat down opposite her, stretching his long, long legs out and leaning wearily against the wall.

"Uh...mmm...if you win..." She thought about it a bit. What could she ask for? Well, she could ask him to buy her dinner. That’d be interesting, just to see his reaction to such a challenge. Would he try to win then, or do everything in his power to lose? "You can buy me dinner," she said quickly, before her good sense and self-preservation could stop her.

"Okay," he answered, without any expression on his face. "And if you win..." Luka paused. She was his boss...well, his superior. He never thought of anyone as his ‘boss’. But lately, he’d been noticing strange things going on between them. Just brief moments, little phrases, glances, inadvertent (right?) touches. Like exchanging light or something. In the past few weeks, ever since he’d finally broken it off with Abby Lockhart and started feeling better about things, he had been fighting an unexplainable urge to touch Kerry’s skin, just to see if it was as soft as he imagined. "If you win, you can buy my dinner."

"So we both win?" She swallowed, then eyed him carefully. "And then what?"

Luka licked his lips nervously. Am I asking her on a date? Either way, we’re going to be going out to dinner. Sitting at a table together, eating a meal, talking, exchanging personal information, making eye contact...making contact...

"That remains to be seen," Luka answered quietly. "Now, five card stud or blackjack?"

"Five card stud," Kerry answered.

They played intently, with determination on both parts. But Kerry was simply no match for him. He was an expert at the ‘poker face’, and when the first game ended, he was running over a list of good restaurants in his head. Italian? French? In the course of conversation with Carter, he had learned Kerry was a gourmet cook with a taste for the exotic. Luka didn’t like French cooking very much, and Italian did unhappy things to his stomach. German? He laughed to himself. Yeah, bratwurst’ll really help my gastronomic complaint. Well, he figured he had time to work it out.

Kerry was surprised at how relaxed she felt with Luka. There really was a soothing quality about him. His patients liked him, the nurses adored him, the medical students admired him, the residents looked to him regularly for advice. Kerry liked him, too. She was beginning to worry that she was showing favoritism to him. After all, Mark still behaved rather insensitively toward Luka, rather brusquely answering polite questions from his colleague or just ignoring him completely. Kerry wondered if that had anything to do with how she treated Luka. She did, after all, depend on Kovac a lot in the ER. He was the one she went to for advice, for support. And she was pleased, albeit quietly, when Luka came to her with his problems. He, after all, had talked to her about his wearying relationship with Abby Lockhart.

Abby. Kerry sighed to herself. Luka had dated Abby briefly during her ‘hiatus’ as an OB nurse before she had returned to medical school. Kerry sensed a degree of relief in Luka when Abby went back to school-it meant that she was officially off limits. Overhearing gossip, Kerry gathered that Abby had done quite a bit of manipulating of Luka-had run to him with all her problems, had tried to take charge of his life, to control every aspect of his existence. They had broken up just after New Years’, and Kerry remembered overhearing Abby talking to Carter. "It didn’t work...he didn’t want me." Kerry figured Abby and Carter had something going on in private, but so as they managed to keep it completely private, and outside the hospital...

A turnaround, Kerry realized, from Luka’s doomed pursuit of Carol Hathaway. Luka had done the rejecting this time around. Not out of cruelty or dishonesty, but actually out of kindness. He obviously couldn’t stay with someone he didn’t love. No person in their right might would do something like that...would they?

"So..." Kerry crossed her arms. She had shed her lab coat, finding it uncomfortable. Luka was still sitting across from her, now picking nervously at his palm. She wanted to take his hand in hers and calm him down. She could certainly understand his nervousness. First of all, he was stuck in an elevator. That would cause even the calmest person to get a little antsy. Secondly, and perhaps most important, he was stuck in an elevator with her. She knew she wasn’t exactly great company.

"So what?" Luka asked, looking at her.

"Uh...since we’re stuck here for no telling how long, we might as well talk a little," she said. "You might comment on the weather, I might say something about the latest political developments, then I’ll say something about how ‘Waiting for Godot’ bored the hell out of me, and you could say you were entranced by the cinematography in ‘The Black Stallion’ and..."

"I’ve never seen ‘The Black Stallion’," Luka countered politely. "The weather is too cold lately. I hate the fall because it has...uh... and I hate winter. Springtime is the best time of year."

Kerry decided to go ahead and cut to the chase. "What did you think of the elections in Serbia?"

"They had elections in Serbia?" Luka asked, raising an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. Luka was not a person one could easily read.

"Yes, Luka...they gave Milosevic the order of the boot...you did know about that, right?"

He looked away. The last person he wanted to discuss with anyone was Slobodon Milosevic. He wasn’t apolitical, but he wasn’t interested in politics, either. His optimism about the human race didn’t stop him from being skeptical of politicians of every brand.

"Yes, I knew," Luka answered slowly. "But it’s not something I care to talk about."

Kerry sighed. "Okay, how about your family? You...you do have some family left somewhere...right?"

"I have a few cousins," Luka answered. "And an uncle. Tomislav."

"Oh. Are you close to all your relatives?"

Luka shrugged. "In Croatia, you don’t turn your back on family. My father always said it would have been a sin to turn our backs on Tomislav, so we never did. And after a couple of weeks, neither did his goat." He gave her a look from under his dark eyebrows, and there was that little glint again. It spoke volumes, and she realized what he meant.

Kerry’s eyes widened with surprise and she stared at him, stunned, before putting her head down, covering her mouth with her hand, and fighting laughter. But it was hopeless. She was unable to stop, and she covered her mouth, giggling. It was the first time she’d had a really good laugh in what seemed like years, and she took full advantage of it, leaning her head back and just letting go, shaking.

"So family is very important in Croatia?" she asked, wiping her eyes. It took Kerry a few moments to recover, and her face was still flushed from laughing.

"Yes. It is." Luka wished he had a cigarette now. To see her laughing...God help him, it was almost erotic.

"What else is important in Croatia?"

"God, wife, kids, country..." Luka’s voice trailed off. "And music. My mother was very big on music. She insisted my brother and I take piano lessons."

Kerry caught that quickly. His brother. Who was probably dead. She swallowed and watched him continue, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Every Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Ugly Old Bat would come to our house on her broom, with her flying monkeys, and she would stand behind the piano chair while we practiced our chords. She’d yell at us, of course. ‘You haven’t been practicing!’ And then, at lunchtime, she’d go out to catch moths to eat or whatever she did and come back for another hour with my brother. Then at two she’d get back on her broom and fly away, and we’d return to normal life-playing football, running around, getting into trouble, swimming...not practicing our chords."

"I assume you had a fairly happy childhood?" Kerry asked, overwhelmed now with curiosity. And laughter. She hadn’t expected Luka to make her laugh like this, but underneath that somber and serious exterior, Kerry had always noticed a bit of humor and sharp wit.

"Yes. It was good. No real complaints. I grew up on a farm."

"With goats?" Kerry asked indiscreetly, and he grinned.

"Yes, goats. Cows, chickens, pigs, horses, sheep...ducks. The works. We just called Uncle Tomislav’s goat a ‘pet’."

Kerry chuckled. "Lots of chores, then, I suppose?"

Luka nodded. "Up at five every morning, milking cows. God, I hated that. I mean, the cows and I got along okay and all, but I never could understand why they had such a strict morning schedule. It wasn’t like they had appointments or anything."

"I was born in Michigan," Kerry said quickly. "Grand Rapids, Michigan."

"All-American, Midwestern girl, huh?"

She nodded. "My father was from a long line of dairy farmers," she explained. "But he was a doctor."

"Oh. Followed in his footsteps, I see."

Kerry nodded. "Well, I could have followed in his father’s footsteps and become a diarymaid."

"I can picture you in one of those frilly little frocks, leading a pretty Guernsey across a field of Queen’s Anne’s lace and..."

"Shut up!" Kerry squealed, laughing. "I hate cows."

"You hate cows? You do eat them, right?"

"What, did you expect me to be a vegetarian?"

"No. You’re definitely a meat-eater."

"How could you tell?"

"I saw you eating a burger at Doc Magoo’s once. You had secret sauce on your chin." He had seen her there the day before yesterday. He had had a powerful urge to go over and lick it off, but he certainly wasn’t going to say that.

"Oh..." She blushed. Well, damn, Luka, she thought. Why didn’t you come lick it off?!

"Dr. Greene, you’re not gonna believe this," Randi said.

Mark peered over Randi’s shoulder and saw the security monitor screen at the front desk. It flashed four views at a time, and in one view, plain as day, were Luka Kovac and Kerry Weaver sitting on the floor of the elevator. They weren’t playing footsie or anything, but anyone could see that they were talking to each other, and in a surprisingly animated manner. Mark could have sworn he saw Kerry tip her head back and laugh at something Luka said.

"They’re stuck in the elevator?"

"Yep. Mick from security just called and said that they’ve been in there two hours so far."

"And has anyone done anything to get them out?" Mark asked.

"Nope."

"Well, damn it, Randi, call the fire department!"

Randi picked up the phone and dialed the number, but when Mark turned his back she put the phone down and watched Luka and Kerry instead. It was sure better than ‘Days of Our Lives’. Besides, she liked Dr. Weaver, and Dr. Kovac was dead sexy without knowing it. The short redhead and the tall, dark Croatian would, to Randi’s thinking, make a pretty cute couple.

Kerry had suggested him giving her a boost up to the escape hatch, but he flatly refused to do so, so she sulked a bit. She wondered, briefly, if they would run out of oxygen and perish. Imagine dying in a stuck elevator, she thought. But...at least my final moments will be with another human soul. I won’t be alone. Nothing worse than dying alone. Kerry sighed and shoved those morbid thoughts away. She was lonely. That was a fact of her life that she had to deal with, but that she still hated. The ‘offer’ she’d received a few months ago had startled her and caught her unawares, but she had eventually passed on it. It wasn’t for her. She knew what she wanted. It just didn’t seem likely she’d ever get it.

She glanced at Luka, who was getting wild-eyed, but not from the confined space, or the company.

Up until now, caught up in conversation, they hadn’t noticed muzak playing. First it was Neil Diamond, which wasn’t too bad, though Luka hated ‘Cracklin’ Rosie’. But when Barry Manilow began wailing about ‘Mandy’, he stood up and began looking for the speaker, muttering under his breath in Croatian. In a few minutes, he found it and dug in his pockets for something he could use to cut the wires and gain some mental peace.

"It’s an age-old question," Luka said, when he found his trusty pocket knife. "Why do they call it...ouch!...easy listening...when it’s so damned hard to...oooph...listen to?" He had managed to pry the speaker panel open, reached in, and pulled the speaker out in one motion, but in the process his knife slipped and cut his hand-badly. In seconds, he was bleeding everywhere. So much so that Kerry was, for a moment, horrified. Then she got her bearings again and scrambled to her feet.

"Damn!" he growled, more in frustration about not being able to help her without leaving a bloody handprint on her arm than anything else. His hand only burned a little. The knife had sliced across his palm, leaving a very deep cut. Oh, lovely, he thought.

Kerry wished she had something in her pocket to apply to the wound. All she had was her lab coat. Immediately, she ordered Luka to sit down, and once he was satisfied that there would be no more annoying music, he obeyed. She grabbed her lab coat, ripped a strip off it (over Luka’s objections) and began wrapping his hand with it, applying pressure to the wound. That, of course, meant holding his hand firmly in hers, her fingers brushing against his, leaning into him, her head bowed over his injured palm. When the bleeding stopped, and Kerry had ripped another strip from her labcoat, Kerry sat back and looked up.

Their eyes locked, and Kerry found herself blushing. What the hell am I doing? she asked herself. I’m his boss. I can’t feel this way about one of my...

She stopped thinking when he kissed her. All Kerry wanted to do was feel. She wanted to feel the hard muscles under his shirt, his thick black hair, his skin, his mouth, his hands. God in heaven, he was a marvelous kisser. At first, he was a little awkward, unpracticed, as if he’d gone a long, long time without kissing anyone. But he was soon getting into it, his mouth slanting hungrily over hers, and she was responding eagerly, tugging at his tie, then slipping her arms around his neck and holding him, never wanting to let go, even for a moment.

"Oh, my God, look at that!" Randi gasped, pointing at the screen. "They’re makin’ out!"

Amira and Carter bumped heads as the bent down to peer at the flickering image. Sure enough, Drs. Kovac and Weaver were kissing, and they were obviously getting in to it. They hadn’t fallen over yet, nor were they getting down and dirty. But the kiss was pretty passionate.

"Told ya Weaver had a thing for Kovac," Randi said smugly, nodding. "But he kissed her."

"Don’t tell me you’re the one who got the elevator to stop?" Carter said.

"Are you kidding? That was just a coincidence."

Mark Greene shuffled up in his gardening clogs and peered at the screen, pulled his glasses off and cleaned them, then shoved them back on. He stared in astonishment at the scene.

"They’re still in there?!"

"Yeah," Randi answered, trying to look innocent.

"Well, get them out before...before something happens!"

"Oh, yeah, like Dr. Weaver doesn’t need to have ‘something’ happen to her every now and then!"

"This isn’t the Playboy channel, Randi. Call the fire department...and turn off that screen!"

Randi scowled but obeyed. Carter and Amira wandered away, smirking.

"Yeah, this is County General. We got a coupla people stuck in an elevator." Randi lowered her voice a little. "But...uh...take your time. There’s no rush."

"Hey!"

Someone was shouting at them through the talkbox. Luka and Kerry parted immediately, averting their eyes. He scrambled to his feet and then helped her up. His tie was undone, and he had some lipstick on his collar. Kerry looked a little dazed, her face flushed and her eyes wide.

"Who is this?" Luka said into the box.

"This is Sergeant Ratcliff of the Chicago Fire Department. We’ll have you out of there in a jiffy, Dr. Kovac. Are you both all right?"

"Dr. Kovac cut his hand, so it would be a good idea if you’d hurry," Kerry said. "But...uh...don’t rush. He’s all right." She turned and looked up at Luka, who was studying her with interest, one eyebrow raised. "He’s in very good condition."

"Uh, Sergeant Ratcliff, I’m just fine. Work at your own pace."

"Hear ya loud and clear there, doc," Ratcliff shouted back.

"How much time do you think we have left in here?" Kerry asked, as Luka moved closer to her.

"Probably another thirty minutes or so," Luka answered. "Not enough time, really...I tend to take things very slowly."

"Yes, I sensed that," she whispered as he bent to kiss her again.

THE END