Till It Shines
Part Four
By Miesque
miesque48@hotmail.com

RATING: PG-13 for sexual innuendo, but mainly up to your own imagination. ;)
SETTING: End of S7

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Luka and Kerry. If I did, they would currently be married and expecting their first baby. ;) Warner Bros., Amblin Entertainment, NBC and several other guys in $uit$ do own them.

SONG: ‘Till It Shines’, by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band (I heard this song in ‘Mumford’ and just loved it)

SYNOPSIS: Kerry and Luka prepare for their first date, all due to the efforts of the Great and Powerful Oz (you’ll find out who ‘Oz’ is at the end...don’t skip ahead! Read the whole story!).

SPOILERS: Maybe a hint or two of stuff that happened in S6, and hints of stuff seen in spoilers for S7, about which I am severely in denial.

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



Take away my inhibitions
Take away my solitude
Fire me up with your resistance
Put me in the mood
Storm the walls around this prison
Leave the inmates
Free the guards

Deal me up another future
From some brand new deck of cards
Take the chip off of my shoulder
Smooth out all the lines
Take me out among the rustling pines
Till it shines

Like an echo down a canyon
Never coming back as clear
Lately I just judge the distance
Not the words I hear
I've been too long on these islands
I've been far too long alone
I've been too long without summer
In this winter home

Still if we can make the effort
If we take the time
Maybe we can leave this much behind
Till it shines

See the rich man lost and lonely
Watch him as he dines
Sitting there just testing all the wines
Till it shines,
Ah...til it shines...


Kerry woke up slowly, coming out of a delicious dream, feeling warm and tingly all over. Only, when she opened her eyes and saw him lying beside her, she realized it hadn’t been a dream.

For a few minutes, she lay still, watching him sleep. God, he was just beautiful. Certainly not flawless, but the scars on his body weren’t his fault. They had startled her at first, but her dismay hadn’t lasted long. She had far more interested in making love to him, satisfying and comforting him.

She had enjoyed lovers before, and though she was hardly oversexed, Kerry had always prided herself on her inventiveness. Last night, however, was her turn to be astonished. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her, what buttons to push, when to apply pressure, when to stop...it had been amazing. He had figured her out in more ways than she had realized.

A wide beam of sunlight was making its way across her bedroom, and in a few moments it was on Luka’s face, lighting him up, casting an almost ethereal glow around him-but she knew he was no angel! Not from what she’d experienced last night. She remembering thinking about the sun god yesterday-Helios. She had decided that Helios was probably all gold instead of black and gray and olive-a shallow surfer- dude type of god compared to Luka’s deep, dark, complex and often brooding persona. She certainly didn’t want to think of him as the Greek god of the underworld...Pluto, was it? No, that made her think of Mickey Mouse’s idiot dog.

Kerry kissed his chin and spread her fingers across the wide, flat planes of his chest, gently rubbing his nipples, hoping he’d wake up soon. Instead, he muttered something in Croatian and pulled her a little closer. She sighed and put her ear over his heart, listening to it’s steady beating. His breathing was regular and quiet, and she timed his heartbeat. Perfect rhythm. She smiled to herself. Oh yes, she thought. Perfect rhythm.

She pulled away from him, gently patting his hand when he made a vague whimpering sound. Kerry was waiting for doubt to wash over her, but so far, there was none. Why do I feel so calm about this? she wondered. I’ve never slept with someone ‘beneath’ me before. I’ve had my dalliances with superiors in the past-David Morganstern, for instance. When I had that fling with Ellis West, I was full of self-doubt after our first night together, and that ruined it for both of us. I didn’t trust him. But I trust Luka. He won’t hurt me. At least, never on purpose. If I’m not careful, I could really lose my heart to this guy.

Hell, Kerry, she told herself. You already have. You were a goner when you hired him. And if I waste too much time, I might lose him. And if I lose him...

He stirred and his eyes opened. For a moment, he looked around, momentarily disoriented. Then he saw her crouching beside him, the sheet pulled up to cover her breasts. “Good morning,” he said, smiling.

“Morning,” she answered. She was startled, and screamed with laughter, when he pulled her into his arms, rolled her onto her back, and stretched on top of her, cupping her face in his hands. She barely noticed how heavy he was...or how strong he was. If he were even capable of being violent toward a woman, she would be helpless. But instead, she was safe, wrapped up in a warm cocoon, totally relaxed...and aroused. Gently, she touched his face, smiling up into his eyes. Oh, God, she thought. I’m in a romance novel. Only, he looks much better...much more real...than those freakishly built guys on the front cover of novels titled ‘Savage Desire’ or ‘Pirate of the Heart’ or whatever. At least he doesn’t have long hair. I hate long hair on a man...

“You look particularly lovely this morning,” he said before giving her a sound kiss. It took Kerry a minute or two to get her mind working again, and by then, it was too late, because he was exploring her body again, and making it perfectly clear that he didn’t intend to let her go until they were both satisfied.

“Oh...thank you...” she whispered into his ear. Then she let herself go, enjoying every caress, every kiss. She had known he’d be good, but she hadn’t been prepared for him to be this good.



Luka was awakened by something tapping on his chest. His eyes opened and he sat up, startled. Kerry was sitting there, fully dressed.

“You’re a sound sleeper,” she said, putting her shoes on.

“Lately I have been,” he nodded, giving her a warm smile. “Besides, you wore me out last night.”

“Well, I slept pretty late myself,” she admitted. “I have to be at work at one. Want some lunch?”

“What time is it?” he asked. She watched, rather wide-eyed, as he got up and went in search of his pants. The man is a scarred Adonis, she thought, appreciating yet again that firm tush and those wide, strong shoulders. Even better, he didn’t seem to have even the slightest qualms about his present state of undress. How charmingly European, she thought. No hang-ups there at least.

“Uh...eleven,” she said at last, clearing her throat. “Luka, we have to discuss something before we leave.”

He turned to look at her. “What?”

“Well...uh...everybody at County knows we’re an item. Hell, I’m sure Romano knows by now. So how do we handle this?”

“You’re still ER chief, right?” he said, pulling his shirt on.

“Yes...”

“Then what goes on behind closed doors is our business, not theirs.” He watched for a moment, his head dipped slightly, peering at her from beneath his dark eyebrows. “And I want to keep seeing you, Kerry.” His voice was raspy and sincere, and he settled the full force of his hazel-green gaze on her, watching, waiting.

She felt her heart skip a beat, and closed her eyes, swallowing slowly. “I’m very glad to hear that,” she said softly. “Because I want to keep seeing you. So...strict professionalism at work?” she asked, trying to sound brisk and businesslike. Yeah, she thought. As if.

“Of course. I’m not into liaisons in broom closets, Kerry. At work, I’m just an attending, you’re the Chief. But when we’re alone together...well...” He gave her a sweet smile, and her knees went a little weak.

“You Tarzan, me Jane?”

That made him grin at her, and she gave his hair an affectionate ruffle. That, of course, caused yet another delay when he pulled her to him and gave her a long, deep kiss. It was only with great regret that Kerry was able to pull away from him. He growled at her, mumbling something about ‘duty always calling when you’re having a good time’. She laughed and headed downstairs. A few moments later, she heard the shower start, and smiled to herself. My God. He’s in my shower...I should have told him where to find shampoo that doesn’t smell like lavender.

After a few minutes, he appeared at her kitchen door, whistling. A very brief but cheerful argument broke out about who should cook breakfast, and Kerry let him win, just to see how good a cook he was. She stood at his shoulder, watching his every move, slipping easily into micromanagement mode again, giving him directions on how to slice an onion and how to cut the tomatoes just so. He, however, took it in stride (only tossing egg shells at her once) and, after rummaging for a moment in her refrigerator, proceeded to prepare two delicious-looking Spanish omelets.

He was wearing the same outfit from last night, of course, but was still barefoot, his tie not yet done and his shirt-tail hanging out. Yummy, she thought. How can a man look so sexy and still be so shy? With a face and a body like that, he could make a living as a very high-priced gigolo. But gigolos lose their souls, she remembered. Luka’s, faults and all, was intact despite the rough years he had been through. The past two years-thawing out, then so much trouble in the past few months...

Eating a piece of toast, Kerry wondered what he’d do for the rest of the day, since he couldn’t go to work. When he was finished eating, he removed the bandage from his hand and applied a new one. His injury hadn’t prevented him from touching her last night, but she could tell the cut, and the stitches, were uncomfortable.

“I’ll give you a ride to work,” he said. “You get off at five-thirty tonight, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded, taking a bite of her omelet. It was pretty good. “Who taught you to cook?” she asked.

“My wife,” Luka answered, nodding briefly at the newspaper on the table. “Maybe I’ll look up a movie for tonight. You still have to buy my dinner, though.”

“What was her name?” Kerry asked softly, watching his face, ready to retreat if she saw anything dangerous in his eyes.

“Jadviga,” he answered, eyes still on the newspaper. He was digging into his palm again, and Kerry reached her hand out and took his injured hand in hers.

“It’s all right, Luka. You don’t have to talk about it. We have plenty of time for that.”

He looked up at her, swallowing. “I’m sorry, Kerry. It’s always the same. I manage to dump cold water on even the best situations. No wonder I never get invited to parties.”

There it is again, Kerry thought. That self-loathing I see in him so often. He mocks himself constantly, as if he thinks nothing of himself. And he really doesn’t. When have I ever seen him behave selfishly?

“I think I’m like Colonel Brandon in the Jane Austen novel,” Luka continued. “‘The sort of man everyone thinks highly of, but no one remembers to talk to’. I’m paraphrasing a bit...”

“That isn’t true at all,” she said gently. “I’ve always liked talking to you, and of course I always thought highly of you. But I shouldn’t have brought it up.” She saw a strange expression on his face, and tried to figure out what it meant. Was it insecurity? Fear? Sadness? Right now, however, she was determined to cheer him up. “Now...I suppose we’ll go out for Greek tonight?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding, brightening a little. “If we can actually make it to the restaurant this time.”

“We’ll just have to practice restraint,” she grinned. “And remember...you said we could fool around before and after, and then we’ll come back here...or go to your place. Which ever you like.”

He nodded. “That sounds good to me. We’ll go to my place.”

Kerry finished her omelet quickly, gathered her things together, and after he put his shoes on they walked out to his car. She eyed the old Saab for a moment, noting the jumble of trash in the back. Coke cans, boxes, a tire iron, and a pair of Italian shoes made for interesting auto decor.

“Where do you live?” she asked.

“Uh...” He rubbed his eyes.

“You know where you live, don’t you?” she smiled, glancing at the back seat again. There were McDonald’s and Burger King bags in there, too. She looked at Luka again, noting his spare frame-she remembered noticing, last night, as she helped him undress, how thin he was. He didn’t eat well, didn’t take good care of himself. That worried her, and she looked at him, concern in her eyes.

“Of course. It’s just hard to describe it.”

Kerry considered this. “Don’t tell me some slum lord has taken advantage of you.”

“Hell, no.” Luka looked away for a moment. “Only you can take advantage of me, Kerry.”

She grinned and tilted her head back a little, receiving his warm kiss. A kid rode by on a bicycle, whistling under his breath. Kerry glared at the little miscreant for a moment, but Luka grinned at her, a mischievous sparkle in his hazel-green eyes.

“Come on, let’s go. We can’t have you late for work or people will gossip.”

“I’m sure they’re already gossiping,” Kerry informed him as she opened the door and got in. But for some reason, it didn’t really bother her. Let them talk, she thought.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone you have that little birthmark there...” he said, giving her a truly wicked smile.

She slapped his arm, which only got her a good, hard kiss in response. “I suppose I could tell everyone about your...”

“Don’t even go there, Kerry. I’m warnin’ ya.”

Kerry giggled.



Luka dropped Kerry off at County General, then took a drive along the lake, thinking. He had enjoyed his night in Kerry’s bed. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman...how long? Well, he didn’t want to think about that. She was certainly great in bed-warm, sexy, funny, tender and, he sensed, strong enough to help him deal with his problems. She was someone he knew he could love, and enjoy being with. She made sense. He figured they’d have some issues to deal with down the road, but right now, he was looking forward to letting things just happen. They already had a good foundation to build on-mutual trust.

His home was in an old neighborhood of bungalows called ‘Astoria Place’, which made him think, for some reason, of a geriatric ‘Beverly Hills 90210’. Not that he’d ever watched that show. He had glimpsed ‘South Park’ once, had been utterly horrified, took a stab one evening at ‘Strangers With Candy’, got confused, and finally settled on ‘Who’s Line Is It Anyway?’ (old episodes on Comedy Central and the newer shows hosted by the guy who looked like Dilbert...whatisname). Luka wasn’t a big TV watcher, preferring listening to the radio or reading to just vegging out in front of the boob tube. Still, he turned it on sometimes to sort of watch out of the corner of his eye while reading some dry medical journal.

Parking, Luka was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Young, an old retired couple that had been married for six hundred years and finished each other’s sentences to the point that they rarely needed to say more than three words to each other per day. They were out for a walk, airing their yappy little Cocker Spaniel, Poco. Luka hated that dog. But he liked the Youngs-they were his next door neighbors. Every night, they played Perry Como on an ancient turntable and on Tuesday nights they played bridge with another six-hundred year old couple from across the courtyard, the Gelmans.

“Afternoon, Dr. Kovac,” Mr. Young said. He was so tiny and shriveled Luka half expected the poor guy to be blown sky high by a strong wind, like Piglet in the Winnie-the-Pooh stories.

“Hello, Mr. Young...Mrs. Young.” The old lady beamed up at Luka from beneath a purple hat with a wobbling silk flower-she looked so much like the Queen Mum it scared Luka. They have to be related, Luka thought. She had brought him lemon pastry squares yesterday morning before he’d gone to work, but Luka hadn’t had a chance to sample them. In fact, they were still sitting on his kitchen cabinet, covered with a piece of cellophane. He hoped she wouldn’t ask what he thought of them.

“You’re looking more chipper than usual today, Doc,” Mr. Young said, grinning. He even had a wizened little voice-again, like Piglet.

“Uh...yes, well I had a better day than usual yesterday, and...uh...” Luka fumbled for his keys. “Enjoy your walk.”

The old couple nodded and shuffled on down the sidewalk. Luka skittered past them, nearly tripped as he made his way down the steps, under the stone archway (which was being strangled by a determined morning glory vine) and down more steps into the brick-laid courtyard of Astoria Court Bungalows.

Luka paused in front of the rather gaudy old fountain in the center of the courtyard. The entire place, ten bungalows in all, had been built back in the early 1920’s, and so had some surprising architectural details-a cross between ‘Go For Baroque’ and ‘Acid-Trip Chinese Pagoda’. Not exactly ugly, not really pretty, but interesting, and the courtyard was overflowing with rose bushes, wisteria vines and all manner of other flowers. The procession of sweet little old ladies who lived in the bungalows had outdone themselves in ambitious gardening projects. Every bungalow had it’s own numbered little plot of garden land, but Luka’s (#8) was still bare, and it embarrassed him. He and his wife had kept a nice kitchen garden in Zagreb before moving to Vukovar. He remembered rotten tomato fights (Jadviga bending over, pulling up roots, had been too tempting, and there had been that nice, big, juicy tomato just begging to go ‘Splat!’ against her firm little backside)...making love after a tomato fight was always very invigorating (well, making love, period, was invigorating for Luka). That’s how they’d ended up with Marko, in fact. Strange, then, how the boy had hated tomatoes with a passion.

“Maybe I’ll plant tomatoes,” Luka said out loud. “Tomatoes, garlic, onions, maybe some radishes or something...or maybe one of those silly herb gardens.”

As far as the architecture was concerned, it seemed like Luka was spotting something new every day, like watching ‘Fantasia’ after hitting a bong (or so he’d been told-Luka had never felt inclined toward drugs). Yesterday, Luka had spotted Chinese characters carved in the bottom of the fountain, and wished he knew what they said. Japanese koy were swimming around-Luka occasionally threw pieces of bread in there for them. The white and gold fish made ‘plip’ sounds as they came for air and watched him, evidently hoping for more bread.

“Sorry, guys. I’m all out.”

He made his way up to his bungalow, then sat down on the front steps, looking across the way for a moment. He needed a cup of coffee and a shave, but that could wait. He liked to sit on his porch and reflect sometimes. Or at least read the latest copy of ‘People’.

His bungalow was a little run-down on the outside, but inside it was a surprise. He had been amazed at how low the price was, and even more when he inspected the place with the real estate agent, a businesslike but strangely over-enthusiastic woman named Isabelle. She had become awfully agitated and nearly wild-eyed when showing him the two large bedrooms. Luka hadn’t noticed, at the time, that she was far more interested in him than the house. He had been concerned, however, when she’d bumped into a door frame and got a nose bleed. She hadn’t been watching where she was going, he figured.

While Isabelle gushed (and batted her eyelashes), Luka had given the place a thorough once-over. There were two big bedrooms and a small room she called a ‘library’ that adequately held all his books and still had tons of room left over. There was a large, tiled-floored bathroom with an old-fashioned claw-foot tub and a standing shower to boot, and a toilet with one of those pull-chains. It reminded Luka of the bathroom he’d been forced to share with six other medical students in Zagreb-a horror in itself. Only the floor tiles weren’t green from some kind of Alien Bathroom Fungus and the toilet wasn’t constantly making horrible gurgling sounds, as if a dead rat was being pushed upward to the surface. His roommate, Zarko, had kept the beer in the tank. When Luka had found out about that, he’d made sure to buy his own beer.

The living room was big-bigger, Luka realized, than his apartment in Vukovar. There was an elegant fireplace with a finely carved wood mantelpiece, and wide, ‘crank’ windows looking out at...the street. Not a great view back there, but the view from the front was better. Across from his apartment was apartment number nine, which had been repainted and looked much better. Luka liked his kitchen, too, which was fairly modern. Too much cabinet space, really. He usually felt like Old Mother Hubbard, except he didn’t have a dog and thus no need for a bone. His ‘fridge was usually bare, the cabinets nearly empty offood or pots and pans. Just the barest essentials. His walls were still bare, too, except for his crucifix. His Vucedol dove rested on the mantelpiece. As for furniture, he only had a couch, a rather battered old easy chair, a standing lamp, and a relatively new stereo and CD player. His bedroom was equally bare-just a bed, nightstand, chest of drawers and nothing else. The other bedroom was empty, save for a lonely-looking suitcase sitting in the corner. That had been the only luggage Luka had carried with him from Croatia.

Luka went inside at last, and began cleaning up the place a little. He had never been great about keeping a neat house-it wasn’t like he’d had anyone visit him in the past year and a half. Carol Hathaway had never come over, Abby had been over...once. Now, Kerry Weaver was going to be here...hopefully for the night. He had seen the neat condition of her house, the spotless countertops in her kitchen, and figured he should at least attempt to make his own place presentable. He didn’t want her thinking he was some kind of heathen.

Well, he thought. Better get to work. The kitchen was the worst, the living room not much better, and the sheets needed to be washed. The windows really did need cleaning, visitors or no visitors. And he had to make a stop at the florist’s down the street.

This whole place, Luka realized, looking around, needs a woman’s touch. But for now, I can only scrub the place until it shines. Maybe it’ll look as good as I feel.



Kerry glanced at her watch, then looked up at the bank clock across the street. It was 6:03, which meant Luka was three minutes late. Luka is never late, she thought. That made a smile spread across her face. No, he’s never late. I know this from experience. This had better involve a jack-knifed eighteen wheeler spilling egg yolks all over the freeway, because if he’s one more minute late, I’m gonna go bonkers.

She was sitting on the bench in the ambulance bay, waiting, twiddling her thumbs, humming to herself, trying to keep her mind off Luka’s tardiness and her own growing nervousness. When she saw Elizabeth Corday stroll out of the doors, she put her head back and moaned. Oh, great. Be calm, she thought. Be very, very calm. No whacking with canes.

“Evening, Dr. Weaver,” she said. “You’re...uh...you’re wearing a dress.” She forced the inflection in her voice to change from a querying sound to more of a statement.

“Yes. I am.”

“Going out?”

“Yes.”

“Dinner and a movie?”

“Yes.”

“With Dr. Kovac?” Elizabeth smiled. Kerry noticed the British surgeon flashing her diamond engagement ring like a Mafia wife in an Atlantic City casino. Kerry felt a strange twinge of longing. When am I gonna have one of those things on my finger? she wondered.

She coughed then looked away. “So you heard about the...uh...elevator thing.” Kerry didn’t look at Elizabeth.

“Kerry, Amish cabinet makers in Ohio have heard about you and Dr. Kovac. But you’re a lovely couple. You fit each other.”

“News travels fast,” Kerry said wearily. “I just don’t want Luka to be laughed at.”

“No one’s laughing at him or you. In fact, there’s been a pool about it amongst the nurses for the past few months. We all think it’s wonderful.”

Kerry gasped and stared at Elizabeth, wide-eyed. “You’re kidding!”

“No. I won, actually. The pot had grown to nine hundred dollars! I was closest so far as the date of the first kiss was concerned. But Haleh was the first one who noticed anything. She surmised that you were already crazy about Luka when you first hired him.”

“They had a pool?!” Kerry gasped.

“Yes. ‘The Kovac Kisses Kerry Kettle’, as Lydia called it.”

Just then, Kerry saw Luka’s Saab pull in and park. She wanted to tell him it was illegal for him to park there, but when he got out, she could only smile at him. God, he looked wonderful. The usual dark tones, but he was carrying a bouquet of gorgeous blush-pink roses.

“Dr. Kovac,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “I hope you and Kerry can come to our wedding in May,” she said kindly, touching Luka’s shoulder.

“Uh...yes. What’s the date?”

“May the fifth.”

“Oh, well, I may have to stay home and watch the Kentucky Derby...”

Kerry tapped Luka’s foot with her cane, and Elizabeth giggled. Luka smiled. “I’m kidding. I’d be honored, Dr. Corday.” He looked at Kerry, who nodded in agreement.

“Good.” Elizabeth looked from Luka to Kerry, fighting the urge to kiss them both on the cheek in celebration of such a jolly union. She could see the smile in Kerry’s eyes, and Luka looked much happier. “And it’s Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth made a mental note to call maintenance and thank them for helping her out with her scheme. Five hundred dollars well spent, she thought as she made her way back inside. All they needed was a little push.



TO BE CONTINUED...

--
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