Instant Attraction, Part 4
Blackout
By Miesque
miesque@looksmart.com

DISCLAIMER: The characters of Luka Kovac and Kerry Weaver are the sole property of NBC, Warner Bros., Amblin Entertainment and Constant C

SETTING: After "Great Expectations"

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Instant Attraction; Room For Rent; Fired

THANKS TO: Canada for editing and suggestions 

Luka hadn’t been prepared to see Carol Hathaway sitting there at the El stop. In fact, he didn’t want to see her. The last thing he needed, at this point in his life, a damsel in distress. But there she had been, looking very uncomfortable. Naturally, he felt obligated to help her.  

It hadn’t helped when he realized she was in labor. It had brought up memories of his wife-her getting so angry at him and hitting him in the arm, calling him several nasty names for doing this to her-and then he’d blurted out the ‘humming theory’ to Carol. That only made it more painful. And having to admit that they didn’t live in Croatia any more...and carrying Carol, when he was already worn down and depressed, his body aching from overwork, to the hospital. Winter in Chicago-his first real winter anywhere, and in November, a terrible month for Luka-had left him in a black mood. 

He had wanted to stay with her through the delivery...had been concerned for her, and wanted to experience it again, for some reason. But it wasn’t Carol he was seeing in that delivery room while dealing with Mrs. Olsen. It was Tatjana.  

All the memories had come flooding back for Luka. All the good times. Jasna’s birth on that cool spring morning in Zagreb. Sixteen hours of Tatjana in so much pain. In between contractions she had knitted for a while, but when she started threatening to kill Luka with the needles, things had gotten pretty interesting. He had been hoping, of course, for a boy, but his daughter had arrived at six in the morning, screaming at the top of her lungs. She had been so beautiful, just like her mother. Luka vaguely remembered hugging Tatjana’s head, both of them so exhausted and so happy and so...scared. 

Idiots. They had been such idiots. Luka was barely twenty-one, Tatjana only nineteen. Kids having kids. But their families had been around them, supportive and eager to help. Luka had sat in the lounge afterwards, smoking a cigar with his father, who was grinning ear to ear. 

"Forgot to put the stem on the apple there, eh, Luka?" he had laughed. 

"Well, Tatjana is young and healthy...I’m sure we’ll have a boy or two before we’re through." 

Petar Kovac had laughed heartily and began giving Luka instructions on ‘baby wrangling’. "You have to remember to pick them up carefully. Can’t have their heads lolling about...bad for the neck. You scoop them up. Lift their little legs up..." Luka had a vivid memory of his father imitating a baby. ("Waaaahhhh! Waaaaahhhh!"). "And your hand goes underneath, and you scoop..." 

Jasna had definitely been an experience for Luka and Tatjana. She was the image of Tatjana-pretty and delicate, like a little bird. Then Marko came along. Nothing delicate about that boy. He came scowling, rather than crying, into the world. He was stubborn, willful, temperamental-just like his father. Luka closed his eyes, and could remember his son’s face, covered with chocolate. Marko laughed easily, like most children, but he usually had a determined expression on his face. He was always running toward trouble, demanding his own way. Marko had needed all the discipline. Jasna was sweet, soft and gentle, always eager to please everyone around her... 

His grief ate away at him as he had treated Mrs. Olsen. The poor, stupid woman. She had thrown away her health-and her life-to get a new hairdo. It had made Luka angry, especially after having brought Carol in and having all those memories flooding around him again. He remembered the way Carter and Lily had looked at him after he’d pronounced her and said "Happy birthday." They had certainly been wondering what was going on in his head.  

A waste. Seemed like everything was a waste in Luka’s life. He had stalked away in frustration, and had spent a few minutes along in the lounge, brooding, feeling the wave of misery and loneliness crash over him again.  

Later, he had made sure to ask about Carol. Twin girls. Well, that was good. Kate and Tess. Tess was hardly a happy kind of name, Luka thought, but he doubted Jasna sounded familiar to American ears. 

He came home in a foul mood, and was greeted by a silent, empty house. Kerry was still at work. He made himself a sandwich and went downstairs to watch television. Sometime later, he fell asleep, exhausted, and mercifully, he dreamed of his better days. The feeling of his newborn daughter in his arms. Watching his son tackle his uncle Davor’s legs-biting him on the knee when Davor wouldn’t stand still for him. It made his sleep easier than usual. 

Luka woke up to a strange feeling-that something wasn’t right. He sat up and looked around. The room was very dark...his alarm clock was blank, the cable box light was out...oh, joy-the electricity was out.

Getting up, struggling to keep from panicking, Luka managed to hit his knee very neatly on the arm of the chair. He yelped in pain, and was taken over by his fear. Desperately, he searched around for a small flashlight he kept in the nightstand, and quickly found the door. He wasn’t entirely familiar with his new surroundings, so he was glad to have that light. He made his way upstairs quickly, forgetting that he was clad only in scrub pants. Halfway up, he heard a loud crash and picked up speed, rushing into the kitchen, struggling to push the memory of the dark, smelly basement at Vukovar out of his mind. 

Kerry was lying on the kitchen floor, looking a little dazed. Luka dropped to her side and checked her pulse. "Kerry? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, of course I can hear you," she said angrily. "I slipped and fell...damn, that hurts!" 

"What? Did you hit your head?" he asked, still concerned.

"No...my leg. I fell on my leg."

"Oh." He thought about examining it, but decided against it. Kerry tried to sit up, but Luka wouldn’t allow her to move yet. "Just wait. Is it throbbing or is it just a sharp pain?" 

"Just a sharp pain...where I landed on it! Ouch!" she gasped. She couldn’t deny that it was hurting very badly.  

In the beam of light from the flashlight, Kerry’s eyes were wary. Luka watched her for a moment, wanting to make sure she really was all right before he let her up. Finally, he gave up-she refused to say anything else about it. Still, he insisted on helping her to her feet, and hoped she wouldn’t notice that he was still shaking a little. She stiffened when he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up, but she offered no resistance to being helped. Still, just for a moment, they stood a little too close, then she moved away quickly, crutching to her kitchen window.

"What time is it?" he asked, looking around the dark kitchen.  

"I think my clock said it was two in the morning when the lights went out," she answered. "My God!" She looked out the window, and saw that all the streetlights on the block were out, and that no lights shone from any of the other windows. "It’s a blackout!" 

"What were you doing up at two in the morning?" he asked her. 

"I couldn’t sleep," she said, trying to keep her voice as toneless as possible. I couldn’t sleep because I realized you were down there in my basement, damn it! she thought. 

"Well, it’ll be all right, I’m sure," Luka said. He was used to blackouts-or at least he should have been-but after today...he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He had a strong desire to run away as fast and far as he could go. "Do you have many candles?" 

"Yes...I think so. I’ll need to dig around. And I have flashlights, and a hurricane lantern...damn!" She pulled a drawer out to find some candles, but pulled it too hard and the entire drawer came out and landed squarely on her toe. Candles rolled everywhere, along with various small tools and a hammer. Luka frowned and moved to her side again, gently guiding her to a chair and making her sit. 

"God, I think my toe is broken!" she wailed. Why does this have to happen to me now, with him watching me?! 

"Surely not." He was looking at her injured digit. "No. Just bruised and little cut up. Where’s your first aid kit?" He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, though, as he examined her foot. All the memories were crowding around him, setting him on edge, making him nervous and jumpy. And he knew that Kerry was noticing it. That didn’t help one bit. 

"In the cabinet underneath the sink," she said. She was so glad it was dark. Am I blushing?! she asked herself, incredulous. Even worse, he seemed terribly upset. 

He found the kit and proceeded to clean her wounded toe, then applied some medicine and a Band-Aid. "There. It’ll be as good as new in a few days." 

While he was working on her toe, her hand had...accidentally?...moved to his shoulder. She was touching him, and at first neither one of them noticed. Then he glanced up at her as he spoke, and their gazes locked for a moment. But he pulled away and stood up quickly, clearly a little embarrassed. And she had noticed his hands were shaking. Was he scared of the dark? 

Vukovar. Well, hell...of course he would be a little uncomfortable, at best. Spend some time in a blacked-out basement with no running water or heating and that kind of thing will tend to upset you a little, she thought.  

But he was not speaking. In fact, he was extremely quiet-more quiet than usual, in fact. He had moved away from her as if being touched was a frightful thing for him. Stupid, she thought. What the hell was I doing, touching him? Angrily, she berated herself. Hell, he had carried Carol in today, dropping to his knees in the snow, looking so drained and exhausted. No doubt he has a thing for Carol. I saw the way he was watching her. After all, she is still a pretty woman, and now that she’s given birth and Doug isn’t around any more, she’s available as far as Luka’s concerned, Kerry reminded herself.  

Why am I thinking that way? she asked herself. How stupid. Luka is my employee...well, technically he is. He’s a hospital employee. I’m just his superior at work. And as far as ability is concerned, he’s no slouch, and I’m sure that in some areas he’s my superior. No such thing as absolute equality, that’s for sure. 

She watched him gather up the candles. He set them all up-votives and tapers-all over the kitchen and living room, found a cigarette lighter and lit each one in silence. Oh, God, she thought. This is what happens in old movies...light a bunch of candles, it gets romantic, next thing you know you’re making out on the couch and then you’re making a fool of yourself over him at a country club... 

Luka kept his mind on the business at hand. The night was a little chilly-it was late October-and he wondered if he should search for more blankets. Well, that was for later. He looked in the dark refrigerator and found some lunchmeat, cheese and mayonnaise.  

"Hellman’s," Luka said. "Bringing out the best, I see." 

Kerry found herself laughing. "Well, you’re lucky, Dr. Kovac, not to have grown up in America. I have TV commercial jingles in my head all the time." 

They made sandwiches at the table, and the conversation easily became light and relaxed. Kerry discovered that beneath his cool, quiet exterior, Luka Kovac possessed a sharp wit and a keen intelligence. At about three a.m., they put several candles on the kitchen table, found a deck of cards and played poker until the darkness outside turned to a pale grey. Luka won several dollars from Kerry, who found him too much of a cardsharp for her patience.  

It was only when it started to get a little less dark inside that she noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She did her best to ignore that fact, but finally, she simply couldn’t keep from staring at him. He was very lean-perhaps too lean-and powerful looking. A Great Dane to Peter Benton’s Bull Mastiff, as she had heard Lydia put it one morning. "But the Great Dane’d have the Bull Mastiff beggin’ for mercy!" Chuny had laughed. "The big dog has moved in to County General ER!" 

Of course, Great Danes are gentle and goofy, but there was nothing goofy about Luka Kovac. He carried himself with such dignity and such darkness at the same time. That humor covered up a sadness and loneliness that fascinated and frightened her at the same time.  

Of course, right now, she was only aware of his raw sexuality. It seemed to almost burn in him, yet he didn’t seem to notice it himself. He was totally unselfconscious, not a common thing in a good-looking man.  

She was staring at him so intently that she failed to realize he was speaking to her. "Where did you go to medical school?" 

"What?" 

"Medical school. Where did you go to medical school?" 

"Oh. Northwestern." 

He nodded. "Your basketball team could whip the Sorbonne team," he deadpanned. "But our fencing team would cut yours to ribbons."

"Fencing?" she asked, her voice shaking a little. 

"Yeah. Fencing. I started fencing when I was a kid. First it was pocketwatches, then small appliances...next thing you know, I was moving cars." 

Kerry burst into laughter, bowing her head. He watched her, pleased to see that she was smiling. She had a nice smile. "You should laugh more often. It’s good for the soul. Besides, you have a pretty smile." 

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, though. He didn’t want to embarrass her, and he could tell it made her uncomfortable. Quickly, he switched gears. "Dr. Lawrence was your mentor?"  

"Yes," she said nervously. "He was a wonderful teacher. Who was your mentor?" 

"Dr. Goran Badovinac. He was from Croatia, too, but he taught at the Sorbonne and moved back to Croatia at roughly the same time I did. He...uh...he was shot by a sniper in a few years ago...in Sarajevo." 

Kerry realized the implications of that statement and skirted the subject carefully. "He must have been very proud of you." 

"I guess. He always said I was his best student. I was actually a pest. Constantly asking questions until I had all the answers. I was just twenty when I graduated medical school, then it was four years of internship at Zagreb....specialty training. At first, I wanted to be a pediatrician, but that proved too...how do you say? Emotional? So I went into emergency medicine." 

"And then you worked at Vukovar?"

"Yes." He looked away, clearly not comfortable talking about it. She looked out the window for a moment, wishing she hadn’t been so clumsy as to bring that up.  

"Well, I wish the electricity would come back on. I could make some coffee..." 

"There’s always cold cereal." 

Kerry nodded and started to get up, but he stopped her. "What kinds of cereal do you have?" 

"Corn flakes, mainly," she answered. He got up and rummaged for a moment through the cabinet.

"No sugary stuff, eh?"

"No."

He sighed and got a box of corn flakes, two bowls, two spoons, and the jug of milk from the refrigerator. They ate in silence, Kerry struggling to maintain some sense of calm and distance from her boarder. But...God help her, he was gorgeous. Even now, sitting across from her and eating a bowl of bland cereal, he was simply stunning. This couldn’t possibly work. She hadn’t been able to sleep well since he’d moved in, and she knew why. He was having an effect on her, and that certainly wouldn’t help their professional relationship. 

"I take it you...got a scholarship to the Sorbonne?" she said, breaking the silence. 

"Yes. I graduated two years early, from school. I was just sixteen when I was packed off to Paris." 

"It must have been quite an experience," she mused. "I went to Italy when I was eighteen, in between high school and my freshman year in college. Beautiful country..." 

"Never go to Italy unless you need to gain a tremendous amount of weight. And never go to England unless you could stand to lose a few pounds."

She smiled. "You’ve been to both places?" 

"Yes. I went to Italy when I was twenty..." He paused. He and Tatjana had sailed from Split to Pescara for their honeymoon, and had driven all over Tuscany in a car that, according to their calculations, managed to go about four miles at a time before running out of gas or suffering some kind of nervous attack. Jasna had been conceived in Florence... "I lived in England for a while...after the war ended...in Croatia. I lived in London." 

"I hear Croatia is a very beautiful country...especially Split and Dubrovnik, and the islands..." 

He nodded. "Yes. It is. It’s...it’s being rebuilt, you know? We’re getting past it all...all the troubles." 

She nodded. "I hope so. You know, it’s funny...I had Croatian wine once, a long time ago. It was kind of bittersweet-tasting, but very good. I liked it a lot." 

Luka shrugged. "I’m not a wine drinker myself. I prefer beer. Tuborg beer." 

Kerry eyed him for a moment, and her sleep-deprived mind wondered what he was like in an inebriated state. Probably twice as dignified, she thought.  

"Not too much, I hope." 

"Everything in moderation," he answered smartly. "What time do you have to go in to work?"

"Five o’clock this evening," she said wearily. 

"Try to contain your enthusiasm." He gave her a rather charming smile, and she couldn’t keep from smiling back.

"It’s just...I don’t know. Tiring sometimes. When do you have to go in?" 

"Five...you make up the schedules, don’t you?" 

He was right. She did make up the schedules. Was it some kind of unconscious thing, that she was always scheduling it so that she was working with Luka? Now, that has to stop, she told herself firmly. I wonder...has he noticed?  

Warily, she searched his face for some kind of knowing look, but there was no indication that he knew or cared. Well, of course not, she thought. I’ve seen how he and Carol Hathaway are buddying up. I doubt he’s noticed. 

"I was going to ask you, Luka...about Lucy Knight." The last thing she wanted to talk about, anyway, was Carol Hathaway. 

"What about her?" Luka took a bite of his sandwich. He was calming down considerably. His nerves had been calmed somewhat by this quiet, easy conversation. 

"Well, I was going to mentor her but since I was made ER chief, I found myself unable to continue working with her in that capacity. So I was actually wondering if you’d like to do it." 

He thought about it. Miss Knight was an eager little creature-always bustling about, asking questions, but somehow she seemed lost and underappreciated. From what he’d seen, she had the makings of an excellent doctor. 

"I’d like that," he said. It’d certainly give me something to think about besides my own problems. Kind of like putting a goat in the stall of a nervous racehorse. Gives them something else to think about. Thus, Luka remembered with a half laugh, the term ‘get your goat’.  

"Well, I know she likes you," Kerry said, eyeing him cautiously. "Perhaps a little too much." 

"How do you mean?" he asked innocently.  

"Well, I mean...well, she’s very young. Twenty-four years old. People that age are inclined to...uh...anyway, I think you could really help her, Luka. Give her some self-confidence. She could really use some support and guidance." 

He nodded and made himself another sandwich, suddenly very hungry. Kerry made one, too, and they sat there for a while, talking quietly. Then, suddenly, the lights came back on. Kerry almost regretted that-she had found herself so calm and relaxed with Luka. There really was something very gentle and kind about him.  

Luka blew all the candles out, then helped her to her feet. "Toe still hurting?" he asked. 

"Yes. A little. But you’re right. It’s not broken. I can move it just fine." 

"Good. I guess you’re going back to bed?" 

"Yeah." 

He only nodded. She saw a strange expression on his face as he looked at the basement door. 

"Are you all right, Luka?" she asked him quietly. 

That question seemed to alarm him, because he looked at her with widened eyes. "Yes. Of course. I’m fine." 

She didn’t dare ask him about it, and he simply couldn’t talk to her about it. For a moment, neither said a word. Then, finally, he nodded. "I’ll see you at work." 

"Sure. See you later." 

For a few moments, after he’d retreated back downstairs, she stood in the kitchen, her mind going over all that had happened. He had been shaken by the blackout. Frightened by it, in fact. She had no doubt that there was something boiling beneath Luka’s cool, quiet exterior. He had been at Vukovar...he lived alone, and had been shaking there in the darkness. Maybe...maybe that was why she had touched him? Perhaps, in some way, she had unconsciously been trying to comfort him, to calm him down? He had seemed to relax, sitting there eating, talking and playing poker. He had even laughed a little, but there was still that distance, that reserve. He kept himself away from her, just like he did with everyone else.  

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like sleeping. Instead, she went upstairs to her little office, turned on her computer, and spend the next few hours reading the medical testimony from surviving doctors at Vukovar. 

What she read horrified her.

To be continued...