A KW/LKo Series, Part 5
Laughing At Joe’s
By Miesque
miesque48@hotmail.com

SYNOPSIS: Sanja lets Mark have it; Carter over-explains things, and Luka and Kerry enjoy a meal together at a local crabhouse.

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Birthday Surprise; A Friend In Need; Once More Unto the Breach; Running Interference

Luka and Kerry were able to save all three victims of the MVA, including a very seriously injured girl with massive head wounds. They sent her up to surgery in stable condition, and Kerry watched as Luka limped away. His limp was rarely obvious-it only showed itself when he was very tired, and he was obviously very tired now-there were circles under his eyes, and he was a little off. Of course, with his sister arriving in the ER with a bad rash, and Carter's guilty, stricken expression...it had to have only added to his stress. But still, he was in a strangely good mood. He grinned at her before he left. "Luck is finally being a lady tonight."  

Sanja was still waiting for her brother to get off work, and was chatting with Abby and Randi, who were grilling her-carefully-about Luka. 

"Is he married?" Randi asked, being a lot more blunt than Abby. 

"No, he is not married," Sanja answered, her expression wary.  

"I usually go for the bad boys, but for Luka, I’d make an exception. He's a sweetheart," Randi said, nudging Abby, who grinned. 

Mark was just coming on for the night, and was looking at the board. Sanja noticed how snippy he was as Luka did rounds with him, and how hostile his attitude seemed to be toward her brother. She didn’t like it. In fact, the more she watched, the angrier she got. 

Luka, however, showed no sign that it bothered him. Instead, he headed upstairs to talk to Dr. Benton about the outcome of the MVA victim’s surgery. 

"That Dr. Greene is a pissy sort of fellow, isn’t he?" she asked Randi when Mark was out of earshot. 

"Yeah. But he’s been having a rough time of it. His mom died recently, and his dad has cancer and is fading fast. Plus, he got beat up in the men’s room last year. Still, he hasn’t been too pleasant lately. Used to be a nice guy, but now...eh...he’s a jerk. And the way he treats Dr. Kovac...it's criminal," Randi said, eyeing Mark as he went in to see a patient in Exam 3. 

Later, Sanja followed Mark into the lounge. There was nothing subtle about Sanja-she had no qualms about confronting Dr. Greene. She hadn't been afraid of anything since she was five years old. Except, maybe, Luka. But only when he was thoroughly pissed at her. 

"Dr. Greene?"  

He turned around and almost spilled his coffee. She was standing there with her hands on her hips, still a little pink, but the expression on her face was unmistakable. She was wearing the classic 'little black dress' and she looked breathtaking. And with those flashing green eyes, she reminded Mark of a panther. Not only that, she looked twice as lethal. 

"Do you have a problem with my brother?" 

He was taken aback by that question. "Uh...no...Why do you ask?" 

"Because I noticed that you were rude to him a while ago. I don’t like that. In fact, I hate rude behavior in a man. And I live in Paris. I’m surrounded by rude men. But I still hate it. In fact, it makes me crazy when I see it. Especially when someone is rude to Luka. He tolerates it only because he is a good, decent person. I wish I were half as decent as he is, but I’m not, so I can say this to you: either talk your trash to his face and take the consequences like a man or shut up. Got it?" 

Mark stammered for a moment, totally unprepared for such a sharp attack. He had a healthy fear of Luka, due to his size and obvious physical strength, but Kovac had always come across as very gentle. Not this girl. There was fire in her eyes; she looked furious, and when she stepped forward, Mark took a step back. 

"I should inform you that hotel concierges throughout Western Europe literally quake at the mere mention of the name of Susanja Kovac. I take no guff from anyone, much less balding passive-aggressive bloody naff gits like you. Luka takes it only because it doesn’t bother him." 

He tried to defend himself then. "Look, I just don’t like how he’s horning in on my best friend’s girlfriend...and he’s so damned perfect..." Mark felt foolish-maybe Carol was right. He was acting like a sullen twelve-year old. From the way Sanja reacted, he realized he had said the wrong thing. Big time. 

"Perfect? Luka, perfect? And as for this ‘horning in’...what is this, "Days Of Our Lives"? Get your own life before you start meddling in other people’s affairs. And Luka isn’t interested in this woman, anyway, whoever she is. I know that for a fact. And this 'perfect' crap...that’s a laugh. You’d be on your best behavior, too, if you saw your wife and kids being loaded on to a truck and carted away to be murdered. You'd do everything in your power to see to it that you got to see them again some day. I hear that your mother died recently and your father is dying of cancer, and I do feel terrible for you, but I should think that you'd be able to show a little compassion to another human being who is just trying to survive day to day without going crazy!" 

Mark was stunned. He stared at her in amazement, too shocked to speak. Unfortunately, Luka had walked in just as she made her last statement to Mark. He froze for a moment, staring at both of them. Sanja gasped, immediately regretting having told Luka's story to this balding git. It was her damned temper again, getting out of control as usual.

Luka grabbed his sister by the arm and dragged her out of the room. 

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled. 

Sanja deflated and sat down. "I’m sorry, Luka. I just got so angry. It made me furious to see him treating you so badly...after all you’ve been through..."

"So you had to go and tell him about Monika? You had to tell him? I can decide how much I’ll ‘go through’." 

Luka started picking at the palm of his hand, a nervous habit of his. Sanja watched him, knowing he was growing angrier and angrier with her. She braced herself. 

"Susanja, I am so disappointed in you," he said. His voice was remarkably soft, but with a harsh, angry edge to it. And he had called her by her given name, which meant that he was very disappointed in her.

She bowed her head, ashamed. Just then, Mark came out of the lounge, obviously shaken. When he saw Luka, he stopped and swallowed, bowing his head as usual. He couldn't meet Kovac's direct gaze at all. He doubted he ever would again. Especially now that he knew...

"Luka, I’m so sorry...I had no idea..."

Luka shook his head, practically ignoring Mark. "Susanja, apologize to Dr. Greene. Now."

She looked up at him, appealing, but Mark intervened. "No, Luka, it’s me who should be apologizing. I’ve been treating you pretty badly. I guess...we just got off on the wrong foot."

That expression appeared to confuse the siblings, because they stared at Mark, blank looks on their faces.

"I mean...I was judging you according to stuff that happened a year ago, before you were even here, and I wasn’t giving you a chance on your own merits. I’ve been a real jerk, and I’m sorry. I needed a good dressing down...but I'd sure hate to meet your sister in a dark alley. I mean, you've been really kind to Carol and she needed some help, so..." Mark's voice trailed off, and he could stand there, head bowed, clearly uncomfortable.

Luka glanced at Sanja, who looked away, blushing. Coming from Mark, that was one hell of a compliment. But he had no idea what Mark was talking about. A year ago? What did that mean?

"It’s all right," Luka said. He really didn’t want to talk about it. Mark seemed to sense this, because he nodded and fled. Luka watched him leave, and sighed wearily. He knew that the story would be all over the hospital in a matter of minutes, and he had to brace himself for it. He didn’t want sympathetic glances and ‘I’m sorrys’ from everybody. He just wanted to be left alone. Anyway, he doubted he and Mark would be ever even become good friends. Their personalities and temperaments were far too different.

He gestured for Sanja to get up. They went back into the lounge, where Carter was now sitting, nervously drinking a bottle of milk.

"What were you thinking?" Luka barked at his sister.

Carter gulped. "The strawberries and the champagne were entirely my idea, Dr. Kovac. I mean it..."

Luka started to speak to his sister, index finger raised, but he turned to stare at Carter, bewildered. "What?"

"But the whipped cream was Sanja’s idea. We got a little carried away, that’s all. I mean, wouldn’t you get carried away if you were alone in a hotel room with a beautiful woman? One minute we were talking about how baseball players are paid too much when all they do is stand around scratching and the next thing I knew we were making out on the couch and then she got some whipped cream and put it on her nose..."

"On her nose?" Luka asked, incredulous. He wondered what the hell had happened to this day-he felt like he was in the middle of some bizarre comic opera. He wanted to check under the table for Rod Serling.

Sanja shook her head. "John..."

"Yeah. And her neck. And her fingers...I mean...I couldn’t help it..." 

Luka’s fists clenched and unclenched for a moment, then, to their utter surprise, he burst into laughter. The entire scenario was just so ridiculous that it was hilarious. He sat down, shaking with laughter. Sanja, sure he was having some kind of fit, put her hand on his shoulder. "I’m sorry, Luka..."

"Don’t touch me..." Luka gasped, between gasps. "Just get out of here. Go talk to Randi or something. Just...just get out of here before I forget why I’m laughing." He collapsed into laughter again, banging on the table with his fist.

He barely acknowledged her when she bussed him on the cheek and fled.

Carter stared across at Luka, waiting nervously for what could either be a reprieve or a swift execution. He wasn’t always sure about Luka, but he had a healthy respect for him. Luka was a big, commanding, forbidding man and not even Dr. Dave had been dumb enough to cross him. Carter, however, had been fooling around with Luka’s sister. Damn it, Carter thought. Why didn’t that hamster get on the wheel for me?

"And exactly how did the whipped cream get off her nose, neck and fingers?" Luka asked, after collecting himself. His voice was remarkably mild. In fact, he exuded good humor, which surprised Carter so much he nearly fell off his chair.

Carter gave Luka an ingratiating smile. It was the best he could manage.

"Please tell me...did both of you remain vertical?"

"What?" Carter asked, confused.

"I mean...neither one of you actually became horizontal during this little culinary experiment?"

"Oh...oh...no, absolutely not, Dr. Kovac. Definitely not."

"And no buttons were undone?" Luka asked, using his voice carefully, allowing it harden ever so slightly for the right effect. It seemed to work, because Carter flushed bright red and looked around the room for the nearest exit.

Well, yes, a few buttons had come undone, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell that to Luka. Carter valued his life too much for that.

"Uh...no." But he nodded as he spoke.

Luka glared at him for a moment, then started laughing again. He shook his head. "Well, I used be to be young and foolish once myself," Luka said, wiping his eyes. He wondered what happened to that rather rash nineteen year-old who had once mooned a government official in Zagreb. It seemed like that Luka Kovac had died. And everyone thought he was so serious...not always, that was for sure.

"Just remember...she’s my sister, John. Try to remember that the next time you find yourself in the same room with her, a bowl of strawberries and a bottle of champagne. But please...leave the whipped cream in the refrigerator, okay? And eschew strawberries. And go easy on the champagne, too."

"Yes, sir," Carter said. He realized then that Luka was going to let him keep seeing Sanja. That made him feel a lot better. In fact, he felt better than he had in a long, long time. "I...I have a sister, too. I guess I'd kind of freak out if something like that happened. But Sanja's a wonderful woman. She's...terrific. I mean that, Luka. I like her. A lot."

Luka nodded. Every heterosexual male over the age of six adored Sanja. It was to be expected.

"Yes, she is," Luka said, starting to get up. "But 'freak out' is not quite the appropriate phrase to use. If it had been anyone else..." He shrugged. "'Freak out' wouldn't even begin to describe what I would have done." He paused. "And you can call me Luka."

Luka drove Sanja to her hotel, berating her all the way about her temper and what kind of trouble it could cause. "Everybody has a temper," he told her. "We were unfortunate enough to inherit ours from our mother. But for God's sake, Sanja, it's one thing to have a temper. It's another thing entirely to lose it!" He drove back to County to pick up some files, and as he walked toward the elevator he saw Kerry standing in front of her car. She had the hood up, and was staring sadly at the engine.

"What’s wrong?" he asked. 

"It’s dead," she said, real despair in her voice.

"The battery or the car itself?" he asked.

"The car. It went ‘rrrrrr...’ and then it just died. Dead as a hammer."

That’s an interesting expression, he thought.

She looked up at him. "Do you know anything about cars, Luka?"

"Kerry, the only thing I know about cars is that when mine breaks down, I can only scream for help. I have no idea. I am mechanically impaired, at least when it comes to cars."

"Damn it!" she growled, and slammed the hood down, causing him to flinch slightly.

"Hot date tonight?" he asked.

"No...unless you count falling asleep in front of the TV a ‘hot date’," she said grouchily. She glanced up at him again, taking in his dark clothes, his five o’clock shadow...he always seemed to look good, no matter what. After a day like today, she knew she sure didn’t look her best. How did he do it?

"Well, let me give you a ride home, then," Luka said. "It’s not out of my way."

"No...no, I can’t inconvenience you like that, Luka. I’m sure you haven’t had any sleep lately."

"It’s all right. I insist. Let me go get those files and I’ll be right back."

She sighed, resigning herself to the idea. Not that it was hard. Who could resist spending time alone with Luka Kovac?

Kerry was surprised at Luka’s car. It was an old Saab, and she wondered how much he’d sold his boat for, but she didn’t ask. It was none of her business. He was such a private, mysterious man. Still, late at night she wondered about him...dreamed about him, fantasized about him. She couldn’t help it. His kindness and gentle nature had gotten to her, and she was afraid of her own heart about it. Kerry had been burned too many times, and it was terrifying and thrilling to find herself so attracted to him. She knew he wasn't the 'love 'em and leave 'em' type, but he was also so damaged. Yet, there was a sweet, almost naive innocence about Luka that was refreshing. His integrity and moral strength had impressed her from the beginning, even when she did her best to ignore him. Of course, at the time, she had been unwilling to accept the fact that such a person could exist in the world. She had been suspicious of him in the beginning, but now...

She couldn't allow herself to imagine him being attracted to her: Kerry Weaver, forty-one years old, not very pretty...no...Luka surely would be drawn toward some pretty, nubile young thing. Yet, she remembered her conversation with Sanja that night. She had started to say something about Luka needing a friend as much as he needed a...what? A lover? Well, Kerry didn't figure she qualified for the latter role. But as for being Luka's friend, she knew she could do that. She felt she had found a friend she could really turn to when things were going badly, or even when things were going well. And she wanted to be that for Luka as well: someone he could turn to when he needed some help.

Her stomach started growling, to her mortification, and Luka noticed. "How about we get a bite to eat?" he suggested.

"That’ll be fine," she said quickly. Maybe too quickly. She found herself blushing, and was glad for the darkness. "Since you’re driving, you pick. I suppose you like seafood, being from Croatia."

"Yeah. That’s actually what I was thinking of."

He chose a little crabhouse, which surprised Kerry a little. It wasn’t exactly run-down, but it wasn’t what Kerry thought of as a place Luka Kovac would patronize. For some reason, she imagined him dining in five-star restaurants, enjoying the finer things in life. He always dressed well, after all. He just seemed so...well, refined wasn’t the right word-that made him sound almost effeminate, and that certainly wasn't the case. Classy. That’s it. Classy. There really was a thoroughbred quality about Luka; he had such excellent manners, yet he possessed a natural ease in any situation, a kind of 'when in Rome' attitude toward every scenario, while never sacrificing his own integrity and dignity. Kerry, who knew she had so few people skills, wished she was that way.

Joe’s Crabhouse wasn’t a very good name, either, but Kerry had heard about the quality of the steamed crabs. Luka ordered some as well, and they sat at the table, neither saying anything for a while. The waiter arrived with bibs, which were tied around their necks. Luka looked down at the picture of the smiling crab, but said nothing. He felt vaguely ridiculous, though. But the bib would at least protect his clothes. He didn't buy Armani to have it ruined by crab...juice? He glanced at the other patrons, noticing how they were whacking their steamed crabs with mallets. It seemed a bit gruesome, to his mind, but if one couldn't handle killing a crab, one had much better stick to asparagus.

Kerry, however, was a little less subtle in her distaste for the bib. "I feel like a fool."

"Wait’ll they make us wear the shoes," Luka answered her. She almost laughed, but contained herself. Luka got his mallet and began to test his reflexes-banging lightly on his knee and watching his leg jerk. That was too much for Kerry-she burst into laughter, slapping the table and turning away a little. He grinned devilishly at her.

The crabs arrived, and were dumped unromantically on the table. Luka picked one up and stared into it’s face.

"Look...this one's scrunched up little face...it reminds me of Dr. Romano." He took his mallet and cracked the crab's shell with one hard ‘whack’, sending pieces of it's shell spraying everywhere.

With that, Kerry relaxed, and they spent the remainder of the evening talking easily about everything...everything, of course, but their pasts. That subject was still a little taboo, but later that night, as she lay in bed, she remembered the warmth in his voice, his successful attempts at making her laugh, and his smile. She fell asleep with that image, and it kept her warm until morning.

To be continued...