A KW/LKo Series, Part 12
Aesop’s Foibles
By Miesque
miesque48@hotmail.com

RATING: PG

SYNOPSIS: Luka finds himself in an unwanted administrative position and somehow Gretel the dog finds herself a topic of conversation (yet again!)

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

SPECIAL THANKS: to Canada, for that helpful insight into Luka's nature! I sure needed that kick in the pants!

CROATION TRANSLATION: ‘Bok’ (I think it means ‘good fortune’, but I’m not so sure anymore...)

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Birthday Surprise; A Friend In Need; Once More Unto the Breach; Running Interference; Laughing At Joe’s; Taking Note; Waiting On A Friend; The Last Goodbye; Anything You Want, Sir; Never Say Never; Blue Heart to Red 

Kerry walked into the County General hospital emergency department, feeling strangely at ease. She had served her time, so to speak, in exile, and now she was back. Of course, she was only an attending in the ER now, not Chief. Romano was putting out feelers for a replacement, she had heard, but so far no one had been found. Mark was still more or less the acting chief, but she had also heard that Romano wasn't satisfied with Greene's performance. Rocket was dragging his feet, dangling the carrot in front of every person who qualified. Kerry was sure it was making for an unpleasant working environment-if not chaotic.  

She stopped at the front desk, watching Andrew talk to someone on the phone. He hardly seemed to notice her at first, until he hung up. 

"Dr. Weaver...it's...good to see you again," he said, clearly uneasy. He stared at her as if he expected her to explode into a million pieces. 

"Yes. Thank you." She was glad that spring had finally pushed it's way toward summer. The weather was warming up, so she didn't need a heavy coat and sweaters any more. She had chosen a business-like blouse and her usual black slacks. She wanted to make it clear that just because she had lost her position, it didn't mean she wasn't going to be the same professional, determined Dr. Kerry Weaver.

She saw Mark coming toward her, and braced herself. Dr. Chen was at his side, looking like her usual brisk, brown-nosing self. Kerry shook her head a little. Chen's father had paid her way into a residency at County, and it did little good for Kerry's mood to think she'd be dealing with her all day, along with Mark. 

"Morning, Kerry," Mark said. She nodded to him. "I just came on, too. It's been pretty slow all morning...glad to see you back." 

Yeah, right, she thought. Been eating any cake lately? But she smiled at him and watched him walk away, her mind elsewhere...actually, her mind-and her heart-was back at her house, standing in her foyer, being kissed by Luka Kovac.  

Dr. Chen stood there, looking uncomfortable. "Dr. Weaver, it's good to see you here." She lowered her voice. "Dr. Romano has been an absolute fiend." 

'Fiend'? Kerry wondered, snorting slightly. What else would he be? "Deal with it, Dr. Chen. I have no power over the situation, remember? I'm just another ER attending, doing my job and not getting paid nearly enough for it." 

With that, Kerry crutched away, leaving Chen standing there, looking startled.  

Kerry checked the board, and immediately noted that Luka's name was not there. She glanced around, wanting to ask if he was on today, but afraid to do so. Kerry wasn't going to let anyone talk about her behind her back...well, they were doing that already, she was sure. Her demotion had been big news. Elizabeth had filled her in on the goings-on at County, but Kerry had not asked about Luka. 

He had wisely kept a distance from her since that afternoon. He had called her a few times, checking up on her, but in a way, she was glad he was staying away, giving her time to think. It was really for the best-a sort of cooling off period seemed necessary. This had to go slowly...she did need time to think about what she wanted to do about her career, her options...her heart. And she was sure he had a lot to cope with now. She figured it had been a long time since he'd kissed a woman. 

Kerry paused in the hall, touching her lips. She could still taste that kiss-ever since, she had often found herself smiling. Kerry hadn't been able to remove the memory from her mind, much less to get her heart to stop pounding whenever she thought about him. Not that she wanted the memory to go away. Now, all she wanted was more of him. 

She shook her head, trying and failing to clear her mind of the questions still swirling around. Kerry knew he had some feelings for her, but what kind of feelings? She had noted, with a tiny degree of jealousy, his friendship with Carol Hathaway. But Carol was gone now; in fact, Kerry had an unsettling suspicion that Carol had hurt Luka a little. Of course, the nurses were all crazy about him-for good reason-as were the female med students. She had seen the way Abby looked at him sometimes, when he wasn't watching, and felt a catty urge to remind her that Luka was staked territory-but Luka certainly wasn't going to go there anyway.

What's happening to me? she wondered. I swear, I'm going soft. Before, I didn't care who screwed who in this hospital, so long as it wasn't a resident or an attending boffing a med student. Now, I'm worried about Luka having feelings for Carol, or one of the nurses...or Abby? As if he would do such a thing! I guess that green-eyed monster really doesn't exist.

I'm just over-analyzing this, she realized. Relax, she told herself. You don't have to deal with administration any more. You have a whole new path to take. Maybe you can actually enjoy your work now. Maybe you can enjoy your life, too. Let things happen, and deal with it all as it comes. I've spent enough time making things happen. Why not let them happen? 

She watched Abby Lockhart scuttle by, following Dr. Malucci into exam room three.  

Exam three. She shuddered and moved on down the hall, back toward the admit desk.  

She saw Luka's tall form bending over the sign-in clipboard. She didn't dare speak out, afraid she'd give away her feelings. Instead, she watched him. He was still wearing his dark colors, but he looked brighter, healthier-and clean-shaven; as smooth as a baby's bottom. She laughed. I'll have to look at him again at noon, to see how far along the whiskers have gotten by then. Mediterranean men...those exotic looks, that over-abundance of testosterone. So virile and masculine and yet so gentle...if it wasn't for his ability to scare the hell out of people, and if not for that shrewd, sharp mind, he would be almost be too good to be true. 

He was laughing at something Andrew said. God, he had the most beautiful smile...but she noted something else. His hair had a lot more grey. Kerry theorized again that perhaps he had always dyed it before...but she had noticed grey before, so maybe not. It was still dark, but the streaks of grey only added to his appeal and maturity. Being young, after all, ain't all it's cracked up to be. He probably got a few grey hairs in Vukovar...probably a lot of grey hairs. 

"Good morning, Kerry," he said, turning toward her and nodding.  

"Good morning, Luka." She was glad she wasn't blushing-yet. Lily and Conni were coming toward her, and saw them both stop and look from her to Luka, and back. She knew what they were thinking. Quickly, doing her best to appear brisk, she crutched forward, passing Luka as fast as she could. He said nothing. In fact, he turned back toward the desk and continued his discussion with Andrew. 

"When did Sanja call?" 

"'Bout ten minutes ago. She said she wanted to talk to you about something." 

"Okay. Call her back and tell her I'm here for the day. She ought to be able to catch me around lunchtime." 

"Yes, sir." Andrew saluted-something everyone else in the ER had the urge to do when Luka gave them an order. Luka's eyes narrowed slightly, but he turned on his heel-military style-and left. 

Lily and Conni watched as Kerry and Luka walked off in opposite directions. 

"This should be interesting," Conni said, grinning. 

Luka was shivering slightly in the evening cold. He didn't like these sudden April cold snaps-it was nerve-wracking. He felt like he was hanging on by a slim thread-just one more thing to go wrong, and he was sure he'd fall apart. This weather wasn't helping at all. It made his bones ache, and every muscle was screaming for relief. He remembered what Monika often said when he came home from work after a hard day. "You look like you were ridden hard and put up wet." How true.  

He had lost a patient that afternoon-a Mr. Henry Montague. A seventy-five year old cancer sufferer-inoperable, spitting up blood, gasping for breath. Trying to ease someone into as quiet and dignified a death as possible was hardest on days like this. Springtime-new life coming up everywhere, yet Luka was sitting in a hospital room, watching an old person slip away.  

The old man had regaled Luka with tales of his military service during World War II. "The sergeant-he was a nasty son of a bitch," he said. "He said my name wrong one day: 'Monta-gee'. I corrected him, saying it was 'Monta-gyoo' and so he told me to do push-ups 'til I was 'fati-gyooed'."

That had been amusing, especially considering Luka's own experiences in the army. It hadn't been fun and games then, that was for sure. Luka had taken work as a medic, of course, hoping to avoid the killing. But during the war...you had to carry a gun everywhere you went, ready to shoot to kill. Luka had always been an expert shot, and he shuddered now to think of how many people he had killed in self-defense, or in battle. He didn't want to think about that now. He sure as hell didn't want to talk about it now.

Vukovar-that had been an outpost of hell, and Luka found himself one of the demons-or at least working like one. Three months of mortar fire, bombing raids, sniper fire, with almost no means of defending the city except with crude weapons and pure iron will. He remembered how little sleep he had gotten then-his eyes had become so swollen that he couldn't close them-as if he had time to close them. There had been no food, no supplies-just the wait for the inevitable-the coming of the storm.  

November 19, 1991. He remembered what Queen Mary I of England had said-"When I am dead and opened, you shall find the 'Calais' lying in my heart." Luka was pretty sure that 'Vukovar' was lying on his. 

Luka hadn't known the war would come to Vukovar. He had brought Monika and the children with him, believing they'd be safe there. Vukovar had been a beautiful little town by the Danube before. Now, it was a ruin, an image of madness. He closed his eyes, trying to remember...had he even spent any time with his family during those three months of hell? Had he even made love to Monika just once during that time? Jasna had had a cold, Marco had been suffering from the same colicky stomach Luka had always suffered from as a child. Not that there had been any privacy then, at the hospital. No time to be alone-just struggling forward, trying to stay alive.

Monika had insisted on staying with him through it all. Sometimes, he wondered if she was crazier than he was. He had sent Sanja to Paris, and had tried a thousand times to talk his wife into going to France, where she'd be safe. But she had said she'd never leave him.

It was Monika who saw the change in Luka. Even before Vukovar, he had maintained some degree of his innocence. He hadn't willingly killed anyone before then. But he had been backed up against the wall in Vukovar, and had been forced to act, and his innocence was gone. "You have become resigned," Monika had said one night. "You're not the same Luka any more." No, Luka thought. I'm certainly not him any more. He died nine years ago.  

The enemy had broken through the defensive lines and there had been nothing anyone could do but run and try to hide-or die surrounded by cut-up soldiers. Luka had tried to hide his family in the hospital-the Catholic church was a pile of rubble by then-figuring on that place's relative safety. Surely the invaders would believe in the quality of mercy. 

But mercy had meant nothing to the enemy, after Vukovar had put them to so much trouble, delaying their advance into Croatia. Every defiant Croat who had defended the city was to be punished, whether he or she was old, young, healthy, wounded...they wanted their pound of flesh, so to speak. They got plenty of that, as well as pools of blood.  

It was like something out of the Book of Revelation during the siege: the fall of Jerusalem, the last desperate, insane hours of Masada. The sun had turned black because of the smoke, the moon blood red because of the dust and mortar fire. There had only been the smell of burning flesh, dust, smoke, metal, rubber...and death. He doubted he'd ever be able to forget that smell. Sometimes, he smelled it in the hospital and it made him physically ill. It was an indescribable scent, and there were times people caught him standing in the hall, trying to catch his breath.  

Of course, there was no exodus. There was only the sight of hundreds of Croats being led out to the killing fields, to be executed. They had shot Luka three times: once in the shoulder, once in the hip, and once just below the knee. Apparently, he had lost consciousness, because he woke up in a Red Cross hospital bed, Sanja at his side. The soldiers must have figured they had killed him. Otherwise, he was sure they would have finished the job completely.  

He had watched as Monika, Jasna and Marco were loaded into the truck. He had been helpless then, listening to their screams, feeling their terror to his very core, knowing what was going to happen to them. He had pleaded for their lives, begging them to show mercy. But it had been useless. They were Croats. Still, Luka had no idea why he wasn't taken to the killing field, too. He would never know.  

He had begged the doctors not to take his leg, and it was only because of an American officer that he still had it. Colonel Ulrich had demanded the best surgeons available come to operate on Luka. "I'll send myself to hell if that man loses his leg." 

"Are we still at Vukovar?" Luka had asked. 

"Yes, sir." Colonel Ulrich had sat there, staring at Luka, an expression of pity on his face. 

"Then you are in hell." 

Luka's body jerked, and sat up straight, realizing that he had fallen asleep, standing up against the wall. He was good at that. He looked around, momentarily confused. Just then, the El shunted by, and he watched it. That sound...it still scared him. Living near it now-it was a little rough on him during sleepless nights. He was getting used to it-you can get used to anything-but he didn't like it. 

He pulled out his wallet and took out the picture of Monika and Jasna. His only tangible link to the past. It was all he left of his life in Croatia. Everything else had been taken. His few possessions had been sold or stolen. Everything was for sale back then, he remembered with a snort of laughter. The most disgusting things had happened after he'd finally returned a few years later, a widower, suddenly "available". Women...several had offered themselves to him, for a price. Fortunately, Luka had been too broken down in his grief...and broke as well. Nine years later, and only now was he starting to come back to life again. Only now was he starting to really notice the opposite sex again. He was starting to heal, but it hurt like hell. He wondered, for the first time, if the other survivors had taken as long to start healing, or if they were still wracked with guilt and grief for having lived when their families and loved ones died.

All he had left was one little photograph of Monika and Jasna. No pictures of Marko-just a happy memory, a bit of comfort to ease the agony. The soldiers had stolen his wedding ring, too, and Monika's rings. They had taken his money and had torn up every picture in his wallet, but they had missed the picture of Monika and Jasna-Luka refused to allow anyone to touch that photograph, fearing that they would take it, too. He knew it was paranoid of him to think that way, but so much had been taken from him; he couldn't bear the idea of his last physical link being gone, too. 

It had taken a group of, in Luka's opinion, bumbling foreign journalists to find the massacre site. He had been there with them, translating for them until he saw their bodies...he was glad he hadn't let Sanja come with him. He was glad she hadn't seen him break down again, clutching his little son in his arms, not caring that the journalists were filming him. Thank God for that priest-Luka couldn't remember his name. "Go away...let him be. His babies are dead...would you want cameras on you after you found your poor babies in a pit? Would you want the world to see your tears? If only you people had any idea..."

If only. If only he hadn't taken them to Vukovar, they would be alive. If only.

He had to sit down on the bench at the ambulance bay, to rest. He hadn't slept in days. His mind was on a lot of things, but he easily latched on to the thought of Kerry. He was afraid of letting anyone so close again. He was afraid for his own spirit; afraid he couldn't bear losing someone again. He had not allowed himself to get too close to Carol, but he realized now that he had been crowding her a little, overstepping the boundaries. But she had still hurt him, however unintentionally and unconsciously. Now, there was Kerry, and he was getting very close to her.

He knew there was something there, however much he feared it. He was drawn to her, and he needed someone to talk to. Maybe he was needy or fearful or desperate...maybe he was going crazy. He needed someone to sleep with-that is, literally to fall asleep with. He needed arms around him, legs tangled up with his own. Sex wasn't all that important, in the end. It was companionship that he so badly needed. As brittle as Kerry could be sometimes, and as caustic and sharp as she often was, there was a warmth in her that his instincts told him could help him heal. He was, he realized, finally at the point that he was able to bring up happy memories again, to ease the pain a little. But it wasn't enough.

Now, there was Romano threatening to make him ER chief-dangling an unwanted prize in front of him...the little bald git. He was pretty sure he couldn't take that. He was more than qualified, he knew. But he didn't want it. He didn't want to have to play politics. 

"Luka!"  

He glanced back, and say Mark Greene standing in the ambulance bay doors. He stood up, groaning. Every bone had settled, and they were all screaming in protest at this sudden movement. 

"Romano's called a staff meeting...wants us in conference room three at seven sharp." 

"Yeah...I'll be there," Luka said tiredly.  

"Well, doctors and doctorettes, you'll all be very pleased to learn that I have finally picked a new chief for the ER," Romano was saying as Kerry came in and took her seat. She glanced over at Luka, and was appalled. He looked horrible. The five o'clock shadow was back in full force, and he looked like he could barely keep his eyes open. 

She sure didn't appreciate the 'doctorettes' thing, either. 

Every eye was on Romano, who gave Kerry a cold, triumphant glance. She said nothing-in fact, she betrayed not a single emotion. She actually looked rather bored, and that seemed to annoy Robert a little. He had been hoping for a psychological advantage over her now. It wasn't much of a victory if your victim doesn't give a damn. 

"It took me a while, to decide," he said, flipping open a file. "I gave all the qualified ER attendings all their due consideration." 

Mark Greene glared at him, then glanced at Kerry again. She looked so damned serene-what was up her sleeve? he wondered. 

"I considered Mark Greene, but...no offense intended here, Mark...but you just don't have the balls necessary to be a good leader. Next." 

Greene flushed and pursed his lips. Luka's expression was only vaguely annoyed. He seemed as uninterested in the proceedings as Kerry. 

"I even thought about reinstating Kerry, but that doesn't seem necessary." 

Kerry still looked calm-even unoffended. Mark wanted to leap across the table and strangle her. She actually looked smug. 

"So...I looked to foreign fields...after all, medicine began in the Mediterranean region of the world? Greece, right, Dr. Kovac? That's south of Croatia." 

Luka looked up, startled. "Yes, it is. I guess you got all 'A's in geography," he answered coldly, yawning and rubbing his eyes. 

Romano actually looked pleased. "Well, wasn't St. Luke the patron saint of physicians?" 

Kovac's eyes just narrowed. Romano grinned, happy to know that he was irritating Luka. 

"Well, anyway, this ER needs someone with brains, guts and balls. Kerry doesn't have the last, of course...well, in a way I guess she does...and while Mark has brains he has no balls, and certainly no guts. None of the other attendings have all three qualifications-except for one. So, I have decided to exercise my authority by naming Dr. Luka Kovac as our new ER chief. Congratulations, Lucky." 

Mark looked at Kerry, who didn't look at all surprised. In fact, she actually looked rather pleased. He looked at Luka, who was rubbing his forehead, clearly stressed out. 

"Well, then, let me exercise my authority," Luka said suddenly. "You did tell me that you would 'owe me one' if I worked all these extra shifts?" His accent was extremely thick now. In fact, Kerry realized that it took all of Luka's effort to even speak. 

Romano nodded. 

"Then my first order of business is to demand that you keep the hell out of my ER." 

Romano nodded again, clearly pleased. "I shall do my best to be invisible to you and your fine staff, Dr. Kovac. Unless, of course, you screw up like Dr. Weaver. Then you're out."

"Fine." 

"Little...bastard," Luka said, leaning heavily against the wall outside the hospital. Kerry laughed.  

"He's been called worse things, I can assure you." 

He scarcely heard her. "And you...I guess this was hard for you." 

"No, actually, it wasn't. I have a whole new direction to go now." Kerry smiled again, glancing up at him. He had his head back against the wall, eyes closed, so exhausted and drained...the dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look about him-it only added to his appeal. 

He looked down at her suddenly. She was pleased to see concern in his eyes. "Elsewhere?" 

"No...no, I'm staying here. But I feel like my life is changing...for the better." 

"You sound like the fox in the Aesop fable. If you can't get what you want, you try to convince yourself that you didn't want it anyway." He gave her a playful nudge on the shoulder, and she smiled. It was strange that he was rather tactile at times, yet he still sort of withdrew from being touched. She guessed it was his nature-a part of his personality; that he couldn't help it.

"It takes no convincing now," Kerry shook her head. "I'm very happy for you, Luka. I really am. Congratulations, Lucky." 

"Hmmph..." He glared down at her, and saw her wicked little smile. "You...why, you little...I can't believe you'd say a thing like that!" 

She burst into laughter, but sobered quickly when Mark and Elizabeth came out, arguing about something as usual. They glanced over at Kerry and Luka, but said nothing and headed in the opposite direction. 

A few moments later, Dr. Malucci came out and walked past. "Hey, Chief...uh...Dr. Kovac." 

Luka nodded. Kerry turned back to see Luka light a cigarette. She sighed. He was under a lot of stress, and he probably needed that nicotine to calm down a little. But she hoped he wouldn't start smoking heavily. He needed some time off...some relaxation.  

"Good night, Luka," she said. He suddenly grinned at her.  

"We haven't talked about what happened two weeks ago, Kerry." There was that little sparkle again-even though he was exhausted, he was capable of such charm. 

"Wh...what did happen?" she asked. 

"I was going to ask the same question," he said, flicking the cigarette away after just one drag. "I was hoping you'd be angry about this whole thing, y'know?" 

She knew. He had said she looked beautiful when she was angry. "I had better find something to get angry about."  

He chuckled. 

Just then, Dr. Romano came strolling out, a coffee cup in his hands. Right on cue, Kerry thought. He saw them standing there and swaggered over. Luka stared down at him, disdain on his face. It was as if he were viewing some disgusting little insect. 

"Looks like the Alpha wolf and the Omega b...female of the ER are plotting together," he said. "Just remember that the big dog is still upstairs, yankin' the chain, keeping all you puppies in line."

"Robert, I seem to recall you bringing one of your dogs in for surgery in this hospital's OR. Is Gretel still upstairs, yanking your chain?" Kerry asked, her voice defiant and brittle.

Romano blanched slightly, but said nothing in reply. He turned and left them standing alone. 

Kerry looked back at Luka, studying his dark face. "What do you do with little yapping Chihuahuas?" she asked, exasperated. 

She nearly screamed with laughter when Luka raised his foot and brought it down, hard, on the concrete, as if he were squashing a very small creature. But before she could finish laughing, he pulled her to him and gave her a hard, deep kiss. Immediately, Kerry relaxed, so relieved to finally be in his arms again. She opened her mouth to him, exploring him hungrily. He nibbled lightly on her lips, then pulled gently away. She could only sigh softly, regaining her balance and composure, resting her forehead on his chest. 

"Good night, Kerry." He started to turn away, then looked back at her. "I expect you to be at work on time, eh?" 

He heard her laugh, and walked down the street to his car. He was still exhausted, still unhappy about his new role in the ER, but now he felt better. 

"Bok, Dr. Kovac," she called. She laughed when she heard his familiar chuckle, and went back inside to finish her shift.

To be continued...