Sex Diaries
Part One - Starter Pistols and Sex Diaries
By Miesque
miesque1973@msn.com

RATING: PG (mild language)
SETTING: Season Seven (aka “Season of the Pod People”) into Season Eight. Luka has long since broken up with Droopy McHangdog (a.k.a., Abby Lockhart) and is Alone Again (naturally...)
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/cast. Romantic/comedy/drama, vague spoof of ‘Bridget Jones‘s Diary‘...may be rather humorous, may be angsty, may end with a nuclear bomb whiping out all of Chicago...who knows?
ARCHIVE: If you must, but please inform author. :)
SPOILERS: For Season Seven and Wishful Thinking for Season Eight



Luka had dozed off on the El before, with no serious repercussions. The worst thing that had happened to him, under those circumstances, was to wake up next to a very large Evangelical Christian who handed him a pamphlet on the Rapture. Luka had read it only out of pure politeness-the guy watching him the whole time-and had gained nothing from it except that it didn’t make much sense. He believed in a Final Judgment and all that, but...where was the word ‘rapture’ in the Bible anyway? One often sees the word on about the fifth page of a trashy romance novel, so maybe that was why Luka thought the word extremely inappropriate for religious discussion.

He had gone on the mental blink yet again somewhere between the stop near his house and Cook County General Hospital, but knew that it was always a good idea to keep one small part of his brain in Alert Mode while napping on the El. Opening his eyes briefly, he saw a young woman sitting across from him, but took little notice of her except that she was quite pretty and was wearing a light sweater and slacks. For a moment, he thought she was asleep, too, until he realized she was reading ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’ and paying no attention to him or anything else on the train.

Seated a ways down from Luka was a kid of about seventeen or so, wearing Look At Me I’m A Thug gear-complete with leather jacket, Chicago Bulls T-shirt, Army boots, fatigues and a tuke, smoking a cigarette (despite the No Smoking Please signs stuck to damned near every flat surface available). He had his tuke pulled down low over his ears, and he was watching everybody with furtive, weaselly eyes. Luka had at first paid him no mind, firstly because he was not impressed with the kid’s Look At Me I’m A Thug outfit-it wasn’t exactly convincing, considering that he still had zits and not even a little peach fuzz on his jaw-and secondly because he really preferred to get a little sleep. He had a long day ahead of him, and had only come in early because Kerry Weaver had asked him to cover the last part of her shift. She had the flu and was going home. He got along with Kerry well enough to cut her off in mid-sentence (“Listen, I know it’s your day off and I know you’re probably just getting over your own bout of the flu, but if you could please come in and take over at six this morning I’d really appre-...” “Shut up. I’ll be there.”).

Still half asleep, Luka glanced down at his watch and sighed to see that it was almost five thirty. He always made sure to be at work at least fifteen minutes early, just so he could get a feeling of the ’lay of the land’, so to speak. It was always good to get caught up with the gossip, drink ten or fifteen cups of coffee, listen to Carter and Malucci whine about their impossibly difficult lives and get himself mentally prepared. Right now, on the El, Luka wasn’t mentally prepared. He was, in fact, looking forward to another six minutes of sleep before the train stopped. Mental schmental, he thought, yawning, before he dozed off again.

At first, he didn’t really hear the kid. Instead, he heard something like ‘Emmy yo’ wollop’ and thought, ‘What the hell does that mean? Is that a new Chicago dialect?’ and looked up...into the nozzle of a gun.

Only, upon a very brief inspection, Luka noted that it was starter pistol. Might as well be pointing a water gun at me, for all the good it’s going to do this kid. Fill the water pistol with indelible ink, however, and it might be a more interesting situation. But, alas, it was just a starter pistol. With the safety on, no less.

“What did you say?” Luka asked.

“Gimme your wallet!”

“Um...nope. Thanks anyway.”

“What? I said, gimme your wallet!”

Patiently, Luka leaned forward in his seat, regretting such a sudden motion, because his spine had become accustomed to the uncomfortable seat. It usually took him a few minutes to get his coccyx to line up to a straight seat like this, and now that very same bone was objecting most strenuously. “Listen, kid. I’m going to give you three pieces of advice. First, when this train stops, you can get off and walk two blocks east to the Cook County Office of Employment and get a job. Secondly, that’s a starter pistol and no amount of aiming at me will result in anything more than causing me to break the record for the world’s slowest fifty yard dash, and thirdly, if you’re really going to threaten someone with a gun, it’d be a good idea to take the safety off first.”

The kid looked a little startled for a moment, peering down at his ‘gun’. “He told me it was a real gun!”

“He lied,” Luka replied wearily.

“Where you from?” the kid asked.

“Croatia.”

“Where’s that?”

Luka glanced at the young girl across from him, noting her wary, nervous expression-and also noting that she had lovely arching eyebrows and a flawless complexion...no, can‘t be thinking about that now, Kovac, he told himself. He gave her a reassuring smile and returned his gaze to the kid with the starter’s pistol.

“It’s in Europe.”

“Oh.”

The kid looked around for a moment, then sighed and went back to his seat, slumping down and shaking his head, mumbling to himself. Another brilliant career, down the loo, Luka thought before leaning back in his seat and dozing off again. But he kept his radar on just the same, in case Look At Me I’m A Thug decided to move in on the girl.



Luka’s inner clock woke him up just as the doors of the train were sliding open. Even though he’d been in Chicago for almost three years now, and even though he’d been riding the El to work for quite a while, he still hadn’t learned to stop getting up so quickly when the little timer in his head went off. Thus, as soon as he stood up, his knees attempted to give out and his head started hurting. Rather like a hangover, without the hair growing on his tongue and his eyes being pasted shut.

The kid with the starter pistol slunk past him and out the doors, trotting up the platform toward the stairs. Luka could only hope that the kid was taking his advice and heading down to the employment office. Maybe he could get a job as a starter out at Arlington...nah...a starter pistol would only scare the horses.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and moved out of the compartment, right behind the young woman. Luka felt uneasy when she started for the stairs, feeling uncomfortable following a woman. He didn’t like the idea of being thought of as a stalker, but there was no getting around the fact that he had to be at County by six. He walked slowly, letting the girl outpace him by a comfortable margin. But he was soon lost in his own thoughts and forgot to walk slowly and before he knew it, he was only a few feet behind her again. Damn.

What a dreadful year it had been-he‘d been thinking about the past twelve months and wondering how he‘d managed to survive it. Oddly enough, it had started with a criminal act-a mugger attacking him and Abby on their first date, back in November. It had led to Abby forcing herself on him a few days later in his hotel room. She had called it ‘comforting‘. Luka had called it ‘depressing‘, though not to her face. Then five and a half months of grim, joyless sex, all the while with Abby spending every spare moment with Carter. It had taken a friendship with a dying priest for Luka and Abby’s trip to Oklahoma with Carter to finally put the final nail in the coffin of their affair. Oh, Luka had done his best to help Abby when her mother had come back and later killed herself (yech...what a mess). But he knew he didn’t love her. So setting her free and sending her back to medical school had caused him no personal pain (instead, it had only cost him five thousand dollars to rid himself of her permanently). There was a twinge of regret in it, of course. Always is, when an affair, however meaningless, ends. But he knew he didn’t love her, and he knew she sure as hell didn’t love him. So why dwell on it? Strangely enough, he didn’t dwell on it. The only time he ever thought about Abby was at work, when he had to deal with her. She was going to make a fine doctor...if she’d only quit whining and making everything all about her.

Rounding the corner into the ambulance bay, Luka almost collided with the same young woman from the El. He glanced down at her, and she drew her breath in quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course,” she nodded. She had a slight English accent. Beautiful eyes.

Luka nodded politely and wondered if maybe she was stalking him. But he shrugged, nodded to her, and continued on his way. Glancing back, he saw that she was following him. Uh-oh.

Kerry spotted Luka as he was walking in, and considering her condition and exhaustion, she almost wept with relief to see he was early, as always. Dependable, solid as a rock, reliable, drop-dead-gorgeous Luka Kovac, she thought.

“I’m sorry to call you in so early, Luka, but I just need to go home and die,” she told him as she gathered up her things to leave.

“No problem, Kerry,” he nodded. “Except the dying part. That would be a little inconvenient, since I put in for a vacation in November and I’m not working that week, whether you’re dead or not.”

Kerry snickered, then turned back to the young woman, who was trying to avoid being run over by a gurney being pushed toward trauma two. A dark-haired young man with a long, thin nose was sitting on the patient’s chest, giving him CPR and yelling out orders.

“Oh...by the way. I forgot to tell you. We have a new third year resident,” Kerry said. “There she is now...Dr. Morgan, I’m Dr. Weaver. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to work with you today, but I have the flu...so Dr. Kovac here will be showing you the ropes.”

Ropes? Luka thought. What ropes? Is there gonna be a hanging this afternoon? If so, I have a short list of candidates. Starting with a short, bald Chief of Staff.

He turned around and was startled to see the same girl from the El. Kerry was shaking hands with her, mumbling about ‘contamination’ and ‘alien death flu’. “I know Dr. Kovac will take good care of you, Dr. Morgan. Feel free to ask him anything...he’s my right hand man here in the emergency department, and he won’t fail you.”

Gee, thanks for setting me up for a fall, Luka thought sourly as he watched Kerry leave. Lucky. You get to sleep today. I get to supervise recalcitrant residents and show people ropes. Another grand day for Luka.

Stop whining. Nothing worse than whining!

“Dr. Morgan, is it?” he said at last, feeling horribly uncomfortable now. It wasn’t like he’d met this woman under the best of circumstances. Most of the time, he’d been asleep, in fact. The rest of the time, he’d been having a bizarre conversation with an incompetent mugger.

“Yes. Alexandra Morgan. We’ve met before...quite an interesting encounter,” she grinned. Nice teeth. Pretty mouth. Bone structure of the stars, nice slender body. No...no....can’t think about that, Kovac. You just got out of a rotten relationship and no way in hell are you going to get tangled up with another woman you barely know.

“Yes. I’m thinking that a starter pistol would be a great thing to have here in this ER. I could use it to get the other residents moving.”

“Might work.”



14 July 2001

First day at CCGH (will use abbreviation, as is too tiring to write out the whole bloody thing all the time). Awful start. Almost robbed on El by idiot with starter pistol. In process, met Dr. Luka Kovac, a v. handsome attending, must say. He slept through most of the attempted robbery, but handled the situation admirably. V. good-looking. Quiet. Sad eyes. Smart. V. experienced. From Croatia. How experienced, I wonder? Oh, God, mind already in the gutter and I’ve known him maybe sixteen hours.

Impressions of 1st day...well. Nurses showed me around while Dr. Kovac dealt with traumas and such. Dr. Weaver (a lesbian!) went home sick w. flu-barely had chance to meet her. Haleh and Lydia told me about all Drs. & residents. There is Dr. Greene, who is something like a chief attending, but he doesn’t look like a chief of anything but the Dweeb Society, tho’ he is a nice bloke. He is married to Dr. Elizabeth Corday, an expatriate Englishwoman like myself. Lots of frizzy blonde hair, kind of giggly. They have a little boy.

Haleh then pointed out the residents. “Dr. Carter is an ass who thinks the world is his own little oyster. Used to be a real sweet kid, generally. Now, he’s just a sulky git [my translation, as the word she used isn’t approp. even in this journal] who moons over Abby Lockhart all the time. Dr. Chen is a really nice girl but we don’t know anything about her, really...good friends with Dr. Kovac. You’ll like her. Dr. Finch is okay, if a bit cold. Dr. Benton is an attending, her boyfriend, can be rather pompous. Dr. Romano is the chief of staff, eats residents for breakfast, treats everybody else like crap. And Dr. Kovac...”

Upon mention of Croatian’s name, the other nurses swoon and bat their eyelashes. “God, he’s gorgeous. Such a sweetie, too...usually. He has his moments, but usually he’s a nice guy and if you want anything done, go to him. Dr. Weaver relies on him for everything. He’s like the department’s advisor. Used to date Abby Lockhart, but they broke up, thank God. Now he’s a Singleton again. And much better for it, I say!”

So there are Singletons in America, too, I see.

Yes. I’m thirty years old. Never been married. Which disappoints my parents to no end. Haven’t had sex in almost two years, which would delight my parents, except for the fact that it would lead to the inevitable question “Who were you having sex with two years ago?”. No serious boyfriend in more than three years (who wasn‘t all that great at sex in the first place, which is part of why he‘s no longer my boyfriend...along with the fact that he was having great sex with my best friend, the mf bastard). Pathetic. Bloody loss. Need a drink. Had awful day. Two GSWs, and I did a grand job of sending them off to their Maker. Dr. Kovac told me I did a good job, but that sometimes things just don‘t work out and you just have to keep trying your best, and that only made me feel worse. Delivered baby in ER and almost dropped it on head. Can imagine conversations this kid will have years from now. “Did somebody drop you on your head when you were a baby?” “Well, almost...”

Ugh. Going to bar.

11:30PM: Wuz ungly maging hedway had no cheks...bloody git drunk again feeling awful. Ugh. Tw yrs since orgsm sick of whle doting sene, mising...[word blotted out by stain]. God, that Dr. Kovac is a sex blook.

To be continued...