Sex Diaries
Part Three - Heat Stroke
By Miesque
miesque1973@msn.com

RATING: PG (mild language)
SETTING: End of Season Seven (aka "Season of the Pod People") and 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 wiping out all of Chicago...who knows?
ARCHIVE: If you must, but please inform author. :)
SPOILERS: For Season Seven and Wishful Thinking for Season Eight
PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Starter Pistols and Sex Diaries; Fishin' for the Runnin'



23 July 2001

Bloody hot. 159% humidity, I believe I'm drinking air rather than
breathing. How can these Yanks live with this kind of weather?

Walked from flat to CCGH, foregoing El as did not wish to run into Dr.
Kovac again. I know he saw me leave M & E's party w/ Carter. Must
think I am moron. I know I think I'm a moron. Perhaps I am a moron.
You are what you think, Mum says.

Six blocks worth of walking, good for system. Thank God I quit
smoking. Must remember not to use word 'fag' in America or will get in
lots of trouble. Esp. around Dr. Weaver. Did manage to get Carter to
leave, at least.

Man approached me as I was walking to work, and handed me piece of
paper. "Thank you, sir, but that is not how you spell 'fellatio'."
God.

Dr. Weaver informed me that I would be working with the Blue Team today,
whatever that means. She has come up with a 'team' system that quite
irritates everyone. Even Dr. Kovac was seen taking her aside and
discussing it with her. He looked amused as she detailed the reasons
for the new system. Learned from Dr. Chen that Dr. Kovac is the
Associate Chief of the ER, a title he did not want but took because
Kerry thinks the world of him and would rather have her foot cut off
with a weedwhacker than have him leave CCGH.

Blue Team consisted of Dr. Carter, Dr. Malucci and Dr. Chen, who was
leading. Things went well. Nobody died, not even me. Took break in
lounge at noon, feeling totally teamed out. Dr. Carter really turning
on 'charm' (or something...perhaps it's just gas) and Dr. Malucci
hitting on me like a puppy with two peckers...ugh. Really ought to sit
and watch 'Pride and Prejudice' and try to figure out which of these
guys is Mr. Darcy and which is Mr. Wickham.

5:30P Dreadful headache. In parking garage, I dropped my keys down a
wash-off drain.

6P Dr. Kovac comes upon me as I'm trying to fish them out with a
coathanger. Am almost in tears.
"Are you all right?"

"Bloody well no, dammit! I've dropped my keys down this...this thing
and now I can't get into my apartment and feed my canary!"

"Canary?"

"Yes."

Dr. Kovac looked down at me for a moment, then knelt down, removed my
hands from the hanger, then casually lifted the grate up. He scooted it
away, reached down, grabbed my keys, and scooted the grate back.
"Awfully heavy."

"The grate?" I gasp.

"No. The keys." He rolled his eyes, then stood up, groaning slightly.
"Always ready to rescue a damsel in distress, anyway. Even if my knees
will never forgive me."

I have wicked thought about backrubs, bath oils and satin sheets, but
feel so embarrassed by wicked thoughts that I ponder going to
confession, even though I am not Catholic.

"How long has it been since your last confession?"

"Well, never. But I need to get this off my chest...oh, dear..."

Yes, I can hear myself going through that. Confession is good for the
soul.

Ran into Abby L. as walking home. She is loaded down with books. Looks
v. tired. Ask if she's okay. "Oh, I'm fine. Gonna finish med school
if it kills me. Have to. Just have to."

"Well, I hope you make it," I said sincerely and let her go. Hope she
knows what she's getting into. Long hours, thankless tasks, being
yelled at all the time, covered with vomit and blood and other bodily
fluids. But she's got a debt to pay off. One has to finish what one
starts, as Dad would say.

Went for long walk before I went home. Felt very English and crumpety
as a I sat in park and watched man throw Frisbee for dog. Dog nearly
had heat stroke.

Glanced up and saw Dr. Kovac walking by. Wearing jeans and white
T-shirt. God in heaven. Good looking man. Well, not good looking.
Drop dead gorgeous. He sees me and strolls over.

"How was your day?" he asks me.

"Oh, very well. I didn't thank you for getting my keys for me."

"Not a problem."

I notice that he is watching me with something like curiosity in eyes.
V. odd. I pick at loose paint on bench and try to think of something
profound to say.

"Read any good books lately?" I finally ask, and feel like shoving my
foot down my throat.

"Spent all day yesterday seaching through the Merck Manual, looking for
a rare skin disorder," he replies dryly. "Never could find it. Told
the man to see a specialist...then I washed my hands six times."

"That bad?"

"Terrible. Looked like a cross between ringworm and severe wool
allergy."

"Oh."

He fidgets for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. "So...how do you like
Chicago? Have you been in the States long?"

"Exactly four weeks," I answer. "Transferred here as part of an
exchange program. There is currently an American woman living in my
flat in London, probably leaving toothpaste deposits in my sink and
changing all the settings on my stereo."

Dr. Kovac smiles slightly and nods. "Well, I have to go. Have errands
to run. Nice to see you...here. But you ought to get inside.
Shouldn't risk heat stroke."

"Yes. Thank you." I watch him leave. Or, actually, I watch his butt
leave. Wow.

I walk home very slowly because I feel like I'm slowly melting, like the
Wicked Witch of the West in 'The Wizard of Oz'. Tho' I wouldn't mind if
somebody threw water on me. Passed a woman whose two yapping Yorkshire
terriers had wrapped their leashes around her legs and helped her become
disengaged. We chatted a bit and then I headed home. Jing-Mei called
me at 7PM, asked me if I'd like to go out with her and other ladies from
CCGH for drinks. Said sure.

8:30P Met with Jing-Mei, Abby L, and Dr. Corday, who insists I call her
Elizabeth. We go to bar-Murphy's-which is an Irish pub but they make
good martinis, according to Jing-Mei. 'Mustang Sally' playing v. loudly
and smoke everywhere. Looks like place is on fire. Man keeps hitting
jukebox as if expecting Mustang Sally to emerge from jukebox and go down
on him right there. Do not expect this to happen, even after I have had
two martinis and am dancing with a very tall chap named Dennis.

11:30P. Not so drunk, really. Kind of giggly. Jing-Mei dared me to
call Dr. Carter and wake him up. Then, she dares me to call Dr. Kovac
and wake him up. I take first dare and call Dr. Carter.

"What are you wearing?"

"Who is this?!"

"Dr. Morgan."

"God, Alexandra! It's eleven thirty! Go to sleep!"

"Oh, you stupid naff git. Put your bloody hand on my tits and then you
get mad at me for calling you?"

He is v. upset to be called at such an ungodly hour and makes fuss, I
hang up.

12AM Elizabeth and I look through my movies. ""Rambo"? Are you a
lesbian?"

"Very funny!" I am appalled.

"So what part of England are you from?"

"Devonshire. My father was from Wales. Mum is American."

"Ah. So you're not really English, then?" she laughs. "More like...a
rebel on top of a rebel?"

"Yes. A rebel on top of a rebel...and nine months later, I was born!"

Loud laughter ensues. A very good evening. Much fun.



It wasn't the heat that bothered Luka so much. It was the humidity. He
could take heat. Could take artillery shells overhead. Could take
sniper fire from every window. Could take sixteen-hour shifts and low
rations. Could take foul-tasting water. Could tolerate Dr. Romano
pestering him. Could endure-even laugh at-Dr. Carter's whining. But he
could barely stand humidity.

He had been taken off-guard by the sight of Dr. Morgan sitting there in
the park. She had looked beautiful. Fresh as an English rose, despite
the damned heat. Some people could do that. He knew he looked greasy
and tired and over the hill. She had stared at him the whole time, as
if she expected him to leap up and assault her. Not like a woman would
have much interest in him anyway. Not a sane woman, at least.

Jing-Mei had called him and invited him out for drinks, but he had
declined. At around midnight, she called him again (apparently sitting
in the bathroom, because he could hear laughter in the background).
"What are you wearing?"

"Jing-Mei, why are you calling me?"

"Luka, we've got a whole bevy of gorgeous women here, ripe for the
picking, and you're sitting on your couch right now, watching 'Happy
Days' and being lonely. What's wrong with this picture?"

"I'm hanging up now, Jing-Mei."

"Killjoy!"

He was indeed sitting on his couch, watching TV. But it wasn't 'Happy
Days'. Cinemax...good God, was that even legal?

He turned the channel quickly, embarrassed to be watching such a thing.
Where's Turner Classic Movies? Channel...163? Ugh. Back in Croatia,
he'd had a wide variety of choices...exactly three channels. None of
which came in good. Of course, at Vukovar, they didn't come in at
all...

Luka jerked his mind away from the memory and stood up. He went to his
window, peering out. No matter how well he was healing, mentally, he
still had a hard time going near windows. But it was good therapy, his
psychologist often told him. He looked out at the silent street in the
affluent neighborhood, and missed Danijela again. Missed being able to
turn to her and tell her a joke. Missed the sound of her voice and the
way she'd slip up behind him and give him a hug. Missed her scent.

Damn.

So lonely. But it's not so bad, really. Being alone. Better than
being with someone that doesn't love you. Better than feeling so
depressed sometimes that you open that drawer and look at that gun
again.

Damn.

He looked at the clock. Twelve-fifteen. He had nobody to talk to. He
turned the TV on again and sat down. After a brief search, he found an
infomercial, settled down and allowed his mind to kind of flatten out
and go nowhere. In a few minutes, he was asleep.

To be continued...