Sex Diaries
Part Six - Times Of Your Life
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 wiping out all of Chicago...who knows?
SONGS: 'I Can't Stand the Rain', by The Commitments; 'Times of Your Life' by Paul Anka (yes, Paul Anka...augh)
ARCHIVE: If you must, but please inform author. :)
SPOILERS: For Season Seven and Wishful Thinking for Season Eight
TRANSLATIONS: "septieme ciel" is French for "seventh heaven"
PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Starter Pistols and Sex Diaries; Fishin' for the Runnin'; Heat Stroke; Grocery Store Cowboy;
Cheesecake and Whine
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Special thanks to Ellen Hursh for editing and 2AM brain-storming sessions!



Luka studiously avoided Alexandra all day, feeling foolish for
having blurted out something so...well... truthful to her the
other night. He did like her just the way she was-what was to
be improved upon? Danijela had been a little scatter-
brained. Not too badly, really. Nine times out of ten, she was
a sensible, rational woman. But she tended to be forgetful
sometimes and it made for fun situations. Her forgetfulness,
after all, had resulted in Marko. "What do you mean you
forgot to take your pill?!" The only person he had ever seen
that really compared to Danijela was Laura Petrie on 'The
Dick Van Dyke Show'. A funny, sexy, slightly goofy and
charming woman. God, how he missed her.

He paced down the hall, doing his best to avoid doing the
patented 'Kovac Lope' that had been perfected by generations
of tall, thin Kovac men. Hopeless, he finally concluded, and
continued toward the lounge. Before he could even open the
door, however, he was almost run over by Peter Benton as
the surgeon came out.

"Hey, Luka," Peter said. He had his little boy Reese with him,
carrying him almost on his shoulder, grinning up at the boy
with an expression that could only be called adoration. Peter
set Reese down and signed to the boy. Luka made out 'Dr.
Kovac' but couldn't quite get the rest. He knew International
Sign, but his American Sign was a little rusty. Well, actually,
just...bad.

"Hi." He peered down at Reese, who peered up at him,
eyes full of curiosity and innocence.

"Go ahead and say 'hi', Reese," Peter urged the boy. Reese
signed 'hello' to Luka, who nodded and grinned.

"He's growing fast."

"Yeah. By the minute!" Peter said proudly. Then there was
an uncomfortable silence. Peter didn't know what to say. He
had had his run-ins with Dr. Kovac, but all in all he thought
the Croatian attending was a competent, generally level-
headed physician. In the past year, since Jesse's murder,
Peter had finally accepted the fact that doctors regularly
become over-emotional, especially when stressed. And this
guy...Peter had heard that Luka's wife and children had been
killed in the war in Croatia. How could any man go through
that and have a completely detached attitude
towards 'evildoers'?

"Going home for the day?" Luka asked at last, breaking the
silence.

"Yeah. Taking this guy to the park. He likes to chase birds."

Luka grinned, remembering Jasna always feeling obligated to
attack flocks of pigeons. It had been her personal mission, in
fact.

"Have a good day, then."

"I'm sure I will. See ya, man."

Luka nodded and watched Peter walk away, leading little
Reese by the hand. It made a lump form in his throat. He
was missing his babies again, as if they had died just
yesterday. As if the pain would ever really go away, he
thought bitterly. I hope you know how lucky you are, Peter,
he thought as he glanced back again to see father and son
pass through the ambulance bay doors. I hope you know how
blessed you are. It's the best time of your life. Cherish it. If
only I had cherished it enough. If I had just spent more time
with them, instead of working so many shifts, sacrificing so
much time for my career instead of my family. If only...

He had to be alone now. He didn't blame Peter Benton for
bringing on this attack of melancholy, though. This happened
regularly. He was Catholic. Guilt was his life.

He sat down at the table in the lounge and tried to read
through medical journals, but they were hardly interesting.
Finally, frustrated and restless, he got up and went to the
window. Looking out, he saw Alexandra crossing the street
with Jing-Mei, both young women laughing at some private
joke. He didn't know why, but the sight of Alexandra made
his heart hurt.

Probably just a sign of aging, he told himself. Another month
and I'll be forty years old. Truly astonishing to have lived this
long. I've made friends with this world, in many ways. But
forty years of association with the same firm, so to speak, can
get a little wearying.

Not that he wanted to be kidnapped by aliens or anything, but
he wanted something better than loneliness. At least he
wasn't in despair anymore. At least he had friends. He was
becoming comfortable in his own skin now, learning how to
function as his own person. Strange, though, that most of his
friends were women. Maybe it was because women were
better (with a few notable exceptions) at communicating.
They were better at body language. And they were
nurturing. Luka had to admit, he liked being mothered by Jing-
Mei, Kerry, and the nurses.

A normal life would be nice. Nothing extraordinary. Just a
house, wife, kids, maybe a dog. Not one of those yappy,
trembly little things. He could plant a garden in the back yard,
mow on weekends, take the kids sailing on the lake, drink
beer on the porch with his friends...just be normal, such as
it was. Now, all he had to do was find somebody who wanted
just those same things.

He saw everybody else living normal lives, going about their
day-to-day tasks, doing ordinary things. He, meanwhile, had
trouble talking to people. Sometimes, he caught himself
standing in the hall, wondering why nobody had heard him
screaming...why nobody was staring at him, bewildered.
Then, he'd realize he wasn't screaming at all. Just standing
there, his head ringing and his heart pounding, overwhelmed
by his...isolation. Strange how even lonely people can have
friends who love them. He knew Kerry and Jing-Mei loved
him and wanted him to be happy. But that wasn't quite
good enough.

Time. Time ticking away. He certainly hoped this wasn't
some kind of mid-life crisis.

How did that song go? He tapped his forehead, trying to
remember it. Something about 'the times of your life'. He'd
have to go through his vast CD collection. He might find it
somewhere.

"Dr. Kovac!" Chuny came in. "We've got an MVA coming in,
ETA five minutes."

Luka pushed the loneliness aside and headed back out into
the world.

========================================

1 August 2001

5PM Mum called, saying the Royal Ascot meet was a lot of
fun, everyone dressed to the nines, looking their best and
acting not quite their best. She glimpsed the Princess Royal.
Or perhaps it was another horse. She couldn't remember
what horse won the Cup, but he paid 50 quid for Dad and he
was quite pleased, of course. Sad to have missed all the
action, as Ascot is always a hoot and I always see all old
school chums and Alice would have been there with Max and
nephews Edward and Niall. Johnny rarely gets to Ascot, as is
usually when he's in Africa or some place, watching Mating of
the Wildebeest, After Which They are Eaten by Lions, which
hardly sounds as fun as Ascot, but to each his own.

Jolly good day. Jing-Mei and I worked like Trojans all day
with Blue Team. Dr. Kovac heading Red Team (w/ Dr. Carter,
who sulked like just-whipped toddler). Bopping along, lovely.
So many amazing saves. Dr. Kovac came by to observe as I-
and I'm speaking v. humbly-pulled a man out of Death's Door
and gave him a mint for his trouble (as my old teacher at
Oxford would say). I looked up and he's watching me with
those odd-colored eyes and I felt a little light-headed. He told
me I did excellent job and I'm in septieme ciel all day.

After work, went with Jing-Mei to Doc Magoo's for first taste
of Greasy American Food. Stomach still doing an odd kind of
dance. The Lurcharena, I believe. Saw Dr. Kovac and Dr.
Weaver drinking coffee together in a booth, conspiring over
coverage schedules and snickering.

"Is she really a lesbian?" I ask Jing-Mei. The look Dr. Weaver
is giving Dr. Kovac is not, from what I can tell, the look a
woman who plays for the pink team would give a man, but
what do I know? I don't even wear pink (or lavender) if I
can help it.

"That's the story we've gotten," Jing-Mei answers, shrugging.

But is that the story you got from Dr. Weaver? I wonder. But I
don't ask.

"She's a good chief, but then again, I think that she's about to
quit and give the job to somebody else."

"Dr. Kovac, maybe?" I ask.


"He'd be my vote, that's for sure," Jing-Mei answered. "But
he wouldn't want it. Luka prefers to just be a doctor."

"Oh."

She eyes me for a moment, and I wait for tarty remark. "All
right. Go ahead."

"You like him, hmm?"

"He's a nice man," I reply.

"Yes. He's very sweet. Has a lot of problems, but he's
working on them. He's...what's the word I'm looking for? A
complete altruist. Believes that the world was created to be
good, not evil. And he's appalled by evil. Can't fathom it."

I nod and look away. How many times have I been appalled
in a single day in the ER? One should get used to rape cases,
child abuse, pregnant 13-year olds. But I'm not. Always
horrified. Hard to keep self from strangling some of these
people. What is wrong with this world? What happened to
love?

All right, so I'm a romantic. But love does exist, doesn't it? It
is out there. (Like the truth, in 'The X-Files') Right? I've
seen love between parents. Mum & Dad still together, 37
years now. Never thought about divorce. Homicide
sometimes. But never divorce. Alice is happily married. So
is Johnny. Living pretty normal lives. Not perfect. Not
without some mild dysfunction here and there. But, for God's
sake, they're doing it. They're making it work, because they
love each other. They talk to each other. I grew up hearing
Mum & Dad talking to each other all the time! Have long
ago accepted that they still have Sex. (Thought still horrifies
me, but then again I sat through 'Hannibal' without shrieking
and demanding to be blinded) Love can't just be a second
hand emotion, like Tina Turner says. It is real. It does
happen sometimes. So why hasn't it happened to me?

Sigh.

10PM Watching 'Pride and Prejudice' and eating chocolate ice-
cream bonbons. I remember Dr. Kovac mentioning, in
passing (after rough trauma, had to saw man's leg off in
ER...ick) that he always liked the taste of heavily
buttered/salted popcorn after eating a mouthful of M&Ms
(neither subject-M&Ms, popcorn & sawed-off leg, have
anything to do w/ each other, and now I think about it I
wonder how the subjects managed to come together after the
trauma...v. strange). Must try this and see if this is true.
Can't find any M&Ms, though (thought I had a bag but
somebody-NOT ME!!!-ate them all), and have no popcorn
except microwaveable kind and still can't figure out how to
operate bloody nuker.

Mr. Darcy telling Elizabeth how ardently he does love and
admire Elizabeth. When is somebody going to say that to
me? Better yet, would I believe it? Would I accept it? Or
would my pride get in the way?

Is love in the 19th century much different from love in the
21st? Or has it all be warped by casual sex, porn flicks, and
Jerry Springer? I know I've made my mistakes. I regret each
of them, wish I hadn't slept with any of those gits. Except
maybe Tom. He was okay. Just unreliable and immature
(besides sleeping with my best friend, which pretty much put
a damper on our future). And dammit, I need reliable. When
I was eighteen I liked cute. But I'm thirty now. Cute just
doesn't cut it. A nice boyfriend would be good. Maybe even a
nice husband. I might even attempt to squeeze out a couple
of screaming babies for a nice, normal, dependable bloke
who doesn't cheat, lie to me, or treat me like rubbish.

11:45PM Bed. Wearing new jammies that Jing-Mei helped
me pick out on shopping trip yesterday afternoon. Blue skies-
cloud pattern. V. comfy. Turned on stereo and after long
session of punching buttons and growling, finally figured out
how to operate CD player and put in 'The Commitments'
soundtrack. Raining v. hard now, and am feeling quite blue.
Found lyrics to 'I Can't Stand the Rain' and paste them here
for posterity, because eventually rain will stop and life will
continue.

Right?


I can't stand the rain 'gainst my window
Bringing back sweet memories
I can't stand the rain 'gainst my window
'Cause he's not here with me
Hey window pane do you remember
How sweet it used to be
When we were together
Everything was so grand, yes it was
Now that we've parted
There's one sound that I just can't stand...

Alone with the pillow
Where his head used to lay, yeah
I know you've got some sweet memories
But like a window you ain't got nothin' to say
I can't stand the rain 'gainst my window
Bringing back sweet memories, hey
I can't stand the rain, ooh
'Gainst my window, oh no no
'Cause he's not here with me, uh

Alone with the pillow uh uh
Where his head used to lay, yeah
I know you've got some sweet memories
But like a window you ain't got nothin' to say, hey hey
Uh, uh, I can't stand the rain...
(I can't I can't I can't can't stand the rain)...
Baby, uh, uh, uh, hey hey
Ooh, ooh, uh, uh, hey
Don't you know, 't you think...
No no ooh oooohh hey hey hey hey hey, no
Dum dum dum dum dum dum dum dum dum dum dum
Oohh !... Get off my window...
(I can't I can't I can't can't stand the rain)...
Get off my window now, get off my window
Get off my window nah, I can't stand the rain
I can't stand the rain, ooh, can't stand the rain, oh...


Depressed. Ate more bonbons. Woke next AM with carton of
melted bonbons beside bed. Ugh. At least didn't have it in
bed w/ me. Would have been quite unpleasant, calling Jane
in London to tell her her bed was ruined by nitwit with
chocolate addiction.

========================================

Luka took advantage of the night off to take a trip to his
favorite music shop, and after a long search, found a CD with
a collection of songs, among them one titled 'Times of Your
Life'. He neglected to check the name of the artist, however,
and bought the CD. He drove home, listening to weather
reports on the radio and wishing it'd stop raining. He put in
his Commitments CD and listened to 'I Can't Stand the Rain'
as he drove back to his empty apartment. The song suited
his recent bout of melancholia.

His apartment was a little depressing. He seemed to own
mainly books and CDs, which didn't exactly make for a varied
decor. His furniture was nice enough, but there was so little
of it. He had not bothered to buy a lot of anything, really.
Just the required couch, easy chair, end tables and so forth.
He owned a single place setting for his meals, which was fine
with him. Meant less dishwashing. In fact, the brand-new
ultra-modern dishwasher had never been used. Of course,
Luka wasn't quite sure of how to operate it anyway. It was as
confusing as the microwave and the flat range-top stove.
Kind of annoying when your entire kitchen comes with a book
of instructions, badly translated from Japanese.

He decided to do some cleaning. There was a Tower o'
Pizzaboxes in the corner of his kitchen, and that had become
an eyesore. He put the new CD in the turntable and began
working, more or less ignoring the music as he scrubbed,
mopped and tried to grasp the notion of 'self-cleaning oven'.
He was not exactly a neat-freak. Danijela had always
complained about that-he tended to leave clothes and shoes
strewn about, like a drunken nudist, and had yet, in the
course of his nearly forty years, to learn to put the cap back
on the toothpaste.

When the song he'd been looking for came on, he stood up
straight and listened, brow furrowed. That voice sounded
familiar, but he couldn't place it.


Good morning, yesterday
You wake up and time has slipped away
And suddenly it's hard to find
The memories you left behind
Remember, do you remember?

The laughter and the tears
The shadows of misty yesteryears
The good times and the bad you've seen
And all the others in between
Remember, do you remember
The times of your life? (do you remember?)

Reach out for the joy and the sorrow
Put them away in your mind
The mem'ries are time that you borrow
To spend when you get to tomorrow

Here comes the saddest part (comes the saddest part)
The seasons are passing one by one
So gather moments while you may
Collect the dreams you dream today
Remember, will you remember
The times of your life?

Gather moments while you may
Collect the dreams you dream today
Remember, will you remember
The times of your life?

Of your life
Of your life
Do you remember, baby
Do you remember the times of your life?

Do you remember, baby
Do you remember the times of your life?


He searched for the jewel box and looked up the name of the
singer. Paul Anka?! Wasn't Paul Anka the guy who
sang 'Havin' My Baby' (a song Luka loathed more than any
other)? No, no, that wasn't it. That was Neil Sedaka...no
wait. That isn't right either. But then again, Luka had always
thought Neil and Paul were the same person. Not quite as
bad as Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, or Donna Summers'
dreadful disco rendition of 'MacArthur Park', at least. But
close.

Worn out from cleaning and inhaling Pine-Sol fumes, Luka
collapsed into his bed and went to sleep, dreaming yet again
of beautiful eyes and smooth creamy skin. The dream made
him feel less lonely, and he let himself get lost in it. It was
nice to dream about something that smelled, felt and tasted
so good. He had few dreams like that any more, so what
harm could it do him to dream about her?

This was just another one of those times in his life, he told
himself. But he remembered what his grandmother had said
once. "I always preferred to have 'moments' to my life. Little
moments, lined up like pearls on a string. Too many 'eras' in
your life, you get bored. Go for the 'moments'. Enjoy the
little times in your life. They're so precious.'

He hoped he could start to relish those little moments.

To be continued...