Sex Diaries
Part Nine - Bless Me, Father
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?
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'; Heat Stroke; Grocery Store Cowboy;
Cheesecake and Whine; Times Of Your Life; I Want A Cave Man, I Want A Brave Man!; A Bigger Mousetrap
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks again to Ellen Hursh for editing and brain-storming sessions, as well as posting parts 1 through 5
for me.



Luka had to practically threaten his father into taking his bed
while he camped out on the couch. Andrej finally gave in,
being too tired to really argue, and it was eleven thirty before
he showed up in the kitchen doorway, clean-shaven and
slightly bleary-eyed. Luka poured his father a cup of coffee
and invited him to sit, then sat down opposite him.

"How was your flight?" he asked.

"You asked me that last night. It was fine."

"Oh." Luka sipped his coffee, which gave him time to think.
What was he going to do with the old man while he was
working?

"You could have called me last night, Papa. I would have
come to pick you up..."

"It doesn't matter. I made it here just fine. Of course, I had
to get your address from your cousin Miodrag, and he wasn't
even sure it was correct. But at least you aren't living in that
hotel any more. Or with that woman."

"I never lived with her," Luka said. "And she has a name."

Andrej shrugged. "So are you seeing anyone now?"

He hesitated, perhaps too long, which Andrej noticed. "No."

"Why not?"

"Papa, why do we have to discuss this now? You've been
here for approximately eight hours and already you're trying
to get me married again."

Andrej stirred his coffee in silence, lips pursed, then looked
up at his son, sharp green eyes studying him carefully. "Who
said anything about marriage? Can't a man just make
conversation with his son?"

"Yes. Of course. But the conversation always ends up in the
same place, with the same argument. And I don't want to
keep having this argument."

"Then we won't have the argument," Andrej said
testily. "We'll avoid the subject from now on."

"Good."

A long, cool silence. Luka fidgeted, wringing his hands, then
rubbing his thumb into his palm again, until he caught his
father's gaze and stopped. He felt about eleven years
old. "Can't you ever sit still?" Andrej asked.

"I try."

"Try harder. You haven't changed a bit. Just like your
mother, always having to be moving."

I would think he'd like the fact that I'm like Mom, Luka thought
sourly. He got up and got the coffee pot. Andrej waved away
his offer of a refill. "I guess I have a lot of nervous energy,"
he said at last.

"Maybe you'd be a little less fidgety if you'd quit drinking so
much coffee."

Luka winced. His father was already starting the criticism.
He didn't remember Andrej being this way while he was a
teenager. What was going on? Why this change in attitude?

"Papa..." He paused, unsure of how to word the
question. "What's going on? What's happening? Have I done
something to upset you lately...?"

"You didn't do anything!" Andrej snapped. "I just came to
visit. I was worried about you. Can't a father worry about his
son?"

Luka leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his
arms. "Yes. I know you worry about me. But...I don't
understand this. You usually don't travel several thousand
miles just to worry about your son. So what's going on?"

Andrej was very quiet, staring into his coffee cup. "I just
wanted to see you again. I've been missing you. You're all
I've got left now. Your mother, then Danijela and the
children...then Vedran. They're all gone except you...I
wanted to see you."

"I told you I could have come in November. It would have
been very easy then," he said, his voice edged with
frustration. He poured the last of his coffee into the sink and
clapped the cup down on the counter. "But I'm glad you
came, Papa. I've missed you, too."

"I take it you have to work today?" Andrej said.

"Yes. I seem to work every day."

"Don't you ever get time off?"

"I'm Associate Chief. I have to be there almost every day for
something. Dr. Weaver depends on me."

"She ought to let you rest sometimes. These
Americans...they never know when to stop and have a good
time. Just work, work, work..."

Luka didn't respond to that. He knew he was a workaholic.
For years, it had been his means of driving himself to the
point of exhaustion, so that when he got home he could sleep
a little. Of course, ever since his encounter with Bishop
Stewart, and his frequent therapy sessions, he was getting
better about both his attitude toward work and sleeping. He
was sleeping okay lately. Nightmares were not so common
any more, and he only took double shifts when absolutely
necessary, instead of volunteering for them.

"I guess I can stay here then, and watch TV."

That didn't sound good. Like he wanted his father exposed
to 'The Jerry Springer Show'. "No. Maybe...maybe I can give
you a tour of the hospital where I work. You'd like that, huh?
I can take tomorrow off, then. I'm sure Kerry would allow
that. She's very accommodating."

"All right."

"Okay. Well, I've got to get ready. I won't be long.
Just...uh...watch television or something."

Andrej watched his son leave, and sighed. How was he going
to tell Luka the truth about why he had come? His son had
already been through so much grief. Did he need even
more? No matter how he tried to get around it, he had to tell
Luka. Maybe Luka would find some way to make things
easier at least. The doctors in Zagreb had said that there
was nothing more to do but wait.

This was going to be so hard.



12 August 2001

12:30PM Went to CCGH to pick up some charts that needed
to be worked on. Jane's little African violet dead, because I
neglected to water it. Which means I must go to nursery
soon and buy new one. Rather depressed about violet, as it
was v. pretty and cheerful and looked nice on windowsill.
Now is dead, brown shriveled thing.

Digging through refrigerator this AM found carrots in back and
for a moment thought they were the dismembered fingers of
Mafia kidnap victim. V. frightening. Took them to work, in
hopes of getting back at Dr. Malucci, who has been pulling
pranks on me all week. Woopee cushion on chair, rubber
Madagascar hissing cockroach in purse...really quite tired of
this and feel these might work. At the v. least, can insert
carrots in one of his bodily orifices. If Carter is a weasel,
then Malucci is...a Madagascar hissing cockroach?

As heading in to ambulance bay, see tall man who looks
terrifyingly like Dr. Kovac. Almost call out to him before I
realize he was not Dr. Kovac, and peer at him a bit more
closely. He turns and looks at me with equal curiosity. Has
same beautiful eyes, marvelous bone-structure, and
perfect nose.

"Hello. You look very familiar!" Indeed he does. If Dr. Kovac
will look like this at sixty-six, he will be the terror of the
retirement village.

"Yes. I'm here with my son, Luka. Do you know him?"

"Umm...yes. I'm Dr. Morgan. I'm a fourth-year resident
here."

He looks me up and down, but his gaze is not...icky. In fact,
he is a friendly old chap and I like him immediately, as he
carries self with v. great dignity, like his son. "What is your
name again?"

"Dr. Alexandra Morgan."

"And you know my son?"

"Ah...yes. I do."

"You like him, yes?"

I start laughing. "Umm...well. Yes. I do. Everyone does.
He's a very sweet man."

"Yeah. Sweet and alone. Not healthy for him, no? Nine
years now...much too long and he is not getting any younger.
All he does now is work."

I have no idea what to say to that. Dr. Kovac doesn't look
old. Well, he doesn't look young either. But he does seem
very lonely. And I'm still confused by his behavior on the roof
two nights ago. But then again, Dr. Kovac rarely makes a
great deal of sense. He is as confusing as a Royal Air Force
base.

"Are you waiting for Dr. Kovac...?"

"Yes. I came out here a few moments ago. Afraid I'd get lost
inside, or run over by a...ah...gurney?"

I nod. "I often feel the same way, and I've been working here
for a little more than a month. But I would be happy to give
you a tour, Mr. Kovac. In fact, it would be my pleasure. But
first let's find your son, hmm?"

"Yes. I suppose he's wondering where I am by now. Or
relieved that I'm out of his way."

"Oh, I doubt it's the latter, sir," I tell him sincerely. Who
would want to get rid of such a gentleman?

"You can call me Andrej," he says, grinning. He has his son's
beautiful smile (edited to say that his son has his beautiful
smile, as would be physically impossible for Andrej to have
inherited Dr. Kovac's smile). A v. handsome, dashing fellow.
A tad thin, though. He doesn't seem to be v. healthy, and I
am immediately concerned. His eyes a little dull, and I swear
I detected a yellowish tint there. Jaundice, perhaps? Surely
not. He is a little pale, and I know I saw him rub his lower
back a little, wincing, tires easily. No, no, surely not. If he
was sick, Dr. Kovac would know it...

Stepping inside, we are greeted by Randi, who gives Mr.
Kovac an admiring look. I'd say she is quite taken with him,
but then again, so am I. He is charming. Despite looking v.
tired, he cuts dashing figure in dark suit. His English is good,
though he leaves out articles all the time, rather like how I
write in my diary.

"Perhaps you'd like to sit in the lounge for a bit and rest, sir?"
I ask him.

"No, no. I'm all right. I'd like to take the Grand Tour, if you
please?"

I smile and tell him to stay at front desk with Randi, who
immediately starts chatting with him. She does have a thing
for him! Find that very interesting. Maybe she likes older
men. Esp. if they have sexy accents. He brightens as Randi
flirts with him, and I go in search of Dr. Kovac.

It takes me a while, but I eventually find him working on MVA
victim with Dr. Weaver. Strange how they work together so
well, hardly even having to say anything to each other. Like
telepathy. She looks up and sees me. "I thought this was
your day off, Dr. Morgan."

"It is. I was here to pick up some charts, but I ran into a very
interesting elderly gent in the ambulance bay. I believe he's
Dr. Kovac's father?"

Dr. Kovac looks at me, then sighs wearily. "Yes. He's my
father. Andrej. He showed up at my door this morning and I
have nowhere to put him. I was hoping to give him a tour of
the hospital, but we've got a twenty-car pileup on the highway
and at least six traumas coming in..."

"Well, I've volunteered to give him the tour. So don't worry,
Dr. Kovac. I'll take good care of him."

He stares at me for a moment, then nods and returns to his
work. "I'm sure you will," he says under his breath. I wonder
what he meant by that?



"So you're Dr. Kovac's father, eh?" Robert Romano said,
peering up at the older man with interest. "Amazing
resemblance." He wondered if Kovac had any available
sisters or female cousins.

"He looks more like his mother," Andrej replied.

"Yeah...well, nice to meet you, Mr. Kovac," Romano nodded.
He had indeed enjoyed meeting the older man-it gave him a
good idea of where the son got his backbone. Andrej hadn't
been in the least bit intimidated by Robert, and he found he
always liked people who didn't fear him. Kovac was one, and
Lucy Knight had been another. But he felt a twinge of
concern-the man had several classic symptoms of pancreas
trouble. Slightly jaundiced appearance, rubbing lower back
and wincing occasionally, a strange kind of paleness under
otherwise dark, olive-tinged skin. The old man's cheeks were
hollow, and his eyes a little dull. Not a good sign at all, he
thought. Perhaps he'd better track Kovac down and ask him
about it...though bringing the subject up would be tricky, as
he didn't want anybody thinking he'd gone soft or something
so ridiculous as that.

Alexandra tugged gently on Andrej's arm, watching as
Romano swaggered away. "You just met the Devil Incarnate,
Mr. Kovac," she said.

"Andrej," he insisted, laughing slightly. "You can call me
Andrej. Whenever people call me Mr. Kovac, I look behind
me, expecting to see an old man."

She laughed. "All right, Andrej. Would you like to sit
down, rest a bit? I mean, I'm getting a bit tired myself."

Andrej had wanted to observe a surgery, and Romano had
given him quite a show-a heart transplant, of all things. He
had watched it all closely, remembering the exploratory
surgery he had gone through at that hospital in Zagreb.
Waking up to hear a doctor tell him that there was nothing
that could be done-that the cancer had spread beyond any
degree of hope. He felt even worse now, for having not told
Luka about it. His son had a right to know...

"Yes. I think I will sit down. My back is hurting a bit..."

"Really? What's causing it?" she asked carefully as she led
him to the waiting area and helped him sit. She sat next to
him, crossing her legs prettily. Andrej looked at her, taking in
her healthy good looks, lovely, humorous eyes and elegant
figure.

"Just...the usual thing," he said.

She didn't look like she believed him, though, and for a
moment it looked like she might start asking him questions.
But she caught his guarded expression and only smiled. But
there was concern in her eyes. Andrej brushed that aside for
now. He wasn't prepared to tell anyone about it yet.

"Oh. Well, then we'll sit and rest until you're ready to
continue the tour, hmm?"

"Yes. I'd like that."

"So what do you think of this place so far? Is it comparable to
Croatian hospitals?"

"I've not been in many Croatian hospitals," Andrej
answered. "But this is a very...large place, yes? Lots going
on, all the time."

"Yes. We're always very busy. Never a dull moment."

"You like being a doctor?"

"Yes, of course. It's what I always wanted to do."

"Same for Luka. His mother wanted him to be a priest, as he
was the younger son. But Luka wanted to be a doctor since
he was about six. There was never any doubt in his mind.
And of course, any thoughts of the priesthood went out the
window when he fell in love with Danijela Persljevic...not that
Natalija ever really accepted that. She died before Luka
married Danijela, and to her last breath she believed he'd
give up the silly notion of being in love and wanting children
and enter the Church instead. But I think he made the right
decision. I can't imagine him as a priest."

"That was...that was his wife? Danijela?"

"Yes." Andrej smiled and nodded. "I think I'm ready to
continue the tour now."

"Okay. Let's go then." She stood up, and gently helped him
back to his feet. Andrej remembered Danijela always
showing him the same deference, despite the fact that they
agreed on almost nothing and, personality and temperament-
wise, were practically from different planets. But Danijela
had loved Luka, and had taken great care of him. She had
taken the responsibility of being a wife and a mother very
seriously, and even though she and Andrej disagreed on so
many things, there was on thing they were in perfect sync
about: they both loved Luka. That had been enough. So they
had gotten along famously.

Andrej looked at Alexandra again, thinking carefully. His boy
would be in good hands with this woman, he decided. Luka
had it in his head that he had to take care of everyone around
him, while in fact he was the one who needed care and
attention.

Continuing down the hall, Andrej couldn't keep from quizzing
Alexandra.

"Where were you born?"

"Devonshire. On the coast at Ilfracombe."

"Really? You grew up on the coast?"

"Yes. By the sea. I always loved the sea."

Andrej looked at her for a moment, and she raised an
eyebrow. "Yes?"

"The Kovac family has occupied the same spot of land...on the
Dalmatian coast...since 1519. The farm is still there...my
cousin runs it now. I sold our house in town, because it got
too big. It's terrible, living in a big, empty house, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. I live in a smallish, empty apartment
with strange angles and a horrid-looking ceiling light fixture,
plus a microwave, stove, VCR and stereo system I've yet to
figure out."

Andrej laughed. "Are your parents still living?"

"Yes."

"Any brothers or sisters?"

She nodded. "A brother and sister. John...Johnny...and
Alice."

"Ah."

"Never been married? Or...maybe that's none of my
business. I'm sorry to pry..."

"Oh, that's all right. I've never been married. Haven't found
Mr. Right yet."

"Perhaps he's just around the corner, eh?" Andrej asked, a
mischievous smile making his green eyes twinkle.

Just as they rounded the corner to head toward the elevators,
they came face to face with Luka, who had come up to find
his father and take him somewhere for dinner.

"Luka," Andrej said excitedly, in Croatian. "She's the one!"

Luka's expression was priceless. Andrej had always thought
his son would be an excellent actor-his ability to convey an
emotion with just his face was amazing. Luka narrowed his
eyes slightly, his shoulders sagging, and he shook his head.

"This isn't 'The Matrix', Papa," he said quickly. Then he
switched to English. "Alexandra, thanks for taking care of my
father today...I appreciate it."

"'The Matrix'?" Andrej asked, perplexed. "I'm telling you,
Luka. This is the woman for you. She's intelligent,
smashingly beautiful and healthy...she'll give you strong, good-
looking children and she won't put up with any guff from you
or me. She's the one!"

"Papa. Two words: shut up!"

"Don't sass your father!"

"I will give you ten thousand dollars if you'll please just drop
it, all right?!" Luka whispered between clenched teeth. "Papa,
I told you, I'm not ready!"

"Well, get ready, dammit!" Andrej growled back.

Alexandra looked back and forth between them, clearly
fascinated. They were speaking rapid-fire Croatian,
practically snarling at each other.

Luka gave up trying to argue with his father. Instead, he
stuffed his hands in his pockets-mainly to avoid grinding his
thumb into his palm again-and put his head down. It was a
gesture Andrej knew all too well. When Luka was a little boy,
he'd put his head down, grind his heels into the ground, and
refuse to budge. Once, it had taken both him and
Natalija to drag Luka into the dentist's office, Luka fighting
every inch of the way, like a small, rabid wolf cub. Now,
thirty-two years later, his son was just as stubborn. Only
now, Luka was a full grown wolf. And when pushed, a
potentially dangerous one.

"I came up to see if you wanted to go eat something, Papa.
We can go across the street to Doc Magoo's..."

"Sure." Andrej looked at Alexandra. "Would you like to join
us, Dr. Morgan?"

She looked at Luka for a moment, then turned her gaze back
to Andrej. "Certainly. I'd love to eat with two such charming
gentlemen."

To be continued...