TITLE: Sometimes You're the Windshield
AUTHOR: Miesque
RATING: PG-13 (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; Bless Me, Father; For I Am About to Sin; Out On A Ledge;
Have An Egg Instead; Charity; The Devil Cuts Loose; Toads and
Falsehoods; Ready to Go; Saying Goodbye; Crazy From the Heart; Danger;
Forty Black Balloons; Partied Out; Young Men Coming Aus; Price Check;
Going Once...; Check, Please; Eighteen Patients and a Dozen Roses;
Life Is Good; A Handful of Pebbles; The Horror...the Horror; Gumballs
and Gurneys; It's Not the Flu; Thud; Hvratska and Cymru Celebrate
Christmas; Snow Business; New Year's Dissolutions; Into Sisters
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for editing and several 2AM
brain-storming sessions.  :)



Luka felt like something had crawled down his throat and died in his
stomach-and was fermenting in there like bad beer.  Ever since he'd
gotten up that morning, he'd felt worse and worse-finally losing his
breakfast just after he got to work.  He felt like he had water in his
ears, for one thing.  Occasionally, in the middle of a trauma, he'd
tip his head to the side and then do a kind of jiggle to the right,
making the water slosh a bit, which caused Chuny and Lily to ask him
if he'd suddenly contracted "Ross Disease", a term that was totally
lost on him.

By two o'clock, when Alexandra was due to come in, he was resigned to
the fact that he had a nasty ear infection.  Plus, his right eye was
acting up.  Kerry had looked up at him, taken a step backwards, and
asked him if he had pinkeye.  Then she had commented that he was
rubbing his nose a lot, at which he told her it was "itching".  She
rolled her eyes.  "Luka, that sounds like a sinus infection."  He only
glared at her out of his good eye.

"I don't <cough> get sick," he haughtily informed her.

"Really?  You look ready to die."

"Ugh..."  Then he wobbled off to the lounge to lie down.  Chuny came
in moments later with a thermometer.

"Come on, open your mouth like a good boy.  Dr. Weaver insisted I take
your temp."

"Gumph..." was all he managed to say as she shoved the thermometer
into his mouth.  "Where's the <cough> ear thing?"

"Dr. Weaver figured you'd do better if you'd just lie still for a
while."

He growled at her before he started coughing.  "Eww...that sounds
bad," Chuny said, looking concerned.  "Lungs are wet."

"Been...<cough>...cou
<cough>...coughing...<cough>...all...<cough>...all morning!"

"Really?  I didn't notice!"  She smiled at him.  "You really look
awful, Dr. Kovac.  Maybe you should go home."

"Can't...<cough>...go home...Mark...<cough>...home...<cough>...sick."

"Can't be helped.  Ah!  Temp's one-oh-two!  Just what I figured!  You
must be nearly delirious by now."

"Not...<cough>...delirious...but could do without all these damned
<cough> cats on my chest."

She snickered.  "Come on.  Sit up and let me listen to your lungs." 

Grumbling and coughing, Luka obeyed and allowed Chuny to put her hand
up under the back of his shirt.  For a moment, he wondered if she had
remembered the stethoscope, then he felt the cold metal and yelped.
"Breathe in," she said.  He did so, wheezing like an old man.  "Dios!
Your lungs sound horrible."

"Mungs sonny rubble?" he gasped, unable to hear at all.

"I said, your lungs sound horrible!  You've got a nice upper
respiratory infection, among other things!" she shouted in his bad
ear.  "You need to go home!"

"Not going home.  Hafta work...<cough>"

"No, come on.  I'll get Dr. Weaver..."  She sprinted from the room and
in a few moments returned with an officious looking Kerry Weaver, who
glared down at Luka.

"You are going home, Dr. Kovac.  Get your coat."

"It's only a <cough> fever."

"And an ear infection, a lung infection...let me look at your throat,
too."  She got out a tongue depressor.  "Come on, open up and say
'Ah'."

He could barely hear her now, but he correctly assumed she was telling
him to say 'Ah'.  "I'm telling you I'm just fine...Ah!...I don't need
to go home...Ah!...if you'll just give me a few minutes to rest
I'll...Ah!..."

"Luka!  Hold still and let me look at your throat, dammit!  Do I have
to tie you down?"

"Why, Kerry <cough>, I didn't know you were into <cough> *that*," he
said before going into another violent coughing fit.  Then he was too
woozy to argue any more.

After a few moments of peering into his mouth, she stood up straight.
"You should have just stayed home, Luka.  Your throat is inflamed."
She checked his eye.  "And this is a pretty nice eye infection,
too...looks like pinkeye after all."

"What's nice about it?" Luka asked grumpily.  "Can barely <cough>
see."

"And a sinus infection to boot," Kerry shook her head.  "You're a
walking germ factory.  Go home!"

"I can wear a mask...<cough>"

"Go home!"

Chuny cut in.  "You're probably also dehydrated.  So drink lots of
fluids..."

"I know!"  Luka snapped.  "I'm a doctor.  I must say that a thousand
<cough> times a day!"

"...and get lots of sleep."

"Watch TV, veg out, play with your dog," Kerry suggested.

"Ugh."  He started to stand up, but wobbled.  Maybe I really *am*
sick, he thought.  "Only if playing with the dog involves him
'accidentally' falling out the window."

"You like that dog!" Kerry reminded him.

"Hate that dog...wretched beast.  Hate going home <cough>, empty
damned apartment, nobody to talk to...<cough>"  Ugh.  Now I sound
*whiny*.  But at least there's little chance that Abby will be coming
by to 'comfort' me.  I can die in peace.  But then, who'll take care
of Alexandra and the babies?  He stopped in his tracks and almost
keeled over, but Chuny and Kerry grabbed his arms.

"God, he really *is* sick," Chuny told Kerry.  "Maybe we should just
get him a bed for the night."

"No, that'd only get Alexandra upset," Kerry sighed.  "You know how
*she* can get sometimes.  We'll just send him home in a cab and tell
her he's just a little...under the weather.  Get her used to the idea,
I mean.  Then we'll break the news to her *gently* and have the
tranquilizers ready."

Chuny laughed.  All the nurses liked Alexandra-she was, as Haleh put
it, one sharp little cookie who didn't treat the nurses like personal
servants.  Besides, anybody who treated Luka well was okay in their
book, and Alexandra had shown herself to be a loyal, loving girlfriend
to Luka-not some whiny bitch who used him as a trophy.  That's why
they had all formed such a wall of animosity against Abby.  To that
day, she had no friends amongst the ER nursing staff.   Needless to
say, Abby's labs never got top priority.

Luka was leaning against his locker door, trying to remember his
combination.  12-8-3-5-11 or 11-5-3-8-12?  Ugh.  He tried several
times but the damned thing defeated him.  He banged his fist against
the door, frustrated, and it popped open.  He dragged his pea coat out
and struggled into it, Kerry and Chuny watching him, fighting
laughter.  He knew he looked pathetic and horrible, and he knew he
couldn't hear, was wheezy and coughing, sniffling, aching all
over...but did he really need an *audience* for this?

"Aw, poor baby," Haleh said when she came in and observed a wheezy
Luka leaning against the lockers.  "You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks."

"We called a cab," she informed Kerry.  Then she turned her attention
to Luka, smiling sympathetically.  "Come on, sweetheart.  We'll get
you home.  Just remember...you're under orders to stay in bed 'til
you're well, drink lots of fluids, and get lots of sleep.  I'll be by
tomorrow with some nice homemade chicken noodle soup for you."  She
patted him gently on the arm.  "Poor thing."

Oh, God, I'm being mothered, he thought.  "I thought I wasn't supposed
to get out of bed," he wheezed, and went into a painful coughing
spasm.  "How'm I supposed to eat chicken noodle soup?"

"Somebody'll come and feed it to you."

"And all the nurses are fighting over who gets to give you a sponge
bath," Kerry snickered.

"It's a good thing he can't hear too well," Haleh grinned, looking at
Luka's vaguely confused expression.  "Otherwise, he'd be terrified."

Luka insisted on walking out on his own power, despite Kerry's
suggestion of a wheelchair.  He made his way toward the front desk to
sign out, and was spotted by Dave Malucci.  "Hey, how come *he* gets
to go home!?" he asked.  "When I had the flu, you made me stay here,
Chief.  I even had to put in an IV!"

"Shut up, Dave!" the nurses chorused.  He sulked for a moment, then
shrugged and walked away, mumbling "Teacher's pet!" under his breath.



15 January 2002

2:15PM  Came in to work to hear that Luka was sent home, so I missed
seeing him.  Then I hear he's sick w/ flu and has all manner of bugs:
pinkeye, ear, sinus, upper resp., and throat infections.  He's
currently on various antibiotics, Chuny says, and he looked like
drowned rat, feverish and sweaty and incoherent.  He's never looked
like a drowned rat in my presence, but he has been feverish, sweaty
and incoherent a few times after particularly hot sex w/ me.
<Rimshot>

Shall not panic.  People get sick all the time-I should know this.
I'm a doctor.  But this is Luka, not just anybody.  But have no time
to call him.  Bloody hot galloping drat!

3:18PM  Why are men like this?  There are some men who act as though
they're dying if they have a hangnail, while there are still others
who will insist on going to work even when they *are* dying.  Luka is
definitely of the latter category-the sort who will work until he
drops.  Perhaps that comes from his horrible times at Vukovar and the
internment camp.  I called him while on a break and he told me he was
doing his bloody *laundry*.  I ordered him back to bed and told him
I'd come by with a hot water bottle and some movies.  He became rather
grumpy but assured me he was back in bed, watching 'Oprah' and
shooting rubber bands at that bearded diet guy, Dr. Whatisname.  (And
hoping that Jakko eats and chokes on them, the scoundrel)

"How d'you like 'Sound of Music'?"

"Hate it."

"You hate 'Sound of Music'?" 

"I mock it, generally."  He sounds v. wheezy.

"Really?  How?"

"'How do you solve a problem like Maria?', for instance.  'Tie her up,
gag her, and lock her in her cell', perhaps?"

"Oh, Luka!  You're terrible!"

"I feel terrible."

"I'll bring you some chicken noodle soup, too," I tell him.  Have
taken to writing my name as 'Dr. Alexandra Morgan-Kovac.  Dr.
Alexandra Kovac.  Mrs. Luka Kovac.  Dr. Mrs. Luka Kovac.  Dr. Mrs. Dr.
Luka Kovac.  Doodling various combinations on paper while I'm talking
to him, and feel like ditzy secretary.

"Uh..."  He pauses, and I have a feeling he's choosing his words v.
carefully.  "Maybe you could just bring a can and warm it up for me?"

"You don't want some nice homemade chicken noodle soup?"

"Haleh's bringing some tomorrow."

"But you don't want *me* to bring any?"

"Alexandra, I don't want <cough> to hurt your feelings."

"Oh, all right!  I'll buy some Campbell's and bring it by.  Geesh."

"Thanks, beba."

"I love you!"

"Yeah...<cough>...I love...<wheeze>...you...<cough>...too."  <click>

At least he didn't come right out and *say* I can't cook.  Must get
back to work.  Dr. Weaver stalking halls, looking for me.  Jing-Mei
getting off at four and she is going by to check on Luka.  "I'll have
him drinking his orange juice and being a good boy," she tells me as
we bring in a bumsicle.  "Even if it means doing the *one* thing I
know he hates more than anything on this planet."

"What's that?"

"Make him watch 'The Wizard of Oz'.  If that doesn't make him lie down
and take his meds, I don't know what will."

Would like to see his reaction to that movie, since I know he hates
'The Sound of Music'.  Ugh.
Back to work.



Luka hung up on Alexandra and pitched the phone onto the chair beside
his bed.  He had given up even *pretending* he was okay.  He was sick.
 So sick, in fact, that he could barely lift his head.  But by not
lifting his head, he got the old Post Nasal Drip from Hell, so he
grabbed some pillows and propped himself up, against the headboard.
Soon, he was feeling hot and sweaty, so he kicked off his clothes and
lay naked under the blankets, wheezing and coughing, feeling slightly
panicked as the coughing only got worse.

Dizzy, but determined, he made his way to the kitchen and got his
bottles of medications: nafcillin sodium for the viral infection;
Suprax for the ear infection; corticosteroid drops for what had turned
out to be conjunctivitis; and Elixir of Terpinhydrate and codeine for
the throat infection.  Luka's visit to the in-house pharmacy had been
a fun one.  The pills and the drops hadn't cost much, but his
bleary-eyed appearance and general grouchiness while waiting at the
window had made the poor girl ring the sale up wrong four times.  His
subsequent coughing fit hadn't helped at all.

The worst indignity was the sneezing.  He could live with the coughing
and the fever and the general dreariness of being sick.  But he hated
sneezing.  It seemed so primitive.  But he had turned into a
sniffling, sneezing zombie in the past few hours.  When he took the
meds and climbed back into bed, he began to feel rather peaceful-he
knew about the effects of terpinhydrate and waited for them to kick
in, and they packed a wallop.  He was soon asleep, lost in a drugged
out haze.

He didn't hear Jing-Mei coming in, and when he opened his eyes and saw
her standing over him, he nearly screamed in terror.

"My God!  I thought you'd come to murder me in my sleep!"

"Oh, come on," she said.  "Relax.  Oh...umm...listen, I think
Alexandra's the only one who's supposed to see *that*."

"Huh?"  He looked down and realized he was naked.  "Damn!"  He pulled
the blankets up and gave her a baleful glare.

"You were moaning," she said, handing him a cup of orange juice.
"Here.  Drink this down."

"Moaning, huh?" he gasped.  Last time I was naked and moaning, I was
having a hell of lot more fun than this.

"Yep.  Your fever is spiking a bit.  One-oh-three."  She held up a
digital thermometer.  "Seeing things yet?"

"Only scary Chinese women."

"'Scary Chinese women', huh?  More talk like that and I'll just leave
you here in a drugged-out stupor."

He grunted.  "I'll probably wake up three days later wearing nothing
but lederhosen and a life jacket."

"That would be an interesting sight.  Though not as an interesting a
sight as you naked."

"Ugh!" He threw a pillow at her.  Jing-Mei giggled. 

"You know, it's funny...I've often wondered why *we* never got
together."

"We'd've killed each other," he muttered, rolling onto his side and
burying his face into his pillow.  He was glad he hadn't eaten
anything today-he didn't want to throw up all over Jing-Mei.

"You mean, in the sack, or are you speaking metaphorically?"

"Probably both," he snickered.

"We are a bit too...what's the word?"

"Psychotic?"

"No!" She pretended to be insulted.  "I mean, we see things so
differently."

"Yes.  I'm sane, you're not.  I'm rational, you're not.  I'm neat,
you're messy, I'm level-headed and generally adorable, you're the
Bitch from Hell..."

Jing-Mei slapped his arm.  "Eeyore!"

"Rabbit!"

"Besides, you're confusing me somebody else...an old girlfriend,
perhaps?"  She sat on the edge of the bed and wondered.  She *had*
developed a slight crush on him when she'd first come back to CCGH,
but that had passed quickly enough.  Back then, they had worked well
together but had never carried on a conversation about anything.  Then
an unexpected but strong friendship had developed between them.  Luka
was still typically male in his attitude-never talking about his
feelings or spilling his guts about what was going on between him and
Alexandra, but he had told her about his disastrous affair with Abby.
She remembered the pain that woman had caused him, and how humiliated
he'd been by her callousness and selfishness.  Jing-Mei was determined
to never see Luka hurt again.   It was bad enough seeing him so sick.

"Well, you get some sleep.  Alexandra's coming by with some chicken
noodle soup, by the way."

"Canned," he said, his voice muffled beneath the blankets.

"Yes, thank God.  Canned.  Isn't she taking cooking classes yet?"

"No.  First it's Lamaze classes, then it's cooking classes, after the
babies are born."

"You must be so excited about that!" she laughed.  "Twins!"

"I'm excited and vaguely nauseated," Luka muttered from under the
blankets.  "That could be from sympathetic morning sickness symptoms
or the flu...I'm not sure which."

"Alexandra is getting a little more used to the idea, I think.  She
mentioned today that she's having "twins" and then looked kind of
startled.  As if she hadn't really thought about it before."

Luka was silent, and Jing-Mei checked him, pressing her fingers to his
neck to check his pulse.  He was out cold again.  She sighed and
laughed to herself.  He looked so much younger while asleep.  Almost
childlike.  Considering his fever and slight delirium, he did a bit of
tossing and turning in his sleep, making little sounds sometimes.  He
would be down for the next few hours, so Jing-Mei got to work
straightening up the apartment.



15 January 2002

6:19PM  Arrived at Luka's flat to find Jing-Mei mopping kitchen floor.
 "Hi!"  She burst into laughter.  "Domesticity doesn't work for me,
does it?  I spilled an entire bottle of Coke on the floor so now I'm
mopping the mess up.  How're you feeling?"

Nice to be greeted so cheerfully.  "Nauseated for three."

She giggled.  "Yeah.  I know the feeling...except I was just nauseated
for two.  You brought the soup?"

"Yeah."  I handed her the cans and she peered at them. 

"Oh, Luka'll like this.  He's flat on his back in bed, snuffling and
wheezing...the sexiest sick guy I've ever seen."  She opened both cans
and dumped their contents into a big saucepan.  "He's not even whining
a lot.  Just grouchy.  He shot a rubber band at me a while ago, then
he got angry at Jakko for getting in bed with him."

I hear a groan from the bedroom and go to check on Luka, who is trying
to get out of bed.  He's wearing nothing but what God gave him, so I
waylay him and push him back into bed.  "Mmm...care to join me, beba?"

God, even sick and feverish, he's dead sexy...and delightfully horny.
"Bad boy!  You're sick!"

He said something like "unga whan" and then collapsed on the mattress
again.  "Mphfg na...celibacy is a bitch."

I paused for a moment to take a good, long look.  Hmm...no wonder I'm
pregnant with *twins*!

"Yes, that's very nice.  But you're still sick.  Watching 'Jerry
Springer', I see?"

"Judge Judy gave me...<achoo!>...headache."

He's not the only one.  I tucked him back in and he insisted I kiss
him on the forehead.  "Just in case I die," he mumbled.  "You and
Jing-Mei can divide up the CD collection.  And kill the dog!"

"We'll bury him with you."

"Ugh...Demon dog...and all my money goes to you and the
twins...already thinking about setting up trust funds...for college
and stuff like that.  In case they're girls, there's plenty for huge
elaborate weddings at St. Paul's Cathedral...if I do die, you should
raise them in England with your family."  He gets so morbid sometimes.

"Don't talk about that.  You're not dying.  It's just the flu."

"Death flu."

"'Tis the season."

"Grumph..."

"Poor baby."

"Last time I was this sick I lost twenty pounds and had to go on iron
pills," Luka said miserably.  "Of course, that was after
the...uh...internment ca-..."  He shook his head.  "Never mind.
What's going on?  I smell something cooking.  You're not cooking are
you?!"  Something like panic in his eyes.  He'll pay for that later.

"Jing-Mei's making soup for you."

"Oh...Jing-Mei's cooking."  Looks vastly relieved and flops back onto
the pillows.  "She's a good cook."

"And I'm not." 

"You're good at other things.  Wish I wasn't sick, beba.  Hate being
sick.  Hate becoming whiny and miserable."

"That's what being sick is for.  You get the pity of everyone around
you."

"But I don't want it!" he groaned. 

"Well, you've got it anyway.  You know we all wuv you, dahlink!"

He rolled his eyes.  "That's a relief.  That means I won't have to
worry about eating your cooking.  If you didn't pity me, you'd be
trying to make me eat shepherd's pie and..."

He only made a slight "oomph" sound when I hit him with the pillow.
He's a goofball, but he's *my* goofball.  And here I am, pregnant and
exposing myself to germs.  But mustn't panic.  Had my flu shots
already and feel okay, despite morning sickness and so forth.  In
fact, lately I've had more energy than usual.  Too bad Luka's sick, or
he'd be enjoying the benefits of my "energy".

Head back into the living room and Jing-Mei delights me by bringing
out a cheesecake.  "Bought this at the bakery today.  Chocolate chip
cheesecake...dig in."  We sat in the kitchen and discussed Woman
Stuff.  Like sex, for instance.  Jing-Mei asked me, point blank, how
Luka was in bed.

"Some girls don't kiss and tell!"

"Oh, come on!  I'm just curious.  Really...what's he like?"

I think about it for a while, then go for pure honesty.  "Phenomenal
control, astounding stamina...and very gentle.  The best lover I've
ever had."  Can't help but get all dreamy and wistful.  It's been
almost two weeks since we've been together!  Ugh.  Phone sex just
*not* enough.

She looks ready to swoon.  "Okay, I admit it.  There've been a few
times...only a *few*, mind you, because he's my best friend...that
I've really wanted to not only deep-kiss him, but just do the nasty
with him. Would you mind lending him to me for a few nights?"

I seriously hope she's kidding.  "You are kidding right?"  She'd
better be kidding.  I'll have to kill her if she's not kidding.

"Of course I'm kidding!  Don't tell Luka, but I'm dating somebody.
He'll insist on meeting the guy and 'vetting' him.  Really, Alex.
He's like a big brother to me.  An incredibly sexy, charming, sweet
big brother..."

"Jing-Mei, I will choke you to death with an apron if you don't stop
that!"

She giggled.  "The best you've ever had, huh?  How many *have* you
had?"

"Before Luka?  Seven."

"Seven?!"

"It's not like I'm taking penicillin baths, Jing-Mei!"

"So...what does Luka think about this?"

"About what?"

"Your history."

"He knows that I'm experienced, if that's what you mean.  And he's
okay with it.  We don't discuss my past while we're...you know...but
we have talked about it a bit.  He's my *last* lover.  Period."

"Sounds about right," Jing-Mei smiled.  "You're so lucky.  And so is
he.  You've been so good to him.  We all thought Abby was gonna
destroy him.  God, she was such a bitch to him.  Every time he tried
to be nice to her, she'd just slap him down.  In fact, toward the end,
the nurses were calling her downright *abusive*."

"What did he see in her?" I asked.  I've observed Abby several times.
Generally, she's a relatively nice, boring, bland woman of rather
vacuous personality.  I tend to not notice her unless she speaks up.

"Beats me.  I think it was loneliness and desperation for some kind of
companionship on his part.  Not that she really provided that for him
at all. For her, he was a trophy boyfriend.  Tall, dark, handsome,
exotic...he was *perfect* for her.  Then on their first date he killed
a guy.  I think she used that against him, too.  Sort of a 'Nobody can
ever love a killer, so you'd better be glad I'm here!' attitude.
She's a lot better since she went back to med school, and I hear she's
in therapy, too.  But she left Luka pretty scarred, though he'd never
admit it.  Haleh calls her the Hell Bitch...of course, Haleh adores
Luka.  All the nurses love him.  Cross Luka, and you've got a
battalion of nurses after you."

"So I should treat him excessively well?"

"If you value your life, yes."

"You know, I had an aunt...a great-aunt, Katrina...who killed her
husbands.  She was a rather shrewish woman to begin with.  But she
killed two husbands and at least two different lovers."

"Killed them?" Jing-Mei looked astonished.

I love telling this story.  "Apparently, they all died while Doing It
with her.  Right in the middle of sex, *boom*, dead from heart
attacks."

"Really?!"

"Yes.  Her first husband...Harold...died 'in flagrante delicto', but
nobody thought much of it, as that *has* been known to happen.  Then
her second husband...George, I think...died the same way.  In fact,
she had a baby exactly nine months later, so my father always
calculated that the baby was conceived *that* night.  So after the
baby and everything, she went on a cruise and met a nice man
from...uh...Germany, I think, and went to bed with him, and *he* died
the same way."

"My God!"

"Yeah.  Well, actually, I think he died post-coitally.  In his sleep.
It was pretty bad for her."

"I should say so!"

"So she tells the authorities about herself...how she kills men.  So
one of the policemen said, 'Okay, let's see if you're right.  Sleep
with me!'  And so she did.  And *he* died."

Jing-Mei's eyes are round now.  "You've got to be kidding!"

"No, I'm not.  He died.  Heart attack, fifty-two years old."

"What, exactly, did she *do* in bed?" Jing-Mei asked.

"Well, during her trial, she was asked the very same thing.  'What do
you *do* in bed?', and she said 'Nothing!' and the judge said, 'Well,
maybe that's the problem.  They have to do all the work!'"

Jing-Mei's eyes narrowed a bit, but she nodded.  "So what happened to
her?"

"She was the subject of a comprehensive sex study at Leeds University.
In fact, she didn't just do 'nothing'.  Eventually, she did get
married again, at age forty-two.  To a twenty-two year old man.  They
live very happily in Leeds and had two kids.  She had a grand total of
five kids, by three different fathers.  She's pretty happy now.  Very
*active*."

"You're joking with me, aren't you?"

"No!  It's a true story.  Really!"

"So if Luka were to, say, suffer a fatal heart attack while in bed
with you, we could just attribute it to genetics on your part?"

"Luka has a very strong heart."  I took a bite of my cheesecake.
Mmm...too good to be legal.

"I hope so.  I have a feeling these twins aren't the only kids you two
will have."

"Oh, don't even *start*!"

"I mean it.  You've got Greek blood, right?  Fertile Mediterranean
types coming together...and considering it's Luka, I would think that
there's gonna be a *lot* of little Kovac kids running around before
you two are done."

Ugh.  I know I once stated that I'd be willing to squeeze out a few
babies for a good man.  And for Luka, I would happily crawl across
shards of broken glass.  But...I sincerely hope I'm unconscious while
I bear his offspring.  I love him.  And I'm going to love his
children-our children!-but I think a nice round number would suffice.
Four at best.  Luka might state (in that arch way of his) that *six*
and *eight* are also nice round numbers.  I will then have to hit him
with something.

After Jing-Mei leaves, I call Alice and tell her I may not be coming
home tonight.  "My fiance is sick and I have to take care of him."
Besides, taking care of him, even at his worst, is easier and less
headache-inducing than dealing with Alice, who is currently in the
process of editing the manuscript of her next book (roughly titled
'Rip Off His Testicles and Feed Them to Crocodiles').

Luka is still asleep, so I nudge him a bit.  "Oh, God, don't tell me
you want *more* sex!" he groaned.

"Very funny!"

"Oh, it's you.  I thought it was the cleaning lady.  Her name's
Mariana...very voluptuous Puerto Rican, very imaginative..."

He seems to get hit with pillows a *lot*.

"You're feeling better?" I ask.

"Mmm...now that you're here, I do," he answers.  He rolls over and
looks at me.  He looks a bit bleary and feverish, but still makes Brad
Pitt look like road kill.

"Ack!  No kissing!" I squeak.  "No use me catching a cold now.  But
I'll stay here with you, beba."

"I feel awful."

"You look pretty bad," I admit.

"This is a whole new dimension to our relationship...finding out if we
can stand each other under these circumstances."

"Yes.  I think I'll be able to tolerate you for the rest of my life."

"Really?  Good."  He grinned and then stretched onto his back again.
He looks v. tired and worn out.  A rare man in that he does not whine
while deathly ill.  In fact, if it weren't for the fact that he looks
horrible (and yet, sexy) I wouldn't know he was sick.  "I can't wait
to marry you, Alexandra."

Then he's out.  The meds are working, at least.  I curled up beside
him, pulled the blankets up and then remembered he was naked.
Mmmm...too bad he's sick.  Shall definitely stay here tonight.  So
much nicer to sleep beside warm (albeit feverish and vaguely
delirious) fiance.

To be continued...