TITLE: Show Me The Way
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. :)
SONG: 'Show Me the Way to Go Home' is a traditional drinking song; it
was sung in "Jaws" before the big fish attacked-somehow that seems
appropriate, when you think about it.

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;
Sometimes You're the Windshield; Kovac Pride; Nuptuality; The Trouble
With Harold; The Mummy-in-Law Returns; What's In A Name?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for editing and several 2AM
brain-storming sessions.



"What do you mean, 'bachelor party'?  I don't need a bachelor party,"
Luka said rather loudly, trying to get his voice to carry over the
noise of the sternal saw.  He was sawing a chest open, with Dave
Malucci observing and gabbing away as usual.

"Of course you need a bachelor party, man!" Dave said excitedly.
"You're gettin' married!"

"How very observant of you, Dave.  But I am *not* having a bachelor
party.  I will not end up intoxicated and in jail."

"Is that what happened with your first bachelor party?" Peter Benton
asked as he stepped in with a rib spreader.

"No, of course not," Luka lied.  He and his friends had indeed become
very drunk and had done some Very Bad Things, many of which Luka
didn't remember very clearly.  One, he knew, had involved a cow, the
local parish church and an extra-large pair of ladies underwear.  The
details were, thankfully, a bit sketchy.

"Aw, c'mon!" Dave whined.  "I know of a really good club we could go
to.  We'll round up all the guys on the same night Alexandra is having
the baby/bridal shower and..."

"That's tomorrow night, isn't it?" Peter asked, looking up at Luka.
"Cleo's going, I think."

"Yeah," Luka growled.  "I suppose getting out of the apartment that
night would be a good idea.  Last thing I need is to stand around
balancing peanuts and a cute little piece of cake on a napkin while
discussing diaper rash.  But dammit, Dave, I will not set foot inside
a strip club."

"Who said anything about a strip club?" Dave asked, feigning
innocence.  "Though now that you mention it..."

"No!" Luka and Peter said at once.

"Jeez, next you'll be saying it'll be a *dry* bachelor party.  Where's
the fun in that?"

"I don't know, Dave, but at least we'd be able to remember how much
fun we didn't have," Luka snapped, applying paddles to the patient's
heart.  Peter raised his hands up and yelled "Clear!" right into
Luka's ear.  Luka charged the paddles and looked at the heart monitor.
 Still no heartbeat.

"Dammit, Peter, you don't have to yell!"

"Okay.  I'll just zap you next time."

"My ear was three inches from your mouth!"

"Chew a piece of gum," Peter snickered.

"Shaddup and charge again."  Luka took a step back and winced as Peter
yelled "Clear!" again and glanced back at Dave, who was calling up to
surgery.  "All right, we've got a heartbeat.  Tell Romano we're on the
way."

"All right, people, let's move!" Peter yelled, looking  none too
appreciative of Luka mouthing along with him.  But once he was in the
elevator with Mr. Fitzpatrick, he started snickering.  He had come to
enjoy Luka's black humor.  When disaster reigned over the ER, you
could usually count on Kovac to keep a level head and a sharp sense of
the ridiculous.



5 February 2002

7:25PM  Am keeping the journal out, writing snippets of whatever I
hear and whatever happens, because the babies will be reading at least
*this* section years from now.  Note to self: keep this PG.
Bridal/baby shower.  Quite modern and With It and so forth, but also
seems a tad tacky.  Luka swung by an hour ago to change, and was
greeted at the door by a herd of nurses, Cleo Finch, Jing-Mei and
<gulp> Dr. Weaver and Dr. Corday (Abby Lockhart not invited for
obvious reasons), all carrying wrapped presents.  V. nervous.  Luka
looked a little panicked.  "I hope one of you ladies bought us a
house, because we're gonna need one soon," was his parting statement,
and then I was left alone in this flat with all these women.

7:36PM  Everybody here!  Let the games begin.  Jing-Mei brought a big
cake, decorated with wedding bells, baby rattles and a Kewpie doll.
"At least you're killing two birds with one stone," she tells me.
Oooh, Dr. Weaver brought chocolate ice cream bonbons!  No wonder I
rather like her, even though she did kiss my fiance.  Won't mention
that out loud, of course.  Making sure no one can see what I'm
writing, too, though Cleo keeps peeking over my shoulder.  QUIT BLOODY
READING MY JOURNAL!!!  and she walked away.

7:45PM  OK.  Eating cake, balancing little mints and peanuts on paper
plate, drinking punch and contemplating hiding in the closet, because
the games are beginning.  What is my favourite colour?  Umm...beats
me.  I say 'robin's egg blue' because that's first to come to mind.
Then Haleh asks, w/ straight face, "What's your favourite position?"
to which I stupidly reply, "On what?"

"The Mid-East peace process!" Haleh said, rolling her eyes.  "You
know...in bed!"

"Oh...umm..."

"That's rather inappropriate," Dr. Weaver says, and they back off.
She looks v. uncomfortable.  I know what *her* favourite position
would be: anything that involved Luka.

7:50PM  Unwrapping gifts, Chuny keeping track of everything I got in
separate books (one for bridal gifts, one for baby gifts, wish I had
third for "truly bizarre gifts", like the...oh my God, I so wish Mum
wasn't sitting beside me, because I'm fairly certain that despite her
lifetime of experience w/ Dad, I v. much doubt she has ever seen a
dildo *that* big, and will leave it to future readers to determine who
gave it to me).  Crockpots, potholders, a v. nice complete cooking set
(for Luka), silk sheets (from Dr. Weaver), lots of v. nice receiving
blankets (Humpty Dumpty, Blues Clues, and Noah's Ark...everybody say
it now: "Awww!"), a new coffee maker, various kitchen items, some
silver antique candlesticks from Mum (been in family since God was a
kid), some lace doilies (can never have too many doilies!!), lingerie,
picture frames, two Baby's First 2 Years books (from Haleh), and a
brand new pram!!

8:09PM  Inevitable question.  Cleo Finch asked, as we were noshing on
cake, "Where were the babies conceived?"

Oh, dear God.  Dr. Weaver sitting not four feet from me and I have to
go through the embarrassing story.  "Uh...well...it was
on...uh...fourth October...in the...the...at the hospital."

"At the hospital?!" Chuny gasped.  "Oh my God!  I remember!  Luka got
that card and then he disappeared for an hour-I mean..."  She looks at
Dr. Weaver, who is turning pink.  "He was on his break, after all.
But usually he just goes into the lounge for a nap on his breaks..."

Nervous silence.  Dr. Weaver clears her throat and Cleo looks like she
wishes she could become invisible.  As do I.

"Well!  The babies were conceived at the hospital...I suppose they'll
be born there, too," Dr. Weaver says nervously.  "I take it Janet
Coburn is going to deliver them?"

"Yes!" I said, grasping hopefully at a change of subject.

"You're very lucky," Dr. Weaver nods.  "Janet is an excellent
obstetrician."

"Yes, she is!" I gabble.  "She recommended a very good Lamaze
instructor.  Luka and I start next week-end."

"Good, good," Kerry said, averting her eyes.  Damn.

"We're very...uh...excited.  I think we've even picked names.  Or at
least names for a boy."

Haleh chimed in.  "Really?  What'd you pick?"

V. glad it didn't turn into another game.  "Umm...Daniel for a boy.  I
was going to go with Daniel Morgan, but Daniel Morgan was an American
Revolutionary War soldier who shot a lot of British redcoats and Luka
was sensible enough to point out that that might not go over well when
we visit England.  Though it does sound good...Daniel Morgan Kovac.  I
think it'll be Daniel Fraser Kovac."

"And for a girl?" Cleo asked, glad to have the subject changed, too.

"Umm...I don't really know.  Last night Luka suggested Olivia and I
rather like that.  Olivia Morgan Kovac."

"Oh, that does sound nice.  Sounds very pretty," Kerry said. 

Everyone looks at her, surprised, and she takes a big drink of her
wine.  It was surprising to hear her say something like that.  One
doesn't think of Kerry Weaver as one who is in to "pretty" things, but
then again she's v. feminine, IMO, and just because she's a v. tough
ER chief doesn't mean she isn't a female for God's sake.  "Of
course...of course, we also discussed Natalie or Althea for girls'
names.  But I strongly suspect I'm having boys."

Mum looks touched.

"Well, that's good," Chuny said quickly.  "I mean, for Luka.  He's the
last one in his family, right?"

"Right."

"Casting feminism aside for a moment, I think that him having a son or
two would be good.  A guy like Luka...he'd want a boy to carry on his
name," Haleh said.  "Besides, he's from Europe.  European men are
probably more traditional than American men."

"Funny how you came all the way to America and ended up meeting a
Croatian," Lily said.  "And a gorgeous Croatian at that.  I always
liked Luka...he's so sweet."

"He has his moments," Cleo interjected.  "Not that I don't find him
irresistible, of course.  We've only locked horns a couple of times,
but he's the sweetest guy you'll ever meet."

"All the nurses love him," Chuny said.  "From the very start we all
did.  We can't seem to keep from taking his side, even when we kinda
disagree with him.  Luka can be judgmental sometimes, a little rash,
impulsive...he does have a very strong sense of justice, I think.
Which isn't always the best thing in a doctor, but he's *human*.  I'd
rather work with a human being than a robot, any day."

"So everyone likes him?" I ask.

"Even *I* like him," Dr. Corday says.  "And we've had a few run-ins,
too.  But he's a very nice man."

"Oh, yeah.  Well, everybody but Carter.  But Carter's just jealous.
You know...when Doug left, Carter figured he'd be getting all the cute
girls.  But then Luka showed up and now Carter's stuck with the
rejects."  Chuny laughed.

"Meow!" Cleo gasped.  "By 'rejects' you mean Abby Lockhart, huh?"

There is a roar of general laughter.  Even Dr. Weaver looks amused.

"I didn't think Abby was that bad," I said glumly.

"She's not...any more.  She's grown up a little.  She's *trying* to be
a better person.  But she's not a very likeable person.  She's learned
not to manipulate people any more, at least.  That's a start.  But she
still has a tendency to *whine*.  It's her worst character trait,"
Haleh informs me.  "Once she gets past that I think she'll be easier
to like.  Besides, she's working to be better for Carter.  Now if he'd
just grow up and stop acting like an ass I think they'll make a great
couple."

I feel a little uneasy.  Talking about Luka's ex-lover during my
bridal/baby shower is a little...strange.  Not a little.  A lot.  Hope
someone will change the bloody subject.

Lily!  You darling!  "Hey, there's a little blue package over there.
What is it?"

Haleh fetches it and hands it to me.  A tiny card reads, "To my
favorite nut, with love from Luka."  A little small to be a case of
peanuts.  I open it and extract a strand of beautiful white *real*
pearls (tested them with teeth, as per Mum's instructions) and nearly
faint.  They're *antiques*, most likely, and worth thousands.
"Pearls!"

"Oh, my God!  They're beautiful," Dr. Corday gasps.  "They must be
worth a bloody fortune!"

There is a little note inside.  "These belonged to my mother.  I
looked around in your jewelry box to make sure you didn't already have
a string.  I hope you like them.  They're very old.  In fact, they
belonged to my great-great-grandmother first.  One day, you can give
them to our eldest daughter.  Te volim, Luka."

I felt like bursting into tears. Mum puts the pearls around my neck
and said I looked like a queen.  That's when I started crying.
Everybody v. kind and comforting and complimentary, telling me I
looked wonderful and so v. happy (which I am) and v. understanding of
my emotional state.  But I do hate it when I turn on the waterworks in
public.  Last time I did it, I was not happy to hear Handel's "Water
Music" playing in the restaurant during dinner-nor was I pleased to
see Luka fighting laughter during the entire meal.  When he suggested
dropping by his favorite music shop to buy a collection of Handel's
works, I threatened to "handel" him that night.

2:15AM  Back from police station.  Quite tired.  We all sang "Lady
Marmalade" and played poker with dirty French cards (Luka's response
to that song is always the same: "As the French say, 'Mare-see!'"),
and then the bloody phone rings at 11:45PM with news that Luka, Peter,
Dave and Mark all arrested and accused of being Mafia capos.  Am so
bloody cross at Luka, who is sleeping on the couch.  At least no one
was seriously injured, though Dr. Malucci looked far from healthy-that
may have involved whatever it was he said to those Hell's Angels.
Nobody looks good covered with vomit.

Going to bed.



"Oh, God."

Luka could barely believe where he'd been dragged.  At first, he'd
figured it was just a typical pub.  He'd toss back a polite drink or
two, pay for a couple of extra rounds for everybody else, and do his
best to leave discreetly.

But it was not a typical pub.  It was a strip joint.  And the leggy
blonde woman beside him wasn't trying to sell him cigarettes, that was
for sure.  "Uh, no thanks."

She shrugged philosophically and walked away.  Luka had to restrain
himself from asking her why she'd pick a 'career' like this.
Second-hand smoke inhalation alone would be reason enough to quit
working here and get a normal job...

"How d'ya like it, Dr. Kovac?!" Dave yelled over the noise.  Luka
glanced up at the woman dancing on the bar and shuddered.  Sometimes
he wondered if he was normal-the sight of naked strangers never turned
him on.  Instead, it tended to make him slightly sick to his stomach.

"It's wonderful, Dave.  It's a dream come true.  When do you think the
raid will happen?"

"Aw, lighten up, Luka," Mark said, tossing back his third beer.  "It's
not so bad."

"Shut up," Luka hissed.  "You're only encouraging him.  My God, she's
licking the pole!"

"It's her job," Peter said.  He was sitting at Luka's other side,
sipping nervously at his glass of Pimm's.  "Though I would advise them
to clean that pole between performances."

That set Mark off into another giggling spree, which made Luka want to
kick him.  But he *really* wanted to kick Dave.  In the past hour,
he'd decided that Dave was not gay, but bi-sexual instead.  No
homosexual male would have that much of an interest in breasts.  Dave
had been very complimentary about the 'rack' of the first dancer, had
become wide-eyed when the second one arrived, and was mesmerized by
this one.  Luka only thought she looked dull-eyed and was probably
suffering from a vitamin deficiency.

"Really, Dave, what would Steve say if he saw you like this?"

"Steve's bi too!" Dave yelled back. 

God, hardly something you want to yell out loud in a bar like
this...especially with those rough-looking guys over there.  Luka
gulped.  One of them had a tattoo that read 'Born to Raise Hell' and
looked like he'd just spent the afternoon strangling kittens.  Hardly
encouraging.  He made a quick check of the 'Exit' signs.  Two of which
were broken, the third of which was blinking like a bug zapper.

"Would you like another drink, sir?" the bartender said to Luka. 

"No, thanks," Luka muttered.  He glanced at Peter, who was wobbling a
bit.  "Hey, are you all right?"

"I will be.  But this is my third trip to the men's room."

Luka studied his glass of beer for a moment, which was only
half-empty.  He wondered which end of Peter it was all coming out of.
"It'll be over soon enough, Peter.  I'd suggest drinking some tap
water, but considering where we are..."

Peter wobbled away toward the men's room and Luka looked at Mark, who
was still giggling with Dave.  "Mark!  I think we should leave now.
Dave, come on...it's getting late.  Peter's in the men's room, but
he'll be back soon."

"Aw, c'mon!" Dave whined.  "I wanna stay!  I hear the next dancer is
*spectacular*.  She does this thing with pasties that makes you think
of airplane propellers and..."

"Dave!  Shut! Up!  We're leaving!"

Grumbling, Dave swung off his barstool and banged roughly into the
hulking frame of a heavily-tattooed, leather-wearing behemoth of a
man-the very same man Luka had glimpsed before.  Luka got a better
look at him now and noticed that underneath the 'Born to Raise Hell'
tattoo was one that read 'Mother'.  Interesting.  Unfortunately, that
wasn't the worst of the situation.  Dave was still carrying his glass
of beer, the contents of which sloshed onto the man's ripped blue
jeans.  For a moment, there was a deadly silence as the man sized Dave
up.

"Hey!" Dave shouted drunkenly.  "Watch out, man!  Doncha ever watch
where you're goin'..."  Dave's voice faded out as he looked up at the
man, who stared down at him.

Things weren't altogether clear after that.  Luka did his best to
blend into the background, feeling lousy for abandoning Dave like
that.  But what could he do?  He was a good fighter and had won his
share of brawls, but this man was *huge* and Luka was already a little
tipsy.  No, no...but I am a doctor.  I do know how to *harm* as well
as to heal.  Hell, I killed a man with my bare hands in far less
favorable conditions.  He moved back around to stand beside Mark,
whose knees were knocking together.

"Uh...sir?  Listen, he's drunk, okay?  He didn't mean what he said.
He's..."

The man ignored Luka.  Instead, he picked Dave up and with one slight
flick of his arm threw the young resident across the room.  Then he
moved toward Luka.

"Listen," Luka said, attempting to pacify the man.  "Beating me up for
something he said isn't going to help and oh my God is that Hunter S.
Thompson?!"

The man turned his head, and Luka took that opportunity to kick him
right in the balls.  A cruel, heartless, vicious thing for one man to
do to another, but what choice did he have?  The man yelped in pain
and dropped to his knees, gasping.  Luka took no time to apologize.
Instead, he grabbed Mark and shoved him away, toward the back of the
crowd that had gathered to watch.  "Dave, get up!" he yelled.

Malucci wasn't moving, though.  He was still lying at the feet of the
two bar patrons upon whose table he had landed.

Behemoth was on his feet again, heading right toward Luka, a look of
pure rage on his face, his lips moving.  Evidently, killing all those
kittens today hadn't quelled his aggression enough.

"Mark, get Dave."  Luka picked up a chair.  "Listen, sir.  I really
don't want to have to hurt you.  But I will if I have to."

"Hurt me?" The man looked amused.

"Didn't I just kick you in your balls?!" Luka yelled.

"I'm gonna choke the life outta you, you goddamned foreigner!"

"Oh, well, that's just lovely!  What does my being a foreigner have to
do with anything?!"

The man looked confused, so Luka again took advantage of this new
opportunity and slammed the chair down on Behemoth's head.  But it had
little effect, except to make him angrier, like a bull that had been
stabbed several times by a toreador.  The man lunged at Luka, but Luka
was a little quicker, which surprised him as much as anyone else.  He
ducked from the man's punch, scrambled past him and grabbed at a large
hole in the man's pants leg, ripping down.  He then reached in and
grabbed at the man's crotch, and Behemoth screamed.

"Now...turn your head and cough," Luka gasped.  "I'm not kidding, sir.
 I'll do it.  I swear to God I'll do it."

Behemoth's eyes were filling with tears.  His friends, all standing up
but looking around nervously (in fact, no one in the bar was making
eye contact, except the dancers, of course), kept out of it.  Behemoth
winced, and Luka was glad the guy was wearing underwear, because he'd
hate to have to make a trip to the hospital for disinfectant.

"All right!" Behemoth screamed.  "Just please leggo my..."

Luka did so quickly and moved away with equal speed.  He moved close
to the door and spotted Peter Benton coming out of the men's room.
"Peter!  Go get Dave."

"Wha' happen'..."

"I'll tell you in the cab!  Go. Get. Dave!"

"Awright, geesh..."  Peter tottered away and returned a few minutes
later with Dave tucked under one arm and Mark behind him, giggling.
"What happened to that chair?"

"Poltergeist," Luka growled as he grabbed Dave by the shoulders and
hauled him out the door.  Once outside, he dropped Dave, who went onto
his knees and threw up all over Luka's shoes.  "Oh, thank you, Dave!
Why couldn't you have done that to Behemoth's shoes?! First you nearly
get me killed in there and now you ruined my shoes!  This is just the
best damned bachelor party I've ever had!"

"Why're you complainin'?" Dave asked, blinking owlishly at him.
"Lezgo to 'nother bar."

"Now that you mention it, I need another drink!" Luka growled.  "God,
I'm travelling with Giggly, Wobbly and Moron!"



The Pelican Club Bar and Grill seemed like a perfectly respectable
establishment, and Luka liked the quiet ambiance.  He ordered a draft
beer, sat at the bar and thought about buying a pack of cigarettes.
Dave was drinking even more, and at first Luka thought it was his
imagination but the man's instincts and reflexes seemed to be getting
*faster*.  Peter was catatonic-gazing drunkenly at his reflection in
the mirror behind the bar and singing 'I'll Be Home For Christmas'.
Mark was giggling and showing everybody in the bar photos of his
daughter.  Luka, meanwhile, just tried to keep the other three men
from causing too much trouble.  He felt like he was herding cats.

"Like I was saying," Dave interrupted Luka's thoughts.  "I think we
should sing something."

"Sing?" Luka gasped.  Good God. 

"Yeah.  Like a drinking song or something."

Luka rubbed his forehead.  He was experiencing a pleasant sort of
buzz, and he hoped he wasn't acting silly or anything.  Thus far, he
seemed to be holding up fairly well, but that was only his *own*
assessment.  It wasn't like he could ask any of his friends if they
thought he was drunk.

"Go right ahead," Luka said tiredly. 

"Okee-doke...umm...I know!  Does anybody know that song from "Jaws"?"

"What?" Luka stared at him, confused.

"You know...the one they sang on the 'Orca'."

"Go ahead, Dave, enlighten us," Luka said, rubbing his eyes.


Show me the way to go home!
I'm tired and I want to go to bed.
I had a little drink about an hour ago,
and it went right to my head.
Wherever I may roam,
o'er land or sea or foam,
you will always hear me singing this song.
Show me the way to go home!


Everybody started singing by the time Dave had sung it twice.  Peter
started banging his hands on the bar, trying to find the tune, but
apparently he was unable to do so.  That caused Dave to make them stop
singing.  "You're the only black man I know who can't keep the beat."

"Whatsh that shuppos' to mean?" Peter asked, looking insulted.

"Peter...no kill Dave.  Sit back.  Drink water.  Ignore fool," Luka
said.

Dave glanced at Luka, then began singing again.  The other bar patrons
were enjoying the show, anyway.  When Dave was finished, Luka rubbed
his eyes and took a sip of his beer.  "I guess now the bar will be
attacked by a giant man-eating shark?  Or at the very least by a
lawyer."

"Everybody put your hands in the air!"

"Very funny, Mark," Luka muttered.

"This is the police!  Put your hands in the air!"

Luka almost fell off the barstool when he saw the gun being pointed
directly in his face.  Then general pandemonium broke forth.  Dave
screamed and dove under a table.  Mark started giggling, and Peter
passed out and fell in a heap at the end of the bar.  Luka, knowing a
thing or two about large men with guns, obediently put his hands
behind his head and waited for further instructions.

But the other bar patrons weren't so cooperative.  Luka's eyes widened
with horror as one of them-a heavy-set man chewing on a cigar the size
of a small squirrel-pulled a gun out and began firing away.  Luka was
glad he'd already got to his knees.  He dove forward and covered his
head.  He knew not to move behind the bar, because if the mirror got
shot he'd end up with glass shards in his back.  Instead, he scrabbled
toward Peter, grabbing Mark as he went, and after a few minutes of
tugging and cussing under his breath, had both men safely tucked on
the other end of the bar.  Dave, Luka noticed, was hiding behind a
table and screaming like a ten-year old girl.

"Dave, will you *PLEASE* shut up!" Luka shouted.  The gun battle had
ended as quickly as it had begun and Luka glanced around to see who
was still alive and who wasn't.  The bar patron was lying in very
deceased fashion on the floor, his chest riddled with bullet holes.
The cop that had shot him was leaning against the wall, gasping for
breath.  The wall behind the bar patron was also riddled with
bulletholes.

"Is he dead?" the cop asked. 

"I'm a doctor," Luka said.  "I could..."

"Stay where you are!" a cop shouted.

"Staying."

"You're a doctor?" another cop asked.  Dave was still screaming. 

"Yes.  Dave.  This is the third time that I've had to tell you to shut
up tonight, but I'm saying it again...shut up!  Good God, he's gone
from Moron to Screaming Girl."

"Sounds like you're used to gunplay in public places, sir.  You with
this outfit?"

"What outfit?"

"The D'Ambrosio Syndicate, stupid," another cop snarled.

"Oh, yes.  Of course I am.  I run the whole outfit.  I was here
tonight trying to teach all these guys how to say 'I don't want nobody
should get hurt' in Croatian."

"Oh, a wise guy, huh?"

"Well, *yeah*."

"Get up!"

"Oh, you mean 'wise guy'?  Me?  No, I'm stupid!" Luka snarled.
"Dammit, what are you doing?  I'm a Croatian doctor, these are
my...*stupid* friends!"  He punctuated his angry shout by kicking at
Mark.  "The screaming girl under that table over there is David
Malucci, I'm Luka Kovac, the bald guy is Mark Greene, and the
unconscious black man is Peter Benton, a respected surgeon..!"

"Sure.  And I'm the Queen of England."

"How very pleasant to meet you, Your Majesty.  How're the kids?"

"Put some cuffs on him...and put some tape over his smart mouth!"
another cop shouted.  Before Luka knew it, he was being handcuffed and
dragged out to a waiting car.



"Dave, when we get out of here, I think my freedom will be
short-lived," Luka said, leaning his head back against the wall.  Over
his head someone had written "For a Good Time, Call Susie.  For A
Really Good Time, Call Her Husband."

"Really?  Why?" Dave asked. 

"Because I'm gonna kill you."

"Why is this my fault?" Dave gasped, indignant.  "I didn't know it was
a Mafia hideout!"

They had been sitting in the jail cell now for almost two hours.
Peter was sound asleep, snoring loudly.  Mark was looking a tad dazed.

Dave was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, hugging his
legs, peering nervously at Luka.  He was grateful that the Croatian
doctor wasn't really capable of walking at the moment.  Luka had
complained that walking made his eyeballs wobble, so he was sitting
very still right now.

"Because you dragged us to that bar.  I would have preferred to have
gone home and enjoyed a quiet drink on my living room couch, sitting
beside Alexandra.  But no..."

"You are *so* whipped," Dave said snidely.  That made Luka spring to
his feet like a black panther and bound across the room.  But he
didn't hit Dave.  Instead, he threw up on him.  Dave shrieked in
horror and tried to wipe the vomit off his face.  Luka staggered back
a little and wiped his mouth and glared at Dave.

"Serves you right!  'Specially after what you did to my shoes!"

"You threw up on me!"

"Your grasp of the obvious is astounding, Dave."

"Augh!"  Dave was up on his feet, lunging toward Luka, but Luka was
still sober enough to side-step him.  Dave banged roughly into the
wall, then turned back to make another run at Luka.

"Listen, Dave, give it up, all right?  Just sit down."

"I'm gonna hit you!"

"Really?"

"Yesh!"

Then Dave passed out.  Luka picked him up and dropped him on the cot,
then went back to his seat and resumed waiting.  Well, this bachelor
party had been a disaster of epic proportions.  A bar-room brawl that
must have looked like a comedy, an arrest in a Mafia-owned bar, and
now a brief jail-cell jousting match.

"Oh.  My.  God!"

Luka glanced up to see Alexandra, Elizabeth, Kerry, and Haleh standing
outside the jail cell, looking horrified.

"Hello, ladies," Luka said, standing up slowly.  "How was the shower?"

Haleh looked disgusted.  "Oh, why don't you tell us, Luka.  Is it true
what they say about dropping the soap?"

Alexandra, looking as lovely as a rose, stepped forward, hands on her
hips.  "I can't believe you got yourself arrested!" she shouted.

"Beba..."

"Come on.  You've all been bailed out.  Dr. Weaver, thank you so much
for..."

"Oh, don't worry about it.  Luka can pay me back later...by working
double shifts for two weeks while I take my vacation."

"Hey!" Luka yelled.  "That isn't fair...and I really shouldn't have
yelled...my head is killing me..."

"Serves you right, you big oaf!"

"It was a bachelor party.  At least, it was until the Hell's Angel
attacked us..."

"Wait a minute...the police said nothing about Hell's Angels..."
Kerry said, looking confused.

"There were Hell's Angels at a Mafia-owned bar?  Is this some kind of
new branch of organized crime?" Alexandra asked.

"No, no...never mind.  Let's just go home."

Luka glanced back to see Elizabeth berating a sleepy Mark, while Haleh
shook Peter awake.  Dave, meanwhile, had no one to help him get
cleaned up.  And he got visibly upset when the jail cell door closed
shut again.  "Hey?  Guys?  Uh...Chief?  Didn't you bail me out, too?"

"No, Dave, I didn't," Kerry called back.  "Just remember...don't pick
up the soap!"



"Where do you think you're going?" Alexandra called to Luka as he made
his way down the hall toward their bedroom.

"Bed?"

"No, sir.  You will sleep on the couch tonight."

"Oh, you're kid-..!"

"I do not kid about this!  On the couch!"

Grumbling darkly under his breath, Luka slouched to the couch.
Alexandra excused herself from Kerry and went into the bedroom,
grabbed a blanket and a pillow, and headed back to the living room.
She threw both items at Luka, who made more growling sounds.  She
stood there a moment, hands on her hips, then went back into the
kitchen, where Kerry was pouring herself a cup of tea.

"I made tea," she said quietly.  "Earl Grey."

"Oh, thank you.  Decaf, at that!"

"Yes, of course."

"This was an interesting night.  I don't think we should tell Luka
about the male stripper we hired, hmm?"  Alexandra giggled.  "It was
kind of fun, wasn't it?"

A nervous silence fell between the two women.  Kerry watched Alexandra
carefully.  She noticed the younger woman's quiet, careful motions,
admiring her beauty and dignity.  Dr. Morgan often called herself
'kooky' and 'scatterbrained', but Kerry saw none of that.  She saw a
gentle, warm-hearted, decent human being who loved Luka with her whole
heart.

"What?" Alexandra asked nervously.  "Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not," Kerry said softly.  "I was just thinking about
what a lucky man Luka is.  You're perfect for him."

"Thank you."

"I hope he knows how lucky he is."

"I hope so.  And I hope he realizes how many people love him.  He's a
very loveable person...I don't blame anyone for loving him.
But...umm...he made a commitment to me.  A promise.  And we both know
Luka is no liar."

"Yes.  I know," Kerry said, sipping her tea.

"So...umm...I was wondering, Dr. Weaver..."

"Alexandra, I think you can call me Kerry.  I bailed your future
husband out of jail tonight."

"Oh...yes.  Kerry.  I was wondering if...if you would honor us by
being godmother to our babies."

"H-honor you?" Kerry gasped.

"Yes."

"I couldn't.  I...I barely know you and...and..."

"Kerry," Alexandra said gently.  "I know you love him."

Kerry struggled to keep herself composed.  She looked around the room,
trying to avoid Alexandra's steady gaze.  Then her nerve cracked.
"I'm so sorry, Alexandra...I never..."

"It's all right.  It really is.  Besides, it had obviously all
happened long before I arrived.  I want you to be their godmother.
Should anything happen to Luka and I, I would want you to have a part
in their upbringing.  In fact, I want you to be involved in their
lives from the start.  I know very few people that I like or admire
more than you, and you have been the kindest and most generous of
friends to Luka.  I insist you accept.  I won't take no for an
answer."

Kerry was so touched she could barely speak.  She drummed her fingers
nervously on the table, struggling to find something to say.  Finally,
she drew in her breath.  "Yes.  I accept.  Thank you."

"You're quite welcome.  But it is getting very late...it's been such a
long day!  I take it you have to be at work tomorrow evening?"

"Yes."

"Then Luka and I will see you.  Good night, Kerry.  And thank you so
much for the silk sheets!"

"Yes.  You're very welcome.  Good night."

Kerry stood and limped out into the hall.  She paused briefly at the
living room door, looking at Luka.  He was already asleep on the
couch, his long legs stretched out, one arm flung dramatically across
his forehead.  But she had to go.  Back home to her empty house and
her empty bed.

No, Kerry thought as she went out into the hall, smiling back at
Alexandra before the younger woman closed the door.  I'm gonna camp
out on the couch, watch old movies and drink excessive amounts of
alcohol.  What else can you do after you bail the man you love out of
jail and then are asked to be godmother to his children?

To be continued...