TITLE: ...Lest Ye Be Judged
AUTHOR: Miesque
RATING: PG-15 (mild language, sexual situations)
DISCLAIMER: Luka Kovac is the sole property of NBC, Amblin
Entertainment
and Warner Brothers, and I'm only borrowing him for entertainment
purposes,
blah blah blah legalcakes.  No use sueing me.  I have no money.
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;
Sometimes You're the Windshield; Kovac Pride; Nuptuality; The Trouble
With Harold; The Mummy-in-Law Returns; What's In A Name?; Show Me The
Way; Where Is Aruba?; Winning the Cup
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for editing and several 2AM
brain-storming sessions.



5 March 2002

Weddings always make me cry.  Not sure why, exactly, but they do.  Of
course, it might have a lot more to do with my current condition than
anything else, but I did cry during Griffith and Kerry's wedding.  I
wonder if they'll try to have a baby?  Kerry would make v. good
mother, I think.

Everything v. quiet and dignified.  I was matron of honour and Luka
stood as best man-looking so handsome in a dark suit-and the judge (a
man who looked remarkably like Jack Lord from "Hawaii 5-0") did the
ceremony in less than five minutes.  Half expected him to say, "Do you
wanna marry her?  Do you wanna marry him?" like in "Joe vs. the
Volcano".  He seemed in a bit of a hurry, anyway.  Adjudication can be
such a bitch.  Book 'em, Dano.

Dinner at nearby restaurant, with violinist annoying us with scratchy
rendition of "Bella Notte" (memories of Cocker Spaniel and mutt
snogging over spaghetti and meatballs).  Luka and I finally gave up
trying to make conversation, as Kerry and Griffith staring at each
other.  Geesh, get a room, guys.  Luka and I went home, changed, and
headed to work.  He eyed my ankles and asked me how I was feeling.

"Fair to middling," I mutter.  "A bit tired, really.  But *yes*, I am
sitting down to rest when I'm tired, so don't get all wound up.  Come
on.  Let's go!"

Appt. yesterday w/ Dr. Coburn had gone v. well.  We're to find out the
sexes of the babies today, in fact.  Waiting with bated breath about
that.  I'm almost certain it's boys.  But Luka not so sure and we're
discussing (arguing about) baby names.  I have put my foot down-Andrew
and Daniel for boys.  Natalie and Althea for girls.  Luka wavering a
little about Natalie, but I can tell he's pleased.

I've seen the picture of Danijela and Jasna.  Such a pretty woman, and
such a bonny little girl.  I like Danijela's bone structure and
skin...lovely skin.  I have asked Luka about her and he's given me
pieces of information about her.  She was a farmer's daughter, raised
in the Dalmatian mountains near Sibenik, where Luka grew up.  She was
just eighteen when they got married.  Luka still loves her...I can
deal with that.  He always will.  She must have been a v. good, kind,
gentle woman.  Virgin on her wedding night, no doubt.  Sigh.  Why does
that make me feel a little...I don't know...strange?  But he belongs
to me now.  So...Danijela, where ever you are, I'm taking v. good care
of him and you can be assured that you will not be forgotten.  I'm
naming my first child after you.  I am Very Secure, both emotionally
and mentally.  I am In Control.  I need to pee.

Very certain that I am having boys.  I have dreams about them...v.
vivid dreams.  I can smell the baby smell and feel the cornsilk of
their hair, and it's always boys that I'm holding.

Lamaze classes have been a hoot.  Luka commented, about the "Miracle
of Life" videos, that they could only have been made due to the
excessive use of alcohol, because no sane woman would allow somebody
to put a camera *there*.  But we have become experts at breathing
(Luka already experienced at this, of course...his suggestion of
humming somewhat unusual, but perhaps it will be beneficial).  We are
both doctors.  We are qualified emergency physicians, and we have both
delivered countless babies in our careers.  But these are our babies
and thus we are nervous wrecks and I'm sure one or both of us will
panic when I go into labour.

4:45PM  Told ya.  It's boys.  Lock up your daughters, America.  Dr.
Coburn told Luka, who did his v. best to suppress a hoot of triumph.
Know he feels like a Manly Man.  He stood there for a moment, smiling
slightly, then nodded and mumbled something.  In the elevator, I whip
out my Baby Names book and will not allow Luka to dash away.  He flips
through the book and sees that I have underlined Andrew and Daniel.
Looks at me, then back at the names.  "Uh...you have your heart set on
those names, right?"

"Yes.  Very much.  I want to name one of them after Danijela, and the
other after your father."

"You don't have to to do that, Alex..."

"I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

He nods and licks his lips nervously.  "Have I told you lately that
you are an amazing woman?"

"Not *lately*," I grin at him.  "But I don't mind hearing it again."

"You are an amazing woman, Alex.  Ten years ago, I thought my luck had
run out.  I'm beginning to think you're a good-luck charm."

"Oh, really?  Perhaps you'd like to cut off my foot and hang it on a
charm bracelet?"

He snickered.  "It would keep you from running away from me."

"I would never run away from you...I may be crazy and forgetful, and I
may not be able to find my shoes, but I'm not stupid enough to run
away from you.  Even when I go away, I'll always come back."

He bit his lip for a moment, then nodded.  "We're gonna be okay,
aren't we?"

"Absolutely."

"Not perfect.  Not always on cloud nine.  But okay..."  He hugs me and
gives me a kiss, in spite of the fact that everyone at the front desk
is watching us.  "I know this sounds sentimental and silly, but I'm so
glad we were nearly mugged by a starter-pistol-wielding idiot."

"Imagine...being brought together by a moron!"

"We should have sent him a wedding invitation, eh?"  Luka gives me a
wicked grin.  "At least I didn't *kill* this one."

"Luka!  No hair shirts tonight.  Let's go home and go to bed.  I'm
tired, I'm retaining water, and my back hurts."

"I'll be along in a minute."  He handed me his keys.  "Get the car
warmed up, will ya?"

"Sure."

As I was starting the car, I noticed a v. tall man leaning against one
of the garage support columns.  He looked strangely familiar, tho' I
swear I've never seen him before.  He watched me for a moment, then
stuffed his hands in his pockets and came over.  Uh-oh.  Nervous, I
pushed the automatic lock button and began praying.

"Ma'am?  I'm sorry...I do not wish to...ah...frighten you.  I am
looking for your husband, yes?"

Can barely hear him through the car window, but there is no way on
earth I'm rolling it down.

"What do you want with him?" I shouted back.

"He's an old friend from several years ago...I just want to talk to
him for a few minutes."

"He'll be here in a few minutes," I squeak.  "And he's very strong and
over-protective!"

"He is an attending in the emergency department, yes?"

"Yes."

"I see you are expecting a baby."

"Yes."

"I'm very happy for him...and you."

"Thanks."  The man is tall and lean and v. handsome, with olive skin.
A slightly less...I don't know...*rugged* version of Luka, though they
don't look alike so I can't say that they're blood kin (besides, most
of Luka's relatives are dead).  This man has a huskier build but I
notice he limps and doesn't look all together healthy.

"Luka was married to my sister," the man says suddenly.  "Danijela."

"Oh..."  Oh, God.  Well, why not dredge up bitter memories for Luka,
then?  I see movement out of the corner of my eye and there is Luka,
striding toward us like a leopard about to attack.  He has that scowl
on his face that means one thing: get away from my woman or the police
will be finding your body for *weeks*!

The man stands up and faces Luka, who falters.  There is an eerie
silence.  Okay, when are they going to go for their pistols and start
shooting?

"Maks," Luka said, then leaned tiredly against a car.

"Luka."

"I was sure I saw you at the hospital a few weeks ago," Luka said.  He
looked at me, nodding.  "That's my wife.  Alexandra." [they are
speaking English, though Mak's English a bit stilted]

"Yes.  I heard you married again."

Another eerie silence.  Maks was Danijela's brother.  Wow.  There is a
strong resemblance between Maks and the woman in the photograph.  It
took me a week to talk Luka into letting me have the photograph so I
could have several copies made, for safe-keeping.  He still carries
the original in his wallet, though.

"Yes.  I did.  We're expecting twins."

Maks smiles for the first time, and I notice he looks much handsomer
when he's smiling.  "That's good."

"Yes."

V. uncomfortable scene.  Maks looks down, then faces Luka again.  "If
you think I'm still angry at you about Danijela..."

"I can imagine that you are."  Luka looks away, and I can't see his
face.  But his body language speaks volumes.  He is ready for an
attack, standing v. stiff and tense.  Maks doesn't *look* dangerous,
but what do I know?  Kerry limps and I know she could kick my ass from
one end of Chicago to the other.  Luka seems to be ready for anything.
 "How are you doing?"

"Okay.  You knew that Paulina died?"

"Yes.  I'm sorry..."

"She died in the camp."

"I know.  I saw a little girl with you..."

"Our daughter."

"She must be..."

"Ten."

Luka looked down.  "I'm glad she survived...and that you survived,
too, Maks.  I hadn't heard much about you in the past few years.
You're...uh...in Chicago permanently?"

"Yes.  Well, Blue Island, actually.  I liked the sound of that...Blue
Island.  A good place to start again.  Little Galileja likes it.
She's in school, learning English..."  Maks' expression softens, and I
see the same sadness in him that I saw the first time I saw Luka.  He
has obviously endured a lot of tragedy, but unlike Luka, he doesn't
seem to have held up quite as well.  Lots of grey hair, somewhat
haggard look about him.  He's been kicked in the teeth by life far too
many times.

"Uh...maybe you could come by some day?  Bring Galileja and we'll have
dinner or..."

"Yes.  That'd be..."

"Yeah."

"Yes."  Maks wrings his hands nervously, and I just couldn't stand it
any more.  I climbed out of the car and waddled over.

"Hello.  I'm sorry for being so rude, Maks...but you know how it
is...such a dangerous world."  God, he'd know about that, wouldn't he?
 "Please, do accept Luka's invitation to come by.  We'd love to have
you...and your daughter, too, of course."

Maks just nods and looks at us for a moment, then smiles.  "It's good
to see you again, Luka.  It's been so long.  I was so happy to see a
familiar face, but I wasn't sure you'd want to see *me* so I left
quickly last time I was here.  I had brought Galileja in because she'd
had a bad fall while skating and..."

"It's all right."  Luka waved his hand, shrugging.  "I didn't know how
to approach you, either, Maks.  It was kind of a shock to see you..."

Just then, Chuny came out, lugging a big duffle bag and looking tired
after a lengthy shift.  She glanced at us, then nodded.  "Hey,
Alexandra, Luka..."  She paused when she saw Maks, but said nothing.

"Hi, Chuny," I called.  "Long day?"

"Horrible.  I got spat on, shat on, kicked, whacked around and then I
had to work with Abby Lockhart!"

I giggled.  "I won't ask what the worst thing was!  Oh, by the way,
this is Maks...a...uh..."

"Old friend of mine," Luka said, nodding.  "He was my first wife's
brother."  Luka has a special talent for telling the truth, even
though it often makes others uncomfortable.

Chuny doesn't appear fazed by this.  She smiles at Maks, who smiles
back-a little.  He's a shy bloke, that's for sure.  Chuny, however, is
anything but shy.  "So you're from Croatia, Maks?" she asks.

"Yes..."

"Well, I hope you're liking America.  Are people still yelling at you
with the mistaken belief that you'll understand them better?"

Maks looks a tad confused, so I jump in to save him.  "You know.
'Hello!  Do! You! Speak! English?'"

Luka rolled his eyes and said something in Croatian to Maks, who
snickered softly.  "I understand English okay, but it is convenient to
pretend I don't.  Like when people ask me for directions...or when
people approach me in the mall asking me to take a poll."

Chuny looks much amused.  "Yeah.  I speak English pretty good,
considering I'm from Puerto Rico...well, not *great*, as you can tell.
 But hell, who does?"

"Not me! And I'm from bloody England!" I chirp.  "Correct English can
be rather dull, anyway.  Like listening to the Queen's Christmas
message.  I should make proper introductions... Maks... uh..."

"Persljevic."

"Maks, this is Chuny Marquez."

Maks extended his hand to Chuny, who shook it, smiling.  He has long,
strong fingers.  Note that he pulled away from her rather quickly,
looking away.  OK, what is it about Croatian men?  Are they all
painfully shy, introverted Old World gentlemen?  He acts like a
wallflower, for God's sake.

"I should be going," Maks said quickly.  "My babysitter charges by the
minute after ten o'clock..."

I watch Chuny for some kind of reaction: horror, revulsion, 'Oh my God
I'm getting out of here now' or...but instead she only smiles and
nods.  "Well, it was nice meetin' ya, Maks."

"Oh.  Yes.  Thank you."  He nods, makes a v. slight bow and walks
away.  Chuny watches him leave, and I note that she's checking out his
butt.  Luka glares at me, and I try to exude innocence.

"What?!"

He ignores me.  "See you tomorrow, Chuny."

"Yeah.  See ya, Dr. Kovac."

As soon as she's gone, Luka turns and gives me that Look of his-the
one that says 'Don't Even Consider It'.

"What? What's that look for?  Have I done something Bad again?"

"No, but you're considering it.  You are not Yente, so *stop*!"

"Well, let's see.  So far, I have made exactly *one* match-Kerry and
Griffith-and that went off with a MAJOR hitch, if I recall.  So don't
get all high and mighty with me, Dr. Kovac!"

"You didn't make that match.  You had next to nothing to do with them
getting together..."

"I married you, didn't I?  They met at our wedding.  And I did
introduce them..."

"Alexandra..."

"Oh, come on!" I said, putting my hands on my hips.  "He liked her.  I
could tell.  And she was definitely looking at his butt.  And if he's
anything like you, I'll bet he hasn't been with a woman in quite a
while."

He looked like he was about to say something, then seemed to change
his mind.  He licked his lips, frowned, and leaned forward a bit,
going into Lecture Mode.  "Alexandra...Maks is...well, he's always
been a little...what's the word?  Fragile?  Girls always liked him but
he was always so..."

"What?  Gay?"

"No, dammit.  Shy.  He's always been shy.  It took Paulina almost
three years to get him to ask her on a *date*, for God's sake!"

"And then what happened?"

"They were married a month later," Luka mumbled.  I crowed in triumph
and waddled to the car, giggling.



Alexandra was asleep, and Luka lay beside her, staring up at the
ceiling, memories flooding around him again.  Seeing Maks had dredged
up all kinds of things, both good and bad.  His first wedding day,
standing beside Danijela at the altar.  The reception, dancing with
Danijela, the scent of her hair and her soft skin making him
light-headed and eager to be alone with her.  He remembered Maks-then
a skinny sixteen-year old-nervously avoiding the pretty girls the
Kovac family had brought to the wedding-namely Paulina Kovac, Luka's
first cousin.  She had been fifteen then, only just beginning to show
signs of becoming a beautiful girl.  Luka had noticed Paulina and Maks
looking at each other.  That was where the old saying of 'You were
just a spark in your father's eye' comes from.  It had, indeed, taken
another three years for Maks to gather up enough courage to ask
Paulina out.  And exactly one month later, they were married, both
still teenagers.

Paulina had had a lot of difficulty getting pregnant, and had
miscarried twice.  Luka had moved to Vukovar with Danijela and the
children when he got the news that she was expecting again.  Galileja
was born only a few weeks after the fall of Vukovar, and was still a
baby when Maks and Paulina had fled into Bosnia, thinking they'd be
safe there.  They had not been safe, of course.  They had been rounded
up and forced into one of the camps.  Paulina had died quietly a few
months later, most likely from starvation, and shortly thereafter Maks
and Galileja had been released in a prisoner exchange.  It still
amazed Luka that the girl had been allowed to survive, much less Maks.

Like Luka, Maks had withdrawn into himself after the death of his
wife.  He had always been a soft-spoken, painfully shy, sweet-natured
kid and Luka had liked him, but after the war and the death of his
wife, Maks had cut off all contact with his family and had vanished
for a long time.  The last Luka had heard anything about him, he'd
been somewhere in Italy.  He hoped Maks had sought some kind of
help-it was obvious he had PTSD, and had not recovered physically from
the abuse he'd suffered in the camp.  He still limped, and he looked
pale and somewhat listless.  Not sick, but definitely not *well*, and
Luka knew that a large part of the sickness was in Maks' soul, not his
body.  Maks had even more grey hair than Luka, despite being several
years younger, and there was a haunted, exhausted look about him that
had disturbed Luka.

Was I like that? he wondered.  After a while, I was able to accept
their deaths...I wasn't angry at God.  I had learned to deal with
it-to cope and to find some kind of meaning for my own life.  But then
things started going wrong.  My only friend-Carol-left me.  My
patients started dying despite my best efforts.  I killed a man.  I
had sex with a woman I didn't love, and stayed with her despite her
callous lack of understanding or concern, and I got angry and bitter.
I got lost.  Then I got help.  Bishop Stewart helped me...helped me
stop blaming God and to forgive myself.  And then Alexandra found me.

Luka looked at her, and smiled.  She was fast asleep, curled on her
side, facing him.  She was so beautiful.  She made him happy, and he
thanked God every day that he'd found her.  He wanted Maks to find
that kind of peace again-that kind of contentment and freedom from
grief and pain.
Oh, well, hell, I wish everybody could be as happy as me, Luka
thought.  Yeah, the power of positive thinking, he laughed.  Dale
Carnegie, eat your heart out.

Alexandra stirred, mumbled something, and then made a gasping sound
and woke up.  She stared at Luka for a moment.  "You're watching me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know.  Because I can't sleep.  Because I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"Maks.  The babies.  Life in general.  The deep stuff."

"Ah."

"What are you thinking, specifically?"

"I'm still sorting it out," he answered, taking her hand and brushing
his lips across her knuckles.  "I don't think I can honestly say my
life's theme song could be 'Life's Been Good to Me So Far', but it
hasn't exactly been a constant tale of woe."

"I would hope not!" Alexandra laughed.  "You deserve to be happy."

"Do I?"

"Of course!  You earned it.  The hard way.  You got a little lost for
a while, but you found your way back to the path, right?  We all get a
little lost sometimes."

"I think I was more than a little lost, Alex.  I was a complete
wreck."

"And, if the rumors I've heard are correct, the woman you were with at
the time did absolutely nothing to help you."

Luka shrugged.  "She was kind of a mental case herself at the time."

"That's no excuse.  What decent human being watches another human
being fall apart and just stands there doing nothing?"

"A totally warped human being, maybe?"

Alexandra rolled her eyes.  "You're defending Abby?"

"Not particularly.  But I forgave her.  I hope you're not giving her a
hard time, Alex."

"The key word is 'decent'.  And what Abby did to you was indecent.  I
don't give a shit how 'warped' she was or how screwed up her childhood
was.  She could surely recognize the warning signals of a mental
breakdown occurring.  Surely she knew there was something wrong, so
why didn't she do anything about it?  It took a dying Bishop to help
you."

"Alex..."

"I mean, really."  She sat up and pulled her hair back into a
ponytail.  "Sometimes when I see her I feel a powerful urge to slap
her.  Nobody treats you like that and gets away with it."

"Well, hey, tune in to 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and learn a few
incantations from Willow, then you can put a curse on her and..."

"Silly!  I'm serious, Luka."

"So am I, Alex.  Abby and I were finished before we even started.  We
just went through the motions for eight months.  She needed a trophy
boyfriend and I was too weak and confused to do anything to stop it.
I would have been an awful cad to have dumped her when her mother
was...you know, going nuts.  And I suppose it would have been awful
for her to have dumped me when I was falling apart..."

"But she did *nothing*!  Just slept with you."

"Is that the issue?  The fact that I slept with her?"

"Did you ever love her?"

"No."

"Then I suppose the issue is moot."  She frowned.  "We've both slept
with people we didn't necessarily love."

Luka stared at her for a moment.  "I've only been with two other women
since my wife died, Alexandra..."

"And I've been with seven other men," she said, chewing on her lip.
"Are you saying that you're..?"

"I am not saying that at all," Luka said, his voice hardening.  "And
we're working our way toward an irrational argument that won't get us
anywhere, except me sleeping on the couch and you crying."

She looked away, and Luka felt terrible.  She had every right to be a
little irrational.  She was pregnant and working every day with his
ex-girlfriend, who was still relatively thin and not suffering from
swollen ankles or an aching back, and likely never would, considering
Abby's apparent reluctance to have children.  Of course, Abby was
dating Carter now.  Perhaps she'd reconsider, as the the Carter Family
Foundation could pay for lithium...

"I'm sorry," she whispered.  "Luka, I'm so scared."

"About what?"

"The babies.  What if I'm not good at being a mother?"

"You'll be an excellent mother."

"What if I do something to make them sick?"

"Alexandra," Luka shook his head.  "You're a doctor.  Come on.  You
know you'll do a fine job, and I'll be right here with you every step
of the way.  Flapping around and being generally useless, but it's
better than going it alone, right?  So just...relax."

"Relax?!"  She glared at him.  "How can I bloody relax?  In a few
months, I'm going to be a mother.  I'm constantly peeing, my ankles
hurt, I'm always bloated...God, I'm being so pathetic, aren't I?"

"You're being relatively normal," he shrugged.  "Ouch!"  He rubbed the
spot where she'd whacked him with a small balled fist.

"And you're so bloody calm.  Why can't you ever get excited?  Flap
your arms, holler, jump up and down and have fits?"

"Because you're already doing that enough for the both of u-...ow!"
He winced and gave her a kiss, to confuse her.  "Go back to sleep,
beba.  You're tired."

"I think I'll write in my journal for a while.  That always relaxes
me."

"Sure.  Go ahead."  Luka switched off his light and stretched out on
his back.  He watched as she opened the journal and got out her pen.
He had been tempted hundreds of times to open that diary and read it,
but so far had restrained himself.  At least she trusted him enough to
leave it out in the open now.  If he ever came across it lying open,
he would close his eyes and move away quickly.  "Uh...of course,
there's other ways to get nice and relaxed..."

"Oh?" she asked, looking at him, smiling enigmatically.

"Yeah."

"How?"

"Pinocle?"

She giggled and put the journal on the table and turned the light off,
then moved into his arms, kissing him sweetly.  The kiss deepened and
quickly became passionate, and he began to move down, removing her
nightgown in almost one motion.  Luka needed to touch her now, and he
could only hope she'd understand how urgent the situation had
become-it was almost *painful*, how much he needed her.  Afterward, it
was pretty apparent that she hadn't minded at all.

=

5 March 2002

11:49PM Post-coital glow making it possible to write in semi-darkness.
 Luka v. passionate tonight, and we had quite an enjoyable interlude.
Can't believe he said that he 'wouldn't be able to make it good for
me'...what is he thinking?  It's always good...usually it's bloody
spectacular.  The man is so sweetly clueless.

He's asleep.  Today was hard on him, I think.  Seeing his
brother-in-law (and cousin-in-law, at that) today was a bit of a blow.
 Sure it dredged up memories that were somewhat unpleasant.  Am now
sitting here, staring at an enlargement of the photo of Danijela and
Jasna, contemplating all manner of things.  Like the house hunting
trip we're taking next weekend, and the purchase of two sturdy cribs.

Studying Danijela's face in the photo now, because I have strange
inkling...

11:53PM  Oh my God.

12:03AM  Hard to be quiet while digging through boxes.  Found my
journal for 1990 and flipped through it, frantic.  Yes!  Here it is!:

-----

22 June 1990

Alice, Jane and I stranded in Zagreb, Croatia because of some kind of
train delay.  Beautiful city, though, and we took a walk through the
old part of town.  Got misdirected to a bar called 'Post-Coital Glow',
then had drinks at 'Gavella' where actors hang out.  Finally ended up
in the old market square and sifted through all manner of wares for
sale-silk scarves, various vegetables fresh off the farm, watches,
jewellery, an old sword from the Crimean War...

Noticed a commotion near a vegetable seller's stall and make my way
over, because I hear someone yelling for a doctor.  Been reading
medical journals since I was seven, so I figured I could help.
Nothing serious.  A v. beautiful young woman had fallen and skinned
her knee.  She had lovely ivory skin and dark hair and eyes, and even
while she was sitting there with a bloody knee and wincing in pain she
exuded dignity and calm.  I asked her if she spoke English and if she
was all right.

"My English is good, but my knee isn't too happy!" she laughed.  "I
took a...how you say... tumble?  I stepped into a little hole there."
She nods toward a little dip in the ground.  "Lost my balance."  She
looked around at the crowd of onlookers.  "I hope this doesn't get
back to my husband.  He'll start insisting I have someone go with me
into town if he can't come."

"Ah.  It looks like a superficial wound.  Be sure and clean it up well
and use disinfectant."

"Yes.  My husband is a doctor..."

"Oh?  Well, that's good.  I'm studying to be a doctor myself."

"Ah.  Luka will finish his internship next year at Vukovar Medical
Centre."

-----

Oh my God.  I met Danijela! 

Somehow, 'It's A Small World' not appropo. for this moment.  But I met
his first wife.  Why do I feel strangely *honoured* by this?  I mean,
she loved him first.  She was his first...oh, God, don't even want to
think about that.  But...well, she *was* his first.  Literally.  Wow.
And here I am.  His second wife, and I crossed paths with her almost
twelve years ago.  Unbelievable, but it's right here, and that's the
woman in the photograph or my name isn't Alexandra Marie Morgan Kovac.
 And it is.

Perhaps I should tell Luka?  Perhaps not?  I don't know.  Conflicting
Emotions and Feelings of Inadequecy and Tremendous Need to Pee.

1:45AM  Still can't sleep.  Thinking about yesterday's events.
Meeting Maks was interesting.  He reminds me of Spike from 'Buffy'.
Except that he doesn't speak with an English accent.  And he isn't
blonde.  Or pale.  Or evil.  And isn't a vampire...what was my point
again?  Maybe it was the sexy thing.  I don't know.  But Maks is sexy.
 Tho' I shouldn't mention this to Luka.  Yeah.  Add that to
Interesting Way to Start Conversation.  "Oh, by the way, darling, I
met your first wife at the market in Zagreb twelve years ago.  And I
think your brother-in-law is very sexy.  Please pass the potatoes."

2:05AM  Yawn.  Sleepy.  Babies kicking.  Luka suddenly sits up in bed,
gasping.  "Alex?!"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Reading.  Are you all right?"

"Just had a nightmare.  A little nightmare.  Come back to bed, beba."

Strange that he looks so shaken.  Something is troubling him tonight,
and am resolved to keep an eye on the situation.  Something in his
eyes, and in his expression, says that all is not well in his head.
Know for certain that the reappearance of Maks brought the ghosts
back.  I lie back beside him, and look at Danijela's photo.  Is it
horrible of me to put the photo face down on the table?

To be continued...