What’s Opera, Doc?
Part One
By Miesque
miesque48@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: A Luka Kovac/Kerry Weaver Story (Part One of Three)
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Nothing much, but maybe a reference or two to stuff that happened in S6.

DISCLAIMER: The characters of Luka Kovac and Kerry Weaver are the sole property of NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin, and Constant C.

SONG: (just one line and the chorus) ‘Lonely Ol’ Night’, by John Mellencamp

PRAISE TO: Three extraordinary friends who provide continued and loyal support, inspiration, and encouragement (besides top-notch editing!). And special thanks to Canada for the idea! ;-)

NOTE: "Reconstructed Luka" Part VI will be coming along one day. I guess I just got a little side-tracked here...<g>



Kerry banged her fist angrily on the computer keyboard, causing everyone at the front desk to look up. “Damn this infernal machine!” she snapped. “This is the sixth time I’ve had to reboot this...this... wretched thing!”

Haleh and Lydia, watching from nearby, glanced at each other but said nothing.

“What’s the problem?” Carter asked, peering over Kerry’s shoulder and looking at the screen. She had been in a bad mood all day, and the nurses had started a pool on who her next victim would be. So far, she had shouted at Malucci for goofing off and Abby for being late. Now it was Carter. Still, none of them could figure out why Kerry was so angry. She wasn’t double-shifting, things were quiet in the ER. But Kerry was always a mystery to everyone.

“I wonder if she’ll yell at Dr. Kovac next,” Lydia whispered to Haleh.

“I doubt it. He’s her favorite.”

Haleh grinned. “He’s everybody’s favorite.”

“If I knew what the problem was, Carter, I’d be fixing the problem, now wouldn’t I?” Kerry’s voice was brittle with anger and frustration. “And by the way, have you finished those charts I gave you to code?” She fixed her gaze on him for a moment, and he flinched slightly, backing away.

“Uh...no...”

“Then get to it.”

Carter nodded, grabbed the stack of charts, and headed for the desk in the hall opposite the elevators. As he sat down and began looking at each chart, the doors opened and Luka stepped out.

John had been back from Atlanta for almost three weeks now, and he and Luka hadn’t had much chance to speak to each other. Carter had heard from Dr. Benton that Luka was judgmental, but John had certainly heard otherwise from the nurses-that he was a good doctor and a very compassionate person. He could certainly agree about the good doctor part-Dr. Kovac was outstanding in that department, no matter what Peter Benton thought. And Carter had heard several stories from the nurses about Luka’s natural empathy toward patients. He wasn’t sure what to think now, considering all Benton had told him. Kovac had not said anything to him about his drug addiction back in May, but Carter had always felt a little nervous around Luka. The guy was big, commanding and...what was the word? Not hard and certainly never mean. Just...dignified.

“Hello, Carter,” Luka said, to John’s surprise.

“Hey, Dr. Kovac,” he said, attempting to pronounce the name correctly. That seemed to help a little, because Luka rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“I think it’s a little beyond most folks, Carter,” he said with a wry smile. “It’s hardly worth worrying about.”

“Dr. Weaver gets it right most of the time.”

Luka studied Carter for a moment, then stepped closer. “I was very sorry to hear about your problems, John,” he said quietly. “If you need any help...”

Carter was about to answer Luka when he spied Kerry Weaver crutching toward them.

“Dr. Kovac!” she called, pronouncing ‘Kovac’ incorrectly. “I need help with a trauma.”

Luka glanced back at Carter, then clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Carter.”

“Thanks...”



Mr. Tate was holding up two tickets, smiling up at Luka. “It doesn’t look like I’m gonna make it to the opera tonight, Dr. Kovac. Go ahead...take ‘em.”

“I really shouldn’t, Mr. Tate...” Luka answered, glancing at the words on the tickets. ‘Rigoletto’. Not one of his favorites, really, but he hadn’t been to the Civic Opera House. He knew it was out on Wacker Drive-and had passed it several times while driving in the city-but thus far he hadn’t had any opportunity for a night out. Tonight, however, he was off, with nothing to do but go home to an Australian Shepherd dog named Val.

“Come on, Dr. Kovac. You saved my life!”

“I gave you CPR on the El, sir. Anybody could have done that.”

Luka had ridden the El to the bank during his lunch break, and had spent a few minutes going over his accounts, adding up numbers until it all began to give him a headache. He just didn’t spend the money he made, except for really important things, like food, clothing, rent...

That had been the main reason for his visit to the bank, then a quick ride back across town to the Bursar’s office. On his way back-ten minutes late, figuring Kerry would have his head for his tardiness-he had encountered Mr. Tate on the El. The man, dressed in an expensive Armani business suit, had suddenly collapsed and Luka had gotten him to County General ER in quick time. A few minutes in a trauma room, and Mr. Tate was being lined up for several tests. Thus, his offer of the tickets. He was being kept in the hospital overnight for observation.

“Yeah, but you did it. I could be dead now! Go ahead...take ‘em! I was going to take my wife tonight, but she’s on her way here and knowing her, she won’t leave my side for a minute. Please...just as a means of letting me thank you, Dr. Kovac. Take them.”

He held them out again, and Luka finally sighed and took them. He hadn’t been to an opera in years. Last time had been ‘La Traviata’ in Paris. “Thank you, Mr. Tate.”

“That’s quite an accent...where are you from, Doc?”

“Croatia.”

“Really?! My wife loves Croatia...she swears that Dubrovnik and Old Zagreb are the prettiest cities in Europe. Even prettier than Paris or Rome...”

Luka shrugged as he put the tickets in his breast pocket. Lydia came in just then with the chart, and Luka read it over for a moment before signing it.

“Thank you, Mr. Tate. A night at the opera might be a good idea.”

“Music is good for the soul,” Tate offered. “The Lyric Opera Company is one of the best.”

Well, it might not put me to sleep, then, Luka mused as Tate was wheeled out on the gurney. I slept through most of ‘La Traviata’, but then again I was a starving med student working almost ‘round the clock.

Heading back toward the admit desk, he saw Carter again. The young resident got up and walked alongside his colleague. “Dr. Kovac?”

Carter always felt awkward around Luka. The man was so authoritative. Even Dr. Dave called him ‘Sir’. He had heard rumors of Luka’s losses in Croatia, so he always felt like he needed to tread carefully with Dr. Kovac.

“Yes?”

“I needed to clear the air with you about something. Something that’s been bothering me, actually.”

“What’s that?”

“I...part of my therapy and rehabilitation is to...to apologize to the people I worked with for my behavior. Like the Swan thing...”

Luka had to think to remember that, and finally laughed. “You did go against procedure, if I recall,” he said with a polite smile. “But I’m hardly one to talk about following procedure to the letter.”

“Yeah...I...uh...heard about the...the school shooting.” Carter was really nervous now. He saw Peter Benton barreling down the hall toward them. Not a good sign.

“Yes. I’m sure some people have told you all about it by now. All I can tell you, Carter, is what you’ve probably heard a thousand times already, but it’s true: you can only live one day at a time. Yesterday’s over and done with. Tomorrow may not come at all. Today is all we know we’ve got.”

“Yeah...but it’s really hard sometimes.”

Luka sighed and watched Benton coming closer, and braced himself.

“It’s scary, John, but I know you can do it. We’re all behind you. If you need any help...anyone to talk to, I’m always around. You know I more or less live here,” he smiled sardonically.

Carter could only manage a relieved grin. Peter Benton was wrong about Luka. This was definitely a good man to have on his side. “Thanks, Dr. Kovac.”

“Somebody paged me?” Peter asked, more or less ignoring Luka.

“Not me,” Luka answered, and walked away.

“Did you page me?” Peter asked, looking at Carter, who also shook his head. He remembered what Dennis Gant had said about Benton once: ‘You’re a real prick’. That was certainly true sometimes. As much as Carter admired his teacher, he couldn’t deny that Peter Benton could be a real jerk sometimes. A lot of the time.

“Then what’s the problem?” Peter said, watching Kovac walk away.

“Dr. Benton...have you ever heard of something called ‘casting the shadow’?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“It’s like seeing something in someone else that makes you aware of something you don’t like about...about yourself. So you ‘cast your shadow’ on that person so you can more or less kill it. You ‘kill’ that person, and you feel...vindicated.”

“What are you talking about, Carter?” Peter asked, growing annoyed.

“Like how you treat Dr. Kovac. You call him judgmental, yet...” Carter took a deep breath. “You can’t deny that you rarely see the patient you’re treating. You just see the illness or the injury. You don’t see the person. Nobody’s perfect, Dr. Benton. Everybody makes mistakes...like me, for instance.” He looked down. “Is one mistake worse than another? Are his faults worse than mine? Or yours?” He lifted his head again and met Benton’s gaze, holding it bravely.

Peter studied his former student for a moment, then turned and walked away.



Kerry came into the lounge and was startled to see Luka pulling his shirt off. For a moment, she stood absolutely still, watching him. His back was to her, so she couldn’t keep from seeing the scars. There were several of them-long, ragged scars up and down his back, but what alarmed her most was how thin he was.

He pulled another shirt on, still unaware of her presence, and turned around. He had changed into a warm sweatshirt.

“Luka,” she said, hoping to God she wasn’t blushing. Or that her mouth wasn’t hanging open. Those scars-they did nothing to diminish his spectacular beauty. In fact, in a strange way, they made him real to Kerry. Before, his situation had only managed to settle itself on the fringes of her consciousness. Now, it all felt different. A small part of the mystery had been revealed to her, and she struggled to understand it. She wondered if she’d ever really understand it.

“I didn’t know you were there,” Luka said simply.

“I forgot to yell at you today about being late from your lunch break,” she smiled.

He grinned at her. “I guess you’ll have to dock my pay, huh?”

She shook her head. “Can’t have backsliders in my ER.”

As he gathered his coat from his locker, she thought about her position as chief of the ER. She wasn’t so sure she wanted it to be her ER any more. She was thirty-eight years old now, and all she had to show for it was this career . No one to go home to except a cat and a huge CD collection. Get another cat, more CDs, then maybe a third cat and she knew she’d be lost. She’d become the neighborhood Cat Lady who eventually locks her doors on the world outside, has her water and electricity cut off because she wouldn’t let anyone in the house to read the meters, and she would die alone, surrounded by kitty litter and old issues of “Cat Fancier’s Digest”.

Lately, Kerry had been thinking about giving her up position as ER chief. She was tired of all the finagling, arguing, wheeling and dealing of hospital politics. There was no fulfillment in the job, no satisfaction that she had gotten before in dealing with patients, in actually healing people. In being a doctor.

“But then again...you were late because you were saving a man’s life,” she conceded.

“Well, I was running late anyway. I had to pay a visit to the bank this afternoon.”

“Oh. Money problems?”

“Hardly,” Luka shrugged. He suddenly remembered the two opera tickets in the pocket of his discarded shirt. He grabbed the shirt from his locker and pulled them out.

“Oh...” She laughed. “Don’t tell me...you have a million dollars, right?”

“I won’t say,” Luka answered quietly. He didn’t even glance at her as he closed his locker and snapped the lock shut. “I guess I just...have a knack for it.” He snapped his fingers, and she stared at him, amazed but doing her best not to look amazed. “I’m financially secure at least. That’s one thing I don't have to worry very much about. When I was younger I never seemed to have money, but I had everything else I needed. Now...” He paused and glanced back at her. Now, he thought, I don’t have the things I really need, so I’m doing fairly well. What a strange paradox. I guess if I ever get what I need, I’ll be dirt poor again, but I’ll be fairly happy. Money’s only green paper, after all. He turned away so she wouldn’t see his wry smile.

Kerry remembered yesterday when she got her bank statement in the mail. She had a comfortable sum in the bank, stashed away for her retirement, plus a checking account that was always balanced, always in the black. She certainly didn’t have to worry about money.

“Well, that’s good.”

When he turned to look at her, a twinkle in his eyes, she fumbled a little. “I mean...you just don’t seem very materialistic. Nothing seems to matter to you, Luka.”

“Money’s nothing,” Luka said. “It’s true...I don't care much about it. Maybe that’s why I actually have a little. Anything I care about...” He paused, almost saying ‘Is taken from me’. He shrugged. “When you care too much about it, it tends to make your life much too complicated. Besides...you can’t take it with you.”

“That’s true,” Kerry answered quietly.

“Are you on for the rest of the night?” Luka asked, finding the conversation about money to be uncomfortable.

“No. I’m just getting off,” Kerry informed him, moving quickly toward her locker. He took her cup of coffee and watched as she opened her locker and retrieved her coat.

“It’s already getting chilly out there,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” she answered. Something had changed in the air around them. She couldn’t understand what it was. Their relationship was only what Kerry could call ‘wary’. In fact, thinking about it carefully, she realized they had not carried on a real conversation since...January, when she had interfered with his patients and caused him to relive painful memories from the past. They had had a few run-ins since then. But Kerry couldn’t deny that she had more respect for Luka than anyone else in the ER. His cool head was an asset to the department. And no matter how often she tried to deny it, she genuinely liked him. They worked well together.

“Uh...Kerry?”

“Yes?” She kept her back to him, pulling a light jacket on and banging the locker door shut.

“I was wondering...well, a patient just gave me two tickets to see ‘Rigoletto’ tonight. I was wondering...maybe you’d like to come with me?” He waited, knowing this was rather spur-of-the-moment for him. He hoped he hadn’t sounded as awkward as he felt. It wasn’t as though he was an expert at the courting game. It had been more than fifteen years since he’d been on a ‘date’ with anyone, and nine years since...

She turned around quickly, and stared at him. “Opera, Luka?”

“Yeah...” He swallowed nervously. “Bugs Bunny jokes aside, it’s apparently opening night. Tuxedos, formal dress...which means I’ll have to dig out my best suit...I don’t actually own a tuxedo...and see if it still fits. Probably not...I lost a lot of weight since the last time I wore it.”

“Umm...what time?” she asked at last.

“I could pick you up at six o’clock. It starts at eight, so that’s two hours for dinner or something.”

“Okay. I’ve got to get home anyway...feed the cat.”

“Yeah. I’ll be by at six o’clock.”

“That sounds...good,” she nodded. Very good, she thought. I’d have to be complete idiot not to accept a night of dinner and the opera with Luka Kovac.



It’s a lonely ol’ night
Can I put my arms around you?
It’s a lonely ol’ night
Custom made for two lonely people like me and you


Luka’s dog Val greeted him at the door, tail wagging slowly. The animal was as dignified and polite as his owner. When Luka walked in, he didn’t jump up and down with excitement, but instead sat, extending a regal paw. Luka sighed wearily and shook it.

“Try to contain that enthusiasm, Val,” he muttered. “You might blow a gasket.” The animal followed him into the kitchen, heeling perfectly.

“I think I trained you too well,” Luka told the dog. Val only sat, waiting for his dinner. Val rarely barked, he never got on the
furniture, and to bite would be just plain rude. Even on stormy nights, when the windows rattled from thunder and lightning, and when Luka was sure he’d have a panic attack from sounds that were all too familiar, Val would just lie there, sleeping, completely unconcerned.

After feeding his dog, Luka took a quick shower, then got his best black suit out and examined it for a moment. It was clean, freshly pressed, and looked fairly good, even somewhat in style. He had purchased it two years ago at Barney’s in New York City. He remembered the sales clerk looking astonished when Luka paid for it in cash. He paid cash for almost everything, except gasoline.

“Now that I think about it, Val,” Luka said, glancing at his dog, who had curled up beside his bed. “That guy must have thought I was a member of the Gambino Family.”

Val didn’t seem convinced, however, and Luka tried the suit on. It certainly wasn’t tight. But it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t falling off him, like most of his older clothes tended to do after Vukovar.

“No...no, we’re not going to think about that tonight, Val,” Luka said quickly. “But...it’s not a date. She’s just been kind of frazzled lately, that’s all. Everybody needs to get out a little...do something besides work...what’s that saying? ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’? It was spur of the moment, really...and God knows I don’t do much on the spur of the moment. And why am I talking to a dog?”

Luka regularly talked to Val, who thankfully never answered. Maybe that was why Luka talked to him so much. Between sessions with his psychologist, group therapy and talking to Val, it was good for Luka. He was still so wary of talking to people about his problems. He didn’t want pity. He just wanted a friend. Maybe even three or four friends that he could trust.

Val sat up. ‘No’ usually meant he’d done something bad-which he rarely did-so the dog watched Luka anxiously.

“Never mind...it’s opera night. No bad memories. A little champagne and maybe I’ll konk out instead of thinking about stuff I can’t change.”

The dog wagged his tail slowly, and Luka scratched him between his eyes-something all dogs appreciated-and checked himself in the mirror. “Well, I don’t look like hell, so that’s a plus. God, I’ve gotten so old. Look at all this grey hair...I used to be kind of cool, but now...” He shook his head wearily. “I’m thirty-eight years old...what, did I expect the clock to stop for me?”

He combed his hair, grabbed his coat, then turned back to look at the dog, which had followed him into the hallway.

“If anyone tries to get in, Val...KILL!”

The dog was no more capable of killing than he was of robbing a bank. He only sat, accustomed to this ritual, and waited. Luka pitched Val a dog treat, which the dog caught and ate in his usual gentlemanly manner.

Luka could have sworn the dog rolled his eyes in exasperation, as if to say, ‘Go on, get out! While you’re gone, maybe I’ll order a pizza and invite that poodle from next door over for a nightcap.’

“All right, all right. Just don’t let ‘em take the stereo. Just bought the damned thing...” He had splurged quite a bit on that stereo and the brand new television. It had pained him, though, to part with so much money at once. Surely Val could appreciate that.

With that, Luka left, locking the door behind him. Val went back into Luka’s bedroom, got into his dogbed, and went to sleep.



Radio playing softly some singer’s sad, sad song
He’s singing about standing in the shadows of love
I guess he feels awfully alone

It’s a lonely ol’ night
Can I put my arms around you?
It’s a lonely ol’ night
Custom made for two lonely people like me and you


Kerry fed her cat, Maudie, when she got home, then rushed upstairs to look for something suitable to wear to opening night for ‘Rigoletto’. She didn’t want to overdress, but she did want to look good. She was going to be out with a spectacular looking man, after all. She couldn’t make him look ridiculous.

“If only I looked good in the first place,” she said glumly as she sat down at her vanity. After much plucking, smearing and applying, Kerry glanced down at her cat, which was rubbing against her leg. “Yeah, I bet you expected to hear the sound of drills and hammers, huh, Maudie?”

Maudie only miaowed in response and headed back downstairs.

She only had two hours to find a suitable dress. Kerry dug through her closet for a while until she came across a very pretty charcoal black dress. She tried it on and looked at herself in the mirror. “Cinderella lives,” she said to herself. But she had to admit, she did look pretty nice. The dress accentuated her figure rather well. The little black dress, she had heard from Randi, did much to show the best points of a woman’s body while kind of covering up the less-than-desirable features. Well, Kerry thought, I don’t have that many good features. I’m too short. My skin is too pale. My hair is still at the awkward ‘between styles’ stage...I wonder why I’m letting it grow out? And why did I get these new glasses? My age is catching up with me, so things are starting to...well, gravity is beginning to win this little war.

Kerry made her way downstairs, and as the clock ticked toward six, she became more and more nervous. She began cleaning the kitchen counters, scrubbing until she realized she had nothing left to clean. This isn't a date, she told herself again and again. I’m his...his boss. He was being nice. He had an extra ticket to the opera that’s all. We’re just...friends. I’m his employer, his superior...

Yeah, right, Kerry, she told herself. You’re his boss. His superior. Get real. If that’s true, why do you treat him so differently? You bite everyone’s head off most of the time, but Luka...I’ve never won an argument with him unless he actually sees the merit of my point. He doesn’t back down. Instead-and this made a shiver of nervous energy go up her spine-he dominates me. He leans toward me, looks me right in the eye, and I can’t even think straight. What is it about this man? she asked herself again. I’ve been at County six years and until he came along I was the one in charge. I was the dominant one. Everyone, Mark, Carter, Susan, Carol, even Doug...they all had to cave in to me. But never Luka. I had Betas all around me, but now...

The doorbell rang, and she nearly dropped a vase of flowers. Quickly, she made her way to the door, forcing herself to stop shivering.

Luka was looking out at the street, his back to her, when she opened the door. When he turned around, he was so startled he almost stepped off the porch, losing his balance briefly.

Her red hair was brushed back, away from her eyes, and he had a good look-maybe for the first time-at how delicate her bone structure was. She had a pretty neck, and that of course caused his eyes to travel lower. Nice firm breasts, a slender waist, gently curving hips...and her skin was beautiful. She looked lovely.

He cleared his throat. “Uh...hi. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Just let me get my coat. Come in...” Her voice had that intriguing squeak to it. It only sounded that way when she was on edge. And that amazed Luka-he didn’t know anyone who was more confident then Kerry Weaver, so why would she be nervous?

She went into the kitchen, but he stayed in the hallway, feeling uncomfortable about intruding. Kerry peered at him for a moment before turning away again to grab her purse and coat. God, he was gorgeous. Those eyes, that hair, his height...she wondered yet again what his parents must have looked like. He looked breathtaking in black-but then again, he always wore black, but by now she knew why.

“You look good in black,” she said, looking at him again. Her voice had that brittle sound to it again-edged with that quirky sarcasm he often noticed in her. She was a strange woman. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but beneath that tough exterior was a very delicate-looking, very feminine person. Maybe it was the dress, or the way she had fixed her hair...she looked different. For a moment, he wondered what she had looked like as a child.

Luka raised an eyebrow at Kerry, stepping into the kitchen at last. “So do you.”

He looked around the room with interest, then his gaze settled on her again. She stood for a moment, leaning on her crutch, nervous again. Had he just paid her a compliment?

Maudie the cat came padding toward him, but Luka waited, stiffening. He wasn’t a cat person. The cat, however, appeared to be a Luka feline, because she began rubbing against his leg, purring.

“What is this, a raccoon?” he said.

Kerry quickly pulled her coat on, and Luka felt a twinge of regret. He should have helped her with her coat. He berated himself. Where are my manners? he thought.

“It’s a Maine Coon cat. Pedigree and everything.”

“Really? He...or she?”

Kerry nodded. “Her name is Maudie.”

“She’s huge.” He bent to stroke the cat’s back, and Maudie’s purring got louder.

“She’s usually very shy of strangers. Didn’t you tell me that you have a dog?”

“Yeah. Val.”

“Val?”

“Val the Impaler.”

Kerry bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Don’t you mean ‘Vlad’?”

“Would you want a dog named Vlad?”

That did it. She started laughing. “No, I don’t guess I would.”

“Let’s go. I got us reservations at an Italian place near the opera house. That way, we can just walk from there. It’s only a couple of blocks.”

“That sounds good.”

“Good...let’s go.”

She walked past him, and he caught the scent of lavender perfume. He had always been partial to lavender, but Nadja had always worn Chloe. He was still standing there, watching her-casually admiring her-when she spoke again.

“Luka? Are you coming?”

“Oh...yes. Of course.” He stepped outside and stood, watching, as Kerry locked the door. She put the keys in her purse and he stepped off the porch. She was startled when he extended his hand to her. For a moment, she studied him, then took his hand and allowed him to gently guide her down the steps.

“Are you always such a gentleman?” she asked him.

“Yes. It’s my mother’s fault.”

Kerry laughed. “Sounds like you had a good mother.”

He helped her into his car, taking her hand again and making sure she was comfortable before closing the door. Kerry fumbled nervously for the seatbelt, finally latching it despite her quaking hands. She looked around the car, and noticed, between the seats, several CDs. Queen, Vivaldi, David Bowie, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Tom Petty...

“Classic rock fan, I see,” Kerry said when he started the engine.

He nodded as he pulled out of the parking space. “I listen to music a lot.”

“So do I.”

He glanced at her, but said nothing. He listened to music because of his loneliness. He had gone to a breeder and purchased Val (actually Ch. Marston’s Top Row Diamond Solitaire) because of the same. To hear sounds in his house was barely enough to keep the sadness at bay. He played music almost all the time when he was at home. Val seemed to tolerate it fairly well, except when Luka turned on the Three Tenors. Then he tended to go hide under the bed. Strange dog, Luka thought. He loves Vivaldi but he hates Placido Domingo?

Luka didn’t know what to say now. It was so strange to be alone with her. Maybe, he thought, I asked her to come with me because she’s just as lonely as me-that her position as ER chief was isolating in many ways. She doesn’t seem to have many close friends, at least none that I know about. I sure don’t have many friends. The only friend I managed to make so far moved to Seattle. You’re not making much progress here, Kovac, he told himself. It’s time to start getting back into life again.

Subtle inquiries among the nurses had revealed that Kerry had never been married, had apparently lived in Africa at some point in her life, and was adopted. That was pretty much all he knew about her, besides the bits and pieces she had filled in herself. She was still a mystery to Luka. Hell, he thought, to her, I’m probably an even bigger mystery.

They drove to the restaurant in silence, both tense and nervous, both aware of the change between them.

It was going to be an interesting night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

--
Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.
~P.J. O'Rourke, "Parlaiment of Whores"
If a man watches three football games in a row, he should be declared legally dead.
~Erma Bombeck
You can't have everything. Where would you put it?
~Stephen Wright