"Pain is your friend, your ally it will tell you when you are seriously injured. It will keep you awake and angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? .... it lets you know you're not dead yet. Viggo Mortensen (Master Chief John Urgayle) in G.I. Jane
"We need to let the paramedics check you over." The officers who had escorted Luka off the roof had allowed he and Abby a few moments for their reunion, but, having seen what they had, they knew too that he was in need of medical care, whether he would admit to it or not.
"Luka, what's wrong, your face." For the first time Abby really looked at him, bringing a hand up to touch lightly the bruise from the gun-butt on his face.
"Abby, don't" Luka winced, then gasped as she inadvertently brushed against his hand as well.
"What?' His eyes dropped immediately to his hand as he pulled it back and tight against his body.
"Oh my God, Luka, your hand...what did he do to you?" As she reached out to take hold of it for a closer look he took a step back from her.
"No, don't." He shook his head, concealing the damage from her with his good hand.
"Dr. Kovac, the paramedics are waiting." The officer touched his arm, then motioned toward the waiting ambulance.
"This way." Keeping hold of Luka with one hand he turned to Abby.
"They'll have to take him to the hospital, my partner will give you a ride in, I need to get your husband's story before he forgets anything. He'll be fine." Without giving her a chance to argue he turned his attention back to Luka.
"I don't need to go to the hospital, I just want to go home." He wanted to be anywhere but here.
"It's procedure, you have to go in, look at your hand, come on." Registering the state of what was clearly shock settling in on the man's face he applied more pressure into his pull as he initiated the move toward where the paramedics waited.
"You were lucky...it could have been a lot worse..." The words offered little comfort as Luka started the slow walk with him. So many emotions were surfacing, intermingling with the pain, but none quite as strong as the fear of just how bad the damage was and what it could mean to his future. If this was what Ames had planned for him it was working.