Saturday, June 11, 2005
Ghosts 5/37
Chapter 5
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
The tolling of the church bells reached deep within him and Luka blinked as if awakening from an unexpected nap. His face took on a momentary look of confusion as he first oriented himself, then realized that he was standing in front of the old church....the Bishop's church. He raised a hand to massage the dull ache that had settled into his temple as he tried to remember what had led him here. He remembered leaving the hospital...walking up the steps to the El, even climbing into the train when it had stopped. Why couldn't he remember how he had gotten here? He dropped his hand as his memory released nothing else and from somewhere he heard the voice whispering again...reminding him of the fine line between sanity and insanity he was walking.
Shaking the thought off he climbed the steps slowly, then opened the heavy door that would lead into the safety of the church. For several minutes he stood silently looking over the chapel as if expecting the old man to be watching him. He allowed a small smile to cross his face at the memory of the Bishop and what had been returned to him at knowing him. As suddenly as it appeared though it faded, and he was left knowing that the man represented yet another loss in his life and he would never see him again.
Moving further into the chapel he paused to genuflect and cross himself before slipping quietly into a rear pew. Ten years he had been away from his faith, ten years of laying blame where none was due. Luka leaned forward to lower the small padded bench then moved to kneel on it. As he crossed himself again he found his eyes drifting to the flickering candles in the alcove. He should light one for Danijela...for the children...for the Bishop...then suddenly he was faced with another realization, there weren't enough candles for all the deaths. He rested his forearms on the back of the pew in front of him and closed his eyes as he tried to block the thought in one of the familiar prayers.
The ground was littered with debris, shards of glass, broken bricks, plaster, all creating the cushion he lay upon, but none drawing his notice now. As he lay there stunned by the shock of the bullet and the subsequent fall he realized how close death really was. He could just stay here...let them come for him and it would all finally be over. He had no doubt in his mind if he were captured now it would mean his death. He would be like those at the hospital, or the man who's screams had reached him in hiding, but more importantly, he would be back with his family. He closed his eyes at the thought, no more worries about the dangers of going for something as simple as food or water. No more cold because you were living in a building that no longer had heat or electricity. He moaned softly as even those thoughts were pushed away by the pain that forced itself into the forefront of his consciousness.
Shifting so he could prop himself up on one elbow he looked first to see if they were coming for him before he brought his other hand to his thigh. How bad was it? He groaned as numb fingers probed the wound, a mixture of relief mingling with renewed pain as he registered the second opening in the back of his leg that marked the bullet's exit. Voices drew his attention back towards the city and his decision was made on survival instinct alone...he had to get moving.
He forced himself to his feet, a cry of anguish escaping as sensation screamed through the leg at the weight on it. He could see the headlights of an approaching vehicle....he knew it meant death was coming for him....for a moment he was frozen a strange fascination remaining at the realization. A bullet striking the ground near him sprayed gravel and broke his trance...his gaze immediately broke and his eyes moved to see where it was fired from. As if to confirm it, a second shot rang out and without thinking he began to run, his gait a staggered lope as he favored his injured leg. If he could reach the treeline he could be safe...safe...alive...
"Dr. Kovac?" The memory abruptly ended as he felt the hand on his shoulder and without thinking he shrugged it away. "Dr. Kovac...are you all right?" As he shook off the last remnants of the dream and turned to identify the voice he raised a hand to his face and across his eyes. Father Joe...the Bishop's aide...oh, God, had he said anything he might have heard? What could he have seen? He swallowed the fear as he let the hand drop again.
"Dr. Kovac, I thought that was you, I'm glad you decided to visit us again." The Priest let his eyes sweep over the man's face, unable to stop the frown that found him as he registered the swollen bruise. "Mother Mary." He uttered the words without thinking, "Were you mugged...do you need me to call the police?"
Luka shook his head as he raised his hand to gingerly touch his face. "No, Father, it happened at work...I'm afraid I let my attention wander with a patient. It was my own fault it happened, I'll be fine." Would he be? The thought lingered as he tried to focus on what the Priest was saying. "Bishop Stewart left something for you, I meant to give it to you at the funeral, but you were gone before I could talk to you." As the man spoke Luka nodded, then stood, his mind left with the question of what the Bishop could have wanted him to have?
As he followed the Priest back through the rectory his thoughts flashed to his last visit here when the Bishop was alive. If only the man hadn't insisted on leaving the hospital, maybe he could have done more. Had his prescribing the steroids made his condition worse...had it hastened his death? He could justify it by saying he had only done what the man had asked of him...but how much of that had been influenced by what the man was? "This is my office, Dr. Kovac." He let his doubts recede as the Priest stopped, then motioned him into an office. "Please, have a seat." He smiled again before moving around the desk that was the room's centerpiece and taking a seat in the large wooden chair that say behind it.
"Bishop Stewart was very concerned about you Dr. Kovac." As he began he leaned down to open a bottom drawer, "In his last few days he spoke often about the burdens you seemed to carry and about your having moved away from your faith." As he continued he straightened and lay a small white box of the desk across from where Luka had sat. "The Bishop appreciated your honesty with him, not many people could do that. He asked me to make sure that you were given these when the time came for him to join our Father." Resting his eyes on Luka he pushed the box across the desk, then sat back silently watching his reaction.
At first Luka wasn't sure what to think and it took him several minutes before he was able to bring himself to take the small white box. What was he so afraid of...it was only a box...what could it possibly contain that he should be afraid of? As he continued to look down at it he wet his lips. Why hadn't theBishop said anything to him about it? More importantly, how had he even known he would come back? He raised his eyes to the Priest then dropped them back to the box before opening it.
As he lifted the lid and saw the contents his eyes teared and he was forced to set the lid down to wipe his hand across his face before he could continue. "Did you know?" He asked the question quietly, as if it didn't matter if the other man heard him. "He told me of his intentions, yes." Luka raised his eyes to the man at his response then returned them to the box as he lifted the rosary from it. He blinked the tears away quickly as his fingers moved across the worn beads. Why him? As he saw what remained half hidden under the tissue beneath it the question became even more important. He lay the rosary on the desktop as he slid the paper aside then withdrew the Bishop's bible...the bible that had offered him comfort in those final hours of his life.
He dropped his face into his hand as the tears he had fought so hard to hold back finally fell. "Would you like some privacy?" He shook his head at the Priest's question then sniffed and wiped the tears away before bringing his eyes back to him. "He must have family who would want these." The Priest shook his head with a soft smile. "He was very definite about my making sure you got them, and you know how he was about getting his way." The Priest's smile broadened. "Dr. Kovac, the Bishop did not break the sanctity of your confession with me, but he did ask me to offer you my counsel. I hope you will allow me to accept that gift from him as you accept this one." Luka lifted his eyes to the Priest as he realized what he was asking. "Father..." he paused, what could he say? He brushed his fingers across the worn leather cover of the Bishop's bible as if it somehow held the answer, then lifted his gaze again. "I'm not sure that I can..."
to be continued...
Friday, June 10, 2005
My Goran pics from Nuts for Mutts
The pics have cycled into the archives so here's the direct link to them...
http://journals.aol.com/azizalsaqr/GoranVisnjic/entries/14
Enjoy!
Ghosts 4/37
Chapter 4
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
From the moment he had walked through the doors of the ER, Luka had not stopped running. A 6 car pileup had thrust him into the middle of a series of traumas that had kept him occupied for several hours, and where on any other evening he might have minded, tonight he welcomed them. As he finally got the driver of the vehicle that had initiated it stable enough to send him off to surgery he was ready for a breather. He'd just started for the Doctor's Lounge to grab a cup of coffee when he found himself cornered for an incoming GSW.
He had hoped for the chance to talk to Abby at some point before her shift ended, but he had yet to see her. Maybe he could ask one of the nurses if they had seen her. He found his mind wandering, drifting to how he'd left things with her, what was she thinking right now? "Dr. Kovac?" Lydia's voice drew him out of his thoughts and back to the man on the table in front of him...
45 minutes later he resigned himself to the futility of their attempts and with a frown he handed the paddles back to her. "Hold compressions." He watched the monitors grimly for a moment then moved his gaze to the clock. "Time of death...2:56." He took the offered chart and signed his name to the bottom of it before handing it back... only vaguely hearing the "He didn't stand a chance, " that was offered in consolation. "I know..."He agreed as he pulled the bloody gloves, then gown off and tossed them aside. "Is the family in chairs?" At the nod he headed for the door, pushing his way through, readying himself mentally for what was to come. He set his jaw as he entered the room...looking across the expectant faces as he stopped.
"Mrs. Gardner?" He watched the people sitting there for some sign of recognition, then as a woman nodded he approached her. "My name is Dr. Kovac, I treated your husband. Are you here with anyone Mrs. Gardner?" He asked the question quietly, hoping to give her some privacy despite all the people.. The woman nodded, "My daughter, she went down the hall for coffee, how is Daniel? He only ran to the store for some cigarettes...he wanted a pack...he was supposed to have quit..." The woman was rambling, filling the silence with trivial information as if that might prevent hearing what she somehow knew was coming. "Mrs. Gardner, your husband's injuries were quite severe." He slid his hands in his pockets as he spoke, aware that every eye in the room was on him now. "We did everything we could, but there was too much damage...Mrs. Gardner, I'm sorry, we couldn't save him, your husband died."
He heard the anguished cry that broke from her and the second that followed the sound of something hitting the floor behind him, a moment before a younger woman folded the older into her arms and lowered her to a chair. "Is there anyone that I can call for you?" He hated this part of the job, no matter how hard he had worked to save the man, the family would always feel he had somehow not done enough. "No, thank you," The daughter shook her head, then moved her attention back to the sobbing woman besides her. "Mrs. Gardner, would you like to see your husband before we take him downstairs?" Both women looked over at him, mirrored nods saying what words could not. "Follow me then..when you get to the room you'll see a lot of tubes..." As they rose and he walked them back, he began to describe the scene they would face....
Informing family members of a patient's death was always difficult and his time with the Gardner's had only served to accentuate that. As he finished his final notes on the man's death Luka wanted nothing more then to find a quiet room alone to finish out him shift. Sleep itself was not an option so instead he grabbed the stack of charts he still had to review. Where to go? He rubbed his eyes wearily as he first cast his eyes to the door of the Doctor's Lounge, and then to the board...the suture room was empty, that would work. Dropping his hand he grabbed the pile of charts and made his way down the hall, willing himself invisible as he passed each trauma room until he reached the end. Juggling the charts he pushed the door open then slipped inside, hoping to find the solace he needed.
Dropping the stack on the gurney he pulled the nearby stool over and sat. The day shift would be arriving soon, the thought registered for no real reason as he rubbed his fingertips into his eyes before reaching for the top one Releasing a weary breath he flipped it open and bracing his head with his hand, he began to read. Male...24... presented with broken..he skimmed the notes for anything thatseemed unclear, then added comments where needed before signing off on it. If someone were to ask him two days from now, could he even attempt to put a face to all of these? He frowned at the thought then flipped the cover closed before laying it aside and reaching for the next. Margaret Becker...64...complains of shortness of breath...10 minutes later he was asleep.
His lungs screamed as he ran...and as he zigzagged across the field, dodging bullets and debris, all that mattered was reaching the wall and getting over it. Watch where you're going. He shielded his face as a bullet striking nearby sent a spray of gravel up towards him. Get to the wall. He found he had to keep reminding himself of the main objective as he barely avoided the bricks and rubble of bombed out buildings that had once been home to people no longer there. He almost made it. He released an audible groan as a barb of the wire bit into his hand as he grabbed it. Too late to stop...he hoisted himself up and threw his leg over the top wire. The memory of the next few minutes played through his mind in slow motion, he felt the bullet rip into his thigh, the momentum so strong that it easily carried him over the top and to the other side.
"Dr. Kovac...paramedics are on their way in...drunk with a head lac." Malik's voice brought an abrupt halt to the memory and Luka jerked his head up with the suddenness of it. "3 minutes out...can you take it?" Wiping his hand across his face, Luka nodded as he turned to face him. "Sure, let me finish this chart and I'll meet you in the bay." As Malik closed the door he looked back at the chart that still lay open in front of him, he didn't even remember reading it. Without fully admitting it he knew he needed a few more minutes to draw the rest of his thoughts away from the dream. Dropping his eyes back to the chart he began again and as he read his hand absentmindedly massaged his thigh. As he realized it he pulled it away and stood..scrawling his name on the chart and closing it as if it were the reason for the action. He forced the lingering images of the dream aside and scooped the charts up then headed for the door.
"How far out now?" He asked as he joined those outside after dropping the charts at the Nurse's Station. Wrapping his arms around himself in concession to the morning's chill, he shifted his gazetowardsthe street. "Should have grabbed your coat Dr. Kovac.." Malik said with a grin...as he tightened his own around him. Whatever reply he was about to give was forgotten as the ambulance backed in and the two men immediately pulled the doors open, listening to the paramedics as they tried to update them over the drunk's protests as they wheeled him into Exam 1.
"Sir, you'll have to be quiet," Luka tried to access the man as he fought the hold the paramedics and Malik had on him.."Get your hands off me." The man tried to push him away as he wiped some of the blood away to allow himself to get a better look at the wound. "Sir," Luka took a deep breath and tightened his jaw as he fought to keep his temper under control. "I have to see how bad it is," He leaned in again to look just as the man brought an elbow up...
<Croatian>"Son of a bitch..." Luka clasped a hand to his face as he staggered back against the blow...his eyes watering with the intensity of it. "Haldol...5 mg.." He waved off the resident who had moved to his side then stepped back in to help Malik restrain the man. "You're going to get a blackeye from that one..." Malik assessed optimistically as he handed the syringe across the table. "Great...just what I needed to finish the night." He commented icily as he jabbed the needle into the drunk's upper arm. Passing the used needle off he stepped back so they could tie restraints on the man.
As he watched them his hand moved to cover the swelling bruise on his cheekbone. "I'll order films, but I don't think it's going to need more then stitches." Malik nodded..."Go get some ice for that..I can watch him until they come for him." Knowing he was right Luka nodded, then moved to the drawers and pulled one of the gel bags. After smashing the vile inside he grabbed the man's chart and headed back to the Nurse's Station.
"Luka, let me see it." At the sound of his name he opened his eyes and lowered the pack. Kerry...she wasn't due on until...what time was it? He started to rub his fingers into the bruise only to have her grab his hand to stop him. "Let me see how bad it is." He sucked air through his teeth, unable to withhold the wince as she gently probed along his cheekbone. "Nothing broken...how's your vision?" He wanted to wave her off...he should have been able to tell that the man might do something. "How many fingers, Luka?" Kerry had moved to stand in front of him, once more trying to get his attention on her. "Luka, how many fingers?" She asked as she held them a short distance from his face. "3...I can see fine...I just have a headache" He brought the gel pack up to cover his face again, unable to hold back the irritation at his own carelessness. "You should get a cat scan done." He shook his head at the request. "I don't need a cat scan." Weaver frowned at him then let her eyes settle on him. "Fine, take something for the headache and go home...call me later and let me know how you feel so I know if I need to schedule someone to take your shift." Luka lowered the gel pack again. "Don't start Luka...your shift is done..go home."
He wasn't ready to go home...that was the thought that lingered as he stood and walked into the Doctor's Lounge to put his coat away and grab his bag. His head was throbbing, but that wasn't it...or was it? He hung his stethoscope and lab coat on the hook before pulling the peacoat out and slipping it on. As he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror he might have been looking at a stranger. It wasn't the darkening bruise though that caused the reaction...it was his eyes, he closed the door, unable to look at himself anymore. He'd seen the look they held before...he knew what it meant. The ghosts were getting too close again and he had to find somewhere to escape from them...
to be continued...
Ghosts 3/37
Chapter 3
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
As the alarm thrust him into consciousness Luka couldn't help but groan, the pounding in his head only seeming to worsen in the time it took him to silence the clock. How many more nights would he find it necessary to subject himself to this? How much longer could he exist on the 3-4 hours of alcohol induced unconsciousness that was passing as sleep? Forcing himself to sit he swung his legs over the side of the bed, only to find himself confronted by a wave of nausea as the room spun before his eyes. Bracing one hand on the mattress to steady himself, he lifted the other to shield his eyes as he waited for the rolling to stop. He couldn't keep doing this...dropping his hand he hesitantly opened his eyes, then released a breath as the dizziness seemed to have passed.
Using the bed for support he stood, then as his legs steadied he crossed to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Grabbing a clean pair of shorts from it, he closed the drawer, before reaching for the slacks that lay draped carelessly across a nearby chair. How much longer could he function like this? The question continued to gnaw on his thoughts as he headed for the bathroom. Once inside he lay his clothes on the toilet and reached over to turn the water on. By the time he'd stripped his shorts off and stepped into the spray the water had filled the room with steam, and he braced his hands on the wall, basking in it's warmth.
Releasing a sigh he turned his back to the jet, letting the hot water knead into the knots that seemed to have permanently settled into his muscles. For several minutes Luka stood motionless, his forehead resting against the back of his hands as he rested against the tile. It was easy to let his mind wander as the pulse of the water seemed to lull him farther and farther away from the small room. He jerked away from the wall as he realized he was bordering on falling asleep on his feet, or worse of losing himself to yet another memory of his past. No...he shook his head and reached for a the bar of soap, and in the time it took him to wash, the feeling had faded. At least for now the danger had passed and with a relieved sigh he set the bar aside then reached down and turned the faucets off as he stepped out.
Grabbing a towel he shivered as the chill of the room contrasted with the warmth he had just left..then dried enough that he could step into the shorts and slacks. He had opened to door to even out the room's temperature and was in the middle of shaving when the sound of someone knocking at the door interrupted him. Draping his towel over his bare shoulders he crossed the room to answer it.
"Abby." She had been the last person he'd expected to face and whether it was something she saw in his face, or heard in the tone of his voice, she seemed to sense that. "Nice to see you too, Luka." She held the carryout bag up so he could see it. "I thought maybe we could eat together before your shift." He lifted his hand to his temple as the hangover induced headache continued to send a none too subtle reminder of his drinking. "Sure...whatever...come on in." He let the hand fall and moved aside so she could come into the room. "Gee, Luka, you think you could manage just a little more enthusiasm there?" She tried to keep her tone non-combative as her eyes swept over him, noting his appearance. "Luka, what's going on?" She searched his face, not liking what she was seeing then lay her free hand on his arm. "Luka?" He shrugged off her touch almost too suddenly as he spoke, "Nothing...look..I need to finish getting dressed." He used to excuse to allow himself to move back to the safety of the bathroom..and away from her scrutiny.
She almost questioned him again, but closed her mouth before it escaped, moving instead to the table with the food. As she started pulling the cartons from the bag she couldn't help but notice the bottles that littered the table and nightstand. "You had a party? She tossed the comment out almost too casually.
"What?" Luka stuck his head out of the bathroom door as he finished wiping the last of the shaving cream from his face. "I said..." She paused to moderate her tone. "Did you have a party last night?" She waved her hand to indicate the scattered bottles. "Let it drop, Abby." He tightened his jaw as he walked across the room to the closet and opened the door.
"Luka..." Abby was an expert in avoidance...she'd had her entire life to master it. Luka was new to the game, and something in the way he was trying to distance himself threw all kinds of red flags around them. Setting the last carton down she walked over to where he was standing, before sliding her arms around his waist. "Talk to me, Luka." She planted a kiss on his bare back before resting her head against it.
Why had she touched him? He closed his eyes, choking back whatever reply might have been there then dropped his hands to cover hers. "I can't." The words were less then a whisper and even as close to him as she was, Abby still had to struggle to hear them. "Luka?" She lifted her head to kiss him again, "Will you at least look at me?" She asked quietly.
For several long minutes he did nothing and Abby found herself becoming more and more frightened by his mood. He was supposed to be the strong one. She found herself turning him to her and when he offered no resistance her fears grew. "You need to sleep." She said softly as she raised a hand to touch first his cheek then to slide it around his neck so she could draw him closer to her.
When he started to protest she lay a finger to his lips and stopped him with a shake of her head. "Later." She silenced him with a light kiss before backing him to the bed, then sitting and pulling him down beside her.
He didn't have any fight left in him and as she coaxed him to bed he complied...maybe he could hide in sleep. Maybe with her there the ghosts would remain at rest. As she lay beside him he shifted so he could lay his head on her breast, the sound of her heartbeat providing the anchor he needed to draw him towards sleep. As he closed his eyes he could feel her fingers as they brushed through his hair, and across his brow, the sensations lulling him farther away from her.
"Sleep, Luka." She kept her voice low, her motions set on easing the tension that seemed to radiate from him. "Shh..." She whispered. "Just sleep."
He woke slowly, noises in the hallway filtering through the tendrils that still held him in sleep. With a soft snuffling he shifted slightly on the bed, tucking his hand under his head before releasing a quiet sigh. Only when the radio triggered as the alarm did he finally fully wake, the music acting as the lifeline that guided him to consciousness. With a moan he rolled onto his back, stretching with a yawn and at that same moment registering that Abby no longer lay next to him. "Abby?" He rubbed his hand across his eyes as he sat up and glanced around the still darkened room. He was about to call again when he caught sight of the folded slip on paper on the pillow beside him.
Drawing his knees up he unfolded it, a slight smile breaking his face as he read. He owed her some kind of an explanation, but how could he explain to her what even he didn't understand. Part of him wanted to pretend that nothing was happening, but there was a larger part that recognized that for the lie it was. He'd seen symptoms like his in the camps...in the hospitals. He let the note fall between his upraised knees before brushing his hands back through his hair. No...he wasn't insane...he tried to force the thought away as he propped his elbows on his knees then cradled his head in his hands. He'd kept the ghosts locked away for all these years, he could continue to do it...he just had to try harder. He couldn't let them overrun all he had accomplished. He pushed the fear aside as he rolled his shoulders back, then threw the covers off...he couldn't do this now, he was supposed to go to work. Work was safe...work would keep the ghosts at rest...
to be continued...
Thursday, June 9, 2005
Ghosts 2/37
Chapter 2
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
Dropping his eyes to his watch as he entered the ambulance bay only deepened the frown on Kovac's face. He'd lost the better part of an hour, how could he explain his absence? He had walked away from a patient, from their family. He had left them not knowing if the boy were going to live or die, and he hadn't even cared. A voice inside of him screamed for him to walk away again...he had nothing to hold him here it reminded him. He paused, resting his hand on the brick wall for support as he tried to quiet it...no...he couldn't keep running away. Pushing himself off the wall, he drew a deep breath then let it out as he walked to the entrance..steeling himself for whatever was coming as the doors to the ER slid open and he stepped inside..
"Hey Doc...whoa, you look like hell, something up?" Malucci glanced at Kovac as he passed him in the hall, "Haleh was looking for you..she didn't look too happy." The young resident frowned at the chart in his hand...vomiting and diarrhea, some days he was sure Weaver stacked the charts to make his life difficult. Luka shook his head in dismissal of the question and focussed on the safer part. "No..just a rough trauma, look," He brushed his hand through his hair as he spoke. "I need a break..tell her I'll be back in not more then half an hour if you see her again would you?" Dave nodded, "Sure, I can cover for you, hide while you can..." He warned with a smile before he headed off to the exam room.
In a way he was relieved when the young doctor moved off, what else could he say, he needed to clear his head before he talked to anyone else, that much he was sure of. How to do it? Without leaving the hospital itself, there were few places he could do that. Slipping into the lounge he opened his locker and pulled the clean shirt he kept there out. When he flicked his eyes to the small black and white picture he had placed in the door only hours before, he couldn't help but wonder why all this was happening now? He rested his head against the cool steel tracing his fingers across the frozen images as he drew a calming breath. Why couldn't it all just stay buried? He let the thought hang there as he straightened and slammed the door closed then headed out of the room.
He approached the shower room with mild trepidation...what he wanted now, no needed, was to be alone and there were no guarantees that that would happen. He pulled the door open and stepped inside, his eyes moving quickly around the room before he fully entered. The puddles of water near several lockers were leftover reminders that others had been here recently, but at least for now it appeared he wouldn't have to face anyone. Releasing a relieved breath he walked over to one of the metal boxes and after laying his shirt on the bench in front of it, opened the door.
When he'd returned at the beginning of his shift, he'd thought that the time off had allowed the ghosts of his past to finally be laid to rest. The Bishop had heard his confession, had offered forgiveness, and given him back his faith. More importantly, the last month away he'd thought had allowed him to heal what before that he'd only hidden. He exhaled, looking at his face in the locker's small mirror...no wonder Malucci had thought something was wrong...he ran his hand across his face, the shadow of a days beard growth scraping against it. Even he could see the haunted look his eyes held...he dropped his gaze..and his hand before he loosened his tie and pulled it off.
It was too easy for him to close his thoughts away in mindless tasks, and the pain of others..but then he had had almost 10 years to perfect the skill. 10 years since Danijela and the children had been killed. 10 years since he'd avoided death himself. He shook the thought aside, focusing instead on the simple task of unbuttoning his shirt. As he pulled his arms from the sleeves he found his thoughts wandering again...was that it then? Was it that he had spent the time away thinking only about Danijela and his children? A month of wondering what his life could have been like if they were all here together?
A sad smile crept across his face as images of Jasna and Marko entered his mind and without realizing it he glanced down as if he expected to see them tugging on his pant legs as they clamored for his attention. Within moments it had faded and a soft sigh escaped him as his mind registered that he would never know that sensation again.
He finished undressing slowly, as if he could somehow alter time through the act, then slid everything in the locker and shut the door. As he glanced across the room his eyes settled on the pile of towels that he'd missed when he entered. Shaking his head at the forgetfulness he padded naked to it, pulling one off the stack..then wrapping it around his waist before he headed for the showers
The damp chill in the room was immediate and he barely repressed the shiver that ran through him before he reached in and turned the water on. After giving it several minutes to warm he dropped the towel and stepped inside...a gasp escaping him as the water first hit...he reached down to adjust the temperature then turned his back to it. The sting of the water momentarily distracted him and he leaned forward..bracing his hands on the shower stall wall as it seemed to drive tiny needles into the knots in his back. His respite was short lived and as the tension eased his mind quickly wandered and within minutes the memories he'd fought so hard to suppress crept back into his thoughts...
At first he'd felt like he was choking...the dust from the broken wallboard seeming to fill his every opening...he shifted position..careful not to make any noise as he wiped it from his eyes...not like it mattered...the darkness prevented him from seeing. He could hear them though....footfalls crunching on the debris over his head...Oh, God, please don't let them find me...he concentrated on not moving...never realizing how difficult that could be as his muscles seemed to rebel. He lost track of time...knowing only the burning as the dust scratched his eyes..and seeped into every pore.
As it grew later his panic at being caught shared space with his increasing thirst..he ran his tongue across his lips...how much longer until they were gone? He listened as the Serbian soldiers above laughed about what they had done...he could smell the smoke from their cigarettes...and within it all he knew that his fate would be decided within seconds were they to find him. He bit into his hand as a cough threatened to break...only pulling it out as the need finally passed.
He must have dozed...though how he could sleep with death so close was a mystery... he jerked abruptly awake as first a gunshot then a scream broke the silence of his hiding place. Time had no meaning anymore..and after what seemed like hours, but what might have been minutes, the voices were gone, leaving only the sound of passing trucks on the street behind. He was left with his own thoughts then, and in his growing disorientation imagined that he was home...he could hear Jasna's laughter...smell the scent of Danijela's soap as he nuzzled her neck...feel the softness of Marko's hair as he stroked it. He shifted slightly then groaned as a muscle cramp tore through his calf and forced reality back into his mind. How much longer could he stay here...how much longer until they found him and his fate became that of his family, or the gunshot victim, or the thousands of others who had died at their hands?
The steady pounding of the water into his skin made it easy to lose himself to the memories and he no longer felt the sting of it as it reddened his back. He moved forward resting first his forearms then his forehead against the now warm tiles as the long repressed scene continued to play out in his thoughts.
Eventually it was hunger and thirst that forced him from the safety of the blackness... the gnawing consuming him until not even sleep offered an escape from it. He bit his lip as he slid the wallboard aside..the sound seeming almost deafening. They could be waiting for him...the thought came unbidden....could, but was death here any more welcome? He hoisted himself up so that he could see over the edge, it was still dark and the air held the scent of fresh rain...but it was quiet..almost too quiet. He shimmied the rest of the way out and crawled forward on his belly, as if his staying low to the ground would somehow make his less visible...then peeked his head around the corner..letting his eyes move up and down the street.
He moved his head and bit into his hand to silence the anguished cry that broke. Oh, God, please don't make me relive that again...he turned around...reaching over to adjust the water until steam poured from the showerhead. He flinched in response to the sting of the hot water as it bit into his skin, it's pain the only way he could think to silence the ghosts that continued to haunt him.
As he reentered the ER after tossing his shirt in the locker, his first thought was that he needed a chart, any chart that would take his mind off the increasing relapses into his past. As he grabbed the first in the rack he glanced quickly around the Nurse's Station, no sign of weaver, or Halah, at least for now he could pretend nothing had happened. He flipped the chartopen then moved over to the board, "I'm taking the scalp lac in sutures." He announced to no one in particular as he scrawled his name next to it. As he dropped the marker in the tray he released a sigh of relief, business as usual, he cast his gaze around the station once more then headed for the suture room.
As he entered the room he smiled at the little girl who sat on the exam table...then to the woman who perched in the chair beside it. "Hi..I'm, Dr. Kovac." He laid the chart down on the suture tray as he reached them..."What's your name?" He tilted his head slightly as he waited for the girl to answer, using the time to give her a quick once over. "Lakisha..." The girl answered quietly. "How old are you...Lakisha? " He struggled with the name a moment before getting it out. "4" She bit her lip nervously as she watched to see what he was going to do. "I'm going to look at your cut...and then I'm going to sew it up for you..ok?" He waited for her nod then looked over to her mother as he picked up the chart and studied it a moment. "Her X-Rays came back clean...so once I get her stitched up she should be able to go home...you will want to watch her for drowsiness, she could have a mild concussion from the fall. OK?" The mother nodded as he readied the suture tray. "That's what the other doctor said too..." Pulling a stool over next to the bed he took a seat then reached for the needle. "Good...ok.. Lakisha.. you're going to feel a couple stings when I give you medicine to make it not hurt..."
All finished." Luka dropped the scissors on the tray next to him..then looked into the small girl's face. "You were very brave." He said with a smile, before looking back to the dressing he was readying to cover his work. Tearing several strips of tape from the roll he looked over to the child's mother. "I'll have them give you wound care instructions when you sign out, and you should follow up in a week to have the stitches taken out." When the woman nodded her assent he turned back to Lakisha and began to apply the bandage over her stitches, when he had finished he stood. "No more running down stairs now...agreed?" He let his gaze settle on her for a moment until she replied. "I won't."
Picking up the chart he jotted a few final notes on it then raised his eyes back to the mother. "You cangether dressed now, and I'll have what you need at the desk for you to pick up when you sign out." He gave her a reassuring smile then headed for the door. "Thank you." The woman said as she rose and began gathering her daughters clothes. "You're welcome...good-bye Lakisha." He added the last as he opened the door...then stepping out into the corridor he headed back to the Nurses Station.
"Luka, we need to talk." Kerry Weaver's voice broke into his thoughts as he signed off on the girl's chart and dropped it back in the rack. Forcing his emotions aside he slipped his hands in his pockets and turned to face her. "About what Kerry?" The question was obvious, even to his own ears. "About what's going on with you...I know you just got back from vacation, but you can't just walk away from your shift...especially in the middle of a trauma." The redhead let some of her irritation ooze into her words. "It wasn't in the middle of a trauma Kerry...the boy was on his way to surgery, I was finished with him." Luka clenched his jaw, fighting hard to keep his rising anger in check. "You left his family sitting in chairs not knowing if he was alive or dead. Luka, what were you thinking?" He shook his head his face hardening even more. "I just needed some air." He threw the excuse out blindly. "Air? You just needed some air? Luka, you can't just walk away on patients, if something is going on, work it out or take more time off. I don't want to hear of this happening again. Do I make myself clear?" Her eyes were blazing as she leveled them on him, aware that the attention of everyone present was now on the two of them. "Perfectly, Kerry, are you finished?" Luka held his own barely controlled anger in check though his face easily reflected it. The woman noted his posture and reluctantly nodded. "Sign out Luka, go home and get some sleep, we'll cover the end of your shift." When he started to protest she shook her head. "Sign out, now." She added with a firm finality that left no room for further argument.
He'd thought far too much about his family today...far too much about the horrors of his past and then to be shot down by Weaver in front of everyone...no..it was too much. The result to it all was that he now sat nursing his 6th beer and avoiding the sleep that he knewhewould eventually have to give in to. Luka stretched his legs out across the bed..staring at the infomercial that played soundlessly on the hotel television. With a sigh he leaned across to grab his wallet from the nightstand and pulled the small black and white picture from it. Settling the beer bottle between his legs before he ran his finger over the images. He had looked at it so many times over the years that he knew every crease...and if he closed his eyes he could call it vividly into focus, but he still took comfort from holding it. He remembered the day it was taken...one of the last before their world fell apart... before they were forced to live in fear and the children had to stop being children and instead became prisoners in their own home.
He took another draw off the bottle..how many more would he have to consume before he could put the memories to rest for the evening? Even after all these years such small things could bring the ghosts out of the shadows...ghosts...he hated to think of them that way. He downed the rest of the bottle before leaning over to set it on the nightstand by the other empties...then frowned as he saw no more full ones. With a mild groan he pushed himself into a sitting position...his brow creasing as the room seemed to roll..then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had to have more in the frig...he stood, swaying slightly as he made his way to the small box... then opened it. Success... he pulled the six-pack out and carried it back over to the bed.
How long had it been since he'd had to lose the memories in alcohol? He slid the picture back into his wallet before opening the new bottle...there had been a time when there had been no other way to silence them, but that had been when they were still fresh, when the wounds of their loss were still raw. He drank deeply... praying for the release from them that the beers would bring...no more, please...he found himself asking silently. It took most of the second six-pack before the peace finally came, and he gratefully slid into the alcohol enhanced fog of sleep...the memories at rest...at least for now.
to be continued...
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