"Unbearable Brightness" is still creeping along, but I'm getting the feeling that my readers would much rather read about Luka. (And I have much more fun writing about Luka.) So ... here we are, a new story about Luka. The background of the story is that things are exactly as they are on the show ... until the story begins at the start of "Strange Bedfellows", at which point they change rather dramatically.

(Added a/n 4/30/06) Oops, just realized a month later that I'd forgotten the disclaimer stuff. So sue me, it's been a lousy month. If TPTB allowed us to quote stuff here, I'd say something about April being the cruelest month. But we can't, so I won't. Anyway, here's the disclaimer. They own the show, I own this specific arrangement of words on the screen.)

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"I got an email from Carter this morning," Luka said quietly. He took a sip of his coffee and looked at Abby's face to see how she would react. Her expression revealed nothing.

"How's he doing?"

"He's fine." Luka took a breath and plunged on. "He asked me to come to Africa and help him out for a while."

Abby stared at him for a minute. "He wants you to go back to the Congo?"

"Sudan, actually. He's in Darfur now. And I wrote back and told him 'yes.' I'm going to go."

Abby jumped up from the bench and took a few steps out into the ambulance bay before turning to face him again.

"Just how short is your memory, Luka? Last time you went to Africa you almost died … they told us all you had died. As it was, you came home with a nasty case of malaria ... you were sick for months."

Luka shook his head and rose to stand before her, put his hands on her shoulders. "That was different. I was different. I took a lot of stupid chances … I did a lot of stupid things." His voice softened. "I didn't have anything to live for then, but I do now. Besides, Darfur isn't like the Congo. It's hell for the locals, but it's pretty safe for aid workers."

"Pretty safe. Right." Abby's hand went to touch her belly, and Luka laid his own hand over hers.

"Abby, you aren't due for almost 4 months. I'll be gone for a month, 6 weeks at the most. I'll be back in plenty of time. You won't have to do this alone, I promise."

"I just don't understand why you want to go." Abby pushed his hand away and turned away from him again.

"I have to go. They need me there."

"And I need you here. Your patients need you here."

"I know I can't make you understand this, Abby. Unless you've been over there you can't understand. But trust me, this is important to me. I need to do this again. And this is really my only opportunity. Once the baby comes I won't be able to, but this is a good time. You're doing great, the baby's doing great. Vic's back from his leave, with the two new attendings we're fully staffed again.

Abby finally nodded slowly and pasted on a smile."Just promise me you won't fall in love with anyone over there. It seems to be an occupational hazard."

"What do you mean?"

"Gillian, Kem … there must be something in the water over there."

"There's no water in Darfur. Which is, of course, part of the problem."

Abby half-smiled againat the joke then said, "Does Carter know about me? About us? About this?"

"You asked me not to tell him, so I didn't."

"Maybe you should have. Then he'd never have asked you to come."

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Dust.

The Congo had been mud and jungle and suffocating humidity. Darfur was just dust. It billowed up from beneath the wheels of the land rover and settled in a thick layer on his skin, coated the hairs on his arms and even filtered through the cloth he held over his nose and mouth. He would have closed the windows, but then the heat would have become unbearable.

But some things were no different. As the truck pulled through the checkpoint into the refugee camp the clouds of dust couldn't conceal of crowds of people. 65,000 of them, Carter had said. The naked toddlers with the swollen bellies, coppery hair and sticklike limbs of starvation were bad enough. But worse, somehow, were the adults; the brightly colored robes of the women and white tunics of the men contrasting sharply with the dull look in their eyes and blank expressions that said too clearly that they'd long since passed fear and desperation and settled firmly into hopelessness. Refugees driven from the homes by a war they didn't understand or care about, fleeing from one type of danger and finding themselves stranded in another. Some of them squatted in the sand by the road. Others wandered aimlessly, or peered through the window of the land-rover at him; wondering, perhaps, if this new white face would offer them something that the previous ones had not.

Carter was waiting for him in front of the medical tent as the rover drew to a stop. He greeted Luka with a wide grin and a firm handshake.

"I hope you're not expecting the Mayo Clinic," he said. "Or the Hilton."

"I'd settle for Motel 6," Luka joked back. "Or at least a shower." He brushed some of the dust from his arms.

"Sorry. There are three empty cots in that tent over there; take your pick." Carter jerked his head towards a small tent just behind the medical tent. "And if you want to dump your stuff, we'll get you right to work."

Luka gazed around him for a moment and dug his sunglasses out of his pocket. Now that he wasn't enveloped in a cloud of dust, the glare was blinding. A line of patients squatting patiently in the dust began right outside the door and stretched far into the distance.

"What's wrong? Kisangani not enough of a challenge for you any more?"

"Too much of a challenge." Carter followed Luka into the staff tent. "The Alliance pulled out of the area about three months ago; it had gotten too dangerous. I could have stuck around, worked in Kem's AIDS clinic, but she's in Paris right now with her mother, so it seemed like a good opportunity for a change of scenery." He grinned. "I was kidding about getting right to work. You look pretty tired. I know the journey out here is … rough. If you want to rest for a while, get a bite to eat … I can probably even find you water for a shower."

"No, I'm fine. I'm here to work, so let's get to work. What do we have?"

"Right now it's mostly malnutrition and diarrhea for the kids, trauma and childbirth complications for the adults. Some communicable disease; measles, meningitis, hepititis. When the rains start in a couple of months we'll see a lot of cholera, malaria; all the usual stuff." A humorless smile. "Ok then, if you really want to get to work, let's go."