Obligations
Chapter 1

Category: Angst.
Summary: Luka. Luka. Luka.
Disclaimer: Don't own Luka/ER.

Happens around Season 9.

A/N: Carter and Abby have broken up some time ago in this story, because I didn't like that. So they're just friends. And a thank you to VjeraNadaLjubav for correcting my Croatian!

I don't think. I'm asleep. I inhale oxygen one deep breath after the other, sinking into the smell of burned flesh and-

Time to get up. Move your legs. Get your brain wrapped around some thing or another, go to work or go screw some stranger. Anything goes.

3 AM. Good time to get up. The sheets are clingy and my brain foggy. Fog inside and outside my eyes. I'm sure these are my eyes. The vodka bottle must've caused this. Was it last night?

Where am I?

I struggle to get up. The Chicago night wells from the window. It's foggy. I wipe my hand over my eyes. Leave it there for a while. Don't think. Thinking hurts.

I'm home. Where is home? Did my bedroom have black walls? Oh, it's night. I almost forgot. The fog is clearing out. Should go to work.

6 AM. I look like shit. I fell asleep in the shower. Is that possible?

Is it possible not to sleep for ten years?

"Hey Luka!" It's Abby. I almost passed her by. I blink a bit. Or a lot, I can't really tell.

"Hey."

"You coming or going?"

"Uuh, my shift starts at 6:30 AM." What a refreshing conversation this is.

"I have still two hours left of this madness." She sips her coffee and smiles slightly.

"Yeah. Well, uuh, I'd better get going."

"Yeah, sure."

Am I in a hurry? I'm always in a hurry. After changing my coat in the Lounge I grab my first chart. Shortness of breath. I just realized how sleepy I feel.

9 AM. I can pull through this shift. I always can. I can pull through this shift. I always can. It's like a silent mantra. That vodka bottle wasn't a smart move after all. I'm almost positive that that's what happened last night. A private meeting with the burning substance. The only thing I'm sure about is that I'll repeat my actions this night too. But I don't want to talk about it. Hell, I don't even want to think about it.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Kovac…" Hello, Patient No Big Number. I don't care about you in the slightest. I nod in a way that suggests friendliness as I listen to the complaints and smile tightly as he makes a small joke. About something, I forget.

"Luka!" Susan is after me. Have I done something wrong? I don't recall. I don't recall anything in particular. I feel a bit dizzy.

"Your patient in 2 is crashing. Luka, do you hear me?"

Do I hear you? There's an odd buzzing in my head. Could someone turn down the static? I can't hear properly. It's like a thousand bees decided that my brain is suddenly their new favourite abiding place. They're whispering to me. Luka, Luka. Marko je mrtav, Marko, Luka. I'm not listening. Not listening, not listening, not listening. Notlisteningnotlisteningnotlisteningnotlisten-

"Luka, are you allright? Luka?"

Now I remember vaguely the bottle of painkillers that I drowned in the morning. Perhaps in hindsight not such a smart move. Afterwards I drank some water from the red cup. The one with the white stripes. The one she liked.