Sam unexpectedly gets some time to reflect on her life in Chicago. Sam's POV.
I remember thinking about how the day started out like all the rest. We got up at six-thirty, Luka made breakfast; eggs. We used to sleep in until seven because that's when Alex would get up too, but we didn't really get to talk much, you know on an adult level with Alex around so we decided one morning when we both couldn't sleep to get up a little early. We had coffee and talked about everything. We've been doing it that way ever since. He's pretty open about things, even though it's still hard for him on some days. I can't even imagine what he went through.
Anyway, looking back at everything now, it's funny how things can change so quickly and you really never know what life's going to throw at you.
As usual, we dropped Alex off at school and went to work; arriving on time I might add. The one thing that I used to catch the most crap about at work was being late, but since moving in with him he's made me more punctual; I guess that's a good thing. We always talk about the weirdest things in the car on the way to work and that day was no different. I can't remember exactly what we talked about that morning, but I know it was funny and off the wall; he always makes me laugh. We got to work, stowed our things in the lounge and snuck a nice kiss in before heading out. Before he walked out the door, he turned and looked at me; smiling. The last thing I remember him saying to me was, "And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you; How oft! I bless the Lot that made me love you." It's from a poem by Coleridge; The Presence of Love. At night, after Alex is in bed we turn off the TV and we read. It was usually just an article in a magazine or the newspaper, but then one day he brought home this book of poems; some little old lady gave it to him before she died. I wasn't with him that day, he was working a night shift, but she touched him in some way and ever since then, that's what we read; poetry. It's one thing to read a poem to yourself but when he reads it to me with his deep voice and accent, it's like it comes alive and wraps itself around your soul; it becomes the truth.
It was busy as usual at work; sick kids, drunks, broken bones, nothing too over the top, but there was a woman brought into the ER around late morning, she'd been in a car accident while on her way to lunch. She was in pretty bad shape. Her car was hit head on by a city utility vehicle. I was surprised she even made it to us alive, but she did and we worked on her for what seemed like forever. Her name was Stacy Carmen. She was young, pretty, I remember; probably close to my age, but maybe a little bit younger. The paramedics said she had a kid; DOA, it was a little boy, but we never saw him. Her husband came into the ER, he was frantic. His name was Jeff and he just stood there and watched us work from outside the trauma room; he never said a word. I couldn't help but notice the fear in his eyes, he just stood there watching her bleed to death and no matter how hard we tried, we were helpless to stop it.
Dr. Carter finally decided to call the code; it was 12:07pm. That time sticks out in my head; I can still hear him say it, it gives me chills. Jeff pushed the doors open and came into the room yelling. "NO…NO…" He probably said it a hundred times. "Don't stop, she's not dead. DON'T STOP…"
I put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him and I talked to him, I said, "I'm sorry Mr. Carmen there's nothing more that the doctors can do." He slapped my arm off his shoulder and went to her side. He looked at her and then at Carter and the look on his face was unusual. It was like he thought Carter was responsible for her death. It was pretty intense.
Dr. Carter just looked at him and gave the usual line. "Her brain's been deprived of oxygen for more than an hour. Her injuries were just too severe and there's nothing more we can do. I'm sorry." And that was it, he nodded to him, looked back at me, handed me Stacy's chart and left.
Jeff just stared at me and I was speechless. It's funny, the last time I remember being speechless was when Luka told me that he loved me and before that it was when he told me that he had kids. Come to think of it, he always leaves me speechless, sometimes when I just look at him. He loves me and that's a first for me.
Jeff left the room; just turned around walked out and it struck me as odd. I mean he didn't say anything at all; he just turned around and left. I was doing the death kit on Mrs. Carmen when he came back into the room, probably close to an hour later. His expression was blank and his eyes were glazed over. Similar to how he was before when he looked at Carter, but different. This time he was looking at me. I tried to talk to him, you know just tried to get him to think about some of the things he loved about her, the happy times he shared with her, but he never moved he just stood there, in a trance.
Next thing I knew, he pulled the gun from his pocket and pointed it at me. I swear my heart was going to stop dead in my chest. I couldn't catch my breath; I got weak in the knees and had to hold onto the bed for support. All of a sudden it was cold, like all the blood had drained from my body and it was my turn to just stand there; frozen.
I started to reach out to him; I hoped to be able to reason with him, but he told me to shut up and he took a couple of steps closer to me. Instinctively, I stepped back and bumped into a tray of instruments and they fell to the ground loudly, but you know, I didn't hear a thing, just the beating of my heart. I'm sure that he could probably hear it too. I saw Chuny come down the hall to check on me after she heard the commotion and her face went pale. She stopped short of entering the room when she saw that he had a gun. I saw her run over to admit where Luka, Carter and Kerry Weaver were working; she said something to them and pointed towards the open blinds of trauma one where Jeff and I were. They all just looked at us for a second, I couldn't really read the expressions on their faces; they were too far away.
I watched them run from admit towards the room and Dr. Weaver got on the phone, to the police I presume. Carter got to us first and then Luka. Jeff saw them coming towards the room from the corner of his eye. He picked up a scalpel off the floor; it had been on the tray that I knocked over earlier. He ran towards me and jumped behind me, putting his arm around my neck. He had the scalpel in his palm, pointed right at my throat. I felt the blade cut me, but it didn't hurt. I could feel my blood trickle down my neck and across my chest, I looked down and saw it absorbed into my shirt. He pointed the gun at Luka and Carter as the entered the room and yelled at them. "Get back or I'll cut her. I'll kill her like you killed my wife." He whispered at first, but they didn't move so he yelled louder at them. "GET BACK…" I started thinking about the two of them standing there with a gun pointed at them; it made me wonder if it felt like the Congo all over again for them.
Luka had both of his hands up, trying to ease him down. He told Jeff to relax and put the gun down and to let me go, but it wouldn't be that easy, things aren't ever that easy. Carter tried to talk to Jeff. Wendall from Social Services even came down to try to talk to him, but he didn't let up. They just all made him that much angrier and it felt like his grip got tighter and tighter around my neck.
The police finally showed up and Jeff demanded that they get everyone out of there or he'd kill me. People started moving out, but Luka just stood there and watched us; he didn't want to leave me. Finally, a cop came by and took him by the arm and told him that he needed to leave. I mouthed "I love you" to him and he nodded back to me. As they led him out the door, he kept looking back at me over his shoulder; he was afraid. Even though the place was empty, I kept waiting for Kerry to come over there and tell him to just go ahead and finish up the job because we were tying up a room, she had a hospital to run and we were wasting the tax payer's money. That would have been so like her, but she didn't and so, for the first time since the tank incident, County was closed to traumas, all the patients were moved to other departments in the hospital and it was eerily quiet in there once everyone was cleared out.
That was an interesting day, when that guy stole the tank. Luka was mad at me. We'd been seeing each other for about a month and a few days before, I totally freaked out when Alex found out about us and I told Luka that we should give it a rest. I hurt him when I said that and I knew it. I could just see it in his face. I went to his apartment to see him a few days later, but he wouldn't let me come in. At the time I didn't know that it was because he had company; Gillian. She came up to the hospital and I saw them kiss. I was reeling and I felt like a complete idiot because not even a few hours before that I apologized to him and told him that maybe we should consider getting serious. I was more mad at myself than I was at him; I didn't expect that he'd take the "we're not exclusive" comment seriously just 4 days after I said it. I mean, I really never intended on seeing anyone else; it was a stupid thing to say. In a sense, I was running away, like I always do. Later, he was waiting for me at my place and he was really sorry for what happened. I was too and we figured it out; together. I knew that I didn't want to lose him because no one's ever treated me the way that he does. Later he told me, that was when he first realized he loved me.
Anyway, the ER was deserted and I remember, I could hardly breathe, the air was thick, the room seemed like a prison cell and it all finally started to get to me. I'm usually pretty tough or at least I make everyone believe that I am. I tried so hard not to cry, but I couldn't stop once I started. I thought about Alex and Luka and it's like I could see everything that I thought we'd have, fading away in front of me. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. I needed to focus on getting out of this alive; I had two people who needed me to survive. It's obvious why Alex needed me to make it; I'm all he has, but Luka. I shudder to think what losing a family again would do to him. Granted, we weren't married and Alex isn't biologically his son, but we are still a family; a unique family. Luka is more of a father to Alex than Steve ever was. Earlier that day, when he was standing at the door, I could see the look on his face; the fear and I knew what he was thinking. I wanted to run to him and tell him that it would all be okay, but I didn't even believe that myself at the time. If I close my eyes now, I can still see that look on his face.
I glanced around the room and caught my own reflection in the mirror. The daylight was fading from the day and the darkness was setting in; the shadows made my face look so hollow and lifeless. I poked at the cut on my neck; it had stopped bleeding and I thought about what a horrible scar it would end up being. I was so tired; I had bags under my eyes, my hair was a mess and I didn't know what else to do. The one thing that I'm good at wasn't an option. I couldn't run away and escape it physically because I was restrained so the only place I could escape to was inside my own head. Looking at myself at that moment, I remembered the last time I looked so beaten, tired and confused. Alex and I had just checked into a motel in Louisville; I was running from Steve again. Running from him usually didn't have such a profound effect on me, but this time things were different. I was leaving so much more behind that just a job, an apartment and a city; I was leaving Luka, but he I rationalized it by convincing myself that he left me first. Letting Steve stay with us at the apartment was stupid, but I did it for Alex; it didn't dawn on me that Luka wouldn't see it that way. I couldn't believe that Luka didn't come to me when Steve confronted him; he just pulled himself back and shut me out. That's when I started to question if he even really cared about me at all. Sure, he came to the apartment to try and stop me, but that's because Alex called him. I didn't want to listen to what he had to say. He called my cell, but I didn't answer it; then he found me, he left work and came to me in Louisville; again, because of Alex. I still didn't know why he really came for me until later that night. He was hurt and angry; we both were. He explained to me that he was there for me; I needed to hear that. So, I did the one thing that I've never done before; I trusted him. I came back to Chicago and I trusted him. He hasn't let me down.
We sat in the trauma room for a few hours, but it seemed like forever. Jeff didn't speak a single word; he just sat next to his dead wife and held her hand. The pain and emptiness radiated from him and it filled the room and despite my situation I felt for him. I could hear people talking out in the triage area, but it was just a bunch of mumbling, nothing was audible to my ears. I wondered what Alex was doing, what he was thinking and what Luka had told him about what was going on. It was late and I hoped that he was in bed asleep, not worrying about me. Things weren't always easy with Alex. I wouldn't go so far as to say that he was a problem child, he just had issues; we both did. I was sixteen when he was born, fifteen when I got pregnant with him. Steve was twenty-three and the last thing he wanted was to be tied down by a kid. My parents were distant at best. They didn't help me with him at all; they mostly acted like he didn't exist. As soon as I finished high school, we split. I was getting child support from Steve and I worked while I went to school. I'm where I am right now professionally because of me and that's something I'm still proud of.
I remember looking at the clock; it was well past midnight and I'd been up since six-thirty. I was exhausted so I tried to get comfortable on the floor which is pretty hard to do when you've got hard restraints on. I knew what the psych patients must have felt like when we restrained them. I guess at some point I fell asleep because the next thing I remember I was looking at the clock again. The floor was hard, cold and my back was killing me. I thought about being warm, comfortable in bed with Luka, feeling his touch on my skin, hearing his breathing, smelling his aftershave. We're pretty amazing together. Our first time was on his leather sofa; it was snowing outside. I remember sex being awkward with Steve, especially the first time, but you know it's never been that way with Luka. Every time that we make love; I learn something new about myself. It's like we've been together all along and he's good, gentle and sweet and he sure does know what he's doing. I started smiling thinking about it, which is something that happens a lot when I think about Luka. Jeff was still awake and he noticed. He asked me what I was smiling about. I just said it was nothing which really pissed him off. I guess he thought I was laughing at him, at the situation, I don't know, but he was pissed. He hit me right across the face and it's like your cheek just explodes; the heat and the pain is mind numbing. Then, he put the scalpel to my neck again and I could feel the cold metal of the gun on my temple. Here I was trying to escape this situation, wanting to go somewhere else in my head and wham reality slaps me in the face; it's a bitch. It's not like it was the first time that anyone had ever hit me. Steve was pretty good at that too, he knew just how to hit you so there would be minimal bruising. Sometimes I wonder how I could have been so naïve.
I sat there and closed my eyes, waiting for him to just end this whole thing; waiting for death, but it never came, not yet. I was completely awake again. I guess that's what happens when someone points a gun to your head and threatens your life. You're adrenaline gets to pumping and it's like the strongest coffee coursing through your veins. I tried again to reach out to him. I told him about Alex; pleading for my life, for his sake. I said, "I have a son. He's 10 and I'm all he has. His father is never around and he's been hurt a lot. Most of the time, it's always been my fault. I'm not really the best mother. I drag him from city to city, taking him away from the friends he makes. I just want another chance. You know, to make it up to him. Please, I don't know why you're holding me here. Please just let me go." His stare just cut right through me. I guess it wasn't so smart to talk about second chances; selfish actually, considering he would never get one again and neither would his wife and son. He didn't have to say anything to me because I knew what he was thinking about, but he did. He went on, yelling at me about how he was out of chances, his son was dead, his wife was dead and he wanted to be dead too; he figured he'd just take me right along with him. He didn't give a damn about me; about my life or about what I had waiting for me on the outside, his pain blinded him from seeing that.
We fell back into silence again and I started humming to myself. You know how you hear a song and it sticks with you; you can't get it out of your head. Luka and I were on our way to work that morning, in the car and that old Sarah McLachlan song came on; "Angel." It was just a song that morning, but pretty fitting in the end. I know the verses by heart; the first one still sticks out in my mind. Spend all your time waiting, for that second chance, for a break that would make it okay. There's always one reason to feel not good enough and it's hard at the end of the day. I need some distraction, beautiful release, memory seeps from my veins. Let me be empty and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight. Peace; I needed to find some peace, to pack my bags so to speak and make things right with myself so I could die without regret. I kept humming to myself until he told me to quit; I guess he wasn't in the mood for a little music.
I was tired again; the effects of the adrenaline had worn off. I was thinking about Luka's kids. I wondered what they would have been like. They were part of him so I know that they must have been loving and kind, not bratty like some kids can be. I've seen the picture of his wife and Jasna, but the only pictures he has of Marko are in his head. I think in some way, he sees him in Alex; the mischievousness that Alex exudes. Marko was just a toddler when he died; you know right at the age when he was probably getting into everything, a lot like Alex still is. I bet he was a great dad; hell, I know that was.
It was nearing four in the morning and I was dozing in and out of sleep. Suddenly, something happened; something snapped inside his head. He'd finally decided it was time to end it so that everyone else could get on with their lives. He came over to me and unlocked the restraints. I remember, he told me lay on the floor, face down. The floor was cold and there was blood everywhere; his wife's blood. I could see him standing over me, still pointing the gun at my head. I looked around me; I took in everything I could. It was funny to think that these would be the last things I saw; medical instruments, trauma gowns and gloves. There was a chart on the floor; from another patient. I noticed the signature on the bottom of it; it was Luka's. I whispered to myself, talking to the signature on the chart like it was real, human, like Luka could hear me. I said, "Take Alex with you and run. Don't let Steve get to him because he's better off with you. Make sure that Alex knows that I loved him and as wrong as it was for me to do some of the things I did, I was always doing what I thought was best for him. Having him was the best thing I've ever done with my life; make sure he knows that." I was losing my mind, talking to a piece of paper, but I continued. "I'm so sorry that it came down to this; believe me, this isn't how I thought my life would end. You've made my life worth living again and without you who knows where Alex and I would be. I'm sorry for all the times I hurt you; why you still loved me I'll never understand. I hate that you're going to have to hurt again. Just know that I love you. I love you so much." I'd started crying again and I thought about praying, but realized that I wouldn't know what to say or where to begin so I ultimately decided against it. I just rested my face into my hands and closed my eyes.
I heard him shuffling around in the room and then I heard the gun go off; one shot and I remember thinking "that was easy; painless." It was quiet, not really peaceful like I thought it would be. I was still cold and the floor was still hard beneath me. Heaven wasn't at all like I thought it would be, but this wasn't hell either. I eventually started hearing things again; people talking and I realized that I wasn't dead. I wasn't brave enough to confirm it through sight so I just lay there, motionless. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard someone run into the room and then out quickly, but I still didn't look up. I just stayed on the floor; I drew my knees up to my chest trying to find some warmth. I heard a male voice yell out, "we need a doctor in here." I didn't recognize the person's voice. Then the steps came again and I felt a hand on my neck, I guess checking my pulse, then he said my name. This time, I recognized the voice; it was Carter's and for the first time in about fifteen minutes I dared to open my eyes again. I was alive or else Carter was dead too; but no, I knew that I was alive. Carter helped me sit up and the first thing I saw was Jeff lying on the floor with a bullet in his head. His blood was everywhere; on the walls, the ceiling, the floor, on me. The smell was almost indescribable; gun powder and blood; it was the smell of death, it had come after all, but not for me, not today anyway.
Carter helped me up, supporting me because I had no energy left in me. He slowly escorted me towards the doors of the room.
We were stopped by the police who insisted on questioning me, but he refused to let them at the moment. He said to them, "She needs to be with her family right now and let them know that she's okay. She's been through enough already. There won't be any questions today." We stopped at a gurney in the hall and he helped me sit up on it, then he went off and got some things. He examined my face and neck and I vaguely remember him telling me that I was going to need stitches for the cuts to my neck and I needed to have an x-ray to check for broken facial bones. I didn't care, I just wanted to pass out and sleep for a week, but before that, I needed to be with Alex and with Luka; my family.
The sun was breaking on the horizon and the light was beginning to filter into the ER; making the desolate place look a little more alive than it was. I couldn't believe that it was dawn already; a full 18 hours since I'd last seen him and even longer since I'd seen Alex. Carter helped me down the hall back to the admit desk and I held on to the desk for additional support. I remember being nauseous and hungry at the same time; hell, the last thing I had eaten was breakfast, yesterday; the eggs that Luka cooked for me. I heard his voice from outside; I turned around and saw him, but he hadn't seen me yet because his back was facing me. He was yelling at someone, some detective I think, demanding to know what was going on. I heard him cussing and I had to laugh; with his accent, it was always funny to hear him cuss. Susan Lewis was there with him, trying to calm him down and she saw me; she smiled at me. I heard her yell his name and then she took him by the shoulders and turned him around so he could see me. That look, the one that I couldn't get out of my head earlier; it was gone now. I know that he ran as fast as he could past the officers and into the hospital, but I swear it felt like it had taken him five minutes just to get to me. He put his arms around me and picked me up off the floor, he nearly knocked the breath out of me. Luka carried me over to an exam bed and set me down on it. I could hear him crying and he kept telling me that he loved me, over and over again. It felt good to have him holding me and I didn't ever want to leave that comfort ever again. He pulled back to look me over and in doctor like fashion; he started messing with the cut on my neck. I took his face in my hands and dried his tears and I told him to quit poking at me; that I was fine.
Finally, Alex came running into the ER too yelling out to me, "Mom." I jumped off the bed and met him on the floor, holding him to me. He immediately started asking me all these questions, he's always been that way; inquisitive. I just told him we'd talk about it later. The ER was filling back up with people, mostly the staff and police. Luka led the way outside into the ambulance bay and I noticed how beautiful the sky was. I've noticed a lot of things since then. Being faced with death makes you appreciate life, it changes you. Luka knows the feeling too, although it took him a while to see it.
Even now, almost a year later, I can still see Jeff's face; the pain and emptiness that he must have felt and I can still smell that smell; of gun powder and death. I'll never understand how someone survives that; that much loss and grief. I know it must take a pretty strong person not to do what Jeff did. Luka once said that in spite of it all, "you had to believe that there's a reason you're still here." Now I sit here wondering if I'm the reason that Luka's still here. I like to think so, but it's hard, you know; on one hand I want to say that I wish that Danijela and the kids were still alive because that would mean that the pain would be gone from him and Luka would have his family back. On the other hand, if that were truly the case then he wouldn't be here with me; we wouldn't be together now. Since I've been here, I've learned a lot about life and about myself. All that it comes down to now is that I love him, he loves me and he loves Alex. It's really not that complicated by nature; sometimes we have a tendency to make it that way, but that's another story for another day.