Well, something along these lines has been sitting with me for a while. Everytime I would listen to this song I would think, 'that should be a Luby', but nothing ever got done about it. Then when I was camping in Canada, I suddenly got inspired so I started jotting down...this being the product. It is based on the song Foolish Games by Jewel. So for anyone who knows the song, you will recognise one or two phrases that Ithought needed to be included to make the point and the chapter titles are taken from the song too. It will only be 2 chapters long, well as long as I can get the situatuin resolved in 2 chapters!

This is set in season 8 afterAbby has moved back to her own place, after the Brian situatuoon, but before the Carby thing happend. I hope you enjoy this...let me know what you think.

My other story Just How Long, is still in progress, I'm just hoping that a nice healthy break whilst writing this will inspire something in me to have an epiphany of what Luka is going through...but I promise I HAVEN'T given up!

DISCLAIMERS: I do not own any of the characters in ER, or the the song Foolish Games, I just borrowed a handful from both and created something of my own.

This story is for Ella, who has been awesome this last couple of weeks, and she always did maintain that I was corrupted. So here it is Ella!


1)You Were Always Crazy Like That

She is out there in the rain. I can see her and she had no idea. The mask of darkness can be beautiful when it chooses to present itself as such. I guess I'm just not used to it doing so.

It's funny actually now I come to think of it. The times I remember darkness being beautiful or thinking of darkness and beautiful in conjunction with one another, all involve Abby. Abby makes my darkness beautiful.

She has been standing outside my building in the rain for a good ten minutes now. At first just looking up at my window - maybe deciding what to do, possibly wondering whether or not she is brave enough to knock on my door. She is taking her coat off now, and she is looking up at the sky. She never really was religious, but now she looks as though she is asking God for guidance.

Maybe I should go down there with a towel. Tell her God thinks she should come on up. I know I wont though, I'll stay where I am and let her decide for herself.

The sight of her standing there in the rain with no coat on makes me chuckle a little. Somewhere in her subconscious, she is ignoring the nurse in her, telling her she will catch a cold. She always was a little crazy like that. I doubt very strongly that she inherited her mother's disease, but she definitely picked up a few quirks.

I'm still watching her, stood slightly back so she wont be able to see me, and I think that this is how I have always felt with Abby; like I was outside looking in on her. She wouldn't ever let me in. All I have ever been able to do is watch.

Then again the pair of us did that together. It was one thing after another for both of us, in a relationship that should never have begun when it did. Neither of us wanted to burden the other, which fit nicely with not wanting to open up either. We should have helped each other though, instead of trying to protect both parties from ourselves and inadvertently pushing the other away.

And as the saying goes; you never know what you have until she's gone.

She was always a mystery to me. With deep, dark eyes that were often the only clue as to how she was really feeling. She pointed out once, that I watched her whilst we made love, and it was true, I did. It was because she was so beautiful, and when I would catch a glimpse of her eyes, it was a glimpse of her soul, and that was so important.

I remember when I killed the mugger. She was fashionably sensitive, turning up at my place like she did. She had given me my space for a few days, but then she felt it was time for me to know she was there, and I knew.

Then when we broke up, and I said those hurtful things to her; well we both said hurtful things, but at least hers was true – I was married to a ghost. I still don't know why I said the things I did to her; she is beautiful, and she certainly is special, especially to me. Still she acted as though she was too cool to care; like I hadn't hurt her.

She has moved from her spot in front of my building, and I can no longer see her. I'm moving from the window now. There is nothing left to watch…only darkness that isn't so beautiful, the kind of darkness I am more accustomed to: loneliness.

I sit down on the sofa, and I am contemplating getting a beer. I'm restless now; disappointed that she left. I don't want to sit on this couch; the leather is cool and uncomfortable. I don't want to go to bed, I am alone…

The breakfast bar seems a compromise, but I am frozen in my tracks as I can hear the doorbell ringing once, then twice. It's not all that presumptuous to say I know that it's her, and this knowledge takes away any ability for productive movement; so I'm standing, staring.

The last time she approached my building like this was after Brian had assaulted her, and after I had let Brian live by the skin of his teeth, although it took all of my self restraint to do so; she doesn't know about that though. I offered her a place to stay, and in true Abby fashion said she didn't want to accept. I'm still not sure what made her change her mind, she never did tell me. I choose not to speculate too much though, because to get my hopes up would be incredibly stupid.

The first time she approached my building like this, was when she came to my hotel room a few days after the mugger. 'You don't have to talk Luka.' She had told me upon entering. Although neither or us talked, we both said so much. Not verbally, verbally we didn't need to say a word. That was the night that I first noticed her eyes. Her real eyes. I had seen her eyes, obviously - when she smiled, her eyes lit up. But the first time I looked into her soul through her eyes, had been that night, as we made love to comfort what neither of us really knew.

I am desperate to know why she is here. There is no doubt in my mind of why I hope she is here, although I know it is stupid to hope for anything. I think that if anybody could see me now, walking towards my door, they would think I was a complete wreck of a man. I am absolutely terrified of what she has to say. Yet I am utterly compelled to her, as I have been since that night in the ambulance bay.

I unlock and open the door. There she stands, dripping on the carpet, eyes down wringing her hands. Shivering.

'Abby?'

She is looking at me now.

'Hey, Luka. It's pretty wet out there.'

'Why haven't you got your coat on then?' I can't resist.

I can see in her eyes, that wasn't part of the game plan. Asking her to explain one of her eccentricities means opening a little window of vulnerability. So she falters then recovers.

'Oh…it's still pretty warm out.'

'Abby, you are shivering. You're freezing.'

'That's just 'because I'm wet. It doesn't mean its cold out!' Defensive.

'Okay…Abby, why are you here?

I don't want to stand here talking about the weather. This pointless conversation breaks my heart every second it continues and I just wish she would tell me why she is here.

Right now I just need her to stop with all pretences and games and just tell me how she feels. I need to know if she feels like I do. I love her and she just can't see it. I'm here before her, always have been, and she just can't see my heart out there for her. I would get down on my knees if it would make a difference.

Still we stand here in awkward silence. Conversations about thunderstorms lost to the night. My arm is propped up on the doorframe and I know I am blocking her entry, but I want her to tell me why she is here. I would tell her in a second, but I'm certain that she knows from the way I speak and touch her how I feel, so this needs to be her call.

Looking at her, it is almost possible to see the cogs of uncertainty turning, but I will still wait. I will wait for whatever she needs to figure out; why she's here, how to voice whatever it is she needs to say…whatever, I'll wait.

She is leaning closer now, and I can only watch as her arm tentatively makes its way up, and as soon as her hand touches my cheek, it is all the telling I need, and I'm closing the gap between us now.

My right hand is cupping her cheek and my left snakes around her middle as I pull her close and our lips meet and fuse together. Neither one of us needs to seek entrance, as our lips simultaneously part and our tongues begin to dance together.

'Oh god.' I'm gasping as I pull away. I don't want to stop but I need to check that this is what she wants. She doesn't give me time to ask as she is pulling my head back down and we kiss again. I'm pulling her inside and she manages to kick the door shut as she feels around for the hem of my sweater.

My hands that were resting between her neck and shoulders run up and down her arms, then up under her shirt. I run my hands over her breasts then down her stomach, and I part my lips from hers, as I peel her wet - through shirt off and over her head. God she is amazing.

My lips are trailing butterfly kisses along her jaw and her collarbone, and I can feel her hands running up and down my back. I pull away, which I can see surprises her. I'm tugging my sweater and t-shirt over my head and they are both off in one swift movement. I look at her and she is smiling at me, I'm grinning at her and I shrug my shoulders. She has taken my hand in hers now and is leading me to my bedroom.

We are both sitting on the end of my bed in just our bottoms. She is kissing me again and my lips are once again travelling to her neck, where I suck gently on her pulse and she moans my name. I'm laying her back on the bed and propping myself above her with my arms.

I feel her hands on my stomach and she is running them the length of my torso, over my nipples and back down. A moan escapes me and I continue to nibble at her skin. I'm touching everywhere and anywhere; exploring her all over again. I feel her hands travel inside my jeans, I can't stifle a groan, and I know I wouldn't be able to stop now even if I wanted to.

I have a feeling that in the morning I may regret not talking things through first. Right now though, there are feelings cursing through my body that I just can't fight…