Insomnia

Author's Note:

First of all, please don't be put off by the sexual content of the first chapter, although there will probably be some more throughout the fic, it won't be a frequent thing (sorry to disappoint some of you ;)). It just seemed like an appropriate way to begin the story since Luka's sleeping around was a significant part of the problems he went through, and is also significant to the story.

This is my first fanfiction so I would appreciate all reviews, whether they are simple encouragement, advice and constructive criticism, or even of the 'please-spare-us-and-stop-writing-now' variety.

As the summary suggests, this fanfiction is set mid/late-Season 9 and is based around the problems that Luka faced around this time. It is however, a completely different version of events that take place after Luka has returned to work but before he goes to Africa.

This fic is not particularly Luby (not yet anyway . . . ;)), and certainly not Carby, but does cover the effect Luka's failed relationship with Abby had on him, and Abby's current struggling relationship with Carter. NO SPOILERS

Disclaimer - I don't own any of the ER characters, but this story is completely my own and features no scenes or quotes from the show. It does however contain references to previous events in the show, particularly those in Season 9.

Chapter 1

Luka lay perfectly still, the sound of each slow, deep breath echoing loudly in his ears against the empty silence, his hearing heightened by his blindness in the dark. He slowly turned to face the source of the noise. A noise which in the past had brought him warm comfort, but now only left him with a feeling of emptiness, and deep, painful regret. The faint but harsh neon glow of the streetlight, which invaded the room through the thin gap in the curtains revealed her silhouette, and the rhythmic movement of her chest which accompanied each peaceful, sleep-fuelled breath. His eyes narrowed, watching her in the dark. The occasional flutter of her eyelids, her slightly parted lips. And as he studied her he was suddenly overcome with the feeling that he was somehow violating her. That just by watching her as she slept, an act which should surely be profoundly intimate, he was invading her privacy. He couldn't help but smile wryly at the irony of the thought. After all, two people couldn't really get more intimate then they had last night. And yet while they had shared an act which could have been intimate, should have been intimate, it hadn't been. Their sex had been fervent, but cold, satisfying, but callous, and he had only been left feeling hollow and drained. Despite the countless nights of going home with strangers he'd met in bars, he couldn't remember the last time sex had left him feeling truly satisfied. No matter how good the physical pleasure, being with not one of these women had actually made him happy. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever feel that way again.

As he remembered the night before he found himself studying her further. The single sheet that covered her clung to each and every curve of her body, hiding nothing. His eyes glided down her. Over her full breasts, down her flat stomach, and further. He recalled the softness of her skin, the way she writhed in pleasure underneath him as his hands slid over her. He might be unable to make a woman truly happy, but he knew he could please her sexually. At least he had that, he thought, not all men could say that. The thought did not comfort him. Before he realised it, he had inadvertently aroused himself with his thoughts of their passion.

He glanced at the clock. 3.36am. It was usually around this time that he would give up on getting any sleep and leave, long before the woman who's bed he was in, whoever she was, would awake. He didn't feel any guilt. He didn't allow himself to. What was the difference anyway? He could wait until she awoke, but his awkward goodbye wouldn't leave her in any more doubt of his feelings, than his quick escape already did. The only difference would be her embarrassment if she had a different idea of the situation. His cold logic allowed him to think that he was somehow sparing her. Sparing them. But he never really believed it.

He could leave now, he thought, but he was unable to shake the desire that had clawed its way back into him. The strong, sexual desire for her body, and for her body alone, that he knew would refuse to leave him until it was satisfied.

Slowly, he edged closer to her sleeping form and lay on his side, propped up on his elbow beside her. He very gently ran his fingers down her, on the top of the sheet, and she stirred under his touch. He slid his hand under the sheet, and gently caressed her breasts, his eyes never leaving her face, which gave a slight frown and moaned softly, but didn't lift itself from sleep. He trailed his fingers further down her body, and she gave another short moan, her eyelids fluttering open, as he slipped his fingers inside her.

Her confusion from having woken to find a man touching her increased alarmingly when she realised she didn't know who he was. She lay frozen under his unwavering gaze as her mind pieced together the confusing flashes of memory from the night before. He watched her, completely expressionless, as the memories came together to form a clear picture of the how she had come to be here with this man. Only one thing escaped her. His name. She could now recall every word of their short and infrequent conversation, but she couldn't remember his name. She wondered if she had ever known.

An oddly disconcerting thought occurred to her. He must have seen a change in her eyes as she overcame her initial bewilderment, because just as she regained her memory of their night together, he gently rolled his body onto hers and pushed himself inside her.

Once again he lay perfectly still listening to her breathing. He waited until it fell into the same slow, steady rhythm that came with sleep and then rose from the bed. He quickly dressed and used the bathroom. He stood at the foot of the bed and watched her for a moment. The bedside clock read 4.09am. He left.