... ... ... a huge thank you to Bel Vezer for being my beta reader this week and saving my sanity ... ... ...

She rolled out of bed sometime after noon the next day and wandered through the apartment. Rest disoriented her. Caffeine and adrenaline had been her companions for so long, sleep was something foreign - or at least, decent sleep. She looked at her disaster of an apartment and sighed. No excuses. She had the time. She resigned herself to the task and pulled on a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt before sliding a CD into the player and seizing the vacuum from the closet. Dust bunnies, run for cover.

Luka stood outside her apartment, his ear to the door. Was that...? It was. She was singing. Badly. He couldn't help the grin spreading over his face as he rapped on the door. The music disappeared, and was replaced by shuffling noises. He could hear her battling with the lock on the other side of the door.

Damn. His eyes immediately went to her tee-shirt. White tee-shirt. No bra. Damn. He willed his eyes to the floor and swallowed hard. "I, uh..." He held up the bags and gave her a pitiful smile. "Care package."

She was unaware of his discomfort. "You didn't have to do that." She held open the door and ushered him in. "Sorry for the mess, I'm trying to clean."

Put on a sweater. Please put on a sweater. He set the bags on the table. "Uh...I brought bananas...Gatorade...greens...and, uh..." He set the items on the table as his face turned red. "Right. Tea. I bought tea."

She smiled and came towards the table, inspecting his groceries. "Thanks. That was sweet."

He gulped and nodded, unable to avoid staring once again. Still, she was oblivious. "I bought you a new coffeemaker, too." He removed the box from the paper shopping bag and set it on the table.

"I told you not to." She looked at the box. "Luka, this is a nice coffeemaker. Mine was a piece of crap. You spent too much."

He smiled painfully. "My pleasure. I wanted to."

"Well...thank you." She came towards him, and his heart pounded as she wrapped her arms around him to hug him. He could feel her body pressing into his, and he shivered involuntarily, anticipation coursing through him. As she drew back, he turned a deep crimson and cleared his throat. She gave him a questioning look. "What?"

He feigned innocence. "Nothing."

She nodded, playing along. There was something off about him, that much she could tell, but she didn't push. The last thing she needed was to turn the situation into yet another bickering match. They'd shared plenty of those in the past, long nights of tossing words across an ever-growing distance, days of avoidance and cold shoulders. Whatever was throwing him off, she'd let him keep it to himself. She looked up to see him looking sideways at her, as if trying to read her mind. She forced a tight smile and searched for something to say...anything. "So, while you're here, would you mind maybe helping me move my couch so I can vacuum under it? I'm pretty sure there's something dead under there." Two birds with one stone. Brilliant.

Luka nodded, relieved she'd changed the subject. He moved towards the couch and watched her make her way towards the opposite side, bending down as if to lift it. "Abby, there's not a chance in hell you're touching the couch. Back up."

She gave him an indignant look. "I beg your pardon?"

"You remember yesterday, when you collapsed? And the IV?" He crossed his arms and tried his best to look serious. "You're not touching the couch. Back." He waved his hand as if shooing a dog away.

She sighed and retreated, trying not to let on her appreciation. Had Carter ever spoken to her that way? Not to her recollection. He was all about reasoning with her, playing doctor. Luka didn't bother, cut right to the point. He knew her. He knew she didn't listen to reason, and he'd found ways around it. She smiled without realizing it. He was the only one she listened to, in retrospect. Why? She hadn't the slightest clue. Perhaps the European charm, perhaps the compelling gaze in his slate grey eyes, or perhaps the fact that he treated her as an equal. Even in all his chivalrous glory and his protective ways, she never felt as though he dominated. Never felt as though she wasn't enough. She watched his six-foot-plus frame struggling with the couch, obviously in the throes of machoistic instinct. She knew he'd move it if he pulled every last muscle doing it. Speaking of which...she couldn't help but notice his impeccable physique as he removed his sweater, leaving him in only a rather fitted tee shirt. She traced the lines of his arms with her eyes, unable to avoid the little jumping sensation in her stomach as he bent and lifted and strained. She felt the urge to reach out and touch his bicep, to run her hand over his arms, to feel the perspiration collecting on his skin. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing his toned stomach. Abby felt ever so slightly lightheaded all of a sudden. She silently cursed him for being so dreadfully good looking. She turned away and went to find the vacuum. Damn the gorgeous Croat in my living room. She willed him to become ugly by the time she returned.

Luka fell onto the couch as he set it down, panting. He couldn't subdue the sensations running through his body and mind, neither of which had anything to do with all the muscles he'd just pulled indulging his ego. He wanted her. It was a fact he'd never bothered to deny, something he'd felt even after they broke up. Perhaps moreso. He wanted to reach out and touch her skin, feel it against his own. Wanted to kiss her, press his lips to her neck, her lips, her entire body. He'd known it wouldn't work for a long time. They were each tangled in their own melodramas, her in her alcoholism and self-deprecating cycle, him in his womanizing and destructive tendencies. But now...they were talking, weren't they? More than they had when they were together, more than they ever had. It was nothing of serious substance, but it was a start. Hope. Potential. And the melodramas...hers, at least, was subsiding; she was sober, wasn't she? He tried to rationalize. They could be together. He'd give his fast life up for her. He'd give up breathing for her.

Right. Because it wouldn't be walking right into disaster, right? They wouldn't sabotage it before they started. No, of course they could fix each other. Just like last time. Right. Absolutely. They were so brilliant at working their issues out, so good at talking. Amazing communicators. Luka sighed. Rich fantasy life.

Abby reappeared with the vacuum. "Thanks. You okay?"

He nodded and scrambled to his feet. "Yeah, it was nothing." Liar. He dreaded moving the thing back again. "You going to vacuum now?"

She shrugged. "I'll do it later. Leave it. I can have someone else move it back when I'm done. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Wouldn't want to have to take a cold shower. She winked and headed towards the kitchen. "How many muscles did you pull? That was quite a show."

"Are you making fun of me?" He chucked a dishrag at her, and she caught it, laughing. He got up and began to unpack the coffeemaker from the box. "Here, I'll set it up."

"Careful, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

He pretended to be put off. "I come over here to check on you, move your couch, and this is what I get? How about a little appreciation, here?"

She rolled her eyes and perched herself on the counter as he assembled the appliance. "My hero." She couldn't help watching him. Perhaps not a hero. More like...a friend. A good friend. With whom she shared a past. She leaned her head against the cupboard. Getting in over her head was her trademark, and she was dangerously close to exactly that. Life had a way of taunting her with possibilities at exactly the wrong moments. She wondered if there was perhaps a cure for that...perhaps a drug. She'd ask Weaver. A smile crept over her face at the notion, at the reaction she'd get. Luka noticed her smiling.

"Something funny?" He cocked his head to the side, enjoying the sight of her at ease for the first time in weeks.

If only you knew. "If you're tired of medicine, you could always get a job as someone's manservant. You do a nice job."

Luka crossed his arms. "So now you're a comic, are you?" He did his best to give her a stern look, despite the urge to laugh.

"I was simply stating the obvious. You're very handy to have around." Was she flirting? Abby silently chastised herself. Just what she needed was to give him ideas.

A grin. "It's a Croatian thing. We're all very handy." Luka swept the bits of paper and styrofoam from the counter into the empty box. "Voila. Your coffeemaker."

"Thanks." Abby slid off the counter and moved to the refrigerator. She removed a jar of grounds and turned back to Luka. "Want to join me for the inaugural cup?"

"Sure." He watched her bustle about, filling the coffeemaker, taking out cups. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something there, but at the same time, knew it would be a mistake to start anything when things were so chaotic for both of them. One thing at a time. Fine, so he'd make a start, stop sleeping around at the very least. Stop drinking himself stupid every other night. It occurred to him that his wanton ways had diminished in the past weeks, ever since they'd begun spending time together. She certainly had an affect on him, he'd give her that much. Hell. He'd give her damn near anything.