Author's Note: A couple of notes for this chapter...first, I can't remember if Niko's wife's name was actually mentioned on this show or if I just blend CaliforniaGirl2's fics with canon in my head, but I'm too lazy to go and rewatch season fourteen to be sure. As such, I went with the name CG2 used. Second, I was alerted to a deleted scene from "Owner of a Broken Heart" and while it was technically deleted, I wanted to incorporate it. It was obviously supposed to occur on the same day as the original visit from Luka to rehab, but since I've already passed that in my fic, bear with me and pretend that Abby was wearing different clothes in the deleted scene (I'm thinking jeans, flats, and the grey-and-white shirt we saw in "The Test" - oh, and her hair is down, because I prefer it that way). Finally, I'd like to note that I've read a grand total of five pages of the Bible, and it was all from Genesis, so I had to Wikipedia St. Christopher. Normally I hate Wikipedia, but I figured someone would have to be pretty stupid to mess up an entry on the Bible. Because, you know, it's never been misinterpreted or anything.

"Dream About Flying"

"Psst. Luka." I whisper into the dark, trying to figure out where I am. I can feel him there next to me, but I can't for the life of me see him.

"Shh." It's his voice; somewhere close but disconnected at the same time.

"Don't 'shh' me."

"Shh!" It hisses all around me. "You can't make any noise."

"What? Why not?" I'm whispering, too.

"He'll hear you. Now, shh!"

"Who?" I feel around for him, and my hand knocks into something warm and solid, but it's hard to feel or hold onto anything, like my hand's been shot up with Novocain. "I can't find your hand."

"It's right there."

"Where?" I keep feeling around for him, but I can't seem to get a grip on him.

"There. See, now I'm holding yours." Sure enough, there's a warm sort of feeling in my hand, a familiarity, so I know he's telling the truth, but it's like dead weight.

"Who are we hiding from?"

"From…him." He says the word like it's poisoned.

"But…" I try to work out the logic but it's not processing, so instead I open my mouth to call out, to ask who's here, but he stops me.

"Shh, Abby." My lips tingle and now he's doing it, like he always does when his words fail to silence me, he's kissing me quiet.

"I want to know who it is," I mumble into his mouth.

"No, you don't." This is getting sort of freaky. Luka winds his arms tighter around me and it's uncomfortable it's so tight, but I stay put and let him hold me. "Just stay quiet. Pretend you're asleep."

"Okay." I put my head on his shoulder and close my eyes and try to breathe evenly and slowly. From somewhere, there's a light, and I want to look, but Luka's arms are so tight around me that I can't. Instead, I breathe him in, my nose right at the nape of his neck. He smells like licorice, the black kind, and though I was never one for black licorice, it smells good on him.

"Whatever you do, Abby –" But he doesn't finish, because there's this noise, this thudding. Footsteps, really loud ones, like they're coming from right inside my ears or something, and then light, spilling forward and there are arms pulling me, grabbing me, from Luka's arms.

"Hello, Abby." Jesus. Oh, Jesus, not him. Not Brian. His eyes are cold and he's got me in his grip, his fingers digging into my flesh. The hand is still over my mouth and I try to make a sound, but he just laughs and shakes his head. "Come on, Abby. He's not here to protect you."

If the hand isn't Luka…Brian laughs again, shaking his head, and the hand comes off my face. "Who are you? Where's Luka?"

"Luka went home. He took Joe and he went home."

"He…he was just here."

"No. You wanted him to be here. You wanted him to hold you, to touch you…you closed your eyes and you pretended it was him, but it wasn't him, was it, Abby?"

"I – he – I kissed him. It was him!"

"No," the voice repeats. "You went looking for someone to protect you, and when you couldn't find him, you found me instead, now didn't you?"

No. No, no, no.

"Come on, let's get out of here. You're safe with me."

"No. No, I…"

Moretti smiles. "Come on, honey. Let me take you home."

A pair of hands are shaking me, and I'm struggling with them, shouting something – I don't know what – and it isn't until Marla has said it five or six times that I hear her.

"It's just a dream, Abby. It's just a nightmare. Calm down."

"No," I breathe. "No, I didn't…I couldn't…"

"Abby, look at me." I obey, look right into those eyes of hers that have some freakish magical power, and she holds my gaze steady. "It was a dream. You're in rehab. No one is going to hurt you."

I just shake my head, dripping snot and tears all over my tee shirt – Luka's tee shirt – and my sheets in the process.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay. Push over, then."

I scoot over without a protest and she gets in next to me, and cramped as it is with the both of us in a twin cot, I feel better. She squeezes an arm around my shoulders. "Close your eyes."

"I can't. I don't want to sleep."

"You don't have to. Just close 'em. I'm going to do the thing I do with my kids when they have nightmares."

"Don't breastfeed me."

"Ha-ha. Shut up and close your eyes." I do, and she wriggles around next to me until she seems comfortable. "Okay. Picture a boat. Just a nice, simple boat. A canoe, maybe. Or a rowboat."

"Okay."

"Don't talk. It ruins the effect," she huffs. "The boat is sturdy. It's made of the strongest materials you can think of."

"Like the Titanic."

"Oh for Christ's sake. It's a magic fucking boat, okay? It can't sink." She pauses, and I try to picture it, the image sort of half-formed in my mind, not really taking shape. "Now imagine yourself in the boat…it's quiet, peaceful, the sun is warm on your body, and the water is nice and calm."

I've got a rough image, but it's starting to get there. I think it's more of a floating plank and it might be overcast, but it's a start, right?

"You're floating in the boat, nice and slow, and you're floating towards the greenest island you've ever seen. The water is so blue, and the sun is gold, and the island, it's so green you can't believe it."

"Miracle Grow."

She ignores me and keeps going. "You see someone on the island. They're waving to you and smiling. They're welcoming you…and you feel so happy and grateful to be there, to be welcomed."

My boat, it's gliding towards the island, and Luka's there, holding Joe. And smiling, welcoming me home…

Luka smiles, like the sun and the moon themselves got together and hatched a plan to light up his face. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. So much."

"We're all here, now. You, me, and Joe."

"Just us?"

"Just us. Nobody else."

"I'm glad."

He takes my hand, the other holding Joe. "Me too, Abby."

"I hear you had a rough day yesterday."

"You could call it that."

"Abby, I want you to know that the staff and I were very impressed with how you handled it. I'm not sure you realize how risky that sort of situation can be to someone in such a precarious state of recovery."

"I'm not sure you got the whole story, then. I might have said some things to Dianne. And called a couple people…names." Some of which I got pretty creative on, if I do say so myself.

"In a case like that, honestly, I'd be worried if you hadn't. We're not asking you to shed your emotions, or cease every slightly problematic behavior. If you want to swear and yell, go ahead, so long as you don't drink or put anyone, including yourself, in harm's way."

"You're giving me license to curse out the staff?"

Celia smiles. "Don't make it a habit or anything. I'm just saying that it's not the worst thing in the world you can do."

"Trust me. I thought about doing worse."

"And what kept you from doing it?"

"Joe." I flash the envelope from Luka at her. "The pictures Luka brought…I looked at them, and I just…whatever happens, he's the most important thing in the world. And I want to be a good mother to him. I want him to grow up knowing he can depend on me, that I'll be there."

Her smile returns. "I'm glad you said that."

"Why?"

She takes something from her desk and extends it to me. "You've been doing quite well over the past two weeks. We've talked about a lot of really difficult things, and you've been working very hard. I see that. The staff sees it. And we see that you're very committed to changing, Abby."

"I am." I glance at the paper she's handed me. "I don't get it."

"It's a program for children whose parents are mentally ill, incarcerated, or addicted."

"I think I'm a little old for it."

There's a twitch of a smile, but it fades. "Saturday is our monthly service day, for those patients we feel are trustworthy enough to be in the community for a day. It's both about giving back and about adjusting to normal life, without the restrictions of the center. I think you could benefit a lot from participating in this program."

"I see."

"I'm not mandating this. There are other opportunities – a soup kitchen, cleaning up the local park, an animal shelter, and…well…"

"What?"

"The March of Dimes."

"Oh, yeah. Fuck no."

"That's what I figured." She clears her throat and kicks one of her absolutely incredible black patent heels that I wish to god I could either pull off or afford under her desk. "I think this is the perfect opportunity, though."

"Yeah, I guess. Sure you didn't make it up just to mess with me?"

"I'm sure. We've been working with them for two years now."

"Too bad they weren't around in my day."

"Well, if they were, I'd have about half the number of clients I do now." She catches my eye. "And I wouldn't be able to afford those shoes."

"Yeah, and that would be a travesty."

"Abby?" Alice looks like she's a little tentative to approach me. Can't blame her after the bitch session she got yesterday. "You have a visitor."

I have a what now? After the way Luka left yesterday, I'm not exactly thinking he's here for round two. And I have absolutely no idea who else it could be. Maybe it's Santa. Coming to tell me about all the coal I'll be getting in a few weeks. "Um…okay. Can I – ?"

"Go." Dianne gives me a tight little smile, clearly not happy to relent but given that the group wouldn't be interrupted if it wasn't okay in the first place, I doubt she's got a choice.

I follow Alice down the hallway toward the living area, and low and behold, there he is, waiting.

"Luka."

"Hi." He doesn't smile, but he doesn't frown, either. "I…er…I wanted to come by before I left."

I nod like a total idiot and we sit down, and I notice he's wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Where did he even sleep? At the apartment? I don't even know how he got here, when I think about it. A taxi, maybe, unless he did stay at the apartment, and I suppose he has every right to, so maybe he got his car and drove here? He's staring at his hands and he lets out a little sigh. "Abby, I…I'm sorry. For yesterday."

"You don't have to apologize, Luka. You have every right to be upset."

"I don't have the right to hurt you, though. Not on purpose. And…I think maybe I did."

I nod a little. "I understand why you did."

"I don't think you do."

"Luka –"

"I'm scared, Abby." He's still not looking at me, and his voice comes out low and dull. "I'm scared that…I finally found something, someone who I can be with, and now…"

"Luka –"

"Don't." I stop and let him keep going, just happy that he's talking, finally. "I don't know if I can do this again."

"Again?"

He nods, this time, and for a second he looks up at me, and his eyes are so wide, so pleading, like a little boy, and for a second I wonder if he's anywhere near as strong as I imagine him to be. "I don't want to lose my family again."

"You won't." I reach across for his hand, and he just lets me hold it a minute before he turns his over and squeezes my fingers between his. "I want to make this work. I want to get better and be there for you and for Joe."

He lets my hand go and folds his together on the table, quiet again. Meanwhile I'm just staring at the floor and trying like hell not to burst into tears. "When we got married, I gave you my mother's pearls." He digs in his pocket a minute and pulls out a chain. "And now I'm giving you my father's medal." He holds it out to me, and I reach out a hand. "Saint Christopher. He watches over all travelers."

Catholic school, while not something I harbor fond memories of, required me to memorize my saints. I know the stories of St. Christopher a lot better than is really necessary for any one person – for some reason, his story was one of the few I actually remembered past the exams. One of the stories goes that he was in charge of helping people cross a river, and one day, he had to carry a small child across. While he was carrying the child, the river started to swell and the child became extraordinarily heavy. Well, St. Chris barely made it, and when he got to the other side, he told the child that he didn't think the whole world would have been as heavy, to which the child replied that not only was he carrying the whole world on his shoulders, but the one who made it – he'd actually been carrying Jesus.

I'm not big into the Bible, especially when it's taken literally, but it's got some nice metaphors in it. I have to wonder if this is Luka's way of telling me he knows how hard this is for me. I mean, it's not as though he doesn't know the story, too. He can quote the damn thing in Croatian and English, which I don't find a particularly appealing trait, but he can, and so I doubt very much that the meaning is lost on him.

"Get better." He still doesn't smile.

I close the medal in my hand and feel oddly like I'm back at morning prayers clutching my rosary in one hand and trying to conceal my Walkman with the other. "I will."

And I mean, that, too. Here with him, I can see very clearly what I working toward.

He finally cracks the smallest of smiles. "I know you will. You…you're stronger than you think."

"I have a lot to work for."

He nods, almost to himself. "Joe misses you. He asks about you every day."

Well that about there breaks my heart, not that I'm not glad he still remembers me. "It feels like I haven't seen him in years."

"I know the feeling." He smiles a little more. "The first week or so, he would go around the house, looking for you. Opening closets, cabinets, like he was playing hide-and-seek."

Knife me in the heart. Go ahead, really.

"He's doing better."

That doesn't make me any happier. "Yeah?"

"Well…sort of. He still asks for you. In the morning, especially. And when he's upset."

"He knows you're not as much of a sucker."

He laughs a little. "He figured out that Nata and Ana will give him anything he wants if he looks sad. The other morning I think he actually…what do you call it…toyed them?"

"Played them."

"Yes. He went into the kitchen and opened up the drawer, and put his head in and called your name, like you might be in there. And you knew from his face he knew you weren't."

"Uh-oh."

"So Nata picked him right up and cuddled him and gave him some cake."

"He must have been happy."

Luka grins. "He can't get enough cake. Asks Ana for it every day, and she always makes it."

"I'm going to have to learn to cook."

"Maybe she can teach you how." He looks me in the eye for the first time. "When you come to Croatia."

I'm sort of mute for a minute, just processing that. "You want me to come?"

He nods. "Yes. After…after you're done here."

"Then I will. And I'll learn to make cake."