Author's note: I often use writing to help me make sense of things, wheather it is to help me decide what I want to do for the day, or to just put down thoughts of a tragedy. This story does deal with the real life events of 9/11/01, and how I think many of the ER characters might have reacted. This story was mainly intended as an outlet for myself, but I thought it was good enough to share. If you think you would be offended by this, please don't read it. It also deals with (fictionalized) racist situations. Because I don't want to spoil the story, I have included a second "disclaimer" at the end of the story explaining why I have chosen particular characters for particular reactions.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the ER characters. I do not claim any rights to the events in this story. Some of them really happened, some were just inspired by this country's reaction.
Rating: R, for strong language and racist situations.
Vukovar, 1991
...Blasts resounded outside. The air raid whistles rung in Luka's ears. He had been taking a quick coffee break, but more wounded citizens kept being wheeled through the doors. He left his coffee on the counter and went to help. The cocky intern he was, he thought he could save everyone, if only the military presence would quit getting in the way every time he tried to help a Bosnian. He knew that not all of the Bosnians were bad... many were just like he was, just caught in the middle, trying to live their own lives. As one of the nurses wheeled another gurney towards him, an armed officer stepped in his path.
"Sorry, doc, I'm holding this one for questioning."
"He's bleeding... look, blood is pooling on the floor!"
"Sorry doc, you can see him when I'm done. Ma'am, step away from the gurney."
The nurse looked at Luka, and he half-heartedly said, 'better follow orders. Hopefully he'll be done soon."
By the time the guard let Luka tend to the wounded man, he was long gone, having bled to death. Luka noted the small replica Bosnian flag the dead man still clung to, and said a prayer.
~*~
2 days later
"Papa, I'm hungry!" Luka's young daughter whined, while clutching her stomach. Luka looked over at his wife, who was trying to nurse the fussy baby boy.
"There's nothing, Luka. We don't have a single slice of bread left. " Man and wife looked up as they heard jets over head.
"I'll go and find us something." Luka grabbed his coat, while his daughter grabbed his leg.
"Papa, papa! Take me! I want to go out!"
"No Jasna, stay here with mama. It's not safe out there."
"Please papa, I want to go!" Tears were streaming down her face.
Luka knelt down. "Jasna, I want you to stay here and help mama with Marko." He kissed her forehead. "Give papa a kiss?" She pouted, but gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and stamped her feet as she went off towards her mother. Danijela gave Luka a weary look as she stood up to put the baby in his crib. They quickly kissed before Luka went out the door.
Luka hurried down the stairs, and out the door. As he crossed the street, he heard the artillery shell whiz through the air, and hit the building. As burning debris landed around him, he made his way back to his building. He ran up the stairs, calling his wife's name, ignoring his wounded neighbors littering the halls. He burst through the door, in shock at the scene inside his apartment. He saw the crib, buried under the rubble. He saw his son's lifeless arm sticking out through the slats...
~*~
Chicago, 2001
Luka arrived back to hotel room shortly after 7AM, having just finished a graveyard shift. He hadn't stopped for breakfast. He was tired, and just wanted to take a shower and get some sleep. As he undressed, he flipped on the morning news, leaving the television on while he showered. When he finished showering and pulling on some sweats and a tee shirt, he lowered himself on to his bed. As he started to drift off, he heard Katie Couric announce, "An airplane has just hit one of the twin towers of the World Trade Center..." Luka still tried to fall asleep... he was so tired. He closed his eyes, but could still sense the light changes from the television screen. He sat up and opened his eyes, searching for the remote control, but was struck by the pictures on his television screen. "All of those people..." his mind flashed back to his days in Vukovar, all of the explosions he had seen there. He continued to stare at the screen, mesmerized by all of the live footage he was watching. A few minutes later, he realized they were reporting that another plane had hit the other tower...
~*~
"Abby, take a look at that!" Abby had just been passing by the admit desk when Randi stopped her, turning up the volume on the TV.
"What's going on?"
"Have you been under a rock? Some psychos hijacked a bunch of planes and crashed two of them into the World Trade Center. Someone else just crashed one into the Pentagon. Look!"
Abby stared at the screen. "Do they know who did it?"
"Not yet. They think that rich Arab guy is behind it."
"Shit."
The two women continued to stare at the screen. Abby couldn't help thinking of Luka, as reporters speculated about this being the beginning of a war. Although she had broken up with Luka weeks ago, she couldn't help but wonder what he made of all this, having seen the horrors of war first hand.
Kerry Weaver walked by, first stopping to stare at the television. After a moment she yelled, "Everyone back to work! We still have sick people in Chicago, too."
The group that had gathered around the television broke up, each going back to their business. There would probably be extra people landing in Chicago, many of whom may need medical help in dealing with all of this. There would still be everyday tragedies happening today.
~*~
Luka had sat in front of the television for the last two hours. He finally decided to go back to the hospital, and catch up on some paperwork. He couldn't sleep, and he couldn't keep watching. Every time they showed that crash, he flashed back to Vukovar. He couldn't possibly sleep.
As he walked through the streets of Chicago, he saw groups of people huddled everywhere talking. Many of the major businesses were letting out, so people could go home to their families... and in case something else should happen.
As he approached the hospital, he saw a line of people going out the door. He walked around to the ambulance bay to go in, but didn't note any major traumas.
"What's going on? What's the line for?" He asked Randi.
"People are here to donate blood. Aren't you off today?"
"I couldn't sleep and I couldn't watch the television anymore."
"Well then, glove up. We can use more hands around here."
Luka went to the locker room to grab his lab coat, amazed at the people out there. He was feeling some of his faith in humanity being restored.
~*~
"Amira, it's about time. I'm going to lunch." Randi grabbed her purse and headed off towards the cafeteria.
"Okay... I'm not late, though."
"Whatever."
That was the way Randi and Amira always got along. Actually, Amira usually dished it back as well and Randi handed it out, but she was tired today. Neither of the women particularly liked each other, but they did share a mutual respect for each other.
People in the ER donating blood had to come to the admissions desk to fill out and drop off paperwork. Almost every time someone new came up to the desk, Amira received a cold stare. She was on the verge of tears for much of the day. She could understand why people were angry, but she wished that they wouldn't take it out on her. Yes, she was of Middle Eastern descent, but she was one hundred percent American, born and raised. Her background wasn't even Afghani. She just came in to do her job.
"Bitch." A man muttered under his breath as he handed his paperwork back to her.
"Have you given blood today?" A woman asked her in an accusing tone.
"Actually, I gave blood last week."
"Hmpf...." The woman left the desk with the papers to fill out.
"How's it going here?" Kerry asked Amira. Despite her reputation for total insensitivity, she did notice how people were treating Amira.
"Could be better."
"You're doing great. Keep up the good work. Take a coffee break when Randi gets back."
"Thanks." Amira was floored by Kerry's offer, and grateful.
~*~
"Well, by the end of the day, I think I'll be the greatest nurse phlebotomist around these parts!"
"No way, Abby, I will." Yosh quietly replied with a smile.
"Okay ma'am, you'll want to continue laying down for a few minutes, and then there's some orange juice and cookies on the table over there." Abby pointed to a table down the hall.
"Gee, have I been that good?"
Abby smiled. "It's a good idea to boost your blood sugar level after giving blood."
"Okay. Thanks."
Abby walked away, with Yosh following behind her.
"Looks like we get a break for a few minutes."
"Well, we don't have enough gurneys to keep these people lying down after giving blood." Abby stopped, and noticed the glare a patient was giving Yosh. "Did you have a hard time sticking him? He doesn't look to happy with you."
"I've been getting a lot of dirty looks today. Some people who don't think that the attack was orchestrated by an Arab think it was done by the Chinese."
"But you're not Chinese."
"I know. It's still tough though."
"I wonder if Jing-Mei is handling those looks all right."
"I think she went home as soon as her shift was over."
"Wow."
They both surveyed the scene for a few minutes longer.
"I think we have a few gurneys clearing."
"Back to taking blood."
~*~
"Kerry, why are we letting her man the admissions desk?" Dr. Romano demanded.
"Because it's her job, Robert."
"She's making a lot of these fine citizens here to donate blood uncomfortable. Send her home."
"Robert, this is her job. We shouldn't be feeding into the frenzy."
"Send her home with pay. I don't care. But I don't want her here."
"Robert..."
"End of discussion, Kerry. She goes."
"Fine."
Kerry despairingly walked over to Amira.
"Amira, Dr. Romano would like you to take the afternoon off. I'll punch you out at your regular time."
"Why? What did I do?"
"You didn't do anything. Dr. Romano is just being... well... unpleasant."
Amira immediately knew what this what about. "This bites! How can he do this?"
"I don't know, Amira. I don't agree with him, but I'm obligated to follow his orders. Randi can handle the desk alone."
"Fine." Amira stormed off and left the hospital.
~*~
"How are you doing, Luka?"
He looked up from the desk at Abby. "All right, I guess." He paused. "I'm aware I have a heavy accent, but does it sound Middle Eastern to you?"
"You know, I have no idea what a Middle Eastern accent sounds like? But for what it's worth, I think your accent sounds very European. Very suave and sexy."
Luka smiled, sheepishly, surprised at Abby's comment, under the circumstances. "Thanks."
"I was worried about you when I saw the news."
"Why? You knew I was safe in Chicago."
"I was worried about the kind of memories it would bring up for you."
"I have done a lot of remembering today."
"If you need to talk, I'm here. I still care."
"Thank you Abby."
They just stood for a moment, a quiet understanding between them, until Mark interrupted.
"Luka, we have a beating victim coming in. It sounds like it's pretty bad. I think I could use a little help."
"I'll be right there." He turned to Abby. "Are you coming?"
"I wouldn't miss it."
Doris was just wheeling the gurney in as Luka and Abby reached the trauma room.
"35 year old man, beaten severely. Having difficulty breathing, and reports neck, back, belly and leg pain in both legs."
"What happened to him?" Luka asked.
"A whole group of men coming out of a bar jumped him, and beat the living daylight out of him."
"Why?"
"Look at his face and clothes."
Luka looked into the man's face, with an expression of anguish plastering it. The man's skin was only slightly darker than his own, and he had a moustache. He wore a white head dressing that covered most of his head and wrapped around his neck, with material flowing down his back.
"Looks like Sadaam," Mark quipped. "Wasn't very bright of him to walk down the street with that on his head. That's asking for a beating today."
Luka glared at him.
"On my count... one, two, three..."
"Abby, call Benton down here."
"Damn, looks like his legs have been smashed," Mark noted.
"Run a liter of saline and start a morphine drip. Call radiology, he needs a CT and X-rays." Luka continued to look the man over. "Sir, I'm going to put a tube down your throat to help you breathe. The medicine we're giving you will relax you for it. When you wake up, you won't be able to speak."
The man closed his eyes. He could not move his head to nod in agreement, so Luka had no choice but to continue. He intubated the man.
"Peritoneal levage is positive!" Mark shouted.
"Did somebody call for me?" Peter entered the room.
"We have a surgical belly for you."
"Well, what are we waiting for, let's move people!" Peter started to wheel the gurney towards the door.
"Abby, call radiology back and have them meet Peter in the OR."
"Sure."
Peter took the man out, and headed towards the elevator. Mark and Luka stayed behind in the room.
"Just how much of your brain did they cut out during your surgery, Mark?" Luka asked angrily.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"What's next? An Arabic woman comes in raped, and you say she deserved it too?"
"Look, their people did a horrible thing to this country!"
"That man didn't do anything. He walked down the street."
"Yeah, well, he should have stayed in today."
Kerry burst into the trauma room. "What the hell is going on in here? I can hear the two of you down the hall!"
"Dr. Perfect over there doesn't agree with American politics."
"Those are not American politics. Those are your politics."
"I don't have time for this. Mark, there's a migraine in exam 2 waiting for you."
"Whatever." Mark angrily stormed out of the trauma room.
"Luka, what happened here?"
"He said that the patient looked like Sadaam, that he probably deserved to be beaten for walking around dressed like that."
"I'll have a talk with him. Go outside and cool down, okay?"
"Okay."
Luka took off his trauma gown and gloves, and headed out. Abby saw him leaving and followed him.
"Luka, he was way out of line."
"I know that."
"I thought you were great in there."
"Thanks."
They both stopped speaking for a while, just enjoying each other's company.
"Today has just been very difficult for me, Abby."
"I understand."
"When I was in Vukovar, there were so many people that I couldn't help. I couldn't help so many of the people that were different. I wanted to, but sometimes they just wouldn't let us... the guards would get in the way..." Luka hung his head in shame.
"Luka, I'm sure that you did everything you could."
"No, I didn't."
"Luka, if there were guards blocking you..."
"After I lost my family, I couldn't help anyone. I left medicine for a while."
"That's understandable."
"I had to leave. I couldn't even think of helping someone that might have been responsible for my family's death…"
"Then you did the right thing."
He paused. "I suppose."
"No, Luka, you did. The wrong thing would have been to stay in medicine, and not help people. Leaving was the best thing you could do."
There was silence again.
"You certainly showed today that you could help anyone."
"Today wasn't hard. I didn't believe that man had anything to do with the tragedy today. He was just an innocent bystander. It makes me sad for all of the innocent bystanders that I didn't help ten years ago."
"What's done is done. You can't go back and change what happened in the past. You've proven today that you are not the same person."
"But still..." He stopped. "You're right."
"Of course I am."
They sat together a few minutes longer in silence.
"Abby, when are you off?"
"About half an hour ago."
"Do you want to get out of here, maybe go donate blood at another hospital?"
"I think that's the best idea you've had all day."
They started to walk in silence.
"You know Abby, they might need extra doctors and nurses in New York..."
"There's plenty of trauma right here for us, Luka."
They headed off, each feeling a little bit better about the day's events. They knew they couldn't solve all of the problems of the world, but decided to pitch in some help where they could.
Second Disclaimer: I do not hate Mark. I will admit, I find him a bit annoying, but that is not why I chose to characterize him like this. Like many white people (and yes, I'm white) Mark has often had difficulty grasping his inborn racism, something that in my opinion, just about everyone has. Like most of us, it is not conscious, or intenional, but it is there, and over the years, it has been addressed on ER. I chose Mark to represent this, becasue he has had brain surgery on the show, and his behavior has been radically different. For the purposes of this story, I needed someone to play the bad guy, and Mark fit the bill well. I'm very sorry if I've offened Mark fans. I also relize that none of the characters on ER are perfect, but hey, this is fan fiction.