Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.
Author's Notes: Well, here's part deux. Thanks for all your kind comments on the first part and don't ask me where I'm going with this story because even though I know, I won't tell you :)
Archive: Sure, go ahead, just tell me where.
Rating: PG-13
"Fire and Rain, Part 2: Rain Falls Hard" by Carolina
The outside was beautiful, the naked trees coated in a light mantel of snow. There was a bird singing somewhere, but he couldn't figure out where. As he looked around he realized everything looked even more familiar during the day, and after a good night sleep. It was cold. Not that he wasn't used to that now, but the wind made it worse here than anywhere else. There were young men running down the sidewalk; women walking down the streets with their babies practically covered to their noses with small coats and Winter hats.
He started walking. It was something he had been doing now for almost 15 years and it was a habit he couldn't get rid off. His coat was wrapped around him even tighter as the wind blew a little more forcefully, clearing little spots off of hair on his head. He knew where he was going even without thinking.
Hunger was beginning to make its presence be heard in his stomach, so he made a mental note to stop somewhere on the way back to the hotel. The river was still flowing in the same direction, there were still little benches for people to sit in and homeless men were still walking around despite the almost unbearable coldness in the air. The old railing was still there, and as he leaned into it and looked into the water he let out a sigh.
Suddenly, too suddenly, everything felt as if he had never left. Suddenly he was still living in Chicago and there was no Lakeside, no Tom, no Irene. There was only a river and morning walks, bagels and too much coffee. There were 12 hour shifts that ended as if in a dream. There was a cozy apartment, and women's clothes. There was a cat...
... "Luka, what's going on?"
"Shh, just keep your eyes closed," Luka softly cooed to her ear.
"Is this another one of those, 'Look, I cleaned the apartment' stunts?"
Luka laughed, "No. I did clean, though."
"Ok. Can I open them now?"
"Just a second," he said as he set everything in front of the tree. He hurried back to stand behind her and rested his chin on her head. "Ok, you can open them now."
"What's this?"
"It's a cat," Luka said as if it was obvious, which it was.
"You bought a cat?"
"No, I bought us a cat," Luka said, kneeling on the other side and reiterating the word us, watching as the cat played with her small fingers.
"Us a cat?"
"You're not gonna make me take him back, are you?" he teased, waiting for her response as unclear emotions ran through her face and she finally looked up to him with a smile. "What are you gonna name him?" Luka asked.
"I don't know any cat names."
"Come on," Luka said a little exasperatedly.
"Ok, ok... Oreo."
Luka chuckled, looking at the bag of cookies on the table. "Ok, Oreo."...
If there were thousands of Star Buck's before, there were probably millions now. You couldn't even step out without practically walking into one and as he looked around, he just gave up on the idea of finding a nice place to get some breakfast. You know how sometimes you get so hungry that you can't eat at all?
When he walked out of the hotel again, all dressed up and shaven, it was raining. Not light rain, or rain which fell like hundreds of miniature cotton balls, it was frozen rain, falling down hard like hail. The rental car was waiting for him outside, and as he got in he took a deep breath, closing his eyes tight and opening them for a long ride.
The sound of the rain smacking the windshield took him back to days of pop corn and movies; days of cold winters but warm apartments with blankets and pillows on the couch over a movie.
"Hey, watch out, jackass!"
He was brought out of his reverie but not in time to stop at the red light, which he had not seen. Looking around to make sure there wasn't a cop near, he kept going, hearing the angry drivers honk their horns and cussing at him from afar.
"Kiss my ass," he muttered under his breath as he continued to stare straight ahead, listening to a song on the radio he was sure he had heard years ago somewhere in New York.
The old convention center's parking lot was empty, and a glance at his watch gave an explanation. He ran in, covering his head with his coat, which was quickly drenched.
"Can I help you?" someone asked as soon as he walked in.
Luka looked at the busy woman as he shook his coat, sending drops of water everywhere. She looked busy, hovering over some papers behind a table.
"Uh, I'm here for the conference," he said.
The woman took her glasses off and looked at him from toes to head. "You're early."
Luka looked at his watch again to convey the idea that he didn't know he was two hours ahead of schedule, but that didn't seem to diminish the woman's frustration.
She let out a small sigh, "Name?"
"Luka Kovac," he said quickly, looking at all the name tags spread across the table.
"Wear this at all times, and you can go ahead and sit down. There's coffee and donuts on the tables, if you're hungry. Here," she handed him a pamphlet. "So you don't get bored."
Luka took the papers on his hands and gave her an appreciative smile, "Thank you."
She didn't seem to hear him.
The auditorium was warm, and he quickly poured himself a cup of coffee as he looked over at the stage. Various chairs were sitting behind a long table, a podium in the middle. After grabbing a glazed donut, he walked over and chose a chair on the back.
Silence again.
Silence seemed to follow him everywhere he went. It was his loyal companion, one that would never leave him, never judged him, was always waiting for him after a long day. Silence was his best friend. He had grown used to it and it had grown used to him. He would never be over powered by solitude because silence would always be there. Luka Kovac was Don Quijote, and silence was Sancho Panza. They traveled together around the world fighting mills of false dreams and giants of disappointment.
He took a sip of his coffee and looked at the papers on his hands. Just the schedule for the conference. He was feeling a little wild, so he decided to put it away, he wanted to be surprised. Ironic that they served donuts for breakfast at a medical conference. But the American Medical Association never ceased to amaze him.
He closed his eyes, and dropped his head back. He could still hear the rain as it hit the windows of the convention center. It was soothing, as if, after years of trying, he had finally stopped time. Now if he could find a way to turn it back...
..."Kerry?"
"Luka... you were supposed to be here two hours ago, where have you been?"
He let out a sigh, "I, um, I had an interview. Someone offered me an attending position somewhere else... I took it."
"What?"
"I'm leaving in two days."...
"Hey buddy."
Luka opened his eyes to the realization that the auditorium was full.
"Conference is about to start," a man sitting next to him said.
Luka shook his head and sat straight, wondering where his coffee went, and hoping he hadn't drooled. "Sorry."
The man looked at Luka and smiled, "If you're already falling asleep you might as well stay home for the next few days."
Luka chuckled and extended his hand, "I'm Dr. Kovac."
"Dr. Jensen," the man said and shook Luka's hand. "Hey, if you wanna go back to sleep, I can take notes for you," he joked.
Luka chuckled again, "Sounds good."
"Hello?" a man at the microphone said. "Testing, can you hear me?
Various yes were heard from the audience.
"Well, welcome to this year's AMA conference, I hope you're all enjoying the nice Chicago weather outside," he started sarcastically and everyone chuckled. "If you looked at your schedule then you already know what we have in store for you. This year we are discussing hospital departments and ways in which we can all perform a better job and offer the patient a more enjoyable experience. You'll be hearing about how some of our hospitals and departments have already achieved that goal and what many of you can do to..."
Luka looked around, letting out a sigh. The man in the podium hadn't started talking for 1 minute and he already couldn't concentrate. He looked around the sea of white coats. There has to be a joke somewhere about how many doctors does it take to screw in a light bulb. He guessed one screws it in and the other one sends you the bill. But at least he didn't have to give a talk. All he had to do was record the conference, then make a few notes at night.
He let out another sigh.
"Wanna sneak out?" Dr. Jensen said.
Luka shook his head. "I have to report back."
"Me too," Dr. Jensen said. "Reminds me of grade school. My buddies and I used to pay the bookworm of the class and then he'd give us the notes. Meanwhile we were in the gym shooting hoops and watching the cheerleaders rehearse."
Luka shook his head. He liked this guy. "Where are you coming from?" he asked.
"Denver. How about you?" Dr. Jensen asked.
"San Diego," Luka said, looking straight ahead.
"Nice. I hear the weather is always perfect there," Dr. Jensen whispered back.
"It is," Luka said, but someone from behind shushed them. He decided to really listen to what the man was saying, but his attention span was not working very nicely today. Actually, it hadn't been working at all ever since he came back. But he knew that would happen.
-------------
"Ok, so, go out, eat something, we'll be back here at 1," the man at the podium said.
Luka stood up from his seat, grabbing his coat with him.
"I hope they don't think I'll be paying for my own lunch," Dr. Jensen said.
Luka just shrugged his shoulders.
It was still raining outside, and he watched as little drops of ice hit the pavement, some rebounding, some breaking, some adding up to the puddles of water. He wrapped his coat around him and looked up at the sky. It was a little warmer, but still cold. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the cold sandwiches they were giving away, but the donut he had earlier had been enough.
Is there something wrong when you actually miss bad weather? Not that he minded the sun and the cool breeze, but he missed Winters. Snow. As weird as it sounded, it was true. He shook his head, trying to prevent into falling down that precipice that is playing the If game.
He walked back in, looking around the place. As he leaned against a wall, he opened the booklet he had earlier. A list of speakers laid on the 5th page and out of boredom, his eyes wondered about. He smiled. 'Kerry Weaver- A Hospital Within the Emergency Department'. He wouldn't be missing that one.
As he put the papers back in his briefcase, he rubbed his nose and looked around. Outside, there were dozens of smokers talking and scattering ashes to the wind. Suddenly, though, this wasn't as bad as he thought this would be. He had already made a friend, and it looked like he'd be seeing Kerry in a while. He wondered how she was. He wondered how everyone was doing. But he would have to leave with that question in the air. That was a question he did not want to hear the answer to. Now did he care to know, or at least he fooled himself into not caring.
He dropped his head, as millions of voices whirled around him, some laughing, some talking seriously, some boring, some exciting. There was a giggle, and life ceased to exist.
..."Maybe you'd like to... go out, sometime."...
..."I actually enjoyed losing to you."...
..."You watch me when we make love."...
..."I miss you."...
..."Please don't fall in love with me."...
..."It's too late."...
..."You wanna... move in with me?"...
..."I love you."...
..."I love you."...
..."Goodbye, Abby."...
They left him in mid air, flying, hovering over the heads which surrounded him yet all of a sudden had disappeared. His heart had stopped beating, his lungs breathing. Her hair was longer, but curled, and she was wearing glasses, a conservative suit and a tag which read 'Dr. Lockhart' over her left breast as she talked and laughed with some collegues, oblivious about his presence. Suddenly it was too overwhelming, and everything around him began to spin, like a windless tornado.
He walked out.
The rain hit him hard like little daggers, digging in his skin and making the pain almost unbearable. He opened the car door and sat down, resting his head on the steering wheel, catching his breath. He must have been there forever, ignoring the conference which had resumed inside, and oblivious to the lack of air inside the car.
He looked up.
Small beads of sweat ran through the sides of his face and all of a sudden this all seemed like an over reaction. But he couldn't go back in there. Not after he had worked so hard to put it all behind.
So he drove.
Where? He didn't know, but he drove these feelings away, he drove away from the frustration and he drove until it was dark, until he didn't know where he was anymore. It took him 2 hours to get back to the hotel.
As he threw his bag on the bed, he sat down and grabbed a small menu sitting on the table next to the bed. He wasn't even sure what he ordered, but they promised to get it up there in 15 minutes.
He laid back, dreaming of a bath, maybe while he ate. His mind was a battlefield. Thoughts against thoughts, poles against poles, positive against negative. He felt like a puppet being operated by the puppeteer that was the past. The more he tried to get free of those strings, the more they made him dance against his will.
If he could just stop thinking about everything, things would go back to normal, back to the way they were a couple of months ago. But he knew that wouldn't happen, not while he was here, not while he was walking through the same streets where he had walked years ago. Outside, there was a hospital that had changed his life, co-workers that had made him laugh and stomp in frustration. There was a mean little boss who always reminded him of the chicken hawk, and there were good times. There were bad times also. Those seemed to tug at his heart and nearly caused him to cry.
His life had started a long time ago. He had met thousands of people, too many to get together in one universe. People always hold on to memories and they cherish them forever. He had lived ignoring those nice memories and only holding on to the bad ones. It was one of his vices, and he knew it. It felt better to be down than up. When you're up, you might fall. When you're down, you've got nothing to lose. You're invisible, and blind. You're immortal.
The telephone rang, but it didn't startle him. He kept looking at the ceiling as he picked it up and put it on his ear. "Hello?"
"Luka?"
He creased his eyebrows, "Who is this?"
"It's me."
He hated the 'It's me'. He sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes. "Me whom?"
"It's Irene, don't you recognize my voice?" she said in a teasing tone.
Luka looked up, "Oh yeah, I'm sorry," he smiled.
"What's going on over there?" she asked again.
"Nothing," Luka answered.
"How's the conference?"
"Boring," Luka said, laying back on the bed.
"Well if you're gonna be that descriptive..."
Luka chuckled, "I'm just tired."
"Yeah, I just finished a 12 hour shift myself," Irene added.
Luka just pressed his lips together, but didn't say anything. Suddenly there was a knock at the door and he sat on the bed. "Listen, I have to go."
"Oh," Irene said.
"I'll... I'll see you when I get back," Luka added.
"Yeah," Irene said, distant. "Listen, um, we need to talk... when you do come back."
Luka nodded, and another knock made him look towards the door. "Ok."
"Ok, see you next week."
"Bye," Luka said and hung up the phone. With a sigh, he opened the door to receive food that would remain on the tray all night and eventually turn so cold, it would be inedible. The metaphor was all too familiar.
To be continued...