Summary: Somewhere in the
Congo, a delirious Luka has a conversation with Virgin Mary.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: / The Lost
Disclaimer: If I need a disclaimer, I definitely
don't own ER.
Author's note: This fic arose from my speculations
on the spoilers for The Lost. Although the spoilers
mentioned another prayer, I somehow felt that Hail Mary
was more appropriate. I've used the Croatian and Kikongo
(one of languages spoken in Congo) translations of it. I'm a
pretty lapsed Christian (I'm actually more of a
God-respecting atheist) and not even Catholic, so any mistakes in
the religious department are solely mine.
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...Hail Mary, full of grace.
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed are thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy
womb, Jesus...
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Zdravo
Marijo, milosti puna-
"Ave Maria, uafulukua ye nsambu-
Marija – why are you here before me, the sinner of sinners? You speak a strange language, but I know that you repeat all that I say to you, you look at me attentively, your eyes like dark stars. Your skin is so dark against mine, and I touch it, surprised to feel that it is just like mine. They lie when they show you with the skin the color of porcelain, and hidden by all those clothes – but in reality you wear a simple cotton dress, and your hair short and curly, not long and flowing. You don't look stern and unapproachable like the statue in that huge church that Teta Ina took me and Janko to when we were young – you look kind and gentle and more beautiful then I ever imagined
o Mfumu se una iaku
O nge vana ven'akento nkue nsambu yo malau ye mnongo a vumu kiaku Yezu
you know my pain, Marija, you can understand me. You lost him just as I lost my children. Tell me, how did you feel? How did you deal with it? You grieved, but you got him back. It is not fair. You are a woman. God could have given you another child, or you could have gotten a child in a less blessed way. But I am a man, and I cannot have a child as easily. Why could not my children come back to life? All that He had to do was to perform a miracle – and a lifetime of pain would be spared for me. What have I done to be punished so terribly, what terrible sin have I committed? Tell me what it is and I will repent it, just tell me what I am guilty of
E Santa Maria, ngu andi a Nzambi, intovingil'oieto asumuki
pray for me, Marija, and I will pray for those I love, so they should not feel sad if you take my soul. I will thank you forever if you will give me a chance to look over them, to take care of them. I'd make a rotten guardian angel, but I know people who need help, and they need an angel. If I have sinned too much, send my children instead – they have never sinned, they are pure- Let them look over my family, to keep them strong, to make them understand that going to Congo and working long hours, treating very sick people with the bare minimum of medicines and medical instruments and facing danger made me human again, returned something to me that made me feel like I cared about other human beings, something that allowed me to push all thoughts of my sadness aside and realize that there were many people who still thought of me and loved me. And speaking of lthose who loved me, could you please help the woman I still love and care for and her family - and if she has any memory left of me in her heart, gently erase it and help her find peace of mind
ouau ye muna utangu'a lufua lueto
even though this might be my death, I will not be dying by my own hands or in another meaningless way – I will die having done something I might be remembered by. I am ready to die, and I'm ready to go wherever I am fated to go – hell, purgatory, anywhere. I will go without a fight, Marija, just let me see their faces. This is all I want, all I need, and then I am ready to die and willing to burn in hell forever. It is all I have wanted ever since they were buried – human memory is unreliable and weak, and eyes forget images, no matter how dear they once were...
You look up and I look up with you and then I see them, forever young and beautiful, looking down on me, their smiles like sunshine. You touch my hair, and you smile, and I know you forgive me, and I know that if I die you will forgive me my many sins, because we share the secret pain of loss and you understand me better then I understand myself. Our lips move in unison, and together we whisper-
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...Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen...
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The End
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(A/N – For those who got confused, Luka actually sees a Congolese woman who is praying next to him but confuses her for Virgin Mary in his delirium. Only the prayers are actually said aloud, the rest is just in Luka's mind.)