Coming Home
An ER fan fiction by AbCaLuDa
Chapter 10
I'm exhausted by the time we get to the hospital in Kinshasa. The conditions here don't seem much better than Kisangani, but it will have to do.
Patrique goes inside to get help. Carter climbs out of the van, Gillian refuses to leave Luka's side. Considering she's only known him a few weeks, her dedication to him almost makes me nauseous.
But, my mind reasons, she is pregnant. And thinking that causes my hand to run over my stomach. What did she say back in Kisangani? 'A woman just knows, Dr. Carter.'
I never wanted kids before. I always knew I would never have them, never risk passing on bipolar disorder, and Leukemia is a possibility from Carter's genes. But I look at him, at the fear and concern for Luka in his eyes, and I wonder how our love could cerate anything but the most perfect child.
I imagine a little boy with dark hair and deep brown eyes just like his daddy. John Truman Carter IV is not even an option. My boy has to have his own name, like Tristan or Aidann or Xavier.
Patrique returns with two men wearing scrubs. I really wish I had paid more attention during my French classes at school, but they talk so fast I probably wouldn't understand them anyway.
Carter helps Gillian out of the van, and she's right there, chattering away in French. Maybe it's not such a bad idea to have her along. At least she can translate.
Luka looks pale, especially out here in the sun. His cheeks are sunken in a bit. He's probably lost ten or fifteen pounds, and a lot of blood too.
Patrique and the two men take Luka inside. Gillian stops Carter and me from following. "They said wait out here so they know where to find us."
"I want to go with him," Carter says. It's touching to see him so concerned about Luka after so many months of them swiftly avoiding each other. There was a time I really thought the two of them would meet behind the hospital for a school-yard brawl.
"So do I," Gillian says. She sounds like she's about to cry. Carter puts his arms around her, and I feel that unwelcome pang of jealousy again. I turn away and dig my toe into the dirt.
Right now seems like as good a time as any to pray.
I pace a small space close to the wall. 'Dear God, it's Abby. I know I don't pray as often as I should, or really very much at all. But I'm here now, and I hope you are listening. I need your help. Not me, my friend. Luka. He's been hurt, and it's not even his fault. He came here to help people and it's not fair that he's the one who really needs your help now. He's been shot and he could die. I'm a nurse, I can tell it's bad just by looking at him. But he's a good man, Luka is, and he doesn't deserve to die.' I stop moving and look up at the sky. 'Tell Danijela and the kids they can wait a little longer to see him again. Please. I'm begging. Please help Luka get better and I'll even try to be nice to Gillian.'
"Abby?"
I look at Carter and smile. He and Gillian have their arms around each other and I don't even care. It doesn't bother me because I know it doesn't mean anything except they are both worried about Luka. Carter loves me, and Gillian loves Luka. That's what matters now.
* * * * * * *
I judge the time by the sun as it moves to the west. I figure it's been about three hours, maybe four, since Patrique took Luka inside. The heat and the stench have become almost unbearable as Carter, Gillian, and I sit together against the wall.
Carter nudges me suddenly. I look up to see Patrique walking toward us. We all stand, and Carter steps forward.
"You can see him now." His voice is weary. As tired as I feel, he must be feeling it ten times worse.
Gillian says something in French, Patrique answers in French. Carter squeezes my hand. He doesn't understand French either.
We walk through a large, over crowded room. Most of the people don't have shoes or shirts. The whole place smells like sweat and decay, and it's worse than the stench outside. I have to pinch my nose to keep from being sick.
Upstairs where Luka is the smell isn't so bad. Not good by any means, but not nearly as bad as what we came through.
Gillian squeaks when she sees him, and rushes to his side. He looks a little better than before, at least he's not so pale. They must have given him blood and he's on an IV drip. The heart monitor looks like it's from the dinosaur age, but it shows a strong, steady heart beat.
Gillian takes his hand in hers and leans over to kiss his lips. "We're here, baby. Carter and Abby and me. We're all here. And you're going to be just fine." She runs her fingers through his hair.
Carter has pulled Patrique aside. I can hear the hushed murmur of their voices, but not the words. I try to listen, but I don't want to be obvious. I can't hear enough to make sense of anything.
I put my hand on Luka's leg. "Hey, Luka," I say softly.
Gillian's hand on mine startles me, but after the initial shock, it feels good. It feels right. I look at her and I'm not surprised she's crying. I feel tears push at my eyes too, and I don't even try to hold them back.
Lukas. The name seems to drift on the air. I'm going to name my baby Lukas.
* * * * * * * *
Please take the time to send me a review for this chapter. I'm resorting to begging again. I'm begging, I'm pleading, I'm graveling at your feet. Please review me. Thanks so much for reading…
An ER fan fiction by AbCaLuDa
Chapter 10
I'm exhausted by the time we get to the hospital in Kinshasa. The conditions here don't seem much better than Kisangani, but it will have to do.
Patrique goes inside to get help. Carter climbs out of the van, Gillian refuses to leave Luka's side. Considering she's only known him a few weeks, her dedication to him almost makes me nauseous.
But, my mind reasons, she is pregnant. And thinking that causes my hand to run over my stomach. What did she say back in Kisangani? 'A woman just knows, Dr. Carter.'
I never wanted kids before. I always knew I would never have them, never risk passing on bipolar disorder, and Leukemia is a possibility from Carter's genes. But I look at him, at the fear and concern for Luka in his eyes, and I wonder how our love could cerate anything but the most perfect child.
I imagine a little boy with dark hair and deep brown eyes just like his daddy. John Truman Carter IV is not even an option. My boy has to have his own name, like Tristan or Aidann or Xavier.
Patrique returns with two men wearing scrubs. I really wish I had paid more attention during my French classes at school, but they talk so fast I probably wouldn't understand them anyway.
Carter helps Gillian out of the van, and she's right there, chattering away in French. Maybe it's not such a bad idea to have her along. At least she can translate.
Luka looks pale, especially out here in the sun. His cheeks are sunken in a bit. He's probably lost ten or fifteen pounds, and a lot of blood too.
Patrique and the two men take Luka inside. Gillian stops Carter and me from following. "They said wait out here so they know where to find us."
"I want to go with him," Carter says. It's touching to see him so concerned about Luka after so many months of them swiftly avoiding each other. There was a time I really thought the two of them would meet behind the hospital for a school-yard brawl.
"So do I," Gillian says. She sounds like she's about to cry. Carter puts his arms around her, and I feel that unwelcome pang of jealousy again. I turn away and dig my toe into the dirt.
Right now seems like as good a time as any to pray.
I pace a small space close to the wall. 'Dear God, it's Abby. I know I don't pray as often as I should, or really very much at all. But I'm here now, and I hope you are listening. I need your help. Not me, my friend. Luka. He's been hurt, and it's not even his fault. He came here to help people and it's not fair that he's the one who really needs your help now. He's been shot and he could die. I'm a nurse, I can tell it's bad just by looking at him. But he's a good man, Luka is, and he doesn't deserve to die.' I stop moving and look up at the sky. 'Tell Danijela and the kids they can wait a little longer to see him again. Please. I'm begging. Please help Luka get better and I'll even try to be nice to Gillian.'
"Abby?"
I look at Carter and smile. He and Gillian have their arms around each other and I don't even care. It doesn't bother me because I know it doesn't mean anything except they are both worried about Luka. Carter loves me, and Gillian loves Luka. That's what matters now.
* * * * * * *
I judge the time by the sun as it moves to the west. I figure it's been about three hours, maybe four, since Patrique took Luka inside. The heat and the stench have become almost unbearable as Carter, Gillian, and I sit together against the wall.
Carter nudges me suddenly. I look up to see Patrique walking toward us. We all stand, and Carter steps forward.
"You can see him now." His voice is weary. As tired as I feel, he must be feeling it ten times worse.
Gillian says something in French, Patrique answers in French. Carter squeezes my hand. He doesn't understand French either.
We walk through a large, over crowded room. Most of the people don't have shoes or shirts. The whole place smells like sweat and decay, and it's worse than the stench outside. I have to pinch my nose to keep from being sick.
Upstairs where Luka is the smell isn't so bad. Not good by any means, but not nearly as bad as what we came through.
Gillian squeaks when she sees him, and rushes to his side. He looks a little better than before, at least he's not so pale. They must have given him blood and he's on an IV drip. The heart monitor looks like it's from the dinosaur age, but it shows a strong, steady heart beat.
Gillian takes his hand in hers and leans over to kiss his lips. "We're here, baby. Carter and Abby and me. We're all here. And you're going to be just fine." She runs her fingers through his hair.
Carter has pulled Patrique aside. I can hear the hushed murmur of their voices, but not the words. I try to listen, but I don't want to be obvious. I can't hear enough to make sense of anything.
I put my hand on Luka's leg. "Hey, Luka," I say softly.
Gillian's hand on mine startles me, but after the initial shock, it feels good. It feels right. I look at her and I'm not surprised she's crying. I feel tears push at my eyes too, and I don't even try to hold them back.
Lukas. The name seems to drift on the air. I'm going to name my baby Lukas.
* * * * * * * *
Please take the time to send me a review for this chapter. I'm resorting to begging again. I'm begging, I'm pleading, I'm graveling at your feet. Please review me. Thanks so much for reading…