Endless
Chapter One: Now What?
It was like a knife, a finely sharpened scalpel, making delicate slices at her heart. Seeing Carter here again, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, especially after the way he'd left. She remembered the last words he'd spoken to her all those endless weeks ago-It's not Rio, but it's not here. So simple, so brutal, and then he'd been gone.
Seeing him again hurt almost more than she could bear. It threw her off- balance, awakening suddenly to find him at her bedside. She remembered back in May, standing in the ambulance bay, alone, watching him walk away. She remembered the hurt. So she did what she seemed to do so well. She lit a cigarette, and she sent him away.
Now that he was gone, she couldn't seem to stop staring toward the bureau where he'd left his key. Was this it? Was this how it all ended? A few quiet, painful words, and their rocky relationship was over? It didn't seem right that things should end like this. They should talk things out like mature adults, air all of their feelings both good and bad. But then, that's not what he'd done when he'd left, was it? He hadn't even planned on telling her.
Giving up on sleep, she blew out a breath and flung the covers back. She climbed out of bed, taking a deep drag off her cigarette, then deciding she didn't really want it. She hadn't really wanted it in the first place. Habit had forced her to reach for the pack and light up; instinct usually pushed her toward a smoke when things were tense.
She walked over to the bureau and looked down at the key. Carter's key. She stubbed out her cigarette and shook her head. What had he expected? That he would come back and everything would be fine? That those last weeks before he'd left would be forgotten? Maybe it didn't say much for her, but she wasn't capable of just forgiving and forgetting. Not when she thought back to the ice he'd sent her way after the disaster at the funeral. She'd never been sorrier for anything in her life, but he'd continued to hold the transgression against her. She couldn't forget that, and she wasn't ready to forgive him his misdeeds.
"Screw it," she muttered under her breath, then walked into the bathroom and set the bathtub to fill. While the water was running, she went back into her bedroom and gathered up the few items Carter had left behind. A couple of T-shirts, a pair of boxers. She tossed in a couple of snapshots, then finished the whole thing off with a simple little note: You forgot your stuff. She dropped it all into a plastic bag and placed the bag beside the door. There was nothing more she could do. If he wanted to fight for them, she would do her best to listen, but she couldn't be the one to do it. She'd tried before and it hadn't worked. She'd tried to make things better before he'd left, but he'd ignored her efforts. If they had a future together, it had to be up to him to fix things.
She left the lights off when she climbed into the tub and lay in the dark, the warmth of the water soaking into her skin. Since he'd left, she'd done her best to find some peace. She'd gone to work, taken care of her patients, and tried not to think too much about him. Tried not to dwell on the fact that she was in the midst of yet another failed relationship. Richard, Luka, and now Carter.
Of course, maybe all she'd really done was hide from her problems instead of facing them. She'd always tried to face her problems head-on, rather than letting them fester in the dark. Every time her mother-or now Eric- went manic, she faced it with a stoic resolve. She stepped up and took care of them, because that's who she was.
But that was her family. She was good at dealing with her family, because she'd had a lifetime of practice. Men were another story. She'd never gotten that one right. She'd kept things from Richard, important things, and watched while the relationship crumbled. She'd seen the disaster coming, but she hadn't done anything to stop it.
And Luka-she'd begun feeling things for Luka she hadn't even felt for Richard, and it had scared her to death. Doubts had crept into her mind- doubts that if she fought for them, if she tried to make it work in the long run, he'd still leave in the end, and it would hurt twice as much. Because she was falling in love with Luka, but she believed that at some point her problems would become too much for him and he'd walk away from her. She'd worried that the pressure of her family drama would become too much for him. So when the end had come-that crushing, brutal night-she hadn't dared fight any harder.
And Carter? She knew he'd wanted her through much of her relationship with Luka. But back then, for her, it had been different. He'd been the solid, dependable friend she'd gone to so she could vent. She'd counted on him to always be there for her, and when he shot that down, she'd felt ashamed. Because she realized what she'd been doing. Going to Carter to complain about her problems with Luka instead of facing them like she should have.
She'd been happy with Carter, but she couldn't help wondering at the fleeting nature of that happiness. She wondered if their relationship would have had a better chance if they hadn't begun in the midst of such extraordinary circumstances. Sequestered in the ER for two weeks, wondering if they were going to contract a deadly disease. And maybe they'd have had a better chance if she hadn't had so many problems, and if Carter hadn't been so insistent on fixing her.
* * * * *
"I didn't really give him a chance to screw it up," Abby told Susan as they walked down the hall. "I woke up and saw him there, and all I could think was how can he just come back and expect everything to be okay?"
"I'm sure that's not what he was expecting."
"Maybe not," she conceded, "but he never forgave me for what happened at his grandmother's funeral, and I don't know if I can forgive him for the way he left. I mean, we'd been together for a year, and the only reason I found out he was leaving was because Luka called from Africa looking for him."
"He had to have been planning to tell you sometime."
"I don't think he was. Because even after I found out, he tried to leave without saying goodbye."
"I don't know what to say. You guys seemed so happy. It seems wrong that this should be happening."
"It is," Abby murmured, leaning against the admit desk while Susan took a chart and signed for the patient on the board.
They started back down the hall and toward one of the exam rooms, and when Abby remained quiet, Susan glanced over at her. "Are you okay?"
"Is it terrible that I miss Luka?" Abby asked suddenly.
"No, it's not terrible. You've been close to him for a long time. You're probably the closest to him of all of us, so it's natural to miss him."
"I keep thinking about the last time I saw him. It was the day of the funeral, and he was in the lounge, and he told me he was leaving for the Congo the next day. I was sort of stunned, and then...then we hugged each other, and it wasn't supposed to feel so good." She shook her head with a derisive little laugh. "You know what? I think I'm losing my mind."
"Well," Susan said as she pushed open the exam room door, "that's not hard to do around here."
* * * * *
It had been a hell of a long shift, and Abby was no closer to solving her problems than she had been when she'd awoken to find Carter at her bedside. In fact, if anything her day had just gotten worse. The tension between her and Carter had already cost a young girl a delay in treatment, and she was very much afraid that if they didn't come to some sort of settlement, more patients would be affected. She wasn't willing to let that happen.
None of that made it easier to talk to him, however. Tension sizzled in the air whenever they crossed paths, which wasn't often considering the fact they seemed to be avoiding each other. The ER was flooded with patients, but they'd worked on only one other case together, a minor ankle sprain with no other complications.
The only complication right now seemed to be her relationship with Carter. Did they have a future together? Did she want them to have a future together? Did he? She couldn't answer any of her questions.
She was glad at least that she had Susan to talk to. It helped having another woman to vent to. It had been a long time since she'd had a close enough friend that she could talk about those kinds of things. Of course, Susan thought she should forgive Carter, but it wasn't that easy. She'd never been good at forgiving, and she thought Carter's transgression didn't deserve such quick forgiveness. She hadn't lied to Susan when she said it wasn't about punishing him, but she hadn't seen or heard from him in three months, and it wasn't in her to forgive him after less than a day. Not after the cold shoulder she'd gotten in the weeks before his departure, and not after the way he'd left.
She was in a bad place, she thought as she looked over at him. Here she was, standing at a coffee stand outside the hospital, hopefully about to have a real conversation with him, and her thoughts kept straying toward Luka. She kept wondering where he was, when he was coming back. She missed him more than she should. She kept flashing back to that last hug, those few moments before he'd left. And the longer he was gone, the more afraid she got that he wasn't coming back. Here she was with Carter, supposed to be talking, but she was feeling something akin to panic at the thought that she'd never see Luka again.
She needed to let it go. She'd lost her chance with him. She'd screwed things up, made the mistake of not letting him inside her heart. She'd kept him closed off from her most painful secrets, and she'd pushed him away.
She'd watched him this past year, and seeing him struggle the way he had had ripped her apart. Because she suspected that a part of his pain had been caused by seeing her together with Carter. She suspected that he hadn't been completely over her, and many times over the past two years she'd struggled to suppress the fact that she wasn't completely over him.
There was a part of her soul that was inexplicably drawn to Luka, as if the lonely, wounded part of her sensed a kinship with his own heart. They were both damaged, disenchanted, and in their pain they found a commonality that tore them apart as easily as it drew them together.
Her musings led her to ask Carter how Luka was, an action that brought out Carter's suspicion and ire. And that irritating, cryptic answer. Luka's more than fine. Even now, as she argued with Carter, as she walked away from him, those words bounced around her head. More than fine. What the hell did that mean? Had he found someone else? And if so, why did the thought hurt so much?
As she turned away from Carter, she saw Chuny push through the plastic sheet that hung over the ambulance entrance and walk toward her. The strange, mournful look on the other woman's face had Abby's heart jumping into her throat. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
"What is it?" she asked, unable to keep the slight tremor from her voice. She pictured her mother and her brother. Had something happened to one of them?
"Abby, it's...we just got a call," Chuny said hesitantly.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. She clenched her suddenly- damp hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "What kind of call?"
"From overseas. It's about Dr. Kovac."
Abby's heart stopped. "Did...something happen to him? Is he all right?"
The compassion in Chuny's eyes tore at Abby's soul. "Abby, Luka died," Chuny said quietly.
"What?" The blood rushed from her head in a dizzying wave. Her hand flew to her mouth, shaking, before it fell useless at her side. Tears welling in her eyes, her knees weakening, she turned her head and sought Carter's gaze.
Moments later she sat at the end of the admit desk, her back turned away from everyone. They all knew of her past relationship with Luka, and she knew they were sneaking glances at her. She wanted to yell at them, to keep their damn sympathy and leave her alone. And then her thoughts were scattered, her mind unable to grasp a single thought for more than a second. She couldn't seem to focus on anything, feeling only a terrible pressure building in her chest.
And then she felt the tears coming, hot and stinging against her eyelids, and she drew even further into herself, until she was barely aware anyone else was around. She had to stop the tears. She couldn't cry. Not now. A part of her was still aware that she was in the middle of a busy hospital, and she couldn't let them see her break. Because the one thing she hated above all was showing her weaknesses to the world.
She felt Susan's hand resting lightly on her back and a lump formed in her throat. A tear leaked from her eye and rolled down her cheek."I've got to get out of here," she murmured as she slid from her stool. "I've got to take a walk."
She felt everyone's eyes on her as she walked away, but she ignored them. She kept her head high, her gait steady as she walked out of the ER and toward the elevators. She was about to lose it, and she had to find somewhere quiet. She knew she couldn't stop the tears, but she could hide until the worst of the storm was over. She could mourn, but she didn't have to let anyone else see her.
She found her sanctuary in an isolated sixth-floor bathroom. She locked the door behind her, tears already streaming down her cheeks, and closed herself into a stall. A sob broke from her lips, and she scraped her tears away as she sank onto the toilet seat. "Oh, God," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle and rocking back and forth. "Luka..."
She steadied herself with a hand against the cool metal wall of the stall and squeezed her eyes shut. Her tears forced their way through, determined to fall. Another sob broke through, and finally she gave up and let them come.
She sobbed until her face and neck were coated with tears, until her head ached and her lungs burned. She cried for Luka, for everything he'd deserved but would never get a chance to have. And she cried for herself, for being too stupid and stubborn to make things right with him when she'd had the chance. Now she would never be able to tell him how sorry she was for the way things had turned out. "Luka' I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry."
A harsh cry tore from her throat as her mind conjured vivid, horrible images of Luka dying alone in the jungle. She realized that she didn't know how he'd died, and she prayed that he hadn't had to suffer. He'd suffered enough in his life. But the horrible images wouldn't go away. She pictured him writhing in pain, his body ravaged by some awful disease, or lying in the dirt, bleeding to death from gunshot wounds. Dying, alone. "God, no," she whispered.
She rocked back and forth, willing the tears to stop, willing her mind to stop spinning. She had to get control of herself. Falling apart wasn't doing her any good. It wasn't going to bring Luka back, and it sure wasn't making her feel better. She took deep breaths, the air abrading her raw throat and lungs. She pulled toilet paper from the roll beside her, wiping away the tears and blowing her nose, then stood on shaky legs. She brushed off a few renegade tears and left the stall. She splashed cold water on her face and examined herself in the mirror. She looked like hell. Her eyes were swollen, her face red and blotchy. She looked half-dead, and truth be told she felt that way too.
Twenty minutes later she found Carter in the ER lounge, a phone pressed to his ear. She listened to his end of the conversation, and realized he was trying to reach someone in Zagreb. And when he asked her if she knew Luka's father's name, she realized with no small amount of shame that she had no idea. What kind of person was she, to spend a year with someone and not even know their father's name?
Carter hung up a moment later, and her heart tripped when he started shoveling medical supplies into a large duffel bag. He couldn't go back there. If he went back, she was very much afraid he would be killed as well. She'd just lost Luka; she couldn't lose Carter too.
She followed him when he raided the drug lockup and walked out of the hospital. She followed him through the ambulance bay, telling him not to go. He didn't listen. As he walked down the sidewalk, away from her, and she pleaded with him to stay, she saw the stutter, the almost-hesitation, as her words registered. But he didn't stop. So she stood there, her arms wrapped around her middle, as the world went on around her, as Carter walked away. And then she was alone again.
When she got home later that night, the bottle sat heavily in her purse.
Chapter One: Now What?
It was like a knife, a finely sharpened scalpel, making delicate slices at her heart. Seeing Carter here again, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, especially after the way he'd left. She remembered the last words he'd spoken to her all those endless weeks ago-It's not Rio, but it's not here. So simple, so brutal, and then he'd been gone.
Seeing him again hurt almost more than she could bear. It threw her off- balance, awakening suddenly to find him at her bedside. She remembered back in May, standing in the ambulance bay, alone, watching him walk away. She remembered the hurt. So she did what she seemed to do so well. She lit a cigarette, and she sent him away.
Now that he was gone, she couldn't seem to stop staring toward the bureau where he'd left his key. Was this it? Was this how it all ended? A few quiet, painful words, and their rocky relationship was over? It didn't seem right that things should end like this. They should talk things out like mature adults, air all of their feelings both good and bad. But then, that's not what he'd done when he'd left, was it? He hadn't even planned on telling her.
Giving up on sleep, she blew out a breath and flung the covers back. She climbed out of bed, taking a deep drag off her cigarette, then deciding she didn't really want it. She hadn't really wanted it in the first place. Habit had forced her to reach for the pack and light up; instinct usually pushed her toward a smoke when things were tense.
She walked over to the bureau and looked down at the key. Carter's key. She stubbed out her cigarette and shook her head. What had he expected? That he would come back and everything would be fine? That those last weeks before he'd left would be forgotten? Maybe it didn't say much for her, but she wasn't capable of just forgiving and forgetting. Not when she thought back to the ice he'd sent her way after the disaster at the funeral. She'd never been sorrier for anything in her life, but he'd continued to hold the transgression against her. She couldn't forget that, and she wasn't ready to forgive him his misdeeds.
"Screw it," she muttered under her breath, then walked into the bathroom and set the bathtub to fill. While the water was running, she went back into her bedroom and gathered up the few items Carter had left behind. A couple of T-shirts, a pair of boxers. She tossed in a couple of snapshots, then finished the whole thing off with a simple little note: You forgot your stuff. She dropped it all into a plastic bag and placed the bag beside the door. There was nothing more she could do. If he wanted to fight for them, she would do her best to listen, but she couldn't be the one to do it. She'd tried before and it hadn't worked. She'd tried to make things better before he'd left, but he'd ignored her efforts. If they had a future together, it had to be up to him to fix things.
She left the lights off when she climbed into the tub and lay in the dark, the warmth of the water soaking into her skin. Since he'd left, she'd done her best to find some peace. She'd gone to work, taken care of her patients, and tried not to think too much about him. Tried not to dwell on the fact that she was in the midst of yet another failed relationship. Richard, Luka, and now Carter.
Of course, maybe all she'd really done was hide from her problems instead of facing them. She'd always tried to face her problems head-on, rather than letting them fester in the dark. Every time her mother-or now Eric- went manic, she faced it with a stoic resolve. She stepped up and took care of them, because that's who she was.
But that was her family. She was good at dealing with her family, because she'd had a lifetime of practice. Men were another story. She'd never gotten that one right. She'd kept things from Richard, important things, and watched while the relationship crumbled. She'd seen the disaster coming, but she hadn't done anything to stop it.
And Luka-she'd begun feeling things for Luka she hadn't even felt for Richard, and it had scared her to death. Doubts had crept into her mind- doubts that if she fought for them, if she tried to make it work in the long run, he'd still leave in the end, and it would hurt twice as much. Because she was falling in love with Luka, but she believed that at some point her problems would become too much for him and he'd walk away from her. She'd worried that the pressure of her family drama would become too much for him. So when the end had come-that crushing, brutal night-she hadn't dared fight any harder.
And Carter? She knew he'd wanted her through much of her relationship with Luka. But back then, for her, it had been different. He'd been the solid, dependable friend she'd gone to so she could vent. She'd counted on him to always be there for her, and when he shot that down, she'd felt ashamed. Because she realized what she'd been doing. Going to Carter to complain about her problems with Luka instead of facing them like she should have.
She'd been happy with Carter, but she couldn't help wondering at the fleeting nature of that happiness. She wondered if their relationship would have had a better chance if they hadn't begun in the midst of such extraordinary circumstances. Sequestered in the ER for two weeks, wondering if they were going to contract a deadly disease. And maybe they'd have had a better chance if she hadn't had so many problems, and if Carter hadn't been so insistent on fixing her.
* * * * *
"I didn't really give him a chance to screw it up," Abby told Susan as they walked down the hall. "I woke up and saw him there, and all I could think was how can he just come back and expect everything to be okay?"
"I'm sure that's not what he was expecting."
"Maybe not," she conceded, "but he never forgave me for what happened at his grandmother's funeral, and I don't know if I can forgive him for the way he left. I mean, we'd been together for a year, and the only reason I found out he was leaving was because Luka called from Africa looking for him."
"He had to have been planning to tell you sometime."
"I don't think he was. Because even after I found out, he tried to leave without saying goodbye."
"I don't know what to say. You guys seemed so happy. It seems wrong that this should be happening."
"It is," Abby murmured, leaning against the admit desk while Susan took a chart and signed for the patient on the board.
They started back down the hall and toward one of the exam rooms, and when Abby remained quiet, Susan glanced over at her. "Are you okay?"
"Is it terrible that I miss Luka?" Abby asked suddenly.
"No, it's not terrible. You've been close to him for a long time. You're probably the closest to him of all of us, so it's natural to miss him."
"I keep thinking about the last time I saw him. It was the day of the funeral, and he was in the lounge, and he told me he was leaving for the Congo the next day. I was sort of stunned, and then...then we hugged each other, and it wasn't supposed to feel so good." She shook her head with a derisive little laugh. "You know what? I think I'm losing my mind."
"Well," Susan said as she pushed open the exam room door, "that's not hard to do around here."
* * * * *
It had been a hell of a long shift, and Abby was no closer to solving her problems than she had been when she'd awoken to find Carter at her bedside. In fact, if anything her day had just gotten worse. The tension between her and Carter had already cost a young girl a delay in treatment, and she was very much afraid that if they didn't come to some sort of settlement, more patients would be affected. She wasn't willing to let that happen.
None of that made it easier to talk to him, however. Tension sizzled in the air whenever they crossed paths, which wasn't often considering the fact they seemed to be avoiding each other. The ER was flooded with patients, but they'd worked on only one other case together, a minor ankle sprain with no other complications.
The only complication right now seemed to be her relationship with Carter. Did they have a future together? Did she want them to have a future together? Did he? She couldn't answer any of her questions.
She was glad at least that she had Susan to talk to. It helped having another woman to vent to. It had been a long time since she'd had a close enough friend that she could talk about those kinds of things. Of course, Susan thought she should forgive Carter, but it wasn't that easy. She'd never been good at forgiving, and she thought Carter's transgression didn't deserve such quick forgiveness. She hadn't lied to Susan when she said it wasn't about punishing him, but she hadn't seen or heard from him in three months, and it wasn't in her to forgive him after less than a day. Not after the cold shoulder she'd gotten in the weeks before his departure, and not after the way he'd left.
She was in a bad place, she thought as she looked over at him. Here she was, standing at a coffee stand outside the hospital, hopefully about to have a real conversation with him, and her thoughts kept straying toward Luka. She kept wondering where he was, when he was coming back. She missed him more than she should. She kept flashing back to that last hug, those few moments before he'd left. And the longer he was gone, the more afraid she got that he wasn't coming back. Here she was with Carter, supposed to be talking, but she was feeling something akin to panic at the thought that she'd never see Luka again.
She needed to let it go. She'd lost her chance with him. She'd screwed things up, made the mistake of not letting him inside her heart. She'd kept him closed off from her most painful secrets, and she'd pushed him away.
She'd watched him this past year, and seeing him struggle the way he had had ripped her apart. Because she suspected that a part of his pain had been caused by seeing her together with Carter. She suspected that he hadn't been completely over her, and many times over the past two years she'd struggled to suppress the fact that she wasn't completely over him.
There was a part of her soul that was inexplicably drawn to Luka, as if the lonely, wounded part of her sensed a kinship with his own heart. They were both damaged, disenchanted, and in their pain they found a commonality that tore them apart as easily as it drew them together.
Her musings led her to ask Carter how Luka was, an action that brought out Carter's suspicion and ire. And that irritating, cryptic answer. Luka's more than fine. Even now, as she argued with Carter, as she walked away from him, those words bounced around her head. More than fine. What the hell did that mean? Had he found someone else? And if so, why did the thought hurt so much?
As she turned away from Carter, she saw Chuny push through the plastic sheet that hung over the ambulance entrance and walk toward her. The strange, mournful look on the other woman's face had Abby's heart jumping into her throat. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
"What is it?" she asked, unable to keep the slight tremor from her voice. She pictured her mother and her brother. Had something happened to one of them?
"Abby, it's...we just got a call," Chuny said hesitantly.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. She clenched her suddenly- damp hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "What kind of call?"
"From overseas. It's about Dr. Kovac."
Abby's heart stopped. "Did...something happen to him? Is he all right?"
The compassion in Chuny's eyes tore at Abby's soul. "Abby, Luka died," Chuny said quietly.
"What?" The blood rushed from her head in a dizzying wave. Her hand flew to her mouth, shaking, before it fell useless at her side. Tears welling in her eyes, her knees weakening, she turned her head and sought Carter's gaze.
Moments later she sat at the end of the admit desk, her back turned away from everyone. They all knew of her past relationship with Luka, and she knew they were sneaking glances at her. She wanted to yell at them, to keep their damn sympathy and leave her alone. And then her thoughts were scattered, her mind unable to grasp a single thought for more than a second. She couldn't seem to focus on anything, feeling only a terrible pressure building in her chest.
And then she felt the tears coming, hot and stinging against her eyelids, and she drew even further into herself, until she was barely aware anyone else was around. She had to stop the tears. She couldn't cry. Not now. A part of her was still aware that she was in the middle of a busy hospital, and she couldn't let them see her break. Because the one thing she hated above all was showing her weaknesses to the world.
She felt Susan's hand resting lightly on her back and a lump formed in her throat. A tear leaked from her eye and rolled down her cheek."I've got to get out of here," she murmured as she slid from her stool. "I've got to take a walk."
She felt everyone's eyes on her as she walked away, but she ignored them. She kept her head high, her gait steady as she walked out of the ER and toward the elevators. She was about to lose it, and she had to find somewhere quiet. She knew she couldn't stop the tears, but she could hide until the worst of the storm was over. She could mourn, but she didn't have to let anyone else see her.
She found her sanctuary in an isolated sixth-floor bathroom. She locked the door behind her, tears already streaming down her cheeks, and closed herself into a stall. A sob broke from her lips, and she scraped her tears away as she sank onto the toilet seat. "Oh, God," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle and rocking back and forth. "Luka..."
She steadied herself with a hand against the cool metal wall of the stall and squeezed her eyes shut. Her tears forced their way through, determined to fall. Another sob broke through, and finally she gave up and let them come.
She sobbed until her face and neck were coated with tears, until her head ached and her lungs burned. She cried for Luka, for everything he'd deserved but would never get a chance to have. And she cried for herself, for being too stupid and stubborn to make things right with him when she'd had the chance. Now she would never be able to tell him how sorry she was for the way things had turned out. "Luka' I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry."
A harsh cry tore from her throat as her mind conjured vivid, horrible images of Luka dying alone in the jungle. She realized that she didn't know how he'd died, and she prayed that he hadn't had to suffer. He'd suffered enough in his life. But the horrible images wouldn't go away. She pictured him writhing in pain, his body ravaged by some awful disease, or lying in the dirt, bleeding to death from gunshot wounds. Dying, alone. "God, no," she whispered.
She rocked back and forth, willing the tears to stop, willing her mind to stop spinning. She had to get control of herself. Falling apart wasn't doing her any good. It wasn't going to bring Luka back, and it sure wasn't making her feel better. She took deep breaths, the air abrading her raw throat and lungs. She pulled toilet paper from the roll beside her, wiping away the tears and blowing her nose, then stood on shaky legs. She brushed off a few renegade tears and left the stall. She splashed cold water on her face and examined herself in the mirror. She looked like hell. Her eyes were swollen, her face red and blotchy. She looked half-dead, and truth be told she felt that way too.
Twenty minutes later she found Carter in the ER lounge, a phone pressed to his ear. She listened to his end of the conversation, and realized he was trying to reach someone in Zagreb. And when he asked her if she knew Luka's father's name, she realized with no small amount of shame that she had no idea. What kind of person was she, to spend a year with someone and not even know their father's name?
Carter hung up a moment later, and her heart tripped when he started shoveling medical supplies into a large duffel bag. He couldn't go back there. If he went back, she was very much afraid he would be killed as well. She'd just lost Luka; she couldn't lose Carter too.
She followed him when he raided the drug lockup and walked out of the hospital. She followed him through the ambulance bay, telling him not to go. He didn't listen. As he walked down the sidewalk, away from her, and she pleaded with him to stay, she saw the stutter, the almost-hesitation, as her words registered. But he didn't stop. So she stood there, her arms wrapped around her middle, as the world went on around her, as Carter walked away. And then she was alone again.
When she got home later that night, the bottle sat heavily in her purse.