I'm gonna try to make this chapter a bit more readable by (drum roll………) hitting enter twice! Hopefully my formatting won't be shot to hell again. Anyway, onward to the fluff.
Luka managed to drag himself into work, despite the splitting headache and aching muscles that were characteristic of having absolutely no sleep the night before. It had been two days since a man had shown up in the ER, crazed and waving a gun, and he hadn't been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time since then. He kept thinking that if he'd only done something differently, perhaps the outcome would have been different. If he'd taken his break later, or said something differently…
He hung his coat in his locker and last no time in getting to work, taking cases that would occupy his mind. The first half of his shift went without incident, if one could call bloody vomit, a dog attack, and a whole host of other ailments 'without incident.' But the real work began when Neela Rosgotra walked through the door.
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"You should be in bed," Abby stated disapprovingly. "I thought Weaver told you not to come into work today."
"I was going insane sitting at home. I had to get out," Neela replied in her proper British dialect.
"Then you and this place deserve each other," the older woman joked. "I'll take whatever free time I can get."
After a moment she stopped walking and turned to look Neela in the eye. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, really." She really didn't want to dwell on the subject, and her eyes conveyed just that. She set her features in a stony expression as she answered, but at least managed a small smile afterwards.
"Okay," Abby answered, sensing that she wasn't going to get a straight answer.
Neela set about suturing and setting bones, two of the tedious tasks that were pushed off onto medical students. At one point, while stitching up an open gash set deeply in a hairy arm, she felt a hand near her face. Dr. Kovac stood above her, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "How are you?" She looked up at him with eyes made large and round with surprise. His, on the other hand, were a mixture of fatigue and anxiety- a lethal combination. "I'm fine," she replied unconvincingly.
"Hey, you gonna sew this thing up, or do I have to do it myself?" the man attached to the arm asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Kovac continued, ignoring the man. He walked away, and she continued to sew.
"What was that?" Pratt asked sideling up to Luka.
"What was what?" he replied.
"I saw that thing you did," Pratt answered seriously.
"So what?"
"So maybe you should stay away from her."
Luka halted, turning to face the other doctor. "Why?" he spat angrily.
The answering questions with questions tactic was really unnerving to Pratt, so he stopped dancing around the issue. "Because the last med student you pulled this shit on wound up-"
"Pulled what on? I'm not pulling anything." And he honestly wasn't, at least not consciously. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since two days ago in that hospital room. But it was a sort of curious fascination, along with a sense of protectiveness and obligation. But as he walked away from a brooding Dr. Pratt, he found himself thinking about how soft her skin had been, and how young she'd looked as she'd stared up at him.
He spent the remainder of the day trying to avoid her, but the ER was relatively small and cluttered, and every time she passed, it was an effort not to look at her. He was happy to leave at the end of the day and put work behind him, and there was a bottle of scotch waiting to help him do so. He thought about getting absolutely wasted as he stood in snow, waiting for the bus. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do with his time.
"Dr. Kovac?"
He turned around, facing the small voice that had addressed him. "I thought you didn't get off til later," he replied, staring in disbelief at the small woman before him.
"Dr. Weaver sent me home." He continued to stare, and she took it to mean that he wasn't quite satisfied with her explanation. "My hand started shaking and I very nearly took an eye out." She smiled meekly, wishing for him to say something.
"I knew you were lying," he said softly. "You're not okay."
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't want to talk about it. I still don't, if it's alright with you." The bus pulled up and they stepped inside.
"Why did you do it?" he asked suddenly, once they were situated. "I can't stop asking myself that."
She sighed heavily, eyes looking down, from person to person, anywhere but at him. "I told you. He would have killed you, you know. How could I live with myself if I didn't do something about that?"
Luka still wasn't satisfied, but her answer warmed him. He reached over and covered her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze before withdrawing. She caught her breath, turning to look at him in surprise.
"That's my stop," was all she could manage. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Neela," he answered, watching her receding form. Maybe the scotch could wait for a rainy day.