Disclaimer: No, I don't own any of them.

Author's notes: Well, I managed to update this one a little bit earlier. Hope you enjoy it.

Reviews are welcome!!!!

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There were muffled sounds in the background, constant and disturbing noises. Luka tightened his eyes shut to keep them out, but they somehow crept inside him. Voices, several voices rose and lowered down and rose again. He couldn't distinguish the words, couldn't recognise the language. They were jabbering, rattling on, suddenly speaking up in an argument. In an argument? Wait. Wasn't that Carter's voice? Suddenly, Luka found himself struggling to free himself from the cobwebs that enveloped his mind.

Carter was getting into trouble again. Was he discussing with the rebels? With the government forces? He had to help, do something about it. He opened his eyes and tried to focus, to pierce the white haze that seemed to cover everything around him. He was lying on his back. Why was he so tired? He rose on one elbow while calling out Carter's name, and regretted it immediately. He arched back on the mattress as a round of searing pain pierced through his belly. A hand came immediately into his and another one covered his forehead.

"Luka! Luka?"

Luka opened his eyes and met Carter's worried look. There was something really strange in his expression, a mixture of wonder, awe and fear.

"Jesus, Luka, you're awake!"

That was the most peculiar statement Luka had ever heard. Of course he was awake. What he didn't understand was why he was in so much pain, so tired and so cold. He grimaced, fighting back another round of pain radiating from his belly into his legs and through his back. The doctor in Carter took over. Luka was starting to hyperventilate.

"Hey, Luka, look at me," he squeezed Luka's hand and succeeded in making him focus on his face. "Take it slow. Take a deep breath with me and hold it."

Luka clung to Carter's hand and tried to go through the familiar exercise while he managed to figure out that he had to be incredibly ill if Carter was talking to him in this professional tone.

"Good. Another one."

Luka followed, thankful for Carter's thorough medical training at County. A few breaths later, Carter found it safe enough to ask.

"How much pain?"

"Twelve," answered Luka and tried to smile. Mistake. The pain was really crossing the boundaries of his tolerance, so his smile turned into a grimace. Carter's eyes grew a shadow darker.

"No. no." mumbled Luka, trying to reassure the younger doctor. "It's only about ten."

His second joke failed as well. Carter frowned.

"We gave you something for pain just an hour ago."

Carter was thinking out loud, but Luka was not going to be the one who told him that. He'd find out more about his condition if he just listened than if he made direct questions. He didn't want to get the mild condescension all of them oozed when having to deal with seriously injured patients and according to what he was feeling like, it seemed to be the case with him.

Luka felt a hollow sensation deep inside when he realised he couldn't remember what had happened to him at all. Why was Carter there? Luka's last memory of him was of their farewell in Matenda. But that had been a while ago, hadn't it? And what about the vivid memory of waking up in a Red Cross hospital? But that had been Vukovar, at least ten years before Matenda. But then.

"Luka? Are you listening to me?" Carter's hand was squeezing his. He was alarmed at the lost, bewildered look Luka gave him.

"Where are we?"

Carter sighed. There was no easy way to explain that one, but Luka really needed a straight and simple answer. The longer it took him to answer, the more panicked Luka seemed.

"We're on our way to Chicago. You were reported dead in Kisangani. I flew back to the Congo to get your body, and found you in a refugee camp. You had malaria and had been run down by a truck. You have fractured your pelvis, your hip and your left leg, and."

Probably that was too much information in one go. Luka seemed shocked.

"Luka, are you listening to me?"

"When was that?" Luka's voice came out in a harsh whisper.

"We found you about three weeks ago."

Luka's eyes went wild. His breath became shallow again, and his face went a couple of shades paler.

"Hey, hey, slow down, Luka. Look at me," Carter squeezed Luka's hand again. "Breathe with me."

Fortunately, Luka followed him in the breathing exercise, and though his eyes were still wide with anxiety after a while, his breath was deep and under control. Carter tried some more talking.

"Things got pretty nasty at some point, you know," he tried a light-hearted tone on Luka, not wanting to swamp him under a load of medical detail. "But we managed to control both the malaria and the infection, and we've set all your bones in place."

"I can't remember anything." Replied Luka, in a dazed whisper.

He looked away into emptiness, and Carter was afraid he would loose him again. He touched Luka's cheek.

"Hey, hey. Stay with me."

Luka looked at him.

"Three weeks."

"It's all right, Luka. It's just normal," Carter tried to reassure him, though he knew that what Luka had just been through was everything BUT normal.

He'd have to find something else to make Luka concentrate upon. Trivial, reassuring things.

"I'll give you a round of Meperidine," he said rummaging in the bag of medical supplies. "Things will be clearer when you're not in pain anymore."

Maybe a bit of teasing would do: "Take it from me. I know what I'm talking about. Though it can involve some risks. You may end up with Kerry and Romano sending you in an airplane to a recovery clinic in Atlanta."

Luka's weak smile assured him that he had caught his lame joke. He was only smiling out of politeness, but he was listening to him.

"Are you cold?" He asked as he injected the painkiller into Luka's IV.

Luka nodded.

"That's probably only that you have to accustom yourself to not being in the tropics anymore. I'm freezing myself," he said with a wink he hoped was not too artificial. "But I'll take your temp and your blood pressure just to be on the safe side, OK?"

Luka nodded again and looked at Carter while he measured his vitals and continued rattling on. He couldn't get over the fact he had missed three weeks of his life. Three weeks! He had completely lost himself. Those weeks were but a void in his mind. He couldn't possibly have been raving the whole time. Had it been a reaction to some of the meds he had got? Or was it. Luka stopped on the brink of the thought, not daring to go any further.

He had suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder since the war. He had experienced bouts of insomnia, nightmares and flashbacks in which the real world seemed to disappear for a moment and got replaced by memories so vivid he could sense the sounds and smells as if things were happening all over again. But those had only lasted a few minutes at a time, not days on end. And he'd never drastically confused the past and the present. not when being awake, and the memory of waking in the Red Cross hospital was too vivid for it to be a dream.

"Luka? Are you listening to me?"

Carter's eyes were worried, and that only scared Luka even more. He felt a cold wave wash over him.

"Sorry?"

"I asked you if you wanted something to eat."

Luka shook his head.

"Are you nauseated?"

Carter was getting to the end of immediate things he could talk about, and he seemed to be losing Luka again. He should be relaxing with the painkiller by now, but his looks were more anxious than sleepy.

"No."

"Thisty?"

Luka closed his eyes for a second. Perhaps if he acquiesced to one of Carter's requests he'd stop fussing over him like a mother hen. It was more than he could cope with at the moment. He was having enough trouble trying to maintain control and not give way to panic.

He nodded.

Carter went away for a second. Luka's eyes followed him, and when they brushed over the room he caught sight of the two men in dark suits sitting by the table. They were staring at him with the morbid fascination he had seen on the eyes of war journalists both in the Congo and during the war back home. He hated that stare. Carter came back with a bottle of water and a straw. He noticed Luka had his sight fixed on the two men.

"Who are these?"

Luka's question came out in an almost savage whisper. Carter knew Luka had never been fond of functionaries but the anger in his tone caught him off guard.

"Uh. eh. they are Belgian immigration officers."

The irritation on Luka's face changed to bewilderment.

"Belgian?"

"Yeah. We're in Brussels."

"Brussels?"

Carter smiled and was about to ask Luka if he'd suddenly turned into an echo, but he chose not to. Luka seemed confused enough already. He didn't need banter just then. But it was good to see the wild and horrified look had disappeared from his eyes.

"We had to land somewhere on our way to Chicago, you know," he explained. "Our flight will be leaving tomorrow at 10:00 am. And your passport got lost in the Congo. It has been quite a task to get you some kind of ID. The authorities here wouldn't let us past immigration, so we're just detained in some office."

Carter stopped short. He hadn't been able to keep the crankiness out of his voice, but he wondered if Luka needed to know that just then. Luka cast another irritated look at the pair of officers, and Carter decided his explanation hadn't been that bad. Luka's annoyance was better than his fright and his bewilderment.

As if they had taken that as cue, the officers rose and excused themselves. They went out of the office and quietly closed the door behind them. Carter offered the water to Luka and held the straw to his lips. Luka had a few sips.

"Thanks," he whispered and closed his eyes.

"Tired?"

Luka nodded.

"Get some sleep. I'll wake you up when Gillian comes back."

Luka's eyes flew open.

"Gillian?"

Carter smiled and nodded.

"She's coming with us to Chicago."

Luka's forehead creased in incomprehension.

"Why?"

"Well, you're too much to handle by myself."

Luka didn't reply. He seemed absentminded once again. Carter squeezed his hand.

"Hey."

When Luka looked up to him his eyes were not confused or frightened.

"Why are you doing this?"

Luka's question caught him unawares. It had been the same one he'd been asked over and over again during his journey to the Congo and back, but he honestly hadn't thought about it that much. He didn't know. He'd just followed an impulse and then he'd carried on. After a while, he managed a smile.

"Well, you know I've always been crazy about you."

Luka gave out a small chuckle, and winced. Laughing was probably not such a good idea. There was another silence.

"And Gillian?"

Carter shrugged and pushed a stool to the side of Luka's gurney. He sat where Luka could look at him.

"I don't know," he confessed. "But it's not a big deal, really. You know, Chicago is kind of on the way to Montreal."

Luka wasn't convinced by his poor explanation.

"Why don't you ask her when she comes back, if you're up to it?"

Luka closed his eyes and nodded slightly. He took a deep breath. The Meperidine was taking hold of him. And then the knob on the door turned and the door opened to reveal a hurried scurried Gillian loaded with a lot of shopping bags.

Luka held his breath. As if in slow motion, he saw her put her bags and a paper cup down on the table, rummage around in them, look up. Time stood still when her eyes met his. He tried to smile, to lift his hand towards her. He saw what the sight of him did to her. Her body tensed and recoiled as if she had been shot. She stood there, shocked, and then, without warning, tears started rolling down her cheeks. An expression of sheer pity appeared in her face.

Luka felt the tears prick at his eyes, humiliated and overwhelmed by her sorrow. He covered his face with his hand, unable to wrap his mind around what he was feeling and too ashamed to let her see. When she touched him, he flinched. She gently lifted his hand from his face, and held it between both of his. Luka swallowed hard, trying to get some kind of hold of himself, but he completely lost it when she caressed his cheek and started uttering reassuring noises. Suddenly, it hit him. The Red Cross hospital, the familiar face. it had been her. He sobbed.

Carter watched them, surprised by the fierce storm of emotions that had broken out between them. He carefully stood up from his chair, picked the paper cup from the table and slunk out of the room. He drank his chocolate on the corridor, pacing up and down and badly wishing for a cigarette. After a while, when he felt it was safe, he came into the office again. Luka was sound asleep. Gillian was sitting by his side, gently caressing one of his eyebrows.

Luka drifted to consciousness some hours later. His body was stiff and sore. His back ached, the muscles on his neck and shoulders were taut as bowstrings. And he didn't feel well. He couldn't really pinpoint what it was. It seemed like a mixture of pain, nausea and chill. He shifted a bit and gave out a quiet groan. Immediately, Carter shook himself from a light doze.

"Hey," he said, as he gave Luka a sleepy look.

"Sorry," muttered Luka.

"It's all right. These chairs aren't the most comfortable place to sleep, anyway," answered Carter as quietly, casting a look at Gillian, who was dozing off by the table, her head resting on her crossed arms.

Carter rubbed his eyes and had a look at his watch. It was one thirty. Chrétien had passed by a couple of hours before, when he was done with his shift, but both Gillian and Carter had insisted on staying instead of having some sleep at the hotel. They were really not comfortable with the idea of Luka waking up among strangers during the first night he spent back in the real world.

"How are you feeling?"

Luka gave Carter an uncertain look.

"I. I don't know."

"Are you in pain?"

"No. not really."

"Nauseated?"

"Kind of."

Carter touched Luka's forehead. It was damp and clammy, and somewhat warm.

"I'll check your temp."

He put the thermometer into Luka's ear. Luka saw him frown as he read the temperature.

"How much?" He asked.

"100.4"

"What do you think?"

Carter shook his head. Luka could have caught a cold from the change of temperature, or he could be having another bout of malaria, or was probably developing another infection. the two last options were the worst. He decided to stick to the first one.

"You've maybe caught a cold. It was freezing when we got you to the ambulance."

"Carter? Luka? What is it?"

Gillian was standing by Carter's side.

"Luka's running a fever," answered Carter as he noticed how Luka's eyes darted off to the ceiling.

If Luka had been unconscious, he'd just have started examining him straightaway, but with a conscious and clearly ashamed Luka he felt awkward. He just couldn't keep a medical distance.

"Luka." he whispered. "We'll have to check the scar from your surgery and your pins to rule out an infection."

Luka grimaced slightly and then took a deep breath.

"O. K." he sighed.

Carter pushed the comforter to a side and uncovered Luka's belly while Gillian started checking the pins on his leg.

"Tell me if it hurts," he said, starting to sense around the catheter entrance and checking out the scar that crossed Luka's abdomen.

Luka only gave out slight groans from time to time as they probed and poked and moved him around. They didn't find any swelling or particular tenderness, but the three of them knew an infection couldn't be ruled out by a manual diagnosis. They needed several blood and urine tests, and it would be impossible to get them done under the circumstances.

"It must be a cold," said Luka voicing their best wish.

The alarm on Carter's watch went off.

"Time for your antibiotics," he commented.

Luka let out a sharp breath that could probably be interpreted as a curt grin. Carter rummaged in the bag and retrieved a couple of flasks. He started mixing the antibiotics while Luka watched him, overtly avoiding Gillian's eyes.

"Are you thirsty?" She asked.

Luka nodded, his sight still fixed on Carter who was filling the syringe and injecting the antibiotic into the IV port.

"Well, we've got quite an assortment here. What would you like?" Asked Gillian in a overly cheerful tone. Fortunately, it seemed to raise Luka's spirits.

"Vodka."

"No, sorry, we've run out of it."

"Oh, well. I'll have rum, then."

Carter chuckled. It was great to see Luka trying to make fun, although his jokes were lamer than his own.

"What brand?" He asked. "Bacardi?"

Luka faked a grimace of disgust.

"Nah. I thought you had some knowledge of drinks, Carter. I'm disappointed."

"What's wrong with Bacardi?"

"It's close to antiseptic alcohol. God knows we could have used it."

"In Kisangani?" was Carter's guess.

Luka shook his head, suddenly still. His eyes had gone sombre.

"Vukovar," whispered Gillian.

Luka darted her a look. One of those scenes he had been desperately trying to forget during the past ten years had unexpectedly overtaken him. How did she know? He swallowed hard and nodded. Carter was baffled again by the wordless understanding that seemed to have sprung between them. Gillian's eyes darted off and she rummaged in one of the shopping bags.

"So, what will you have? Water? Orange juice? Strawberry juice?"

"Strawberry juice," said Luka and cleared his throat. "Let's see if it tastes like the good strawberries."

"The GOOD strawberries?" asked Gillian.

"The ones from my grandfather's backyard," added Luka with a weak smile.

Gillian tried to answer to it with something more than a sad wink. How did he manage to put up a brave front? She pierced the juice box with a straw and handed it to Carter. She had noticed, with a pang, that Luka felt utterly uncomfortable with her help. Maybe he wouldn't take it so hard if she stayed away for a while. Carter held the straw to Luka's lips and watched as he took a few sips. Luka grimaced.

"Ewww"

"What?"

"It's awful."

Carter shook his head, reproachfully, while he cast a look at the box.

"Really, Luka, you're too demanding. Did you expect NATURAL juice from an airport convenience store?"

"Well, I didn't expect some kind of. of cough medicine."

Gillian grinned.

"Would you like to try the orange juice?" She asked, teasingly.

Luka faked a horrified expression.

"Water?"

He nodded, and when she was about to pass the bottle to Carter Luka extended his hand. She took off the cap and passed it over to him, but noticed he would not be able to drink it without spilling it while he was lying flat on his back. She raised his head and helped him to drink. She took the bottle when he finished. He looked up to her, moved, and she feared he'd be getting close to the edge again.

"Ewwww."

It was Carter's voice.

"Gee, it really tastes like cough medicine."

That broke their sombre mood. Carter handed the box to Gillian.

"Would you like to try?"

"No, thanks."

"I think you should. As a penance."

"Penance for what?"

"For picking it up."

"Oh yeah. Is this your gratitude? Tomorrow you'll do the shopping."

Luka was smiling at their bantering. Carter decided to bring him in.

"Don't you think she deserves it?"

Luka nodded, and Gillian lifted an admonishing finger.

"Stay away from this or YOU'LL be the one to do the shopping."

Luka's smile widened.

"I bet I'd do it much better."

Gillian would have liked to give him a soft slap on the cheek at that point, but she didn't dare. She decided to continue with the bantering, instead.

"What? Are you questioning my good taste? Don't you like your comforter?"

Luka had a look at it and smiled. It was a blue and white comforter, patterned with small planets, moons and stars.

"Well." He started.

"It was either that or the poodle pattern," Gillian interrupted. "Get used to it."

"Hey, Luka. You shouldn't complain. You could have done much worse," said Carter, showing him his sweater.

A huge and very foolish reindeer was staring out of the front of the garment. Luka gave out a sharp grin, and then grimaced again. His belly was giving him a hard time. But he refused to give up. He really wanted to keep up the mood, for he feared he'd plunge into the greyish purgatory that had become his world the years after the fall of Vukovar. He looked at the reindeer with a critical eye.

"Come on. It's much better than the skeleton."

"Oh, give me a break."

"What skeleton?"

Before Carter could divert the conversation, Luka had already embarked on the story of how Carter and Abby had disguised for their shift last Halloween and how Carter had been so embarrassed by being the only one dressing up that he'd changed into scrubs ten minutes after he'd come to the ER. Carter smiled weakly. He didn't feel that comfortable hearing the story from Luka's lips, especially because his teasing of Abby had verged on vulgarity, but he decided to shut up and endure being the laughing stock. Gillian's burst of laughter seemed to lift Luka's spirits a little bit more.

"Well, you'd have to listen to his last effort. It really beats the skeleton thing," commented Gillian with a naughty spark in her eyes.

Luka cast a look at Carter and was surprised to see he'd turned a deep shade of crimson.

"What?"

There was a brief silence.

"Should I tell him, Carter?"

"No."

"Oh, come on."

"I said no."

"But Carter." Gillian's tone was that of a mock pleading.

"I'LL tell him."

He'd turned deadly serious and Gillian feared things would go awry between them. She had noticed Carter had patiently borne Luka telling the Halloween story and she already had guessed they had issues concerning their job and this Abby. Carter stood up and leant over Luka. He whispered something into Luka's ear. Whatever fears Gillian had, were quickly dispelled.

"You did WHAT?" Asked Luka in complete disbelief, as Carter pulled back from him.

Carter watched Luka with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. Luka stared at him for a few seconds, and then he burst into laughter. He had to take his hands to his belly as pain shot through him, but he just couldn't stop laughing. Tears started rolling down his cheeks. He groaned.

"Oh, Carter, give me a break," he managed to grumble, as his laughter finally receded. He listened to Carter's and Gillian's laughs and his heart lightened.

They spent the next few hours talking. They drifted from one topic to another in an easy manner that surprised the three of them. It was almost three a.m. when Carter gave Luka another dose of pain medication. Luka was still feverish and felt sick to his stomach, but part of the tension in his body had receded and he dozed off, feeling strangely eased and secure. The ghosts from the past and the fear of loosing himself had seemed to have given way, at least for a while.