"Time of death, 1317." Susan stripped off her gloves and headed out of the trauma room. Summer in Chicago, she thought in disgust. Didn't people have anything better to do with the long, sunny days than shoot each other just for the heck of it? Her shift was barely half over; already this was her third GSW, her second fatality.
"I'm going to get some lunch," she told Randi. "Page me if you absolutely need me; otherwise, allow me 30 minutes to myself. Please."
Susan walked outside into the summer heat. She'd planned to walk down to the street, eat lunch in a real restaurant, but now she reconsidered. Maybe a hamburger from the Jumbo Mart would do.
She was tired. What she wouldn't give to be able to go to the Congo (where-ever that was), and personally drag Carter back home. What had he been thinking when he'd decided to stay behind? He had to have known that Luka would be off work for quite some time yet, that the ER was impossibly short-staffed. Which meant, of course, that the remaining attendings were all working 60 and 80 hour weeks.
Or maybe she would drag Luka downstairs and put him back to work. Susan smiled at the thought. He probably wouldn't object in the least. He would see patients from a wheelchair, hooked up to an IV if they would allow him to. He was, she knew, looking forward to going back to work; it was what was keeping him going through his long, painful recovery. But of course, he was nowhere near ready. Wouldn't be for months. He could walk a little bit with a walker, was hoping to be ready for crutches soon, he'd told her yesterday. And emotionally, he seemed a great deal better.
The first couple of weeks he had seemed so depressed; struggling to get through each day. Even when he had smiled, it had seemed forced, an act for her benefit. But lately he seemed better. Susan knew he was getting counseling, perhaps it was starting to help. Perhaps he was finally beginning to work through whatever horrors he had faced out there. He still hadn't said a word to her about his time in Africa, and she wasn't going to pry. She was careful to keep the conversation light, non-threatening; or let him pick the topics. And he usually chose things like items from the newspaper, or the book he'd been reading. He never talked about himself, beyond letting her know how he was doing with his physical therapy. But then, that was nothing new. Luka had rarely talked much about himself even before this.
But he did seem to enjoy her visits. He seemed relaxed, almost happy when she was there, smiling comparatively often, and the smiles were natural now.
Still, why was she doing it? Susan knew full well that nobody else from the ER visited anymore. "I tried, Susan," Jing Mei had told her. "But he really didn't seem to care if I was there or not. He just seemed so unhappy. If I could help I would, but it's not helping him."
And Susan had said, "He's happier now, he's doing so much better. Try again. I'm sure he can use the company." But Jing Mei never seemed able to find the time anymore. And neither did anyone else.
Was she visiting just because she knew that he was lonely, then? Because she felt sorry for him? He would hate it, she knew, if he thought that was the reason. Susan knew that the one thing Luka did not want, perhaps the reason he was so closed-mouthed about his experiences, was for people to feel sorry for him.
But it wasn't as if they were friends. They hadn't been friends before. Acquaintances ... co-workers ... colleagues. But not friends.
They hadn't been friends, but certainly things could change. He was lonely, that was obvious. She was lonely. Her relationship with Chuck was nothing but a bad joke - he showed up occasionally for sex, (which she also enjoyed, she had to admit), but as for conversation ... no, whatever she was getting from Chuck wasn't friendship. Certainly wasn't love. Wasn't even a relationship, really. Why couldn't she and Luka be friends? They both seemed to need friends.
Susan finished her burger, headed back out into the heat. After her shift she'd go upstairs and see Luka. It would make her feel better. It was certainly better than going back to her empty apartment.
