The el was packed. There were no seats. He had a crutch, Luka thought a little bitterly, but nobody offered him a seat. Holding onto the bar, he struggled to keep his balance as the train lurched into motion. Could his day get any worse?

The fever hadn't been anything serious. Just a routine virus, as Sam had guessed. But it was enough to keep him off of work again until his lab picture improved. And who knew when that would happen. The treatments weren't working again. "We can stick with what we're doing," DeAngelo had said, "and hope it's just a temporary fluctuation. Or we can try something different."

"What would you recommend?" Luka had asked. He knew he should be doing the research himself. He was a doctor, he should be looking into the latest treatments, being an active participant. But he was so tired. He just didn't want to think about it. He wanted to get on with his life, still pretend that this wasn't happening to him. He would do whatever DeAngelo thought best. So he was heading home again, with $1500 worth of new and experimental drugs in his pocket. And cheerful and encouraging words from DeAngelo echoing, too hollowly, in his ears.

And today was Marko's birthday. Marko. He would have been 14. A young man now. Luka looked at the teens around him on the el, listening to their music, talking and laughing amongst themselves. What would Marko have been like? Luka smiled a little to himself. Of one thing he was sure. Marko would never have kept his seat on the train while an older man with a crutch was forced to stand, struggling for balance.

He'd always assumed, he realized, that he would ... someday ... have more children. Not to replace Jasna and Marko of course, he could never do that. But because he loved children, had loved being a father. He had always wanted children. It had just been a matter of finding the right woman again, the right relationship, and then there would have been children again. But not now. Even if he could ever bring himself to be with Susan in that way, there could never be children. He knew that she probably wanted children too - she still spoke of Susie with much the same longing and loss that he still felt in his own heart. And she was running out of time. How could he hold her to him, to a relationship with him? Whatever it might eventually turn out to be, it would still have only one possible end; with him dead, and Susan alone again, having wasted however many years of her life with him.

Lost in thought, Luka almost missed his stop. He startled alert as the train stopped, and pushed through the doors just as they started to close again. A stop at the store for some groceries, then home to the empty apartment. Susan was working, she wouldn't be home until later.

He would tell her tonight. As much as he loved her (and he did love her), he wouldn't hold her any longer. It wasn't fair to her. They could go back to being friends, and he would face this alone.

Luka had supper ready when she came in.

"Something smells good," she said, with a tired smile.

"Hey, it's the least I can do."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't drive you wild in bed ... I can't support you in the style to which you are accustomed ... the least I can do is have supper ready for you when you come home from work. Sit down."

Luka served the food; ate his without really tasting it. Susan chatted about her day at work for a while, then asked quietly, "How was your appointment?"

"Bad."

"Can you be a little more specific?"

Luka sighed. "The ARVs aren't working again. He started me on something new. Again."

"And they will work this time. You have to believe that they will."

Luka traced designs in the tomato sauce on his plate with the tine of his fork. He took a deep breath. He couldn't put this off any longer.

"Were you ... did you want children, Susan?"

Susan looked startled. "What?"

"Children. You know, babies."

"I ... I don't know. Why?"

Luka kept his eyes on the plate, on the complex work of abstract art he was creating. Tata would be impressed. "Because I couldn't give them to you. You know that, right? Even if we ... even if I get to where we can make love, I could never give you children. And if you wanted them ... I might still live for years ... a few anyway ... I wouldn't want to waste your time."

"I'm not wasting my time," Susan interrupted. "I am here because I want to be here. How many times, how many ways do I have to tell you that? And I want for us to be together for as long as we can be. As for kids ... I don't know. When I was younger, I guess I assumed that I'd have them someday. Most women do, right? And I loved being a mother to Susie when I had her. But now, I don't know. It just doesn't seem quite so important any more. If we do decide, someday, that we want to raise kids together, I'm sure we'll figure out a way." She smiled. "I mean, if Kerry and Sandy can do it, it can't be all that difficult, right?" Her smile widened a little. "It is a pity that you can't father more kids though. I mean, they'd be gorgeous, wouldn't they? If Jasna's any example ..."

Luka shook his head, smiling a little in spite of himself. "No, she ... those were Danijela's genes. Jasna looked like Danijela. Marko ... everyone said Marko looked a lot like me."

"You'd probably be beating the girls off with sticks about now then ..." Susan said quietly, then grew serious again. "Still, we can talk about this another time. Lets get your health in order first, get everything under control. Then we can talk about kids, if you want them."

"Susan ..." Luka began again. This wasn't going at all as he'd planned.

"I said that's enough." For a moment they just sat, clasping hands. Luka looked at Susan's hand. So much smaller than his, smooth. Nails sensibly short. Hands that healed people every day. With such ease, such skill. So why couldn't they heal him? Why did her touch still cause him such pain? And his own hand. Still scarred. But he could touch his patients, handle their bodies with confidence and ease. He could heal them too. But to touch Susan, the woman he was growing to love more deeply each day. He couldn't do that. Why couldn't he do that?

Susan's fingers moved automatically, casually, to stroke his fingers, his palm, touch the deep scar at the base of his thumb. And, just as automatically, Luka pulled his hand away. He got up, began to clear away the dishes. Susan clutched her own hand as if he'd hurt her physically.

"Luka, you need to get counseling again."

"I'm doing ok."

"You're doing better, but you're still so far from 'ok', emotionally, that I can't even begin to describe it. Do you even remember what you are supposed to be feeling like?"

Luka ignored the question. It would hurt too much to answer it. "I just need to be trying harder, that's all. I've been letting myself coast again ... I've been so busy dealing the physical stuff, the disease."

"We've been together for almost 2 months, Luka. You've been trying for almost 2 months. This isn't something you can do on your own. I knew you had to try ... I was happy to let you try ... but you need help from a professional."

"You knew what you were getting into, Susan. And you know where the door is."

"I don't want to leave," Susan said quietly. "I just want for you to stop believing that your body is ... something dirty ... something shameful. That the Mai Mai hurt you because of something you did; that it happened because you are a bad person, or that it somehow made you a bad person."

Luka was suddenly dizzy. The dishes almost slipped from hands - oddly numb. He set them carefully into the sink before he dropped them. All these weeks Susan had just listened quietly as he'd quietly told his stories. She had offered no advice. And he had never spoken of his feelings. Only the facts. What had happened ... not how it had made him feel, was still making him feel. That was still too hard, too painful.

So, how had Susan known? How had she read his thoughts? His heart?

"Luka?" Susan was speaking to him. Sitting close to him. She looked frightened. And Luka blinked, confused. He was sitting on the floor. How long had he been there?

"I'm tired," he said faintly.

"You blacked out for a minute. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I just got dizzy. I had a shitty day, Susan. I'm tired ... that's all."

Susan just looked at him. She wasn't stupid, Luka knew that. He knew that she knew that there was so much more he wasn't telling her. But he just couldn't tell her. Not now. Maybe someday, but not yet.

Luka struggled to his feet. He allowed Susan to help him, not that he really had any choice. "I'm going to bed."

"Don't run away from me," Susan pleaded.

"We'll talk about this another time. I promise. I just can't tonight." He took his crutch from the back of his chair and started for the bedroom. He could hear Susan starting to cry, but he didn't stop.