Frank picked up the phone "ER ... anyone in particular, Dr. Lewis? Hold on."

Carter had looked up from his charting as he heard Frank mention Susan's name. "Can you take this call from Dr. Lewis? She asked to speak to any of the doctors or nurses, but preferably Dr. Carter."

Carter had the phone out of Frank's hand before he'd finished speaking. "Susan? It's John."

"Hi, Carter." Even in those two brief words, Carter could hear the exhaustion in her voice; exhaustion, and something more. "Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure. If I can."

"I need some things for Luka. I can't leave him alone. Just a few things ..."

"How is he?" Carter asked gently.

"Dying." Susan's voice broke, and she steadied it. "He isn't ... I don't think he's suffering."

"What things do you need?" Carter asked, taking out his prescription pad and ripping off a blank form, turning it over.

"Some Ativan ... just a few vials I think ... and syringes ... ummm ... some ... artificial tears ... some valium if you can ... but don't worry about it if you can't."

"Do you need morphine?"

"I don't think he's in pain." Susan's voice sounded far away. "Not anymore."

"Ok. I'll bring those things right out to you." Carter hung up the phone, said to Frank, "I'm taking a break. I may be gone a while."

Susan opened the front door, and Carter's first thought was that she looked even worse than she'd sounded on the phone. She'd passed far beyond exhaustion, seemed to be sleepwalking - functioning on adrenaline. Or grief. She was pale, her hair stringy and unkept. She managed to smile at Carter and reached out to take the small bag from him.

"Thanks, Carter."

"Could I come in?"

Susan looked startled, then smiled again and nodded. "Yeah ... sorry. I'm not thinking." She turned back towards the bedroom, and Carter followed her. "He started having seizures a few hours ago. He'd been having them for a couple of days, but they got much worse. I couldn't get them to stop. They finally stopped a little while ago ... but he didn't wake up." More softly. "I don't think he's going to wake up."

"With multiple seizures, status, he could still just be postictal."

Susan shook her head. "His right pupil's blown. Left one isn't much better."

They'd reached the bedroom. Susan went in, but Carter just stood in the doorway a moment. It had been about a week since he'd seen Luka, and the change was astonishing. A week ago he'd been ill, thin and weak. But they had visited for a while. Luka had laughed and joked as they'd talked about Carter's wedding plans, about the upcoming holidays. About the future that they had both known, even then, Luka would never see.

Today Luka was clearly, as Susan had said, dying. He lay utterly still, except for the very rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His eyes were open, but they gazed blankly at nothing. Susan had been taking excellent care of him though, far better care of him than she had of herself. He was freshly shaved, clean, his hair combed.

"The seizures seem to have stopped," Susan said again. "But I wanted the Ativan, in case they started again. I would have called sooner, but I couldn't leave him ... even to go to the phone." She sat down, opened the bag, fumbled inside of it.

"I brought you the Valium too."

Susan just nodded, spoke to Luka. "Ok, Luka. I'm going to make you a little more comfortable now." She put the drops into his eyes. "I'd been using water," she told Carter. "This is better."

Carter looked at Luka for moment, touched his hair, then said to Susan, "You know, Susan, he'll be more comfortable with his eyes shut. And you won't have to do that so often."

But Susan was shaking her head frantically. "No. He can ...I think maybe he can still see ... a little bit." She was suddenly crying, her words edged with hysteria. Carter knew that Luka couldn't possibly see any more. But if he had any awareness at all now, he might still be able to hear. He didn't need to hear Susan's pain. Carter took Susan's arm and gently but firmly led her away from the bed, and she allowed herself to be led. Back in the doorway she went on, still sobbing, "He wouldn't want it to be dark. He's afraid of the dark ... oh God ... he's afraid of the dark." And then she couldn't talk anymore, and slid down the door jamb, crumpling helplessly to the floor. Carter sat beside her, held her while she cried.

After a few minutes the tears slowed and Carter said "Have you been doing this all by yourself? Haven't you had anyone to help you care for him? You're exhausted." How long had she been struggling to hold herself together, for Luka's sake?

"It hasn't been hard. He wasn't that sick ... didn't need much nursing care. And he's not a demanding patient. It's just been the past few days. He stopped eating, drinking ... couldn't keep anything down, even with the Compazine. Said he'd rather not try to eat than be throwing up all the time. The seizures got worse, he couldn't even hold down his meds, and he was so dehydrated. He wouldn't go to the hospital, or let me set up an IV for him here." Susan wiped at her eyes. "He said he was ready to go, just wanted it to be over."

"Look," Carter said. "Why don't I stay for a while. You don't have to do this alone. I can sit with him, you can get some sleep. I'll wake you if there's any change."

"No." Susan shook her head. "He just wanted me here. And I'm ok, really. It shouldn't be much longer." She struggled to her feet, returned to the bed. Nothing had changed there. She put more drops in Luka's eyes and carefully wiped the excess that spilled out ... like tears. Then she said, very softly. "You're right, Carter. We should ... I should ... his eyes. He can't see."

"Maybe he can," Carter said gently. "There's no way to know."

Another shake of the head. "He couldn't see, even before. When he came out of the seizure ... the last one he came out of ... he couldn't see. He opened his eyes, and he said it was dark, that he couldn't see. He was crying ... he said he didn't want it to be dark ... it was dark ... he was afraid." She wiped at her eyes again. "I told him to close his eyes ... go to sleep ... he wouldn't know it was dark if he was asleep ... and when he woke up, everything would be better. I thought it was just from the seizure, and he'd been so confused, so out of it ... I thought it would come back after he'd slept for a while. And then another seizure started, and he never woke up." Barely audible. "And he's never going to." She seemed to steady herself again. "Could you get the tape? There should be some in the medicine cabinet."

Carter brought the tape and Susan took the roll from him, but her hands were shaking too hard to do anything with it. Carter took the tape back, folded Susan's hands in his own. "Susan, you don't have to do this. It was just a suggestion. It doesn't matter to him either way. He doesn't know."

Susan's head dropped to her chest. She looked exhausted again. "I don't know what to do. He was so scared. I don't want him to suffer."

"He isn't suffering. All you can do now is be with him. That's all that will matter to him now. He doesn't know anything else." Susan's eyes moved to look at him, seemed to be searching his face for answers. And Carter spoke to her quietly, firmly; like he would when speaking to a distraught family member of a patient, not to a fellow physician who should already know all these things. "Luka is in a coma. It's like he's asleep. He isn't afraid of the dark, because he doesn't know it's dark, any more than you know it's dark when you are asleep and have your eyes closed. He's going to die soon, and I think it will be very peaceful. If there are any more seizures, or he seems to be in pain, you have the drugs for him ... but I don't think you'll need them. He isn't suffering. You just need to hold his hand and be with him. He'll know that you're here, and be comforted by that."

Susan managed to smile, a rather embarrassed smile, as if she was suddenly aware that she'd been falling apart. "It's all he wants," she said quietly. "To die in his own bed, easily, with me here with him."

"And it looks like he'll get three for three," Carter said. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I can be in the other room if you want privacy with him."

"No. I'll be ok, really. We'll be ok. Thanks for bringing the meds and things."

Carter embraced her, held her tightly for a long minute. "Call if you need anything else, ok?" he said, and Susan nodded into his shoulder. Releasing her, her turned his attention again to Luka, sat down on the bed beside him. All this time Luka had not, of course, moved. His breathing seemed a little slower, a bit more labored perhaps. Had he heard their conversation, or was he indeed beyond knowing anything ... asleep? There was no way to know.

Eighteen months before, he and Gillian had found him lying in his clinic in Matenda, near death. They could have let him die there. Carter remembered that he'd wanted to do that; to spare him what he was sure would only be more pain before an inevitable end. But they had given him a chance, and he'd survived, again and again, against impossible odds. But not this time. There would be no miracle this time. Had it been worth it? There had been, unquestionably, more pain; much more pain along the way. But also joy. He looked at Susan, who had sat down again on the other side of Luka, taken his hand, then smoothed his face, murmured something to him that Carter, sitting just inches away couldn't quite hear - but he was sure, somehow, that Luka could. Yes, unquestionably joy as well. Had Luka found it worth it in the balance?

He took Luka's other hand and clasped it for a moment, kissed his forehead. "Good-bye, Luka. You'll be seeing your kids soon." Then another smile to Susan. "I'll let myself out." He rose, then hesitated again. "Do you want me to tell people at work ... what's happening?"

Susan shrugged. "If you want. It doesn't matter. I'll call. Later."

Soon, Carter thought, going out of the quiet room. The call would probably come soon.