Author's note: I CHANGED THE NAME OF LUKA'S BROTHER! I understand that this might sound a bit weird to do like this, but since VjeraNadaLjubav was nice enough to point out to me that Dubravko is not a Croatian name, I have changed it to Dubravko since I want the story to be as believable as possible.
At last – I'm sorry this took so bloody long, but I have been really busy and this chapter, as the last one, was a bit trouble to write. The flowing will be easier I think, but I'll be away until next Wednesday (April 16th) so it'll take a while to get the next one up.
Hop you'll have patience, and thank you all who have reviewed so far!!!

CHAPTER THREE : ON THE THIRD DAY

He felt the doctors around him staring at him as he got out of the taxi and started to walk up towards the hospital doors. It was early morning, but the whole city seemed to be in total chaos already. Cars and people everywhere, millions of signs pointing at places he would never visit. At least not this time he was in Chicago. It was ironic, really. The first time he actually managed to cross the Atlantic he would spend all his time at a hospital.
He had always wondered what kind of life Luka had here, it was hard to get anything out of him and if he ever said something then it was about the weather, the language he still, after several years, sometimes found weirder then ever, or then he asked thousands of questions about the current situation at home. He never said anything about who he had met, what he had seen or done – or even more important – how he felt.
Dubravko sighed. All the hours he had spent in that plane across the huge Atlantic, for him and many other Europeans considered the sea of hope – a deep, blue road to freedom; all those hours he had wondered why they never had noticed anything. Why had Luka never said anything? Why, why and why?
It was almost ten years ago now. Ten years since they had heard about what had happened in Vukouvar through the neighbours, ten years ago Luka had spent his last night in the house they both had been born. He had shown up there, pending between being a wreck and totally empty on feelings. A few days less than ten years ago his bed suddenly had been empty. Nine and a half years ago they had received a call from a lousy line in Rome, telling them nothing about when he was going to come back or where he lived. Almost three years ago that hand written note saying "Cook County General, Chicago Illinois, USA" had arrived and immediately being posted on the wall at home. The phone number attached to the note was long and expensive to call, so the calls had been rare. Birthdays, wedding days.
But the past year things had seemed to slowly get back to normal. Suddenly there had been a call from the Doctors Without Borders base in Sarajevo. The look on their father's face as he who for once wasn't at the railway station put down the phone had been unforgettable. He had gone up to a little town at the Bosnian border, and they had spent a few days there together before Luka had to return to Sarajevo and their father to Zagreb. The latest photo their mother had of Luka had been taken then. It was always a good sign when he let someone take a picture of him. According to their father he had been happy. Older, quieter, darker; but happy – at least somewhat. But that was a year ago, and apparently a lot had happened since Luka returned to America. Their father had half-heartedly tried to make him stay, but knew it was no point. He seemed to be happy there, their father had explained to his upset wife when she had yelled at him for not making her son stay with her.
But apparently that hadn't been true. At least not for long.

As he basically got pushed through the swinging doors by a Chinese doctor and some paramedics with a gurney he thought about what Dr. Lewis had said. That Luka had been depressed. Depressed and lonely – depressed and lonely enough to want to end everything. That he had tried to kill himself with a Valium overdose but hadn't succeeded and was lying unconscious at the intensive care unit. That they didn't know when he would wake up but that she thought he would need Dubravko when he finally opened his eyes again.

He walked up to what seemed to be the admit desk.
"I was supposed to ask for Dr. Lewis," he said.
The desk clerk was no exception from the doctors he had met so far. Also he stared at him, as if he tried to place him somewhere deep inside his mind, or just wondered who he was and what the hell he was doing there. A bit nervous Dubravko repeated the question inside his head. Except from last night on the phone it was a long time since he last had spoken English – there could be something wrong with the grammar. Should it really be "was" after "I", or had he forgotten something…? The desk clerk kept staring at him, and Dubravko was just about to ask for Dr. Lewis again when a blonde woman of medium length; that meant that she barely reached his shoulders but he was used to it – came running up to them. She stopped right in front of him, seeming a bit stressed despite the early hour.
"Dubravko Kovac?"
He nodded and smiled slightly at her.
"I'm Dr. Lewis, we spoke on the phone," she said as they shook hands.
"Where is Luka," he asked immediately as she was done introducing herself. She nodded towards the elevators.
"Right this way."

***

"Jesus," Dubravko said, mostly to himself.
The door to the ICU room in front of them was closed, but he could look inside the room through the window. The room was filled with more or less scary looking equipment – machines and monitors, lines running up and down the walls. In the middle there was the single bed with his brother on it. It looked like if he was just sleeping, but knowing why he was there himself and considering what Dr Lewis had told him in the elevator up Dubravko knew that wasn't the case.
"Do you want to go inside?" she asked gently.
He nodded, and she opened the door. The distinct hospital smell became stronger as they walked inside the isolated room. He had never understood how Luka was able to work in an environment smelling like this.
"He has shown a few signs of waking up," he heard her say as he sat down at the chair next to the bed. "We think it might not be very long before he starts coming to."
Dubravko nodded.
"Will he hear me if I talk to him?" he asked, looking straight at her as if he thought she would lie otherwise.
"Yes, I think so," she nodded. He heard a beeping sound, and she took a look at the pager she was wearing in her belt. She sighed.
"Look – I'll have to go back down to the ER, but if anything happens just press this button…-" she said and nodded at the emergency alarm on the wall "…- and I'll be here in a heartbeat."
He nodded slowly. "But what if you're busy…? I wouldn't want to intrude on your work"
"Then Dr. Weaver or Dr. Carter will come up," she simply said, and he nodded when another, rather scary, thought hit him.
"Could there be any complications later, I mean after he has woken up?"
She avoided the direct question; as he had seen doctors, starting with Luka, do many times before. It didn't exactly calm him down.
"Right now the most important thing is that he knows you're here. I told him you were coming so I think he already knows… - he has to want to wake up again. Otherwise he won't."
"That's some responsibility," Dubravko sighed and looked at Luka, lying there on the bed, pale and seeming so far away somewhere else.
"It'll be just fine," she assured him with a smile. The beeper went off again and she muttered something he didn't hear.
"You just call, if there's anything…-"
"Yes, I will. Thank you, Dr. Lewis," he said, not quite wanting her to leave but not wanting her to be late because of him either.
She nodded and rushed out to the sound of a third beep.

***

Hours and hours went by and Susan rushed between the trauma rooms with or without bloody trauma gowns. Every now and then she took the elevator up to the ICU to see if there was any change.
Dubravko sat at the chair she had spent the night before last on, talking to Luka in Croatian. He stopped every time she came in, always nervously asking her if anything was wrong. She always assured him nothing was, went inside for a few minutes – that was how long she could stand there without the feeling of her being an intruder growing so much that she had to go outside again. As soon as she closed the door Dubravko started his one-sided conversation with Luka again, and she always stood there outside the room, looking in for a while before leaving. They were so ridiculously alike, Dubravko and Luka; she knew many others had noticed it too. The same height, similar voices although Dubravko's accent when he spoke English naturally was heavier than Luka's, and the same hair. But Dubravko's eyes were green, while Luka's were dark blue. Except for that they looked like twins – they even made the same gestures with their hands while talking.
But still she couldn't help but to notice one big difference – Dubravko, although he now obviously was worried right now, seemed much more at peace with himself. Of course it was Luka and not he who had tried to kill himself and there was the reason for that, but still. He didn't have the same shadow over his whole appearance that Luka always had, and he seemed easier to talk to.

***

She was just finished with the second case of domestic violence they had had in a few hours and walked up to the admit desk to announce her going for a coffee when Gallant came running towards her.
"Dr Lewis! Dr Lewis!"
She groaned and stopped to wait for him.
"What?" she asked, trying to scan through the patients she had seen today. Who was on his or her deathbed now?
"They called from the ICU," he said. "Dr. Kovac is waking up."
Her heart started to beat faster. Finally! She nodded, dumped her chart at him and started running towards the elevator.
"Susan! Wait up," she heard a voice just as she was about to step inside. Kerry came running as fast as the crunch allowed her to.
"I'm coming with you," she said when she stepped inside just as the doors closed and the cabin started moving.

A doctor from the ICU was already inside the room when they arrived. Kerry exchanged a few words with him, and he left.
Susan rushed straight to the bed. Luka wasn't as pale anymore and he moved a little, but apparently not wanting to open his eyes to the sun the shone in through the window.
"Luka, do you know where you are?" she asked him, taking his hand.
"I'm…. I'm not sure…" he spoke slowly and his voice was hoarse and pained.
"You're at the ICU at County," she said gently.
"What…?" He opened his eyes but closed them almost immediately again, apparently very confused over where he was and why and how he had ended up there.
"You got a bit too heavy with the sleeping pills," she heard Kerry's "nice-while-talking-to-disorientated-or-grieving-patients-voice" from the door, getting closer. She came up to the bed, standing opposite Susan who made another attempt to make him remember.
"I found you on your livingroom floor," she began softly, still holding his hand "you had passed out and was barely breathing, so we had to take you in …-"
She could see that he was loosing touch with her again, his grip of her hand loosened and he leaned back against the pillow.
"No, no, Luka – you've got to stay here with me now," she said, taking a tighter grip of his hand and gently patting his unshaved cheek. He moved a little and murmured something she couldn't make out; she doubted that it was in English. Suddenly he opened up his eyes, looking straight at her but she still had a feeling of him not seeing her.
"Danijela…" he whispered, reaching out for her with his free hand. He started talking in Croatian, slurring his words.
"I knew you would come back to me, my sweetheart, I love you…-" He tried even harder to reach out to her, but he was too tired.
She felt as if someone had punched her. He thought she was his wife, the wife he had lost so many years ago. She didn't understand the rest of what he was saying, but she could guess.
"Luka, you have to calm down…-" she began while exchanging a horrified look with Kerry, but he kept talking, nothing made sense – it was just words put after each other – English, Croatian, Italian. He tried to sit up while once again trying to reach her, touch her face. Suddenly his voice started to tremble, and he started speaking English again, apparently totally unaware of it.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered and squeezed her hand "I know that you must hate what I have become… but I swear, I will make it up to you, I will… none of those women meant anything to me, you're the only one…you're the only one, I love you…"
"Luka, please…-"
"No, no, Danijela, listen to me…-"
"Luka – you're at County," she said, trying to make herself clear by slightly raising her voice, but he didn't listen.
"Danijela, please listen to me… I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to…. I didn't mean to…"
The ""I didn't mean to's" became weaker and weaker as his energy left him and he sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes again. She sighed with relief as he finally calmed down.
"Jesus," she heard from the window. She looked up and saw Dubravko stand there, apparently pretty shaken.
"What is wrong with him?" he asked, trying to control his trembling voice.
Kerry shook her head and went up to him.
"He is just confused," she said "it's not very unusual that things like this happen when someone has been unconscious for this long."
"But why would he think you were Danijela…?" he asked, sounding pretty upset, turned to Susan "…you're not even anything like her! She was dark, and you're blonde… I don't understand why he'd…-"
"I don't think he saw me, Dubravko," Susan said gently. "He looked at me, but thought he saw Danijela, since she apparently has been on his mind lately."
"Always. He's always thinking about her. Has done so ever since he was seventeen. She was his life. He would have done anything, given up anything for her. You wouldn't believe how much he loved her…"
His voice started to tremble again and he had to bite his lower lip and stare out of the window to keep the tears from coming. It was so unfair. So damn, freaking unfair.

***

Danijela seemed to disappear from him once again, and broken he fell back into the semi-consciousness he had been slipping in and out of the past hours. The sounds around him faded, but didn't fully disappear. He desperately tried to catch up with the comfortable sleep, but apparently its time was passed. He had to stay here now. He heard voices he recognized – talking over his head. He understood what they were saying, but still he couldn't make it out. It was as if they spoke in a foreign language he had heard so many times that he was familiar with the words but he couldn't translate them, put them together to something that made sense. Suddenly he felt different smells, and for a few minutes he had a feeling of flying. Then it stopped and the smell from before came back. More voices, someone calling his name over and over again. One after another the voices became fewer, things quietened. A strong, almost panicky, fear of being left alone hit him when he felt a soft, fresh touch on his forehead. A gentle caress, soft and refreshing. Slowly but surely he felt his body relaxing, his breathing and heartbeat went back to normal. The soft touch was still there – someone gently stroking his forehead, making him calm.

***

After a while he dared to open his eyes to the light. The left eye first, then the right one. The bright sunlight shone straight at him and he had to turn right to avoid it. He still felt the soft touch on his forehead, and when he turned his head right he looked straight at the person the wonderful hands belonged to.
"Hey," he heard a voice just as soft as the hands, but not the voice he had expected. He tried to focus his tired eyes at the person next to him. The more his sight cleared up the more his mind started to catch up as well. He looked around him, and saw the familiar white walls, smelled the familiar smell. Suddenly he remembered the same voice talking about County, and the more his mind cleared up the more of his surroundings he recognized. Also the person next to him cleared up and he blinked to clear up the last of the blur.
"Susan…?" His voice was hoarse and his throat felt sore. She nodded with a smile.
"The same."
He tried to smile at her, but a sharp pain went through his head and made him grimace of pain.
"What happened?" he managed to get out a few seconds later when the pain seemed to have eased up a bit. She had understood that he didn't feel well and kept stroking his forehead.
"You took a Valium overdose and passed out," she said gently. She looked down at her feet for a second before continuing.
"I know that you tried to hurt yourself, Luka," she said, avoiding the word "suicide".
He sighed as deeply as he could without feeling as if his head was about to explode.
"Yes, I did," he said, looking down at his hands. He saw the bandage on the right hand and frowned at the sight of it. She saw his confusion.
"You hurt your hand on a broken bottle," she said and kept him from touching the bandage. He sighed again.
"But how… how did I end up here? I didn't expect anyone to find me…-"
"I went to your place," she said.
"You went to my place…?" He sounded as if he didn't quite believe she would do something like that in order to help him.
She nodded.
"I wanted to talk to you, but apparently you didn't want to discuss this. You should have, you know. We would have helped you, it wouldn't have had to go this far."
Despite knowing better he shook his head, only causing the headache to hit him as a bomb and the rest of his body protesting. He felt a great wave of nausea coming over him but instead of throwing up he started coughing. It was hollow and empty, and his hands were trembling. She reached for the water cup and helped him to drink. Exhausted he sank down again.
"For how long have I been here?" he asked.
"This is the third day," she said while putting away the cup. He sighed.
"I was unconscious for three days…?"
She nodded.
"You were very lucky, Luka. Carter was about to call it when your sinus rhythm came back."
"He should have called it. I didn't want this."
"And we didn't want you dead. You should have heard Abby's scream when she saw you – I think they must have heard her up here."
He frowned at her last comment, and his following question made her a bit surprised. She had thought that mentioning Abby would make him ask something else.
"I'm not in the ER…?"
"No, not anymore. They needed the trauma room right after we got you back. What else is new, right?"
She laughed, trying to lead him away from the only possible follow-up question - but he wasn't satisfied with her explanation.
"Then where am I?"
She bit her lip. Damn – they shouldn't have moved him yet. But the ICU was always full, and when he once had woken up they had felt that he had to be moved up here.
"That's not the most important thing right now, is it," she said, knowing that this probably was the last thing she should have said.
"Susan! What are you not telling me?"
He started to sound almost normal since he was getting angry, and when she wouldn't answer he took a look around him to see if he recognized anything. He was about to give up and ask her again when he saw a doctor passing by the window out to the corridor. He quickly scanned through his mind to place the doctor at the right ward. Her name was Leyla Anderson – he knew that very well because he always disagreed with her every time he saw her. But from which damn ward was she…? She spoke to much and had that "I'm-saying-I-understand-you-even-though-I-never-could"-attitude he hated…
Then it hit him.
"Susan, what the hell am I doing at the psych?"
She bit her lip again.
"You know the policy as well as I do," she said "if a patient…-"
"But I'm not crazy! I want to die – I'm not nuts!"
She felt uncomfortable hearing him say that – more uncomfortable than she had thought she would. Of course she had known that his reaction to the psych ward would be what everybody else's was, but still… She didn't know. There was just something that made her feel very uncomfortable when he spoke about himself like that – like he didn't deserve to live.
"Don't say that," she said shaking her head. "Just don't. I know you're not crazy, we all know that. You're just…-"
"Suicidal, huh? Believe me Susan – the only thing I want to do is to die. To get away from all this."
"But there are other ways," she said, almost upset with him not even considering being helped.
"Not for me. Susan, I appreciate you caring for me like you have, but believe me, the only thing that coming out of it is that it'll take a little longer for me to succeed."
"No. No – you'll get help, you'll get better, I promise you!"
"But I don't want that," he said, almost calm. "Don't you understand – I have nothing to live for! Or…-" he sighed, "…- of course you don't understand. Nobody does. You're trained to save lives, not let people go when they want to."
She took his hand again and looked straight at him.
"Yes, you're right, I am trained to save people. But so are you! You shouldn't give up! I'm not going to let you!"
He smiled resignedly.
"It doesn't work like that, Susan."
"Then tell me how it does work, so I can help you! Because you have things to live for – I know you do."
"Like what?"
"Your job, you family. Your family loves you, Luka. If you would just let them in. We all care about you, except what you think."
He sighed.
"Susan, don't do this"
"Do what?"
"Torture me."
"Torture you?"
"That is what you're doing"
"But I don't want to do that," she said softly "I want to help you. We all do."
"But you can't," he said, sighing. "So you might as well stop trying."
He leaned back and closed his eyes. He was tired, his head hurt like hell and he was more nauseous then ever. She saw that this was not a proper time for lectures and once again started stroking his forehead. It felt good, but didn't make the pain go away as it had before.
"Feeling any nausea?"
He nodded, afraid he might vomit if he answered.

"Wait…-" she reached for a plastic basin. "Try to get it up – it will feel better afterwards."

When he leaned back against the pillow again and she had put the basin away she took a look through the window. Dubravko was standing outside – Kerry had taken him with her when they came up, to explain some things and fill in some papers. Now he was back, and she didn't know for how long he had been standing there, but he looked pretty upset.
"Dubravko is outside," she said to Luka. "Do you want me to let him in?"
He nodded tiredly and she went to the door. Dubravko stepped inside.
"How are you feeling?" he asked in Croatian.
"You don't want to know," Luka muttered in their mothertounge.
"It'll be fine."
"No, it won't."
Dubravko sighed and turned to Susan who still stood at the door, feeling like an intruder again.
"I'll give you some privacy," she said, reading his mind. She opened the door and was about to close it behind her when she heard Luka's tired voice.
"Susan…"
She turned around.
"Yes?"
"Thank you… thank you, for everything. Still."
She smiled.
"Just get better now, will you."
He gave her a little smile.
"We'll see."

He was just about to try and fall asleep when Dubravko sat down next to him and started the questioning he had feared.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked angrily. Or – he sounded angry, but was mostly scared. Luka sighed.
"What do you mean?" he asked although he knew exactly what this was about.
"You know damn well what I mean! Jesus, Luka – what are you doing? And why?!"
"I'm tired, Dubravko. I can't do this, not anymore. I'm not asking you to understand, because you can't, but at least accept it."
Dubravko shook his head.
"No! So you think I'm supposed not to give a damn about that my own brother is falling apart?"
"I'm not falling apart," Luka said, maybe in a bit too angry voice. But he couldn't help it – why did everybody have to try and talk him out of the only sensible decision he had made for months? The headache stroke again, and he sighed. He needed a pill or a drink – preferably both. He didn't know exactly what time it was, but surely it was way past when he usually took his morning dose. As Dubravko ranted on and on about things he didn't hear and frankly didn't want to hear either the only thing he could think about was those pills. He knew where they were and how many he needed to function and it drove him nuts enough to fit in at this damn ward not being able to get them.
"Are you even listening?!" he suddenly heard his brother's angry voice. "Damned Luka, you haven't listened to one word I have said, have you?"
Sighing he carefully shook his head.
"No, I haven't. Because I know exactly what you're going to say!"
"What am I going to say?"
"That I'm wrong, that this is only a temporarily depression that'll go away, that I have things to live for, that I shouldn't do what I want. Don't you understand – this is what I want! If only Carter hadn't been so damn slow I would have been pronounced trouble-free now."
"Remind me to thank him when I see him," Dubravko said dryly.
"Don't you dare."
"Don't you dare! What do you think I felt when the phone rings in the middle of the night, wakes up me, Natalia, and mum for God's sake who in her turn wakes up the rest of the city with her screaming! Jesus, Luka – I thought she would have a heart attack when I had to tell her that some unfamiliar doctor from Chicago had found you drunk and passed out on your livingroom floor!"
That hadn't been his exact words, of course. He hadn't known all the details back then at home. But maybe saying it like this would make Luka understand that what he was doing was wrong, wrong and wrong! If he felt guilty then it was a shame, but he'd have to live with that.
"Don't…-"
"No! I'm going to tell you exactly what it felt like so you never do this again!"
"I wasn't planning on doing it again either!" Luka yelled. "If things had gone as I planned then…-"
"…- then you would be dead and "free" right now, yes I know. But what I don't know is how the hell you could do this to me?"
"To you?! Excuse me, but did I just miss something?"
"And to mum and dad. To Alex and Natalia and… - and, how the hell am I supposed to tell my daughters that their uncle doesn't want to live anymore?!"
"They haven't even met me. They wouldn't miss me."
"But…-"
"But you don't understand! I'm old, I'm tired, I'm fed up and disgusted with myself and…-"
"You're not old…-"
"AND lonely! You don't understand, Dubravko, and I know you can never do it either, because you have Natalia and you have your daughters. I have no one, and I will never have again."
"That's not true," Dubravko said, softening a little after having gotten past the worst anger mixed with fear.
"Oh yes, it is. I have done nothing but lost people the last years. Danijela, Jasna, Marko, Abby… - everyone. Everyone I ever cared about…"
His voice trailed off and he looked at his hands again. The injured right one and the left one where his wedding ring still should have been. When he looked up he saw that Dubravko had been looking too.
"You're not wearing your wedding ring…?"
Luka shook his head.
"I couldn't. I tried, but I can't stand looking at it. Despite that, it's not really the best way to attract women either – wearing a wedding ring..."
Dubravko smiled.
"No, I guess not."
He looked down at his feet and Luka leaned back against the pillows. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. It had felt better while he was angry, but now when the anger started to disappear the pain everywhere was back again. He tried to switch positions in the bed, thinking that would ease it up a bit but the sudden movement only caused the pain to increase, and him to moan helplessly. There was nothing he could do to make it go away, and the knowledge of that didn't exactly make it easier to carry.
Dubravko looked up, almost as awoken by hearing the moans of pain from the bed.
"Do you need something? Should I call for Dr. Lewis…?"
"No!"
"But you need a doctor…"
"And I am a doctor, so don't bother Susan, will you?!"
There was the snapping again. He just couldn't control it – it was like being a teenager again. Dubravko shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands.
"OK, OK – I got it!"
Luka sighed.
"I'm sorry… I'm just so tired and this hurts like hell… -"
"I know—I'm sorry too, for barking at you like that. I know it hasn't been easy, I know that, I'm sorry."
Luka managed to smile a little.
"It's OK."
"You're going to get better you know. And we'll be there for you – all of us. You know that. I'll stay here until they let you out, and then…-"
"You can't stay here that long. You should never have come here in the first place."
"Why?"
"You can't afford it, you know that," Luka said quietly.
It felt very uncomfortable to have to remind Dubravko of that his finances weren't that great – they were the unofficial reason he still lived in their childhood home with Natalia and the girls, the official was that he needed to take care of their mother while their father worked, but everyone knew that was just a cover up. They had always been proud. Maybe a bit too proud, but still – money, or mostly the lack thereof wasn't and had never been a thing you talked about in the Kovac family.

"I know…-," Dubravko said with a smile after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence "…- so I thought you could pay."

***

Susan threw away her bloody trauma gown and waited for Carter as he did the same. They started walking down the corridor towards the admit desk.
"I hear Luka woke up?" he suddenly said.
She nodded.
"This morning."
"How is he?"
"Tired, depressed, disoriented…-" she watched Carter carefully before saying the last thing "…- and he's got a bad abstinence."
Carter stopped and gave her a questioning look.
"I beg your pardon?"
"He doesn't say anything, but I think he's been on Valium for a while now."
"How long?"
"Halloween, for sure… maybe ever since the lockdown."
He sighed and she looked down on her feet. Luka hadn't said anything, but she knew the symptoms better than most people. And she knew Carter did too.
"Great. So not only does he need to be admitted, but now rehab too?"
"He doesn't need to be admitted," she said automatically, almost without thinking. When she did think it felt natural to have said that. She couldn't picture Luka at the psych any longer than he had to be – he definitely shouldn't be locked up. A skilled therapist, yes – psych admitting, no.
"You should talk to him, Carter."
He shook his head as they passed by trauma one.
"No, no, no…"
"Why not?"
"Do you really have to ask?" Carter said in a voice that told her that she definitely should know better than to ask such a question.
"Oh, would you just cut the macho pride both of you! I already tried to talk to him, but he won't listen to me."
"He wouldn't listen to me."
"Why not? Because of Abby…?"
"And other things."
"Like what?"
They stopped in front of the vending machine and she watched Carter choosing among the candy bars that seemed to be the only lunch they would get today.
"I don't know… things! You know…-"
"If you don't know, then how am I supposed to know?"