Author's comments: Well, sorry this is so late (this is starting to feel like the normal way of starting these comments…). I would like to say that I spent all Easter out in the sun and then finished this (this is actually 14 pages!) in a heartbeat, but that would be a lie – I was sitting up until 3.30 in the morning for several nights, and if I don't watch out this will turn out to be "The Project of MY life" instead of what it's supposed to be. On top of everything I have had trouble with getting most things up and working so… but cut the excuses, will you?

The name of this chapter definitely expresses what I feared it would turn out to be, but I don't think it's that bad after all. But please give me your opinions – and thanks again to those who have reviewed past chapters!

CHAPTER FOUR : A BLOODY MESS

The next morning

Dubravko dropped down a blue and white plastic bag on the chair next to the bed. The bag had with huge letters in red on it, screaming out something about the cheapest groceries in town.
"The only one I could find," Dubravko said, nodding towards the bag.
"I didn't want to run into that freaky neighbour of yours more than once…" he added with laughter in his voice, wanting Luka to agree. To reply, to nod, to laugh, to do anything except for what he did; closed and opened his eyes as another headache stroke him.
"…- so I decided to take the first bag I saw," he concluded, trying to sound normal despite realizing that his choice of bag for the clothes and other stuff he had brought from Luka's apartment, or him having to stand and listen to that bloody woman's ramblings for half an hour probably wasn't Luka's highest priority right now.
"Sorry," he said, mostly to himself, but Luka still replied.
"Doesn't matter," he said tiredly.
Dubravko wasn't sure whether his brother meant the stupid supermarket bag or his pathetic attempts to act as if nothing was weird but as if everything was just as it should be; that Luka swallowing a few hundred milligrams of Valium and passing out on the livingroom floor was just a parenthesis, not something worth mentioning or paying attention to.

The worst of the headache disappeared and he dared to open his eyes again. For how long was things supposed to be like this? For how long should he snap at people as soon as they said the simplest thing to him, for how long would he not be able to keep down anything else than what the IV in his left arm gave him? He had lost count of how many times he had vomited that morning. That, and trying to remember in which way he should breathe and drink to keep the room from spinning as it did as soon as he moved was really the only things he could do. It felt like a permanent, bad hangover. The only thing he wanted to do was to sleep, but he couldn't sleep thanks to the pain everywhere, to make that go away he would need at least a half bottle of whiskey or some random pills, what kind didn't really matter, as long as they were benzodiazepnies.
"You have to make sure you're in shape for Christmas," he suddenly heard Dubravko's voice. Luka slowly turned around, surprised that none of his inner organs seemed to protest heavily.
"What Christmas?" he asked dryly.
"The Christmas you're going to spend with Natalia, the girls, mum, dad and me," Dubravko answered quite persistently. Luka let out a dry laugh.
"No, no, no… YOU are going to spend Christmas with them - I'm going home."
"Yes – you're going home as in home with me. As soon as they release you we get on a plane to Zagreb."
"No!" Luka practically yelled. Or maybe he had just raised his voice a little – in his head it felt as if he had yelled across the Atlantic loud enough to get an answer from the Europeans.
"You're not staying here!"
"Oh, yes I am."
"No, you're not. As if you could, for that matter."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You can't go to that apartment – it's cold, lonely and still smells like a brewery no matter how hard your colleagues tried to clean it."
Luka opened his mouth to protest against the trip home that was getting forced upon him when he heard Dubravko's last words. He looked closely at his brother, replaying the sentence inside his hurting head.
"…- no matter how hard your colleagues tried to clean it"
"What…?" he asked in disbelief.

Earlier the same morning

Abby felt her heartbeat speed up as she turned the key in the lock. One, two three…- and Luka's livingroom showed up in front of her. Without looking she went inside, letting Carter step in and get out of the stairs in which he had been standing patiently while she had dropped the key twice before getting it into the lock, snapping at him when he offered to help.
"Holy Mother of God," she heard him gasp.
"That bad?"
"We'll be stuck here all Christmas."
She heard his reply, and sighed. She knew he was trying to joke – he always did that in cases like this. But right now it was the last thing he should have done. Did he find this funny? Didn't he understand what it felt like for her?

He looked at her. She was standing about a meter in front of him, apparently with her eyes closed. He regretted what he had let slip out. It hadn't been supposed to sound like he found this funny, but he couldn't come up with anything better to say. Hell – here he was, in his girlfriends ex's - their colleague's – apartment, supposed to tidy it up enough for him to be able to return home for Christmas when he was released from the psych after a failed suicide attempt before which he had written a letter where he declared his love for his ex – their colleague – the love of Carter's life. It wasn't exactly a dream situation.
Of course he understood that this was weird and difficult for her, but it wasn't exactly easy on him either.
They should never have come here. He was about to suggest they'd leave when he saw a woman's head lurking out of the neighbour door. Swearing to himself he shut the door behind them. He had certainly had enough of Ellie for a lifetime. He pulled off his gloves and put them in his coat pockets.
"Shall we begin then?"

She swallowed.
"The stuff is still in the car."
He frowned
"What stuff?"

She took a deep breath, immediately regretting it when the whiskey smell started to tease her. God, she would never stand this place.
"I took some of my cleaning stuff with me. They're in the backseat."
"I'm pretty sure Luka's got some soap and water."
"You don't clean stuff like this with soap and water!" she snapped, immediately regretting it.
"I'm sorry, John," she said, turning to him. "Could you just go after those things? I'd like to… -" her voice tangled off and she looked down on the stained floor for a split second
"…- be alone for a while."
The thought of Ellie-the-neighbour-from-hell stroke him, but then he saw Abby's now open eyes, gazing at him, begging him to do as she said.
"Sure" he said and opened the door, taking a deep breath to prepare for the questioning that - if he knew anything about old, lonely and eavesdropping women – was about to come.

He closed the door behind him and Abby sighed and turned around to face the mess in front of her. It both did and didn't surprise her. She knew where on the list of priorities cleaning came when one had been drinking for a while, but she had never thought Luka and she would have the same flaw. Or, they didn't. She was the alcoholic being tempted only by the smell of vodka and whiskey from the floor, he was the suicidal one who drank and threw bottles around him because he hated himself. She knew that feeling too. But it was a long time ago, and she didn't want to go back. She desperately didn't want to go back.
All the days that almost had become a week now, after Luka's – what the hell to call it? Accident? Break down? Failed suicide attempt? – She had tried to avoid it so hard that she didn't even have a word for it. She hadn't thought about it, hadn't visited him, and hadn't asked Susan about what was going on. Hadn't talked to his brother, hadn't done a damn bloody thing until today. John had told her about Susan trying to talk him into visiting Luka and make him stop taking Valium when he came home from the hospital and she was making dinner. She had dropped the salad bowl and yelled that it was the last thing he should do. He had calmed her down by saying that he hadn't told Susan he would, and that he wasn't exactly tempted by it either, but she still wasn't totally calm. She had tried to keep Luka outside her and Carter's relationship from the very beginning, and had apparently succeeded to do so, despite what the letter had said. She was pretty sure that Susan would have told her if he had been asking about her, but nothing had been said. He didn't want to talk to her anymore. He had finally given up.

She went further inside the flat and started to pick up things from the floor. She recognized every single thing. The book by Stephen King he thought was boring but still kept because it was the first book he had read in English, the Croatian newspapers he got delivered several days after they were fresh in Zagreb, the black pencil he wrote all his notes with, something that was almost unnecessary considering what his handwriting looked like – the records by Sting he'd listen to until they broke, a grey sweater she knew Danijela had knitted for him and that he always wore when he was freezing. All the things that meant something to him there on the floor, as to show that nothing in his life was worth anything anymore.
She sighed and threw the things on the couch and sat down next to them, suddenly exhausted. She covered her face with her hands for a second, and then looked in front of her again. Her eyes caught a glimpse of something on the table and she leaned forward.
The door slammed and she heard Carter's steps getting closer. He came up to her and was about to say something when he saw what she was doing.
She picked up one of the old pictures from the table. She could tell they were old without even looking at them because Luka never had pictures of anyone, so these had to be from the past.
The photo in her hand felt fragile, almost as if it had been burned and had only escaped the flames by accident or pure luck.
She looked at the picture and when she saw the woman and the little girl gazing back at her from the photo her throat thickened and she had to blink the tears away.
"That his family?" she heard Carter's quiet voice behind her. She nodded and he sat down next to her at the little space between her and the stuff she had dumped on the couch.
"They are beautiful," he said, not really to her but still in a way. She nodded again.
"I know… I never knew what his kids looked like…"
"He never showed you?"
"No. Only Danijela – his wife. I asked him once, but he said he didn't have any pictures…"
"Maybe he didn't want to look back"
"I guess."
They were quiet for a while, overlooking the pictures without touching them, as if they would go up in flames if they let their fingers touch them. Unaware of each other they scanned through the photos until Carter broke the silence.
"What were their names?" he asked, almost making Abby jump.
"Jasna and Marko," she replied. "But I don't know if I pronounce it rightly."
"Sounds good to me"
"I'm sure it's wrong. I was never good with languages – hell, I can't even pronounce his name the right way!"
Carter frowned.
"We pronounce it wrong?"
She nodded.
"Yeah – there should be more of the 'u' and like a 'h' between 'k' and 'a' – or, I don't know about the 'h' but he always likes when I say it that way…-" She bit her lip and sank back into her thoughts. Carter was still looking at the picture of Danijela. He picked it up and held it up in front of her.
"Do you see how much like Carol she looked?"
Abby nodded and pulled some of her hair behind her ears.

They were quiet again and both jumped at the sharp signal of the phone a few minutes later.
"Do you think we should…?" Carter began, Abby nodded and they started searching for the phone in the direction the signals came from. Before they were even close Luka's machine took the call.
Both of them feeling weird about hearing Luka's voice giving the caller directions about what to do after the beep they stopped and ended up standing on the livingroom floor.
An elderly woman's voice came out of the machine. She sounded upset, at the edge of crying. She told the machine her message in a language they didn't understand and then hung up, ending the message with a phrase they were familiar with by now.
"Volem te, Luka."
"That I understood," Carter said when the machine beeped again to show that the message was ended.
"Yeah."
Abby held her breath, fearing another fight about whether Luka loved her or not when Carter turned to her, smiling.
"You were right about the 'u'"

A few hours later the flat still smelled like a brewery, but at least the stuff lying everywhere was gone and the floors cleaned.
"I think we did a pretty good job," Carter said as they stood by the door, ready to leave but taking a last look at what they had done.
"Yeah, I'd say so," Abby said, now feeling better. Some things had been hard – changing the sheets in Luka's bed had made her remember doing the same thing one Sunday morning many months ago when he had gone down to get them some breakfast. She had done it in order to surprise him, and as a thank you he had forced himself to watch Fear Factor with her. Only seeing the bed brought back memories, sweet ones, but what the rest of the flat gave her, not to mention the aquarium, wasn't as nice.
"You're not that pretty, not that special!"
" You're married to a ghost!"
"Carter can have you!"
But despite everything she in a way felt relieved. It was over. Everything about Luka that had haunted her was coming to a conclusion – not only cleaning his floors but also part by part understanding why he had done what he had – why things had turned out like this – helped her to put things past her. He was far past her being able to help. He needed help she maybe could have been able to give someone as a nurse, but she couldn't be a nurse around him – around him she was just Abby, more or less messed up.

Carter opened the door and they walked out in the snow when they saw a familiar figure approaching. The sight of the man made them jump and they met Dubravko with perplexed looks on their faces.
"God, I thought you were Luka," Abby said, damning her heart for speeding again. If it kept doing this every five minutes she'll soon end up in the court of the human body, accused of lack of responisbility in traffic or whatever the legal word for speeding was.
"People keep saying we look alike," Dubravko replied with a smile.
"You most certainly do," Carter said, sounding almost as shaken as Abby felt.
Dubravko looked down for a while, then up at the house.
"I was supposed to get some stuff for Luka, to the hospital. This is where he lives, isn't it?"
They nodded, and he realized that they were just leaving the same building he was about to enter, something that made him assume they lived there.
"Are you neighbours? Of Luka's, I mean?"
"No, no – we just decided things needed to be tidied up a bit," Abby said, relieved that Carter had managed to get the dreadful rope away from the ceiling. That was certainly not something Dubravko should see.
"I see," he said with a smile very similar to Luka's. "Thank you – that'll make it easier for me to find what I am looking for."
They smiled at him, the same thought hitting them both at the same time.
"Do you…" Carter began,
"…- have the key?" Abby finished.
Dubravko nodded and held up a little piece of metal against the winter sun.
"Good…. – I have it, I could have given it to you…. I still have it you know…- well, you probably know…" She was rambling whatever came to her head, but somehow Dubravko seemed to understand.
"Yes, I know," he said calmly. "It's Abby, isn't it?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Luka told me about you. Only good things," he added when he saw her uncomfortable look. She smiled.
"Right… well, there isn't much to say about it anymore, Luka probably told you everything…."
"I don't need to know everything," he said. "It's your busniess, not mine. I'm just happy that he's still alive," he said, only to realize that it sounded like he thought her company would have killed Luka.
"He'll be OK," Carter said.
"People keep telling me that"
"But everybody knows how doctors lie, right?"
"Sure - starting with my brother," Dubravko said with a laugh. "You know, if he says he's OK then it's time to lock him up. If he actually admits things are bad, then they're usually good, considering…" he added sounding a bit more dark.
Suddenly something hit him. Jesus, he thought slowly these days.
"Forgive me, but I never caught your name…?" he asked the man in front of him.
"John Carter," he said, confirming Dubravko's suspicions.
"I thought so," he said as they shook hands. "Luka has told me about you too."
Carter didn't quite know what to reply to that, not knowing if he had been mentioned as the man who stole Abby or just as a colleague.
"I have to thank you, Dr. Carter".
"For what?" Carter asked, a bit puzzled.
"You saved my brother's life"
"No… Dr. Lewis did that," he said, feeling almost embarrassed.
"But you didn't give up on him," Dubravko said. "My family and I are very thankful for that."
"I'm glad."
There was a uncomfortable silence, the weather was freezing cold but they were just standing there.
"Well, I guess I'd better get in there so I can get back…-" Dubravko said, nodding towards the house.
"Right," Abby said turned around to go to the nearby car. "See you."
"Sure."
Dubravko was just about to open the door to the house when he heard Carter's voice.
"Watch out for Luka's real neighbour, will you? She's a serious mess."
Dubravko laughed.
"Sure."

Later the same day

Luka had almost dozed off when a knock on the door woke him up.
"What?" he asked impolitely. There was no need to be polite to whoever it was that had blown his chances of a few decent hours.
The door was opened, and if possible, he felt even more annoyed with the person behind it when he saw who it was.
Carter stepped inside.
"I hope I didn't wake you."
"Hmpf," Luka muttered and tried to make Carter understand that he was not wanted here. Not no, not ever.
As he thought that he started to think. Why did he dislike Carter so much? He didn't hate him, but sometimes it wasn't far away from that. What had the man ever done to him?
"Stole Abby," a voice inside him said, but he didn't listen to it because he, even in his current state, knew it wasn't true. Abby was not why even the sight of Carter sometimes made him mad. Maybe it was how he seemed to try to fill Mark's place, or maybe they just were too different. Or too similar. Most people that couldn't stand each other were as a matter of fact too similar.

Carter didn't answer – after all, what were you supposed to reply to "hmpf" – but sat down at the chair next to the bed. Luka was wearing his own clothes; he looked as if he was on his way home even though that wasn't the case. After hugging him as a thank you for going up here Susan had told him about Luka's condition, and it was certainly not very nice. He knew it far too well.
"Susan told you to come up?"
Luka's question didn't really sound like a question, more like a statement he wanted proved right or wrong. Carter nodded and Luka sighed.
"So she made you promise to talk me out of not wanting her help?" he asked, realizing there was no point still sounding this impolite since he was awake and would stay that way. But on the other hand – he felt like crap and what use was there keeping up this act any longer?
"No," Carter said and shook his head. "But I still think you should let her in. She only wants to help you." The only reply he got was a snort.
"It's hard to go through this without anyone's help," he continued, deciding to try not to care about that Luka's attitude could have been better. He knew why it was like that.
"And what the hell do you know?" Luka's question almost made Carter laugh considering where his thoughts had been.
"A lot, trust me."
"You do, do you? Well…-" Luka sat up a little bit more. It hurt, but it was possible.
"…-Tell me what it's like to loose your everything?"
Carter shook his head and looked down at his hands for a while. God, hadn't he rather been somewhere cosy with Abby right now, not here in a psych room, trying to talk Luka into admitting himself to a rehab. Why was he doing this? For Susan who had asked him to, or for Abby who couldn't do it herself? It wasn't for Luka, that was for sure. What were they anyway? Colleagues? Well, yeah. Friends? No, no. Rivals? More likely. First he had wanted Abby and Luka had had her, now he had Abby and Luka apparently wanted her. Enemies? Sometimes he thought that was the case, but mostly it felt like a too strong word. Mostly it was as if he could stand Luka as long as he wasn't around. Like this morning – talking about him was fine, talking to him now was worse.
"That's not what I meant," he said.
"Then what did you mean," Luka snapped.
"You know."
"Do I look like it?!"
Carter looked straight at the doctor in front of him before replying.
"I'm talking about the pills."
Luka groaned.
"What the…-"
"I know you're on them, I know you've been for a while and that's why you act like this."
"Still knowing everything, huh, Carter? Well, let me tell you something ...-"
"You know damn well that I know what I'm talking about! I know exactly what you're going through right now, whether you want me to or not!"
"And who gives a damn about what I do? If I want to die by a Valium overdose then bloody well let me do it!"
"Susan gives a damn. Abby, Deb, Weaver, Romano, Pratt, Gallant, I…- we all give a damn! Your family gives a damn!"
"Oh don't you too start with that guilt thing! I've been there done that - it doesn't work anymore. Let's just decide that every damn thing that goes wrong inside this hospital is my fault and let me die in peace!"
"I didn't say that."
"You meant it. And it's fine by me. I want to die, it's just you people who won't let me!"
"Are you listening to yourself Luka? You sound like someone in desperate need of a shrink and rehab!" He knew he was insensitive, but that was usually the only way.
"And if you're lucky you won't even need to be locked up," he said a bit calmer. "You can usually get rid of Valium by yourself."
"Lucky me," Luka snorted.
"It's not very fun to be locked up for 90 days."
"As I said – lucky me! Let's just get me to a freaking shrink and get me off the pills – then everything' ll be fine!"
"You said you were on them. That's the first step."
"I don't want any damn 12-step programme! There is no God willing to take my burden away and I will most certainly not sit in a room with a bunch of addicts…-"
"And you might not have to either! If you just let Susan and me help…-" Carter tried not to loose his temper, but it was hard.
"Saint Carter," Luka muttered, followed by something in Croatian.
"What was that?"
"You don't wanna know"
"You can call me exactly what you like – I'm not going anywhere before you promise me to…-"
"For God's sake Carter! Don't you get it?! I…-"
"I know exactly how you feel, I was the same with Mark and Dr. Benton. But when I let them help me…-"
"Go to hell. Take your damn psychoanalysis and go to hell! "
"Maybe later, not right now. I know you don't want to be like this – why can't you let someone help you? Do it for yourself! Or for Abby, for the patients…-"
Carter tried to come up with a really heavy name. Someone that could make Luka change his mind. Then he got it.
"Or do it for Danijela. If you care." He added the last in an icy voice, not knowing why he did it. It was clearly a very unnecessary comment.
Luka's eyes turned darker.
"You don't know my wife, you spoiled little brat!"
Carter took a deep breath to once again try and control his temper, but now it shone through and he couldn't stop more unnecessary things from leaving his mouth.
"Do you think she likes the way you're now? Sleeping with every woman in sight, drinking every night 'til you pass out?"
"Get out!" Luka yelled and pointed at the door, but Carter ignored him.
"So you don't care then? Or can you just not stand to hear the truth?"
"That's not the truth!"
"Oh no? Then what is?"
Luka couldn't answer, he just looked down at his hands.
"Can't tell, huh? Or don't you just find a good way to convince me that you're still, underneath it all, a decent man?"
Luka recognized the tone in Carter's voice and it drove him even more furious. It was a tone they all used to patients who were so annoying that you got sick of pretending you cared. Despite that he was starting to feel powerless to the accusations thrown against him – he had told himself the exact same things, but couldn't stand hearing Carter saying them.
It was long ago he had been this furious with someone, long ago he was going to have to use dirty tricks to save his own skin. But it was coming back to him. After all, he had been pretty good at it once – he had always been better at verbal warfare than at handling guns. Growing up with Dubravko had made it come naturally.

"As if you were so much better!" He said it half-heartedly; not expecting it to cause the reaction it did, just to win more time, maybe even make Carter angry enough to leave.
"What?!"
Luka smiled a smile very unlike him, but it made him feel stronger. He suddenly remembered what it probably was that caused this reaction – why Carter seemed to be unpleasantly reminded of something. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Saint Carter, bah…
"Well – how old was that child-life specialist of yours? 19?"
He could see that his words went under Carter's skin just as they were supposed to.

Carter gasped. How dared Luka drag Rena into this? He remembered the days he had had with her with embarrassment – he had never been proud over his inability to tell her age.
Trying to come up with a fair reply he looked at Luka who glared back. As they stared at each other the fury and disgust he felt over the man in front of him grew more and more. Every single detail he had ever been annoyed with, every single thing he had ever heard or knew about Luka came back to him as flashbacks. The feeling that they might have something, if not a lot, in common, that he had had earlier that day while looking at the picture of Danijela was disappearing as fast as the snow was covering the ground outside.
This was getting very low, but he couldn't help it. This was about his own honour, Abby's honour…
Everything is fair in love and war. This was more war than the Middle East ever could be.

Luka smiled to himself when he saw how trapped Carter was. Trying not to loose his temper and the very last of his self-control he was standing there, desperately searching for something to say.
"At lest I'm not sleeping around with nurses," he suddenly said.
Carter crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for a reaction. That hadn't been a good one, but he had been desperate.
Just as he tried to turn his brain inside out to come up with something he saw the look on Luka's face. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad one after all…
Suddenly the triumphant reply came.
"So Abby doesn't count anymore?"
Damn. He hadn't thought of that.
"I don't see a very big difference between Abby and the other nurses?" Luka smiled evilly again. One could have a lot to say about the surroundings he had grown up in, but they certainly taught you more fighting spirit than the Carter Mansion did.
"Oh yes there is! I love Abby – you just used her! Not to talk about Chuny…"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Need to refresh your memory? What was it you called Abby again…- not that pretty, not that special, wasn't it? You know what – even if I didn't love her, as I do, I'd still be so happy to have her away from you!"
"As if you knew what she needs!"
"Yes I do."
"No you don't! You're just trying to make her into something she isn't!"
"Well, at least that's better than letting her drink!"
"I didn't know she was an alcoholic! She never told me!"
"No, and why the hell not? She knew you wouldn't care!"
"I never got the chance, you were always everywhere!" Luka's heart started to beat harder as he raised his voice to feel that he still somewhat was on track. Either his knowledge of the upper class was poor, or then Carter had more fighting experience than he seemed to. He could feel his body protesting but pushed it away. The last thing he wanted Carter to see was him collapsing right now.
"And where would she be now if I hadn't been there? Huh?" Carter's voice was demanding, cold – he sounded as if he had thrown away the very last of his principles and attempts to help and now only wanted one thing – victory.
"With me. She would be with me." He wished he didn't sound so tired and beaten. Where was Dubravko and his temper when you needed them?
"Yeah. In hell," Carter snorted.
"I could have taken care of her but I never got the chance! You were always in the way, always intruding…- don't think I have forgotten! I will never forget!" He heard how much heavier his accent had gotten the past minutes. It always was like that when he was yelling, and he couldn't stand it. In situations when you had to sound convincing it wasn't very fitting for 'y' to sound like 'j', to take an example.
"Well you'd better forget! You'd better forget all about Abby right this instant! You're not going to hurt her once more, not…-"
"I never meant to hurt her…!"
"No?! So why did you write that God damn letter then?! Telling her that she's so important to you, that she means so much… that you love her, for God's sake!"
Luka had, as he had done all along, started to think about a killer reply when he heard exactly what Carter said. What letter…?
"What…?" he asked, feeling totally at sea. He had a uncomfortable feeling of having forgotten something important, but the more he tried to scan through his mind, the less he was able to remember.
"What are you talking about…?" he added, not even sounding angry anymore. But Carter didn't notice. He had suddenly, as if out of nowhere, remembered that bloody suicide letter he had had to read to Abby. He remembered how his throat had thickened while reading – when he understood what it said.
"Volem te, Abby. You know what it means."
He had been able to hear Luka saying those words, and as he did he got angrier and angrier. When Abby wouldn't say what the line meant he had felt almost like screaming out loud – the blood had been boiling in his veins and everything had felt unreal. When he then heard Gallant's "it means 'I love you', doesn't it" it was as if someone, supposedly Luka, had hit him hard. He hadn't been able to listen to Abby's pleading words for hours, he had been so furious. Furious and scared, scared like hell. He was just as scared now. He didn't think Abby was buying it, but still… only the thought… He was not going to loose her! Not now, not ever. Especially not because of a line said a year too late by a suicidal freak he hated.
"You know what I'm talking about."
"No, I don't...!"
"Yes you do!"
"Would you tell me what you're accusing me of?!"
"Oh come on Kovac! It was pathetic to write it, but to deny that you did it…"
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
"You know what the hell I'm talking about, and I want you to know that you're never getting close to Abby again! You're never…-"'
"Shut up!"
"No you do that! You're never getting close to Abby again, I'll make sure you don't!"
"Is that a threat?"
"You…-"
Suddenly a woman's voice interrupted them.
"Doctor Carter, what in Jesus' name are you doing?!"
Both Luka and Carter immediately turned their attention to the door in which Leyla Anderson, head of the psych ward, was standing. She let go of the door handle and walked up to the bed.
"One can hear you all the way to…-"
"I'm sorry, Dr. Anderson," Carter said, feeling short of breath.
"Well, you should be," she said, putting weight on every word. "Both of you!" she added, turned to Luka. "I don't understand you two – doctors both of you, fighting like five-year-olds…"
"Well, if you didn't let maniacs like him in here, then maybe…-" Luka ranted.
"If anyone is a maniac here, then it's you!" Carter replied angrily, both he and Luka forgetting all about Leyla.
"Get the hell out of here!" Luka yelled, pointing at the door. "Get out!!"
"He's on his way," Leyla said and pushed Carter towards the door. "But Dr. Kovac, you have to calm down…-" she tried to reach out for his hand and got it for a second before he pulled out of her grip.
"Get off of me!"
"Dr. Kovac, you…-"
"Get out! Get the hell out of here the both of you before I strangle you!"
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking strictly at him before leaving the room with Carter behind her.
"Doctors are the worst patients, mark my words."

The rage was still pounding inside of him when the door slammed closed. He tried to lean back and close his eyes, but he was too mad. The anger made the headache come back and he had to start counting his breaths again so he would be able to lie still.
How dared that man talk about Danijela like that? How dared he?! As if he had known her, as if he knew anything at all about her! And then accuse him of writing some damn letter. What was that all about? He never wrote letters, people who got them had always complained about not being able to read his handwriting, so why would he bother wasting trees?

At least now he knew how he felt about Carter, he thought between the deep breaths.
He hated him. He hated him - pure and simple.

Carter slammed the door behind him. In order to keep his temper down and not to throw the first thing he saw straight across the room he had to use all the strength he possibly possessed. He pressed the elevator buttons hard, and swore out aloud when nothing happened. He was certainly not staying at this place one more minute. As the elevator finally arrived he stepped inside he felt his hands shake as they always did when he was angry.

***

Susan stood at the admit desk, impatiently waiting for Carter to come back from the psych. She was very happy that he finally had agreed to talk to Luka as she wanted, but she still was worried. It was not a secret that Carter and Luka didn't always get along, and Luka's stubbornness together with his abstinence and pride would probably not help.
"Susan! Would you stop that!"
Kerry's annoyed voice almost made Susan jump out of her skin.
"What…?" She asked, caught totally off guard.
"Would you please stop playing with that pen! It is very annoying."
"Sorry," Susan said with an embarrassed smile, putting away her favourite pen that she had been tapping against the desk the past minutes.
"What are you so nervy about anyway?"
"I'm not"
"You have been walking around like a zombie the past twenty minutes, driving both me and Frank crazy! Go and have a cup of coffee, take a walk or whatever but please stop acting like if you were taking your SAT's any minute."
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"I'm waiting for Carter to come back, he's up at the psych trying to talk Luka into letting us help him."
"Help him? What do you mean?"
"I mean …" Susan began, almost telling Kerry about the Valium problem when she realized to whom she was speaking.
"What?" Kerry asked in a voice that didn't tolerate any 'no's' or 'buts'.
Susan felt trapped – she was trapped. If she told Kerry she might tell Romano who might do what he probably should have months ago. But there was no way she was going to get out of this now either. Where was a bad MVA when you needed one, she thought desperately, staring at the doors as if the paramedics were standing outside with a gurney and the doors were controlled by her eyes.
"Well?" Kerry's eyes, looking at her over the glasses, were demanding for an answer. Susan made a pained sound.
"If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Romano."
If possible Kerry's voice got even more demanding.
"Susan! What is going on?!"
"Promise!"
"You know I can't."
"You have to! Otherwise I won't tell you!" She knew she used a three-year-old's logic, but she couldn't help it. If Kerry told Romano he would fire Luka and make him loose the last thing he had that kept – if not the patients, so at least him - alive.
"You tell me now, and then I decide whether I tell Robert or not. Now!"
Susan was almost jumping up and down, she felt so uncomfortable. It was as if she betrayed Luka, even though he hadn't even said straight out that he was addicted. He didn't need to. No one who hadn't been using Valium for a while could have survived such a dose, and he had the clearest abstinence.
"Err…" she groaned, looked away for a second and then back at Kerry.
"Luka has been on Valium all autumn. He's totally addicted and…-"
"Has he been on Valium here too?" Kerry asked sharply.
"I don't know! No, yes, PROBABLY!"
Susan gave up. She was not going to win this battle. She looked down at her shoes.
"Kerry, please…"
"I have to tell Robert."
"No… you don't understand! If you do it will be the last nail in Luka's coffin!"
"You know the rules, Susan"
"But then you'll be responsible for his death! Do you want that on your conscience? Look…-" She took a deep breath, talking fast so Kerry wouldn't interrupt.
"…- Carter is up there now, trying to make Luka agree to admit himself."
"To a rehab?"
Susan nodded.
"Well, if he does, he won't be fired…-"
"Thank you!"
"…- unless he hasn't killed anyone or…-"
"Please, Kerry! He is depressed, addicted, totally broken down on every level! You can't turn him in now, it'll kill him!"
"I…-"
Kerry was interrupted by Carter coming out of the elevator and walking up to them at the desk. She tried to read the look on his face – something that for once was impossible.
"Well…?" She asked as he reached them.
"Well what?" he asked and reached for a chart. She stopped him and looked right at him.
"How did it go?" she asked, annoyed with him not answering straight away. He sighed, put down the chart and turned back to her.
"It didn't. Just as I told you it wouldn't."
"Did you even try?" she asked, suddenly almost angry.
"What do you think?!"
"I think that you didn't even want to try," she said icily.
"What happened?" Kerry interrupted. "Did he tell you for how long he's been on the pills?"
Carter gave Susan a confused look.
"I had to tell her," Susan said anxiously and Carter nodded.
"Good. Then maybe you could make sure he's out of here for good then," he said to Kerry.
Susan didn't believe her ears.
"What?! I thought you wanted to help him, not kill him!"
"That man…-" Carter said coldly, slightly nodding towards the ceiling and the psych ward "- is a mess. A serious mess."
"I know that, that's why we have to help him," she snapped, but Carter shook his head.
"Count me out," Carter replied, still in that cold voice she didn't like one bit.
"That man…-"
"He's got a name!"
"…- is a freak and he's right where he belongs!" Carter continued angrily, ignoring her input. "He's a dangerous maniac who kills patients and who ever else that gets in his way!"'
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
"He threatened to strangle me!"
"What the hell did you say to him?" she asked furiously, almost surprised over her own reaction. Carter stared at her.
"What I said? For Christ's sake Susan, don't you see that he's totally out of control?"
"He is not out of control, he has Valium abstinence," she said as if it was the first time she told Carter this.
"You don't throw death threats around you when you have abstinence! You throw up, your hands shake and a bunch other nasty things happen, but you don't threaten to strangle the ones who are trying to help you"
Susan snorted.
"I'm going up," she said and turned around, still able to hear Carter behind her.
"What good would that do?"
"Apparently I'm the only one who cares!" she almost yelled, still totally shocked with herself.
"Well, the rest of us have limits," he said coldly. She stopped halfway to the elevators.
"Why are all of you like that?" she asked turned to both Kerry and Carter. "Why don't you care?"
"Susan, we do care," Kerry said in her nice voice. "We're just a bit…- I don't know – surprised is probably not the word, but…"
"A more proper question would probably be why are YOU like that?" Carter said and looked straight at Susan.
"Why am I like what?"
"Totally devoted to this, as if it was your lifetime mission or something! You've been at his bedside 24/7 ever since he came in, even more than his brother has been! What are you – in love with him, or something?"

Susan felt as if Carter had thrown a glass of ice-cold water on her. She just stared at him, not saying a word.
"Susan…!"
She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her lips together before replying.
"I'm not answering that!"
"Don't be childish! It's a simple question."
"No, it's a stupid question and I don't answer stupid questions! Just because I care I don't have to…-" She interrupted herself and started walking towards the elevator again, hitting the button hard when she reached it.
"I don't have to explain myself to you!"
She heard Kerry call her name when the doors close behind her, but she ignored it and leaned against the wall. What was going on? Apparently something had gone down between Luka and Carter – what it was she didn't know, but probably not something pretty. The elevator stopped and she stepped out, surprised that she still heard Kerry yell for her.
"Dr Lewis! Dr Lewis!!"
She turned around, just to see that it wasn't Kerry but Leyla Anderson coming running towards her.
"What now," she thought impatiently to herself. She wanted to go to Luka and ask him what the hell was going on – not talk to that shrink. Dr Anderson was infamous at the whole hospital for her besserwisser attitude and talkative personality, maybe she was good with manic patients but most other people simply couldn't stand her. But that was not something you could let show. So she put on her best smile.
"Yes?"
"Are you on your way to Dr. Kovac?"
Susan nodded.
"Well, maybe you can make him calm down a bit," Leyla said, sounding pretty worn out.
"What do you mean…?"
"I mean that he is giving me more headache than the rest of the patients all together! He is fighting my every decision and after that fight with Dr Carter…-"
Susan frowned.
"What fight…?"
"One could hear them to the other side of the ward! I don't know what happened, just that one minute Dr Carter comes up here and the next…-"
"Oh Jesus," Susan groaned and rolled her eyes. "I'd better…-" she nodded towards Luka's room in the middle of the corridor and set off in that direction before Leyla had the time to say anything else in her hoarse voice.

Luka was lying on the bed when she carefully opened the door. She went up to the foot of the bed where she stopped and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I hear you had a falling out with Carter earlier?"
He had been lying there with closed eyes, and she realized that she hadn't even checked if he was awake or not. Just as she was about to repeat her sort-of-question he opened his eyes and gave her a confused look.
"Falling out…?"
"A fight," she explained and went closer to him.
"Wanna tell me what it was about…?" she asked softly and sat down at his bedside. He muttered something she couldn't hear.
"What?"
"Nothing," he muttered and she rolled her eyes.
"Oh come on, Luka!" She took his hand and tried to force him into looking at her, but he turned his head against the wall.
"Luka!" she said again in the same demanding voice. "Tell me what it was all about, and don't tell me 'nothing' because Carter had a face like thunder when he came down from here earlier."
Still nothing, and she sighed.
"What was it about? You? Him? Valium? Rehab? Abby?" She tried every option she could come up with, but Luka still refused to answer. She sighed again and let go of his hand.
"Well – I'll go then…-" she said and rose up "…- since you're obviously not going to tell me anything I'll just have to ask Carter."
Hearing her say that, understanding that he must have made her too hate him gave him the strength to sit up and grab her hand.
"No… Don't…please, don't…"
She let him take her hand and moved closer to him to take a through look at him. It surprised her that he had been able to sit up that fast or at all for that matter, but he still seemed pretty lost. The scared look in his eyes almost scared her.
"Please don't hate me…." He begged, looking her straight in the eye. "Please don't… not you too…"
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand.
"I don't hate you …-" she said, "…-nobody does."
"Carter does… and Abby… when she hears what I said to him she will hate me, among with everybody else…"
"They understand that you were upset," Susan said gently. "Everybody says freaky things when they're mad."
He was apparently not listening.
"I didn't mean to…" he began, his voice and hands trembling. "But he talked about her as if he knew her… I couldn't help it…"
Susan frowned and tried to make him look at her where she stood just a few inches from him.
"The way he talked about who…? Luka, I'm not sure I'm really with you now. Would you please explain what you…-"
"He talked about her as if he knew her, as if he knew what she was like…"
She realized he kept saying "was", not "is". She had been sure he was talking about Abby, but apparently not.
"Did Carter say something about Danijela…?" she tried, pulling a wild guess. Finally, Luka nodded, his hands and voice shaking even worse.
"I knew he was right but I couldn't stand listening to it… I knew he was right but I couldn't…" He was breathing heavily, as if he tried not to cry, and when the breathing didn't help he tried to get up from the bed to get away.
"No, no… Luka, you have to stay there…" she said, putting her hands on his shoulders to try and stop him from moving. She was a bit scared - he was so much bigger than she, she wouldn't be able to keep him down if he didn't stop fighting against her, and if he got up he would probably fall since he still was so weak.
"Luka, please, you have to sit down, you'll only hurt yourself if you get up…" She didn't know if it was her words or not that stopped him, she doubted it since he seemed very confused right now, but at least he was still.
"If you want to get up and out of this room for a while I could go and get you a wheel chair…-" she began but he shook his head heavily.
"Are you sure? This room can make anyone a bit crazy," she smiled, trying to calm him down.
"No!"
"OK, then," she said, deciding this was not a good time to argue with him "…- then maybe you should try to get some sleep. You need your rest"
"I can't," he said in a thick voice.
"I could get you something," she said, still trying to get his full attention, but he just stared at the floor.
"No!"
"But if I got you something that helped you to sleep you would feel much better," she said, feeling pretty helpless since she suspected that he wasn't really aware of what was going on – he hadn't called her Danijela yet, but she feared that he once again didn't see her but his dead wife in front of him.
"No," he said again, his voice still trembling.
"Why won't you let me help you," she asked and gently touched his cheek. "I want to help, just let me."
"You can't"
"But I…-"
"No one can," he sobbed tiredly, sounding as if he had given up for real this time.
Once again he made a sudden move and in order to stop him she put her hands on his shoulders again. He tried to rise up again but she held him down, moving closer to get a better grip. She wasn't sure if her being so close to him made him uncomfortable so when he calmed down a little she tried to take a few steps backwards, but suddenly he squeezed her hand hard and looked straight up at her. He wasn't crying much, but his voice was shaky and his eyes seemed wet.
"Please don't go," he pleaded. "Please…!"
She didn't have any time to assure him she wasn't going anywhere before he made a sudden move, but this time it wasn't to get up.
"Please don't…" he pleaded again and leaned his head against her chest. "Susan… Please don't leave…"
Surprised over this sudden storm of emotions and him apparently being fully aware of that she wasn't Danijela she became speechless for a while, but then she wrapped one of her arms around him and started to stroke his hair with her free hand.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise me, Susan…" he whispered, still leaning his head against her chest.
"I promise you," she said softly, leaning her chin on the top of his head and closing her eyes.
"I'm not leaving you, Luka. I'm not going anywhere."