Author's comments: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm… - Well, I'm sorry this took so long. That is nothing new, is it? But I have a bunch of good excuses like exams, a 20-pages paper on Chile and birthday parties.
This chapter is even longer than the previous one; I don't know why they keep getting this long! But I like this one - the fifth although ff.net will add it as sixth - myself, and I'm so glad about the reviews on the last one!!! I was a bit worried about it, I have to say. Fights have never been my thing to write (or practise, for that matter).
Something I suddenly remembered that I haven't mentioned is after which episode this story takes place. That is because I don't really know myself, but I would say "Tell me where it huts" or something. Before "Hindsight". Well that doesn't really matter, maybe, but….
Anyway, hope you enjoy this (if anyone still is reading this…) and please keep reviewing and I promise to write faster in the summer!!

CHAPTER FIVE : THE SECOND CROSSING

"I thought I'd come and wish you a bon voyage."
Luka opened his tired eyes and looked straight at Susan's smiling face as she came closer to the bed. He blinked, sat up a little and gave her a weak smile in return.
"So I'm going then?"
"Sure looks that way," she nodded. "I think that even Romano has run out of words down there…-" she said, nodding at the floor, symbolizing the argument that currently took place in the ER.
"He must be horrified of having found someone that's even better at verbal warfare than he is. Can't be good for his ego."
She chuckled a little as she sat down on the chair next to the bed. It was starting to feel like she spent all her time in this room – she had stayed there with him almost all night and had just come back to the hospital after going home to change clothes.
Luka sighed when he heard Susan's short but colourful describtion of his brother's run-in with Romano over whether Luka was or wasn't in condition to take a trip over the Atlantic right now. He had been hoping that Dubravko would have met his verbal Waterloo with Romano, but apparently Dubravko, who always had been stubborn, now had gotten even better at arguing than he ever had been.
"What is it?"
He saw the concerned look on Susan's face. Part of him wanted to tell her how little he wanted to leave right now, how unpleasant the thought of spending time with his mother in this condition was, but another part of him felt that he had bothered her enough. So he smiled.
"So you're telling me that my brother is beating Romano?"
She smiled. "Looks that way. He has one hell of a temper, your brother"
He chuckled and looked down at his hands.
"Yeah…I always doubted she wasn't that good for him"
Susan frowned, still smiling, happy to see that he was in a better mood than yesterday. She had been a little worried that he'd still be on the warpath, but apparently strangling Carter wasn't on top of his agenda anymore.
"Who isn't good for whom?"
"Natalia," Luka said simply, forgetting that Susan wasn't aware of who this remarkable woman was. He saw her confusion and quickly added an explanation.
"My sister-in-law. She has one hell of a temper."
Susan laughed. "I see… Now when you're mentioning it, I think I heard him talk to someone named Natalia on the phone this morning. He didn't sound too happy."
"That was her, mark my words. They're nuts –been married for over ten years and have three kids and are still fight like cats and dogs every day. I don't understand how they put up with each other."
"Well," she smiled, "I guess that proves that the love-hate relationship works outside Hollywood."
"I suppose," he said. "But still… I don't understand."
"You'll be able to take a thorough look at how it works over Christmas"
"I guess…" he said, sounding tired again.

She took a thorough look at him. She had a growing feeling that he wasn't that happy with this journey back home. And she had an even stronger feeling that he was in no condition to travel – with this depression and abstinence he required medical attention. But Dubravko wouldn't listen to that, no matter how many doctors told him so.
He was determinded to get Luka away from Chicago as soon as possible, no matter what anyone said. Maybe he on some level blamed all of them for what had happened; maybe he thought that everything would be good as soon as Luka got home. But it wasn't that easy, she had told him that earlier. Not only did the Valium abstinence make Luka's mood jump up and down, totally regardless of who was around him – they had seen that yesterday, hadn't they - apart from that he still was unable to eat more than an absolute minimum amount of food without being sick, he was tired, still depressed and suicidal and had an old injury in his leg that kept him from moving normally. The pain in his left leg had rose to new heights last night, forcing them to put him back on Valium – something that probably was the reason for his more talkative mood right now. In a way it actually scared her, how dependent on the pills he was and for how long he had been.

He leaned back against the pillows behind his back and looked at her. What was she thinking? She looked so concerned when she looked at him, her beautiful face holding so many emotions – empathy, an eager to help and make things better – and then there was the third one. The one he couldn't stand.
Pity. She pitied him, just as everybody else who knew did. He let out a deep sigh. Why did it always come to this?

Him sighing threw her back to reality. She had been so caught up in her thoughts about whether he should travel to Croatia now or not that she hadn't even noticed how his expression had changed from pretty normal to the same tired and beaten expression he had had for days, no, weeks – maybe even months, years. A decade? A lifetime? No, he had been happy once, she knew that. She just wished she had known him then.
She moved closer to him.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly, but he turned away and looked at the wall. He just couldn't face her.
"Luka…?"
Still nothing. She reached for his hand.
"Luka, look at me," she said gently.

He kept staring at the wall, feeling worse than ever. He didn't want to hurt her, never and in no way, but he couldn't look at her, not now when he knew what she thought, what she thought of him. It was so ironic. The softness in her voice that he had clung to when things had been at its worst last night – it was there because she pitied him. He had wished it would be because of something else, that this time would be different. He didn't know exactly what he had hoped for; he had never dared to think that far. But certainly there had been something deep inside of him that had hoped it wouldn't be because of pity that she had stayed with him when everybody else had given up.
Her voice was so soft, so gentle. He wanted her to keep talking to him, wanted her words to comfort him and let him inside the warm and cosy world he had felt locked out of for years. But he couldn't let her, because she pitied him.
What else was new?
He felt her hand on his forehead once again, making him shiver. Why was she making it so hard for him to ask her to stop?
"Why aren't you talking to me?" she asked, still caressing his forehead gently with that light and fresh touch that had brought him back from the unconsciousness only days earlier. He only sighed as an answer and closed his eyes. He couldn't fight back – didn't want to fight back.
"Is this about what happened last night?" she suddenly asked as if it was the most normal thing in this world.

She looked closely at him, waiting for his answer even though she believed she already knew it. He was so proud, the walls inside of him so high and thick. She wanted to get through to him, wanted to comfort him and desperately wanted to help him. If he would just let her in, let down his walls and talk to her as he had last night when he had told her so much.
He had told her what it felt like to take the pills in the morning, driving to County, seeing a few patients before going up to the roof for a break – the only place he could drink without being seen. How he'd then go down, hoping it didn't show that he was drunk. How he got through the days on routines he had learned years ago but how he still always screwed up somehow in the middle of his shift, and how he would go and take another dose because his leg would be hurting like hell by then.
He had told her everything, and she had listened. Sometimes she had asked something, sometimes she had helped him to drink when he was too tired to do it himself, but mostly she had been listening. Only been there, listened to him, comforted him.

Last night she had thought she had gotten through to him, that she finally had gotten through his walls. When she had left the room in the early morning hours she had been happy to hear from Dubravko that they apparently were going home for Christmas. But now he was closed up again, and she was pretty sure that he didn't want to go.
He sighed again and slowly opened his eyes, turning back to her. Her heart ached for him when she looked into those deep, sad eyes.
"I don't want your pity, Susan," he said slowly but clearly, his words leaving her surprised.

"I don't pity you," she then said and squeezed his hand. "I want to help you to get out of this mess, I don't look down on you or pity you."
"You don't?" he asked, not really knowing what to think. She sounded true. Was she? Was the soft voice and the gentle hands not something that had come out of pity, but of something else? Could it be?
"I promise," she said.
"I think you should talk to me," she added, still caressing his forehead, now reaching better when he wasn't turned away from her. "You have been alone with this for so long, I want to help you to get away from it. To get on with your life."

To get on with his life… He tasted the words. What did they mean?
"What life?" he asked ironically.
"Your life," she simply answered. "The life you deserve."
"I don't have a life anymore," he said, not as ironically.
"Don't say that."
"It's true," he said, making a pause before continuing. "I'm not asking you to understand," he then said,
"…-because I know you can't, but…-"
"But I do understand, Luka," she said quietly. "I have skeletons in my closet too."
Now it was his turn to take a thorough look at her. She…?
"You probably don't know my sister…-" she began, looking down at the floor.

She told him everything about Chloe, how she was an on/off addict, how she abandoned little Susie who wasn't that little anymore and had began to understand that her mom wasn't like everybody else's, how Chloe would show up whenever, wherever and how she would screw up everything in her way. How their parents didn't care and how helpless she had felt all those months, years in Arizona, trying to turn Chloe's life back on track. How she realized she couldn't do it all by herself even though she always had tried to manage on her own, and how she finally let people help her.
He listened closely to every word she said, sometimes appalled by her sister's doings, sometimes just sad over what she had had to go through by herself before getting help. But mostly he was amazed by what she had been through, and how strong she was. She was definitely tougher than she looked.

"I know that it isn't easy to ask for help, Luka. Trust me, I know. Back then, a few years ago, I would rather have died than to let people know what my sister was like. But I stopped blaming myself. I'm not saying that it's easy, because it's not, but if you get help, then it will be a thousand times easier."
"You did that?"
"Yes. I had to let down my walls, had to let people help me."
"And they did…?"
"Yes. Both before I left Chicago, and when I came back. Carter, social services, a shrink…-" she made a pause and sighed "… and Mark. Maybe most of all…"
She looked down at the floor, blinking away the tears burning behind her eyes. He watched her helplessly for a few seconds before turning on to his side and leaning on his elbow. It hurt when he moved, but he did it slowly, reaching out with his hand, gently touching her cheek.
"You were brave," he said softly, caressing her cheek. He felt her shivering under his fingers.
"You are braver than me," he added, feeling a desperate need for her to smile again. It was unfair that she had had to take care of a grown sister all her life, a sister who had screwed up her life by doing drugs. He felt as if someone had punched him when he realized that he was an addict himself. Why didn't she hate him? She if anyone had the right to – but she didn't. Why did she put up with him?
She looked up at him, smiling although her eyes were wet. She tried to hide it, but he saw.
"You're crying," he said gently.
"No… I'm not," she said, shaking her head, trying to stop the tears from coming. She didn't want to cry in front of him, didn't want to give him even more grief than he already had.
"Yes you are…" he said, his thumb still caressing her cheek. She looked straight at him, about to repeat that she wasn't crying, but as soon as she saw how worried about her he was the tears filled her eyes, her not being able to stop them. Good grief, did she have to break down now?
"Come here," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't protest, just leaned against his shoulder, crying. He turned to lie on his back again and leaned back against the pillows, everything hurting by the slightest move, but slowly but surely he managed to lie down with her arms wrapped around him.
Moving around had made him exhausted, but still he slowly raised his hands and began to gently stroke her hair with the right one, wrapping the left arm around her shoulders.

She closed her eyes in a failing attempt to stop the tears from falling and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She felt him slowly stroking her hair; something that made her cry even more and she buried her face in his dark blue sweater, hoping her make-up wouldn't leave stains.
She cried over everything that could have been, should have been and would have been if things hadn't gone as they had. If she hadn't left, if they hadn't lost touch, if Mark hadn't met Elizabeth… If, when and why, three questions that had been haunting her. If things had turned out differently, when had they taken their turn towards what they had turned out to be, and why had they?

He gazed down at her as he stroke her hair. He knew why she was crying, and he wished he could help her, make her tears go away. But he was too tired; he was too tired even to say something right now. When he finally got the strength to say something he couldn't come up with what to say. What could he possibly say to make her feel better? He knew exactly how she felt, but he knew no way out of it.

The wall clock ticking was the only sound filling the room when her tears started to dry. She was still sobbing, but more quietly now, tiredly. She didn't remember when she had cried last, even less when someone last had comforted her.
Suddenly he broke the silence.
"You were very close, weren't you?" he asked.
She sat up, hoping her mascara hadn't run all over her face. She touched the skin under her eyes in order to wipe away any color traces, but he shook his head as to say that there was nothing to wipe away. He looked at her and waited patiently as she ran her hand through her hair before answering.
"Yes, we were… best friends. Once we even though that maybe it should be the two of us, like, … - or, well you know…"
"I know," he assured her.
"But we realized later that he was better off with Elizabeth and I…- well, haven't met Him yet, but…-"
She bit her lip.
"It was hard in the beginning; when I came back and realized that they were married. I didn't want to realize that it wasn't supposed to be us after all. Then I got used to it and he became like a brother to me, but it was painful at first."
"Yes, that's not the most pleasant thing to realize," Luka sighed, looking down at his hands once again. Susan who was starting to get pretty good at reading his thoughts, understood what he meant.
"Abby, right?" she asked softly.
He nodded slowly, still looking down.
"Yeah…-"
"It has been pretty hard for you, her with Carter, right?"
"It doesn't really matter," he said, sighing. "I'm not really in any position to judge."
"Because of the break-up?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"So she told you," he sighed, even deeper this time.
"Yeah… we had this discussion once, about what's the most hurtful thing you've ever been told…-" she said before interrupting herself. Damn, damn, damn! She had been so caught up in her crying and him being the one comforting that she totally had forgotten why they were here.
"Look, I'm…-"
He didn't seem too moved though.
"Don't be," he said, knowing what she was going to say.
"I know what I said," he added. "Trust me, I know – it's been playing in my head over and over again ever since," he said a bit quieter.
"You still love her," she said, feeling a bit odd.
He frowned a little.
"You said so," she continued.
He frowned even more.
"When…? What…?"
"In the letter," she said, looking closely at him.
"You don't remember…?" she asked, seeing that he didn't.
"No…"
"You wrote a letter. Several actually. One to your family, one to the one who found you…- and one to Abby."
"I did…?" he sighed.
"Yes. And you wrote that you loved her."
"She told you that too?" he asked, a bit surprised. He hadn't known that Susan and Abby were so good friends.
"No, she didn't have to. I heard it."
"Heard it?"
"She made Carter read it to her. He didn't want to…-" she added when she remembered the fight yesterday,
"…- but she made him. And she made me listen."

He closed his eyes. God, Carter had been right… He had been right all along. No wonder he had been furious.
"So he was right then," he said tiredly, opening his eyes.
"Who was right?"
"Carter. He was furious about that letter, and wanted me to tell him why the hell I had written it… but I didn't remember it then either, so I thought he was making it up."
She couldn't help but to smile.
"So that was when you threatened to strangle him," she said, still smiling. Of course this was not funny, but regardless there still was something tragicomic in this whole mess.
"You seem to be keeping pretty good track of what I say," he said dryly.
"It's a bit hard not to, as long as you keep making scenes like that," she smiled. He just sighed, making her unsure of what he felt. She had to know. She didn't know why she so badly wanted him to confirm this – it shouldn't be any of her busniess, after all.
"So, you do still love her."
He was quiet for a while, and then he replied. His reply surprised her.
"No," he said, "I don't."
"No?" she asked, feeling stupid.
"No, I don't," he repeated. "I thought I did, but I don't. I wanted to, but I didn't. Maybe I never did," he added in a voice that was trailing off.
"I'm sure you did," she said softly.
"No, I didn't," he said, his voice even shakier.
"I told her I did and made her believe it…-"
She shook her head and took his hand.
"Luka, don't do this…-" she began.
"But it's true! I couldn't love her and she knew it, so she went to Carter. I am not able to love anyone like they deserve, and therefore…-"
"Don't say that therefore you can't be loved," she interrupted him. "That is not true, Luka."
"It is."
"No, it's not! You know it's not…!"
He just looked down.
"Don't talk about yourself like that," she said a bit softer. Still no reply.
"Luka, look at me! I know you're tired and beaten and feel like everything is hopeless – but it's not. You'll see, it's not. Now when you'll get home to your family…-"
"Yeah, that'll be great, he said ironically. "My mother, the very person I need to listen to right now."

"She can't be worse than mine," Susan said, rolling her eyes at the thought of what her mother could be like. Luka smiled.
"Oh, I'm sure my mother is worse. There's another thing I don't understand how Dubravko and Natalia put up with."
"They all live under the same roof?" she asked, having gotten that impression when she called his house that night.
"Dubravko and his family still live with our parents. They are seven persons in a house that was too small to fit the five of us…"
"Sounds cosy," Susan smiled.
"Well, I wouldn't know what it's like now, but when I still lived there one didn't exactly have any room to breathe."
He saw her smile and began to smile himself.
"I wonder where he is planning to put me – the basement is probably the only place not occupied with anything else than my father's paintings."
"Well, there you'd be in peace and quiet, at least," Susan said, both of them laughing.
"You have a pretty big family, don't you?" she then asked.
"Well," he said. "I have two brothers and my mother and father, plus of course my sister in-laws and more nieces and nephews than I can count… well, maybe not, but I don't know them all that well – they were born after I had left for Rome…-"
"You lived in Rome?" she asked surprised.
He nodded.
"For three years. Sometimes I don't remember why I ever left."
"I guess the weather was a whole lot nicer," she said. "In Arizona it was wonderful, but it was still a bit too much…"
"Well, as I said, I hardly recall why I left. Italy is wonderful – everything, the climate, the people…"
"… And the food," she added smiling. "I can't imagine what my life would be like without ice-cream."
He chuckled.
"Or pizza."

They were quiet for a while, and she looked out of the window. It had stopped snowing and the sun was shining, making the snow on the ground look like diamonds. It was a perfect winter day and the Christmas carolers were already walking around town, trying to make all the busy Chicago people stop and think about the miracles preformed by God instead of rushing like maniacs. It never worked on her.
"What date is it?" he suddenly asked.
"December 5th" she answered, turning back to him.
"And I have been here since…?"
"Since December 1st. You were in the ICU the first three days."
He nodded.
"When did Dubravko get here?"
"He came here the same day that you woke up – two days ago."
"Right…" he said, trying to put all the dates and times at their right places.
"He came as soon as he could," she said.
"Was it you that called him?"
"Yes. Abby told me his name."
"I guess I must have told her about him then," he said, trying to scan through his mind.
"At least you told him about her. He told me that he actually thought I was Abby for a second…"
Luka chuckled.
"I hope he didn't give you too much grief for that."
"Why would he have?"
"Well… I don't know…" he began, not really wanting to admit why.
"Come on," she laughed, "what did you tell him?"
"Nothing…! Oh, well, maybe something not that nice right after the break-up… Nothing I meant, though! It just kind of slipped out, and I'm afraid Dubravko tends to get stuck on details…"
Susan laughed even more.
"So you were afraid that he might have said something… unfitting to me because he thought I was Abby? I would really want to know what it was that you let 'slip out'," she added, smiling widely.
"You needn't worry about that…"
"Hey – I almost got verbally attacked because of it!"
He laughed.
"Trust me, it was nothing. He's just a bit overprotective, that's all."
She decided to drop whatever Luka had let 'slip out' about Abby, he wouldn't tell her anyway.
"He's overprotective of you?"
"Oh yes. Have always been and will always be. This whole mess hasn't really helped, I'm afraid."
"You younger or older?" she asked curiously. From the few differences obvious on the outside she had managed to find between Dubravko and Luka, she had come to the conclusion of Luka being the older one. Maybe it was because he simply looked older or then maybe because Dubravko seemed to be younger. Therefore she was surprised by his answer.
"Younger," he said, smiling at her surprised look.
"Really?" she said "how much?"
"Just two years."
He saw the look on her face, or more likely – he saw how she tried to hide her surprise.
"And don't you dare to say that I look older, because I know I do," he joked.
"I wasn't going to say that," she said, feeling her cheeks burning a bit.
"Sure you did," he laughed.
"I did not"
"Yes you did."
"I did not," she laughed.

"Are you close, Dubravko and you?" she then asked, having calmed down a little. Of some reason it felt so easy to talk to him right now, even though it was the straight opposite of what it should have felt like – him lying there in the hospital bed at the psych ward at the hospital they both worked at, committed after a suicide attempt she had managed to stop. It should have felt weird. But it didn't. It felt good. They were talking and laughing as if they were old friends and he only was there at some anonymous hospital because of some car accident or something, with wounds no deeper than that talking could cure them. But deep inside she knew this was all a facade she was desperate to keep up.

He took a close look at her, realizing that he was gazing at her from under his hair that, as if cursed, always fell over his eyes. He had thought that he knew what she was thinking, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. Why did she put up with him? In a way he didn't even want to know. It just felt so good to be here, talking to her, laughing with her… He hadn't felt this good for a very long time – that permanent hang over had started to feel like his normal state. He desperately wanted to think, to believe, that it was all over now, that she had managed to cure it.
But everytime he raised his hands, to pick up the water glass, to drag a hand through his hair too keep it from falling in his eyes, when he had reached out to caress her cheek – his hands were shaking. Everytime he laughed, no matter how genuine it was, a headache stroke him and it felt as if the bells of the St Peter's Cathedral were ringing inside of his head. It wasn't gone - it might never leave.

Suddenly he remembered that she had asked him a question.
"I guess we are," he said. "Deep down. But mostly we like to disagree on most things."
"Yeah, that sounds familiar," she sighed.
"You and your sister like that?" he asked, a bit careful, not knowing whether she wanted to talk about Chloe or not.
"Yeah…" she said quietly, "… - sometimes I really, really love her, you know..."
"Of course you do," he said calmly, looking straight at her, gently taking her hands in his.
She met his eyes, squeezing his hand.
"You don't find it strange that I love an addict like that?"

He freed one of his hands and tried to get it to stop shaking. It didn't, and neither did the church bells stop ringing inside his head. But it didn't matter, and it was as if he didn't hear it. He leaned on his elbow again, raising the free hand to caress her cheek once again.
"No," he said simply after what felt like an eternal silence. "I don't find it weird at all."
She smiled at him and shivered a little. She could feel how he gently touched her chin and his thumb caressing her cheek, his hands so warm and tender.
He caressed her skin and she closed her eyes, not realizing she did it. They were only inches apart, as close as a man and a woman can be without kissing. She didn't know what this closeness meant. How come they always seemed to end up in positions like this?

He saw her closing her eyes and felt her squeezing his hand tightly. What did it mean? What did she want him to do? What did he want to do? He didn't know.

She damned herself for reacting like this. He was just a man, someone she had worked with for eighteen months, someone she had joked and laughed with, someone she had comforted and been comforted by. Why did she react like this to him touching her? She didn't know.

***

Dubravko stepped inside the room, loudly muttering something in Croatian. He took a few steps forward without even expecting Luka to answer him, but when a few seconds had passed and no reply came he repeated his words, now turning towards the bed.
He interrupted himself when he saw Luka caressing Susan's cheek and how she smiled at him when he did it. They hadn't even noticed that he was there.
"Oh," he said, now with a big grin on his face and in English, "…- am I interrupting something…?".

He could have paid a million dollars to get to see Luka's reaction to this line again. Susan's too, for that matter. She straightened her back where she was sitting at the chair next to the bed, he laid back against the pillows, both of them looking like if they had gotten caught red-handed.
"No, you're not," Luka then said, not sounding very convincing.
"I think I did," Dubravko replied teasingly in Croatian.
"Well, then you're wrong," Luka snapped, not wanting Susan to be uncomfortable. Not that she understood any of what they were saying, but Dubravko could be annoying no matter what language he spoke.
"How did it go with Romano?" Susan asked, trying to change the subject and desperately trying to get her face colour back to normal. She feared she was blushing pretty badly, her cheeks felt like they were burning up, as if Dubravko had caught them in a much more compromising position than he actually had. She understood very well that he and Luka were in the middle of a brotherly argument about this - she could hear that in Dubravko's teasing voice and in Luka's annoyed replies. Now when she knew the age difference between them it was perfectly obvious to her that Luka was the younger one. It was just something in the way they acted.
"I won," Dubravko answered her question with a triumphant look on his face that made Luka groan.
"I hope you didn't insult him too much"
"What do you mean?" Dubravko laughed. "I just gave him my opinion on a few things."
"Well, he's still my boss," Luka said. "You don't have to be so eager to get me fired, I'd probably be out of here anyway."
"Don't you worry, we came to an agreement – you and me, brother dear, are out of here," he added dramatically.
Luka snorted.
"Why am I not relieved?"
"When are you leaving?" Susan interrupted, once again feeling the need of verbally having to go between the brothers.
"Tonight," Dubravko answered in English. "I just have to get the tickets."
Luka almost screamed.
"You haven't got that yet?! Jesus, Dubravko, how come…-"
"Stop it Luka!" Susan said, then turning to Dubravko again. "Go and make a few phone calls, I'm sure you find something."

When he left Luka leaned back again.
"Was I too hard on him?"
"Well, he is your brother. And he is only trying to help."
"I know, I know," Luka sighed. "He just drives me crazy sometimes."
"Well, that's pretty obvious," Susan smiled.
"I know… we used to drive the whole village nuts when we were younger."
She frowned.
"I thought you were from Zagreb?"
"No, we're from a suburban village, but Dubravko usually say we're from Zagreb."
"Why would he do that?"
"It's easier. And sounds better, I guess…. It's not the best suburb, if I may say so."
"Oh…"

Susan was quiet for a while before she opened her mouth again.
"Do you want to go, Luka? Really?"
He sighed deeply.
"I don't know. I really don't know, Susan..." he said, his voice telling her 'no, I don't'.
"It would only be over Christmas, you'll be back here in a heart beat," she said in a more cheery voice than she had expected. Somehow she was relieved that he didn't want to go.

Luka sighed again, this time in another way. This was getting more difficult than he had thought.
At first he had fought the idea of going home, then he had thought it'd be for the best – he had nothing left here. When Dubravko began to fight Romano and Kerry's decisions he had been torn between wanting and not wanting to go. Dubravko hadn't listened, neither had Dr. Anderson who probably was more relieved than anything to get rid of him.
Maybe it was for the best. That was what he had thought, but now everything was different once again.
"We are not only talking about Christmas here, Susan," he finally said.
She was startled. What did he mean…?
"Pardon…?" she said, smiling to hide her shock.
"I'm going to leave for longer than just Christmas," he said.
She felt as if the rug had been pulled from under her feet. What in God's name was he saying?!
"But…- you will come back, won't you?"
He didn't answer, just looked down.
"Luka! You will come back won't you?!"
"I don't know, Susan," he said, once again sounding dreadfully tired.
"I might not…"
"But…-"
"He spoke to Kerry earlier this morning," Luka continued. "They are getting a replacement for me that will stay through this year…"
"But it's just a month left of this year," she interrupted.
"…- or permanently."
Susan shook her head heavily.
"No, no…- Luka, I don't understand. I thought you didn't want to go?!"
He sighed.
"I said I didn't know. And I don't. I'm still not sure this trip will be good for me and I'm not very fond of flying…"
"So don't go then!"
"But…"
"It's not that simple, Susan."
"Why not? Just stay here."
"I can't."
"Why not?!"
"I can't be here anymore, Susan. I can't work, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to again."
"Of course you will," she said, a bit softer.
"Why didn't you say something?" she asked.
"I… I don't know. Didn't want to, I guess."
"Because you don't want to leave," she concluded.
"Because it feels as if I'm giving up," he corrected calmly.
"You're not giving up. Far from it"
"It still feels like it," he sighed. "You see, Susan… I've always tried too hard. Always tried to be successful, to be something, to be someone worth something."
"But you are," she said softly. "You are."
He shook his head and sighed.
"I guess my father-in-law was right," he said, sounding just as sarcastic and ironic as he always did while talking about himself.
"About what?"
"About me. He used to say that I was just an actor…"
"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised.
"He never thought I was good enough"
"For Danijela…?"
He just nodded, looking down.
"Why would he think that?" Susan asked softly.
Luka sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, and then looked up.
"My family…- we're all what people like my father in-law likes to call 'irresponsible rabble'."
He added the last in a voice that told her that he indeed had been called 'irresponsible rabble' several times.
"All worthless actors…" he muttered and looked down again. She could see that he was angry, that thinking about this brought back both bad and painful memories.
"You know that my father is a painter, right?" he then asked, looking at her, not seeming as furious anymore. She nodded.
"My father-in-law was, and I suppose he still is, some kind of businessman. I don't think that I want to know exactly what that 'busniess' is all about, but he is well respected in Vukouvar… so is the whole family. Mine is not, so when I fell in love with his daughter…-"
"I see," Susan sighed.
"…- I was a poor 17-year-old from a Zagreb suburb with a train-conducting unknown painter as a father and with gipsy blood in my veins…. Not what you want for your only daughter."
"Gipsy blood, huh," she smiled and touched his raven-black hair. "Is that from where this comes from?"
"Nah…" he smiled and shook his head.
"My great, great grandfather, or something was gipsy, but we all look like this. I'm not even a tenth gipsy, but that can be enough for some people…-"
"So I've heard," she said, feeling sorry for him even though she knew she'd better not let him see that. But how the hell was she not supposed to pity him? The more he told her about himself, the more he revealed about his life, the more tragic it all seemed to her.
"I would never have sold my soul to him now as I did then," he suddenly sighed. "But I was so young then… and she was the only thing I could think of, the only thing I wanted… I felt like if I had to prove… improve, myself. I was never good enough."
He took a deep breath before continuing.
"My mother wanted us, me and my brothers, to take over the old family farm but neither Dubravko nor I wanted to. My oldest brother took the farm, Dubravko became a cab driver and I…- I went to med school."
"You became a doctor because your father-in-law wanted you to?" Susan asked in disbelief.
"No, no… don't get me wrong. I love my job, don't think otherwise. In a way I suppose I have to be thankful to him, if it weren't for him I would never have considered going to university, people in my neighbourhood don't usually do that. But I realized that I loved helping people, and that I was somewhat good at it."
"You're not 'somewhat good' at being a doctor, Luka," Susan said strictly "you're meant to be here, do you hear me?"
"I know…" he said with a sigh, "I know…"
"And I'm sure your father-in-law wouldn't say a word about you now," she added. He smiled.
"Well, frankly I couldn't care less what he thinks. I don' have to see him again, and neither does he have to see me. There is no reason anymore..." he said in a quieter voice.
"No reason at all…"
He looked down on his hands, once again painfully reliving the dreadful events that day so many years ago. The day he had lost everything.
He couldn't stop blaming his father-in-law for it. If he hadn't talked Danijela into living in Vukouvar, if he hadn't been who he was, if he hadn't…
But deep inside he knew Danijela's father wasn't to blame. It hadn't been him who had demanded the bombings of Vukouvar, neither had it been him who had left the apartment to get those damn supplies, it hadn't been him who had to finish his internship instead of moving his family to safety. It hadn't been his father-in-law who had done those things; it had been himself. It was he himself who was to blame - no one else. He might not have been responsible for the bombings themselves, but for what had come out of it for him, Danijela, Jasna and Marko.
He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to get as much rest as he could.

She sat there at the chair, looking closely at him as if she never wanted to forget what he looked like. What if she never saw him again? Just as she had gotten to know him, he'd be out of her life, maybe forever. Why? This wasn't fair.
She thought of how he, despite the pain she knew every move caused him, had comforted her, had let her cry on his shoulder. In a way she was embarrassed over having broken down like that, it was definitely not like her.
The past days she had learned to know more about him than the rest of the staff together knew about him. The more she learned about him the better she thought she knew him. But sometimes she wasn't that sure, and sometimes was now. She looked at him, lying there on the bed with closed eyes. He looked so tired, so much older – not at all the Luka she had known for the past hour. He was closing up again, she could see it.
She reached out with her hand and stroke it gently over his hair.
"You tired?" she asked softly.
"Mmm…" he murmured, sounding as if he was half asleep already.
"Want me to leave…?"
He shook his head where he laid on his side, his face turned to her.
"No… Stay, please…"
"I will," she said softly, still stroking his hair. She saw how he relaxed where he was lying and was glad to see it. Suddenly he blinked and opened his eyes, searching for her gaze.
"Is it cold in here…?" he asked.
"Maybe a little…" she said, looking around her for an extra blanket to wrap around him. She rose up and went to the cabinet by the wall. She opened it and pulled out a hospital blanket. With it pressed against her chest she went back to the bed and unfolded the blanket. She wrapped the yellow hospital-smelling blanket around him and he gave her a tired but grateful smile before he fell asleep.

***

The sun was starting to set outside and people passed by in the corridor. About half an hour after that Luka had fallen asleep Kerry came up to the ward. She knocked on the door and stepped inside the room before Susan even had the time to rise up from the chair.
"Hi…" she said in a low voice, careful not to wake Luka.
"Hi," Susan replied, trying to remember if she had missed a shift or something. But she was off today, wasn't she? But Kerry did have a bad habit of dragging people to work on their days off. Couldn't she see that she was busy right now?
"I spoke to Luka's brother," Kerry said, still standing right in front of the door.
"He managed to get the last seats on a plane to Sarajevo this evening"
"You mean Zagreb, Kerry. Sarajevo is in Bosnia."
"No," Kerry shook her head. "I know that much. The airline company doesn't fly to Zagreb tonight, so they'll have to take a connection flight from Sarajevo."
Susan sighed.
"Great… Kerry, how could you give Dubravko permission to do this? You know that it'll take a small miracle for Luka to get through this trip!"
"I didn't give him permission, Robert did."
"Well, how could he do it!?" Susan said angrily.
"Come outside, otherwise you'll wake Luka," Kerry said and opened the door. Susan got up from the chair and followed her out in the corridor.
"I don't know why Robert gave Dubravko permission to take Luka out of here," Kerry said quickly before Susan had the time to ask. "I don't like it either, but I do think that it might be healthy for him…"
"If he survives the trip," Susan snapped with her arms crossed over her chest.
Kerry took a thorough look at the woman in front of her.
"Susan…" she began, not really knowing how she was going to lay this out. Did she have to at all? After all, no one else seemed to have noticed anything for real. Sure here had been some gossiping but that hadn't been anything serious, it was just the classical "two-colleagues-spending-a-lot-of-time-together-I'm-sure-they-have-an-affair"-kind of talk. People had gotten tired of it - the talk was stopping for the five-hundred-twenty-seventh episode of the Carter/Abby soap opera or for how well Elizabeth seemed to feel now – but she knew something more or less weird was going on up here.
"What?" Susan said, eager to get back inside in case Luka woke up. Sure he wasn't going to die without her, but she felt bad about having promised to stay and then not being there when he woke up.
"Susan, people talk."
"Yeah, we tend to do that," she said in her annoyed voice. Why did Kerry have to come with this world changing news right now?
"… life would be pretty boring otherwise…" she added but Kerry interrupted her.
"About you…"
Susan frowned.
"Me?"
"About you and Dr. Kovac," Kerry sighed.

For the second time in two days Susan felt as if someone had poured a glass of cold water over her. First Carter, now Kerry and apparently the rest of the staff too. What the hell, was that the only thing they had on their minds?! And why did Kerry always start to 'Dr.' people when she wanted to say something important?
"What the hell are you saying?" she almost screamed.
"You know how they are… you spend a bit too much time with someone and, boom, you're engaged…" Kerry smiled, trying to ease up Susan's attitude.
"Are they insinuating that Luka and I are having some sort of…-" Susan felt her cheeks burning again, remembering how she had been lying in his arms earlier and how he had been caressing her cheeks.
"They don't mean any harm…"
"But he's ill, for God's sake! What do they think of me?!"
"'I'm sure it's completely harmless," Kerry assured her "…they're just worried about Luka and…-"
"And this is how they show it? Seriously, Kerry, what kind of way of showing that is this?"
"Look, Susan…" Kerry tried.
"Look, Kerry" Susan replied "…- I don't even wanna hear."
She turned around and marched back inside the room.

***

For the first time in almost a week he rose up. The room was spinning a little and he had to lean on Susan for a while before he could stand up straight. He saw her worried eyes as he let go of her and tried to take a step forward. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous, but he decided not to let it stop him.
One more step, right foot first, left one then. As soon as he moved the left leg the God damn familiar pain rose and made it impossible to walk. Both Susan and Dubravko saw this, exchanging worried looks.
"Luka, please let me get you a wheel chair," Susan pleaded.
"No!" he snapped and made a new attempt to walk, only resulting in him almost falling. Dubravko caught him in time, saving him from tumbling over.
"Listen to her, Luka," he said in Croatian, in a, for him, unusually calm voice.
"You can't walk."
"I'm not going down there in a freaking wheel chair!" Luka replied angrily.
"But…-"
"I'm not!"
"OK," Dubravko sighed. "Fine, do fall then."

He let Susan hold her hand over his back and not wanting to collapse in front of her he managed to walk to the elevator and lean against the wall almost without any problems. But when they got inside the lift his powers were out. God, he was never going to be able to do this. Why had he wanted to go this way?
He looked at the indicator above the elevator doors. They left the psych ward, fast moving down. The paediatrics ward, cardiology, OB. God, how come had he never realized how big this hospital was? The indicator kept moving. The OR, the ICU. He felt sick as the elevator slowed down. He couldn't do this.
The elevator stopped in the ER.
As the doors were opened and the familiar sounds and smells of County reached him he felt as if somebody had punched him. He had practically been living at hospitals all his grown-up life – what if he never could be a doctor again? What if he never became normal again? Until a few days ago he couldn't have cared less about whether he became well again or not, but now… Something had happened deep inside of him the past days. He didn't know what, but something it was.

It wasn't a very busy day in the ER, and most of the staff was sitting, standing or leaning at the admit desk, not seeming very interested in whether it snowed or not, or in whether the elevator doors were closed or opened. But somehow all their attention seemed to be concentrated at the doors he, with Susan's arm still behind his back and Dubravko right next to him, just was exiting.
Carter, Abby, Chen, Pratt, Gallant, most of the nurses. They were all standing there, looking at them, Gallant and Pratt taking a pause in their betting over who was going to win tonight's game.
Kerry came out of the Lounge, carrying a box. He recognized his spare coat that was thrown over it, and suddenly he understood what there was in that box.
God, he was really leaving County. All the times he had thought of it, all the days and nights he hadn't wished for anything but to get away from this place. Now he was, and it felt weird. Weird, weird and absolutely horrible.
"The stuff from your locker," Kerry said, handing him the box, but he had no free hands and feared that even if he had had, he might have dropped it.
"Dubravko…" he said, tiredly nodding at the box "…- would you…-"
"Sure," Dubravko said and took the box from Kerry.
Susan looked at Luka as Dubravko took the box with the stuff.
"You OK?" she asked quietly, holding her arm tightly behind his back. They both realized that everybody at the admit desk were staring at them, they too had realized that Kerry had emptied Luka's locker – what her doing that meant they all knew. Someone was leaving. They hadn't been any more aware of this departure than she had been, and they were just as shocked as she was.
"I'm fine…" he said tiredly.
"Let's get out of here," she said, seeing that he felt worse than he admitted. She felt bad too. Felt bad wasn't the word, actually – she felt as if something icy had captured her in its grip, not letting go no matter how hard she fought it. Why was she feeling like this now, she if someone shouldn't. She had known for several hours already that he was leaving, leaving maybe never to come back.
But it felt so weird to see this happen, that it happened at all and that it happened like this. She had seen many colleagues leaving over the years, sometimes it was hard, sometimes it was close to unbearable as it had been with Mark, sometimes you were relieved to be rid of them, as she had been when a certain Dr. Smith left the hospital in Arizona. Now when it was Luka's turn to leave she shouldn't feel like this – she had never known him that well. But now she felt like she did know him, and him leaving felt so wrong that she wanted to jump up and down and scream. She could see in the other's faces that they felt weird too. You never imagined that someone you had worked with for a while would leave, no matter how well or how little you knew him or her. The minute a new doctor stepped through those swinging doors you started to wonder what his or her presence would give, or, in some cases cause, County. With whom would they get involved, who would they be friends with, who would they not stand? With Luka and his history she supposed that the gossiping must have gone wild at his arrival. Had people thought that he would be able to beat Doug in the competition over Carol's heart, or had they heard wedding bells between him and Abby? They had certainly not imagined this, that she was sure of. Not that he'd be leaving County in this state, depressed, suicidal, almost unable to walk without her and Dubravko's support.
She could feel that he breathed in heavily to be able to answer.
"No, wait…-" he said, trying to raise his voice but finding it difficult.
"I have to talk to him first…-"
"To whom? Luka, you should really save your energy…" she said, stopping him from walking up to the desk by putting her hands gently on his chest. She looked him straight in the eye, afraid that he might be loosing touch with the real world again. But he looked surprisingly sane.
"I can sleep on the plane," he said tiredly.
OK, so that was a lie, he couldn't sleep on planes, but that was another story.
He closed his eyes for a while to find the strenght. He still couldn't believe he was doing this, but he had to. He took a deep breath before facing the rest of the staff.
"Carter…" he said, feeling the looks the others gave him.
"Yes?"
Carter was standing next to Abby at the admit desk, feeling his heart somewhere in his throat. Was this the beginning of another scene, or was it something else?
"I…- I'm sorry…" Luka said slowly, putting weight on every word to make himself heard.
"I'm sorry. About yesterday… I was wrong, I know. And I'm sorry…"
Carter swallowed, looked down at the desk for a moment, then back at Luka again.
"Hey, I think there were two of us," he said with a wide, Carter-like smile.
Luka nodded.
"Thank you."
"Just get well now, will you?"
"We'll see…"
"We won't see anything," Susan said firmly, still standing in front of him with her hand on his chest.
"You're going to get well," she said.
She doubted that anybody else than Luka and maybe Dubravko could hear her, but the others didn't need to.
He looked at the admit desk again, and all the others looked back. Kerry had gone to stand with them, and they all looked at him, Susan and Dubravko standing in front of the doors. Susan was standing in front of him, looking straight at him.
"You will be fine," she said, pressing her hand against his chest, as if to make him understand what she said. He looked at her, almost getting lost in her eyes. He didn't want to leave. Did not want to. Without thinking he slowly raised his hand and touched her face. He felt a great need to do something, tell her something…
"Luka… the taxi is here," he suddenly heard Dubravko's voice close to him. His brother was for once not screaming, shouting, laughing or singing or doing anything else that maybe made him a good cab driver, but also made him difficult to have a normal conversation with.
"We have to go now," he added, nodding towards the door.
"Come," Susan said, gently putting her hand on his arm.

He nodded at her, giving the staff behind the desk one last look. Carter, Kerry and Jing-Mei nodded at him, Gallant and Pratt looked uncomfortable, Haleh smiled. His eyes moved to Abby. He was a bit nervous to meet her gaze, and at first he saw nothing in her face. But then she suddenly raised her hand and smiled a little. She raised her hand and waved at him, in a way looking like a little girl and looking more like Abby than he had seen her in a long time.

Susan sighed when Dubravko said whatever he said to Luka and thereby broke the connection between her and Luka. She had understood that even if Dubravko's English wasn't bad at all he didn't feel comfortable speaking the language more than necessary, and always spoke Croatian if it was possible. Usually she enjoyed listening to him and Luka, she understood absolutely nothing but it still was fun to listen. But right now she would have given a lot to keep him quiet.
She had felt something so strong just seconds earlier when she had been standing there, her hands at Luka's chest and her eyes captured in his.
It had felt as if he wanted to tell her something but couldn't find the words. She had realized that everybody had been staring at them, and when he touched her face everybody had started whispering. She was sure this would start the gossiping again, but she didn't care. She wanted to hear what he had on his mind, but now, thanks to that damn cab, she wouldn't be able to.
Dubravko held up the door and they slowly exited the hospital. It was dark outside, almost 9 pm, and among all the other cars out in the ambulance bay there was the black taxi, its lights flashing at the brick walls. Dubravko went to the other side of the cab and made himself ready to jump inside when he suddenly turned to Susan.
"Thank you…. Susan," he said, not knowing whether to "Dr" her or not.
She was glad he didn't.
"Don't mention it," she smiled.
He smiled back and disappeared from her sight.
"Well," she then said to Luka. "I guess this is goodbye then," she continued, fighting to keep her voice normal.
"Yes," he said, looking her straight in the eye again.
They were standing next to the car, not being able to fully say goodbye. He was once again drowning in her eyes, feeling how he lost his touch with the real world again. But this time it wasn't in a mental, delusional, way – it was in another, much more pleasant, way. He didn't hear the sirens of the ambulance pulling up behind them, didn't see how Carter and Kerry came rushing out to meet it.

She felt his eyes deep inside of her and it made her feel short of breath. It felt as if her mind clicked somehow and her thoughts slowed down. She knew she was freezing, but she didn't feel it.
Not even realizing that she did it and this time without breaking the gaze, she put her hands at his chest again. The fabric in his black coat was soft under her bare hands and she moved her left hand up to his neck to straighten out the scarf Dubravko basically had thrown over Luka only seconds before they left the psych room. She realized that the scarf had been in even more need of straightening out than she first had thought. To get it straight she had to wrap both her arms around his neck, and since he was so much taller than she was she had to stand on the toes to reach up. Since her balance wasn't what it was supposed to be it didn't take many seconds before she fell against him. They both laughed and he put his arm gently over her back. She let her arms stay wrapped around his neck and felt his breath on her skin. She was surprised to realize that he was leaning in. She was even more surprised to realize that she did the same.

He leaned in, closing his eyes, not knowing if he was insane or saner than he had been for a pretty long time.
He leaned in and gently kissed her cheek.

It didn't take long but it felt like a small eternity. When he straightened his back he looked at her again, and found that her eyes were wet even though she tried to hide it.
"Hey… no crying here, Susie…-" he said with a weak smile, trying not to let his emotions shine through himself.
She smiled widely when she heard him call her that old nickname. It was such a long time ago since somebody had called her that.
"What was that?" she asked, still smiling.
"May I call you that?" he asked, hoping she didn't mind. It fitted her somehow, described her personality.
"Sure," she said, and got an idea seconds later.
"…- on one condition," she added with a mysterious smile.
"That you'll come back. You can call me Susie if you promise to come back."
He smiled.
"I promise."
"Good."
She felt another wave of tears coming, an even stronger one this time. She tried to stop it by making this as quick as possible.
"Let's get you in that bloody car or this will turn out to be 'the County cry-party'," she joked.

He sat down in the car and leaned his head against the back of the seat.
"That took some bloody time," Dubravko muttered and nodded against Susan who hadn't closed the cab door yet. She didn't understand what he said but understood that he was annoyed somehow, and since he was nodding towards her she guessed that it was with her or the long goodbye he was annoyed.
"You OK?" she asked Luka quickly.
He nodded.
"Yeah…"
She pulled her hair behind her ear but the December wind was playing with it as if her protests didn't matter at all.
"Well, bye…" she said, insecure. He nodded again.
"Bye…"
She took a deep breath.
"Luka, I…-"
Dubravko interrupted her by leaning over Luka and taking a grip of the door.
"Dr. Lewis, with all your respect but we are going to miss the plane if…-"
"I understand," she said, smiling and damning herself for smiling like she always did when she didn't feel like doing it.
The car door slammed shut and the driver, who apparently was happy to get moving, started the engine. Susan took a few steps backwards, crossing her arms over her chest. Now the cold was getting to her, icy and sharp as a knife, cutting right through her.

As the taxi drove off in the direction of O'Hare she realized that it had started snowing again.

Author's pleading: I have a new story in progress, a songfic. I have found this perfect song and think the story might turn out v. good – only problem is that the song is in Swedish. I don't intend to put it up in my language since I wouldn't like reading songfics with songs I didn't understand, but I'm having trouble translating it (the lyrics). So if anyone thinks they're good at translating from Swedish to English would you PLEASE, PLEASE contact me?
Just for the records: the song is "Det vackraste jag vet" by Cecilia Wennersten. Love it.