Author's comments: I'm not even gonna start apologizing this time. I suck at updating. You know it,
I know it - and I'm working on it :)
This chapter has pushed TPOL over the 100-pages border - 115, if I remember correctly. BIG THANKS to all who
have read and reviewed - I would never have continued this far without you, and I hope you still put up with
my sucky updating!!

THE PROJECTS OF LIFE : PART TWO

CHAPTER ELEVEN : TO THE FUTURE THROUGH THE PAST

Tuesday night, Zagreb, Croatia

The bus station was peaceful and quiet – just as peaceful as the airport had been hours before. She had thought that the arrivals hall would be the only quiet place in town, but judging from the fact that the birds and a car rolling by every now and then were the only sounds to be heard, then Zagreb had to be a very quiet city on Tuesday nights.

Susan looked around her once more, half expecting to see a English translation of the timetable on the wall appear out of nowhere. But it didn't, and she sighed as she sat down at the bench, for the fiftieth time picking up the little pocket version of the timetable she had gotten from the airport. It was part of the little baggage she had – a handbag, a little suitcase and a bag from a grocery store just around the corner from her apartment. In the plastic bag she had been holding on to like a treasure, Kerry had put down a few personal things Luka and Dubravko, in their rush to leave Chicago, had left behind - an old ID card, a scarf and a pair of black gloves. The scarf still smelled of his cologne, and it had been her pillow during the long flight over the ocean. If it wasn't for the hard chair she sat on now, she'd still be asleep.

The Croatian timetable was almost moving in front of her tired eyes. Numbers and cities; page up and page down. She recognized some of the places and names – Osijek, Vukouvar, Dubrovnik. Famous places, big news headlines only a decade ago. She saw the name of Luka's village as well. Or, the one she thought was Luka's village. God help Ritchie if it wasn't right – it was his memory, and he had admitted that it wasn't of much use most of the time. It had taken him three hours, five cups of coffee and two Europe maps to recall the name of the tiny place, and still he had delivered it to her with the words "…and I don't think it's right anyway." But the name was there in the table, right next to Vukouvar 18.46, so at least the place existed. But she didn't know at which page to look for the next bus. She didn't know if it was Dolazak or Odlazak that meant "departure".

You were really handicapped when the only thing you could tell people around you was that you loved them. She sighed once again, put away the little book and closed her eyes to instead try to remember what American timetables looked like – did arrivals or departures come first? There had to be some sort of multi-national system, right? But the more she tried to recall all the bus stations she had been at, the more confused she became. It was just like back in high school when you were sure you knew the answer to a question, and just before writing it down you started doubting it . Soon you'd leave the field blank, not daring to write any of your ideas because they'd still be wrong and you had managed to screw your head up enough to start doubting your own name.

Why hadn't she made sure she knew something of the language before getting on that plane? It hadn't even occurred to her, in the state she had been in, that she would need some sort of translation device when she finally landed in that hidden corner of Europe. Nothing on the signs and posters on the wall made any sense to her, it could just as well have been written in Hieroglyphs. In the beginning it had been rather fascinating, to be honest – it was so very different from Chicago, where you were forced to read and comprehend everything you saw. Here you could lock it out, just choose not to listen and read and then be left alone with your thoughts as if you were sitting behind a thin glass wall. That imaginary wall of unknown words had been a blessing. Because God knew she needed to think.
Surprisingly, a plane thousands of feet up in the air had been the right place to do the thinking. No one had disturbed her, no phone, no Romano, no Ritchie and no neighbour's really loud cat meowing at three am. She had for once been able to sort things out, lay the cards out on the table and try and put them back together again in a better order. And so she had done it.

She had thought, drunk coffee, stared out into the black night, watched a bad cartoon, drunk some more coffee, and thought again until her head hurt from both the thinking and a serious overdose of caffeine and she had fallen asleep. Somewhere over Spain or north Italy, she had come to a decision.
She would help Luka get better, be his friend, right hand and left too if he needed it, be his eyes and ears but not his lover, no matter how just the softness and wonderful smell of his scarf made her want otherwise. She wouldn't throw her feelings at him, wouldn't put even more weight on his shoulders by making him choose what to feel. If she still knew for sure what she felt once he had become himself again – then she could start pondering about whether or not to tell him. Maybe it was sweeping things under the rug, but that wasn't important. Luka's well-being and recovery was, her love-life was not.

The glass door between the waiting area she was sitting in and the main entrance to the station that actually was rather big, opened and pulled her away from her thoughts that once again were carrying her away. A young woman with a baby carriage tried to open the door and keep track of her handbag that wanted to slip down from her shoulder at the same time, and just before the probably pretty heavy door threw her head over heels over the carriage, a young man with a sports bag thrown over his shoulder opened up the door behind her and kept her on her feet. She smiled thankfully at him and gathered her belongings, including the baby, which was now crying, and rushed to sit down two rows behind Susan, all along reassuring her child that which, judging from its clothes, was a little girl. The young man followed her in and went straight up to the seat three steps to the right from Susan, and sat down while pulling out a thick book from his bag. He balanced the book on his left knee while searching for something else in the bag, but judging from the sighs and mutters he let out under his breath, he didn't find it. As he picked up the book again she caught a glimpse of its cover, and even though she didn't understand a word of what stood on the title, she saw the writers' names and recognized them. It was a medical textbook, one of the earlier courses. She smiled at how caught up in it he was – his black hair was falling over his eyes as he leaned closer over the book, but he didn't even notice it.

Suddenly there was a rasping sound in the loudspeaker system, and a male voice streamed out over the room. Fast he delivered his message in Croatian, but not in English. No matter how hard she prayed, the last sentence was said in his native tongue, the loudspeakers clicked and the voice disappeared.
She let out a groan and got back up on her tired feet. She would have to find something, someone, who could translate for her and, preferably, would remain as her shadow until she reached her destination. Maybe she should have brought Ritchie with her anyway – at least he knew the surroundings somewhat.

The waiting room was nearly empty, just the young med student, the mother and her baby and herself. Not a single employee was to be found, not that she knew for sure where to look anyway.
She must have been even more distraught than she felt, because she didn't even notice that the door once again was opened, this time by a man in a uniform and a gun hanging from his side. The guard walked into the room and when he was standing somewhat in the middle, he cleared his throat and said a few words in a very military, short cut manner. Susan jumped at the sound of his voice, almost expecting him to shoot her before she saw the sign on his nametag. Securitas' employees didn't shoot people.

The med student next to her finally looked up from his book, and asked something of to the guard. She was only half listening, trying to compose what she would ask the man when she had the chance to, when she heard the young man mention the name of Luka's village. She immediately forgot her own question and stared at the men as if she only now had noticed them treading the surface of the earth. Was he on his way to the village? Could he help her – chances that he spoke English were pretty good, considering that he apparently went to university.

The guard turned around and went back to the door, letting it slam behind him as he left. Susan bit her lip and studied the youngster next to her for a few moments before finally walking up to him.
"Excuse me…." She began, not getting his attention. She was just going to ask again and louder when he suddenly looked up, almost seeming surprised to find her standing in front of him.
"Yes?" he asked in broken English.
"I'm sorry, but are you on your way to…"
She stopped when she came to the name of the village – her pronunciation would probably only confuse him more. Quickly she grabbed her timetable from her purse and pointed at the name of the village, this time next to Karlovac 21.43.
"… this place?"
He looked where she pointed, and then smiled at her.
"Yes," he said again.
She sighed with relief. Not only was he on his way to the same place – he understood her too, even though she didn't know if his own vocabulary stretched beyond "yes" and "no".
"Then can you tell me when the next bus leaves?"
His smile got wider, and he nodded at the timetable in her hand.
"At 21.50, apparently", he said, this time in a lot clearer voice.
She let out a tired laugh at herself, and reached out her right hand.
"Thank you," she smiled. "My name is Susan Lewis."
The young man shook her hand.
"I'm Alex, Alex Kovac."

She gasped as she heard his name.
"Is... Are you...?" she began, making him frown. As he did that his face seemed awfully familiar.
"Sorry?" he asked, looking thoroughly at her.
"Is your last name common?" she asked, making him even more confused.
"Somewhat…" he began, staring at her as if she was from out of space.
"Why?" he then asked her.
She bit her lip and rushed back to her seat, grabbed the bag that held the things Luka had left behind and pulled out the ID-card.

Feeling her hand shake, she held up the card in front of him.
"Do you know this man?"
He looked sceptically at her again, apparently wondering what to think about this woman who apparently was both lost and half crazy, but he still took the card from her and looked at it.
Fast a smile spread over his face.
"Yes," he said simply, still looking at the card.
"Yes?" she asked, almost laughing from relief and tiredness. Could it be true that she had such luck...?
"Yes," Alex said again.
"He's my uncle."

***
Earlier the same day

The despised sun was teasing his eyelids again. Burning, stinging, itching and torturing him until he had to slowly open his eyes, facing the world for the first time in days. Even more slowly he turned his head towards the window.
"Please close the curtains," he said out to the room, not even knowing if anyone was there to hear him. If they could hear him – his voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
"Good morning to you too," came the immediate response from the other side of the room.

He turned around, surprised to hear sounds from that direction.
"Is it morning…?" he asked tiredly, blinking away the sleep to clear up his vision.
"Yes, five hours ago, by my counting, probably just two by yours. But you wouldn't know, would you?"
The voice was hard, lacking all compassion. But he wasn't surprised to hear it – he would probably have fallen out of bed if the voice had sounded any different.

Finally the light stopped harassing his sight, and he looked right at Dragan.

His brother was sitting next to the bed, his right leg put over the left which was stretched out, just as stiff as usual. The crutch leaned on the nightstand.
"Hi…" Luka said, still whispering against his will and continuing with his standard question to all appearing family members.
"When did you get here…?"
"Two hours ago. Had to let Tata sleep for a while, he's been sitting here too much. You know how weak is heart is."

There was no real blame in the way he said it. It might have sounded like it, but it wasn't. There was just the hard bitterness in Dragan's voice, combined with his hard attitude, but Luka still sighed. He hadn't changed. In a way it was refreshing to realize that something still was the same, but no one would have missed the old attitude if Dragan lightened up a little.
But, probably he wasn't the best one to talk right now.

The sun made a new move on his eyes, and he groaned.
"Could you please do something about those damn curtains?" he snapped, just to realize that he sounded exactly like Dragan used to when he was in the mood.
He half expected his oldest brother to bark back, but Dragan just let out something that probably was to be considered as a laugh.
"That doesn't sound like you," he said, almost amused.
"Get used to it," Luka muttered, and Dragan laughed again so that the small golden crucifix he wore around his neck jumped.
The rays of the sun through the newly washed window started to bother him too, and slowly he got up, his determination as usually strong as the sun.

Luka felt his conscience sting for making him get up as he watched Dragan straightening out his legs and putting them against the floor as he reached for the crutch. With a deep sigh that revealed how painful the movement was for him he leaned on what had been his support for more than ten years, and stood still for a moment.
"Have been sitting for too long," he sighed, closing his eyes as he gathered the strength he needed to take the steps up to the window.
Luka just shook his head.
"You shouldn't walk at all," he said, actually surprised at how much like himself he sounded.
"Shut up!" Dragan snorted, shooting him an angry look.
As if the fury had given him the strength he needed, he started to move. Slowly, one step at a time, he reached the window. Luka bit his lip, knowing he should have kept quiet.

The sun was finally locked out, and he let out a sigh of relief as the headache calmed down a little. He closed his eyes for a minute, taking deep breaths until the distinct hospital smell started to bother him enough again.
As he looked up again he saw that Dragan still was standing at the same spot next to the window, heavily leaning on the crutch. He still looked infuriated by the walking comment, and Luka realized that the reason he still was still standing probably was that he wanted to prove he could.
Trying to ease up the spirits in the room a little, he slowly turned to Dragan, thinking that they both moved as if they were 80 years old. Their father was more vital.
"How are things?" he asked tiredly.
"As before," Dragan said, staring out of the window.
"Mira...?"
"Is where she always has been," came the rapid reply. "There, with him."
Luka sighed. So neither Belgrade nor Stijepan had names yet.
"What about Alex?"
Dragan turned away from the window and leaned against the windowsill, letting go of the crutch.
"Fine. Too much like you."
Luka let out a dry laugh.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Dragan's voice hardened as he continued.
"Reads too much, is locked inside of himself. Wants to be a doctor."
"That's not too bad," Luka smiled. "I was worried that he might be on Valium," he added, trying to joke.
"He shouldn't dream," Dragan said harshly.
"It doesn't have to be dreams," Luka tried, already guessing what the problem was.
"We all know it's not going to happen."

Before Luka had the time to protest, his brother said what he all along had suspected would come.
"We saw how it went with you."

***

She stared at him.
"Your uncle...?"
"Yes," he said before looking up at her.
"Why do you ask?" he asked her for the second time.
She bit her lip. Did he know?
"I'm a... friend of your uncle...." she began, not knowing how to continue. If he didn't know then she probably shouldn't be the one to tell him, especially if Luka's condition was very bad – but, on the other hand keeping it from him was even worse.
"You're going to visit him at the hospital?" Alex asked, apparently calm as he solved her dilemma.
Susan nodded, opening her mouth to say something, even though she suspected that the world could do without it.
"Are you from Chicago?" Alex interrupted her, seeming more interested by every minute.
"Yes," Susan answered.
"You are a doctor too?"
She nodded.
"Yes – we work together."
"Emergency medicine, right?"
He leaned forward, as if he suddenly didn't want to miss a single thing she said.
She nodded again, smiling at his interest.
"I knew it – my grandmother keeps telling me that he is a pediatrician, but I always knew he wasn't."
Susan smiled.
"He told me that he had wanted to be one."
Alex nodded heavily.
"I know. But he changed speciality when he did his internship."
"You seem to know him well," she smiled, getting the feeling that Luka wasn't just an uncle for Alex, but also a role model.
"I have read all his papers," Alex replied honestly.
Susan chuckled.
"I see that you're walking in his footsteps," she said, nodding at the book.
Alex got a gloomy shadow over his face and looked down on his hands.
"Let's hope so," he said.
She frowned.
"I thought you were in med school," she said, damning herself for sounding so surprised.
"No," he said, sounding pretty depressed, holding up the book. "This is Luka's - my father won't let me go to the university," he added, looking up at her.
"I see," she said, looking down. Suddenly flashbacks from a green 80's kitchen in a gloomy Chicago suburb and her father's lecturing voice filled her head. She knew exactly what Alex meant.
"You know," she began in a cheery voice – "I had the same problem with my father. I got him to change his mind, I'm sure you'll too."
"Hardly," Alex smiled sadly.
"You could always try and get a teacher to talk to him, you know," she said, remembering how she herself had attacked all science teachers verbally until the tiny Mr. Blackstock finally had given in and dialled her father's number.
Alex just shook his head.
"Tried that while I still was in school."
Susan raised an eyebrow.
"You're not in school anymore?"
"No – I graduated last spring, but I can't afford university. Tried to find a job, but couldn't. So now I'm just living on hope," he concluded with a sigh.
"I see," she nodded, remembering what Luka had said about the little village and how he just accidentally slipped into medicine. Or how his father-in-law problems made him, more likely. Considering all Alex's problems to date, she assumed that it wasn't very likely that he'd ever get his wish.

Before she could continue to cheer him up, the guard came back inside the room. Once again he said a few words, more or less spitting them out, even faster than the last time.
Alex smiled as he heard what the man said.
"You're in luck, Susan," he said, smiling widely as if all his problems were gone.
"I am?" she asked, feeling rather stupid.
He nodded as the guard slammed the door behind him.
"The road is opened - your bus is leaving on time. Our bus," he hurried to correct himself. "I would have taken the next one, but I think you might need a translator," he said, blinking at her.
"More than anything," she laughed, at first not even hearing his translation of the guard's smattering voice. As she heard it play over again in her head she frowned. The road was opened – as in "it had been closed"…? Why? The fear of landmines ran through her head, but she shook it off her. The war had ended a long time ago.

"The road was closed?" she asked as he started to pack his things after checking his arm watch.
He nodded.
"There was a big accident on the highway," he explained.
"Why everything is so quiet. Big storm last night."
She almost blushed at her prejudice against the conditions in the country.
"I thought it always was like this," she said as she picked up her handbag and dropped it, making him laugh both at her clumsiness and what she had been thinking.
""No," he chuckled, "I almost thought I had landed in Ghost City when I was at the airport," he added, picking up her lipstick and half broken mirror from the floor. She looked at the scratch across the mirror, feeling an unpleasant superstition rise.
"You were at the airport?" she then asked, surprised that they probably had been in the same halls all day without noticing it.
"Yes," he nodded as they headed for the door, "I came from my mother's," he said, his voice sounding as if he had no problems sharing his family issues with someone he had met just half an hour ago.
"Are your parents divorced?" she asked, trying not to sound too surprised. Luka had given her the impression that his family was rather religious – that there'd be divorcees had never crossed her mind.
"No – or, yeah. But not legally. My father refuses to sign the papers - I think he's had them for about seven years or so."
"I see," she said as they stepped outside. The traffic was already ten times busier than minutes before, but the fresh air still filled her lungs. This wasn't anything like Chicago or any other American city she had been in – here peace and quiet seemed to rule, despite everything that had happened, maybe at this very spot she was standing on. The thought of the war kept following her around everywhere she went or looked, even though there weren't any traces of it. A monument over the dead that was advertised at the back of her timetable was the only visible thing she had seen. At first she had wondered if Danijela and the children's names was on it, but then she had realized that it probably just were soldiers.

Alex threw his bag and lay down hers a bit more gently inside the bus that to Susan's amusement looked very much like the bus she used to ride to school with.
There were a few people inside already, an old lady at the first seat, a younger woman three rows behind her and an old man sleeping in the last seat. Alex exchanged a few words with the younger woman after kissing her cheeks.
"Your girlfriend?" Susan asked with a smile as they sat down on the other side of the aisle.
"Nah…" he said with a smile that revealed that he maybe wanted otherwise.

The bus started moving, and she tiredly leaned against the window, immediately missing the softness and smell of Luka's scarf –her pillow- against her cheek. She tried to imagine it instead, but the knowledge that it was out of reach just made it creep inside just gave her the creeps. Alex had thrown the plastic bag inside the trunk together with the rest of their baggage, and even though it made her feel like a little kid, she didn't want to sleep without it right now. So she turned to Alex again.
"Does your mother live far away?" she asked, leaning on the other side of the seat so she faced him.
"Belgrade," he said simply.
"That's Serbia, right…?" she asked, trying to revive her knowledge of the Balkans. Or, renew it, more likely – the maps had changed since her geography classes.
He nodded.
"Yes. The capital. Old city, beautiful. She lives there with her boyfriend, he's from there."
"So he's Serbian then?"
"Definitely," Alex said with a smile.
"Just don't mention it to my father."
Susan frowned.
"He doesn't know?"
Alex smiled again.
"He knows. A bit too well."
"Right…" she said.
"Sounds hard," she said, trying not to sound as if she pitied him. If she knew anything about the Kovac men, then it was that they hated pity.
"Well, one gets used to it," he said calmly. As he uttered the words she smiled, fascinated. It was almost crazy how alike they were. The hair, even though Alex' was a bit longer, the height, although Luka was a bit taller. The calmness and how he seemed to be rather precocious all made him look like she had imagined Luka would have been at that age. She smiled at the thought, once again wishing she had met him while he was still happy, had gotten to know his soul minus the depression and addiction. As she let her thoughts wander, she suddenly realized that at the time Luka had been Alex' age, he had been a father. He had been married as well.

Once again Danijela's shadow fell over her. She was ashamed of how she thought about her as a rival, but she couldn't help it – the minute she managed to push the thought away something new immediately made it come back twice as strong. If Luka had been happy back then, it had been because of Danijela and the kids – and his happiness had died with them. No one had seen him genuinely happy since then, and probably he himself had forgotten what it felt like to be at peace with himself.
She suddenly remembered what Dubravko had said at County – it was just a few days ago, nearly a week, but still it felt like a small eternity. He had said that Danijela always was on Luka's mind, and that she had been ever since they met as teenagers. How could he ever forget her – his first love, his wife and mother of his children? There was no way he could, and she didn't want him to either, but… There was always a "but", and this time it was a rather big one.

Could they ever have a future together – were they too different, or was it true that opposites attract and fulfil each other? His darkness both fascinated and troubled her – would he ever get over Danijela, and if he would, how long would it take? Would she forever have to live in the shadow of his dead wife, or would she feel obligated to fill her place? She had always been drawn to shattered, hurting people and especially that kind of men – the memory of Div was still alive inside her despite all the time that had passed, and being able to help people was also one of the reasons she had chosen to become a doctor and not a secretary as her mother had suggested, as much a cliché as it ever was. But could she really help Luka enough? She wanted to, but could she? Was she only fascinated and intrigued by his tragic life and past, was she thinking of him as the man who lost his family - exactly like he didn't want to be thought about? Were her feelings for him real, or were they just a product of an over-active imagination and a loneliness that ached more and more each day?

So many questions, and no answers. She was driving herself crazy thinking like this, only coming up with new questions every minute but never answering the old ones. It had been so easy while Luka still was in Chicago – she'd be sitting at his bedside, they'd be talking and laughing like they had been that day before he and Dubravko left. It had been easy to help him then, easy to be there – and, it had been a whole lot easier to explain why she cared then. He had been a colleague locked up in a hospital room more or less against his will even though he had put him there himself, and she was just a fellow doctor – of course she'd visit him, of course she'd be there in the nights when he was in pain and barely could move, even less talk. Of course she'd take care of him then - if the rumour mill down in the ER almost collapsed of all the material her actions gave it, then so be it. But now, when Luka was back and supposedly safe with his family – now things were getting complicated. Did he even want her here? That Dubravko didn't she knew for sure, and she didn't exactly expect him to greet her with open arms. But what if Luka didn't want her with him? He had always been proud, that she knew way too well – it wasn't impossible in any way that he never would want her around to see him like this, even though the sight was not exactly new to her.

Did he need her, or did she just need him?
A streetlight flashed over her face and woke her up from her thoughts. As soon as she realized what she had been thinking about, she got furious with herself.

Hadn't she just hours earlier made a highflying promise not to get her poor, caffeine overdosed brain into these things? She solved nothing by torturing herself like this – if she wasn't wanted here, then she could just as well go back tonight. It was that easy – the visa she had managed to get her hands on three hours before leaving Chicago was not a long term one; she would have to renew it if she were to stay longer. Not that the thought of going back to County with Kerry and Romano was very thrilling – neither had been very glad about her one day notice – she had a feeling that she was on top of Romano's hate list right now. Kerry had tried to be a bit more gentle, but not very successful at it. Thank God for the knife assault that came rolling in only minutes after her having asked, or rather, pleaded for a "vacation". The last she had heard of her boss on her way through the doors had been something about the moral responsibilities about being a doctor, and her own muttering reply about the moral responsibilities towards suicidal friends.

The bus left the flashing light of the lamp behind, and she slapped herself on her cheek, trying to beat the thoughts out of her. Alex gave her a surprised look, both thick eyebrows raised.
"You OK?" he asked, looking as if he thought he knew the answer.
Almost surprised that he had noticed her self punishment she turned to him.
"Sure," she said lightly "Just trying not to think too much."
"OK…." He said, sounding as if he didn't fully believed her.

Trying to get his attention away from her attempts to slap herself, she decided to bring up what she had just been thinking about. Parts of it.
"You're a lot like Luka, you know," she said with a wide smile.
"Really?" he asked, almost seeming surprised.
"Don't you think so?" she asked, still smiling.
"I wouldn't know," he said – "I have barely met him."
"Really?" she asked in her turn, before remembering what Luka had said about not knowing his nieces and nephews all that well – that most of them were born after he left for Rome and then Chicago.
"Yeah," he nodded, "I was just six when he left – I have some memories, but not many."
"And still you're interested in him enough to go through his papers?" she asked jokingly.
He laughed.
"Everybody in my village is interested in Luka," Alex said with a smile.
"Really?" Susan said, looking out of the window just in time to get her eyes on a sign that warned for landmines in the field they drove past. So they were still there.
"Yeah," he replied – "it's not every day someone of us moves to your country…"
"I guess," she said with a slight chuckle, amused by how America seemed to be ideal place for Alex. Her suspicions were proved right in only seconds.
"Must be great over there…." He said with a slight dreamy look on his face, looking out through the bus window too.
"Sometimes," she said slowly, pictures of the slums and gang fights popping up in her head.
"At least it's better than where I come from," he said, still seeming dreamy.
"Thinking of emigrating?" she asked with a smile as the bus drove over a bump in the road. The picture of the skull and the crossed ribs on the road sign came back to her for a second, and as soon as the picture started to fade she felt guilty again. Why did she keep expecting to get hit, blown up or murdered? The little she had seen of Croatia this far was a beautiful, calm country, nothing like the war zone that had filled her TV screen in her years as a resident.
Alex shook his head at her question.
"I don't think my father would allow that."
Susan frowned. She wasn't getting a good picture of Alex' father, that was for sure.
"Why not? I'm sure he'd want you to do whatever makes you happy…"
"As long as I find that happiness within 200 metres of him, sure. He's not…-"
Alex bit his lip slightly.
"… - not very fond of Americans," he said, sounding ashamed.
Susan just nodded that she understood, but on the inside she sighed.
She could definitely not expect a warm welcome.

***

The bus slowed in and stopped on a little square. The driver yelled something, followed by the sound of the doors opening. A wave of fresh, night air hit her sleepy face and woke her up from where she had fallen asleep against the window about an hour earlier. The trip had been slow, slower than usual because of the storm the day before, and as it got darker there wasn't very much to look at outside anymore. Alex seemed to have sunk into his own thoughts after revealing his father's attitude towards Americans, not seeming to hear her assure him that she didn't care.

Alex looked at her as the old lady, the schoolbook example of a Balkan woman with a headscarf covering her grey hair that probably was combed into a bun in her neck, got up and left the bus. She seemed very tiny as she stepped out, but still there was something very sweet about her – as if she wanted to say that time can change, borders can change and roads can be built, but I'll remain the same until my last day.
"You awake?" he asked with a smile.
She smiled back and stretched out her leg as much as the space between the seats would let her.
"Somewhat."
"Let's go," he said, getting up and pulling down his coat from the shelf above them. She nodded and reached for her handbag that apparently liked lying on Croatian floors.

They left the bus, him letting her jump down on the square first. She stood still and looked around her as he went to locate his bag and her suitcase.
A silent bird flew over the square, landing on the top of the golden cross on the church roof. The cross shone brightly despite the dark December night, and suddenly she heard the church bells strike midnight. The sound they made was deep, soulful, and to make the picture even more perfect she saw three snowflakes leave a cloud above and slowly sail down. There wasn't a lot of snow, had probably not been either – just a little pile next to the church, filled with children's footprints and a few left toys next to it.
Alex came up behind her, one bag in each hand.
"We will have to walk, I'm afraid…" he said, still sounding as if he was apologizing.
"That's OK," she smiled, actually happy to be out in the fresh air for a while.
He returned the smile and nodded backwards.
"Come."

After a short walk through the little village, a building with a red cross and big, just as red, letters on the roof spelling out "Bolnica" appeared in front of them, and Alex stopped in front of a board full of words that probably were names of departments.
"Emergency?" he asked her doubtfully after a while.
"I think so," she nodded, watching an ambulance pull up in the ambulance bay. Its sirens were off, the driver was probably on his way to park it for the night, but still the sight of the white and red vehicle made her switch to doctor mode.
"Well, there's not exactly any danger that we'll get lost," Alex said with a smile as they walked up to the doors. He pushed the right one open, and they stepped inside the little hospital that still smelled exactly like County.

Another red sign, this time above a glass cage that looked very much like triage at home, spelling out "Informacije", a word that Susan easily understood. Alex walked up to the little window and asked the nurse behind the glass wall a few phrases, supposedly to check if emergency was the right place to find Luka. The nurse got up and opened a locked cabinet, out of which she pulled a journal. She took a quick look at it, asked something and then pointed left. Susan, who had been having trouble standing still, set off to the left without knowing what door she was looking for.
"Well, it might just as well be "Emergencije"," she muttered to herself, running up to the closest door.
"Hey, wait up," she heard Alex scream, his voice filled with laughter.
"That's the Pharmacy," he laughed and nodded at the sign she had left unread. Not that "Ljekarna" would have made her any cleverer.
"This way," he said with a chuckle and took her arm, dragging her to the next door and opening it.

The little department reminded her of the little hospital in northern Arizona she had worked at the summer when Suzy had been three. Almost empty, peaceful. No traumas that made blood stain the floors all over the hospital, no gang fights that broke up families forever. It had been the best summer of her life.
She watched a few nurses and even fewer doctors walk around as they crossed the department in hunt for room 203.The closer they got the more nervous she felt, hugging her handbag tightly. What would he say, what would he think? Would he just think that she was in the way?
As they stepped into the last corridor a door behind them opened and closed.
"Alex!" she heard a hard voice, and apparently Alex had heard it too, since he stopped and turned around, and she followed his example.

A dark man, probably in his late 40's, stood behind them. He said something in Croatian, his broad arms crossed over his chest. She was surprised to realize that he was of her own height – she had gotten used to all Croatian men being a head taller.
The man leaned on a crutch, his black moustache moving as he breathed out heavily.
"Tata…" Alex began; getting a sharp reply that Susan only could imagine the meaning of. So this was Alex' father – Luka's oldest brother, the farmer with the strong opinions.
"I should have gone home, not come here" Alex translated for her in a whisper.
Another sharp Croatian sentence was thrown at them, this time sounding as a question. Susan heard Alex mention her name and Chicago, and she assumed that his father had asked who she was. Without awaiting any translation she reached out her hand to the man.
"Susan Lewis," she said.
He looked at her with black eyes, his gaze almost scaring her. He studied her thoroughly, frowning, as if surprised at what he saw.
Finally he took her hand.
"Dragan Kovac," he said sharply and let go of her almost immediately, as if she had some sort of contagious disease. She shot a look back at him, thinking that Luka and Dubravko must have gotten all the manners.
Alex nodded at the door his father had stepped out from.
"Is he in there?" he asked, in English so Susan would understand.
His father nodded.
"Yes," he said in very broken English, "– but don't go in there!" he said sharply to Susan as she reached for the door.
"Why?" she asked, frowning.
"He is asleep," Dragan said shortly.
"And I prefer to keep him that way," he added in the same curt way that the guard had spoken in at the bus station. There was something military over his whole appearance she thought – the only thing that didn't fit was the crutch.
"Me too – I just want to see him," she tried, again heading for the yellow door with 203 written on the left from the handle.
"Not now," Dragan replied, almost yelling.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked, suddenly getting an icy feeling. Were they still keeping things from her?
"No. Nothing else than that he has gotten himself into this mess," Dragan muttered, saying the last in a judgmental voice she didn't like one bit.
"He needs me," she said sharply, surprised when she heard herself. Dragan raised an eyebrow.
"Are you Luka's girlfriend or something?" he asked in an even more annoying voice, and she looked straight at him for a second before answering.
"No, his friend," she said, putting weight on every word.
"And I want to see him," she added, almost feeling like hitting him and his glaring face.
If it was her nationality that bugged him, then he was even worse than Frank.

"Tata..." Alex began, this time sounding both ashamed and annoyed.
"She will have to wait until the morning," Dragan snapped, putting his left hand on the handle as to show them that the room was a restricted area. Susan saw the golden wedding band, shining on his ring finger.
"Mr Kovac..." she began in her most doctoring voice, but another voice interrupted her.
"Susan Lewis..."
She jumped and turned around, looking right at Dubravko who crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in what she assumed was disbelief. A door closed behind him, and the international symbol on it told her that it was the men's restroom behind it.
"Dubravko," she said with a recognizing smile he didn't return, wondering who'd turn up next. Dragan seemed to have had the same thought, since he looked at his brother and asked something. Dubravko shrugged his shoulders and said something in return, making Alex roll his eyes. Dubravko shot him a look and said something in an annoyed voice, getting a rapid reply, and Susan thought that it was a miracle that Alex had turned into what he had with these two bringing him up. The discussion got tenser, and she felt rather helpless in the middle of the fighting men.
A forth voice reached her ears, this time the sharp voice of a woman.
"Dubravko!" she said, and then Susan recognized her voice.
Natalia came walking up to them with a child in her arms, and the sight of the sound asleep girl made Susan remember her own lack of sleep the last days.
"Susan Lewis?" Natalia asked with a wide smile and reached out her hand. Susan nodded and took her hand, happy to meet a smiling face.
"Welcome," Natalia said, her English almost perfect.

Despite her clear voice yelling for her husband, neither Dubravko nor Dragan noticed her before she handed over the girl to Alex.
"Careful, she's asleep," she said, as if it wasn't completely obvious to him.
"I know," he replied, annoyed. His aunt didn't take any notice of him though; she just turned to Susan again.
"Do you want to see him?" she asked, but before Susan managed to reply in any way, Dragan stepped in and snapped his sleep theory at her. She rolled her eyes and snapped something back at him, jumping away from Dubravko's calming hand on her back.
"Stop!" she snapped, making Dragan sigh deeply.
"Can't the two of you keep your bantering inside your bedroom or somewhere else where the rest of us don't have to listen to it?" he asked in an annoyed voice.
"Jesus," Dubravko groaned " – just let her in already. What harm can she do?"
"We don't need her here!" Dragan snapped, letting go of the handle and crossing his arms over his chest again.
"Maybe not, but it's not like she's going to make things worse… A little female compassion," he added with an eyebrow raised, nodding at Susan who stood there in the middle, completely clueless.
"Won't kill him."
Dragan snorted and nodded at Natalia.
"Well, he won't get that from that wife of yours, that's for sure."
Dubravko crossed his arms as well.
"Don't start," he said sharply. Dragan raised an eyebrow and they looked like they were going to hit it off. Susan raised her arms and tried to make herself heard in between them, but before she had the time to make them stop their arguing, she felt a hand on her arm.

"Go!" Natalia whispered, patting her arm and pointing at the door.
"They won't notice it," she added, almost giggling. Susan had to bit her lip not to laugh, and carefully she grabbed the door handle. Without either Dragan or Dubravko noticing it she slipped through the door and fast closed it behind her, not even realizing that the whole room was dark.

She had left her suitcase in the hall, but still tightly held onto her handbag. Running through the rather big room she let it slip, and as she reached the bed next to the window, the bag fell on the floor for what had to be the fiftieth time that day.
"Luka…" she whispered, and took his hand.

He was asleep, and had been for the past hours. A deep, dreamless sleep, letting his tired and aching head rest. He hadn't noticed Dragan getting up and leaving the room, despite the fact he almost had fallen, trying to get up without the crutch, hadn't heard the nurses and doctors walking in and out. Not even the loud argument on the other side of the door had reached him – but now something suddenly did. Maybe he had slept long enough, or maybe the gentle touch on his left hand was strong enough to drag him out of the land of sleep.
Slowly he opened his tired eyes, looking and feeling very groggy.

"Hi…" he heard a soft voice, and felt a touch on his forehead, just as soft. A scent of a flowery perfume reached him, a perfume he only knew one woman who wore. He blinked his eyes, trying to de-blur the picture of her in front of him. When he finally got his sight somewhat cleared up, he became positive on the assumption that he still was asleep. This was just another dream. Better than all the others, but still a dream.

"Susan…?" He whispered, just to make sure.
She nodded.
"You need to sleep," she whispered, still caressing his forehead. The moon shone in through the window and the silver light fell over her, making her blonde hair shine and her green eyes sparkle like the stars on the deep blue sky.
"I have slept…" he murmured, licking his desert-dry lips to be able to talk.
"I know…" she whispered "… - continue with it."
"It's too tiring," he said slowly, making her chuckle.
"I thought it was tiring to be awake."
"You tired?" he asked, his eyes closed as he tried to switch to a position in which he could see her better.
"Yeah," she smiled, trying to hide a yawn.
"Then you should sleep," he said, blinking at her.
"In a while… This chair isn't exactly great for sleeping."
"There's room here…" he said, nodding at his bed.
She chuckled again.
"Don't you think it'd be a little too crowded?" she asked with a smile.
He shrugged as well as he could and raised an eyebrow.
"Doesn't hurt to try…"
She laughed.
"Are you flirting with me now?"
He chuckled, and took her hand.
"Come," he said, his voice weak but still too strong to resist.
She looked at him for a moment, his dark eyes more inviting than she could ever have dreamt of. His hair was a bit messy from all its contact with pillows, he was a little pale and unshaven, but otherwise he didn't seem too bad.
Finally she sighed, and gave in. She got up from the chair and took off her winter coat as he made room for her next to him. The movement had exhausted him, but he still smiled at her when she climbed down next to him.
"This is not a good idea," she smiled, half lying down on her stomach so she could face him. Sure she could have if she had lain down on her back too, but somehow it felt less weird to be in the same bed if she tried to joke about it. He just smiled and patted with his hand on the free part of the bed.
"More comfortable if you lay down…" he said with a smile.
She gave him a cunning look where she lay, rested on her elbows.
"Always the smooth talker…" she said, almost purring.
He chuckled, almost feeling normal again. Young, for the first time in years.
"When did you get here?" he asked, his voice hoarse but stronger than in a long time.
"This morning," she smiled.
He nodded.
"Had a good trip?" he asked, before he remembered something that made him frown.
"Aren't you scared of flying?"
She giggled.
"Let's just say that a trip over the Atlantic cured it…."

He chuckled, and she felt the tiredness conquer her. As she lay down next to him with her head close to his chest she remembered how she had fallen asleep over him at County while he still was unconscious. Back then it had felt awkward, but she had been too tired to find anything else. Now she was in the same situation, if possible even more awkward, but now there was a new feeling as well. The warmth of his body spread to her, and as she closed her eyes he put an arm around her back, making her shiver.

"Alex helped me…" she suddenly said, yawning against his shoulder.
"That's good…" he whispered in her hair, leaning back his head against the rather uncomfortable pillow.
"I didn't know which word meant 'departure'," she whispered.
He smiled.
"Odlazak…" he whispered.
She didn't know he was smiling, but still responded to it.
"Thank you…" she whispered back, almost asleep.

***

Dragan crossed his arms over his chest and gave Dubravko a look where they stood in the door, watching Susan lay down in the bed.
"Just for the records – the female compassion was your idea."