Title: Hotter Than July
Rating: PG-13, but R later on...
Disclaimer: The ER characters do not belong to me, neither do any products, song lyrics or literary quotations mentioned.
Summary: Warm weather, flirtation and a few lessons to be learned. Luby. Sort of AU, sort of not.
Reviews: Please, the comments keep me writing :)
Author's note: Apologies for a longer hiatus than usual, I am now getting to the stage where I am running out of the chapters saved on my hard-drive and need to get typing up the next few bits. But I'm on track for now :)
Moments later, they were sitting in the parked car, quiet, still in the now cool, fresh summer night. Luka switched off the engine, slid the key from the ignition and rested his palms against his legs before sitting back in the seat and closing his eyes. He tracked back through his memories of the last couple of hours as if he were rewinding a tape. Yes, he was certain that he had not imagined anything. The elusive goal had been reached: they had each attempted to explain their emotions: to each other. Despite knowing that they both adored the sweet silence of communication which often passed between them, which often had the volume of a primal scream; this was a way forward.
Yet still, so many questions remained unanswered. Why was she a single woman? He did not know, it almost felt like a trick, the cruellest trick, but it was not. She must have been asking so many questions too, he thought, she must be wondering why I can smile these days. The question mark had become like a sickle, hacking away at the fields of their feelings. But once something had been cut away, could a new beginning prevail? If they attempted to answer the questions, would it work? Could the flickers of light that had promised so much so long ago prevail? Positive action was the only thing that could dispel the questions from being shot back and forth in his mind like crazy pinballs. So, he got out of the car, aware that perhaps Abby was taking her usual pleasure of assessing him as she followed suit.
Well, he concluded. If the lady wants some entertainment, she can have it. A thick, wide beam of moonlight scarred the paintwork as he cautiously opened the back door, with the care of a crime scene investigator. Luka shook his head in disbelief as he observed that Mo had rather carelessly chosen not to wear a seatbelt. Cautiously, he rummaged inside his friend's pockets until he found a set of keys, and quickly wrapped his fingers around them. Silver caught on silver, and he became even more aware of the beauty of this somewhat surreal night. You may as damn well howl at it, he thought, as he slid one arm under Mo's shoulders, the other under his legs, and then pulled him out. At first, there was nothing, no pain, no effect, as if he were carrying a feather. Then came the full realisation of the weight in his arms, his muscles screaming for mercy.
He cursed aloud in his native language, a base, instinctual cry for help, then he wondered why, as nobody here would understand. Keys tangled agonisingly around his fingers, he attempted to hand them to Abby, who was amused at the pained expression on his face.
"Don't be such a wimp," she teased, feeling the mild air catch her bare arms.
"Come on then, Abby, indulge me. One hundred and sixty pounds of Mo, all yours," he said, extending his arms speculatively, offering her the burden of his weight.
"I'll go and open the door," she replied, managing to untangle the keys from his fingers. She stood still for a lingering moment, submitting to a grin at the stupidity of the image. The mercurial sheen of pure moonlight seemed to frame the picture perfectly: even though it would have seemed more fitting in a desolate wasteland. In reality, however, it was little more than a favour to a friend, doubled as a comic act.
She went inside, swiftly climbing the dimly lit stairs and then sat waiting outside Mo's door, feeling as if it would be wrong to go in alone. More quickly than she had expected she was joined by Luka, Mo's sleeping figure visibly straining in his arms.
"I can't believe you made me do this. My muscles hate you."
"That hasn't always been the case," she replied swiftly, easily, turning away to place the key in the lock. Despite this, she could feel his gaze burning on her back. Although he allowed himself to admit that he was enjoying her flirtatious state, tension had seized him in an iron grip, pain searing through every nerve ending.
"Please just open the door," he begged, without a hint of melodrama.
Their eyes met briefly as he shot through the open door like a bullet, then he placed his friend on the sofa, mystified that he hadn't awoken. Still, there was little wrong with a deep, peaceful sleep, he concluded.
"C'mon Luka, do the decent thing and tuck him in," Abby said, frivolity running through her words, dancing the keys in her fingers.
"I thought I'd save that privilege for you," Luka replied, with a hint of a smile.
She grinned, gently placing the keys on the side. She scanned the room eagerly, moving deeper into the darkness, noticing that the room was sliced in two by the natural light. The room was dominated by a black concert piano, its lid closed, thin sheets of manuscript paper dashed on top.
Full of restlessness, Abby inspected it, running a finger slowly across its cold surface. There was no trace of dust, nothing. The piano was next to the window, the lights of faraway buildings and streets barely reflected in the black lacquered sheen; the macrocosm of urbanism turned into a simple, tiny image. In order to admire the view for a moment, she put her hands by her sides and levered herself onto the piano. She stroked her hair out of her eyes and exhaled.
"What are you doing?" She asked, her words jumping in the quiet darkness as she heard rummaging in the background.
"Writing him a note. Otherwise he'll think the fairies brought him home."
Luka glanced up from the pen and paper that he had pushed into the moonlight to look at her. She was half light, half shadows, and he felt his emotions stir uncomfortably. Maybe she would always be half revealed and half mystery, perhaps this was the way it would always be. Always chasing after each other's shadows. And were there always more shadows than light when they only ever gave away fragments of emotion? He felt fire burn in his arms as he longed to pick her up and move her a few inches to the left, to immerse her completely in intense silver light.
As if some psychic connection had buzzed an electrical pulse between them, she seemed to read his mind as she got up and paced across the room. The sharp light had illuminated a collage of pictures on the wall, a frame crammed full of shots of stars. Elvis gyrating wildly, Stevie Wonder at the piano, Michael Jackson in his Moonwalker days, Elton John in a ridiculous outfit to name just a few. Clearly, Mo was a man who knew his idols and furthermore knew that he too wanted a place in history. Before her thoughts drifted off to history, the past, Abby was again interrupted by trickles of noise. "It's not meant to be your autobiography," she chastised, fighting off a plague of languor creeping through her.
"I'm just taking care of the animals," Luka replied in his defence. His sight illuminated by the stark glow of UV light, he peered through the dark where inside a reasonably large tank was Eve, Mo's boa-constrictor. As fearlessly as ever, he removed the lid, checked where it's head was and lifted it out to check whether she had been fed. Feeling idiotic as he held her out, he swiftly coiled the snake around his neck and then turned around.
"Say hello to Eve," he said quickly, quietly as he felt the odd, reptilian skin slide against his neck. There were worse feelings in the world, undeniably.
"What happened to Adam?"
"He escaped," he replied, nonchalantly, now close enough to read all the expressions on her face, despite the enchanting, capturing blankets of darkness.
Abby swiftly suppressed a yawn. "Really?" She questioned, not particularly amused at the thought of a snake on the loose in the vicinity.
"No, but it was worth it to see the look on your face."
She rolled her eyes, tired but content.
"Besides," Luka continued, "This one doesn't bite, she's just squeezing me to death right now." He spoke swiftly as the snake began to tighten around his neck. This was, Mo had assured him, the snake's way of showing that she cared. Yeah, right, sure, he thought.
"Well, that's comforting to know," she replied dryly, somehow feeling forcibly pulled into this situation.
Circuits of thought trailed through her, but her aching limbs were winning the battle, so she crossed the room again and slumped into the empty seat next to Mo's sleeping frame. The plush, soft cushions accepted her as readily as a lover's arms. After what felt like a thousand revelations tonight, she felt compelled, almost desperate to stay here in Luka's company. Even as he stood there, taking care of all things, his friend's reptile, she was almost convinced that now, he was less elusive. Not that this made him less of a magnetic force which she could never be repelled from. Whatever stars had rearranged, whatever cells had died and been reborn, no matter how many days and nights had passed, something had changed. Or maybe this was not a change but a mere return to the former self, a rediscovery of an undestroyed man? How the hell do I know? But did anybody ever really change? Her thoughts began to subside and tiredness then convinced her that the reasons did not matter, she was here, she was having a good time; she should stop plaguing herself with doubts and questions. Closing her eyes to shut away the illuminating truth of the moonlight, a simple peace finally arrived.
Carefully, Luka placed the snake back in her tank. She rustled for a moment, then he replaced the lid cautiously. Out of curiosity he examined the luminous dial of his watch, confirming that it was quarter to twelve. Glancing up, he caught a glimpse of the view; a cityscape of shadows, lights, sounds, thriving, not still, medieval and quiet. The night was as perfect as the day had been, now the early morning was lurking. He moved slowly into the half-light, then felt a wave of sadness sweep across him. Both of his companions were now silently sleeping in the milky darkness. Well, I must be the most exciting guy on the planet! He thought, pressing his hands against the small of his back as he considered what to do. Was it acceptable to leave Abby sleeping there next to Mo? Knowing Mo as he did, he suspected that his friend would wake in the dead in the morning, realise that he had an audience, albeit a sleeping one, and start singing "You Are The Sunshine Of My Life."
He exhaled sharply, hoping to find some kind of answer, puzzled by the strangeness of the situation, he had faced far more important dilemmas than this one. Half an answer clicked in his head. Although it seemed entirely risky in an odd sort of way, he decided that he would take her downstairs in much the same fashion as he had brought Mo upstairs. Then she could sleep on his sofa until she awoke, then he would take her home. He felt it was somehow wrong or unfair to wake her. Surely this was a better, more familiar option than leaving her there? Thinking ahead of himself, he shot downstairs and opened his door, pleased to see that he could keep it open with the heavy black amp which was still there.
As quickly as he had left he had returned, and stood silently in the rich shadows searching for something to keep the door to Mo's apartment temporarily open. Slightly to his left there was a box full of books, which was reasonably heavy. Shifting it as quietly as he could, it soon fulfilled its purpose adequately. Luka stood there again, contemplative and restless. What if she awoke half way down the stairs? Finally deciding that she would not be overly pleased if he left her sleeping next to a virtual stranger, his plan of action made sense. So, with much more caution than he had used minutes before with Mo, with one arm behind her shoulders, the other slid behind her legs, he lifted her from the sofa. As if in a dream, her body seemed weightless, floating against him. But his was no dream. Momentarily he closed his eyes in a silent plea, begging that she would not wake.
He opened his eyes again and as he moved towards the door, the gloom of the corridor beckoning, he did not dare move his gaze from her sleeping face. As thoughts turned and turned in his head, his body seemed to react, as he shifted her slightly around. A flicker as eloquent as a dark whisper seemed to pass across her face. Abby continued to sleep, much to Luka's immediate relief. All the light appeared to be mixing more deeply now, moonlight from one side, darkness from the other, the opal dimness of electric light gaping from the corridor. The future was beckoning in different shades, conflicting colours. He exhaled deeply as he reached the door, the expulsion of breath feeling like a breeze in the stillness. He moved the box cautiously with his foot, moved rapidly out of the door and watched thankfully as it closed, slowly, silently, securely.
On the way down, every step seemed like an eternity, he could neither loosen nor tighten his safe grip. Images began to trip through his consciousness as he saw, frame by frame, other bodies resting in his arms. His daughter, dead, still, all of him broken. Maria, dying. Under the sun. Nothing moving. Mo, dying. But at the same time alive. Abby. Alive. Unaware. As close and as distant as ever. If she was the future and the others were fragments of the past, then the future was promising. Blood in its veins, air in its lungs; a thudding, beating heart. Thinking about her heart was a somewhat dangerous thing to do, but danger and Luka were good friends. Old acquaintances time and time again. As he passed through the door, easily managing to avoid the Coke bottles still on the floor, he felt as if some sort of burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
Slowly, he laid her on the couch, curled like a foetus, her hair a majestic tangle, a beautiful disarray. Imperfect. As ambiguous as the night around her unconscious form, which was readily slipping into the day. He went back and closed the door quietly, the air sucking backwards, making him aware of the cool night air filtering in through the window. It was refreshing but he quickly became concerned that it was somehow cold. His head seemingly full of practical ideas, he went out of the room, yanked one of the top sheets from his bed, folded it in half and swiftly returned. Draping the rich, dark purple cotton across her sleeping figure, he felt a little sad, seeing her both near and far in one breath. The vivid colour began to turn a deep indigo in the even deeper darkness. Luka retired to an armchair and shut off his thoughts for a second. Now came the waiting.
Rating: PG-13, but R later on...
Disclaimer: The ER characters do not belong to me, neither do any products, song lyrics or literary quotations mentioned.
Summary: Warm weather, flirtation and a few lessons to be learned. Luby. Sort of AU, sort of not.
Reviews: Please, the comments keep me writing :)
Author's note: Apologies for a longer hiatus than usual, I am now getting to the stage where I am running out of the chapters saved on my hard-drive and need to get typing up the next few bits. But I'm on track for now :)
Moments later, they were sitting in the parked car, quiet, still in the now cool, fresh summer night. Luka switched off the engine, slid the key from the ignition and rested his palms against his legs before sitting back in the seat and closing his eyes. He tracked back through his memories of the last couple of hours as if he were rewinding a tape. Yes, he was certain that he had not imagined anything. The elusive goal had been reached: they had each attempted to explain their emotions: to each other. Despite knowing that they both adored the sweet silence of communication which often passed between them, which often had the volume of a primal scream; this was a way forward.
Yet still, so many questions remained unanswered. Why was she a single woman? He did not know, it almost felt like a trick, the cruellest trick, but it was not. She must have been asking so many questions too, he thought, she must be wondering why I can smile these days. The question mark had become like a sickle, hacking away at the fields of their feelings. But once something had been cut away, could a new beginning prevail? If they attempted to answer the questions, would it work? Could the flickers of light that had promised so much so long ago prevail? Positive action was the only thing that could dispel the questions from being shot back and forth in his mind like crazy pinballs. So, he got out of the car, aware that perhaps Abby was taking her usual pleasure of assessing him as she followed suit.
Well, he concluded. If the lady wants some entertainment, she can have it. A thick, wide beam of moonlight scarred the paintwork as he cautiously opened the back door, with the care of a crime scene investigator. Luka shook his head in disbelief as he observed that Mo had rather carelessly chosen not to wear a seatbelt. Cautiously, he rummaged inside his friend's pockets until he found a set of keys, and quickly wrapped his fingers around them. Silver caught on silver, and he became even more aware of the beauty of this somewhat surreal night. You may as damn well howl at it, he thought, as he slid one arm under Mo's shoulders, the other under his legs, and then pulled him out. At first, there was nothing, no pain, no effect, as if he were carrying a feather. Then came the full realisation of the weight in his arms, his muscles screaming for mercy.
He cursed aloud in his native language, a base, instinctual cry for help, then he wondered why, as nobody here would understand. Keys tangled agonisingly around his fingers, he attempted to hand them to Abby, who was amused at the pained expression on his face.
"Don't be such a wimp," she teased, feeling the mild air catch her bare arms.
"Come on then, Abby, indulge me. One hundred and sixty pounds of Mo, all yours," he said, extending his arms speculatively, offering her the burden of his weight.
"I'll go and open the door," she replied, managing to untangle the keys from his fingers. She stood still for a lingering moment, submitting to a grin at the stupidity of the image. The mercurial sheen of pure moonlight seemed to frame the picture perfectly: even though it would have seemed more fitting in a desolate wasteland. In reality, however, it was little more than a favour to a friend, doubled as a comic act.
She went inside, swiftly climbing the dimly lit stairs and then sat waiting outside Mo's door, feeling as if it would be wrong to go in alone. More quickly than she had expected she was joined by Luka, Mo's sleeping figure visibly straining in his arms.
"I can't believe you made me do this. My muscles hate you."
"That hasn't always been the case," she replied swiftly, easily, turning away to place the key in the lock. Despite this, she could feel his gaze burning on her back. Although he allowed himself to admit that he was enjoying her flirtatious state, tension had seized him in an iron grip, pain searing through every nerve ending.
"Please just open the door," he begged, without a hint of melodrama.
Their eyes met briefly as he shot through the open door like a bullet, then he placed his friend on the sofa, mystified that he hadn't awoken. Still, there was little wrong with a deep, peaceful sleep, he concluded.
"C'mon Luka, do the decent thing and tuck him in," Abby said, frivolity running through her words, dancing the keys in her fingers.
"I thought I'd save that privilege for you," Luka replied, with a hint of a smile.
She grinned, gently placing the keys on the side. She scanned the room eagerly, moving deeper into the darkness, noticing that the room was sliced in two by the natural light. The room was dominated by a black concert piano, its lid closed, thin sheets of manuscript paper dashed on top.
Full of restlessness, Abby inspected it, running a finger slowly across its cold surface. There was no trace of dust, nothing. The piano was next to the window, the lights of faraway buildings and streets barely reflected in the black lacquered sheen; the macrocosm of urbanism turned into a simple, tiny image. In order to admire the view for a moment, she put her hands by her sides and levered herself onto the piano. She stroked her hair out of her eyes and exhaled.
"What are you doing?" She asked, her words jumping in the quiet darkness as she heard rummaging in the background.
"Writing him a note. Otherwise he'll think the fairies brought him home."
Luka glanced up from the pen and paper that he had pushed into the moonlight to look at her. She was half light, half shadows, and he felt his emotions stir uncomfortably. Maybe she would always be half revealed and half mystery, perhaps this was the way it would always be. Always chasing after each other's shadows. And were there always more shadows than light when they only ever gave away fragments of emotion? He felt fire burn in his arms as he longed to pick her up and move her a few inches to the left, to immerse her completely in intense silver light.
As if some psychic connection had buzzed an electrical pulse between them, she seemed to read his mind as she got up and paced across the room. The sharp light had illuminated a collage of pictures on the wall, a frame crammed full of shots of stars. Elvis gyrating wildly, Stevie Wonder at the piano, Michael Jackson in his Moonwalker days, Elton John in a ridiculous outfit to name just a few. Clearly, Mo was a man who knew his idols and furthermore knew that he too wanted a place in history. Before her thoughts drifted off to history, the past, Abby was again interrupted by trickles of noise. "It's not meant to be your autobiography," she chastised, fighting off a plague of languor creeping through her.
"I'm just taking care of the animals," Luka replied in his defence. His sight illuminated by the stark glow of UV light, he peered through the dark where inside a reasonably large tank was Eve, Mo's boa-constrictor. As fearlessly as ever, he removed the lid, checked where it's head was and lifted it out to check whether she had been fed. Feeling idiotic as he held her out, he swiftly coiled the snake around his neck and then turned around.
"Say hello to Eve," he said quickly, quietly as he felt the odd, reptilian skin slide against his neck. There were worse feelings in the world, undeniably.
"What happened to Adam?"
"He escaped," he replied, nonchalantly, now close enough to read all the expressions on her face, despite the enchanting, capturing blankets of darkness.
Abby swiftly suppressed a yawn. "Really?" She questioned, not particularly amused at the thought of a snake on the loose in the vicinity.
"No, but it was worth it to see the look on your face."
She rolled her eyes, tired but content.
"Besides," Luka continued, "This one doesn't bite, she's just squeezing me to death right now." He spoke swiftly as the snake began to tighten around his neck. This was, Mo had assured him, the snake's way of showing that she cared. Yeah, right, sure, he thought.
"Well, that's comforting to know," she replied dryly, somehow feeling forcibly pulled into this situation.
Circuits of thought trailed through her, but her aching limbs were winning the battle, so she crossed the room again and slumped into the empty seat next to Mo's sleeping frame. The plush, soft cushions accepted her as readily as a lover's arms. After what felt like a thousand revelations tonight, she felt compelled, almost desperate to stay here in Luka's company. Even as he stood there, taking care of all things, his friend's reptile, she was almost convinced that now, he was less elusive. Not that this made him less of a magnetic force which she could never be repelled from. Whatever stars had rearranged, whatever cells had died and been reborn, no matter how many days and nights had passed, something had changed. Or maybe this was not a change but a mere return to the former self, a rediscovery of an undestroyed man? How the hell do I know? But did anybody ever really change? Her thoughts began to subside and tiredness then convinced her that the reasons did not matter, she was here, she was having a good time; she should stop plaguing herself with doubts and questions. Closing her eyes to shut away the illuminating truth of the moonlight, a simple peace finally arrived.
Carefully, Luka placed the snake back in her tank. She rustled for a moment, then he replaced the lid cautiously. Out of curiosity he examined the luminous dial of his watch, confirming that it was quarter to twelve. Glancing up, he caught a glimpse of the view; a cityscape of shadows, lights, sounds, thriving, not still, medieval and quiet. The night was as perfect as the day had been, now the early morning was lurking. He moved slowly into the half-light, then felt a wave of sadness sweep across him. Both of his companions were now silently sleeping in the milky darkness. Well, I must be the most exciting guy on the planet! He thought, pressing his hands against the small of his back as he considered what to do. Was it acceptable to leave Abby sleeping there next to Mo? Knowing Mo as he did, he suspected that his friend would wake in the dead in the morning, realise that he had an audience, albeit a sleeping one, and start singing "You Are The Sunshine Of My Life."
He exhaled sharply, hoping to find some kind of answer, puzzled by the strangeness of the situation, he had faced far more important dilemmas than this one. Half an answer clicked in his head. Although it seemed entirely risky in an odd sort of way, he decided that he would take her downstairs in much the same fashion as he had brought Mo upstairs. Then she could sleep on his sofa until she awoke, then he would take her home. He felt it was somehow wrong or unfair to wake her. Surely this was a better, more familiar option than leaving her there? Thinking ahead of himself, he shot downstairs and opened his door, pleased to see that he could keep it open with the heavy black amp which was still there.
As quickly as he had left he had returned, and stood silently in the rich shadows searching for something to keep the door to Mo's apartment temporarily open. Slightly to his left there was a box full of books, which was reasonably heavy. Shifting it as quietly as he could, it soon fulfilled its purpose adequately. Luka stood there again, contemplative and restless. What if she awoke half way down the stairs? Finally deciding that she would not be overly pleased if he left her sleeping next to a virtual stranger, his plan of action made sense. So, with much more caution than he had used minutes before with Mo, with one arm behind her shoulders, the other slid behind her legs, he lifted her from the sofa. As if in a dream, her body seemed weightless, floating against him. But his was no dream. Momentarily he closed his eyes in a silent plea, begging that she would not wake.
He opened his eyes again and as he moved towards the door, the gloom of the corridor beckoning, he did not dare move his gaze from her sleeping face. As thoughts turned and turned in his head, his body seemed to react, as he shifted her slightly around. A flicker as eloquent as a dark whisper seemed to pass across her face. Abby continued to sleep, much to Luka's immediate relief. All the light appeared to be mixing more deeply now, moonlight from one side, darkness from the other, the opal dimness of electric light gaping from the corridor. The future was beckoning in different shades, conflicting colours. He exhaled deeply as he reached the door, the expulsion of breath feeling like a breeze in the stillness. He moved the box cautiously with his foot, moved rapidly out of the door and watched thankfully as it closed, slowly, silently, securely.
On the way down, every step seemed like an eternity, he could neither loosen nor tighten his safe grip. Images began to trip through his consciousness as he saw, frame by frame, other bodies resting in his arms. His daughter, dead, still, all of him broken. Maria, dying. Under the sun. Nothing moving. Mo, dying. But at the same time alive. Abby. Alive. Unaware. As close and as distant as ever. If she was the future and the others were fragments of the past, then the future was promising. Blood in its veins, air in its lungs; a thudding, beating heart. Thinking about her heart was a somewhat dangerous thing to do, but danger and Luka were good friends. Old acquaintances time and time again. As he passed through the door, easily managing to avoid the Coke bottles still on the floor, he felt as if some sort of burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
Slowly, he laid her on the couch, curled like a foetus, her hair a majestic tangle, a beautiful disarray. Imperfect. As ambiguous as the night around her unconscious form, which was readily slipping into the day. He went back and closed the door quietly, the air sucking backwards, making him aware of the cool night air filtering in through the window. It was refreshing but he quickly became concerned that it was somehow cold. His head seemingly full of practical ideas, he went out of the room, yanked one of the top sheets from his bed, folded it in half and swiftly returned. Draping the rich, dark purple cotton across her sleeping figure, he felt a little sad, seeing her both near and far in one breath. The vivid colour began to turn a deep indigo in the even deeper darkness. Luka retired to an armchair and shut off his thoughts for a second. Now came the waiting.