Title: The Burn
Disclaimer: The ER characters or any products mentioned are not my property.
Author's Note: I never intended to carry this on, but after so much positive feedback I saw it as a challenge and kept writing. Sorry it took so long! Thanks to all that helped me with this, from the jokey dialogue, to stopping me from falling off the back of a London bus, which I fear may have ended my writing attempts for some time! And of course to all who reviewed chapter 1 :)
Reviews: Always appreciated. I have some idea where I'm going, but the comments always keep me going. Thanks.
The late afternoon sky was angry. Irritated and iridescent, its pungent red and inflamed orange scowled yet did not sear. Dark would be guilefully approaching, so vivid signs began to illuminate. Neon flowed in fluorescent circles, the circuiting gas a timely reminder: as colourful and enchanting as it was, it was also temporary. It would always burn away.
Inside, the television news flickered impatiently in the corner, demanding attention from the mainly tired eyes that contemplated cake, coffee and life. Spoons stirred with delicate motions, sugar fell in grainy perfection, noise was paramount. Sunlight glanced off the edge of an inverted spoon as Abby ran a slick flow of cream over the back of it into rich, dark coffee.
"Just a little trick I learned once," she said, glancing across at Luka with enigmatic eyes, watching the lighter liquid layer on the dark, like Guinness.
"You're not meant to play with your food." His reply was still heavy with disappointment, his comedic attempts falling short.
"Well, if I ever manage to eat coffee, I'll let you know."
He submitted to a slight smile. Slowly, his gaze moved to the windowsill, where raindrops rested like a row of pearls, each translucent ball gleaming in the sunlight. The coffee was strong, bitter on his tongue, the very taste of failure and loss.
"Long day, huh?" Abby continued, making the conversation.
Luka nodded, pushing his palm against the edge of his coffee cup, heat scorching onto his skin.
"You did a lot of good today." "Don't forget that."
"You would have done the same."
"I would have been a lot less effective." He sensed some self-doubt, something sad creeping through her tone.
"I didn't say you could join the self-pity club."
She smiled, catching the fragile humour in his voice, then laughed, elegantly twisting her spoon to mix the coffee and cream.
"I'm an ex-member, I got thrown out for good behaviour." Playful light fizzed against her dark eyes, a dazzling contradiction. Unable to help himself, Luka smiled. Then he wondered sadly if this apparent mirth was just a mask, just a mere expression which betrayed his feelings. Contradicting emotions seemed to fluctuate slowly through him. Should he feel guilty for being comforted; for trying to find some peace, or angry for being left?
For a few moments silence hung between them, a silence they both hated but somehow could not break for a while. Slow, light reams of sunlight were gradually being enveloped by gentle gloves of darkness, the day curled into a fist and thrown away. Luka watched nature's battle with tired, confused eyes, the marbling of white, blue and orange only making him more tired and more confused. Night would come to surround him, to highlight the solitude, a dark, cowering, ugly beast.
"You're not the one running away," Abby said affirmatively, trying to create some kind of positive insight.
"We're all running away from something," he replied sadly, gaining her attention with his troubled stare. As he hopelessly remembered women all too easily running away from him, wondering if he should reach out and touch her, to make sure she was still real. She leant back casually before replying.
"So, you're a doctor of philosophy now?" Her wistful smile made the joke crystal clear.
"Career change seems to be doing you good," Luka said, genuinely pleased, almost envious, always affected by her display of contentment.
"That and my secret life as a hooker." Neither her voice nor her face was serious. Finally, her humorous tact was becoming a kind of catalyst to disperse some of the pain he was feeling as he gave in to another grin. The wound was still raw and open, there was no use in trying to analyse the situation early on, time often the best for providing some answers in these situations. So a little light entertainment would suffice for now, or at least an attempt at it.
"Seriously, though. I think it has something to do with spending some time on my own." "I think you could use it too."
"I'll just sit there wondering what I did wrong, how I could have changed things." He despised the powerlessness of the situation so much, it seemed almost like a poison, the more he thought about it, the more it troubled him.
She shook her head lightly, exhaling, pressing her fingertips against the rim of her cup.
"I've been there. When Carter came back from Africa first time round, they told us you were dead. I all but begged him to stay, to try and sort things out. If he'd listened to me, then you would have died." Abby took a moment to process this, almost feeling a slight sense of guilt.
"Maybe not. They were strange circumstances."
"All I'm trying to say is..sometimes good things come out of the bad stuff."
"I'll believe you. In time."
This was what made medicine so easy sometimes, physical problems had distinct remedies, often singular diagnoses. They were not complex like emotional or mental strife.
"Besides, you have the best thing for spending time alone."
"What?" Luka was suddenly intrigued, confusion and captivation permeating his despondency.
"PlayStation 2."
He chuckled, glanced at the window, and then turned back to her.
"It's better with two players," he replied. She sensed just a slight flirtatiousness in his tone, a little fun, always welcome.
"Is that an invitation to play?" Abby's tone was teasing, as she ran her thumb delicately along the edge of her cup, meeting his fascinated stare.
He took a slow, long sip of his coffee, giving her an agonising wait for his response. "If you want, but you know that I'll beat you."
"I wouldn't make any bets."
The beginning of their amusing rivalry was quickly interrupted by the unexpected sound of a pager.
"Shit." Abby cursed softly, immediately pushing her elbows into the table and covering her eyes with her palms, trying to block away the sound of her imminent departure, hair falling forward in a flash of colours. She juggled the pager from her waist into her hands and switched it off, then rose to get up.
"I promised Susan I would go and see her tonight, so I'll come and see you tomorrow."
"Don't waste your time off. You don't have to baby-sit me," Luka replied, trying not to sound ungrateful.
"I'm just dying for some Sonic the Hedgehog," she replied, finding some comic energy from somewhere.
"I don't have Sonic the Hedgehog."
"Sure you do." Just before going, she paused, squeezing his shoulder warmly.
Minutes later, Luka left, reluctantly stepping out into what was a surprisingly warm but painfully dark evening. A streaky indigo sky allowed only hard, charcoal outlines; the buildings angular, dim rectangles; the trees wispy black wires. The misty, clawing atmosphere hung around him like a curse, as his racing thoughts returned to the forefront of his mind. Somehow he longed for tomorrow, with its light, its unbroken promises. He crossed the street, footsteps echoing off the cold concrete; an empty, hollow noise. In an opposite window, the shocking orange-red of a neon sign glowed peacefully, before it flickered, fizzed, and silently went out.