Title: The Burn
Disclaimer: The ER characters or any products or lyrics mentioned do not belong to me.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: An appropriate day to post :) The final chapter, as I don't really have a long-term plan for this, as it started out as just an extra scene. But I may come back to it in the future. Please let me know what you think :) My thanks go out to everyone who helped me with this, albeit knowingly or unknowingly: Natasha, Sunny, Rowena, Claire and to Californiagirl for her last review: it was inspirational. A big thanks also to everyone who reviewed, I appreciate it no end. I'll be back writing again soon, to lift me out of my spoiler depression. Hel.x. Oh, and for my non-basketball fanatic readers: Toni Kukoc is a Croatian basketball player who played for the Chicago Bulls throughout their notorious successes in the 90s before being traded to Philadelphia and who now plays for Milwaukee to the best of my knowledge.
The swift movement of the ball made the rim shudder momentarily, the metal shivering in the static air; before the orange sphere nudged off the backboard and slid through the net, that grainy scratching sound was the sound of success.
It hit the ground with an energetic thump before it was collected by a steady hand. Luka tried not to consider the absurdity of shooting hoops in his suit, but then, things always seemed slow at the start of a shift. It was early, getting close to six, everything around him seemed empty and deserted. Pavements were glossy with a thin frost, the chill was biting with a razor-sharp iciness, a whisper of a breeze troubled the cold surroundings. It seemed that winter had begun to lay its cool kisses all around, even before autumn's technicolour haze had begun to ebb away. He bounced the ball lazily against the shiny asphalt before again putting up a successful shot with little effort.
"I think the Bulls could use you right now."
His eyes searched for the familiar voice out there somewhere in the icy air. Abby had been quietly observing for a few moments, one hand protectively pinning her coat to her waist, the other pushing her hair away from the wayward wind.
Luka eyed her suspiciously for a moment, wondering who would want to stand out in the unfriendly embrace of a bitter morning and watch him idle away a few minutes. Did some odd magnetism draw her into his tangled web? Somehow, he expected no less from the woman who had been so willing to try and chase away his sadness and erased the scepticism from his expression.
"I can't quite forgive them for trading Kukoc." He gave her the slightest glance, with just a hint of energy burning behind his eyes. A slight glow that convinced her to go and join him.
"Milwaukee might be nice this time of the year." There was a soft, comedic speculation in her tone as she moved just a little bit closer, drawing a smile from his tired face.
"How are you doing?" Her voice was more serious this time.
"Four from five so far," he replied quickly, his warm breath misting the atmosphere as he collected the ball again.
"I didn't mean basketball." "We haven't talked in a couple of days."
Luka shrugged, juggling the ball between both hands before bouncing it again slowly, in time with his mind's deliberation of his emotions. Mesmeric wisps of steam coiled away from the building and for the first time he felt the piercing needle of the numb morning. In contrast, her warm, dark eyes were full of questions, coiled-up so secretly, so subtly. Yet to him, they were so evident.
"There are worse things in the world than being dumped," he replied softly, but with some assurance. What was the use in believing in something that you could not find? His next one-handed shot flew threw the hoop without even touching the sides, not even rattling the rim.
"Speak for yourself," Abby replied, with a knowing, yet somehow sad smile. "Sorry," he said, reading her tone, cautiously offering her the ball.
She shook her head, hair rippling slightly with the movement.
"Forget it." Their gazes hung together like a curse for a moment, mere seconds of understanding passing between them. Nobody had the power to change the past, but the future could always be worked on, it was always available to provide solace and repair.
Another playful smile teased across her lips, as if she was unable to prevent it.
"I know what you meant. I almost got the impression that you were going to fly Carter back to Africa yourself."
She felt that his understanding of Carter's grief had slowly pulled him from the grip of melancholy. It was strange that now she was between them not as a division, but as another friend. She finally took the ball and leant slightly against him, arm to elbow, as she prepared to shoot.
"I gave him a nudge," Luka admitted, jolting his arm slightly, mischievously attempting to disrupt her shot.
"Cheat!" Her eager laughter rippled through dawn's wintry demeanour. Abby promptly readjusted and triumphantly scored.
"More like you bought him the ticket and fastened his seatbelt." Making light of the serious situation seemed the only way to comprehend the strange and often cruel passing of the seasons.
"They lost their child. They don't have to lose each other." Their fingertips brushed in a warm battle against the feverish chill dancing all around as he handed him the ball after retrieving it. Abby searched for the sadness in his eyes, but did not see it, only the mysterious fervour that seemed to be slowly building up, alongside the daylight.
"Are you out here for a cigarette?" He still wanted to attach some kind of meaning to her presence, part of him not wanting to believe she was there just to check if he was alright, and part of him already knowing that she was.
"Your faith in my willpower is just inspirational," she mocked, giving him a wry grin as she rocked the ball from hand to hand.
"I haven't smoked for almost a month. But I could really use some right now."
"Cigarettes?" Luka's expression was serious, but he was barely holding back the temptation to smile.
Abby laughed, and pretended to throw the ball at him, before throwing it up and missing this time.
"Seriously, did you have a bad night?" Concern bluntly edged his features for a moment, as for the first time he saw the sleepy shadows under her eyes.
"Yeah," she replied, nodding slowly, confirming and attempting to shrug away his anxieties, hugging the ball to her waist.
"Three dead teenagers, an elderly couple who had been robbed and a gang member full of bullet holes." The leaden, dismal sky seemed to push its weight firmly on her tired shoulders as she told him about her hellish night shift.
"Let's get some coffee," he suggested, eager to dispel the weariness rapidly creeping up on her.
Sensing a slight rebelliousness in his voice, she gazed at her watch.
"Don't you have to work in five minutes?"
"I can be late," Luka replied with a cast-iron certainty.
"So, that means that when Weaver gets mad at you, I get the job of removing the crutch from your auditory canal?"
"I wouldn't dream of asking anyone else."
They laughed and she threw the ball through the hoop for one last time before turning away to head in the other direction, pausing to make sure that she was not alone. A shock of caramel sunlight blinked through the grey swirls of the nebulous, heavy sky, before it retreated back behind the conquering haze. Yet, warmth would elude neither of them as he slipped his palm deftly across her back, pulling her away from the cold. Because, sometimes in an uncertain world of sadness and incompletion, things are meant to come full circle.