Pocket Change Chapter 10: To Stockholm and Back, an er fanfic

POCKET CHANGE
by Sharon R.

Chapter Ten
To Stockholm and Back

Luka felt as though he was making headway with Jules. They both did their fare share of talking, mostly about their families. Sometimes in French, but usually in English. Luka figured if he could continue to make Jules believe that he was succeeding in his quest to make Luka sympathetic and subservient for just a bit longer, Carter would be spared and they might have a chance to escape.

Once again, he made the walk "home" to the hut. His hands tied in front of him loosely, hood over his head. Unlike Carter, he was given a bit of sustenance and just enough water to get by, but he was just as sleep deprived. They were barely given an hour or two of slumber before being loudly awakened. Luka found his eyes closing inside his hood as he tried to count the days they had been in the jungle rebel camp. He used his footsteps as he counted. The first day after being chased, then meeting Jules and keeping up with Carter's mounting bruises. First was the whipping, then the beating to his head then,… then… the fourth day he started getting food, then… then …only one night without rain and the last few days were so hot… then. He lost count of the days. Was it ten? Or twelve? No, it was definitely more than two weeks. He stood still, his mind in a quandary like quicksand. Sinking in the numbers as his eyes stayed closed and his head fell forward, his knees buckling under his drained body ever so slowly.

Thwaaaaack!

His body pounded into the dirt from the force to his hip from a club the guards carried with them. Carter had been introduced to Mr. Club earlier in their stay, but this was Luka's first meeting. He propped himself to a sitting position as quickly as possible to maintain some sort of face, then a familiar voice came from a distance, coming closer and closer. The angry voice was Jules' cussing out the guard. He kept his distance, but the tone of the lecture was not lost on Luka.

After being helped to his feet, and having his pants surprisingly brushed of dirt by someone, he was led to the hut, the door gently shut behind him. He was alone, Carter had not yet been returned. For the first time in all those days, Luka was left alone all day. He paced and stopped every few feet at the few narrow slits in the walls to check for any sign of him. Finally, he spied a group of men in the distance guiding Carter back with the signature hood over his head. One man on each arm, Carter standing tall.

Luka threw on his own hood as before the ritual banging on the door. Thrown in with Carter were two bananas and one small bottle of water.

"They really need to find a new cook." Carter picked up one of the bananas and took his time eating between gulps of water before halting abruptly to mentally head off the nausea.

"Nauseas?" Luka handed the bucket to him - the piss bucket - but Carter, realizing the smell of it alone would make him puke, pushed it away with his hand. "You're dehydrated, Carter. Slow down."

"Yeah. I'm okay. Thanks." He tossed the half-eaten banana at the closed door, hitting it with a wet thunk, before laying on his side and closing his eyes. He didn't want to talk. The temptation to tell Luka what he knew about Jules was too strong.

The silence was almost too obvious to Luka. They had been forced by situation to at least be civil to each other, and by Luka's scorecard they had actually been making points. But this night he could feel the tension as the two once again took up opposite ends of the dark, dank building, the rain plonking on the tin roof. Carter averted his eyes from Luka, even strung a bad tune together from the notes struck above them. No sarcastic remarks about the rebels. No talk of home. Just business as usual.

"What are you thinking about, Carter?"

"Nothing." Carter didn't want to blurt it out and instead turned onto his other side, giving Luka nothing but his backside to look at. "Just tired."

Clearing his throat, Luka tried to get his attention. "I've been thinking about how we could escape." Still no reaction. "Usually just after they do a roust-about in the middle of the night, they all disappear except one guy. Maybe we could lure him. You could inject the diazepam while I hold him down. What do you think?"

"It could work. Sure." Carter's previous enthusiasm for an escape was muffled. It had become a topic of discussion they both looked forward to - something to pin their hopes on. But he didn't want to talk, unsure of his ability at this point to keep from letting Luka know about Jules' head game.

"Look, I just don't have anything to talk about right now." He spied Luka moving closer searching for more conversation. He didn't want to piss him off but… "I'm not Joseph. I have absolutely nothing in common with you, Luka. So just back off." He cringed at that barb he threw at Luka but hoped it would get him to back down. Carter was so afraid that in his exhausted and malnourished state he would tell Luka all he knew.

Luka stopped dead not wanting to give Carter the satisfaction of that snotty dig. "Joseph is a fine man and a good friend. If you had given him the chance you would have seen that."

"Well, just keep talking then. You and Jules may end up bosom buddies as well." Carter had gone too far, and he knew it. But he was too exhausted to make amends and fell off to sleep.

Luka sat watching Carter as he tossed and turned on the frons. His attitude had changed. Almost seemed like he had surrendered to the situation, whereas before that night he was optimistic that they would escape. Always looking for logical explanations in their favor. Three times during the night, the rebels banged on the door and hustled the two exhausted doctors to their feet, each rousting finding Luka and Carter rising with less urgency.

As the sun was rising Luka finally got the courage to ask Carter what he had suspected all night. "Did you talk to them? Hmm? What did you tell them, Carter?"

"What?"

"I don't know, Carter. It's like you're hiding something."

"Pardon me for getting my ass kicked on a daily basis so you can eat at Chez Jules." Carter walked into Luka's face not afraid to get real personal. "I'm not the one doing all the talking."

They stood staring at each other in fractured silence as they heard the approaching rebels coming for their morning wake-up call. "I'm sorry," Carter managed, "that was uncalled for."

Before Luka's boiling blood got a chance to spill over onto Carter, they were summoned to their daily retreats.

In the clearing, Luka was left alone for quite a while before Jules showed up carrying their meals. They talked about their wives, how they managed to wind their respective husband's around their dainty little fingers.

"My wife," Jules chuckled, "she was so easy to talk to. Everyone loved her. There were always visitors at our home. They never came to see me, though."

"My Danijella was quiet. If all we had was each other, that was enough for us." Luka cracked a slight smile as he looked away from Jules, taking in the soothing memory. "I've never really had the need for a lot of friends."

Jules quietly slid closer to him as his mind drifted. "But I bet you found a friend or two here in Congo. My people are warm. Always have open arms."

"I knew the minute we pulled into Ikela," Luka smiled as he managed the words around his bites of food, looking at his plate- almost forgetting where he was, "Joseph and Toomay are like family. It has been so long since…" Luka's heart raced as he caught himself blurting out what he had tried so hard to keep secret. He stood up trying to get away from the line of questioning, questioning himself instead, the only noise being his plate smacking to the ground from his lap. He could not talk anymore, not sure if he could trust himself.

"Who is that? Joseph and Toomay. Hmmm?" Jules' voice had lost the previous melancholy edge. His voice changed, became lower and business-like.

"No one." Luka bit his cheek wanting this to all go away "I'm done today. No more."

Jules quietly walked away, leaving Luka alone with the rebel guards around him for the better part of the scorching day, his sudden absence a mystery. Upon his return, he slammed Luka with the same questions he had asked when they first met.

"Who gave you the drugs, Luka? Where do they come from?"

"We aren't given specific information. The supplies are delivered when we need them. That's all." Luka was puzzled by Jules' change in demeanor, but not for long.

"That's not what Dr. Carter said. Seems he's a bit more willing to strike up a friendship here than you." Jules was enjoying himself.

The breaking point flew right into Luka and made itself very evident as he stood straight up and walked out of the clearing not cognizant of the weaponry and savage rebels positioned around him. He instinctively traveled the same way he had gotten there all of those days, this time with eyes wide open. His stride was wide and furious, pushing the leaves and frons of the jungle away as he found the center of the camp and their hut. Catching the men off guard, they stumbled and stammered to their positions giving chase, only to be called back by Jules who followed.

Slamming the door of the hut open, he found it empty and turned to where he heard voices in the distance. His anger tore through his being and gave him courage to push the rebels aside who dared to get in his way. Around the few corners of the jungle maze he finally found Carter squatting in the open sun, hood over his head, hands tied in front of him.

Luka never stopped as he bulldozed Carter to the ground, the hood flying off.

Carter assumed he was getting a new form of torture with hands and fists until Luka's angry face met his. Not just angry. Enraged. He had already taken a fair beating that day. He had been laughed at and taunted with unreachable food. Now his only ally was attacking him.

Luka took Carter by the shoulders and slammed his upper back into the ground as he straddled his body. "You had to do it? You don't care about anybody but yourself, Carter. You son of a bitch."

Carter tried in vain to get Luka's attention. He had no clue why this was happening. "Stop. Luka. What are you talking about?" He put his hands, strapped together at the wrists, in front of his face. His elbows thrust out hoping to get the larger Luka off him. The men continued to roll around spewing up dirt and debris as the rebels cheered them on. The sounds of the humored Africans didn't register at first with the two. Finally, they were separated and taken back to the hut. The last person Luka saw before being thrown unceremoniously through the door was Jules, who wore a smug smile.

They both came to their senses, turning their backs on one another, catching their breath. Carter's hands were still tied as he reached up to wipe the blood from his lips and nose. Luka had his own scrapes and bruises to tend to, but chose instead to brood about what he was not sure of.

"You risked both of our lives and Joseph and his family's by talking. Do you realize that?"

"I didn't say anything." Carter was exasperated.

"Funny. That's not what Jules said."

"Jules. JULES …" Carter walked over to Luka and spun him around, forcing him to listen. "Do you hear yourself? You believe that scum over me. He's not your friend, Luka." A sinking feeling came to Luka as he began to assimilate what had happened.

"Don't you see what they are doing to us?" Carter's bound and filthy hands were in the air, in front of Luka's face, begging him to face reality. "They know everything about us. They used my cell phone and are probably talking with the Foundation about a ransom. They are playing head games with you in hopes that you will talk."

Luka felt betrayed by himself. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because your anger comes out sideways - like just now. I wanted to stretch out the time we had as much as we could. Let them play their game and we could stall until we both could make a break for it. You're not always a team player Luka, I had to do it."

"I was trying to keep you alive." Luka was not at all taking this well.

"No. I kept you alive. My money is what is keeping me alive." There was nothing humble or boasting in the way he mentioned the Carter fortune. "But I can't be sure that the Foundation even knows we're together. For all I know, you're nothing more than disposable to the rebels." Luka looked down and untied Carter's hands before sliding down the side of the wall to sit and stew.

"Luka," Carter softened his voice as he watched Luka take in this information and complete the puzzle. "Jules never had a wife and kids. There were no murders. It's all a scam to get you to trip up." He looked for a sign from Luka that he understood. "I think they were willing to play this out to the end. I saw a movie about this once…"

His hands over his face, physically and mentally exhausted, Luka surrendered. He felt like he had deceived Carter, deceived himself - and Joseph. And he felt like a fool, chewed up and spit out. "It's called the Stockholm Syndrome where a captive identifies with his captor, even sympathizes with him. I was so stupid."

"It's not your fault, Luka. You were playing the game. It just wasn't our game."

"I slipped. I let him get to me," Luka confessed, "and I mentioned Joseph and Toomay."

Carter, too, slinked into his own ball of hurting, soiled, beaten down flesh. For the first time he was truly scared, wondering if he could endure one more day of torture, wondering if Luka would be spared. His heart raced as his breathing became shorter, his exhaled breaths trembling with his trapped feelings of fear.

The silence between them was no longer a palpable realm of uneasiness. They sat together, yet apart. Soothing their own physical wounds. Contemplating their own fate. They had spent the last few days exchanging nothing more than passing words. They knew what they had gotten into; they knew it was a situation that could have been avoided had it not been for their own sense of immortality. They each silently blamed themselves.

Luka was the older and certainly more experienced physician, especially in a setting like this – or close to it. He could not help but think about the hassle he gave Carter about the Vancomycin, the arm-twisting he did with Joseph and Sean, all for the little girl. He had hoped that he would be able to keep Carter and the others safe but his secrecy alone had tipped Carter off and because of this, they were both possibly going to die. Was all this to overcompensate for his feelings of falling short in his personal life?

Once again, Carter was kicking himself for being bull headed. He played out the scenario in his head again and again. If it weren't for his impulsiveness and his need to get under Luka's skin, they wouldn't be in the position they were in at the moment. He wouldn't listen to Luka. He did not think rationally about what he was suggesting and Luka took it upon himself to get the Vancomycin. Carters are good at self-blame, and John Truman Carter, MD was the best. The last time he felt this miserable, this scared was about three years before. It was dark in that room, even the blinds were closed. The darkness mimicked the diffuse moonlight on this night in the hut.

"I could smell him." Carter sat, his nose crinkling, eyes closed, head down, breathing heavy, thinking aloud as he spoke with his head slunk between his knees. Curled almost into a sitting fetal position, he was in a zone outside of himself.

Luka was at the other end of the hut lying on the palm leaves, eyes closed, trying to get some sleep. "They are pungent, aren't they? We're getting kind of ripe too, you know."

Carter didn't even hear Luka. The tape was playing in his head without the benefit of a pause button. "He put his hand on me here," he put his left hand over his right shoulder. "He pulled me into him. His hand was trembling but… very strong, and…"

By now, Luka was catching on and crawled his way over to Carter. He sat in front of him, head tilted looking up into his face. "Who, Carter?"

"…I could smell him." His eyes stared down past Luka's face, blankly at the bare floor. "I was reading one of Yosh's valentines and it… and it… happened all at once."

"Who?" Luka superimposed his question on Carter's oration, but Carter, eyes now tightly closed, darting back and forth behind the lids, was still in his own space as he spoke of the stabbing for the very first time.

"He had a B-O thing going when I first examined him, and when Lucy did the LP my face was so close…..," He grimaced at the rude recollection of the stink. "That's the only way I knew it was him."

"Who?" Luka wanted Carter to acknowledge the attacker as he slumped down to get closer to his face fearful that Carter would speak more and more in whispers as the memory became more haunting and vivid.

"Who?"

The thud of the bass from the music they were playing at the admit desk that night was coursing through his ears. The church-like organ almost misplaced within the violence of the words.

(Lyrics to a few lines of Battlflag, Lo-Fidelity All Stars previously properly attributed, deleted as per new regulations by site administrators 5/3/05. The complete original text of Pocket Change can be found at LUKAFIC)

Carter's eyelids shot open, his eyeballs already pre-focused on Luka's face. "Sobriki." Carter said it through his tight jaw, with a slight stutter on the "S". "Sobriki." He said it again, this time with no hesitation. Luka gave him the floor, let him speak without direction. "It was a matter of seconds, just seconds. The first was like… like a hard punch but I didn't even feel the pain until he took the knife out." He reached up to wipe the spittle from his mouth that had escaped. "Then he did it again." His voice rose in uneven anger. "The pain this time was far worse than the first. I was frozen, like I was going in slow motion and he wasn't. When he took it out I could feel the blade shaking just a little – inside of me." He swallowed hard – an agonizing memory just now discovered.

Carter was afraid that if he moved, if he stopped looking at Luka, that he would never finish. "I fell, didn't even know if he was still there. The blood was warm and sticky." He looked at his hands, turning them over, fiercely wiping the non-existent blood from them. "I've had my hands in blood before, lots of it. But this was so different."

He cleared his throat and looked to the left as though someone were there. Stuttering at first, he continued. "And … there… she was. Lucy was right there." He pointed to the other side of the hut. Luka was so taken by Carter's unannounced confession that he, too, looked over at the empty corner. "She was conscious and trying to talk. I couldn't get to her. I wanted to, Luka, but my body wouldn't move. The floor was so cold." Carter's voice was quivering with frustration. His eyes were desperate for answers as he looked up at Luka who was still squatting in front of him. "My hands were slipping on the tile – the damn blood…," he wiped the fictitious blood on his chest, grabbing his shirt at his heart. "I couldn't get to her." He was almost begging Luka for answers. "I couldn't. She was right there. And it got gray, then black. I thought I was going to die."

Luka sat down beside his friend and finally felt the need to add his thoughts. "I was worried that you would die as well."

Finally, Carter was speaking of this horrible night. He knew Luka was on that night, but the thought that he was involved in his treatment hadn't crossed him before. He nodded nervously, acknowledging Luka's part that day.

"Kerry found you, we ran to her when we heard her scream." This time Luka was the one scratching his head, trying to put words to the scene. "When I got there, Kerry was with Lucy. You were so pale. The blood was pooled under you. We split up the nurses, residents and students. Chen and Abby helped me with you."

Carter was glad that he had no more to add.

"Your GCS was low, very low. So was your crit. The bleeding was heavy and when I saw that you produced more blood than urine from your foley I knew that the renal lac was potentially fatal. That on top of the already large blood loss was pretty bad."

Carter was overwhelmed with the amount and variety of emotions he was feeling. Anger, fear, sadness and comfort in knowing his colleagues did their best. But mostly fear. "This is getting… I can't talk about this anymore."

Luka knew what it was like to hold back, and he was glad that Carter could relieve himself of the burden. "That's okay. I understand." He looked at Carter's eyes as his friend exhaled a world of emotions.

There was a different atmosphere in the hut that night, and the sound of fresh gunfire in the distance did nothing to help as the doctors continued their routine of intermittent sleep, pacing and silently checking on one another. But for the first time, they were left alone.