Luka was looking at them, and around the room. He looked confused ... scared ... it was hard to tell for sure. Maybe just in pain.
And for a moment Carter saw himself lying on the gurney. It hadn't been so long ago that he had been the trauma, fighting for his life after an apparently senseless attack. A fight that had ended up changing his life in so many ways. Had he looked like that? Frightened? A little lost? On that day it had been Luka standing beside the gurney, saving his life. Would he be able to return the favor? And if he did, how would this change Luka's life? You're never the same after something like that. Drug addictions aside, this is something that changes you forever.
"Hey, Luka," said Carter gently. "Can you hear me?" A slow nod. Carter slipped his hand into Luka's. "Can you squeeze my hand?" A slight pressure. "Good. That's fine." Then a faint choking sound again as Luka tried to speak, but the ET tube, attached to a ventilator now, made it impossible. "Don't try to talk, Luka. There's a tube in your throat to help you breathe. You can't talk right now." Luka nodded again. He understood. But his eyes were starting to droop a little. He was going to slip under again in a minute.
"Do you know where you are?" Yes. "Do you remember what happened to you?" A frown, a slow looking around the room, then a shake of the head. Carter took a breath. "You were shot. The bullets hit your chest, but you're doing fine ..."
Luka's eyes suddenly widened. A panicked look on his face.
"It's ok, Luka," Susan said quickly. "You really are doing fine. In a few minutes we're going to take you upstairs to surgery."
But Luka wasn't hearing her any more. Wasn't listening. He was starting to struggle as the panic enveloped him. Was trying to talk, starting to fight the vent.
"Luka!" Carter said. "It's ok. Everything's ok now. You're safe here."
Luka pulled his hand away, tried to grab the ET tube, choking, gagging. "Luka!" Carter said again. He took Luka's wrists, held them firmly. "Don't pull on the tube. It has to stay in."
Tears spilled over; panicked, frightened tears. Luka looked from Carter to Susan and back again, still choking on the tube.
From Susan, gently. "I know there's something you want to tell us. It can wait. You're going to be ok. Whatever it is, you can tell us after surgery, when you're feeling a little better. Right now you have to just relax, let the vent do its job."
Carter felt Luka's arms relax as he stopped struggling and, after a moment, he cautiously released his wrists. For a minute Luka lay quietly, but still crying.. Then he started to look around again, clearly looking for something. His eyes focused on Kerry. She had removed her yellow coverall in the other room. His hand moved again and he reached towards her. Kerry's eyes followed his hand. He was reaching for her lab coat pocket. A pen was sticking out the top.
"My pen?" Kerry asked. And a relieved nod from Luka.
Carter sighed. Luka clearly wasn't going to settle down until he'd told them whatever he had to say, and the agitation wasn't doing him any good. His pulse-rate had increased dramatically, something he didn't need right now.
"Ok, Luka." Carter motioned to Kerry for the pen, and found a pad of paper in his own pocket. "You tell us whatever it is, then we're going to go upstairs."
A nod from Luka. Carter handed him the pen and held the pad where he could write on it. Luka was shaking and still crying just a little. This was so unlike him, Carter thought. Luka had never struck him as being a man who would cry, not even in a situation like this. It had to be something more than the fear of death, shock over the knowlege that he had been shot, or even the pain, that was upsetting him so much.
Luka could barely hold onto the pen. Slowly, shakily, he made a letter on the paper. It was a scrawl really, but it looked like an A. Focused attention, then a second letter. It had better be a short message, Carter thought. At this rate he wasn't going to get more than a few letters down before he passed out again ... or before he filled the small pad. It was just as well, perhaps, that the pen slipped from his fingers after Luka had written the second letter. It was a B.
And Luka seemed to think that was enough. The tears had stopped. He looked questioningly at Carter, then at Susan. Obviously expected them to understand. Baffled, Carter looked at Susan, who shook her head. She didn't have a clue either.
"I don't understand, Luka." Carter said gently. "It can wait, ok? You'll tell us ..."
Frustration. Luka's hands balled into fists, he looked like he was fighting tears again.
Then Susan's eyes widened a bit. "Abby. Is that what you're saying?" A relieved nod from Luka."Abby isn't on tonight," Haleh said. "She was on with you this afternoon, remember?"
And a frantic shake of the head. The panic starting to return. "Do you want us to call her? Tell her what happened?" asked Susan. No.
Carter had never felt so helpless. It was something terribly important, that was obvious. But what could Luka be trying to tell them about Abby?
Luka moved his hand, touched the gauze bandage that covered the bullet wound in his lower chest. And looked again at Carter. Carter shook his head, still lost. Could Luka be saying that Abby had done this? That she had shot him? No ... that was absurd. Besides, they had the shooter already. He was dead in the next room awaiting a visit to the coroner.
And then, the realization. This wasn't a robbery. It wasn't a mugging. This guy had shot Luka and then offed himself. This was something personal. And if was personal against Luka ...
"Is Abby hurt?" A nod. Relief that that they finally understood. "Is she in your apartment?" No. "Do you know where she is?" No. And he was fighting to keep his eyes open now.
"Run of 5," Yosh said softly, and Susan said, "We've got to get him upstairs, Carter. His pressure's dropping."
"In a minute. Start a lido drip, Yosh. And Haleh, call 911. Tell them to get a police car and an ambulance to Abby's apartment." She had to be there. She had to be. "Kerry, do we have an ID on the shooter?"
"An Idaho driver license. Name's Brian Westlake."
"Brian." Susan said slowly. "Is that the guy who beat her up last year ... used to be her neighbor?" Luka was nodding again, frantically.
"Ok, Luka," Carter said. "We're going to find Abby and help her. And now you're going upstairs so the surgeons can help you." Luka shook his head again. "We can't wait any longer. Abby will be very pissed if she finds out we let you die. We'll find Abby and you'll see her when you come out of surgery."
Susan and Yosh left to take Luka up to the OR. And Carter pulled out his cell phone, dialed Abby's number. It rang. "Pick up, Abby .... Please, pick up ...." Luka was wrong, he was mistaken. He had to be.
A click. "Abby!"
A cheerful voice "Hi, this is Abby. I'm not here right now."
"Abby, it's John. Pick up!"
"Leave a message at the beep ...."
"Abby, it's important. Please pick up now!"
"... and I'll get back to you."
A beep, then a long silence. John listened silently until the machine switched off automatically, then he closed the cell in his fist. After a moment he tried her cell phone, and that one just rang and rang.She had to be there. She had to be. But he could have taken her anywhere. No ... she knew better than that. She knew that you never go with an attacker, you never let him take you somewhere else. She had to be there, or in the three short blocks between the el station and her apartment.
She had to be.