[For all who have been waiting so patiently for the story to return to Luka ... you get your wish. (Give him a break, the guy was just shot. I had to allow him a little time to recover before putting the story back on his shoulders, right?)]
He had been trying to wake up for a very long time. Or, rather, they had been trying to wake him up.
Luka didn't want to wake up. He liked being where he was. Oblivion was pleasant; warm, gentle, comfortable.
But people kept talking to him, calling his name, encouraging him to open his eyes. So he would try. They were asking so nicely, he did want to please them. So he would climb a little ways out of the nothingness, but there was always pain there waiting for him. He didn't like the pain. He didn't understand it, and it frightened him. He would hear himself whimper, sometimes mutter something in Croatian, though even he wasn't quite sure what he was saying, and then he'd slip back down again into the darkness. Oblivion was better. There was no pain there.
But now he had to wake up. They were talking to him again, calling his name. He'd been sleeping for such a long time, he knew. He had to go to work, he was going to be late for work. He didn't feel well, his chest hurt ... but he should at least get up, call in ... tell them he was sick. He was sick ... it was so hard to open his eyes. How long had he been sick? He couldn't remember. "Have to go to work ..." he heard himself mutter.
"Luka? Come on Luka, try to open your eyes." A beautiful voice. He opened his eyes. They were so heavy, and everything was blurry. Where was he?
'When you get to heaven - or hell - if she's there, you'll have your answer.'
He was dead. And Abby was dead. So much pain ... this must be hell. Heaven was beautiful, with no pain. Wasn't it? But no ... if Abby was here it couldn't be hell. He might deserve to be in hell, but never Abby.
'Shall I tell you how I touched her?' A gun ... agony as the bullet struck his chest ... and then an endless time of pain and nothingness and still more pain and things happening to him that he could never seem to wake up enough to understand.
His vision was a little clearer now, and his other senses too. The pain was still there, a tearing in his chest with every breath. He wanted to cough, but he knew, somehow, that coughing would make the pain worse. As he came more awake, he found that he could handle the pain, push it aside a little. He didn't have to run away from it any more. He'd always been good about pain. He could focus on other things now. He was lying in a bed, but not his own familiar bed. Someone else's? No, it was a hospital bed. He became aware of tubes and wires; IVs, oxygen, monitor leads, drains; some he couldn't think what they were. He knew he should know ... he was a doctor, wasn't he? But it was just too hard right now. His chest hurt, he was nauseous, and he was very thirsty, and still so very tired.
But none of that mattered very much, because mostly, he was aware of Abby. She was sitting beside his bed, and her hand, small and warm, was holding onto his. And he realized that he was squeezing her hand very hard. The pain. He was reacting to the pain. Luka forced his hand to relax. He didn't want to hurt her.
But Brian ... God ... Brian had hurt her. Hadn't he? He blinked, trying to clear his vision a little more. Her face looked strange. As beautiful as always, but different. There was a Band-Aid on her cheek, the area around her eyes was discolored and a bit swollen.
She was still talking to him. "Luka? Can you hear me?" He knew he should answer. She looked so worried. He didn't want her to worry.
"Abby." His voice was very hoarse. "Could I have some water?" He was very thirsty, every word hurt his parched throat, but he tried to make his voice sound normal, so she wouldn't have to worry so much.
"Not yet. Maybe in a little while. The doctor has to say it's ok first." The worried look had given way to a smile, but tears were brightening he eyes now. Had he hurt her hand?
"Sorry ..."
A wider smile. She was so beautiful. "What for?"
"Hurt ... your hand?"
"No, you didn't. It's fine." Abby pulled her hand from his ... God ... he didn't want her to do that ... and wiggled her fingers. "See? No harm done."
"Hurts."
"I know. You'll start to feel better soon. Do you remember ... why you're here?"
Luka nodded. "Shot." He would never forget that.
"That's right. And you had surgery. They had to open your chest. It's going to hurt for a while."
"What day is it?" How long had it been? It could have been only hours, Luka thought, or maybe it had been weeks? But no, if it had been weeks, the pain would surely be better by now.
"It's Friday. It's just been a couple of days. It was Wednesday when ... it happened. It's Friday evening now."
"Been ... sleeping?" He wanted to sleep again, but he also wanted to keep looking at Abby, listening to her voice. This was better than oblivion.
"Mostly. You've been drifting, half-awake off and on."
"Don't remember much."
"Morphine has that effect on people," Abby said cheerfully.
For a minute she just smiled at him. And then Luka remembered. How could he have not remembered? Brian had hurt her. He knew that. Brian had told him he'd hurt her. He'd touched her. And there had been no doubt in Luka's mind what he had meant. Luka searched her face. There were bruises. A scabbed-over scrape on her forehead. He'd been thinking only of himself, his own pain. And Abby ...
"He hurt you?" Luka reached his hand towards her battered face, but he was too weak and after a moment his arm fell back to the bed.
"I'm ok," Abby said gently. She took his hand again.
"Your face. He ... did that?"
A nod. "Yeah, but it will heal. I'm not really hurt, Luka. He didn't really hurt me."
"He said ..."
"I know," Abby said quickly. "I know what he said. But I'm ok. He ... knocked me around a little. You don't have to worry about me. You just focus on getting well."
Luka let his eyes close. God ... he was so tired. But Abby was ok. Brian had lied. He'd just been trying to hurt him, making him believe he'd done something horrible to her. And Luka remembered, just a little, lying in the ER. Susan and Carter had been there, and he'd been trying to tell them, make them understand ... He had been so afraid. Had he be able to tell them? He couldn't remember that part. Maybe when he wasn't so tired ...
"I'm glad," Luka murmured faintly. "I thought ..."
"I know," Abby said again. "But everything is ok." Luka felt something soft and warm; it might have been angel's wings, brush against his forehead. "Do you want me to ring for the nurse? See if you can have some ice chips?"
"Later ..." Luka said. And he slept again.