Circles, my head is going 'round in circles.
My mind is caught up in a whirlpool, dragging me down. (Circles, by The Who)

Dawn was just coming in through the window. The hospital wasn't quiet, it was never really quiet. There were always the footsteps and voices of nurses in the halls, the sounds of monitors, the moaning of patients in pain. But there was that underlying stillness that went along with the nighttime hours in a hospital. A stillness that Luka had become too familiar with over the past few nights, lying awake, listening to all those tiny sounds, and to the slow ticking of the clock, and the even slower rhythm of Abby's breathing beside him.

Luka moved the pillow under his head, tried to find a more comfortable position, though the IV made it hard to move as freely as he would like. He usually slept on his stomach, but the wires and lines wouldn't let him do that. Not that it would make much difference. He wouldn't sleep anyway. As he had the past few nights, and the past few weeks, he'd slept for a few hours, but 3 a.m. found him awake again, counting the minutes until morning. He could ring for the nurse, ask for another sleeping pill, but he didn't want to do that. Then he'd just be both awake and groggy, which was even worse.

Abby was asleep, sitting up in the chair beside his bed. She'd hardly left his side for the past 3 days. She'd been there when he'd wakened in the ICU, and she'd been there almost every minute since then, leaving only to use the bathroom, eat, and grab a quick shower and some clean scrubs once a day.

And Luka wasn't sure what to think about that. Oh, he liked her being there. He was glad to see her, glad for this one small bit of stability in a world that had been turned upside down. Funny that she would be, he thought. Of all the words he might use to describe Abby, 'stable' had never been one that came immediately to mind. Had she changed, or had he?

He had certainly changed. There was no question about that. He felt off-balance in ways that he couldn't really explain, couldn't really understand. It wasn't just the lingering illness and pain. It wasn't the fact that he was, again, unbelievably weak and shaky, unable to walk as far as the bathroom without help.

It was, perhaps, the awareness, the shock of learning that he had, once again, nearly died; that being safe from outside dangers couldn't protect him from the vulnerability of his own body. He could still die. In the blink of an eye. The idea of that frightened him, and he hated feeling that way. He didn't want to be afraid.

For so many months he hadn't really cared if he'd lived or died. Life had been just an endless stream of meaningless work shifts treating an endless stream of strangers - and nights spent in meaningless sex with an even more endless stream of strangers. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to look back on with anything but self-disgust. But now he had tasted death, faced death, and learned that it scared him. And he didn't know which was worse, not caring if he died, or being so afraid of it.

But more than that it was the shock of waking up to find that everything had changed. He'd gone to sleep in his own bed, he remembered that; but he'd wakened in the hospital, with a tube in his throat and an entire day just gone from his life.

Before, there had been at least the knowledge that something had happened to him. The shooting, the memories, however dim and confused, of being in the ER, in the ICU, drifting in and out of consciousness. But this time there was just a blank. No matter how many times Abby told him what had happened, how much detail she gave him, there was no memory. Not only of the PE itself, of collapsing at home, of talking to her while waiting for the ambulance, of waking in the ER. There was no memory of the entire morning, or even the night before. A night during which, he knew well, he would have been awake for hours.

For some reason, this all bothered Luka in ways that he couldn't seem to cope with. Was it worse to remember, to be haunted by the recollections of pain and fear? Or was it worse to not remember, to have a gap in his life that he knew he would probably never get back.

"It's not worth worrying about," Abby had told him a dozen times now, as he'd grilled her for details about those missing hours, hoping to trigger something in his memory. "It's not like you missed anything you really want to remember, do you?" He knew she was right, but it didn't make it easier.

And maybe this was why, he thought, that despite the pain and weakness and the constant aching tiredness, and the sleeping pill he obediently took at bedtime each night, he still wasn't sleeping. Was it the fear of losing more time? Of waking up to find, again, that everything had changed? That he had changed yet again? Or that this time he wouldn't wake up at all.

Yes, he had changed. Everything had changed. Abby had changed. Luka didn't understand that either. She wouldn't leave him. Before, once he was finally out of danger and awake, she had returned to work, only visiting him in the evenings and on her breaks. But now, though his doctors assured both of them that he was doing well, (and he'd seen his own chart, he knew they were telling the truth), she stayed in his room, making sure he got the best care during the day, and sleeping by his bed at night. And she did sleep. Luka was awake enough himself to know that Abby was sleeping now. He would watch her sleep, glad that she was there, but still uncertain why she was there. She didn't talk about it, and he didn't know how to ask.

Her manner was different too, though it was hard for Luka to put his finger on what it was. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him. She spoke a little more rapidly, the pitch was a little higher. Something that would usually suggest nervousness, but she didn't seem nervous. Quite the reverse. Aside from some clear concern for his health and well-being, she seemed happier, more confident than he'd seen her in a long time.

Maybe it was the shock. She must have been frightened, coming home to find him unconscious. A shock that she didn't need after all she had been through herself. That could change a person.

Luka sighed, tried again to find a more comfortable position in bed. He'd been puzzling over this for days now, or, more accurately, for nights. It was something to occupy his mind during the long empty hours. He was no closer to finding an answer, but that didn't surprise him. He still didn't understand what had happened to him. Could he really expect to understand Abby? He'd never understood Abby.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Abby helped Luka back into bed, and checked to see that the IV hadn't become dislodged, that the tape was still holding the catheter firmly in the vein.

"Why don't you run and get some breakfast," he said. "They'll be bringing mine soon."

"No, I'm fine for a while. Not really hungry."

Luka frowned. "How are you holding up?" She wasn't eating much these days, though that could have more to do with the hospital food than her own feelings.

"I'm doing good. I feel great."

"Sleeping in a chair, after a week of sleeping on my couch, that can't be doing much for you."

"Do I look bad? I mean aside from the fact that the shampoo in the showers downstairs does nothing for my hair ..."

"Your hair looks fine. And you look fine. You look beautiful." Those last words just came out, but it was true, she did look beautiful. And Luka couldn't help feeling jealous. He knew that he looked at least as bad as he felt. "I'm just ... wondering ..."

"You just think about yourself. You need to concentrate on getting better."

"I'm trying, Abby."

A tap on the door. That would be his breakfast. No, it was Carter.

"I know it's not visiting hours yet," Carter said, "But I figured you'd be awake, and I've owed you a visit for a few days."

"Yeah, you have," Abby said.

'Ah,' Luka thought. 'And here was where Abby would decide to leave and get her own breakfast.' She wouldn't want to be here with Carter. It was still too awkward for her.

But no, her words were followed by a smile, one that Carter returned. Luka didn't miss the warmth in her eyes. She got up from the chair, but only so she could sit on the bed, making room for Carter.

"Work's been crazy. We're short an attending, you know." Carter threw himself down into the chair.

"Sorry, not my doing," Luka joked back.

"Now Luka," Carter scolded good naturedly, "When I told you last week that I hoped to see you back soon, this wasn't what I meant."

"Sorry," Luka said again. "You should have been more specific. My English isn't so good, you know."

Abby laughed. "So this was all planned? Just to please Carter?"

The atmosphere in the room was comfortable, easy. It was impossible for Luka to not get caught up in the light conversation, the jokes that flowed so easily. Between himself and Carter. And between Abby and Carter. It was impossible for him to not be pleased at how happy Abby appeared to be.

And impossible for him to ignore the realization that was slowly creeping over him. The answer to the question that had been nagging him for so long. This was what had changed about Abby. Carter.

And he wasn't sure what to think about that one either.