Sorry that this chapter has taken FOREVER to be posted. I just couldn't make it happen. Luka and Abby were NOT cooperating with my pen. The stuff I'd promised would follow 32 just wasn't working, so I started over. About 5 times. I really do know where I'm going now, so the rest should follow much more quickly. Really!

Two thirty. Abby should have been home long ago. The Chinese food Luka had ordered for their lunch was growing cold on the table. And there was a colder feeling, that he tried to ignore, in the pit of his stomach.

It was nothing to worry about. How often had he worked an hour, or several, past the end of his shift? If a trauma had come in a few minutes before she was about to leave, she couldn't just walk out, and she couldn't take a break to call him, let him know she'd be late.

It was her first day back at work. Just half shifts for a while, but she wanted to go back, needed to go back. She needed the money, she'd told him. She didn't, of course, not really. Luka would have gladly paid the rent on the storage shed, and her expenses while she lived here. But Abby wouldn't hear of it. She would pay her own bills, and split his rent and the groceries. So ...she needed the money.

And it wasn't as if he needed her here all the time anymore. He was doing fine, getting his strength back. He could take care of himself. And it was good for them to be apart for a while.

Things were ... good ... between them now. But there was still something - off - about Abby. Something Luka couldn't put his finger on. Or maybe there was something off about him, something that Abby could see, but he could not.

She was a willing, even enthusiastic partner in bed. But he'd sometimes wake in the night to see her sitting by the window, chain-smoking. And during the day she seemed on edge. He would often catch her staring into space, or watching him with an expression on her face that he couldn't quite read. "Nothing's wrong," was always her reply when he asked her about it.

"Have you talked to anyone?" he'd finally asked her.

"About what?"

"About what happened ... to you."

"I don't need to. There's nothing to talk about; I'm doing fine. I just need to get busy again." A rather forced smile. "Taking care of you isn't exactly a strain on my clinical skills, you know."

So she'd gone back to work. It was the best thing, of course. For her, for him, and for them. Being together, mostly stuck at home, 24/7 wasn't good for them. Conversation had long since started to run dry. Maybe that's why things were better in bed than at any other time. In bed, they didn't have to talk.

Luka couldn't help envying her a little. She was back at work, keeping busy again, doing what she'd been trained to do. And he was still stuck at home. He was improving, doing better, but he knew he wasn't anywhere near ready to return to work. Getting around his apartment, taking care of himself, was a far cry from working a 12 hour shift, with all the stress, and hours at a time on his feet. No, he wasn't ready to go back yet.

So he wasn't surprised that Abby had chosen to work late. Working, the satisfaction of helping other people, doing what she loved. It had to be better than coming home to him, to work on a relationship that was still going nowhere ... trying to learn how to love him.

Nearly 3. Luka picked up the phone. At the second ring came Jerry's familiar "ER!"

And Luka suddenly hesitated. Did anyone know that Abby was living with him? Carter knew, of course, and Susan, but they could be trusted to keep confidences. So, unless Abby had said something ... Oh well, Luka plunged forward. "Hi, Jerry. It's Dr. Kovač ."

"How are you feeling?" Jerry interrupted. "We miss you around here!"

"I'm doing better, thanks. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise." Ok. Keep going. "Is ... ummm ... do you know how much longer Abby will be?"

"She just worked a half shift today, Dr. Kovač . She was off at one - clocked out a little early, in fact." A pause. "Can I get her a message? She'll be in tomorrow."

"No thanks. I'll call her."

Luka hung up the phone slowly. It was a 10 minute el ride home, then about a five minute walk from the station. She'd gotten off two hours ago. She could have stopped to do some errands, of course. But she would have called. She'd called twice during the morning to check on him, but he hadn't heard from her since around 10.

He picked up the phone again, but didn't dial. He could call her, there was nothing wrong with that. But she might be annoyed at him for checking up on her. Or maybe she wouldn't answer at all. What if she didn't answer at all?

The sound of a key in the lock. Luka breathed a sigh of relief and hung up quickly as the door opened. "I was getting worried," he said quickly as Abby came in.

"No need to be. What do you think might have happened to me?" A half smile. "What are the odds of me being raped twice in one month?"

"I didn't mean that," Luka said softly. "I just thought ..."

"That you had to know where I am every minute? Is that what love is?" Hard. Bitter.

Luka just looked at her. What had he done? What had he said? Abby had hung up her jacket, but still hovered on the far side of the room. She hadn't looked at him. She looked a bit flushed, he thought, and maybe her hands were shaking a little. She didn't say anything more.

Another deep breath. "I'll warm up the lunch. I got you ..."

"I'm not hungry. I already ate."

So that was it. A simple enough explanation. She'd gotten lunch after work, probably with some of the other nurses. She'd been away for a couple of weeks, and hadn't seen them. It was reasonable that she'd want to spend some time with her friends, catch up on things.

"Well ... I haven't eaten yet. I was waiting for you."

"So eat. You need to eat."

Luka filled a plate and put in the microwave to warm. He watched the carousel going around ... it was easier than looking at Abby. The hum of the machine made the silence seem even louder. Still with his back to her he said, "You had lunch with ... Chuny?"

"No." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Abby sit on the couch, pick up the remote.

"Who?" Not Carter, surely.

"Myself!" Abby snapped out. "Or am I not allowed to do that either?"

Again the silence, with only the hum of the microwave. Luka didn't know what to say. Whatever he said seemed to make things worse. Whatever was bothering Abby, and something clearly was, would have to wait until she volunteered it. Not that she would. He knew her well enough to know that much.

He took his plate from the microwave and started towards the couch. Guessing his intentions, Abby got up quickly and moved to the chair. She still hadn't looked at him, but he was close enough now to see that her hands were shaking.

"What did I do?" Luka asked softly. He had to try.

"What?" Clearly baffled by the question.

"You're angry at me about something. I'd like to know what. Is it still ... Ralene?"

"No." A sigh, and a bit of the tension seemed to leave Abby's body, and she started to look at him, then back at her hands. "I'm just ..." a helpless gesture. "Tired."

"Work was rough?"

"No." Too quick. "Not really. It was pretty quiet actually."

"Jerry said you left early."

"Just a little. It was quiet ... the other nurses could handle it."

"Any interesting patients in all that quiet?" Luka tried to keep his voice casual. She seemed to be relaxing a little more. Maybe she'd volunteer something. Eventually.

"Not really." Again, too quick. "98 year old with an MI. Family insisted we work on him for an hour even though he'd coded in the ambulance. His daughter said their family always lived to be 100... if he died young it would be our fault." Almost a smile.

"Did he make it?"

"What do you think? And a kid who fell off his skateboard, broke his arm. Nothing much else." Tense again.

Luka picked at his meal. He'd been hungry before, but the tension had taken away his appetite. He couldn't think of anything more to say.

After a minute Abby got up and started for the kitchen. As she passed him he smelled a faint odor. Faint but familiar. And startling.

"You've been drinking!"

"No, I haven't!"

"I smell beer, Abby. On your breath, and your shirt."

"I had ... A Beer. With lunch. Must've spilled a little. That's not 'drinking,' it's having a beer. I sometimes drink a little, you know that."

"Why today?" He knew she sometimes drank with friends. But never alone.

A shrug. "I felt like it, ok? Maybe I was celebrating my first day back at work. Or our new love affair." No smile now. The tension was stronger than ever.

She pulled free from his grasp and went to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and then, watching him with a clear, 'I dare you to stop me' look in her eyes, took the vodka bottle from the cabinet and added a hefty splash to the glass. Returning to her chair she sat down and raised the glass. "I actually had three beers with lunch," she said quietly. "Or was it four?"

"Abby ... don't ..."

Still watching him over the rim of the glass, Abby took a long drink. When she finally lowered the glass, only half full now, Luka reached forward quickly and his hand closed around it, over Abby's hand.

"Don't do this," he said again. "Whatever is wrong, there are better ways of dealing with it."

"So speaks the expert on 'dealing with' things." A bitter laugh. "I'm an alcoholic, remember? This is how I deal with things. This is who I am."

"Tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is, I can help." A hesitation. "Or is it me? Something I did?"

"Men ... they always think it's all about them!"

They were still fighting grimly for the glass. Luka knew that he could take it from her if he really tried, he was strong enough. But he hoped she'd relinquish it voluntarily. Still, when she finally did, it was so sudden that Luka lost his own grip, and the screwdriver splashed over Abby's pants, and onto the floor.

"Damn it!" snapped Abby, jumping to her feet.

"I'm sorry ... I'll get you a towel."

"Don't' bother." Abby turned on her heel and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.