Yes, I'm actually back. Sorry for disappearing. I'd had every intention of posting my story quickly when I started but it seems to have been the victim of a series of misfortunate events. Not the least of which is that I foolishly didn't back my files up sufficiently and most of them were erased by a hacker. Until now I couldn't muster the heart or the time to rewrite them. The fact that ER sucks now hasn't helped. It's very hard to get in touch with my inner Luka when the real one has been turned into such a weanie. But it's coming back (that break from new episodes must have helped), so here is the latest installment:

If anyone out there still remembers this fic and cares about reading it leave a comment to that affect so I'll know if it's worth finishing.

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Luka and Carter's talk had done a few things for Luka-it had served as a welcome release for emotions that had long been buried, while giving him a connection with humanity again, in the form, miracle of miracles, of John Carter. And it also left him frustrated and slightly depressed. He felt impatient to move forward but uncertain where to step, uncertain what it was he was even looking for. His talk with Carter made him realize how little he had to offer; how little he'd reconciled himself to his new life without his family after all these years. Who was he? Where was he going? The dreams that had been plaguing his sleep increased.

Carter and Luka's visit had changed some things for Carter: it had served as a welcome release for some of the grief he'd held at bay since the loss of his child and Kem's sudden return back to Africa-for some space to think and recover, she'd said. It had provided him a confidant-dare he even say, a friend?-in the unlikely form of Luka Kovac. And it had lifted a weight from him. Questions of the rightness or wrongness of his and Kem's relationship, and guilt over having brought this on himself, on her-and on the baby-had previously mixed with the feelings of loss and made it difficult to grieve fully. His talk with Luka gave him the permission he needed to have loved Kem and to now grieve his losses without self-doubt. The dreams that had been keeping him up nights decreased.

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A couple weeks after their get-together Luka accepted Carter's invitation to grab a burger after work. As they settled down to the Cokes the waitress brought and waited for the food, Carter got right to the point. "I called Kem," he enthused.

Luka forced his attentions outside of himself and, looking up from the straw he was aimlessly stirring in his drink, smiled encouragingly at his friend. "It went well?"

Carter checked his enthusiasm with a tight smile and a shrug. "I guess it depends how you look at it. I didn't bring up 'us' but we talked about the baby together for the first time since she left. We cried together. It meant a lot that we could at least make that connection. You know?"

Luka nodded and studied Carter, who's attention was now turned to the food that was being set in front of them. He appeared lighthearted, an obvious improvement over that first social call. They ate their food in silence, each in their own thoughts; Carter undoubtedly going over every word of his conversation with Kem, Luka speculated. He had other things on his mind.

He felt he should be happy. He was alive. Everyone in his life was doing reasonably well. Carter had lost his child and the woman he'd loved, yet within a relatively short time, was finding his way, no thanks to Luka, despite Abby's insistence that it would be good for Carter to have him around. Abby, who had been so unhappy with him, was finally happy, and had become a doctor, just as he'd always thought she should, not that it was because she'd ever believed him. And Sam had recently had a talk with him.

Luka had thought being with Sam was the answer. Here were two people who needed him. Alex had taken to him immediately, had sought him out, it often seemed. And Luka had recognized Sam's neediness behind her bravado, knew she needed someone to give her care and safety. It had surprised him that she was actually willing to receive it when he offered. It all seemed to fall into place; seemed so much more logical and meaningful than spending his life turned inside-out by someone who he couldn't make happy, who didn't need him. But Sam had gone, and taken Alex. He'd found that seeing Alex's face watching him desperately as they drove off caused Luka more pain than the loss of Sam. He'd tried to talk her into coming back, for Alex's sake if nothing else. But she said it was none of his concern. She shut him out as abruptly as she let him in. It always seemed to happen that way.

But she had come back on her own shortly after and now she wanted to see him, to apologize and to explain. Steve's reappearance had opened up old feelings. In the past she had never thought her choices out far ahead, but this time she'd actually forced herself to think before she acted. She hadn't slept with Steve like she might have before, but the struggle to do the right thing for herself and Alex took it's toll. The thought that she might fail scared her, so she'd done what she always did-run away from the burden of the responsibility. She'd told herself it was for Alex's sake, but she knew better. So did Alex. He was old enough now that he could see through her self-justifications and her attempts to bribe him into cooperating. And he'd made connections in Chicago so strong that his anger at her for doing this to him again was more powerful than she'd ever seen in him.

In the end she knew it was time to step up. So she'd come back to Chicago, gotten them settled back into their life here, and taken Steve to court, so that the law could deal with his fatherly responsibilities and demands instead of her. Luka had done more for them than he could know, she assured him. (Sure he had, he'd thought. She was simply letting him down lightly.) But she hadn't been fair to him. She didn't love him. She'd liked the security, and had let him take responsibilities that were meant for her, in exchange for her affections. Now she was doing the right thing.

She was doing well, Luka could see that; and in spite of him, he thought; certainly not because of him. She'd moved on to a better place. Everyone had. He was the one left behind, still without answers. He should be happy for them all, he chastened himself, but it only seemed to bring his own relentless bewilderment into relief.

Carter finished his food first and rested his elbows on the table contemplating Luka thoughtfully. Luka was once again forced to pull himself out of his head. He was in his head too much these days. Maybe he should ask for extra shifts.

"I wanted to thank you." Carter offered this hesitantly, almost shyly.

Luka looked at him blankly and illustrated his confusion with a shrug.

"Having your company has meant a lot to me. It's helped bring some things in perspective for me, given me better understanding of myself." Carter struggled to explain.

"Luka's lessons on how not to live?" Luka offered, laughing scoffingly.

Carter chuckled politely in return. "No, really," he insisted. "I mean, I still have my bad days, but at least I don't feel like I'm falling into a bottomless pit anymore. I can get through this. I think before it was too easy to let myself feel like I was powerless over my destiny, simply a victim. Then I could just dismiss problems as mistakes and run away from them to try the next thing. But on some level problems and challenges are what you make of them. I'm trying to remember that."

Luka was avoiding Carter's gaze guiltily. He wasn't in the mood for deep conversation and didn't want to encourage Carter, but he owed it to him to listen, just the same.

Carter began to sense Luka's discomfort and changed the subject, feeling somewhat chagrined. He supposed there was some unwritten rule that man-to-man talks should only be done privately over beer and football, not in busy burger joints. So they talked sports for a bit and then Luka excused himself to get some sleep.

And eventually, after his fruitless searching, in darkness, wading heavily through water, confused, and disoriented, sleep came.