Luka woke up in a sweat, the world around him also being drenched by the falling rain pouring into the streets of Chicago. He quickly thanked whoever was out there and listening that it wasn't the time of the year that it was constantly snowing. It would almost be too cold to handle.

Only suddenly did he realize that he was awakened by the shrill ring of his cell phone, and he became instantly aggravated. He groaned, stretching his muscles in a way that they weren't even ready for, while reaching for the phone on the nightstand opposite of him. His body shivered as his bare flesh was met with coolness seeping through the air.

The sun had barely begun to set and he'd had less than 3 hours of sleep, but yet, his phone had already begun the activity of ringing off of the hook. He hoped this wouldn't be an all night event, but it was extremely hard to tell with everything that had been happening lately. The ER could call; Abby could call; Alex could call; and even Sam could call. He wouldn't do it all over again.

"Hello," his voice was sleep laden, and he didn't do a very good job trying to hide it. He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, his body feeling sticky and humid from the sweat that was enveloped around him, and he awaited the answer from the other end of the phone slightly impatiently.

"Dr. Kovac?"

The voice, the voice was unrecognizable. He couldn't pick the face to the voice in a crowd of one, and he almost felt like an idiot. He knew this much, the voice was that of a man's…That narrowed it down.

"Yeah," he spoke deep into the back of his throat, trying to rack his brain in search of anyone he might know that sounded like the person on the other end of the line. He furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes as though he was in total disbelief. "Who is this?"

"It's Dr. Wallace," there was a chuckle that carried through the phone line on the other end, and Luka slowly shook his head. He was fighting off sleep, and he was fighting off annoyance. Did they not have any clocks where he was? "…The guy about a foot shorter than you with an accent about as heavy as yours."

And suddenly, Luka remembered. His friend who had left Kisangani just days before John had arrived – the doctor who had become one of his closest friends while he was in Africa. Dr. Wallace had been in Africa for 3 years and took his first trip home – to Ireland – and was sure and set to return two months after his departure. Luka had been stuck in a hard place when he'd left, hence, the frantic phone call to John.

"Oh, yes…It's been a while since I've last spoken to you," he seemed to emphasis every word of the English language, just like when he'd first come to Chicago. He always seemed to get a heavier accent when he was in the presence of someone else with a thick accent, not that it was a bad thing. "What has it been? Two years now?"

He pushed himself up into a sitting position with his elbow, and he threw the blanket off of him as he pulled his leg up beneath him.

"Maybe a little more," he then heard another chuckle. He didn't remember Dr. Wallace being so happy, but then again, it was a bit difficult to be happy around all of the turmoil in Africa. Luka remembered Dr. Wallace as one of those who deserved to be happy, a small apartment in his hometown in Ireland, a penthouse in the states somewhere, and a doctor who'd worked his last 5 years of his career without ever getting paid. "Hopefully you're doing well."

"I am, surviving; but barely," he nodded politely, forgetting that he couldn't be seen by the other party involved in the conversation. If he had gotten the phone call 3 months before (or even just a night before), he'd be disturbing another person from sleep, but that he didn't want to think about it so soon after waking up. "You're doing well, also?"

"I'm doing fairly well. Sitting at the airport in Kinshasa waiting for my flight out of here," the man with the thick Irish accent sighed heavily as though he was leaning against a wall. Luka was surprised to hear it, and, furthermore, he was surprised that he didn't hear the roar of the crowd in the background. He knew how packed that airport usually was. "Dr. Carter's sending me home for a few months."

"Heading to Ireland?"

"No, actually; I'm heading to the penthouse."

Dr. Wallace hadn't called in 2 years, he hadn't seen Luka in nearly half a year longer, and Luka was suddenly alarmed by the phone call. Why wouldn't he head home to Ireland?

"All that room for just the one person," Luka grinned knowingly, but deep down he was remembering what it was like to share it all with someone else. He missed it, and he was mentally beating himself up about it. "It'll be nice for it to be quiet again."

"I'm a little afraid that I won't get to sleep without all of the explosions to lull me. Two years later and it's bound to hinder someone."

There was a pause in the conversation; a pause that gave Luka the time to feel tired again.

"Listen, Dr. Kovac, I just heard my flight being called so it seems that I must go," his voice was reluctant, as though he was holding onto the past and, even more than that, a friend, "but it was good to talk to you again."

"Definitely. Don't hesitate to call me, or to look me up if you're ever in Chicago," Luka nodded, and moment later he was hanging up the phone after a friendly good bye. He was beginning to hate all of the friends that he'd had and lost, but one thing still remained: he still had friends. But he still loved that he could still love.

Nothing would ever change that.

Nothing.

----

He stepped out of his SUV and into the surprising heat of the Chicago sky, glancing around the paved parking lot around him to attempt to count the cars. He couldn't bare to count them when he realized that the parking lot was packed, and he was proud in the fatherly kind of way – proud that many people would show up to their kids soccer game. It was a pleasing emotion to know that many people in Chicago truly did care about their children.

Of course, he technically had no right to be there nor did he have rights to contain that feeling. He just couldn't help it. He'd been proud of the boy all along.

He ventured across the parking lot and towards the set of green jerseys gathering onto the field for the start of the game. The sweat had already started to boil and he had already begun to regret choosing the long sleeved button up shirt to put on with his jeans. He hadn't realized it was so warm outside.

He sided up to the bleachers that the parents he'd came to recognize were sitting on, but he'd gone completely unnoticed. He didn't need to be noticed. Sam was there, after all, it was her son, but with her there – there really wasn't a need for him to be there.

He stopped in his step, fixing the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. He had to stand right where the sun would be in his eyes, but he quickly thanked God that he could afford a good pair of sunglasses.

He watched Alex dribble the soccer ball down the field, moving accurately and with trained poise easily, and he found it as a great comfort to know he could still be there for him without the boy ever truly knowing.

He leaned his shoulder against the metal bleachers, his shades gracing his face to block the sun from his vision, as he stood a great distance from the field. He really didn't want Sam to know that he was there; she didn't need to know because it wouldn't make a difference. At least, he didn't think that it made a difference.

Luka wiped the sweat from his jaw line dripping down the side of his face and making displeasing dew on his sideburns. He peered up into the stands momentarily, spotting Sam sitting quietly in the crowd and nearly alone, and he wished deep down that he could make her feel like she wasn't so alone. Whether she said it or not, he knew her, therefore he knew that she was feeling alone in a crowd.

He sighed deep into the back of his throat, already regretting his decision before he'd even stepped around the bleachers to climb them.

He forced his legs to carry him up the length of the bleachers, and smiled at Sam politely as he sat himself by her side. He propped a leg up on the bleacher seat in front of him and rested his chin in his hand as he rested his elbow against his upper thigh. If that's the way it was going to be…

He didn't dare say anything to her as her mouth nearly dropped open in shock at the sight of him, aside from the fact that he'd braved going to sit beside her, and he carried on with watching Alex chase the ball on the field.

She arched an eyebrow and forced her voice to leave her lips, "hey…What are you doing here?"

His head turned at the sound of her voice, and he shrugged nonchalantly as he took his eyes off of the game in front of him.

"I came to watch Alex play," he offered her a smile, but it didn't seem to ease her shock. "And I saw you up here and thought you looked a little lonely; so, I figured I'd come join you."

"Aw, you didn't have to do that," she still seemed nervous to talk to him, but she was slowly relaxing.

"I know that I didn't have to," he watched her as she almost had a very angry glare cross her face, but he spoke before she continue to take offense to anything he could say, "but I wanted to."

She smiled wide as her smile seemed to touch the corners of her eyes. He could tell that she was suddenly glad that she'd never left Chicago. If anything else, it was good to know that he'd always be there for Alex.

He looked over at her briefly, and he decided that it was a time for new beginnings.