He walked through the sliding doors printed with 'Authorization Only' across it, quickly being followed behind by a frantic woman. Abby looked up from the admit desk at the sound of a wailing and frantic cry, her eyes settling on Luka before looking past him at the 'shadow'. He offered her a smile, but glanced behind him over his shoulder as he noticed Abby's displacement.

It took everything in him to reach out and stop the woman, tightly wrapping his hands around her upper arms when he saw hr beginning to collapse.

Her sobs deepened as did his confusion, her knees buckling beneath her. He wondered what the problem was – what had her in hysterics and what would convince her to confide in him. Abby quickly left her standing position at the desk, and took off in a hurried pace towards Luka and the young woman. Until she paused, on-looking the scene of Luka pulling the woman to his chest and stroking her hair gently, tenderly, and she felt the tears spring to her eyes.

"Ma'am," Luka muttered down at her, aptly pulling her from his chest, "what's the matter?"

He was off duty; he could pry into his natural human concern for human life.

"It's my fiancé, they told me he was here," she strained her voice to keep herself calm and collected, her hands grasping desperately onto Luka's t-shirt.

He narrowed his eyes in her direction, wondering if she'd normally grasp on to any random stranger or if there was something about him that just seemed like he was just compassionate to care.

"I'll tell you what, ma'am," he sighed, dropping his hands from her and placing a gentle touch on her elbow. He ran the other hand through his hair, glancing over his shoulder to see Abby. "I'm actually off tonight, but Dr. Lockhart here will help you find him." He motioned behind him at Abby.

"Thank you very much, Dr…"

"Luka…Call me Luka," he smiled warmly, almost enough to make her smile in her time of need, as Abby stepped forward and replaced his hand on her elbow with one of her own.

"What's his name?"

"Derek Ryan," she answered quickly, Abby's arched eyebrow and pursed lips making her inner conflict quite the opposite of discreet.

He followed them down the hall to a trauma room, the scene of Pratt, Barnett, Chuny, and Sam working on stabling the young man lying rather broken on the table. He felt a tug at his heart to help them, but he didn't know the situation and nor did he know the procedures already ran. It was too late to attempt to do anything.

He viewed in on the team at work for a second longer, lifting his left hand and absentmindedly twisting his wedding ring around his finger, knowing that they were fully capable of doing the job to the best of anyone's abilities. There was something that made him want to be in there even more with the hysterical young woman standing just feet away, but he knew that he couldn't do that. Just standing there was drawing him to a restless state.

He peered at his wife before walking back down the hall and the opposite way towards the lounge, his head beginning to spin with questions.

What would he do if he were standing outside that door and the one he loved were on the table? What could he do? But one other question stood out, what could be done if he were the one lying there?

Luka trudged tiredly into the lounge, his long, black, velvet coat wrapped around him tightly just as well as his gloves covering his fingers precisely from the cool Chicago air, and dropped onto the couch with a huff. He pulled his gloves from his hands and set them in his lap, slowly reaching up and rubbing his neck. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, his fingers pressing harder into his skin as he did so, before he rested the back of his neck on the back of the sofa.

He sighed at how tired he felt even though it was only 7:08, and he narrowed his eyes tightly at the tiling above him. He didn't know when he had the beginnings of starting to feel old, but he did know that he'd lately had the tension building up to the point that he was so overwhelmed. He was tired, and, he almost believed, sick.

He breathed in and out steadily as he tried to clear his head of the situation at hand, closing his eyes tightly to push his vision of the old ceiling out of his view. He couldn't help but think of it though; the woman looked so helpless and so desperate for someone to cling to her. He hated that he couldn't do anything about it, but he also realized that there was a good team in there that would do just as good whether he was in there or not; he'd also come to the realization that there was some cases that there just wasn't anything that could be done.

He heard the door open quietly and had a difficult time cracking open his eyes, but when he finally did he smoothed a hand over his face. He pulled his hands from his face and dropped them to his lap, looking around the room for the person who had opened the door. He breathed in deep at seeing a shadow, a breath of fresh air as he realized that he must have drifted off.

He checked his watch as the person turned from facing the counter, a coffee mug magically in their hand.

"You look tired," he recognized the voice, but he was looking through a blurred vision.

"Yeah, I am," he breathed in deep again, and he suddenly realized that he was talking to Abby, "how's the woman? How's the patient?"

"They got him stable, and are now explaining the situation to the woman. I think she'll be okay," she offered him a smile, although, she looked at him with saddened eyes. Her eyes lingered on his lethargic form as he blinked slowly, hardly noticing her eyes on him, and she sipped from her coffee in an attempt to forget. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to pick up Sam," he sighed tiredly, didn't even notice her barely noticeable wince as she seemed to be hit in the gut with a reminder.

She was reminded every day that this man was married and that she'd messed up her second chance – there was someone else who hadn't messed up their second chance – and she almost hated herself for that. She still cared deeply for him, maybe even still loved him, and the thing that always caused her pain was that she knew he still cared for her but he didn't love her anymore.

"I don't want her taking the El by herself with it getting late," he almost seemed ridiculous to himself by not letting his wife take the train by herself. He silently laughed at his own absurdity, but shrugged it off as he realized lots of people were like him. He hadn't seen her in nearly a week, but he knew that he owed her an apology from that morning. "It isn't safe."

She nodded along politely, inwardly thinking that she missed having someone to walk her home or join her on the train home because they didn't think it was "safe".

"You should let us walk with you," he suggested sheepishly.

"No, don't worry about it," she shook her head, brushing her brown hair back from her eyes and shortly dropping her fingers into the pocket of her white lab coat. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, slightly disappointed that she was so obviously set in not being around him, he was, after all, once a BIG part of her life. "I'll be fine."

He nodded dejectedly, his fingertips beginning to play with the material of his velvet coat as he stared intently at the action.

"I-"

Their voices awkwardly collided as they both spoke rather uncomfortably. He immediately motioned to her for her to speak first, and she set her coffee mug down on the counter as she briefly closed her eyes.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she ventured out there, tucking the loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, I've been working nights," he answered quickly. He realized that was no excuse, she still deserved acknowledgement, a phone call, and email – something, anything. He patted his leg nervously, slightly angry with himself for letting things get so awkward between them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she shook her head as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her stance didn't appear angry, nor did she appear affected by his apology. She shrugged, "you're busy. You have a life."

"That doesn't give me any excuses, Abby," he offered her a smile. He never realized how much pain it could cause her that he'd married the woman that he'd been in love with almost the entire time that they were together, after they got, what he believed as, his second chance. "I don't mean to do it, honestly. Sometimes, you'll just have to call me. I get caught up, you know me."

She nodded, unable to do anything else.

"How is Lana?" He asked, the question coming out rather guiltily. He wanted to know more, be around her more, do more with her and for her; he felt like he was exactly what he never wanted to be.

"She's doing well. She misses you, but she knows that you'll be around some time soon," Abby offered him an apologetic smile, not wanting him to feel guilty. That wasn't her intentions, it never had been, and she was reluctant to tell him some of the things that she could see in her daughter. He was missing everything, and it was her fault he was, or so she believed.

"I will. We'll spend the day together or something," he nodded his head. He pushed himself up off of the couch, shoving his gloves into his pocket and dragging a hand through his hair. "Soon we will."

"She'll wait for you, Luka. She'll wait a thousand hours and a thousand days for you," he looked down guiltily, knowing that he had no right to make her wait. He bit his bottom lip, knowing that he knew just enough to get by but not enough to receive his title. "She's willing."

"I have no right to make her wait."

"You love her, she knows you love her," she watched as he stepped towards her, and expected to receive a touch or something, but he reached passed her to grab a mug to fill with coffee. She was oddly disappointed that he hadn't touched her arm, wrapped his arms around her, brushed his lips across hers, and she still believed deep in her heart that maybe she was better off. "She's always known."

'That's good," he nodded. He poured just enough coffee in his mug to have a good swallow, and just as he did so the lounge door opened to reveal that there were more visitors. Abby looked away from him and the visitor guiltily, but Luka seemed to go unnoticed. A locker door opened, and Luka glanced at the sound over his shoulder. "But – can you tell her anyway?"

"I will," Abby nodded and patted his shoulder blade lightly to indicate her exit, his body turning as he leaned back against the counter to watch her.

The door closed behind her and his lips were pursed in confusion, his eyes slowly drifting to the visitor. He offered her a smile, setting his mug on the counter, but the façade wasn't enough to keep the tear from sliding down his cheek, leaving a streak tainted against his skin. He didn't bother to wipe it away, and neither did she.

Sam shut her locker, not bothering to say anything, and moved towards him with her stuff in her hand. She set her coat and her bag on the table in the corner of the room, and seemed to appear at his side as she slid her arms around his waist. She pulled him towards her, letting him know she was there even though he didn't seem to acknowledge her touch.

His palm pressed desperately into the corner of the countertop before he moved his arm towards her until it was pressing gently into her back. He held her to him, clinging desperately to her just like the young woman had clung to him. He let another tear slide down his cheek, turning towards her slightly to wrap his other arm around her.

"I don't know what to do, Sam," he shook his head, his temple slowly meeting hers as his body collapsed into hers. She reached her hand up and rubbed his back soothingly, slowly making her trail upwards until her hand threaded into his hair. "I don't spend nearly enough time with her."

It hurt him every time he realized he wasn't the kind of parent he'd always vowed to be.

She pulled back from him, wiping a third fallen tear from his cheek, unable to see the tears splattered on his face for any longer. She didn't know what to do either, and the part that made it even harder is that she couldn't do anything at all to make it any better or any easier. There wasn't a single suggestion that she could make.

She wondered, just as much as he did, if it would ever get any easier.