Obligations
Chapter 2

Category: Angst.
Summary: Luka. Luka. Luka.
Disclaimer: Don't own Luka/ER.

Happens around Season 9.

A/N: Carter and Abby have broken up some time ago in this story, because I didn't like that. So they're just friends.
A/N: Thank you for the comments, Ella and Amy! Feels nice to get some feedback! I'll see how the story evolves from here, I'm not sure if I'll continue it any further. If you see some spelling mistakes please notify me. English isn't my first language so I might invent new words at times. But that's nice.

-Virva

It's warm. It's nice. I'm gliding on a small cloud made of cinnamon, the sky a pretty pale blue. I smile contently. My mother passes me the salt, her cheeks alerted into a pale smile. Pass the salt, pass the salt! Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. The image is fading. Pale blue, pale blue fading into white. It's too white. I don't think I like it. There are a lot of things I don't like.

"He's waking up!"

I'm waking up! Let's all cheer! I want back to the pale blue world with the silky smiles and long long horizons. I love the smell of cinnamon and the little blue flowers scattered on my palms. So peaceful! I want to glide!

"Polenta blues."

"Luka, Luka. Can you hear me?"

"Polenta blues. Polenta blues."

And I'm back in the pale blue world. How beautiful this all is. This ignorance.

"How's Luka?"

Susan ran a tired hand through her hair, her fingers washing over it lightly.

"Coping. He should regain consciousness in a while." She cast a glance at Abby. "Did you have… any idea?"

Abby pursed her lips together.

"No, I mean… he, well. I don't know. I don't know. I'm a bit." She sneezes, pushing her hair behind her ear. "But he's gonna be okay, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Listen, I'm gonna get a cup of coffee, it was a long night. You still on?"

"Yeah, I'm on till six." Susan smiles a bit and touches her shoulder as she walks past her.

My throat feels a little gruffy. I concentrate on that one small feeling.

Gruffiness. Maybe I should open my eyes? What will I find?

I'm in the hospital. Didn't I finish my shift? Why am I lying on a gurney? Why, why, why? My brain feels fuzzy. I'm gruffy and fuzzy. I almost laugh at my choice of words. I feel like I'm high.

There's someone sitting on a chair beside my gurney. When did it become my gurney?

"Hey." It's Abby.

"Hey." My voice is a little croaked. It's the gruffiness. It's the fuzziness.

"How you feeling?" Gruffy and fuzzy.

"A bit sleepy." I close my eyes for a while. I'd like to ask some questions, but I don't like people judging me. My actions. Is she disappointed? Why am I lying to myself? And I don't want to talk about it or that, don't want to think, don't want to go deeper.

"Luka, I…"

Yes, do continue. Why did you overdose? Come on, say it, Abby, you can do it! I'm not that frightening. Or am I? Am I?

"Luka, you… overdosed." It wasn't a question. Should I play it stupid? I think I'll keep my eyes shut for a little while. My brain doesn't want to co-operate with me right now. I'd like to whistle a bit. I still feel like I'm high. I almost start to laugh.

"Hmm." Well. I should be more serious. She'll think that I'm crazy if I start to laugh now. Am I crazy? I don't know. I open my eyes again. There. I can see.

She's a bit distressed.

"Luka, I just… I just… why did you do it? Why did you… you…" she looks like she's going to cry. She looks away and sniffs a bit. I don't say anything. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Is ten years lately?

"When did you do it?"

"In the morning… uuh… it was a… a pretty morning." I don't know what I'm talking about. What was pretty? She looks a little more upset.

"Luka, I… I don't get it. You seemed fine, you really seemed fine I just." She has decided to ignore my comment about the prettiness of the moment that I gulped down the many nice colourful pills. Well, at least I didn't laugh.

"I just wished you would have talked to me or, or to someone." I talk to my gold fish occasionally. Does that count?

"Look, I… I gotta go now, there'll be someone to see you, I'll come back later, okay?"

I nod. And turn my head around. My head is spinning. Circles, circles, circles.

Don't feel that cheerful anymore. Did I feel cheerful before? I don't know. I miss my vodka bottle. It's in the cupboard on the left from the refrigerator.

"You don't know?" Dr. Spencer has yellowish teeth and brown shoes.

"Yes." No?

"You don't know why you tried to kill yourself?" Yes, I know. It does sound a little stupid.

"Mmm." I clench my jaw a bit. He is not exasperated. I guess he gets this all the time. From the people who are waiting to get discharged so they can drink from the red cup all over again. The whole world in a striped cup. But I'm growing a little frustrated myself. Why did you try to kill yourself? Why? How does it feel? How? What if I tell him that I don't feel anything? Is that a feeling? Is not feeling anything a feeling? Not feeling, not caring, not listening?

Are there people who care about me? Susan has been nice enough. And Abby. And Abby. But it's a little too little. And a little too late. I can see myself quite clearly. I know that I'm in as deep as it gets. I know, I know, I know. I do. It's the looks, it's the burning flesh, it's the pretty mornings and pale blue flowers. I can feel my hands carefully sliding the slender flower into her hair. In a moment. In this moment. Am I here? Am I there? Am I anywhere?