Okay, I have reposted this with corrections on some mistakes that I had noticed after Anonymous01 had pointed them out to me! Thank you for your review Anonymous01! Guess that is a hazard of typing anything of any length, you tend to miss one or two things.

Also just a little thank you to Shakai, for your endless encouragement, and I promise, Ray is in Chapter 3! Love you hunny bunny!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for entertainment value!

Rating: M (Just incase, because i don't know how far my little mind can go, as of yet!)

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Okay, so I know my profile says that I will never attempt a Luby, but i was led in my very comfortable bed this morning, when this came to me! So i thought 'go on Elissa, give it a whirl!' And i have done. It is completely off the top of my head, but i have ideas as to where i will take it. I will carry on, if people like it, so read and review, i would really like to hear what you think! Hope you enjoy!

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This second chapter is Luka's point of view on the same evening. If i continue with this story, the whole thing is going to fly backwards and forwards between one point of view and the next, i may even throw in a third character, who knows. Hope you like it!


I think my heart may pound its way through my chest. I'm surprised it hasn't woken her, surely she can hear that. It's insane. What I am feeling is completely insane. It's unfair too. I can't drag her into this, she doesn't deserve it. After all, I tell myself, this is just a reaction to breaking up with Sam. I'm just lonely.

After Abby and I had broken up, I knew what I had done, and I tried to make it up to her. I did my best to repair some of the damage, trying to build a friendship, maybe with a little hope of reconciliation. I had never figured out why I had said the things I had to her. Why did I tell her she wasn't that pretty, when she was one of the most beautiful people I have ever met? Why did I tell her Carter could have her, when the only thing I wanted was to have her in my bed?

My stomach had knotted when I had found about her and Carter. It was the most painfully split I have ever felt. Part of me was happy for her, that she was moving on and enjoying her life, the other part of me was willing itself not to break down and cry on the spot. I had just walked away. It was all I could do, because God knows, I really didn't want to know just how many condoms had been used over that fortnight, which Chuny had delighted in telling anybody that would listen.

I started drinking, going out every night, and bringing home a different girl with me each time. Hoping that somewhere along the line, one of them would make me forget. Hoping that one of them would wipe away the memory of her, the memory of the hurt I'd caused and the words I'd said, and the thought of her with another man, the thought of her moaning another man's name in the dark, instead of my own.

I had jumped at the chance to go to Africa. I had to get away and take stock of my life. It was a chance to go somewhere and do some real good. I had said goodbye to her in the locker room, and thought, as we sat there, that I wouldn't ever be able to let her go. But I had, and she had got up and walked away with a 'hold down the fort' from me. Somehow I hoped that this little sentence would convey all my feelings towards her. Oh yes Luka, that ought to have done it!

I thought about her whilst I was there, thought about the two of us. I decided it was time to move on, I had let my demons rule the most part of my life. I now had to start living properly, living for me. Towards the end, I was so delirious, form the malaria it's hard to remember what I had thought about from one day to the next though. Then there had been Gillian, and that was a whirlwind.

When I was transported back to the states, she had been so relieved to see me, like she had had the crappiest day ever. She had of course; when I had found out that the sonofabitch had broken up with her in a letter, I was so mad. I had no right of course, I had hurt her myself. Not in a fucking letter though!

I had moved on though, with Gillian, so I had offered her my friendship then, and she had taken it.

I had asked, "How are you doing with that?"

"I'm fine. I'm more than fine." She had replied.

I believed her too. There was something new in her eyes, and it made her look healthy. Even more beautiful. I had allowed myself a stolen thought, only to justify it later, as merely appreciating my good friend's new lease on life. She couldn't tell me then – because she hadn't wanted to jinx herself – what life changing decisions she had made, but soon enough I watched her put herself back thorough med – school.

I was so proud of her. She was always meant to be a Doctor; I had known it all along. With this new working relationship though, memories came flooding back. I don't know if it was just because I had to interact with her more now, but if we worked on a trauma and her arm brushed against mine, or she smiled at me in passing on a corridor, I would get an all too familiar sense of butterflies in my stomach. This, I had told myself, was fucking stupid.

Tonight she had found me in a bar, drunk. I was drowning my sorrows over Sam, and she knew it. It was her turn to offer friendship, and I'm not such a fool, that I would turn that down, so I had let her drive me home. All I could think was that I wanted to be near her, to be around her. These thoughts I had put down to loneliness, and excess alcohol, because the other alternative was just crazy.

Abby and I we're just friends; all we were ever supposed to be was friends. I had hurt her when we were involved. She had hurt me too. We were such a great fit in bed, we made love with a passion I hadn't ever experienced, and haven't since. We used our bodies to try and communicate what we couldn't say in words, in the light of day. In the end though, that wasn't enough. We spent the year we were together hurting each other with the things we couldn't say.

In the last two years, we have formed a really strong friendship, and I love spending time with her. We have found in friendship, a way to communicate with one another. I have turned to her, as she has to me, on many an occasion. However, that, I tell myself, is not enough to try and re start a relationship. Is it? We could just fall straight back into the same routine as last time. I will not allow us to just seek comfort in each others bodies once again. We have both come too far for that.

But here I am, with her laying against me on the sofa, and my head is telling me to get up, leave her there and go to my own bed. My heart is telling me though that I can't sleep if I don't have her next to me, her steady breathing making every apprehension disappear.

Is what I feel really a reaction to being lonely after Sam left? I'm sitting here trying to figure this out. What did I see in Sam? I saw her Son, an instant family, and a young girl, that I could try and protect. Was that love? Maybe, in its own way it was, and now as I sit here in my semi sober state, I finally understand. I loved her, but I wasn't in love.

Does that then, make what I am doing here acceptable? Right now I should get up and cover her with a shrug. I should make my way into my bedroom, and close my door quietly behind me. I don't though, I stay sat, my arm draped around her shoulders, and I leave her hand exactly where it is, clinging around my neck. It is now that I realise what I am actually doing. I am trying to hold a woman who has no idea. Trying to hold a woman, who in the morning will think I'm crazy; a woman who will probably never want to see me again once she wakes, and realises what is going on. But I don't care about in the morning. If just for tonight, I can protect her and feel this close to her, then I don't care.