A/N: It's entirely possible that some will find this out of character for Luka, but I figure, it could happen. The man does some things that one could call unexpected (surprise wedding/firing Weaver/season fourteen in general). I just sort of had this spark and started writing and after about two months of not being able to write anything, I was randomly inspired to finish it. So there you go.

"Hereby"

He had never expected to want this when he'd announced his decision to move to America. It was supposed to be a change, someplace where he didn't have the constant reminder that he'd once met a girl and loved her, only to lose her while his home was ripped at the seams. He had gone to America a Croat and had believed for some time that it was temporary, that one day, the pain would be far enough in his past that he might return and smell the sea breeze off the Adriatic once more.

He raises his right hand higher than everyone else. Not on purpose, but simply because he is the tallest in the crowd by a good six inches.

"I hereby declare on oath…"

His oath is not so much to a country as to a home. A recognition and a promise that he will stay, and that he belongs here. With his wife and his son. Joe will always know that his father is from a land across the water and that the sparkling blues, the exuberant reds, and the sacred whites are his birthright just as much as the ones stitched into the flag of his homeland. Croatia runs in his son's blood as it does in Luka's.

"…renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity…"

He doesn't like that he is expected to renounce Croatia, but he supposes that he can play along for the greater purpose. After all, it's not to America or Croatia to whom he is alleging, nor to either nation in which his fidelity lies. It is to his wife and child. They are his home, his heart, and it is for that reason that he has come here on this day.

"…that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America…"

He's become keenly aware of his role in this country, as a doctor and as a husband and as a father. He is endowed with a responsibility looked upon as sacred, and fiercely protected for its significance. Medicine and politics have overlapped and intertwined countless times since he's come here, and it's left him both puzzled and proud at the precarious role in this country. He feels needed, wanted, and welcomed for that. And as a husband, as a father, he's grown to understand that family may be seen differently, perhaps less traditionally here than back in Croatia, but vital all the same. Where he was raised, the family structure is more defined, here more fluid, and he's come to understand that family is less a construct than a concept that universally binds.

"…that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same…"

He supposes that asking for his faith is the easy part. He has that in excess. He has faith that not a day will go by so long as he's alive that he won't love Abby so desperately that it aches. He has faith that he would walk to the ends of the Earth and back seven times for Joe. His faith in that is unending. And so long as they stay in this country, neither hell nor high water could make him leave.

"…that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States…"

Well he won't go to war for them, he thinks. He's long since sworn to himself that the only war he'll fight is to protect his family. Offering himself to Ames had been one of the easiest decisions of his life. He knows that had the man touched one hair on his wife or son's heads, he'd have never been able to hold back his rage. No, he won't go to war for any country, but he'll fight to the death to hold onto what is his.

"…that I will perform work of national importance…"

He's never bothered to count the number of patients he's treated or people he's saved. It simply has never occurred to him, and besides, it's probably an impossible task. All the same, he knows he's served this country and its people, and he's proud of that. For all the talk of the system failing, he knows it's not for lack of trying on the part of his coworkers – his friends – who give every last bit of themselves to save lives. How many exhausted doctors and nurses has he seen, steeling themselves for a trauma? More, he thinks, than patients he's seen. He's felt it, the last shreds of sanity and energy fading and then, miraculously, spontaneously, fueled by adrenaline and some force of sheer will kicking in, because he'll be damned if he doesn't throw his all into what he does. He loves his job. It's brought him joy like no other, except for the other thing it's brought him – Abby. He'd never have met her if not for his work, and he remembers that when it's dark and cold in the morning and he can feel his muscles resist the call of the alarm. Medicine is in his blood, his life. He's grateful.

"…that I take this obligation freely…"

Niko had been pissed. Insinuated that this was Abby's doing, to which Luka had offered his older brother a few choice words. It was his idea, his desire. His promise to Abby and Joe. It had taken more than a few conversations to talk Niko down from his soapbox, but eventually the message had gotten through. He wanted this because he understood that he had come to this country without any expectation but to escape and ended up living his own American dream. So the streets weren't paved with gold, but Luka knew: no man could ask for more than what he'd found here. A wife, a child, a livelihood, and more than anything, happiness that he'd not believed lay in his future.

"Does this mean I can't call you my 'Croatian Sensation' anymore?" Her eyes sparkle.

He draws her into a soft embrace, head bowing to kiss the crown of her head. His voice is heavy with flirtation. "You can call me whatever you like."

Abby laughs as he hoists his son up for a hug. "Ready for cake?"

Joe nods frantically, a grin covering his face. "And fireworks!"

"Fireworks?"

Abby shrugs, a guilty smile across her lips. "I promised we could light sparklers in the yard tonight. It seemed…the appropriately American thing to do." She keeps the other sort of fireworks that she has planned to herself, but she suspects he'll prefer her version of red, white, and blue to the gaudy decorations of the auditorium.

"Then we'll have to barbeque, too." He feels her arm snake around his waist as they head to the exit, pressing herself against him. He knows what this means to her, despite her initial surprise at his choice. She understands that this is not a piece of paper or a passport or even his right to vote; this is his a thousand things he wants to say, to promise, neatly assembled in one act. His assurance to himself and to her that he'll never leave, and never want to. He is no longer a stranger in a strange land; he belongs here. He is an American, by virtue of what he's come to love here, and by virtue of his intentions.

He is home.