Homecoming --Completed-- - ESL, AU

[jehkovac]

[kia]

I'm back! Still remembering me?

12.

It is easier said than done.
It is easier said than done.
It is easier said than done.
Still. Shivering. Confused.
In front of that glassy and clean Plexiglas. He can’t move. It seems a nightmare to him. The building is surrounded by the early morning light. And this is scaring him. He stands still. He can’t. His body still shaken by shivers.
“Wow…what a bad wound…I think you should enter”
The usual doctor. His voice, like balm on Luka’s wound.
Luka looks at him hallucinated.
“I won’t hurt you. You can trust me”
The doctor stretches his hand out. Luka hesitates. Confidence. Wasn’t Danijela’s confidence to make him decide on Vukovar? What now?
Two seconds pass. Two seconds only, but they seem to be incredibly long. Then, Luka grabs the doctor’s hand, as if his life was depending on it.
They enter. Luka’s looking the floor. He feels embarrassed, he’s scared, and he feels like a fool. What is he doing there? Like a patient, besides.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be ok”
Empty end isolated room. Silence. Luka sits on the bed without stopping trembling. His mind is more and more confused.

***
He’s hot. But he’s cold too. By now, he doesn’t even have the strength to wonder how this can be possible. His knees are hurting. Under the left one there’s a pointed stone which is torturing his kneecap.
Shootings.
Screams.
Heartbreaking pleas.
And his shudders.
He’s dying, he is sure.
Finally.
***

“You need an x-ray”
Alarmed glance.
“Don’t worry, I’ll use a portable machine…no one is going to enter this room”
The doctor leaves and comes back with the device.
He’s moving around quietly. As if he wanted to calm Luka.
“I’m giving you a shoot of morphine, at least you’ll feel less pain”
Luka observes carefully the syringe, his eyes wide. The liquid is injected slowly. The effect is immediate. His head is lighter now, but it’s a good sensation. His hand has stopped throbbing. He sits more comfortably and, without noticing, closes his eyes.
Relief, finally.

***
“Are you ok? You’re acting weird tonight”
“I’m ok…and I’m not acting weird”, while saying it, the napkin falls from his knees. He bends to pick it up. When he stands again, her blue eyes are shining mischievously. She knows. At first he starts blaming her sixth sense, but then he gives up: how can he get angry at someone who has that smile and those lips?
“Danijela…”, he takes a deep breath, “…would you marry me?”
“I would”, she answers simply.
***

His eyes spring open.
He looks around.
White room, a hospital.

***
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“About thirty minutes. Baby gang shooting. ETA 10 minutes”
“Thanks Haleh”
He stands trying to wake up. He stirs and yawns. He’s getting too old for graveyard shifts.
“Dr Kovac…?”
***

“Are you feeling better?”
Fixed glance, a friendly smile.
His hand in a white sling. No pain.
“I left you sleep while working on your hand…you seemed so exhausted”
The doctor is speaking to him while cleaning the room.
He take off the gloves.
Bin.
He reaches the sink. He opens the faucet and starts washing his hands. Luka stares at his slightly curved back. The movement of his shoulders is almost hypnotizing.
“You know, I should be amazed you aren’t saying a word, but it seems a normal thing to me. Probably you have your reasons to stay silent…but it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be helped if you need it. So…”
He steps closer to Luka, who’s still watching him carefully. He’s more lucid now.
“…the fingers are broken, they needed to be splinted. Nothing too serious by the way…there was a little infection so I cleaned the wound. Your fever broke, and I gave you a litre of saline. Dehydratation is not good for organism”
Luka is a bit shocked. He realizes that doctor is the person who has given him more help since he arrived in Vukovar. He’d like to thank him, but tears are soaking again his cheeks. Far worse than a little girl.
“Don’t worry…everything will work out. I promise you. Now I have to discharge you. Can you stand?”
Luka tries. His knees are still fable, but they seem to work.
“Good, good. Here you have some painkillers and antibiotics”, he’s giving him a package.
“Splint will be removed in six weeks. I can remove it…if you’ll be still there…”
Six weeks seem to be an eternity to Luka. Six week, forty-two days. How can he know what it will happen in sex weeks?
Silence.
Door.
No one sees, no one has seen. Light and mute passage. Like a ghost. As if he never existed.
“Good luck, boy. Take care of yourself”
Luka doesn’t turn, but he lets the doctor’s words reach his soul.
Good luck. He really needs all the luck he can find to go where he’s going to go.
Because there’s only one place left.
Because that is the reason of his trip.
Vukovar, it’s the setting of accounts.

[kia]

Hey, I'm back!
So, a little summary to understand: This story is set during season 13. Joe is few months old, Abby and Luka aren't married, there's no Ames.
Luka went to Vukovar all alone to "solve" his past.

I hope you like it. Please, let me know what you think.

-§-§

13.

It’s the moment.
The moment he was so scared of, the moment which never leaves him alone, even during sleep.

***
He wakes with a start, his forehead soaked in sweat, his heart beating furiously.
“Hey, are you ok?”
Abby’s looking at him, a worried expression on her face. She’s leaning against the threshold, Joe sleeping peacefully in her arms.
“Yeah…”, he gulps, “a nightmare, it was just a nightmare”
***

A man, in front of his destiny. Last settling of accounts, the definitive one.
Sun is warming his back. Sun. Weird thing, he would have never expected sun during that day. Rain, cold, they would have been more obvious. Vukovar has been able to confuse him again. Sun, warm on his shoulders, contrasting the appalling cold settled in his soul.
He’s keeping his sight fixed in front of him, watching for the first the shiny and cured stone.
Colourful flowers are adorning it.
He doesn’t even stop thinking at who could have done it, he doesn’t want to think at it. it would be like underlining all his faults. And at this point he’s sick and tired of his faults. At this point he just feels the need to concentrate on the cold stone erected in front of him.
Three names, of course.
Three simple names, two of them with the same family name, two of them sharing with him more than a simple family name.
Jasna Kovac, four years.

***
“It’s a girl!”
The little baby is crying, her face all red.
“How are we going to name her?”
“Jasna… Jasna Kovac”
***

Marko Kovac, eighteen months.

***
“Oh, look at this black hair”
“What a beautiful baby boy”
“Marko, like Danijela’s grandfather”
“Marko Kovac, I like it”
***

Danijela Barac, wife of Luka Kovac.

***
“I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride”
Luka bends slowly towards Danijela. She’s beautiful, the simple white dress underlining perfectly her slender body.
Till death do them part. As if the idea of death could touch you when you’re twenty-one and you’re getting married.
Till death do you part, when you’re twenty-one, under the warm sun, with the sound of the waves, tastes like eternity.
***

Cold, grey stone. Also that stone tastes like eternity, but in a completely different and terrible way. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.
He kneels in front of destiny, eyes closed, head bent. Sun rays are playing reflexes with his hair.
His left hand is holding three roses. The stems are making his palm sweat but he doesn’t notice.
He sighs.
He puts the flowers down.
He picks one up, a red bud. Its red is dark and gloomy, similar to coagulated blood.
He puts it on the grave.
He sighs again.
Time. Time was everything they didn’t have. Not love, passion, trust. Time. No one could have predicted it. But would have it been right to predict it? Maybe, they’d have lost spontaneity, their eyes always fixed on the clock separating them from that atrocious moment. Time. Tic toc, tic toc.
He looks again at the rose. Danijela’s favourite flower. The one he brought stands for the millionth he should have brought her during years, the millionth ones which should have been already there on that grave. Almost sixteen years and a constant thought. Conjugal absences. A husband, he was her husband. Why didn’t he come first, why?
If apologies could be an object, they’d be surely that rose of coagulated blood. Danijela, for what have been and for what could have been.
His hand picks another flower.
A pink rose this time, so delicate and soft. Jasna. His princess.
He sees her clearly, her smile, her eyes. She was - she is d**n - his daughter. Instinctive and eternal love. Something that can’t be explained. His daughter. Into his mind, a baby with long and dark plaits, then a teenager with a too short skirt, then a woman, then a mother. Mind which is drawing perfect and precise images. Images meant to be broken onto the cold stone in front of him. Jasna, forever a four-year-old baby. Jasna, who’ll never stop playing with her dolls. Jasna, who’ll wait forever for Santa. Jasna. If Jasna’s woman being could have a form, it’d be that rose of light and delicate petals. Jasna, future perfect woman. Jasna, pure image of feminity.
Last rose, last gesture, last moment.
White and naïve rose. Marko, with his innocent eyes.
Marko in his high chair spreading happily food on his face. Marko, so similar to him, Marko and his first stumbling steps. Naïve, happy, funny, his baby. He was more mom’s love than his, but beloved past every rational explanation. Marko, and all the chats that are never coming. Marko, and all the advices which he could never listen to. Marko, fixed at the perfect age of eighteen months when the very notion of time is still unknown. Marko, who stopped living even before knowing he was alive. If something could represent the adult relationship between father and son, it’d be that pure rose. Marko, Luka and all the things they could have learnt one from the other.
He’s crying, Luka, without noticing it. Because it was the major obstacle, because if he survives he won’t have any excuse left, because being there is like dying and getting born again. Because being there means accepting, and understanding.
And he understands that it’s the end, the final good-bye, his future is over those lives.
He’ll love them forever.
He’ll think at them forever.
But they won’t annihilate him more. But Vukovar won’t torture him more.
He stands slowly, respectful. The roses are standing out, beautiful. They look like a dream image. Everything happens for a reason. Now he knows for sure.
He looks at the sky. It’s almost sunset.
His eyes are back at the grave. The engraved names seem smiling at him, comprehensive.
He smiles a little, too. It’s a true smile this time.
“Good-bye. I love you with all my heart and I still love you. And this won’t change. I promise”
He turns and walks away. There no more time for remorses and regrets.
Light is beautiful, a warm and orange shade.
Light enlightens Vukovar in an enchanted way.
Luka looks around him.
Vukovar has never been more beautiful.

[Chephren]

Loosing kids is the most horrible thing in the world I guess ( and I hope I'll never experience that ) and I can't start to understand hox it could feel, but I liked the way you described it.

This is a great job, I could feel his confusion by the way you wrote, with all that repetitions. I really enjoy reading this. Thanks

Hope we'll get another update soon!

[suzanne]

Loved the update!!
Love the way you show what Luka is going through!!
Hope he goes back to Abby and Joe soon!!
Update soon!!

[kia]

Ok, here we are. This is last chapter.
Thanks to everyone who read my story and a big special thanks to everyone wgo commented it.
Hope you'll enjoy this last part.

EPILOGUE

There’s no movement and, for the first time, he’s perfectly satisfied about the situation. To be honest, he is the first who doesn’t want to move, almost afraid to shift. He tries to ignore the soreness in his neck muscles, worried that a simple movement can change what he has been admiring for about an hour into something tragic.
Perfect and enchanted image, which fills his heart with joy. Everything he needs is there, in front of his eyes. All other things are completely senseless.
But, suddenly, there’s a movement and it’s not that bad. In fact it’s better, so much better.
Shuddering eyelids, curving lips. Brown eyes into his.
Immediate recognition. Relief. Smile.
“You’re back…”
“Yeah…”, his voice is more stable now. And he thought he have lost it.
“I was scared”, the admission is difficult to her. She has never been used to speak freely about her feelings.
“I know. I was scared too”. He stopped, pensive. Admitting to have been scared is too much, he still can’t try to reach the heart of the matter. What was he really scared of? Of Vukovar? Of the past? Of that grave? Of himself? Maybe it was a mix of all those things, but by now it’s all over. Vukovar, the beautiful and enchanted and charming town seems only a distant point, a macabre yet sweet story to be told to children to put them to sleep. Vukovar. The name, like a wind gust, unwraps into his mind. Vukovar.
“Aren’t you coming to bed?”
“I think someone is already occupying my place…”, he’s smiling while answering her. His place occupied by the only person he can tolerate to see there, the only person who has the right to stay there. Joe, his son. His beloved son. His future.
“He missed you… he didn’t want to sleep in his crib”, Abby’s tone is cautious, she’s implying other things. Luka knows it, not only Joe missed him, but Abby, too, missed him. And maybe she too didn’t want to sleep alone anymore. What would have happened if…?
They fall silent for a while. Words have never been so important to them. They only need a sight, a gesture.
“Are you hungry?”
“No… I think that what I need most is my bed”, and the people who are lying on it, of course.
“We can make room for you”, a tender smile. She can’t wait to have him again at her side, she needs to hold him again, to lose herself into his scent. Delicately, with a movement that only mothers are able to do, Abby moves Joe against her hip. Baby’s little head whirls just a little and from his lips comes a little snort. Disapproval. Babies don’t like to be awaken during sleep. Luka and Abby stares at him for a while, ready to calm him. But nothing happens. Joe curls onto Abby and goes on sleeping.
Luka gets up from the armchair he was seated on and starts to undress. At first the coat and then he bends to unlace the shoes. Abby observes him carefully, fixing firmly the precise movements of her man’s muscles, when…
“But, what…?”, her voice is alarmed. She’s mentally blaming herself: why hasn’t she noticed earlier?
“It’s nothing…”, he’s walking next to her in order to open the closet. She grabs his right wrist and lets her fingers move across the sling. He closes his eyes.
“Does it hurt?”
“No more”, and he’s sincere. Abby’s soft fingers are like a soothing balm. The hand stops throbbing. It’s in peace now. Like him, like him.
She smiles at him, relieved in a sense. He’s there again, alive, there’ll be more time later for explanations. She’ll be able to wait for the day he’ll decide he’ll be ready to open up. And he’ll explain the reason why he left so suddenly, she knows. But now she doesn’t want to think at it. Luka is home.
“Let me help you”
He sits on the bed near her letting her take control. Her hands are softly working his shirt buttons, making him think for a while at the huge effort made to button them up, pushing the garment down after a moment. She starts stroking his shoulders and then his arms and then his abdomen, caressing slightly his scar. Luka bends placing his head onto the nape of her neck. How much he missed her skin! He doesn’t dare to move, enjoying Abby’s hands on his hair and back drawing lovingly the profile of every single vertebra, as if she was claiming the property of his body.
“You lost weight”
“I know”. His warm voice against her neck makes her shiver.
“Don’t worry, I’ll cook for you”
She can feel him laughing. She takes his face into her hands and obliges him to look into her eye. Forehead against forehead, nose against nose: “Are you laughing at my cooking skills?”
“I’d do it, if there was something to laugh at…”
Silence. They’re still staring at each other. Luka’s eyes are glistering with tears. Abby kisses his temple and then passes at his lips.
At first it’s a feather-like kiss, as if she needed to remember what kissing him was like, as if she was kissing him for the very first time. Luka doesn’t react immediately, he just stays still, enjoying her soft pecks so full of affection and love, but when she deepens the kiss he’s eager to respond. They kiss for a long time, their tongues duelling and Abby’s hand in his hair. And it’s so beautiful to discover one another again, as if nothing else in the world existed.
Luka is the one who ends it.
“Thank you”
She kisses him again, this time on the cheekbone.
“Tired?”
“Completely drained”
“Let’s sleep, then. Though in a while Joe’s going to wake up”
“I can’t wait…”
Luka has moved, and now he’s lying next to the baby. He kisses his head. Joe makes a funny yet sweet face. Luka smiles. His son. “I adore you, baby”
He shifts and encircled all his family with his left hand. It’s over, it really is. He has only one thing to do now: living the present. He closes his eyes and an image appears: Danijela, Jasna and Marko are smiling at him, free. Then, finally, after a very long time, a deep, dreamless and resting sleep wraps him. It’s over, it really is.

[Chephren]

I adored it! ;D

I love your writing so much! I think I'll read again the whole story soon, because I really liked it and I want to read every update at once.

Thank you for that great piece of writing. As always.

You're amazing with Luka's POV

[Andie]

Nice story! i'm usually not a big fan of Luka's stories (unless he's with Abby!) but i liked this one!

hope u decide to write something else soon!