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Post by rorygilmore on Jun 17, 2008 18:43:32 GMT 10
READ FIRST:THIS STORY BELONGS TO "JD" WHO HAS KINDLY AGREED TO HAVE HER FICTIONS POSTED HERE. ALL CREDIT GOES TO HER. THANK YOU, JD
Ghosts 1/37
Chapter 1
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
He had needed the time away...a chance to deal with issues he'd buried and never really faced. It had been almost 10 years since he had lost Danijela and the children and still he could barely manage to talk about them without feeling as if his heart was being ripped from his chest. The hours he'd spent with the Bishop had forced him to face the demons he'd hidden away within himself..but the time off had allowed him to truly grieve their losses and maybe to finally put them behind him. As he entered the hospital for the first time in a month he felt like he was beginning life anew...and maybe he was.
He nodded to Malik as he passed on his way into the lounge...he hadn't spoken to anyone since he'd been gone...and he couldn't help wondering if that might make his return a bit strained. At the time he had felt it was the only way for him to get through everything...the Bishop had given him back his faith....and in a way his family as well...but it had taken a month of solitude for him to really realize that. He hung his bag in the locker and pulled out the white jacket...no..he'd needed to do this on his own. Almost as an afterthought he opened the bag and pulled the copy of the worn photo out and stuck it into the edging of the metal door. With a sigh he traced his finger across the two images and wished he'd had a reminder of Marko as well...no..he rubbed his hand across his face then reached for the stethoscope and hung it around his neck. He wasn't going to dwell on their loss...he closed the locker and headed for the door.
With no sign of anyone to run the board with and a surprising lull in new patients, Luka grabbed the stack of end of shift discharge files and carried them to the Doctor's Lounge. Dropping the pile on the table he pulled a chair out and lowered himself into it as he reached for the top folder. The least he could do was help sign off on some of the resident's charts as he waited he thought as he flipped it open. Resting his elbow on the table he propped his head on his forefinger and thumb, idly sucking on the tip of his ringfinger as he read. The work was tedious but he knew as well as any attending that any mistakes would come back on them, so it was mandatory they review them. He signed off on the chart and closed it, setting it aside before reaching for the next. He was barely halfway through the stack when the door opened and Malik stuck his head inside.
"Dr. Kovac, paramedics are coming in with a 14 year old, bike versus truck, can you take it?" Luka finished signing the chart and nodded, "Sure...let me drop these back at the desk and I'll be right there..."
As he stepped out of the Emergency Room doors Luka was immediately thrust into the organized chaos that marked the arrival of an ambulance..several nurses waited for his instructions and he motioned Malik forward as he approached the doors. "What do we have?" He called to the paramedic as soon as the doors swung clear..."Unresponsive 14 year old male ..bike versus truck..possible skull fracture..broken right femur.." The paramedic continued to recite the extent of her findings as Kovac evaluated his condition. As they wheeled him into Trauma One he had already begun to order the tests he needed and now shifted his attention to stabilizing the boy for surgery.
It took over three hours for those attending him to bring the boy anywhere close to where he could be taken to surgery and as they wheeled him out Luka pulled the bloody gloves and gown off and tossed them in the bin. The boy had gone sour twice and both times Kovac had managed to bring him back, but the strain the efforts had taken were showing on him..he wearily rubbed his eyes..then lowered his hand as Haleh spoke..."I'm sorry?" He rolled his shoulders in a failed attempt to loosen the stiffness that had settled into them. "The boy's family are in the waiting room..can you talk to them?" He ran his hand back through his hair..."Sure...what was the last name? " Haleh looked at the notes..."Kessler." Nodding Luka headed out of the room...the boy's condition was grave and there was no guarantee that he would even make it out of the OR alive..this was not the kind of news he wanted to bring to the expectant relatives.
Haleh stayed with him until she could point the family out then headed for the Nurses Station and he slowed to try and gauge what he might be facing with them. The fact that they all stood in a half circle around an older man..probably a Grandfather said much...but as he got closer he heard something that chilled him in a way he could not have anticipated. He stopped in mid stride..cocking his head to see if he had heard what he thought he had...he felt his stomach seize..there was no mistaking it now..the family was speaking in a Serbian dialect. He looked to see if they had noticed him then turned and headed towards the outer Emergency Room doors.
As he cleared the doors he doubled over, trying to find air that suddenly seemed not to be there...in his mind he knew he was hyperventilating, but that did nothing to ease the panic he felt. Serbs...his mind whirled as he tried to calm the irrational panic...he'd thought he would never have to hear the language again...and now he had fought to keep one alive. He straightened and let his gaze move to the sky...he closed his eyes..willing himself to relax, only to see the bodies of Danijela and the children...no. He shook his head and started across the drive...
It wasn't until he cleared the stairs and was comforted by the sound of the passing train that Luka realized that his flight had taken him to the el tracks...what would they think had happened to him? He took a seat on the bench of the empty platform and let his head drop into his hands...massaging his eyes with the heels. Why did this have to happen today? He had spent the last month putting these demons to rest only to, in one stark moment, have them forced back into his thoughts. He sat back leaning his head on the railing behind him his mind returning to his past...
<Croatian> "You should get out of the City while you still can..." He heard the Chief's voice as clearly as he had the last day he saw him. "I can't leave them.." He sipped at the tepid liquid that had replaced the coffee they could no longer come by. "Luka...you are alive..they are not...you are still young..go while you can." The man persisted..then turned at the sound of yelling in the halls which caused both men to hurriedly rise..."They're coming...they're coming..the Serbs..." The orderly almost knocked them down as he made his way through the halls, alerting those still in the hospital. "Luka..go..there is no time to waste..you are young..if they find you they will kill you." The man pushed him "I can't leave you.."He protested...but the man shook his head.."I have to stay..for the patients..I'm old..I'll be fine..now hurry..go to the basement..and out that way..before you are seen..go!" He practically pushed Luka down the hall towards the stairs. "Luka..if you hear anyone..find a place and hide..promise me." He fixed his eyes on the younger man until he nodded. "I promise..." Reluctantly he opened the door and moved to join the others who were already making their way down..
Luka struggled to keep the tenuous hold he had on what was real as the scene before him morphed with images of Vukovar. As he fled the platform for the presumed, safety of the streets he continued to be bombarded by the scenes of destruction...he clamped his hands to his ears in a failed attempt to muffle the screams of the injured and dying he saw around him. As he rounded a corner into an alley he stopped, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. <Croatian>"None of you are real!" He shouted to the sky in hopes that that might end the horrors before him, then covered his face with his hands as he tried to avoid the reminders. To his relief, as he lowered his hands the alley's appearance shifted...the bombed buildings now replaced by those reflecting the neglect that was their normal state.
He leaned against the dirty brick wall, allowing himself time to regain his hold on his sanity. That simply hearing their language could have triggered this worried him more then he was ready to admit. Inwardly he prayed that he would wake to find this no more then a bad dream...to find that he had simply fallen asleep and he would wake to find himself back at the hospital. But the sounds of the traffic told him otherwise...it had happened...when his breathing had regained some semblance to normal he pushed himself off the wall..then frowned. Where was he? He walked to the corner and stopped..his gaze traveling down the street, he shook his head in confusion then looked up as a train passed on the tracks overhead. It was a start..he made his way to the stairs...
He could feel the panic in the other men as they raced down the stairs in hopes of getting out of the hospital before the soldiers came...they had all heard the stories...all believed it could never happen to them..but what if they were wrong? No...it was a hospital...surely that would insure the safety of those inside. As he hit the ground floor there was a back-up of men..someone had to open the door and look...he forced his way to the front of them..then eased the door open a crack. Nothing that he could see, he bit his lip...and slid around the door..hugging the wall as he inched his way to the corner...and then he saw them..they were coming..he could see the trucks rounding the corner not two blocks away. He turned and dashed back to the doorway. <Croatian> We have to go now...they are just down the street." He didn't wait to see if they would follow..he could only think of himself now...he glanced up at the window... hoping for a glimpse of the man who had been his mentor...but he saw no one. He peeled the white coat off as he ran...tossing it behind some debris...and as the rumble of approaching trucks grew closer he ducked into a bombed out building..digging through the rubble as he looked for someway to conceal himself. His breathing was ragged from the strain but he knew he couldn't stop..he grabbed at anything in his way..tossing it aside until miraculously he found a small pocket barely large enough to hold him... drawing a deep breath he wedged himself into it then pulled a section of wallboard over the opening...all he could do now was wait...
"Hey..you ok? You need a Doctor or something?" The old woman shook his shoulder, making him jump...as he was thrust back into the present..and he rubbed his hand across his face as he collected himself. "No..I am a Doctor.." He shook his head..inwardly praying she would just go away...then looked around, trying to gain some bearing a to where he was again. "You don't look so good..you sure you don't want me to call someone?" She leaned her wrinkled face into his as if trying to look inside him. "I'm sure...please..leave me alone." He stood..moving down the platform away from her...he had to get away..but where could he go?
to be continued...
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Post by manu on Jun 17, 2008 23:33:46 GMT 10
Wow, what an amazing style of writing!! I really like it and would love to read more
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Post by jacobsmommy on Jun 18, 2008 4:42:44 GMT 10
That was great. Please write more.
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-SAN.
Duchess of Luby
"Undone"
Posts: 394
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Post by -SAN. on Jun 18, 2008 4:51:22 GMT 10
I love JD's fanfiction. Her writing puts me right there in the scene, looking out through Luka's eyes, feeling his pain. She has a talent for portraying Luka as he must have been after the death of his family pre-ER, struggling to just get through the next day, and even the next minute. I LOVE her novel length stories, and re-visit them every so often when I need a good read.
This is just flat out good writing.
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Post by wcbsfm101 on Jun 18, 2008 6:20:00 GMT 10
could someone post a link or send me the link to JD story's I really like this one called Ghosts thanks wcbsfm101
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Post by rorygilmore on Jun 18, 2008 8:41:01 GMT 10
JD IS Luka Ghosts 2/37Chapter 2An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc Dropping his eyes to his watch as he entered the ambulance bay only deepened the frown on Kovac's face. He'd lost the better part of an hour, how could he explain his absence? He had walked away from a patient, from their family. He had left them not knowing if the boy were going to live or die, and he hadn't even cared. A voice inside of him screamed for him to walk away again...he had nothing to hold him here it reminded him. He paused, resting his hand on the brick wall for support as he tried to quiet it...no...he couldn't keep running away. Pushing himself off the wall, he drew a deep breath then let it out as he walked to the entrance..steeling himself for whatever was coming as the doors to the ER slid open and he stepped inside.. "Hey Doc...whoa, you look like hell, something up?" Malucci glanced at Kovac as he passed him in the hall, "Haleh was looking for you..she didn't look too happy." The young resident frowned at the chart in his hand...vomiting and diarrhea, some days he was sure Weaver stacked the charts to make his life difficult. Luka shook his head in dismissal of the question and focussed on the safer part. "No..just a rough trauma, look," He brushed his hand through his hair as he spoke. "I need a break..tell her I'll be back in not more then half an hour if you see her again would you?" Dave nodded, "Sure, I can cover for you, hide while you can..." He warned with a smile before he headed off to the exam room. In a way he was relieved when the young doctor moved off, what else could he say, he needed to clear his head before he talked to anyone else, that much he was sure of. How to do it? Without leaving the hospital itself, there were few places he could do that. Slipping into the lounge he opened his locker and pulled the clean shirt he kept there out. When he flicked his eyes to the small black and white picture he had placed in the door only hours before, he couldn't help but wonder why all this was happening now? He rested his head against the cool steel tracing his fingers across the frozen images as he drew a calming breath. Why couldn't it all just stay buried? He let the thought hang there as he straightened and slammed the door closed then headed out of the room. He approached the shower room with mild trepidation...what he wanted now, no needed, was to be alone and there were no guarantees that that would happen. He pulled the door open and stepped inside, his eyes moving quickly around the room before he fully entered. The puddles of water near several lockers were leftover reminders that others had been here recently, but at least for now it appeared he wouldn't have to face anyone. Releasing a relieved breath he walked over to one of the metal boxes and after laying his shirt on the bench in front of it, opened the door. When he'd returned at the beginning of his shift, he'd thought that the time off had allowed the ghosts of his past to finally be laid to rest. The Bishop had heard his confession, had offered forgiveness, and given him back his faith. More importantly, the last month away he'd thought had allowed him to heal what before that he'd only hidden. He exhaled, looking at his face in the locker's small mirror...no wonder Malucci had thought something was wrong...he ran his hand across his face, the shadow of a days beard growth scraping against it. Even he could see the haunted look his eyes held...he dropped his gaze..and his hand before he loosened his tie and pulled it off. It was too easy for him to close his thoughts away in mindless tasks, and the pain of others..but then he had had almost 10 years to perfect the skill. 10 years since Danijela and the children had been killed. 10 years since he'd avoided death himself. He shook the thought aside, focusing instead on the simple task of unbuttoning his shirt. As he pulled his arms from the sleeves he found his thoughts wandering again...was that it then? Was it that he had spent the time away thinking only about Danijela and his children? A month of wondering what his life could have been like if they were all here together? A sad smile crept across his face as images of Jasna and Marko entered his mind and without realizing it he glanced down as if he expected to see them tugging on his pant legs as they clamored for his attention. Within moments it had faded and a soft sigh escaped him as his mind registered that he would never know that sensation again. He finished undressing slowly, as if he could somehow alter time through the act, then slid everything in the locker and shut the door. As he glanced across the room his eyes settled on the pile of towels that he'd missed when he entered. Shaking his head at the forgetfulness he padded naked to it, pulling one off the stack..then wrapping it around his waist before he headed for the showers The damp chill in the room was immediate and he barely repressed the shiver that ran through him before he reached in and turned the water on. After giving it several minutes to warm he dropped the towel and stepped inside...a gasp escaping him as the water first hit...he reached down to adjust the temperature then turned his back to it. The sting of the water momentarily distracted him and he leaned forward..bracing his hands on the shower stall wall as it seemed to drive tiny needles into the knots in his back. His respite was short lived and as the tension eased his mind quickly wandered and within minutes the memories he'd fought so hard to suppress crept back into his thoughts... At first he'd felt like he was choking...the dust from the broken wallboard seeming to fill his every opening...he shifted position..careful not to make any noise as he wiped it from his eyes...not like it mattered...the darkness prevented him from seeing. He could hear them though....footfalls crunching on the debris over his head...Oh, God, please don't let them find me...he concentrated on not moving...never realizing how difficult that could be as his muscles seemed to rebel. He lost track of time...knowing only the burning as the dust scratched his eyes..and seeped into every pore. As it grew later his panic at being caught shared space with his increasing thirst..he ran his tongue across his lips...how much longer until they were gone? He listened as the Serbian soldiers above laughed about what they had done...he could smell the smoke from their cigarettes...and within it all he knew that his fate would be decided within seconds were they to find him. He bit into his hand as a cough threatened to break...only pulling it out as the need finally passed. He must have dozed...though how he could sleep with death so close was a mystery... he jerked abruptly awake as first a gunshot then a scream broke the silence of his hiding place. Time had no meaning anymore..and after what seemed like hours, but what might have been minutes, the voices were gone, leaving only the sound of passing trucks on the street behind. He was left with his own thoughts then, and in his growing disorientation imagined that he was home...he could hear Jasna's laughter...smell the scent of Danijela's soap as he nuzzled her neck...feel the softness of Marko's hair as he stroked it. He shifted slightly then groaned as a muscle cramp tore through his calf and forced reality back into his mind. How much longer could he stay here...how much longer until they found him and his fate became that of his family, or the gunshot victim, or the thousands of others who had died at their hands? The steady pounding of the water into his skin made it easy to lose himself to the memories and he no longer felt the sting of it as it reddened his back. He moved forward resting first his forearms then his forehead against the now warm tiles as the long repressed scene continued to play out in his thoughts. Eventually it was hunger and thirst that forced him from the safety of the blackness... the gnawing consuming him until not even sleep offered an escape from it. He bit his lip as he slid the wallboard aside..the sound seeming almost deafening. They could be waiting for him...the thought came unbidden....could, but was death here any more welcome? He hoisted himself up so that he could see over the edge, it was still dark and the air held the scent of fresh rain...but it was quiet..almost too quiet. He shimmied the rest of the way out and crawled forward on his belly, as if his staying low to the ground would somehow make his less visible...then peeked his head around the corner..letting his eyes move up and down the street. He moved his head and bit into his hand to silence the anguished cry that broke. Oh, God, please don't make me relive that again...he turned around...reaching over to adjust the water until steam poured from the showerhead. He flinched in response to the sting of the hot water as it bit into his skin, it's pain the only way he could think to silence the ghosts that continued to haunt him. As he reentered the ER after tossing his shirt in the locker, his first thought was that he needed a chart, any chart that would take his mind off the increasing relapses into his past. As he grabbed the first in the rack he glanced quickly around the Nurse's Station, no sign of weaver, or Halah, at least for now he could pretend nothing had happened. He flipped the chartopen then moved over to the board, "I'm taking the scalp lac in sutures." He announced to no one in particular as he scrawled his name next to it. As he dropped the marker in the tray he released a sigh of relief, business as usual, he cast his gaze around the station once more then headed for the suture room. As he entered the room he smiled at the little girl who sat on the exam table...then to the woman who perched in the chair beside it. "Hi..I'm, Dr. Kovac." He laid the chart down on the suture tray as he reached them..."What's your name?" He tilted his head slightly as he waited for the girl to answer, using the time to give her a quick once over. "Lakisha..." The girl answered quietly. "How old are you...Lakisha? " He struggled with the name a moment before getting it out. "4" She bit her lip nervously as she watched to see what he was going to do. "I'm going to look at your cut...and then I'm going to sew it up for you..ok?" He waited for her nod then looked over to her mother as he picked up the chart and studied it a moment. "Her X-Rays came back clean...so once I get her stitched up she should be able to go home...you will want to watch her for drowsiness, she could have a mild concussion from the fall. OK?" The mother nodded as he readied the suture tray. "That's what the other doctor said too..." Pulling a stool over next to the bed he took a seat then reached for the needle. "Good...ok.. Lakisha.. you're going to feel a couple stings when I give you medicine to make it not hurt..." All finished." Luka dropped the scissors on the tray next to him..then looked into the small girl's face. "You were very brave." He said with a smile, before looking back to the dressing he was readying to cover his work. Tearing several strips of tape from the roll he looked over to the child's mother. "I'll have them give you wound care instructions when you sign out, and you should follow up in a week to have the stitches taken out." When the woman nodded her assent he turned back to Lakisha and began to apply the bandage over her stitches, when he had finished he stood. "No more running down stairs now...agreed?" He let his gaze settle on her for a moment until she replied. "I won't." Picking up the chart he jotted a few final notes on it then raised his eyes back to the mother. "You cangether dressed now, and I'll have what you need at the desk for you to pick up when you sign out." He gave her a reassuring smile then headed for the door. "Thank you." The woman said as she rose and began gathering her daughters clothes. "You're welcome...good-bye Lakisha." He added the last as he opened the door...then stepping out into the corridor he headed back to the Nurses Station. "Luka, we need to talk." Kerry Weaver's voice broke into his thoughts as he signed off on the girl's chart and dropped it back in the rack. Forcing his emotions aside he slipped his hands in his pockets and turned to face her. "About what Kerry?" The question was obvious, even to his own ears. "About what's going on with you...I know you just got back from vacation, but you can't just walk away from your shift...especially in the middle of a trauma." The redhead let some of her irritation ooze into her words. "It wasn't in the middle of a trauma Kerry...the boy was on his way to surgery, I was finished with him." Luka clenched his jaw, fighting hard to keep his rising anger in check. "You left his family sitting in chairs not knowing if he was alive or dead. Luka, what were you thinking?" He shook his head his face hardening even more. "I just needed some air." He threw the excuse out blindly. "Air? You just needed some air? Luka, you can't just walk away on patients, if something is going on, work it out or take more time off. I don't want to hear of this happening again. Do I make myself clear?" Her eyes were blazing as she leveled them on him, aware that the attention of everyone present was now on the two of them. "Perfectly, Kerry, are you finished?" Luka held his own barely controlled anger in check though his face easily reflected it. The woman noted his posture and reluctantly nodded. "Sign out Luka, go home and get some sleep, we'll cover the end of your shift." When he started to protest she shook her head. "Sign out, now." She added with a firm finality that left no room for further argument. He'd thought far too much about his family today...far too much about the horrors of his past and then to be shot down by Weaver in front of everyone...no..it was too much. The result to it all was that he now sat nursing his 6th beer and avoiding the sleep that he knewhewould eventually have to give in to. Luka stretched his legs out across the bed..staring at the infomercial that played soundlessly on the hotel television. With a sigh he leaned across to grab his wallet from the nightstand and pulled the small black and white picture from it. Settling the beer bottle between his legs before he ran his finger over the images. He had looked at it so many times over the years that he knew every crease...and if he closed his eyes he could call it vividly into focus, but he still took comfort from holding it. He remembered the day it was taken...one of the last before their world fell apart... before they were forced to live in fear and the children had to stop being children and instead became prisoners in their own home. He took another draw off the bottle..how many more would he have to consume before he could put the memories to rest for the evening? Even after all these years such small things could bring the ghosts out of the shadows...ghosts...he hated to think of them that way. He downed the rest of the bottle before leaning over to set it on the nightstand by the other empties...then frowned as he saw no more full ones. With a mild groan he pushed himself into a sitting position...his brow creasing as the room seemed to roll..then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had to have more in the frig...he stood, swaying slightly as he made his way to the small box... then opened it. Success... he pulled the six-pack out and carried it back over to the bed. How long had it been since he'd had to lose the memories in alcohol? He slid the picture back into his wallet before opening the new bottle...there had been a time when there had been no other way to silence them, but that had been when they were still fresh, when the wounds of their loss were still raw. He drank deeply... praying for the release from them that the beers would bring...no more, please...he found himself asking silently. It took most of the second six-pack before the peace finally came, and he gratefully slid into the alcohol enhanced fog of sleep...the memories at rest...at least for now. to be continued...
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Post by britneyluby on Jun 19, 2008 6:08:00 GMT 10
Update soon
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Post by zelda on Jun 20, 2008 5:22:50 GMT 10
What a great idea, RORY!
I started reading JD's fics on BP two years ago, and spent wonderful and intense moments reading them and posting about them.
Her style is unique as she is conveying rollercoasters of emotion with a minimum of words. My absolute fave fics are all the ones linked to VUKOVAR and the death of Danielja and the kids. It moves me to tears...........dark and guilty LUKA is amazingly written and expresses so many vivid images that we can actually SEE him. THIS IS TRUE-TO-LIFE MATERIAL. San, you said it better than me!
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Post by rorygilmore on Jun 20, 2008 18:07:34 GMT 10
Ghosts 3/37
Chapter 3
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
As the alarm thrust him into consciousness Luka couldn't help but groan, the pounding in his head only seeming to worsen in the time it took him to silence the clock. How many more nights would he find it necessary to subject himself to this? How much longer could he exist on the 3-4 hours of alcohol induced unconsciousness that was passing as sleep? Forcing himself to sit he swung his legs over the side of the bed, only to find himself confronted by a wave of nausea as the room spun before his eyes. Bracing one hand on the mattress to steady himself, he lifted the other to shield his eyes as he waited for the rolling to stop. He couldn't keep doing this...dropping his hand he hesitantly opened his eyes, then released a breath as the dizziness seemed to have passed.
Using the bed for support he stood, then as his legs steadied he crossed to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Grabbing a clean pair of shorts from it, he closed the drawer, before reaching for the slacks that lay draped carelessly across a nearby chair. How much longer could he function like this? The question continued to gnaw on his thoughts as he headed for the bathroom. Once inside he lay his clothes on the toilet and reached over to turn the water on. By the time he'd stripped his shorts off and stepped into the spray the water had filled the room with steam, and he braced his hands on the wall, basking in it's warmth.
Releasing a sigh he turned his back to the jet, letting the hot water knead into the knots that seemed to have permanently settled into his muscles. For several minutes Luka stood motionless, his forehead resting against the back of his hands as he rested against the tile. It was easy to let his mind wander as the pulse of the water seemed to lull him farther and farther away from the small room. He jerked away from the wall as he realized he was bordering on falling asleep on his feet, or worse of losing himself to yet another memory of his past. No...he shook his head and reached for a the bar of soap, and in the time it took him to wash, the feeling had faded. At least for now the danger had passed and with a relieved sigh he set the bar aside then reached down and turned the faucets off as he stepped out.
Grabbing a towel he shivered as the chill of the room contrasted with the warmth he had just left..then dried enough that he could step into the shorts and slacks. He had opened to door to even out the room's temperature and was in the middle of shaving when the sound of someone knocking at the door interrupted him. Draping his towel over his bare shoulders he crossed the room to answer it.
"Abby." She had been the last person he'd expected to face and whether it was something she saw in his face, or heard in the tone of his voice, she seemed to sense that. "Nice to see you too, Luka." She held the carryout bag up so he could see it. "I thought maybe we could eat together before your shift." He lifted his hand to his temple as the hangover induced headache continued to send a none too subtle reminder of his drinking. "Sure...whatever...come on in." He let the hand fall and moved aside so she could come into the room. "Gee, Luka, you think you could manage just a little more enthusiasm there?" She tried to keep her tone non-combative as her eyes swept over him, noting his appearance. "Luka, what's going on?" She searched his face, not liking what she was seeing then lay her free hand on his arm. "Luka?" He shrugged off her touch almost too suddenly as he spoke, "Nothing...look..I need to finish getting dressed." He used to excuse to allow himself to move back to the safety of the bathroom..and away from her scrutiny.
She almost questioned him again, but closed her mouth before it escaped, moving instead to the table with the food. As she started pulling the cartons from the bag she couldn't help but notice the bottles that littered the table and nightstand. "You had a party? She tossed the comment out almost too casually.
"What?" Luka stuck his head out of the bathroom door as he finished wiping the last of the shaving cream from his face. "I said..." She paused to moderate her tone. "Did you have a party last night?" She waved her hand to indicate the scattered bottles. "Let it drop, Abby." He tightened his jaw as he walked across the room to the closet and opened the door.
"Luka..." Abby was an expert in avoidance...she'd had her entire life to master it. Luka was new to the game, and something in the way he was trying to distance himself threw all kinds of red flags around them. Setting the last carton down she walked over to where he was standing, before sliding her arms around his waist. "Talk to me, Luka." She planted a kiss on his bare back before resting her head against it.
Why had she touched him? He closed his eyes, choking back whatever reply might have been there then dropped his hands to cover hers. "I can't." The words were less then a whisper and even as close to him as she was, Abby still had to struggle to hear them. "Luka?" She lifted her head to kiss him again, "Will you at least look at me?" She asked quietly.
For several long minutes he did nothing and Abby found herself becoming more and more frightened by his mood. He was supposed to be the strong one. She found herself turning him to her and when he offered no resistance her fears grew. "You need to sleep." She said softly as she raised a hand to touch first his cheek then to slide it around his neck so she could draw him closer to her.
When he started to protest she lay a finger to his lips and stopped him with a shake of her head. "Later." She silenced him with a light kiss before backing him to the bed, then sitting and pulling him down beside her.
He didn't have any fight left in him and as she coaxed him to bed he complied...maybe he could hide in sleep. Maybe with her there the ghosts would remain at rest. As she lay beside him he shifted so he could lay his head on her breast, the sound of her heartbeat providing the anchor he needed to draw him towards sleep. As he closed his eyes he could feel her fingers as they brushed through his hair, and across his brow, the sensations lulling him farther away from her.
"Sleep, Luka." She kept her voice low, her motions set on easing the tension that seemed to radiate from him. "Shh..." She whispered. "Just sleep."
He woke slowly, noises in the hallway filtering through the tendrils that still held him in sleep. With a soft snuffling he shifted slightly on the bed, tucking his hand under his head before releasing a quiet sigh. Only when the radio triggered as the alarm did he finally fully wake, the music acting as the lifeline that guided him to consciousness. With a moan he rolled onto his back, stretching with a yawn and at that same moment registering that Abby no longer lay next to him. "Abby?" He rubbed his hand across his eyes as he sat up and glanced around the still darkened room. He was about to call again when he caught sight of the folded slip on paper on the pillow beside him.
Drawing his knees up he unfolded it, a slight smile breaking his face as he read. He owed her some kind of an explanation, but how could he explain to her what even he didn't understand. Part of him wanted to pretend that nothing was happening, but there was a larger part that recognized that for the lie it was. He'd seen symptoms like his in the camps...in the hospitals. He let the note fall between his upraised knees before brushing his hands back through his hair. No...he wasn't insane...he tried to force the thought away as he propped his elbows on his knees then cradled his head in his hands. He'd kept the ghosts locked away for all these years, he could continue to do it...he just had to try harder. He couldn't let them overrun all he had accomplished. He pushed the fear aside as he rolled his shoulders back, then threw the covers off...he couldn't do this now, he was supposed to go to work. Work was safe...work would keep the ghosts at rest...
to be continued...
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Post by rorygilmore on Jun 21, 2008 15:23:07 GMT 10
Ghosts 4/37
Chapter 4
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
From the moment he had walked through the doors of the ER, Luka had not stopped running. A 6 car pileup had thrust him into the middle of a series of traumas that had kept him occupied for several hours, and where on any other evening he might have minded, tonight he welcomed them. As he finally got the driver of the vehicle that had initiated it stable enough to send him off to surgery he was ready for a breather. He'd just started for the Doctor's Lounge to grab a cup of coffee when he found himself cornered for an incoming GSW.
He had hoped for the chance to talk to Abby at some point before her shift ended, but he had yet to see her. Maybe he could ask one of the nurses if they had seen her. He found his mind wandering, drifting to how he'd left things with her, what was she thinking right now? "Dr. Kovac?" Lydia's voice drew him out of his thoughts and back to the man on the table in front of him...
45 minutes later he resigned himself to the futility of their attempts and with a frown he handed the paddles back to her. "Hold compressions." He watched the monitors grimly for a moment then moved his gaze to the clock. "Time of death...2:56." He took the offered chart and signed his name to the bottom of it before handing it back... only vaguely hearing the "He didn't stand a chance, " that was offered in consolation. "I know..."He agreed as he pulled the bloody gloves, then gown off and tossed them aside. "Is the family in chairs?" At the nod he headed for the door, pushing his way through, readying himself mentally for what was to come. He set his jaw as he entered the room...looking across the expectant faces as he stopped.
"Mrs. Gardner?" He watched the people sitting there for some sign of recognition, then as a woman nodded he approached her. "My name is Dr. Kovac, I treated your husband. Are you here with anyone Mrs. Gardner?" He asked the question quietly, hoping to give her some privacy despite all the people.. The woman nodded, "My daughter, she went down the hall for coffee, how is Daniel? He only ran to the store for some cigarettes...he wanted a pack...he was supposed to have quit..." The woman was rambling, filling the silence with trivial information as if that might prevent hearing what she somehow knew was coming. "Mrs. Gardner, your husband's injuries were quite severe." He slid his hands in his pockets as he spoke, aware that every eye in the room was on him now. "We did everything we could, but there was too much damage...Mrs. Gardner, I'm sorry, we couldn't save him, your husband died."
He heard the anguished cry that broke from her and the second that followed the sound of something hitting the floor behind him, a moment before a younger woman folded the older into her arms and lowered her to a chair. "Is there anyone that I can call for you?" He hated this part of the job, no matter how hard he had worked to save the man, the family would always feel he had somehow not done enough. "No, thank you," The daughter shook her head, then moved her attention back to the sobbing woman besides her. "Mrs. Gardner, would you like to see your husband before we take him downstairs?" Both women looked over at him, mirrored nods saying what words could not. "Follow me then..when you get to the room you'll see a lot of tubes..." As they rose and he walked them back, he began to describe the scene they would face....
Informing family members of a patient's death was always difficult and his time with the Gardner's had only served to accentuate that. As he finished his final notes on the man's death Luka wanted nothing more then to find a quiet room alone to finish out him shift. Sleep itself was not an option so instead he grabbed the stack of charts he still had to review. Where to go? He rubbed his eyes wearily as he first cast his eyes to the door of the Doctor's Lounge, and then to the board...the suture room was empty, that would work. Dropping his hand he grabbed the pile of charts and made his way down the hall, willing himself invisible as he passed each trauma room until he reached the end. Juggling the charts he pushed the door open then slipped inside, hoping to find the solace he needed.
Dropping the stack on the gurney he pulled the nearby stool over and sat. The day shift would be arriving soon, the thought registered for no real reason as he rubbed his fingertips into his eyes before reaching for the top one Releasing a weary breath he flipped it open and bracing his head with his hand, he began to read. Male...24... presented with broken..he skimmed the notes for anything thatseemed unclear, then added comments where needed before signing off on it. If someone were to ask him two days from now, could he even attempt to put a face to all of these? He frowned at the thought then flipped the cover closed before laying it aside and reaching for the next. Margaret Becker...64...complains of shortness of breath...10 minutes later he was asleep.
His lungs screamed as he ran...and as he zigzagged across the field, dodging bullets and debris, all that mattered was reaching the wall and getting over it. Watch where you're going. He shielded his face as a bullet striking nearby sent a spray of gravel up towards him. Get to the wall. He found he had to keep reminding himself of the main objective as he barely avoided the bricks and rubble of bombed out buildings that had once been home to people no longer there. He almost made it. He released an audible groan as a barb of the wire bit into his hand as he grabbed it. Too late to stop...he hoisted himself up and threw his leg over the top wire. The memory of the next few minutes played through his mind in slow motion, he felt the bullet rip into his thigh, the momentum so strong that it easily carried him over the top and to the other side.
"Dr. Kovac...paramedics are on their way in...drunk with a head lac." Malik's voice brought an abrupt halt to the memory and Luka jerked his head up with the suddenness of it. "3 minutes out...can you take it?" Wiping his hand across his face, Luka nodded as he turned to face him. "Sure, let me finish this chart and I'll meet you in the bay." As Malik closed the door he looked back at the chart that still lay open in front of him, he didn't even remember reading it. Without fully admitting it he knew he needed a few more minutes to draw the rest of his thoughts away from the dream. Dropping his eyes back to the chart he began again and as he read his hand absentmindedly massaged his thigh. As he realized it he pulled it away and stood..scrawling his name on the chart and closing it as if it were the reason for the action. He forced the lingering images of the dream aside and scooped the charts up then headed for the door.
"How far out now?" He asked as he joined those outside after dropping the charts at the Nurse's Station. Wrapping his arms around himself in concession to the morning's chill, he shifted his gazetowardsthe street. "Should have grabbed your coat Dr. Kovac.." Malik said with a grin...as he tightened his own around him. Whatever reply he was about to give was forgotten as the ambulance backed in and the two men immediately pulled the doors open, listening to the paramedics as they tried to update them over the drunk's protests as they wheeled him into Exam 1.
"Sir, you'll have to be quiet," Luka tried to access the man as he fought the hold the paramedics and Malik had on him.."Get your hands off me." The man tried to push him away as he wiped some of the blood away to allow himself to get a better look at the wound. "Sir," Luka took a deep breath and tightened his jaw as he fought to keep his temper under control. "I have to see how bad it is," He leaned in again to look just as the man brought an elbow up...
<Croatian>"Son of a bitch..." Luka clasped a hand to his face as he staggered back against the blow...his eyes watering with the intensity of it. "Haldol...5 mg.." He waved off the resident who had moved to his side then stepped back in to help Malik restrain the man. "You're going to get a blackeye from that one..." Malik assessed optimistically as he handed the syringe across the table. "Great...just what I needed to finish the night." He commented icily as he jabbed the needle into the drunk's upper arm. Passing the used needle off he stepped back so they could tie restraints on the man.
As he watched them his hand moved to cover the swelling bruise on his cheekbone. "I'll order films, but I don't think it's going to need more then stitches." Malik nodded..."Go get some ice for that..I can watch him until they come for him." Knowing he was right Luka nodded, then moved to the drawers and pulled one of the gel bags. After smashing the vile inside he grabbed the man's chart and headed back to the Nurse's Station.
"Luka, let me see it." At the sound of his name he opened his eyes and lowered the pack. Kerry...she wasn't due on until...what time was it? He started to rub his fingers into the bruise only to have her grab his hand to stop him. "Let me see how bad it is." He sucked air through his teeth, unable to withhold the wince as she gently probed along his cheekbone. "Nothing broken...how's your vision?" He wanted to wave her off...he should have been able to tell that the man might do something. "How many fingers, Luka?" Kerry had moved to stand in front of him, once more trying to get his attention on her. "Luka, how many fingers?" She asked as she held them a short distance from his face. "3...I can see fine...I just have a headache" He brought the gel pack up to cover his face again, unable to hold back the irritation at his own carelessness. "You should get a cat scan done." He shook his head at the request. "I don't need a cat scan." Weaver frowned at him then let her eyes settle on him. "Fine, take something for the headache and go home...call me later and let me know how you feel so I know if I need to schedule someone to take your shift." Luka lowered the gel pack again. "Don't start Luka...your shift is done..go home."
He wasn't ready to go home...that was the thought that lingered as he stood and walked into the Doctor's Lounge to put his coat away and grab his bag. His head was throbbing, but that wasn't it...or was it? He hung his stethoscope and lab coat on the hook before pulling the peacoat out and slipping it on. As he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror he might have been looking at a stranger. It wasn't the darkening bruise though that caused the reaction...it was his eyes, he closed the door, unable to look at himself anymore. He'd seen the look they held before...he knew what it meant. The ghosts were getting too close again and he had to find somewhere to escape from them...
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 5, 2008 20:32:00 GMT 10
I'm sorry I'm posting this new update late but changing the forum and losing my connection were the reason. Here, it is another chapter by JD:
Ghosts 5/37
Chapter 5
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
The tolling of the church bells reached deep within him and Luka blinked as if awakening from an unexpected nap. His face took on a momentary look of confusion as he first oriented himself, then realized that he was standing in front of the old church....the Bishop's church. He raised a hand to massage the dull ache that had settled into his temple as he tried to remember what had led him here. He remembered leaving the hospital...walking up the steps to the El, even climbing into the train when it had stopped. Why couldn't he remember how he had gotten here? He dropped his hand as his memory released nothing else and from somewhere he heard the voice whispering again...reminding him of the fine line between sanity and insanity he was walking.
Shaking the thought off he climbed the steps slowly, then opened the heavy door that would lead into the safety of the church. For several minutes he stood silently looking over the chapel as if expecting the old man to be watching him. He allowed a small smile to cross his face at the memory of the Bishop and what had been returned to him at knowing him. As suddenly as it appeared though it faded, and he was left knowing that the man represented yet another loss in his life and he would never see him again.
Moving further into the chapel he paused to genuflect and cross himself before slipping quietly into a rear pew. Ten years he had been away from his faith, ten years of laying blame where none was due. Luka leaned forward to lower the small padded bench then moved to kneel on it. As he crossed himself again he found his eyes drifting to the flickering candles in the alcove. He should light one for Danijela...for the children...for the Bishop...then suddenly he was faced with another realization, there weren't enough candles for all the deaths. He rested his forearms on the back of the pew in front of him and closed his eyes as he tried to block the thought in one of the familiar prayers.
The ground was littered with debris, shards of glass, broken bricks, plaster, all creating the cushion he lay upon, but none drawing his notice now. As he lay there stunned by the shock of the bullet and the subsequent fall he realized how close death really was. He could just stay here...let them come for him and it would all finally be over. He had no doubt in his mind if he were captured now it would mean his death. He would be like those at the hospital, or the man who's screams had reached him in hiding, but more importantly, he would be back with his family. He closed his eyes at the thought, no more worries about the dangers of going for something as simple as food or water. No more cold because you were living in a building that no longer had heat or electricity. He moaned softly as even those thoughts were pushed away by the pain that forced itself into the forefront of his consciousness.
Shifting so he could prop himself up on one elbow he looked first to see if they were coming for him before he brought his other hand to his thigh. How bad was it? He groaned as numb fingers probed the wound, a mixture of relief mingling with renewed pain as he registered the second opening in the back of his leg that marked the bullet's exit. Voices drew his attention back towards the city and his decision was made on survival instinct alone...he had to get moving.
He forced himself to his feet, a cry of anguish escaping as sensation screamed through the leg at the weight on it. He could see the headlights of an approaching vehicle....he knew it meant death was coming for him....for a moment he was frozen a strange fascination remaining at the realization. A bullet striking the ground near him sprayed gravel and broke his trance...his gaze immediately broke and his eyes moved to see where it was fired from. As if to confirm it, a second shot rang out and without thinking he began to run, his gait a staggered lope as he favored his injured leg. If he could reach the treeline he could be safe...safe...alive...
"Dr. Kovac?" The memory abruptly ended as he felt the hand on his shoulder and without thinking he shrugged it away. "Dr. Kovac...are you all right?" As he shook off the last remnants of the dream and turned to identify the voice he raised a hand to his face and across his eyes. Father Joe...the Bishop's aide...oh, God, had he said anything he might have heard? What could he have seen? He swallowed the fear as he let the hand drop again.
"Dr. Kovac, I thought that was you, I'm glad you decided to visit us again." The Priest let his eyes sweep over the man's face, unable to stop the frown that found him as he registered the swollen bruise. "Mother Mary." He uttered the words without thinking, "Were you mugged...do you need me to call the police?"
Luka shook his head as he raised his hand to gingerly touch his face. "No, Father, it happened at work...I'm afraid I let my attention wander with a patient. It was my own fault it happened, I'll be fine." Would he be? The thought lingered as he tried to focus on what the Priest was saying. "Bishop Stewart left something for you, I meant to give it to you at the funeral, but you were gone before I could talk to you." As the man spoke Luka nodded, then stood, his mind left with the question of what the Bishop could have wanted him to have?
As he followed the Priest back through the rectory his thoughts flashed to his last visit here when the Bishop was alive. If only the man hadn't insisted on leaving the hospital, maybe he could have done more. Had his prescribing the steroids made his condition worse...had it hastened his death? He could justify it by saying he had only done what the man had asked of him...but how much of that had been influenced by what the man was? "This is my office, Dr. Kovac." He let his doubts recede as the Priest stopped, then motioned him into an office. "Please, have a seat." He smiled again before moving around the desk that was the room's centerpiece and taking a seat in the large wooden chair that say behind it.
"Bishop Stewart was very concerned about you Dr. Kovac." As he began he leaned down to open a bottom drawer, "In his last few days he spoke often about the burdens you seemed to carry and about your having moved away from your faith." As he continued he straightened and lay a small white box of the desk across from where Luka had sat. "The Bishop appreciated your honesty with him, not many people could do that. He asked me to make sure that you were given these when the time came for him to join our Father." Resting his eyes on Luka he pushed the box across the desk, then sat back silently watching his reaction.
At first Luka wasn't sure what to think and it took him several minutes before he was able to bring himself to take the small white box. What was he so afraid of...it was only a box...what could it possibly contain that he should be afraid of? As he continued to look down at it he wet his lips. Why hadn't theBishop said anything to him about it? More importantly, how had he even known he would come back? He raised his eyes to the Priest then dropped them back to the box before opening it.
As he lifted the lid and saw the contents his eyes teared and he was forced to set the lid down to wipe his hand across his face before he could continue. "Did you know?" He asked the question quietly, as if it didn't matter if the other man heard him. "He told me of his intentions, yes." Luka raised his eyes to the man at his response then returned them to the box as he lifted the rosary from it. He blinked the tears away quickly as his fingers moved across the worn beads. Why him? As he saw what remained half hidden under the tissue beneath it the question became even more important. He lay the rosary on the desktop as he slid the paper aside then withdrew the Bishop's bible...the bible that had offered him comfort in those final hours of his life.
He dropped his face into his hand as the tears he had fought so hard to hold back finally fell. "Would you like some privacy?" He shook his head at the Priest's question then sniffed and wiped the tears away before bringing his eyes back to him. "He must have family who would want these." The Priest shook his head with a soft smile. "He was very definite about my making sure you got them, and you know how he was about getting his way." The Priest's smile broadened. "Dr. Kovac, the Bishop did not break the sanctity of your confession with me, but he did ask me to offer you my counsel. I hope you will allow me to accept that gift from him as you accept this one." Luka lifted his eyes to the Priest as he realized what he was asking. "Father..." he paused, what could he say? He brushed his fingers across the worn leather cover of the Bishop's bible as if it somehow held the answer, then lifted his gaze again. "I'm not sure that I can..."
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 10, 2008 18:46:58 GMT 10
Ghosts 6/37
Chapter 6
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
The Priest met Luka's gaze and held it as he rose and walked around the desk then took a seat on the corner of it. "Dr. Kovac...Luka..." He slipped into the less formal address before continuing, "the Bishop told me you were from Croatia...how long have you been in the States? A year..maybe two..your accent is still fairly noticable so I'd say not much longer then that." He paused his eyes still on him as he rested his hands in his lap.
"Almost two...but I don't understand why that matters."Luka lifted his hand again to the bruise on his cheek...if only it would stop throbbing so he could think. Why had he come here in the first place? He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone about what was going on...if he could just leave now he could pretend he hadn't even been here. He shot his eyes to the door then back, fully aware that the Priest was still watching him.
"Luka...you made quite an impression on the Bishop...no one had done that in some time. I wonder if you realize how many people a man of the Bishop's standing dealt with in the course of a week." He paused as if he expected an answer and when none appeared forthcoming he continued. "We are a large congregation and we have people of many nationalities among our members. Many of those who find there way to us are looking for ways to understand why God would allow unspeakable tragedies to fall on his children."
As the Priest kept talking Luka could feel the panic rising...he was getting too close... he had to go now before the ghosts were released..."Father..." He lay the bible and then the rosary back in the box then replaced the lid on it. "That was a long time ago..." He brushed his fingers across the surface of it, unable to bring himself to look back up at the man.
"It may have been a long time ago Luka..but I don't think it's over for you yet...I can see the difference in you from the last time I saw you..." Luka shook his head...squeezing his eyes closed to keep from letting the emotions out. "The Bishop made arrangements for a speaker to come talk to the congregation...I think he'd want you to attend as well." He rose again as he spoke and walked back around the desk then pulled a piece of paper out of the basket on the corner of it. "This has all the information...you have nothing to lose by coming and hearing him..." He slid it across the desk, "If you won't come for yourself...come for the Bishop."
As he opened his eyes he couldn't help seeing the heading on the paper and despite himself he found himself reading it...
10 Ways to Recognize Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is in many ways a normal response to an abnormal situation. After a tragic event, it is likely that you will experience a variety of symptoms and emotions. Sometimes, however, these symptoms surface several weeks or months after the tragedy. This is called post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Recognizing these symptoms in yourself or others is the first step toward recovery and finding appropriate treatment.
1) Re-experiencing the event through vivid memories or flash backs 2) Feeling “emotionally numb” 3) Feeling overwhelmed by what would normally be considered everyday situations and diminished interest in performing normal tasks or pursuing usual interests 4) Crying uncontrollably 5) Isolating oneself from family and friends and avoiding social situations 6) Relying increasingly on alcohol or drugs to get through the day 7) Feeling extremely moody, irritable, angry, suspicious or frightened 8) Having difficulty falling or staying asleep, sleeping too much and experiencing nightmares 9) Feeling guilty about surviving the event or being unable to solve the problem, change the event or prevent the disaster 10) Feeling fears and sense of doom about the future
Compiled by The American Counseling Association, its 18 divisions and 56 branches ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ No...this wasn't him...he'd just been tired. He lifted a hand to his face as he ticked off the symptoms...how many of them had he fallen victim to? Oh God...he couldn't handle this now...almost too abruptly he pushed the chair back and stood..shoving the paper in his pocket before picking up the box. "Will you at least think about it? I know he would have wanted youthere." The Priest knew better then to push too hard..he'd seen more people like the man in front of him then he wanted to admit. Many were far worse...he couldn't risk losing him now...not when he was so close. "Just come and listen to the man Luka...that's all I'm asking of you...that's all the Bishop wanted."
Why did he have to kept reminding him of what he owed the Bishop? Luka wanted nothing more then to flee the room...leave the Church and find the nearest bar... anywhere he could lose himself in the alcohol again. He drug his hand back through his hair...his inner turmoil written in his actions and on his face. "I don't know if I can..." He dropped his eyes to the box again. "Do this for me then..at least think about it...you won't be the only one there...all I'm asking is for you to come and listen to what he has to say." There was no point pushing him any more...already the man looked like a deer caught in the headlights and it wouldn't take much to send him running...he had to give him some time. "Tell you what..take the paper home and read it...even if you only attend for what it would do for you as a doctor...just think about it." He walked around the desk again...
He was wearing him down and almost reluctantly Luka nodded, "I'll think about it.."As he spoke he started to back towards the door. "Look..I really should get going..." Father Joe smiled. "I understand...I'm glad you came by Luka...and my door is always open to you." Had he been speaking to anyone else he would have offered a hug.. something to let him know he was there for him. That the man was physically distancing himself already said more then words could have and instead he held his ground, reinforcing his words instead with a broader smile. "Stay safe Luka..."
"Sure...thanks for your time Father." If the Priest had wanted to say anything else it was lost as he turned and left the room...he needed air...needed to be anywhere but here. He lengthened his stride as the church seemed to suddenly close in on him. By the time he reached the Chapel he was barely aware of what he was doing...the need to flee filling his thoughts completely. Once outside he broke into a sprint...he had to get away...had to find somewhere to think...
He left the church with no direction in mind, his thoughts twisting around themselves so he could barely think. For the next several hours he walked the city in a daze, reality tangling with images of his past until he could no longer separate them. At some point it had begun to drizzle and by the time he found himself on the river's bank he was soaked to the skin and shivering from the cold. The rain and falling temperatures had chased most people indoors and it was that too that seemed to be fueling the sense of isolation around him. As he reached a metal bench he stopped and ignoring the water that pooled on it he finally allowed himself to rest. Staring out over the gray water it was easy to forget where he was and it wasn't long before his mind returned to the past.
It had been raining for most of the night but he knew he had to keep going...he had to put distance between himself and the city...between himself and those who would kill him. Keep to the trees...keep off the main roads...he tried to remember the warnings that had been whispered in the halls and ward rooms of the hospital. Why hadn't he paid more attention to them? The thought was lost as he caught his foot on a half buried root and he found himself falling. A cry of surprise replaced by a choked one of pain at impact and he clutched his leg as he prayed for it to subside.
He couldn't do this anymore. He lay there for what seemed like hours but in truth was only minutes trying to catch his breath as the new pain mingled with that which had settled deep inside of him. Pulling his hand from his thigh he felt the stickiness of the blood from the reopened wound...how much longer could he leave it untreated before it was too late? Biting his lip he forced himself first to sit and then to stand...he had to keep moving...
It was the drizzle shifting to sleet that roused him, the sting of the ice striking his face the only thing able to break that hold to his past. Even as he stood the remnants remained, for whatever reason the ghosts were back and they would not rest until he learned what they wanted from him. Pulling his collar up he slipped his near numb hands into his pockets, his fingers sharing space with the Bishop's gifts to him. The words on the flier filtered back to him as he looked across the water and he raised his eyes to the sky as if expecting the man to be looking down at him. "I'm not like that..." He voiced his disagreement even as deep down he knew they rang with amixtureof untruth. There was no turning away from this...there was no place to hide. With a sigh he turned his back to the river and began the walk back to his hotel.
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Post by Praline on Jul 11, 2008 19:38:52 GMT 10
Ghosts 7/37
Chapter 7
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
He might have been sleepwalking as he returned to the hotel, a warm numbness having replaced the freezing chill left by wet clothes and falling temperatures. "Dr. Kovac, what happened, couldn't get a cab? I swear sometimes that they pull them off the streets when the weather takes a turn for the worse." The doorman's voice brought his thoughts to the present and he mumbled a half reply in acknowledgment as he moved through the opened door and into the lobby. Any other time he would have stopped to talk to the man, but not tonight, and as he continued across the lobby to the elevators he barely saw anyone else. Punching the button to for the car he found himself inwardly hoping that Abby was not waiting upstairs, all he wanted was to escape everything and he couldn't do that with her there. When the doors opened he stepped inside, leaning against the wall wearily as they slid closed again. As he watched the numbers tick off above the door he found his eyelids drooping, the warmth of the small box lulling him farther and farther away from the ghosts. As it jerked to a stop he started..yanked back suddenly and shaking his head he forced himself away from the wall and out into the hallway.
When he reached his room it took several tries for him to get the door open and as he entered the darkened room he wanted nothing more then sleep. Lowering himself to the couch he leaned back and closed his eyes, too tired even to remove his coat. "Luka?" Abby had come awake as the door opened, sitting up on the bed she watched in confusion as he paused uncertainly then sat. "Luka?" She repeated her call to him, then when he still didn't respond crawled off the bed and moved to his side. "Luka?" She lay a hand on his arm as she took a seat on the couch next to him. "You're soaked..." If her words reached him he didn't show it and lifting a hand she touched his cheek gently. "Luka...my God, you're like ice. Come on...let's get you warmed up..." When she began to tug on his coat he opened his eyes but the look she saw made her wonder if he was even seeing her.
He offered no protest as she coaxed him forward, pushing the sodden coat off his shoulders and then pulling his arms from the sleeves before letting him lean back again. Tossing it to the floor she loosened his tie and slipped it off before moving to the buttons on his shirt, frowning as she found it soaked as well. "Luka, what were you thinking? Let me get a blanket." She said softly as she stood, hating to leave him for even the short time it took to cross the room and pull the blanket from the bed. Almost as an afterthought she detoured to the bathroom, filling a glass with hot water before returning.
When he seemed not to have moved at her return she found her concerns for him mounting. "Luka, look at me." She tried to draw his focus as she set the glass on the table then draped the blanket around his shoulders. "Look at me, please?" She fought for some sign that he was even aware she was there then released a soft sigh of relief as he finally drew dull eyes to her. "Luka, what happened to your face?" The question was out before she realized and a part of her wondered how she hadn't noticed it before. When even that question gained no response she let it drop, resisting the urge to touch his face as she reached for the glass and held it to his lips. "Luka, I want you to drink some of this...we need to get you warmed up...just a little, please?" She coaxed him through several swallows before he turned his head away from her. "It's all right, Luka...it's okay." She sat the glass on the table then brushed his wet hair off of his face. "Let's get the rest of these wet clothes off of you and get you into bed, okay?" She might have been talking to a child as she spoke and without thinking she let her voice reflect that, holding her fears at bay as she worked with him.
Pulling him to his feet she led him across the room to the bed. "Stand here, Luka." Bracing him with one hand she fumbled with his belt then unfastened his pants and pulled them down. "Luka, step out of them...that's it, okay...good." She talked him through each step before guiding him to the side of the bed and on to it. "That's it, Luka, you just need to sleep." When she had pulled the blankets around him she lay down beside him, only then aware of his eyes on her. Managing a soft smile she brushed her fingers through his hair. "It's okay, you can sleep." She whispered to him quietly.
"Too many ghosts.." She almost didn't hear him when he spoke, "What was that, Luka?" She touched his forehead lightly withher fingers, already feeling the start of a fever there. "Can't keep them away..." The words came unexpectedly and she drew her hand away for a moment. "What can't you keep away, Luka?" What ever else he might have been about to say was lost as he closed his eyes and slid closer to sleep, and Abby found her worries deepening. This was more then his dealing with the Bishop's death...much, much, more.
When his breathing had slowed and she was sure he was asleep she eased herself off the bed and picked up the phone. She knew he was supposed to work tonight and that wasn't happening with him like this. She quickly punched in the number of the hospital.
"Mark Greene, please." She shifted her eyes to Luka as she waited for the call to be picked up on the other end, then found herself continuing to watch him even as she talked. Hi, Mark...it's Abby. I'm calling in for Luka, he's supposed to work tonight but he's not in any shape to come in. Fever, chills...could be flu." She paused as she listened to the voice on the other end then nodded. "He's sleeping now, I'm going to stay at least for a few hours in case he gets any worse. Sure, I can let you know. Thanks, Mark." Replacing the receiver in the cradle she stood unmoving watching Luka. He had barely moved since she'd gotten him settled in bed and he'd fallen asleep and she couldn't help wondering if she should be worried or happy at that. Not wanting to wake him she reluctantly moved to a nearby chair and settled into it to keep vigil.
As the first streaks of dawn creased the sky he knew that he had gone as far as he could without sleep. After the first day he had taken to traveling by night to avoid the patrols, and while it was safer, it also meant the travel was slower. When he saw the ruined walls of what had been part of a small house he stumbled towards it warily. Part of his mind warned him to be cautious, the rest saw as a place of shelter from the seemingly endless rain that had been falling. It could be a trap...they could be watching even now...waiting for just that right moment to take him prisoner, or worse to kill him.
He crept closer...stopping every few feet as his eyes swept the fields around it for any signs of movement, then moving again as his ears registered only the steady rain that fell. When he reached the house he paused again, taking in the pitted plaster and crumbled brick that bore witness to the destruction that had driven the family from it's walls. Little remained behind, what hadn't been destroyed had long ago been salvaged by others in need. Only a corner of the roof remained, but it was something and he gratefully sought shelter beneath it.
Groaning, he lowered himself to the ground acknowledging what he had already known as his leg's stiffness told him he had neglected it for far too long. Unfastening his pants he raised himself enough to ease them down, then bit off a strangled cry as the blood soaked fabric tore itself loose from the wounds. Gritting his teeth he settled again and probed the wounds...his muscles tensing at the daggers of pain the action brought. Other then being dirty the wound was better then he expected, the bullet seemed to have exited intact, and at least that was in his favor. Tearing several strips of fabric off the bottom of his shirt he packed both wounds then bound them tightly, it would have to do..at least for now. With a weary sigh he eased his pants back up and over the makeshift bandages and leaned back against the damp wall willing himself to rest.
As Luka slept, reliving parts of his past he'd rather not revisit, Abby continued to watch him with increasing concern. She'd been with him before when he'd wrestled with nightmares, but they had never haunted his waking hours like these seemed to be doing. Sliding her leg out from under her she slipped off the couch and walked across the room to the bed. The fever was worsening, she could tell that by looking at him and as if seeking relief he had pushed the blankets aside as he slept. Pulling them back over him she found herself half wishing she knew what kind of dream he was locked into. Laying a hand to his forehead only confirmed her feelings and she frowned in response to the heat that radiated from him.
With a sigh she moved away again, retreating to the couch and picking up his discarded coat before sitting. There was so much about his life she knew nothing about, so much of him that she knew he concealed from her. Would he ever reach the point where he trusted her enough to fully share it? She brushed her hand across the still damp coat only to stop as she felt the box in the pocket. Okay..maybe she shouldn't but her curiosity was peaked...she glanced to thebed then withdrew the soggy box, wondering if it held some clue to what he was going through. "Luka, what were you thinking?" She voiced the question softly before reluctantly setting the box on the table and checking the other pocket...
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 13, 2008 20:20:24 GMT 10
Ghosts 8/37
Chapter 8
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
He awoke to pangs of hunger he could no longer ignore, and a cough that signaled the start of even more concerns. As long as the rain continued he wouldn't go thirsty, but rainwater alone wasn't enough to sustain him, he would have to find food at some point tonight. He pushed his wet hair back off of his face, only to lose himself in a wave of coughing, how many days had it been? How many days since the remainder of what had passed as his life had crumbled around him like the walls of this small house? The grumble of his stomach reminded him again of the moments overriding concern..he had to find food...when had he ate last? He'd found those two turnips at the edge of a field... yesterday? No..that had been two days ago..what had he eaten since...had he eaten since? He rubbed his hand across his face, then clenched his jaw as he forced himself to his feet.
Abby, looked over to the bed as Luka moaned, then rolled to his side, the sodden wad of paper she had pulled from his pocket still clenched tightly in her hand. What are you doing? She found herself questioning her own actions as she unfolded it...it's his business... even that reminder wasn't enough to stop her as she began to read...
10 Ways to Recognize Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Oh, God, was this what it was about? Abby clamped her hand to her mouth as she continued to read. Was Luka sicker then even she imagined? She found herself looking across to where he slept with even more concern then before, why now, why couldn't things have continued like they were? She dropped her eyes back to the paper...what were the signs...how many had she seen and done nothing about?
[1) Re-experiencing the event through vivid memories or flash backs ] She had no doubt she had seen this. All those nightmares he'd passed off as nothing...the times she'd caught him staring out a window and seeming unaware of her even being there. All this time they had been signs that he needed help and she'd failed to see them. Had he even acknowledged them to himself? She dropped to the next symptom.
[2) Feeling “emotionally numb ] ” Could she consider him this way? He went through the motions of saying he cared, had it been an act. All this time had he been pretending to make things better for her? Luka..please tell me this isn't what you've been doing? She glanced back at the bed as the plea to him moved through her thoughts. [3) Feeling overwhelmed by what would normally be considered everyday situations and diminished interest in performing normal tasks or pursuing usual interests ] Was this Luka? Abby found herself leaning back against the couch...staring at the man she thought she knew and feeling like she was looking at a stranger. How could she not have seen any of this? Without thinking she wadded the paper up again and tossed it on the table next to the box...she couldn't do this now. He needed her and if she knew too much, if she thought too much about the lies he might have told her, she couldn't be there for him. She shifted her gaze to the ceiling, oh please...I don't want to lose him, what am I supposed to do?
Eyeing the fields as he stood outside the wall he had to force himself to think. This was a farm, what crops would they have grown? Was it possible some had been plowed under...that there might be something left for him to find? Which way? Where should he go? The sea...if he got to the sea he could catch a ship..but were there any guarantees that he would find safety even there? Did it even matter what direction he went? He brushed his hand back through his hair as his eyes slowly panned the landscape around him, then dropped it as they settled on a short outcropping of trees.
He had to try...with fresh resolve he moved towards them, keeping his gaze on his feet as he walked through the field. Nothing, he found his frustration mounting, not a potato...a turnip, not even a wild onion survived, it had been stripped bare like too much of his country. Out of necessity he stooped and pulled a handful of grass that had taken root, balling the blades he popped them in his mouth. It was something, maybe he could fool himself into thinking it was more. As he chewed he started walking again, his gait a shuffling limp as he favored the injured leg.
How much longer could he do this? Sleeping by day, existing on next to nothing, he spit the wad of grass out as he walked, the juice only seeming to irritate his throat. God, please..not something else to worry about, if only the rain would stop, or he could find something warmer to wear. He found his mind wandering as he tried to find ways to distract himself, anything to keep himself from giving up. He could be warm in the memories...he could be sleeping under thick blankets wrapped in Danijela's arms. He could return to the times before rationing when going for food didn't mean risking your life. He barely noticed the rain as he walked now, his hunger satiated by thick stew and warm buttered bread...if only it could last.
As he crested the rise his vision was down to little more then his hand in front of his face, the worsening rain now joined by a thickening fog brought on by dropping temperatures. He should stop...should find somewhere to wait it out. As he stumbled and fell Luka was sent sprawling, a cry of surprise breaking before he could stop it. Another root...he grabbed his leg...gritting his teeth as he waited for the pain to subside. As it finally eased he groaned and forced himself up from the muck and to his knees, his eyes searching for the offender. The cry that broke next was unstoppable...Oh, God, he scrambled back..ignoring the pain of his leg and rocks that tore into him, his eyes locked firmly on the pale hand that now rose from the ground in front of him.
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 14, 2008 16:13:21 GMT 10
Ghosts 9/37
Chapter 9
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
Warning: This chapter contains material that some readers will find disturbing.
Abby hadn't had a chance to even think about sleep...Luka's restlessness had kept her awake until near dawn. His breathing had grown more labored and she listened for the signs of congestion in his chest, then frowned as she heard the almost strangled wheezing that she knew was the signal to it. At times his breathing seeming to rattle his chest as he struggled to catch his breath, and she was torn over how much longer to wait before calling for help. Didn't he have enough to worry about?
How many times had she debated waking him, thinking that at least if he were awake it would be one less thing for him to fight? He had tossed the covers aside repeatedly, soft whimpered cries mingling with moans in response to whatever haunted him.
She rose and dampened one of the washcloths, then sat on the bed...wiping the sweat from his skin. "What are you seeing Luka?" She asked the question quietly, not really expecting an answer but feeling the need to voice it nonetheless. How much more did he have to give before he had given enough? She raised her eyes to the ceiling as if she somehow expected an answer to the unasked question, then glanced back at him. Hasn't he given you enough? She brushed the damp tendrils of hair from his forehead, before laying the washcloth on it in an attempt to hopefully soothe him. "You're safe Luka....nothing can hurt you here." Did she really believe that?
Drawing the covers over him again she rose, tucking him in as if he were a small child. "Sleep Luka..." She smiled to herself as he seemed to calm, only to wonder how long it would last, then waiting a few minutes more before moving back to the couch. Rubbing her own eyes she settled back against the cushions...catching sight of the small box and wadded sheet of paper on the table as she did. It didn't matter...she pulled her gaze from them and looked across the room. Why now?
When Luka's cry broke the silence of the room she jerked awake...she hadn't planned to sleep...how had she let it happen? Scrambling to her feet she started for him only to stumble into the coffee table in the darkness of the room. "Shit." She grabbed her leg with a wince then released it before moving to him. "Luka...shh..." She lay a hand on his bare shoulder only to have him recoil from her even in sleep...a frightened whimper his response to her touch. Drawing her hand away as if it had been burned she tried to reach him with words alone. "Luka...it's Abby...you're safe..."
"Isuse Boze..ne." His eyes dropped to the ground in front of him...the mud...they were in the mud. Had it not been for the rain he would have smelled it. He wiped his hands on his shirt in a vain attempt to rid himself of the mud, knowing in truth it covered him. At the realization of what he had found his stomach had already started to heave. "Isuse Boze..." He felt the bile rise and knew the battle was lost... doubling over he spent the next several minutes emptying his stomach of what little nourishment it had held. He was at it's mercy and it's grip was strong...first the grass and turnips, then bile. When he was sure he had nothing left to give he was wracked by dry heaves that threatened to steal what little strength remained to him.
As it finally eased he straightened, dragging his arm across his mouth as dulled eyes registered the carnage in front of him. They hadn't fled...he felt his stomach rise to choke him again as his eyes took in the bloated corpses half buried in the mud around him. What kind of monsters could do this? He swallowed back a fresh wave of nausea as his eyes settled on the foot of a small child less then an arm's length away from him...he had to get away...
His breathing quickened and his restlessness seemed to increase in tandem to it...and in response Abby felt her own panic rising. She couldn't do this...not alone...but who could she call? Who would Luka trust enough? That was it wasn't it...who could Luka trust with his past? He had never shared it with her...but then she had never asked him. Why had she never asked him? She wiped her cheeks as she realized they were wet with tears she hadn't even known she was shedding. How many times had he given her the signals that he wanted to talk about his life in Croatia only to have her ignore them? She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as if that alone would stop the tears from falling...how could she have been so blind to what was happening with him?
He retreated slowly...scrambling to his feet in realization that even the ground he knelt on was not safe as his hand came in contact with still another body. Was this his fate? Would the soldiers return only to make him one more anonymous corpse in to be found by the next person who stumbled into this clearing? No...he couldn't think that...he had to believe he would find safety...he had to believe he would survive. He staggered through the trees...aware that he no longer seemed to feel anything. He could hear his labored breathing...he felt the wetness of the reopening of the bullet wound in his leg...he could smell the stench of death permeating his clothing. This was his world now...he paused as a wave of coughing hit him...knowing that that simple act could be enough to signal his death.
As it eased he started moving again...stumbling blindly through the darkness...what if he was going the wrong way? What if instead of moving closer to safety he was returning to those that would kill him? He found his mind circling around thoughts of death...how would he die? Would he be shot on sight? Would they take him prisoner only to torture him before he was killed? Would he be left to starve...to meet death slowly? He tried to push the thoughts away, knowing nothing could be gained from them but unable to fully banish them either. Would his fate be that of those in the forest...or of those he had left at the hospital? He groaned at the thought that so many he had known...so many friends...and even family, were now dead. He bit his lip to hold the anguished cry back...the memories piercing him as deeply as if he had been stabbed by a knife.
Luka groaned in his sleep...tossing the blankets aside again as if that might somehow free him from whatever held him. "No, Luka...you need those.." Abby drew the covers back up over him then reached for the washcloth she'd left on the nightstand. How much longer could this hold him? She wiped the sweat from his face, drawing her lip between her teeth in expectation that he would draw back, then releasing it as she found he did not.
"Who would you trust Luka?" She asked the question without thinking that there was very likely no one..then knowing in the end he would have trusted the Bishop. A smile found it's way to her as she thought of the times Luka had spoken of the man. There had been a hatred there at first, he had blamed the man for the failings of his God. Later she knew his words had been laced with a love he would have had difficulty admitting even to himself. The Bishop's death was the beginning of this..or if not the beginning at least the trigger. Her eyes moved to the table again only to settle on the wadded ball that had been in Luka's coat pocket...was that the answer? Would whoever had given him that hold the key to putting an end to this?
to be continued...
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