justcala
Countess of Luby
Penny for your thoughts...
Posts: 184
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Post by justcala on Jul 15, 2008 5:32:01 GMT 10
woow... amazing update... keep it going!
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Post by Praline on Jul 15, 2008 13:41:42 GMT 10
Another update from JD. An amazing one!
Ghosts 10/37
Chapter 10
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
Warning: This chapter contains material that some readers will find disturbing.
Father Joe tossed the pencil on the desk then frowned as he looked at the sermon that lay on the desktop in front of him. What had he been thinking? For the past 3 hours he had struggled to put the message down on paper and this was the result. He picked the sheet of paper up, his frown deepening as he tried to decipher the almost illegible notes before him. Any other night and the words rushed from him like waters cascading over a waterfall, but not tonight. He lay it back down and pushed the chair away from the desk.
Who was he trying to fool? His mind wasn't on the sermon. truth was, he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything since the Bishop's Doctor had fled his office. Would he ever forget the look of panic that had flooded the man's eyes? What had possessed him to drop the subject of the seminar on him without even talking to him about things first? He should have known what to expect...he'd listened to the Bishop as he'd talked about the "young doctor from Croatia." Granted he didn't know the specifics of what he had endured in his past but he could guess, he'd spoken to enough survivors to realize what it might have been like for him.
Father Joe found himself smiling slightly at the memory of the doctor and the Bishop's early encounters. There were few people who could stand toe to toe and argue with the Bishop without backing down, he had seen then the Croat was one of them. He'd challenged the Bishop, a lost lamb that had given him a reason to fight when he might otherwise have given up in those final weeks. This was how he had repaid the man that gift.
Standing, the Priest walked over to the window, it was still raining, what had the nuns told him when he was a boy? He closed his eyes a moment as he searched for the memory, then opened them again. The rain is God crying...that was it...had he believed that it could only be because God felt the pain that the young doctor was feeling now and had chosen to share his grief.
Did he dare go to him, offer him the comfort he knew he must so desperately need? The Bishop had heard his confession, had absolved him of his perceivedsins, and welcomed him back into God's loving arms, but who was there for him now. Who was there to ease the pain that he still clung to?
There wasn't any escape...he was sure of that now. Fear had wrapped itself so tightly around him that he seemed barely able to breathe and he was sure the strangled gasps would bring death to him. Panic was driving him and as he stumbled blindly through the trees all he wanted to do was get away from the bodies...away from the grave that was meant to hide the secrets.
The ghosts...he couldn't stop the ghosts..they were all around him now...circling him, beckoning to him. His stomach lurched and his mouth was filled with the taste of the bitterness as the image of the small foot surfaced as he ran. He could touch it...oh, God, it was still warm. He sank to his knees, clawing the mud away as if the boy was still in front of him...he couldn't breathe. He felt his own breathing alter in response before seeming to stop completely as he uncovered the small boy's face. His stomach recoiled...oh God...Marko. There was nothing left for his body to give and still it demanded more...he retched until his throat was raw..then almost gratefully he collapsed to the mud in exhaustion.
Abby found her nerves becoming more and more frayed as she watched Luka plunge deeper into his nightmares. He was beyond her reaching him now...no longer even seeming to register her whispered reassurances. His restlessness having left his bedding soaked and his skin slick with sweat. How many times had she reached for the phone, meaning to call someone only to replace it as she realized there was no one she could trust to call. His breathing was coming faster now...strangled gasps that frightened her still more. She tried to hold him still as he pushed at the sheets around him..."Isuse Boze." He repeated the words over and over and she was sure too she heard the name of his son. When he suddenly jerked out of her grasp she nearly fell off the bed..her own panic rising as his breathing almost seemed to stop with the terror on his face..."Isuse Boze...Marko." Moments later the keening began...
It was all his fault...they were all dead because of him. Danijela...Jasna...little Marko, he was the reason they were dead. Why hadn't he left Vukovar when Danijela had begged him to take them away? Why hadn't he sent them ahead if he'd felt himself unable to leave? How could he have placed his career above their lives? He couldn't breathe...he had known what was happening, he'd heard the whispered stories in the halls and the wards. He had treated the injuries and seen the bodies and still he hadn't believed it could happen to them. How could he have thought they would be immune? How could he have ignored it all? He drew his knees to his chest, oblivious to the mud, and the rain, and the cold. He could hear the keening of the victims...they were screaming their pain...they were dead because of him...he had killed them all...the keening grew louder.
She'd lost him...something inside of him had snapped and she'd lost him. As Luka seemed to curl into himself Abby grabbed for him, surprised at the iciness of his skin despite the sweat that covered him. He had to know she was here...he had to know he wasn't alone. "Luka!" She tried to break through to him with words alone and when that failed she choked back her own tears she did the only thing left to her. "Luka!" She slapped him hard across the cheek. "Luka, come back to me...please..."
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 17, 2008 18:30:56 GMT 10
Ghosts 11/37
Chapter 11
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
He was done...let them find him...kill him. As he lay in the mud, he could feel the numbness of shock moving in on him and as much as he feared it, he found himself welcoming it as well. This place would be his grave...there would be no marker pronouncing him beloved Husband...Father...Son...he would be one more nameless corpse, left to bloat...to rot. He released a sigh of acceptance, lifting his cheek from the mud before he slid his hand under it. Suddenly it seemed that nothing else existed but the layers of pain, hunger, and fatigue that were drawing him away from all he had known.
An onset of coughing went unchecked as he lacked even the energy to muffle it. When it had subsided he closed his eyes...he was so tired, and he pulled the layers over him like welcoming blankets. Pain...it was the strongest...the warmest. He imagined the tendrils of infection moving through his bloodstream...rivers of death among the life's flow. The cuts and the scratches left by stone and brambles...fragments of glass... small slivers under his skin...all small remnants to mark the journey that had brought him here. His lungs seemed to scream for air now...each breath threatening to tear something loose...or so it seemed.
He drew the next layer over him...hunger...the hollowness holding it's own pain within it, the acid burning a reminder in case he forgot. The final layer...fatigue...even more numbing then the blanket of pain, a weighted ache that made each limb seem too heavy to lift. He was warm now, wrapped in the layers, oblivious to the rain...to the mud...to the night's frosted chill. Sleep was beckoning him...it was safe there...there would be no ghosts...he could retreat to the dreams...to the time when his world was intact. He felt the world fading...a cloud of nothingness billowing around him until it seemed to envelope him...and he couldn't help thinking that this must be death...and he wasn't afraid.
Her slap had silenced the almost animalistic moan but with that gone he seemed to slip even farther away from her. "Oh, God...Luka...don't do this.." She found herself begging him, her fingers digging into his bare arms as she shook him. "Luka...please... fight... whatever this is...please...fight Luka...Damn you...Luka...fight." She let the tears fall unchecked as he failed to respond..."Luka...I don't know what you want me to do..."
Having finished his mass Father Joe found none of the comfort he usually felt at day's end. The young Doctor haunted him...and he knew he would find no rest until a resolution to his situation was found. It was that which brought him to the Bishop's office..to the files he had collected...survivors stories he had called them...snippets of lives of people he would probably never know. So many lives....he'd never understood why it was so important for him to gather the tales...stories passed from person to person, recollections of times most would rather forget. They were all here though... loves lost...lives forever changed...families destroyed...but there were always survivors... those who had lived to keep the memories alive. His most recent work still sat in the in basket...envelopes he'd never had a chance to read still there, unopened. He had worked daily on them...and even after his death the answers to his queries still arrived. He picked up the most recent envelopes and packages...El Salvador... China... Afghanistan... Croatia, he returned the others to the bin as the last caught his eye. Had the young man touched him enough that he would ask more about him on his own, before the doctor himself had told his story?
He took a seat in the Bishop's chair and reached for the letter opener that still lay on the desk's surface, then sliced the package open. It was larger then the others, a testament to what it held and as he withdrew the cover letter he settled back into the chair slightly. The International Red Cross letterhead was one he had seen before, it made sense he would start there, slowly he began to read. When he was finished he lay it aside and withdrew the first of the many files it held. How had the Bishop begun the search knowing nothing more then his name? As he glanced at the first sheet the answer was clear...Search Criteria: Croatian Males, Catholic, aged 23-27, Medical Students or Doctors, Vukovar, arrived Displaced Persons camps late 1991-early 1992. The list of names of possible matches followed and as he scanned them he couldn't help but be struck by the enormity of what he was reading. There were so many...he found the thought bringing tears to his eyes...if these were the ones who survived, how many more filled the lists of those who had not? He swiped his hand across his nose, willing the tears to stop even as they dropped on the paper he held.
Page after page of names, young men who's lives had been altered forever by war...all the expectations, all of their dreams broken like fragile pieces of glass, shattered beyond repair. Father Joe suddenly stopped reading...he was here. His finger traced the young doctor's name in the list of entries...Luka Kovac...case number 176392. The folders...could he hope that they held the case files? How had the Bishop managed to persuade them to release copies to him, more curiously, why had he asked for so many..why not just the one he was interested in?
Father Joe lay the list aside and opened the first file...case number 79845...Danko Vrdoljak, aged 24. They were all here...the stories..fragments of lives...young men who had endured horrors he could never fully grasp. He closed his eyes, whispering a silent prayer of comfort to the young men on the list and those they must have lost and left behind. As he finished he glanced back to it..locating the name...Luka Kovac...case number 176392. God forgive me...he glanced to the ceiling...I have to know...I have to do what the Bishop was not able to finish. Slowly he began to search the files for the case he needed...the file that held the secrets to unlock the mysteries of the young doctor's past.
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 18, 2008 5:35:30 GMT 10
Ghosts 12/37
Chapter 12
An ER fanfic that takes place following the "Bishop Stewart" Arc
She couldn't leave him...not like this, so instead Abby moved to sit on the bed, cradling Luka's head in her lap once she was settled. How long had it been? She'd long ago stopped looking at the clock aware that each fall of his chest seemed to her an eternity in itself and not needing that as a confirmation. He was like ice now...his face almost devoid of color. As she stroked his hair Abby found herself whispering nonsense to him. Crooning to him as she might have a child, in hopes he would hear her and wake, offering a smile at her actions, and chasing her fears away as so much foolishness. She'd given up trying to hold back the tears and they fell freely now, dampening her cheeks so she no longer wiped them away. As much as she would like to admit otherwise, she was scared...scared for Luka...scared for herself. He was supposed to be the strong one...he was the one who took care of everything...what was she supposed to do? What if he never found his way back from wherever he had gone? What if she was left without him? "Luka.... please... come back...."
Luka Kovac...case number 176392, here it was. Father Joe pulled the sheaf of papers from the middle of the third folder, well aware of what he held in his hands. He had been a priest long enough to have known others like the young doctor, men and women who's entire lives had been changed by war. There was always more to it then that, some came alone, other came with familles intact...far too many bearing only remnants of their old lives. However they came they all bore the scars of what they had endured...the violence...the death. Not all of their pain was physical and though those wounds might heal others would remain for the rest of their lives. He had seen them try to bury it, to move on, discarding it like it were no more then a torn shirt, but it always returned. Sometimes in dreams..sometimes in actions, a word here, a glimpse of someone who unleashed a reminder. Many would find the help they needed... others... would lose themselves and he couldn't quite shake the fear that the young doctor might be one of those. He had seen the pain in the man's eyes...the fear..there was no doubt in his mind that his past had returned to haunt him. The Priest laythe balance of the folder aside as he rose and carried the sheaf of papers that held the secrets the young doctor concealed across the room to the couch. He held the man's past in his hands and the importance of that was not lost on him. For the Bishop...he had to keep reminding himself...it was for him he had to know. He settled against the corner of the couch and dropped his eyes to the papers, registering the fact that it was heavier then most before he began to read...
Case number 176392...Kovac, Luka...male...age: 25...widower...wife: Danijela, age: 23, deceased...daughter: Jasna, age: 5, deceased...son: Marko, age: 18 months, deceased...city of origin: Vukovar
He paused to cross himself, the prayer coming without thought as he ran his finger across the entry..."In the name of the Father," He crossed himself again. "and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless us, O Lord, and preserve us from all evil, and bring us to eternal life; and may the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen" There was little more he could do for them, they were in his hands, all save one, he dropped his eyes to the papers again and continued reading.
The truck rumbled slowly down the pitted road, the headlights cutting through the remaining morning fog. The night's chill was still with them and both men could see their breath as they spoke..the heater, while on, barely seeming to make a difference. Though their vehicle was clearly marked with the cross proclaiming them no threat the driver and his passenger still found themselves watching the roadside warily. They had heard of isolated attacks, soldiers needing vehicles..or looking for those they tried to carry to safety despite being told not to. The rain had left the road muddy and almost eerily empty, and both knew that it was that which they didn't see that they should most fear.
"Stop the truck..stop the truck!" Rene Vachon had been working for the International Red Cross Relief agency for less then 3 months, his companion Andre Renou had been with them over a year. "Back up, there..by the trees...in the ditch...see it?" He searched for the glimpse of fabric that had caught his eye. "What is it?" The driver brought the truck to a halt and with agrinding of gears slid it into park as he followed Rene's gaze. "Is it a body?" The younger man asked unsteadily as he swallowed the wave of nausea that rose without warning. "I think so, come on...we have to check." The older man climbed from the truck, they'd found too many bodies lately. "I don't think he's been here long..." Even as he spoke the younger man had approached the body and crouched next to him..placing a hand on his shoulder to turn the body so they could see his face. "Jesus and Mary, Holy Mother of God..." The man almost fell backwards into the water that filled the ditch. "He's still alive."
He could hear the baby crying...he'd forgotten what it was like...with a sigh he rolled over towards his wife. "Danijela....the baby." He barely opened his eyes...his hand finding her as he tried to cling to the remnants of sleep. The fatigue of almost 48 hours on duty had drained him and even the child's cries of hunger were not enough to fully rouse him. "Want me to get him?" He asked the question knowing the answer before it was spoken. "No....go back to sleep...I'll get him before he wakes Jasna." He smiled as her lips brushed his then closed his eyes, snuggling deeper under the goose comforter as she tucked it around him.
If she wanted him to sleep why was she pulling on him? He didn't want to leave the warmth of the bedding...he wanted to sleep, she'd said he could sleep, why did she want him awake now? He tried to ignore the hands that pulled at him...."You said I could sleep..." He murmured the words in Croatian...not registering that he was anywhere but where his mind saw him being.
"What was that...did he say something?" Rene moved closer to help Andre pull the man from the water..."I can't understand him, I don't speak Croatian...I think that's what it is. He's almost frozen though...I don't think he even knows we're here...help me turn him over ...careful...his pantleg is soaked with blood." The older man continued to talk as they worked, hoping to distract the younger from the other things he'd already noticed, among them the smell of death that clung heavily to the man's clothes. "How long you think he's been here?" They had managed to get Luka turned onto his back and Andre had begun to access his injuries. "The leg looks bad...can't say how long ago it happened but it's swollen...probably infected...from the sound of his breathing I'd guess he's working on a case of pneumonia as well. We better get him back to the camp..let the docs see if he stands a chance...but I would say it doesn't look good"
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 26, 2008 19:17:02 GMT 10
Ghosts 13/37
Chapter 13
An ER Fanfic set following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
They drove for close to half an hour before either man spoke, their self imposed silence broken only by the tempo set by the windshield wipers and the coughs and wheezing breaths of their new companion. "How is he doing?" Andre Renou asked the question over his shoulder as he narrowly missed a water filled pothole in the road. "Not good." Rene raised the young man slightly as a particularly intense onslaught of coughing left him struggling for breath. "Easy..." Rene Vachon let his eyes drift over the dark haired man even as he fought the sense of revulsion to the smell of him. It was hard to ignore the blood and gore that mingled with the mud that coated him, but there was nothing they could do for that here...and he forced the bile back down with that thought. In his time with the UN he had witnessed all manner of atrocities and though he hadn't been in Croatia long, he was learning that even this place was not immune. Some of those with longer stays then he had said he would get used to it...he hoped they were wrong, he didn't want to ever think he would see what he had seen as routine.
He wiped some of the filth from the young man's face and coaxed him through a few sips of water after his coughing had eased, though he doubted the man was even aware of his presence. The man was thin, his cheekbones prominent and his eyes, shadowed by deep, dark circles, were mirrors to the horror he had come through. "It's all right, you're safe now..." He spoke the words slowly, some of the few he knew in Croatian and ones he had spoke too often of late, they must have registered though for the man relaxed and closed his eyes again as they were spoke.
He would have like to have examined him more but his one brief attempt to peel the blood encrusted bandage away from his leg had elicited a strangled cry that had persuaded him to wait until they reached the camp. Best to leave it to the doctors...the dressing was makeshift, torn from his shirt, and was as filthy as the rest of his clothing. It was impossible not to help noticing the heat coming off the leg and knew that meant that the wound was probably already infected...how long had it been left to fester, and would they be in time to save it? The effects of it were already manifesting themselves...he was burning with fever and chills had begun to overtake him. "Andre, can you get anything more from that heater?" He pulled the emergency blanket out and draped it over the young man, hoping to ease the now convulsive shivering that was working their way through him.
Luka found himself drifting in and out of consciousness...he was burning up...but if he was burning up why couldn't he stop his teeth from chattering? He groaned as the bumps and jolts of the truck jarred his leg and sent rivers of pain through the numbness. He had known death was coming...but if he was dead why did he hurt so much? He felt someone lifting him as he fought for breath...when they held something to his lips he weakly pushed it away, thinking it some kind of poison. When they moved his hand away he reluctantly swallowed and instead of poison found welcoming water, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. When the man spoke he barely registered the words that were whispered to him, save one. Safe...he clung to the word as if it were a lifeline as he slid back into unconsciousness.
Condition on arrival: Untreated bullet wound, right thigh, entry and exit...infected. Probable rotary muscle tear right knee, indicative of a fall injury. Probable pneumonia both lungs. Fever of 103. Malnourished. Numerous cuts and abrasions. Lice.
Father Joe looked up from the file, were they all like this, clinical notes intertwined by eyewitness accounts? All of the years he had worked alongside the Bishop and he had never thought to ask him about his work...about the lives the files touched. How had the Bishop been able to read these...to listen to them speak of all they had endured and not been personally touched by each? He rubbed his hand across his face as a thought struck him, maybe he had been touched...had they been what had allowed him to continue when others might have quit? Almost unbidden another question nagged at him...how had he justified God's will to those people he had counseled? How has he spoke of God's mercy and goodness in light of all they had been forced to endure? He pushed the questions aside as he dropped his eyes back to the file, picking up where he had left off.
The tent that served as the hospital was packed, days of rain had filled it with those whose resistance was so low that unable to fight off the cold and damp they now fought pneumonia. They were close enough to the fighting that the medical team daily had to treat those escaping the battles...bullet wounds, victims of bombings and landmines... and even worse, the women and young girls who'd been subjected to rapes. For many of those working here it was their first exposure to the horrors of war and for many it would be their last. They were doing their part to ease their conscience, they were paying back old debts, they were looking for a way to justify what they did, the reasons varied as much as the individuals. Some though, like Angelique Forquet would return, time and time again...needing to help, and unable to turn away.
"Doctor Forquet, we have a patient for you.." The woman looked up from the notes she was working on as the tent flap was pulled aside and the two men stepped inside with a third, seemingly unconscious, supported between them. "How bad?" She moved to a nearby cot, sweeping some used bedding off of it as she did. "Nevermind, I can see... lay him down here." He ran her eyes over the man as they settled him onto the cot, whatever color his face had once held was gone, replaced by an almost deathlike pallor. Despite her experience she found herself unable to fully stop the recoil of her stomach as she got a whiff of the stench clinging to the man. "Before I can do anything these have to come off..." Reaching for a pair of scissors she swallowed deeply then clamped her mouth closed as she began to cut his clothing away. As she finished with each piece she tossed them on the floor at her feet. "Get these out of here and bring me boiling water and some rags." Her tone was clipped as she worked, if she was going to help him she had to get past the filth, and she had never been one to delegate to avoid the more distasteful aspects of things. "Thanks..."She grabbed one of the rags as the water arrived and began to wash him...aware that her nurses were doing the same. "Lot's of scratches and bruising..." One of them commented idly..."Looks like he wrenched his knee too..it's blown up like a balloon.."
Once they had washed him, started an IV, and cataloged his injuries they had begun to treat them, saving the leg for last. She'd decided against removing the bandage until they were ready to start on it and now came the moment of truth. "You may have tohold him." She reminded the two nurses who had helped her treat him even though she knew it was unnecessary. The young man's injuries were mild compared to some, luckily, the fever had left him drifting in and out of consciousness as they worked, she could only hope he would stay that way as she finished. "Ready?" She waited until the two had taken positions at his leg and shoulders then she poured warm water over the dressing to soak it loose. Sliding her scissors under the fabric she cut it loose before pulling it free of the wound. The muscles in his leg went taut as the cloth pulled the skin and a groan escaped before he twisted to try and free himself from the pain. "Hold him still." She tightened her own hold on his thigh then poured more water over the wound to loosen the scraps of cloth he had packed into it to staunch the bleeding, then bit her lip as she pulled those away as well. "Good, now, roll him onto his side so I can get the other one."
When both wounds had been rinsed and debreeded she rolled him onto his back and began to access the extent of the damage itself. Applying pressure resulted in a release of the pus pocket that had built up under the bandaging. "Shh....."She silenced his moans with a reassuring hand before reaching for a syringe that would numb her work area. While she waited for it to take affect she dipped a cloth in clean water and lay it across his forehead...watching his face soften as he eased to a deeper drugged sleep. As her fingers moved across the wounds again, tracing the path the bullet had traveled, she released a sigh of relief. He'd been lucky...it had missed the bone, if they could clear up the infection and get him active he might not have any limp from it at all.
Several hours later found her sitting at her desk, a small light illuminating the work surface. "Doc, you busy?" Angelique looked up from the young man's chart...then glanced to where he lay before fully shifting her attention to the nurse as she reentered. "Sure, what is it?" I was just catching up on my notes for the new patient." She lay the pen down, then as if sensing an impending need she rose and moved to his side. She'd sedated him when she'd begun to work on him, hoping it would give him a brief respite from the pain, but supplies were limited and it was a luxury she wouldn't be able to repeat for him. It would betouch and go for a while and the fact that his pneumonia seemed to be worsening and every breath he drew rattled his chest, would not make things easier.
"I checked his pockets before I threw his clothes out..." The nurse crossed the distance that separated them, "there wasn't much there besides these." She handed a small packet of papers to the doctor with the revelation. "Thanks Michelle, any form of identification in there?" The woman shook her head, "None that I found, just a photograph and a half used ration card." She swept her eyes over the older woman as she glanced at the photo, noticing for the first time how tired she looked. Her face seemed older then her 55 years and stands of hair had fallen free of the bun that usually held them back. "I can stay with him for a while if you want to get some sleep." Angelique shook her head at the offer, "Thanks, Michelle, I have some work still to do, and I want to be here when he wakes up, the first time is always the worst." She dropped the papers on his chart then returned to adjust his IV before finally tucking the blanket more securely around him. "Not much to show for a life is it?" The nurse offered as she watched her. "No, it isn't, but he's alive, and that's what's important." She found herself brushing a damp lock of hair from his forehead as she spoke. "Question is, will he think so?" The nurse voiced the very thought that Angelique had left unspoken herself...it would be his will that would give him the strength to fight...to live...time would tell if he had it.
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 29, 2008 14:01:17 GMT 10
Ghosts 14/37
Ghosts 14
An ER Fanfic set following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
The symptoms of pneumonia were becoming more pronounced and Abby was finding her resolve to protect Luka's privacy dwindling. She shifted positions on the bed next to him, lines of worrying etching themselves in her face as she listened to his strained breathing. She'd given up trying to keep him covered, the heat his body was putting off seeming to be enough. Reaching for the washcloth she dipped it in the water glass then held it to his lips, forcing some of it into him before she wiped the sweat from him. She should call Mark...ask him to come, she could trust him to maintain Luka's privacy, couldn't she? She tucked her hair back behind her ear, why couldn't he just wake up and tell her what she should do?
<Croatian>He'd worked 3 straight shifts with no break and as he opened the door to small apartment he paused...Danijela was sleeping and the room held the chaos of four people living in what was meant for one. He listened for the sounds of his children then his brow creased as he searched the darkness for the other two-forms that should be lying with her. Setting his case down he closed the door before walking across to the bed, Jasna lay curled against her mother, one arm encircling a battered rag doll the thumb of the other wedged in her mouth. Leaning to her he brushed her hair from her face before laying a kiss on her forehead, only then did he hear the soft giggle behind him. Turning he saw Marko sitting on the floor, the remnants of a loaf of bread and jar of jelly surrounding him. "What have you done little man?" He moved over to his 18 month old son, trying to look angry but failing as the jelly covered face beamed with his success. Extending a hand, the small boy offered the evidence of his crime. "Tata. ..eat..." As he settled on the floor next to him the boy crawled over...offering the half chewed crust he held. "Marko... eat.." Luka smiled as he drew him into his lap. "I see that...you couldn't wait until morning?" He suffered the jelly coated hug and kiss that followed, "You know what Mama is going to do when she sees this?" He asked quietly, enjoying the time with the small version of himself. The boy nodded...at the question.."Mama say... Marko, bad... Marko, no." He couldn't help laughing at the seriousness of the response then he nodded. "How about we clean it, and you up before Mama sees then...it can be our secret....ok?" The boy nodded, a grin filling his face once more.
The drugs the doctor had given him made it easy to lose himself to the past. He could forget about the loss, the pain, the horrors he had seen. He could return to the times when all had been right...the time when he had been complete. The dreams were as real to him as when they happened and his stomach growled softly as it reacted to the scent of the fresh bread and jelly. "Marko..."He whispered the boy's name as the image of him faded and even in the half sleep he was forced to acknowledge that his son was lost to him forever. A fresh wave of coughing stole whatever remained of the dream and he found himself wondering which was worse. Did it hurt more to repeatedly relive their losses time after time...or to feel their touch as if it were real as he slept, only to know the emptiness of their absence when he was awake?
It was impossible to know if it was the intensity of the coughing as it seemed to tear him apart or the vividness of seeing his son again, but by the time it subsided his cheeks were wet with shed tears. He barely registered the woman moving around him, he wanted nothing more then to return to the safety of his dreams, to the place where he could be with his family again. "Stay with me sweetie...I need you to drink something."Her voice was quiet, her French accent pronounced. He flicked his eyes to her as she coaxed him to drink several swallows of water in an attempt to ease his parched throat. "Good...not too fast." Her voice was quiet and he found it drawing on deeper memories as she set the glass aside only to begin to wipe the tears and sweat from his skin. "I know it's hard...best to sleep now and try not to think of it." He found himself nodding in agreement as she brushed her fingertips across his eyelids, then lay the freshly moistened cloth on his forehead. "Sleep now...." she coaxed soothingly, and he did.
<Croatian>"Baka...it hurts." The boy clutched his stomach as the pain tore through him again. "Shh..I know Luka, Djed has gone for the doctor." The silver haired woman settled herself in the chair next to her 10 year old grandson, then dipped the washcloth she held in the basin of water beside her. "Tell me of the trains Luka...how is it when Tata takes you down to the sea?" She knew she had to distract him, and as she spoke she wiped the beads of sweat from his face. He was burning with fever and his belly was taut to the touch, if they lived in the city they could have taken him to the hospital already...instead they had to wait. "Make it stop hurting Baka." He rolled onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest even as he wrapped his arms around his stomach. "I know Luka...Djed is coming soon." With a resigned sigh she rose and left the boy to go to the kitchen...pulling a bottle of vodka she poured a small amount in a glass then carried it back to the room. When she was re-seated she brushed her fingers across his forehead. "Sweetie....I want you to drink some of this, it'll make the pain go away." She raised his head then held the glass to his lips, hoping the alcohol itself would dull the pain he felt. "I know it tastes bad...but you'll feel better...good..that's enough." She offered the boy a smile as she brushed the damp hair off his face, her smile deepening as she recognized the effects of the alcohol on him. "You can sleep now sweetie.... Djed will be home soon."
<Croatian> "Baka...it hurts..." A spell of coughing drove him to consciousness and under the cloud still of his dreams his hoarse voice spoke to those still there. Angelique glanced over to him as she finished cleaning the cut across the woman in front of hers palm..then looked back to her. I don't think it needs stitches....you were lucky." She wrapped the bandage around her hand then taped it off. "Try and keep it dry and come back tomorrow and I'll change that." Laying the roll of tape aside she smiled to the woman then stood and moved to his side. "Shh..what hurts sweetie..." What was it about this one that was different from the others?
For the last 48 hours he had fought the affects of the infection to his leg and the pneumonia and through most of it she had stayed nearby, resisting the urgings of her staff to leave. Why? She had treated patients in far worse condition then he was...it wasn't that he was so young that she should feel protective of him, or so badly injured that she knew he would die and she didn't want him to be alone. No...he had touched her in a way she had yet to define, but there was no doubt he had touched her. "Tell me what hurts sweetie?" She had taken to using the endearment since he had yet to provide a clue to his identity and if he had noticed, or minded he had yet to say anything. She brushed his hair off his face as she studied it. <Croatian> "Leg.." His voice was barely more then a whisper, ragged from the coughing it came as little more then a croak as he shifted a hand to the thigh. "Leg or knee sweetie?" She drew the covers back to get a glimpse of both, the bandages stark against his skin. She was losing him again...even the pain not strong enough to keep him conscious. "I'll check them both ...it's all right for you to go back to sleep." She offered a smile as a confirmation of her permission then watched as his eyes once more closed and he let himself retreat to his dreams.
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 30, 2008 18:34:17 GMT 10
Ghosts 15/37
Chapter 15
An ER Fanfic set following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
Father Joe lay the papers he'd been reading on his desk again and rose...how could they do it? He raised his arms in an exaggerated stretch. Day after day, they must have seen hundreds if not thousands of people, and yet for some reason they found the time to write personal reflections within their files. He walked across the room to the window and let his gaze and attention shift for a moment...it was still raining and as he lay his hand on the glass he could feel the temperature already dropping, if it continued it would freeze. He dropped his gaze to his watch, aware that an edge of hunger was nudging at him to satisfy it but as yet unwilling to walk away from the young doctor's story. He was still a mystery..and he knew he wouldn't be able to fully rest until he had solved him and found a way to do what the Bishop had not had time to. With a last glance out the window he returned to the desk and the files on top of it...aware that he had only begun to scratch the surface.
Ok, so maybe she shouldn't be snooping through his drawers, but if she didn't find something to keep herself occupied her resolve was going to break and she was going to call Mark. Abby glanced over to the bed, assuring herself that Luka was still sleeping before turning back to the dresser. What could it hurt? She drew her lower lip between her teeth as the question eased it's way into her thoughts. Everyone snooped, it was a fact of life...she moved his underwear away then smiled as she saw the small envelope laying on the bottom of the drawer. A quick look to the bed and she had it in her hands, a moment later she had opened the flap. Pictures...pictures? She slid them out, the first was of rolling hills...the next of a ruined city...she stopped at the third, her eyes widening slightly. A young man on crutches, squinting towards the camera...an older woman to his right almost protectively, watching him. It took a moment to recognize the man as Luka, he was so thin...and his face held a look she had never seen before on it. She had never thought about what it might have been like for him, she'd never even thought to ask, what kind of a person was she to never have thought to ask? She moved through the others...more of landscapes, a few of a tent city with the UN Cross visible on each. She stopped again as another of Luka appeared...sometime later then the first, his face not so gaunt, the crutches gone as well and the hint of a smile for whoever took the picture. It was the final one that brought tears to her eyes though...a gravestone..and despite it's inscription being in Croatian she knew what it must say...Danijela, beloved wife and mother...Jasna, beloved daughter...Marko, beloved son. She slid the stack in the drawer, covering the envelope again as she did. It hadn't been her right to see them and she knew it and as she slid the drawer closed she found herself unable to hide the tears, not just for his losses but for her intrusion into that which he had kept to himself.
It was late...as he'd moved warily through the darkened streets he'd been surprised at the emptiness of it. Making his way up the stairs to the small apartment he carefully slid his key in the lock so as not to wake those inside. As he eased the door open he paused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before fully entering. Laying his bag on the floor he walked over to the crib...brushing his lips across his sleeping son's forehead before adjusting his blanket over him. As he moved to his daughter's pallet he stopped... it was empty, the blankets cast aside...he quickly looked to the bed where his wife slept...expecting to see her snuggled there against her mother. A flicker of movement near the window stopped him and only then did he see the small figure on the windowsill. Crossing the distance between them he whispered her name... "Jasna... <Croatian>it's Tata..." The small girl started before she turned to him...then a smile spread across her face as she opened her arms to him. Look, Tata..." Releasing his neck from the hug she turned back to the window. He wanted to chastise her warn her of the dangers the window held for her but something in the moment stopped him and instead he knelt next to her wrapping his arms around her as he tried to see what she saw in the night. "What is it Jasna? What do you see?" He let his eyes move over the scene before them...but there was nothing there and he couldn't hide the confusion that passed over his face as he tried to find what she saw. It was then that she turned to him, brushing her small hand over his face with a smile..."Is like before Tata...before the guns and bombs....can't you see?" In that moment he realized what he had missed...it wasn't anything sheactually saw, it was what was missing, it was the quiet that held her transfixed...
She felt rather then heard him wake and when she had finished unloading the remainder of the medicines from the box she turned to find his gaze on her. "You're awake." She smiled at him before moving to his side and taking a seat on the chair she had left there. Searching his face she noticed a brightness to his eyes that had been missing and she automatically lay a hand on his forehead. "I think your fever finally broke." When he failed to say anything in response her brow creased. "Do you speak English?" She'd automatically slid into English when earlier she had spoke in Croatian, maybe he didn't understand her. When he closed his eyes she thought she had lost him, but a moment later he opened then and ran his tongue across his dry lips. "Yes," The word came out as little more then a harsh croak. "Good...let me get you something to drink." She rose and walked across the room, picking up the cup of hot tea she had fixed for herself before she'd begun sorting the medicine arrivals. When she was seated again she helped support him as he eased up enough to drink, "Careful now, it may still be hot...just a few sips." When she'd received his nod in acknowledgment she raised the mug to his lips, letting him take several swallows before withdrawing it again. "Thank you."
He lay back again as she withdrew her arm, his eyes following her movements as she sat the cup aside then turned to face him again. "You're more then welcome, now, I know you have questions and I'll try to anticipate as many of them as I can so you don't have to talk any more then necessary." When he nodded she smiled then continued, "My name is Doctor Forquet...this is an International Red Cross relief station, so yes, you're safe here." She watched the changes in his expression trying to anticipate his unspoken questions, "You've been here almost 3 days, two of our drivers found you laying in a ditch not far from the road about an hour's drive from here." She reached for the cup again as he interrupted her with another coughing spell, then as it eased she supported his head so he could drink again. As he lifted a hand to the cup himself he seemed to freeze and a look of panic washed across his face before he pushed it aside and tried to rise. "No..."She quickly sat the mug behind her as sherestrained him with her free hand. "What is it?" She glanced along the length of the cot as if expecting a snake or something to have somehow found it's way inside. "My clothes..."His voice had dropped to a whisper as he struggled to force them out. "We had to throw them out, they were beyond salvaging." He explained to him almost casually, never expecting the reaction her words would bring. "Jasna..." The almost strangled cry of anguish was immediately followed by his daughter's name and somehow in the midst of it all Angelique made the connection. "Your picture..." She touched his face, forcing him to see her. "Is that someone in your picture?" As he nodded the tears at the expected loss had already begun to streak his cheeks. "It's safe..."She rose quickly, picking the small black and white photo up from her desk then carrying it back and pressing it into his hand, making sure he realized it was there before releasing it. "Jasna..." His gaze fell to the picture as he traced the little girl's face with one finger. "She's beautiful..." The doctor found herself unable not to acknowledge the moment, but was not surprised that all he could do was nod at the compliment, his voice lost to the emotion of it.
For the next several minutes Angelique busied herself around the tent, allowing him time to gather his frayed emotions again, when she returned she adjusted his IV then resumed her seat. "There are questions you will have to answer, they debrief everyone we treat. They'll want to know what happened, I think I can hold them off for a few more days, but not much more then that." He pulled his eyes from the photograph and settled them on her before nodding his understanding. "Right now what you need is rest, do you want me to hold your picture for you?" She extended her hand at the question. "No." He closed his own hand around the image as if to protect it. "Don't worry, no one's going to take it from you." She offered a reassuring smile then rose and straightened the blanket over him again. "I do have one question for you if you don't mind." She reached back for the mug and offered it to him, helping him to raise as he nodded his acceptance then lowering him again when he had finished. "We don't know you name...you had nothing on you with it, will you tell me?"
Luka found himself fighting the momentary panic at her question, what if this was a trick, what if she wasn't Red Cross? He swallowed, letting his eyes roam the room as he might see something that might disprove her earlier words. What if he told and it somehow led them to his father...his brother. "It's safe to tell me, I promise." As if sensing his dilemma she lay a hand on his shoulder in reassurance, knowing the fear was more common then she wanted to admit. So many of those she saw had lost the ability to trust...betrayed by friends and neighbors they had known for years. She didn't rush him and instead squeezed his shoulder again, "It's all right." she offered quietly in confirmation. Luka swallowed before opening his hand and casting his eyes to the picture he held then wetting his lips he raised his eyes to her, the decision made. "Luka, my name is Luka Kovac." to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 30, 2008 18:35:01 GMT 10
Ghosts 16/37
Chapter 16
An ER Fanfic set following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
He couldn't read anymore, not tonight anyway, Father Joe released a resigned sigh at the realization. Leaning back in his chair he rubbed his hands briskly over his face in search of that second wind...it was hopeless, he'd have to give in to his need for sleep. He'd barely touched the surface of the young doctor's past and what he had read hinted at a darker picture then he could have imagined. What had it said? He'd been found an hour from the camp but almost 20 miles from Vukovar....his physical condition seemed to indicate that he'd spent days on the road....and to cover that much distance on foot, while wounded. There was the mention of his being malnourished...so he had been on tight rations even before his escape. He rubbed his hand across his face then rose, how had the Bishop done this time and time again? The question gnawed at him as well as did the deeper one, was his faith strong enough that he could take over his work and convince these people that God had not abandoned them in their time of need? Maybe that was it, maybe the young doctor was a test of his faith and devotion. Was this the gift that the Bishop had left for him? He let the questions swirl around each other unanswered for the moment as he rose and crossed the room to the door, then switched the light off and headed for his chambers.
Retirement...the very word sent chills down Angelique Forquet's spine. As she ushered her last private patient of her career to the door she found herself filled with a mixture of emotions. "We'll all miss you." The woman accepted the teary eyed embrace from her patient. "I'll miss all of you too." She closed the door and leaned her back against it, looking over the waiting room once the woman was gone. She might miss the patients, but would she miss this? The truth was she had only been going through the motions for some time. She pushed off the door and walked down the hallway to her private office. On the way she found herself lingering...she hadn't taken the time to really look at the photographs that lined the walls for sometime. These were what made her who she was...they were what gave true value to her career. She smiled as her gaze fell on the black and white of a small boy beaming to the camera as he took his first steps with a new artificial leg. There would always be that part of her that wondered where he was, but that was the case with far too many of those here, she would never know what had become of them once they had left her care.
As she reached her office she slipped the white coat off and draped it across the couch. The photographs that lined these walls were the ones that still visited her dreams...the ones who had affected her life as much as she knew she had affected theirs. She touched a fingertip to the glass of one, the young woman's body had long gone to dust, but her memory would be forever etched in her mind. She had walked for days to reach the camp...the baby in her arms less then a week old and three other children under the age of five in tow. She had known she wouldn't survive even then, but still she had come... she'd lingered for two more weeks, sharing her life's story in whispered conversations until death had finally claimed her and left her four children orphaned. Angelique brushed her tears away and moved to the next...
He woke to a burst of coughing that left his chest screaming and his breathing ragged, when it had subsided he searched for the blanket as the chill of the room hit him. "Cold in here.." He complained hoarsely to himself. "Luka?" Abby stuck her head out of the bathroom, not sure if she had actually heard what she thought she had heard, then moved to the bed. "Luka, do you know where you are?" Even as she asked it she realized how odd the question sounded. "Opening an eye Luka settled it on Abby with a slight nod.."Um hm" he wanted nothing more to go back to sleep. "Hard to breathe..." He voiced the complaint quietly before his eye eased closed again. Abby found herself biting off the comment she wanted to make in return, in favor of laying her hand on his forehead. "I think your fever has finally broken."
As if just realizing something Luka opened both eyes a crease settling in his forehead as his bloodshot eyes swept the room before he half squinted at Abby. "Went to the church..don't remember..coming home." His words came slowly, forced out despite the pain brought by his throat, left raw by the coughing. "Don't worry about that now..." She reached for the lukewarm tea she'd left next to the bed then supported his head as she eased him up enough to drink. "I'm pretty sure you have pneumonia..I didn't call anyone but we should get you to the hospital, you need antibiotics." He shook his head in mild protest before taking several couple swallows, then lifted a hand to push it away. "I can...write my own." Anything else he was going to say was lost in a renewed burst of coughing. "Luka...don't be stubborn...you should have X-rays done." Even as she spoke she helped him to sit, hoping it would ease the pressure on his chest, then tucked the blankets around him. "No..." He let his gaze linger on Abby a moment, before speaking again. "You look...tired." It was all she could do not to laugh out loud. "You think? Luka, I just sat up all night with you, listening to you come close to coughing a lung out when you weren't scaring me half to death by being a zombie. What do you expect me to look like?" She hadn't meant to sound irritated...or to say all she had and as the words escaped she fingered the blanket before looking back at him. "I'm sorry, I know it wasn't your fault...you just had me scared, Luka." She let her voice trail off as she moved closer to him then took one of his hands in hers, lacing her fingers with his. "Luka, I need to know what is going on with you..."
She lay a hand to each of the photographs as she revisited them in her memories...in a way they were the children she had never had. She'd known from the day she entered medical school that she wasn't meant to marry and have children...her career had been her life from that moment forward...and she'd never regretted that decision. She paused, letting her touch linger on the photo before her...he'd been so thin...so hesitant. She lifted the picture of the young man on crutches from her wall and carried it with her to the couch...and as she sat she found the scene that led to it's taking already begin to unfold.
"Today's the day, Luka." Angelique smiled as the young man lifted his eyes from the book he held propped in his lap. "Don't give me that look...today's the day you walk." She thought for a moment he might argue that he wasn't ready...she'd inwardly hoped he might, but maybe it was too soon to expect that of him. She had to remember to give him time. It had only been a week since Andre and Rene had found him...a week, and half of that time he had hovered in and out of consciousness. Carrying a pile of clothing over she laid them on the cot next to him before drawing a chair up next to it and sitting. "I've found you something to wear, we'll get you dressed and then we'll take a walk outside." She watched as his face dramatically paled at the suggestion. "Outside." His voice was almost nonexistent, his throat still raw from all the coughing he'd done. "Outside." She reemphasized the word with a smile. "Sweetie...you don't have to worry..." She lay a hand on his arm, "I'll stay close by, but you have to start exercising the leg if you want to regain full use of it." As she caught the hesitation on his face she realized his fears went far deeper and she squeezed his arm in renewed reassurance. "You don't have to worry about anyone seeing you...you're safe here." Even as she said it she knew that was their biggest fear...there were no guarantees. If the Serbian soldiers came into the camp they knew the few medical people there couldn't protect them...or keep them from taking them away. She watched the war going on within him...then reluctantly he nodded and she released a smile in acknowledgment. Good...let's get you up and dressed then, and then you can try the crutches I found out for size."
Fifteen minutes later, with the assistance of one of her nurses she was ready to get him on his feet. "Luka...look at me..." She waited until he drew his eyes to her before continuing. "We're going to help you up...have you ever been on crutches before?" When he shook his head she nodded then continued. "That's all right, they aren't hard to learn...you just have to remember to take things slow and let the crutches take your weight, not your leg. Ready?" The two women moved to either side of him, easing him to his feet then supporting him while he caught his breath from the effort. "Good..." Angelique could feel the small shiver running through him...and she rubbed a hand across his back in unspoken reassurance. "Simone...would you get the crutches?" As the nurse moved away she tightened her hold on him. "Easy...wait for the crutches..." She found herself reminding him in case he decided to move on his own. Through it all Luka said nothing, his face fixed into a determined mask as he searched for strength he wasn't convinced he had.
Ten minutes later and they reached the moment of truth..."Ok, Luka...slow steps..use the crutches to move forward then move to them...that's it...not such large swings..." She talked him through the walk to the tent entrance...stopping frequently to let him catch his breath, remaining close enough that she could move to catch hold of him if his balance faltered. "You're doing fine, take your time...we're not in a hurry." She flicked her eyes to his face, taking in the grim determination on his part, and smiling slightly as he bit his lip in concentration on the task. When they reached the doorway she stopped him... allowing him those moments to steal himself for the move outside. "Ready, Sweetie?" He lay her hand on his back again, "You can do it...trust yourself..." She stepped off to let him take the first steps alone...
It was that moment the photographer had captured in the image...she hadn't known he would be there..she had stepped outside with Luka only to hear the man's voice call to them to look his way....and the moment had been frozen in time, the moment of his rebirth.
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 31, 2008 18:23:55 GMT 10
Ghosts 17/37
Chapter 17
An ER Fanfic set following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
Luka glanced down at Abby's hand, his fingers laced with her own, unable to meet her eyes. What was he supposed to tell her? He wet his lips nervously, did she expect him to say he thought he was going insane? Was he supposed to tell her that he had begun to lose himself in his past so often that there were times when he didn't even know where he was? How could he do that? He lifted his free hand, rubbing it across the stubble on his unshaved face before raising his eyes to hers. Her concern was etched clearly on her face, the dark circles under her eyes, evidence of the sleepless night just passed.
"Luka, talk to me." She brought her own hand up to touch his cheek with a hesitancy that almost made her action seem to happen in slow motion. "Don't shut me out, Luka." Why did she have to touch him? He closed his eyes, focussing on the sensation of her touch, then opened them again only to find her eyes locked on his. "Abby..." He shook his head, unable to find the words. "I can't yet...I need...I have to have...more time." He brushed away the tears he knew he was on the verge of shedding, praying inwardly that she would understand and allow him the time he needed.
"Oh, Luka.." Angelique lay her hand on the young man in the photograph. How long had it been since she had thought about those days? Ten years since he had entered her life, and at least five since she had lost touch with him. She had known even then that he would eventually drift away from her, they always did. She was a reminder of all of those things they needed to forget and for them to heal they needed that distance. She leaned back against the couch, hugging the picture to her as one of the memories struggled to surface.
"Dr. Forquet...we have a job to do and part of that job is to debrief everyone that comes through here." The Sergeant's mouth settled into a pronounced scowl as he argued the point with the woman who blocked his entrance. "We gave you the week you asked for, but the time is up and I have work to do." Even as she brushed the loose strand of hair from her face Angelique knew the argument was lost, she'd protected his privacy as long as she could. "Fine. At least give me fifteen minutes to make sure he's awake, I'm warning you though, if I think he's had too much I will stop you." The expression on her face made it all too clear that she was serious and the man knew better then to argue with her, receiving his nod of acceptance to her terms she turned and entered the tent.
It had been easier when he was lost to the fever...he hadn't worried about all he had seen filling his thoughts. It had been so easy then to lose himself in dreams. With a soft grunt, Luka rolled onto his side, cradling his head on one arm as he held the small picture with the other hand. Why was he able to cheat death so often? He drew a barely controlled breath before laying the photo on the cot near his head where he could see it. As he traced the outlines of the two people his thoughts continued to twist...it would have been so easy to give up, it wasn't as if he had a life any more...his life was long gone...dead with his family...all that remained was the shell he'd become.
He could feel the fatigue pulling on him...he was so tired and it would have been so easy to move towards it. The dreams would be there though..the reminders and he found himself fighting..forcing the drooping eyelids open, unwilling as yet to face the horrors the dreams might unleash. This was when it was the hardest, that moment when he lingered on the fringes of sleep, aware that his conscious thoughts would carry themselves into his dreams. The ghosts were closer today, reminding him that they wouldn't be forgotten, and he drew a deep breath with the realization that it was moving past his control.
He let his eyes close as his hand settled over the picture of his wife and daughter. If he focussed on the sounds of the tent...he found himself fighting a battle he wouldn't win and in those last moments he grasped for any sound that might hold it at bay a moment longer. "Tata.." He heard the child's cry through the other sounds in the room...the name he would never again be called. "Tata!" The child's voice surrendered to another as he finally eased himself into sleep...
<Croatian> "Tata...make Marko leave my blocks alone..I'm making a house and he keeps breaking it." He looked up from the text book that lay opened on the desk in front of him..the surface covered with journals and notes. He had a test in the morning and it seemed everything he read was something he had never seen before. He knew that wasn't really the case, the facts were there, but the recent escalation in shelling had forced extra duty at the hospital and between that and the children being forced to stay inside it seemed sleep was in short supply. "Tata...make him stop..." The small girl's voice carried even more urgency and he closed the book with a sigh as it broke into his concentration. "Jasna...share with him..." He glanced across the room to the corner where the two kids played only a second before the block struck the girl's forehead. "Marko..." He shook his head as his son giggled over having actually hit his sister with the toss...and then rose as his daughter began to scream with the intensity only a 4 year old can muster. "Drop it Marko..." He crossed the distance between them relieving the boy of the second block he readied for another throw... then kneeling to draw the sobbing girl into his arms... "Shh... Jasna... shh..." He settled himself on the floor..cradling her in his lap..murmuring endearments as he soothed her, a hand accessing the damage that had been done. "Tata...Marko..up..." He felt the boy's hand on his arm... wanting his share of the attention his sister was getting...
The change in weather had thinned out the number of patients still in the tent, most of those who'd battled pneumonia had returned to their own tents. She allowed her eyes a chance to adjust to the darkened room then moved across to his cot. He must be sleeping....she took in his still form as he lay on his side, his back to the entrance. Moving around so he would see her as he woke, she lay a hand on his arm... "Luka..." She spoke his name quietly so as not to frighten him. "Luka, time to wake up."
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Jul 31, 2008 18:24:43 GMT 10
Ghosts 18/37
Chapter 18
For the next few days Father Joe's sleep was restless, his days spent reading and rereading the thick file as he searched for a way to help the young doctor. Rolling onto his back he stared at the crucifix on the wall of his room, unable to release the questions and concerns that might allow him to sleep. Pushing the covers aside he slid out from under the sheet and reached for his clothes...maybe he would find the answers in prayer.
There had been a time when he thought all of the solutions he sought would be found in prayer. He moved quietly through the halls of the rectory and to the Chapel, the sound of his footsteps echoing on the wood floors, the only thing breaking the night's silence. He had been so young then, so naive...he paused to dip a finger in the fount, anointed himself then turned to genuflect before moving towards the altar. There had to be a way to help him...he only needed to ask the right questions. He walked to the front of the chapel and knelt on the step...the answers were here...he just had to look deeper.
Once Luka had started himself on antibiotics the congestion in his lungs had dramatically improved, and despite his protests, Abby had persuaded him to take several days off. As a reassurance to herself, when she wasn't working she spent her time with him, the watchdog he swore he didn't need. She woke while he was still sleeping and with a smile rolled onto her side so she could watch him. For the first time in days he had slept without the dreams waking him and his face held a calmness she'd begun to wonder if she would see again. Biting her lip she lifted and hand and brushed his bangs off of his face, taking advantage of the room's silence to focus on the sound of his breathing. While there was still a brief rattle it was nowhere near what it had been and she released her own breath in relief.
They had spoken little about what had been troubling him and though her questions remained she had allowed him the distance he seemed to need. She caught him several times looking over the wadded flier and despite her curiosity she had held her tongue on questioning him, afraid he would send her away and that she knew she couldn't bear. Whatever it was it was coming to a head...she'd seen it in his face on the times he'd thought she wasn't watching him...he was at war with himself, and the final battle was at hand.
Angelique had begun the chore of packing the office, unsure of what she would do but never questioning her decision to retire. Fate works in mysterious ways and as it had always happened in her life she knew the answer to what she would do next would present itself when the time was right. She folded the newspaper around each picture, laying them carefully into the box in front of her. How could she get through the day without seeing them all? Some she knew she couldn't release so easily and those she sat aside, she would take those home with her, the children she never knew.
<French>"Angelique....telephone..." The sound of her receptionist broke her reverie and she nodded laying the picture in her hand on top of the others before picking it up. "Dr Forquet." A smile broke her face as she listened to the voice on the other end. "Alexander. " She immediately slid into English. "How are you? It's been too long... no, I decided to retire...no, I haven't decided what I want to do...why?" Her brow creased as she listened, then the smile broke again. "I'd love to...it's been years since I've been there...how soon? No, that's fine, yes...I'll look forward to it.'' As she replaced the phone in the cradle she found her eyes settling on the photograph of Luka, he'd been in her thoughts more these last few days then he had been in the last several years, and today was no exception. With a sigh she settled onto the couch and let the memory take hold.
She had watched the wariness with which he took in the Sergeant....seen the fear that he wasn't fully able to hide. At first she could barely hear the answers he gave, his voice little more then a whisper..and as he grew silent it was all she could do not to go to his side. His gaze had seemed to move past the Sergeant...the questions drawing into the memories she knew he fought to repress.
He lay in that mist of half sleep, the pillow bunched up, under his head, the noises in the room barely registering. He'd been working 12-16 hour overnight shifts for close to two weeks and in the confines of the small apartment he took his sleep when he found it. On those mornings when he wondered where he had found the strength to walk home, let alone climb the stairs to theapartment, sleep came easily, the voices of his children unheard.
<Croatian>He shifted slightly, nestling deeper into the cushion of the feather pillow, there was some kind of an argument filtering in...gentle coaxing ignored by the protests of his daughter, louder then she intended as she struggled not to wake him. "Jasna...stop playing in that and eat." Danijela's voice, still quiet but growing firmer. "I hate it." The sound of chairs scraping on the wood floor...and what else? He was drifting away from it. "Eat." The single word enforcing her demand followed by the little girl's cries as she expressed her own futility. "Jasna..if you wake Tata." Another warning and sleep was lost, he pushed the pillow aside and rolled to his side to watch them. "Jasna, listen to Mama." Propping himself up on one arm he lifted his other hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes. "But, Tata, I hate it...." He almost let the smile break as she exaggerated the word in emphasis, and might have had he not seen the look on his wife's face as it deepened to stop him.
He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye in an attempt to break the last tendrils of sleep that held him. "Jasna...you have to eat." He couldn't fault the little girl, rations had been tightened and for three days there had been little more then the watered soup flavored by cabbage and turnip, with not even bread to supplement it. "Jasna...come to Tata." He forced himself to sit, resting his back against the wall as she came and crawled onto the bed with him. Folding his arms around her he drew her onto his lap, letting his fingers run through her hair before he spoke. "How about I make you a bargain...you eat the soup Mama fixed and Tata will go and find some bread and cheese for dinner." His smile broke as he watched his daughter's reaction. "Cheese?" Her own face brightened in disbelief. "Luka...you spoil her...you should sleep before you have to go back to the hospital." Danijela scolded as she scooped their sleeping son up from where he had fallen asleep at the table and tucked him into his crib. "I can sleep later, with luck it will be quiet tonight...this is more important." He kissed the top of his daughter's head before releasing her. "Tata, can I come with you?" He shook his head in refusal. No...go eat your soup...let Tata get dressed."
He hadn't expected the memory to surface as the man questioned him and he had to shake his head to rid the last of the lingering images before it progressed to the ending he couldn't bear to see. "I'm sorry....I didn't hear what you asked." He brushed his hand through his hair as he forced his attention back to the man. "You said your wife, Danijela was...23? Any children?" The Sergeant glanced up from the form in front of him. "Yes." His voice cracked before he continued. "Jasna, my daughter was 5...and Marko...my son...was just 18 months." Luka brushed the tears off his cheeks as he struggled to maintain the fragile hold he held on his emotions. "They died in Vukovar then?" The man made the additions on the sheet, then glanced up as he waited for the response. "Yes...a shell struck the apartment building where we lived...I lost all three." The Sergeant nodded, "I'm sorry." He offered the condolences automatically, aware that it was just part of the routine of the interviews. Of those he spoke with almost all had lost someone, many found the emotions overwhelming, others were numb, and some, like the man before him, hovered on the edge of both. "Any other family?" The interview continued...
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Aug 4, 2008 17:13:25 GMT 10
Ghosts 19/37
Chapter 19
An ER Fanfic set following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
"Luka?" Angelique Forquet approached the young man cautiously, having watched his silent vigil for almost half an hour. When he didn't immediately turn or seem to react to her call she frowned. He was shutting himself down...she'd seen it often enough to know the signs and unless she found a way to bring him out of it she knew he would likely will himself to die. She was not going to let that happen...locking a look of determined resolve onto her face she made her way back across the compound to the medical tent.
He hadn't wanted to leave the tent...he'd been laying on the cot lost in his own thoughts when the nurse had come over. "Luka...Dr. Forquet wants you to go outside and get some fresh air." He hadn't said anything at first, how could he tell her that he didn't need fresh air....that he didn't want fresh air? How could he make her understand that the breeze that blew his hair and the sun warming his skin signified life, and he didn't want to be part of that? He'd given in finally, if only to get them to leave him alone...he dropped his gaze to the small black and white photograph, these were the ones that had made him cherish life, and they were gone. Why did they keep pushing him to stay when it was so obvious that he wanted nothing more then to be with his family? He leaned back against the canvas of the tent's wall, then closed his eyes, allowing the sun to warm his face. Without conscious thought his mind began to draw him back into his past...back to the times he would never know again.
<Croatian> They stood together framed in the window watching the sun rise...this was their time alone, and he refused to relinquish it to anything. No matter how brutal the night's shift, no matter how tired he might be he cherished these moments with his wife. Danijela stood in front of him, her hands resting on his as his arms circled her. He leaned his head against hers, inhaling the scent of her hair with a contented sigh. "Luka?" Danijela brushed her fingers over his as he held her, he was the only man she had ever known, the only man she had ever wanted. She smiled to herself at the thought, they had a beautiful daughter between them, her smile deepened as the unspoken secret she held surfaced. "Hmm?" He nuzzled her neck, planting light kisses as he listened. He had loved her from the first moment he had seen her and once they were together he had ceased to think of a time he might be without her. She was his world, the eternal love that he had not believed existed until that moment she had entered his life.
"Luka, are you listening to me?" Danijela inwardly smiled as she tilted her neck to his advances and felt his hold on her tighten as his body moved against her in an unspoken invitation. "The baby." A blush flooded her cheeks as her nipples stirred in response to her own desire at his attentions. "Is sleeping...and if we are very quiet..." He punctuated his words with gentle kisses even as he rubbed himself against her. "She will stay that way." His voice had grown quieter as he spoke, deepening with the sensuality of the moment. "I don't suppose it entered your mind that I might want to talk to you?" At her question she turned to face him, her dark eyes finding his. "We could talk after..." He lowered his lips to hers, savoring the taste of her before he lifted his head and met her gaze again. For a moment she did nothing, then raising up on her toes she returned his kiss before drawing back, her own face reflecting the mixture of emotions passing through her.
"Luka..." She hesitated a moment, the smile at her still unspoken news overriding everything else. "Danijela?" His face took on a momentary look of confusion before his own smile matched hers. "What is it?" His eyes settled on hers as if he thought he could somehow find the answer within them for what she was trying to say. A beat later he tightened his arms around her, drawing her fully against him. "Luka," She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before releasing it to the smile again. I'm pregnant..." Her smile broadened, "We're pregnant." When his jaw dropped open her smile faded, but in that next instant he laughed, then swept her up into his arms, raining kisses on her as he whispered his elation.
"Luka?" As she reached him Angelique lay a hand on his shoulder, holding the hope that the physical contact would be enough to draw him back from wherever he had retreated to. He felt the hand and his eyes jerked open, the memory lost so quickly that he gasped in surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." She watched his face, the unshed tears still visible in his eyes. "Luka, will you walk with me for a bit, I want to talk to you about something. " He swallowed, then sniffed before dragging his hand across his face and finally looking back up to her with a silent nod, the loss as painful now as it was when it had happened.
Angelique Forquet did not base her judgments on people from emotions, and the longer she was around the young Croat, the more complex he seemed to become. As his strength and mobility had increased she had seen him surrendering to the melancholy and she also knew she had to find a way to stop it. It was easy for her to cure his physical ailes....bones healed...scrapes faded...the emotional wounds went far deeper then any of those. She had seen the signs so many times, the patients she had lost when they should have lived. He was showing those signs now, the listlessness, his lack of appetite, his lack of interest in anything around him. She'd read his file...he had been a husband...a father...a doctor, and she had read what was on his face and knew well enough that in his eyes he believed he was no longer any of those things, it was time to change that if he would let her....
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Aug 5, 2008 18:46:25 GMT 10
Ghosts 20/37
Chapter 20
An ER Fanfic set following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
His sleep had been restless again, as if he were somehow not allowed to have more then one night of rest before his dreams haunted him again. She tried to ignore it, laying still and silently wishing he would turn to her for support. When he tossed the covers aside in resigned defeat and sat on the edge of the bed, Abby found herself fighting not to reach out to him. He'd been awake for almost an hour, laying in the darkness, so close to the edge that she was sure he would fall off if he moved again. Why was he so afraid to touch her? She watched as he dropped his head in his hands, longing to draw him into her arms...to hold him...stroke him...whisper reassurances that she was there for him, that she would always be there for him. As he stood and moved to the window she felt her heart lurch...he looked so lost, and in that moment she knew he was far away again, the sights he was seeing through the glass, those of a lifetime away
He was retreating more and more from her, and from himself, and it was all she could do to stay and watch his decline. Even now, as he stood naked before the window, she was struck by the irony of it. Over the past few days she had seen him more vulnerable then in all the time she had known him. She had listened to him call for those who would never again answer and cry at the realizations of their loss, and she had held him when his fear at being left so alone had left him shaking. But even with all of that he still felt the need to shut himself away from her...
As he was wracked once more by the coughing she broke her battle of wills and rose, stripping the blanket from the bed and carrying it over to drape around him. "Luka, it's too cold for you to be standing here with nothing on." She offered the explanation though she wondered if he even heard her, "Where are you Luka?" She asked the question softly, her fear of an answer almost as strong as her fear that he would not.
He didn't really want to go, but in the short time he had known her he had learned that the woman would rarely take no for an answer. Reluctantly he reached for the crutches, why couldn't she leave him alone, why couldn't they all just leave him alone? Couldn't they see that he didn't want to be part of their world anymore? Didn't they understand that he was choosing where he wanted to be, and it wasn't here? He lifted his eyes to her, and seeing the warmth there he forced himself to his feet, sliding the crutches under his arms once he was up.
"Do you need my help?" Angelique found herself wishing he would say yes, even though she knew he would not. The distancing was part of his withdrawal...he didn't want contact anymore...he didn't feel he deserved it. Contact meant feeling and the only thing he wanted to feel was pain. She'd seen it so often...he needed the pain as a reminder, as a way of punishing himself. He had survived when his family had not and rather then be grateful for that gift he felt guilty. She watched as he grimaced, with the settling of weight on his still tender leg." Ready?"
Angelique remained silent for several minutes, allowing him to set their pace as they walked down the narrow lane between the tents. The way he kept his eyes to the ground worried her, it wasn't about him watching where he was going. It was yet another way of separating himself from the world around him, as if his not seeing them made them not there. As they reached and intersection she directed him to his left, then waited until he had once more settled into the slow but consistent gait he'd adopted before breaking the silence. "Luka....you're getting stronger everyday now, you can't keep punishing yourself for that" She saw him flinch, but when he didn't stop she pressed ahead..."Sweetie, you can't keep blaming yourself because you lived and your family didn't." Her words stopped him in mid stride and his eyes widened in surprise. "Don't give me that look, you need to be doing something...you need to start living again." His face noticeably paled and she had no doubt that if he had been able to run away from her at that moment he would have. "You were a doctor...are a doctor, Luka, you can help people here...you can help yourself. It's time you started doing that, want you to start working with me in the clinic."
"Luka..."Abby laid her hand on his shoulder as she spoke his name again and as if waking from a dream felt him relax under her hand. Watching his reflection in the glass she saw the wave of first confusion then realization at where he was cross his face before he spoke. "Abby?" She nodded, letting a soft smile move over her face as she saw his eyes take in her reflection as she had his. "I'm tired..." He spoke the words as if confessing a sin and she could only nod before drawing him into her arms."I know Luka...it's all right...." She pulled his head down to her, kissing his forehead lightly before guiding him back to the bed. "It's all right for you to sleep now..." She settled him into bed...pulling the blankets over them both as she drew him into her arms. She barely felt the tears that fell on her cheeks as he relaxed against her, he needed her as much as she needed him and together they would get through this. Whatever he had seen had broken the spell he had been under, she ran her fingers lightly through his hair and across his face, whispering to him until he eased gently into sleep. It was hard to say what the morning would bring, but as she lay there beside him, she knew there was no question that she would stay by his side throughout it.
to be continued...
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Post by Praline on Aug 9, 2008 15:53:02 GMT 10
Ghosts 21/37
Chapter 21
An ER Fanfic set following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
As Father Joe stepped into the ER, he still hadn't formulated in his mind, what he would say to the young doctor. In the two weeks since he had last seen him he had replayed their last meeting over and over in his thoughts. He had questioned his actions and he had prayed for guidance and still he hadn't come up with any way that would have changed his actions. He had lost count on how many times he had reread the young man's file and each time he was struck by the impact of the lose and trauma the man had endured. How could he have expected the man to react any differently then he had when confronted so blatantly with the lecture? If the doctor had returned to the church, he had done so at times when he had known he wouldn't have to face him...was that act deliberate, or coincidental? As the electric doors closed behind him the Priest let his eyes sweep the organized chaos of the corridor before him, intent on locating the tall doctor within it.
"Excuse me, Father?" The woman's voice caught him off guard and he turned to her suddenly, letting a smile fill his face to mask his surprise. "Didn't you come in before with the Bishop?" The Priest took in the short dark haired woman as she fully approached him, then stopped, trying to place her among the many he had dealt with on the earlier visits. Bishop Stewart, yes I did...I'm sorry, did we meet then?" A small frown drifted in as he failed to register her in his memory. Picking up on his discomfort Abby shook her head, "Not formally, no, I did help with him though. Did you need to see someone yourself?" As she asked the question she found herself going a quick inventory of the man's condition before looking back up at him. "Actually, no, I was wondering if Doctor Kovac was working...I'd like to speak with him." He cast his eyes around the corridor again before returning them to her. "Luka...um...yeah...I think he's in Trauma Two....he might be busy...if you want to have a seat in chairs I can go see if he has time to see you."
Why now? That was the question that lingered as Abby watched the man walk to wards chairs...there was a part of her that wished she had never seen him, a part of her thatwanted to go to him now and tell him that Luka was too busy to see him. It had taken most of the last two weeks to undo the damage the last month had taken on him and now this man wanted to bring it all back to his thoughts. Before she could act at all the choice was taken from her hands, and her stomach sank as she saw Luka emerge from the trauma room. He was still making final notes on the chart in his hand and he paused to finish them before handing it to Haleh. "As soon as his bloodwork and X-Rays come back let me know...until then I want his vitals every 15 minutes, ok?" He dropped his eyes to the nurse as she nodded then immediately lifted them as he caught sight of the Priest behind her.
Angelique Forquet glanced out the small window of the plane, watching in silence as the lights of Paris faded from view...she was really doing this. As she leaned back in her seat she couldn't help feel that this time seemed so different from all of the other times she had left home. She had never seen herself as a public speaker...and given her record, there was no way she would have ever been mistaken as a diplomat, no, she was a doctor plain and simple. She knew what her friend Alexander Fletcher wanted from her, they had spoken at length about it in his subsequent calls to her. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder wasn't just about coping emotionally with traumatic incidents that had happened to people...it was also dealing with the many physical ails that manifested from it.
The lecture series he was presenting had been scheduled as an 8 city tour and they were just halfway through it when his colleague had fallen ill and Alexander had called her. She knew firsthand what it was like for the survivors he had told her...the fact she had no experience on the lecture circuit didn't phase him at all, he wanted her to finish it with him. Besides he'd added with a laugh...it gave her a chance to visit the states in the middle of winter, surely that was incentive enough. Once she had agreed, the reality of her decision struck...and she began to sift through her files, drawing out the records of those she had treated who matched her criteria. She should have realized his would be among them...he was a classic case...reaching under her seat she withdrew her briefcase and opened it, revealing the pile of folders inside. As she opened the one on top and flipped through it her mindquickly retreated to the memories of him.
He hadn't known what to say and so he had said nothing, but the look of shock on his face at the request was unmistakable. He couldn't do it...he couldn't let himself be part of treating them..he couldn't hold their lives in his hands when he wanted nothing more then to end his own. Why couldn't she see that he didn't want to start all over again? He swallowed the lump in his throat then ran his tongue across his teeth as he searched for any words that could explain, then finally settled on the tired excuse. "It's too soon." He dropped his eyes to the ground, as if ashamed by them as the words left his mouth.
"Sweetie..." Angelique lay her hand on his arm, feeling the tremble of repressed fear that ran under her fingers. "You didn't stop when your wife and children died...you can't stop now." She found herself searching his face for a clue on how to reach him .
<Croatian>"I'm not strong enough to start over again." The words came out barely louder then a whisper as he retreated to the safety of his mother language, and she found herself struggling to translate them. This wasn't about physical strength and he had to know she knew that as well. "Not strong enough?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Luka, Sweetie...how can you say that?" She moved to stand in front of him, then lifted her hand so she could hold his chin and force him to see her. "You are stronger then you know...you just can't see it yet.. You have to give yourself time to heal, but I promise, it'll get better." She paused allowing her words time to sink in before she continued. "It'll never get better." His reply was laced with pain and grief. "Yes, it will, Sweetie...you can't see it because it hurts too much still, but it'll get easier as you heal. One day you may even fall in love and have another family, you just have to give yourself time."
She could see his hold on his emotions starting to fray and as the shudder ran through him, beneath her hand she ached to pull him to her and do nothing more then hold him and allow him to grieve. She couldn't do that here though, if she had learned anything about the young man in the short time she had known him, it was that this was not the time or the place. His pain and grief was still to private to share and she would honor that for him. "Luka, " She dropped her hand to his arm as she spoke. "Let's go back now, Sweetie..."
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Post by Praline on Aug 10, 2008 15:02:21 GMT 10
Ghosts 22/37
Chapter 22
An ER Fanfic following the "Bishop Stewart" arc
One city down, three more to go...as she closed the door of her hotel room Angelique let the wave of fatigue wash over her. Maybe her decision to do this had been a mistake. It wasn't just the jetleg catching up with her, she'd long ago learned how to battle that, no, this was a different kind of fatigue. She'd tried to prepare herself for what she might encounter, she and Alexander had discussed what he was doing, what she could expect, but even those warnings hadn't been enough to prevent her surprise at the depth of the reactions of those attending the seminar. As her associate spoke she had watched those in the crowd...and she knew their reactions would stay with her long after the tour was over. They came from different experiences and yet they all shared a common connection and that had been clearly evident tonight as some wept openly while others visibly appeared to close themselves off, seemingly observing from a distance.
She shook her head in dismissal as she slid her heels off and crossed the room to the bed. It was hard to imagine what it must be like for them to carry the guilt of surviving day after day. In the camps she had understood, their pain of loss was so fresh...but now, after so many years. She let the thought hang as she picked up her briefcase and lay it on the bed before sitting herself. They all had fresh lives, new families in some cases, many were worlds away from what their lives had been, but still the ghosts of their pasts haunted them. She opened the case and slid the envelope of photos out then settled back against the headboard with them. "What about you?" She asked the question aloud as if the faces forever frozen in time on them could somehow answer her. She flipped through them silently until she paused on the one of the young man on crutches, a slight smile crossing her face as she looked at it. "What about you Luka, have you moved on...are you happy?"
At the sight of the Priest Luka's face paled....oh God....not here, the thought instantly flooded his brain obscuring all else. He couldn't do this here...not where they could all see him, his eyes flicked nervously around him, registering who was where and whether they were watching what he was doing. Why would they be watching? The question rose but his fears at revealing those hidden parts of himself swallowed it before he could even acknowledge the baselessness of those same fears. He could feel the panic rising, the early signs already taking root, as he swiped his tongue across suddenly dry lips. Raking his hand back through his hair he tried to pull a rational thought into his actions, he had to do something, but what? He glanced around where he stood, how long had he been standing there frozen? The need to flee was gaining strength and his heart seemed to be trying to force itself from his chest with the intensity of it's beating.
"Luka?" Abby's hand on his arm had the effect of a jolt of electricity running through him and he pulled away at the touch, his eyes darting to her in surprise. "Are you all right?" She tentatively laid her hand back on his arm, keeping her words quiet and for his ears alone as she spoke.
"Yes..." Even as the words left his mouth he knew they were a lie, he wasn't all right, but how could he explain without her thinking he was crazy? He could feel his breathing becoming more and more irregular as his fear at what had to come rose, and he fought not to bolt.
"Luka....look at me." Abby's hand tightened as she saw the shift in his mannerisms and on his face. The underlying tremble running through him caught her off guard but she continued, "You don't have to talk to him, not here...I can tell him you're busy." She offered him the escape even though she doubted he would take it, then touched the side of his face with her free hand. "Luka, you need to calm down, you don't even know why he wants to see you."
"The seminar..."His voice was barely audible as he spoke and she found herself leaning closer to even hear him.
"You can't be sure of that." His nod and the look on his face made any other answer from his unnecessary. "Luka, he can't make you go if you don't want to."
Wetting his lips again, he closed his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing, then opened them again with a resigned sigh. "It isn't him asking me to go...it's the Bishop and he knows I can't refuse him." His words held the weight of a decision already made, even if he had yet to accept it. The Bishop had been right, he couldn't hold onto the burden of guilt that he'd carried for so long...hadn't he agreed to let the man take it from him the night he'd died? Stepping back he rested his head wearily against the wall as he felt part of the weight ease, then closed his eyes to quell the nausea that fought to gain hold.
Abby watched in concern as he drew back, retreating inside himself for those few moments wishing there were more she could do and knowing at the same time that this was a battle he had to win alone. "Luka?" She spoke his name quietly, then once more lay his hand on his arm. "Do you want me to go tell him you're busy?" When he shook his head she was surprised but not so much as she was as he opened his eyes and offered a brief smile of reassurance to her.
"I'll go talk to him...it's time..." With that he moved away from her, and without saying any more he made his way to chairs and the waiting Priest...
to be continued...
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-SAN.
Duchess of Luby
"Undone"
Posts: 394
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Post by -SAN. on Aug 17, 2008 6:56:27 GMT 10
I love the way the reader is taken down into Luka's soul to witness his suffering, and to see how hard he struggles against the darkness, even when he wants nothing more than to succumb to it. Abby's wish to help him, to lift him out of his pain is heartbreaking - she wants so much to help him become whole again.
I enjoy seeing more details about Luka's relationship with the Bishop as well; of just how much Luka's brief acquaintance with him affected his inner spirit in positive ways he could never have predicted at the time.
I know it wasn't possible for the TV series to do more than show us brief pieces of the story arc of the Bishop and Luka, and the agony of Luka's past; I am grateful and happy that JD has picked up the story and is filling in the gaps so well.
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