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Post by FicWriter on Jan 9, 2009 17:01:17 GMT 10
Summary: This is a joint fanfic that my friend Mel and I wrote in 2004, a large section in fact was actually written while we were in Croatia. The story revisits the events surrounding the deaths of Luka's family in Vukovar, his escape from the City, and what happens after that. This entire series takes place in a fictional Croatian refugee/displaced person's camp. The characters of William and Claire Northstar are copyright M. Blais, and Angelique Forquet is copyright J.D. Gillispie.
For those new to my work, it is advisable that you go back in the archives and read the story "Ghosts" before reading this fic.
For One Life
Chapter 1/38
by JD and Mel
Claire moved over to the hospital tent, coming from a mess tent further away. She carried a small bowl with her, and had a wad of bandages under one of her arms, as she approached the bench cautiously. The young man, no older than she was herself, was sitting on a bench outside, against the wall of the hospital tent. Angelique....Doctor Forquet she remembered, as her dad wanted her to stay polite, had said that it had been only about four days since he'd arrived. He was terribly thin, fighting pneumonia and on crutches because of a bullet to his thigh. His crutches were leaning on the bench beside where he sat. The Red Cross provided clothing was ill-fitting, although he didn't seem to notice.
He looked haunted, the dark circles under his eyes and his drawn face a testament to suffering. He didn't want to be outside, she could tell. He didn't want to be anywhere, but the doctor had persisted and rather then argue with the woman he had submitted to enduring the fresh air. He leaned his head against the tent's fabric and closed his eyes.
"Luka?" she said gently, as a question. Angelique had told her a little about him and had given her instructions. At the sound of his name he flinched, his eyes opening even as he unconsciously tensed. He swept his eyes over the woman before him, saying nothing in response at first as he tried to place her from among the faces he had yet to put names to. She gave him a neutral, closed-lipped smile. "Can I sit? I brought you something to eat...."
"I'm not hungry..." His response was in Croatian. He left her question unanswered, though he did reach across to move the crutches to the other side of where he sat. Her forehead crinkled just slightly as she took the seconds to mentally translate his words...her skills were still rusty. Not protesting his response, she just sat on the bench next to him, putting the bowl on the wood between them, as much as barrier for his sake. In strained Croatian, she asked, "How is your leg?"
He shifted his injured leg with a soft groan..the minor movement alone enough to send pain through him. He swallowed and waited for it to pass then offered a shrug in response to her question. "You don't have to watch over me...if that's what she is worried about," he answered, in his native tongue.
"I see," she said gently, staying in the same language although she has to pause between her sentences. "You know that Angelique sent me."
"I thought she probably did.." He kept his voice quiet..his eyes on the ground in front of him.
"Well, is that so bad?" She watched him, her eyes sympathetic. In English, she said, "My name is Claire Northstar. My father is a doctor here....but I am only a volunteer. So I did not have to come over here and speak with you." She paused. "Do you understand my English?"
He offered a shrug again at her question before finally shifting dulled eyes to her as she turned to English. "Da..." he answered in Croatian, some vestiges of stubbornness, or uncaring, in his tone.
"I wanted to come speak with you."
"Why?" He moved his gaze back to the trampled dirt in front of him.
"Because I care about you." Her words were simple, and without guile.
When he answered his voice was even quieter then it had previously been...and still in his native language. "You don't even know me..." She had to lean in a little to hear him, trying still not to get any closer than he wanted her to.
"I know enough," she said, matching his very quiet tone, as if they were children, plotting mischief together. She could see he understood every word she said. Well, if it's what he wanted, she would act as if there was nothing unusual about the dual-language conversation, and stick to her English. "You are hurting.....you are tired, and I know you are hungry even though you say you are not. It's because you are grieving."
The talking was more then he had done in days, and as if to emphasize her words he found himself succumbing to a wave of coughing that seemed to tear into his lungs. Gently, she put a hand on his back, rubbing in small circles to soothe. When it eased his voice was more ragged. "She told you that?" he asked, low.
Very quietly, she said, "No, Angelique only told me that you could use someone to talk to. The rest I can tell from looking at you."
"She doesn't want to understand that I don't want to talk...I don't want to be here..." Whatever his reason he had yet to switch from the familiar Croatian, and she was not getting everything he said. Maybe he was trying to convince her to leave him be...he coughed again as he attempted to clear his lungs.
She hesitated, deciphering what he said. "But this is where you are now, Luka," she answered slowly. "And I don't think you can go back to where you were."
His response was little more then a whisper..an admission of his deeper feelings. "They should have left me to die on the roadside.."
She absorbed that for long moments. The loss in his voice was unfathomable, and for the first time, Claire felt the foundation of her ideals begin to shake. This was the first time she'd even been exposed to this level of atrocity. And this man, the same age as her, had obviously gone through more than she could begin to understand. Carefully, she said, "That's never a choice for us, Luka....it's human nature to want to save someone." What more could she say? He closed his eyes and leaned back, the weight of her words settling on him. Taking his silence as a cue, she continued, "We can't always do it, but we have to try. I had to come over here and try to talk to you, even if you didn't want me to." Lifting a hand he rubbed his eyes then looked across the compound again, either unwilling or unable to answer, and she sighed softly. "Why dont you try eating? I can leave you alone for now, if you wish." Apparently, it was as close as she could get today, on their first meeting. He gave into yet another coughing bout before he looked at her again, then to the bowl that sat on the bench between them. With a half-smile, she said, "Don't worry, I didn't cook it myself. It's good."
Lifting his eyes again, he released a breath in resignation and picked the bowl up. "You eat it? " His question came quietly, in Croatian...and in a way unexpectedly as he initiated conversation rather then send her away.
"Yes..." she replied, caught off-guard. "It does actually taste good.....really.." As if weighing her words, he stirred the spoon through the broth...ladling a small amount onto it before letting it spill back into the bowl and then finally taking a mouthful.
Stifling a smile of satisfaction, she said instead, "I'm not a doctor, you know, and you're not my patient, so if you want to talk to someone without being poked and prodded, you can ask for me."
He took a second mouthful before lowering the spoon again and looking at her. "Why come here then?" He asked the question in English...his accent flavoring the words as he did.
She gave a small shrug. She was grateful he switched to English, but she didn't want to give it away, and distract him from opening up like he was, little by little. "I thought I might be needed here. I wanted to help. Someday I'll likely be a doctor, but what's the rush?"
Abruptly, he sat the bowl on the bench again. In Croatian, he said, "I'm really not very hungry."
Right away, she knew she had misspoken, although she wasn't sure what it was that did it. Her expression fell. "You really are, Luka. You have to put aside these other things for now, and concentrate on getting well." It had an auspicious beginning, the talk, and starting something like this with an obviously hurting person....there were bound to be mistakes, she told herself.
He reached for the crutches, his desire to be anywhere but here growing. In harsh Croatian, he said, "I'm tired...I should go back inside..." Even as he said it he was forcing himself to get to his feet, a soft groan his only admission to the pain as he put too much weight on the leg before getting the crutches under his arms.
She rose, slower, helping him with the crutches. In his same language, though it didn't flow off her tongue as well, she asked, "Can you remember my name, Luka?" Gently, she adjusted the crutches with him.
"I can do it," he said, in angry Croatian, referring to her help with the crutches. "I'm not a child."
"Say it, then," she replied, stubbornly, knowing he had ignored her comment about her name. "And I'll leave you be." She knew if he just said it, he would have to give in, have to recognize her from now on, whether he wanted to ignore her or not.
He raised his eyes to her. Had she not stood in front of him, he might have simply walked away. He released a breath before saying her name. "Claire."
She touched his shoulder, lightly, but stepped out of his way. "Thank you."
He couldn't stop the initial tensing as she lay her hand on his shoulder, and didn't relax it. Nodding in answer to her, he moved to the tent's entrance, his gait slow and determined.
to be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 11, 2009 3:22:37 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 2/38
by JD and Mel
Claire ducked into the tent, dropping off supplies she was carrying, and walked over to his cot. She could see the hunch of his shoulders, his back to her, where he lay looking at something. The remains of breakfast was sitting untouched on the small table by the bed. "Hey, Luka," she called gently, "are you awake?"
He released a sigh as his name was called, and covered what he was looking at with his hand. She had a brief glimpse of a battered photograph. "Yes."
She briefly moved the plate with a finger as she noticed it. "You didn't eat...."
He did not turn over to look at her. "I'm not hungry," he answered, remarkably in English. His tone suggested that was merely a favor, and to expect no more from him.
"Mmmm," she said, noncommittally. "We already had this argument. Your body is hungry." She sat on the floor next to the cot, getting comfortable and showing no sign of leaving.
He slid his hand in the pocket of his pants, hiding the picture from her with the act. "What do you want?" he said sullenly.
"I want to sit here and talk to you." Her tone left no room for disagreement, but she knew she would compromise, to get him out and about. "I'll accept a trip outside as a substitute."
"I told them, I don't want to go outside."
"Told who?" she asked.
"The nurses."
She figured as much, from their looks alone as she'd entered. "Ah. Well, I didn't talk to them. I still think a trip out would be good. It's more comfortable than the floor."
"No one said you had to stay." He still made no effort to look at her directly though he has kept his words in English. His voice was still hoarse with the pneumonia.
"That's true," she allowed. "I'm staying because I want to. Didn't I say I wanted to talk to you? I'm just trying to persuade you to go outside with me." He gave into a brief coughing jag in lieu of answering. She patiently waited, though her expression became less cheery as it went on. It wasn't getting much better, as she had hoped. "Do you want something to drink?"
"No." The single word was all he mustered.
"Will you go outside with me?"
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" His voice trembled with fatigue instead of anger, despite the harshness of it.
"Because I can't," she answered, trying not to let worry creep into her tone. He'd see right through that. "You won't get any better if I do."
"Why is it so hard for everyone to understand I have no reason to get better?" He sighed again, and with a groan forced himself to sit up. He lifted his injured leg off the bed and turned so he could put his feet on the floor.
"Then I'll have to find you a reason." She scooted back so he had room for his legs, then rose to her own feet. "Need any help?"
"No."
"Are you coming outside with me?"
He finally lifted his eyes to her. "I never said I was going outside." This time an undercurrent of hostility was present, even though his accent was very heavy and the English broken.
"What if I said please?" she offered, meekly.
He came close to rolling his eyes, and settled for rubbing them instead. "Don't you have something better to do?"
"Right now? No." She sighed a little, sitting back down on the floor, back in the former position. This might take a while, she admitted to herself. Apparently it didn't pay to be optimistic.
"You going to sit there all day?" he asked, wearily.
"As long as you stay in that cot, yes." She watched him, her eyes frank and serious.
He released another exasperated sigh, then grumbled something unintelligible in Croatian before reaching for the crutches. She simply watched him, patient, as he moved forward and used them to get to his feet. It took a minute for him to steady himself before sliding them under his arms.
She stood. "Going outside? That's a great idea."
When he stood, it was obvious the clothes he wore were the same as from the other day. The pants and shirt were at least a size too big, and the length of the sleeves and legs several inches too short. He took another moment to catch his breath, which only sent him into another coughing run. She stifled her immediate concern as he started for the door, his eyes on the floor in front of him.
When he reached the door he stopped. Claire could see him fighting with himself, fighting with his desire to turn around and just go back to the cot. "C'mon, it's not that bad out there," she said gently.
Her words seemed to nag at him, and he set his jaw, nudging the door with his shoulder and moving through it. She stepped through after him, closing it. He only went as far as the bench outside then sat again.
Small steps, she reminded herself. She moved around him and sat at his other side. "Thank you. I really didn't want to sit on the floor all day."
Quietly, he pointed out, "There are plenty of people here that want company..."
"If they want company, then they already don't need me," she countered. "They have their reasons to want company. I worry about those that don't want me around. I worry about those that don't have their will to live."
"What does it matter?" He still did not look at her, absorbed with the motions of setting aside his crutches. It was as if he could will her away by sheer inattention.
"You matter to me."
"You don't even know me," he scoffed.
She looked at him. "What if I told you I was honoring someone's dying wish?" He pulled his eyes from the ground in front of him and finally looked at her. Her eyes were somber. "Who's picture did you hide in your pocket when I sat down?"
"No ones." His eyes flickered a little, but his expression remained unreadable.
Archly, she said, "I wouldn't have figured you for a liar, Luka. What happened to your family?"
He lowered his eyes under her frank gaze, his face tightening before he answered. "They were killed."
"And you survived."
He swallowed. "Yes."
"Tell me about them. Were they good people, kind? Did they love you?"
He shifted the injured leg as he leaned back. "I don't want to talk about them." Very quietly, he added, "I can't."
"Very well," she relented. "But I think they probably did, and I think they wouldn't want you to simply waste away like this. So, if you won't honor their wishes, I will. I won't let you just give up."
His voice remained quiet. "I tried to live without them. I can't anymore."
"You can, and you will," she insisted, low but urgent. He slid his hand to his pocket, as if touching it was a way to still touch them. She knew what was held in there. "Can I see the picture?"
Luka continued to look at the ground in front of him, not sure how to react to her words. When she asked to see the picture, he was at even more of a loss. If he showed, she would want to know more, and if he didn't she would persist until he did. There was no way he could win in this. With a sigh, he slid his hand in his pocket and withdrew the small black and white photo, letting his eyes drop to it before he reluctantly passed it to her without a word.
She took it very gently, cradling it in her hand. "What are their names?"
"Danijela...and my daughter was Jasna." He spoke the names quietly, his eyes still on the ground before him.
She merely nodded, holding the picture in her palm for long moments. "Did you take this picture?"
He shook his head. "No, a friend did...I had my son." He let the statement trail off as he drifted into revealing more then he had intended.
"Your son?"
"Marko." The name was barely audible.
She nodded. "You and he had gone off for the day, I take it." It was a sheer guess, but she so badly wanted to keep him talking.
He lifted a hand to wipe welling tears before they fell, moisture she missed seeing because of the shock of hair that fell before his eyes. "No, it was Jasna's birthday. He was too young...I was holding him while Danijela was helping Jasna with her presents."
"When was it taken?"
"A little over a year ago."
She nodded, absorbing that. Two children, dying while they were so young. And his wife… "Thank you for telling me," she said, quietly and reverently. "And showing me the picture."
He wiped his eyes again, still looking directly in front of him. "Yeah."
She sighed, low. "For their sake, that's why I can't leave you alone."
He looked over to her with the comment. A crease of confusion showed between his eyes. "I don't understand."
"You asked why I couldn't just leave you alone, I'm assuming to die," she started to explain. Her words were more emotional than she intended. "You didn't believe me when I said I cared.....so they are my other reason. I don't believe they'd want you to do this to yourself. And since they didn't get to live out their lives, for them I want to make sure that you do." She managed to sound very matter-of-fact as she said the last, but her eyes held a very faraway, sad look in them.
"I should have been with them that day," he insisted, affected by her words. "If I had stayed...."
"You would have died, too, I imagine."
He nodded, unable to disagree. "At least we would be together."
"But that didn't happen, Luka."
He glanced to the picture as she held it, then swallowed. It looked different in her hand, foreign. "No...it didn't."
Her voice got a little quieter. "As much as you want to have died with them, I think they would be just as happy you didn't. I like to think they would be happy you survived; that you didn't come back before you did. That at least one of you got away."
He swallowed again. "If I had come back sooner I might have saved my wife, or my daughter."
"You don't know that. You won't ever know it." She handed the picture back to him. "Can you walk with me a little?"
He took the picture, brushing his finger over the two faces. Then he lifted his eyes to her, wanting to refuse yet again. One person he barely knew wasn't going to make him care again. Everything he said was true, and just confirmed his desire to let it all go, to sleep and not wake up.
"Just a little bit," she said, simply.
Perhaps he didn't have it in him to refuse any more. He slid the picture in his pocket and reached for the crutches. She waited for him to get situated, before she rose. He used the crutches to brace himself as he stood, then placed them under his arms.
"Is your leg any better today?" she asked, as he struggled for the right balance.
"It's all right." He adjusted the crutches, then looked over to her. Standing fully again, the ill fit of the clothes even more apparent.
She started them on a path out of the worst foot traffic, more like meandering around the camp. "Tell me what you are going to do after this place..."
"I don't know." He dropped his eyes to the ground in front of him, not really looking anywhere but where he was walking. He recognized her words for what they were, an effort to draw him out more. What did he care for the future?
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 12, 2009 3:12:40 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 3/38
by JD and Mel
She paused for a long moment, giving him a chance to say more, then said, "I don't think we both can stay here forever."
He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "You can go home." His tone left it unsaid that he couldn't, but they both knew what he meant.
"My father lives here now," she answered, mildly, refusing to fall into that trap. "And my mother is dead. So....no, not really. I can go to a new house, sure." She shrugged. "Just like you can."
"Your father won't stay here," he persisted.
She glanced at him. "I wasn't aware you knew my father."
"I don't," he gave in, "but you're not Croatian...so he is probably just helping here."
"You're right. We're both Americans." His pace was slow, his gaze back on the path in front of him, and he showed no indication that he heard that. She kept pace with him, quiet for a little bit. "What were you doing before the war?"
He started at the question, and looked over to her. "I was going to school...it's why we were in Vukovar."
"School?"
"Yeah..."
"For....?"
He was forced to return his attention to the path as he skidded the crutch on an imbedded rock. After the small stumble, he caught himself with a grunt. "I was studying to be a doctor."
"Ah...." She hesitated, surprised, then said, "Why not go back to that?"
He was quiet too long before answering, and when he did his voice was strained as he tried to not let his explanation get hold of him. "I had to leave the hospital...when the Serbs moved in. I was told that those who stayed were killed. Patients..doctors, it didn't matter. There's nothing left there."
"I see." She waited, trying not to be too pushy for once. "There are other places to study.....other schools."
He stopped, his gaze harsh on her. He glanced down at himself, the leg, the crutches, the poor clothes, then back to her. For the first time, he realized she couldn't be any older than he was, and most likely younger. Idealistic, like he used to be. Her eyes were clear and unclouded by anything like grief. He slid his hand in his pocket to pull his picture out. "This is all I own," he said, roughly. "I can't afford to go back even if I wanted to." He put the picture back, hiding it once more from any prying eyes.
Quietly, she said, "It's not always a matter of money.....you never know. But for now I guess I can't argue with you."
He forced himself to look around them. Pain was making itself known in his chest, his lungs, and he had mistaken it for heartache this time. "I think I need to sit down," he gasped.
"Can you make it back to the tent?" They had walked in a short path, and it was a little distance ahead of them. He offered a nod of his head though he was obviously winded. She disregarded his words, even though she asked for them, and pointed to a smaller bench that was positioned outside a nearer tent. "Here, this is closer."
He flicked his eyes to her but didn't argue. He said he could make it back, but now he was afraid his words were a lie. He moved towards it and sat with a groan as he stretched his leg out in front of him.
"I'll go get you something to drink." Without asking him, she moved off, to where she knew she could get water.
He leaned back and closed his eyes as he waited for his breathing to ease. Ceasing movement made him lethargic, exhaustion overriding his senses, and he gave in to mild dozing. It seemed as if he had done no more than leaned back, before the sound of a young child calling to another jerked him awake. A brief look of confusion marred his face as he acclimated to where he was again. The camp, the refugees…the war.
He rubbed his hand across his face then glanced to his side. Claire simply sat beside him on the bench, holding a cup of water. It said something of his sleep that she had gone and come back without his waking. It was apparent she'd been watching him for a little, although the expression in her brown eyes was inscrutable. Automatically, she touched his shoulder, and said "It's okay, you just fell asleep."
He nodded. The weakness bothered him a little, but not enough for him to care. "I keep thinking I'll wake up one of these days and none of it will be real." She didn't answer, her face drawn, just held out the cup of water. He knew she waited to see if he would add to it, but he merely laid the crutches against his good leg and took the cup. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she replied. He raised it to take a sip, then lowered it again. It did make a difference, however small, to his dusty throat. She sighed, then said, "I guess I shouldn't have made you walk so far."
"Not your fault." He toyed with the cup a bit.
"It's okay, I know how irritating I can be. You don't need to spare my feelings." She managed a small smile, attempting at humor.
"They've been on me to do more," he admitted. "I just .." He dipped a finger in the cup as he searched for the words he wanted. "I would stay inside if they would let me."
"I know. I wish it were that easy. I know you want to be left alone. But you won't heal like that." She sighed a little, for the first time seeming upset. "I don't like forcing you, but I'm worried if I don't, you'd never get up again." It bothered her more than she wanted to say. He drew a breath, not yet ready to admit the truth in her words. "If you want to go back now, we can."
He took another drink from the cup to steel himself, before handing it back to her and forcing himself to his feet. She held the cup, rising herself and letting him have room to move. It took moments to readjust the crutches. She saw him glance around them, noting if anyone was watching before starting back the way they were came. "You're here to be with your father?" His words were almost too low for her to catch.
She looked at him, surprised he asked her a question about herself. "Yes and no," she said slowly. "I wanted to try being in the field, out of school. I chose this place because he was here."
"It's nothing like it was...before..." He grew quiet again, shocking himself with the attempt at conversation.
"What was it like?" she asked, and this time he sensed real interest in her question, and not just a chance to keep him talking. She truly wanted to know. "I always find myself wondering...."
Lifting his eyes from the path in front of him, he swept them to her, "It was everything it isn't now."
She studied his eyes, as if she could see the past of the place in his gaze. "I wish I could have seen it."
His words told her little. He knew that, but how could he try and make her see what it had been like for them? How could he impress upon her the love he'd had for the place he'd grown up in? He couldn't even tell if he wanted her to know because of her desire to, or his wish to remember something before war. He looked down at the ground again, then nodded at her words.
Gently, she said, "I've seen pictures, but I'm sure they can't do it justice."
"I wonder sometimes if it will ever look like it was again." Nothing would be the same again, not to him, but it was a bare glimmer of hope, for the place if not for himself.
"In time, it should look good again," she offered. "Perhaps not the same, but good."
For the next few minutes he said little, using his concentration on the rocky ground as an excuse to allow his mind to wander a bit. Finally he released a sigh and raised his eyes to her again. "Your father…he is in the camp now?
She nodded, her gaze still on him as he contemplated. "Yes, he's working here."
He paused a moment to resettle the crutches, before starting to walk again. "I'm not sure I've seen him…most of the time it's Angelique."
She knew the doctor he spoke of, another one who shared her interest in seeing Luka well again, even against his own wishes. "You may not have met him yet, although I have mentioned you to him. His name is William Northstar."
He shook his head, the name not registering as one of those he had dealt with. "Why would you tell him about me?"
"Why not?" she said, mildly. "I spend time with you.….that's a good enough reason to mention you, when he asks what I have been doing."
He stifled a cough before answering. "You talk about everyone you visit?"
She was quiet a long moment. "Not really...." she admitted.
"Then why me?" He slipped into Croatian as the next words eluded him. " I don't need to be pitied..."
She looked at him, sharply. "I would never pity you. I won't ever treat you as anything but a person, Luka." Her voice was…hurt, he realized. She looked away, with a slight frown, and then said, "If you want to know, I mentioned you to my father because I thought you were different from most of the others."
Her words stopped him, and he turned on his foot to look at her. "Different why? Because I couldn't care less if I died tomorrow?" His words were almost hurled at her, his last stand at getting her, at getting them all, to understand. To accept that there was nothing left, and stop trying to make him live for nothing.
She did not flinch, absorbing his words. "Partially, yes, although you are not the only one here who feels that way."
He gave into a brief coughing jag before he could respond, leaning heavily on the crutches as it swept through him. When it eased his voice was rougher. "Then what makes me different?" He didn't understand her.
She looked almost sad for a moment. "Because you still have fight in you," she admitted. "You argue and fight against me every step of the way. The others.….they aren't stirred by anything."
He shook his head Shewas wrong. "I'm tired of fighting...I don't want to start over again." As he spoke he began to walk again, his eyes glazed over and once more on the ground.
"Don't do this, Luka," she urged. "Some part of you doesn't want to give up. And as long as I see that, I can't give up either."
He paused and looked over to her. "Don't you see? They took everything that meant anything to me." His eyes burned into hers.
"I do see," she said, low. "Everything but your life."
His shoulders sagged under the weight of her words and he let his head drop. "They took my life...they just forgot to kill me." His words came even more quietly then hers.
She slid her hand over his shoulder. "Luka....."
"I'm tired," He admitted softly, making no attempt to pull away as he spoke. He did not say what he was tired of….all of it, he guessed.
"I know," she said, low, keeping her hand on him, gently. "I know you are tired of everything right now. I'll take you back to the tent."
Some part of him thought she might understand. He nodded, straightening enough to settle the crutches back under his arms before he began to walk again. She escorted him back to the tent where they started, avoiding the people coming and going on the way.
When they reached the tent he stopped to look at her. "Can I go inside?"
She smiled, briefly. "I know I am bossy, but you don't need my permission. I am the one who needs to ask you, when I can spend time with you again."
He didn't answer right away, his concentration on getting through the doorway as he negotiated the narrow aisle between cots until he reached his. Stopping as he reached it, he eased himself down onto it. She followed, not pressing him, but only helping set aside the crutches when he was done. As she took the crutches he leaned forward to unlace the scuffed boots.
"Do you want any help?" she asked, indicating his boots.
He wanted to say no, but for whatever reason he simply nodded, before sitting back and bracing his hands on the cot so she could pull the boots off. She knelt on the floor and helped pull them off, setting each one aside as she did. "Thank you," he said. With a soft groan, he lifted his injured leg onto the bed before pulling the other one up next to it. His hands rubbed the ache in his thigh. "You'll keep coming no matter what I say, won't you?" He asked the question amid the wince his kneading of muscles was bringing, and he almost didn't expect an answer.
She hadn't risen from the floor yet, which kept her level with the bed. "Yes, I will." Her voice was matter-of-fact.
He nodded before laying back, the exertion catching up with him. "I thought as much.." He offered a drowsy smile with the acceptance, the first he'd had for her.
"Get some rest," she said gently, touching his shoulder once more before taking her hand away. She remained where she was, apparently until he was to fall asleep.
He slid his hand in his pocket, confirming that the picture was still there. "I'm going to sleep now...okay?"
She smiled. "Okay."
He let his eyes settle on her for a moment longer. "You can come tomorrow then," he replied gruffly, before closing them and sliding into the waiting arms of sleep.
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 13, 2009 4:46:04 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 4/38
by JD and Mel
It was raining again...no...had been raining since the previous night, and between that and the wind there seemed no way to get warm. Luka lay on his cot, the cough settled deep in his chest and the thin blanket pulled tightly around him. Claire crept over, quietly, holding a mug in her hand. If any of the nurses saw her bringing contraband to the refugees, she'd be sent right out, med student or not. She paused, then circled the cot, coming to where he was facing. Like a child's game, she thought irrelevantly. Always in circles...
She almost stepped on a book that was lying by his boots. Carefully, she lifted her foot and bent to retrieve the abandoned volume. A Croatian poetry book, from what she could translate. Here? She glanced around the tent. The damp chill hung heavy in the tent and even the nurses and doctors had layers of sweaters on. "Luka?" she said, softly. Her eyes went from the book she held to where he lay.
He opened his eyes, dark even against the dark circles under his eyes. With a resigned sigh, he rose up, only to suffer an attack of coughing. "You came...back." He voiced the obvious quietly.
Claire carefully folded her legs and sat crosslegged on the floor, facing his cot. "I told you I would." She righted the pages of the book and set it down. "Reading?"
He coughed and shoved the thin pillow under his back so he could sit more. "Should have stayed in." He glanced up to emphasize his point. Minor drips of water hinted to the age of the tents and the dampness made the floor bitterly cold under her legs, but she didn't move.
She tucked a damp hair behind her ear. "Nah....I had something for you." She held up the mug, steam escaping from the surface of the liquid.
He eyed the cup, but the thought of anything warm broke through his low resistance and he extended a hand for it. "What is it?"
She grinned, seeing that he was already intrigued. "It's cocoa," she said, dropping her voice to a secretive whisper. "Don't tell anyone. It's from my private stash." She wrapped his fingers around the mug.
The tremble to his hand from the chill was obvious under her own hand, and he raised it to his lips carefully taking a slow sip before lowering it. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She picked up the abandoned book, turning it over in her hands. "What is this?"
He looked to the book. "Something Angelique left."
She read the title silently, then opened the book and flipped a few pages. "It looks like poetry. Is it any good?" She looked up at him. He clutched the cup with both hands to keep it from spilling as he coughed harshly, and nodded. She rose on her knees, forgetting the book, and put one hand around his own. She didn't want him to spill the hot liquid on himself. The other hand went to his back. Under her palm, the shirt was thin and he wore no tee underneath. The blanket was his only other cover from the chill. "You're so cold," she said, softly.
"Damp in here." He coughed again then took a breath as it eased.
She looked around the tent again, her eyes darkening, but knowing there was little she could do. "Here, drink the cocoa," she urged. "It's still nice and hot."
"Others worse then me..." His words were more habit than protest, she could already tell. He aquiesced to her suggestion, and raised it to his lips again.
"I know." Her hand rubbed his back in little circles. He took a couple sips then lowered the cup again. "I'll try and get some more blankets in here," she offered. "I think some new goods are coming in soon."
"People out there need them too...have the heat in here." The heat, he did not say, amounted to one small unit at the far corner of the tent near those patients in the worse condition.
"Hey, no arguing with me," she teased, her eyes flicking over to the tiny heater he obliquely referred to. "I'm going to do all I can for everyone...but I think I can spare one at least for you." His response was another round of coughs that caused the cocoa to slosh slightly. She continued to rub, hoping the heat from her hand would transfer. His thinness was obvious under her hand, even if she had never seen him without the oversized shirt. "Tell you what," she said, easing her hand away. "You drink that, and I'll try some of this poetry, out loud." She sat again, cross-legged. "Then you can laugh at it." Studiously, she picked up the book, turning a few pages as she contemplated the Croatian words.
As they spoke one of the nurses came over, a cup of pills in her hand. "Luka...I need you to take these. They'll help the cough." Claire glanced up as the nurse came over, hoping she wouldn't tell her to go. Admittedly, she looked like nothing more than a loafing teenager, crosslegged and with a book on her lap. Glancing at Luka, she caught his barely tolerated look.
This was telling, to her anyway. Would he refuse the medication? It was clear to her, had been clear, that he had no desire to recuperate. It was what drove her here every day, the worry that he might convince his own body to give up out of sheer willpower. But before she could take action, he took the cup. When it was obvious the nurse wasn't leaving until they were in his mouth he tipped them back, washing them down with the water she offered as a follow-up.
She glanced to Claire, assessing her critically then looked back at him. "Thank you...you should rest soon." With that she headed off for her next victim..
He coughed again then took another sip of the cocoa before turning his dark eyes on Claire. "You read Croatian?"
Escaped from Nurse Ratchet, she thought. "A little," she said, with forced cheerfulness, not wanting to admit her reading was poor. She searched for a poem she could manage. Settling on a short one, she silently mouthed it to herself first, getting the meaning down pat. Better than to inadvertantly read anything sad.
He watched her silently, sipping on the cocoa even as it cooled. "Not so easy.." He finally said quietly.
She looked up, with a sheepish smile. "No, it's really not."
"You don't have to..." He interrupted himself with a round of coughs. "It's okay."
"Well, I think I can try this one." She held the book with her fingers, clearing her throat. "Go on, drink up."
He raised the cup, ready to finish the cocoa off.
She started to read, slowly and painstakingly at first, and still managed to mispronouce a few of the words, like a schoolchild reading. The poem was fairly simple, just a piece about a Croatian sunset. He coughed into the cup as she began to read at first, then gave an apologetic smile as it improved. She didn't notice the smile, concentrating hard on the poem until at last it was finished, then she lifted her face, with a grin. "How was that?"
The old man at the cot behind her obviously found it more amusing and laughed aloud. She half-turned, her grin bubbling into a laugh of her own. "I know! I'm terrible at it..."
"Not too bad.." He sat the empty cup beside his leg.
She flicked her eyes to the cup, pleased that he drank it all. "Well, practice makes perfect." She flipped through the book again.
He leaned forward as he was racked by a stronger run of coughing, one that left him a bit short of breath. "Be...glad... when this...is gone." He choked out between coughs.
She froze with her eyes intent on him, her hands stilling on the book, worried. The sound of his cough made her heart squeeze painfully. "It's the damp...it aggravates it."
"I guess..." He pulled the blanket more tightly around him, it's thinness offering only minimal warmth.
The nurse walked over again, eyeing him critically with a frown. "I think maybe you need some rest. The cough is worse and talking isn't helping you."
Claire sighed, knowing what was coming. "How about I just read to you some more, and you can try and sleep?" She gave the nurse a small smile, then shifted her eyes back to Luka. Argue with that, she thought, mulishly.
"All right...5 minutes," she agreed reluctantly. The woman walked away as Luka leaned back, foregoing an attempt at lying flat.
Claire touched his arm. "Just lie down, and no more talking. You can just listen..."
"Okay." His chest hurt far too much for him to argue and he simply nodded and eased his eyes closed.
Without him watching she could more visibly notice the rough rise and fall of his chest as he struggled for air to fill his lungs. She pitched her voice quieter, holding the book up so she could scoot closer to the cot. She chose another poem, a longer one, and started to read, trying not to stumble over the words but instead keep her voice pitched at a soothing level.
He was asleep before she finished. Her shoulders slumping, Claire closed the poetry book and slid it beside his boots. Everything here was worn down, damaged....ailing. Boots and clothing, threadbare blankets, thin cots. She hugged her knees a moment as the chill made itself known again, insidiously. How could anyone get better in here, like this? But compared to the life or death struggle in the city, at least this was... what?... peaceful, perhaps.
It was difficult working here. Difficult to see the victims that succumbed every day to sickness and injuries, difficult to see all the new refugees coming in. The cold and the damp made her ache, and the endless tension took it's toll. She did everything she could with the others she treated, with the limited resources and medicines that she had. But she wanted to make a real difference in someone's life. Saving them physically was one thing. Most of all, she wanted to save their spirit....Luka's spirit.
He was asleep, and the practical side of her knew that it was the best right now, the best for recuperation, for recovery. And she couldn't stay and watch him sleep. Although she didn't talk about it to him, there were others she needed to see, and speak to. Others she needed to help. Gently, her fingers unsure and hesitant, she patted his shoulder before retrieving the mug. "I'll always come back," she promised, quietly. "Always."
Outside, the rain waited to drench her, but it couldn't wash away determination.
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 14, 2009 2:36:12 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 5/38
by JD and Mel
Another day, she fretted. Another day they had sent her away from the medical tent and away from Luka. No doubt by now he'd think she forgot her promise. Gritting her teeth, Claire bent her concentration back to the pills she was sorting. She had visited other refugees, her basic grasp of Croatian a valuable resource. Much of her morning, then afternoon, was translating instructions and transcribing medical histories. Then taking down complaints after that. If only she'd been able to check on him, no more than a quick visit even, she wouldn't suffer from the restlessness now. From the niggling concern at the back of her mind, a small voice rising from her intuition.
Today was the day. She had watched it's approach with a nervous resignation. She wasn't a doctor, just a med student volunteer, and an American at that, so she couldn't stop the inevitable interrogations that the Croatian army had started. They needed to know what had happened in the outbreaks of fighting, she recognized that. But she knew just as certainly that it would plunge Luka further into despair to relive it...to talk about it. Just speaking to her had been an ordeal. Somehow, she didn't expect the army to be so sympathetic.
Word had traveled quickly through the camp of the debriefings. New arrivals and those too injured to speak before were summoned to the tents to tell their stories. Luka had been among those, Angelique only able to spare him from it for a week. A week. So much happened in one week, Claire thought, finishing her task with an impatient sigh. She'd made a tenuous connection with him, enough to get him thinking of things other than the war. Would that fragile connection withstand a reintroduction of the horror that brought him here in the first place?
She waited long past the time it should have taken before seeking out Angelique. She knew the news was bad before the French doctor even spoke, just from her expression. Yes, the questioners had come and gone. Yet when it was over, he hadn't returned to the clinic.
He hadn't come back.
Dusk fell, and with it more of the steady, chilling rain. Raincoats, or any plastic for that matter, was scarce, and so Claire had gone out with just an extra layer, a denim shirt over her normal t-shirt. No one bothered to stop her, or even try. Now, both were soaked, and her hair was slicked back by her fruitless efforts to keep it from dripping into her eyes. She had to stop twice already to fetch in other wanderers from different points in the camp, but now she was beyond the usual spots. She hesitated at the border of the camp, knowing that the farther she went, the more dangerous it could become. But Luka was nowhere within the camp's limits. She couldn't stop now. The rain made visibility low, and the mud clung to her shoes, sucking them down and making the going slow.
I didn't break my promise, she wanted to tell him. I was trying to get there, I really was.
"Luka!" she yelled, cupping her hands over her mouth. She didn't expect him to answer, but she had to try, mucking her way across the landscape. The fence materialized out of the condensation, and she grabbed it with her fingers, using the leverage to draw her feet out of the mud. Holding on with her hands, she moved alongside it. "Luka!!" She didn't try to amplify it now, just kept calling out. The fence kept her from stumbling once or twice. Her shoe was nearly pulled off by the sucking mud. "You have to be here somewhere," she said aloud, into the rain, although she did not shout it. Sluicing water off her hair again, with the moisture trickling down her back, she slogged forward, before she saw the dark, indistinct shape against the fence. "Luka?" she shouted, working to get closer.
His body materialized out of the rain's twilight, and she felt boneless with relief, even as new worry seized her. The rain was freezing, and he'd just gotten over pneumonia. At this rate, she expected to get sick herself. If he heard her, he didn't acknowledge it, his thoughts far away from the camp. His dress was the same as it had been each time she saw him, though the shirt was soaked and plastered to his too thin frame.
She didn't know if he knew where he was going, if all of this was on purpose or only aimless wandering. The fence he leaned against was his only support, the crutches up against the fence. He rested his arms on the rail, dropping his head in his hands. The fence was too sturdy to cross, or climb over for that matter, especially in the shape he was. He hunched his shoulders up, as if that would somehow make a difference in the chill that was running through him, then gave in to the cough.
He didn't turn or show any indication of even being aware she had joined him. She reached him, grasping his wet shirt. "Thank God....it is you." As she grabbed him he flinched, pulling away even as he turned, his face registering first panic then relief as he identified who it was. She let go of the fabric, seeing the fleeting emotions cross his face, and feeling like she had slapped him. "I'm sorry....I called your name.." In the step back he lost the stability of the crutches and fell heavily against the railing. Reflexively, she reached for him again, to keep him from falling. "Luka..."
"Claire?" Her name came out hoarser then his usual tone... his voice raspy from the coughing.
"You have to come back," she begged. "You can't stay out here like this....please." She heard the desperation in her voice but she was unable to stop it. Some doctor she would be..
He shook his head. "I can't...not yet." He seemed oblivious to the water dripping from his hair, and the shivers running through him.
"But....it's freezing rain, Luka." She clenched her hands in the folds of his shirt. "You've already been out here too long.... you're going to get sick, all over again."
"Maybe it's my turn..." He seemed to look through her as he spoke.
"Your turn?" she asked, horrified. He couldn't mean that. "No, Luka, it's not.....damn you, look at me! This isn't right." She shook him, with her fists in his shirt. He dropped his eyes to her, a dullness in them that hadn't been there before. "Please.... come back with me. Don't just give in like this." His gaze was devoid of emotion. "I know you are a fighter. Please, Luka."
"They all died...my family...." He interrupted himself as he coughed. "Those at the hospital...I should have been one of them.."
"But you weren't," she insisted. "Luka, there's a reason you survived, even if you don't know what it is yet." She shivered as she gripped him, the rain drumming on them both. "I know there is a reason. You can't just give up without knowing what it is."
He shook his head, his teeth chattering with the cold. "I'm tired...I don't want to do this anymore."
"All you have to do is live, Luka," she said, plaintively. "Just try to live. For me, if not for yourself. Or for Angelique. Please." She drew him closer, wrapping her arms around him in an effort to warm him.
He didn't pull away from her which in itself said much, as did his shivering. "I don't want to talk about it to them...I don't want to keep remembering." He lost anything else to another round of coughing.
"No more talking, Luka. No more right now." She held him tightly as the coughs wracked his body, aching with sympathy and worry. "Just come back with me...I'll make sure no one makes you do anything. I promise."
He debated saying more but the tone of her words stopped him and instead he simply nodded.
"Thank you," she murmured, gratefully.
He steadied the crutches though the numbness of his fingers made holding them difficult. "What if he's there...with more questions?" He asked the question quietly.
She released him, just barely, looking up to meet her eyes with his. "I won't let him get anywhere near you. I promised you, Luka. I meant it. Even if I have to..to.." She struggled, trying to find words strong enough to convince him. "Even if I have to knock him out." He drew a shuddered breath, the chattering of teeth audible in the stillness of the moment before he again nodded his acceptance to her words. "Come....come with me," she urged, stepping away just enough for him to move forward, towards her. She peeled off her denim shirt, even though it was soaked as well, and wrung it out as best she could, then put it around his shoulders. She hoped the extra layer would help, even if it was still wet.
He did as she asked, moving the crutches ahead then stepping forward to meet them. If he noticed her action he said nothing to register it, instead dropping his eyes to the muddy ground. She moved with him, coaxing when she had to, although her own lips were numb now as well. Once or twice she stumbled, as she watched him instead of her own feet, as they reached the border of camp. He stopped as they hit the camp, drawing up short and making her trip. She was saved by the mud clinging to her shoes. "D-don't stop," she urged, shivering. "We're almost there.."
"What if he's there?" His voice was shaky as he spoke. The fear seemed to paralyze him for a moment.
She cast her gaze all about, but she still wasn't sure who he spoke of. Taking a deep breath, she turned a little, away from the medical tent. "C-come this way. We won't let him know we are here. We'll go to my tent."
His surprise at the suggestion was obvious. But inexplicably, he nodded his acceptance and began to follow. She led him away from the bigger tents into a more isolated area, with smaller ones. Her arms were clasped tight across her chest to ward off the chill, but she sneezed anyway, as she kept her movements slow, and close to him. "Almost... there.." He didn't bother to try and answer. His concentration was on just moving the crutches ahead then following, bursts of coughing breaking his silence. Reaching her own, at the end of a short line of tents, she drew up, stopping to hold the flaps open for him. As she lifted the flaps, he glanced to her before finally entering.
Why had she taken this step? She couldn't answer the question in his eyes. Most of all, she wanted to protect him. There was nothing she could do about the past, but the future she could control, at least a little. She couldn't explain the crushing responsibility to keep him alive, and safe. It went beyond being a doctor, beyond helping another human being. Somehow, she knew if she didn't protect him, he would die. The knowledge was certain, and painful. She had to do this.
The tent was small, but neatly kept. There were two cots, across the space from one another, each with a small table next to it. A foot locker was at the end of each cot, and a bigger table with camp chairs stored under it. A few books spilled off the one closer to him, the one she gestured him to. "Please...sit. We have to get dry..."
As he stopped, his shivering became more obvious, his teeth chattering, as he looked to her. "It'll...get..wet..." He stammered the words out, more concerned for the conditions of her tent then himself.
"I-it will dry," she replied, pulling several blankets from the locker. "The longer we stay wet, the better c-chance of getting sick.." She moved over, gently pushing him towards the cot, her own clothes dripping onto the floor. "Luka..."
He couldn't argue her logic and his unsteadiness was growing. He moved over by the bed and lowered himself to it, before leaning the crutches beside him as he hugged his arms around himself.
She clutched the blanketsclose as she moved over. "You have to take off your shirt..." She didn't wait for an argument, simply reached for his worn clothing, to help him remove it. The denim shirt she had given him was gone...fallen off somewhere along the way? He fumbled with the buttons, then dropped his hands as she moved to help. Deftly, she undid the buttons, peeling the wet material off his chest and arms, and depositing it unceremoniously on the floor. Unfolding one of the blankets, she draped it around him, pulling it tight and then rubbing it briskly up and down his arms. That he hadn't been eating well was clear. The oversized shirt had hid the extent of his thinness, but numerous scrapes and bruises were still present from the ordeal of his escape. He dropped his eyes as he knew she couldn't help but see them. He wrapped his fingers in the blanket as he drew it around himself, unable yet to stop the shivering. She took a second one up and placed it over his head, absorbing the wetness in his hair. "It's alright....you'll be warm soon," she said, quietly, as she covered him with the blanket. "Lie down...."
He lifted his eyes to her in as she dropped the second blanket over the first then stretched his injured leg out in front of him. She pushed gently on his shoulders to make him lie back. "You need to get dry..." he protested, his voice settling into a raspy croak.
"I will....just, let me get you taken care of first." At her words, he lay back from where he was, not even making it as far back to bring his legs on the cot. She unlaced the boots, pulling each one off carefully, and setting them aside and using the edges of the blanket to dry his feet. "You have to.." She paused, sneezing again, then continued, "move up.... your legs need to rest as well." She moved to his shoulders, sliding her arm under him to help him get fully onto the cot. At her request he slid his hands under his injured leg and pulled himself back.
She gave a small grunt of satisfaction, rocking back on her knees with a sigh, then pulled the blankets better to cover him. He lay back once he was fully on the cot, then rolled to his side as a coughing spell hit him again. She chewed her lower lip, her hands going to rest on his back as he moved. This wasn't working yet. The chill had gone through him, to places she couldn't reach with just the blankets. "I have to g-get you warmer...."
"Get dry...yourself..." He forced the words out between coughs. He pulled the blanket around him tighter.
"I will....but I think you need to take off those pants as well. You're chilled..." She didn't know how he would take the order, but she wasn't going to back down. The material was icy, and it only made matters worse. He released a sigh, then moved to unfasten the belt that held them up. Determinedly, she reached to also undo the clasp of the pants. "The bandages are soaked too, I think...but I can't replace them yet..." She sneezed once more, violently. He rolled to his back and used his good leg for leverage to raise up and ease them down.
His right leg was wrapped, the knee still badly swollen. There was a matching bandage a little higher...the bullet wound. She knew from talking to the others what it would look like, how he had earned it. Something angry and animalistic surged it her as she thought of someone taking a gun and shooting at him, to kill. To kill Luka. But none of it showed on her face, she made sure. Pushing it away, she deposited the pants as well on the floor.
She never thought about him being naked. Only getting him warm mattered, only making sure he didn't take a turn for the worse. She tucked a third blanket in and around his waist and legs once he was settled again. He rolled back onto his side as he lost the rest of his clothing, hunching the blanket over his shoulders as he shivered under it.
Suddenly he sat up, his face panicked. "Jasna..." he gasped, making the blankets fall in his efforts.
Startled, she grabbed his shoulders. "Luka....lie down. What.." As weak as he was, he pushed against her hands with unusual force. "Luka, please, you have to rest, get warm.."
"No...I have to have it..." In his panic, his words came in Croatian, and she struggled to comprehend.
"Have what?" Her eyes searched his, not understanding, until she realized what it was. "The picture..." Gasping, she felt ice crawl down her spine. Was it lost out in the rain? "Where did you leave it, Luka?" Her words were urgent, trying to get him to look at her, instead of panicking.
"It's all I have..." He kept his words in his native tongue, as he started to move his legs from the bed to find it. He was unaware of the strain on the bandages.
"No, Luka.....stay here," she commanded, trying to sound firm. "I'll go get it. Just tell me where it is."
He flicked his eyes from her to his pants. "My pocket....oh God... let it be there..." His words came in the rush of irrational thought, and his English was gone as they did.
She grabbed the pants from the floor, delving her hands into the pockets. His eyes burned into her, locked on her actions. Having no luck with the first one, she pulled her hand out and searched the second pocket, and withdrew the picture, wilted some at the corners with the rain. "Here..... here it is, Luka." His relief was immediate, as if she had found something much more valuable. She placed it in his hands, gently, curling his fingers around it like she might do to a child with a cherished toy. "See....it's fine." He swallowed as his eyes settled on it, confirming it was true. He touched each of the faces with his finger before giving in and laying back again. Sighing with her own relief, she replaced the blankets around his legs carefully. He laid it on the cot beside him, blotting it with the corner of the blanket. Exhausted, she laid her head on the cot, closing her eyes for a moment.
It took him a moment to realize she was still there, then he shifted his eyes to her. "You need to get dry..." He slid back into English, though his voice was little more then a croak now.
For a long moment, it seemed like she had fallen asleep, then she opened her eyes slowly. "Hmm?"
His own shivering was still evident as he spoke again, chattering teeth breaking his words. "You need to get dry."
She lifted her head, having forgotten about her clothes still being soaked. "I didn't even notice," she murmured, rising to her feet unsteadily. She moved to the trunk at the foot of the cot, opening it and drawing out some of her clothes. Wincing, she pulled the wet shirt over her head, depositing it on the ground, and turned her back a little as she got rid of the bra as well, then used a blanket to dry herself. She kept one of her eyes on him, over her shoulder, but he let his eyes close as she dressed, giving her a sense of privacy in the small tent.
Only a cough breaking the moment's silence. She did the same with her jeans, and panties, then changed into dry clothes, still keeping the blanket pulled tightly around her. Like him, she still shivered, and sneezed once. Once her clothes were on, she moved over and sat on the floor next to the cot, rocking back and forth a little. Her hair was still wet, and left damp imprints on the blanket. Even in the dry clothes, she felt cold seep up through the ground and into her. No doubt it would be better on the cot, but she didn't want to move even the few feet away from him. What if he panicked again? What if he needed her? What...if...
He dozed fitfully...the dreams of his ordeal still too fresh for him to sleep long...when he came awake it was with the cry of interrupted anguish. She slept with her head propped against the edge of the cot, and woke when he cried out. Quickly, she put her hand on his exposed arm, reassuringly. His eyes snapped open with the touch...momentary confusion registering at the unfamiliar surroundings. "Ssh... you're safe, Luka. It's me, Claire.."
He released a shuddered breath with realization...then relaxed.
"Go back to sleep." She stifled a yawn, her eyes tired. Gently, she readjusted the blankets with one hand, making sure he was covered.
He offered a ragged cough in response..."You should go to bed..." His voice had deepened even more with sleep.
She chuckled, drawing her own blanket closer around herself. "I was sleeping, too. I'm fine right here."
"You sure?" He asked the question with the drowsiness of sleep already calling him.
"Mmm. Rest now, Luka."
He offered another run of coughs before touching the picture at his head.."'kay..."
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 15, 2009 2:32:02 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 6/38
by JD and Mel
William knew it was no longer raining, but he wiped at his eyes again, just to be sure. Yes, this was his tent. He controlled the impulse to step outside and double check. That was his foot locker, his jacket hung up. His other shoes on the floor. His daughter...on the floor. Asleep.
And in her cot, a tall, thin, wheezing form.
William sighed, feeling as if he'd stepped into a version of Goldilocks and the three bears. There was a strange man sleeping in his daughter's cot. Granted, he had long ago come to terms with the idea that his daughter would develop romantic relationships, and that he'd see the evidence of that eventually. Even so, she'd always been circumspect, never giving him much to worry himself over.
Until now.
To be fair, it wasn't completely damning. She was asleep on the floor, and still dressed as well. Her shoes were missing, as he saw a sock-clad foot sticking out from under her blanket. On the bed, however, the unknown man had a length of arm visible, and it made William wonder. Without hesitation, he went over and flicked back the top half of the blanket covering him. He was far from worried about the man's reaction should he wake...after all, he was the intruder in William's tent.
Any ideas he had about the man being his daughter's guest fled once he drew the blanket back. He was easily twenty pounds underweight, with multiple fresh cuts and bruises over his torso. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as if his lungs weren't operating at their best. William recognized the signs of sickness on sight. The man's long, thick hair fell over his eyes, but William could discern the flickering of his eyes under the lids, rapid and strained. In deep sleep, dreaming most likely.
Damnit, he was a patient. He didn't know from where, or how Claire ended up with him in her cot, but.....out of curiousity, he lifted the blanket a little further. It exposed just more thinly-stretched skin.
To hell with this. He was waking up his daughter and getting some answers. Now.
Someone was shaking her shoulder. "Jus' little longer," Claire mumbled in protest at first, not opening her eyes. Although the cold of the ground was registering in her cramped legs, the rest of her was fairly warm, curled in the blanket. She fisted her hands on the material, drawing it closer to her shoulder.
Abruptly, it was yanked away from her, and the sudden cold made her blink, disoriented. Her father stood over her, his face set in a deep frown, his eyes glittering the the dark. Claire looked up at him, and swallowed convulsively.
"Ah...Poppa.." she started, scrambling for words.
William tossed the blanket to his cot. "Would you care to stand up and explain what I am seeing here?" he said, deceptively mild and quiet. His eyes pointedly went to the still-sleeping Luka, on her cot, then back to where she sat on the floor.
"Ah....of course," she said, her heart hammering as she struggled to her feet. William stalked to the tent flap and held it open for her, and she stepped out into the night air. It was no longer raining, but the cold wetness still radiated from the ground. She wrapped her arms around herself, still chilled from rescuing Luka in the storm.
"There is a strange man in your cot," William said, his words clipped. "A strange...naked...man."
"Poppa, I can explain-"
"This had better be good, Tsigi-lili," he snapped.
Claire winced. He only used her given Indian name when he was highly upset with her. "It's Luka," she started, shivering.
A little bit of comprehension entered William's eyes. "The refugee you were telling me about? He's a widower, you said...."
She nodded, quickly. "Yes, that's right. I had been visiting him, I told you. He lost his wife and his two children."
"And now he's naked and in your cot," William reminded her, ungently, as he crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed unconcerned with her shivering as he continued to glower at her.
"I...it's....uh...complicated," she said, realizing the hesitation only made it look worse. "Okay, I'm sorry...let me just tell you. He was being interrogated today." She clenched her jaw a moment to stop the chattering. "After it was over, he went missing. Ange-- I mean, Dr. Forquet said he didn't return to the med tent, and she was getting worried. She was sending out the volunteers to look for him."
William listened, but long experience with his daughter made him seize upon her words. "Did Dr. Forquet ask you to go look for him?"
"No," she admitted, cringing a little. "But I was already out looking for other patients....so I kept going. I found him, way out past the border, alongside the wire fence. He was soaked through," she added, worriedly. "You know he was just recovering from pneumonia."
"Which is why he should be at the med tent right now," he said, harshly. "You don't keep people like pets, Tsigi-lili-"
"He didn't want to go back," she interrupted him, and watched his face grow darker a moment. "Look, I'm not just playing around here," she finally snapped, feeling a little fire get into her at the dressing down. "He was traumatized by the questioning, and he was terrified the inquisitors would be there, waiting for him when he got back." She continued to shiver, but she ignored it. "I couldn't make him go....but he needed to get out of the rain before he died, Poppa!"
William unclenched his jaw, taking a short breath. "I understand that, but you are not his doctor, and keeping him in our tent was not a decision for you to make."
I had one chance to get him out of the rain, and probably save his life, and I took it," she insisted. "And yes, I had to get the wet clothes off him, to keep him from getting a worse chill. I was going to come find you...I just fell alseep."
Dr. Forquet is going to call for you to leave the camp, Tsigi-lili," he said, harshly, pointing a finger at her. "The only thing saving you right now, after basically abducting a patient, is that you did it for his health, and that I am here to treat him. If she had found him here before I did, rest assured you would be on a plane by morning. This is not a game. You are here to learn...not to be foolish and idiotic!"
Claire set her jaw, but swallowed the defensive words she wanted to say. "I'll tell Dr. Forquet what I did, and I'll apologize," she said, with a long breath. "But I think I did the right thing. He was going to die, out there, because he didn't want to go back to the main tent. He's an adult....he had made his decision to just stay out there until it was over." She was getting emotional, and she knew that would damage her case with her father, so she set her lips in a tight, pressed line.
William regarded her a long moment. "I'm going to take a quick look at him, then go tell Dr. Forquet he is here, so she can stop worrying. In the meantime, I want you to gather together a few of your things. You will be staying elsewhere while Luka is being treated in our tent. Despite the fact that he is gravely ill, it does not do for you to sleep in the same tent as him, without supervision." His tone was even, and brooked no argument.
Claire nodded meekly, following him back into the tent. She was inwardly cheered that he'd started calling Luka by his name, instead of just 'that patient'. She perched on the edge of her father's cot as he silently checked on Luka's breathing and his pulse. After a few moments, she said, very low, "You had wanted to meet him, Poppa. You believed he might be... different."
William did not spare her a look. "That does not excuse it, Claire." He set his scope to his ears, listening to Luka's lungs, careful not to disturb him from his deep sleep.
At least he was back to using her common name, she thought, relaxing some. "Because of how he lost his wife." Her voice got lower. "Just like with Momma."
William rose to his feet, sliding the scope back around his neck. "Yes, I did. But this is not the time nor place. Right now, my priority is going to be saving his life."
Her breath left her. "Is it...that bad?" she whispered.
"He's got a lot of excessive fluid in his lungs, and I don't like the sounds. I believe he may have a fever, but it's not spiked very far yet. At least his rhythm is regular." He rubbed at his chin. "But...pneumonia is the most pervasive thing, in these camps. Sometimes I think I lose more patients to that than to any actual fighting." Before she could say anything more, he barked, "Stay here, pack your things. I need to speak with Dr. Forquet." With that, he left the tent, with her to watch Luka with increasing worry.
Although it was dark, William picked his way with ease through the darkened tents, knowing the path from memory. His uncharacteristic anger with his daughter had given way to deep-seated concern, and introspective questioning. Ever since she had mentioned Luka to him, he had felt this....drive to find and talk to the man. Was it something more than how he lost his wife? Only a day or so ago, he'd found out that Luka had been attending medical school in Vukovar. So, he was also studying to become a doctor. And the way Claire described him, and her efforts to help him..
Perhaps he saw a little of himself in the younger, wounded man. It had been years now since his wife Amelia had died in that accident, back when he was so young. And Claire too....just a child. It felt as if the gifts he'd been given in his wife and daughter were just as suddenly yanked away from him. When Claire told him about the widower struggling with pneumonia, William had felt those same dark emotions in a way he hadn't in years.
He couldn't ignore the signs. Something, or someone, was telling him that this Luka was crucial, that developing a rapport with him was beyond important, but necessary. Claire had brought him to the tent, violating several rules she was very aware of, and he knew Claire well enough to know she wasn't the rebellious sort. He was going to use a little damage control on the situation to keep his daughter's reputation intact, both as a medical student and as a woman, but he also knew what he was going to do. He was going to call in a little favor with Angelique and get her to agree to leave Luka recovering in his tent for now.
He couldn't put his finger on the moment he'd made the decision. At the same time, he wasn't truly interested in taking over the case fully from Angelique. She was more than welcome to come and go in the tent. But he'd still have plenty of time to spend with Luka...one on one. Time to explore this unsettling situation, and figure out if he was here to help Luka...or Luka was to help him.
To be continued....
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 16, 2009 4:16:40 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 7/38
by JD and Mel
Luka came awake not long after dawn, a hoarse coughing breaking the silence of the tent. Claire was no where to be seen, although her blanket was pooled on the ground. Sunlight was trickling in through the tent flap, which was ajar. There was a man bending over by the other cot, seemingly divesting himself of his coat and a bag, setting it on the bed. He was tall, and his build was boxy but not overmuscled. His black hair was shot through liberally with gray, and it was lengthy, pulled back in a thin ponytail that draped down his back. His demeanor was calm and unruffled, and his skin was a deep tan. Coupled with his almond eyes, it was easy to guess he was of some Native American ethnicity. He glanced over at Luka as he came awake. "Good morning," he said mildly.
"Claire?" Her name came as a quiet croak.
The tall man smiled, straightening. "She'll be back soon enough, I'm sure. One of the other doctors is quite busy giving her a heavy-duty lecture." The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled with his smile, making his age seems somewhere in his late 40s. He picked up a cup from the nearby side table and filled it with water from a canteen. "You need a drink first, Luka."
He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Angelique?"
The man nodded. "Like I said, she'll be done with Claire soon, I imagine." He moved over, offering the cup. "She can get rather hot and bothered. Dr. Forquet, I mean."
He nodded as he took the cup. "Thank you..." He struggled for his voice before taking a drink.
He picked up his stethoscope from the table. "I'm William, by the way. Claire's father." He slid the instrument around his neck. "Do you mind if I..?" he asked, holding up the end of it. "If you want to wait for Angelique, you can." Luka shook his head, offering the cup back before he forced himself to sit. The exertion brought a brief coughing jag from him, and he covered his mouth as he waited for it to ease.
William drew over a stool from the foot of his own cot, and settled onto it by the bed where Luka sat. He adjusted the instrument in his ears and leaned forward to place it on Luka's back. "You had everyone worried," he said, conversationally, as he listened. His free hand set the cup aside. William could see that the younger man was thinner then he should be,evidence of tight rations and the ordeal of fleeing Vukovar. Bruises and scrapes were visible from his escape, but he merely propped his hands on each side of the cot and said nothing.
He moved the scope to different points on Luka's back, more concerned with his lungs than anything else. "But you are back now, and that is all that matters, I'd say." He frowned slightly with concentration, then moved the scope to Luka's chest, trying to pinpoint a few sounds. There....thick, mucus sounds.
"Doesn't matter..." He offered the remark quietly.
"What doesn't matter?" William asked, his voice still very mild. He leaned back, somewhat satisfied, and took the instrument off, placing it around his neck reflexively.
Luka cleared his throat again in preparation of answering. "Where I am."
William chuckled, scooting back a little on the stool. "Well, young man, where you are right now is a hot point of contention among at least two people around here." He lifted his hands, slender knotty fingers settling onto Luka's shoulder. "Here, I need to check your glands," he said, indicating he needed to touch Luka's neck. He drew a rough breath then nodded his consent, submitting to the exam with no enthusiasm. William's hands were quick and practiced, moving over the skin and prodding the glands with painless ease, before he dropped his fingers. "Decent," he said. "How is your leg doing?" He got a shrug for an answer. Well, he'd had worse. "May I see?"
Luka drew a wheezing breath then pulled the blanket aside to reveal it. A thigh bandage covered the bulletwounds and another around his still swollen knee. He leaned back.. propping himself on his forearms. "Interesting," William murmured, touching the bandage. "I would have thought Claire would have the foresight to change the dressing last night, after it got wet." Alright, so he was fishing for information. After all, he was still mentally adjusting to the fact that his daughter had brought this particular patient here. But Luka remained silent, and he sighed. "I'm not a big fan of seepage, but it's not necessarily a bad thing in this case. It can wait until you get back to the medical tent, I think."
"If you hand me my clothes...I can go." He puctuated his words words with more coughing.
William looked back up at him, assessing. "Claire tells meyou were studying to be a doctor." He acted oblivious to the request.
"Yes..."
He smiled a little at that. "Noble profession, but I suppose it's easy for me to say that." Luka barely registered the words, sat back up and reached over to lift his leg off the bed as a start to getting dressed. "Why didn't you want to go to the medical tent last night, Luka?" William's voice was low, but serious.
That stopped him. Picking instead at the bandage on his thigh, he started, "I didn't want to answer any more questions..." He struggled for the words.
William nodded, with a heavy sigh. "I heard the authorities were doing more questioning." He paused. "But you came here?"
He shook his head. "I left the camp...Claire brought me here."
"So you could avoid the authorities?"
He cleared his throat again, unable or unwilling to meet William's eyes. "Yes."
William crossed his arms, contemplating. "Do you trust Claire, then?" Luka looked to him at the question..but didn't immediately answer. William merely raised an eyebrow. The hesitation alone spoke volumes. "You can say no, if you want to. I'm not asking as her father."
His words came very quietly. "She doesn't make me relive it.."
"I see." He regarded the younger man for a long moment, then asked, "Do you want her to continue coming around, or does it not matter to you either way? Again, you can be honest." Luka had dropped his eyes back to the bandage... pulling at a loose thread along the edge of it. Again, that hesitation. William watched him, shrewdly. "Well, at least you seem to be somewhat close to Angelique, yes?"
"They can't understand that I have no reason to live..." William could see Luka surprised even himself as the words came out before he realized it.
"You're right," William admitted. "They can't, and they won't leave it alone. Not until you find some reason to. But that's not what I am asking about. Angelique, right now, would prefer that Claire not visit you for the time being."
He shifted his focus to William. He didn't seem to understand the leap. "Because she brought me here?"
William watched him, pondering his words. "Think about it, Luka. You were a medical student once. What would have happened if another med student had interfered with a resident doctor's patient, going so far as to not bring him to medical attention immediately?"
"It was my decision," Luka protested. He stopped to give into a coughing bout. "I told her I didn't want to go back."
"Yet you could have been in very mortal danger, with your lungs in the shape they are. Claire isn't a doctor. She may be someday, but right now she isn't." William's voice was firm and unrelenting. If Claire was right, Luka needed to start thinking about something other than his grief. And hopefully, this would tap into his analytical self.
"It's my choice...." Luka repeated, weakly.
"As long as your care falls under Angelique's hands, it was perhaps your choice but not Claire's." William waited to see if the statement would have a response.
Luka coughed again, then cleared his throat. " I left the camp last night...if not for her I don't know if I would have come back."
William nodded, very slowly. "Is that so?" That he had admitted Claire had saved his life, it meant he had been at least somewhat aware of the danger.
"Yes." He made the admission even quieter then his previous words.
"Well, the fact remains that though she may have saved your life, the others also think she put it back in danger by bringing you here. But," William added, mildly, "I can speak with Angelique, let her know the circumstances."
"I couldn't go back there last night, I couldn't see them again." Luka leaned forward as a particularly intense coughing jag hit him.
The older man put his hand on Luka's shoulder as the coughing took him over. "And you indeed would have died had you stayed outside last night."
"That's what I was hoping for..." His confession came in a whispered wheeze.
William didn't hesitate. "Then why did you let her bring you back here, Luka?" he asked, low and in his ear.
"I don't know."
"I think you need to examine that." He leaned back up. He had planted the seed, he knew that. Somewhere, deep inside him, Luka wanted, at least a tiny bit, to live. Maybe where he couldn't recognize it, but it was there.
The younger man rubbed a hand across his face, and drew a shuddered breath. "I don't know what to do anymore....I keep hoping I'll just go to sleep and not wake up....but I always do."
Quietly, William said,"There's not much you can do right now, and I suspect that's the worst of it. The feeling of helplessness. Even unable to help yourself." He looked at Luka, his black eyes somber. "I do understand that, at least." For the first time in many years, he felt the stirrings of an unusual sympathy. Something about this particular refugee made William feel more strongly that he was meant to meet him. That perhaps his own experiences could benefit another person who was suffering. Luka rubbed his eyes again, trying to keep a fragile hold on his emotions. William recognized the signs as if he were reading his own body language. "Even dying gets difficult, when it seems like the simplest thing. Isn't that it, Luka?"
The Croatian leaned forward, dropping his head in his palms, a slight tremble to his shoulders. William knew that right now, in this moment, he had to tread carefully, speak with well-chosen words. His voice had gotten quiet, but underneath it thrummed a gentle strength. He knew what the younger man was feeling, the edge he was walking along. "It's a precipice, Luka, that you need to back away from. You don't need to look forward to do that. You don't need to look to the future to move away from that leap. Because if you haven't taken it by now, you aren't going to. You have to believe me on this...I've been there as well. You don't need to want to live....you have to want not to die first."
The tremble gained strength as Luka fought to hold on to himself. "I miss them so much...and I can't help thinking I should be with them..." He squeezed his eyes shut against approaching tears.
William placed his hand on Luka's shoulder, the gesture fatherly. "It's your instincts telling you that, Luka. Like any man has for his family. We're supposed to protect them, we're taught. And when we can't, it seems like the worst failure. But it's only failure if we chose not to protect them in the first place."
"I should have been able to save them...I wasn't strong enough..."
"Do you think it was your strength that worked against you.... or was it time?" He couldn't help but wonder what things might have been like for him had someone said these same things to him, nearly fifteen years before.
"If I hadn't been so tired...if...if I could have kept breathing for my daughter..." Luka dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.
His hand tightened just a little on Luka's thin shoulder. It felt like lancing a boil, knowing he was causing intense pain, bringing something to the surface, but at the same time needing to bring about healing. "Time, Luka. It is one of those things man must accept is out of his control. You'll see in time...peace comes in accepting that the world is beyond our control, beyond our strength to bend it to our will. We cannot force things to be the way we want them to be."
Luka forced himself to look up and to him. Pain was clearly etched in his face, like lines of grief. "I let her die. They both died because I couldn't save them."
"You don't allow things to die, Luka. They just do." William's tone was not sad, but accepting. Age did that to a man, made him accept things. Luka was too young to have learned that lesson. "They die because it's the way of the world. People die because they must. It's mortality....none of us are beyond it."
"Then why can't I?" He dropped his fist to the bulletwound as if he somehow needed to feel the pain to know he could feel anything.
"You will, just not right now. None of us can say when we are going to die, Luka. No one in your family decided that the day they died was going to be their day, no more than you can say today is yours, or tomorrow. Stop courting death, Luka," he advised. "He won't come for you until it's time." Luka leaned forward again, dropping his head in his hands..his shoulders rocking. "Nothing you can do or say will convince Death to take you before it's time for you to go." He moved to the cot, slipping his arm around Luka's shoulders, comforting. "When you lose someone you love when it seems so...preventable...it can destroy you."
He felt the panic rise in the man's shoulders, like a stalled breath. When he raised his eyes to William's full of despair and pain, William returned his look, accepting and without pity. "You'll always miss them, Luka. I won't lie to you. But you have to accept that it's going to be that way." He brought his hand to Luka's hair, so he could pull the younger man against his shoulder, for the support.
He didn't resist the touch and as he leaned against him, the walls caved. When the tears came, they broke in choked breaths that shook his body. William held him tightly, his hand moving reassuringly over Luka's back, his cheek resting against his hair. His demeanor exuded understanding, born of his years. And because he understood. Because he alone knew what it was like to watch a woman die whom he had loved, and know there was nothing he could do about it. Luka grabbed onto his shirt as if that was the only way he could maintain any connection to where he was. William continued to absorb the emotions, being the rock he knew Luka needed just then. "Grieve for them, Luka. You always will. But dying isn't any more a cure for that than anything else is."
He gave into his grief until exhaustion called to him, and he seemed to be fighting for every breath he took. Even then, he refused to release his hold. Perhaps fear he would be swallowed by the intensity of the pent-up emotions. William obligingly held him until he gave any indication of letting go on his own. "All I can tell you is that it fades, some, over time. Time is all. Give in to it, Luka. It governs us, not the other way around."
It was finally the need for sleep which prompted him to loosen his hold.."I''m tired..." The words came weakly...his voice almost non-existant.
"I know." William slowly moved his arm so Luka could lay back again on the cot. "I expect you'll be that way for a long time...."
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 17, 2009 4:02:34 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 8/38
by JD and Mel
Luka's breathing had settled into a raspy wheeze and at least for now his sleep seemed uninterrupted by the nightmares. Strangely enough, he did not dream either, for this brief sleep, but his body was attuned to each movement in the room that affected his cot. Once or twice, a grip on his wrist or pressure on his arm wormed it's way into his conciousness. He stirred at the attentions..soft moans in protest but not enough that he fully woke. As he drew closer to waking, he became aware of the soft sound of two voices in minor argument, obviously attempting to be quiet. As their discussion persisted he finally opened his eyes. Two figures were silhouetted by afternoon light in the tent. William stood, with his arms loosely crossed, facing Angelique, who looked equally stubborn. He shifted slightly..emitting a soft groan as he jostled the IV in his hand...IV? He hadn't had one when he'd gone to sleep...the puzzle at how it had come to be was still out of reach. William merely turned his head in Luka's direction, but Angelique dropped her pose and moved over to his side, perching on the edge of the bed. "Good afternoon, Luka," she said, with a quiet smile. Her hands took his a moment, smoothing the tape over the IV site. He cleared his throat..or tried to only to find that it was barely there. "Sorry about...not going back...last night." Her smile faltered slightly, but she merely patted his hand. "You're fine now, that's all that matters." "Not her fault..." He raised up as he coughed...then lay back again. Angelique's mouth tightened, briefly, into a thin line, but she sighed, and it relaxed into a smile. "You should be resting, Luka. You're rather far from recovered right now, even if you are on the path, sweetie." He nodded then followed it with another cough.. "If you really wish it, you can stay here with Dr. Northstar. He's willing to keep an eye on you." "Only until they leave, don't want to talk to them anymore..." He fought to get what he needed to say out in as few words as possible. She rubbed her fingers over his hand, affectionately. "Very well. We will say you are....how they say it, AWOL? Maybe that we sent you somewhere else for a little while, yes?" He nodded...letting another wave of coughing roll over him before he shifted to his side in hopes of finding some relief. "I'll be sure to let you and William know when they have gone, mon ami." He nodded again...the battle was lost, even as his eyes slid closed sleep was already reclaiming him. His breathing as he slept remained ragged..and though he never fully woke, what sleep he was getting was far from restful. The wheeze of struggled breathing mixed with hoarse coughing as his lungs filled. At some point the smell of food drifted through the tent, accompanied by the occassional footfall as William moved about. It was finally one of the extended coughing spells that roused him fully...seeming to tear into him. He raised himself up slightly on one arm as he fought to catch a breath. William moved over, drawing up his stool once more. "Evening, Luka," he said, automatically pulling his stethoscope from his neck. "How late..is it?" He asked the question in a hoarse whisper. "Hmm, about 8 or so, I would guess." There was what looked like a hotplate set on the floor by Luka's bed, and it held a pot of water that was boiling, setting steam to rise right by his head. He forced himself to sit as the man settled next to the bed. William placed the scope on Luka's back, listening intently, although his expression didn't give away anything he was thinking. "You needed the sleep....I wouldn't worry about the time." "Claire's not here?" He cast his eyes around the tent. William flicked his eyes up a moment. "No....she's been given some duties on the other side of camp, so we arranged for her to sleep in a tent over there as well." "Because of me?" He again punctuated the words with several deep coughs. "Yes and no," William said, mildly, as he switched the scope to his chest, again trying to isolate a few of the worst sounds. "This tent doesn't sleep three very well. But Angelique also thought she needed a change of environment." William smiled once. "Claire didn't agree, but then, she usually doesn't." "She all right?" He looked up, removing the scope and replacing it around his neck. "Claire?" Luka drew a couple of breaths to try and fill his lungs only to cough again at the effort, then nodded at the question. "I may need to put you on some oxygen tonight." William scooted the stool away a little. "She's got a mild cold, but otherwise, I'm not worried." "It's not that bad..." He couldn't stop the cough that followed. William chuckled. "Until you finish medical school, young man, let me decide that. We'll play it by ear tonight, though. I'm not going to make you do it. We're scarce on tanks right now anyway." "I think that's done..." He remained sitting, as if that made his finding his breath easier. William reached for two cups on the small table, one with water, and held it out to him. "I don't see why it would have to be done already. You've done the hard part, the initial tests." He took the cup...letting the liquid cool his raw throat. "I can't afford to go back." He left unsaid that there was nowhere to go back to. "I doubt many can, at this point," William agreed, handing over the second cup, which held two capsules. "I'm starting you on some antiviral antibiotics tonight. Anyway, the fact remains that doctors are needed here, which makes it much more likely for regional schools to accept unpaid students." He glanced into the cup then to the man before lifting his hand to take them and popping them in his mouth, then followed them with a drink of water. "From my experience, they structure it as a work-for-learn program. Not a bad idea at all." Luka nodded, then took a final drink before handing the cup back. William took the cups, setting them both on the table again. "Mind you, it'll be a while before you are strong enough." He stood, moving over to the far, larger table mostly obstructed in the corner of the tent, and brought back a bowl. "Here...you slept through lunch, but dinner is still getable." He leaned back again as the man walked away, only to roll to the side as that seemed to make his breathing worse. "I'm not hungry...just tired." "I guessed your appetite wasn't too strong. However, you'll need the liquids to help loosen up your chest some." He continued to offer the bowl, having a second one for himself in his other hand. He looked at him...gauging how far he could go then forced himself to sit up again. "Here, hold this," he placed the bowl in Luka's hands, then set his own down for a moment, taking up a bedroll from the other cot to place behind Luka's back. He took the bowl...his hands a bit unsteady "There. Not so bad sitting up now." He resettled back on the stool, picking up his own bowl. The spoons rested just inside, in the stew. He leaned back against the roll...then dropped his eyes to the bowl again before picking the spoon up and stirring it . William took a spoonful of it, seemingly unconcerned with Luka's lack of enthusiam, and then said, "I hope you don't mind that Claire told me a lot about you." He lifted his eyes..."What did she say?" The older man's eyes crinkled a little at the corners, giving away his smile although he was eating. "That you didn't like to eat." He released a breath and ladled some of the broth on the spoon and brought it to his mouth...in concession to the comment. William continued to eat, unpeturbed. "Glad to see you're willing to prove her wrong, for once." "What else did she say?" William shrugged. "What did you tell her?" He raised his eyes again...then dropped them to the bowl as he forced himself to take another bite. Laying the spoon down he touched the IV..."You did this when I was asleep." The older man nodded. "Does that bother you?" He simply shrugged. "You were sleeping rather heavily. It seemed counterproductive to wake you." Luka seemed to accept the answer and picked the spoon up...taking a bit more of the broth before giving up on it. "Claire told me some about your family," William admitted, still quietly eating the rest of his stew. Luka dropped his eyes to the bowl at the mention of his family and released a shaky breath. "I doubt she's mentioned it to anyone else, so I hope you don't think too poorly of her for it." "It's in the file now.." "That's hardly common knowledge." Luka turned his head to locate the picture and picked it up... swiping his tongue across his lips before he handed it across to him. "My wife and daughter..." William set the spoon in his bowl, and took the picture. "Danijela and Jasna, right?" "Yes..." Almost sadly he added. "I don't have one of my son." He set his bowl down, studying the picture, then reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. Flipping open the folds, he handed it over to Luka, opened to a picture of a young woman, with light brown hair and green eyes. "My wife. It's been fifteen years, so the picture is a little worn out." He took the wallet as it was handed to him..dropping his eyes to the picture. "Does it hurt any less?" He asked the question too softly. "In a way," he said. "Not really less, just differently. Rather like a sore spot, in my heart." He seemed to accept that and handed the picture back with a sigh. "She was in an accident...my wife, I mean." "I'm sorry.." He offered the words automatically...knowing they weren't enough from experience. He made no attempt to eat anything else from the bowl he held...though his eyes had dropped to it again. William nodded. "No need for sympathy. It's been long enough, and speaking of it doesn't bother me as much anymore. But I think perhaps Claire thought I could understand what you were going through." "All my training and I couldn't save any of them..." He made the comment so quietly he might have been offering it for himself. William sighed. "I do know, Luka. It seems like you know all the answers, you can see everything that is wrong with them as it happens, but none of your solutions work the way they should. As if just knowing what to do was enough to stop them from dying." He raised one hand to press the heel into his eyes..then swallowed as if that would somehow stop the grief from finding him again. "I thought I had saved my wife, but there was much more to her injuries than I knew at the time," William added. He cleared his throat..then gave into a cough as he let his words sink in..."I keep seeing it...over and over...if I had done things differently..." He let the thought go unfinished. "Try eating a bit more, Luka," William said, setting the wallet picture back in his lap, after another look at it. "I know that path, the one you keep wandering down. It's full of a million possibilities... but that's all they are, I'm afraid." "I thought I could do this without them...I tried...but I don't think I can anymore..." He kept his eyes on the bowl but still made no move to eat any more. "You are doing it already, Luka. Living. It's nothing more than waking, moving, feeling." His dark eyes were serious, fathomless. "There isn't any trying to it. Life is something your body takes care of even when your mind is still coming to grips." He raised his eyes to him as his mind prossessed the words. His breathing still carried the wheeze of his congested lungs...and his chest seemed to strain as it rose and fell with each breath. "Your body is created for this purpose, to continue on when your soul cannot. That is what it is for. It's to house your spirit until it heals." "I don't believe in God anymore..." He voiced the admission quietly as if confessing something akin to murder. The older man smiled slightly. "You don't have to believe in Him to know that what I am saying is true. And thankfully, I don't think He's given up on you." He raised his hand to wipe his eyes again. "Like he did my family. I begged him to save them..." He let his head drop again...the tremble there in his shoulders as he tried not to lose his hold on things. "He saved their souls, Luka, even if He did not save their bodies. It is the one saving grace we have in death." He looked at the bowl...his breath seeming to be coming a little rougher as he fought not to give into the grief again..."Is it?" He placed his hand on Luka's shoulder, rubbing with his knotted fingers. "Those we love will die, my friend. It is the price of life, and it's what makes it worthwhile, to know that it is often fleeting. We cannot live without death." He paused. "Light without shadows is blindness." He rocked slightly under his hand....the tears he'd fought so hard to hold back wetting his cheeks...though they came without the choked sobs he'd endured earlier. "You cannot deny it, Luka. But accepting it will take a long time." He raised his uninjured knee...then rested his forehead against it..as he gave into the grief of his loss...and the effect of the man's words. William leaned forward so he could press his own forehead against Luka's head, to stay connected to him while he grieved. As he felt the man against him he couldnt help but turn into him... desperate for the comfort so needed so badly in those moments. William moved to the edge of the cot so he could wrap his arms around Luka like he might to a child, drawing him closer. He went willingly into the mans arms as he would have his own father..his fingers wrapping themself in the fabric of his shirt. With his right hand, he deftly pulled the bowl from Luka's lap and set it back on the seat of the vacated stool, then replaced his arm around him. He had no idea how long the tears fell...before he could once again force himself to accept that he was alone...and he choked back breaths to calm himself. William held him until he was quiet, calm again. He drew a shuddered breath before trusting himself to pull away and sit back again.."I'm sorry.." He sniffed back remaining tears. "You shouldn't be sorry, Luka. I wish I could tell you that was the last time that would happen, but it won't be." He moved back but not off the cot. Luka wiped the wetness from his face even as he gave into a round of coughing that tore at his lungs. William handed the cup of water to him again. "But it gets easier?" He asked in hoarse expectation. He took the cup as he finished speaking...taking a drink then slowly swallowing. "Yes. It does." Luka nodded before taking another drink.."It hurts to breathe..." He finally admitted what he had known for sometime. "It's a little bit of everything," William said. "The pneumonia, the strain on your throat from the coughing....I would like to put you on oxygen later." He nodded his acceptance of the inevitable..."Angelique will want me back there if you do." "Not necessarily," William countered, his voice even. "There's one or two portables making the rounds, and I've already planted the seed in her mind." "Okay.." He was already feeling the pull to sleep again as he accepted the answer...and after battling another round of coughing closed his eyes. The older man leaned forward, taking the bedroll away so Luka could lay back again. He opened them almost as quickly.."You going to be here?" He nodded, matter-of-factly. "I'm in for the night, myself. One of my nurses has instructions to bring one by when it frees up." He nodded again and turned to his side...a momentary panic filling his face as he searched for the picture on the cot. "Luka," he said gently, holding out the small picture. "I hadn't let go of it yet." He flicked his eyes to him..the relief immediate as he took it from him. "I know how important it is to you." "It's all I have..."He offered the words quietly as he lay it on the cot and placed his hand over it, then closed his eyes again. "Don't worry," William murmured, drawing the blanket up on him. "You have Claire and myself now, too." His breathing slowed with the words and he let sleep take him with the comfort of them. To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 18, 2009 4:02:30 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 9/38
by JD and Mel
Luka's sleep had been restless due to the worsening of the congestion in his lungs...and was further marred by frequent coughing as he tried to relieve it. He had rolled onto his side, one arm across his ribs as if that might make them hurt less when he coughed. The other hand somehow maintained a hold on the small black and white picture even through it all. One of Angelique's assistants had wheeled in the portable oxygen machine, about the size of a suitcase, but less boxy, and William took it after thanking the man. He set it up next to Luka's cot. The older man got the oxygen ready to go, then put his hand on Luka's shoulder, gently.
At the touch he opened his eyes, though it took a minute before he seemed to connect with where he was. "You don't need to move too much," William said, low, as he perched on the edge of the cot. "We're going to do this nasal, so I just want to loop the tube between your neck and shoulder so it's not obstructed." "The oxygen...came?" He croaked the words out. "Hey, I'm high on the totem pole here," William said, with a low chuckle. "I got it." "Do I have to go back?" He raised his eyes to William's face with the question. The older man shook his head. "The only thing you need to do is go back to sleep. Can you lift your head a moment for me?" His chest rose and fell markedly as he fought the congestion in his lungs. "Yeah." He raised up slightly for him. William expertly threaded the clear tubing under Luka's head, then tucked it behind the curvature of his ear and settled the nasal prongs into his nose. "There." He fixed the other side as well, and leaned back. "You can relax now..." He adjusted the outflow on the machine for a moment. "Can I have some water?" Luka lay back as William finished. "Sure." William stood, moving over to a pitcher he had set aside, with the cup from the small table, and refilled it. He brought it back to the bedside, settling onto his now familiar stool. "Need something to lean against?" He reached behind him for the bedroll, in case Luka wanted to sit up a little longer. He failed to hold back another onslaught of coughing..and as it finished he nodded to the question. William waited patiently for the younger man to sit up, then pushed the bedroll behind his back. Pushing himself up on one arm, Luka leaned forward to allow him to put the roll behind him then lay back fully on his back. Holding out the cup, he said, "Feeling about the same?" The younger man nodded as he took the cup, then took a sip, swallowing it with more then a little difficulty as it moved down his raw throat. "Hmm. I was hoping the antivirals would have more of an effect, but they are iffy at best." "Why are you doing all this for me?" He asked the question quietly before taking another drink. William glanced at him, unfazed by the question. "Because I can. And I won't stand aside when someone could benefit from my help." "Why not someone else?" That he was confused as to why he was chosen was reflected in the tone of his question. William allowed a smile. "You're the one I found in my tent. Very undressed, I might add." He flushed slightly at the comment and dropped his eyes, then lifted them again. "Claire took my clothes." He offered the defense even more quietly. William laughed outright, a deep sound. "Did she, now?" His blush deepened. "She doesn't give up easily..." "Now, that's the truest thing I've heard from your lips, Luka," William admitted, his laugh subsiding to a smile. "But it's my own fault. I raised her, alone after her mother died." "I can dress now..." He straightened up a bit as he coughed then took another drink before he lay back. "Don't waste your time. You'll just be sleeping anyway." He looked around. "And I may be wrong, but I think she actually took your clothes." His eyes widened at that. "I don't have anything else." William idly rubbed at his chin. "I wouldn't worry. Knowing Claire, she's getting them cleaned, or replaced even." He seemed to accept that. "Angelique found those...not much around she said." William nodded. "Things come in all the time. I guess she thinks she can find something better." He nodded again with the explanation. "You worry about her here?" William stretched his legs out, considering. "I always worry about Claire," he said aftera moment. "Not just here. It's natural, as a father. And not just about her physical health. I worry about whether she's happy or not, if she's being treated well, if she is doing what she wants to do. I doubt that will ever stop. But Claire's rather independent. I think that was because of losing her mother so young. She had to grow up quickly. I can't do much except offer her advice. She likes to do things on her own." He swallowed as he listened, his eyes intently on the man as he spoke. "She was always a mature child, but after her mother....." He paused, recalling. "I worried quite a bit about her after that, but she seemed to be all right in time." "I don't know why it matters to her what happens to me....what makes me different then the others?" He ran his finger around the rim of the cup with the question. "That I cannot tell you, Luka. Claire has her own way of doing things, and she sees things others don't. If she's chosen to pay more attention to you, she probably believes you need her." He let his eyes drop at that. "I don't even know what I need..." "Then perhaps she's trying to help you figure that out." He drew a shuddered breath, not sure what to say. "There have to be others who need her more. " "Does it bother you to have her around?" William asked, speculatively. "I can speak with her....I know she can be tenacious..." He coughed, then took a moment more to choose his words. "I didn't want anyone around...but she kept coming anyway." William nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Kept pushing me to get out when I wanted.." He paused a moment then continued. "When I wanted to be left alone...she would just stare at me until I did what she wanted." William chuckled, at that. "She's a stubborn girl." He coughed yet again as the volume of words caught up with him. "I just don't know why she picked me..." He released a soft sigh with the comment. William nodded again. "I'll speak with her tomorrow. In the meantime, you have probably a few uninterrupted days before you need to return to the med tent. Why don't you go back to sleep? It's rather late." He nodded, offering the cup to him. "Keeping you up..." William took it, setting it aside. "Doctors keep odd hours. Doesn't wear me down." He coughed again laying the arm across his chest as he did. "Sleep, Luka. No one is going to bother you tonight." He removed the bedroll so he could lay fully on the cot. "'kay..." He rolled back to his side, the position seeming to suit him more then laying on his back. Then his hand found the picture before he let his eyes close.
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 19, 2009 7:40:19 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 10/38
by JD and Mel
Luka slept restlessly..the oxygen easing the congestion in his lungs but the coughing still interupting his sleep. There were low voices talking, the tones going up and down in the room. As the voices filtered in he stirred, a harsher cough signalling his waking. "You could have put a cold pack on it," he heard William say, almost exasperated. Thinking for a moment that the man was speaking to him, he rose up on one arm and looked around the tent. William was standing, leaning with one hand braced on the larger table, an expression of both relief and irritation on his face. Claire was sitting on the cot, one of her knees drawn up to her chest. There was a fresh bruise on her temple, right above her right eye, and the beginnings of a black eye. "If it was going to swell, it would have done so already, Poppa." "Did you even look to see if there were any available?" he asked, roughly, a tone Luka had never heard from him before. He looked between them, not speaking so as not to intrude, then lowered himself as he was hit with another coughing attack. Instead of answering, she looked over at Luka, realizing he was awake. "Luka....I'm sorry, I was trying to keep my voice down." He shook his head and pushed himself up again. "What happened?" His voice came off raspy. William cleared his throat, trying to be humorous although there was an undercurrent of anger to his voice. "Someone tried to shut Claire up in a more direct way. I could have told them that didn't work," he added. Luka's face seemed to pale a bit, as if his first reaction was that far worse had happened and he immediately swept his eyes over her for the signs. She ignored him, unfolding herself from the cot and taking William's spot on the stool. "Don't listen to him. It's nothing. Are you having fun sleeping in my cot?" she said, with a brief smile. He offered a cough as the preface to answering. "Not considering this fun." His eyes continued to study her as she settled closer. William hadn't moved from his spot, and there were lines of tension in him. "Don't bother him, Claire. What happened to your shirt, by the way?" Her jaw set stubbornly, and she didn't look at her dad, but instead at the oxygen tank. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm impressed you got the oxygen tank here." He caught the avoidance and his stomach plunged. "The Serbs stopped you?" His voice dropped even quieter then it had been. He was sure he was going to be sick as his mind latched onto the worse case scenario. "I saw you off this morning, Claire," William said, "and you were wearing the pink t-shirt that you liked." Claire sighed, twisting a little on the stool she could face them both. "Yes, they stopped us. So what? We all came back. With our supplies, I might add." Luka's breath caught, dread filling his face. "Did they?" The question was barely a whisper. She let out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest. Her father remained silent. "No," she said, after a moment, although she didn't say anything further. "But they tried..." It wasn't fully a question and his words held the shakiness of that half doubt. She didn't bother to confirm it, instead saying, "We got what we went there for." He felt the bile rise at what to him was the confirmation...then dropped his head as he waited for it to pass. William stayed by the table, seemingly using it for support. "I'm not going to ask if you thought it was worth it," he said, evenly, "because I know what you are going to say. But I'm going to ask you to stay in the camp for a while. No more little trips." He paused, looking at her. "Okay, Claire?" His voice was slightly stern, but behind it was a little bit of pleading. She merely nodded, stretching her legs out a moment. Luka lifted his head to look at her, but remained silent. He heard things in William's voice, read things in his body language that perhaps only he could, as another father, and wondered if Claire saw it too. "If it hadn't been me, it would have just been someone else we know, Poppa," she pointed out. "That's not the point, Claire," he responded, and his voice was getting back to normal. "I'm not interested in 'what ifs.'" "We're not worth it." Luka made the statement very quietly as he lay back. "Yes, you are," she said, with a mixture of irritation and worry. "Everyone here is." He shifted his eyes to her. "And your life is less important?" "It's not a matter of important, Luka," she answered, turning to face him. "People here are sick and injured, and can't get the help they need on their own. I can help them. And I'm going to." She glanced at her father, then back again. "That's why I came here. It's not right to do nothing when I can help." He looked at her then cleared his throat. "And getting yourself raped...or worse, will help?" She swallowed, but returned his look anyway. "Going into the city for supplies did help." He dragged his hand across his face in frustration before answering. "So it was worth the cost to you?" He found the response once more punctuated by the ragged cough as the congestion loosened. William finally pushed off the table, stiffly, going over to the smaller table and refilling Luka's glass with water. Claire dropped her eyes a moment as he moved behind her, then looked up again, meeting Luka's gaze. "Yes," she said, although it was very quiet. He had no reply to that and simply closed his eyes a moment to register his surrender in the battle. "What would you have me do, Luka?" she asked, almost begging. He opened his eyes at the question. "Go where it's safe...no one should have to live through this." "What about the people who cannot leave? What would happen to them?" "The same things that are happening to us now..." He dropped his eyes with the comment, then swallowed a half cough. William spoke up, his voice low and even. "That's enough, Claire. Leave him alone for now." He offered the water glass to Luka. He raised his eyes to William as he offered the cup, a tenseness to his jaw. "Thank you." Claire fell silent, pressing her lips together, watching the two of them. As Luka took the glass he raised it to his lips, then took a couple sips. "I brought some clothes," she offered, much quieter. "Thanks..." He turned to look on the side of the cot for his picture, assuring himself it was still there before looking back to her. She rose from the stool, going over to an overlooked military duffel by the door flap, then knelt to open and rummage through it. William took the vacated stool, pulling his stethoscope out. "It sounds like your breathing has improved some, Luka," he said. He nodded at the comment then sat up fully to allow the man to listen. "I think so.." "Good." He smiled, a little more worn than usual, and placed the instrument against his chest. "Now I get to say I-told-you-so to the others about the antivirals." Claire pulled out a pair of faded jeans and what looked like some sort of fleece long-sleeved jersey, and brought it over to the cot, placing them on the foot of it. Luka released the cough he'd suppressed, a still harsh hack. "The cough will be the last thing to go, of course," William responded. "It's going to persist as long as there is any fluid at all." He moved the scope from his chest to his back at different points. Luka looked at the clothes unable to withhold his surprise.."They look pretty new still." She managed a half-smile. "I really looked through everything. We weren't supposed to open anything until we got back, but I knew if I waited, someone else would have gotten everything worth having. A lot is black market," she admitted. "But that's why we went...they had the best to offer. The donated things don't always go very far." He coughed again, then nodded. "Big money in it..." "The way of the world," she said, and got a dark look from her father. "I'm sorry, Poppa, but they do have the best stuff." William shifted his eyes back to Luka, putting away the scope. "How about your throat?" "Kind of raw..." "Keep trying the broth for now?" He rubbed his hand across the two days beard growth...before nodding. "I'll try." "Claire." The older man said it as a near-command, and she obediently fetched the thermos and mug from the table, pouring the thick liquid into the mug before handing it to her father. William offered it to Luka, as Claire replaced the things on the table, screwing the top back on the thermos tightly. He handed back the water before taking the mug...then forced himself to take a swallow. He looked over at his daughter, as his hands set aside the cup of water. "You should have some too," he pointed out. "You haven't eaten since you all left this morning." Claire stood with her arms crossed, rubbing her hands along her upper arms as if she was cold. "I'm not hungry," she said, reflexively, then couldn't help her sheepish smile as she looked at Luka. He took a couple more sips before lowering the mug, a half smile as she repeated his too frequent excuse. "Um...I guess that excuse doesn't work around here," she admitted, color staining her cheeks. Absently, she ran her fingers over the bruise over her eye. "Not working for me.." He raised the mug and took another sip. William sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "The two of you," he said gruffly, "will be the death of me." Claire chuckled, relaxing her tense shoulders just a little. "I'll go get something for us from the mess, Poppa." As he lowered the mug again his face grew a bit more serious. "Is Angelique on you now to send me back?" William shook his head. "She stops by when you are asleep, and I can tell she is itching to double-check my work, but I've been able to fend her off so far." "I don't want to make trouble for you..I can go back." Claire went to step out of the tent, and William called to her, "Stop and get something for your eye, Claire." His voice brooked no arguement. She glanced back, tiredly. "I will." She let the flap fall down behind her, her footfalls dying away. Only when she was gone did Luka ask his final question. "Did they rape her?" William turned back to Luka, his expression tight. "She refuses to say." His face was shuttered, where usually it held warmth, and Luka wondered if William had asked her outright. "The others won't?" He shook his head. "I think she's coerced them into mutual silence." He brushed his hand back through his hair, shoving the shaggy bangs off his face. "She thinks you'll take her away if she talks?" William sighed. "And she'd be right. Furthermore, she'd be subjected to a medical exam I don't think she wants." He clenched and relaxed his hand on his knee, reflexively. "She's lucky if that's the worst they did to her..." He offered the comment knowing he had seen patients who'd suffered far worse. "I know that doesn't make it better though." William lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes, his expression upset. "That's what she would say, too. That it's good it wasn't anything more than that." Luka dropped his eyes to the soup, not sure what else he could say. "I think the others are feeling some level of guilt," William added, leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees, his back bent. "Three men and an older woman, and her, it was just those five. And the other four have avoided me since they returned." Luka rubbed at his eye before lifting his eyes. "They were lucky... some will take any woman...or girl." "Yes.....lucky," William repeated, although he didn't sound quite convinced. "I used to wonder what I would do if they tried to take Danijela... I think I would have died to stop them." William nodded, glancing up a moment, his eyes dark with something undefinable. "I know what you mean.....but Claire doesn't have any such protector. Just me." He paused, his words heavy. "And I let her go today." Luka was surprised at the first sign of self-reproach he'd ever heard from William. "The men who were with her..." He stopped before he finished, already knowing the answer. "That's the question, isn't it?" William answered quietly. "Really, you would think it would be enough. But you never know who is willing to sacrifice their life for yours. Serbs travel armed. No doubt there were guns involved. I'm guessing the others were held at gunpoint...and only a few people would brave that for their fellow human being." Luka found himself unable to suppress the shiver that ran through him at the thought and he crossed one arm across his chest as he waited for it to pass. "I think my version of the events is the right one," William said, low. "But the others won't confirm or deny it." "Yeah..probably..." "Most of all, I think she's scared," he admitted. "She won't talk to you about it?" Luka glanced to the soup with a sigh, wanting to pass it off and instead lifted it to take a couple more swallows. He shook his head. "It would upset me greatly, and she knows that, I bet. I still wish she would, but...." William watched him drink the soup, and added, "But I think it's also that she doesn't want it to get around camp." He lowered the mug. "She thinks the others won't talk?" "Like I said, they seem to be observing some sort of organized silence. They all seem to have agreed not to say what happened." He rubbed his hand across his face..debating something with himself before speaking. "I should go back so she can be in here with you." "You mean sleep in here?" he asked, straightening. "I already asked her to, and she won't. She says there's no reason." He shook his head. "She's as stubborn as they come, that one. I think she's still stung about Angelique's lecture, too, about giving you some room." "I thought she stayed here before I came." "She did. But she says there's no reason to uproot you from the spot when she's fine on her own." He let the hand drop but didn't lift the soup again. "Luka.." He smoothed his grey hair back with a calming gesture. "Maybe it's best to let her do her normal things for now, and see if she opens up. Sometimes that is how she works. Plus.... she did point out something important. Those men who questioned you have still been coming and going." "They want to ask me more questions?" He dropped his head to cough then lifted it again. William nodded mildly. "They haven't come out and said so, but they did ask both Claire and Angelique where you were." He released a soft sigh of resignation. "Tell them I'll answer them." "Well, I wouldn't rush it," he said, with a thin smile. Angelique told them you were away from the camp receiving medical care, but Claire..." He shook his head, amused. "She told them something along the lines of you had gone to Rijeka and fallen off a cliff somewhere." He allowed a smile to find him at the comment. "I doubt they believed that." "Oh, you need to hear her spin a good lie. It's a work of art, I tell you. I had to stop her in the middle of some elaborate description of the benefits of salt water." He ficked his tongue across his lips as his face dimpled with the deepening of his smile..then he shook his head. "Must have been a good way to get out of trouble when she was little." William gave a little grunt of agreement. "I wasn't nearly so good at seeing through it as her mother was. I was appalled when I realized she was even lying in the first place." Luka simply nodded, then looked at the mug before raising it again and taking a small sip. He leaned back, stretching his back a little. "I remember when I confronted her once....I think she was about fourteen. And I asked her if she really believed what she wastelling me. And she looked right at me, all serious...." He paused, shaking his head a little, and Luka realized suddenly that William was fairly close to tears. He couldn't say how he knew, only that he did despite few signs. "Right at me," the older man continued, "and said, Poppa, that's the trick of telling a good lie...you have to make yourself believe it first, before you tell it." He shook his head in disbelief then took one more sip before lowering the mug.."That good enough?" He tilted the mug revealing a little more then half still in it. William gave him a half-smile. "What, do I need to count your sips now, young man?" he chuckled. His face reflected the concealed chastisement. "I just don't have an appetite." "It's not that much, Luka." He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the last of his tension. "It will help the antivirals work." He released a sigh then reluctantly raised the mug and took several more swallows. There were footsteps outside the tent, and Claire ducked back in, holding two bowls of something in her hands. There was a fresh bandage taped over her brow. Luka glanced to the door as he took another sip then lowered the mug, relaxing when he saw it was Claire. She handed one of the bowls to her father, and took something from under her elbow...a pair of what looked like sneakers. "See, all fixed up," she said, pointing to the bandage with her now free hand. William took the proffered bowl. "Good," he said, eyeing it. He watched the exchange quietly...forcing yet another swallow down. She looked to Luka, finding a spot to sit on the opposite cot. "Look what you are missing out on," she teased, though it was still a little strained. She held up a spoonful of the food. "Couscous..." He shielded another cough.."So I see." "You sure you don't want any?" she asked, as William ate a spoonful of his own. "I'm sure...I don't know if I can get through this." She smiled, taking a spoonful. "You'll manage," she said around the mouthful. "I have faith in you." Her eye was swelling a little now, but she didn't seem to notice it. He gave her a half smile then nodded to the sneakers. "You're collecting shoes?" William snorted before she could answer. "She does it at home," he said dryly. Claire smiled, sheepish, but said, "Those are for you. I had left them at the Jeep." He took a final sip then set the mug by his leg as he sat back. "Me? I have those boots.." He didn't bother to say they were a size too big, although he was perfectly aware. She gave him a patient look. "Well, now you have two pairs of shoes," she said simply. "Thank you..." He offered the gratitude softly due to the cost of them to her. She merely nodded, drawing up her knees again as she ate, looking down at the bowl. To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 19, 2009 16:46:09 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 11/38
by JD and Mel
"And you're looking scruffy," Claire teased around a mouthful. "Interesting beard you have going there."
He lifted his hand to rub the growth...then shrugged. "Not much I can do about it." Then he dropped the hand to touch the IV line. "How much longer do I need this?"
William crossed his feet at the ankles. "Not necessarily. We've got razors, and the soap works fairly good for shaving." He mildly picked at the meal. "You just need to make it over to the showers. It might go a long way in improving morale, so to speak."
"And a comb," Claire added, a little quieter, though her eyes twinkled some.
"Claire," William said warningly, and she gave him an innocent look.
He rubbed his eye with a fingertip...dropping his head slightly at the teasing. "Been doing mostly just washing in the clinic...hadn't made it to the showers...think Angelique didn't want to risk my catching anything else."
William nodded. "A good precaution, but at this point, you've been through the worst of the contact illnesses, I'd say. I'll need to change the bandage on your leg anyway."
He nodded..."Figured that might be coming."
"It's getting close to evening, and they usually clear out soon, if you want to try it."
He offered a short cough then nodded.."Yeah...sure."
William glanced over at Claire, who was sitting quietly, playing with the spoon in her bowl. "Could you get me that terry robe I left in my foot locker, Claire?" he asked.
"How far are they?"
William turned back to him, as Claire got up without comment and set her bowl on the table. "Not very, actually. We used to just have one area, but now we have two, and the newer is located at this end of camp."
She went to the chest at the foot of William's cot, and opened it, drawing out a navy robe of William's size.
As she pulled it out he raised his hands to slip the oxygen off...the difference in his breathing was noticable with the loss of it as he still fought the congestion. "Should I take the IV out?"
William eased off the machine's knob, cutting off the oxygen as it was removed. "Yes, we need to for the time being."
Claire placed the robe at the end of the cot, over where his feet were, as William set aside his own bowl and moved to flick off the IV drip.
"Okay..." He dropped his eyes to his hand...pulling the tape loose with a wince.
Used to helping her father, Claire took a small sterile pad from William's bag on the floor, and handed it to her father. He placed it over the IV on Luka's hand, ready to remove the needle.
As they moved to help Luka drew his hand back..biting his lower lip in anticipation .
With his other hand, he gently slid the needle out, keeping the pad pressed down on the small prick in the skin, and handed the line and needle to Claire so she could cap it. "See....not too bad," he said.
As they finished he raised himself up more so he could fully sit, tucking the blanket around his waist as he glanced to Claire then back to her father.
Claire held up her hands in surrender. "I'm leaving, don't worry."
"There's also socks in the bag for when you get back," she added, gesturing to the military duffel the clothes had come from. She took up the two bowls, ready to take them back to the mess tent.
"Thanks.."
She nodded, then William asked, quietly, "Are you coming back here after we're done?"
As they talked he shifted so he could ease his leg off the bed... being careful not to show too much skin as he did.
She hesitated, holding the tent flap open, the two bowls cradled in her grasp. She didn't look back at them for a moment. "I'll... stop back before I go to bed, okay?"
"Fair enough," William responded, and she ducked out the door before he could add anything else.
Moving forward he put both feet on the floor, then paused again to catch his breath.
William paused, contemplative, then reached for the robe so he could help Luka shrug it on. His eyes flicked over him as he helped, taking in the condition of his body. "You still have a lot of recovery to do."
He slipped his arms in the robe, then pulled it around him, knowing it was a good size too big. He lifted his eyes to him at the comment but didn't answer.
"You look like a gangly teenager," William said, his voice holding a note of amusement.
"I'll need the crutches." Luka prompted, ignoring the man's observation.
William obliged, rising and fetching the crutches from a corner of the tent, where Claire had stored them, and brought them back to the bedside.
He leaned forward, looking around and then under the cot.
"What is it?" William asked.
"My boots...I'm guessing you don't want me going barefoot."
"Ah." William scanned the room himself, even looking under his cot. "I guess Claire did something with them. Why not just wear the shoes she brought back?"
"I didn't know how muddy it was." He glanced over to where they lay.
William retrieved them, holding them over. "You didn't know what?"
He took the sneakers and dropped them by his feet. "If it was still raining...they might get muddy." He leaned forward to start to put them on.
William shook his head. "It's not raining right now, although it is still pretty churned up out there."
He nodded, then put his attention on the task of getting the shoes on and tied before sitting up with a slight coughing run. Reaching for the crutches he used them to support him as he stood, then slid them under his arms.
"Ready?" William asked, rising from the stool and fetching his pack from by his cot, holding his soap and other things.
Once up he made sure the robe was secure then glanced to William again. "Yeah."
"Lead on, McDuff," William murmured, half-joking, as he went to the flap and held it open for Luka to walk through.
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 21, 2009 4:48:07 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 12/38
by JD and Mel
By the time they had finished and he finally reached the bed and sat his breathing was rough, the exertion and congestion catching up with him. Laying the crutches aside he leaned over to take the shoes off again.
"I think we can save the new clothes for tomorrow," William said, as he went over to the oxygen machine and started it running again.
"'kay.." He couldn't hold back the cough as he straightened again, then shifted to pull his leg up on the bed.
William helped him get the leg up, then retrieved the plastic tubing with the oxygen. Carefully, he looped it over Luka's head and adjusted the prongs. "There, you can lay back now."
Pulling the blanket over him he slipped the robe off again, then lay it at the end of the cot. "Thanks.." He coughed again then lay back.
William managed a smile, even as he started pulling out a clean length of sterile bandage. "You're looking much less scruffy now."
"Feeling kind of tired though." He propped himself up on one arm as he watched William.
"Understandable." He moved the blanket off Luka's leg so he could rebandage the gunshot wound.
His gaze moved to the leg."How bad is it?"
He took out a pair of gloves, snapping them on and taking out a bottle of peroxide. He revealed the wound, setting his fingers at the edges of it. "I know they injected at the site to kill the infection, and it seems to have worked to a degree," he said, low, as he pressed the skin around it experimentally. "There's some knotting, indicative of scar tissue."
He drew a breath in at the probing. "Is it still infected?"
William frowned, his fingers testing all the way around the circumference. "There seems to be no seepage at the site right now, which I would take as a no, I don't think it's still a dangerous infection. Can I see the entry?"
"Yeah." He rolled to his side, then to his stomach with a slight grunt, leaving unsaid that he was shot while fleeing.
William leaned forward, his fingers checking all around the site. "The nodes in the general area aren't inflamed, so I think you're largely in the clear. Of course, the scar tissue is going to build a little bit yet....it hit a lot of muscle."
"Will I have a limp?" He brought his arm up to rest his chin on it while he lay there.
William leaned back. "From the shot alone, I wouldn't think so, not in the long term anyway. It hit the muscle but didn't sever anything vital. Is that the only part of your leg giving you trouble?"
"The knee hurts worse. Angelique said it would take awhile to heal."
"Your knee?" William pressed the back of his calf. "Can you turn back over?"
He nodded then turned onto his back again, a groan following the efforts.
William glided his fingers over the knee, feeling for the ligaments on either side of the kneecap. "Have you been putting any weight on it?"
He bit his lip as his hands moved over the knee, his leg stiffening as he tensed.
He placed his left hand over the knee, and his right under the calf, so he could bend his leg experimentally.
"I did when I first did it, there really wasn't a choice, but, not since I got the crutches."
"Did it give out when you first were walking on it? Unsupportive of the weight?"
"Sometimes, but I had to keep moving."
"Alright." William forced the knee to bend a few times, keeping his calf supported. "Looks like a tear, in your ligaments, probably anterior. Knee seems to bend fine, but it loosens the farther I go, as the ligament isn't stretching with the knee, see?" He was speaking as if this were as much a lesson as anything.
He moaned slightly with the movements to his knee before answering. "Yeah." He nodded his understanding as he tried to concentrate on what the man was saying.
"The best thing for a tear like this is to keep the knee mobilized, so the ligament can reattach in the proper formation. In extreme cases, it can need surgical reattachment, but that it rare, and would require a complete detachment in the injury."
"So more then just wrapping it?"
He laid Luka's leg back on the cot, keeping it straight, and nodded. "The fibers in the ligaments will reinforce themselves during the healing process as long as they are left in formation."
He pulled his eyes from the knee to William. "Why didn't Angelique do it before?"
"It's not vital unless you want there to be complete reattachment, as much as possible, like, if you were to play sports on this leg again. Now, in the future, they may slip from time to time, since they still can't completely reattach to the exact same spot they tore from. It's why football players consider it a career-killing injury. Angelique most likely thought that if you kept off it for a short time, it would be fine."
He listened intently, filing the information away without realizing it.
He took up the sterile material, moving to rewrap the bullet wound. "And in essence, it would be. The ligaments are fused with each other rather tightly, and they bind quickly as well. However, coupled with your thigh wound, seems prudent to just keep it immobilized. Ideally, we'd use a hardboard immobilizer, but we don't have any here."
He nodded, a grunt escaping as pressure was put on the bullet wounds.
His hands moved quickly, making layers around the leg. "Now, the bullet wound isn't oozing any longer, but it still needs air to aid the clotting process." He kept the bandage comfortable but not tight, then taped the wrap after the clean layers were completed. With that done, he rummaged in his bag for something. "Ah, here we go....these might work." He drew out two large tongue depressors.
Luka's forehead creased a bit as he watched, his confusion revealing itself.
"Look, we can forge a kind of small immobilizer here," he started, placing the depressors on either side of his knee, fingers probing until the ligaments were satisfactorily lined up.
He couldn't help but groan as William probed, his knuckles whitening as he grabbed the cot sides.
"Claire hates these things," he said conversationally, as he used another length of bandage to wrap the knee, using the wooden sticks to bind the knee straight. "The depressors, I mean."
"Why?" The words came out between clenched teeth.
"She always said she couldn't stand the taste of wood on her tongue." He wrapped each layer, careful to keep the depressors stable. "Said it was like licking a tree."
He nodded even though he didn't quite understand what the man was saying, then dropped his eyes back to the knee.
His fingers moved to tape the bandage off. "She could never eat popsicles as a kid for that reason."
"Popsicles?"
He nodded, testing the stiffness of the bandage. "You know, those little ice cream things that came on a wooden stick. She hated them."
Luka released the held breath as the man finished.
"There....makeshift, but it does the job."
He lifted his hand to rub his eye as he nodded..
"Try to get some sleep, Luka. You're fine for now." He drew off the gloves, depositing them into a small wastebasket by his cot.
"kay..." He raised his hand to feel for his picture, then lay it on his chest with his hand covering it. "Thanks."
His eyes were already closing as he got the word out.
William drew the blanket back over his legs.
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 22, 2009 2:30:39 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 13/38
by JD and Mel
Deeply asleep, Luka started to roll to his side, then groaned as the imobilized leg stopped him and brought him painfully awake. He lay back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he acclimated to where he was. It happened without fail each time he awoke, and he wondered when, or if, he'd ever recognize where he was when he opened his eyes. At first glance, the room seemed empty, a small amount of sunlight creeping into the room. But as his eyes fell on the far side of the tent, he saw that Claire was lying on her father's cot, one of her feet resting on the floor as she lay back. Her arm was thrown over her face, covering her eyes. She was dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, and tennis shoes that were fairly muddy.
He raised up on one arm before coughing to release some of the phlem, and realized with a start that the IV had been replaced. As it eased, he lowered himself down again, casting his eyes to Claire, but his hope of not waking her was gone. She made a little noise, like one coming out of a nap, and she moved her arm off her face. Blinking in the light streaming in, she sighed, and moved her arms to push herself into a sitting position, swinging her other leg over the side of the cot. There were dark circles under her eyes.
He glanced around him, locating the picture and moving it to the side of the cot before looking over to her again. Reflexively she had looked to his cot, and realized his eyes were open. "Oh... morning. I didn't realize you were awake."
He nodded. "Just woke up, where's your father?" He coughed again, no success at repressing it.
She seemed chastised. "He just went on some rounds. I'm sorry. He didn't think you would be up for a while yet, since the oxygen was helping your sleeping."
"That's all right. I think I bumped my leg, that's what woke me."
"Ah, if you need more sleep then, you should get it. You don't have to stay up to talk to me."
"What time is it?" His voice held the quiet rasp of lingering congestion and he tried once more to clear his throat.
She scratched at the bandage over her eye. "A little after 8 a.m. Here, let me get you some water." She rose from the cot and took up his glass, refilling it from the pitcher, then brought it back over to him.
He nodded before pushing himself up on his arm. "You look like you could sleep more."
"Do I look that bad?" she asked, morosely, as he took the glass.
"Not great." He took a drink, wincing slightly as it hit his raw throat, then took another swallow much slower then the first.
She sat on the stool, drawing her knees up. "Well, I'm already up and dressed, seems pointless."
"You don't go with your father?" He took a third drink then lowered the glass.
"I volunteered to stay with you," she said with a shrug. "Sometimes I go with him, but just as often I have other duties."
"You don't have to watch me, I won't take off again."
She sighed, looking down. "I'm not trying to be your guard. Come on, Luka, can't I just stay in the same tent with you for once without my being the bad guy?" Her voice seemed strained.
"I'm sorry. I just meant if you have things you want to do, you don't have to stay here."
She shook her head, scratching at the bandage again. "No," she said quietly, "I'm just as happy to stay here for now. How are you feeling today?"
"You want to talk about it?" He asked the question quietly, ignoring hers. She looked up at him, blinking at the question. His eyes had settled on her, and not for the first time, he felt far older than he should for one his age.
"There's nothing to talk about," she answered, her tone nearly a whisper.
"I think there is," he said, gently. "So we can trade for it, you ask me something, and I ask you about yesterday." He could only hope her curiosity would outweigh her hesitancy in talking about what had happened.
She frowned a little, suspiciously, then said, "Ask you something? Like, anything?"
He closed his eyes. No time to regret his decision now. He reopened them and nodded. "Yeah."
She regarded him for a long moment, but instead of asking him a question, she said, "I saw your face yesterday when I mentioned the Serbs stopping us. It, was making you sick just to think about it."
"Yeah..."
"Then why are you asking me this?" she said, quietly. "Wouldn't you rather not think about it at all?"
"You can't not think about it, that's the problem," Luka admitted, and he couldn't be sure which of them he was speaking of, now. "It's always there when you close your eyes, so sometimes it helps to talk."
"Is that what it is like for you?"
He dropped his eyes, picking at the blanket a moment before he raised them to her again. "Yeah."
Quieter, she said, "Does it help you to talk about it?" Her eyes were intense, but sad.
"I don't really talk about it."
"Would it, if you did?"
"I don't know."
Her eyes flicked down, as she took a small breath. "I don't want to bargain your life story out of you, Luka. It's not fair to you."
"It was my choice."
"Then, if you want to tell me, you will."
"What do you want to know?" He asked the question quietly.
She thought about it a moment, then asked, "Why did you want to become a doctor?"
He considered his answer before speaking."I wanted to give my wife and children a good life, and we needed doctors so it seemed like a good choice."
Claire nodded. "For the money, then? To take care of them?"
"To take care of them, to take care of others. In some areas there are not many doctors. I thought we would go to one of those places when I finished school."
"Ah, I see. People without a lot of care." He nodded at her comment without adding more, and she pressed her lips together a long moment, silent, before she said, "Your turn." Her voice sounded resigned.
Luka wet his lips. He knew that asking too much too soon would only backfire on them. Hadn't he learned that firsthand from the interrogations? And Claire was one of the last people he'd ever want to see hurt. Even if he resented it, he couldn't escape the fact that she had helped him, and others, those that weren't even her own people. "Tell me about going to Vukovar."
She took a short breath, and he realized she hadn't known what he was going to ask first. "Back before the Serbs took the city, an early shipment of donated goods, with meds, were stored at a clinic just on the borders. One of the other volunteers knew where it was, but didn't have the ability to go and get it. He asked several times for people to go, but the doctors refused to spare anyone. So finally, he started recruiting other volunteers."
"So you thought it would still be there."
She nodded. "The clinic would of course be raided, but it wasn't in the main building. Apparently at the time it was stored just off-site, since it hadn't been needed yet."
"So you went to get it," he encouraged.
"We're getting low on several things here, especially some forms of antibiotics," she said, lower. "We had to."
"Your turn," he said, quietly.
She glanced at him, surprised he was satisfied with her answer so far. Thinking, she asked, "What happened to your parents, or any siblings?"
"My Mother, died a few years ago. I'm not sure where my father and brother are. I hope safe, but it's been over 6 months since I had word of them."
She mulled that over. "There has to be a way to find them."
"It's hard now. People have left without telling where they are going. Some just disappear." Was he considered one of those by his father, and his brother? He sometimes fell asleep wondering if they were doing the same, looking for him and perhaps on the verge of giving up.
"But someday, I think you will. After all, they are probably looking for you too."
He dropped his eyes as her words mirrored his thoughts, his hand idly pulling a thread on the IV tape before raising his gaze. "Maybe. If they know what happened in the city they may think I'm dead."
"Don't give up hope just yet," she said, quietly. He ran his tongue across his lips, not sure what to say so instead saying nothing. She couldn't extend the answer anymore, so she dropped her head, and said, "Your turn."
"Did you meet them coming or going?"
She raised her hand to rub at the bruise, reflexively. "Once we left the clinic, that's when."
He nodded once, holding the rush of questions. "Your turn."
She glanced up, again surprised when he left it at that. She stumbled, not having a question ready. "How did you meet your wife?" she finally said, although it was hesitant.
"We met at school." He rubbed his eyes and drew a light breath. "I would see her sometimes when I was getting coffee, and one day I asked her to go to a movie with me."
She didn't quite look at him, but she smiled slightly. "And she went?"
"No, but she said she would have a Coca-Cola with me...so I took that."
"High school?" she asked.
"University, she was taking a class. I didn't know how young she was at first."
"Much younger than you?"
He dropped his head at the memory then raised it, revealing a slight smile. "About 2 years."
"That's not too bad."
"Her father thought it was," he said, ruefully.
"He didn't like you?"
"I think he was worried for her," Luka explained. "They were very religious."
"Roman Catholic, right?" She caught the nod of his answer although she wasn't looking directly at him, and she paused. "Alright," she said finally. "Your turn."
He debated on his next question a moment, before asking quietly, "Did you offer to trade yourself to keep the supplies?"
Her eyes flew up to his, shock flooding her eyes. "No," she said. "They didn't even search the truck."
"Why wouldn't they search it?" He realized he'd had an idea in his head that explained it, something not so simply agonizing as her being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"I don't know," she admitted, swallowing after a moment. "They made us all get out, but didn't seem to care about the Jeep. Maybe, maybe they thought we couldn't carry very much in it."
It didn't make sense to him, but didn't question her further. "Your turn."
She was slightly short of breath, the only indication that she was upset at all, but she only asked, "Where did your family live, when you were born, I mean?"
"Sibenik."
"Where is that?"
"On the coast, near Split."
She frowned a little, her mind trying to place the town he mentioned from what she knew of the geography. "Okay, I think I know where that is." He nodded, waiting. "I have to ask better questions," she murmured faintly. "Your turn."
"I'll give you one more, anything," he warned, "because my next one is going to be what happened when you got out of the jeep." He took a sip of the water as his voice cracked slightly.
Her eyes searched his for a long moment, then she said, quietly, "Very well. What do you think of me?"
"What do you mean?" It wasn't a question he expected at all, and he didn't know what she meant by it.
"I want to know what your opinion of me is, and if it's going to change after this conversation." Her chin had raised a little, almost defiantly, although there was a flicker of something undefinable in her eyes.
"Why should it change?"
"I think you know why."
"You didn't ask to run into the Serbs on the road." He lowered his eyes, understanding with a sharp pain, what she was asking His voice got quieter as he said, "I've seen what they are capable of."
"That doesn't always make a difference. Knowing, and understanding. You still haven't answered my question."
"When I was fleeing Vukovar," he started, hesitantly, "I spent a night in a farmhouse. It had been shot up and was deserted. I thought it was lucky for me, because part of the roof was still there. The next morning I found the bodies of the people that had lived there. They had killed all of them. Raped the women..the girls," he corrected, his throat tight. "They had killed a young boy." He left the rest unsaid. "They didn't ask for that...they were just in the wrong place."
"Would you consider it pity, then?"
He raised his eyes. "What?"
"Are you going to pity me now?" she asked, her voice quiet but strained.
"Is that what you are doing to me," he asked, "because I was shot, because my family was killed?"
She returned his look without flinching. "I already told you once that I would never pity you. That I would never treat you as anything less than a person."
"So why would you think I would be any different?" He wasn't sure what he thought, if he was hurt by the question, but some part of him understood perfectly well why she was asking it.
"I always assume people are different than me," she said, slowly. "And this is a different thing."
"This is a war, Claire," Luka answered, roughly. "Terrible things happen and we can't seem to be able to stop them."
She sighed, worn. "You didn't tell me what your opinion was. My father and Angelique have implied that I've been bothering you too much."
He swiped his tongue across his lips before answering. What was it that made people able to go on after being as damaged as they both now were? Perhaps knowing they were needed. A comfort, he realized, he did not have now, but maybe he could give to Claire. When his words came they were measured. "Before you started coming around, all I did was lay in the clinic and feel sorry for myself. I wouldn't talk to anyone. All I did was think about how much I wanted to be with my family. You made me think about other things. The truth is, if it was something I didn't want to do I would have shut you out like I had everyone else."
Claire let out a breath. "So I did help."
He lay back, as if the effort of admitting that had tired him. "Yeah, I guess you did." He rubbed his temple with his fingertips.
She watched him a long moment. "You need to rest, Luka."
He lifted his eyes to her then leaned over to set the cup on the floor by the cot. "All I do is sleep," he said, almost teasing. He lay back though, already feeling the pull back to sleep as he offered the protest.
She managed a small smile. "Some people would enjoy that."
As an afterthought, he reached to the side for the picture. "I guess, you should sleep too."
"Maybe," she answered, running her fingers through the hair at her temple, her smile fading.
"Can't stop the nightmares. They'll come for some time." His words came a bit stronger as he offered the advice, his accent heavier as he edged towards sleep.
"Nightmares?" He nodded with a sigh at her words. "I'm sorry..." she said, very quiet. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not going anywhere." She managed a smile. "Then if you want, you can ask me more questions later."
"Wake me if you need to talk." Luka's final words came drowsily before he moved the small picture to his chest then covered it with his hands. Within a few moments his breathing signalled his return to sleep. Claire retreated to her father's cot, lying down in it after she felt assured he was asleep.
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 23, 2009 4:05:48 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 14/38
by JD and Mel
Luka had slid easier than he expected into sleep, but the conversation with Claire had only brought to the surface things he had tried to suppress. He tossed on the bed as he tried to flee the ghostly pursuers of his nightmares, feeling the bullet hit and seeing the bodies again and again. There was no way to escape from them. In the world he wasn't aware of, Claire had gotten up several times to replace covers, before she settled for sitting on the floor by the cot, as it seemed like it wasn't going to improve any time soon. At the same time, she tried to be gentle enough so he would at least get some more sleep. Yet his agitation seemed only to worsen. His breathing came in ragged catches as he relived the horrors he'd endured before arriving at the camp.
Once or twice she tried to adjust the oxygen, hoping that would help, but it did nothing to relieve his breathing, so she tried smoothing his hair back, trying to be reassuring. "Ne...ne..." He thrashed on the bed, caught in the nightmare with no escape. She felt her shoulders slump, knowing this kind of sleep wasn't benefitting him at all, and she squeezed his shoulder, trying to get him to relax and let go of them.
At the touch he stiffened. "Bog, nijedan..." His breathing seemed to quicken even more..
"Luka.." she said, and was surprised at how rough her voice sounded. She coughed, and repeated it. "Luka, it's okay."
Somewhere deep he registered his name and his eyes opened though he wasn't fully with her. "Ima previše mnogobrojan od njima." His voice came out a ragged croak.
She shifted her fingers to his brow, moving damp hair off his forehead. It took her almost half a minute to piece together what he said. "No, there's no one here but me."
He flicked his eyes around them, his breathing still coming too fast, but realization seemed to register and he closed his eyes a moment then reopened them. "Just a dream," he whispered in Croatian as the connection to the present was made.
She rubbed her eyes with her other hand. "Yes," she answered, quiet. "That's all it was. You're here now, Luka."
He closed his eyes again, seeming to absorb her words. "Ovdje zatim." It was just a repetition of her own words.
She switched to the same language, though hers was rougher than his. "You are safe."
For several minutes he didn't move. When he reopened his eyes, his breathing had slowed and though he looked tired, he seemed aware of where he was. He lifted one hand to rub his eyes.
"I'm sorry to wake you," she murmured, "but I thought it was for the best."
"I didn't mean to wake you," he protested weakly, as he raised himself up on one arm. He coughed once, then cleared his throat.
She shook her head barely. "I wasn't asleep."
"You couldn't, or didn't want to?"
She glanced at him. "A little of both, I guess..." She pushed the hair way from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
"It's hard, sometimes. I don't know which is worse." He started to roll onto his side then groaned as he jarred the knee and lay back on his back.
"Did you want to get up?"
He shook his head. "No..that's okay. What time is it?"
She rested her elbows on her knees, so she could support her chin. "Close to noon, I would say. Poppa should be back soon." He nodded at the answer. "You get along well with him, don't you?" she asked, suddenly.
He nodded again at the question. "He's not like some of the other doctors here. I was kind of surprised he would do this."
She nodded, a little wobbly. "My father takes to some people...instinct, I suppose. He's always looking for...kindred spirits, he says. People who he thinks have the same ideals that he does."
"I don't have anything anymore...I'm just here." His words held a sense of acceptance in them.
"It's not a matter of owning anything....it's more inner spirit."
"No..you don't understand." He paused a moment before continuing, roughly. "Everything I was died with my family. I did what I had to do after I lost them, but none of it means anything anymore." He rubbed his hand over his face with the comment.
She sighed, her chin dropping a little. "Well, my father seems to think there is something left, even if you don't see it."
"It's his job."
"No, his job is to treat the physical ailments. Not like this."
He glanced over to her. "You're saying he hasn't done this before, taken someone in?"
She shook her head. "I don't recall him taking someone in, not to where we lived, even if this time it is a tent. I know he's been fond of patients before, but he." She paused, rubbing at her eyes again. "He doesn't refer to youas a patient. He still acts like Angelique is your doctor."
He looked a bit puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Well, anything he does, with the oxygen, or the medicine for the pnuemonia, he clears it with Angelique. He's not trying to take over your case from her." She paused. "I think he likes having you here, so he can talk to you."
Still not sure about what it meant, he chose to remain silent rather then ask her to clarify further. "Maybe he's doing it for you."
She managed a thin smile. "Doing it for me?"
"You brought me here, so he is doing it for you."
"I never asked him if you could stay here," she pointed out. "He was the one who insisted to Angelique that you should stay here to recover, and furthermore," her expression grew a little more drawn, "he also told me, along with Angelique, that I should stay away from you and give you some room to breathe. They can't both be true, Luka. He can't be doing this for me, and then tell me to leave."
"I don't know..."
"Look at it this way," she said, quieter. "I met you, and something told me that I needed to keep going back to see you...intuition perhaps. I told my father about that feeling, and about you. He's intrigued, asks me more questions. Then, I find you in the rain, and you don't want to return to the medical tent." She took a small breath, stifling a yawn. "He sees that I brought you here, this person that I had that feeling about, and he thinks perhaps it is a sign."
"A sign?"
She nodded. "My father and I come from a very spiritual people, Luka. We aren't just Americans, we're native too. Our tribe tends to look at the world that way. My father says I am too worldly, he, he follows the old ways more."
"Old ways?"
"Yes, things like....spirit guides, destiny, fate....all that." His confusion only seemed to deepen as she continued to explain. She sighed, putting her face in her hands a moment. "My people are a bit more intuned to the spiritual side of the world, as opposed to the physical. That's all. Poppa believes he was meant to meet you for some purpose."
"I don't know why, I have nothing to give him."
She raised her eyes. "It isn't always about giving something back, Luka. And anyway, I do not think that is true. My father feels very strongly about you. He likes you. Even that small thing, of kindred feelings, that is enough."
"Maybe he made a mistake." His comment came quietly as he pushed himself up on his forearms and stretched back slightly.
"I don't think so, and neither does he," she said. "Did you want something to drink? I thought you might be hungry, too."
He lay back again as he looked to her, ready to deny his hunger only to stop himself before reluctantly nodding. "More soup?"
"Afraid so. I haven't been able to sneak any chocolate in yet." She smiled.
He released a quiet sigh. "Okay."
Claire stood up, bracing herself on the side table, and moved over to the main table, where the thermos was. She poured two mugs full, and said, over her shoulder, "I was able to get some bread, though."
Luka watched her critically as she moved across the room. "Maybe you should try to sleep."
Carefully, she balanced the mugs with the bread tucked against her elbow, and moved back to the stool. "Maybe after lunch," she said, not looking at him. She sat and held out the mug for him.
Propping himself up on one arm, he took the mug with the hand that the IV was in. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She took the bread, only a half-loaf, and tore it in half, giving one half to him as well.
Accepting the bread, he took a sip of the soup before sitting the cup down and pulling a piece of the loaf off with the hand that had held the mug. Once he had popped the bite in his mouth he picked the soup up again.
She blinked, then stood up, fetching the bedroll from her father's cot that had been left on the foot of it. "I forgot to offer this," she said, apologetically, moving to set it behind his back. 'Sitting up on these cots is not easy. Some help I am, hmm?" She managed a half-smile.
He bit his lip as he balanced the soup, trying not to spill it as he raised up so she could slide it behind him. When she was done he leaned back. "It's not a problem."
"Well, now it's not," she answered, retaking her seat and picking up her own mug. He took a couple fresh sips, before pulling another bite of bread off. She was slower with her own mug, watching him eat, pleased that he was, without complaint. "You don't know anything about Native Americans, I guess," she started.
He lifted his eyes to her. "I've seen cowboy movies."
She groaned. "Oh, no....really? That's terrible."
He managed a small smile with the groan. "Horses...tt..." He struggled a minute with the word. "Teepees?."
"Even I cheered for the cowboys in those things." She sipped her soup, rolling her eyes.
"The...I forget the English word. Bizon? The big animal like a cow.."
"Buffalo," she said, in English. "Roaming over the prairie. Those, at least, exist, though my people don't hunt them anymore." She shook her head, with a tired chuckle. "We go to the store and buy our food these days." He smiled again, then took another drink of the soup. "I guess it's a little much to teach you now, a whole culture and all," she admitted. "Anyway, some of those movies were at least funny."
"It's very different from here?"
She looked down a moment, thinking. 'Yes, and no," she said, slowly. "Native Americans are only a small part of America today, and we're very isolated. The rest of America, it's like what you might think of it. Not so different from what it was like here, before the war."
He nodded, accepting her answer as it was.
"Being a part of that.....it's like if you were to go to England. For school, maybe. You could dress like the English, and speak it, and to look at you, no one would be able to say, that you weren't one, unless they heard your accent, perhaps. But inside, you would be different. That's what it is like. You can move among them, but it's not your own people."
He nodded. "I think I understand."
She looked down at her soup, then took another sip of it. "I was always fascinated by things here, and in Europe, overall."
He started to pull another piece of the bread off then changed his mind. Instead he took a couple more swallows of the soup before sitting it down as well. "You hadn't been here before?"
She shook her head. "But it wasn't the places...it was the people." He remained quiet, listening to her, fascinated against his will by an outsider's look at his homeland. "When you think about it, people here, they can take for granted their sense of belonging. You are born in Croatia, you are one, and your parents, and their parents, all Croatians. Like people in England or France, who can trace back their roots so many generations, and around them, all people like them. How they belong to their land.
"Well, my people are the original inhabitants of America. My father, and his parents, and his parents' parents, all born from a long line of people who lived there for thousands of years. But...we are in the minority, and a very small one. When you think of Americans, you think of immigrants, of Irishmen and Italians, of English colonists. Not us. So, in our own land, we aren't the ones who belong to it."
"It used to be like that." His voice stayed quiet. "Now it's more are you Muslim, or Catholic, like that is more important. Then if we are Croatian, or Bosnian."
She nodded, setting aside her soup, half full. "I know, it all goes back to the war." He copied her action, his mug containing as much if not a tad more then hers. The bread still two-thirds there. "I'm sorry," she added. "I suppose it sounds foolish to complain about a thing like that in the face of war here."
"No, I understand," he said, automatically.
She started to shake her head, and then sighed. "I've, begun to wonder about something." He let his eyes settle on her, bracing himself for what she might ask. A return to their talk from yesterday? He had to admit he wasn't sure he wanted to hear any more of her answers, as bad as giving his own. But she surprised him by saying, "My father believes that he was supposed to meet you for some reason, and I think he is right. Already, you two are close, like you understand each other a little bit. At first, I thought my father was simply being his usual enigmatic self, but now, I can see it. In you. You are doing better now. I've known you longer, but I don't think I did as much as he has done. So, I wonder if that was my sole purpose, to make sure you met him."
"Because of his medicines?"
She shook her head, setting aside her bread as well, uneaten. "No, because of his personality."
He let his eyes drop a moment then lifted them again. "He understands the loss, not everyone does, it's not something you can tell someone who doesn't know how it feels, what it's like to go through it."
She absorbed that, with a small nod. "I know, he's very wise."
"It's like a part of you died and you just want the rest to die too." He let his eyes fall again as he picked at the tape around the IV needle.
She brought her knees up a little, and wrapped her arms around them, like she had been before lunch. "It's going to be a long time before you stop feeling that, isn't it." She said it listlessly, not as a question.
"I can't imagine not feeling that way."
She lifted her eyes, but before shecould say anything, there were footsteps at the flap of the tent, and William stepped in.
"Ah, you're both up," he said, casually, as he set down his bag on the other cot.
Luka's eyes were still on the IV line, but there was the sense that maybe he had retreated inward with the words. As he heard William's voice he shook his head and quickly wiped his hand across his face.
William's gaze traveled over both of them, sizing them up in moments. "Glad to see some food was consumed," he observed, with a small smile. At the observation, Luka leaned to the side enough that he could set his mug on the floor by the cot then laid the remaining bread on top of it, his concession to appetite gone.
Claire unfolded herself from the stool, taking up her uneaten bread and the mug. 'Some," she said, trying to return his smile in an upbeat way.
William retrieved his stethoscope from around his neck, taking the stool as she vacated it. "Every little bit helps," he said, with a grunt as he sat. "Feeling any better this morning, Luka?"
He glanced to Claire, then to her dad with a nod. "I think so." He sat up more in preparation of the exam he knew was coming.
"You certainly have more color to you," the elder man said, his movements precise as he set the scope to Luka's chest.
Claire didn't set the mug and bread down on the table like usual. Instead, she moved to the entrance of the tent. "I"m going to take these back to the mess, Poppa," she said quietly. "I'll be back in a little while." Not waiting for an answer, she ducked out of the tent and was gone. William paused, glancing to Luka's abandoned mug on the floor with a frown.
Luka didn't miss the significance either, glancing at Claire as she left. When she disappeared, he looked at her father. "She isn't sleeping."
His eyes flicked up to Luka's a moment, as he concentrated on the sounds in his chest. "She said that?"
"Kind of."
He smiled, briefly, as he switched the scope to his back. "Kind of' doesn't sound like Claire, she's usually not reserved about talking."
"Maybe she needs to talk to a woman. Maybe Angelique."
"Maybe," William murmured. "She's never seemed to be close to other women, though. Her mother died when she was so young, and after that, she didn't have that many women to look up to." He removed the scope, slowly. "Been just me and her for a long time now."
"I think maybe this is different."
William cocked his head, just looking at him. Luka kept his gaze on the blanket over his lap, his voice a hair distanced. "Did she say something to you, Luka?"
He drew a small breath but didn't lift his eyes.."She didn't say she had been raped if that's what you're asking." Then even more quietly he added. "But she didn't say she hadn't been either."
William set aside the scope in his bag. "That much I've been getting from her already, although she won't even speak about the trip at all." As he finished Luka leaned back again. "Either way, I'm not sure Angelique is the best candidate for something like that."
"Nothing seems to affect her very much, like she has seen everything."
"Angelique, you mean?" William queried. Luka nodded, and the older man sighed. "An accurate assessment, but I stand by my words." He retrieved the mug and bread off the floor so he wouldn't knock them over. "The last conversation the two of them had was a disagreement over not taking you to the medical tent. I'm not sure Claire would be comfortable talking with her."
"You're sure you don't want her here, with you? I can go back." Though he said the words the tone wasn't exactly convincing.
William shook his head. "I get the distinct feeling she would rather not be here with me right now. I, myself, would love to ask Angelique's advice," he admitted. "But that would compromise Claire's privacy. If I insist she stay here, I think that would have the opposite effect. She'd feel like I was calling her to task for what happened."
"You don't think she will think taking care of me is more important then what happened to her?" He finally looked at him with the question, obviously concerned about it.
William rubbed at his jaw a moment, worry deeply etched in his face. "To be honest, I think she already felt a little that way since after the first night, when I wanted you to stay. It's irrespective of what went on during the trip to Vukovar."
"Then maybe I should go, I don't want to come between you."
"It's not that, Luka. What I mean is, I think Claire wanted to be the one you opened up to, and instead saw that you connected better with me."
Realization dawned with that, and Luka felt several of his conversations with her fall into shape. "It's different with her," he protested, almost apologetic. "She can't really understand what it's like."
"I think she knows that," he said, gently. "Overall, she is happy that you did connect with someone, and I know she regrets feeling that small part of sadness over it."
He dropped his gaze a moment then lifted it. "She said you thought I was supposed to meet you."
He nodded. "That is true. I believe that a higher power meant for us to meet, and that perhaps Claire was the instrument of that."
"I don't know if I believe that, not anymore." Luka felt a brief surge of shame at saying something that he would have considered blaspehmous, but just as fast came the anger that prompted it in the first place.
"Well, Luka, whether you believe it or not, here we are now. Should we bother to question it?"
"You've treated alot of people, what makes me so different?"
William leaned back a little, crossing his arms as he got comfortable, although the worry remained in his brow. "I wish I could tell you there was one thing or another, that stood out to me, but there wasn't. Perhaps how you lost your wife and children, I understood a little of that, at least."
"But there are people here who lost much more then I did."
"That's true. And I've known them as well. But I think it was more the depth of your feelings, that indicated to me a man like myself. Something beyond the usual grief."
He didn't say anything to that, though his eyes reflected an impact to the words.
To be continued...
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Post by FicWriter on Jan 24, 2009 7:59:10 GMT 10
For One Life
Chapter 15/38
by JD and Mel
"Not everyone feels things as deeply, even other men who have lost their families. Somehow, they have this part of themselves that always remains remote and able to function as if nothing happened. But you....your life was wrapped up in your family, devoted to them. I could see that, sense it. And I know that to be that way takes a certain type of individual. One who wasn't afraid of that level of devotion to something."
As William spoke, Luka dropped his head in his hand, his fingertips resting on his eyelids as he connected to the words. When it was said aloud, it made more and more sense to him, and something unexpected came as well, anger....anger at those other men who seemed to be able to move on. Resentment that they weren't as undone by their grief as he had been.
"Is it so hard to believe now that I was meant to meet you?" William asked, quieter.
"I don't know." He raised his head again with the admission.
"That's alright. We do not need to attribute it to anything or anyone. Perhaps like-minded people seek each other out without realizing it." William pressed his hands to his knees, thinking a moment. "You think you can get up and go for a walk today? There's still decent light left."
With the turn of the conversation, Luka had found his thoughts drifting, and as William spoke he turned his eyes to him. "Now?"
"Sometime today would be good, I think." William stretched his legs out with a grunt. "You could try out those clothes Claire got for you."
He wanted to protest, wanted to tell him he didn't want to go out. Inside, he wanted to explore this new idea, cling to his anger and examine this reasoning. But instead he released a breath, then nodded before raising his hand to pull the oxygen off. William helped him remove the tubing, and turned the machine off. With that done he turned his attention to the IV, pulling the tape free.
"Easy now.." William took up a cotton pad from his bag and pressed it over the needle site, before pulling the needle free, after he had closed the IV drip.
Luka withdrew his own hand as William moved in to finish it, watching him as he worked. The older doctor's movements were relaxed and simple, not quick but efficient. "Doesn't seem to be causing too much damage on your hand," William observed, dabbing with the cotton and peering at the pinpoint in Luka's flesh. "Just be careful not to bend the knee for the time being." He reached and pulled over the folded clothes so Luka could reach them.
Once it was out, Luka raised himself up to sit, then bit his lip as he turned, careful not to jar his leg too much. "Yeah..." He reached first for the shirt, pulling it over his head, then grabbed the jeans only to stop as he debated the best way to tackle them.
William smiled. "Hand em over...I'll need to get them over the splint I made for you."
He raised his gaze, then handed them to him. William bent over, deftly sliding the jeans over Luka's feet and threaded the material up and over the knee, where he could reach them.
"Thanks..."
William merely nodded, rolling his shoulders a little as he straightened back up. "You could walk over to the mess tent, get a decent meal."
Bending forward he grabbed the material and pulled them up, then using the cot for leverage pushed himself up to his feet. He wavered a bit as he pulled them the rest of the way up and fastened them.
"How do they fit?" William asked him. He shrugged at the question, then sat again to grab the shoes. When he didn't reply, the older man said, "No good?"
"They're all right..."
"Hmm." William watched him tackle the shoes. Luka managed the one shoe on, only to pause as he debated the best way to reach the splinted leg's foot. "They seem better than what you had." William held his hand out for the shoe, with a patient look. Luka lifted his eyes with the comment then handed the shoe over. "Those were all they had at the time..."
William slid the shoe on, lacing it up. "I know." The simple words made Luka drop his eyes, knowing the cost of the clothing, but he didn't wish to say anything to the doctor about how Claire had gotten them. "There. Try those out," William said after a moment, rocking back on his heels.
"I'll need the crutches."
William smiled, standing to fetch the crutches from the corner, and handed them to him. "Of course."
Luka took them from him, then used them to brace himself as he stood again. "Thanks." Once he had them under his armpits he rested, giving himself time to get his balance.
"You're looking better, Luka," he commented. The jeans hung a tad low on the younger man's hips, the waist a couple inches big. But though the shirt was loose it was nowhere as large as his old one. "If you regain some of your weight, those should fit fine."
Luka nodded, giving in to a cough to clear his lungs. "Guess I'm ready."
William rose. "Let's get moving then." He smiled briefly, moving towards the tent flap.
He nodded again then started to follow, a bit unsteady as he got used to the difference the splint made on his movements. He hesitated a moment at the door, his face paling before he turned back to the cot.
William watched him a moment, with a discerning look. "Luka?"
He glanced over to WIlliam even as he started to move to it. "My photograph..."
"Ah." William held the flap to the tent patiently, allowing him time to fetch the memento.
When he picked it up the relief was visible in his movements, and after a glance to it he slid it safely in his pocket before turning back.
"Ready?" William said, with a mild smile. Luka nodded but his face held a look of apprehension. "You sure?"
As he reached the door he paused, looking over to William at his question. "Yeah..." His voice was quiet as he answered.
William gestured for him to step outside, and he followed, letting the flap close behind them. As he stepped outside, Luka immediately dropped his eyes to the ground, mentally closing off the sounds around him. "We're not going to go the same way as usual, Luka," William said, quietly, breaking into his thoughts, "so you may need to pay attention."
He flicked his eyes to him, then nodded, before shifting them back to the path.
"Thought you could use some better food." William let his eyes move ahead to the path as well, but his eyes took in the people and things. "Are the shoes good to walk in?"
"They're fine." He found himself still trying to block the voices around them as he waited for William to lead.
"Any preference which path we take?"
"I haven't been much farther then the clinic, except for the other night when I went to the showers and the couple times with Claire."
"She told me you two took some walks," William said, starting off towards the right, on a smaller path. It took Luka a few minutes to get his rythmn as he adjusted to the splint, and while he did he lagged behind a bit. It saved him having to answer, and William added, "So it couldn't have been so bad to be around camp, hmm?"
"It wasn't really my choice to go," Luka said, very low.
William chuckled. "Is that so?"
"She doesn't give up easily." He kept his eyes to the road. As a child yelled to her father in Croatian he couldn't help but flinch at the sound.
"Why did you give in?"
"I don't know...just seemed easier then arguing."
William merely nodded, and adjusted his pace to keep with Luka, even as he led. "Is that all?"
Luka swallowed a cough as he shifted his eyes to the man a moment. William looked unconcerned, his expression the open and unguarded one Luka was coming to know. As he dropped his eyes back to the path he finally answered. "Guess I figured if it wasn't her it'd be Angelique."
William sighed. "Very well. So, lesser of two evils then."
"I didn't ask to leave the tent," Luka went on, surprising himself. "I'd have stayed there..but first Angelique kept pushing me to be outside, then Claire started coming around." As he expected, William listened for a little bit, not speaking himself, as they passed between the different tents. Luka fell silent again as he finished, his breathing a little strained from the exertion but not bad.
"You're keeping up well. The oxygen seems to be doing something." William paused, his eyes flicking sideways. "Sleeping any better?"
"I guess so, my leg was kind of aching. Maybe it was not being used to the splint..but not too bad." He made no mention of the nightmares, although he couldn't be sure if Claire confessed them to her father.
"Mmhmm." William took a small breath, relaxed, even as his questions were probing. "Did the men who questioned you ask about your family?"
"Yes..." His voice grew a tad quieter with the admission.
"Did you tell them everything?"
"I told them they were killed by a mortar..." He heard his voice take on a slight tone of detachment, as if he might be talking about someone else rather then himself.
"That is what happened?"
Luka nodded, his eyes firmly on the ground.
"And your leg?"
He rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth then wet his lips before speaking. "I was shot...while I was escaping Vukovar."
"Fleeing when the Serbs took over?"
"Yeah.."
William nodded, hispace unchanged. They had reached a larger tent, with the smell of food emanating from it. "Ah, here we are.." Luka paused as they reached the tent, glancing around them. It was smaller and less busy than the usual tent, but William seemed unfazed as he held open the door for him. Luka drew a breath, the smells from inside forcing a rumble from his stomach in response. As he passed by William, he braced himself for the attention he was sure his presence might bring. The tent seemed solely occupied by doctors and nurses, as well as volunteers....no other injured people seemed to be present. He shifted his gaze to William at the realization, his voice going even more quiet as he stopped and waited for the older man. "Maybe I shouldn't be here."
A dark-haired man in a military-style jumper stepped towards them, his eyes taking in Luka and dismissing him. "This is staff only, gentlemen." He said the last part like it was an epithet. Without even realizing it, Luka found himself taking a step back as the man approached, then felt slight anger slurring through him, even as he accepted the words.
William had opened his mouth to answer Luka, but changed his gaze to the man. As always, he appeared unruffled. "He's my guest, officer. He can stay."
"But-" the man started.
William smiled, evenly. "Have you seen my daughter, Claire Northstar, come through here?"
The man processed the name, and then blinked slightly. "No, ah...Dr. Northstar, I haven't seen her. She's a volunteer, isn't she?"
William's hand had gone to Luka's arm without looking, preventing him from leaving. "You are sure?" he asked. "She said she was coming this way."
Luka shifted the crutches slightly, dropping his gaze so he couldn't see the eyes he knew had to be on them. As William touched him, he flicked a look his way, then dropped them again. Part of him enjoyed the subtle way William upbraided the man, but part of him wanted to avoid the confrontation, avoid the resentment that seemed to linger.
The man shook his head again. "I don't believe so, doctor. I don't know Miss Northstar that well, but I've only seen a few people come through in the last hour."
William merely grunted in acceptance, then his hand gently tugged Luka forward. "We might as well get something to eat while we are here, yes?"
The military man stepped back, although his eyes lingered on Luka a moment longer as he took in the appearance of the younger man. Luka swallowed, but he lifted his eyes to meet the soldier's scrutiny before moving to follow William.
William largely disregarded the others in the tent, mostly doctors, as he let Luka follow him to the main serving area. "Maybe she went to the common area," he murmured, more to himself.
Not sure if he was talking to him Luka remained silent, aware still of the eyes on them. "You sure it's all right for me to be here?" he questioned quietly after a moment.
"Hmm?" William looked up, and then around at the room. Most of the doctors and volunteers had gone back to their meals without comment, although the military man still eyed them a little. "Of course. This isn't a country club." He took a plate, surveying the choices. "What would you like? I'll get it so you don't have to try balancing."
"But there aren't any...I mean..only people working here are supposed to be here, I wouldn't want to cause any trouble for you."
William shrugged. "That's just so they can get a break from working. But I'm not asking anyone to treat you here. They can see you are just stopping by. Besides....you may be working here eventually."
Luka flicked his eyes to the soldier again, then back to William, still skeptical.
"I could hire you, if that would help." William smiled.
At William's words he looked surprised. "Hire me?"
"Sure. You have the beginnings of your training already in place. And we could always use more doctors, and volunteers."
"I don't know..." He was clearly caught off guard by the offer.
"Well, we can start with lunch. It's an easy procedure to begin with."
Luka looked back to the serving line a bit stunned by the amount of food on it. Used to the scarce rations in Vukovar and being on mainly liquids and soups since arriving in the camp, his exposure to so much had been longer then he could remember.
"Need to keep energy up around here, you know." Luka nodded as William's words, for the moment simply eyeing the bins, the choices almost overwhelming although he knew that it was long absence making it seem that way. William watched him, patient. Luka looked at him and then back to the bins. His stomach growled yet again in anticipation, but the doctor in him knew it was too soon to handle much of what was there. Already his mind was calculating what would be best for his illness, and a brief thought scattered across his mind that he might always think like that.
He looked back to William. "Maybe the beans?"
William nodded. "Good choice....I've had them before." He obliged by putting those on the plate, and took a second plate for himself. "Anything else?"
His gaze lingered on some of the fruit, but not wanting to seem too greedy he simply added. "Some bread.."
William took the bread, calmly putting some on both plates, then turned towards the tables. "Why don't we set these down, and I'll get us some utensils."
"Okay.." He looked over the tables, noting where the ones were with the fewest people were. No need to aggravate the matter. William seemed to do the same, and ended up chosing a table somewhat near the side of the tent, so there was free space for the crutches. Luka followed him over, then leaned the crutches against the side before sitting.
William set the plates down, then straightened. "Get comfortable, and I'll be right back."
His suggestion was easier said then done, and Luka shifted his leg self consciously, then slid his hand in his pocket..confirming the photo was still there before looking back to see where William had gone.
The older man had walked back up to the serving area, and busied himself. When he returned, he held two forks in his right hand, and had two cups tucked under his arm. In the same hand, he had hooked a pitcher over his fingers, and his other hand balanced a third plate. Luka watched the approach with a raised eyebrow. When William set the plate down, it held two small potatoes, seemingly blackened on the outside. "Here, drinks and all." He set the pitcher down, then the forks and the cups. "Like any man, I hate making more than one trip, yes?" He chuckled, then slid the cups over so Luka could pour them full of the water. Luka obligingly filled both glasses then sat the pitcher down again. "Now see, we could do this every day if you agreed to work with me," William said, with a smile, as he took a forkful of the beans.
It was hard not to feel like they were being watched, and Luka found himself looking around before picking up his own fork. "I'm not sure what I could do." He pushed it through the beans, then slid a couple on it and raised it to his mouth..
"Well, at first it might be small things, I admit," William said, paying attention to his food for a moment. "Not much more than the volunteers do now. Run IVs, administer meds, that sort of thing. But once you were able to show what you were capable of...."
"I don't have a license...I was still in school."
William nodded. "That's where many of our volunteers are....all med students or residents, perhaps with two or three years down, if that. Claire herself has only just finished her second year, but she wanted to come out." With that, he lifted his eyes a moment, scanning the room, although he said no more.
To be continued...
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