FF - An Unknown Factor (LKo/SL, Part 15/??)
Miesque
AUTHOR: Miesque (miesq...@hotmail.com)
GENRE: LKo/SL
SPOILERS: Through S10 episode #20, but this is actually an AU fic, with S10
basically not happening as it is on screen (though some things as seen on TV
will happen, or will be modified to how they should happen)
LAST EPISODE SEEN: "Forgive and Forget"
SETTING: Sometime during S10, I'm not sure when.
NOTE: I'm ignoring the entire Sam/Alex thing for this series, because I'm
not getting a feel on it at all. And frankly, there's not going to be a lot
of medical stuff, either, because medical terminology makes me dizzy. :)
===
Snow was falling, so heavily and in such huge flakes that Luka stopped
calling it flakes and instead struggled to find an English word to describe
it properly. Maybe...*wads*. Wads of snow. Scads and oodles of snow.
Snowing calves and heifers.
'Movie-set-decorator-gone-mad-with-the-potato-flakes' snow. Something like
that. Either way, he was getting awfully sick of the stuff. He knew
Chicago basically only had two seasons - winter and the Fourth of July - but
this was getting ridiculous.
He hated snow anyway. Hated the bite of cold. Hated the lazy winds that
went through rather than around him. Snow reminded him of the worst times
of his life, and even though he usually got the worst cases of the blues in
November, he was feeling just as bad now in March. Of course, he was fully
aware of the main reason for his general unhappiness, but it was useless to
think about that now. The course had been set and he could see no means of
deviating from it.
He was running late. He looked at his watch and thumped his fists on the
steering wheel in frustration. Traffic was moving at the speed of Dutch elm
disease, he wanted to go home and go to bed with a hot water bottle under
his feet and a good movie on TV (which ruled out whatever schlocky crap was
showing on 'Lifetime', that was for sure), but instead, he had to come in
and cover a shift for a doctor who had gone home sick.
He watched miserably as somebody went by on skis. He had done that a few
times, going in to work, but naturally he hadn't considered the
overly-exciteable weather guy on TV to have been serious about a 'huge
snowstorm coming'. Amazing, how Americans got so excited about the weather.
When he'd lived in Texas, he had been astounded by how the entire state
would practically shut down due to a halfway decent frost. The wild-eyed
meteorologist would warn viewers - "Steal food, horde gas...if you are an
elderly person, you will not make it through this storm!" And yet Galveston
would get, at best, an inch of snow, and only every few years at that.
Enough to make a footprint. Here in Chicago, they were out playing golf in
eight inches of snow.
Finally, he managed to pull into the County parking garage. The security
guard waved him through and he parked, but sat for a few minutes, warming
his hands over the heater and saying a quick prayer ('Oh, Lord, please don't
let me freeze to death before I get inside.') and then got out, set the
alarm and practically ran to the entrance.
"Hey!" Carter called to him. "Howya doin'?"
"Cold," was all Luka could manage in reply through his hands. He continued
blowing on his shivering palms. Maybe I'm coming down with something, he
thought. Pneumonia might be a good reason to call off work until this
damned spring storm passes.
"Isn't it, though? But it's nice and balmy in here." Carter answered
cheerfully. He looked warm and relaxed, but then he'd been indoors all day
and looked annoyingly chipper. Luka briefly considered punching him right
in the face, but decided against it. The ER needed as many hands as it
could get, so putting Carter in traction would be counterproductive.
They walked into the lounge together and Luka changed into his lab coat. "I
hate March. In fact, I hate all of winter. The whole damned season...every
time winter comes, I'm not prepared and I feel like something's gone
horribly wrong." He looked at Carter. "This just isn't right, dammit!
It's *March*. Things should be green, not *white*!"
He looked out at the sea of the lame and halt in the chairs and sighed.
There were some days, he really didn't want to be a doctor but instead
wished he'd listened to his mother and had become a priest. Or at least to
his father, and had become a lawyer.
"And to think," he said, grabbing a chart. "I fought my way back from
malaria for this!"
"Ah, c'mon, Luka," Carter said. "Surely you're happy to still be around? I
mean, you do seem to be...better lately."
"Generally. In most cases." He looked down at the chart. Eight-year old
boy with a bad knee lac, in exam two. He looked at the younger man. "I did
thank you then, didn't I?"
"Yeah. You even kissed me."
"Good God! I did?!"
"You were kinda goofy on the meds, I admit." Carter snickered. "At least,
that's what I keep telling myself. I mean, I know I'm utterly adorable and
everything..."
"Don't push your luck. But really...I'm glad to be alive these days. I
feel like things are getting better."
"Is that because of that Megan woman you're dating?"
"Uh...sort of."
"So you like her? Things are going well?"
"Um...yeah. Really well. Things are great these days."
"You're an awful liar, Luka. If things were going great, you wouldn't look
so miserable."
"Yes. You're very smart, Carter. Now shut up." He went into exam two.
"Spencer? Hi, I'm Dr. Kovac. I hear you had a bad fall this morning at
school..."
===
<beep> "Hi, Luka. This is Megan. Where are you? Oh well. I'm just
calling you to tell you that the museum is having a benefit ball Saturday
night - formal, black-tie only - and I was hoping you'd be so kind as to
escort me. Call me when you can. Bye!"
Luka didn't save the message - he had heard the phone ringing while getting
out of the shower, and the phone upstairs had a dead battery. So he'd
galloped downstairs only to be too late. He rubbed his head with a towel
and pondered the inevitably of having to attend something like that at her
museum. Museums depended on fund-raisers, after all. They depended a lot
on the generosity of well-to-do folks. Like, ostensibly, himself. Besides,
he wasn't entirely well-to-do. He had, after all, decided not to sell all
his earthly belongings and fly back to Africa. He had money in the bank, at
least.
But he didn't relish the idea at all. Dressing up like a waiter and
standing around sipping champagne while some muzzy-headed blowhard talked
about his summer in Cannes wasn't his idea of a good time. But Megan never
asked much of Luka and she was a nice woman, so...he sighed wearily and sat
down. Twopper, taller and leggier now - typical fashion model: all legs and
no brains - came over, tail wagging eagerly. The dog wanted her breakfast.
Which meant that she didn't try to find out what Luka was wearing under the
towel he had wrapped around his waist.
Megan never asked for much. In the past four weeks, they had gone on
several dates, and while they got along well and were able to relax in each
others' company, Luka had felt no spark, no fire, no chemistry. Of course,
chemistry wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Chemistry could be a very
nice thing. Or it could be...very bad. It could result in a lot of smoke
and a bad smell, or like in the case of one of his older brothers, no
eyebrows for a year.
Still, he genuinely liked her. She was pleasant and cheerful and
sweet-tempered. She never complained. She paid him compliments. She
listened to him. She laughed at his jokes. She was interested in the same
things he was interested in. She was easy on the eyes.
She bored him to tears.
He winced at having admitted that. He was determined to be faithful to her,
no matter what. If Susan had thought she was good for him, he figured she'd
know. Probably even better than himself. Maybe he wasn't looking closely
enough. Megan had never lost her temper with him, and he was wondering if
maybe that might help. If he saw what she was like when she was mad,
showing some sign of real animation, he might get turned on enough to really
make the relationship *official*. Danijela had always turned him on when
she was angry. Funny how no woman he'd dated since had. Abby had only
annoyed him when she was angry - but then, she usually *was* angry about
something back then, so he'd always been annoyed - and the others...
Growling to himself for thinking about the past again, he got up and poured
Twopper a bowl of kibble. "Yesterday is dead and tomorrow is blind," he
told the dog, who paid him no attention whatsover until he headed for the
stairs. The dog gobbled up her food eagerly and then followed him back to
his bedroom. She clambered up onto his bed and lay there, chin on her paws,
watching him dress.
"And we only know for sure about today. And you, Twopper, are a pervert,"
he told her. But she didn't seem to mind.
===
"So...uh...how are things going between you and Luka?" Susan asked Megan.
Her friend was giving her a lift to work, since Susan's car was in the shop.
"Everything's going well. He agreed to take me to the museum benefit
Saturday night. You should rope yourself a strapping cowboy and come, too."
"Me? Oh...well...I..." Susan wasn't sure she would be able to stand
watching Luka and Megan together. Which made her feel like a complete
bonehead. She had Yenta'd the match herself, hadn't she? And yet every
time Megan told her something Luka had told her - particularly if it was
something he had never told Susan - it made her want to pick up a sternal
saw and use it on herself.
She wanted Luka to be happy, and Megan seemed to be having that effect on
him. He seemed perfectly relaxed around her: he smiled, he talked, he
seemed contented. If there was any problem, Susan was sure she would
notice, wouldn't she? Then again, she knew he was an excellent actor. If
he wanted to keep something from her, he could and he would. Effortlessly.
"So have you two...you know..." Susan smiled, trying to sound casual and
only interested in the entirely purient, 'I'm single and living vicariously
through you, so tell me everything you little bitch' sense. She even
managed a sly little smile. But prepared herself for nausea if the answer
was what she really didn't want to hear.
"Susan, I am appalled! I'm a nice Catholic girl. And no, unfortunately, we
haven't." Megan stopped in front of the ambulance bay. "See you later. Do
you need a ride home tonight? It wouldn't be a problem."
"No, no...I'll take the El. I'm off at three o'clock and the garage is only
two blocks from home. They *ought* to have my car ready in time for me to
pick Susie up from school. Bye!" Susan banged the door shut and went over
to the roach coach to buy a cup of coffee. Carter was sitting on the bench,
looking through a newspaper.
"Hey!" he called to her as she approached. "You're looking...utterly
miserable these days, if I may say so."
"You may not say so, you weasel-lipped little creep."
He cackled, unoffended, and returned to his paper. But he wasn't finished
with her yet. "The green-eyed monster is about to enter the building, I
see."
"What green-eyed monster?" she snapped. But she knew what he meant, and was
immediately contrite. "Oh...damn, Carter, I'm sorry. I'm just in a really
bitchy mood today. But that's no excuse for me being bitchy to you. I'll
take my mood out on a med student instead. How are you these days?" She
sat down beside him and crossed her ankles, wrapping cold fingers around the
styrofoam cup and breathing in the delicious scent of fresh coffee. Too bad
it wasn't as strong as the stuff Luka made.
"Bad moods seem to be going around lately," he answered. "I'm okay."
She took a grateful drink. Chicago was going through its yearly 'I Lulled
You Into a False Sense of Freedom from Ice, Didn't I?' spring snowstorm, and
piles of snow were everywhere again. Only the piles weren't pure white any
more, but black or grey. The ambulance bay looked like a Welsh slag yard.
Susan sneered at it all, hating this kind of weather. It matched her black
mood too well. It would match better, of course, it the snow was all green.
"Have you heard from Kem?"
Carter's smile faded. "Not lately. We e-mailed each other almost every
day, but I haven't heard from her since the middle of last week. I hope
nothing's wrong."
Susan sighed. Nobody at County wanted to point out to him that no woman
could be that far along in her pregnancy and still not show. Something was
definitely wrong, though nobody could put their finger on it. Susan had
grilled Luka about it a few days ago, but he had refused to answer any
questions. Whether that was because he didn't know Kem or because he *did*
know Kem was something Susan wasn't sure she wanted to contemplate, for
Carter's sake. But she still got an uneasy feeling about it all just the
same.
"I'm sure everything's fine. She's probably just very busy now. Uh...has
Luka already gone home?"
"Nope. He's in the lounge, pulling his hair out and, I think, putting
curses on residents."
"Something elaborate and horrifying, I'm guessing?"
"Voodoo-like, frankly," he answered, grinning. "Last time I saw him, he was
saying things in Croatian and maybe Italian, and he had several little dolls
and long needles..."
She laughed and gave Carter a gentle punch to the shoulder, then trudged
into the hospital. Patients in chairs were having their usual impromptu
spring coughing contest ("And the winner is...the guy who just hornked up a
lung!") and watching Rickie Lake on TV. Sam, the newest nurse, buzzed her
in and Susan greeted her.
"What's going on today? Anything unusual?"
"Nope. Coughy, Sneezy, Wheezy and Dead," Sam answered. "Par for the course
in late March, I'm afraid."
"Yeah, that's for sure." Susan blew on her coffee and went to the lounge.
Luka was sitting there, rubbing his forehead and reading through what Susan
immediately recognized as residents' student evaluations.
"I hate this," he told her in way of greeting. "I'm reviewing other
peoples' reviews! And I swear - what is it about a person going to medical
school that makes them almost incapable of writing a coherent sentence? I
know my English is hardly perfect, but somehow the phrase 'has no cognitive
reasoning aptitude but is real observant' seems out of place in the writings
of a graduate degree holder."
She smiled. She had missed him terribly for the past four weeks, and her
loneliness hit her hard just then. There had been no Who the Hell Needs
Love Club meetings. None of his stories about his childhood back in
Croatia. None of his quiet chuckle and self-effacing humor. No pleasant
woodsy scent, no arguments about whether Thai food could actually be
considered a weapon of mass destruction against the stomach lining.
Nothing. Just him leaving after work to go on a date with Megan. Just her
going home to look at Susie's drawings from school and help her get a leg up
on math and reading so she'd be on her game for the fourth grade. Every
night, Laura Ingalls Wilder or 'Charlotte's Web', or Susan stammering her
way through a Dr. Seuss book.
Maybe, she thought as she put her coat away and replaced it with her lab
coat. Maybe I'll lasso myself a nice guy and go to that soiree Saturday
night. Get a sitter for Susie and wear something without a Bug Juice stain
on it and spend time with people who don't require me to cut their meat for
them or sing 'The Itsy Bitsy Spider' in four-part harmony before they'll eat
their Brussels sprouts. She adored her niece, but she was only human. She
needed Personal Time. Or at least a good nap.
"You're going to that benefit thing with Megan Saturday night?" she asked,
trying to make conversation.
Luka nodded. He had been conscripted already, and had an appointment with a
tailor that afternoon. He glanced at Susan and felt a swell of terrible
longing. How he had gotten through the past few weeks was beyond him. Not
hearing her voice or her laugh. Not listening to her talk about something
Susie had done that day. She hadn't called him at all - maybe she thought
Megan would be there at night. He missed Susan. So badly he ached.
"So...um...you and Megan...everything's working out?" She looped her
stethoscope around her neck and turned back to face him.
"Yeah. She's really nice. I'm glad you introduced us."
She somehow managed to give him a genuine smile. "I'm glad, too. She's a
very nice woman - it's impossible to dislike her, that's for sure. And
you're a nice guy, so...I figured 'nice' and 'nice' would go together well."
"Yeah."
This was all for the best, he told himself. She didn't need to get mixed up
in his life. Of course, that made him wonder why she'd think Megan would
want to. Maybe Susan just didn't want to go through it herself,
particularly after all the bad luck she'd been having lately - Chuck's
death, then Mr. Hollander's, topped off by Chloe. Megan did seem like a
strong, independent woman. But so was Susan, and he was definitely tired of
the selfish and/or flaky variety of the female sex. Nowadays, he wanted a
woman who wasn't afraid to challenge him, who could give as good as she
took, and who wasn't afraid of his past, much less his demons.
Basically, he wanted Susan.
But Susan simply didn't want him. Score one for her, anyway, he thought as
he opened another evaluation file. At least she's got her head on straight.
===
The semi-pro hockey player with the twisted knee was chatting her up, eyes
fixed on her the whole time she treated his injury. Susan couldn't exactly
say that she liked the guy's looks, much less his style, but then again she
could see nothing about him that was offensive or appalling. His name was
Jake Harris, he was thirty-four, and he had attended Northwestern -
graduating two years after her, but she hadn't known him during those two
overlapping years. When he asked her out, she accepted.
"So where would you like to go?" he asked her after he'd put his clothes
back on and was getting ready to go. His knee only required a brace for a
couple of days, and he would be able to walk without it, so long as he
remembered to sit down and rest often.
"Well, as it happens, I've been invited to an art museum benefit Saturday
night. How about that?"
Jake looked a little less than enthused, but he seemed willing to put up
with anything. "Okay. When do I pick you up?"
She gave him the time and a place to meet, and he left, a big smile on his
face. Jing-Mei caught up with Susan as she headed down the hall toward
another patient. "What was that?"
"I have a date for Saturday night. That's all." Susan looked at the chart.
A forty-five year old man with low-grade fever, productive cough, chills and
vomiting. Survey says...flu, Susan thought bitterly. Her tenth flu patient
of the day.
"Oh? To that museum benefit? Did you know the Carter Family Foundation is
hosting it?"
"I had no idea, but that sounds about right. Gee, I feel like I'm on 'Days
of Our Lives'. Just change my name to Sierra and I'll be all set. I just
hope this ball doesn't last six days, like on a soap opera. That would
frankly be the end of me." She pushed the exam room door open. "Hi, Mr.
Miller. I'm Dr. Lewis. I take it you're not feeling too well?"
===
Megan brushed an imaginary speck of dust off of Luka's tuxedo jacket and
smiled at him. "You look spectacular," she said.
"Thanks." She looked rather nice, too, in that figure-hugging, sleek red
dress and elbow-length white gloves. But no matter how hard he tried, he
couldn't even muster up a heightened pulse rate. *Nothing*. "You look
pretty spiffy yourself. Is that the word? 'Spiffy'?"
She smiled . "Yes. And I'm glad you picked Hugo Boss. It suits you a
little better for this type of event. Armani looks great on you too,
but..."
"I'd look like a hit man." He did his best Robert DeNiro imitation. "We
don' wan' nobody should get hurt, see...badda-boom, badda-bing..."
She laughed. A sweet, gentle sound that ought to have been music to his
ears. It wasn't irritating. It was just... That is to say, it wasn't...
He straightened his sleeves and fiddled with his cuff links. There was no
use thinking about it. Megan was probably his best chance and he was going
to just have to take it. If it meant settling, it would have to be just
that. Lots of people make lasting relationships that don't involve passion,
after all, and they seem perfectly content. Maybe not happy, but rather
sleepy instead. Maybe not having to be peeled off the ceiling after a
particularly good roll in the hay, but still able to produce one or two
offspring. Content. That was a lot better than having a death wish,
anyway.
They were at Megan's apartment. It was a warm, cozy-looking place, with all
the trappings of comfortable, unostentatious wealth. Flowers in vases.
Prints of familiar paintings - he even recognized some well-known abstract
artists' works - hung on the walls. Photos of family members were on the
mantlepiece. The whole place exuded homey, relaxed cheer. It was a place
to settle down. A place to sit in front of the fire, reading Keats and
watching kids tumble around. Of course, he'd put a heavy-duty grate in
front of the fire and a good smoke alarm system nearby...
Megan caught him looking at her, and smiled. "Is something wrong?"
He went to her side and touched her cheek. She flushed. He didn't have to
bend down far to kiss her, so that made it easy to do. He pulled away after
a few moments. Her lips were soft and sweet. But he felt no rush of
desire. He knew then that he'd never love her, but he liked her. And that
would have to be enough.
He smiled, feeling more miserable then he'd felt in years. "Are you ready
to go?"
"Yes." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm ready."
To be continued
Naomi
> "Cold," was all Luka could manage in reply through his hands. He continued
> blowing on his shivering palms. Maybe I'm coming down with something, he
> thought. Pneumonia might be a good reason to call off work until this
> damned spring storm passes.
>
You been reading my fics or something?
>
> "Yeah. You even kissed me."
>
> "Good God! I did?!"
>
> "You were kinda goofy on the meds, I admit." Carter snickered. "At least,
> that's what I keep telling myself. I mean, I know I'm utterly adorable and
> everything..."
Ah... I've been heard to comment, I think, that the writer's were on
drugs when they wrote that scene. NOW we learn that it was LUKA who
was supposed to have been on drugs. Makes sense now... (Though it
still doesn't explain Carter's diaglogue, mind you.)
Enjoying this ... though I'm still not entirely clear why Luka is
going out with Megan.
Naomi
Miesque
"Naomi" <npa...@indiana.edu> wrote in message
news:1859fad3.04032...@posting.google.com...
> Ah... I've been heard to comment, I think, that the writer's were on
> drugs when they wrote that scene. NOW we learn that it was LUKA who
> was supposed to have been on drugs. Makes sense now...
I sort of interpreted that scene as a big brother giving his little brother
a kiss to say, 'Ya done good, kid'.
> Enjoying this ... though I'm still not entirely clear why Luka is
> going out with Megan.
Megan popped up rather unexpectedly, I admit, and the timing wasn't right
for Luka & Susan anyway. Things will come to a head in due time.
Er...that's not exactly the right phrase, is it? ;D
~Miesque
Naomi Pardue
>I sort of interpreted that scene as a big brother giving his little brother
>a kiss to say, 'Ya done good, kid'.
> NOW we learn that it was LUKA who
>> was supposed to have been on drugs. Makes sense now...
>
>I sort of interpreted that scene as a big brother giving his little brother
>a kiss to say, 'Ya done good, kid'.
Actually, the kiss was the only part I LIKED of that whole scene in "The Lost."
It was sorta cute. It was dialogue that had me convinced the writer's were on
drugs.
>Things will come to a head in due time.
>
>Er...that's not exactly the right phrase, is it? ;D
I dunno. What's the rating on this fic anyway? ;-)
Naomi
Ellen K Hursh
>>> NOW we learn that it was LUKA who was supposed to have been on drugs.
>>> Makes sense now...
>>
>>I sort of interpreted that scene as a big brother giving his little
>>brother a kiss to say, 'Ya done good, kid'.
>
> Actually, the kiss was the only part I LIKED of that whole scene in "The
> Lost." It was sorta cute. It was dialogue that had me convinced the
> writer's were on drugs.
The kiss was great (entirely in character, I thought, for a European man
in a temporarily loopy state). The dialogue... that, I've (apparently
mercifully) blanked from my mind.
Naomi Pardue
>in a temporarily loopy state).
Hmmm... so what do I have to do to get him to kiss me?
>The dialogue... that, I've (apparently
>mercifully) blanked from my mind.
Remember ... all that "Home?" "Where's that?" and "Tell her 'I once was lost
but now I'm found...'" stuff. Ok... so maybe Luka was on drugs and feverish.
Doesn't explain Carter.
Naomi
Ellen K Hursh
>>The dialogue... that, I've (apparently mercifully) blanked from my mind.
>
> Remember ... all that "Home?" "Where's that?" and "Tell her 'I once was
> lost but now I'm found...'" stuff. Ok... so maybe Luka was on drugs and
> feverish. Doesn't explain Carter.
Oh, right. I did kinda like the line "Home? Where's that?", but Carter
cribbing from "Amazing Grace"... that, I could've done without.