--------------------------- Chapter Thirteen: Fine Again ---------------------------
It seems like every day is the same
And I'm left to discover on my own
It seems like everything is gray
And there's no colors to behold
--
They say it's over
And I'm fine again
Try to stay sober
Feels like I'm dying here
---------------------------
It was raining lightly as Dr. Dave Malucci walked down the street alone. He didn't know exactly where he was because he had been walking for a very long while, so long he had lost track of time...or maybe it was the drugs, perhaps the alcohol. He couldn't even remember how he had gotten there, so backtracking his steps to his apartment would prove to be useless. He couldn't recall most of the night, really. He could vaguely remember going into various bars - how many he could not be sure of. He also vaguely remembered taking a few Klonopins and washing them down with a large glass of whiskey.
And, finally, he recalled that he had hit John Carter: his coworker, his friend, his boyfriend, his lover...whatever you wanted to call him, it didn't really matter. He was still the same person, and Dave had still hit him. Nothing would change that. No amount of alcohol or drugs, or anything. Nothing.
Dave didn't know how it had happened. One minute, John was holding up the pills, asking Dave if he had been looking for them. Dave had said yes, that they were his allergy pills. Then John had opened the bottle to reveal the Demerol, the Dexedrines, the Klonipins, the barbiturates, everything...the next thing Dave knew, he was wrestling John for the bottle of pills, which the older man had been about to flush down the toilet. Somehow, Dave had managed to hit him - so hard he had knocked John to the ground, a bruise already forming on his jaw by the time John stood.
But by that time, Dave had fled from the apartment, the bottle of pills going with him. He couldn't stay there, not after what he had done. He'd sworn to God that he would never hit anyone he loved, never, *never*. But there he was, hitting the one he loved more than anyone so he could get what he wanted. Just like his father. Dear Jesus, he was just like his father.
Suddenly, Dave sat down on the wet pavement, leaning against the brick building behind him. Burying his face in his hands, he wept, wondering how he had gotten to this point in his life, wondering how he had turned into the same man he had promised himself would never be. And, suddenly, he found himself doing the one thing he hadn't done in years, the one thing he thought he had forgotten how to - he was praying. He was praying that God would please take mercy on him and please forgive him and please, please please please...please, God, if He would do anything, would He please help him?
Dave just needed to calm down, that's all. If he calmed down, he could sort things out and then he'd know what to do. The Klonopins should've taken care of his nerves, so why weren't they working? Exactly how many had he taken? Not enough, apparently, because he could still feel, he could still remember. Slipping his hand into his jeans' pocket before he even knew what he was doing, Dave pulled out the bottle of pills, only having minor problems twisting off the cap with his shaking hands. Spilling them out into his palm, his eyes landed on the barbiturates, and he separated them from the bunch and popped them into his mouth before he had a chance to further contemplate the thought. He didn't even know how many he had taken, he just hoped they were enough to make him forget.
He tipped his head back, closing his eyes as he sat there for a minute, listening to his harsh breathing. When he heard sirens in the distance, he opened them again, finally taking a look at his surroundings. He wasn't in a good part of town, he realized, and he knew he'd better get out of here before he got mixed up in someone else's business. Quickly, he stood and swiftly made his way towards a place he hadn't been to in a while, hoping he would get there before it was too late.
-------------------------------------
And I am aware now of how everything's gonna be fine
One day, too late, I'm in Hell
And I am prepared now, it seems everyone's gonna be fine
One day, too late, just as well
-------------------------------------
Luka Kovac's bags sat next to his apartment door, packed and ready to go. He would be leaving in the morning, a reserved driver from a limousine service taking him to the airport two hours before his flight was due to take off. He was going to Bosnia, on a Doctors Without Borders program, where he would treat the citizens for two months before returning to the United States. Perhaps while he was there he would even visit Bosnia's neighboring country - and his home - Croatia. He hadn't seen his father in a few years, or visited his dead family in a few years for that matter either. Perhaps a visit to both would be good.
Flicking off the television, Luka stretched on the couch and yawned deeply. It had been his first day shift in a while, and his body seemed to refuse to adjust to the hours. Therefore, he was still up at this late hour, but Luka now decided that it was time to attempt sleep. Standing as he placed the remote on the end of the couch, he jumped slightly as he heard his doorbell ring. Who could it be at twelve o'clock in the morning?
Cautiously, Luka crossed the room to his apartment door, glancing into the peephole to see who it was. He leaned back in surprise as he saw who was at his door, and then looked again just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Unlocking the door, he pulled it open, coming face to face with the man behind it.
"Carter," he said, unable to hide the surprise he still felt in his voice. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for Dave," he announced, his expression showing his concern. Luka took in the younger man's bruised jaw but offered no comment. "We got into a fight and he left, and I didn't know if he came here."
"Why would he be here?" Luka asked when the Chief Resident didn't elaborate.
"I don't know, I'm checking everywhere," John stated, exasperated now, obviously unwilling to go into details. "Has he been here?"
"No, I haven't seen him," Luka said, shaking his head. He nodded towards John's jaw, remembering the fight between himself and Dave that had happened in the summer. "What kind of fight did you get into?"
"Uh..." John stammered, self-consciously touching his bruise. "It wasn't physical, it was just..." He suddenly paused, as if realizing what he was about to say. "Look, can you call me if he comes by? It doesn't matter what time it is or anything, just call me."
"Sure," Luka replied, and then narrowed his eyes as John handed him a small piece of paper with his phone number, apparently written beforehand. He hesitated only briefly. "Is something wrong?"
"Uh, yeah," John said, but then glanced up at Luka pleadingly. "I just...I can't...I'm sorry, Dr. Kovac, would you just please call me if he comes by? It's very important." The Attending only nodded, though his expression displayed his curiosity and slight puzzlement. "Thanks."
And then, just as surprisingly as he had arrived, Dr. Carter was gone. The younger man was clearly stating that whatever had happened wasn't his business, but it was obviously important for reasons unknown to Luka. And while he had wanted to ask, he had bitten his tongue and refrained from doing so. He wasn't a part of Dave's life anymore, and he was almost disappointed in a way to think that he never really had been.
It was his own fault really, he'd never wanted it to go further than what it was, which was his need to "walk on the wild side," as Dave put it once. He had always secretly thought that Dave was just an experience, that he was better than Dave - had more class, more intellect, more feelings. Now he saw that he was wrong, wrong in so many ways. Dave did have feelings, and all he wanted was to be cared about and respected.
Dave had respected Luka's wishes, and he let Luka use him. But why would Dave do that? Did Dave have that low opinion of himself? Then it hit Luka: Dave, for all his outward appearance and bravado, really didn't think he was worth anything to anyone. And Luka certainly hadn't helped matters any. Well, Luka thought with a sigh, he wanted a sexual relationship with Dave - *just* a sexual relationship with Dave - and that's what he ended up with. What was that American saying? Pay attention to what you wish? Watch out what you wish for? He wasn't sure, he could never really get those sayings right.
Luka watched the Jeep's taillights as the vehicle drove away into the rain, where it disappeared around the corner. He wondered where "everywhere" meant when Carter said that he'd looked everywhere for Dave, thinking that perhaps he meant Abby's apartment as well. The rumors of Dave and Abby were still abounding, but it was considered common knowledge around the hospital that the two were a couple. Luka, however, knew better than this after witnessing what had happened a few nights ago when John had brought Dave into the emergency room after being jumped. John and Dave's reactions had given them away to the older man, who would only guess because he knew of Dave's sexuality. Even then, he'd still contemplated the fact that Dave could've been seeing both Abby and John, one not knowing of the other or perhaps just Abby not knowing about John. However, Abby's reaction to the whole situation had not been one of a lover, but one of a good friend.
Leaning against the doorway heavily, Luka watched the rainfall as he remembered last summer, when he and Dave had gotten into the fight that had ended their relationship. He suddenly scoffed, recalling how that night he had specifically told Dave - rather callously - that they had never been in a relationship, ever. He suddenly remembered everything, and suddenly found that night's events rushing back to him in one hard blow and for the first time he understood how Dave must have felt.
---
I feel the dream in me expire
And there's no one left to blame it on
I hear you label me a liar
'Cause I can't seem to get this through
--
You say it's over
I can sigh again, yeah
Why try to say sober
When I'm dying here?
---
The evening had started out uncomfortable even before they'd left Luka's apartment. Dave had wanted to leave for the bar earlier, but Luka had found his new Sony PlayStation far too interesting to pass up, so the younger man had sat rather impatiently on the couch until about nine-thirty at night before Luka lost at a level and turned off the machine. Once they'd arrived at the dimly lit tavern, Luka had greeted two elderly chess players who were regulars, Dave inquiring if Luka knew them and finding out that they'd met at lunch.
"Delirium Tremens?" the pretty French waitress had asked Luka once the two men had been seated at a table. It was a pretty strong beer, with a pretty unique name, and he wondered how the two had met. Dave had narrowed his eyes as they'd continued to flirt, before interrupting their love-fest to order a Corona and a couple of menus. "I'm sorry, the kitchen closes at ten," she then reported.
"It's, like, 10:02," Dave said with slight incredulity as he glanced at his watch.
"I'm sorry," she apologized again, and Dave seemed as if he were about to say something rude or perhaps make a scene, so before that happened, Luka stepped in and asked if there were any appetizers left over. "I think the soup is still there," the waitress replied. "Potato cream?"
Dave glared daggers at Luka, silently fantasizing about pouring that soup up the waitress's cute French nostrils. He considered putting that fantasy into words, though eventually, he replied: "Just the beers, please."
The night had gone downhill from there. Luka had decided to play a game of pool with another man who happened to be from Croatia as well, and Dave had been stuck talking to one of the chess-players, who insisted that Dave check out his hand and figure out why it was bothering him so much. Dave had off-handedly replied that he should let Luka look at it, since the Attending was pretty good with pus. Then he'd stuck his arm up in the air, pointing to his watch as Luka caught sight of him, making it very clear that he wanted to go home.
"Cigarette?" the old man sitting across from him had then asked.
Dave actually considered it for a moment. "No thanks. I don't smoke."
His cellular phone had rung at that moment, and when he answered it he was mildly surprised that it was Carter. He hadn't even known that the Resident had had his number. They'd discussed a patient for a few moments, clearing up the fact that no, Dave hadn't administered GENT, and *then* Luka had decided that now was the time to leave.
"You don't have to hang up for me," Luka had replied rather haughtily when Dave hung up, knowing full well that it had been Dr. Carter on the phone.
"Ready to go?" Dave asked, hoping to avoid confrontation tonight. He was hungry, and he was tired, and all he wanted to do was go home, get something to eat, and then go straight to bed.
"If you want," Luka had then shrugged.
"Yeah, I want," Dave had snapped, by now getting rather annoyed with the older man.
"Fine," Luka muttered in response, before stalking off to get the check.
"Oh, now *he's* mad?" Dave said to his chess-playing companion, who was still seated across from him and had witnessed the short exchange. "I didn't even want to fucking come here."
Twenty full minutes later, Dave was still stuck at the table with the old man while Luka had now decided to get into a fairly long discussion with his Croatian friend. That's it. Dave had had enough of Luka's shit for tonight, no way in *hell* was he going to stay here another minute and take all of this nonsense. Standing, he approached Luka at the bar, and then proceeded to announce: "I'm taking a cab."
"What?" Luka had asked, but Dave didn't bother to answer him as he stormed out of the tavern, the older man following close behind. The Junior Resident stepped outside into the warm summer air, pulling out his cell phone and figuring he could dial information for the nearest taxicab service when he heard Luka's voice once more. "That guy's father was diagnosed with prostate cancer last month. He was asking for treatment options!"
"No, it's fine," Dave insisted, though his tone indicated that it was *far* from fine. He raised his hands in the air in mock-surrender, saying, "Go back in there and play doctor, I don't care."
"You should try it sometime," Luka hissed, and Dave turned to face him with a silent glare, ready to retaliate until the standoff was suddenly broken:
"Luka!" they both suddenly heard from behind them, and Dave quietly seethed as he recognized the voice of the pretty French waitress. "You forgot your credit card!" Approaching her, Luka fumbled with the tip as she said so sweetly Dave feared that he just might get diabetes, "The last two were on the house. We want to make sure you come back." The Attending then thanked the waitress, who called to Dave: "Nice meeting you!"
"Yeah," he snapped in reply, and then stalked off, trying to figure out the best way to get to the El train station since he didn't travel by it very often, especially from this part of town.
"Could you be a little bit more rude?" Luka asked, once he caught up with Dave, his tone incredulous.
"Could you be a little bit more friendly??" Dave fumed.
"I'm glad one of us is," the older man reported, following close behind.
"You know what?" Dave asked, stopping suddenly and spinning around, Luka almost knocking into him. "I told you I didn't care. Go back into the bar, and cure cancer for the UN for while you're at it, okay?? And when you're done, why don't you just go ahead and fuck that stupid no-brained slut!"
"Been there," Luka spat, looking directly at Dave, "done that - with *you*."
"Oh, right, Luka," Dave hissed sarcastically, continuing on his walk to the EL. "I'm such a fucking idiot. And I'm such a whore! You're the one that let's me fuck you every night. So what does that say about you, Luka?? Oh, yeah, that's right. You're a *saint*! Silly me, I forgot."
"I'm sick of it," Luka suddenly said, throwing his arms up in the air as Dave saw the El Platform nearby and began moving at a steady pace for it. "I'm just plain sick of it!" he repeated, this time more angrily.
"Sick of what?" Dave asked. "Sick of me? I haven't done anything to you! I've given you everything you wanted, and then some! And you're 'sick of it'??"
As they moved up the steps to the platform, the Junior Resident could see the train was about to leave. Quickly, he made a dash for it, just making it before it left the station, and he was almost surprised that Luka had followed him. He was almost hoping that perhaps Luka would give up already, that tomorrow they could deal with this since it was late, and Dave was tired, and still quite hungry, but the older man was still there.
Facing away from Luka, Dave crossed his arms over his chest, asking rather calmly: "What are you sick of? Me? This fight? What??"
"I'm sick of everything, Dave," he replied, his anger rising as Dave kept his back towards him, unwilling to even *look* at him during this argument. It was the least he could've done. "Especially your behavior back there." The train came to a stop, and as Dave glanced at the map of the different lines kept near the ceiling, he noted that it was his stop. Brushing past Luka rather roughly, he exited the train, and Luka followed with a sigh. "I was just trying to have fun! Is that such a crime??"
"No, go have fun," Dave said, raising his arms in the air in a dismissive manner as he quickly walked down the platform, Luka still following him. "I'm a big boy now, I can walk home all by myself, don't worry about me."
"Then why are you acting like a fucking toddler?"
"That's right, Luka!" Dave countered, his voice edged with sarcasm. "You are *always* right and I am *always* wrong..."
"Why do you have to make a big problem out of everything?" the Attending asked, his words edged with impatience. "It's like you have an insect in your anus!"
Dave scoffed. " 'Bug up my ass,' Luka, it's *bug* up my ass. If you're going to insult me, you can at least get the words right."
"Fine," Luka spat angrily, offended. "Then how about this: stop being such an asshole."
"I'm being an asshole?" Dave asked, laughing, though it was anything but amused. "*I'm* the one being an asshole?? You're the one that takes me to this fucking tavern that isn't even serving food anymore, after I come home from a twelve-hour shift! You're the one that's flirting with that waitress when I'm sitting right there, regardless of how it would make me feel. And *you're* the one that leaves your date with some old chess-player to go play pool with one of your friends!"
"What makes you think this was a date, Malucci??"
"Hello!" Dave said, dread creeping up on him as he wondered what exactly Luka meant by that question. "Where have you been the past month??"
"Ha!" Luka laughed harshly. "What, you think this is some sort of...relationship?"
"So what has this been to you?" Dave asked, his mind racing. What was Luka trying to say?? "What...what has this been to you??"
"That question," Luka said, his words laced with pure contempt, "would imply that this was anything at all."
Dave slowed to a stop, and Luka stopped as well, turning to see Dave looking up at him with an almost horrified expression. His eyes were searching Luka's, but the older man offered no comment, and the Junior Resident soon looked away, unable to form words or even make a movement.
Then, finally, "What? That's...this has been *nothing* to you?? Just...just..."
"That's right," Luka said, his anger and perhaps the alcohol consumed tonight getting the best of him. He moved close to Dave, deliberately close, knowing Dave hated it when Luka did that, when Luka overpowered him. The younger man began to turn to walk away, but Luka grabbed him by his arm and forced him to face him. "I used you, Malucci. You were an experiment...a toy. And a good one, at that. But that's all you ever were to me...just a toy."
"Get off me, Luka." Dave suddenly pushed Luka away from him, almost causing the older man to fall, but he kept his grip on Dave's arm, and pushed the younger man back, causing Dave to hit the wall behind him. "Don't fucking touch me."
"Always what you want, isn't it??" Luka spat, and though Dave struggled to get out of his grasp, Luka did not relent. He was sick and tired of Dave getting the last word, winning every argument, being able to call the shots and back out whenever he wanted to. "When am I going to be able to get what I want, huh? Why do you always get everything, and I get stuck listening to you? When am I going to get what I want?" he asked again.
"I said get *off* me!" Dave said, desperation clear in his voice, and Luka was about to let go when suddenly the younger man swung at him wildly. He grazed Luka's solar plexus, and would've knocked the wind out of the older man had he not gotten out of the way in time. Dave stood there, breathing heavily, as Luka listened, who was silently fuming, hardly able to control his anger by now. "What *you* want? I've always done what you want! I kept this a secret, I kept it from everyone. I left when you wanted me to, I came back when you wanted me to. It's always been what you want, *always*!!
"Well what about what I want, Luka?" Dave yelled, continuing his tirade, now standing close to the older man, staring Luka down even though he was considerably shorter. And he kept moving forward, getting in Luka's face, taunting him, and dangerously so. "What about me? Yeah, I'm here, I was a part of this too! You're telling me for the past month I was being used? Because you wanted to experiment? You wanted a toy?? Well you got what you wanted, Luka! What about me, huh? Did you ever even care to consider about how I felt??"
"Oh, please," Luka said, his face contorted with anger. "As if you are *always* so considerate of other's feelings. Since when are *you* the saint, Dave??"
"But you are, Mr. Self-Righteous," Dave shot back, inching closer towards Luka. "Why don't you get off your fucking throne for once. Oh, what's wrong? Afraid people will find out what you're *really* like? Hmm?? How do you think Abby would respond to that, huh? Or do you think she'd rather hear how you beg me to fuck you every. Single. Night. Or *maybe* - "
Dave didn't even realize what had happened until he was holding his stinging cheek, and then he looked up at Luka with wide eyes before remembering to breathe. And, suddenly, he found himself looking into his father's eyes. And, just as suddenly, he had an urgent need to get away from Luka. But almost as if sensing this need, the Attending stepped closer to him, too close for Dave's comfort, backing Dave up against the wall once more, his face very close to Dave's, but the younger man could not meet the older man's eyes.
"If you ever," Luka started, his anger getting the best of him, "say anything to anyone, your cheek won't be the only thing hurting. I will ruin you, Malucci. I will kill you. Is that clear?"
"Right, yeah," Dave breathed, still unable to make eye contact. "Crystal clear...frighteningly clear...uh...I...I have to go now. I have an early shift..."
"Remember what I said," Luka said, but Dave briskly walked away in the opposite direction of his apartment, and the Attending had even begun to go after him, but realized with deep regret what exactly he had said and done. Kicking himself mentally, he watched the younger man stalk off.
Luka went home that night feeling terrible for what he had said and did to Dave. He had scared him visibly, and while it had been what he intended, he still felt bad. Something terrible had happened to Dave a long time ago, and even though Luka didn't know what it was, he knew something had happened to him and he had exploited it tonight. God, what had he done??
With a sigh and an almost pained expression, Luka had then reached for the phone and dialed Dave's phone number, but neither the answering machine nor Dave picked up. Dave always left his answering machine on, even when he was home, and Luka knew that Dave had to have shut it off when he came home, which meant two things: he was home, and he wasn't answering the phone. Luka couldn't blame him - hell, if the situation were reversed he wouldn't want to talk to him either.
Later that night, lying in bed as he attempted to sleep though he knew it would not come, Luka still couldn't get Dave out of his mind. He would have to make it up to Dave somehow...some way. With slight surprise, he wondered what if Dave would not allow him to do that? What if Dave never wanted to see him again, which he probably wouldn't. Luka had insulted him, struck him, scared him, threatened him... Why *would* Dave want to see him again after tonight?
And only then did Luka realize he had probably missed the best opportunity that had been offered to him in a long time.
---
And I'm not scared now
I must assure you: you're never gonna get away
And I'm not scared now, and I'm not scared now, no...
---
Sighing now, Luka was about to close the door, was in the process of doing so, when suddenly a hand reached out and stopped him, a figure slumping in the doorway, clearly out of breath. The older man startled visibly, pulling the door open again as he spoke.
"Dave, what are you doing here?" he asked. "Carter was just here looking for you."
"I know, I saw him," Dave said, running his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face, then glancing over his shoulder as if afraid to be seen.
"God, you're soaking wet," he said, grasping Dave's wet sweatshirt and guiding him inside. He closed the door behind the younger man, turning away from him and heading towards his kitchen nook. "Let me call Carter so he can come pick you up. I swear you just missed him."
"No, don't call him!" Dave exclaimed, and Luka turned to him in surprise only to see the younger man stumbling towards him. His words were slurred, his face flushed, and he clearly wasn't in a lucid state of mind. Carter couldn't find Dave because he had probably been hiding out at a bar, drinking himself senseless. The younger man suddenly grimaced, placing a hand to his head. "Shit, Luka, do you have any Aspirin?"
"Yeah, in the bathroom," Luka said. Dave turned and quickly walked inside of it, not bothering to close the door behind him, but checking to make sure Luka was not looking. The older man was heading for the phone, and while doing that, Dave quickly opened the bottle of pills and dumped the rest of them into his hand. He needed to forget, to forget everything while he was here, he just needed to be here, right now, and not remember anything. Nothing, nothing...absolutely nothing. "I think I should call Carter. He was pretty worried."
"Please, don't, Luka..." Dave said desperately as he emerged from the bathroom after quickly downing the last of the pills in the bottle.
Luka let the subject of the phone call slide for now as he eyed Dave suspiciously. "What exactly happened tonight?"
"I don't know," Dave said, a pained expression crossing his face that wasn't because of his drunken stupor. His composure was quickly dissolving, his breathing increasing to short ragged bursts. "I just...he kept asking me all these questions...I don't know! I can't remember!"
"Dave, it's all right, just calm down," Luka said reassuringly, warily approaching the younger man, placing his hands on Dave's shoulders. He moved one of his hands, brushing against Dave's neck, but then paused there as he felt the heat emanating off of the younger man's skin. Moving his hand to Dave's cheek, he said: "Dave, you're burning up! Maybe I should take you to the hospital."
The sentence was barely finished when Dave said, shaking his head: "No..."
"At least let me call Carter," Luka tried to reason as he began to take Dave's pulse, which was surprisingly weak and irregular.
"No!" he exclaimed, more urgency in his voice this time. He took a step closer to Luka, standing impossibly close to Luka, his hands running over Luka's chest and his hot breath on Luka's neck. "No hospital, no Carter, just...here. I don't want to go anywhere but here...please, Luka? Let me stay?"
"Dave..." Luka began to protest, and as the younger man leaned forward to kiss him, he leaned back and out of his reach. But Dave was determined to do this, and he placed his hands on each side of Luka's face, pulling him towards him, pressing his lips firmly on the older man's. But Luka only placed his hands firmly on Dave's chest, gently pushing him away and breaking the kiss. As much as Luka wanted this, he knew that this was wrong, that Dave was drunk, that this would never happen on a normal day. "Dave, we can't. I'm going to call Carter, and you're going to go home."
"No, Luka, please," Dave pleaded, and Luka was about to push the younger man totally out of his reach when he looked down at the man before him. All words escaped him at that moment as he saw the need in Dave's eyes - the need for *him*. And that was something he hadn't seen there in a long time, something he'd been *longing* to see there for a long time. "Luka, please, can't we just do this? I...I need this, I need..."
Luka's logic and desires warred with one another. He'd wanted this for so long, had fought for Dave for so long, but something in Luka's mind told him this wasn't right. But when Dave's hands brushed over Luka's nipples through the thin fabric of his white undershirt, sending small waves of pleasure through him, all logic was lost and Luka was left with was pure desire.
The Attending leaned down and encased Dave's lips in his own, the younger man's mouth dry for reasons Luka didn't care to consider. All he cared about right now was having Dave -- *taking* Dave, taking him right now, taking what was and should still be his. Dave, apparently feeling the same way, moved his hands to the small of Luka's back, lower now and over his ass. Luka dared to do the same, but the younger man flinched, and continued to do so as Luka didn't remove his hands from Dave's body.
"Wait..." Dave said shakily, breaking the kiss.
"Dave, don't stop," Luka said, his voice rough with desire, and Dave suddenly flinched again, but was soon kissing Luka's neck, his hands moving to Luka's sweatpants. But his coordination was off, and he couldn't get the tie undone, so Luka placed his hands on top of Dave's and helped him do so. The younger man pushed down his sweats, revealing his growing erection, and then looked up at him with wild eyes. Alarmed, Luka asked, "What is it?"
"Nothing," Dave breathed, grabbing Luka's hot, hard member, eliciting a gasp from the older man, and then a low moan as Dave began to pump him. God, he'd wanted this for so long, missed this for so long...he'd almost forgotten what Dave felt like on his skin. But all the sensations were coming back, all of the touches and caresses and kisses and, God, everything, everything...
Suddenly, Dave was gently pushing Luka back against the wall, his kisses trailing down Luka's chest, to his stomach, to the soft hairs below his waist, and only then did he realize what Dave was about to do. Dave had never ever given him head before, had even outright declared that he wouldn't do it - ever - and Luka felt himself grow harder with anticipation, wondering what exactly it would feel like. He watched with awed eyes as Dave hesitated only briefly before continuing with the task at hand.
Luka had to stop himself from coming right then and there as he felt Dave's mouth on his cock, Dave's tongue working him over, driving him crazy. He moaned and tried to thrust into Dave's mouth, but the younger man kept a firm grip on his hips, holding him against the wall. Luka's breathing was quick and erratic, and he could feel a heat building from deep in his belly as Dave moved his mouth up and down the length of his cock. He ran his fingers through Dave's hair, grasping at the locks and tossing his own head back with a grunt as he felt himself go over the edge, coming hard and fast into Dave's warm, velvety throat.
There was silence as Dave disengaged himself from Luka, who was leaning against the wall with closed eyes, trying to regain his senses as his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal. He opened his eyes as he heard a sound from below. Breathing. Harsh breathing. *Dave's* harsh breathing. Glancing down, he could see the younger man still kneeling, though he seemed to be nothing more than a wet mess on the floor. Squatting to be eye level with Dave, pulling up his sweatpants as he did so, Luka could now see that Dave's expression showed his terror, his eyes wild, his pupils dilated, sweat forming over his brow. Luka reached out and touched his cheek, but Dave gasped and stumbled backwards, landing on his butt, looking up at Luka as if he was surprised to see him standing there.
"Oh, God," Dave said as one hand flew to his mouth, rubbing at his lips as if that alone would undo what he had just done. He scrambled to his feet, his breathing still heavy as he visibly shook. Worried as to what could possibly cause the younger man to behave like this, Luka stood, taking a step towards Dave, who immediately took two steps back with pure childlike fear crossing his face.
"Dave, what's wrong?" Luka asked, but the younger man quickly turned away from him and ran into his bedroom, and then into the bathroom, tripping and falling hard onto his knees in front of the commode as he did so. Seemingly unfazed by this, Dave pushed open the lid, but instead of throwing up, he dry heaved for a moment before resting his head in his hands and trying to control his breathing, as if he were about to cry or breakdown, or perhaps both. Luka cautiously approached the bathroom, standing in the doorway, watching the scene unfolding before him. Something was *definitely* wrong here, that was for sure, but Luka didn't know what it was, and right about now he was wishing Carter had told him just *how* important it was that he immediately call him, because he would've done it a hell of a lot sooner. "Dave, I'm going to call Carter."
"What?" Dave suddenly asked, looking at him with frightened eyes. "No, don't, please, Luka..."
"He's very worried about you, and now I can see why," he stated, his eyes searching Dave's as if that alone would tell him what was wrong. He began to turn and stand when Dave grabbed his shirt, stopping him from doing so. "Dave..." Luka began, as Dave struggled to his feet.
"No, please, please don't," Dave pleaded, his eyes beseeching, as were his words. But there was an unnecessary amount of urgency in his voice, as if he were afraid of what might happen. Then, unexpectedly, Dave moved closer to him, pushing his hands under Luka's shirt, running his fingers through Luka's chest hair. "Please, don't...I'll do anything you want..."
"What?" What the hell was going on?? "I'm calling an ambulance."
"I'm sorry!" Dave then seemed to try, when his other protests didn't work. "Please, I'm sorry, just...I just wanted to...please, don't hurt me..."
What the fuck? "Hurt you??"
"Please..." Dave pleaded, leaning close to Luka, his hot breath on Luka's neck. "I'll do anything you want...or...you could do anything you want to me...I won't even scream, I know you don't like it when I scream..."
Luka suddenly pushed Dave away in surprise, more roughly then he had intended to, and the younger man fell into the wall behind him in the small bathroom, grunting as he did so. He lowered his head, bursting into tears as he tried to shield himself from Luka's standing form, like he was expecting a beating. What was going on here?? Dave was acting crazy, irrational, like some psychotic patient he'd see in the ER.
"I'm so sorry," Dave cried. "I just...I just wanted to..."
"Just wanted to what?" Luka finally asked, realizing that Dave had said that several times tonight, but had never finished his sentence. He reached out and touched the younger man's shoulder, but Dave only pulled away violently, and ended up slamming the back of his shoulder into the wall behind him with a yelp. "Dave, I'm calling an ambulance."
This news only seemed to upset Dave more, who began to sob as Luka turned and walked into his bedroom, snatching his cell phone off of his nightstand as he sat down on the bed. He grabbed Carter's phone number from his pocket, angrily punching it in as he glanced out the window and into the dark rainy night. It barely rung before the Chief Resident answered with a harried: "Hello?"
"It's Luka," he stated. "Dave's here."
"He is?" Carter's voice was full of hope.
"Yes, he is," Luka snapped. "And why didn't you warn me?"
"Warn you?"
"Yeah, warn me," Luka continued on to say. "About his condition. Right now he's on my bathroom floor drunk out of his mind, crying his eyes out and begging for me not to hurt him."
"Luka, I'm so sorry." Carter's voice rang with sincerity, but was then filled with an urgency that Luka had only witness back in Croatia - back during the war. "Luka, you need to get Dave to the hospital. He's taken some pills..." Oh, God. It was all making sense now. All the different symptoms he had: headache, dry mouth, flushed skin, dilated pupils, fever, dizziness, nausea, weak pulse, irregular heartbeat...Dave wasn't only drunk. He was overdosing. "Don't even wait for me, I'll meet you there...Luka? Are you still there?"
Silence. Dave was being silent. Luka heard nothing from behind him, no sobbing, no sniffling, no harsh breathing, no words, no nothing. He turned sharply towards the open bathroom door, only seeing an empty space where Dave used to be. Then, a door opening and slamming closed, and Luka's head snapped towards the direction of his front foyer. "Shit!!"
He ran out of his room and descended the hallway, emerging into his living room already out of breath from adrenaline, crossing the room to the front door, which he opened with a flourish to reveal the pouring steady rain on the empty street. He stepped out of his apartment building and onto the sidewalk, the cold drops biting into his flesh, but that was the last thing on his mind as he called out Dave's name, glancing in both directions on the sidewalk. "Dave!!" Damn it, where the hell could he have gone? He only had a few minutes on Luka. But the older man was hardly dressed to go hunting for the lost resident, and by the time he pulled on warm clothes, socks and shoes, and his coat...Dave would already be long gone. He probably already was.
"Luka, what's going on??" He suddenly heard John's voice exploding from the other side of his phone, which was now at his side, though gripped tightly in his hand. He brought the phone to his ear, sighing sadly as he continued to stand in the rain, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Luka?? Are you there? What's wrong??"
"Carter, Dave's gone," he reported softly. "I turned my back for a second, I...it doesn't matter, he's..." Another sad sigh. "He is gone."
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And I am prepared now
It seems everyone's gonna be fine
For me, for me, for myself
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As he was walking through the rain to his home, he was crying. Dave had been doing that a lot lately, and it seemed that each time he hated himself more and more for doing it. Crying was for sissies that couldn't handle the pressure of whatever was going on at the time, or maybe everything that was going on at the time. Crying was what his father had gotten the pleasure of seeing him do every single day when he was a kid, what his father had looked *forward* too every single fucking day. And here he was again, giving his father the satisfaction of being able to do this to him, even in death. God, he would never escape the man he hated.
He realized with dread that the only reason his father would haunt him for the rest of his days was because he was turning into him. After all, hadn't Dave just hit someone he loved today? Hurt the person that meant the most to him? Just more fuel to add to the fire, he thought bitterly, as he neared his apartment building.
Perhaps if he just tried to explain to John what was happening, then maybe he would understand, and everything would be okay. Yeah. Okay. Yeah...he could just tell John what was going on, assure him that everything was okay, and everything would go back to normal, back to the way it was. And they could forget about this night, forget about how Dave had hit him, and everything would be okay, everything would be all right. But even as Dave considered this, he knew that it was out of the question.
A sudden pain ripped through him, causing him to double over, clutching his stomach and the side of the hallway of his apartment building. He hadn't remembered walking inside, but he was there, out of the rain, dripping puddles of water all over the hardwood floor while he felt as if he were going to vomit any second. Taking deep breaths, he stood upright slowly, testing out his bearings before going any further. But it came again, shortly thereafter, and he was forced to pause in his walk, though he was at his apartment door now.
Ringing the doorbell of his own apartment, he found it increasingly hard to breathe as sweat began forming over his brow. He was probably just panicking, he thought, but panicking over what? Over the fact that John might not ever want to see him again, he decided. Oh God. What if John really never *did* want to see him again? He jabbed at the doorbell one more time before reaching into his pocket and extracting his keys. With shaking hands, he finally got the front door open after several attempts and several minutes, and then stepped inside the dark apartment, hastily closing the door behind him.
"John?" he gasped, the word strangled in his dry throat. He turned in the darkness, but when he took a step forward he found himself unimaginably dizzy and had to reach out to grab onto the end table near the couch in order to steady himself. God, he thought as it became harder and harder to get air with each passing second. It felt as if someone was squeezing the life out of his heart. "John!"
With an overwhelming sense of dread, he realized that John was gone - forever. But he wouldn't accept that. Maybe, maybe if he just made it to the bed, he could go to sleep, and when he woke up, John would be next to him, and everything would be okay. It would be a new day, and he would be a new person, and what had happened tonight would be nothing more than a memory to be forgotten. He just had to make it to bed, he needed to make it to bed...
But he would never make it to the bed. He would never even make it to the bedroom. David Malucci would die tonight, soaking wet and collapsed on the living room floor, staining the clean carpet in his death, nothing more than a mess of the man he would like to think that he used to be. And he realized this with regret, saddened deeply by the fact that he would never get to see John again, and he prayed to God that the Chief Resident would save him. Just save him long enough so that he could apologize to him, to the one person he loved. With that, he found it kind of funny that the thought of John first and God last, but he didn't have time to ponder the thought as his eyes slid closed and he gave in to the permanent darkness, a darkness that was more comforting than anything he had ever known in his entire twenty-eight years on this earth.
And David Malucci was finally at rest.
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And I am fine...again
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Copyright Footer', 'This site is not affiliated in any way with "ER", its writers or production company, or NBC, and makes no profit from the show. The ERROS skin is by Brihana. The script is eFiction version 3.4.2© Tammy Keefer, http://efiction.org\r\n