---------------------------------
Chapter Twenty: What I've Undone
---------------------------------
I can't stand to think about
A heart so big it hurts like Hell
Oh, my god, I gave my best
But for three whole years to end like this
-------------------------------
Luka Kovac stood at his bedroom window, watching the hustle and bustle
of people below scurrying to get to work. Breaking the morning
silence, there was a shriek as someone grabbed a woman's purse and ran
off with it, but Luka turned away before she stumbled to the ground in
horror. He glanced at her instead, lying still in his bed...her skin
was smooth, flawless...he was tempted to reach out and touch her, but
he knew he couldn't. He'd never touch her again.
That's the way it was now...he went from one person to another,
searching for *something*. And when he didn't find it, he moved on
without looking back. He hadn't found it last night, needless to say.
Briefly, he wondered if he ever would.
"Luka?" he heard her murmur, as she stirred. He rarely told them his
name, but she was different. She'd already known who he was. "Are you
on today?"
"Yes," he replied flatly. "Soon."
"Okay," she said, rolling over so her back was to him. "I'll lock the
door behind me."
"I'd rather you leave now," he stated evenly, turning away from her
himself. He heard hear shift behind him quickly. "Please."
"Wait..." she said slowly, ready to speak further but he cut her off
sharply.
"I think it would be best if you left now, before I went to work."
"You mean what we did last night...it meant nothing to you??"
"You are a very beautiful woman, but - "
"Save it, Luka," she spat, angry. "And if you're going to 'let me down
easy,' then you could at least have the balls to look at me!" He
turned to face her, saw her startle, as if she hadn't expected he'd
actually do it. "Screw you."
"Chuny - "
"No!" she exclaimed, as she scrambled out of his bed to find her
clothes. "I said save it, and I meant it. God, I can't believe all
this time I thought you were a nice guy. What the hell had I been
thinking?"
He moved into the living room as she dressed, sat down on the couch
and remained there still once she was finished and leaving his
apartment. But, before she did go: "Don't you even have anything to
say for yourself??"
He didn't make a single sound as she sighed before slamming the door
behind herself. He didn't even flinch.
--------------------------------
Do you want to fall apart?
I can't stop if you can't start
Do you want to fall apart?
Well, I could if you can't try to fix what I've undone
'Cause I hate what I've become
--------------------------------
*"Maybe I should take you to the hospital."*
*"No..."*
*"At least let me call Carter."*
*"No! No hospital, no Carter, just...here. I don't want to go anywhere
but here...please, Luka? Let me stay?"*
Touching. Kissing. Someone pushing the other away. Dave pushing Luka
away. No...no...Luka pushing *Dave* away.
*"Dave, we can't. I'm going to call Carter, and you're going to go
home."*
*"No, Luka, please..."*
Was that him protesting? It sounded like his voice, but...he couldn't
remember saying it. It was like he was watching a movie, seeing
someone who looked an awful lot like him say that, but yet...it wasn't
him. Why would he do that? Why would he *want* to do that?
*"I...I need this, I need..."*
That was why? Because he needed it? But why did he need it? Most
importantly, what did he need? And then he knew, in an instant it was
happening, he was kneeling down in front of Luka, pulling down his
pants and putting his mouth all over his cock...just like he used to
do to...to his...
"*Shit!*" Dave was sitting up in bed, sweating and breathing heavily
as he tried to shake the last remnants of his dream. But he could
still see everything in a vivid sharp focus, eyes opened *or* closed.
Quickly, he leaned over to his nightstand and clicked on the light,
plopping down against his pillow once he was finished and deflating
with a sigh that must've started at his small intestines.
So Luka *had* told the truth: he'd cheated on John. He'd finally faced
that fact after dreaming about it for several nights in a row, since
Luka had told him at that lecture two Saturdays ago. It was still hard
to believe...he loved John, had loved him for so fucking long, and
then he went and did something like that. It's like he *wanted* to
ruin his relationship with the other man, and he kicked himself hard
in the ass for being such a bastard. Couldn't he do anything right??
He glanced at his lover, who was sleeping silently beside him. He was
glad that he hadn't awoken him...he could at least let him have his
sleep...John at least deserved that. With another sigh, he clicked off
the light before curling up behind the other man, kissing the back of
his neck with gentle lips.
"I'm so sorry, John," he whispered, feeling his eyes burn. "I'm so
goddamned sorry..."
"Dave??" John shifted on the bed, turning so that he could face Dave,
pull him into his arms. He leaned back briefly, turning on the light
so that he could see him, too. "Dave, what's the matter? Why are you
crying? Did you have a nightmare??"
"I...John, I..." he glanced up into his lover's eyes, saw the pure
concern there as John tried to take care of him in his
barely-awake-still-half-asleep mode. He had to tell him, he just had
to...he couldn't keep this secret from John, they didn't keep things
from each other anymore. But as he looked into the other man's loving
eyes, he knew he couldn't do it. He'd already broken John's heart so
many times before, he couldn't possibly do it again. "Yeah...yeah...it
was just a nightmare."
As his lover held him protectively, comfortingly, he knew this was one
secret he'd have to keep to himself. And he only wished he were
dreaming still, so he could wake up from this nightmare and get back
to his life that had been so perfect only a few weeks ago.
--------------------------------
You know me
Oh, you think you do
You just don't seem to see
I've been waiting all this time to be
Something I can't define
--------------------------------
"Do you even care?" The question was barked, but Luka could care less
as he wrapped his scarf around his neck, getting ready to leave the
hospital for a shift he wasn't even supposed to be on. Despite his
apparent apathy, Abby went on anyway, ready to nail him to the wall.
Let her, he thought bitterly. He probably deserved it one way or
another. "Do you even care that that kid is lying out there as good as
dead??"
He closed his locker and turned slowly to face her, averting his eyes
to the floor before bringing them up to meet hers. She nearly startled
by the emptiness of them, her expression quickly changing to alarm.
His own face scrunched up into disgust, ready to tell her to save the
sympathy and self-righteousness when the Lounge door burst open in a
flutter of energy.
"Yeah, right." Dave's voice, as he entered, always cheery and ready to
crack a crass comment or witty joke. "Kermit was the one who hid my
watch in the trashcan."
"Even *he* knows it's an ugly watch." That from John, his boyfriend,
who was, of course, right by his side. They were always together. How
sickeningly sweet. "Good thing he got you a new one."
"Oh, he did, did he?" Dave asked, grinning. He paused suddenly as he
saw Luka, who was by chance standing directly in front of his locker.
Quickly, he glanced off, unwilling to meet the other man's eyes. "Dr.
Kovac."
So it was Dr. Kovac now? It wasn't as if these two didn't know about
their history. He played along anyway, although there was a sarcastic
edge to his tone. "Dr. Malucci."
"Excuse me," he said then, indicating his locker. Luka stepped aside,
catching the curious glance between John and Abby. God, how tempting
it was to just tell them both what had happened between himself and
Dave, but he kept quiet. It was all too pleasurable to watch Dave
sweat. He deserved it after doing those things and saying those
things, and then calling Luka a liar and a mistake. He could've at
least been civil about it, but of course the smart-mouthed resident
had to get cocky and nasty, just like he always did. God, what had
Luka *seen* in him??
"I'm going home," he announced, mostly to Abby although he didn't look
at her. He simply folded up his gloves and left the Lounge, wishing he
could leave Dave behind just as easily.
--------------------------------
So let's cause a scene
Clap our hands and stomp our feet
Or something...yeah, something
I just gotta get myself over me
--------------------------------
"What was that all about?" John asked, once Luka was gone and out of
earshot. He moved to his locker, glancing at Dave although it was Abby
who replied.
"He misdiagnosed a patient today," she stated, crossing her arms over
her chest as she moved closer to the two men. "He assumed it was the
flu, and the poor kid had leukemia. Now he's going to be in a
vegetative state for the rest of his life."
"We all make mistakes," Dave said, wincing slightly. At least the kid
wasn't dead, although he probably wasn't much better off. And while
knowing an Attending could make a mistake like that made Dave feel a
little better about misdiagnosing that Marfanoid several months ago,
he knew the guilt would never subside. He killed that kid, and that's
all he knew. Did Luka feel the same way now, about that leukemia
patient? Into his locker, he mumbled, "Maybe he's just going through
something right now."
"Like what?" John asked.
"Like I don't know," was the nearly defensive reply he received as the
younger man quickly shut his locker and headed towards the door. "I
have to go."
John sighed, slamming his locker closed and startling Abby, who didn't
hesitate to pipe up. "What was that all about?"
"I have no idea," he replied with a sigh, his expression showing his
clear worry. "He's been like that for the past week and a half.
Just...touchy and closed off, and...I don't know. It's really starting
to worry me, I don't know what's going on with him. One minute he's
fine and the next...he just loses it."
"Do you think..." Abby began, but hesitated to continue. "I mean...do
you think he's using again?"
"I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but..." He trailed
off, shrugging and shaking his head almost desperately. "I can't help
him if he won't talk to me. Could you try to see what's going on with
him? He might talk to you."
She actually blinked in surprise. "You want me to talk to him? Are you
sure you want me, I don't know...butting in?"
"Abby, come on," he said, exasperated. "This isn't about me. Or you.
It's about Dave. Will you talk to him? Please??"
"Yeah, sure," she replied quickly, nodding, and remained in her spot
as he left the Lounge in a huff. "Well, excuse me..." she sighed,
blowing a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. The truth was, she'd
noticed something...'off' about Dave lately too, but she hadn't wanted
to push anything just in case it wasn't any of her business. Dave and
John still had a lot of things to work out, and perhaps the two of
them doing just that was affecting his behavior. Or...maybe it was
because of something else.
--------------------------------
I could stand to do without
All the people I have left behind
What's the point in going around?
When it's a straight line, baby, a straight line down
--------------------------------
It wasn't until her lunch break that she caught sight of him, sitting
alone in the cafeteria and staring off into space, ignoring his
barely-touched food. She took her yogurt and coffee, sliding into the
seat across from him and pulling him out of his reverie. "Hey, Dave."
"Hey, Abby," he said, smiling, but she could see the disquiet in his
eyes, reflected in the nervous movement of his hands. He always
fidgeted with his hands when something was on his mind. "ER's real
busy today, huh? I'm surprised I got away."
"Yeah, it is," she replied, nodding. "Um...Dave, can I talk to you
about something?"
He looked at her warily for a long while, until a grin tugged at his
lips and he shrugged in that deceptive way he did. "Sure."
"Are you...okay?" she asked, not knowing what else to say. And then,
to his curious glance: "It's just...you've been acting sort of...off
lately."
"Off?"
"Yeah," she stated, nodding. "Off. Just...distant. Detached."
"They mean the same thing."
"Dave, you know what I mean," she said, as she reached across the
table and placed her hand on his forearm. He flinched, and it
surprised her, but she didn't let it deter her from her purpose. If
something was wrong with her best friend, she wanted to know and she
wanted to help. "I haven't really seen you in the last few weeks,
except for work. I mean, I know we haven't hit a meeting together or
worked the steps or anything...you know we can talk to each other
about anything, right? If something's wrong don't be afraid to tell
me."
"It's...nothing," he said, but she could see the desperation in his
eyes. He sighed, leaning back in his seat but keeping his arm in her
grasp. "Look, Abby...I can't - I can't talk about it. I can't explain
it. It's complicated."
"I'm a smart girl," she stated, her own eyes urging him to continue.
"Try to explain it to me."
"I can't," he said, shaking his head and glancing off to stare out the
nearby window. "It's...Abby, I...I did...something."
"You did something."
"Yes," he replied, looking at her once more. "I did something. I
made...a mistake. A really bad mistake. And I can't fix it. And I
don't know what to do."
"Okay..." she began, trying to comprehend just what he was talking
about. He obviously wasn't going to tell her, Dave was never direct
when it came to his own feelings and problems, so she figured she
might as well start guessing. "You aren't...using again, are you?"
"No, no," he quickly replied, shaking his head. "No, it's nothing like
that. But..."
"But??"
"I...I can't." There were those words again, but before she could even
ask why not he was in motion, jerking his arm away from her and
standing hastily. "I'm sorry, I have to go."
"Dave, wait," she said, standing herself. "Dave!"
"Leave me alone, Abby!" was the only reply she received before he was
out of her sight. She sighed, sitting back down heavily in her chair,
what little appetite she'd had gone. God, what she wouldn't do for a
beer...
"He ain't worth it, honey." Haleh, sitting at a nearby table with
Chuny and Yosh. Oh, great, she thought. Just what she needed right
now. "We always thought you were too good for him."
"Right," she snapped, standing once more and grabbing her things.
"Except what do you know??"
-------------------------------
So let's make a list of who we need
And it's not much if anything
Let's make a list of who we need
And we'll throw it away
'Cause we don't need anyone
No, we don't need anyone
-------------------------------
Within the next hour, breaking news of Dave and Abby's breakup had
spread like wildfire throughout the hospital. Witnesses had said he'd
dumped her without looking back. After all, she *could* be a bit of a
bitch sometimes. And they were always together, making her obviously
clingy. But some had decided that maybe *she'd* dumped *him*. He
must've cheated on her. Or maybe she came to her senses. Whatever the
reason, it was the hottest topic of the Rumor Mill, and John wasn't
about to pass up the chance to tease his boyfriend about it.
He found Dave in a supply closet, searching the shelves hastily for
something or other. Casually, he leaned in the doorway, crossing his
arms over his chest. "So it's over?"
Dave jarred in surprise, so much so that he knocked his hand against
one of the shelves. He shook out the pain as he looked at John.
"What??"
"Word around the hospital," he said, stepping into the room with a
grin, "is that you and Abby broke up."
"Oh," Dave said with realization, before busying himself with the
shelves again. "I've heard too."
"Is it true?" John asked, smirking. "You two made a really cute
couple, you know."
"Yeah," Dave said, smiling slightly. "I don't know where they got that
idea from. That we broke up, I mean."
"Supposedly," John continued, his eyes watching Dave's fidgeting
hands, "you two had a big fight in the cafeteria."
"*Shit!*" Dave hissed, knocking his fingers against something else.
"Damn it, there it is. I just needed a fucking catheter."
"Is something wrong?" John asked, stepping closer to Dave so their
conversation wouldn't be overheard. "You've been acting - "
"Let me guess," he interrupted wryly, turning to look John in the eye.
"Off?"
"Yeah," John agreed, nodding. "Off. For the past week, too. Is
something wrong??"
"No, nothing's wrong," Dave replied, too quickly for John's liking,
but he barely had a chance to retaliate because the younger man was
nearly pushing him aside in an attempt to get out of the room. "I'm
fine, I'm just tired, it's been a long week."
"Dave..."
"We'll have dinner tonight, okay?" Dave asked, almost desperately, as
he turned to look at John. "Just the two of us, we'll order in.
Chinese or something." John was about to remind him that Dave would be
eating alone since John was pulling a double shift, but Dave wasn't
waiting around for a reply. He was already moving, right out the door
when he knocked right into an oncoming person. "Sorry, I - Luka."
"Dave," the other man said, not moving from his spot as Dave took a
hasty step backwards. His eyes rose to meet John's, and briefly the
Chief Resident wondered just how much of the conversation he'd heard.
Would he offer a comment, the same he'd been dishing out for the past
week? Obviously not, however - he didn't say anything now at all.
"I, uh, I thought you were here this morning," Dave stammered, his
eyes studying the disorganized shelves, his hands playing with the
wrapping on the catheter. "I mean, uh, are you on again?"
"I was covering someone else's shift," he stated, stepping further
into the room - causing Dave to take another step back. "Now is my
own. I needed a suture kit."
"Good luck finding one," Dave said, indicating his catheter. "It took
me - "
"Hello, Carter." John looked to Luka, surprised by the sudden
interruption and supposed non-sequitor. The older man was watching him
almost carefully, but John could swear he saw contempt in his eyes.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine," he replied, nodding slightly, ever aware of Dave nearby,
moving and fidgeting and watching. "And yourself? You looked a little
under the weather this morning."
"That is one way to word...what do you call it?" he asked. "A
bend-over?"
"A hangover," Dave interjected, the first to make the connection.
"It's called a hangover."
"Right, right," Luka said, his eyes meeting Dave's. "What was I
thinking, bending over?"
Dave's staggering was immediate - and obvious. He was rendered
speechless for a few moments, before he glanced between the two men.
"I have to go. Excuse me. Actually, John, could you, uh, help me? With
my patient? He's sort of hard to handle."
"Sure..." John replied somewhat hesitantly. What the hell was going on
that he didn't know about? He knew he'd walked in on something between
the two men after the seminar that Saturday, but every time he'd asked
Dave about it, the other man had brushed it off. After getting replies
that got more and more defensive, he'd finally stopped asking. But it
still worried him, especially after this awkward interaction. Was Luka
threatening Dave? Was he trying to get Dave back? While Luka's
terseness suggested the former, the latter worried John more. Yes,
Dave loved him, but what if...no, no, he had to give Dave at least the
benefit of the doubt.
"Great, thanks, John," Dave said, snapping the man out of his
thoughts. "He's right over here. Excuse us, Luka."
"Of course," the Croatian doctor replied, stepping out of the way and
allowing John and Dave to leave. Almost quickly, Dave led John into an
exam room, where a little girl was sitting on the bed, accompanied by
her mother. John paused in the doorway, his brow furrowed.
"I thought you said it was a male?" he asked, looking from the girl to
Dave.
"What?"
"You said, 'He's sort of hard to handle,'" John reiterated, his voice
as rigid as his posture. "You said the patient was a male. And hard to
handle, this...can I see you privately for a minute?"
"I - I have to do this," was the hesitant reply he received. "Can we
talk later?"
"No," he said firmly. "We're talking now. In the hall, Dr. Malucci."
"John - "
"Dave."
"Is something wrong, doctor?" Dave glanced at the patient's mother,
the worry apparent in her expression and tone of voice. "Is everything
okay??"
"Yeah, everything's fine," he said, placing the Foley down on an
instrument tray before heading towards the door. "Just excuse me for a
second."
"Dave, what is going on??" John asked in a low voice, once they were
in the hallway and out of anyone's earshot.
"Nothing's going on."
"I'm supposed to believe that??" John asked. "I'm supposed to believe
that after you've been acting strange all week, after that
conversation we just had with Luka??"
"Is that what this is about?" he asked, hands on his waist. "First
Abby, now Luka?? You can't let anything go, can you?"
"Oh, please," John sighed, incredulous. He took a step closer to Dave,
ready to shout, accuse, something - *anything*, when Dave took two
steps back. It startled John for an instant, rendered him speechless.
Dave hadn't done that during an argument in a very long time, not
since telling him about his father... "Dave...what is going on with
you?"
"I told you," he replied, half-exasperatedly, half-desperately.
"Nothing. *Nothing* is going on. So let me do my job, okay?? God, I
get enough of this from the Chief."
"She's been asking about you?" John suddenly asked, his worry
heightening. "Dr. Weaver's been asking about you??"
"That's not what I said!" Dave exclaimed, too fast for John's liking.
"Stop twisting my words, I don't have time for this. I have work to
do, so let me do it. Please, John?"
"Fine," he said quietly, giving in and stepping back. "Go back to your
patient. But we're going to talk about this later, Dave."
"Yes, Mom," he retorted, rolling his eyes, before going back inside
the exam room and closing the door behind him. A clear testament of
the fact that he wanted to be left alone, but that's exactly what was
scaring John: how closed off his lover was being. He thought they
could talk about things now, that they had no more secrets. Maybe it
was due to the fact that John hadn't told him about how he'd lost his
virginity. He knew Dave had bugged him about it more than once since
the sexual harassment seminar.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me that," Dave had said, almost as
soon as they'd gotten home that day. "I told you everything."
"Dave, it's not the same," he'd replied, nearly sighing as he did so.
It'd been why he'd been hesitant to admit it to the group in the first
place.
"The hell it ain't," Dave said, incredulous. "You were eleven. She was
*twenty-five*."
"Dave, I wanted to," he stated, turning away in embarrassment. "It
might've been wrong for *her* to want to, but - "
"Damn right it is."
"*But*," John continued, glancing at his lover with exasperation, "she
didn't force me to do it. I'm not traumatized by it, it didn't scar me
for life, it just...happened. It's not a big deal, it was just sex."
"I still wish you'd told me," his lover said, now his turn to look
away. "I felt like such an asshole."
"Dave..." John said, moving close to him and pulling him into an
embrace. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just
didn't tell you because it wasn't nearly the same as what you'd been
through, and I wasn't about to play 'Who had it Worse.'"
"I know," he replied, his voice muffled by John's shoulder. "It's just
that...for a second...I thought that the same thing had happened to
you. And I wanted to kill that lady...because no one's allowed to do
that to you." Gently, he kissed John's neck. "No one."
Now, John snapped out of his reverie, glancing at Dave through the
glass window in the exam room, watching him treat his patient. The
younger man cared about him so much, that conversation alone proving
just how much, and John knew he owed it to Dave to figure out what was
wrong. If he cared about Dave just as much, it was something he had to
do, starting with a little investigative work.
-------------------------------
And I hate what I've become...
-------------------------------
Dr. Weaver wasn't having one of the best days of her life. Her
Attendings were killing patients, her Residents were flaking off, her
medical students were bugging her with thousands of questions, and her
nurses were raging with anger at a certain Croatian doctor. She'd yet
to speak with Luka, but if she heard one more complaint about him she
swore she was going to kill him herself just to stop the mayhem.
However, right now, she just wanted to be alone in the Lounge to
finish up her dinner and paperwork in peace. It'd just slowed down,
thankfully, so now she could sit here concentrating on nothing but her
salad and her charts, revering in the silence of the -
"Dr. Weaver??" She ground her teeth together, dropping her pen and
removing her glasses from her nose to hang around her neck. What the
hell could Carter possibly want, she wondered with annoyance as she
turned to face him with raised eyebrows. He must've picked up on her
irritation, because soon he was looking rather apologetic. "I'm sorry
for bothering you, but I just needed to ask you something."
"What is it?"
"Well, uh..." he began, crossing the room to his locker, fiddling with
the lock. "It's about...Dave."
"What'd he do now?" she sighed, turning back to her charts
dismissively, placing her glasses back on her nose.
"Nothing," John snapped angrily, and she looked up at him from under
her brow, above her glasses, surprised. "I'm worried about him, Dr.
Weaver. I didn't know if you'd noticed anything."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he's been...closed off. Sporadic. Touchy - "
"You mean," she interjected, smiling slyly, "he's been himself?"
"I *mean*," John stated, almost desperately, "he's been acting...off."
The word triggered her mind. She remembered using it months ago,
expressing her own concern about the same young doctor to her
coworkers. And now John was here, doing the same thing, and
immediately she'd assumed Dave had done something crass or negligible.
She pulled off her glasses once more. "Off??"
"Yeah," he replied, nodding, his expression displaying his worry for
his friend. "It's just...if it's nothing, it's nothing. But if it's
something...I don't want to miss it this time. We almost lost him
because we didn't notice it before, and I don't want to make the same
mistake again...I'm sorry, I'm babbling..."
"Do you think it's that bad?" And if it was, why hadn't she noticed?
"I don't know what I think."
"Do you think he's using again, John?" Her question was met with
silence, and after a moment she continued. "John...don't protect him,
it'll only get worse."
"I honestly don't know anymore."
"Do you want me to talk to him??"
"I don't know..." he said again, glancing off briefly before looking
back to her, something flashing across his eyes. "Dr. Weaver...I
don't..." He trailed off, suddenly in motion and moving to the door.
"No. No, don't talk to him. Don't talk to anyone, I don't want word
getting to him. I'll ask around."
"I thought he left already," she said, her words curling into a
question.
"He did, but he's on tomorrow," John stated, moving quickly. "I don't
want it getting around to him."
"All right." She watched him curiously, her eyes following him as he
walked. "Tell me what you find, but don't take too long. If there *is*
any indication that he might be using you know I have an obligation to
step in."
"I know," John said with a nod, as he hastily left the room.
"Don't let me down!" she called, but he was already gone.
-------------------------------
You know the nightlife is just not for me
('Cause all you really need are a few good friends)
Don't wanna go out and be on my own
(You know they started something I can't stand)
-------------------------------
"Abby, can you get a suture kit from the closet outside, please?" She
glanced up from the rambunctious little boy at the sound of Luka's
voice, seeing his back at the cabinet. "Don't the nurses know how to
restock anything??"
"You mean do *I* know how to restock anything?" she asked
sardonically, smiling - a smile he didn't return, she noticed, as soon
as he was back at the exam bed. She sighed silently, crossing the room
to the door and quickly pushing it open. "Okay..." she muttered to
herself, oblivious, apparently, as she knocked dead-on into someone.
"Oh! Jeeze, excuse me."
"Abby, sorry, I didn't meant o scare you," John Carter apologized,
gently touching her arm, but he was looking inside the exam room -
looking at Luka. "Listen, can I, uh...let me talk to you," he said,
leading her away and into a nearby supply closet, where she curiously
followed. "Listen..."
"I am," she stated, when he trailed off. "What is it, Carter?"
He hesitated for a minute, almost seemingly reconsidering before he
finally spoke, his words coming out almost in one breath. "Have you
noticed Luka acting strange too? I mean, we know Dave's been off, but
Luka too, right? Do you think he has something to do with Dave's
behavior? Do you think - ?"
"John," she interrupted firmly, before he really got into rambling.
"They've been acting strange, but not...together. Luka has issues -
Hell, I should know, I dated the man. It has nothing to do with Dave.
I mean - you know what I mean. Look, I talked to Dave before and - "
"And??"
"*And* he wouldn't tell me anything," she stated, shrugging, but she
remembered just what he'd said. He'd made a mistake, one he couldn't
fix. She'd assumed he meant that he'd used, but now that John brought
this up...perhaps he'd meant something else. Like puzzle pieces coming
together, she began to consider the facts: John had walked in on a
conversation between Dave and Luka. Dave had been weird ever since,
Luka even weirder... Perhaps Dave had meant something different in
it's entirety. But she was still reluctant to voice her opinions, so
instead she said, "If something *was* going on, he would've said
something to me." But even she could hear the doubt in her own voice,
and she knew instantly that the wheels in John's head must've been
spinning in overdrive as well. "You know they have a history. They've
been in a pissing contest ever since. It's probably the same thing."
"Probably," he stated, nodding slightly, his eyes cast to the floor.
They suddenly rose to meet hers, the fear in them nearly breaking her
heart. "You sure he didn't say anything?"
"I'm positive, John," she replied. "Look...if you think Luka's the
problem, then why don't you just ask?"
"Who?" he asked. "Dave?"
"Yeah. You know he doesn't give you a straight answer unless you're
direct. Just ask him." She paused, her brow rising as she glanced at
him. "Why, did you think I meant Luka?"
"Well..."
"Abby!" The both of them nearly jumped out of their skin as they
turned to see Dr. Weaver standing in the doorway, angry (as usual). "I
need you in Trauma One. Didn't you get the page??" As if on cue, her
beeper went off, and she was about to reply when Weaver began speaking
again. "Get in there, it's your patient from Curtain Three."
"I'm coming," she stated, but the woman was already in motion, heading
towards the trauma room. Abby didn't hesitate to follow, but she
glanced at John, pointing a threatening finger. "Don't talk to Luka
until you've spoken to Dave. Got it??"
"I won't," he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "I
promise!"
"Good," she said, turning and breaking into a jog to get to her
patient. John remained in the supply closet, nodding to himself
absently as he glanced over the shelves. Abby was right, he should
just talk to Dave. It was probably nothing, just the same old shit,
different day. Dave and Luka were always on edge with each other, one
had probably done something to make the other angry. He knew how both
men could get. They were just...being themselves. If John just talked
to Dave about it, asked him up front and asked him to *be* up front,
the whole thing would be resolved and no one would have to worry
anymore. It was nothing. It was probably just nothing.
A voice suddenly broke him out of his reverie, booming with a thick
accent from a room nearby. "Abby!! Are you getting me that suture kit
or not??" And then a door was slammed closed, and John could assume
which one it was. He sighed, shaking his head before leaving the room,
passing Sutures on the way. But as he made his way to Reception to
grab a new chart for a new patient, he slowed in his pace until
finally he stopped.
And one guilty glance at Trauma One later, he was heading into
Sutures, kit in hand, ready to get to the bottom of this.
-------------------------------
You leave for the city
Count me out
'Cause all this time is wasted on
Everything I've done
-------------------------------
Luka Kovac was growing impatient. His patient - a snot-nosed,
redheaded brat - was currently trying to get his fingers on every
little thing in the entire room. And, so far, he was succeeding.
"Would you please stop?" he finally asked, his voice edged with anger.
He glanced at the clock on the wall, as the boy simply protested by
banging the life out of a fork he'd gotten from God-knows-where.
"Where the hell is Abby with that damn kit??"
"You mean this one?" Oh, great. Just what he needed right now, another
reminder of why he hated this place. Hated his life. "Abby had a
patient, so I offered to take it to you."
"How considerate," he said, smiling thinly. John returned the gesture
with a warmer one, handing him the kit. "Thanks."
"Do you need any help?" he asked, but it seemed as if John had already
decided the answer because he was sitting down on a nearby stool. "He
looks like a handful."
Luka winced at the sound of metal grating against metal. "He's fine.
Besides, I'm sure you have other patients."
"Oh, no, it's no problem," he replied, almost cheerily.
"Great," Luka said, although his voice hinted at anything but. He sat
down next to the boy, opening the kit and starting the procedure...and
as soon as that needle was in sight, a series of shrieks were heard,
and then the brat was making a run for it, right out the Goddamned
door and into the busy ER, hopefully never to be seen again. "Really
great."
"Do you want me to call security?" John asked, and then must've
realized how silly that sounded. "To find him, I mean."
"No...I need a break anyway," he stated, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.
"How have you been feeling lately?"
The question was innocent enough, but Luka knew there had to be more
to it. John couldn't just be here to help Luka; it was no secret that
they didn't get along, to say the least. "I told you...hungover."
"Yeah, but I mean in general," he clarified. "How have you been? Okay?
We never really get to talk much, so I don't really know."
Now *that* was a shame. "Okay, I suppose...and you?"
"Fine," he nearly exclaimed, as if any other state was incredulous.
"You know...I've just noticed that you've seemed...down lately."
"Down?" Luka inquired, nearly smirking. "You don't need to worry about
me."
"Oh, no," he said, brushing off the implication. "I'm actually sort of
worried about Dave."
Ah...so there it was. Innocently, he asked, "Really?"
"Yeah..." John replied, the hesitancy clear in his voice. "He's been
sort of off."
"I'm down, he's off," Luka mused out loud, as if it truly baffled him.
If only John knew what had gone on between them...Luka briefly
wondered what he'd call them then. "What do you make of that?"
"I was sort of wondering if you knew anything about it."
"Me?" Luka asked, cocking a brow. "Why would I know anything?"
"Well..." Now John truly seemed nervous, as if he hadn't expected such
a dance during their conversation. But why should Luka make it easy
for him? John's whole life had been so easy... "I know you two have a,
uh...history."
"History," Luka repeated.
"Luka," John sighed, looking at him with exasperation in his eyes and
his voice. "Could you please help me out here? Look, I know we have
our differences, but I'm really worried."
"Why?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "Dave is a big boy, I'm sure he
can handle himself."
"What if he's using again??" John asked, and Luka could tell his
annoyance was quickly turning into anger. Two could play at this game,
he thought. "He can't handle himself when he gets like that, nobody
can. What then?"
"You'd know better than I," he stated, his voice edged with
impatience.
"What's that supposed to mean??" John asked, standing, his expression
contorted with sudden fury.
Luka stood as well, but he chose to ignore the question. "Why exactly
are you here, Carter??"
"To see if you're the one causing his problems," was the blunt reply
he received.
"Dave causes his own problems," Luka retorted, and then shook his
head, appalled. "You don't have any idea, Carter."
"What does that mean?" John asked, looking up with anger, but Luka
could see the desperation in his eyes. But he simply scoffed, turning
away to leave. He was surprised when he felt the hand on his sleeve,
forcing him to turn back around. "What the fuck does that mean,
Luka??"
"What the fuck do you think it means??" he snapped, stepping closer to
John, who didn't retreat but did the same. Luka sighed, stepping back
in an attempt to leave the room. "It means that maybe you don't know
your boyfriend as well as you think you do. Look, talk to him about
this, not me. Just leave me out of it."
"What's 'this'??" John asked, stepping in front of the door. But did
he really want that? Luka wondered. Did he really want to know what
"this" was? "Answer me, Luka!"
"Take this up with Dave, I'm finished here."
"You're not finished until I say you are!"
"Grow up, Carter. Now move."
"Not until you tell me what you did," he stated, and Luka had to
actually stop himself from laughing at the implication. "What. Did
you. Do."
"It isn't what I did," he blurted out, before he could stop himself.
"I said I wasn't getting involved in this, and I meant it. So let me
past and leave me alone."
"What does that mean!?" John persisted, nearly yelled. "'This,' what
does that mean?? I want to know, Luka!"
"I don't think you do," he said, before sighing. He tried to pushed
past John, but the man grabbed him by the sleeve and forced him to
stay. "John, let go of me. I said I'm staying out of this! It is not
my problem, talk to your boyfriend."
"Luka, if you don't tell me what's going on - "
"You'll what??" he challenged, and dangerously so.
John's hesitance was almost unnoticeable. Almost. "I'll out you. To
everyone. I'll tell everyone."
"That what?" Luka asked. He'd been startled by the threat, and the
viciousness behind it, but he recovered quickly after realizing how
much John cared about Dave. Enough to resort to blackmail. But Luka
was hardly one to be pushed around. "That what, John?? That I slept
with *your* boyfriend. Because don't think for a second they won't
start wondering why you two are always together."
They stood there, eye to eye for a minute, staring each other down
until John finally spoke. "I don't care."
"Of course you do!" Luka exclaimed, but for an instant the look in
John's eyes told him that he didn't. Not when Dave's life might've
been on the line. But he continued to speak, maybe even speaking from
experience. "If you didn't, you'd be out by now. You're ashamed about
your relationship with Dave. I can tell, with the way you act around
him as if he's just your coworker. Or under you, even. You'd rather
die than have people find out you sleep with someone like Dave."
"I don't care!" he repeated, more firmly this time. "I just want to
know what's going on with Dave, and if that means I have to out myself
and Dave to out *you*, then that's exactly what I'll do. Now either
you're going to tell me or I'm going to tell everybody - about *you*."
He was silent for a moment, John's passion telling Luka that every
single word he'd uttered was true. And he felt himself shrink back in
defeat. "There is nothing wrong with him."
"Then what happened??" he asked, stepping closer to Luka probably upon
sensing his defeat. Luka stepped back, but the other man didn't
hesitate to get in his face, standing nearly against him. "What's
happening, Luka? What did you do to make Dave act like he is?? What's
going on? I swear to God if you don't tell me right now - "
"Stop it!" Luka yelled, pushing John forcibly away. "You think he's
such an angel and I'm immediately the one to blame. But it isn't what
I did, it is what *he* did."
"What??" John asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly. Annoyed,
Luka tried to push past him once more but John didn't relent. "What
are you talking about, Luka??"
This time, Luka hesitated, but his anger overrode his rationality as
he began to speak. "Where did Dave end up, when he took all those
pills? Who did he turn too? You? No. Me. And do you think he just
went there to see me?? To have nice conversation with his good friend
Luka??"
"I don't understand..."
"Do I have to spell it out for you??" he nearly shouted. And he
suddenly *wanted* to spell it out for John, wanted to hurt him just
like he, himself, had been hurt so many times before by Dave, and by
Carter moments earlier. "He...we...he betrayed you, Carter. If you
want more detail, get it from him. Now get away from me."
"You're a Goddamned liar," John protested, taking a step back. "Dave
would never do that. He would never do that to me. You're a liar."
"Am I?"
"Fuck you, Luka" he said, so quietly Luka could barely hear him, and
suddenly everything was wrong. John was supposed to be angry, but Luka
could see his resolve quickly crumbling away. He was literally falling
apart right in front of his own eyes... "Fuck you..."
And Luka realized, then, that there was nothing left to say. John
must've realized it as well, because he was looking up with glistening
eyes, meeting Luka's.
"Thank you, Luka," he simply said. "You've been a great help."
"Carter," he said, reaching out, but the other man held up his hands
and quickly moved around him, out of the exam room and out of sight.
"God damn it..."
This was supposed to have been satisfying, Luka knew, but all he was
left with was a sense of dread, and, ultimately, guilt.
-------------------------------
You know me
Oh, you think you do
You just don't seem to see
I've been waiting all this time to be
Something I can't define
-------------------------------
"Get up." Dave stirred, rolling onto his back as he cracked open an
eye to see John standing before the closet, looking not quite angry
but as if something was definitely wrong. He repeated, almost harshly,
"Get up."
"What?" he asked, barely awake as he glanced at the clock: 2:14am. He
looked back to John. "Why? Is there a fire?"
"Just get up, please," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He
still had his lab coat on, his ID badge and scrubs. "I want to talk to
you."
"About what?" Dave asked. He sat up, pushing the covers aside and
immediately feeling the chill of the air in his boxers and undershirt.
"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"I left early," he stated. "I wanted to talk to you."
"So you've said." Dave stood, moving to cross the room to John when
the other man took a step back. He furrowed his brow, his heart
beating a little faster. "What's wrong? Did something happen??"
"Yeah. Yeah, something did happen," John said, nodding as he met
Dave's eye with a cold, hard stare. And Dave's heart dropped into his
stomach as he saw the expression on his lover's face change from
disdain to absolute heartbreak. And he felt his own heart breaking.
He knew. John knew. But still, he asked, because there was a little
part of him that hoped against all hope that maybe he was wrong, "What
is it?"
"I had a little conversation with Luka tonight," he stated, his voice
calm but his eyes...oh, God.
"About what?" he asked, so quietly he barely heard himself.
"You know what!"
"No, no, no," Dave said, frantically. "He's a liar, John, he's a
fucking liar. You can't - you can't believe anything he says, he's - "
"No, Dave," he said, shaking his head sadly. "That's one thing Luka
isn't. You...you, on the other hand..."
"John, what did he say to you??"
"He said that I should ask you," John stated, meeting Dave with
suddenly angry eyes. "So I'm asking you, Dave. What happened between
you and Luka the night you overdosed?"
"John..."
"No!" he shouted, the anger spreading from his eyes to his expression.
"Don't 'John' me! I want to know what happened! Did you fuck him,
Dave??"
"John, I'm so sorry," he blurted out desperately, taking another step
forward, but next thing he knew John was in motion, reaching under the
bed and pulling out the suitcases they kept there. "What are you
doing? We need to talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about," he stated, pulling clothes off of the
hangers, sending them flying as he dropped the garments into the open
suitcase. "You...you slept with Luka. You slept with Luka while I was
looking all over the fucking city for you, wondering if I'd find you
dead somewhere, or if I'd get a call that you were dead somewhere. All
alone. But you weren't alone. No, you were busy fucking Luka Kovac."
"I didn't fuck him!" Dave immediately exclaimed.
"You let him fuck you." The finality of the statement startled Dave
into silence. "You let him fuck you??"
"No!!" he yelled. "I did *not* let him fuck me. I would never let
anyone do that to me, especially Luka!"
"Then what happened??"
"I...John..."
"If you didn't fuck him, and he didn't fuck you, then what happened??"
he yelled, his voice cracking in a false alto. "What. Happened."
"I went down on him!" he exclaimed in one breath, before casting his
eyes to the floor. He felt his face grow hot as shame overtook him,
and, quietly, he repeated, "I went down on him, John."
There was silence, for a moment, but Dave didn't dare look up. Then,
finally, "How could you do that?"
"I didn't know what was going on!" he said, hearing the desperation in
his own voice. "I didn't know anything!"
"But you knew enough to get on your knees and - "
"John - "
"So, what??" he asked, cutting him off sharply. "So Luka took
advantage of you?"
"Yes!" Dave exclaimed, before realizing just how that sounded. He
hadn't been taken advantage of, he'd never let anybody do that to him.
He'd just been out of his mind, and Luka hadn't realized it. "No. I
just...I don't know! I don't know. I can't remember."
"But you remember going down on him?"
"Yes...yes, I do." The look on his lover's face was...God, he was
never going to be forgiven for this... "I'm trying to be honest here!"
"Honest?" John spat. "You want to talk about being honest?? How long
have you kept this from me?" And, without waiting for an answer, "And
*now* you want to be honest??"
"John, I'm sorry, okay?" he pleaded, as John pulled out another
suitcase and began stuffing the rest of his clothes into that one.
"John, please stop! What are you doing??"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he snapped. "I'm leaving."
"John - John, stop!" Dave yelled, panicking. God, what the fuck had he
done?? Quickly, he began to take the clothes out as John threw them
in, hastily putting them back in the closet, some not making it to the
rack. "John, you're not leaving."
"Why shouldn't I?" he spat, grabbing the clothes Dave held and jerking
them out of his arms. "You do...you do *that* to *him*, you don't
*tell* me, and I'm supposed to just *let it go*??!"
"I said I was sorry!!"
"Oh, okay!" John yelled, his face contorted with anger. "Since
*you're* sorry, everything's okay. Guess what, Dave? That's not how it
works!"
"So what happens then?" he asked, finally taking a step back. Quietly,
he asked, "What happens *now*?"
"I don't know," John admitted, just as quietly. "I don't know."
--------------------------------
So let's cause a scene
Clap our hands and stomp our feet
Or something...yeah, something
I just gotta get myself over me
--------------------------------
To be continued...
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