The flight attendant's voice crackled over the PA, and interrupted the end of the jazz program Luka was listening to on
Channel 9, to tell the passengers - in several different languages - that they were encountering some turbulence. He tapped
his fingers restlessly on the armrest as she went on to recommend that everybody return to their seats and fasten their safety
belts, and wondered when (or if!) he was going to get a drink - he'd rung the service button, but nobody had come yet. Then
again, it was a fairly busy flight; Luka had been on standby, waiting for a seat to open up, for the last few days, and this had
finally become available.

The announcement ended, and the music resumed. Luka decided to give up on the idea of a drink, and try to get some sleep the old-fashioned way - at least he was in first class this time, and had plenty of room for his long legs - so he wouldn't be a complete
wreck when he finally reached O'Hare. He still hated flying, hated the loss of control that went with leaving the ground behind,
but he'd been in really bad shape when he left Chicago nearly two months ago: a bundle of raw nerves over the prospect of returning
to his native country for the first time in years... wishing he'd been able to take Kerry with him... clutching at the armrests as if to
tear them from the seat.

He'd begun his first letter to Kerry about two hours after changing planes at LaGuardia, as the flight was somewhere over the
Atlantic, telling her of the couple a few rows ahead of him who'd argued about such stupid things. "They were arguing about
who was supposed to bring the sunscreen, of all things, can you imagine that? Sunscreen! Because there are, of course, no stores
in Europe that sell sunscreen." He couldn't actually see them, but he could just imagine what they were like. "They sound like a
fairly unpleasant pair, who deserve each other." He'd looked up from the notepad for a moment, and smiled as he thought of the
kind of argument he and Kerry might have. Better yet... how they might make up again. "We, on the other hand, are a  lovely
pair who also deserve each other." He hoped she hadn't taken that smug comment the wrong way.

Nik had been a little - okay, a lot - surprised to find him knocking at the front door. Worried, too - the last time he'd seen Luka,
his little brother had been getting on an airplane and swearing up and down that he'd never return. And now, here he was. Looking
better than he had then, to be sure, but he'd seen roadkill that looked better than Luka had, then. Vesna was the one who interrupted
them silently staring at each other across the threshold, and pulled Luka inside. She produced a few perfunctory complaints about
the suddenness of his visit, but that was as she was in the kitchen, already assembling something for him to eat. "Because God
knows, you never eat anything unless somebody sits you down and forces you." Nik and Luka exchanged an amused glance at that,
and Nik took Luka's duffel bag from him.

"You heard the woman. Sit down, little brother." Luka, who hadn't been smaller than Nik since he was about 15 (when he'd suddenly exploded into his full adult height, well before he'd gained his full adult weight), sat down - they were both perfectly aware that Luka
was more than big enough to lay Nik out easily, but on some level Luka would always regard Nik as the big brother who could shove
Luka into the laundry hamper and sit on the lid for hours, or give him a boost to the high spots he couldn't reach himself. "What brings you here?" He offered Luka a pack of cigarettes, but Luka shook his head, to Nik's surprise.

"Would you believe that I was in the neighborhood? No?" He shrugged and smiled ruefully, tapping his fingers against the tabletop in a quick, nervous tattoo. Vesna emerged from the kitchen, carrying a fully-loaded plate that she set in front of him. He stared at the plate dully, fatigue finally catching up to him in one big sudden rush.

"You eat it, Luka. See? There's a fork. You pick that up in your right hand, then aim it at that food there..." Luka glared at his brother, who began snickering at Luka's expression.

"Shut up, Nik. I know what to do with it. I'm just tired." As if to illustrate his point, he yawned hugely, and stretched. But he tried to eat something, he really did... it was when he fell asleep, sitting up, for the third time that Nik finally took the fork out of his hand and nudged him a little.

"Go lie down, then, and get some sleep, Luka. There's a bed all made up. Same room." Luka muttered something sleepily, and Nik - through the use of several more nudges, and one good hard pinch - got him to stand up and head in the direction of the guest room.
There were a couple of times Nik thought they might have to leave him in the hallway, but Luka finally stumbled into the room and toppled onto the bed. "No, wait... you might want to get under the covers...."

"Jus' a min't," Luka slurred, and was asleep the moment the last sound left his mouth. Nik shook his head, and took off Luka's shoes.
It was going to be a warm day, after all; the kid would be all right where he was. "Kid"... hah. Man. Forty in September, as hard as
that was to imagine.

Luka was sure later that he had dreamed, but was so deeply asleep that nothing registered. He gradually became aware of voices
nearby - little elf voices. One was by his head, another was behind him, and yet another was right in front of him. He blearily opened
his eyes, and discovered two small children sitting on the bed with him-- he turned his head. No, there were three children. Girls,
from the looks of it. Dark, like Nik, and watching him with Vesna's eagle eye... staring at him, almost expectantly. "Go away," he muttered, and closed his eyes again.

"Mama, he's awake!" the girl behind him chirped.

"No 'm not. Go away." He heard footsteps approaching, and reluctantly opened his eyes again, to see Vesna standing in the doorway.

"Come on, you three! Let your uncle sleep. He'll play with you later," she assured them, smirking at Luka's sleepy growl. He turned
over, and went back to sleep. By the time he woke up again, he was feeling almost human again... if a little sore from-- he sat up
slowly, and felt under the blanket. Great, he'd been sleeping who-knew-how-long with an undressed Barbie doll digging into his ribs. Never mind the princess and the pea, he was the doctor and the damned doll. He checked his watch, but couldn't remember whether
or not he'd already reset it to local time.

As his mind gradually cleared, he wondered again if he'd done the right thing, coming back. He had to have, right?

* * *

He glanced out the window, as Heathrow fell away. He'd been lucky, and had been able to schedule the entire way back to Chicago without any layovers along the way. Good thing - he'd already cut it pretty close on when to return home; he could have wound up
getting caught in a crush of people leaving the summer festival early, if he'd left it any later.

* * *

The night after he'd first arrived, the question of bedtime wear had come up. Luka really hadn't given it much thought when he'd stuffed clothing into his bag - he'd thrown in some t-shirts, a sweater, underwear, socks... and slacks and a dress shirt, in case the issue of church came up - if he had thought about it, he would at least have included his bathrobe. He should have thought about what to wear in a household where four females lived - Natalija was the only one of Nik's daughters he'd actually met before, when she'd been not that much younger than Marko had been, but Nik had subtly let him know, in letters, that two more little Kovachicas had arrived in the meantime - but he'd been too intent on the thought of getting there to really think.

But then, thinking was sometimes his problem... that is, not thinking before he did something. He probably wouldn't, for example, have painted "Jebi Tito!" on the side of an administrative building when he was sixteen, if he'd taken the time to think about it first. If he'd taken a moment to consider the possibility that one of the guards would spot his shadowy, black-clad form as he was racing away, and shoot at him, he probably wouldn't have done it. But then, he wouldn't have won the bet with his buddies. In retrospect, the handful of scruffy dinar notes he'd collected from Jovan, Miro and Ante didn't seem like much of a plus side to hearing a couple of bullets zing past his head, but he'd laughed at the time (if only he'd known!). It was an eternal truism that had been borne out by working as a doctor in a lot of different hospitals over the years, Luka thought: Teenagers are the stupidest life form on the planet.

"You have pajamas?" Luka thought about the contents of his duffel bag.

"I don't think I even own pajamas - I don't wear--" Nik shook his head.

"That's a little... no, a lot more than I wanted to know. Hm. Your legs are too long to borrow something of mine - I guess you
don't have any sweatpants, do you?" Nik's question was innocent - he knew a little of what his brother had been through, from
what had been in the news, but Luka had never spoken directly to Nik of what he'd done and seen there. He'd awakened Nik and
Vesna several times when he stayed with them the first time, crying out in his sleep, but always awoke in a daze, completely
unaware of what had happened - all he knew was that he was shaking, and terrified of something in his dreams. And he always
made his way to Natalija's room afterwards, where he stood by the crib, his slowly-healing body supported by the crutches... just
watching the little girl as she slept. It had been unnerving for Nik to watch this strange vigil, but Luka had seemed to draw comfort
from it.

"Nik." Vesna tried to get his attention, but he was still deep in thought on what Luka could wear to bed: going bare was one thing for a person who lived alone, but it really wasn't appropriate when there were others around. Vesna had been insistent enough that he start wearing pajamas when Natalija had become old enough to start wandering around the house under her own steam. Bad enough the tyke had walked in on them once, while they were in the middle of making love - Nik and Vesna had covered up hastily, and Vesna had told Natalija the first thing that came to her mind. "We were changing the lightbulbs, dear. When that door is shut, you must never open it because it isn't good to disturb us when we're changing lightbulbs." Nik had snickered softly at that impromptu explanation and then - after Natalija had been returned to her bed - they'd gone right back to changing the lightbulbs.

"Just a minute, sweetie."

"Nik." He turned, to see what Vesna was on about, and saw that she was holding the pajamas that Luka had worn, the last time. "I don't know if these will still fit you, Luka - I just remembered that they were still around... stuffed to the back of the linen closet, for some reason. Maybe I meant to make them into dust rags or something at some point - they were pushed all the way to the back, out of sight. I certainly don't think either of us expected to see you back here again." She held out the pajamas - pale blue, and a little wrinkly from being in a wad at the back of a closet for a number of years - and he took them from her. "Maybe I should wash those..." she began, but stopped - and rolled her eyes - when Luka simply gave the pajamas a quick series of sniffs and stowed them under his arm. "Oh. I forgot, you've been on your own and uncivilized for too long. I'm surprised your woman hasn't organized you out of those habits by now."

"Yeah, Luka," Nik chimed in, with a mischievous glance at Vesna. "I would think she's alphabetized your socks and underwear by now. Has your shirts sorted by color and style, huh?" Vesna swatted him, and he laughed. Luka smiled, and shook his head - both in amusement at their prying, and in denial of Kerry's supposed over-organization of him.

Not that she hadn't tried to impose her own systems and routines on him - he supposed that, to some extent, she might have succeeded in bringing a little order to his life, but he liked to think that he'd managed to make some changes in her, too, in the time they'd been together. He'd felt pretty smug, the first time she'd opened the shower door and climbed in with him as he was soaping up... he'd wound up transferring quite a bit of the soap to her, and they'd both been pleasantly slippery... like a pair of extremely affectionate seals. He could still feel the curve of her soapy breast in his hand, with the nub of her nipple the only break in the smooth surface. And the way she reacted so passionately to him... he still couldn't believe that he'd been the only one at County to see, to experience this side of her. God, he missed her so much!

"Anyway," Vesna told Luka, "go try those on while there's still time for you to go to the department store and get something that does fit."

"Translation," Nik warned him, "time for her to go with you and make sure you get something suitable... or that you get something at all."

"Nik..." she scolded, and he burst out laughing and hugged her, planting a big smooch on the side of her neck.

* * *

The pajamas had fit, Luka mused, which had been just as well - he liked Vesna, but suspected that shopping with her would have been every bit as annoying and wearying as every other shopping trip with a woman had ever been for him... including shopping with Kerry. The seatbelt sign had been turned off - at least for now - but he was still in his seat, drinking some water he'd finally managed to get a flight attendant to bring him and staring out the window again. There wasn't much of a view of the ground - it was a cloudy day down there, and they were above the clouds, so the scenery was all blue above and fluffy white below, with the sun slowly beginning to sink - so he stared at the masses of clouds and tried to pick out faces and patterns in the clouds and the little shadows they cast on each other. Soon enough, the land would end, and give way to an expanse of blue ocean, and it would be blue everywhere, up and down.

He'd wound up leaving the pajamas behind again when he left Nik's house this time - Nik and Vesna had been hopeful about his conscious decision to leave them behind (last time, he'd still been too dazed to consider taking along something that he'd never wear if he didn't have to). And he did want to return soon - ideally when Kerry could come with him. A honeymoon, perhaps.

He was sure the girls would like Kerry, and Kerry was so good with kids... that is, when she didn't try to hide inside herself or behind a mask of Kerry-the-administrator. He was almost sure that his parents would like her, but it was hard to tell with them sometimes - he'd finally made his peace with them, and with Danijela's family, but it was an uneasy peace at best. He wondered how Kerry was doing - whether she thought about him as much as he'd been thinking about her.

* * *

Kerry had been keeping busy the last several weeks, taking on projects and the occasional double shift in an attempt to keep herself too occupied to think of Luka. Wasn't working, she thought, as she examined a little boy with Chuny's help. Cleo should be doing this, and would have been, but she was currently absorbed in trying to save a young choking victim in another room. In the meantime, though... Kerry listened to the boy's chest intently, and winced when the boy grabbed the end of her stethoscope and yelled into it, but smiled anyway: it was the sort of thing she might have done, at that age. She finally declared the boy to be essentially healthy, but recommended to the mother that she wait for the lab results to come back.

Naturally, it wasn't very busy today - she decided that their customers had become tired of testing how they did when they were one doctor short, and were waiting to descend upon them when the new batch of residents arrived. Nick was working out very well - quietly competent, did his paperwork promptly, got along with everybody, really had a way with people - if she had an opening for an attending, she'd offer it to him. As it was, the only thing she could offer him was returning to fill in when Mark took his vacation (she thought he might have mentioned going up to Wisconsin with Elizabeth, but she wasn't sure). As she headed for the front desk to pick up another chart, she saw Nick flirting with a couple of the nurses. He'd even flirted with her a little - it had startled her a little, the first time it happened, but she'd spoken with him about it and he'd assured her that it was just the way he was, that he'd never let it interfere with the performance of his duties. He'd dated one or two of the single nurses, but didn't seem particularly interested in anything more than that.

Still... even though it wasn't very busy - only a few patients were waiting - she had a reputation to maintain. "Nick, Debbie, Lydia... there's got to be something you can be doing around here." She could almost hear the sound of Lydia's eyes rolling, even though she was looking over the new chart, and went to examine the patient.

* * *

Luka had had a moment of panic that next morning, when he first awoke: he couldn't move! Then he woke up a little more, and realized he wasn't alone in the bed. Three little bodies were packed in tight around him, like dark-haired sardines. One of them - Anja? - giggled in her sleep, and somehow managed to turn over... ouf! Her elbow caught him in the ribs, and he decided to take a shot at escaping... gingerly freeing his arms and reaching up to use the top of the mattress to drag himself up and out from under the covers. Natalija grumbled sleepily, and rolled to fill the space created by his absence.

Luka rubbed his neck, and padded out to the living room. Maybe he could catch a few more minutes of sleep on the couch-- oh. "Have you been to sleep at all?" Vesna smirked at him, and knocked off a few more stitches. She was sitting in a chair near the window, taking advantage of the morning light to knit a scarf... or a sweater... or whatever it was she was working on at the moment. Some people chain-smoked or cracked their knuckles to relieve tension, Vesna Kovac knitted. She'd knitted a lot of things, in fact - she sold scarves and hats, and other custom knit-wear in the same shop that sold the papier-mache items that Nik made in his spare time.

"Of course. I'm a morning person, that's all. How'd you manage to get up without waking the Three Sisters?"

"Very carefully. How'd you know--"

"Their beds were empty, and I peeked in and noticed you'd been invaded during the night. You fascinate them, if just because you've picked up a little bit of an accent." Luka laughed.

"Great. So now I speak both English and Croatian with an accent?"

"Yeah. It's absurd, isn't it?" She finished off a row, and began work on a new section.

"Mm-hm. So you really kept these around." Luka fingered the jacket of his pajamas, which actually fit close to normally now - the jacket had been very loose on his bony, torn-up body, and the pants had been purchased a little big in order to accommodate the cast on his leg - apparently he'd gained more weight in the last eight years than he'd thought. Or maybe they'd just shrunk a little. "Why? As far as you knew, I was never going to return to Croatia." Vesna shrugged.

"I'd like to be able to tell you that I had faith that you'd eventually find it in yourself to be able to come back, but it's nothing that complicated. They simply got shoved to the back of a closet, and forgotten." Luka sighed.

"I hope I wasn't an inconvenience - I tried not to be a burden on the two of you."

"What? No, of course not. I know you tried to help, as best you could. You didn't have any way of knowing that Nik's wool sweater shouldn't go in the dryer, after all." Luka blushed, and smiled.

"I hope Natalija enjoyed inheriting the sweater a little sooner than Nik had expected. At least you managed to teach me something about housework, so I haven't been completely helpless. I never realized how much Danijela--" he paused, waiting to be hit by the pain that washed over him whenever he thought too deeply about her... of them... and was surprised - maybe even a little disappointed - to find that while it still hurt, he wasn't crushed by the pain. "How much Danijela did for me, until she was gone." He laughed suddenly. "And it's a good thing that you taught me how to sew on buttons - that's been useful, a few times," he told her, thinking of the buttons he'd sewn back on Kerry's shirts after removing her clothes a little too hastily in his eagerness. Vesna shot him a lazy grin, that was short-lived as she spoke.

"I'll just bet. I remember you liked to watch Natalija in her crib. You made me a little nervous, actually."

"I did? I had no idea. Why didn't you ever say anything?" She sighed, and set her knitting to the side.

"Your only other option was to go stay with your parents, and that could have been very uncomfortable for everybody - besides, you would have run into Danijela's family there. Both Nik and I thought it would be better for you to be here, instead... close to family, but not too close to some of the memories. And I was never actually afraid of you - not even for Natalija's safety - you were just... hm... a little unpredictable. But Luka, your family was murdered, and you were nearly killed. You saw things I can't even imagine - I would have been concerned if you hadn't reacted the way you did!"

"I tried to kill myself, Vesna." That got her attention. "I took Nik's revolver one morning, and sat in the bathroom thinking about it. I even put the gun in my mouth... I was going to do it. I was all set, I was about to pull the trigger, and then I heard the knocking on the door." He smiled gently. "You'd forgotten your key, and come back for it suddenly, before going on to the market." Vesna gasped softly.

"That was the week before Nik took you back to the hospital, wasn't it? Oh, my. I had no idea - Nik never told me what had happened."

"He didn't know. I never told him about what happened, just that I needed to go."

"And then later you left the country."

"Yeah. I insisted I'd never, ever come back, and now... here I am."

"So why is that, then? I mean, why are you back?"

"Because..." he hesitated for a moment. "Because I have a lot of unfinished business back here, that I need to take care of, before I can start seriously thinking about starting new business back in Chicago."

"You're thinking of getting married again?"

"Yes. There's nothing wrong with that, Vesna," he said, a little defensively. She shrugged.

"I didn't say there was. You're long overdue for some love and happiness in your life. I didn't know Danijela that well, only met her a few times, but she seemed like a wonderful woman." He closed his eyes and smiled gently, basking in the memory for a moment.

"She was."

"Do you have any pictures of the woman you're dating? Your, uh, 'new business'?"

"Yeah. But it's not, um... well, it's...."

"It's a dirty picture?" Luka blushed. "You think you're the only man who walks around with such a thing in his wallet? Nikola thinks I don't know that he carries a certain picture, but--" He put up his hand, laughing softly.

"Please. That's already far too much information, Vesna."

"Okay. But I still want to see your picture. C'mon. Go get it." She gestured, and Luka sighed and got up.

"All right, all right." He got his wallet, and deftly extracted Kerry's picture, which he handed to Vesna.

"A lovely woman. Interesting outfit," she told him, and handed him back the picture.

"Oh, go back to your knitting," he pretended to grumble, but lost it and began to laugh.

* * *

The idea of speaking to Kerry had been almost an afterthought - he hadn't thought in terms of actually calling her, when he left Chicago - but occurred to him while they were watching Dnevnik, about a week or after his arrival. Vesna had her inevitable knitting, and Nik was working on some designs. Luka, in the meantime, had been telling the girls stories about working in the big, exciting American hospital as the four of them sat on the living room floor. He left them to play "defibrillator" and "t'oracotomy" with each other, and looked up in Nik's direction.

"Nik, can you do me a favor?"

"Huh?" Nik looked up from the sketch he'd made of Vesna - a couple of busts he'd made of her last month had sold, and other people had asked about getting one, too. If he didn't watch it, Nik thought, he might actually find himself with an honest-to-God side-career in this art stuff. Anja and Natalija were now chasing each other around the apartment, squealing excitedly - playing "psych consult" or "drive-by shooting" perhaps, Luka thought bemusedly - and Nik called to them. "Hey, you two. Quiet it down. What?"

"Can, uh, if I dialed the number, could I call, say, the United States from here?" Nik stared at him.

"Are you crazy? You're wanting to call that woman of yours? How many cards and letters have you sent her, huh?"

"At least two a day," Vesna helpfully observed. "But he wants to hear her voice. Right, Luka?"

"Well, yes. I'll pay for the call." Nik looked up, and saw that Vesna was glaring at him.

"All right, all right. You know where the phone is."

"Yeah. But, uh, we're dating secretly... nobody knows about us." Practically nobody, anyway, he amended to himself.

"You what? You heartless man!" Vesna was scolding Luka now, and he shook his head.

"She's the one who doesn't want to be public about it! Please, Nik. I want you to speak to the desk clerk who answers, and ask for Dr Kerry Weaver. Uh, lay on a really thick accent, and tell the clerk you're... uh... Russian."

"Why? I mean, why disguise my voice? They don't know my voice--"

"But they know my accent, and--" Nik interrupted, gesturing impatiently, exactly the way Luka did.

"Oh, all right. All right! Punch in the number, there. And give me the phone." Luka did so. "It's ringing!" Nik hissed. Then he cleared his throat, and did the best he could to sound like a Russian. "Mees Doctor Keery Veaver, pliss." Luka rolled his eyes - Nik's best effort at sounding Russian kinda, well, sucked.

"I em lookink for... to talk to Keery Veaver? I em Russian, pliss, my English for to speak, no so good. I em... friend Yuri Zhiv-- Zhivko." Luka caught the reference as Nik began to give the name, and smacked Nik's shoulder; he quickly changed direction on the name. "I'm on hold," he informed Luka, and handed the phone over. "She'd better be worth it."

"This is Dr Weaver." She sounded a little cross, and Luka hoped that she wasn't taking out any of her frustrations on the staff.

"Hey, beba," he said, smiling at the sound of her voice.

"Wh-- uh, Y-Yuri," she stammered. "It's been a long time."

"Too long," Luka agreed. "I can't talk very long, this is an international call, so... uh... how are you?" Nik smirked at the way Luka's face had softened, the moment he heard her voice.

"Good. I, uh, got the delivery I was expecting." Delivery? What was she talking about-- oh.

"Shto? Oh, your period. That's good... I guess. Um. How are y-- I just said that, didn't I?" He laughed a little awkwardly, a little disappointed that she wasn't 'in the family way'. But maybe it was just as well - if she'd been pregnant, he would have wanted to return home immediately, before he'd finished doing what he came here to do.

"Mm-hm. How about you?"

"I've been bette-- excuse me." Nik was gesturing at him. "Rekao sam, chu platiti! My brother," Luka explained. "He worries too much!" That comment was clearly directed at both Kerry and Nik, and Nik lunged for the phone. They struggled for a moment, but Nik stomped on his foot at the last minute and took the phone away from him, as Luka bit back a yelp and mouthed a few choice words. Nik just had to hear what this woman sounded like on the phone!

"Hey, so you're Luka's woman, huh?" Luka glowered at him - at the tone in his voice - and glanced at Vesna for support, but she'd gone back to her latest project... her body language clearly said Leave me out of it! "You love him, right?"

"That would be an accurate assessment," she said carefully. Nik passed on the affirmative answer with a quick nod; Luka just glared at him, and reached out for the phone, but Nik wasn't done tormenting Luka over this just yet.

"Hm." Vesna had told him that she'd seen a picture of Luka's Kerry, earlier (although she refused to go into specifics, as to exactly what the woman looked like), and he was trying to use his imagination to put a face to the voice he'd heard. There was a touch of squeakiness to her voice, on top of the authoritative tone that she obviously tried to maintain whenever possible, and her accent had the nasality that Nik usually associated with most of the Americans he met. "I'll hand you back over to my brother, then." He gave it back to Luka, who'd begun to arm for war, and smiled sweetly.

"Odjebi!" Luka snapped at Nik, who just laughed. Then he turned his attention back to the phone. "What are you wearing?" He could hear Vesna clucking from her post.

"My labcoat," she told him sweetly.

"And?" He wondered if she was wearing that oatmeal-colored turtleneck that he liked, although Chicago was probably starting to get a little too warm for her to wear that. Pity, that it would definitely be too warm by the time he got back.

"Just that." His eyes widened at the thought. Oh... my. Not very likely, that she'd really be wearing nothing but her labcoat at work, but the thought of that "outfit" on her was extremely appealing. "I can send you the materials, if you like," she offered.

"You mean... a picture of you... wearing... just your labcoat?" His voice was soft, and a little hoarse, and got Nik's attention immediately. Vesna, however, promptly cleared her throat, and Nik transferred his attention back to her and the television... at least, enough to cover up that he was still eavesdropping on Luka's end of the call.

"That's right, Yuri," she told him briskly, and he quickly gave her the address where he was. "All right. I'll get that to you as soon as possible. Until then, I hope you can make do with the materials you have." He was silent for a moment, thinking about that second picture in his wallet.

"Oh. How'd you find out I had that picture?"

"I'll let you know in my correspondence, Yuri." He chuckled at that, and was tempted to say something really outrageous to try to get a rise out of her.

"Volim te, Kerry," he told her instead.

"Volim te, Yuri," she said quickly and quietly, after a short pause; Luka promptly irritated her by laughing again, softly. He was pretty sure that she'd taken a second to look around before saying that. Never mind that, as far as he knew, nobody in that place spoke Croatian... or even Russian, for that matter (although the Russian words weren't even the same), she didn't want to take the risk that somebody might overhear her telling him that she loved him. It hurt, sometimes, that she didn't seem to want to acknowledge their relationship, but he needed her too much to risk presenting her with an ultimatum. He didn't want to push her like that, anyway. All he could do was stick by her, continue to make it clear he wasn't going to walk out on her, and hope that she'd eventually decide to trust him enough to go public.

Though he was beginning to suspect that a few more people knew about them - or rather, had figured out about them - than he'd thought; he knew that Abby, Mark, and Carter were aware that he and Kerry were seeing each other, and he knew that Haleh knew he was dating somebody at the hospital (and after that Easter party, he had a feeling she'd figured out exactly who at the hospital he was dating!). He'd intercepted the occasional curious glance from some of the nurses, and wasn't sure what to think of the sly little smirks he sometimes got from Randi, so he wasn't sure what that meant.

"I'll see you when I get back, draga. You got my postcard?"

"Yes! I received that just yesterday. Thank you." He'd found it in the airport gift shop, of all places, along with a couple of postcards with pictures of the Dalmatian coast that he wanted to send her. There was one place in particular that he had in mind to take her one day, and he wanted to make sure that it was still there... still the same as he remembered it. He supposed, though, that it was possible that it had been blown up at some point during the war, or built over in the course of the years since he'd last been there.

"You're welcome. We'll... probably be going down to visit our parents, and then, uh, up to Vukovar, for... well... you know, so I don't know how quickly I'll get anything you send. But I'll keep sending you postcards and letters, okay?"

"Yes, I realize that. Until next time, then?" This was definitely a time he wished he could reach out and touch her through the phone line - he was missing her so much right now that he hurt just thinking about her.

"Da. See you later, beba. Vidimo se."

"Bye." He hung up, and quickly swiped at his eyes before he turned around again. Sure enough, Nik and Vesna were staring at him.

"That was beautiful," Vesna declared. "Why don't you ever talk to me like that on the phone?" she demanded of Nik.

"Because he's already got you," Luka cracked.

"Oh, yeah, smart guy," Nik retorted, and they started wrestling playfully, as the girls took that as their cue to jump into this new game. Luka soon found himself at the bottom of a pile that consisted of his brother and nieces. "So we're going to visit Mum and Dad, are we?" Luka shrugged - or at least, moved the parts of his shoulders that were still mobile.

"Why not? At the very least, I should head down there - I owe them a visit, after all." Nik wasn't about to point out to Luka that he did not owe their parents any visits - that was just the quickest path to an argument, and he didn't want to argue.

"Well, we were going to go down there soon anyway. Another week, and you would have missed us. You'll be a nice surprise for them."

"And... for Danijela's family." He supposed it was possible that his difficulty in getting out the quiet words could have something to do with Marija digging her little knee into his back, but doubted it.

"Ah. Danijela's family. Yes." Nik's voice was serious. He'd run into Mr and Mrs Novoselic, the last time he'd been down to Sibenik for a visit, and they'd asked how Luka was doing... despite their grief, still just as strong after all that time, they'd seemed genuinely happy when he'd told them that their son-in-law seemed to be doing well, judging from letters. He thought that Luka probably would be a nice surprise for them.

* * *

Luka woke with a start, choking off the beginnings of a scream, and got up, clicking on the light before he went for his wallet and returned to bed, where he took out both pictures, and stared at them - one on each knee - for a long time... even when Marija came into the room and crawled up onto the bed with him, and snuggled into his side, her thumb casually parked in her mouth.

"Who's that?" She pointed at the older picture with one chubby little finger, and Luka smiled.

"That's your Aunt Danijela, and your cousin Jasna. They died a long time before you were born."

"Oh. And who's that?"

"That's... that's Kerry."

"Is she a friend of yours?"

"Yes. A very good friend. And if she says yes later, after I go home again, and agrees to marry me, she'll be your Aunt Kerry."

"Oh." There was a moment of silence, punctuated by the occasional chirp as Marija sucked on her thumb. "She's pretty."

"Yes, she's very pretty. And nice, and funny, and very, very smart. And, she's a doctor, too. Just like I am." He gave Marija a little hug. "And now, this doctor is saying that you should be going back to bed now, huh? C'mon. I have a couple of things I need to do."

"'kay. G'night, Uncle Luka."

"Good night, Marija." She scooched to the edge of the bed and carefully levered herself down, then left him alone with his thoughts again. He reached for the notepad he kept by the bed, and started yet another letter to Kerry. He'd gone with Vesna to the store this morning, and got some film developed; now he selected a few pictures from the packet, and set them aside to include with this letter. He'd taken pictures of Nik and Vesna and the girls, and of the flowering tree in the front yard.

"Beloved Kerry - it's late at night here, and I woke from a dream a little while ago. Marija - I told you about her in a previous letter, and am enclosing a picture of her with her parents and sisters - came in for a little while and I was telling her all about you. Well... not all. I didn't tell her how sexy you look when you've just come, with your face glowing and your eyes still smouldering and a little hazy with desire.

"And I didn't tell her how much I'll want to take you in my arms when I get home, and unbutton your blouse, kissing each square inch of skin as I uncover it... slowly working my way down, undressing you completely, but finally returning to pay attention to your breasts, that you'd thought I'd forgotten. How could I? I wish I was cupping them right now, with your silky soft skin a noticeable contrast to the calluses on my hands, that always manage to find your most sensitive spots. I think of the way you would sigh when I take one of your breasts in my mouth, and gently nip and suck at your nipple as my hand eases between your thighs - my fingers parting your labia and finding your little praline, massaging it until you start making those little kitten noises."

He paused, to collect himself - he wasn't entirely sure whether or not Kerry knew any French, but figured she could at least figure out from context that he wasn't literally talking about candy. Though he'd certainly nibbled on it more than a few times, and thoroughly enjoyed the taste. Thoroughly missed it, for that matter. Missed her... missed everything about her. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her body entwined with his after a long night of loving that had left them both pleasantly relaxed and languorously unconcerned with the rest of the world.

He shifted position - as much to ease the tension in the muscles of his leg, as to ease the pressure on certain other parts of his lower body - and went back to writing. "Then, as you start to twine your fingers in my hair, letting me know that you're getting very close, I would stand up. Maybe tease you a little and let you think that I had to go do something else, like work on charts downstairs, before I got undressed, too. I get hard just thinking about you, you know - sometimes I'm grateful for the long labcoat I wear at work, because the patients would perhaps be a little disturbed if they knew how I was reacting so strongly just to the thought of you. For that matter, how much of the staff would be disturbed by the thought, that there's a side of you they never see?

"I would stretch you out on the bed, Kerry, so that I can have a leisurely look at you... feast my eyes on you, before I join you on the bed, kneeling in front of you for a moment and then kissing my way up your legs - both of them! - before I pull your knees apart and sink gently between them. You smell musky, almost sweet, and I would pause again - just enjoying your scent - before moving in a little closer and touch you with my tongue for the first time in weeks. I expected you to buck, so I took the precaution of holding down your hips before the first delicate stroke. I would lick you gently a few times, as our bodies become re-acquainted again, and then pull your hips against my face, hard, as I suck on you in earnest and nibble at you... very, very gently. You remember how much you like it, when I hum against you? I miss humming, beba, almost as much as I miss you." He shifted position again, and carried on with writing.

"I'll want to make you come at least once - maybe twice, depending on how long I can last - before I make my way up your body, kissing and caressing you the entire way, until we're in each other's arms. I'll kiss your lips, and brush your hair away from your face as I slide into you - you're so slippery by now that I don't need to do anything more than be in the right place - then kiss your eyelids as your eyes squeeze shut for a moment and you clamp down on me. The feel of your legs wrapping around my waist, as I begin to thrust into you, it's so good... I'll take your hand in mine and kiss your fingers, nibbling occasionally as I continue to move, kiss your palm very gently. The sounds you make are like music to my ears - I love being able to make you feel so good - and I'll reach down with my right hand briefly, to caress the scars on your hip."

He continued to write, and thought about how he'd confounded Kerry when he began doing that - he had already liked to run his hand all over her body, not quite touching her, a few millimeters away from her skin, and she seemed to like that. He was matter-of-fact about her leg and her limp; he suspected that he'd surprised her with his quiet "Oh. Okay." after she'd told him why she limped. He certainly tried not to take it easy on her just because of her disability - any favoritism he showed her was strictly because she was a woman, and that was simply how he'd been raised. The first time he'd kissed her hip, where the scar tissue was, she'd accused him of trying to be "funny". Not at all, he'd assured her, and he'd traced the scar delicately with the tip of his tongue as she moaned, very quietly.

"When you come, it's like a force of nature in my arms - I sometimes wonder if you'll survive, or tear yourself apart. For that matter, I sometimes wonder if I'll survive the experience: you are an incredible woman, and I thank God every day, that I was lucky enough to meet and love - and be loved by! - you. I can't wait until I'm done here, and I can return home to you. All of my love, Luka." He pulled the pages out of the notepad, and folded them around the pictures, then got an envelope out of the box he'd bought when he first arrived. There were more than enough envelopes for him to write plenty of letters to Kerry, and he planned to leave the rest for Nik and Vesna to use. He got the envelope sealed and addressed, then put a stamp on it and took it to the box by the front door, to be put out for collection.

* * *

He heard the whispering before the young women came into view: "It's him!" "Are you sure, Josie?" "It's got to be him, Astrid, look at that face and that body!" He thought a moment... no, couldn't be. Though he'd gotten a few strange looks at the summer festival:  there had been some people who were convinced that he looked like one of the actors. He didn't see the resemblance, though, and had shrugged it off. Well, maybe they were talking about someone else. Sure enough, though, there was a gentle tap on his arm a moment later, across the thoroughly bemused man sitting next to him. "Aren't you...?"

"No, I'm not." They looked him over carefully.

"Huh. You look just like him--"

"Well, he is different," the other one pointed out. "More grey. And no ring. C'mon, Josie." The two women walked away dejectedly, and Luka sighed in relief. But the relief was short-lived - the man sitting next to him diffidently tapped him on the shoulder now.

"'Scuse me. Hey. Why didn't you go ahead and tell them you were... well, whoever they thought you were? You coulda scored with them, easily." Luka had nothing to say to that, merely gave the man a revolted look and turned away. There just wasn't any way to answer the question that someone like that man would understand.

* * *

Luka headed back to Nik's house, with Marija in tow. Vesna had asked him to go to the market, to do some shopping and take the little girl along, and he'd been very willing to do so. He hadn't, after all, travelled this far, just so he could sit indoors the entire time! The weather was beautiful - he would have left his jacket behind, but Vesna had insisted that Marija wear her coat, and Luka had had to set a good example.

"We're back!" he called, as he walked through the front door. Vesna appeared immediately, and held out a manila envelope to him as he handed her the bags. It was from Kerry, and he wondered if the cardboard inside it meant that she'd sent him the pictures he'd asked her to send him. She'd explained to him, in an earlier letter, how she knew about the sexy picture he had in his wallet - he was still astonished that Kerry had admitted to Carol that they were together. Well... and surprised that Carol had returned for a little while. But he'd been merely amused to learn that the guy in the store with the animal crackers was none other than the mysterious Doug Ross; it was the kind of strange trick of the universe that he might have expected. He didn't like to think about it, but he supposed that Danijela and Jasna and Marko had been the victims of a similar cosmic joke - to have survived the bombing, only to die a much crueler death.

And... they were going to head down to visit his parents in a few days. He wasn't looking forward to that - his father had made it up to Zagreb once to see him, before, but had seemed somehow disappointed in Luka and hadn't stayed long. His mother... Luka suspected that she'd still, after all this time, been unhappy that he'd chosen not to become a priest; Jelena Kovac had believed that, as the younger son, it was for Luka to serve God. After all, her youngest brother was a priest, her youngest uncle was a priest, and her grandfather's youngest brother had been a priest, and so on. And Luka had wanted that once, too... or he'd thought it had been what he wanted. Instead, he'd rebelled - fallen in love with Danijela Novoselic and made plans to become a doctor. And then... and then, they'd all been taken, and then killed.

"Luka, could you take this to Nik outside, please?" Vesna interrupted his train of thought, and casually handed him a large can of paint. "He's in the back yard, working, if you would?" He took it, and bemusedly headed for the back door - had she just thought of it, and that's why she'd sent him out, or was there another reason? He put his hand on the handle of the screen door, and saw Nik talking to a young, dark-haired woman as he used a different color of paint to put trim on one of his larger artworks. What? They couldn't be trying to set him up with somebody - not when he'd already made it clear that he was already involved. Well, best to go out and get it over with, whatever "it" was.

He went out and handed the paint can to Nik, then prepared to be introduced to "a friend of So-And-So". But before he'd finished his preparations, he noticed two things. First, he noticed the ring that the woman was wearing on her left ring finger. Second, he noticed the man sitting in one of Nik's lawn chairs. Even greyer than Luka, and had enough scars that he looked like an old tomcat, but it was undeniably Pavle Zakorevic. He was immediately glad he'd already given Nik the paint can, because it would have fallen from his hands at that point. "Pavle? It's really you? Not a ghost?" The scarred man stood up and walked over to Luka - with a limp that seemed to be more pronounced than Luka's - and gave Luka a good hard look.

"If I'm not me, somebody's got a lot of explaining to do! I was wondering the same thing about you, in fact. Your brother," he jerked his thumb at Nik, "called us up a little while ago, and said we should come for a visit. Didn't say why, though." He retreated, and went to the woman's side. "You remember Lin, don't you?" Now that Pavle mentioned it, the woman did look vaguely familiar. "She used to go by the name Melina Našic - is that ringing any bells?" Luka peered at her again, and mentally subtracted some of the hair... oh, yeah. Now he remembered the young Croatian-American psych intern who'd worked with them briefly... it had been some kind of international rotation, or whatever the term had been. He wondered if Pavle had been seeing her even back then... anything was possible, he supposed.

"Right. Now I remember. You're having affairs with married women now?" Pavle looked offended.

"No, genius, she's my wife. I married her. We have a kid." Luka stared at him, wide-eyed with disbelief.

"I'm sorry, my hearing is playing tricks on me - I could've sworn you just said that you're married?" Lin laughed.

"Hard to believe, isn't it? I still can't believe it, sometimes," she said, elbowing Pavle gently. "Guess he figured he should settle down, now that he isn't as pretty as he used to be." Pavle rolled his eyes as Lin laughed again. It was gentle teasing, though, and Luka guessed that it was a long-standing joke with the two of them.

"Yeah, yeah, woman. Chicks dig scars, as long as they were honorably received."

"Did you ever show her the scar on your ass, from when--" Pavle hastily tried to interrupt Luka's tale.

"No, no, I want to know," Lin insisted.

"It's really not much. Pavle and I were at a classmate's bachelor party, and we both got extremely drunk - Danijela made me sleep on the couch, when I finally got home - and as we were walking back in the general direction of our own homes, singing some horrible song - in beautiful harmony, I might add - this genius decides to take a short cut. 'No, don't,' I told him, it's dangerous. But he told me that he was already going to be in enough trouble when he finally rolled in, for being so drunk, there was no need to be late on top of it. So the next thing I know, I'm extracting him from a mass of sheet metal and trying to get him to the hospital. We were both panicking because there was blood all over the place, but it turned out to be nothing but a lac that needed... what was it, 25 stitches? Then we got chewed out and sent home." Pavle snickered.

"Yes, and you were very brave, Luka. Gallantly refusing all pain medications on my behalf."

"How was I supposed to know that they'd take me seriously when I told them that you enjoyed pain?"

"Hm... well. So what do you do, these days? Chief of Staff, somewhere?"

"Hardly. I'm an attending physician at a hospital in Chicago."

"Chicago! Our boy's moving up in the world." He reached over and patted Luka's cheek. "You have lots of sexy American girlfriends?"

"Only one sexy American girlfriend, just the way I like it. What about you? Still shrinking heads, or did you decide you like emergency medicine better?" Pavle shuddered melodramatically.

"If I never have to suture another wound, it'll be too soon for me. We - Lin and I - have our own psychiatric practice, and I work with war survivors in my spare time, leading group therapy sessions. You're welcome to join us while you're here, in fact."

"Nah. I wanted to tag along when Nik and Vesna and the girls head down to visit our parents. We might go down to Dubrovnik, to catch part of the summer festival, depending on when we go."

"Yeah? How are your parents doing?"

"Well enough, I suppose. I haven't really communicated with them for a while - mostly with Nik. We pass messages to each other through him, though."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that. Family's very important for the healing process, you know." Luka grinned.

"You know, I think I would have laid heavy odds against the likelihood of you ever saying something like that. Didn't you like to say that family was a big pain in the ass?"

"Well, yeah," Pavle admitted, after a cautious glance at Lin, who'd been quietly following their conversation with a great deal of interest. "But... you know... marriage and fatherhood has really changed my perspective. I'd do anything to keep Lin or little Pashka safe. Look, somebody's got to begin building the bridge between you and your parents. It might as well be you - yes, I know it isn't fair, but you don't want to be at their funeral, and regretting that you never did it, do you?"

"Right."

* * *

A new music program began, and a pop song from the late '70s started - he was vaguely familiar with it, and closed his eyes as he listened.
 

     This silver bird takes me 'cross the sky
     Just one more hour and I'll be home and dry
     'Cross the ocean, way above the clouds I come stealin'.

     Feelin' tired, but I feel good
     Cause I did everything I said I would
     I think of you, and I know how you'll be feelin'.

     I gotta see you, I gotta be with you
     We'll make it better now in every way
     It's gotta be you, it's gotta be you
     Yes from now on I'll tell you everyday.

     Way up here above this timeless sea
     I realize just what it is you mean to me
     You give me somethin' when I thought that everything we had was dyin'.

     I needed reason just to make me carry on
     Well I know better now, I know where I belong
     I can't imagine how I ever let myself just give up tryin'.

     I gotta see you, I gotta be with you
     We'll make it better now in every way
     It's gotta be you, it's gotta be you
     Yes from now on I'll tell you everyday.

     Oooooh, yes home and dry.

     Ain't nothin' up here gonna slow me down
     You know I never had to take the long way 'round
     I think of you, cause I know how you'll be feelin'.

     This silver bird takes me 'cross the sky
     Just one more hour and I'll be home and dry
     'Cross the ocean, way above the clouds I come stealin'.

     I gotta see you, I gotta be with you
     We'll make it better now in every way
     It's gotta be you, it's gotta be you
     Yes from now on I'll tell you everyday.

     Oooooh, yes home and dry.
 

He was asleep by the end of the song - it was a rarity, for him to actually sleep on a flight. That is, he'd self-medicated himself into unconsciousness on occasion, but usually he was nervously awake the entire time. The flight attendant's light touch on his arm, however, instantly brought him back to shuddering, dazed alertness that had her stepping back slightly. "Shto? Gdje--" He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and rubbed at his face, then stretched and yawned. "Shto zhelish? Uh... I mean... what do you want?" The young woman eyed him cautiously, then decided that he'd been speaking another language... not drugged or sick.

"We'll be landing soon, Mr Kovak. I need you to bring your seat upright, and--" He waved her away, not even bothering to try to correct her mangling of his name.

"Right, right," he muttered. He'd been dreaming about Kerry again - dreaming about the way she felt, and smelled and tasted - and resented being interrupted in the middle of a happy dream. He'd finally begun to remember his dreams again, shortly before he'd left Chicago. It had been unnerving... but also helpful: as much as he hated dreaming about the bombing or... that day, it was better than the blind terror that had always seized him before when he woke up.

There was the brief shock of landing, then the whine as the airplane's wheels hit the tarmac and the engine began slowing the plane down, and the plane gradually coasted down and headed for the terminal.

Once they'd come to a complete stop, he waited for most of the passengers to disembark before he stood up. He retrieved his duffel bag from the overhead compartment, and followed the last few passengers off - nodding distractedly as the flight attendant offered him an especially big smile and invitation to fly with them again real soon. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long for his little suitcase (he'd finally bought it when he'd realized just how many little knick-knacks and "souvenirs" - not the stuff marketed for tourists, just various items that he thought his coworkers might like - he'd bought) to emerge - he scooped it up, and headed for the El station, where he caught the Blue and rode to the stop that was closest to the house. He still had several blocks to go on foot, but it wasn't that much of a walk.

He sighed happily as he spotted the townhouse, and nearly skipped up the stairs, but he was dismayed when he got his keys out, and found that the lock had been changed. What? He sighed, and leaned back against the door. Oh, Kerry, you've picked a hell of a way to let me know I'm not welcome. He'd given her his brother's address in Croatia; couldn't she have at least let him know? She'd sent him the pictures she'd promised him, though... she'd borrowed his labcoat and rolled the sleeves up a little, then set up a camera on a tripod and taken the pictures with the timer. It was perfectly obvious that the coat was all she was wearing, but nothing actually showed... the pictures were tasteful, and technically fit to print in a family newspaper, but they were also extremely erotic. She'd even sent one of her (still wearing just the labcoat) making a face for the camera - her eyes crossed and one finger pushing the tip of her nose into a little "piggie" snout as she stuck out her tongue; that one had to be one of his favorites, just because it showed off the strange, whimsical side that she never seemed to show anyone else. She'd also sent him a strip of photographs from a booth like the one where they'd had their picture taken together. Just her, no special outfits, looking petite and lovely - she'd attached a note to it: "So you have something a little cleaner to keep in your wallet".

He looked up, as the one neighbor who'd ever bothered to talk to him (albeit while endlessly singing Carter's praises) came outside. "Oh," she said, sounding almost disappointed to see him. "You're back. I thought you'd left."

"No, not permanently."

"Oh. Well, Ms Weaver asked me to give you this, if I saw you back here," she said, and handed him a key. "Somebody stole her house keys last week, so she had to have the locks changed," she offered, almost reluctantly.

"Thank you for taking the time to give me this key," he said. Right now, all he wanted was to get inside and take a long shower after that extended stretch of travelling. And a good shave, which he'd started needing about fifteen hours ago. And while he kind of liked the way his hair looked - a little wild at the moment - he supposed he should probably go get it trimmed... it probably wouldn't go over too well, for him to show up back at work wearing his hair in a ponytail. He disliked the style whenever he saw it on a man - thought it looked absurd -  and doubted that it would look any better on himself. Short hair would also be a little easier to manage, as thick and heavy as his hair was - he really should have done something with it a lot sooner, but he'd never really gotten around to it.

He went inside, and took off his shoes as he closed the door, then removed his jacket and hung it on the doorknob of the closet - no point in putting it away, since he was planning to head out a little later. He spotted the blanket on the couch as he headed for the washing machine to wash the contents of his duffel bag... had her leg been giving her so much trouble, that she hadn't (as he'd speculated back at Easter) been able to make it upstairs to bed? It looked like she'd made a little nest, which seemed uncharacteristic of her; he would have expected her to fold up the blanket neatly, before leaving for the day, but she'd left it in that wadded mass on the couch. And... a glass of water on the coffee table, with no coaster? This was the right house, wasn't it?

He caught a whiff of himself, and winced. Okay, shower first, then laundry. He left the duffel bag next to the washer and stripped down completely, leaving his clothes right there, and went upstairs. As he soaped up, under the shower spray, he laughed as he realized he was singing: what a difference this was from his departure, back in May! Still couldn't hit that note, though, he noticed.

He got out and towelled himself off, then headed into the bedroom to get dressed; he noticed that, at some point, Kerry had bought a few more pairs of jeans in his size, and unobstrusively set them in a stack in the corner. Just as well - he wasn't yet ready to go back to the more formal clothing he wore for work, but since his jeans were in the laundry he would've had to do so in order to go anywhere. He grabbed the pair of jeans that was on top of the pile and inspected it briefly before putting it on - good fit. He smiled; Kerry had probably stopped at the store some evening on her way home, and picked up the jeans. She never ceased to amaze him - there were so many different sides to her, so many different moods, that he was intrigued by the idea of being with her long enough to learn and explore them all:  he figured he might have a fair start on that in about fifty years - he was thoroughly enjoying the experience so far, despite the times that she occasionally hurt him by speaking before thinking. And even the prickles, as uncomfortable as they sometimes were, were a part of her personality. She just wouldn't be the same, if she were the sort who always spoke softly and kept her eyes demurely lowered... hell, even Danijela had had times that she'd shredded into him mercilessly - she hadn't been perfect, as much as he'd loved her.

He took a black t-shirt out of the dresser drawer and put it on, then lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Kerry'd been in here, at least to put the jeans in that pile, but she hadn't been sleeping in here? She couldn't have been... no. Could she? He hadn't noticed a difference, since the bed in Nik's guest room was fairly small (and the girls had liked to "invade" many nights), but... he stretched out and noticed how much space there was. Bed looked awfully big and lonely, with just him in it. He reached over to her pillow, and lightly touched the pillow case. Tonight, they'd finally be here, together... he couldn't wait.

He went downstairs and emptied out the duffel bag, and transferred most of the presents and souvenirs from the suitcase to the bag, and then headed out to the El station, to drop by the hospital. Haleh spotted him first when he walked in. "Dr Kovatch! You're back!" He was surprised by her effusive welcome, but let her sweep him into a big bear-hug.

"Not really. I'm still off-duty for another few days, but I got presents for everybody when I was in Croatia." Haleh's eyes gleamed hopefully, and he chuckled as he reached into his pack. "This one's yours, Haleh," he said, and he began to hand out scarves to the various nurses on duty.

"Oh my goodness," Haleh whispered as she touched the soft fabric appreciatively. "The color's perfect." He ducked his head shyly.

"I tried to get it right for everybody." He could see from the number of cases signed up on the board that Kerry seemed to be pushing herself as hard as always - he wasn't about to ask after her whereabouts, though.

Just then, Abby bustled through, looking very unhappy and very busy. Probably had something to do with the splatter of vomit on the front of her pink scrubs, Luka supposed. She'd also got her hair cut at some point, into the short, choppy style that seemed to be "the latest thing" with American actresses. Personally, Luka thought the "style" looked like it had been concocted by a hairstylist who'd accidentally ruined his client's hair while extremely drunk, and had managed to pass it off as a hot new hairdo. Well, he supposed it was probably easier for Abby to keep it out of her eyes, but the long hair had been prettier on her. Although... a thought suddenly struck him - oh, God, Kerry hadn't gone and had her hair mutilated like that, too, had she? She wasn't usually one to follow fashions, but who knew what kind of crazy idea she'd got into her head? Ugh. Haleh noticed that he'd seen Abby.

"They're still floating her down here from OB. I'm trying to get a new permanent nurse, but I guess Admin doesn't want to bring on a whole new employee."

"You're charge nurse now?" Haleh nodded proudly. "That's wonderful. How are you doing so far?" She made an aggravated noise.

"Better than the times I filled in for Carol - I have to, since she's never gonna come back and take it off my hands." He laughed.

"No, I suppose she isn't. How's it working out with--" he gestured in the general direction Abby had headed.

"She's a good nurse. Smart, sensible, friendly. Still, it'd be a shame if she gave up on med school, after all the time she's put in on it."

"Yeah, it would." He went into the lounge, and took a few things out of the duffel bag, then began to put the bag and his jacket in his locker, until he noticed that his labcoat seemed to have been moved. The old paranoia was automatic - he poked at it cautiously, until he remembered that Kerry had borrowed it for her pictures. But poking at it had produced a soft crinkly noise, and he checked the pockets quickly. Heh... she'd put a note in there. He pulled it out, and noticed that "Do not open this in the lounge" was written on the outside of a folded-up piece of paper, in her very neat handwriting. Hm... that sounded promising. He tucked the note into his pocket, then closed his locker and headed upstairs.

He'd found a small toy giraffe - finding a giraffe in a Croatian curio shop had confused him a little, but it was cute - that matched one he'd seen on the shelf in Kim's office - he took it to her, and let her know that he wasn't going to continue sessions with her. She thanked him for the present, then asked how he was doing.

"I still have a long way to go," he told her contemplatively, "but I'm within sight of it. I remember my dreams, at least."

"You made your goal, then," she said, and smiled. "Not everybody does."

"No, but some people just get lucky. See you later, Kim." He started to head for the elevators, but changed his mind at the last minute and decided to take the stairs - there'd be plenty of time for him to be in a tearing hurry, once he was back to work, but for now he could take the long, slow way. His timing was good - Benton was just emerging from Romano's office.

"Dr Benton?" Benton groaned silently as he saw Dr Kovac approaching him; it took a little while to realize that his foreign colleague looked so strange because he was dressed much more informally than usual. "I wanted to apologize to you for what happened back in May. I lost perspective that day, and ignored the rules of triage in favor of my personal feelings about your patient."

"Yeah... well... I had time to think about it, too, and I started thinking about how I'd feel if that guy had shot Reese. My son," he explained, when Kovac stared at him blankly. "He's a little over three years old." Luka nodded.

"Yes, I understand that age - my son was nearly three," he said quietly.

"I didn't know you had kids, Dr Kovac."  He shrugged, a little awkwardly.

"Yeah, I did." He tried to be matter-of-fact about it - he felt uncomfortable when people began overflowing with sympathy, and felt oddly touched when Benton simply reached out and squeezed his shoulder. But then, Benton had never seemed like the sort of person who'd be likely to get emotional in public. "Uh, here. I got this for you while I was in Croatia." Benton looked at him quizzically, and opened the small package Luka handed over. "It's an icon of St. Peter. I realize you're not Catholic, but it seemed appropriate."

"Huh. Thanks a lot. Really. Hey... didn't St. Peter slay dragons, or something?" Luka stared at him in surprise.

"I think that was St. George. Why, are you having problems with that dragon?" he asked, nodding at the door of Romano's office.

"Interviewing for a surgical attending position." Benton smiled wryly.

Romano came out of his office then, and Luka was reminded of a weasel coming out of its den. The man spotted him, and smiled thinly. "'Lucky'. I see you're back."

"Yes, Dr Romano. I got you something, too."

"Uh-huh. You wouldn't be trying to kiss up to me or something, would you?" Luka shot Benton an amused glance.

"Not at all. I saw it and I thought of you." Romano gingerly opened the box, as though expecting some kind of small rabid creature to pop out and chew his face off, but smiled in honest surprise and pleasure when he saw the blade... and determinedly wiped the smile off his face when he noticed the two men staring at him.

"A knife. You got me a knife, Dr. Kovac."

"It's a replica of knives used by some of the first surgeons - medicine got its beginnings in the Mediterranean, you know."

"Uh-huh. Well. Thank you very much, 'Lucky'." Luka didn't bother to protest the impromptu nickname - it wouldn't do any good, with someone like Romano. Besides, he did feel lucky, for the first time in nearly a decade.

"So what is it, really?" Benton muttered quickly, as Romano bustled into his office to find the perfect place to show off his new prize. Luka smiled.

"It's a replica of a medieval torture device - it seemed appropriate, under the circumstances. Good luck on your interview."

"Thanks, man."

He headed downstairs, and remembered the note when he was in the middle of a flight of stairs. Well, now and here was as good a time and place as any, he supposed. He removed the note from his pocket, and sat down on the stairs to open it and read it. He could see that she'd begun to try to write it in Croatian, but had scratched out her efforts and begun again in English. "Luka. You're reading this, which means you're back. Good! It's been far too long, but even five minutes is too long sometimes. I've been going nuts without you, and I'm looking forward to going nuts with you when we get home. Love, Kerry." Hm. Short, sweet, and to the point - he definitely approved of that idea.

He got back downstairs, and was quickly the center of attention... which he could have done without. "Hey, Dr Kovac," Malik greeted him. "How was your vacation?"

"Pretty good. Relaxing."

"Can't have been too relaxing," Randi commented, and pointed to her hair. He continued to look baffled, so she explained. "Your hair. It's all grey, and stuff."

"Oh. It was always that way. I've been letting it all grow in naturally, lately." Randi raised an eyebrow.

"You? You've been using hair coloring? YOU?" She gasped. "I mean, you're like the least vain person I know!" He glanced at her quizzically.

"Thank you. I think. Slow day?"

"Eh. Not too bad today. Might pick up later, though - it's been crazy most of the time you and Carter have been gone. So... what's the story?"

"Pardon?"

"What's with you and Carter just going away like that?"

"I went back to Croatia, to visit family. By myself," he told Randi firmly, when he caught the beginnings of a smirk on her face.

"Guess that's why Dr Weaver's been moody this whole time," Randi muttered, very quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, Dr Kovac. Nothing," she chirped, trying to look innocent... and being about as generally successful at it as Edgar Winter trying to get into the Black Panthers. He eyed her suspiciously, but let it pass... partly because he'd spotted Kerry. She was talking to some guy who looked a little like a blond version of Goran Ivanisevic, and Luka hung back a moment before he said anything, trying to see what was going on.

"Kerry," he finally said. Well, that didn't sound too shaky, he thought. His heart began to race, but he forced himself to remain outwardly calm - the Goran lookalike was still there, watching him curiously.

"Welcome back, Luka. Looks like your vacation agreed with you." Damn, he was beautiful. She'd almost forgotten how the jeans made his legs look even longer... and he had definitely picked up a lot of sunshine - she wondered if that deep, dark tan was all-over. "Uh, this is Dr Nick Dennison. He's been helping out around here while you were gone." Luka eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then stepped a little closer.

Nick smiled hesitantly, and put out his hand. Luka shook it, and Nick was disheartened to be so quickly dismissed as a threat. True enough - Chuny hadn't been kidding when she'd described Luka as someone he didn't want mad at him. "Hey, Kerry, can we talk about the schedule for a minute, before I head home?"

"Sure." She followed him into the lounge, and Nick grinned at Chuny.

"And now we pretend that they're not making out in there, right?" She shrugged.

"Eh, they usually behave themselves around here. Betcha if you went in there right now, there'd probably be a coupla feet between them... but they might be breathing kinda heavy."

* * *

Nick hadn't been completely wrong, though - Kerry was in Luka's arms the moment the door closed behind them. They weren't making out, though, just holding each other very, very tightly. "I missed you so much," she told him from the general vicinity of his chest, as he rested his head on top of hers and stroked her hair. He thought it was probably the most relaxed he'd been since... well, since shortly before he'd left.

"I missed you, too. I won't lie to you, Kerry - if you hadn't been here, waiting for me, I probably would've stayed in Croatia. I was terrified, when I got to the door and found that the locks had been changed." She backed away slightly, and peered up at him.

"I sent you a letter, the moment my keys were stolen." He shrugged.

"It probably arrived right after I'd left. I hope you didn't send any more of those 'special' pictures...?" Her eyes got huge and panicked for a moment, then she shook her head, just as Luka was starting to worry about Nik getting hold of any stray photos.

"No. The labcoat photos - and... the other one - were the only pictures I sent."

"Mm. That's good. The ones you did send were very cute, though. And, uh, I see you went back to that photo booth."

"Mm-hm. I figured you should have something you could show in mixed company." He kissed the top of her head quickly.

"Actually, I showed it to Vesna one morning."

"Your sister-in-law? You showed your sister-in-law THAT picture? Oh, god, what did she think?"

"She simply said 'Lovely woman. Interesting outfit.'"

"Oh." Luka laughed.

"Yeah. 'Oh.' I'm going to head home now, maybe start some dinner, so there's something to eat when you get off?" She grinned, and reached up to his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

"Okay. I'll see you then - I'm just on for about four more hours, but I'll try to get right home." She reached out and squeezed his hand quickly. "Oh... do you want to be back on the schedule for Tuesday, or Wednesday evening? You did say that you wanted to discuss the schedule, right?" she asked, when he furrowed his brow at her in confusion.

"Mm, yeah. That's true. Might as well make it Tuesday." He leaned down and kissed her one more time, very lightly.

"See ya later, then... love you."

"Love you too, Kerry."

* * *

It seemed to Kerry like an eternity went by before she was finally able to sign out and leave, but finally she was pulling up in front of her house, and parking. She switched off the engine and sat there for a moment - he'd told her he was heading home, but she felt a little nervous... almost as though she might get inside and find that he wasn't there, after all. That she'd only imagined his return. She sighed and got out of the car, and quickly - at least for her - went up the stairs and unlocked the door. "Honey, I'm home!" she called out, as she shut the front door behind her and went into the living room. Mmm... something in the general direction of the kitchen smelled very, very good.

He emerged from the kitchen the moment he heard her voice, and was quickly by her side. "Hi." He kissed her and began to unbutton her blouse, and she chuckled softly.

"Can I take my jacket off first, please?"

"Sure, sure. Sorry." She removed her jacket and tossed it carelessly aside, and leaped into his arms. "Whouaugh!" he grunted, as the sudden impact knocked him backwards and off his feet. "Damnit, Kerr--" he began to complain, but was silenced by her kiss.

She backed off for a moment, and stared at him. "You remember what you wrote in your letter?"

"Wh-which one?" She swatted his shoulder affectionately.

"The one where you told me all about what you wanted to do when you got back."

"Ah, that letter." He grinned, and looped his arm around her waist. "C'mere." He pulled her closer for another kiss. "So you wanna do what I suggested in my letter, huh?"

"Yeah. Do you even remember?" she teased. He raised an eyebrow, and set about proving that he very definitely did remember what he'd written.

* * * * * *

He lay back, exhausted, with Kerry sprawled on top of him, and gradually realized that they made a strange sight - her blouse was partly unbuttoned (he was going to have more buttons to sew back on, later) and he was still wearing his t-shirt, and of course they had removed their pants. Once all that had occurred to him, he couldn't help laughing softly. She roused just enough to make a soft enquiring noise.

"I was just thinking how incredibly stupid we are."

"And that's funny."

"Well, no. But... look at us. Half-dressed, in the middle of the floor... no 'protection'. Like we were kids."

"Mmm... which we're not." She snuggled against him, her hand snaked up inside his t-shirt and playing with his chest hair, and he shifted position slightly... he was exhausted, but certain parts of him were more resilient than others.

"No. And my back is going to feel every bit of this in the morning." But he made no move to stand up. "What are you doing?"

"Just doing an experiment."

"How does playing with my nipple constitute an experime-- oh. Mm." He purred softly, and wriggled under her.

"Feel like going another round here on the floor?" She smiled suggestively at him, and he smiled serenely as he massaged her back.

"Mrm... I'm very tired, Kerry. I have been travelling for far, far too long today." He glanced over at the couch. "Why've you been sleeping on the couch? Has your leg been giving you that much trouble? Perhaps you should think about taking something for the pain."

"What? No, it has nothing to do with my leg hurting - it's... just a little easier to sleep down here. The bed's too big for just me."

"Oh. I wondered if that might be it."

"Mm-hm. It was a little strange, too, wearing anything to bed." He grinned at her.

"Then why did you wear anything?"

"Because it didn't feel 'right' to sleep on the couch naked."

"Mrm." He rolled his eyes slightly at that. "You've slept on the couch naked before." She blushed at his reminder of Valentine's Day - or rather, the next morning! - and bent to kiss his neck. "Your hair is so beautiful - getting so long...."

"Tell me about her."

"Hm?"

"Danijela. Tell me about her. She's partly why you went back, isn't she?" He sighed.

"Yeah. I got a lot of things resolved... tied up a lot of loose ends I'd left hanging back then. Talked to my parents and Danijela's family while Nik and I were visiting Sibenik. I think my mother was a little horrified by the idea of me moving on with my life, but..." he shrugged. Kerry chose to ignore - for now - the fact that he'd sidestepped her question, and went with the direction that he seemed to be comfortable taking.

"How did Danijela's family react?"

"Mm... I think they were philosophical about it. They admitted they'd been angry at me then, that it was a good thing I stayed in Zagreb."

"At least your parents were supportive at the time, right?" He shrugged.

"My father came up to visit me once, but he didn't stay long. And my mother stayed home. But, they had to talk to me this time."

"As long as it went well for you." He shrugged. "How'd you sleep, being by yourself this whole time?" He shrugged again, and she glared at him. "You did sleep alone, didn't you?" He laughed softly.

"Mm... there were many mornings that I woke up to find I had company." She gave him the Stare of Death, and he relented. "My little nieces - Marija, Anja, and Natalija. I think I fascinated them... I'd wake up covered in kids, just about." He glanced over at the couch. "I don't suppose you could go grab that blanket over there, could you? Or let me get up and get it?" She sighed softly, and snuggled into him.

"Or better yet, we could put that delicious-smelling food away for later, and go upstairs and sleep in a real bed, together."

"Oh, twist my arm, woman," he teased. He rolled her off of him, stretched a little, and then retrieved his pants from... hm... where did they go? Ah, there they were. Putting away the food took a little longer than it ordinarily would have, since Kerry wasn't being terribly cooperative: she kept distracting him as he tried to load containers into the refrigerator, but he finally got the last bit stowed... and suddenly threw her over his shoulder and carried her upstairs as she shrieked, and giggled almost uncontrollably.

* * *

Several hours later, he woke up with his head resting on her chest, and discovered that his hand was already engaged in a gentle massage of one of her breasts. Hm. He saw no reason to disrupt the status quo, so he moved just enough to be able to watch her face as she slept. Now that was a sight he'd really missed. Her eyes gradually fluttered open, and she smiled when she saw Luka lying there with her. "Hi." He sat up, and moved so he could kiss her.

"Hi, beba." He wearily ran his hand up and down her body, occasionally pausing to linger on those pretty breasts. He moved his hand further up, carefully tracing the features of her face, and occasionally moving in to kiss her again. "I've missed this. I"ve missed you. The letters - and yes, the pictures - were nice, but I'd rather be here, with you." He twined a leg around hers and settled down to some serious kissing - not really planning to do anything, just enjoying where he was. However, they were interrupted, mid-kiss, by their stomachs attempting to carry on a conversation with each other. "Mm. Hold that thought," he told her regretfully, just as she'd returned to her earlier experiment that had involved his nipple - it had been made much easier by the fact that they were now both completely naked. He'd lost his pants again, somewhere between the kitchen and here - he'd probably dropped them when Kerry had gleefully discovered that when he had her in a fireman's carry, she could reach his butt very easily - and he'd stripped off his t-shirt right after he'd plunked her down onto the bed. He suspected that he'd had ideas about jumping on her, and continuing with what they'd been doing before in the living room, but they had both succumbed to fatigue: there just wasn't anything like a person's own bed, for a good rest.

They trooped downstairs, not even bothering to put on any clothes. "So you never flirted with that Tennyson guy?"

"Dennison. And no. He flirted with me, very briefly, but I think he's just that way. Heavens, I even saw him flirting with Janet Coburn, once." Luka shrugged, and began retrieving containers from the refrigerator - he tossed Kerry one that he was pretty sure had some olives, and she promptly opened it and began nibbling.

"She's a good-looking woman. Not my type, of course, but very striking. Do you want some cheese?" Privately, Kerry had to agree - she admired Janet's toughness and outspokenness.

"Please. Hey, Carol and Doug came back to town, you know, to finish up some business. Thank you," she said, as he quickly under-handed the block of mozzarella to her.

"Mmm-hm?" He was focused on his investigation of where that chicken had gone, but he was listening. "You mentioned that in your letter. How're they doing?"

"They're doing well. They seem happy. I don't think Carol's managed to find a buyer for her house yet--" He glanced over his shoulder.

"Maybe we should buy her house." The sudden suggestion startled Kerry.

"Oh? I thought you didn't like the noise of the El." He shrugged.

"Trains are easy to get used to. Very rhythmic. I like rhythm," he teased, and smiled when she blushed slightly. "And they're on a schedule. Besides, how much work did I do over there for Carol?" Kerry giggled.

"And how many people would we have to bring in, to 'fix' all your repairs?" He grunted indignantly, and threw a dinner roll at her. "Hey! What's with you wanting to buy something else, anyway?"

"Dunno... I just think it might be nice if we had someplace that was ours."

"This is our place."

"Your house. Our home," he corrected her, as he finally found the chicken and brought it over to the island, where Kerry was making an honest effort to devour all the olives - he reached in and plucked out a few, and popped them into his mouth.

"So why would it be different if you owned the house, and I moved in? That's what you think, right?"

"Hm. It just is. Anyway, why'd you mention Carol and Doug?"

"I bought her car. I thought you might like to drive something that actually works, for a change."

"Mm. And on the other hand," he pointed out, "if you let us go public we could ride in to work together, huh?"

"But we don't always have the same shift," she retorted, and he was just about to get angry when he looked into her eyes... and he relented. Again. Dammit. He sighed.

"You know, one of these days I'm going to kiss you right in front of everybody at the hospital," he warned her.

"You would, too, wouldn't you?" He nodded seriously.

"Yeah. And I just hope you'll be able to forgive me when I do."
 
 
 

POST-OPERATIVE NOTES:

• Um... for the meaning of "praline" (assuming you hadn't figured it out on your own already), check out the book "Merde!" by Genevieve.

• For more information on St. Peter, go to http://www.catholic.org/saints/