THE WITNESS

by phoenix

Personally, Luka considered late August the perfect time of year for a birthday. It wasn’t close to any major holiday, autumn’s beautiful hues weren’t far away, and summer’s heat was beginning to dissipate. As a youth, he spent his summers working at his Uncle Miki and Aunt Hana’s resort in Dubrovnik; it was a great way to make money for the school year ahead, plus Luka got to spend his days by the ocean. By the time Luka’s birthday rolled around, the tourists were on their way back to homes across Europe and he was allowed to spend a few lazy days enjoying the resort’s amenities before returning to his parent’s home in Split for the new school year.

He gazed out across Lake Michigan; it was beautiful, but nothing like the Adriatic Sea visions racing across Luka’s mind from his youth on the Dalmatian Coast. Feeling a surprisingly welcome and warming dose of homesickness ease across his being with the breeze off the lake, Luka picked up the pace of his walk and headed back to his car. He would have to hurry in order to arrive on time for his 10AM to 10PM shift; after his early morning trip to the gym, plus an unexpectedly long walk by the lakeshore, Luka knew he absolutely needed a hot shower and a shave before work.

Rushing into the apartment, Luka’s peripheral vision caught the flashing light on his answering machine. Normally, he would have ignored the bright red light’s rhythmic beckonings since County General Hospital (CGH) would have used his pager if it was an emergency and he rarely got phone calls from anyone else. Today, being his birthday, Luka took a moment to listen to his messages. The first two were solicitor’s selling this or that which he deleted before the person got more than six words into their sales pitch, but the last message brought him instantaneous joy; in fact, Luka played it three times before heading for the shower.

In the shower, Luka found himself mindlessly repeating the silly song from the answering machine. He closed his eyes and imagined his father, Viktor Kovac, standing alone in the kitchen of their home in Split. The mental picture of his father, a much bigger man than himself, evolved until Luka found himself laughing out loud at the image of the six foot, six inch, broad shouldered man standing alone in their kitchen singing his birthday wishes across thousands of miles into his younger son’s answering machine. While he finished getting dressed, still humming the Croat version of a birthday song, Luka decided he was glad he missed his father’s call; being able to repeatedly play the off-key baritone’s song after work this evening would give him great joy. Too bad it was so late at night in Split by now, Luka would have liked to call his father back on his cell phone while riding the train to work.

The train was overcrowded, muggy, and full of too hot human beings with little patience for one another. Everyone seemed to be in a bad mood except the tall man standing toward the back of the car; he couldn’t keep a silly grin off his face as he boldly hummed an odd ditty. Luka started toward the door as the train slowed for his stop, oblivious to the stares his bright mood and deep hum were bringing his way, then exited with a significant portion of the crowd and started down the steps to the street.

Funny how you could dread something for a long time, but when the moment arrived you really didn’t mind it at all. Luka had been dreading this birthday for weeks, years really. The only bright spot he had found regarding the darn day was the fact no one at CGH knew it was his birthday; Luka kept his birthday, along with the other facts of his life, to himself for more than a year while working as an ER Attending here in Chicago. He preferred it this way and had no intention of breaking down despite the constant teasing and accusations of aloofness by his coworkers. He would stay quiet about himself and his past, and continue to forge his niche in the department.

Suddenly, before turning the corner into the driveway outside the Emergency Department’s entrance, Luka came to a halt. It struck him as amazing to be thinking such thoughts; not only had he stayed at County for more than a year, but he liked his job and was thinking in terms of building a future here in Chicago. After years of moving around, Luka had unconsciously, now perhaps consciously, decided to make Chicago and CGH his home. A renewed smile broke out across his face; yes, this was going to be a much better birthday than he ever would have imagined.

XXXXX Sixteen Plus Hours Later XXXXX

“Luka!” Kerry found Luka closing up his locker for the night, “Thanks for staying the extra four; we should be fine for the rest of the night.”

“Not a problem, Kerry,” Luka smiled and started toward the door.

“Luka?”

“Yes.” He spun around so fast, Luka nearly knocked his boss over when she ran into him, “I’m sorry, Kerry.”

“Not a problem.” She nodded, pleased with her mimicking of a standard Lukaism, then took a step back, “I know it is after 2AM, but could you wait another minute before heading home.”

“Sure.” Luka sank into a nearby chair while Kerry crossed back to her locker.

“There are a few unspoken perks to being the boss around here, Luka. One of them is my access to personnel files; I make it a habit to try and review the entire file when I’m doing yearly evaluations.” Kerry removed a manila envelope and a small package from her locker, then joined Luka at the table, “I hope you had a happy birthday.”

Luka chuckled with her as his eyes glanced toward the clock above the door. He was so busy; it hadn’t occurred to him that his birthday ended more than two hours before.

“I had this paperwork ready earlier in the week, but I held it hoping we’d find a least two quiet minutes alone to discuss what’s inside.” Kerry laughed at the pallor which spread across Luka’s face, adding, “This is all good, Luka, take a deep breath and relax.”

He followed her instructions, then waited while Kerry removed the stack of papers from the envelope.

“I know we talked a few months ago when you had your first yearly eval, but I want to reiterate what a good job you are doing and how valuable you are as a part of the team here at County.”

“Thank you.”

“If I haven’t told you; which I know I haven’t, it is a major relief to know you are working when I can’t be here. It might sound dumb, or insane, but I feel rather possessive about this department and I don’t trust many people taking care of my ... My baby.”

Luka blushed and shook his head, admitting, “I’m honored you trust me, Kerry. I think the entire staff realizes how you feel about this department.”

Unable to hold in a desire to heartily laugh, Luka turned his eyes from his boss’s and looked the other way.

“What?”

“I was going to add,” he found her eyes, “and how you feel about this department is undoubtedly insane, but I mean that in a most positive way.”

Kerry laughed, too, then nodded her head, “And I’ll take your comment in ‘the most positive way,’ Luka. Thanks.”

“So, what’s with the paperwork at nearly 3AM?”

“Oh!” Kerry picked up the papers and laid them in front of Luka, “With all of the unexpected changes in the attending staff over the past eighteen months, your seniority status has jumped nearly to the top of our organizational chart in an incredibly short period of time. When I hired you, I did bring you on at a fair salary for an entry level attending with five to ten years experience, Luka, but now, you are obviously underpaid for the supervisory, accountability, and responsibility levels you’ve taken on in this department.”

Luka nodded; this was the first time anyone had mentioned his rocket-like rise up the organizational charts. His surprisingly senior status in the department had been on his mind at his evaluation, but Luka had decided to wait another year to mention it to Kerry.

“We’ve stuck to our agreement, Kerry. I know you’ve been fair and I appreciate that fact. As we discussed, I’ll take on anything you need, but a political role; save me from committees and policy sessions and I’ll be your subordinate for life.”

Once again, they shared a chuckle, but Kerry pressed on.

“I’ve made sure everyone from Romano on up understands your value in this department. I wanted to have this approved a few months ago, but the red tape took forever and I couldn’t mention this to you when we discussed your evaluation.” Kerry flipped through the paperwork to a specific page she wanted Luka to review, “We’ve created a title for you, Luka. I know you don’t want the hassles inherent with the ‘assistant’ director position; if you accept, we’d like to name you an ‘associate’ director of the Emergency Department. You’ve been doing the work in this job description for nearly a year; I wanted to find a way to recognize that fact and create a new salary range so we could give you a jump in pay commiserate with the job you are actually doing.”

Luka was stunned; he stared at the pages before him, but wasn’t reading a word.

“If you accept the position, Luka, the board wants to compensate you for a job well done. We’ll put through the raise, then cut you a backpay check from here back to your yearly evaluation date. That should be a nice chunk of change even if Uncle Sam takes half of it in taxes.” 

“I’m speechless, Kerry.” Luka closed the stack of papers and found her eyes, “Thank you for going to the wall on this for me. I know Romano and the board couldn’t have made this an easy mission.”

“You are welcome; the raise is well deserved and so is the title. I’d have been lost without your efforts around here.” Kerry smiled and put the paperwork back in the envelope for Luka, “Take all this home. After you’ve read it through, let me know what you’re thinking and if I can answer any questions. If you agree with the contract, sign the highlighted areas and we’ll get these papers to personnel ASAP.”

“Yes.” Luka took the envelope from her, “I’ll be sure to read everything. Thank you, Kerry.”

He stood up and headed to the door; Luka felt an odd mix of exhaustion and jubilation, but couldn’t think of another word to share with Kerry.

“Luka.” Kerry got up and headed his direction, “You forgot to open your birthday present.”

He turned and accepted the small package Kerry pushed into his hands. Luka looked at the package, then began to chuckle.

“What?”

“You have no idea how much I’d been dreading this particular birthday.”

“May I ask why?”

“Sure.” Luka smiled to reassure her it wasn’t anything uncomfortable for him to share, “When I was twenty-six, I had everything. When I woke up on my birthday that year, I lived in a world which included a woman I loved beyond measure, two great children, and a tomorrow full of bright promises. I’d worked hard to be a part of the medical profession; I pushed myself ahead by two years on my university coursework, then entered medical school early. Danijela and my family completely supported my highly driven efforts which were finally going to pay off. We loved Vukovar, but when I finished my last year of residency we planned to move back to the coast. Danijela and I grew up by the ocean, our extended families lived in either Split or Dubrovnik, and we wanted our children to experience seaside childhoods.

“Hostilities between Croatia and the central government in Belgrade (Serbia) had boiled over by June and the last year of my residency started July 1st. When my birthday came around that August, everyone knew things weren’t going to be settled peacefully. As expected, the Yugoslavian Army (JNA) and its Belgrade-based leadership came down hard on Croatia’s citizens for believing the United Nations offer of support for newly formed democracies that voted for independence. In a million years, no one in Croatia expected mass slaughter of civilians would be used as a standard combat tactic as a result of our votes for freedom.

“Think of it, Kerry, Croatia had no army, no navy, and not one plane; everyone thought the United Nations would step in to prevent bloodshed, plus the US Navy’s Sixth Fleet was always visible in the Adriatic Ocean. While we waited, Danijela and I decided no place in Croatia was safer than Vukovar. Vukovar was a large city, its standard of living was second only to Belgrade’s, and it seemed as good a place as any to wait out whatever was going to happen.”

Luka leaned back against the door; Kerry took a step closer while straining to hear his voice.

“We were wrong, terribly wrong. Vukovar was the worse place we could have been, but it was too dangerous to leave by the time its citizens realized the gravity of the situation. A short time later, my family was gone and I was living in the middle of a war zone. The enormous red cross on the medical center proved to be an excellent target for thousands of mortar rounds, endless artillery fire, and two hundred and fifty pound bombs which fell from the sky with deadly accuracy.” Luka closed his eyes and laid his head back, barely whispering, “It got so bad in the Vukovar Emergency Department, we used brooms to sweep the blood outside, then the siege of the city began and ... Vukovar was leveled; what was left of the once thriving city was surrendered on November 20th after eighty-nine days of complete siege operations.”

Luka took a few deep breaths, then forced himself back on track.

“One night, I think it was in early November, we were working trauma cases by candlelight in the subbasement of the medical center and I overheard an older gentleman speaking to one of my colleagues. He was obviously a veteran of the resistance movement during WWII, Tito’s fighters, and had seen the hell we were presently in and more. This man was telling my friend to wait ten years, at least ten years, before drawing conclusions regarding what we were enduring.”

Luka stood up straight and found Kerry’s face, adding, “Ten years seemed an eternity that night, but his wisdom stayed with me. I’ve basically stumbled through life in a daze since that night; often, I hadn’t enough energy to do more than survive, but I tried not to pressured myself since I had ten years. Thirty-six always seemed far away, but ...” He took a deep breath and didn’t fight the smile growing on his face, “That’s why I’ve dreaded this day which somehow doesn’t seem bad now that it is here.”

Kerry returned his smile. Suddenly, in a spontaneous gesture, she moved to her tip-toes, then gently kissed Luka’s cheek, “Thirty-six is going to be a good year, Luka. Just give it, and yourself, a chance.”

Luka nodded, then escaped before any more was said. Speaking of Vukovar, his family, and so many things he worked hard to keep locked deep inside himself was draining and frightening. He walked to the train station astonished he’d spoken out, but chuckling at the thought of it being Kerry Weaver he rambled on with about his past.

“Kerry Weaver!”

Luka slumped into a seat on the train while quietly laughing as he repeated her name under his breath. He turned to look out the window, but instead saw his reflection in the train’s window. Thirty-six? Luka knew he looked fifty most days, but tonight he didn’t think he looked too bad. In fact, thinking of himself as thirty-six wasn’t as bad as he would have guessed; at least, thirty-six wasn’t thirty-seven, but it wasn’t thirty-five either. Suddenly, Luka realized he was still clutching the small package Kerry had given him. He peeled off the tissue paper and stared at her gift; it was a new employee ID tag with his old picture transferred over a new title. Luka silently read his title over and over:

Luka Kovac, MD, FAAETP

Associate Director of Emergency Medicine

County General Hospital, Chicago, Illinois

Kerry was amazing; Luka had only recently received the title of “Fellow” within the American Association of Emergency and Trauma Physicians. He never mentioned his pursuit of the fellowship at work. Kerry knew, as did the physicians Luka had needed as professional references, but no one else was in on his secret. Luka had been forced to work hard to hide the enormous amount of time and effort he was putting into surviving the rigorous application and testing process. FAAETP after his name was a natural step, one expected as his career evolved, but the title was close to his heart for a reason he doubted anyone at County would understand.

“American.” Luka walked into his apartment and pulled the new tag out of his pocket, reading it out loud, “AMERICAN Association of Emergency and Trauma Physicians.”

Any use of the word “American” associated with his name seemed odd; a sense of exultation mixed together with a thick layer of guilt to make the word one Luka liked and disliked all at once. Thus far, the immigration process had proven terribly inconsistent and unfriendly; it was anybody’s guess whether Luka would be granted a chance to stay in the US long enough to be considered for citizenship. For now, Luka had these initials after his name to help him find his comfort zone; maybe Kerry was correct, thirty-six could be a good year if he gave it a chance.

The wise old resistance fighter might have be correct in what he was suggesting ten years before. Upon reflection, this ten year milestone seemed to be enough distance from the past to offer clarity to the events Luka managed to survive. The passage of time offered Luka the opportunity to heal without forgetting. Now, he felt a new sensation of freedom to look ahead and plan his future.

It was terribly late, or early, depending on your point of view when Luka hit the repeat key on the answering machine for the last time. He went to sleep with his father’s voice and thoughts of the future making music in his head. The past would always claim his respect, it had changed and molded the man he was today, but maybe Luka could start looking beyond his history. Maybe, just maybe, he had come far enough to start looking forward to his tomorrows.

XXXXX

Surprisingly, those horrid days in late October, the ones he barely survived for ten long years, passed easier this year. Luka poured himself into his work; he didn’t let on to anyone around him what the dates on the calendar meant in his world. The weather helped, Chicago enjoyed one of the mildest fall seasons on record; in Vukovar, Luka had no doubt the wind-chill factor would be unbearable and thick snow would be blanketing the ground as it had ten years before. He forged ahead, but it sapped him of every bit of energy. Luka’s coworkers and friends had no concept of how deeply he longed for the mental release of turning the calendar to November, December, or any month past October each year.

Frank called Luka to the desk, as only Frank could, so he could sign for another registered letter. Luka would have stuffed this letter in his pocket to be ignored with all the others except for the name in the upper left hand corner catching his eye. He quickly gave John Carter report on his cases, since he was assigned to cover for Luka’s evening break, then slipped into the lounge and tore open the terribly official appearing envelope. Luka slumped onto an arm of the couch and repeatedly read the letter. The world was spinning and Luka began to feel ill.

“Are you okay, Dr Kovac?”

“Pardon?”

A small group of nurses had been eating together in the lounge; Luka never noticed them when he entered the room.

“You look ill.” Haleh stood up and walked toward him, “Did you get some sort of bad news?”

“No,” he managed a feeble smile, “yes ... I’m not sure.”

Luka felt their eyes boring into his being. He forced himself to stand while stuffing the letter into his labcoat pocket, then he edged his way back out the door.

“Frank.”

“Yep?”

“Where’s Dr Weaver?”

“Suture room last I knew, but I’m not her keeper.”

Luka ignored his comment and rushed down the hall to the suture room. Kerry was inside; she had a stack of charts spread out on a gurney. For once, their shift was well-staffed and she hoped to catch up on charting.

“Kerry?” Luka burst through the door while speaking louder than he intended.

“Geez!” She jumped and turned his way at once, “We aren’t so short on patients today that you need to give me a heart attack, Luka.”

“I’m sorry.” He made himself take a breath and waited while his boss regrouped.

“What?”

“I need to leave.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“NOW!”

Luka simply nodded and kept his eyes fixed on hers.

“You were scheduled until 6PM and it is only 4:30PM. What’s up?”

“I know the time, Kerry.” Luka heard his words come out with more of an edge than he meant, then turned away to look out the window, adding, “I’m sorry, Kerry. I can’t explain, but you don’t want me trying to work right now. I’m taking myself off the board. Good night.”

Luka walked, nearly ran, out the door and down the hall. He had thrown his things in his locker and grabbed his coat before Kerry made it in the lounge.

“John Carter has report on my open cases.”

“I know.” Kerry leaned against the lounge exit door, “I also know you received another registered letter. What’s up?”

“Does no one in this place have a life of their own? Why is my receiving a letter worthy of discussion around here.”

“It wouldn’t be if the letter hadn’t upset you, Doctor.”

“Upset me?” Luka laughed and felt himself take a full breath for the first time in ages, “I haven’t even begun to get upset, Kerry. That’s why I need to get out of here.”

He stepped forward, obviously ready to exit the room, but Kerry leaned back harder on the door and locked her eyes on his.

“Abandonment of patients doesn’t look good on a physician’s record, Luka.”

“Carter has my cases; I’m not abandoning them.” Luka dropped his head, and his building anger, while deciding on another track; he could only hope Kerry would respond, “Please, Kerry, the department is more than covered and I’m begging you to move away from that door.”

Kerry nodded and stepped aside.

XXXXX

The sun’s glow slowly began to illuminate the city. Luka sat on the open window ledge, as he had done the entire night, and watched Chicago begin to wake up. He was half frozen, but appeared hypnotized by the night sky passing above his head. There was no need to actually read the letter resting on the kitchen counter since Luka had it memorized. There had been other letters, but he had easily ignored them. This letter he wouldn’t and couldn’t ignore; this letter was from his boss at Vukovar Medical Center, Dr Vesna Bosanac.

After a final calculation of the time difference between Chicago and Zagreb, Luka eased his stiff body from the window sill and moved to the telephone. Much to his surprise, he found comfort in the brief prayer for strength that spontaneously raced across his mind and heart. A moment later, Luka was dialing the phone.

“Good evening, Dr. Bosanac, please.” He eased into one of the kitchen counter’s stools and his native tongue at the same time, “Dr Luka Kovac. Yes, thank you.”

Luka closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly while trying to calm his heart down to a reasonable rate.

“Luka?”

“Vesna.”

Each of the conversation’s participants fell silent. The moment passing between them was instantly filled with a familiar sensation of old friends, people who walked to hell and back together, and both were amazed at the sheer power their voices had one upon the other.

“How are you, Vesna?” Luka recovered first.

“I, My Friend?”

Instantly, Vesna envisioned Luka the night they parted following numerous weeks in the concentration camp after Vukovar’s surrender. His eyes unable to hide his soul’s torment regarding the situation surrounding them; her eyes unable to hide the anger boiling over inside her soul. Vesna was the Medical Director at Vukovar Medical Center and Luka was one of many who worked for her. She completely understood that she was responsible for her employees’ physical, mental, and spiritual well-being; as a group, her employees had willingly taken on the same responsibilities for the hundreds of men, women, and children in their care.

That evening, moments before he was dragged away, Vesna couldn’t help but be a doctor; she quickly assessed Luka’s injuries. Her entire staff, especially the younger males, had been repeatedly beaten since the moment the JNA forces surrounded them. In addition, they had been starved since their incarceration and for the last thirty hours denied even a few drops of water. As her experienced eye scanned Luka’s frail frame, the effects of dehydration coupled with multiple broken ribs, contusions, and lacerations were unmistakable. He strained to move at the pace their captors demanded, but a lower spine injury, plus some sort of major damage to either Luka’s left leg or hip which hampered his movements were obvious to even an untrained eye.

“Vesna?”

She couldn’t answer; Luka knew to wait, he was fighting through memories of his own. Vesna let out an unconscious sigh as she remembered the sinking feeling of having no comfort or aid to offer anyone in that horrid place. In another moment, Luka and the other prisoners chosen for that particular prisoner exchange were gone. All these years later and the singular moment their eyes met remained frozen in time for Vesna. Since his family was killed early in the conflict there had been something particularly haunting about Luka; maybe it had always been there, but she hadn’t noticed one young doctor among the many at their large teaching facility. Luka Kovac may have been only one of her many charges, but in their last moments together she had felt him seeing into her soul. The day, that one moment, would never leave her.

Vesna cleared her throat, finally whispering, “I am well and thoroughly pleased to hear your voice after these many years.”

“It is good to hear your voice, too. Our last conversation seems a lifetime ago.”

“It was, Luka, it was a lifetime ago.”

XXXXX

“Oh, great!” Robert Romano smirked as he leaned back in his chair, “A few months ago, we gave you a promotion, a nice tidy sum of backpay money, and this is the loyalty we get in exchange.”

“Robert!” Kerry jumped in before Luka had a chance to spit back his answer, “Let’s all calm down. Dr Kovac is only requesting a few weeks off; surely we can work together.”

“A few weeks off?” Romano stood up and began to pace, “We’ve never had more of a staffing crisis in the Emergency Department; attendings are dropping like flies! This guy already took time off since his hire date; some sort of European tour that time, too. Besides ...”

Luka had to either deck the guy or leave the room; luckily, he decided on a hasty exit.

“Oh, that’s good, KOVAC!” Romano held the conference room door open and screamed after Luka.

Luka diverted from waiting with the group at the elevators and headed down the firestairs.

“Robert.” Kerry had never felt such intense anger regarding this weasel they were forced to work under, “Get in here and sit down. You totally missed the point of this meeting.”

“I did. Is that a fact, Dr Weaver?” He slammed down into a chair and tried to set his colleague’s red hair on fire with his stare, “I suppose you’re going to explain the point I missed to me since ...”

“I most certainly am.”

“Poor, Kovac, the crazed giant of the Emergency Department. Is his accent so strong he can’t stick around and speak for himself?”

“Shut up, Robert!”

The room fell silent; Kerry ignored the intensity in the room and forged on.

“This meeting was never to get  your approval for Luka’s time off to travel to the Netherlands; he is going and it was always understood Dr Kovac would resign if the leave without pay wasn’t approved. This meeting was to discuss the staffing situation and consider the options Dr Kovac and I have draw up due to the crisis-level understaffing we continue to suffer, especially in relation to our attending needs.”

“But another trip overseas should have been our focus. What the hell ...”

“Robert.” Kerry sat back and tried to hold in a laugh; he was so ridiculous, why hadn’t she seen it sooner, “Stop being a complete ass for one minute and listen. Luka’s trip to Bosnia last year with Doctors Across Borders in no way qualified as a vacation. In fact, in the nearly eighteen months of Dr Kovac’s employment, he is yet to request or be granted vacation time.”

“But ...”

“And this trip Luka is taking on will be anything but a vacation. Being a witness in front of an international tribunal considering judgments against men accused of war crimes, crimes against humanity, is a task I personally cannot fathom.” Kerry took a breath seeing Romano finally silenced, “You and I took the same oath as Dr Kovac, Robert. God willing, we will never be forced to walk the paths through hell Luka has survived, but this may be our moment to help a fellow physician do the right thing. How can you ever look at yourself in the mirror again if you give this man anything but your full support, Robert?”

“Leave the staffing proposals, Kerry. I’ll look them over and give you a call in the morning.”

XXXXX

It had been the longest month in Luka’s life. Today’s court sessions had seemed to drag on forever, then suddenly, the judges were dismissing him. He met up with his shadow, Mimi, at the back of the overcrowded courtroom, then started to walk the long halls of the Hague for the last time. Reporters pushed, court security personnel pulled, but Luka was numb to the entire scene. He let Mimi hold his elbow, gently guiding him through the chaos, and didn’t fight the numbness encapsulating his being. Truthfully, after this experience, Luka liked the numb fog which often threaten to engulf him; in fact, he began to will himself deeper into its blankness.

Four weeks earlier, Luka arrived in the Netherlands with his nerves completely raw. He had no idea what lay before him; he realized enumerating his experiences during the war for Croatia’s freedom to a friend or therapist was an entirely different beast than sitting for hours listening to staid questions, then relaying the limited answers he would be allowed to submit in a court of international law. In addition, he had been counseled that staying in control, especially of his temper, would be imperative for his testimony to impact the judges’ trust in his reliability as an expert witness against the war criminals before their court.

The war criminals; they would be there. Luka would be forced to see them, to meet their eyes, and to breath the same air as these ... These barbaric animals from Belgrade.

Merely being in the room with them had forced Luka into a nearly continuous series of showers when he was in his hotel suite. His skin was red, cracked, and scaling away from the endless barrage of hot water, but Luka still felt filthy.

Mimi managed to shove Luka into the waiting car, then they inched their way through the crowd of media personnel from around the world. He laid his head back, closed his eyes, and tried to concentrate on the lead judge’s final words.

“Thank you, Dr Kovac, your service to this court, to its pursuit of justice for all the world’s people, has been invaluable. You are excused.”

His court appointed escort, Mimi, tried to offer Luka a beverage, but his stomach wouldn’t have handled water at this point. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had successfully kept down more than water, weak tea, and a few bites of dry toast. Haleh, Abby, and a few others had been lecturing him before he left Chicago regarding his general health status; they weren’t going to let up once they saw the amount of weight Luka dropped during his month-long stay in Europe.

In addition, the strain he put on his lower back and left leg in an effort not to limp in front of the defendants had left him concerned about that area of his health, too. Whenever Luka was tired, stressed, or simply too busy to be cognizant of his gait, the limp worsened. The effort he put on not to limp in court over the past three weeks had not only worsened his limp, now his right leg was aching from the increased stress.

“You’re a mess, Kovac.” Luka silently chastised himself while the chauffeur continued to clear the courthouse, “You might as well be one hundred; you surely look, feel, and act the part.”

They cleared the courthouse and started through the post-rush hour traffic. Luka sat up and stared out at the pouring rain and incessant flow of cars. This was some system that had been set up for Hague witnesses. He was met at the airport by Mimi; she was a middle-aged International law professor from London and had been assigned to stay with Luka from the beginning to the end of his witness experience. The hotel had floors sectioned off for Hague witnesses, even their dining area was separate, but most of the witnesses ate alone in their rooms. There were counselors available twenty-four hours a day, plus his first week here had been monopolized by the extensive crash course for Hague witnesses. The course included discussions of his rights, his obligations, and a mini-review of International law and court procedures before Luka was allowed to meet with the team of lawyers assigned to this case.

It became instantly clear that Luka must depersonalize his every thought, action, and word in an effort to be an effective prosecution witness. This was a court of law; he needed to recite back facts, no thoughts or feelings and definitely not any emotions. There were hundreds of pictures for him to verify, thousands of statistics for him to agree or disagree with, and often insulting and embarrassing questions for him to calmly, honestly, and rationally answer. The effort left him exhausted; much to Luka’s dismay, he’d slept soundly, dreamlessly, during his entire stay in the Netherlands.

Mimi had been great. She answered his questions, saw to his needs, but never forced conversation. She was a sworn court officer; it was Mimi’s job to assure Luka wasn’t contacted, coerced by an outside source, in any way during his testimony. The defense team, and the judges, had been decidedly harsh with him regarding Luka’s decision to ignore the numerous official letters the court sent before he responded, then agreed to testify. The grilling the defense lawyers put him through on day one of his sworn testimony, after Luka acknowledged it took an official letter and personal phone call from Dr Bosanac for him to come forward to testify, left him half expecting not to be called back to court. He was called back; Luka was called back six days a week, for ten to twelve hour days, over the next three weeks.

Through it all, Mimi was his lifejacket. When he got back to Chicago, Luka would have to think through a proper thank you. As of now, he was too spent, but the thought of returning to Chicago did clear a bit of the fog surrounding him. Early on in this Hague marathon, Luka realized he needed to find focal points outside of what was happening in court. If he didn’t, Luka would go as insane, or perhaps as suicidal, as many of the Hague’s witnesses had during this extensive case. The Mimi’s of the world could only escort the physical being of the witness; the witnesses themselves had to concentrate on their mental and spiritual beings.

Despite his history, despite this horrific month which was finally moving behind him, Luka felt lucky. Somewhere around his thirty-sixth birthday an unexpected gift had entered his world and he was grateful. At the time, he thought the sensation was simply movement towards good health and had no idea wanting to make plans, build a future at CGH, and build a life in Chicago would become the lifeline they were during his weeks of testimony. Luka only now understood that what had returned to his world late last August was the presence of hope. This spring, as he endured the Hague, Luka clung to that hope and it had helped him maintain his balance. Without hope, he could readily see himself crumbling under the pressure that felled many of his fellow witnesses.

“Luka?”

Mimi looked back into the car and smiled. He shook awake and got out, then stood by her side and tried to offer a smile. The spring rain smelt wonderful, but they could see members of the media straining to get into the underground garage to speak with them; they headed into the hotel’s lobby and didn’t stop walking until the elevator door closed.

“Mimi, I want to ...”

“No, Luka, I’m still on duty. I’ll be on duty until I see your plane head down the runway in a day or two.”

“Thank you, but I can’t help feeling we managed to clear some sort of hurdle today. At the very least you get to sleep in tomorrow.”

Mimi smiled and nodded her head. The door opened on their floor and Luka waited for Mimi to step out first.

“Go ahead, Luka.” Mimi winked, “I don’t need to check your room for visitors or messages tonight. In fact, I’m going back down to the bar and drink a toast to you. You did a great job; it was an honor to be ... What were you always calling me?”

“My shadow.”

“That’s it! Your ‘chaa-doe,’ I like that nickname. It sounds especially enticing the way you tend to murder the Queen’s English.”

“Thanks, Mimi.” Luka laughed for the first time in weeks, “I suppose you mean that in only a positive way.”

“I suppose.” Mimi smiled and pushed a button on the elevator panel, “Thank heavens you testified in Croatian, Luka. The court interpreter was far easier to understand; I think she was Italian.”

“My goodness!” Luka rubbed his eyes, “What a system.”

Mimi pushed him out as the elevator’s alarm began to buzz so the door would close, “Go on; I’ll talk to you tomorrow. We’ll share a coffee and go over the process for getting you out of here safe and sound.”

“Good night, Mimi.”

See nodded and smiled as the door closed between them. Luka stood motionless for a long moment. It had been nearly a month since he had been alone anywhere outside his room. He turned and wondered down the hall, then fumbled with the room key since Mimi always unlocked the door. Luka heard a wrestling inside the suite and hesitated to enter as his eyes adjusted to the difference in the light. Realizing the hulk of humanity rushing his way from the shadows inside his suite could only be that of one man, Luka quickly stepped inside and let the door close behind him.

They said nothing; what could they possibly say? Luka stepped forward, then was pulled the rest of the distance, allowing himself to be completely encircled in his father’s embrace. Often, Luka had resented his older brother’s teases regarding his slighter bones and shorter size. They were both tall, but Luka was slender with finer bones. His father and brother were much bigger men; Luka’s build favored his maternal genes. Luka suddenly felt blessed by those same maternal genes; it was marvelous to rest his head on his father’s strong shoulder and let Viktor nearly crush his every bone.

Without realizing what was happening, Luka began to relax into the love which filled the room. He closed his eyes and held on with every last bit of strength in his being. Finally, after years of carrying burdens much greater than any man deserved in one lifetime, the world slipped away and Luka Kovac was safe in his father’s arms.

XXXXX

Thank you for reading my story. Please address any questions and/or comments regarding this story to phoenixbv@yahoo.com

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