SPECTERS
Part 2
By Jo
It hadn't taken Luka long to get back into a
normal routine. That was the nice thing about keeping boxes for
memories- you could just shut everything away and get back to
living. Today was Lucy's funeral, and of course he'd volunteered
to work- a coffin was one box that he didn't need to see.
Kerry was still cool to him, still cool to everyone- the
stabbings had affected her more than anyone had expected. She had
written up Luka, written up Mark, written up Malik, probably
written herself up; Kerry wasn't one to shirk blame, and there
was more than enough to go around. The only ones she hadn't
written up were Carter and Lucy; Luka guessed that she felt they
had already paid enough for their mistakes. Kerry's anger still
flashed out bitterly at everyone; perhaps she should see one of
those counselors she'd told him about, Luka mused.
Luka was still angry about everything, too; angry at Mark for not
telling him more about Lucy's patient, angry at himself for not
insisting on doing real rounds, for not noticing Carter and Lucy
missing from the party, angry about the knife. Why was there such
a big knife around? How did the patient get it? Why hadn't anyone
seen the guy leave? And the patient's wife- was she blind?
Couldn't she see that he was in trouble, that he needed help? It
was all so senseless- if only one person had done his job, if
only *he* had done his job, then Lucy would still be alive. If
only...
But Luka knew that you can't live on 'if only'; dwelling on the
past was useless; you have to deal with the reality of the here
and now. You can only change the future, not the past. He parked
his gray Volvo and headed to the ER; he had come in extra early
so he could do rounds with Kerry before she left for the funeral.
The ER was unnaturally quiet; everyone went about their jobs with
hushed tones and subdued movements, as if they were at the church
already. Kerry barely acknowledged Luka's presence before
grabbing the charts and heading towards the peds room.
"You've got Cleo and Chen, plus Abby Lockhart with
you," Kerry informed him, "But most of the others are
subs. So you've really got to keep an eye on everyone." Luka
shook his head- he needed no reminders about that; it was an
unnecessary dig. He noticed that Kerry's limp seemed much more
pronounced- he knew it must be the guilt, the sorrow- they
affected your body as well as your soul.
They finished most of the rounds quickly; all that was left was
Dr. Chen's patient in Curtain Three. But to Luka's surprise Kerry
didn't head that way; instead she made to return to the admit
desk.
"What about the guy in Curtain three?" Luka asked.
"I don't have time- Dr. Chen can present him to you."
Luka looked at Kerry curiously- he could feel she was avoiding
the room, avoiding where the attacks had taken place.
"Isn't that violating your own rule, Dr. Weaver?" He
asked pointedly; but he regretted it immediately when he saw
Kerry freeze, her face pale. He changed his tone.
"Have you been in there yet?" He asked softly. Kerry
glared at him and started towards the desk again. Luka blocked
the way.
"It's important that you go in again- the sooner the
better," he insisted gently. "The longer you wait, the
worse it will get." Another lesson Luka had learned the hard
way...
"I don't have time now," Kerry told him sternly,
"I have to go."
"Not until you go in Curtain Three." He had maneuvered
her to outside the room. It had been completely redone, with new
blinds, new curtains, new equipment, new paint. But it was still
a place of terror for Kerry, he could tell.
"Here, look through the window first," he offered. Luka
could see Kerry struggle with the idea; she seemed almost
embarrassed that he had found such a weakness in her. But her
pride was starting to win out over her fear; she stepped forward
and glanced cautiously through the glass, as if she would see a
ghost, then quickly looked away.
"There, are you satisfied now?" Kerry asked sourly.
"You still have to go inside," Luka admonished,
"Come on." He held the door wide open, making for an
easy escape route. Kerry took a deep breath and slowly came
towards him, but she stopped short of the opening.
"It's ok," Luka encouraged her gently, "It's all
safe now. And I'm right here." Kerry glared at him again;
Luka could tell she didn't want to rely on anyone else. He
watched as she steeled herself, then she virtually marched into
the room. He smiled to himself and stepped in behind her.
"See? No bad guys here," he whispered. She ignored him
and described the patient instead.
"This is Mr. Morris," Kerry said, much too quickly,
"Dr. Chen has requested a surgical consult to rule out
appendicitis." Kerry turned and walked out briskly, leaving
Luka just enough time to nod at the patient before following her.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Luka asked her quietly.
Kerry looked at him, seeming to want to say something, but
instead she turned and headed for the lounge.
"I have to go," was all she said. Luka took the charts
back to the admit desk and watched as everyone left, a sea of
black already washed in tears. They were so inexperienced at
this- they let death affect them too much.
"I'll be back after the service," Kerry reminded him,
her voice catching. "Don't let anything happen, ok?"
Luka wanted to yell at her, to shake her. Did she really think
he'd just 'let it happen'? Instead, he just scowled- she probably
didn't even realize what she'd said. He'd have to tell her about
boxes some day; she really had to separate herself from this. He
left her to her grief and attacked some paperwork.
It was a slow morning- good because of all the subs working; bad
because it gave Luka too much time to think. And the desk clerk
didn't help.
"I guess you're missing the funeral, huh? Andrew asked. The
man had an incredible grasp of the obvious.
"I don't do funerals," Luka answered flatly, and walked
away. He hadn't been to a funeral since he'd buried his family;
their boxes had been closed, shut tight, sealed. They had died in
the summer, laid in the shallow grave too long; he'd hardly
recognized them... Luka quickly pushed the images away, chased
them back to where they belonged, far from conscious thought. He
got a bottle of water and started to do rounds again, checking on
everyone, making sure everything was safe. He didn't want to be
caught off-guard ever again.
Everything was fine; everyone was where he or she should be,
safe. He headed back to the desk and Andrew's sparkling
conversation. Then someone called to him.
"Hey, Janko! Janko Pavic!"
It had been almost five years since anyone had called him that-
five long, cold years. But he found himself turning towards the
voice, almost involuntarily. Luka didn't recognize the man at
all, and he quickly recovered himself.
"I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" Luka asked, trying
to sound unconcerned. Andrew looked on, curious but vacant.
"Janko!" the man said heartily, "It's me, Gregor.
Gregor Radic." Luka picked through names and faces in his
head, but couldn't find this 'Gregor'.
"I'm sorry," Luka answered, "But my name is Luka.
Luka Kovac, not Janko- whatever you said." Luka could tell
that Radic didn't believe him, but the man didn't press the
point. He looked Luka up and down a few times, as if confirming
the information.
"I'm sorry, " Radic said finally. "You just-
remind me of someone I once knew in Croatia. I must be confused.
My mistake." The man returned to chairs, but Luka could
sense that the man knew he had made no mistake. Radic's eyes
followed him back to the admit desk, still studying Luka's
features.
"I guess all Croatians look alike, huh?" Andrew asked,
trying to joke.
"Yeah, sure," Luka answered sourly. Andrew slide back
to his spot, realizing Luka was in no mood for talk. Luka racked
his brains, trying to place the man. Was he a doctor? Soldier?
Medic? But it was no use- he just couldn't remember him. But how
did Radic know that Luka was really Janko Pavic? All Luka's
family was gone- Emma and the children, his parents, Ana-he
didn't even like to think of what they had done to his sister.
And Toni, his brother, swallowed up by the Serbs in Bosnia. So
who was this Gregor?
Abby Lockhart came to get Luka; she always did a good work-up on
patients and Luka liked working with her. She seemed to have
recovered from the shock of the stabbing; he sensed that she had
her own buried memories, but he knew enough not to pry. The case
she presented was very straightforward and Luka found his mind
wandering back to Radic, still trying to place the face, the
name.
"Gotta be careful with guns," the patient said, and
suddenly it hit him; Luka felt the blood draining from his face,
and he hoped that Abby didn't notice. She finished her
presentation and Luka signed off on the chart.
"Nice job," he told her perfunctorily. He went back to
the desk; Radic was still in chairs, but he was reading a
magazine now. Luka studied the man carefully- Radic had gained
some weight, gone a bit gray, but Luka was sure he knew him now.
It was the man who had gotten him the guns, the grenades, the man
who helped Luka and the others get their revenge... The memories
started to flood back, but he swept them away, buried them deeper
even than the images of his family in the pit. A doctor isn't
supposed to shoot people, isn't supposed to kill people- the
anger had gotten control of him, control of all of them. And
Radic had been there to supply them; to enable them- Luka felt he
might be the Devil himself. A woman came out and joined Radic;
she'd had her sprained wrist x-rayed and wrapped. The two left
without a look towards the admit desk; Luka prayed that he'd
never see them again. The memory of what Janko Pavic had done
could surely destroy Luka Kovac...
He realized that Kerry and the others were returning, looking
almost cleansed.
"You missed a beautiful service," Chuny told Luka, but
he didn't answer. No funeral was beautiful, especially not for
one so young. He led Kerry on rounds; she had regained some of
her usual confidence. Maybe she needed funerals, needing the
closure, the crying.
When they finished, Luka pulled the chart on Radic's wife. He was
relieved to see that she'd listed a home address in Cleveland.
Chances were that he was safe for now, his secrets would remain
buried. For now, at least, for now...