TAINT
Part 3
By Jo
The ER had gotten back it's rhythm, as Luka
knew it would. Things had changed, for sure, but everyone quickly
got used to the new ways of doing things. Rounds were preformed
regularly; no one was left alone with a patient; med students and
residents were supervised more closely. Kerry Weaver had taken a
lot of heat for what had happened; murder and maiming on your
watch never look good on your employment record; and she was
accepting most of the blame. Luka had tried to talk to her, he
and Mark and the other attendings were equally guilty, they all
had let things slide too much; but Kerry had remained aloof,
unassailable. The incident had affected her deeply, everyone
could see that, but no one knew exactly why, and Kerry wasn't
telling.
The staff had banded together more tightly since the stabbings;
for the first time since he'd come to America, Luka felt a part
of the team, a member of the group, like he belonged here. Mark
Greene was still rather distant; for some reason he seemed to
resent Luka, though he had defended him to Kerry. So Luka tread
carefully around Mark, deferring to him when practical, but
mostly just staying out of his way.
The residents were a different story, though. They realized
Luka's talent, admired his ability to teach even in the midst of
a trauma, and his gentle, yet thorough manner. They always seemed
to be seeking him out for advice, for direction- and it made Luka
feel good. He wasn't sure if it was the teaching or just the
human contact; but Luka liked feeling needed again. And he liked
hanging out with the others after work, even though he was
officially their senior. It kept him from facing the cold
emptiness of his rooms for that much longer. When he was single,
an empty apartment hadn't been so lonely; it had almost been a
haven, a place to get away from the craziness of University life.
But once he had gotten married, had a family, Luka had gotten
used to going home to someone, to children flying to greet him at
the door, to kisses and giggles and hugs. Even now, almost five
years later, he found himself pausing outside his door, making
enough noise to alert those inside, steeling himself for the
onslaught. But it never came; he was alone now, the children
would never come again, and he would pack away the memory, back
to its box, to be reopened the next time he came home. It was
good to remember them happy and safe, and yet it just reminded
how alone he really was...
The chance meeting with Gregor Radic continued to haunt Luka,
even though Radic had never returned to County. There had been no
calls for "Janko Pavic"- no calls for Luka Kovac, for
that matter, but still he worried. How would colleagues react if
they knew he was a murderer? The guilt from the raid was stronger
than the guilt about his family- Luka hadn't known his family was
in trouble, hadn't expected to go home to find his house empty,
his life gone. But the raid- he and the others had planned it
carefully, had sought out Radic and bought the guns, the bullets,
had listened intently to the instructions on how to use the
grenades. They had wanted revenge, had let their anger, their
need for blood overtake them. Someone had to pay for what had
happened to their families, an eye for an eye. That was their
only thought.
They had surrounded the farmhouse, knowing that the guilty were
inside. Karel had thrown the first grenade, sending their prey
scattering from the building. It had been easy to choose a
target; Luka could still feel the recoil of the gun, still see
the man turn towards him, arm outstretched as if begging for
mercy. But Luka had shot him again, taking revenge for Emma, for
Viktor, for Maja, shooting again and again, enjoying the jerking
of the man's body as the bullets smashed into him...
It was done sooner than they had expected; the men had died so
easily. Luka and the others approached the house cautiously,
checking to see if there was anyone left alive.
"See how we made the bastards pay!" Ivo had boasted
gleefully, clapping Luka on the back. Ivo kicked the bodies as he
went past, checking for life but finding none. A small fire was
burning in the house, and Karel piled paper and wood around it,
hoping to help it spread. Luka looked for something to add to the
flames, wanting to destroy this place, wanting to destroy
anything attached to his family's murderers.
That's when Luka saw the pictures- pictures of a man and his
family, a man with his wife and son and daughter, a man just like
Luka. The children smiled out at him, hugged by their father the
murderer. And suddenly Luka realized that *his* children had a
murderer for a father now. The enormity of what he had done
slammed into Luka; he knew he was no better than the men who lay
dead around him. He dropped his gun and fled from the farmhouse,
from the horror, feeling the dead man's eyes on him, accusing
him, cursing him. He felt dizzy, ill; he just needed to get away.
Suddenly he didn't know who he was any more; everything he had
valued lay in tatters around him- his wife, his children, and now
even his oath. "First do no harm." All gone, all washed
away in a sea of blood and hate.
No one had seen him get back to town; he didn't want them to see
him, he was too ashamed. The others returned, triumphant,
receiving a hero's welcome. But Luka wanted none of it; he stayed
in his apartment, packing just a few pictures, Emma's needlework,
Maja's doll, Viktor's truck, his doctor's bag, a few clothes.
Then he left, simply disappearing from town, running from the
guilt, the shame. He found someone who sold him a new identity, a
new name. Janko Pavic was gone; now he was Luka Kovac, a new
person, vowing to do good. . He went to confession, telling the
priest what he'd done, seeking absolution. But the priest told
him he should be proud of what he'd done, that he was only being
a good Croat, that he deserved praise, not penance. He finally
stopped trying to convince the Father of his sins; he left the
church even more alone and ashamed than before.
He wandered the country for a time, volunteering at hospitals and
clinics, trying to make up for what he'd done, trying to wash
away his sins, but it didn't help. Finally he traveled to Rome on
a pilgrimage, needing to get away from the nationalism around
him. Murder was murder; he had committed the worst of all
possible sins, yet everyone was telling him that what he had done
was good. The priest at the Vatican had listened to Luka
carefully, had recognized the anguish, understood his guilt.
"God has given you a gift for healing," the priest
reminded him, "Now it's up to you to use your gift to help
others, surely in that you will find your salvation."
Luka had taken the words to heart; helping, healing, protecting
others became his mission in life, his reason for living. The
irony of his new name struck him then- Luka, the patron saint of
physicians; now he would start over as a healer, a helper, and
try to forget ever being a murderer.
But would Gregor Radic care? Or would he try to use Luka's past
against him somehow? Would anyone ever understand why Luka had
done what he did, that he had been blinded by grief, by pain, by
hate? Would they understand why he'd changed his name, understand
why he just wanted to forget? Now that he was finally fitting in,
Luka had so much to loose. These were the thoughts that hounded
him, no matter how hard he tried to keep the box shut, the
memories kept coming back, hounding him, taunting him.
But a month passed and Radic never returned. A false spring came
to Chicago, a week of warm days, melting all but the largest
mountains of snow. The ER staff was buzzing about baseball, the
Cubs and Sox and Dr. Dave's Yankees. Luka had to laugh at them-he
could think of nothing more boring than a baseball game. People
would tell him how awful soccer was, but at least in soccer, the
players actually moved. Baseball players seemed to spend half the
game simply standing around, scratching and spitting. Real
appealing.
But since it was Chicago, spring was fickle. A late-season
snowstorm blew in, making everyone grumble.
"It's not supposed to snow again after everything's
melted," Chuny complained.
"Ain't supposed to be this cold, either," Malik added,
rubbing his arms.
"Ah, come on," Luka teased. "It's only March. You
can't complain about snow until May at least." Malik sort of
growled at him and headed off with Chen to take care of a broken
collarbone.
Luka checked the board and went to see how Abby and Malucci were
doing with their asthma patient. He glanced at chairs when he
went by- not many people there, Luka thought- probably the storm.
Just a woman sitting with a sad-faced little girl in her lap, an
old couple sitting with their arms around each other, and what
looked like a homeless guy curled up in the corner. Wouldn't take
too long to get to all of them, not today.
Abby and Dr. Dave were getting ready to discharge their patient;
Luka only had to check the treatment and sign off on the chart.
Then he signaled for Abby to come with him; Dave could stay with
Haleh until the patient left.
"There are only a few people waiting," Luka told Abby,
"Let's see what we've got, ok?" But what they had was
nothing- the old couple and the little girl were gone, taken by
Greene and Finch. The homeless man was still there, but there was
no chart for him.
"What's with that guy?" Luka asked Amira.
"No clue," she replied testily. "Probably just
getting in out of the cold." Luka looked at Abby and
shrugged.
" Well, at least you have a chance to catch up on your
paperwork," he told her. "I'll just go and make sure
that guy's ok." Luka walked over towards chairs. He noticed
immediately that the man was too well dressed to be homeless; the
clothes were clean and new looking. Luka didn't like how the man
was wearing his cap; it was pulled down low over his eyes, and
Luka almost decided to call security, but he decided he could
handle what ever happened. Besides, the guard was right there.
Luka sat opposite the man, giving himself a way out.
"Is everything alright?" Luka asked him. The man just
nodded. "Coming in out of the cold?" Luka continued.
The man looked Luka straight in the eyes, then pushed his hat
back far enough for Luka to see his face. Luka felt his heart
stop, felt the raid returning to his mind.
"Nope. Just had to see you for myself, Janko." Karel
answered.