The days in the hospital had passed by in a blur. Luka's pain, physical and mental, was decreasing a little each day; each day he felt stronger, more confident. Father Leo came for a while each afternoon, offering guidance and comfort, helping Luka rededicate his life to God. The priest was the one most responsible for Luka's recovery- without the Father's help Luka knew he would be lost in despair; the blood would have swallowed him once and for all.

But now he was going home. Luka gingerly eased himself into the cab; certain movements were still painful, and this was definitely one of them. The twisting pulled at the wound on his side, but he carefully hid his discomfort from Mike. The huge orderly had brought him down to the lobby and out to the taxi in the requisite wheelchair- there was no way Luka would allow himself to be taken back inside, not today. He just wanted to get home, get in his own apartment, away from all the nurses and doctors and orderlies bothering him to take his blood pressure or change his bandages or to take a walk. It had seemed that whenever he closed his eyes, someone was there to awaken him- it's a wonder I ever got better, Luka mused. For the first time in a long time, he was actually looking forward to going to an empty apartment; it would be good to spend some time alone, away from all the interruptions.

Luka settled into the backseat and opened the window, breathing in what passed for fresh air in the Chicago traffic. It was too hot for the turtleneck he was wearing; Kerry had questioned him when he'd asked her to bring it from his apartment. But he wasn't sure where he'd stored his lighter shirts, and he didn't want to risk having her open the box with *their* things in it. Kerry would bring him only what he asked for; she wouldn't go searching through his drawers or closets- that's why he'd chosen her over Carol- Carol would snoop, for sure. Kerry wouldn't even mention the pictures of Emma and the kids, not even to him, and that's what he needed right now. The boxes for his memories had been rebuilt, but he wasn't sure how strong they were yet. Even Father Leo couldn't ameliorate all of Luka's pain and guilt, not this quickly, maybe not ever. And right now, Luka knew he was still too fragile mentally to deal with much.

Kerry would probably scold him because he hadn't called her when he was discharged, but he didn't feel right asking her for a ride home- she had already done enough. And if she brought him home, it would mean she'd come up to the apartment, too. She wouldn't stay long- Kerry never did- but he didn't want to host anyone at all today, didn't need any visitors, just wanted peace and quiet.

Mecheal had offered to drive him as well, but he felt very uncomfortable about accepting anything at all from her. She had continued to visit him, to his surprise, despite the danger from Radic, despite the fact that he had tried to discourage her at first. Luka wasn't sure exactly what Mecheal wanted, exactly what she needed, but he found that it was so nice to talk about places they both remembered, things they both grew up with, people they'd both known. It was good not having to explain himself, not having to explain how things had been, how crazy and horrible it had all become, how wonderful it had been once. Mecheal knew, she understood what was implied when he mentioned Vukovar or Bosnia. So Luka found himself looking forward to her visits; they were two lost souls adrift in a new country, still running from the past.

And yet, he was reluctant to let her get too close- there were still things unsaid, things Mecheal was hiding- Luka could sense it, and it made him wary of her. And he was still so raw, his pain was still so fresh, having been reopened by Karel that night. It had been easier, somehow, when they had been victims of war, victims of a terrible circumstance. But now he knew that his family had been killed, not for some "principle" but for money, pure and simple, money and spite. And that made his guilt, his pain, so much worse.

At least Radic hadn't tried to contact him- not yet, anyway. There had been no mention of the name, even, in Luka's interviews with the police. So maybe the connection hadn't been made; maybe Andrew didn't remember the strange encounter Luka had had with Radic the day of Lucy's funeral. It was possible that Andrew was just that dense. And it was also possible that Radic hadn't heard of Karel's death yet- or that he was just biding his time, waiting to see what Luka would do, letting Luka make the first moves. All Luka knew was that he didn't feel safe, that it wasn't really safe for Mecheal to get close to him. The cab pulled up in front of Luka's apartment and he filed away his musings and concerns. He paid the driver and carefully climbed out, conveniently forgetting the cane he'd been given. Luka knew he was being foolish, but he hated the idea of using any kind of assistance- he was going to beat his problems on his own, in his own way. He turned and tilted his face to the sun, absorbing its warm, healing rays, letting the breeze blow through his hair a minute. It was so nice to be outside again, it was so nice to have Spring again- the season of rebirth, the season of renewal. It was the perfect time to start over again, to rededicate his life.

"Hey, Dr. Kovac," someone called- it was Susan from down the hall. "You're back!" She came over to him. "I heard what happened- it must have been so terrible! Are you alright now?"

"Just about," Luka lied, "I'm a little tired still."

"Well, if you need anything, just give me or Iris a call- we'll be glad to help. But right now I gotta go. You take it easy, okay?"

"I will," Luka answered with a half-smile as Susan headed off down the street. He had to laugh to himself- he figured the only way to get those women to help him would be to tell them he needed a sponge bath. It was strange- only women where offering him help; his only visitors at the hospital, other than Father Leo, had been female- the nurses at Mercy teased him about his "harem". Abby, Cleo, Haleh, Lydia, had all come; there was something about him, Luka knew, that attracted women that he would never understand.

He turned and carefully climbed the few steps up to the lobby and into the elevator. The sudden upward movement made him dizzy, and he leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady himself. Maybe he wasn't as well as he thought, Luka realized. He made his way into his apartment and sank onto the couch. He sat with his eyes closed, gathering his energy, just happy to be home.

Finally Luka roused himself; he needed a drink and something to eat, then he could let himself sleep for as long as he liked. He limped to the kitchen, wondering if there was anything edible left in the refrigerator- otherwise he'd have to hassle with some take-out place. To his surprise, his delight, the fridge was fully stocked- Kerry must have done it; it was something she'd do. There was fresh fruit and cheese and yogurt; the freezer was full, too, with various microwave dinners. She'd really outdone herself- Luka doubted anyone at County knew how truly kind Kerry could be. He picked a frozen meal and popped it into the microwave, then sat at the table, drinking water and weeding through the stack of mail Kerry had left there. It was a jumble of junk mail and bills, nothing from Radic, thank goodness. Luka shook his head, not sure where that last thought had come from. Surely Radic would never commit anything to paper...

Luka finished his lunch and headed for his bedroom. He was tired, but at least the exhaustion he'd felt the first few days after the shooting had abated. Luka paused at the doorway- something seemed wrong- things were in the wrong places. Luka started to get angry- it was one thing for Kerry to stock his refrigerator, it was another thing all together for her to go digging through his things. All their pictures were moved- he hobbled over and re-arranged them, put them right. Maybe she just cleaned, he thought, I'm just being paranoid- though Kerry with a dust cloth was an unlikely sight. He opened the closet, just to check, just to be sure.

One of Viktor's cars was lying on the floor- she had to have been snooping; that was the only way the car could have gotten out of its box. Now the anger welled up inside him; Luka picked up the tiny car and held it almost tenderly, memories of his son washing over him. He couldn't believe how Kerry had violated his trust like this, how she could dare go through his things- *their* things; he was losing all respect for her, he doubted he'd even be able to work for her again, knowing what she'd done. He was just getting angrier and angrier, he couldn't help himself. Then Father Leo's words came back to him-

"Watch out when your anger comes- it is the door the Devil uses to reach you," the Priest had warned. Luka quickly said a prayer to Our Lady, asking for Her guidance; it helped some, but he was still upset. All he had wanted was rest, but now he would have to check all their things, have to make sure everything was where it should be, safe. Luka reached up to get the box off the shelf, his side screaming in pain. The box seemed so heavy, but he managed to get it down onto the bed. Luka sat, just staring at it, thinking what was inside, gathering the courage to open it, not really wanting to face these memories today, but knowing he had to put things right again or he'd have no rest. Finally he removed the lid.

It was worse than he'd thought possible- everything was just thrown together, tossed pell-mell in the box. Luka felt himself getting angry again- how could Kerry be so careless with his memories, so careless with these priceless treasures? At least it looked like everything was still here.

Luka carefully refolded Emma's needlework, smoothing out the wrinkles- she had spent so much time on these, always stitching while he poured over his medical books, always smiling encouragement across the room, waiting patiently for him to be done. Then he took the children's books and read through their favorite, remembering them cuddled in his lap, warm and safe. He tried to picture what they'd look like now, but he couldn't even imagine. Viktor would be ten, Maja would be eight, the baby- even the baby would be four, almost five- but it had never even had a chance to live, had never had a chance to be born, all because of Karel and his greed. Luka closed the book and picked up Maja's doll. Emma had made it for her, Maja had taken it everywhere, she never let it go. When he had found it on the floor that night he had known things were bad, had known that something terrible was the only outcome. He had wanted to bury it with Maja, he couldn't imagine her without it; but the UN had sealed the coffins at the pit, it had been impossible to reunite them. Now he hugged the doll to his chest, letting the tears flow, just lying on the bed, mourning all he'd lost.

He must have fallen asleep; he woke up aching from sleeping in such an awkward position. Their things were still sitting around him, reminding him of them, reminding him of his loss. He cursed Kerry silently as he packed their things, gently, lovingly, making sure everything was just right; then he carefully replaced the lid. He held the box, feeling so much older than his thirty-four years, wondering how he'd ever go on alone, how he ever had gone on alone. Finally he stood and put the box back on its shelf. Kerry had to have gotten a chair, he thought angrily- there's no other way she could have reached it. He was struggling to control himself, to control the fury that wanted to be unleashed. He'd have to tell Father Leo what had happened, have the Father help him work through this anger. He still couldn't understand how Kerry- Kerry, of all people, a woman who kept her past to herself- could have done this to him. The doorbell rang, interrupting his angry musings. It must be Father Leo, Luka thought- he said he'd try to come by. And Luka certainly needed to see him now.

But it was Kerry. It took all of Luka's control to resist slamming the door in her face.

"Hi Luka," she said cheerily. "It's good to see you vertical again." She made a move to come in, but Luka blocked the door.

"Hello, Kerry," he said coolly. He left her standing in the hall.

"Mercy told me you were discharged," Kerry said. "I tried to call, but there was no answer, so I got a bit worried. I hope you don't mind me checking up on you."

"I turned the ringer off," he explained flatly. "I need my rest." She seemed puzzled by his demeanor.

"Is everything alright, Luka?" Kerry asked, obviously concerned.

"Just fine," he answered, meaning the opposite. "I really-appreciate- people poking around where they don't belong," he added pointedly.

"I'm sorry," Kerry said, looking surprised. "I usually wouldn't have gone in your refrigerator, but I knew you'd need something to eat when you got home. And some of the things I threw out were pretty green. I thought you wouldn't mind." Luka just glared at her.

"I wasn't talking about the fridge," he told her frostily.

"Then I don't know what you're talking about," Kerry answered, sounding and looking genuinely confused. She shifted her weight and a grimace passed over her face. Luka realized that her leg must be really bothering her still. He studied her for a moment; she seemed honestly bewildered at his accusations- she was either a very good liar, or innocent. Luka rubbed his forehead, trying to work it all out. Nothing added up- Kerry was a private person, not the type to spy on him- she was embarrassed that she'd gone in his refrigerator, even. And the box itself- how could she have ever gotten it off the high shelf, especially if her leg was that bad? Unless she brought someone with her. But he knew she was as alone as he was. But if Kerry hadn't searched through the box, who had? The thought made him shudder.

"I'm sorry, Kerry," he told her, softening his one. "I'm just really, really tired, and not making any sense." He smiled weakly at her, and she managed to return it, though she still seemed puzzled "Thank you for all your kindness. I'm just going to grab something to eat and then go to bed, okay?"

"You're sure you don't want any help?" Kerry offered. Luka shook his head no.

"Thanks, but you've done so much already. I'll be fine." He hoped it was true. Kerry hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"You have my number if you need anything," she told him. "And I mean it- call me anytime. We all need help sometimes."

"Okay, Kerry- I'll remember." But they both knew he had no intention of calling. Luka watched as Kerry limped painfully back to the elevator; he waited for her to get on, and waved goodbye. Then he shut his door and bolted it. Someone had been in his apartment- someone other than Kerry, someone who wanted to see what he'd brought from Croatia. But he had no idea what they were looking for; he had no idea how they even got in. He sat on the couch, feeling very uneasy, and so very, very alone...

To part 10

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