Radic was next to him, pulling Luka to his feet; for a moment he was afraid that Radic would send him plummeting after Mecheal- it would be so easy; Luka almost wished he would. But that would be too simple, it would end Luka's misery too easily; Luka knew God had something more in store for him, more suffering, more penance for Luka to do. And now Mecheal was gone, too; he had tried to save her from herself, but he had failed her, failed again, as he always did. Radic lead him to the couch, and Luka sat with his head in his hands, fighting with the pain, fighting with the despair. All his boxes were rattling again, Emma and Lucy and Mecheal and the children were all crying out, accusing him.

"You failed us, failed us all," they said over and over; Luka had no answer, no excuses; he knew they were right.

Radic was shaking him, trying to talk to him, to tell him something.

"Dr. Kovac," he said again, "I need you to listen to me, Dr. Kovac." Luka looked at Radic, trying to concentrate on Gregor's face, on his words, trying to fight off the pain in his side.

"The police will be here any minute, Dr. Kovac," Radic told him. Of course they would be, Luka thought.

"It was an accident," Luka managed to say.

"No it wasn't," Radic said, narrowing his eyes. "Mecheal was distraught- upset about you telling her to stay away. A pity, really, that one so young would feel she had to take her own life." Luka shook his head, trying to absorb what Radic had just told him.

"But- but she didn't, wouldn't..." Luka stammered.

"Dr. Kovac," Radic took him by the chin, forcing Luka to look him in the eyes. "If you know what's good for you, you'll follow my story. I could have let you follow her, you know- but I'm- grateful- to you for saving my life. Now you help me, too- tell them it was a suicide, that you two had a fight, that you told her to go away. Mecheal couldn't handle it; she decided to end it all. You do that, and no one will know about Janko Pavic, about Karel, about the past. That's what you'd like, isn't it, Dr. Kovac?" Radic's voice was low and dangerous. "I know you wouldn't like anyone to hear any stories about the past, would you, Dr. Kovac? I don't think it would be- wise."

Luka felt trapped; his past was conspiring against him, all his lies had come back to haunt him. Radic had all the cards, had all the power, and he knew it. Luka had to give in; he hadn't the strength to fight.

"What ever you want, Gregor," Luka said, defeated. Radic smiled disquietingly at him.

"I knew you'd see things the right way, Dr. Kovac. I knew I could count on you." Radic patted Luka's shoulder, then went to the door and opened it, and stood waiting for the police. Luka's pain was slowly subsiding- at least the room wasn't spinning any more, at least the black spots were gone from in front of his eyes. His side still throbbed; he wondered if Mecheal had aimed her blow deliberately, knowing that the pain would make him let go, not realizing it would lead to her death. He looked over at Radic; Gregor seemed so cool, so confident as he waited; then suddenly Radic's face dissolved into a look of anxiety and concern.

"In here, officer, in here," Radic said, his voice quavering-and Luka realized that it was all just an act for the police.

"She jumped, officer- just jumped," Radic said excitedly. "We tried to stop her, but she cursed us and said it didn't matter anymore, then she jumped right over the rail." The policewoman looked curiously at Luka sitting on the couch; his hands were still shaking from the pain; then she turned her attention back to Radic.

"Now slow down, sir," the officer said, "And tell me exactly what happened." Radic took a deep breath as if to steady himself- the man should be an actor, Luka thought.

"Mecheal, the young woman, Mecheal Johnson was her name," Radic said, speaking quickly. "She called me this morning all upset. It seems Dr. Kovac here told her he didn't want to see her any more. They'd had some sort of an argument or something." The policewoman looked at Luka again.

"Is that true?" She asked Luka. He nodded, but Radic went on before Luka could speak.

"I tried to talk her out of it," Radic told the officer. "I was doing alright, I think- but then Dr. Kovac showed up; he tried to talk to her but it didn't help." Luka glared at Radic, but Gregor just went on with his story.

"They didn't say much, really- she just cursed at him, called him a liar and a bastard, said she couldn't go on living. Dr. Kovac tried to stop her, too, but she was too quick, too determined, it just happened so fast..." The officer finished writing Radic's story in her notebook, then came to where Luka was sitting.

"Dr. Kowack," she began.

"It's Kovac. K-o-v-a-c," he spelled it out for her, not sure why he wanted her to get it right.

"Dr. Kovac, is that what happened?" Luka took a breath; he could see Radic staring at him.

"Yes," he said tiredly, "I- I tried to stop her, but she would listen; she said she had to do it; I couldn't, couldn't..." He had to stop; he could still feel Mecheal's hand pulling away, could still see her falling, falling... Luka buried is head in his hands, trying to make it all go away, hoping he would wake up and find this was all just some nightmare, just some figment of his imagination...

Several more police officers had arrived, as well as a couple of detectives; one took Radic into the other room while his partner questioned Luka, looking for anything suspicious.

"Dr. Kovac, why did you and Miss Johnson break up?"

"Religion," Luka answered wearily; it wasn't a lie to tell him that. "I have very strong beliefs about God and Heaven." And it's a good thing I do, he thought, or I'd be lost.

"She didn't share these beliefs?" Luka shook his head.

"No, she actually mocked my faith, actually told me I shouldn't believe. So I told her to get out." Luka rubbed his forehead, then his hand reached unconsciously for his side.

"And when did you tell her to get out?" The detective was so matter-of-fact; didn't he realize that a life had just ended horribly, needlessly? Luka had to struggle to keep his emotions in check.

"Yesterday morning. She and I had a fight yesterday morning."

"Did you see her or talk to her anytime after that?"

Luka thought a moment; too many people had seen them in the park.

"She found me in the park next to my apartment building yesterday afternoon," Luka admitted. "We had- words- again. She left angry." He could still see the hate in her eyes, still hear the anger in her voice...

"Did she seem despondent?"

"I didn't notice. I-I really didn't want to see her ever again."

"And what happened this morning, Dr. Kovac?"

"She called me, said she was coming to see Radic. I didn't know what she was planning to do- I just begged her to see me. But she wouldn't. I called Radic, found out his room number, and came here."

"What was happening when you got here?" Now Luka knew he had to start lying. It came so easily; he was so used to twisting the truth, so used to making up stories- all of Luka Kovac's life was a lie.

"Mecheal was standing over there," Luka pointed to the corner near the balcony door, "She was crying. She told me to go away, that it was all over. I tried to talk to her, even tried to grab her- but she- she just went over the rail."

"She moved too quickly?"

"Yes," Luka answered, his voice hoarse. "It happened too quickly- I couldn't save her." The strain, the lies were too much; he was worn out, he needed to lie down and rest, needed for this to be over with. But Luka knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"We'd like you and Mr. Radic to come down to the station and give sworn statements," the detective said. "I know it's difficult, and you don't have to come- you're not under arrest or anything; but it would help you put this all behind you." Luka knew the drill; he had just gone through all this when Karel had died; it was all too familiar. They took Luka and Radic to the station in separate cars, took them inside through separate doors, interviewed them in separate rooms, carefully keeping them apart so they couldn't match stories, not realizing the damage had already been done.

Luka went through everything again, told the story the same way, carefully veiling the truth. The detective was inscrutable, of course, but Luka was sure everything would be all right. He just had to trust Radic, trust that Radic wouldn't change *his* story- but then, why should he? If he had Luka arrested, then Luka would just tell them about what Radic had done during the war, about the arms and the robberies and the rapes. So Luka felt safe; he knew this would pass, would be just another memory, another horror to bury deep in the boxes; soon he'd move on, move far away and try to live out his life in peace.

Another detective was coming in as Luka left the interview room; Luka lingered in the hall, eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Looks pretty cut and dried, Pete," the new detective said. "We found a suicide note- she was all upset about old lover boy and his holier-than-thou attitude." Luka left, he couldn't bear to hear any more. He wondered if Mecheal had really left a note- perhaps she had been planning on killing herself after killing Radic- it made sense. Certainly Radic's "associates" wouldn't have been able to plant a note so quickly...

Luka went out into the spring sunshine; the day seemed much to bright considering what had happened this morning. He hailed a cab and collapsed into the back seat, exhausted. He needed to get home, needed rest and sleep, needed to plan his future. He thought of poor Stephan, an orphan now, and wondered what would happen to him. Social Services would take him in, Luka guessed, would find him a home where he might find love, where no one knew of his father the monster, where no one knew of Karel or his past. Luka said a little prayer that Stephan would never find out, that he'd turn out to be a good boy, a good man, that he'd never know how his mother really died, would never know that Luka was responsible for killing both his parents. Luka felt the guilt crushing him again; he doubted even Father Leo could help him; everywhere Luka looked he saw oceans of blood; he could never get past the guilt and the blood. He felt tears running down his checks; he wiped them away quickly as they pulled up in front of his building, not wanting the cabby to see his pain.

Luka had just enough money for the cab ride; he usually tipped more but he just didn't have the cash. The cabby took the money and sped away, looking for someone more generous. Luka looked at the cursed stairs again, then climbed them carefully, one step at a time. Susan and Iris were just getting off the elevator; they greeted him warmly, but Luka waved them away and pushed the "Door Close" button, wanting only to get back to his apartment, to get away from everyone for a while and rest.

Luka's answering machine was beeping, he was going to ignore it, then thought better of it- it might be the police. He hit the "play" button and heard first Kerry Weaver and then Carol Hathaway asking if he were okay.

"I'm not okay," he sighed at the machine, "I'll never be okay again." He made his way into the kitchen; he needed a drink before he lay down. He had a large glass of orange juice, then another. He considered eating something, but he was too tired right now, he had to rest.

Luka forced himself up from the kitchen table and limped through the living room. The one picture there caught his eye- the Croatian coastline, peaceful, beautiful; and he knew what he'd do: He'd go back to Croatia; no more running, no more hiding, no more lies- it was time to go back, time to go back where he belonged, time to go home.

Luka felt strange, dizzy- he staggered through his bedroom door and collapsed on the bed. He couldn't breathe right, his heart was beating out of rhythm- this was more than exhaustion. Suddenly, he knew, knew what had happened. Radic had let Luka tell his lies, let Luka keep Radic's hands clean; now Radic didn't need him anymore. Mecheal had been right, Radic couldn't be trusted. There must have been poison in the orange juice, something strong, something fast. Gregor wasn't going to take any chances, was going to make it look like Luka had killed himself, and everyone would believe it, knowing how despondent he'd been. Luka could tell that his arms and legs were shaking, but he felt nothing; at least Radic had been kind, at least he wouldn't make him suffer. Luka tried to turn his head to look at the pictures of his family, to see Emma and Viktor and Maja again, but he couldn't move. But he didn't care. He wasn't afraid- he knew they would be together again soon enough; surely God would do that for him. Soon he'd be in a place where he didn't need any boxes, where there would only be peace. Luka closed his eyes and simply let himself drift into the blackness...

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