Author/pseudonym: Cathy Roberts
Email address: huntersglenn@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Status: Completed
Pairing: John Carter/Luka Kovac
Date: March 28, 2003
Archive: Please ask first
Series: 6/7
Category: "E.R."
Disclaimer: "ER" and all its characters belong to Warner Bros. No infringement of their copyright is intended. This story was written for the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and may be downloaded for your own pleasure. I owe a special thanks to Melissa for planting the story idea in my head and being there to look over each bit as it was written.
Summary: The slashy adventures of John Carter and Luka Kovac in the Congo. The song "Grace Is Gone" is by Dave Matthews.
Dr. Kovac, I Presume, Part 6
By Cathy Roberts
Luka awoke slowly; the aroma of coffee hitting his senses, the smell of freshly washed skin, of shampoo - it all mixed together somewhere near his head. Memory of the night came to him, and he smiled lazily, reaching out to touch his lover, his Carter.
And finding material instead of bare skin. Opening his eyes, Luka saw that Carter was fully dressed and seated on the bed beside him, a cup of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face. A smile in his eyes. Luka had never before appreciated Carter's smiles and the way they lit up his eyes when they were genuine.
"Good morning," John said. "You were sleeping pretty soundly and I was about to wake you up with a kiss or something."
"I can close my eyes and pretend to be asleep," Luka replied, a smile now on his face.
Carter laughed. "You could, but we really don't have time for the wake up call that I'd like most to give you. Your coffee is on the nightstand, and you have time for a shower before breakfast. Charles wants to leave as soon as possible. There's rumor of Mai Mai activity near here and he wants to get us to Kinshasa and get back here with our replacements as quickly as he can, just in case fighting breaks out." He got to his feet. "I need to finish packing and I wanted to stop by the ward to say goodbye, you know, to the children."
Luka sat up and reached for the cup of coffee, noting that Carter had known how he liked it prepared. "Don't," he said as he started to take a cautious first sip. "It will only make leaving more difficult for you. It's best to just go."
"But, the kids, they won't understand why I'm not there this morning..."
"They know. They're used to the volunteers, and they'll know." Luka knew that Carter wouldn't listen to him, that he would go into the ward anyway and then have his heart ripped out as he walked away with the 'goodbyes' and 'don't goes' of the children lingering in his ears. But Luka also knew that if Carter thought it would be difficult, even bad, for the children, then he wouldn't do it. And Luka wasn't above playing that card if it meant that Carter was spared that small bit of emotional turmoil.
"It makes it harder on the children, having to say goodbye to you. They don't speak English and you don't speak French, and for the younger ones, well, even if you did speak the same language, they wouldn't understand that you're leaving. Don't put them through that." Luka stared into his coffee as he spoke; not wanting to see the look of sadness that he knew would now be in Carter's eyes. But this small bit of sadness was better than a lot of it later.
"Oh," John's voice was distant, dull. "I didn't realize...I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Luka put the coffee cup aside and got to his feet, reaching Carter in three long strides. He pulled the man into his arms, his lips tracing over Carter's jawbone and chin before finding his lips. Luka also knew that at some point Carter would have some sort of emotional collapse or small breakdown due to everything he'd seen during his two weeks there. Nearly all of the volunteers went through something like that either during or right after their first assignment, even Luka had had it happen, and he'd thought he had already seen it all back in Vukovar. He was glad though, that he'd be the one at Carter's side when it hit. Abby wouldn't have known what to do, what to say. "It's okay," Luka repeated. "You haven't gone there yet, so no harm has been done. Go on and finish your packing and then we can go to breakfast together."
John nodded, then quickly kissed Luka on the mouth before pulling out of his embrace and leaving the room. Luka stood there for a moment longer, slightly hating himself for lying to Carter that way, even if he had thought it for the best. It wasn't good to start out a relationship with lies, even small ones. And, once they were away from Kisangani, away from Africa, Luka would confess his lie. Carter would be upset, but the lie would no longer be between them, and that was for the best. There had been so much that was bad between them, and Luka never wanted the two of them to return to that state.
The ride out to the airport was quiet, mostly because everyone in the army issue truck was still a bit tired. The sun wasn't quite up, and the caffeine from the coffee at breakfast hadn't quite settled into their systems yet. Luka had been surprised to discover that Gillian was with them, but her time there was also at an end and she was on her way home to Canada. She was seated beside Charles and Luka found himself idly wondering if the two of them had been intimate during her stay. Not that he had room to judge the woman, not after the way he'd been for nearly a year, and even there at the hospital. Until Carter arrived, that is.
Luka looked over at Carter, who was staring out of the back of the truck, his mood and thoughts hidden from Luka. Strange how one person could make such a big difference, Luka thought. Not that Carter alone was responsible for the changes that had been occurring within Luka recently, but he was a good part of it, and Luka found himself glad that it was Carter and not someone else, especially Gillian, that he owed a thanks to for those changes.
As if he could read Luka's mind, John suddenly looked his way, his expression serious and then he smiled, and it was a smile that went all the way to Luka's heart. He smiled back with a wink, confident that Charles couldn't see that small action. As for himself, Luka didn't care if the entire world knew that he and Carter were a couple, but he had no idea what Carter thought about the idea and he wasn't going to risk finding out by revealing their status in public. There were a lot of things that they'd have to talk about, discuss, and plan for, and the thing Americans called 'being out' was definitely one of them. Where they would live was another, provided, of course, that Carter wanted them to live together. But it was something Luka wanted, and he didn't particularly care where they lived, even if he'd never seen Carter's apartment. He knew it had two bedrooms and that was only because he'd overheard Abby talking about it. One good thing about Carter's place, Luka mused, was that to the best of his knowledge, Abby had rarely stayed there. Most of their time together had been spent at Abby's place. And, since Abby had spent considerable time at Luka's apartment, although not as his girlfriend, Luka felt it might be more comfortable for him and Carter if they spent their time in a place where Abby's shadow didn't lurk.
Luka was jolted from his thoughts when he realized that Carter had switched seats and was now seated beside him. There was about an inch between their thighs, but that space didn't keep Luka's body from responding to Carter's nearness, and he shifted on the bench, uncomfortable, but in a good way, and he smiled at Carter, inwardly happy that Carter would be willing to sit beside him in front of Gillian and Charles.
"It feels strange to be going home," John commented, his gaze moving from Luka's face to the town they were leaving behind, then back again. "Then again, it felt strange to arrive."
"I know. I get that feeling every time I get to my destination when I volunteer. It's not always easy to keep in mind the fact that I'm going to war-torn or poverty stricken areas and that things will be bleak."
"How do you do it?" John suddenly asked. He had wondered how it was possible for Luka to keep coming to places like the Congo after all he'd been through. "Doesn't it tear you up inside, Luka?"
Luka looked down at the floor and there was a long pause before he spoke. "It's because of that that I can do it, I think. I've seen mankind at its worst, felt the same pain that these people feel. War is Hell and yet we keep waging it, making up excuses that sound noble and just. But in the end, every drop of blood spilled is one drop too many, every life lost is one innocent soul taken too soon. It doesn't matter if it's Croatia, Bosnia, the Congo...it doesn't matter if it's the streets of Chicago and the war is nothing more than gang battles. No death is acceptable. And yet..." Luka looked up and into John's eyes and John could see the pain there that he suspected Luka usually did his best to hide. "And yet, I've killed. There's no excuse for what I did, no penance enough to atone for it, but I tried. And I failed."
John knew that Luka was referring to the time when he had killed a mugger while out on a date with Abby. Their first date of all things. It was no wonder to John that their relationship was doomed to fail. And, to be truthful, his attitude toward Luka had changed that night. Not so much because Luka had snapped and beat the mugger's head against the sidewalk, and not just because Luka had quickly disappeared from the ER without any regard for Abby. It was more a combination of both things, and it had taken a long time for John to once more feel any respect for Luka as a result of those things. And then, when that respect was nearly back again, Luka had gone into a downhill slide that only seemed to be ending right before he left for the Congo. It was a slide that they all watched and were powerless to stop since no one knew just what they could do to stop it. But it had slowed and then stopped, and John was glad of that fact since he hated watching Luka every day and wondering if that would be the day he'd throw his life or career away.
"Luka, you've done more than enough. Yes, you snapped that night, but..."
"I killed a man in rage, John," Luka spat out. "I'm a doctor, not a killer, but..."
"But you were mugged and the woman with you threatened. You couldn't save your wife or family, Luka, but you could save Abby, and you did. You didn't mean to..."
"Yes!" Luka burst out, his voice angry. Gillian and Charles looked in their direction and Luka's voice lowered. "That's the problem. I was trying to kill him."
John regarded Luka thoughtfully, and then shook his head. "No, I don't think you were. I think you were trying to kill the past, to kill those who had taken everything from you. If you had truly been a cold-blooded killer, then you would have been arrested, and that didn't happen."
"Maybe it should have," Luka softly said.
"And if it had then where would we be now?" John softly asked. He reached out and rested his hand on Luka's knee. "I'm glad you were here. I'm glad that you pulled through all the crap you were dealing with for the past year and I'm glad you never went to jail."
Luka laid his hand over John's and smiled into his eyes. "So am I." Then he nodded. "You're right. In my head I know that you're right, but my heart...maybe Kerry was right to insist that I see a psychiatrist. Perhaps I'll really do that once we're back."
John tried to not look surprised at Luka's admission that he had never seen someone despite the fact that he had told Kerry he had. But, the more John thought about it, the more it made sense that Luka hadn't seen anyone. "I think it would be a good idea. Anyway, it couldn't hurt, right?"
Luka shook his head. "No, I suppose it couldn't. And...before, when she first made me go, I didn't want to talk about things, about my past. But now...I think that now I'm ready. I don't know if it's just that this trip has changed me, or if it's you that's changed my outlook, but things are different now."
John smiled wryly, recalling the night he almost formally proposed to Abby and his talk about change. Abby hadn't believed that people ever really changed. John believed that people changed all of the time. If he had needed any more confirmation that breaking up with Abby and taking up with Luka was the right thing to do, then this was it. He turned his hand over and laced his fingers with Luka's. "I hope they're different in a good way."
Luka's fingers slowly squeezed against John's as the man spoke. "They are." Luka's head moved closer to John's and their lips grazed against each other. "They are."
"Excuse me," Gillian's voice called out in amusement, "But do you think you could save that stuff for later? Either that or hurry up so we can get a full show before we reach the airport."
John pulled away from Luka and looked over at Gillian and Charles, a smirk on his face - but his hand remained entwined with Luka's. "I think we'll save it, if it's all the same to you."
"There goes that educational experience down the drain," Charles remarked, but then the amused expression on his face turned serious. "It doesn't bother me, but when you reach Kinshasa, don't do that. The culture here...people might not understand it, and you don't want to find yourselves in trouble for something as simple as holding hands."
"We'll keep that in mind," Luka replied, tightening his grip. "Thank you for the warning. I'd forgotten where we were. It will definitely be good to get home."
Talk turned to the journey home, and the fact that while John and Luka were on the same airlines, they were on different flights. John would leave first, heading to London, then Luka's flight would leave a few hours later, close to the same time as Gillian's flight out. John had previously made arrangements to stay overnight in London, with his flight to Chicago leaving mid-morning. Since Luka had stayed longer, his flights back were open, and they decided that once they were at the international airport in Kinshasa, Luka would see if he could get home on the same flight with John, as seatmates if possible.
For John, it seemed as if the drive to the smaller airport and the plane ride to Kinshasa took less time than they had taken when he was on his way to Kisangani - but he put that down to the fact that once he was in the air away from the Congo, he wouldn't be seeing Luka for quite a while. Now that they were together, John didn't like to think about spending that many hours apart, even if he knew they'd be together once those hours were over.
Once in Kinshasa, the two of them did manage to get some time alone in the men's room. Locked in a stall, they kissed their goodbyes, with John giving Luka the name of the hotel at the airport in London where he had a room reserved. Luka promised to be there as soon as he could, and then they had to part, with John going to the gate for his flight.
John fell asleep shortly after his plane was airborne, and that helped to take away some of the loneliness. The rest of the journey he spent thinking - about Luka, about what had happened in the Congo, the patients at the hospital, about Abby, and then again about Luka. John was returning home a changed man, and, like Luka, he wasn't sure if the changes were from what he'd done and seen in the Congo, due to Luka, or a combination of both. But they were good changes, John was certain of that. Very good changes.
Dinner came and went, barely touched by John even though he had the better food in first class. His stomach wasn't yet ready for food, not while he was busy worrying about whether or not Luka's flight would be delayed or hijacked or something...he could order something from room service. Hopefully, he'd be ordering something for both of them.
Once on the ground, John grabbed his bags and made his way through customs, then to the hotel. The room...after his room in Kisangani the hotel room seemed opulent...lush...too much...
And then it hit him, all of the things different. He looked out of the window and watched cars and buses out on the road, people going about their business without worrying about landmines or rebels or armies from other countries running around waiting to ambush them. They were going home to children who had plenty to eat, they had doctors available at the drop of the hat to treat their ills. They had medicine. They had electricity.
John felt the curtain drop from his hand as he turned away from the window and stumbled over to the bed, sitting down on it hard. How many times had he complained about his life? How many times had he complained about food not being prepared 'right', or about the complaints his patients had. How many times had he listened to a person with a bunion complain about the wait to see a doctor?
Tears pouring down his face, John curled up in a ball on top of the bed. He cried for those he couldn't save. He cried for those who were never to be born because of the war. He cried for those who never had enough to eat and most likely wouldn't live to adulthood. Most of all, he cried for himself, and for the fact that he had so much while they had so little. Coming from a family with money had often made him feel guilty, but he'd never before felt so...dirty.
And yet, even if he could take all of the money his family had, he knew it wouldn't be enough. It just wouldn't be enough. And that also made him cry from sheer frustration.
The tears subsided a bit, then came back only to subside again. The room grew darker as the sun set, but John was too disinterested to get up to turn on the lights. It seemed like such a waste of electricity. But a knock on the door did rouse him from the bed, and he wearily opened it, expecting a maid to turn down the bed, and not Luka. Yet it was Luka who stood there, and John realized that he had lost track of time. Luka was there, they were there together...but things still weren't right with the world.
The tears came again and John felt strong arms enveloping him, heard Luka's voice murmuring assurances, murmuring words of love and understanding. A door closed, lights came on, and then they were both lying on top of the bed, Luka cradling him while he cried. At some point John realized that Luka was also crying, but he had no words of assurance to give to Luka. All he could do was just hold onto Luka. Wrapped in each other's arms, the two wept over things that were beyond their control. Wrapped in each other's arms, the two slowly quit crying, knowing that life would go on, knowing that they had each other. And nothing could ever take that away.
To be continued