TITLE:  Home and Dry (Or, Whether July Kit Or Not, Here I Come), part
1/4
AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh
RATING:  PG-13/R/NC-17 (Little 'a this, little 'a that.)
KEYWORDS:  KW/LKo romance; angst; sexual innuendo and situations
(the type of story.  Angst, romance, humor, fun, medical drama, etc.)
LAST EPISODE SEEN:  "Witch Hunt"
TIMELINE:  Uh... mid-July-ish, 2000. Nearly two months after "May Day".
CROATIAN:  "Odjebi" = "fuck off"; Gdje = where. Any other Croatian words
are either explained in that section, or have been covered in previous
installments (in this case, from the rewrite of the second half of
Season 6). For the sake of convenience (as well as my own peace of
mind!), assume that any conversations that involve Croatians, that do
*not* use any Croatian words, are conducted in Croatian. On the other
hand, conversations between Croatians and non-Croatians, or that use
Croatian words, are to be assumed to be in English.
ARCHIVE:  If you must.
SONG:  "Home and Dry", written and performed by Gerry Rafferty;
available on the 1978 Capitol-EMI album "City to City", which I highly
recommend... along with his other work.
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.
SUMMARY/SPOILERS:  Luka returns home from his trip to Croatia,
reflecting on his time spent there, and reunites with Kerry. Absolutely
no spoilers, because I know that by now I've deviated far, FAR afield of
the show. (Even farther than I already had, up to this point! :-)
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Oddly enough, I got inspired to start this the last
time "Long Way Around" aired on TNT (pretty much just because the phrase
appears in the lyrics). "Home and dry" is a British phrase that
indicates that one has "safely achieved a goal" (thanks for the wording,
Michelle H!). "Dnevnik" is an evening news program on TV in Croatia.
PREVIOUSLY, ON MY ER:  Luka and Kerry embarked on an affair that turned
out to be based on feelings of love for both of them, and she asked him
to move in with her; Carter was stabbed and first attempted suicide,
then began abusing drugs in order to cope with both chronic pain and the
guilt of Lucy's death, and was sent to a rehab program for doctors in
Atlanta; Luka hired a PI to find Kerry's biological family, with ironic
results, and Kerry had Luka's sole remaining family picture restored,
better than ever; Luka travelled to Croatia, to visit family and "lay
some ghosts to rest"; Spike has the hots for Buff-- oh.




The flight attendant's voice crackled over the PA, and interrupted the
end of the jazz program Luka was listening to on Channel 9, to tell the
passengers - in several different languages - that they were
encountering some turbulence. He tapped his fingers restlessly on the
armrest as she went on to recommend that everybody return to their seats
and fasten their safety belts, and wondered when (or if!) he was going
to get a drink - he'd rung the service button, but nobody had come yet.
Then again, it was a fairly busy flight; Luka had been on standby,
waiting for a seat to open up, for the last few days, and this had
finally become available.

The announcement ended, and the music resumed. Luka decided to give up
on the idea of a drink, and try to get some sleep the old-fashioned way
- at least he was in first class this time, and had plenty of room for
his long legs - so he wouldn't be a *complete* wreck when he finally
reached O'Hare. He still hated flying, hated the loss of control that
went with leaving the ground behind, but he'd been in really bad shape
when he left Chicago nearly two months ago: a bundle of raw nerves over
the prospect of returning to his native country for the first time in
years... wishing he'd been able to take Kerry with him... clutching at
the armrests as if to tear them from the seat.

He'd begun his first letter to Kerry about two hours after changing
planes at LaGuardia, as the flight was somewhere over the Atlantic,
telling her of the couple a few rows ahead of him who'd argued about
such *stupid* things. "They were arguing about who was supposed to bring
the sunscreen, of all things, can you imagine that? Sunscreen! Because
there are, of course, no stores in Europe that sell sunscreen." He
couldn't actually see them, but he could just imagine what they were
like. "They sound like a fairly unpleasant pair, who deserve each
other." He'd looked up from the notepad for a moment, and smiled as he
thought of the kind of argument he and Kerry might have. Better yet...
how they might make up again. "We, on the other hand, are a  lovely pair
who also deserve each other." He hoped she hadn't taken that smug
comment the wrong way.

Nik had been a little - okay, a *lot* - surprised to find him knocking
at the front door. Worried, too - the last time he'd seen Luka, his
little brother had been getting on an airplane and swearing up and down
that he'd *never* return. And now, here he was. Looking better than he
had then, to be sure, but he'd seen roadkill that looked better than
Luka had, then. Vesna was the one who interrupted them silently staring
at each other across the threshold, and pulled Luka inside. She produced
a few perfunctory complaints about the suddenness of his visit, but that
was as she was in the kitchen, already assembling something for him to
eat. "Because God knows, you never *eat* anything unless somebody sits
you down and *forces* you." Nik and Luka exchanged an amused glance at
that, and Nik took Luka's duffel bag from him.

"You heard the woman. Sit down, little brother." Luka, who hadn't been
smaller than Nik since he was about 15 (when he'd suddenly exploded into
his full adult height, well before he'd gained his full adult weight),
sat down - they were both perfectly aware that Luka was more than big
enough to lay Nik out easily, but on some level Luka would always regard
Nik as the big brother who could shove Luka into the laundry hamper and
sit on the lid for hours, or give him a boost to the high spots he
couldn't reach himself. "What brings you here?" He offered Luka a pack
of cigarettes, but Luka shook his head, to Nik's surprise.

"Would you believe that I was in the neighborhood? No?" He shrugged and
smiled ruefully, tapping his fingers against the tabletop in a quick,
nervous tattoo. Vesna emerged from the kitchen, carrying a fully-loaded
plate that she set in front of him. He stared at the plate dully,
fatigue finally catching up to him in one big sudden rush.

"You eat it, Luka. See? There's a fork. You pick that up in your right
hand, then aim it at that food there..." Luka glared at his brother, who
began snickering at Luka's expression.

"Shut up, Nik. I know what to *do* with it. I'm just tired." As if to
illustrate his point, he yawned hugely, and stretched. But he tried to
eat something, he really did... it was when he fell asleep, sitting up,
for the third time that Nik finally took the fork out of his hand and
nudged him a little.

"Go lie down, then, and get some sleep, Luka. There's a bed all made up.
Same room." Luka muttered something sleepily, and Nik - through the use
of several more nudges, and one good hard pinch - got him to stand up
and head in the direction of the guest room. There were a couple of
times Nik thought they might have to leave him in the hallway, but Luka
finally stumbled into the room and toppled onto the bed. "No, wait...
you might want to get *under* the covers...."

"Jus' a min't," Luka slurred, and was asleep the moment the last sound
left his mouth. Nik shook his head, and took off Luka's shoes. It was
going to be a warm day, after all; the kid would be all right where he
was. "Kid"... hah. Man. Forty in September, as hard as that was to
imagine.

Luka was sure later that he had dreamed, but was so deeply asleep that
nothing registered. He gradually became aware of voices nearby - little
elf voices. One was by his head, another was behind him, and yet another
was right in front of him. He blearily opened his eyes, and discovered
two small children sitting on the bed with him-- he turned his head. No,
there were *three* children. Girls, from the looks of it. Dark, like
Nik, and watching him with Vesna's eagle eye... *staring* at him, almost
expectantly. "Go away," he muttered, and closed his eyes again.

"Mama, he's awake!" the girl behind him chirped.

"No 'm not. Go away." He heard footsteps approaching, and reluctantly
opened his eyes again, to see Vesna standing in the doorway.

"Come on, you three! Let your uncle sleep. He'll play with you *later*,"
she assured them, smirking at Luka's sleepy growl. He turned over, and
went back to sleep. By the time he woke up again, he was feeling almost
human again... if a little sore from-- he sat up slowly, and felt under
the blanket. Great, he'd been sleeping who-knew-how-long with an
undressed Barbie doll digging into his ribs. Never mind the princess and
the pea, he was the doctor and the damned doll. He checked his watch,
but couldn't remember whether or not he'd already reset it to local
time.

As his mind gradually cleared, he wondered again if he'd done the right
thing, coming back. He *had* to have, right?

* * *

He glanced out the window, as Heathrow fell away. He'd been lucky, and
had been able to schedule the entire way back to Chicago without any
layovers along the way. Good thing - he'd already cut it pretty close on
when to return home; he could have wound up getting caught in a crush of
people leaving the summer festival early, if he'd left it any later.

* * *

The night after he'd first arrived, the question of bedtime wear had
come up. Luka really hadn't given it much thought when he'd stuffed
clothing into his bag - he'd thrown in some t-shirts, a sweater,
underwear, socks... and slacks and a dress shirt, in case the issue of
church came up - if he *had* thought about it, he would at least have
included his bathrobe. He *should* have thought about what to wear in a
household where four females lived - Natalija was the only one of Nik's
daughters he'd actually met before, when she'd been not that much
younger than Marko had been, but Nik had subtly let him know, in
letters, that two more little Kovachicas had arrived in the meantime -
but he'd been too intent on the thought of *getting* there to really
think.

But then, *thinking* was sometimes his problem... that is, not thinking
before he did something. He probably wouldn't, for example, have painted
"Jebi Tito!" on the side of an administrative building when he was
sixteen, if he'd taken the time to think about it first. If he'd taken a
moment to consider the possibility that one of the guards would spot his
shadowy, black-clad form as he was racing away, and shoot at him, he
probably wouldn't have done it. But then, he wouldn't have won the bet
with his buddies. In retrospect, the handful of scruffy dinar notes he'd
collected from Jovan, Miro and Ante didn't seem like much of a plus side
to hearing a couple of bullets zing past his head, but he'd laughed at
the time (if only he'd known!). It was an eternal truism that had been
borne out by working as a doctor in a lot of different hospitals over
the years, Luka thought: Teenagers are *the*stupidest life form on the
planet.

"You have pajamas?" Luka thought about the contents of his duffel bag.

"I don't think I even *own* pajamas - I don't wear--" Nik shook his
head.

"That's a little... no, a *lot* more than I wanted to know. Hm. Your
legs are too long to borrow something of mine - I guess you don't have
any sweatpants, do you?" Nik's question was innocent - he knew a little
of what his brother had been through, from what had been in the news,
but Luka had never spoken directly to Nik of what he'd done and seen
there. He'd awakened Nik and Vesna several times when he stayed with
them the first time, crying out in his sleep, but always awoke in a
daze, completely unaware of what had happened - all he knew was that he
was shaking, and terrified of something in his dreams. And he always
made his way to Natalija's room afterwards, where he stood by the crib,
his slowly-healing body supported by the crutches... just watching the
little girl as she slept. It had been unnerving for Nik to watch this
strange vigil, but Luka had seemed to draw comfort from it.

"Nik." Vesna tried to get his attention, but he was still deep in
thought on what Luka could wear to bed: going bare was one thing for a
person who lived alone, but it really wasn't appropriate when there were
others around. Vesna had been insistent enough that *he* start wearing
pajamas when Natalija had become old enough to start wandering around
the house under her own steam. Bad enough the tyke had walked in on them
once, while they were in the middle of making love - Nik and Vesna had
covered up hastily, and Vesna had told Natalija the first thing that
came to her mind. "We were changing the lightbulbs, dear. When that door
is shut, you must never open it because it isn't good to disturb us when
we're changing lightbulbs." Nik had snickered softly at that impromptu
explanation and then - after Natalija had been returned to her bed -
they'd gone right back to changing the lightbulbs.

"Just a minute, sweetie."

"*Nik*." He turned, to see what Vesna was on about, and saw that she was
holding the pajamas that Luka had worn, the last time. "I don't know if
these will still fit you, Luka - I just remembered that they were still
around... stuffed to the back of the linen closet, for some reason.
Maybe I meant to make them into dust rags or something at some point -
they were pushed all the way to the back, out of sight. I certainly
don't think either of us expected to see you back *here* again." She
held out the pajamas - pale blue, and a little wrinkly from being in a
wad at the back of a closet for a number of years - and he took them
from her. "Maybe I should wash those..." she began, but stopped - and
rolled her eyes - when Luka simply gave the pajamas a quick series of
sniffs and stowed them under his arm. "Oh. I forgot, you've been on your
own and uncivilized for too long. I'm surprised your woman hasn't
organized you out of those habits by now."

"Yeah, Luka," Nik chimed in, with a mischievous glance at Vesna. "I
would think she's alphabetized your socks *and* underwear by now. Has
your shirts sorted by color and style, huh?" Vesna swatted him, and he
laughed. Luka smiled, and shook his head - both in amusement at their
prying, and in denial of Kerry's supposed over-organization of him.

Not that she hadn't *tried* to impose her own systems and routines on
him - he supposed that, to some extent, she might have succeeded in
bringing a little order to his life, but he liked to think that he'd
managed to make some changes in *her*, too, in the time they'd been
together. He'd felt pretty smug, the first time she'd opened the shower
door and climbed in with him as he was soaping up... he'd wound up
transferring quite a bit of the soap to her, and they'd both been
pleasantly slippery... like a pair of extremely affectionate seals. He
could still feel the curve of her soapy breast in his hand, with the nub
of her nipple the only break in the smooth surface. And the way she
reacted so passionately to him... he still couldn't believe that he'd
been the only one at County to see, to *experience* this side of her.
God, he missed her so much!

"Anyway," Vesna told Luka, "go try those on while there's still time for
you to go to the department store and get something that *does* fit."

"Translation," Nik warned him, "time for her to go with you and make
sure you get something suitable... or that you get something at *all*."

"Nik..." she scolded, and he burst out laughing and hugged her, planting
a big smooch on the side of her neck.

* * *

The pajamas had fit, Luka mused, which had been just as well - he liked
Vesna, but suspected that shopping with her would have been every bit as
annoying and wearying as every other shopping trip with a woman had ever
been for him... including shopping with Kerry. The seatbelt sign had
been turned off - at least for now - but he was still in his seat,
drinking some water he'd finally managed to get a flight attendant to
bring him and staring out the window again. There wasn't much of a view
of the ground - it was a cloudy day down there, and they were above the
clouds, so the scenery was all blue above and fluffy white below, with
the sun slowly beginning to sink - so he stared at the masses of clouds
and tried to pick out faces and patterns in the clouds and the little
shadows they cast on each other. Soon enough, the land would end, and
give way to an expanse of blue ocean, and it would be blue everywhere,
up and down.

He'd wound up leaving the pajamas behind again when he left Nik's house
this time - Nik and Vesna had been hopeful about his conscious decision
to leave them behind (last time, he'd still been too dazed to consider
taking along something that he'd never wear if he didn't have to). And
he *did* want to return soon - ideally when Kerry could come with him. A
honeymoon, perhaps.

He was sure the girls would like Kerry, and Kerry was so good with
kids... that is, when she didn't try to hide inside herself or behind a
mask of Kerry-the-administrator. He was *almost* sure that his parents
would like her, but it was hard to tell with them sometimes - he'd
finally made his peace with them, and with Danijela's family, but it was
an uneasy peace at best. He wondered how Kerry was doing - whether she
thought about him as much as he'd been thinking about her.

* * *

Kerry had been keeping busy the last several weeks, taking on projects
and the occasional double shift in an attempt to keep herself too
occupied to think of Luka. Wasn't working, she thought, as she examined
a little boy with Chuny's help. Cleo should be doing this, and would
have been, but she was currently absorbed in trying to save a young
choking victim in another room. In the meantime, though... Kerry
listened to the boy's chest intently, and winced when the boy grabbed
the end of her stethoscope and yelled into it, but smiled anyway: it was
the sort of thing she might have done, at that age. She finally declared
the boy to be essentially healthy, but recommended to the mother that
she wait for the lab results to come back.

Naturally, it wasn't very busy today - she decided that their customers
had become tired of testing how they did when they were one doctor
short, and were waiting to descend upon them when the new batch of
residents arrived. Nick was working out *very* well - quietly competent,
did his paperwork promptly, got along with everybody, really had a way
with people - if she had an opening for an attending, she'd offer it to
him. As it was, the only thing she could offer him was returning to fill
in when Mark took *his* vacation (she thought he might have mentioned
going up to Wisconsin with Elizabeth, but she wasn't sure). As she
headed for the front desk to pick up another chart, she saw Nick
flirting with a couple of the nurses. He'd even flirted with her a
little - it had startled her a little, the first time it happened, but
she'd spoken with him about it and he'd assured her that it was just the
way he was, that he'd never let it interfere with the performance of his
duties. He'd dated one or two of the single nurses, but didn't seem
particularly interested in anything more than that.

Still... even though it wasn't very busy - only a few patients were
waiting - she had a reputation to maintain. "Nick, Debbie, Lydia...
there's got to be something you can be doing around here." She could
almost hear the sound of Lydia's eyes rolling, even though she was
looking over the new chart, and went to examine the patient.

* * *

Luka had had a moment of panic that next morning, when he first awoke:
he couldn't move! Then he woke up a little more, and realized he wasn't
alone in the bed. Three little bodies were packed in tight around him,
like dark-haired sardines. One of them - Anja? - giggled in her sleep,
and somehow managed to turn over... ouf! Her elbow caught him in the
ribs, and he decided to take a shot at escaping... gingerly freeing his
arms and reaching up to use the top of the mattress to drag himself up
and out from under the covers. Natalija grumbled sleepily, and rolled to
fill the space created by his absence.

Luka rubbed his neck, and padded out to the living room. Maybe he could
catch a few more minutes of sleep on the couch-- oh. "Have you been to
sleep at all?" Vesna smirked at him, and knocked off a few more
stitches. She was sitting in a chair near the window, taking advantage
of the morning light to knit a scarf... or a sweater... or *whatever* it
was she was working on at the moment. Some people chain-smoked or
cracked their knuckles to relieve tension, Vesna Kovac knitted. She'd
knitted a lot of things, in fact - she sold scarves and hats, and other
custom knit-wear in the same shop that sold the papier-mache items that
Nik made in his spare time.

"Of course. I'm a morning person, that's all. How'd you manage to get up
without waking the Three Sisters?"

"Very carefully. How'd you know--"

"Their beds were empty, and I peeked in and noticed you'd been invaded
during the night. You fascinate them, if just because you've picked up a
little bit of an accent." Luka laughed.

"Great. So now I speak both English *and* Croatian with an accent?"

"Yeah. It's absurd, isn't it?" She finished off a row, and began work on
a new section.

"Mm-hm. So you really kept these around." Luka fingered the jacket of
his pajamas, which actually fit close to normally now - the jacket had
been very loose on his bony, torn-up body, and the pants had been
purchased a little big in order to accommodate the cast on his leg -
apparently he'd gained more weight in the last eight years than he'd
thought. Or maybe they'd just shrunk a little. "Why? As far as you knew,
I was never going to return to Croatia." Vesna shrugged.

"I'd like to be able to tell you that I had faith that you'd eventually
find it in yourself to be able to come back, but it's nothing that
complicated. They simply got shoved to the back of a closet, and
forgotten." Luka sighed.

"I hope I wasn't an inconvenience - I tried not to be a burden on the
two of you."

"What? No, of course not. I know you tried to help, as best you could.
You didn't have any way of knowing that Nik's wool sweater shouldn't go
in the dryer, after all." Luka blushed, and smiled.

"I hope Natalija enjoyed inheriting the sweater a little sooner than Nik
had expected. At least you managed to teach me *something* about
housework, so I haven't been completely helpless. I never realized how
much Danijela--" he paused, waiting to be hit by the pain that washed
over him whenever he thought too deeply about her... of *them*... and
was surprised - maybe even a little disappointed - to find that while it
still *hurt*, he wasn't crushed by the pain. "How much Danijela did for
me, until she was gone." He laughed suddenly. "And it's a good thing
that you taught me how to sew on buttons - that's been useful, a few
times," he told her, thinking of the buttons he'd sewn back on Kerry's
shirts after removing her clothes a little *too* hastily in his
eagerness. Vesna shot him a lazy grin, that was short-lived as she
spoke.

"I'll just bet. I remember you liked to watch Natalija in her crib. You
made me a little nervous, actually."

"I did? I had no idea. Why didn't you ever say anything?" She sighed,
and set her knitting to the side.

"Your only other option was to go stay with your parents, and that could
have been very uncomfortable for everybody - besides, you would have run
into Danijela's family there. Both Nik and I thought it would be better
for you to be *here*, instead... close to family, but not *too* close to
some of the memories. And I was never actually afraid *of* you - not
even for Natalija's safety - you were just... hm... a little
unpredictable. But Luka, your family was murdered, and *you* were nearly
killed. You saw things I can't even imagine - I would have been
concerned if you *hadn't* reacted the way you did!"

"I tried to kill myself, Vesna." That got her attention. "I took Nik's
revolver one morning, and sat in the bathroom thinking about it. I even
put the gun in my mouth... I was going to do it. I was all set, I was
about to pull the trigger, and then I heard the knocking on the door."
He smiled gently. "You'd forgotten your key, and come back for it
suddenly, before going on to the market." Vesna gasped softly.

"That was the week before Nik took you back to the hospital, wasn't it?
Oh, my. I had no idea - Nik never told me what had happened."

"He didn't know. I never told him about what happened, just that I
needed to go."

"And then later you left the country."

"Yeah. I insisted I'd never, ever come back, and now... here I am."

"So why is that, then? I mean, why are you back?"

"Because..." he hesitated for a moment. "Because I have a lot of
unfinished business back here, that I need to take care of, before I can
start seriously thinking about starting new business back in Chicago."

"You're thinking of getting married again?"

"Yes. There's nothing wrong with that, Vesna," he said, a little
defensively. She shrugged.

"I didn't say there was. You're long overdue for some love and happiness
in your life. I didn't know Danijela that well, only met her a few
times, but she seemed like a wonderful woman." He closed his eyes and
smiled gently, basking in the memory for a moment.

"She was."

"Do you have any pictures of the woman you're dating? Your, uh, 'new
business'?"

"Yeah. But it's not, um... well, it's...."

"It's a dirty picture?" Luka blushed. "You think you're the only man who
walks around with such a thing in his wallet? Nikola thinks I don't know
that he carries a certain picture, but--" He put up his hand, laughing
softly.

"Please. That's already far too much information, Vesna."

"Okay. But I still want to see your picture. C'mon. Go get it." She
gestured, and Luka sighed and got up.

"All right, all right." He got his wallet, and deftly extracted Kerry's
picture, which he handed to Vesna.

"A lovely woman. Interesting outfit," she told him, and handed him back
the picture.

"Oh, go back to your knitting," he pretended to grumble, but lost it and
began to laugh.

--
Ellen K. Hursh
"You know, I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair. Then I
thought, wouldn't it be much worse if life were fair, and all the
terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them?
So, now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of
the universe." --Ranger Marcus Cole
* * *
"Whoa, I'm eleven hundred years old. I had trouble adjusting to the idea
of Lutherans." --Anya, "I Was Made to Love You"