TITLE:  Home and Dry (Or, Whether July Kit Or Not, Here I Come), part
3/4
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.




Luka headed back to Nik's house, with Marija in tow. Vesna had asked him
to go to the market, to do some shopping and take the little girl along,
and he'd been very willing to do so. He hadn't, after all, travelled
this far, just so he could sit indoors the entire time! The weather was
beautiful - he would have left his jacket behind, but Vesna had insisted
that *Marija* wear her coat, and Luka had had to set a good example.

"We're back!" he called, as he walked through the front door. Vesna
appeared immediately, and held out a manila envelope to him as he handed
her the bags. It was from Kerry, and he wondered if the cardboard inside
it meant that she'd sent him the pictures he'd asked her to send him.
She'd explained to him, in an earlier letter, how she knew about the
sexy picture he had in his wallet - he was still astonished that Kerry
had admitted to Carol that they were together. Well... and surprised
that Carol had returned for a little while. But he'd been merely amused
to learn that the guy in the store with the animal crackers was none
other than the mysterious Doug Ross; it was the kind of strange trick of
the universe that he might have expected. He didn't like to think about
it, but he supposed that Danijela and Jasna and Marko had been the
victims of a similar cosmic joke - to have survived the bombing, only to
die a much crueler death.

And... they were going to head down to visit his parents in a few days.
He wasn't looking forward to that - his father had made it up to Zagreb
once to see him, before, but had seemed somehow disappointed in Luka and
hadn't stayed long. His mother... Luka suspected that she'd still, after
all this time, been unhappy that he'd chosen not to become a priest;
Jelena Kovac had believed that, as the younger son, it was for Luka to
serve God. After all, *her* youngest brother was a priest, her youngest
uncle was a priest, and her grandfather's youngest brother had been a
priest, and so on. And Luka had wanted that once, too... or he'd
*thought* it had been what he wanted. Instead, he'd rebelled - fallen in
love with Danijela Novoselic and made plans to become a doctor. And
then... and then, they'd all been taken, and then killed.

"Luka, could you take this to Nik outside, please?" Vesna interrupted
his train of thought, and casually handed him a large can of paint.
"He's in the back yard, working, if you would?" He took it, and
bemusedly headed for the back door - had she just thought of it, and
*that's* why she'd sent him out, or was there another reason? He put his
hand on the handle of the screen door, and saw Nik talking to a young,
dark-haired woman as he used a different color of paint to put trim on
one of his larger artworks. *What*? They couldn't be trying to set him
up with somebody - not when he'd already made it clear that he was
already involved. Well, best to go out and get it over with, whatever
"it" was.

He went out and handed the paint can to Nik, then prepared to be
introduced to "a friend of So-And-So". But before he'd finished his
preparations, he noticed two things. First, he noticed the ring that the
woman was wearing on her left ring finger. Second, he noticed the man
sitting in one of Nik's lawn chairs. Even greyer than Luka, and had
enough scars that he looked like an old tomcat, but it was undeniably
Pavle Zakorevic. He was immediately glad he'd already given Nik the
paint can, because it would have fallen from his hands at that point.
"*Pavle*? It's really you? Not a ghost?" The scarred man stood up and
walked over to Luka - with a limp that seemed to be more pronounced than
Luka's - and gave Luka a good hard look.

"If I'm not me, somebody's got a lot of explaining to do! I was
wondering the same thing about you, in fact. Your brother," he jerked
his thumb at Nik, "called us up a little while ago, and said we should
come for a visit. Didn't say why, though." He retreated, and went to the
woman's side. "You remember Lin, don't you?" Now that Pavle mentioned
it, the woman *did* look vaguely familiar. "She used to go by the name
Melina Nasic - is that ringing any bells?" Luka peered at her again, and
mentally subtracted some of the hair... oh, yeah. Now he remembered the
young Croatian-American psych intern who'd worked with them briefly...
it had been some kind of international rotation, or whatever the term
had been. He wondered if Pavle had been seeing her even back then...
anything was possible, he supposed.

"Right. Now I remember. You're having affairs with married women now?"
Pavle looked offended.

"No, genius, she's my wife. I married her. We have a kid." Luka stared
at him, wide-eyed with disbelief.

"I'm sorry, my hearing is playing tricks on me - I could've sworn you
just said that you're married?" Lin laughed.

"Hard to believe, isn't it? *I* still can't believe it, sometimes," she
said, elbowing Pavle gently. "Guess he figured he should settle down,
now that he isn't as pretty as he used to be." Pavle rolled his eyes as
Lin laughed again. It was gentle teasing, though, and Luka guessed that
it was a long-standing joke with the two of them.

"Yeah, yeah, woman. Chicks dig scars, as long as they were honorably
received."

"Did you ever show her the scar on your ass, from when--" Pavle hastily
tried to interrupt Luka's tale.

"No, no, I want to know," Lin insisted.

"It's really not much. Pavle and I were at a classmate's bachelor party,
and we both got *extremely* drunk - Danijela made me sleep on the couch,
when I finally got home - and as we were walking back in the general
direction of our own homes, singing some horrible song - in beautiful
harmony, I might add - this *genius* decides to take a short cut. 'No,
don't,' I told him, it's dangerous. But he told me that he was already
going to be in enough trouble when he finally rolled in, for being so
drunk, there was no need to be late on top of it. So the next thing I
know, I'm extracting him from a mass of sheet metal and trying to get
him to the hospital. We were both panicking because there was blood all
over the place, but it turned out to be nothing but a lac that needed...
what was it, 25 stitches? Then we got chewed out and sent home." Pavle
snickered.

"Yes, and you were very brave, Luka. Gallantly refusing all pain
medications on my behalf."

"How was I supposed to know that they'd take me seriously when I told
them that you enjoyed pain?"

"Hm... well. So what do you do, these days? Chief of Staff, somewhere?"

"Hardly. I'm an attending physician at a hospital in Chicago."

"Chicago! Our boy's moving up in the world." He reached over and patted
Luka's cheek. "You have lots of sexy American girlfriends?"

"Only one sexy American girlfriend, just the way I like it. What about
you? Still shrinking heads, or did you decide you like emergency
medicine better?" Pavle shuddered melodramatically.

"If I never have to suture another wound, it'll be too soon for me. We -
Lin and I - have our own psychiatric practice, and I work with war
survivors in my spare time, leading group therapy sessions. You're
welcome to join us while you're here, in fact."

"Nah. I wanted to tag along when Nik and Vesna and the girls head down
to visit our parents. We might go down to Dubrovnik, to catch part of
the summer festival, depending on when we go."

"Yeah? How *are* your parents doing?"

"Well enough, I suppose. I haven't really communicated with them for a
while - mostly with Nik. We pass messages to each other through him,
though."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that. Family's very important for the healing
process, you know." Luka grinned.

"You know, I think I would have laid heavy odds against the likelihood
of *you* ever saying something like that. Didn't you like to say that
family was a big pain in the ass?"

"Well, yeah," Pavle admitted, after a cautious glance at Lin, who'd been
quietly following their conversation with a great deal of interest.
"But... you know... marriage and fatherhood has really changed my
perspective. I'd do *anything* to keep Lin or little Pashka safe. Look,
somebody's got to begin building the bridge between you and your
parents. It might as well be you - yes, I know it isn't fair, but you
don't want to be at their funeral, and regretting that you never did it,
do you?"

"Right."

* * *

A new music program began, and a pop song from the late '70s started -
he was vaguely familiar with it, and closed his eyes as he listened.


     This silver bird takes me 'cross the sky
     Just one more hour and I'll be home and dry
     'Cross the ocean, way above the clouds I come stealin'.

     Feelin' tired, but I feel good
     Cause I did everything I said I would
     I think of you, and I know how you'll be feelin'.

     I gotta see you, I gotta be with you
     We'll make it better now in every way
     It's gotta be you, it's gotta be you
     Yes from now on I'll tell you everyday.

     Way up here above this timeless sea
     I realize just what it is you mean to me
     You give me somethin' when I thought that everything we had was
dyin'.

     I needed reason just to make me carry on
     Well I know better now, I know where I belong
     I can't imagine how I ever let myself just give up tryin'.

     I gotta see you, I gotta be with you
     We'll make it better now in every way
     It's gotta be you, it's gotta be you
     Yes from now on I'll tell you everyday.

     Oooooh, yes home and dry.

     Ain't nothin' up here gonna slow me down
     You know I never had to take the long way 'round
     I think of you, cause I know how you'll be feelin'.

     This silver bird takes me 'cross the sky
     Just one more hour and I'll be home and dry
     'Cross the ocean, way above the clouds I come stealin'.

     I gotta see you, I gotta be with you
     We'll make it better now in every way
     It's gotta be you, it's gotta be you
     Yes from now on I'll tell you everyday.

     Oooooh, yes home and dry.


He was asleep by the end of the song - it was a rarity, for him to
actually *sleep* on a flight. That is, he'd self-medicated himself into
unconsciousness on occasion, but usually he was nervously awake the
entire time. The flight attendant's light touch on his arm, however,
instantly brought him back to shuddering, dazed alertness that had her
stepping back slightly. "Shto? Gdje--" He squeezed his eyes shut for a
moment and rubbed at his face, then stretched and yawned. "Shto zhelish?
Uh... I mean... what do you want?" The young woman eyed him cautiously,
then decided that he'd been speaking another language... not drugged or
sick.

"We'll be landing soon, Mr Kovak. I need you to bring your seat upright,
and--" He waved her away, not even bothering to try to correct her
mangling of his name.

"Right, right," he muttered. He'd been dreaming about Kerry again -
dreaming about the way she felt, and smelled and tasted - and resented
being interrupted in the middle of a *happy* dream. He'd finally begun
to remember his dreams again, shortly before he'd left Chicago. It had
been unnerving... but also helpful: as much as he hated dreaming about
the bombing or... *that* day, it was better than the blind terror that
had always seized him before when he woke up.

There was the brief shock of landing, then the whine as the airplane's
wheels hit the tarmac and the engine began slowing the plane down, and
the plane gradually coasted down and headed for the terminal.

Once they'd come to a complete stop, he waited for most of the
passengers to disembark before he stood up. He retrieved his duffel bag
from the overhead compartment, and followed the last few passengers off
- nodding distractedly as the flight attendant offered him an
*especially* big smile and invitation to fly with them again *real*
soon. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long for his little suitcase
(he'd finally bought it when he'd realized just how many little
knick-knacks and "souvenirs" - not the stuff marketed for tourists, just
various items that he thought his coworkers might like - he'd bought) to
emerge - he scooped it up, and headed for the El station, where he
caught the Blue and rode to the stop that was closest to the house. He
still had several blocks to go on foot, but it wasn't that much of a
walk.

He sighed happily as he spotted the townhouse, and nearly skipped up the
stairs, but he was dismayed when he got his keys out, and found that the
lock had been changed. *What*? He sighed, and leaned back against the
door. Oh, Kerry, you've picked a hell of a way to let me know I'm not
welcome. He'd given her his brother's address in Croatia; couldn't she
have at least let him know? She'd sent him the pictures she'd promised
him, though... she'd borrowed *his* labcoat and rolled the sleeves up a
little, then set up a camera on a tripod and taken the pictures with the
timer. It was perfectly obvious that the coat was *all* she was wearing,
but nothing actually showed... the pictures were tasteful, and
technically fit to print in a family newspaper, but they were also
extremely erotic. She'd even sent one of her (still wearing just the
labcoat) making a face for the camera - her eyes crossed and one finger
pushing the tip of her nose into a little "piggie" snout as she stuck
out her tongue; that one had to be one of his favorites, just because it
showed off the strange, whimsical side that she never seemed to show
anyone else. She'd also sent him a strip of photographs from a booth
like the one where they'd had their picture taken together. Just her, no
special outfits, looking petite and lovely - she'd attached a note to
it: "So you have something a little cleaner to keep in your wallet".

He looked up, as the one neighbor who'd ever bothered to talk to him
(albeit while endlessly singing Carter's praises) came outside. "Oh,"
she said, sounding almost disappointed to see him. "*You're* back. I
thought you'd left."

"No, not permanently."

"Oh. Well, Ms Weaver asked me to give you this, *if* I saw you back
here," she said, and handed him a key. "Somebody stole her house keys
last week, so she had to have the locks changed," she offered, almost
reluctantly.

"Thank you for taking the time to give me this key," he said. Right now,
all he wanted was to get inside and take a long shower after that
extended stretch of travelling. And a good shave, which he'd started
needing about fifteen hours ago.
And while he kind of liked the way his hair looked - a little wild at
the moment - he supposed he should probably go get it trimmed... it
probably wouldn't go over too well, for him to show up back at work
wearing his hair in a ponytail. He disliked the style whenever he saw it
on a man - thought it looked absurd -  and doubted that it would look
any better on himself. Short hair would also be a little easier to
manage, as thick and heavy as his hair was - he really should have done
something with it a lot sooner, but he'd never really gotten around to
it.

He went inside, and took off his shoes as he closed the door, then
removed his jacket and hung it on the doorknob of the closet - no point
in putting it away, since he was planning to head out a little later. He
spotted the blanket on the couch as he headed for the washing machine to
wash the contents of his duffel bag... had her leg been giving her so
much trouble, that she hadn't (as he'd speculated back at Easter) been
able to make it upstairs to bed? It looked like she'd made a little
nest, which seemed uncharacteristic of her; he would have expected her
to fold up the blanket neatly, before leaving for the day, but she'd
left it in that wadded mass on the couch. And... a glass of water on the
coffee table, with no coaster? This *was* the right house, wasn't it?

He caught a whiff of himself, and winced. Okay, shower first, *then*
laundry. He left the duffel bag next to the washer and stripped down
completely, leaving his clothes right there, and went upstairs. As he
soaped up, under the shower spray, he laughed as he realized he was
singing: what a difference this was from his departure, back in May!
Still couldn't hit that note, though, he noticed.

He got out and towelled himself off, then headed into the bedroom to get
dressed; he noticed that, at some point, Kerry had bought a few more
pairs of jeans in his size, and unobstrusively set them in a stack in
the corner. Just as well - he wasn't yet ready to go back to the more
formal clothing he wore for work, but since his jeans were in the
laundry he would've had to do so in order to go anywhere. He grabbed the
pair of jeans that was on top of the pile and inspected it briefly
before putting it on - good fit. He smiled; Kerry had probably stopped
at the store some evening on her way home, and picked up the jeans. She
never ceased to amaze him - there were so many different sides to her,
so many different moods, that he was intrigued by the idea of being with
her long enough to learn and explore them all:  he figured he might have
a fair start on that in about fifty years - he was thoroughly enjoying
the experience so far, despite the times that she occasionally hurt him
by speaking before thinking. And even the prickles, as uncomfortable as
they sometimes were, were a part of her personality. She just wouldn't
be the *same*, if she were the sort who always spoke softly and kept her
eyes demurely lowered... hell, even Danijela had had times that she'd
shredded into him mercilessly - she hadn't been perfect, as much as he'd
loved her.

He took a black t-shirt out of the dresser drawer and put it on, then
lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Kerry'd been in here, at
least to put the jeans in that pile, but she hadn't been sleeping in
here? She couldn't have been... no. Could she? *He* hadn't noticed a
difference, since the bed in Nik's guest room was fairly small (and the
girls had liked to "invade" many nights), but... he stretched out and
noticed how much space there was. Bed looked awfully big and lonely,
with just him in it. He reached over to her pillow, and lightly touched
the pillow case. Tonight, they'd finally be here, together... he
couldn't wait.

He went downstairs and emptied out the duffel bag, and transferred most
of the presents and souvenirs from the suitcase to the bag, and then
headed out to the El station, to drop by the hospital. Haleh spotted him
first when he walked in. "Dr Kovatch! You're back!" He was surprised by
her effusive welcome, but let her sweep him into a big bear-hug.

"Not really. I'm still off-duty for another few days, but I got presents
for everybody when I was in Croatia." Haleh's eyes gleamed hopefully,
and he chuckled as he reached into his pack. "This one's yours, Haleh,"
he said, and he began to hand out scarves to the various nurses on duty.

"Oh my goodness," Haleh whispered as she touched the soft fabric
appreciatively. "The color's *perfect*." He ducked his head shyly.

"I tried to get it right for everybody." He could see from the number of
cases signed up on the board that Kerry seemed to be pushing herself as
hard as always - he wasn't about to ask after her whereabouts, though.

Just then, Abby bustled through, looking *very* unhappy and *very* busy.
Probably had something to do with the splatter of vomit on the front of
her pink scrubs, Luka supposed. She'd also got her hair cut at some
point, into the short, choppy style that seemed to be "the latest thing"
with American actresses. Personally, Luka thought the "style" looked
like it had been concocted by a hairstylist who'd accidentally ruined
his client's hair while extremely drunk, and had managed to pass it off
as a hot new hairdo. Well, he supposed it was probably easier for Abby
to keep it out of her eyes, but the long hair had been prettier on her.
Although... a thought suddenly struck him - oh, God, *Kerry* hadn't gone
and had her hair mutilated like that, too, had she? She wasn't *usually*
one to follow fashions, but who knew what kind of crazy idea she'd got
into her head? *Ugh*. Haleh noticed that he'd seen Abby.

"They're still floating her down here from OB. I'm trying to get a new
permanent nurse, but I guess Admin doesn't want to bring on a whole new
employee."

"You're charge nurse now?" Haleh nodded proudly. "That's wonderful. How
are you doing so far?" She made an aggravated noise.

"Better than the times I filled in for Carol - I *have* to, since she's
never gonna come back and take it off my hands." He laughed.

"No, I suppose she isn't. How's it working out with--" he gestured in
the general direction Abby had headed.

"She's a good nurse. Smart, sensible, friendly. Still, it'd be a shame
if she gave up on med school, after all the time she's put in on it."

"Yeah, it would." He went into the lounge, and took a few things out of
the duffel bag, then began to put the bag and his jacket in his locker,
until he noticed that his labcoat seemed to have been moved. The old
paranoia was automatic - he poked at it cautiously, until he remembered
that Kerry had borrowed it for her pictures. But poking at it had
produced a soft crinkly noise, and he checked the pockets quickly.
Heh... she'd put a note in there. He pulled it out, and noticed that "Do
not open this in the lounge" was written on the outside of a folded-up
piece of paper, in her very neat handwriting. Hm... *that* sounded
promising. He tucked the note into his pocket, then closed his locker
and headed upstairs.

He'd found a small toy giraffe - finding a giraffe in a Croatian curio
shop had confused him a little, but it was cute - that matched one he'd
seen on the shelf in Kim's office - he took it to her, and let her know
that he wasn't going to continue sessions with her. She thanked him for
the present, then asked how he was doing.

"I still have a long way to go," he told her contemplatively, "but I'm
within sight of it. I remember my dreams, at least."

"You made your goal, then," she said, and smiled. "Not everybody does."

"No, but some people just get lucky. See you later, Kim." He started to
head for the elevators, but changed his mind at the last minute and
decided to take the stairs - there'd be plenty of time for him to be in
a tearing hurry, once he was back to work, but for now he could take the
long, slow way. His timing was good - Benton was just emerging from
Romano's office.

--
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"