TITLE: Resurrection (part 1/3)

AUTHOR: Ellen Hursh

RATING: PG-13/R-ish

KEYWORDS: KW/LKo romance; a touch of angst & fun; sexual situations

LAST EPISODE SEEN: "Piece of Mind"

TIMELINE: Easter (23 April) 2000

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.

CROATIAN: "Zaruchnica" = fiancee

LATIN: "In nomine patris, et filii, et Spiritus Sancti" = "In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit" (AKA, Padre Luka's line of Latin in "Last Rites". You remember, don't you, darlings?)

SUMMARY/SPOILERS: A quiet Easter at Chez Weaver, except for the "quiet" part. Spoilers? Not particularly, alas and/or alack, except for the expected hints of Season 7 (but not really).

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Relative Safety; Off to a Rocky Start; Troubled Water; Comin' Home; Something in the Way; Heart of the Family; The Croatian Patient; It's No Picnic, I Tell Ya; Out of Control; Fool for Your Love; Volatile Opinions; No Perfect Day

AUTHOR'S NOTES: If there's a line that sounds a little out of character for Kerry, it's because I swip-- er, *borrowed* part of it from another character. Points for correctly guessing what line, what character and what episode. (Whaddya mean, "they're ALL out of character"? :-)

PREVIOUSLY, ON MY ER: Luka came off a grueling near-solid week of pulling double shifts, and came home to find that Kerry had a special present for him (getcher mind out of the gutter!). He talked Kerry into agreeing to join him for Easter services....

The dream was pleasant, if as vague as his nightmares, but it soon became downright bizarre as a long, furry, pink tentacle began tickling him at random spots. Really irritating. He tried to swat it away, ward it off, but it kept snaking away to touch him somewhere else....

Kerry, who was sitting on the bed next to Luka, smiled as he pulled away from the tip of the feather and shook his head in his sleep. She selected her next target carefully, and leisurely traced the line of his jaw. "Stop it," he mumbled slowly and sleepily.

"Get up, and I'll stop," she whispered in his ear, but he just grunted and rolled over... exposing the delectable back of his neck. All that smooth, beautiful skin... not actually tanned - he hadn't been outside in the sun quite enough for *that* - but it still had that natural olive tinge. She *liked* olives, she couldn't resist. Instead of using the feather this time, she bent over him and delicately kissed him, the tip of her tongue darting out at the last minute to taste him (okay, so he didn't taste *exactly* like an olive, though there was a hint of salt, from his sweat). The sole result of that foray, though, was that he made an inarticulate (but clearly disapproving) noise and yanked the covers up over his head.

She wasn't ready to admit defeat yet, though - she eyed the pile of blankets that he'd drawn in around himself since she got up about an hour ago. "It was your idea to get up this early today, Luka Kovac," she muttered determinedly, "and you are damned well going to get up." Aha! A weak spot... she scooched to the foot of the bed, mindful of her stockings, and carefully peeled away the bits of blanket that he hadn't managed to gather securely under his feet. A moment, to determine the best placement, and... she gave the feather a few strategic twitches across the sole of first his left foot, then his right foot.

There was a moment of complete quiet, then he exploded out of bed in a flurry of arms and legs and muffled swearing, finally emerging from the blankets looking... well... thoroughly ruffled. Kerry did her best to keep a straight face, but finally lost it... collapsing back onto the bed in gales of helpless laughter. His face was red and he had an especially lovely case of "bed-head" this morning, his dark hair sticking out every which way. Bit by bit, his irritation faded away and he finally shook his head and smiled as he studied the woman who was still rolling around on the bed laughing her head off.

She was so pretty, he reflected. He'd never really seen her wear pink before, aside from that ugly flannel nightgown of hers, but this shade complemented her red hair perfectly. And the style... he wasn't sure he approved of the way the neckline veed gracefully, to *almost* show a little cleavage. But then, Daniela had teased him that he should have been born a Muslim, so he could dress all the women in his life in layers of veils before allowing them to set foot outside.

"Oh, shaddup," he told Kerry fondly, and dropped onto the bed so that he had an arm on either side of her. Her laughter stuttered to a halt as he braced his weight on one arm and reached down with the other hand to pull her skirt up around her waist, then hooked a finger in the waistband of her panties - she was, he discovered, wearing old-fashioned stockings, held up with garters, which he found completely irresistible - gently sweeping from side to side as though to yank them down at any moment. He wasn't sure whether she was narrowing her eyes at him because she wanted him to continue, or because she wanted him to stop... he eased his hand in the rest of the way, and found that - physically, at least - she was ready for him. He didn't immediately take advantage of the situation, though, even though he was - as he usually was, right after waking up - completely naked, and obviously very willing.

"Get off me! You suck! Nooo," she squealed, trying not to laugh - but not resisting him, either... and her right hand was firmly grasping his shoulder, so he would have had difficulty backing off anyway - as he nuzzled her neck and deliberately tickled her with the stubble on his chin, nipping her gently. "I'm not kissing you back, I'm *not*! No--mm. Mmmm... oh, *yes*." The last was a breathy little sigh as he finally managed to navigate his way through her squirming around, and felt her arms tighten around him. So they were running a little behind... they could sit near the back of the church, if need be.

* * * * * *

Kerry was completely lost: given the Latin and Croatian the priest was using, and the fact that she wasn't even Catholic to begin with, she never had a chance. Latin Club had been too many years ago, so about the only line she could reliably pick out was "in nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti". The rest of it, though... it might as well have been Martian, for all the sense it made to her. Luka was gradually teaching her Croatian, but the vocabulary had a tendency to turn to pillow talk, despite their best efforts: it didn't help that most of their "language lessons" were conducted on a clothing-optional basis.

Luka had explained a few things to her at the beginning of the service, which was beautiful despite being totally incomprehensible to her, but - just as she'd predicted - quickly became lost in it and left her to muddle along by herself. Anyone else, she knew, would have assumed that he was paying her back for having taken him to see Rocky Horror Picture Show without explaining what he was getting into, but this wasn't revenge. He was simply trying to share part of himself with her. It wasn't a part of him that she saw very often, that was for sure - she would have thought that he couldn't be *that* religious, if he was living and sleeping with her without their being married, but then... there was that crucifix of his, which he'd wound up hanging on the wall in the living room over the desk (he had, he'd said, felt uneasy about putting it in the bedroom... she'd rolled her eyes at him, behind his back).

She gamely tried to follow, watching Luka to see when he sat, stood or knelt (kneeling was a little tricky for her to manage, with her leg, but she did her best), but knew better than to try to blindly imitate what was being said. She surreptitiously checked her watch - about an hour had passed - and rubbed absently at her neck, which was, beneath the purple scarf she'd hastily added to her outfit, a little scraped and sore from being rubbed by stubble and nibbled - plus, he'd bitten her fairly hard in the heat of passion, at one point, and as a result she had a lovely hickey at the base of her neck - and reached for his hand. He looked away from the priest, who was still talking, and sheepishly smiled at her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "You were right."

"Notice I'm not saying 'I told you so'."

"And I appreciate that." He brushed the hair back from her face, and touched the scarf; he felt bad about having bitten her like that, as though he really *was* - as he'd heard Malik had once claimed - a vampire. What they'd been doing, though... it had felt so good, and he thought he had felt her come, even as she yelped in protest - she hadn't exactly slapped him and pushed him away from her, that was for sure!

"What's this part?" she whispered, as the priest made a broad "stand up" gesture and told everyone to go forth, and have a happy Easter.

"Oh, nothing. The entire congregation has just been married in a mass ceremony," he whispered back as they stood, counting on Kerry's sense of public decorum to keep her from kicking him right then and there (and counting on sheer luck to keep her from kicking him *later*). She settled for elbowing him in the side, which he quickly deflected by putting his arm around her and pulling her close to him, then kissing her; when she reached out to spat at him with her other hand, he captured it, then slowly and reluctantly ended the kiss without letting go of her.

"Wow," she told him, slightly dazed. "If going to church does that for you, we should try to get more Sundays off together." He touched his forehead to hers, gently caressing her lips with his thumb.

"*You* do that for me. You've just had to behave yourself around me longer than you're used to doing." She looked up at him and smiled at his smug tone.

"Hey, I behave myself at work." He raised his eyebrows skeptically, and she blushed... belatedly remembering that she had, shortly before her suspension, taken advantage of a crowded elevator - the two of them had been at the very back, in the corner of the car - to sneak her hand onto his butt. He'd barely reacted, just started slightly, but later had teased her that she had accidentally been feeling up Romano in the confusion.

"Hm... I think I'd better get you home. Let's go say hello to Father Gregor first though, huh?" He turned and picked up her coat from the pew, and held it so that she could slip into it, then gathered up his own coat and draped it over his left arm, then held out his other for Kerry; she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and pressed close to him for a moment.

She was a little surprised, though, when he introduced her to the priest... as his fiancee. The man shook her hand and went off in a torrent of rapid Croatian - very little of which she understood - after she hesitantly greeted him with her meager supply of Croatian. "He's pleased to meet you," Luka reported unnecessarily, smiling, and told the man "Good day," so that she could understand.

"Why'd you tell him I was your 'zaruchnica'?" He glanced down at her as they were strolling out of the church.

"Aren't you?"

"I don't know. We've only been together three and a half months, remember?" She didn't know quite how to explain that he hadn't actually *asked* her, without sounding like she was hinting... and it seemed to her that hinting would be practically the same as asking him herself... there were some things that even the Wicked Bitch of the ER just didn't do. She could initiate broad policy changes in her department, but she couldn't even ask him one simple question. You're a wimp, Kerry Weaver, she scolded herself.

"Yep. But we knew each other for about five months *before* that." That sounded lame even to himself... he hadn't actually *asked* her yet, he'd been assuming a lot when he told Father Gregor that Kerry was his intended, but somehow he doubted that it would have gone over as well if he'd introduced her as "Kerry... I live with her, but we're not married and have no immediate plans to change that". Though that *was* definitely a situation he meant to correct... he wasn't quite sure how, or when.

* * *

They swapped their formal clothes for more comfortable attire as soon as they got home, and Luka sent Kerry to the living room while he cooked - he needed to concentrate, and she had a habit of being a distraction... usually just by being in the same room. She had put on a black turtleneck and a dark blue overshirt, with matching sweatpants... demure, but *just* barely form-fitting enough to make him start thinking about what was underneath the clothing, and he did *not* need to have any incidents involving fire extinguishers. *Not* today!

Kerry had put on a jazz CD - one of his favorites - and he hummed along as he turned on the heat under the skillet. She sometimes complained a little about how much oil he tended to use when he was cooking, but - as he liked to remind her - it was olive oil... perfectly all right. He worked quickly, chopping up the carrots and celery and setting them aside, and mincing the onion in time to be able to transfer it to the skillet when the oil began hissing a little. The chicken was easy enough to cut into small pieces - he'd bought boneless, skinless breasts: a little more expensive, but in his opinion the convenience was worth a little extra money.

He'd gone shopping just last night for the ingredients for Easter dinner - it had been an absolute nightmare at the local Jewel, people everywhere, doing their own last-minute Easter preparations, and he'd come very close to just going home and ordering pizza tomorrow. No, no, he'd *promised* Kerry he'd make something nice, and "nice" did *not* mean "large pepperoni, with lots of anchovies on half of it"... he grinned, remembering Kerry's revolted reaction to *that* combination, the first time he'd ordered pizza for the two of them... she'd learned to be a *little* more specific about what should go on their pizza than "oh, whatever sounds good to you".

He'd first encountered the man in the meat section. Shorter than him, looked like something the cat chewed up and spat out... grey hair and lines in his face, although he somehow seemed too young for both (like *I* should talk, he thought wryly), and there was something about the face that seemed familiar - Luka thought he should *know* who the guy was, but pushed that feeling aside as he looked through the packages of chicken parts... ah, this one looked good.

"'Scuse me," the man had muttered, and edged past Luka and his cart. Luka looked after him for a moment, still baffled by that feeling, but shook his head and shrugged as he checked his list again. Chicken, check. Produce section now, for the vegetables - onion, carrots... *what* had he written here? He had squinted at the list, trying to read what he'd scrawled on that line. Oh, right... celery. And... *check*.

On impulse, he had stopped in the aisle with the Easter candy on his way to check out - he didn't have much of a sweet tooth himself, but he did have a few plans for the *big* bag of chocolate kisses he snatched off the shelf and tossed into his cart... he thought of the two of them, wearing nothing but silly grins and streaks of chocolate *everywhere*, and smiled.

And there was that guy again, Luka had noticed as he retreated from the candy aisle, ignoring the women who paused in arguing over the last box of Peeps or packages of chocolate-covered marshmallow caramel hearts to stare at him. No sweet tooth on him either, it had appeared - as Luka passed the next aisle over, with the cookies and crackers, he saw the guy grab a couple of boxes of animal crackers from the neat stack on the shelf, and toss them into his basket.

His subconscious had had absolutely no luck so far figuring out what it was about the face that was nagging at him - well, the answer would probably come to him at some inconvenient time. Probably just the relative of a patient he'd treated recently, or someone who looked just enough like somebody famous, he'd decided, and shrugged as he headed for... well, lane 2 wasn't *short*, but it wasn't quite as ridiculously long as the others.

He'd looked around as he got in line, leaning on his cart, and noticed how stressed out everybody looked - the employees, all rushing to be thirty different places at once, and the customers, getting in some last-minute shopping before the store closed for tomorrow. He had probably looked just as stressed out, himself, last night.

He had a second photo in his wallet these days, right next to the one of Daniela and Jasna; he'd taken it out for a little while as he waited for the line to advance, smiling at the sight of Kerry - it wasn't the photograph he'd snapped at his apartment (the lighting had been all wrong, so it hadn't come out very well), but she'd posed for him later... in her maid's costume again, but it was unbuttoned about half-way and a little rumpled this time... smiling naughtily for the camera, with her eyebrow arched invitingly - and finally put the picture away again.

"Girlfriend?" Luka had started, and turned around to see the man he'd been encountering all over the supermarket, who was right behind him in line and had apparently caught a glimpse of Kerry's picture. Wasn't really any of the guy's business, but he'd nodded anyway.

"Yeah. She's a wonderful woman. She--" He had cut himself off - he knew he could go on for hours about Kerry, and this stranger wouldn't be interested in hearing all about the private side of her that only Luka ever saw. "Well. You know." The man had laughed.

"Huh. I was just asking 'cause I used to know - work with, anyway - a red-head when I used to live here in Chicago. Picture looked a little like her, from what I could see. But that wouldn't be her." Luka had nodded coolly, but didn't offer to take the picture out again.

"No. I expect not." He, of all people, knew that it was useless to try to class a person by the way he was dressed - this man, with his old work-shirt and frayed jeans, he could be in any field of work. If anything, he had reminded Luka a little of Pavle, who'd been fond of reminding Luka that he took life too seriously.

Well... Pavle *did* know - first-hand - that Luka was capable of engineering some pretty impressive stunts. But he hadn't known the brash, impulsive teenager who had, for example, in the middle of the night, once glued horns and a tail to the statue of some minor Communist official in the town square. Luka had lost track of Pavle shortly before leaving Croatia, but the man was almost certainly dead by now. Too many people had "disappeared" under similar circumstances... there was no such doubt about his family, however (he would never have left Croatia, if there had even been the slightest shred of hope for him, that they might still be alive somewhere).

He had shuddered, as he felt a panic attack coming on, and gripped the handle of his cart. Breathe slowly and deeply, Luka, he'd ordered himself, and leaned forward a little, to ride it out.

"Hey... hey, you okay?" No, I don't believe I'll ever again be "okay", he had thought, in response to the man's sudden question and tap on the shoulder, but he'd forced himself to lie, and move closer to the cash register.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You're looking pretty pale there. Are you having any chest pains? Numbness in your left arm? I'm a doctor--"

"So am I," Luka had snapped, "and I am *not* having a heart attack, all right?" The man had backed off, holding his hands up in front of him in a gesture of appeasement. "Sorry," he'd added as an obvious afterthought, as the cashier began ringing up the groceries of the person in front of him. He hadn't meant to snap, the man had meant well. "You're visiting Chicago?" he'd reluctantly asked, remembering the man's comment about having lived here once.

"Yeah. Pretty short visit... I'm just here to see my kids."

"Oh. You're still on good terms with their mother, then?" The man had shrugged, and laughed harshly. Luka had noticed that his head tended to bob from side to side as he talked, like some kind of localized swagger - either he had some kind of neurological disorder (possibly early Parkinson's?) or it was some kind of habitual tic. Either way, it was annoying but almost hypnotic - he'd had to fight the urge to reach out and grab the guy's head to make it stop moving around like that.

"She hasn't filed a restraining order against me, if that's what you mean. But she isn't exactly planning to stick around the house while I'm there, either. Oh--" the man gestured, and Luka saw that the cashier had finished with the customer in front of him in line, and had begun ringing up his groceries. Luka had nodded, and turned his attention to the groceries being run over the scanner.

* * *

Kerry was impressed by dinner - he'd made a wine sauce, and then used the celery leaves as garnish on the plate - and enjoyed every bite. "That's one you'll have to make again sometime," she sighed, and stretched; meanwhile, Luka admired the way her shirt tightened across her chest, and got up to take their dishes to the kitchen. He was just about to suggest a little chocolate for "dessert" when there was a knock at the door.

Luka went to see who it was, and turned back to look at Kerry with a pained little smile. "You know how you've said that the people at the hospital don't appreciate you? Well, they're here... or some of them are. On your doorstep. And they seem to have brought food with them." She sighed, a little exasperated - some people just had *perfect* timing: she'd hoped that they could maybe open that bag of chocolate he'd brought home last night, but instead... well.

"Oh, great. No, don't hide," she ordered Luka, who had begun to edge uneasily toward the basement. "As far as anybody needs to know, we were having Easter dinner together because we're both alone today. Nothing wrong with that."

"Well, it's about to get a lot less alone," he told her grimly. He had a feeling that few, if any, of them would believe that story, but it was worth a try: Easter was, after all, based on a miracle. "Should I answer it, or let them stay out there?" She shrugged.

"Your car is right out front, so if they know it, they know you're here. And if we let them stay out there, you know they'll draw... well... the *right* conclusions." She half-expected him to choose that moment, and that way, to go public (and, for a moment, half-hoped he would), but instead he returned to the table for a moment to kiss her, then went to the door.

Conni and Haleh entered the house first, and took a moment to admire the tastefully-decorated foyer, Malik was right behind them. "Shoes! Shoes!" Kerry called out from the other room, and Luka winced.

"She has a thing about people wearing their shoes inside." Haleh nodded, and slipped off her sneakers... then grabbed Dave's arm as he tried to rush inside still wearing his hightops.

"Sure, I understand - *get* those off your feet, Dave! - I have the same rule in my house. Where should we put this stuff we brought?" She held up a plastic grocery bag that looked like it held a medium-sized container.

"Uh, you'll have to go ask Dr Weaver - it's her house - but probably in the area of the kitchen." Haleh hurried into the other room, and he could hear her quiet voice, followed by Kerry's voice: a little higher-pitched, and she sounded surprised. Haleh reappeared quickly, and informed the others that they were to put everything on the island in the kitchen, and she was followed back into the living room by what seemed to be a giant herd of people (though Luka was pretty sure that only about ten... maybe twelve people had shown up).

Dave put his offering - an enormous bag of chips, and a big bowl of his notorious cheesy bean dip (it had been notorious when he was studying in Grenada, anyway: the cheese and pureed beans camouflaged exactly how hot the minced habanero peppers made the dip, until the stuff was already on its way down) - on the island, and his gaze swept over the table, where it was obvious - despite the cleared dishes - that two people had obviously eaten together there recently. He grinned at them and Luka felt grateful that he hadn't succumbed to the impulse to set out candles, but Kerry just returned Dave's leer with a cool stare. "I hope you didn't bring your bike inside, Dr Malucci."

"No way, Chief. I chained it to the railing on the steps - that's okay, right?" She sighed.

"As long as it's not in anyone's way out there, I really don't care."

Luka smiled at the familiar banter between Kerry and Dave... but suddenly realized that most people were wearing "it's still cold enough for a jacket, but warm enough for a light one" coats - a few too many to hang in the front closet - and that even a cursory look at the traditional place for guests' coats would reveal that Luka was far more than a casual dinner guest: he had slung a pair of his trousers at the foot of the bed, on his side, as a reminder to himself to mend the hems before bedtime. Kerry saw the sudden panic in his eyes, and interpreted it correctly. "Luka, why don't you collect coats?"

"I'll help," Carter volunteered, as Luka took people's coats and stacked them in his arms.

"Uh, thank you. But I have it," Luka protested, but Carter took half of Luka's load out of his hands and headed for the stairs.

"I already know," Carter muttered to Luka, who decided to play it cool, in case Carter was bluffing.

"Excuse me?"

"You and Kerry. I know you're an 'item', and I know you live here with her. Oh, don't worry, I won't tell. She's been really happy lately, and I hope that doesn't change." They dumped the coats on the bed, and Carter - after shooting Luka a challenging look - continued talking. "But if you hurt her, I'm going to have to kick your ass." Luka raised his eyebrows, and smiled coolly, drawing himself up slightly. Carter was suddenly reminded that he was talking to the man who'd kept hold of him for who knew how long, keeping him from jumping off the roof of the hospital during a low, painful time last month.

"You're certainly welcome to try, Carter." Then he relaxed. "Look, her birthday is coming up. You know her best of anyone at the hospital - what do you think she might like?" Actually, he had a very nice present picked out already, but wanted to try to get some insight from Carter into Kerry's personality - there was still so much they didn't know about each other. He planned to spend the rest of his life filling in the gaps, but he could use any help he could get.

"She likes African masks... as I guess you've noticed." He smiled ruefully. "And she has very eclectic tastes in music. Aside from that, I don't know what to tell you - I lived in her basement apartment for nearly a year, true, but she was never anything more than my landlady. Which, uh, I guess you've already figured out." Carter smiled, a little sadly: he'd had a crush on Kerry for a while, but had gradually accepted (especially after he moved into her basement apartment) that he would never be anything more to her than a surrogate little brother... the crush had faded away, but he still felt protective of her. He was positive that he *would* come out the worse, if he and Luka ever got into a serious fight, but he felt that Kerry - and her happiness - were worth the several months he'd probably spend in ICU (if he was lucky) after trying to fight Luka.

"You're not the only one who knows, are you? About us, I mean." Well, aside from Abby. And Lucy had guessed. Then there was Mark, who'd *joked* about the two of them but Luka couldn't quite tell if he seriously believed it. Of course, after today, who knew what anyone believed?

"Uh, as far as I know, I'm the only one who knows for sure. I think a lot of people *suspect* the two of you might be having an affair, but you've been doing a pretty good job of covering up. Better than Doug and Carol did."

"It's not *my* idea to keep it secret, Kerry doesn't want-- Doug? Who's that?"

"You hadn't heard? Well, maybe you wouldn't have... he's the father of Carol's twins. He moved to Seattle last year, after he was involved in some scandal at the hospital."

"He left Chicago, when Carol was *pregnant*?" Carter recoiled slightly at the ice in Luka's voice, but shook his head.

"I don't think *she* even knew at the time. But I guess he's been coming into town every so often, to see them. Apart from that, I have no idea." Carter shrugged, and Luka absorbed that silently, nodding slowly.

"I see. Hey, do you know offhand if there's any kind of ethical problem with Kerry and me having a relationship? I don't like the sneaking around, but I don't want to get her in trouble, either. Any kind of... uh... conflict of interest?"

"With the two of you living together? I don't know. I remember she thought it would be a conflict for me to keep living in her basement apartment, that it might look bad, but I'm still a resident. It might not be a problem, since you're both attendings, but I can look into it, if you want."

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks." Dave chose that moment to poke his head in; Luka was glad that his pants were now buried under coats, and that the closet - with several of his shirts in plain view - was closed. Their conversation had been fairly quiet, so he wasn't too worried about the possibility that Dave might have been eavesdropping at the door.

"Hey! Party's downstairs, guys. C'mon!"

"Yeah. We'll be down in a minute."

"Just talking, Dave," Carter added. Dave shook his head, smirking.

"Not really what *I* prefer to do in a lady's bedroom, but whatever gets ya through the night, I guess," he cracked.

"Malucci..." Luka snarled, his eyes narrowed, and the young resident escaped, laughing. Carter laughed too, but it was a startled, nervous laugh.

"Now there's a side of you we don't usually see at the hospital - good thing, too." Luka shrugged.

"I'm not always so good at keeping my temper down," he admitted. "I do my best, but...."

"Don't worry about it - Dave tries *everybody's* patience."

"Mm. That's true. He's, uh, he's like some kind of large, overly-friendly puppy, huh? Pushing his nose into everybody's business."

"Until you just want to smack him with a rolled-up newspaper," Carter observed, and giggled. "You know, I've heard a lot of people have said that they wouldn't mind you being the ER Chief, if Romano decides to go ahead and fire Kerry - you're new, but you're already well-liked." He was? That was news to Luka, who'd gone most of his very first day at County before anybody had said anything at all to him other than directing him to the next suturing case or history to be taken - if he recalled correctly, Romano "mistaking" him for an orderly had been the first time anybody had said more to him than a sentence's worth: the man was simply an all-around ambassador of love and good cheer. And Carol had had the first kind words for him (although in hindsight he realized that Dave had been trying to be friendly too, in his own goofy way), after he'd already worked there several times.

"I don't even *want* the job," Luka protested. "I'm happy where I am. I just want Kerry off her suspension, and back to work. I hate seeing her so depressed... when I *do* get to see her."

"Fact is, you'd be good at it. My advice is, if you get offered the position again, take it. Place has gone to hell with Dr. Greene in charge, you know." Carter shrugged. "And with that thought, let's get back downstairs. Haleh brought egg salad, and that's nothing to miss."

* * *

He was in the kitchen, getting some of that egg salad, when he heard the husky voice call out to everyone. *Carol*? Oh, great. For some reason, the woman's presence seemed to disturb Kerry, who looked up and promptly tensed. He wasn't sure why, there was nothing for her to worry about, but he could already see that he would need some time to calm her down later. If she'd just let him make their relationship public, he thought - if she'd let him put his arms around her in front of the others, for instance - she might not be so insecure. Maybe Carter would find something positive in the course of his research - even if he was, God forbid, appointed acting Chief, their living situation would still be that of boss/subordinate. Maybe Mercy had an opening for an attending in *their* ER - he wouldn't get to see as much of Kerry, working there, but at least he'd have a good reason to push Kerry to let him "go public".

"Luka? What are *you* doing here?" Uh-oh. He didn't think he liked whatever it was he heard in her voice, and stuck with the original cover story.

"Kerry and I both happened to be at loose ends for Easter, and were having dinner together, when everybody just showed up out of, uh, the blue." Blue? Yeah, he was pretty sure that was the right word for that phrase.

"Well, why didn't you come by my house this morning?" Luka thought of what he and Kerry had been doing, first thing this morning, and barely managed to keep from smiling. "Kate and Tess looked so cute in their little matching Easter outfits, you should've seen them." Somehow he doubted that the invitation would have extended to Kerry, so he kept quiet on that and stuck to the safe subject of Carol's twins.

"Where *are* the girls?"

"Oh. Uh, they're at home. Doug's looking after them this afternoon--"

"Doug... that would be their father, right?" He was annoyed with himself for enjoying Carol's discomfort... after all, he had no idea what the full situation was with those two.

"Doug Ross, that's right." Her tone of voice all but asked, "how did you hear about *him*?"

"Ah," he told her unhelpfully. "What's that?" He pointed at the basket in her hands. He was starting to smell a mouse, actually - why should all these people suddenly decide to show up at *Kerry's* house with food, when most of them surely had families at home? Well, maybe the intentions *had* been genuine: the party atmosphere, which was already starting to make him feel claustrophobic, seemed to be cheering up Kerry a little.

"Oh, this? I heard some people were headed over to Kerry's, and stopped at the bakery on the way. Hot cross buns - you have those in Croatia?"

"I believe I've heard of them," he told her politely.

* * *

Kerry had, at Carter's urging, put on the Sly & the Family Stone CD that Luka had bought her a few weeks ago, and - not without some trepidation - let the guys *carefully* move the coffee table and the couch to the side of the room, out of the way, so people could dance. She was a bit taken aback when Dave asked her to dance, but cautiously accepted, thinking of the absurd moves she'd seen him make, back in February, when he was dancing with Randi. Her caution was, it turned out, unwarranted - Dave was reasonably light on his feet, when he chose to think about what he was doing, and supported enough of her weight that she could set her crutch aside and easily follow him through the steps and turns... she even - barely - managed to make it through a dip near the end. He let her lean on him, with a little "There ya go, Chief," to retrieve her crutch after the song had ended, and watched her limp off to the kitchen to get some ice for the soda that Conni had brought.

A little later, after Kerry had left the kitchen and returned to the living room, he drifted in there and went rooting, uninvited, in her liquor cabinet, where he found the bottle of slivovic. "Hey, you got some interesting tastes in hooch, Chief," he called out. "Sli- slivovik?" Carol heard - she seemed to hear everything - and went to investigate, with Luka close behind.

"Hey, isn't that Croatian liqueur? You two have something in common." Her voice sounded vaguely accusing. Personally, he didn't care if Carol deduced his real relationship with Kerry, but he didn't want anyone getting into that stuff. It was deceptively powerful - even Kerry found it a little strong for her - and best enjoyed when one was in for the night. He went to the cabinet and firmly closed it in Dave's startled face.

"Out of there. That's none of your business." He flicked a quick glance at Carol, and walked away... and was promptly intercepted by Randi.

"C'mon, Dr Kovatch, let's dance," she ordered him, and grabbed his hand, dragging him into the living room over his protests.

"Oh, Randi, that's not a good idea... I'm not a very good dancer. In fact, I'm a *terrible* dancer. At my wedding, I stepped all over my wife's fee-- oh, God. I'm sorry!" Randi yelped as Luka miscalculated where his feet were and - just as he'd obliquely warned - came down heavily on her left foot. "Kerry? Do you have an ice pack in your freezer?" He knew perfectly well that there *was*, of course, but he wasn't about to let on how familiar he was with the contents of the kitchen. She had gone back to the kitchen, to get some more of Dave's chips and dip (delicious, she thought, although personally she would add more hot peppers - she had always thought of him as being more the sort to open a jar of store-bought dip, rather than make his own), and peered around the corner to see what was going on... she was *pretty* sure her liability insurance was enough to cover somebody getting hurt in her house.

"What happened?"

"Klutz versus foot," Luka reported wryly. Kerry made a little noise that might have been a muffled laugh, and went for the ice pack. Meanwhile, he helped Randi over to the couch and accepted the ice pack - wrapped in a dish towel - that was handed to him over his shoulder. "Okay, hold this on your foot for a while, and then we'll see how you're doing in a little while, hm?" She nodded, and Luka headed to the bathroom - as much to escape the relentless... *presence* of too many people in such a small place as to actually use it.

*Way* too many people for his preference, he thought a minute later, as he leaned against the closed door of the bathroom and took a quick look in the large mirror above the sink - he'd managed to conquer some of his aversion to mirrors, but he'd never been a mirror-watcher in the first place - yep, he looked about as pale and wide-eyed as he felt. What now, Luka? he asked himself, darting another glance at the mirror. Can't hide out in here all day, after all.

The party - all this noise, all these people - was really starting to drive him nuts... he had to get out of there, and clear his head a little. He emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, and saw that Dave was on the couch with Randi, "comforting" her as she woefully sat nursing her sore foot. "Dave, Randi, I'm on my way out, if you'd like a ride home? I have room in my trunk... and I believe your bike will fit in there, too." Dave shot him an appalled, almost terrified look, until he realized Luka was joking.

"Oh, uh, sure. Okay. You okay to go, Randi?" She removed the ice pack from her foot, and flexed it experimentally.

"I guess so. I don't *think* anything's permanently damaged," she muttered sullenly, not *quite* glaring at Luka, who ignored the dirty look and knelt to gently probe her foot.

"It doesn't feel like anything's broken. Keep ice on it when you get home, and keep it elevated. Shut up, Dave," he said, smoothly anticipating what Dave had opened his mouth to slyly suggest, as to exactly *how* he could help her keep her feet in the air, without even looking up from Randi's foot.

"I wasn't gonna say a thing," Dave insisted. "Really." Now Luka *did* look up slightly, and he half-smiled at Dave, who mumbled something that Luka couldn't make out.

"If you continue to have problems with it... well... you know where the ER is." He went to find Kerry. "Kerry. Thank you for dinner, it was very good," he told her, bowing slightly as he shook her hand.

"Oh. You're leaving already, Luka?" He shrugged slightly.

"I have things I need to do at home. Until later." He went upstairs and got Dave's sweats-jacket and Randi's leather jacket, then got his own coat out of the front closet. "Until next time, everybody," he informed the general group, without expecting - or getting - an answer.

* * *

Conni, Haleh and Carter left at the same time - the party had been starting to break up anyway, so Carter had fetched the rest of the coats and brought them downstairs to the couch, for everyone to sort out themselves - and they walked down the street together, to their respective cars.

"Jeanie was right, that did cheer up Dr Weaver."

"Uh-huh. Too bad *she* couldn't make it herself."

"*Jeanie* set this up?" Haleh and Conni turned in unison to stare at Carter in disbelief.

"Where've you been?" Haleh demanded. "Who else would have done it? Though it sure *was* a good idea. Wish *I'd* thought of it."

"Mm-hm," Conni agreed. "Though I don't believe that story of theirs... Dr Kovac having dinner with Dr Weaver just because they were both alone on Easter? *Please*."

"Uh, you never know...." Carter hesitantly tried to interject.

"Yeah, whatever," Haleh snorted. "See you later, Carter," she told him, as they reached his Jeep.

"But--"

"Later, Carter," she sang out, throwing him a wave over her shoulder, and the two women left him there. Conni giggled as Haleh rolled her eyes.

"Figure they're doin' it?" Haleh shrugged.

"Probably. If it makes them happy, though, more power to 'em, I say! Notice she's been more bearable lately?" Conni snickered.

"She's been *out* on suspension, lately!"

"Well... *before* that!" Haleh said indignantly.

"I *guess* I've noticed. But 'more bearable' covers a *lot* of territory with her!"

* * *

Carter watched Conni and Haleh continue on to Haleh's car, talking and laughing, and got into his Jeep-- ooooh, his back was killing him - and he had *how* long to go until he could take another dose of the pain pills? He took the vial out of his glove compartment, and checked the label... another four hours?!? Screw that. He was a doctor, he knew what he was doing!

He opened the vial, and shook out one... no, he'd better make it two: Gamma was expecting company at the house in a little while, and she'd be expecting him to stick around for a while, instead of running off to go lie down. He dry-swallowed the pills, and sat there behind the wheel for a moment before he turned on the engine, to drive hom-- well, to his grandparents' home.

Maybe he should start to think about finding a place of his own - it wasn't as though he was still under that informal suicide watch Gamma had had the staff keeping on him for a while. He certainly wasn't depressed - after all, Dr DeRaad hadn't even prescribed anti-depressants! - and he didn't *need* therapy; he just... needed a little space to himself, and he needed relief from the pain. Not so much to ask, after all, right?

* * *

Kerry sighed as her last few "guests" finally left. It'd been nice to have all these people coming by, telling her how much she was missed at work, but they'd interrupted her time with Luka, and driven him out of the house... out of his home. At least they hadn't left her with any cleaning up to do - Yosh had brought paper plates and paper cups, so all they'd had to do was throw them away - though she'd love to know whose bright idea it had been to send a crowd of people to her house without any warning in the first place. Then again, Haleh had given her the recipe for that egg salad - it was delicious, and Luka had appeared to enjoy it.

She picked up the phone, and called Luka's cell phone number. "Hey, there, good-looking. The last few people finally left, so it's safe for you to head back when you're ready."

"Hey. I'm pretty close, actually, in the park. I don't suppose you'd be interested in coming down here? Unless you're, uh, tired out from dancing with Dave?"

"No, I'm not tired." Actually, she *was* a little tired, but she really should get out of the house - she'd been doing so much cleaning and organizing around the place, over the last few weeks, that Luka claimed he was worried that she would eventually put *him* in the Goodwill box by accident. (As if!) "Where are you, exactly?" He told her, and she smiled - that was only a few blocks away. "Sure. I'll be right there. See you in a little bit. I- I love you."

"I love you, too, Kerry." He smiled as he hung up, and stretched. Today had been a very good day for both of them, he thought. Easter services for him, though poor Kerry had been valiantly trying to wade through... and he'd been completely oblivious to her confusion - he had to concentrate on being more attentive to her, he knew. And then so many of their co-workers coming by the house, which had cheered Kerry up immensely... which was fully worth the feelings of disorientation he'd had as a result. Now, if Romano would just open his little troll eyes long enough to see that Kerry's absence was causing more problems than it was soothing his ego, and bring her back to work... he flopped his head back, and sighed.

A few minutes later, he saw her coming along the path, and stood up to join her. "Hi," he murmured, and kissed her. She was still wearing the same casual clothes she'd had on earlier, with a light jacket to protect her from the slight chill in the air... she looked exhausted, despite what she'd told him on the phone, and her hair had lost the slight curl she'd put in it this morning (she rarely used her curling iron, but had been in the mood for something a little different, to go with her new dress - she'd even laughingly offered to curl *his* hair, but he'd politely declined), and she was still, by far, the most beautiful and desirable woman he knew.

"What's up?" The question startled him.

"Up? No- nothing. Why?"

"Well, you asked me to come down to the park. I thought you might have had something in mind." He *wished* he'd been that clever, that he'd had the forethought to have flowers and candy for her, and maybe a hired airplane skywriting "Marry Me, Kerry" right above them.

"I... just thought it would be nice to spend a little time together. We could get a little fresh air, without worrying about more surprise guests." She interlaced her fingers with his.

"I just hope you haven't jinxed it by saying that, we could find ourselves besieged. Where's your car, by the way?"

"Oh, the damned thing broke down again... after I'd dropped off Randi and Dave at their respective homes, thankfully. I got it towed to the garage I use - they know me by name, down there, by now - and got a ride this far with the tow truck driver."

"You should get rid of that thing - it seems to be costing you more when it's *not* running, than when it is. Maybe you could get a good Volvo, if you're intent on sticking with a Swedish car, or maybe an American car: I think my Ford has broken down only once since January."

"Yeah, I should. Maybe I'll blackmail Herb into buying it back."

"Blackmail!" Kerry laughed. "Did Herb - whoever he is - murder somebody?"

"Herb is my... second cousin's... wife's... brother-in-law." Kerry snickered quietly at the look of concentration on Luka's face, as he traced his relation to Herb, and squeezed his hand.

"Come on, Luka! Uh... *Carter* and I are probably closer-related than you and Herb are!" He returned the squeeze, and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Do you want to hear this, or not? Okay, then. No, he didn't murder anybody, but he and some young women - young enough to be his daughters, but aren't related to him in any way - happened to be in the same place as me and my camera. Don't ask."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, but decided she wasn't being sarcastic.

"Anyway, he has a jealous wife who he would prefer didn't see those photographs." She shook her head.

"Blackmail - how enterprising of you."

"Now you *are* being sarcastic."

"Yep. Let's head home, so I can get off my feet."

"Okay. We can maybe make it an early night for both of us."

"Mm-hm. And if you're very good, maybe 'Genevieve' will give you another call tomorrow." He chuckled at that - she'd called him at work a few times now, using that persona. Randi couldn't stand the voice, and while she hadn't said anything directly to him about it, he'd overheard her expressing the desire to "grab a scalpel, and cut the whiny little voice box right out of that Bailey chick's throat!"

* * *

He finished the last of the dishes, and set it to dry on a dishtowel by the sink. True, he'd cooked... so it should have been Kerry's turn to do the dishes, but he'd volunteered to do it: he'd used a lot of pans and dishes and utensils in the course of making dinner, so it had seemed only fair to him, that he should be the one to clean up.

He stretched and yawned, and listened to the answering creaks and pops from his spine and his joints - his body was much noisier than it had been ten years ago, but he'd put his body through a lot over the course of that decade.

On his way through the living room, to go upstairs, he found her sitting wearily on the floor, against the wall, and joined her.

"April has not been such a bad month for me," he told her, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close; he kissed the top of her head. "Aside from nearly a week of overtime hell, it's... it's actually been pretty good."

"April hasn't always been good for you?" He shrugged.

"Jasna's birthday was ten days ago... she would've been fourteen, if...."

"If she'd lived," she finished for him, and took his hand. "I'm so sorry. I wish you'd told me then."

"I should have," he admitted. "I'm not used to being with someone who would care - it's been a long time for me."

"I remember you were supposed to have that day off."

"Mm-hm. I'd meant to just... oh... go driving at random... just me and my thoughts and memories." He laughed softly. "It seems so... adolescent, when I say it aloud."

"I think it's sweet," Kerry insisted.

"I should have at least asked you to come along, though. You're part of my life, now, after all." He turned to look at her. "You *are* part of my life, right?"

"Yes."

"Good." He leaned in to kiss her - they were both too tired to do anything more than that - and he'd just reached for her hand when the phone rang. They jumped apart, startled, as if the caller had caught them in the act, and he sighed noisily. "Okay. Come on," he told her, and stood up. He offered her his hands, and towed her to her feet so she could grab her crutch and get to the phone. She picked up the handset, and brought it to her ear as she sat down in the chair Luka had carried over from the desk for her, and mouthed a silent "thank you" to him.

"Hello? Yes, speaking." She was silent, listening to the voice on the other end. "Yes. I see. All right. Yes. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye." She hung up, and frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's *wrong*. That was Romano's secretary, letting me know that my suspension's been lifted."

"Oh. What's the catch?"

"That's the strange thing: apparently there *is* no catch. I'm back on the schedule, starting next Sunday morning."

"That's good. Looks like our shifts will overlap by a few hours - at least we can *see* a little bit of each other." He paused a moment, before he spoke again. "Oh... I think I should probably warn you that the gossip mill can't quite decide why you were suspended. Though one of the favorite theories seems to be that you tried to kill Romano." She laughed.

"Talk about wishful thinking. There wouldn't be any 'try' about it, that's for sure."

"That's the spirit. And, uh, if it happens to come up in conversation with Dr Legaspi, you are dating a, uh, Peruvian horse trainer with a great love for bourbon and thick, medium-rare steaks. And he loves jazz."

"What?" He shrugged.

"She was being 'subtle' last Friday about asking me about the person you're seeing, so I was equally 'subtle' about dropping little breadcrumbs for her to pick up." She shook her head, smiling.

"Only you would be entertained by the thought of a lesbian pursuing your girlfriend."

"No, the thought doesn't entertain me at all. But laughing about it is the only way, short of us being completely public about our relationship, that I'm not going to go completely nuts about it. And you're not ready to go public. Or *are* you?" he asked hopefully, unsurprised when she shook her head regretfully. "Ah well. And you're starting to fade, beba - let's head upstairs, and get some sleep, huh?" She'd seemed to perk up momentarily when the phone rang, but now she was leaning heavily on her crutch, and her leg looked like it was starting to lock up on her again. "Do you need a hand getting upstairs?" She shook her head, and Luka wondered how many times she'd spent the night on the couch because her leg was giving her too many problems for her to make it upstairs to bed, and there was nobody around to help her. Well, if she wasn't upstairs in five minutes, he was coming back down to get her. Just in case.

"No, thank you. I'll be up in a little bit." She watched him leave the room, and wondered why she was so damned stubborn with him so much of the time - he'd offer her help and she'd refuse it... even if she needed it. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, she supposed... intellectually, she knew he loved her, but she was so used to being pursued because the other person wanted *something* from her. But he'd never asked her for anything but her presence in his life - he never asked her for extra time off, or leeway on being late (in fact, that was one of the first things - aside from his sheer physical attractiveness - that she'd noticed about him, that he was just as borderline-pathological about being punctual as she was) - he just loved her, and wanted to be loved in return. She touched his Vucedol dove, sitting on one of the lower shelves, and wondered what *would* happen if that other girl... Nadia? No, Nadira. If Nadira came back into his life tomorrow - he had told her that Nadira was "pretty", after all - what would happen?

"I thought you might still be down here," Luka grumbled. She started; she hadn't heard him enter the room. "Come on. There's nothing down here that needs cleaning, or shifting, or whatever it is you've been doing around the house during the day. I, on the other hand, do need you. Upstairs. Now." Before she knew what was going on, he'd picked her up, taken the crutch out of her hand, and thrown her over his shoulder, and was heading for the stairs. She sighed as Luka carried her up the stairs - well, that took care of the question of how she was going to make it, with her leg stiffening up the way it was.

And next week she'd be back to work... back to enforcing the rules and making the staff wish she was out again. She'd have to be, since Romano would be keeping an eye on her for a while... and while the mere thought of bending to the will of that power-hungry little weasel made her stomach turn, she was sure she could wait him out until she'd gathered more than enough material in her files to completely *bury* him. More than enough, to balance out anything that he could manage to explain away... and she had no doubts that he'd be able to make *some* of it seem perfectly innocuous. But there were already a few things that he wouldn't be able to explain away... but not enough to bury him, unfortunately. Up to his knees, at best.

Luka set her down gently on the bed, and knelt by her sweats-clad legs. "Enough plotting for tonight, draga. C'mon, get ready for bed." He gently pushed her overshirt off her shoulders, to try to get her started.

"What makes you think I'm plotting anything?"

"You get that little gleam in your eyes, I've seen you. I don't think I want to know what you have in mind, though." She smiled slowly, and got the overshirt the rest of the way off her, then let Luka peel off first her turtleneck - unsnapping and removing her bra, along the way - then the sweatpants, and crawled into bed.