Hi all. I know I haven't been posting my stuff here lately. (I'm quite
comfortable over on Fanfiction.net.)
But, knowing how much so many of you enjoyed my first two major fics
here "Darkness" and "Into the Light," I thought I'd start posting the
sequel here. "Unbearable Brightness" deals with Susan's life after
Luka's death. It's coming along pretty slowly for me (I've been
working on it since July, and I'm only up to chapter7), but it's
getting written.
Here's chapter 1. Hope you like it.
TITLE: Unbearable Brightness
AUTHOR: Naomi Pardue
GENRE: SL
RATING: PG (A little language, not much else worrisome.)
TIMELINE: Technically mid-S11, but my ER universe has diverged pretty
widely from TPTB's version, so life is different here. (Romano's still
alive,Chen and Lizzie is still around, Kem never existed, Sam and
Carter are engaged, Sandy is alive. Luka isn't.)
DISCLAIMERS: They own it, I don't.
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Susan stood before the mirror and contemplated her reflection. No, too
frilly. The color was ok, but the style ... no. She pulled the blouse
over her head and dropped it on the growing pile on the floor.
The skirt was ok, a sedate grey tweed of modest length, but she
couldn't find a blouse that worked.
You should have planned ahead, Susan. You knew you were going to be
attending a funeral soon ... or a memorial service, anyway. You could
have bought something appropriate. Something black.
She'd never much liked black. The only black garments she owned were
a pair of jeans ... and denim wouldn't do ... and a certain little
black dress, which was appropriate to neither the weather nor the
occasion.
Susan continued to slide hangers along the rod. Maybe the green
sweater? No, too tight. Showing off her figure wasn't the idea here.
Besides, there was a rip in theshoulder seam. But green ... maybe green
would work. If nothing else she'd blend in with the people wearing
scrubs. She found a blouse in a small dark green check and tried it on.
Not perfect, but it would have to do.
She started to close the closet door, then paused, letting her hand
brush along the other clothes hanging there. Suits, dress shirts, a
rack of ties, mostly silk. Luka's things. But no, they were hers now.
Everything in the apartment belonged to her.
The box had already been mailed to Tata. She'd been at the
post-office bright and early this morning, taking care of this last
small job. She had filled out the customs forms carefully. What was in
the box? Not much, really. Some jewelry of no great value. A packet of
pictures and letters. His medical school diploma, neatly framed of
course. A cut glass vase, well wrapped in bubble plastic. A few other
small items. Listing them on the page had been easy enough, but when it
was time to put down a dollar value, she didn't know what to write.
Priceless. How do you put a dollar value on memories? On grief and
loss? On a father outliving his son?
Shoes, a touch of blush to lend color to her pale cheeks, a comb
through the hair, and one final check in the mirror. Yeah, it would
have to do. She checked her watch. Damn, past 2 o:clock.It was late.
Being late definitely wouldn't do. Grabbing her purse from the bed
and putting on her coat, she hurried out the door.
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Susan hesitated in the doorway. She didn't want to do this. She
didn't need this. Funerals were for saying good-bye, for closure. She
had already said good-bye, a thousand times. She had watched him die.
This wasn't really a funeral though. She wasn't going to go to the
funeral. It would be too difficult, too awkward. She would barely be
able to speak to anyone there and worse, there would be too many
difficult, awkward questions from those she could speak to. She
couldn't face that. Besides, she hated funerals. If she'd had any
real choice in the matter, she wouldn't even be here.
The room was packed. Familiar faces from the ER: doctors, nurses,
orderlies, clerks ... even some people from housekeeping were there.
Nurses from the ICU, where Luka had spent too many days. Carl, from
psych. Some wore hospital scrubs, obviously having come straight from
work and planning to return to work as soon as this was over. Others
were dressed more formally, having made a special trip. Abby was
wearing black.
Jing Mei spotted her still waiting in the doorway and hurried over.
"Susan!" and an embrace. "I'm sorry ... I'm so, so sorry."
"Thank you," Susan said, because she had to say something. A few
more awkward words and Susan managed to disengage herself. There was a
table with food and drinks set up along one wall. She headed for it.
She wasn't hungry, but it would give her something to do with her
hands.
Sam joined her there as she was pouring herself a coke. "Nice spread,
hmmm?"
"Yeah. Who set it up?"
"John arranged it, along with everything else, but Dr. Weaver
insisted on paying. Said it was the least she could do."
"You mean, instead of showing up?" Kerry's face was conspicuously
absent from the crowd. Not that it really mattered; Luka wouldn't
have wanted her here.
"She'll be here. She has a meeting."
Susan continued to scan the room. Her initial impression had been
correct; aside from Kerry, everyone from the ER was here. "Hate to
ask this, but who's minding the store?"
Sam grinned. "Let's just say we're all hoping nobody gets sick in
the next hour or so. In the ER right now you'll find 4 medical
students finishing their ER rotations before the holiday break, 3
registry nurses, 2 floats, and Dr. Brody."
"Who?"
"New doc." And suddenly Sam looked uncomfortable. "He's ...
pretty good. He started about 3 weeks ago, just before Thanksgiving."
Of course. Kerry and Robert would have hired on a new attending.
Luka's replacement.
Just then Lydia came rushing up to them. "Oh, Susan ... I'm so
sorry." And for the next 20 minutes Susan coped with a steady stream
of comforters, all spouting the same empty words, offering the same
emotionless embraces, a few shedding the same crocodile tears.
Only Elizabeth seemed sincere, but was she truly feeling sad for Susan
and Luka, or was she remembering her own loss, reliving the day, not so
long ago, when she had been in this position?
Susan managed to paste a sad smile on her face, utter the required
responses, return the hugs; the smile serving to mask not her grief,
but her desperate wish to be someplace else ... anyplace else.
This wasn't right. This was supposed to be a memorial service, the
chance for Luka's co-workers and friends to remember him, talk about
him, say good-bye. Instead, they were all here to comfort her, the
grieving widow. And, like her, they were here because they had to be.
Oh, a few of them were her friends ... Luka's friends ... but most
had come because duty required it. It was etiquette. You went to
funerals. You sent flowers and cards. You comforted mourners. That was
just the way things worked. They could go through the motions, but they
didn't have to care. And they didn't. Once they had offered the
necessary words, she was forgotten ... Luka was forgotten. She could
hear the conversations going on around her. Pratt and Jerry were
talking about last night's Bull's game. Chuny was telling Lydia
about her new boyfriend. Ray and Jing Mei were discussing a patient.
And Abby and Neela were looking at her ... whispering something to each
other. They were probably talking about her, judging her. Her clothes,
her behavior, her stubbornly dry eyes.
Abby was the last to approach her. Abby, dressed all in black ... Susan
didn't recognize the dress; she must have bought it just for the
occasion. A long hug. "Oh Susan ... I wish things had been
different."
"You wish he was still alive? Or you wish that you were standing in
my shoes?" The words came out cold, hard. The first real emotion
she'd felt all day. She couldn't help remembering Abby's visit on
Luka's last day at work. She'd stopped by to drop something off for
Luka, but couldn't spare the time to visit for a few minutes. She
could never spare the time. Abby had once been a good friend to Luka,
and to her, but no more. And now she had the nerve to show up in black,
her eyes red with crying.
"No. I wish I'd been there more, that we'd gotten off to a better
start when he first came home. That I'd been a better friend."
"Too bad you didn't think about that a year ago, even six months
ago, when it might have done Luka some good."
Abby looked stricken, seemed to be searching for something more to say.
Fresh tears, honest tears of grief filled her eyes ... the tears that
Susan seemed unable to cry. How dare she?
And her own voice came back to her. Nobody gives a damn if you cried.
You were scared and in pain; of course you cried. She was scared and in
pain. So why couldn't she cry?
Abby had turned away, disappeared into the crowd. Susan looked towards
the door, wishing again that she could slip through it and disappear.
Would anyone miss her? She'd done her part in this ridiculous
charade. But just then Carter's voice, amplified by the microphone,
filled the room.
"If everyone would just take a seat?"
Susan made her way towards the front ... that's where she would be
expected to sit ... and at least there, no-one would be able to look at
her face. En-route, someone touched her arm. It was Kerry. All the
usual words and then, "Take as much time as you need, Susan.
There's no hurry for you to come back to work."
"I'll keep that in mind." Susan said. Of course there was no
hurry. Susan would only remind her of Luka ...and Kerry wouldn't want
to be reminded, nobody would.
Sitting down, Susan took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a
moment she felt someone take her hand. Sam. She opened her eyes and
started to smile a thank you, but found her eyes drawn to Sam's hand.
To the engagement ring that sparkled there. A 2 carat diamond in a
platinum set. No-one could accuse Carter of being cheap. Susan
remembered the day last fall when Sam had come into work wearing the
ring. Along with everyone else, Susan had oohed and ahhed over the
ring. She was happy for Sam, happy for Carter. In a few months Sam
would be wearing a second ring, a wedding band. Susan didn't have a
ring, Luka wouldn't give her one. You'd only be a widow in six
months, Susan. I've been there, it's not a role I recommend. No,
Susan didn't have a ring, but Luka did. The last thing he'd ever
asked of her ... not that he'd ever asked much. Would you see that
I'm wearing it? The ring Danijela had put on his hand nearly two
decades before. She had put it on his finger ... and had felt just a
hint of mean gladness that it didn't fit anymore. His hand was too
thin now.
Carter's voice startled her from her thoughts.
"Thank you all for coming today. This is a place we've all known
for a long time we would eventually be in. Though we all expected ...
all hoped ... it wouldn't be quite this soon.
Carter. He had been a true friend, along with Sam the only real friend
they'd had these last few months. He had saved Luka's life in
Africa, risking his own life to find him and bring him to safety, then
send him home to her. (Though of course he hadn't known that part yet
.... nobody had.) He had come home from Africa himself just days after
they'd gotten the terrible diagnosis, and had stood by him ... by
both of them, ever since. He'd offered to arrange the service, give
the eulogy. And, most important, he had just been there.
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She'd called him after Luka died. She hadn't wanted to be alone and
there was nobody else she could call.
Barely 20 minutes after she'd hung up the phone, the doorbell rang.
He'd embraced her, one friend to another. They had dated once ...
briefly. It had been a disaster, but they'd slipped back into simple
friendship so easily. He didn't say anything now; there was nothing
to be said.
In the bedroom he looked at Luka for a few minutes, saying his own
final good-byes. Susan just sat on the bed, head bowed.
"It was peaceful?" he finally asked.
"Yeah. He just ... stopped breathing."
"Good. I'm glad. You called Marty?"
"He'll be here in a couple of hours. He has patients. I told him
there was no rush."
"What about his father?"
"Not yet. I umm... he doesn't speak much English. I need to find
someone to translate for me. I called St. Matthew's ... it's a
Croatian church on the west side. No-one was there, but I left a
message for the priest to call me. There's no real rush for that
either. It's the middle of the night in Zagreb. I'll try to call
early tomorrow ... it will be late afternoon there. I haven't called
the funeral home yet either. They can't take him ..." her voice
broke ... "until Marty comes. Does work know?"
"Yeah, they do. I had to tell Frank I was leaving, and why. Which
guarantees that the whole hospital will know within the hour."
Susan smiled a little. That was true. Frank wouldn't quite announce
it over the PA, but the results would be the same as if he had.
"Look," Carter went on after a minute. "There's really nothing
else you can do until Marty comes or the priest calls back. Why don't
you try and get some sleep?"
Susan shook her head. "I already slept. I didn't call you right
away because I fell asleep. I think I slept a couple of hours. I'll
be ok for a while." She pushed her hair back from her forehead and
made a face. "What I really need is a shower. I must look like
hell."
"Just a little."
"Get me out of the bathroom if anyone calls, or the doorbell
rings."
"I'll manage." Carter smiled at her. "Go!"
The hot water felt wonderful. Susan let it just flow over her neck and
shoulders for a long time. Let it flow over her face like tears. After
about half an hour, over the sound of the water she heard the doorbell,
and then Carter calling, "I'll get it!" Surely it couldn't be
Marty already. Quickly rinsing the shampoo from her hair Susan turned
off the water and stepped out of the shower. As she started to towel
her hair dry she suddenly realized that she'd absently used Luka's
shampoo instead of her own. Her hair wouldn't smell like lavender
today. It would smell like Luka's hair ... one more thing to remind
her.
She pulled on her clothes and stepped out of the bathroom, and was
surprised to see Sam sitting on the bed.
"Sam!" She shook her head. "You didn't have to come."
"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." Sam rose to give her a
hug. "He loved you very much, Susan. He deserved better than this.
You both did."
Sam glanced over at Carter and Susan saw a look in her eye ... a look
she knew well. She'd seen it in Luka's eyes. And a wave of jealousy
washed over her, sending tears to prick at her eyelids. Tears she
quickly blinked away.
It wasn't fair. She and Luka did deserve more. They deserved what Sam
and Carter had. Their whole lives ahead of them ... a future ... a
chance to look forward to a life together. That was something she and
Luka had never had.
How many evenings had the four of them sat in their living room talking
about wedding plans? Life plans. She and Sam would sip white wine and
page through bridal magazines together, while Luka and Carter chatted
about house-hunting over glasses of ginger ale. She hadn't been
jealous then. She had found only pleasure in seeing her friends so
happy, had been happy herself in the knowledge that she and Luka were
together for at least another day.
But now ... it just wasn't fair.
"Have you eaten anything today?" Sam asked.
Today ... God ... what was today? "I don't think so. I'm not
hungry."
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Marty had been and gone. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have done
more," were his parting words. The priest had called back and
arranged to come by early tomorrow. And now the funeral home was here,
and Susan still wasn't ready.
They had been waiting for 20 minutes while Susan still sat on the bed.
This was it. They would take him, and it would be over. She wouldn't
see him buried. This was good-bye. Susan didn't touch him. He was
cold now, too obviously dead. But if she just looked at him, she could
try to pretend he was sleeping ... they still had more time ... just a
few more minutes.
"Susan," Sam said quietly. "Come on. Let's let them do their
job." And Susan didn't resist as Sam gently pulled her to her feet
and guided her from the room. She didn't look back. In the kitchen,
Sam sat her down at the counter and put a plate of food in front of
her.
Susan picked up the fork automatically and began to eat. She didn't
really taste it; she didn't really hear Sam's quiet conversation
.... small talk now, intended to distract her from what was happening.
She was in a shell now, a cocoon ... not feeling anything. She
couldn't' bear to feel anything. Until the front door opened and, a
moment later, closed again. The sound of it ... like dirt hitting a
casket ... penetrated the cocoon. A soft cry slipped out and Susan
jumped, and the fork clattered onto the plate. Then, after a moment,
she picked up the fork again and went on eating.
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A gentle squeeze to her hand pulled Susan back to the present. Sam was
looking at her, a bit anxiously. How long had she been sitting there
lost in thought? Carter was still talking. She should be more
attentive. She was being rude.
He was talking about Africa now, telling about the time he and Luka had
spent there. Glancing around her Susan saw shock on a dozen faces.
They'd had no idea what had happened to Luka in Africa. This was all
new to them. Though, truthfully, they still had no idea, not really.
Carter skipped over the worst of Luka's experiences. Even now Carter
wouldn't break confidence, would never tell them the things that Luka
hadn't wanted anyone to know. Only the two of them, and perhaps Carl,
would ever know the whole story.
Suddenly from the back of the room came a rustling sound, murmuring
voices. "Pardon me ... excuse me please ..." Turning around, Susan
saw Dr. Dubenko making his way through the crowd. She didn't really
know him. He'd joined the staff just a few weeks before she'd left
work to spend Luka's last weeks with him at home. Of course he
hadn't attended the service. He'd barely known her, and hadn't
known Luka at all. And someone had to cover the OR. Most of the other
surgeons were sitting in the room already. He approached Elizabeth, who
was sitting just behind her.
"Elizabeth," he said in a loud whisper. "You're needed in the
OR. Two victim MVA, both being redlined to surgery."
"I'll be right there, Chris," Elizabeth whispered back. "But
why didn't you just page me? I would have come right down."
"I didn't want to disturb the service by beeping you. It would have
been rude."
And a wave of muffled snickers through the room ... even Susan had to
smile. A smile she quickly hid away as Dubenko approached her seat.
took her hands in both of his.
"Dr. Lewis, let me offer you my deepest sympathies. I never had the
chance to know Dr. Kovac, but I've heard nothing but good things
about him."
"Thank you," Susan said, but his words had struck her with an odd
coldness. Deepest sympathies indeed. His voice was sincere, but the
words were meaningless. Why on earth would he sympathize? Why should he
care about the death of a man he'd never known? Why should he care
about her? He squeezed her hand for a moment longerand then hurried
out.
Elizabeth leaned over the back of her seat and whispered, "I have to
go, Susan. I'm sorry."
"I know. I'm glad you were able to come."
"If you ever want to talk ... let me know."
"I will. Thanks."
Susan suddenly realized that there was something in her hand. She
looked down and saw a square of white cloth ... a handkerchief. God ...
what was he trying to prove? Empty words, empty comfort, and an empty
gesture. She wasn't crying, why had he offered her a handkerchief?
Carter waited until Elizabeth had gone and the room was quiet again
before continuing. "Every one of us in this room has chosen to devote
our lives to medicine, to helping others. But it takes a very special
person to willingly risk his life for others ... sacrifice his life.
Luka was one of those rare, special people, and that's how I know
he'll be remembered by all of us - for his dedication to his
patients and his unshakable courage." He paused and looked around the
room. "Does anyone have anything they'd like to add? Any special
memories? Thoughts? Susan heard only silence behind her. Nobody had
anything more to say. Luka had already been forgotten. "Ok then,"
Carter said. "Thank you all for coming."
People began to move again, and the room was suddenly loud with the
buzz of conversations. And Susan knew that people would be approaching
her again with questions ... more empty condolences. Grabbing her
purse, she rose and started towards the door.
"Susan?" called Sam.
"I have to use the ladies room," Susuan managed to choke out, and
pushed her way through the crowds and out into the hall. The bathroom
was just across the hall. But no ... other people would probably be in
there, or they'd come in in a moment or two. The sign on the next
door said "Supply." Susan tried the door, it wasn't locked.
Stepping inside she quickly pulled the door shut behind her, plunging
the windowless cubical into darkness, but that didn't matter. She
didn't need to see. Sinking to the ground she let the tears take her
again, let the sobs shake her body. She cried for what felt like hours.
When the worst of the flood seemed to be over, she began to open her
purse to find a tissue. What was in her hand? She was still holding Dr.
Dubenko's offering. Perhaps the gesture hadn't been so empty.
Almost laughing a little now through her tears, she put it to good use.
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