Okay, a very short piece - more a "snapshot" than an actual story - that takes place in the period of time, in Be Still My Heart, before Luka shows up wearing the green shirt. I make no claims as to the accuracy of the exam process, as is the case with anything medical in anything I write. A touch of bad language, straight from the mouth of "Saint Luka" himself, for anyone bothered by Such Things. Disclaimer: Do I really need to reiterate that ER, the characters, and so on, aren't mine, but are the property of people who could $qua$h me like a bug? I Hate Little Candy Hearts by EHursh "Okay... what- what seems to be the problem? Stop that," he told the boy who kept grabbing for his tie. He looked up from one of others, at the adult who'd brought them in. "Mrs., uh--" he checked the chart, "Mrs. Oberheim-- *stop* that!" He glared at the kid, who meekly backed off a little. "Their class was having a Valentine's Day party - I'm one of the parents - and these guys started complaining that they didn't feel well, that their tummies hurt." "Ah. And was there anything in particular to set off the symptoms?" Luka had already taken vitals on the kids, so he didn't really notice them creeping up onto the exam table behind him. He also made the mistake of ignoring the burping contest going on right next to him. "I think *they're* the ones who scarfed down all the candy hearts. You know - 'dear one', 'kiss me', stuff like that." "Uh-huh." He made a note on one of the charts. "I'll have the nurse," he indicated Haleh, "give them some Maalox. It looks like it's just a little indiges--" At that point, though, the burping contest went ballistic, and Luka found himself - or his shirt, rather - covered with the remains of little candy hearts, something that looked like chocolate cake, and other things he didn't really want to think about. "Sweet fucking Jesus in Hell!" he yelped... in Croatian, fortunately for the sensibilities of his young patients. "I, uh, guess we can cancel the Maalox," he growled, and pulled off his tie - which was also pretty goopy - and draped it over the head of the kid who'd been grabbing at it. "Happy Valentine's Day," he muttered, "vi malen prijetnja*. Haleh, can you--" he began, looking a little pitiful - it was hard to keep one's dignity when one had just been vomited upon by several six-year-olds - and she nodded. "I've got 'em, Dr. Kovac," she reassured him. "Go get a shower and a scrub top." He hoped that "scrub top" wasn't what he thought it was, but discovered - to his horror - that it was. Oh well, he decided, as he stood under the hot spray scrubbing his hair and body... that'll teach me to keep a spare clean shirt in my locker next time. At least those little vomit machines hadn't managed to hit his trousers - having to wear those hideous green pants as well would have brought back equally hideous memories. At least he had a party to look forward to, later this evening.

 

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