Authors note: Hello everyone, this is my second attempt at writing Stargate Atlantis fiction, so if I do something terribly off canon feel free to feed me to the Wraith. Um...on second thought, a slap on the wrist sounds less painful.
*This is a Radek Zelenka/Elizabeth Weir story. Dedicated to all the inspiration I have received from the guys and girls over at the "Radek Thunkage thread" over at Gate World. Love you guys!
*This is a Post-'Siege' fiction. A story based on the events immediately after the Wraith Siege of Atlantis.
Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own any of the plot, characters, etc. They belong to whoever owns 'em. I just took the general idea for a test jaunt. So, don't sue me...not that it would be beneficial, as I am a poor university student, yadda yadda yadda.
Other Story Related Issues: Feedback both strokes my ego and helps me improve on my writing! I am open to constructive criticism. Also, if you want to add my story to your site or what not, that's fine, I'd be flattered, but please PM me first for permission.
*Thank you to Belevision for the quick Beta. You are the wind beneath my typing fingers darling!
*Also, a thank you to Pajus for the Czech translations that will occur in the following chapters. He made sure I actually said what I intended to say! As I found out, free online translators are not so hot!
The Quiet Hero
The smoke was still rising, smouldering in fiery blossoms all over the city, the fires edging just above the ocean waves as Atlantis slowly burned. The Wraith siege was over. They had won, pulling victory somehow right out from the very edges of defeat. Or, as Rodney had so eloquently put it, his voice muffled in the crook of his arm as he used the nearest console for a makeshift pillow when the immediate danger was finally gone, nearly passing out right there in the control room as he groaned into his arm, "Pulling victory right out of their sorry, beat up asses." And at the time, she had been inclined to agree. She still couldn't completely wrap her head around it all, but it was true. Somehow, amazingly, unbelievably... they had won. She supposed it was just a result of one too many close calls over the past year, but she was beginning to wonder just how many more near-misses like this they could take.
The victory had been great, spectacular even, but when the early light had dawned on the ancient city the morning after the battle's end, she had realized that contrary to the old saying, not everything looked better in the morning. In fact, it looked worse. Everything was made up of harsh, bright edges, of loud sounds, and foul smells. The blazing morning sun burned too brightly for her tired, aching eyes, and the gentle lapping sounds of the waves all but screamed in her ears with the creaking of mangled metal, and hiss and snap of the small pocket fires burning in the exposed circuitry, all melding together into a perverse harmony that offended her every sense.
And then there was the smell... a smell that even the fresh ocean breeze could not completely whisk away. The smell of burning, and the subtle but growing hint of decay. But she did not despair; she did not let herself. It was not because it wasn't a luxury she couldn't afford. No, it was because of the sheer strength around her. It was the bravery, the fortitude, the compassion and caring, it was her people. If they could still smile, still laugh, still carry on... still live, or in Rodney's case still have the breath to complain and eat at the same time in spite of it all, then so could she.
They were her strength, and as she walked the halls she was nearly overwhelmed with it all. Scientists and military personnel alike had banded together, forming the likes of a bond she had never seen. It was evident in their expressions, seen in their touch. It was projected in their words, shown in the curve of a barely suppressed smile, or in a simple gesture. There was even the occasional Athosian in the mix, the scattered survivors of Teyla's fighters who had stood with them throughout the siege.
Atlantis did not just live, it had begun to thrive again. They would pull through, persevere. Now, more then ever, she was convinced they would make it. That the mission would be a success. Even as their home smoked all around them, she had hope. Perhaps she was simply a hopeless idealist, but damn, she could just feel it all around her!
And persevere they did. The expedition and the supporting troops from the SGC and the Daedalus banded together and began to rebuild, cleaning and clearing their adopted home of the wreckage of the battle. The security and search teams went through every room as they looked for any cut-off survivors, and they were alert for any remaining Wraith. They did this with the scientists working in the very midst of the military personnel, their light tan and blue jumpers mixing in somehow all too appropriately with the bold blues, greens and blacks of the Army, Marines, and Air Force. She couldn't help but pause and simply watch it all, a slight smile crinkling the corners of her lips as she observed a new and easy cameraderie form between the previous rivals. It was no real secret that the 'Geeks and the Grunts', as Command staff so often labeled them, were never the best of bedfellows. Each had their own priorities that always tended to clash, often differing in nearly every way.
But she had to chuckle at the irony, and the sheer delicious humanity of the moment when the last group of returning personnel stepped through the gate. A tall, curly-haired redheaded woman in a science-blue jacket uttered a happy cry as she was swooped up into the arms of one of the gate-room guards before the wormhole had barely dissipated. Their heated embrace earned them a chorus of well-meant whistles and chuckles from soldiers and scientists alike, everyone's expression turning momentarily indulgent as they observed the pair. Even she had to admit that the blissful and relieved expressions on their faces would have likely melted even the ice around Caldwell's glacial heart. However, the colossal stick up the man's ass would likely prove to be a different story entirely.
And so the inhabitants of the city slowly trickled back home, emerging with wan smiles from the safe haven provided to them on the Daedalus, and from through the Stargate. And of course, their dead made their last trip home. The body bags were wrapped carefully and lovingly with the flags of their countries, the flag of the Atlantis expedition tucked underneath, folded at their breasts as they went home to be buried with honor by their families. She only wished she could tell those families what their sons and daughters, what their wives and husbands had died for. For what their sacrifice had been in the name of. Someday she hoped she could... she owed that to them at the very least.
But for as many of their number who had fallen to the Wraith, who died in the line of duty, two more had risen up as heroes. Many heroes were born during the siege, some more evident then others. But right now, on the eve of the second day since the battle had been won, she had only one hero, only one man on her mind. Radek.
On the first day, she had spared a moment to visit the infirmary, intent on seeing him, thanking him... even just being with him for a brief moment. She couldn't completely place the feeling, but even setting out to do so had simply felt right.
But the Czech scientist had not been there. He had already been and gone, with Beckett having no cause to keep him much longer after he finally regained conciousness after Ford's attack. She had taken Carson aside for a brief moment, unable to hear his soft Scottish tones over Rodney's impressively loud snores. Once sequestered in Beckett's office, she got the full story. The two men had both been ushered down to the infirmary after the immediate danger had passed, with Carson wanting to monitor them just to be safe. But apparently Radek was not as comfortable as Rodney when it came to sleeping in the infirmary, and had insisted on being allowed to rest in the comfort of his own quarters. Carson hadn't had the heart to refuse the man, and so a few hours after he had regained consciousness, he had sent him on his way with a nurse in tow to make sure he got to his room all right... and didn't make any stops at the labs on the way, as he was prone to do when he ought to be resting. The man was nothing if not tenacious. A trait that unfortunately both he and Rodney seemed to share, even at the expense of their own health. Sometimes she wondered how Carson could handle both of them without going into conniptions.
Despite it all, Carson assured her that while Radek was both mentally and physically exhausted, his system nearly crashing from the stress, strain, and exhaustion, his fair skin and sore bones indeed battered and bruised, he would make a full recovery. To them both it was little wonder; Radek Zelenka had been at Rodney's side for nearly four days straight, working to save Atlantis throughout the siege, pumped up full of coffee and dangerously high levels of stimulants to simply stay awake, unable to afford even a few moments of precious time slip away. There had been no time to sleep, or even to hardly eat. The fate of the city had almost literally weighed on their shoulders. And to top it all off, her quiet Czech Einstein had been thrown clear across the jumper bay and far into the reaches of unconsciousness for his trouble, when Aiden Ford had stolen the puddle jumper and made his escape.
For a slight man, Radek could certainly take a lot of punishment. As she later thought about it, neck-deep in her first real bath in over four days, she was also forced to wonder just when she had began to think of him as "Her Czech Einstein" anyway? Damn it. So much for not wanting to get involved with people under your command, she thought with a snort. She flicked a soap bubble off the Ancients' version of a water tap before cranking up the temperature to as blistering hot as she could stand, trying for all she was worth not to let her mind wander back to images of that lean, sweet-faced, scientist... his hair flying in puffy curls every which way, at least two days' stubble pebbling his cheeks, and those intensely blue eyes, nearly hidden underneath his glasses flashing in the bright Lantean sun shine. Oh God... she had it bad.
It was only when Carson had all but threatened to sedate her that she finally surrendered to the persistent Scottish doctor's demands and had agreed to get a few hours of rest herself, forcing herself down the hall and to her rooms as she wearily unclipped her headset. It felt strange to be in her own quarters again, after having spent the better part of four days in the control room. And quite suddenly the exhaustion of the past few days hit her like a bag of bricks, as if her body had finally called it quits, refusing to function anymore until rest was had. Not that she was complaining or anything...
However, her plans of simply falling into bed were justly overruled by the need to get clean. She drew the line when it got to the point that she could smell herself, and she had to admit she was well past that point. Sleep be damned, but she had to get rid of the smell of burning from her body; she had to at least feel like she was clean again. Human again. It was only after her bath, her hair still damp and curling as she towel-dried it, that she slipped into her favourite oversized t-shirt and collapsed into bed, barely having the presence of mind to pull the covers over herself before being claimed by the impatient Sandman and whisked off into a blessedly dreamless sleep.
It seemed that the fates were not to be so generous that night, because it was only six criminally short hours later that she unexpectedly blinked awake. For a long moment she simply lay there, her eyes resolutely closed, an arm drawn over her face to cover her eyes from the flagging midday sun. It was late afternoon and she felt like roadkill. Perfect. Squirming back under the sheets, she curled the edges of the duvet under her fingers, letting her senses slowly awaken as she simply enjoyed the lazy quality of the moment.
After a while she realized why she had awakened. There was something she couldn't quite define that was gnawing at the very edges of her consciousness, keeping her from sleep just as surely as the Wraith siege had. And what was worse? Well... she had a fair idea about what it was.
She couldn't quite define the exact moment when she had realized that she had formed... more romantic feelings towards the man. She supposed it had all worked towards this moment gradually, leading her to finally admit these feelings to herself, letting herself admit them. God... The man utterly fascinated her... his brillance, his quiet bravery, his subtle presence, his surprisingly quick wit. Jesus.. even the sound of his voice, the accented English flowing off his tongue like molasses, as if he were savouring each syllable. And then the heady flow of Czech, or the occasional jumble of both if he was excited or frustrated. Even hearing him swear in Czech made her hot. God... the things that quiet man did to her!
She did know, however, the first time she had truly noticed him. Oh, she had met him, talked to him, observed him working with Rodney... hell, she had even been the one who had initially interviewed him. But it was actually during the race to free Major Sheppard and the rest of the team in the puddle jumper from the Stargate's event horizon, that she had truly taken a step back and really noticed him.
She had arrived in the back of the puddle jumper just in time to hear him babbling to his staff, and most likely to himself, in a rapid stream of Czech, his voice soft but clearly frustrated. And before she had even opened her mouth, she remembered making a mental note to brush up on her foreign languages. His was just one of many dozens echoing all over Atlantis that she realized she hadn't sufficient understanding.
She had entered the Ancient ship already impressed, not at all miffed about him missing the briefing. She valued a person who could work independently, and as it happened, his mind had already been light years ahead of them all anyway. But what had truly gotten her attention was his cool and utterly honest response to her query. Once she had heard his explanation, looking up at him as he continued to fiddle with the glowing blue readouts, she had squared her shoulders, ready to lend her assistance wherever necessary.
"Understood, what could I do to help?" she had inquired, to which he had responded, his lilting accent almost melodical to her ears: "Stop talking please." Oh yes... it was those three little words, and the apologetically sweet smile that had accompanied it that had made her think twice about Doctor Radek Zelenka.
After that, it had become like some sort of strange addiction. Whenever possible, she had him working in the control room with her, coming to implicitly trust and value his expertise and knowledge, even appreciating his unique perspective on everything from the mission reports to the latest quota of the distribution of power for the field generators. She had come to live for those little moments when his eyes would light up after making some new and exciting discovery, or the way he would be casually scrolling through one of the computer files, coffee mug half-raised to his lips, and she could almost see that metaphorical light bulb turn on in his mind when something momentous suddenly occurred to him. And of course, the way he sometimes slipped and called her by name, that shy but oh-so-heart-squeezingly charming smile playing on his lips... The man obviously had no idea how devastating that smile could be.
She had taken to covertly watching him. Oh, it wasn't as nefarious as it sounded... she hoped... but she just couldn't help the fact that despite her best efforts, it seemed as though she had magnets in her retinas. She enjoyed those little stolen moments, ones were she would catch him watching her out of the corner of her eye. She felt almost like a voyeur. Or the other times, when he was totally unaware of the world around him, so entirely fixated on his work that the world simply fell away. She had even seen him miss his mouth entirely with more then one unfortunate cup of coffee when he got like that. However, the end result was usually him swearing a blue streak in Czech that left her torn between scrambling for the nearest Czech-English dictionary, and locking herself in her office with her blinds drawn and the door securely locked. The man was downright sexy when he swore like that...
She came to know his habits, his likes, and dislikes. She discovered he had a serious weakness for dark chocolate, the chalky and bitter stuff that she had never cared for, but that he frankly craved. She learned also that he didn't snore, having happened across him in one of the less frequented science labs, entirely dead to the world as he sprawled across his laptop with his glasses askew as one arm had knocked the frames sideways. She had been amazed that he somehow managed to maintain his balance at all until, after circling the table, she had discovered it was only due to the sturdiness of both the table and chair beneath him that was somehow keeping him wedged in between. She also blamed him entirely for addicting her to Spider Solitaire, as if she didn't have enough problems with the original!
The entire fiasco gave her the thrills; it was as if she were that gawky teenager of her youth all over again. She still wasn't entirely sure if being in a near constant state of euphoria while he was around was strictly healthy for her endorphin levels either. Oh, she hid it well; she prided herself in being discreet. But there were times when she swore she couldn't take the suspense any more, and was just about at the point where she was going to grab the man and- Whoa! Jesus... Get a grip, girl! She groaned, burying her head further into the pillows in frustration. However, her admittedly starved libido had a valid point: They both seemed to be caught in this absurd sort of holding pattern, which unfortunately was minus the holding part.
Every once in a while, much to her secret delight, the day would progress in such a way that they would end up lunching together, exchanging theories, debating the latest scientific discoveries. Or sometimes just talking, wasting away the afternoon in such pleasant and engaging conversation that both would suddenly stop and blush upon realizing how much time had passed. She had even challenged him to a round of chess, just to see that handsome smile dimple his cheeks. Because God knows, she hated chess.
She had also never been so utterly trounced in the game either, and in the end she had collected the last few remaining shreds of her dignity and graciously admitted defeat. But not before flashing him a calculated but genuinely sizzling smile. She had been unable to help herself, as she watched a light flush steal down his neck. He tore his eyes way from hers after lingering just a few seconds too long, his fingers frantically busying themselves with setting the game up for a rematch. And oh yeah, borderline flirtatious smile or not, she had lost that game too.
She knew it should have been the last thing on her mind. She knew she had other, more pressing concerns. But her brain just wouldn't shut up. Besides, she wasn't one to simply keep ignoring the obvious any longer. All she knew was that at the very least, she needed to see him. And after that, whatever happened... happened. All she knew was that she couldn't stand much more of this, whatever it was. She had to do something. Why did epiphanies such as this only occur when one was nearly brain-dead from sleep exhaustion anyway? Was there even such a thing as a clear-headed epiphany?
Sighing deeply, she flung the temptingly warm comforter aside and padded over to the mirror to take stock of the damage. Not bad for someone who has only gotten six hours of sleep in nearly four days, she thought, watching the corners of her mouth quirk upwards in a tentative smirk. She pulled and teased her hair back into a semi-presentable state, her dark curls nestling softly about her neck as she slipped into a dark purple long-sleeved shirt. She pulled on her spare, but blessedly clean, expedition jumper before she left her rooms.
She was halfway down the hall before she abruptly pivoted, turning on her heel and quickly marching back inside, heading directly to her deskside cabinet. What she needed was something to bridge the undoubtedly uncomfortable gap between them that was all too likely to occur. It could be a conversation starter... hell, she would even be satisfied with a peace offering at this point, because her hormones were certainly tired of this particular battle.
And of course, she had just the perfect thing in mind, she thought triumphantly, digging into the very farthest corner for the item. She pulled out a small but well-stocked box of her personal contraband, and fished noisily through it until she won her prize. Besides... what am I if not a brillant diplomat, she thought with a grin, examining the item carefully as the first genuinely happy expression that had graced her face in days curled her lips with silent laughter. And damn, did it feel good to smile again.
As the door swished closed behind her, she drew herself up and smoothed her jacket over her hips, attempting to be every inch the leader of Atlantis. Posture perfect, pose decisive, features steady but open. She was ready, whether she wanted to be or not. She had the dream, she had a plan, she had the will... and she was entirely and utterly unsure of what to say. Perfect. Insane, but perfect. And in spite of it all, she couldn't help but like it already.
A/N:To be continued!