DISCLAIMER – Stargate: Atlantis is the intellectual property of MGM/UA and associates. No copyright infringement is intended. I am writing this story solely for the purpose of personal enjoyment, and I am not receiving any compensation in any form for the creation of this story.
Shadow, Morin, Zora and Dr. Perlman are my original characters. If you want to use them, ask my permission first. I'm pretty good at sharing, so chances are, I will agree to your request.
RATING – This story is rated T
ARCHIVE – If you want to archive this story, you have my permission to do so. All I ask is that you tell me where it is being archived. Thanks.
A/N – Thank you once again for all the enormously helpful public comments and PMs I received for Chapter 24. You people encourage me so much! I could say thank you a dozen times and it wouldn't be enough.
Well, here is Chapter 25 for you. It's a rather long one; the longest one in this story so far, actually. I've somehow managed to put two flashback scenes in it. I hope this chapter makes sense to you all. It sets up some things for the next chapter, in which you'll find out quite a lot more about what's really going on. Anyway, I hope you'll all enjoy this one.
Blocks of text written in present tense and italicized are flashback scenes.
Yep. No beta. If you find a mistake or two, I'm responsible for them.
The Song Of Silent Rivers
25. Fathers
There was a sort of cosmic cruelty overseeing his life recently, Radek reflected. The Infirmary was beginning to seem all-too-familiar to him, and he was starting to resent it. He hated that he'd ended up in the Infirmary again, after having only just left it a few days ago. Even though he felt tired and weak and miserable, he didn't want to be here. All he wanted was to be left alone. Of course that was a futile wish. Itzhak Perlman had seen to that. Radek concluded he didn't much care for Itzhak's serious side. Much too bossy, definitely.After taking a quick shower and changing into the loose cotton scrubs one of the nurses had given him, Radek was expertly turned over to yet another nurse who showed him where he'd be spending the night. Much to his chagrin, he discovered he'd be sleeping in the same bed he'd occupied during his previous stay. If that wasn't proof of a malevolent influence, he couldn't imagine what would be.
The nurse who'd brought him to his bed was called Zora Kovac. She was Croatian, dark and attractive in an Amazonian sort of way. She outmatched Radek in height by several inches, which had intimidated him at first. He was ready to add the presence of Zora Kovac to his list of cosmic injustices, too, until he heard her speak.
Zora had a smooth contralto voice that made the promise of a liberal application of anti-itch cream sound like the path to Nirvana, and somehow managed to make the prospect of forced inactivity seem like a vacation. She could probably convince him going to bed before midnight wasn't a waste of time and vaccinations weren't the least bit painful, if he chose to let her. He wasn't sure at the moment if Zora's persuasiveness was a blessing or a potential danger, but there'd be time to think about it later, as he was going to be lying around here for a while. For now, he'd consider Zora and her benzocaine lotion the silver lining in this horrible black cloud of a day.
Zora let him rub the cream all over the insect bites on his arms, and then she helped him into bed and told him to lie on his stomach so she could apply it to the back of his neck.
"How does it feel?" she asked when she'd finished.
"Nice," Radek said. "Thank you."
Zora gave his neck a final pat, which Radek thought was probably unnecessary, though he wasn't about to complain about it.
"You're welcome," Zora said. "You'll need to put some more of this on in the morning."
"Will you be here to help me in the morning?"
Zora laughed. "Is that a request, Dr. Zelenka?"
"No, is not a request. I was only asking," he said. "And…you can call me Radek, if you want to."
"Radek," she repeated. "You'd better call me Zora, then, and since you asked nicely, I'll make a point to come back and see you in the morning."
"Thank you."
"Is there anything you need right now?"
Radek thought about that question for a minute. In all the activity surrounding the team's return through the Stargate, he realized he hadn't gotten a chance to ask anyone about Shadow. He wanted to see her, but he guessed that was one request neither Zora nor any of the doctors were about to honour. Radek supposed he'd have to settle for information until he was allowed to get up and see everything for himself.
"I want to speak with Dr. Beckett," he told Zora at last.
Clearly, Zora hadn't expected that. "Are you looking for a second opinion?" she said. "I know Dr. Perlman isn't so nice when he's being serious, but he's a very good doctor. He wouldn't keep you here if he didn't think it was absolutely necessary."
"I know, Zora. Why I want to see Dr. Beckett isn't about me."
"Oh," said Zora. "Yes, I think I know. This is about your Shadow, isn't it?"
Radek didn't miss the subtlety of Zora's use of the possessive before Shadow's name. It made him remember the inner dialogue he'd had on the planet. He shut his eyes and was thankful he was still lying with his face in his pillow, so Zora couldn't see whatever pained expression he might be wearing.
"She is not mine," he said, "but it is about her, yes."
"I'll try to find out what's going on," Zora said. "Promise me you'll get some rest, and I promise I'll tell you everything when you wake up."
"Okay."
Zora rested her hand on his shoulder. She leaned in close and said in a low, conspiratorial tone, "Later, when you wake up, we might even manage to take a quick look at your friend through the window. Of course, we won't mention it to Dr. Beckett or Dr. Perlman."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Radislav Zelenka is singing.
Radek finds familiarity in hearing his father sing, but he does not find comfort in it. Father doesn't sing for joy or sorrow or consolation. He just sings to keep time while he works, treating the music like one of his tools. Radek can hear him even before he opens the door to the workshop. He's repeating the chorus of some Russian folk tune.
Radek steps out of the damp spring air and into the warmth of his father's workshop. Father is at his workbench. There's a small wooden box in front of him, and he's oiling it, moving his hand rhythmically over the surface of it with sure strokes. Father does everything this way, with economy and confidence.
The box on the workbench is the same size as the one Radek keeps his chess set in, but this one is different. Radek sees the top of this box has been chiselled with an intricate pattern of birds in flight. The wood gleams golden where the oil touches it.
Radek watches for several moments, amazed as he always is that his father's big, rough hands can produce such delicate things. It seems an incongruity, Father's gift for making this kind of art. There is nothing else about his life that even gives away a hint of his being an artist. Radislav Zelenka is a practical man; a tough, pragmatic man. He expects as much of others as he expects of himself, and very few people ever seem to meet his standards. Radek tries not to think of how often he himself has fallen short of Father's requirements.
Father turns the little box over and begins to rub the bottom of it with the soft, oiled cloth. If Father has noticed Radek standing in the doorway, he hasn't made any indication of it. Radek takes another step toward the workbench.
"Father," Radek says.
Father stops singing, but doesn't look up from his work. "Radek,' he says.
"Mother says you want to talk to me."
"Your mother wants me to talk to you," says Father. "She has informed me that you're going to England. For four months."
"Yes."
"Were you planning to tell me about it?"
"Of course I was going to tell you, Father. I only told Mother about it a few days ago."
"You told Jaromir," Father says. His tone sounds accusatory.
"Dušana telephoned him. She was the one who told him," says Radek. "I'm going to be staying with Dušana when I get to London."
"Your cousin doesn't need you tagging after her everywhere she goes. You did enough of that when she lived here."
"Dušana wants me to come. She invited me."
Father makes an undignified grunt of disbelief. "What will you do when you get there, Radek? You can barely speak English. No respectable engineering firm will hire you, and God alone knows, outside of the army you've never done a day's physical labour in your life. Tell me, what will you do?"
"I don't know yet, but I'll find something to do. Dušana will help me find a place where I can improve my English. That is the reason I'm going. I want to speak English well before I go—"
"To America," Father says abruptly. "Before you go halfway around the world to god-forsaken America!"
"It's not just America. It's Boston and MIT. Anyway, what's wrong with America?"
Father throws the oily cloth onto his workbench with more vehemence than Radek has seen him display in a long time. "My only son wants to go to some strange country halfway around the world and he dares to ask me what's wrong?" Father says angrily.
"Yes, I am asking you what's wrong with my going to America."
Father looks up at him and fixes him with a penetrating stare. "Radek, you have big dreams," he says. "You want to go to England, to America. You want to build airplanes and rocket ships. What you seem to forget is that there are important things right here, and that you have obligations other than to yourself."
"What obligations do I have here?"
"I shouldn't have to tell you," Father says. He exhales loudly. "Go travelling, Radek. Go and do whatever you want. Fly to the stars if it suits you."
"Maybe some day I will," Radek says.
He'd spoken quietly, but evidently it was loud enough for Father to have heard. Father demands, "Some day you will do what?"
"Fly to the stars," says Radek. "I'm going to England with or without your approval. America, too."
"Very well. Go, but if you come crashing down to Earth on your way to the stars, don't expect a soft landing here."
"Don't worry," Radek says. "This is the last place on Earth I would want to land."
Radek leaves the workshop quickly, slamming the door hard on his way out. He is shaking all over by the time he reaches the house. He's angry and hurt, frustrated by his father's stubbornness. He's also ashamed at himself for having lost his temper. Very few people have the ability to provoke him like Father does, but he tells himself that's a poor excuse for such a blatant lack of respect. He'd never shout at Uncle Jaromir or Mother that way. Then again, he reasons, Mother and Uncle Jaromir understand him. To Radek, it seems Father doesn't even want to understand.
Mother is still in the kitchen when Radek enters the house. When she sees his face, she hurries across the room to him, and puts her arms around him. For a moment, Radek lets her hold him. She rubs his back until his trembling subsides, and for the moment he feels safe again. He's desperate to retain that little bit of security, but it dissipates like mist when his mother lets him go.
"What happened?" Mother asks.
"We argued. He wants me to stay here," Radek says. "He told me I've got obligations, though he didn't elaborate."
"He's worried."
"About what?"
"Your father has…things on his mind. I think he'd feel better if you stayed."
"What things?"
"He didn't tell you?"
"Mother, he never tells me anything. He never talks to me unless it's to criticize me or tell me what to do," Radek says. "He would feel better if I stayed? You know, it's always like this. He always turns things around so they're all about him. Sometimes I think he doesn't give a damn about me."
"Radek," Mother says. She takes his hands in hers and squeezes them gently. "Radek, listen to me. Your father cares about you. Really, he does. It's only…well, you never seem to do what he expects."
"He expects me to be like him," Radek says bitterly. "I can't do that, Mother. I'm not like him, and I never will be."
"You don't understand him."
"He doesn't understand me, either. If he did, he wouldn't be angry with me for wanting to learn and explore, for wanting a different kind of life."
"You have a good life here."
"Mother—"
"Your father needs you."
"No," Radek says. He pulls his hands out of Mother's grasp and steps back. "Father doesn't need me."
"Radek, please—"
"I don't want to discuss this. I'm going home."
"I wish you would stay for supper, at least."
"I can't. I can't stay here another minute," he says.
"All right."
Radek comes back to her, kisses her on the forehead. "I'm sorry, Mother," he whispers. "I love you. I'm not doing any of this to hurt you. I hope you understand."
Mother says nothing. She begins to weep. Radek turns away from her and leaves the house as quickly as he can so his mother won't see there are tears in his eyes, too.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Radek awakened in the middle of the night. Odd, he mused, how the brain recognized such a thing even when the eyes couldn't look outside to confirm it. The lights in the Infirmary had been dimmed appropriately as they always were at night. Radek lay still for a moment, listening, trying to determine what had wakened him. There had been something, some unusual noise lurking at the edge of his awareness that had coaxed him out of a deep sleep. In his dream it had sounded like his father singing his favourite Russian folk song.
Radek inhaled sharply when he realized that was what he was hearing now; an old man's voice, cracked and rusty, singing quietly in the darkness. He knew it wasn't Father, of course, but…someone. The words of the song were in a language Radek didn't know, but the melody seemed uncannily familiar, like something he'd heard in childhood and had since forgotten.
Carefully, Radek got out of bed. He expected to be met by a nurse or a technician the moment he ventured away from his own little corner of the Infirmary, but oddly, no one appeared. He felt a transient disappointment at not seeing the tall figure of Zora Kovac anywhere nearby. He wouldn't have minded so much if she'd been the one to catch him leaving his bed, for they might have been co-conspirators of a sort, and he'd decided that he liked her.
Radek followed the direction of the singing and discovered it was coming from behind the curtain of a nearby bed. When he pulled back the white drape a few centimetres and looked into the little space, he saw the old man they'd found in the stasis pod on M4X-382. Kadan Morin was lying on his back, green eyes wide open and gazing at the ceiling.
"Dr. Morin?" Radek said.
Morin stopped singing. He turned his head and peered at Radek in the dim light.
"You," said Morin.
"Are you all right?"
"Come here."
Radek slipped past the curtain and came to stand next to Morin's bed. "I'm here. Do you want something?"
"You are the one who knows about Jana," Morin said. It was not a question.
"I…I suppose I do, yes."
"You have her necklace."
"Yes."
"How did you get it?"
Radek wasn't sure he should answer that question. He didn't want to say Carson had entrusted Shadow's pendant to him, because then he would have to explain why. He would have to tell Morin how ill Shadow was and why no one but the doctors were permitted to be with her.
"That song you were singing," Radek said. "What is it?"
"I've known it for a long time, though I don't remember learning it. It is…was…Jana's favourite."
"Does Jana like it when you sing to her?"
"She can no longer hear me singing. She is deaf. The Elders…" The sentence faded on Morin's lips and he closed his eyes momentarily. "The Elders."
"I know," Radek said. "She's deaf because the Elders in the village wouldn't let you treat her."
"How do you know this?"
"She told me."
"She conversed with a stranger?"
"She saved my life," Radek said. "We are not strangers."
"Tell me," said Morin.
Someone had placed a chair near Morin's bed, and Radek sat in it, now. He thought about what he should say to Morin. Begin at the beginning was the phrase Dušana always used when she was asking Radek to explain something, and it seemed logical enough in this instance, too. The beginning of his story about Shadow had been the original mission to M4X-382, so he started with that. He told Morin how he'd ended up going on the mission even though he hadn't wanted to. He described his first impressions of M4X-382. He'd thought the planet was beautiful in the beginning, though he didn't think so any more.
Once he began speaking, Radek discovered he had a lot to say. He described the events of the past week, giving Morin as much detail as he could remember. He shared with the old scientist how he, Carson and Elizabeth – the River Man, the Healer and the Leader – had figured out how to communicate with Shadow and what they had learned from her. He told Morin about Shadow's penchant for stealing food – most especially power bars – which caused Morin to laugh until he started coughing.
"That…is just…like her," Morin managed, when he'd finally caught his breath. "She steals from the best fruit trees in the village. Infuriates the Elders."
"Don't you scold her?"
"It isn't any use. She is incorrigible."
Radek smiled, remembering Shadow's self-satisfied look when she'd brought him one of the peanut butter flavoured power bars she'd appropriated from Rodney. She really was incorrigible, he decided, but she seemed so guileless it was practically impossible to be annoyed or angry with her for long.
"She's very enchanting, isn't she?"
"Yes," Morin said. "That's a good word for her. Enchanting. Do you have more to tell me?"
"Of course," Radek said.
He settled himself more comfortably in the chair and took up his narrative where he'd left off. He hadn't meant to mention Shadow's illness, but in the course of telling Morin what had happened, he found he couldn't leave out that all-important detail. It was, after all, the reason they'd gone to M4X-382 the second time.
Radek tried to gauge Morin's reaction while he talked. The old man was listening intently, and nothing showed on his face except extreme concentration. To Radek, it seemed as if Morin didn't want to miss a single syllable of a single word. Hearing about his daughter seemed to have a strengthening effect on Morin, notwithstanding the fact that at the moment he was hearing bad news.
"You must take me to her," Morin said, once Radek had finally finished speaking.
"I wish I could," Radek said. "Just now, even I can't see her. You will have to ask Dr. Beckett in the morning."
"Beckett," Morin rolled the name over slowly. "He seems evasive."
"He is a cautious man."
"And you are not."
"No, no…I am very cautious man. Ask anyone about that."
Morin's mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. "A cautious man," he said, "would not consider taking responsibility for a girl like Jana. A cautious man would not have the fortitude for it."
"How do you know—" Radek began.
"You speak of her as if she is your daughter. That is how I know," Morin said quietly. "Do you have your own children?"
"No."
"A pity. You'd do well with them. I know you will do well with Jana, too."
"What do you mean?"
"Someone must care for her after…after I am no longer here."
"You think I will be the one to do that?"
Morin closed his eyes. His only answer to Radek's question was a soft sigh. The old scientist lay very still and quiet for several minutes. After a while, he opened his eyes again, and turned toward Radek.
"Thank you," he said, "for telling me about Jana."
"You're welcome," said Radek.
"I'm tired now," Morin said. "Come and see me tomorrow, River Man. Tomorrow, it will be my turn to tell you about Jana."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Radek's father is dying.
This was the thing Father had failed to mention on the day they'd argued about Radek's trip to England. Father had known then that he was ill, and had said nothing. He'd let Radek go away unaware. Mother had told Radek that Father had things on his mind, but Radek could never have guessed it was anything like this. Father has cancer, a particularly insidious form of the disease that's killing him by degrees.
Radek has spent the past three and a half months happily, living in London with his cousin Dušana. His cousin helped him find a job in a hotel, and much to his pleasure, he'd grown to like it. He'd often chatted with his co-workers and with the hotel guests, which helped him considerably in improving his language skills. His English is coming along nicely now, and he's no longer worried about understanding and being understood when he goes to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the fall.
Leaving England had been harder than Radek anticipated, and the fact that he had to return to the Czech Republic two weeks earlier than he'd planned hasn't made things any easier. Mother had phoned Dušana, in tears, asking for Radek to come home as soon as possible. That was when Radek had learned his father is dying.
He hadn't known what to think upon hearing that piece of news from home. All at once, he'd been angry with his parents for not telling him as soon as they knew, and he'd felt guilty and ashamed because the last conversation he'd had with Father had been an argument. The conflicting emotions had warred in his head all the way home to Prague. The battle is still going on now.
Radek doesn't like the thought of visiting his father in the hospital, but it isn't because he is afraid to see the progression of sickness and death. It is the silent confrontation Radek fears; the expression of disapproval he always seems to see in his father's eyes. He has an irrational fear that his father won't even want to see him. They'd both been so angry the last time they'd met face to face, and neither man had said he was sorry.
Radek regrets the things he's said to Father. He wishes he could turn back time to that day in Father's workshop, and begin their conversation again. He wouldn't lose his temper. He would have tried to be more patient, tried to explain how important going to England had been to him and how important going to America still is. Perhaps Father wouldn't have shouted at him, wouldn't have told him not to come home if he failed at what he intended to do. Perhaps…
The hospital smells of antiseptic. It's white and sterile and utilitarian. Every corridor looks the same, and Radek thinks it would be easy to get lost if he weren't paying attention. A small, rebellious voice in his head tells him that maybe he should let himself get lost. Visiting hours might be over before he finds Father's room. Gathering his resolve, Radek ignores the wayward thought and locates the doorway to the proper corridor.
When Radek enters his father's room, he almost doesn't recognize the man in the bed. The last time Radek had seen his father, the older man had seemed healthy and strong. The person lying in the tall hospital bed no longer looks like Radislav Zelenka. The pale blue eyes that had once been sharp and keen are dull, and where shaggy golden hair had once been, only soft yellowish stubble remains. Radek thinks he can see every bone in his father's hands as they clutch fistfuls of the white sheet. Radislav Zelenka is emaciated, a shadow of himself. He is a ghost dressed in flesh.
"Father?" Radek says.
Father doesn't look at him. "Radek."
Radek feels an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as he approaches his father. He sits in the chair next to the bed. "Mother told me I'd find you here," he says.
"She called you home from England," says Father. His voice is weak, and Radek can hardly believe it's the same voice that had shouted and blustered at him less than four months ago.
"Yes, she did," Radek says.
"How is your cousin Dušana?"
"Dušana is fine. How are you?"
Father turns his eyes toward Radek and just for a moment Radek thinks he sees a spark of vehemence in them.
"What sort of question is that?" Father says.
"Father, why didn't you tell me you were sick before I left for England?"
"There wouldn't have been much point in telling you then. There was nothing you could have done. Nothing you can do now."
'I might've stayed if you'd told me."
"No," Father says. "You wouldn't have stayed for me."
"I came back for you."
"You came back because your mother asked you to."
"I came back for you, Father," Radek insists. "If Mother had asked me to come home for any other reason than a member of my family being sick, I wouldn't have done it."
Father sighs and closes his eyes. "You've always known your own mind. I don't suppose you've ever done anything you haven't wanted to do, have you?"
"I do what I think is right."
"Yes," says Father. "I suppose you do. Are you still going to America?"
"Yes."
"Who will care for your mother and Milena when you go?"
"Mirek will take care of Milena. He's her husband."
"And your mother?"
"I don't know."
"She needs you."
Radek can feel a lump beginning to grow in his throat when he remembers his mother saying the very same thing to him about his father. "I'll stay if you want me to, but—"
"Be strong for her," Father says. "That's what she needs.".
Radek tries to hold his father's gaze, but he finds he cannot. His throat aches and he can feel tears beginning to sting his eyes. He rests his arms on the bed and pillows his head on them. He doesn't want to cry, but he can't stop himself, can't stop the hot tears that escape the edges of his eyes and slither in warm, inexorable rivulets down his face. He makes a sound, low and harsh, that might be a sob. He realizes he doesn't know how to face the prospect of losing his father. He can't be strong for Mother, because all of a sudden he doesn't even know if he has the endurance to carry himself through everything.
Several moments go by in which the only noise Radek hears is that of his own ragged breath. He tries desperately to regain his composure, and at last even his breathing becomes nearly silent.
"Son," his father says. "Radek."
"I'm sorry," Radek says.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," says his father. "You're a good man. A good son."
"I'm not like you."
"I never asked that of you, Radek."
"You're not disappointed."
"No."
"You always seemed to be."
"I never was," Father says. "Perhaps I was only envious, because my own dreams never left the ground. Your dreams really fly, Radek. Maybe you will even reach those stars of yours some day."
Radek senses motion beside him. Something warm touches the top of his head, and he realizes it is Father's hand. Father has never been affectionate, rarely demonstrative. Radek feels a lifetime of missed contact flowing through his father's fingertips. He forgives everything and knows his father forgives him completely in kind. The ending will be a good one, bittersweet but peaceful and clean. Radek's tears renew themselves and he presses his face more closely against his arms.
"I love you, Father," he says, and he hopes his father hears and understands.
Father's hand moves, strokes Radek's hair. "I'm proud of you," Father says, "and I love you, too."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"You know visiting hours are over, right?"
Radek was startled at the sound of a voice breaking the silence. He'd been lost in thought, watching Morin, and hadn't heard anyone approaching. He glanced up to see Itzhak standing less than a metre away, looking as rumpled and unkempt as ever. Radek wondered how long Itzhak had been there.
"What time is it?" Radek asked.
"God knows, but it's well past the time when all good little patients should be in bed," said Itzhak.
"Who said I was good patient?"
"Dr. Beckett. You wouldn't want to make a liar of him, would you?"
"I suppose not."
"I'm sure he'll be glad to know that," Itzhak said. "What are you doing over here, anyway?"
"I was keeping Morin company. Now I am thinking."
Itzhak perched on the edge of Morin's bed so that he was able to keep an eye on both Radek and the sleeping old man. "Thinking? Looked like you were in the middle of a regular brown study over here, my friend. You want to tell me what's rattling around in that genius brain of yours?"
"Nothing is rattling in there. I don't need psychologist, Itzhak."
"You can tell me now, or you can tell Dr. Heightmeyer later. Personally, I know who I'd tell," Itzhak said. "And it's 'Dr. Perlman' to you, remember?"
"Sorry," Radek said.
Itzhak smiled. "Hey, I'm joking. Of course you don't have to call me Dr. Perlman. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't stand on formality."
"Earlier, you said—"
"I know what I said," said Itzhak. "Listen, I just want to tell you I'm sorry about being so tough on you earlier. I don't like bullying people, but I knew you wouldn't have listened to me otherwise. I'm sorry about making you stay here, too, but it was for your own good."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Perhaps I'm glad I have to stay here, now that I've considered it."
Itzhak's eyebrows went up several millimetres. "Oh, really? Care to tell me about that? I wouldn't have guessed you were happy about it, the way you were glaring daggers at me."
"I talked with Morin."
"About what?"
"Fatherhood," Radek said. "He gave me a lot of things to think about."
"Anything you want to share?"
"Perhaps tomorrow," Radek said. "I'm tired now."
"You're tired and you're admitting it. That's good," Itzhak said. "I think we might be making some kind of progress here, Radek. You know what to do when you're tired, right?"
Radek smiled. "Sleep?"
"Gold star for you, champ." Itzhak laughed. He stood up, and offered Radek a hand up as well. "I think we've got a nice bed somewhere around here with your name on it."
"I wouldn't go so far as to call it a 'nice' bed."
'Hey, don't insult the décor. I'll have you know these are the finest beds the military knows how to produce, and you and I both know what the military is capable of when they put their shaved heads together."
"That is what worries me."
"Me, too," Itzhak said. "Come on. Seriously, God alone knows what time it is, and I have this thing about not letting my patients roam around the Infirmary unsupervised in the middle of the night."
"Can I make one detour before I go back to sleep? Zora promised she would take me to see Shadow, but she's not here, and—"
"On a first-name basis with Nurse Kovac already, I see. You'd do well to watch out for her, if you want my opinion."
"She's very nice. I like her."
"She's a rascal."
"I don't mind that."
"No, I suppose you don't. I get the feeling you like a good challenge," Itzhak said. He looked amused. "Okay. We'll go and look in on your Shadow for a minute, but after that, you're going back to bed. Got it?"
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
River Man had returned.
Shadow's vigilance had done well for her, and the effort she'd put forth to stay awake had not been in vain. Happiness and relief shone through her exhaustion and confusion like the first rays of sunlight through clouds after a long day of rain. River man had come back at last. Shadow could see him behind the clear wall. He was watching her, just as he'd done before.
She wanted him to walk through the door instead of just standing by the window. More than ever, she wished she could speak. If she had the power of speech, she would have called to him. As it was, she had no way to converse with him, no way to convey to him what she wanted.
Despite her tiredness, she told herself she had to concentrate. She could not speak and at the moment she was unable to write, but there had to be another method of communicating, another way to draw attention to herself.
She remembered being on her homeworld, and recalled seeing the village men nodding and beckoning to each other with gestures. Come here, they said. Follow me.
She needed to raise her hand. River Man and his curly-haired friend were looking at her. They would have to notice if she moved. She shut her eyes and directed all her remaining energy toward her arm. She would not need to move it expansively. All she required of herself was to lift her hand.
See me. Please see me, she begged the men behind the clear wall. I am calling you. Come here.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Good Lord," said Itzhak. "I don't believe it! Radek, look."
Radek didn't need Itzhak Perlman to encourage him to look. He was already so close to the glass barrier that he'd practically pressed his nose against it. At first, he'd thought he imagined seeing Shadow's fingers move, but he knew his eyes weren't deceiving him when he saw her lift her entire hand from the bed. She managed to hold it up for a few seconds before letting it fall to her side again.
It took Radek a moment to get over his surprise and find his voice. 'Has she done that before?"
"No," Itzhak said. "She's been awake off and on, but she hasn't made any independent purposeful movements since she's been in that room."
"Then, this is a good sign."
"It's a hopeful sign. Let's leave it at that, for now," Itzhak said. He turned around and started for the door. "You stay here and keep an eye on her, okay? I'll be right back."
"Wait," Radek said. "Where are you going?"
"Stay here. I'm going to get Dr. Beckett."
"Won't he be sleeping?"
"I don't care," Itzhak said. "I'll wake him up. Under the circumstances, I don't think he's going to mind."
TBC
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