Chapter 2. Impossible.
Half-way there. Too bad the last half was always the hardest. It was certainly true for Rodney. He'd gotten Weir's okay on it. Now he needed to pull some strings at the Air Force and Washington.
Oh, yeah. He'd need Zelenka's okay, too. So a little less than halfway.
Better get that before he started calling in too many favors.
What was he doing…? Rodney didn't need anyone. After all, difficult a few seconds, impossible a few minutes. But he would hate to have to deal with all the difficults and the impossibles, too. That's what Zelenka was good for. The difficults. Seconds were precious when faced with an impossible.
Besides, sometimes his inane chatting led to something useful. Lightning, for example.
Give it a rest. It's not like anyone is listening to your thoughts. He sighed and looked at the ceiling. The honest truth, okay?
Truth was, Zelenka was the only one he could put up with for extended periods of time. He was smart enough to get by and generally quiet. And, as much as he loathed to admit it, Zelenka was the only one who would put up with him for an equal length of time.
Science didn't happen in a vacuum. That was the point.
Well. Maybe it did, but his lab wasn't a vacuum. So he needed a sounding board for ideas. Lots of geniuses had one, right?
Lots of geniuses were easier to deal with. Besides, it wasn't as if Rodney had many options for confidants at an intellectual level anywhere near his own. Because his intellectual level was high. It was lonely at the top. This explained why he was chasing this stupid idea. Zelenka was several tiers below his intellectual level, but proximity, in this case, mattered.
Three days zipped by since they all stepped through the 'gate from the Pegasus galaxy. The concrete confines of the SGC were becoming suffocating, maybe since Rodney had nowhere to go. Some people went straight home to visit family, others stayed on base. Despite close quarters, Rodney hadn't so much as spoken a word to Zelenka. He just hadn't had the time and, well, he didn't have anything to add to their initial conversation. Now Rodney did.
It was going to be possible for Zelenka's daughter to join them on Atlantis, given Zelenka's permission. It would take some string-pulling and favor-calling from Rodney, but nothing too serious. Given that Rodney had helped save the planet once, he was confident he could get the job done.
Zelenka seemed to have taken the day to sit in the mess hall with a bowl of Jell-O. The SGC was renowned for their Jell-O, but Rodney shuddered at Zelenka's choice. Lemon flavored. Rodney slid past the other chairs and took a seat across the table from Zelenka. He didn't realize how long he must have been looking at the Jell-O.
Radek leaned low over his Jell-O and looked up at his face over the rims of his little glasses. "Did you need something, McKay?" Looked ridiculous.
Then again, Rodney was the one staring at Jell-O.
"No. Well." Why was he here again? Oh, yeah, the honest truth. "Yes."
Zelenka traced Rodney's line of sight to his Jell-O and back. "It wasn't the Jell-O." He tipped the bowl toward him and looked inside. "Citric acid is a primary ingredient."
"How astute."
They were quiet. What was he going to say?
"Then what?"
"So." Rodney listened to his voice drop off like a bad comm channel. "How are—I mean, how you holding up?" It took all of his willpower to not grimace at the forced attempt at small talk.
"Oh." Zelenka didn't answer, and scooped up some Jell-O instead. "It was about the Jell-O."
"Give me a break," Rodney mumbled. "I'm not very good at this."
Radek chuckled. He was so nonchalant.
Rodney guessed he would be spinning his figurative wheels to figure out how to stay on the Atlantis expedition. Of course, he'd never be in this position in the first place. He'd never been married. He was infrequently romantically attached, and usually to dumb blondes. He had serious reservations about most of them ever contributing to the gene pool. He'd never be okay with a little McKay running around, anyway.
Maybe. If he didn't think about it too long, the idea of mini-McKay almost appealed to him.
"So, you're really not bothered by leaving Atlantis?"
Zelenka frowned, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No. Of course, I'm bothered."
"So you're just going to give up." Rodney snapped his fingers. "Like that?"
"What do you want me to do?" He didn't sound angry. That was surprising.
Even Rodney had to admit his nose was where it didn't belong this time. After all, this was Zelenka's personal life and had nothing to do with him. Not to mention Rodney had zero experience where wives (dead or alive, ex- or not) and daughters were concerned. Which meant that Rodney had a lot of nerve, suggesting his contemplations.
"I don't have many options," Zelenka continued. "In fact… I think I have only one."
Rodney sighed. No reason to be obtuse. "You have one other option. Bring her to Pegasus with you." Even as the words came out of his mouth, they sounded insane. He wouldn't wish the Pegasus galaxy on a dog he liked. He wouldn't wish Pegasus on a dog he hated, and he didn't even like dogs all that much to begin with.
All the same, he wouldn't leave it for the world.
Zelenka must have had similar thoughts. "Bring my daughter to Atlantis—are you crazy?" He was whispering. Why was he whispering? "Aside from the logistical nightmare, you cannot think taking a child to another galaxy is a good idea. Another galaxy where the principal life forms suck the life out of you with their palms."
"I didn't say it was a good idea," Rodney mumbled. But it was an idea, and those were in short supply. As per the usual. Besides, Rodney had—not that he thought of it much—the same qualms about raising children on Earth. Plus additional qualms. He'd make an even worse father than Zelenka, wouldn't he? "But what's the difference?"
"What's the difference?" Zelenka laughed in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself?"
"In Pegasus, you have the Wraith. Maybe the Genii on a really bad day," Rodney reasoned. "On Earth, you have the Goa'uld. The Replicators. Oh, and any other country on Earth that happens to hate the one you're in." Rodney waited for a response. He knew he was right. He always was. Well, almost always.
"Maybe I will move to Canada," Zelenka pondered sarcastically.
"Are you kidding?"
He had to be kidding. Zelenka blew all the air out of his lungs and stabbed his Jell-O. "What, then?" he asked, his tone one of exasperation.
"You want to stay on Atlantis, don't you?" Rodney asked. To him, the choice was clear.
"What I want—it does not matter."
He was saying that a lot lately. And, honestly, it was probably true for him. But Rodney was used to getting what he wanted. And, in this case, that mattered. "I'll take that as a yes."
Zelenka narrowed his eyes, but Rodney could never think of him as anything remotely threatening. "Even if I wanted to return to Atlantis, even if I thought it was a good idea to take her away from the only planet she knows… she would have to learn English, obtain security clearance, gain a significant grasp of the situation…"
He could have gone on, but Rodney interrupted. He'd already thought of all this, and these weren't huge hurtles. "And?"
"And?" Zelenka shook his head. "No, it would be impossible."
Rodney laughed. "Radek," he chided, "I'm Doctor Rodney McKay. Difficult takes a few seconds, impossible, a few minutes."
