A/N: In which there is the gratuitous appearance of my favorite SG-1 character.
Reminder:
"This is spoken English."
"This is spoken Czech."
This is a thought.
Chapter 3. Practice.
It had only been a week since stepping through the 'gate. The SGC was vaguely familiar, if only because he'd lived and worked here for two weeks before setting off on the expedition. He hadn't left the base the first time, talked to almost no one. His English was very bad. He was familiar with the view from the entrance to the complex—he didn't travel much (on Earth, anyway) outside of Europe and had never seen a proper desert before coming here. Antarctica, for some reason, didn't count.
He suspected he'd be seeing a lot more this time around.
Because he would be staying. Either here or at Area 51, but he hoped to heaven that they wouldn't want him there. His knowledge and skills probably wouldn't have direct application anywhere else. More than likely, the Air Force would keep him employed. He got the impression that they didn't want him to go home when he didn't sign on for the next year.
Home. What was he talking about? Where was home? He'd get back on the Daedalus in a heartbeat if he thought he could.
McKay's behavior still baffled him, though. He knew he wasn't McKay's equal. Of course, he'd never say that to his face—or anywhere else, for that matter—but he was closer than anyone else. Probably much closer. He had to admit, though, he was replaceable.
Except he did put up with McKay. That was something special. Only a few of them did that on a regular basis.
He dropped his bag on the bed and looked at the cement walls. The potted plastic plant and a pair of wall sconces were the only half-hearted attempts at decoration. This was no Atlantis. This was no place to live.
He'd need a place to live. What were houses like in Colorado Springs? What did they cost?
He had all of two days to figure it out.
Less than that to figure out how to get to Denver airport.
He was going to miss his puddle jumpers…
"What are you doing; what are you thinking?" He wasn't ready for this. Radek ran his fingers through his hair and cursed the ceiling, though he wasn't sure what it'd done to him. This must be what a bird in a cage feels like.
He was ashamed as soon as the thought dawned on him.
This was what he wanted. It was; it really was. It was just a lot.
He needed a drink.
He was already out the door before he realized he would have to go off-base for that. Maybe he should just settle for whatever at the mess hall. He would need a driver's license—people in Colorado drove all the time. It was an American pastime. Wasn't it?
"What are you doing?"
If anyone was bothered by the mumbling Czech wandering the halls of the base, they didn't show it. He wasn't going anywhere, so he wasn't really lost. Just walking. Avoiding thinking about the thing that was actually bothering him.
"It's not Atlantis," he told himself. "It's not living here."
His daughter. It didn't seem right, "his daughter." "You don't know anything about teenagers."
He would figure it out.
"Are you talking to yourself or an earpiece?"
"Promiňte." Radek spun around and corrected himself, "Sorry." He tried to figure out who he was talking to.
"Don't apologize." The stranger frowned and looked at him critically. "I guess you're talking to yourself, then. I should have guessed; I don't know anyone else on base who speaks Czech."
"Just thinking out loud," he said.
He took the offered handshake as the stranger introduced himself as Doctor Daniel Jackson. Of course, Doctor Daniel Jackson—he recognized him now that he knew his name.
"Doctor Radek Zelenka."
"Right. From the Atlantis expedition," Daniel said.
"Yes."
"Are you lost?" Daniel asked. He looked down the hallway in both directions.
Radek didn't know of anything in either direction that would be of interest to anyone but an engineer. "No." Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say. "Taking a walk. On the way to the mess hall."
He laughed. "You know that's…" He paused to point in the opposite direction. "That way?"
"I was taking the scenic route?"
He seemed to find that funny, too. Then, to Radek's surprise, he said, "May I come along?" Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised. Doctor Jackson was the SGC's resident linguist. He just seriously doubted Czech was in his repertoire.
"Not bad," Radek said.
"I haven't practiced in ages." Daniel looked embarrassed.
"Ah." He could tell, but didn't want to be rude. "Modern languages aren't exactly your forte."
Daniel nodded. "It's true."
As strange as it was, Czech sounded just as odd on Radek's tongue sometimes. "It's a little rusty with me, too." All the English. It contaminated his ability to speak properly.
Daniel led the way down the hall toward the mess. "How is Atlantis?"
Radek laughed. It was a difficult question, but he guessed no more difficult than asking Daniel the same thing about the SGC. Another day, another world to save. "Stressful."
"I am jealous, though."
Who wouldn't be? Radek just grinned.
"How long are you staying?"
Now, there was a complicated question. Of course, the Daedalus would head back. Radek wouldn't be on it. He opted for the easier answer. "The Daedalus goes back in a month, I think."
His sideways answer wasn't lost on Daniel, apparently. He raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything further about it."I've run out of conversation."
Radek suggested small talk about the weather. He hadn't been outside, but it was winter and he would have to go out in two days. It was snowing, apparently, but the snow would be gone and the sun would be shining the next day. It was apparently the way weather worked in Colorado Springs. Radek commented about the balmy, monotonous weather of Atlantis.
They went on from there. They sat in the mess hall, eating and talking, mostly about nothing. Radek was sure he'd added a bit to Daniel's vocabulary and certainly improved his pronunciation before Daniel excused himself.
Radek watched him leave, then contemplated his empty plate. As diverting as that was, there was still real life to consider. Real life that no longer seemed quite real.
It was getting less real by the minute. A tray filled with food slid onto the table across from him. An orange envelope that might have been holding fifty pages slapped down next to his arm.
Radek reigned in his tongue from swearing.
"Enjoy your little chat?" McKay asked.
"Yes." But he was quickly losing interest in this one.
McKay didn't seem to know what to do with that. "Well, remember that thing you said was impossible?" He tapped the envelope. "All the paper work, including security clearance. Everything's done. Well. Almost everything. She still…"
"Are we having this conversation again?"
"You expected me to drop it?"
"I expected you to lose interest." Radek sighed.
"So what's wrong?" McKay asked.
It took all of his willpower to keep from laughing. It wasn't funny. But it was. And he couldn't articulate it. Not in English. He could barely articulate it in Czech. Never mind that he would be using words McKay wouldn't comprehend on a subject he barely understood.
"What's wrong."
"Yeah," McKay smacked past a mouthful of chicken alfredo.
"What am I doing, Rodney?"
McKay shut his mouth and stared.
"I don't know who she is anymore. I remember her—she was this big." He motioned with his hand next to the table around the size of the seven-year-old in his memory. "She's fifteen." But he wasn't winning any absentee-father-of-the-year awards with his stellar communication skills. Not to mention he'd sort of… left the galaxy. He rested his head in his hands. "I let time get away from me."
"That's, um… that's significant." Then McKay shook his head. "But, look, kids—they adapt."
Radek didn't know what happened, but his hands slammed on the table.
"Her mother is dead."
McKay gulped, said nothing. It was for the best. He looked like he'd been slapped straight across the face.
Radek had run out of things to say. Things appropriate for mixed company. He put his forehead decidedly on his crossed arms and sighed. He'd faced death on several occasions now. Explored far reaches of a city haunted with engineered viruses and monsters of darkness.
How scary could a fifteen-year-old girl possibly be?
He'd rather face a Wraith.
Maybe. He'd never actually faced one too closely. Then again, he'd never faced his fifteen-year-old daughter, whom he hadn't seen in eight years. He tapped his fingers on the table while he counted. Maybe less than eight years. He didn't remember anymore… which wasn't a good sign in itself.
He looked up. McKay looked concerned, his mouth still full.
"Do you know where the Denver Airport is?" Radek asked.
McKay nodded, gulped his mouthful of alfredo. "Yeah, about an hour and a half north of here. Can't miss it."
"Would you go with me to pick her up?"
McKay looked around the table, behind him, back to Radek. "Me?"
Yes. Bad idea. "No, no, no, no. Never mind."
"No." Rodney pointed at him with his fork and grinned. "You said it. You need me to take you to the airport."
Three hours in a car with Doctor Rodney McKay. He was going to regret this.
