Reminder:
"This is spoken English."
"This is spoken Czech."
This is a thought.

Chapter 6. Fight for It.

The apartment was large compared to his single room on Atlantis, but he hadn't needed a kitchen. Hadn't even needed more than one room. The furnishings were surprisingly nice, especially compared with the small room on base. He looked around and tried not to give away that he'd only seen it once before now. He only barely remembered the layout. It was enough to not get lost.

But he was lost. Exceptionally and irreparably lost. As much as he tried to remind himself on the car ride here, he couldn't quite believe that he knew this girl. He remembered her putting flowers and ladybug clips in her hair, not stripes of bleach. That little girl in memory held only a distant similarity to this teenager. Since when did time start going so fast, going on without him?

Yet, she was somewhat familiar, too. She had her mother's brown hair, except for the single patch of yellow-blond tucked behind her ear. She must have inherited is nearsightedness, judging by the glasses. She was shorter, like he was, and she didn't seem to talk a lot. That was also like him.

Poor girl.

Anna walked into the main room and set her violin case down. She took off her jacket and laid it over the plushy couch. It looked lightly used.

"You live here?" she asked.

Radek took his eyes off her and looked around at the room before them. "This is home." It was actually unbelievable now that he thought about it. It was unbelievable Radek would have an eye for aesthetics, from pictures to random filigree in the shape of... no identifiable shape. It was slightly less believable that he'd actually spend any time decorating it. "I actually don't spend a lot of time here. It was more convenient to live on base."

She walked around and touched the picture frames on the walls. Pictures of the Rocky Mountains. One of a spiral galaxy… that looked almost real. A picture of one of his pigeons on an end table—probably taken from his tablet. Or, rather, the tablet he used to use. He picked the frame. Damn, they're good.

"It's nice," she said. She noticed the picture in his hand and smiled sadly. "Aunt Emílie still has the pigeons."

He waved that away. It was the last thing in the world he was concerned about at the moment. There were so many things he wanted to say. Explain. She wouldn't have understood as an eight-year-old. He didn't understand as a thirty-year-old. Maybe he didn't even understand now, years later.

But he couldn't just launch into a tirade so soon. Her mother was probably the last thing she wanted to talk about.

Radek rounded the couch and sat. Pretty comfortable. He might have picked it if he'd actually chosen any of the furniture in here. He wasn't sure about the picture of violets next to the window. He watched her explore the room.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he said quietly. "I wanted to be." And he was dying to ask what exactly happened. The message he'd received on Atlantis had been vague at best. Except for the death part. That was clear as the Lantean sky.

She halted next to a bookshelf. "Why weren't you?" she asked.

He knew for a while now he'd have to explain his absence without the luxury of another galaxy. Precious few people on Earth would know about that. He wished he could tell her the truth… He wished he could show her. He remembered his first few weeks in Atlantis. It was like the universe was new. He would want to see that again, even if he couldn't experience it.

It was an insane thought. One that wouldn't have even entered his mind, except Rodney had the audacity to share his less-than-noetic musings.

He looked at the floor and shook his head. "I was… working."

The reminiscence hit him like a rock. She probably remembered the similar phrase repeated often in her early childhood. This was why Eliška asked him to leave. This was why he hadn't seen Anna in eight years. This was why he didn't hesitate to go to another galaxy when offered the chance. He had nothing left here. Nothing but work, and he could do that anywhere.

He was beginning to rethink that. He had something left here. But could he really work anywhere? Now that he knew what was out there?

Snapping back to reality, he noticed tears in Anna's eyes as she nodded, slowly. "You couldn't have come to see us once or twice?"

Was he supposed to tell her the truth? He had every intention of visiting, but Eliška wouldn't have it. Oh, at first, he objected. He argued. He begged. In the end, he gave her what she wanted. Not because of Eliška, not because of the prohibitive costs and stress of potentially years of legal battles. But because of Anna. She deserved better than that.

"I wanted to," he said. "Believe me, I wanted to."

She grimaced. She didn't believe him, and why shouldn't she? He wrote letters and sent presents, but even those were sporadic. More than once he'd forgotten to send a gift for her birthday. He hadn't forgotten last year, ironically, when shipping was far too expensive to send anything.

"Then why didn't you?"

"It would have been better," he started, and stopped. Radek shook his head and Anna waited almost patiently. As patiently as a fifteen-year-old could, he guessed. "I couldn't pick between my family and my work. It wasn't fair to your mother, and it wasn't fair to you."

She pondered that for a while. She went into the dining room in the next room. A table big enough for four seats sat under a brass chandelier. She stared into the kitchen for a few minutes.

"That makes it sound like you wanted to leave," she said finally.

It did. Of course, it did. Stupid, Radek. Stupid. Eliška didn't give him much of a chance… or was ten years enough chance? Looking back, he saw the warnings. They were slow and small. He always thought he had more time. Always more time. Until he didn't. "I never wanted to leave," he said finally.

"I know mom didn't want you there," she said quietly. Her last word lingered, like she was going to add more. Finally, she did. "But I don't think you even tried."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm your daughter, too."

"I thought you—you and your mother—would be happier if I didn't argue. I didn't want to drag you through some sort of custody battle when I knew..." When he didn't know that would be best for her. He didn't want to hurt Anna, even though it was unavoidable. He'd already apparently caused some sort of irreversible damage for Eliška. Enough for her to decide she never wanted to see him again. Never wanted Anna to see him again, either.

"Even if that didn't make you happy?" Anna raised one eyebrow, a sarcastic tint in her tone that reminded him, eerily, of Rodney.

"If you're happy, then I am."

She nodded and pursed her lips. His response did nothing to break through her generally unimpressed visage. "And that's why I didn't see you for eight years." She took a breath. "Because you were happy."

"I wanted to see you." He watched her for a response, but she lugged her bag and violin down the hall to the bedroom he'd pointed out earlier without even looking at him. "I wanted to see you every day." He could talk all he wanted. He hadn't been there when she needed him. That was what mattered.

"Then maybe you should have fought for it."