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

Last time: We made it to Atlantis, giving Radek and Anna some time to reminisce about times past. Time for some more drama. Sorta. What passes for drama around here, anyway.

Chapter 19. Hurt.

Anna was ready before she even heard Radek rustling around the next morning. The dress code on Atlantis was less stringent than on the Daedalus. She had the miniature, pale version of the Atlantis uniform, with white patches instead of colors, but she was free to wear whatever she liked. "Civilian" clothes, as they were called.

Everyday clothing.

Like this was every day.

Today most certainly was not just like every day, but she would act like it. Last night, she hid the photo album under her bed in a box. Not that she was hiding it… not from anyone but herself. Today of all days, she wanted to hide it.

She pulled out the small photo album, anyway, where she kept all of the most important pictures from home. The ones her mother had written on the back of. Grandparents. Her parents' wedding pictures. Pictures of when she was small. Pictures from when they were a family. Pictures from when they weren't.

The carefully selected pictures last night were mostly for his benefit. Old pictures that didn't remind her too much of her mother. Oh, they reminded her. But recent pictures were somehow worse. They reminded her that these memories were all she had. There would be no more.

Radek didn't seem to understand that last night.

She was sure it was the reason he didn't spend much time with her. He wanted to know the answer to a dozen questions that she didn't want to hear. Questions about her mother. Did he want to know if she wanted to say anything to him? If he did, he didn't really show it. Even still, he probably would like to see this…

Anna drew the folded envelope addressed to Radek from between the pages of photos. Her mother's sick, shaking hand had written his name and the letter inside. This script was just a shadow of the beauty that once made her letters seem mysterious and charming.

Anna felt guilty for keeping it from him sometimes. She didn't know what it said, but it couldn't have been all sunshine and roses. Her mother was dying when she wrote this letter, and Anna couldn't imagine what one might want to say in those circumstances. To someone she once told she never wanted to see again. She told Anna he would probably come in time. She gave Anna this letter, just in case he didn't.

Anna was supposed to give it to him.

But she couldn't. She couldn't when they were in Colorado Springs and she couldn't now that they were in another galaxy.

She was wrong before. There was no distance far enough for her to forget.

In truth, she'd forgotten about the letter in Colorado Springs. Her photo album stayed packed, going from the box she'd brought to the US into the trunk bound for Atlantis. The letter hid inside, for her to find it last night.

She didn't give it to him then, either. She didn't know why.

He might understand though. She didn't want to talk about her mother. Certainly not today. It had been half a year. She'd almost lost track of the days at the SGC, but there was a lot of empty time to fill between the Milky Way and Pegasus galaxies. She'd figured it out. Counted out the days.

With delays factored in, it turned out that today, the day after their arrival on Atlantis, was the six-month anniversary of her mother's death.

The equivalent of a knock sounded some minutes later. Anna tossed the photobook on the bed and threw a blanket over it before opening the door to the everyday Atlantis uniform. Khaki-and-blue on blue. Classy.

"Good morning," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

First night on another planet. As well as could be expected under such circumstances. At least there wasn't a hard vacuum outside. She nodded in answer and stepped into the main room between the two bedrooms and looked around. A tablet and some wires sat on the counter next to the little sink, but other than that it was clear of clutter. Anna didn't imagine his life would be all that much different with her living two doors away. She wasn't the type to leave many of her things lying around, either.

He looked at her critically. "Are you okay?"

She nodded again. "Yeah, I am."

"Oh." He didn't sound too convinced. He collected his tablet and they went out into the main thoroughfare toward the transporter. Maybe he wasn't convinced at all.

"I was hoping to introduce you to Atlantis's psychologist today," he said, switching almost seamlessly to English.

He paused when he realized Anna wasn't following anymore. She stood about a meter behind him, her heart pounding in anger. Disgust. Maybe fear. "I don't need a psychologist."

He smiled at her a little. "We all talk to her." He paused and seemed to arrange his words carefully. "Some more than others."

"Do you?" she asked.

He considered that for longer than she might have liked. "I have," he said finally, his words ultimately without hesitation. The implication was that he didn't usually. "But I also don't go offworld. I'm in a lab all day." He chuckled. "Though with all the grief Rodney gives me, Atlantis is fairly traumatizing."

"I'm going to be in my room all day, so…" Anna said.

"This is your first time offworld," he reminded. "In another galaxy. I want you to have someone to talk to. If you want to talk to someone. I don't know." He blinked once. Smiled a little as though to gain her approval.

Well, he didn't have it. There was no one she could talk to, and she could name at least a few other people she'd prefer to talk to than a stranger. "I don't."

"You'll just meet her," he said. "You don't have to say anything."

"She'll ask a hundred questions that I don't want to answer and I don't want to meet her," Anna said. She looked around the hallway. They weren't the only ones here, but no one seemed to mind when she switched to Czech. It was faster and easier. And odds were that no one would know what she was saying.

"It won't be a hundred," he said. Was that supposed to make her feel better? He turned into the open transporter and waited for her. "I wish you could talk to someone about… things."

"Things?" she snapped. "What things?" She followed him into the transporter even though that was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. She wanted to go back to her room and hide until today was over.

Tomorrow will be better. It's what she always told herself and it was usually true. The week anniversary. Two weeks. Three. Two months. Tomorrow was always better. Not for long, but it was.

"I don't know," he said. "Anything." He pressed a dot that wasn't for the mess hall and the door opened on a wide, empty hallway. It was dark until the lights flickered on for them. He stepped out. "I know today is—"

"I don't want to talk about it." Anna stayed in the transporter. He didn't get to talk about that. He wasn't there. He probably didn't care, if last night was any indication.

He shrugged. "Or not, then."

His sister had tried. Anna knew her aunt was a sweet woman, but her cousin was a handful all by himself. Anna was picking up the pieces just fine on her own. She didn't need a psychologist. And she didn't need him.

"But it's not for debate," he said. "Everyone talks to Doctor Heightmeyer at one time or another. What you talk about is up to you."

"She'll try to talk about it, though," Anna said.

He nodded as if that were a distinct possibility. "It isn't a secret why you're here."

Anna sighed and leaned back on the wall. He looked at her with concern, but kept his mouth shut. He stepped into the transporter next to her and tapped the mess hall dot. Anna smelled bacon and eggs, fruit, and oatmeal. Some of the fruit looked distinctly alien. She figured she had enough adventures for the last month. The alien fruit could wait for another day.

They ate a silent breakfast, though Radek sometimes tried to bring up the wall color or the cloudless sky. True to his promise, they went to an unfamiliar hallway of Atlantis where a blond woman was saying goodbye to one of the military personnel.

That was precisely the person who needed a psychologist. Not Anna.

"Hello, Doctor Heightmeyer," Radek said.

"Doctor Zelenka," she said. Then she looked at Anna, smiled. She stooped ever so slightly to be closer to her eyes. "You must be Anna. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." It was her most practiced English phrase. Fortunately, it didn't sound as sarcastic as she felt when she said it.

"I'm looking forward to getting to know you." Anna figured she sounded sincere enough.

Before Anna could give a response, Radek cleared his throat. "Be nice. Give her a chance." He smiled at Doctor Heightmeyer, then glanced at Anna. "I'll be back soon."

"Počkat. * Um..." Anna looked directly at him, glancing at Doctor Heightmeyer askance. What was she going to say? Did she really want him to stay if she was somehow tricked into talking about her mother? Tricked into talking about him? "Have a, um, good day."

Why was she suddenly so aware of how accented her words sounded? Far worse than Radek's. He probably couldn't even understand her English half the time.

"Are you sure?" Doctor Heightmeyer asked. "He doesn't have to go anywhere."

"No, I'm fine." Anna went through the door to Doctor Heightmeyer's office and sat on the couch. The two adults didn't say anything, but they looked confused about how to proceed.

In the end, Doctor Heightmeyer came in the office and sat in her chair. Anna watched Radek walk away through the glass windows. She watched for several seconds before she realized that Doctor Heightmeyer was looking at her, probably making assumptions already and she hadn't even said anything.

"What?" Anna asked her.

"How are you liking Atlantis so far? I know it's only been a few days."

"One day," Anna said.

"One day. And three weeks on the Daedalus. I heard it was an exciting trip."

"I guess. The Daedalus is a spaceship. It should be exciting."

Doctor Heightmeyer seemed to find that amusing. "I suppose you're right. I think that's something that we lose a little bit of, living in an alien city in another galaxy."

Anna paused. "Lose? What?"

"We start thinking this is ordinary. Normal." She motioned around the room. Her hand eventually led Anna's eyes to look outside at the endless ocean beyond the glittering spires.

Anna had a hard time thinking it would ever be ordinary. "Anything can be normal. With time."

Doctor Heightmeyer nodded. "I suppose that's true. You have a lot of adjustments to make."

That was a little of an understatement. Here she was, living on a planet in another galaxy where her native tongue was shared by only a handful of people among hundreds. She was by far the youngest denizen of this city. The closest people her age were a ride in an alien spacecraft away. She hadn't even finished adjusting to the changes that happened while she was still on Earth.

"Yes," Anna said finally. "I do."

Doctor Heightmeyer smiled and leaned back in her chair. "How has that been going?"

Anna shrugged. "Good." She didn't know how to say what she wanted to say. "It will not be normal in a day."

"That's very mature." Doctor Heightmeyer nodded. "Have you talked to your dad about this?"

Anna shook her head to answer.

"Any particular reason why?"

"I don't want to." She sensed another Why? "He'll ask questions I don't want to talk about. Thinking about things I don't want to think about. Like you."

Doctor Heightmeyer frowned a little. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's not your fault," Anna said. "He made me come."

"Is there someone else you'd prefer to talk to?" Doctor Heightmeyer asked. "You've become a little close with Doctor Weir and Doctor Keller, haven't you?"

Why did everyone think she needed to talk to someone? She couldn't talk to someone—just anyone. "I don't want to talk to any of them," Anna said. "I don't want to talk to Elizabeth or Jennifer or you or Radek. I don't need to. I'm fine."

She blinked at her tears. Good job, Anna. She'll buy that.

Doctor Heightmeyer pursed her lips. "I know…" she said quietly. "I know this is a hard day for you." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "It's been six months, today, since your mom died, hasn't it?"

Anna swiped away her tears, nodding. "Yes." She sighed and cleared her hair from her face. "I am fine on other days. It's just today."

"I know," Doctor Heightmeyer said. But it sounded like she was just saying it to oblige her. "But I think it will be much easier if you do talk to someone. And I can think of one person who loves you very much and who really wants to talk to you. Especially today."

"I don't think he really cares."

"Oh, no, honey." Doctor Heightmeyer looked sad. It was hard for Anna to tell if it was just a face she put on for her clients or if she was genuinely unhappy for her. "I'm sure if you asked him—"

"He didn't have to be there when she died," Anna said. "He didn't have to care." And now he was back on Atlantis. Back at work. He always hid at work. He didn't have to care if he was hiding.

Doctor Heightmeyer paused like she didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. No matter what Doctor Heightmeyer said—no matter what Radek said, for that matter, this was the way things were. It didn't matter if anyone cared.

Anna stood. "I'd like to go now."

"We should wait for your dad to get back…" Doctor Heightmeyer said. "Why don't you tell me about playing violin for the youth orchestra?"

Anna shook her head. "No. I don't feel well." She walked out the door and looked around for the nearest transporter.

"I'll walk you, then," Doctor Heightmeyer said behind her. "Do you need to see Doctor Beckett?"

Anna shook her head. Wrong kind of sick. Unless Doctor Beckett knew how to fix a broken heart. Of course, if anyone could, the best doctor in two galaxies could.

No, who she needed to see was her máma.

Doctor Heightmeyer showed her to the transporter and stood next to her until the door opened onto the south-east pier. "Are you going to the festival tomorrow with Teyla and Doctor Weir?" she asked while they walked.

Anna shrugged and nodded at the same time. She hadn't decided for sure, but she might as well say yes. There was nothing else to do and it might get her mind off things. What things, she didn't know.

"I'll tell your dad you didn't feel well, so I took you home. Alright?"

Anna nodded. That was fine. Until tomorrow.

She would be better tomorrow.

#

"First day back and you thought you'd take it easy, hm?"

Radek snapped up from lounging in his chair, not doing much of anything. "Sorry, I was, ah, thinking." He slid the picture back between his ID cards and turned back to his computer.

It wasn't his fault if Anna didn't want to talk. He'd tried say something—anything, after he went back to the room to check on her. She was sitting on the floor by the window. He might have been concerned, but she didn't seem to sit on couches or chairs all that often at their apartment in Colorado. He once offered her a seat on their obviously open couch. He earned a shot of some look he couldn't decipher. Maybe something that said, "I know no one's sitting on the couch." Today, she was sitting on the floor reading. Or maybe just looking out the window at Atlantis. Either was a fine use of time in Radek's opinion.

Except he was fairly sure she was thinking of Eliška. Six months ago, today, had been the worst day of Anna's life. She was as alone then as she was now, wasn't she? Except, now, she was in another galaxy. He should be with her, shouldn't he?

"Oh, then, by all means, keep going. How long have you been at it? Ten minutes?" Rodney sarcastically checked his watch. "It's not like we pay you or anything. Let me know when you're ready to go."

"Go?" Radek glanced up. "Where? I thought we were testing the-the-the output of the ZPM on the—"

"That was an hour ago. Collins and Kusanagi are following up on that. Are you okay? You sick or something?" Rodney's questions seemed concerned, but not his tone. He seemed annoyed and patronizing.

"No, not sick," Radek mumbled. Had he really just lost an hour? He would have to figure out something… Or he could tell the truth. What was the worst thing Rodney could do? Ridicule him? It would be just like every other day. "I'm worried about Anna."

"Oh." Rodney didn't ridicule him. He didn't say much of anything, really. He just cleared his throat and went back to whatever he was doing.

Rodney wouldn't understand anyway. At least, Radek didn't think he would. Forget it. Radek didn't understand, either. From the moment the message reached him that Eliška had died, he'd sort of disowned that knowledge. It didn't seem real, and it still didn't. He figured that having Anna living with him would soon put sense back into him and he'd realize that he was really never going to see her again.

He hadn't been upset. That was the worst thing. He hadn't felt much of anything. Still didn't. He thought he should have. Last night was the closest he'd gotten. Looking at the picture of her, and realizing as if for the first time that she was simply gone. For just a moment, he felt… resentment. He hadn't said a proper goodbye and had no one but himself to blame anymore. He might have thought to blame Eliška, but that was pointless.

His screen blinked at him that a simulation had finished. There were all sorts of tests to finish now that the ZPM had turned on all manner of systems they didn't know existed before they left. More of that could be done later.

"I'm ready now." He picked up his tablet and hoped he'd remember what he was doing on the way to wherever it was he was going.

Rodney waved away his words like an annoying fly. "No, no, no, no, it's fine. If you need to go do something—something about Anna, then that's—"

Radek rolled his eyes. "I have a family. This does not mean I can't work."

"We've only been back for—what?—a day? There's time. Go."

Radek stood in front of his computer, not saying anything for what felt like minutes. Confused as all hell. How to respond to a thoughtful Rodney McKay... "What?" he finally managed. "Is there something I should know, McKay? Are you terminally ill or something?"

Rodney snatched up his tablet. "Probably," he snapped. "Since it was also my idea she come at all. Clinically insane is the term you used, I believe." He stalked out of the lab liked a kicked puppy.

Radek didn't remember using that term at all. It didn't matter, though. Rodney probably was some garden variety of mentally unstable, but he got things done. And he was a good distraction. "Oh, my god, it's a brain tumor." Radek grinned, following Rodney anyway. "How long do you have? Six months? A year?"

"Don't pretend you'd be concerned about my well-being. We both know you aren't."

"Of course. I will be head of the science team, yes?"

Czech Things

* Počkat = Wait

Next time: I'm good at this social-thing. ... Why are you laughing?