To Linda: Ah, thank you! I should've posted on the actual anniversary, but hindsight is 20/20, I guess? Maybe next year... Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Previously: After a project that turned into disaster (chapters 43-52), Anna decides she needs some time to sort stuff out. Or not. Meanwhile, Radek realizes that time is moving on... and his little girl isn't so little anymore.

Chapter 57. What Little Girls Are Made Of.

It was raining on the mainland.

The last time Anna remembered standing out in the rain was waiting for her ride home from school. She was in elementary school, so it was a long time ago. She usually went inside at the first sign of any sort of weather at all… even sunshine. She wasn't really an outdoors person.

Teyla, Iskaan, and Jinto, though… they were all very much outdoors people. Dressed in leathers and armed with knives and staffs. Iskaan arranged several knives on his belt, including the one Anna gave to him on their excursion to Delbradia.

"We're going to check our river traps," he said. "Do you want to come?"

"Walking through the woods in the rain is surprisingly relaxing," Teyla added.

"That is what I'm here for. Walking through the woods, I mean. Not relaxing," Anna joked. She was dressed for it as best she could be, wearing jeans and a thick-weave shirt Teyla got for her at a market somewhere offworld. Teyla seemed to like to get people things, especially John and Elizabeth, though Anna got more than her fair share of gifts.

"Good." Teyla started off ahead of them until Jinto caught up. He sprinted through the woods like a little chipmunk. Anna lost sight of him pretty quickly.

Anna fell in step next to Teyla. Iskaan walked on her other side.

"Thank you for inviting me, Teyla," Anna said as they went, listening to the rain patter on the trees' leaves. "I'm glad to get out of Atlantis for a little while."

"Trouble in paradise?" Iskaan asked, looking genuinely concerned.

Anna shrugged. "There was an accident in a lab." She fell silent, hoping Teyla would pick up her slack. Or not. It didn't really matter so long as she didn't have to talk about it right now.

"One of Anna's friends was killed," Teyla offered when Iskaan looked to her for further explanation. "It was not many days ago. We are still grieving."

Well, some of them were, anyway.

"Oh." Iskaan frowned. "I'm sorry." He kicked at some leaves, apparently looking for a subject change. Seeing nothing on the ground that would help him, he looked at Anna. "I noticed you have your throwing knives. Have you been practicing?"

"Yes," Anna said. She pulled out a knife, finding herself smiling when she held it. She tossed it up, then caught it. A month ago, she never would have done that. She would have been too afraid of cutting her hand.

She'd already done that, and it wasn't too bad. She'd been hurt, cut up, and bruised. Broken hearted. Nothing lasted forever.

"Well, let's see it," Iskaan prodded, standing back and pointing at a tree. "See if you can't hit the knot in that tree over there."

It was an older tree, the knot where a branch had been maybe a hundred years ago looked almost like a perfect target. She stood straighter, lining up the knife in her fingers. With a solid, fluid motion, she stepped forward and hurled the knife. She berated herself for the way her foot landed, leaving her off-balance. Ronon would have snapped at her for leaving herself open that way.

The knife hit somewhere in the middle of the knot, though.

Iskaan looked impressed. "I'm not sure you're the same girl that went to Delbradia."

"I'm not sure I am." Anna retrieved her knife and looked back toward Iskaan with a smile.

Teyla seemed equally impressed with Anna's progress. "She has been training with us very hard. I would not be surprised if you could keep up with Athosian children now."

Anna smiled without her own permission. Athosian children were definitely not the level she aspired to as far as intellectual ground, but they were far more competent at surviving. It was something to be envied, just as much as being able to build almost anything with components from a hardware store. Probably even more.

The Athosian children dealt with fear and death as a matter of daily course. Anna didn't know how to survive that, even though she somehow had.

"I'm sure you could," Iskaan went on. "Last time I saw you, I don't think you knew how to hold them correctly."

With that jibe, Iskaan took a sharp turn and slid down a steep embankment leading to a river. Jinto was already there, wading waist-deep in the flowing water.

"I wondered where you all were," he said, pulling on ropes in the river that were tied to trees on the bank.

"Did we have success?" Teyla asked. She pulled a huge crate down from the tree the ropes were tied to. Anna didn't see it until Teyla had it in hand on the riverbank.

"I have three and I haven't checked them all yet," Jinto said. He reached down into the water, coming up with two slick, blue creatures that looked like arachnids… but were only crabs. Or somewhat like crabs, with shining hard shells and what looked like pincers. The creatures' legs creaked as they tried to walk in mid-air in Jinto's hands.

"These are full, too," Iskaan said. He pulled two traps up on the shore. He knelt down to get a better look. "Want to see, Anna?" Iskaan asked.

Anna shook her head, noting the obvious roll of Jinto's eyes as he picked up another crab trap.

Iskaan opened the top of the crate-like structure and reached in with his bare hands. Anna wasn't sure, but it seemed like something someone would want gloves for. He didn't pull out a crab, though. He pulled out a faded and stringy gross-thing with some green water plants hanging off it.

"Time to change the bait," he announced, pitching the whatever-it-was into the meandering river. Iskaan glanced at Anna, laughing when he saw her face. "Bird necks. Not too easy for humans to eat. But the crabs love them."

It was hard to believe that Teyla had been carrying a package of what looked like chicken necks with them the whole time. After unwrapping the meats, she deposited them into the crab traps while Jinto and Iskaan pulled out the crabs.

"Come on, Anna," Jinto goaded. "It isn't any fun if you don't even touch one."

"She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to," Iskaan said.

Anna sighed and looked at Teyla. She was handing the crabs with no difficulty, even looking the animals right in the eye before putting them in her sack.

"Here." Jinto offered her a crab. The creature held two arms up, failing its legs. "You don't even have to get one yourself. Just hold it."

Eying the shimmering creature, Anna carefully held out her hand.

Jinto tossed the crab right at her face and she squealed, skittering toward the bank as she batted the crab away from her face. She regained composure as quickly as possible before glaring at Jinto. "What did you do that for?"

Jinto laughed as though he hadn't seen anything that funny in weeks. Even Iskaan chuckled.

Teyla apparently snatched the poor creature out of the air before it fell. "That was unkind, Jinto." Teyla put the crab into her sack. "You must apologize."

"It was just a joke." Jinto laughed until he couldn't stand anymore. He sat down in the river.

Anna set her jaw, feeling herself blush but there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't a very funny joke… But apparently twelve-year-old boys were twelve-year-old boys no matter which galaxy they were in.

But Iskaan looked amused as he tried not to look at her. He focused very hard on his box of crabs, sniffing to hold in his laughter.

Anna figured there was only one way to redeem herself. She waded out into the river next to Jinto. She didn't come to another galaxy to play it safe… and crabs didn't seem too threatening.

Jinto looked up at her, still giggling.

She took his crab trap without asking and reached in without looking.

They weren't slimy at all. She held the crab up to look it in the face. If that was a face. Its eyes twitched from side to side, maybe watching her. She put it in Teyla's bag. "We have these on Earth," she said. "But I guess they always look alien."

Teyla smiled, that peculiar smile she had when she was proud or amused. Maybe she was both. "Do you?"

"Yes, but..." Anna leaned in to grab another crab. It got easier to touch them now that she knew what they felt like. "My country does not have any oceans, so our rivers are all freshwater. We have crayfish. Which are like crabs." She paused to look at the crab in her hand. "Sort of."

"Do your people hunt then?" Iskaan glanced up, seeming very interested.

Anna never wished she knew how her country got its food, but had to admit to herself that she had basically no idea how. Farms and ranches, probably. They weren't hunters, though. That was for certain. She wasn't sure if the entire country could be fed on the local deer population.

Or maybe it could. She had no idea.

"No. We don't really hunt. We raise the animals we eat ourselves. And we grow our food," Anna said. "But maybe they were hunters. A long time ago." Maybe everyone was a hunter a long time ago.

"My people once raised livestock, as well," Teyla said. "But they abandoned that when the Wraith began culling again. It was too difficult to move the animals as well as ourselves."

As interesting as that was, Anna was glad when the crabs were all in the bags and the crates were put back into the river with new bait. Jinto carried a bag back up the embankment, and Iskaan shouldered the other. Jinto conspicuously said nothing as they headed back into the woods toward the settlement.

Iskaan stayed back to walk beside Anna when they were securely back under the cover of the branches. "My father and I will be going to Atlantis in a few days," he said. "To trade."

"Oh?" Anna nodded. That might break up her monotonous week if she could find him. It didn't look like she would be doing anything else exciting and… well, that was a depressing thought.

"I was hoping to see you," he said. "Perhaps your mess hall will have cookies."

She glanced at him. He wasn't looking directly at her, but she wondered if his intentions were as obvious as he made them seem. Did he…? Was this how an Athosian asked someone on a date?

She smiled a little. "I think it might. You might even be on Atlantis for my birthday."

"Your birthday."

"Yes. On Earth we celebrate the anniversary of when we were born. Do Athosians do that?"

"Oh, yes…" He grinned. "We throw parties and dance and give gifts. Birthdays are very important to us. I suppose they are important to you, too. Your people seem to value your parties."

Anna nodded, with some reservation. She thought so, too. But it wasn't looking so much that way. "Some of us do," she allowed. "But some of us forget."

#

He'd checked under every book, paper, and tablet in the room. On the floor. Behind the bench. In the sink. It just wasn't anywhere. He needed to figure out if Anna actually could receive the gene therapy, but the thought of it brought on unreal levels of stress for a reason he couldn't figure. Best to get his mind off that.

But if he got his mind too far, he started thinking about other things. If he sat still too long, he might realize he didn't actually want to do anything, because, right now, everything seemed pointless.

Radek was determined to stay out of Doctor Heightmeyer's office. There was nothing wrong with him. But start thinking things like that and then he might start saying similar things. Someone important could notice, and before he could realize what happened, it would be mandatory psych evals and therapy sessions to clog up his already tight schedule.

On the other hand, he acknowledged the potential hypocrisy. He forced Anna to weekly visits with Doctor Heightmeyer for the adjustment to Atlantis and to her mother's death. Even though Anna wasn't depressed… at least not according to all his inadequate knowledge of psychological ailments. She kept up brilliantly with her school work, had no trouble concentrating. She went to bed on time and got up before he did.

Radek had no idea. He worried when he talked to himself like this.

He worried himself when he was angry for no reason. Angry at people and for reasons that were more than just invalid. It was unfair to be so angry at Collins for dying.

But it was unfair. That's all it was.

No, no, stop it.

The last time he'd lost someone on Atlantis, he'd been in distinct mortal danger. The "mortal danger" part, that brought him to Doctor Heightmeyer's office. It was reasonable to be afraid when infected with a terror-inducing, brain-exploding virus. To come within minutes of death from it. He wasn't sure if he was just imagining things when the darkness started crawling on his vision like carpenter ants tearing down a house... or maybe that was what dying was like.

It was reasonable if insomnia was one of the side-effects. It was reasonable even if it lasted weeks…

Insomnia was a legitimate medical malady.

Was it?

Why was this any different? He'd lie awake to puzzle out what he could have done differently. Why he hadn't done differently. He started reading at night until he couldn't see the words anymore. Still couldn't sleep, though.

It was perfectly appropriate to be sad, with Collins so suddenly… gone.

Just gone.

But no one, especially not the doctor herself, would approve of his replacing Doctor Heightmeyer's sage counsel with a glass of alcohol. Probably more than one, considering the number of bottles he had stashed away. Not for an occasion such as this, though.

Never supposed to be for something like this.

Supposed to have someone to drink with.

And Collins was supposed to see Prague. He'd been to another galaxy, but, otherwise, he'd never left the USA in his life. He was supposed to taste a real beer someday.

Staring into the amber abyss was too sobering a reflection, anyway. He'd put it away before he had any. Self-medication was how his father handled things. It wasn't what Radek did. He buried his problems under piles of physics, sometimes fought his problems out between the black and white pieces on a chess board. He stewed in his problems for weeks and months and sometimes years. The closest he got to doing anything about his problems was when he cursed them and the people causing them, if necessary.

Pigeons always listened. Even when he didn't say anything.

It probably wasn't healthy, but it worked. There was nothing he could have done to stop Collins' death. He couldn't have seen it coming, and even if he did, he couldn't have stopped Rodney. Or maybe he wouldn't have. Because he so rarely stopped people from doing stupid things… even on those rare occasions when he tried to, no one listened.

He should just relax and get back to work—and he didn't even have to stop to examine the irony of that thought if he didn't want to. But he couldn't very well get back to work without that cable.

Oh, right. Anna had borrowed it.

Who knew where it was now. Who knew when she'd be back. It was only lunch. He didn't expect to see her until dinner or later. She probably just left it in her room.

Radek opened the door to see her room neatly organized. Anna apparently hadn't inherited his disregard for neatness. Radek wasn't a slob… but he didn't keep things organized all the time, either. She didn't have many things, but what she did have seemed to be everything in its place. The bed was made, pillows arranged artistically on the quilt. The bookshelf held volumes arranged from tall to short. The small desk had only a sheet of folded paper and a pen, an English dictionary, and—there it was. The cable Radek was looking for.

He went to pick it up, but his eyes caught on the first line of the folded sheet of paper, lying mostly open on the desk next to it.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Collins.

Radek set the cable down and picked up the sheet of paper, knowing very well he shouldn't read it. But she hadn't told anyone she had a letter for Collins's family. They were sending the body back to Earth tomorrow… any personal effects and the condolences for the family were to go along with it.

The letter started in Czech, just a sentence offering sympathies.

Přijměte prosím moji nejhlubší soustrast.

It means "please accept my condolences." I hope you will forgive my English. I am still not good at writing in English since I moved from the Czech Republic to live with my father after my mother died. He works on the same project your son worked on. I have not lived here very long so I have not many friends, but I think Doctor Collins was my first. He helped me with my science homework many times, and I am very grateful. I think Doctor Collins was a better teacher than any I ever had. I am very sorry.

A few lines after that were scratched out, followed by a quick cursive in Czech.

I don't know what to say. There is nothing to say when someone dies, is there? People try to tell you it will be okay. They try to say not to be sad, because they loved you and would not want you to be sad. We are supposed to be sad. It means we loved them. It's right to be sad, even if no one else is. Especially if no one else is. I wish Doctor Collins were still here. I wish—

She stopped there. Her next words turned into frustrated scribbles before she abandoned the note entirely.

Radek set the note down, careful to leave it just as he'd found it. He left the cable, too.

Next time: Listen… this is awkward… but everyone eats.