Fic: Puzzling Evidence (Part VII), NC-17, Lorne/Zelenka by inkscribe
Title: Puzzling Evidence (Part VII)
Author: inkscribe
Pairings: Lorne/Zelenka
Kink: mild D/s, bondage, spanking
Warnings: Melodramatic reunion - tissue alert!
Angst-o-meter: Medium-High (non-sustained semi-critical angst) ;-)
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2000 (this part)
Spoilers: none
Locations: atlantiskink, welovezelenka, my LJ
Feedback: yes, please!
Summary: What we see is not always what it seems.
Chapter Summary: Awakening.
New to this WIP? Check out the Puzzling Evidence chapter index! Please remember to read the header block of each chapter for related spoiler alerts, warnings, and notes.
ETA: This chapter now revised with tooltip translations. [end ETA]
Author's Notes: I don’t know about you, dear readers, but I was getting anxious about our good friend Radek. He’s awake! He speaks, sometimes in Czech! Czech (the language and the person) finally returns! Woo hoo! Non-beta’d, so any errors are most definitely mine.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine; please don’t sue, we’ll both regret it in the morning.
Radek pushed his tongue through dry lips. “ Mám žízeň,” he croaked. He listened carefully but could hear no one nearby, only the murmur of activity somewhere beyond the room he was in. His own room? Ne.
Radek felt his as though his mind were full of cotton, soft and yielding, but obscuring something important. He felt drained, he had no energy to open his eyes. He tried again to lick his lips. He tried to focus on his hearing, try to make out something from the susurration of sound that flowed around him. He heard a beep, and then another, and another. His eyes flew open as he tied the sound with the function: a heart monitor. Someone had switched on a heart monitor nearby. A heart monitor meant the infirmary and - do prdele! - his chest constricted painfully as the memories flooded back in their entirety.
He felt his skin soak as the rush of fear caused him to break out in sweat. Marc. He had to find Marc. They took Marc, and they took him and he did not what had happened to Marc. He pushed himself upright, felt his head swoon at the rapid change in elevation. Marc! he thought. Marc.
Radek levered his legs over the edge of the bed, whispering, “Marc, Marc, Marc” like a mantra. He had to find his lover, had to find him before the Colonel and Rodney did something terrible.
At the thought of Rodney, Radek nearly fell back to the gurney. How could Rodney do this to him? Radek had trusted him. Radek had told him to stay out of his personal life, and Rodney not only ignored that but brought Sheppard into his quarters one night to attack his lover? It made no sense.
Radek moaned softly in distress. The sound must have carried, because he saw a movement in the door and suddenly Rodney himself was in front of him, hope on his face, looking eager to help him or hurt him or -
“ Ne!” Radek shrieked, stumbling backwards away from Rodney, the small of his back slamming hard into the edge of the unyielding gurney. He could hear steps, rushing toward him, coming fast and close and “ Ne, ne, ne,” he cried, putting his hands up to defend himself from Rodney’s presence.
But the hands that reached for him were not Rodney’s but Doctor Beckett’s. He tried to focus on the man as he was helped to stand again; he had not realised he had drawn into a foetal curl as he backed into the wall. He could not make Beckett’s face clear, but he tried and tried to listen, to make the words clear.
“Radek,” said Doctor Beckett. “Sssshhh, Radek. It’s all right. Rodney isn’t here right now. It’s only me, Carson - Doctor Beckett. Come on, son, back to bed.”
Radek shook his head vehemently. “ Ne, ne, I cannot. I must find Marc.” He tried to peer into Beckett’s eyes, perhaps if he could make eye contact the man would understand how important it was. “Marc!” he cried. “They - they took him. I have to find him. I have to -”
He felt Beckett’s arms holding him, strong and secure. He sobbed and gasped as he tried to draw in enough breath to speak again. It was many moments before he realised Beckett was speaking to him again.
“Do you understand?” Beckett had said, and looked at Radek closely. Radek had no idea what the doctor had just asked him, or told him. He stared blankly, unfocused, then relaxed slightly as he heard Beckett repeat himself.
“Marc is here, Radek,” Beckett soothed. “He’ll be all right. I’ll take you to him in a few minutes, but first I have to check a couple of things before you start walking around.”
Radek allowed Beckett to manouevre him back onto the gurney. He was relieved when the doctor immediately began to check vitals. This was normal, this was routine. Beckett began to speak again, and Radek focused carefully on his words. Beckett told him that Marc was also a patient, and that no, it wasn’t because of anything either Sheppard or McKay had done to him, but that Marc had been unlucky enough to develop acute appendicitis and had been admitted for surgery.
Radek had to admire Beckett. Even through the fog of his own distress and disorientation, Beckett continued to speak slowly and clearly, helping Radek find the ground, remain on the ground. Not that Radek noticed at first; no, Radek only realised what Beckett was doing on the third temperature check in as many minutes. Radek felt himself smiling slightly, shyly.
“Marc is here?” he whispered.
“Yes, Radek,” affirmed Beckett. “Marc is here. He’s had surgery for his appendix.”
“And I may see him?”
Beckett smiled at Radek. “Yes, Radek. You may see him when I’m done with you here.”
Radek regarded Beckett for a moment. Blinked. He could feel himself coming back under control. He realised the doctor was helping him to get grounded, to get back to himself.
He found himself responding dryly, almost a hint of humour, “I suspect, doctor, that you are stalling a bit, ne?”
Beckett chuckled. “Aye, son, that I am. Just for a little while. I want to be sure you can stay on your feet long enough to make it to his bedside, you know.”
Radek smiled. “I believe you.”
“Good lad,” Beckett smiled back. “You sound a wee bit dry. Are you up for some water?”
Radek nodded, surprised that he’d managed to speak at all when he thought about how parched his mouth felt.
Beckett handed him the water and watched him take a few sips. “Good job, Radek. Not too quickly,” he smiled.
“Mmmm,” Radek agreed, nodding while he kept the straw firmly in his mouth, sipping minute amounts, amazed at how the water felt so refreshing that he could well imagine being a withered plant soaking up a long-overdue drink.
Radek continued to sip as Beckett began to talk again. “I don’t want you to be shocked, Radek,” he said. “Marc doesn’t look that great right now. I’ve got him on IV antibiotics so there are a lot of bags running into him.”
Radek must have looked stricken. Beckett placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’s doing very well and his recovery is coming along as expected. I just didn’t want you to think he’d be lounging around reading a book as though he were taking a few hours off,” Beckett said. “He’ll be here a few days, in fact.”
Radek frowned: a few days sounded serious. Too serious.
Beckett chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking, Radek, and you’re wrong. Appendicitis can have a very bad presentation, and your Marc had one of the worst. If he’d been offworld he could have been in serious trouble. Thankfully, he was here when it happened, and we were able to get him into surgery and treatment immediately. He’ll be fine. He just looks not so good right now.”
Radek nodded as he absorbed this information.
“Rather a lot like you, I think,” Beckett teased. “Not looking so good?”
Radek knew he should laugh but really didn’t feel up to that level of casual humour. He wondered whether he would ever be able to make easy comments, joke and banter, ever again. Beckett sobered. “I’m sorry, Radek,” he said quietly. “The timing is terrible. You need to know that this would have happened to Marc right now no matter where he was or what he was doing. It isn’t anyone’s fault. Remember that, all right?”
Radek felt himself nod. He wasn’t ready to face thinking about the last hours or days just yet, but he could hold on to the thought that his lover was in the infirmary now because of something outside of anyone’s control. He was relieved to realise that this thought was, in fact, comforting.
“ Prosím - may I see Marc now?” he whispered.
“In just a few more minutes,” Beckett said, smiling. “I have to ask you a few questions first, but I promise I’ll keep them short. Then I’ll take you over to him myself.”
oOo
Marc smiled to himself as he stroked Radek's hair. Radek looked so peaceful in sleep, snuggled into a ball under Marc's left arm in the small space between Marc’s body and the bars on the side of the infirmary bed. Marc stroked softly, steadily, wanting more than anything to soothe Radek long enough for the man to have a proper rest.
Marc swung between relief and anger when Radek was awake. Not anger at Radek, of course, but anger at the state the scientist had been reduced to. While Marc was still stuck in bed and Radek was mobile, free even to leave the infirmary if he wished, Radek was deeply wounded as Marc had expected, perhaps even more so. Shattered, Marc thought. He’s shattered. Only when Radek was asleep could Marc successfully pretend to himself that it was just Radek, just the same as always, asleep and safe in his arms.
It still spooked him when he remembered Radek first coming to his bed with Doctor Beckett. His eyes were wide and round, his steps hesitant. Marc wanted to leap from the bed and hold Radek tight to his chest, but with his wound, packed freshly again after yet another irrigation and assessment, it was impossible. Marc had smiled softly, silently encouraging and inviting Radek to come closer, to approach in his own time. Marc wanted to cry - he was crying inside. Radek was so frightened - no, terrified - the very image of a scared rabbit.
Marc would have to fight hard to keep from becoming the wolf.
It was a good analogy, really. Every time he thought of Colonel Sheppard, every time he thought of Doctor McKay, he felt his insides harden and his mind slide to feral, primal anger. The two of them - they tore him away from Radek. They left him afraid and alone and scared him literally witless. Marc could hardly face his own memory of being unable to protect his lover the one time it mattered. He felt something cold settle in his gut: Marc was certain there could be no second time.
Radek approached Marc slowly, hesitation at each step, almost as if he thought Marc might evaporate like a mirage in the desert if he came too close, stepped one step too far toward what - who - he wanted. Marc was pleased to see Doctor Beckett held a hand gently on Radek’s shoulder; Marc had long ago discovered that touch was a good way to keep Radek grounded when he was frightened, and Radek was so, so frightened, so far beyond anything Marc had witnessed.
Time slowed and went unmarked, became meaningless, as Marc watched Radek’s approach, step by step. Finally, Radek was there, standing next to him, every muscle vibrating as though he really were the rabbit, really were ready to flee at the slightest unexpected movement or sound. Marc held his breath, watching, waiting. Radek lifted his hand toward Marc; a tentative finger brushed across Marc’s lips.
“Marc?” Radek whispered.
Marc kissed Radek’s fingertip lightly.
“Yes, Love. I’m here.”
“ Miláčku,” Radek breathed, hardly giving voice to the word, his eyes too bright from stress and fear and constricted pupils. Marc smiled still, soft, inviting. Radek only stared, then sank his head into the crook of Marc’s neck. He heard Radek’s soft sobs, felt his wet tears on his neck, felt the tremors of the man’s crying course through the bed itself and flow through Marc’s body. Marc reached his arms around Radek, one hand stroking through his hair.
“Shhhhhh, Love,” he soothed. “It’s OK. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Marc didn’t notice when Doctor Beckett stepped away to leave them some privacy.
End Part VII
Author: inkscribe
Pairings: Lorne/Zelenka
Kink: mild D/s, bondage, spanking
Warnings: Melodramatic reunion - tissue alert!
Angst-o-meter: Medium-High (non-sustained semi-critical angst) ;-)
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2000 (this part)
Spoilers: none
Locations: atlantiskink, welovezelenka, my LJ
Feedback: yes, please!
Summary: What we see is not always what it seems.
Chapter Summary: Awakening.
New to this WIP? Check out the Puzzling Evidence chapter index! Please remember to read the header block of each chapter for related spoiler alerts, warnings, and notes.
ETA: This chapter now revised with tooltip translations. [end ETA]
Author's Notes: I don’t know about you, dear readers, but I was getting anxious about our good friend Radek. He’s awake! He speaks, sometimes in Czech! Czech (the language and the person) finally returns! Woo hoo! Non-beta’d, so any errors are most definitely mine.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine; please don’t sue, we’ll both regret it in the morning.
Radek pushed his tongue through dry lips. “ Mám žízeň,” he croaked. He listened carefully but could hear no one nearby, only the murmur of activity somewhere beyond the room he was in. His own room? Ne.
Radek felt his as though his mind were full of cotton, soft and yielding, but obscuring something important. He felt drained, he had no energy to open his eyes. He tried again to lick his lips. He tried to focus on his hearing, try to make out something from the susurration of sound that flowed around him. He heard a beep, and then another, and another. His eyes flew open as he tied the sound with the function: a heart monitor. Someone had switched on a heart monitor nearby. A heart monitor meant the infirmary and - do prdele! - his chest constricted painfully as the memories flooded back in their entirety.
He felt his skin soak as the rush of fear caused him to break out in sweat. Marc. He had to find Marc. They took Marc, and they took him and he did not what had happened to Marc. He pushed himself upright, felt his head swoon at the rapid change in elevation. Marc! he thought. Marc.
Radek levered his legs over the edge of the bed, whispering, “Marc, Marc, Marc” like a mantra. He had to find his lover, had to find him before the Colonel and Rodney did something terrible.
At the thought of Rodney, Radek nearly fell back to the gurney. How could Rodney do this to him? Radek had trusted him. Radek had told him to stay out of his personal life, and Rodney not only ignored that but brought Sheppard into his quarters one night to attack his lover? It made no sense.
Radek moaned softly in distress. The sound must have carried, because he saw a movement in the door and suddenly Rodney himself was in front of him, hope on his face, looking eager to help him or hurt him or -
“ Ne!” Radek shrieked, stumbling backwards away from Rodney, the small of his back slamming hard into the edge of the unyielding gurney. He could hear steps, rushing toward him, coming fast and close and “ Ne, ne, ne,” he cried, putting his hands up to defend himself from Rodney’s presence.
But the hands that reached for him were not Rodney’s but Doctor Beckett’s. He tried to focus on the man as he was helped to stand again; he had not realised he had drawn into a foetal curl as he backed into the wall. He could not make Beckett’s face clear, but he tried and tried to listen, to make the words clear.
“Radek,” said Doctor Beckett. “Sssshhh, Radek. It’s all right. Rodney isn’t here right now. It’s only me, Carson - Doctor Beckett. Come on, son, back to bed.”
Radek shook his head vehemently. “ Ne, ne, I cannot. I must find Marc.” He tried to peer into Beckett’s eyes, perhaps if he could make eye contact the man would understand how important it was. “Marc!” he cried. “They - they took him. I have to find him. I have to -”
He felt Beckett’s arms holding him, strong and secure. He sobbed and gasped as he tried to draw in enough breath to speak again. It was many moments before he realised Beckett was speaking to him again.
“Do you understand?” Beckett had said, and looked at Radek closely. Radek had no idea what the doctor had just asked him, or told him. He stared blankly, unfocused, then relaxed slightly as he heard Beckett repeat himself.
“Marc is here, Radek,” Beckett soothed. “He’ll be all right. I’ll take you to him in a few minutes, but first I have to check a couple of things before you start walking around.”
Radek allowed Beckett to manouevre him back onto the gurney. He was relieved when the doctor immediately began to check vitals. This was normal, this was routine. Beckett began to speak again, and Radek focused carefully on his words. Beckett told him that Marc was also a patient, and that no, it wasn’t because of anything either Sheppard or McKay had done to him, but that Marc had been unlucky enough to develop acute appendicitis and had been admitted for surgery.
Radek had to admire Beckett. Even through the fog of his own distress and disorientation, Beckett continued to speak slowly and clearly, helping Radek find the ground, remain on the ground. Not that Radek noticed at first; no, Radek only realised what Beckett was doing on the third temperature check in as many minutes. Radek felt himself smiling slightly, shyly.
“Marc is here?” he whispered.
“Yes, Radek,” affirmed Beckett. “Marc is here. He’s had surgery for his appendix.”
“And I may see him?”
Beckett smiled at Radek. “Yes, Radek. You may see him when I’m done with you here.”
Radek regarded Beckett for a moment. Blinked. He could feel himself coming back under control. He realised the doctor was helping him to get grounded, to get back to himself.
He found himself responding dryly, almost a hint of humour, “I suspect, doctor, that you are stalling a bit, ne?”
Beckett chuckled. “Aye, son, that I am. Just for a little while. I want to be sure you can stay on your feet long enough to make it to his bedside, you know.”
Radek smiled. “I believe you.”
“Good lad,” Beckett smiled back. “You sound a wee bit dry. Are you up for some water?”
Radek nodded, surprised that he’d managed to speak at all when he thought about how parched his mouth felt.
Beckett handed him the water and watched him take a few sips. “Good job, Radek. Not too quickly,” he smiled.
“Mmmm,” Radek agreed, nodding while he kept the straw firmly in his mouth, sipping minute amounts, amazed at how the water felt so refreshing that he could well imagine being a withered plant soaking up a long-overdue drink.
Radek continued to sip as Beckett began to talk again. “I don’t want you to be shocked, Radek,” he said. “Marc doesn’t look that great right now. I’ve got him on IV antibiotics so there are a lot of bags running into him.”
Radek must have looked stricken. Beckett placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’s doing very well and his recovery is coming along as expected. I just didn’t want you to think he’d be lounging around reading a book as though he were taking a few hours off,” Beckett said. “He’ll be here a few days, in fact.”
Radek frowned: a few days sounded serious. Too serious.
Beckett chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking, Radek, and you’re wrong. Appendicitis can have a very bad presentation, and your Marc had one of the worst. If he’d been offworld he could have been in serious trouble. Thankfully, he was here when it happened, and we were able to get him into surgery and treatment immediately. He’ll be fine. He just looks not so good right now.”
Radek nodded as he absorbed this information.
“Rather a lot like you, I think,” Beckett teased. “Not looking so good?”
Radek knew he should laugh but really didn’t feel up to that level of casual humour. He wondered whether he would ever be able to make easy comments, joke and banter, ever again. Beckett sobered. “I’m sorry, Radek,” he said quietly. “The timing is terrible. You need to know that this would have happened to Marc right now no matter where he was or what he was doing. It isn’t anyone’s fault. Remember that, all right?”
Radek felt himself nod. He wasn’t ready to face thinking about the last hours or days just yet, but he could hold on to the thought that his lover was in the infirmary now because of something outside of anyone’s control. He was relieved to realise that this thought was, in fact, comforting.
“ Prosím - may I see Marc now?” he whispered.
“In just a few more minutes,” Beckett said, smiling. “I have to ask you a few questions first, but I promise I’ll keep them short. Then I’ll take you over to him myself.”
oOo
Marc smiled to himself as he stroked Radek's hair. Radek looked so peaceful in sleep, snuggled into a ball under Marc's left arm in the small space between Marc’s body and the bars on the side of the infirmary bed. Marc stroked softly, steadily, wanting more than anything to soothe Radek long enough for the man to have a proper rest.
Marc swung between relief and anger when Radek was awake. Not anger at Radek, of course, but anger at the state the scientist had been reduced to. While Marc was still stuck in bed and Radek was mobile, free even to leave the infirmary if he wished, Radek was deeply wounded as Marc had expected, perhaps even more so. Shattered, Marc thought. He’s shattered. Only when Radek was asleep could Marc successfully pretend to himself that it was just Radek, just the same as always, asleep and safe in his arms.
It still spooked him when he remembered Radek first coming to his bed with Doctor Beckett. His eyes were wide and round, his steps hesitant. Marc wanted to leap from the bed and hold Radek tight to his chest, but with his wound, packed freshly again after yet another irrigation and assessment, it was impossible. Marc had smiled softly, silently encouraging and inviting Radek to come closer, to approach in his own time. Marc wanted to cry - he was crying inside. Radek was so frightened - no, terrified - the very image of a scared rabbit.
Marc would have to fight hard to keep from becoming the wolf.
It was a good analogy, really. Every time he thought of Colonel Sheppard, every time he thought of Doctor McKay, he felt his insides harden and his mind slide to feral, primal anger. The two of them - they tore him away from Radek. They left him afraid and alone and scared him literally witless. Marc could hardly face his own memory of being unable to protect his lover the one time it mattered. He felt something cold settle in his gut: Marc was certain there could be no second time.
Radek approached Marc slowly, hesitation at each step, almost as if he thought Marc might evaporate like a mirage in the desert if he came too close, stepped one step too far toward what - who - he wanted. Marc was pleased to see Doctor Beckett held a hand gently on Radek’s shoulder; Marc had long ago discovered that touch was a good way to keep Radek grounded when he was frightened, and Radek was so, so frightened, so far beyond anything Marc had witnessed.
Time slowed and went unmarked, became meaningless, as Marc watched Radek’s approach, step by step. Finally, Radek was there, standing next to him, every muscle vibrating as though he really were the rabbit, really were ready to flee at the slightest unexpected movement or sound. Marc held his breath, watching, waiting. Radek lifted his hand toward Marc; a tentative finger brushed across Marc’s lips.
“Marc?” Radek whispered.
Marc kissed Radek’s fingertip lightly.
“Yes, Love. I’m here.”
“ Miláčku,” Radek breathed, hardly giving voice to the word, his eyes too bright from stress and fear and constricted pupils. Marc smiled still, soft, inviting. Radek only stared, then sank his head into the crook of Marc’s neck. He heard Radek’s soft sobs, felt his wet tears on his neck, felt the tremors of the man’s crying course through the bed itself and flow through Marc’s body. Marc reached his arms around Radek, one hand stroking through his hair.
“Shhhhhh, Love,” he soothed. “It’s OK. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Marc didn’t notice when Doctor Beckett stepped away to leave them some privacy.
End Part VII