FIC: "Bitter" (1/1) post-"Letters from Atlantis"
Bitter (1/1)
PG-13-ish
Post-“Letters from Atlantis”
“They’re-they’re in the drawer,” she tells him, her words broken by heavy breathing. It’s like her seventeenth birthday and the date with James Silverton, making out in his Camaro behind the stadium, but better. His one hand is somewhere - she doesn’t know exactly where - searching for that little pack of condoms, his other hand on her breast, under her shirt. It’s been more than eight months and it feels like heaven.
He’s small and slight compared to Simon, but he’s strong and his fingers are clever, accustomed to handling more sensitive circuitry than the nerves that crisscross her stomach and breasts. They haven’t kissed much - this isn’t about love, not really - but his lips are warm and remind her of how things should be, how it was before she resorted to dreaming of middle school and the girls practicing kisses on their forearms. She’s starting to feel like a woman and not a leader, like a human being. She aches for it, waits for it, waits for him - and she knows he’s wanting it too because his body is over her, cooking her with its warmth.
It doesn’t come.
Elizabeth thinks to herself, later, that there is an alternate universe where the heavy petting and groping and teenage making out actually led to having sex with Radek Zelenka, but this is not that universe. Gravity in this reality saved them from that mistake, making Dr. Zelenka fall of the bed as he reached too far in his search through her nightstand drawer. She supposes that in some other universe it wasn’t Zelenka, but maybe Rodney, or Carson or John - but Carson would have blushed and stammered and run away, she supposes, and John doesn’t strike her as the one to insist on hunting down a condom at the last second. Rodney she’s not sure of. But whatever it is that makes Zelenka different, that made him ask, “Please, do you have - where do you keep -” between the bitter kisses, she will be eternally grateful for it.
“I don’t want to insult,” he says, and his eyes are kind as he says it, “but this was a mistake.” He gestures with the hand that minutes earlier had been under her bra.
“I’m not insulted,” she tells him and she hopes that he hears similar kindness in her voice. “Dr. Zelenka, I -”
He smiles and grasps her hand. “I think you can call me Radek now.” He is almost laughing in his eyes.
“Radek,” she says, nodding. She hesitates and then answers: “Elizabeth.” When he nods in return, she continues. “Radek, I am sorry. I never meant -”
“Sh,” he says softly. “We are both upset, yes? Everyone is upset on Atlantis. It is a surprise to me, we haven’t heard stories about sex and things between people. We tell no stories, all so serious and only rumors about silly things, like Rodney’s allergies. At SGC, there are always stories and it is just on Earth. Here, we are too quiet, Elizabeth. No one talks. And we are all alone.”
She considers his words, drinks them in. They leave a bitter aftertaste, but they taste of truth nonetheless. The base commander’s manual given to her by the Pentagon is five hundred pages long and does not once touch on helping her people have normal lives in a foreign galaxy. And her one question to General O’Neill about civilian regs (since, at the time, Colonel Sumner was there to deal with the military side of things) was quietly brushed aside with an order to follow her gut. “It’s not natural for us to be quiet like this, is it?” she finally says aloud.
“No, not natural,” he agrees. Rubbing his thumb over her hand, he asks softly, “You thought of someone, yes? Someone on Earth. Who?”
She closes her eyes. “Simon. We were dating almost two years before we came to Atlantis. I said good-bye.”
“In the videos?” he asks.
“Yes, in the video.” She turns to him. “Who did you think of?”
He exhales deeply. “My wife. No, what do you say - ex-wife. We separated and I went to work at SGC, at Groom Lake. Then you came, with an idea for Atlantis, and I knew we can never fix the problems and I -” He muttered under his breath in Czech, not one of her five languages. “So I signed the papers for divorce. And then I signed the papers for Atlantis. I said good-bye to her in the videos, too. And to our daughter. She is thirteen this year, and I saw her last when she is seven. She would love the stories of Atlantis, but...” He sighs. “Security clearance.”
She has noticed before that he is good with children, as good as John at entertaining the Athosian children with stories. She suspects there is more to the story. She knows there must be. They all have long, complicated stories: they are all human, after all, and real people with real problems. But she does not pry. It’s not the time.
No, today she should be panicking over the Wraith ships en route to Atlantis, and the eight hours without a reply from the SGC, and the influenza-like virus that’s making rounds through the geology and archaeology departments, and deciding whether it’s okay to steal a ZPM from children. This is what she should be doing.
Life isn’t about ‘should be doing’.
“Thank you, Radek,” she whispers.
His reply is in soft-spoken Czech but there is no need for translation.
She squeezes his hand and thinks about how many times she had to say she didn’t know the deceased very well. She thinks about what Lt. Ford told her Rodney had said about his sister, and John’s insistence at not recording a personal message at all. She thinks about how it would be nearly Thanksgiving back on Earth and no one has bothered to suggest a party on Atlantis for it. And how on Atlantis it’s spring and Teyla has shown her the budding and blossoming of the first Athosian crops on the mainland.
She sits with Radek Zelenka and wonders what he is thinking about, wonders if he had stroked his wife’s arm as he does hers right now. Wonders if he thought her kisses were bitter, too.
[fin]
A/N: The BC ranting on fanficrants inspired the fic. The time as being “nearly Thanksgiving” is from the SG fanon convention of a season representing January to December, not the actual air date. “Radek” is fanon convention (as far as I’ve seen) for Zelenka’s first name. His being divorced and leaving behind a kid is also not original.
PG-13-ish
Post-“Letters from Atlantis”
“They’re-they’re in the drawer,” she tells him, her words broken by heavy breathing. It’s like her seventeenth birthday and the date with James Silverton, making out in his Camaro behind the stadium, but better. His one hand is somewhere - she doesn’t know exactly where - searching for that little pack of condoms, his other hand on her breast, under her shirt. It’s been more than eight months and it feels like heaven.
He’s small and slight compared to Simon, but he’s strong and his fingers are clever, accustomed to handling more sensitive circuitry than the nerves that crisscross her stomach and breasts. They haven’t kissed much - this isn’t about love, not really - but his lips are warm and remind her of how things should be, how it was before she resorted to dreaming of middle school and the girls practicing kisses on their forearms. She’s starting to feel like a woman and not a leader, like a human being. She aches for it, waits for it, waits for him - and she knows he’s wanting it too because his body is over her, cooking her with its warmth.
It doesn’t come.
Elizabeth thinks to herself, later, that there is an alternate universe where the heavy petting and groping and teenage making out actually led to having sex with Radek Zelenka, but this is not that universe. Gravity in this reality saved them from that mistake, making Dr. Zelenka fall of the bed as he reached too far in his search through her nightstand drawer. She supposes that in some other universe it wasn’t Zelenka, but maybe Rodney, or Carson or John - but Carson would have blushed and stammered and run away, she supposes, and John doesn’t strike her as the one to insist on hunting down a condom at the last second. Rodney she’s not sure of. But whatever it is that makes Zelenka different, that made him ask, “Please, do you have - where do you keep -” between the bitter kisses, she will be eternally grateful for it.
“I don’t want to insult,” he says, and his eyes are kind as he says it, “but this was a mistake.” He gestures with the hand that minutes earlier had been under her bra.
“I’m not insulted,” she tells him and she hopes that he hears similar kindness in her voice. “Dr. Zelenka, I -”
He smiles and grasps her hand. “I think you can call me Radek now.” He is almost laughing in his eyes.
“Radek,” she says, nodding. She hesitates and then answers: “Elizabeth.” When he nods in return, she continues. “Radek, I am sorry. I never meant -”
“Sh,” he says softly. “We are both upset, yes? Everyone is upset on Atlantis. It is a surprise to me, we haven’t heard stories about sex and things between people. We tell no stories, all so serious and only rumors about silly things, like Rodney’s allergies. At SGC, there are always stories and it is just on Earth. Here, we are too quiet, Elizabeth. No one talks. And we are all alone.”
She considers his words, drinks them in. They leave a bitter aftertaste, but they taste of truth nonetheless. The base commander’s manual given to her by the Pentagon is five hundred pages long and does not once touch on helping her people have normal lives in a foreign galaxy. And her one question to General O’Neill about civilian regs (since, at the time, Colonel Sumner was there to deal with the military side of things) was quietly brushed aside with an order to follow her gut. “It’s not natural for us to be quiet like this, is it?” she finally says aloud.
“No, not natural,” he agrees. Rubbing his thumb over her hand, he asks softly, “You thought of someone, yes? Someone on Earth. Who?”
She closes her eyes. “Simon. We were dating almost two years before we came to Atlantis. I said good-bye.”
“In the videos?” he asks.
“Yes, in the video.” She turns to him. “Who did you think of?”
He exhales deeply. “My wife. No, what do you say - ex-wife. We separated and I went to work at SGC, at Groom Lake. Then you came, with an idea for Atlantis, and I knew we can never fix the problems and I -” He muttered under his breath in Czech, not one of her five languages. “So I signed the papers for divorce. And then I signed the papers for Atlantis. I said good-bye to her in the videos, too. And to our daughter. She is thirteen this year, and I saw her last when she is seven. She would love the stories of Atlantis, but...” He sighs. “Security clearance.”
She has noticed before that he is good with children, as good as John at entertaining the Athosian children with stories. She suspects there is more to the story. She knows there must be. They all have long, complicated stories: they are all human, after all, and real people with real problems. But she does not pry. It’s not the time.
No, today she should be panicking over the Wraith ships en route to Atlantis, and the eight hours without a reply from the SGC, and the influenza-like virus that’s making rounds through the geology and archaeology departments, and deciding whether it’s okay to steal a ZPM from children. This is what she should be doing.
Life isn’t about ‘should be doing’.
“Thank you, Radek,” she whispers.
His reply is in soft-spoken Czech but there is no need for translation.
She squeezes his hand and thinks about how many times she had to say she didn’t know the deceased very well. She thinks about what Lt. Ford told her Rodney had said about his sister, and John’s insistence at not recording a personal message at all. She thinks about how it would be nearly Thanksgiving back on Earth and no one has bothered to suggest a party on Atlantis for it. And how on Atlantis it’s spring and Teyla has shown her the budding and blossoming of the first Athosian crops on the mainland.
She sits with Radek Zelenka and wonders what he is thinking about, wonders if he had stroked his wife’s arm as he does hers right now. Wonders if he thought her kisses were bitter, too.
[fin]
A/N: The BC ranting on fanficrants inspired the fic. The time as being “nearly Thanksgiving” is from the SG fanon convention of a season representing January to December, not the actual air date. “Radek” is fanon convention (as far as I’ve seen) for Zelenka’s first name. His being divorced and leaving behind a kid is also not original.