Supporting Character, Week 2: Four Cities Radek Left
Title: Four Cities Radek Left
Author: inocciduous
Prompt: In my youth.
Word Count: 1600
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: For Season 4 through The Last Man.
Summary: He'd never call himself a wanderer, but he can't seem to find a home worth returning to.
one:
The night air is cold and there’s a gap between Radek’s jacket collar and his scarf. Máma is hurrying him to the car and Karol is in Táta’s arms. Máma said that they’re leaving and he has to be quiet, shh, there’s a good boy. He doesn’t understand why they have to leave home. Táta said he’s going to go to a new school and make new friends, but he likes his school and doesn’t want to leave. But, Táta says that they’ll be safer at Tetka Anika’s house and that he’ll get Radek and Karol a cat if they’re good boys.
He and Karol are packed into the backseat of the car and soon they’re on the road, Prague nothing more than lights on the horizon. Radek presses his hand to the window, watching as the city lights fade. The farther they get from the city, the more windy and uneven the roads become and Radek begins to feel ill. He begs Táta to pull over, but he just grips the wheel tighter and says that they can’t stop.
The hours pass and Radek wakes when Karol starts crying. It starts off as whimpering but soon his cries fill their small car to bursting. Máma sings to him softly, her low voice soothing the baby and Radek misses his bed at home - him and Karol tucked softly between blankets and Máma singing while Táta reads the paper. He raps his hands tighter in the blanket on his lap and leans his head against the cool glass and watches the sun rise.
The next time he wakes they are pulling up to a house he remembers vaguely from three summers ago. There is a brief moment when Máma reaches back to squeeze his hand and smile, but from that point on it’s chaos.
What seems like a hundred relatives swarm their car, aunts and uncles and cousins. Máma and Táta are engulfed and all of the adults are crying, clutching their arms and shoulders and if to keep them from disappearing.
Karol’s small hand is wrapped in his hair, and he’s a heavy and real weight against Radek’s hip and he’s never been so thankful for something to hold on to.
Soon the attention is turned to them, however, and they are hustled inside and stuff full of treats usually reserved for birthdays and holidays. When Karol falls asleep at his highchair, though, they are ushered off to sleep, tucked into a bed made out of two couches pushed together.
When he wakes later in the afternoon, Máma and Tetka Anika are making bread in the kitchen and the smell leads him into a kitchen bright with family and laughter.
two:
Radek boards the bus to Brno slowly, with his suitcase in front of him and his family crowding the stop behind him. Máma, Táta, Tetka Anika, Strycˇek Jan, and his cousin Izaiah all waving to him. Karol'd refused to come, angry at Radek for leaving for university, for the city, for leaving him. When he'd heard that Karol wasn't coming, he'd almost turned around and gone back - university and an education be damned. But the lure of Brno, of friends and the challenges surely awaiting him beckoned too strongly. He would miss Karol, in fact he already did, but not so much to miss the chance to go to Brno. Scholarships like the one he'd gotten didn't come around very often, and he knew he'd never be able to go otherwise.
Radek picked a window seat and stowed his suitcase above his head. He hoped he'd be able to get some sleep, but long travel still made him nauseous.
He settled in and watched through the glass as Máma and Tetka Anika waved and Táta tried to keep Izaiah from running into the streets. Radek felt the rumble of the bus starting and looked away as everyone piled into the car to head home. The bus started to move, slowly inching forward and his last glimpse of home was of Izaiah waving to home out of the back windshield.
Radek wrestles a textbook out of his back pack - Applied Physics - and begins to read. He doesn't think his professors will expect him to have read for the first day of class, but his teachers had told him that he'd have to work much harder at Masaryk than he did in school.
Before long, he's also pulled out a notebook and pen and has worked through the first three chapters when he notices someone standing next to him.
“Yes. Can I help you?”
The other man, about Radek's age, maybe older, smiles and says, “Well I was hoping I could sit down.”
He's about to tell this guy to go and find one of the other empty seats when he realizes that there aren't any. He's been working on these for longer than he'd thought.
Radek hastily clears off the seat and gestures for him to sit. “My apologizes. I'm Radek.”
“Franz. On your way to Masaryk? I'm a second-year there.”
Radek discovers that Franz is German, he likes to talk and that he's a literature major. When he discovers Radek's loathing for literature he spends the rest of the trip trying to convince Radek how much superior Russian poetry is to particle physics. He also answers all of Radek's questions about Brno and Masaryk, so even though when he steps off the bus there's no family to greet him, he's a little less homesick than he thought he'd be.
three:
He's startled when the pilot's announcement of the weather conditions and estimated time of arrival are in English; he's not sure why because he's had the airplane ticket for three weeks now, Prague Ruzyne - Dulles International one way, but it's still jarring to hear the slurred-out English vowels with the chatter of Czech all around him.
He wonders about this job that he's taking. No one had been able to tell him anything, saying that it would all be disclosed in person, and that makes him nervous. He's heard stories of American intelligence and defense contracts, the way they bind you in. But he's merely a physicist, a professor at that, and Radek's sure that there are many more qualified people out there for those kind of jobs than him. Plus, the man on the phone had talked of research and scientific development quite blithely, no cloak-and-dagger comments about safety and duty.
He wasn't even sure what had made him accept the plane ticket. He was well on his way to tenure and had finally gotten his new research lab approved. Still, when he had first gotten the letter stating that the internationally founded program was looking for someone with just his qualifications he'd gotten a twinge deep inside that said, yes, this is good. Radek's gut doesn't speak to him all that often, and when it does it rarely misleads him, and besides, what could it hurt?
Of course, that argument hadn't gone over so well with Magda. In fact, he was pretty sure that she was packing her things even as he walked out the door. But as the earth fell away beneath wings borne by nothing but air and men's ingenuity, he couldn't even feel that sorry. He's never been a wanderer by nature, but as the familiar falls behind him and the unknown rushes forward, he can't help but anticipate what he'll find upon landing.
four:
The trip through the Stargate from Atlantis to Earth is the same as it's always been - disorienting and cold - but still something strikes him as different. It's more final, he can feel himself losing the city in the spaces between his bones. When he stumbles through the event horizon to the SGC, he's never been so unhappy to see the familiar browns and grays of the complex. He feels disjointed and miserable and when he turns to make sure his fellow travelers made it through safely, he's disappointed all over again to see the faces of Woosley and Ellis.
He walks out of the gateroom, ignoring the throngs of SGC personnel crowding the halls and elevators, eager to welcome back their “long lost” brothers. There's a ball of bitterness deep in his gut and feels an overwhelming need to get out. That's not likely, of course, there's bound to be endless briefings and medical tests and other worthless procedures to determine that he's not a threat.
Radek finds himself in a small room, obviously being used for supplies - stacks of MREs, canteens and other gate-team supplies filling the shadowy corners of the room. He's sick with the memory of their own storage rooms on Atlantis; rooms that had obviously been designed with some purpose greater than that of a supply closest, but they'd never had the time to unearth the Ancients' secrets.
He wonders if he'll ever get over Atlantis, if the already-forming ache for the ocean and the city's haunted halls will only grow worse with time or if it will eventually fade into the background of his mind, just a city on a map in his mind.
Author: inocciduous
Prompt: In my youth.
Word Count: 1600
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: For Season 4 through The Last Man.
Summary: He'd never call himself a wanderer, but he can't seem to find a home worth returning to.
one:
The night air is cold and there’s a gap between Radek’s jacket collar and his scarf. Máma is hurrying him to the car and Karol is in Táta’s arms. Máma said that they’re leaving and he has to be quiet, shh, there’s a good boy. He doesn’t understand why they have to leave home. Táta said he’s going to go to a new school and make new friends, but he likes his school and doesn’t want to leave. But, Táta says that they’ll be safer at Tetka Anika’s house and that he’ll get Radek and Karol a cat if they’re good boys.
He and Karol are packed into the backseat of the car and soon they’re on the road, Prague nothing more than lights on the horizon. Radek presses his hand to the window, watching as the city lights fade. The farther they get from the city, the more windy and uneven the roads become and Radek begins to feel ill. He begs Táta to pull over, but he just grips the wheel tighter and says that they can’t stop.
The hours pass and Radek wakes when Karol starts crying. It starts off as whimpering but soon his cries fill their small car to bursting. Máma sings to him softly, her low voice soothing the baby and Radek misses his bed at home - him and Karol tucked softly between blankets and Máma singing while Táta reads the paper. He raps his hands tighter in the blanket on his lap and leans his head against the cool glass and watches the sun rise.
The next time he wakes they are pulling up to a house he remembers vaguely from three summers ago. There is a brief moment when Máma reaches back to squeeze his hand and smile, but from that point on it’s chaos.
What seems like a hundred relatives swarm their car, aunts and uncles and cousins. Máma and Táta are engulfed and all of the adults are crying, clutching their arms and shoulders and if to keep them from disappearing.
Karol’s small hand is wrapped in his hair, and he’s a heavy and real weight against Radek’s hip and he’s never been so thankful for something to hold on to.
Soon the attention is turned to them, however, and they are hustled inside and stuff full of treats usually reserved for birthdays and holidays. When Karol falls asleep at his highchair, though, they are ushered off to sleep, tucked into a bed made out of two couches pushed together.
When he wakes later in the afternoon, Máma and Tetka Anika are making bread in the kitchen and the smell leads him into a kitchen bright with family and laughter.
two:
Radek boards the bus to Brno slowly, with his suitcase in front of him and his family crowding the stop behind him. Máma, Táta, Tetka Anika, Strycˇek Jan, and his cousin Izaiah all waving to him. Karol'd refused to come, angry at Radek for leaving for university, for the city, for leaving him. When he'd heard that Karol wasn't coming, he'd almost turned around and gone back - university and an education be damned. But the lure of Brno, of friends and the challenges surely awaiting him beckoned too strongly. He would miss Karol, in fact he already did, but not so much to miss the chance to go to Brno. Scholarships like the one he'd gotten didn't come around very often, and he knew he'd never be able to go otherwise.
Radek picked a window seat and stowed his suitcase above his head. He hoped he'd be able to get some sleep, but long travel still made him nauseous.
He settled in and watched through the glass as Máma and Tetka Anika waved and Táta tried to keep Izaiah from running into the streets. Radek felt the rumble of the bus starting and looked away as everyone piled into the car to head home. The bus started to move, slowly inching forward and his last glimpse of home was of Izaiah waving to home out of the back windshield.
Radek wrestles a textbook out of his back pack - Applied Physics - and begins to read. He doesn't think his professors will expect him to have read for the first day of class, but his teachers had told him that he'd have to work much harder at Masaryk than he did in school.
Before long, he's also pulled out a notebook and pen and has worked through the first three chapters when he notices someone standing next to him.
“Yes. Can I help you?”
The other man, about Radek's age, maybe older, smiles and says, “Well I was hoping I could sit down.”
He's about to tell this guy to go and find one of the other empty seats when he realizes that there aren't any. He's been working on these for longer than he'd thought.
Radek hastily clears off the seat and gestures for him to sit. “My apologizes. I'm Radek.”
“Franz. On your way to Masaryk? I'm a second-year there.”
Radek discovers that Franz is German, he likes to talk and that he's a literature major. When he discovers Radek's loathing for literature he spends the rest of the trip trying to convince Radek how much superior Russian poetry is to particle physics. He also answers all of Radek's questions about Brno and Masaryk, so even though when he steps off the bus there's no family to greet him, he's a little less homesick than he thought he'd be.
three:
He's startled when the pilot's announcement of the weather conditions and estimated time of arrival are in English; he's not sure why because he's had the airplane ticket for three weeks now, Prague Ruzyne - Dulles International one way, but it's still jarring to hear the slurred-out English vowels with the chatter of Czech all around him.
He wonders about this job that he's taking. No one had been able to tell him anything, saying that it would all be disclosed in person, and that makes him nervous. He's heard stories of American intelligence and defense contracts, the way they bind you in. But he's merely a physicist, a professor at that, and Radek's sure that there are many more qualified people out there for those kind of jobs than him. Plus, the man on the phone had talked of research and scientific development quite blithely, no cloak-and-dagger comments about safety and duty.
He wasn't even sure what had made him accept the plane ticket. He was well on his way to tenure and had finally gotten his new research lab approved. Still, when he had first gotten the letter stating that the internationally founded program was looking for someone with just his qualifications he'd gotten a twinge deep inside that said, yes, this is good. Radek's gut doesn't speak to him all that often, and when it does it rarely misleads him, and besides, what could it hurt?
Of course, that argument hadn't gone over so well with Magda. In fact, he was pretty sure that she was packing her things even as he walked out the door. But as the earth fell away beneath wings borne by nothing but air and men's ingenuity, he couldn't even feel that sorry. He's never been a wanderer by nature, but as the familiar falls behind him and the unknown rushes forward, he can't help but anticipate what he'll find upon landing.
four:
The trip through the Stargate from Atlantis to Earth is the same as it's always been - disorienting and cold - but still something strikes him as different. It's more final, he can feel himself losing the city in the spaces between his bones. When he stumbles through the event horizon to the SGC, he's never been so unhappy to see the familiar browns and grays of the complex. He feels disjointed and miserable and when he turns to make sure his fellow travelers made it through safely, he's disappointed all over again to see the faces of Woosley and Ellis.
He walks out of the gateroom, ignoring the throngs of SGC personnel crowding the halls and elevators, eager to welcome back their “long lost” brothers. There's a ball of bitterness deep in his gut and feels an overwhelming need to get out. That's not likely, of course, there's bound to be endless briefings and medical tests and other worthless procedures to determine that he's not a threat.
Radek finds himself in a small room, obviously being used for supplies - stacks of MREs, canteens and other gate-team supplies filling the shadowy corners of the room. He's sick with the memory of their own storage rooms on Atlantis; rooms that had obviously been designed with some purpose greater than that of a supply closest, but they'd never had the time to unearth the Ancients' secrets.
He wonders if he'll ever get over Atlantis, if the already-forming ache for the ocean and the city's haunted halls will only grow worse with time or if it will eventually fade into the background of his mind, just a city on a map in his mind.