AUs are fun
Oct. 21st, 2006 12:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cinaed...Especially SGA AUs, for some reason. *tilts head*
Radek Zelenka stared at his thesis paper suspiciously. That was definitely not his thesis advisor’s writing. Professor Kavanagh had precise handwriting, neat and legible, an unusual trait for a scientist, and this-- well, this handwriting could only be described as chaotic, the letters running together as though the writer couldn’t keep up with his or her own thoughts. Moreover, Professor Kavanagh used post-it notes to point out errors or make suggestions. He definitely did not slash out an entire paragraph of Radek’s dissertation with a bright red pen and make snide remarks in the margins about whether or not Radek understood the concept of redundancy.
“Is this a joke?” he said at last, and his two suitemates looked up from their books.
“What are you on about?” Brendan asked, raising an eyebrow, and Radek silently handed his dissertation over to the other man. Brendan glanced at the chaotic handwriting, and immediately blanched. “How the hell did McKay get his hands on your paper?” There was both horror and bewilderment in his voice.
“McKay?” Radek frowned. The name sounded familiar. “The new astrophysics professor?”
“That everyone already wants to kill even though he’s only been at the university for a few weeks?” his other suitemate added helpfully, and looked a little amused. Of course, Carson could afford to be amused. He was getting a Ph.D. in Genetics. There was little chance of him ever running into the infamous Dr. McKay.
Brendan nodded, coloring slowly returning to his face. “He’s been looking over all the dissertations for the astrophysics department and destroying every last one.”
Ah, so McKay was the reason that Brendan had been so angry and gloomy all week. Radek wondered what, exactly, McKay had written about Brendan’s thesis. Then he frowned. “Why would McKay look at my dissertation? I am attempting to get a Ph.D. in Engineering, not Astrophysics.”
Brendan snorted. “Hell if I know. Maybe he’s looking to crush a few more egos and thought the engineering department was the best place to start.” He glanced at the comments McKay had written all over Radek’s dissertation, and his eyes narrowed. “Wait a second.” His tone was almost accusatory. “He’s complimenting you.”
Radek blinked. “Excuse me?” He snatched the dissertation back, and scanned a few of McKay’s comments. “No, no, he didn’t. Unless you consider ‘Did you forget to look at the electronic engineering aspect of mechatronics’ a compliment. Personally, I do not find that complimentary--”
Brendan rolled his eyes. “He also said, ‘If you aren’t completely brainless and actually do some more research -- look at some of Toshio Fukada’s latest papers, for example -- you might not kill us all with your first experiment.’ From McKay, that’s praise. And he doesn’t praise anyone.”
“I see,” Radek said slowly, even if he really didn’t. “So I should be pleased at this back-handed compliment, I assume?” He glanced down at the dissertation, reading a few more of the annotations in red, and frowned. “I think perhaps I should go see Professor Kavanagh.”
*
Radek knocked politely, and then poked his head inside Kavanagh’s office. “Professor, if I could speak to--”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Kavanagh snapped, without looking away from his computer screen. “McKay has been reading every scientific dissertation he can get his hands on. If he broke your heart by tearing your thesis to pieces, that is not my fault in the slightest.”
Radek blinked. “I do not think he broke my heart,” he said at last. “However, I was wondering if you think I should follow some of Professor McKay’s instructions?”
Kavanagh looked up at that, and snorted. “If he’s instructing you to burn your dissertation and go live in some remote cabin in Alaska, then no, I don’t think you should pay any attention.”
“Actually, he suggested I look up some of Toshio Fukada’s papers so that I don’t kill anyone during my first experiment.”
It was Kavanagh’s turn to blink. “He did?” When Radek nodded, he frowned. “Well then, I suggest you look through the Journal of Mechatronics and find any paper by Fukada that you can.” He paused. “He really didn’t tell you to go live in Alaska?”
“Um, no,” Radek said slowly, and retreated, before he began to feel insulted by Kavanagh’s shock that McKay hadn’t declared him totally incompetent.
*
“I’m sorry,” the library assistant said with an apologetic smile. “A professor is using every single journal you’re requesting, and I have no idea when he’ll be returning them.”
“What do you mean, a professor is using them? Who could possibly need the Journal of Mechatronics?” Radek demanded, tempted to lean over the desk and read the name on the computer screen to see who has such a fascination with mechatronics. “I am the only one doing my dissertation on mechatronics and there is no class on it, so--”
“I’m sorry,” the library assistant repeated, her smile even more apologetic.
“But the journals aren’t even supposed to leave the library!” He hadn’t meant to shout, truly he hadn’t, but this was ridiculous. He took a breath, and said in a lower voice, “Look, I am simply trying to work on my dissertation. You understand why I am a bit stressed, yes?” Now Radek did lean forward, ignoring the woman’s squawk of outrage, and his eyes narrowed at the name on the screen.
Even as the library assistant frowned at him and said indignantly, “You can’t do that!” he shook his head and muttered a curse in his native Czech under his breath. Of course it would be him.
*
He walked into the office without asking permission, because he had a suspicion that he would be told to get lost if he attempted knocking, and scowled at the man behind the desk. “Professor McKay, I do not see how I can use Fukada in my dissertation if you have all of the journals that contain his articles.”
McKay snorted. He did not look half as fearsome as Radek had been imagining him to be -- just an ordinary man with broad shoulders, bright blue eyes, and a stubborn-looking chin. He was also surprisingly young, only about three or four years older than Radek. Belatedly, Radek remembered that McKay had been a child prodigy, starting at a university at the tender age of thirteen. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you’re Zelunka.”
“Zelenka,” Radek corrected him. “And yes, I am.” When McKay just looked at him for a moment, he crossed his arms and glared. “The Journal of Mechatronics, please?”
“Mechatronics is wasted on you,” McKay said abruptly. “You should be an astrophysicist.”
He stared. “Wait, are you telling me that criticizing every sentence of my dissertation and stealing the Journal of Mechatronics issues that could be of use to me is your attempt to get me to switch fields?”
McKay rolled his eyes. “Compared to the blathering nitwits in the astrophysics department here, you’re actually intelligent. Nowhere near my level of genius, of course, but you might actually be able to accomplish something as an astrophysicist.”
Radek raised an eyebrow. “I could also have many accomplishments as an engineer,” he reminded McKay, who obviously a bit mad if he thought hindering Radek’s research would make him more inclined to jump disciplines.
McKay waved a hand, dismissing Radek’s potential engineering accomplishments as inconsequential. “But if you were an astrophysicist--” He paused, and shook his head. Scribbling something onto a post-it note, he pulled a journal out of his desk, flipped through it, and stuck the post-it note inside. “Look, just read this article. I think you’ll find astrophysics a lot more interesting than before.”
When McKay thrust the journal that was definitely not an issue of Journal of Mechatronics at him, Radek sighed and accepted it. “Very well, I will read it. However, if I still wish to do my dissertation on mechatronics, will you let me use the Journal of Mechatronics issues that you are currently hoarding?”
McKay scowled. “Yes, fine -- though you’d have to be far less intelligent than I gave you credit for if you continue to be so engrossed by mechatronics after reading that article.” A hint of smugness colored his voice, and Radek resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said dryly, biting back several sarcastic retorts, and made his escape from the office of the infamous (and obviously a bit insane) professor.
Later, he read the article, which was written, of course, by Dr. Rodney McKay, and was all about quantum mechanics. It was (much to Radek’s dismay) actually quite fascinating. Although Radek was not as well-versed in quantum mechanics as other aspects of science, even he could marvel at the moments of brilliant insight that the article was littered with. He was helpless against the urge to discuss the finer points of McKay’s theory with someone, but when he tried to show the article to Brendan, the other man glowered and locked himself in his bedroom.
However, it was the post-it note at the beginning of the article that truly amazed him, which he had only read afterwards, being too busy earlier in the midst of his plan to skim the article and let McKay know that his attempt to convert Radek had failed. He could not help but be astonished at McKay’s self-assurance. After all, they had only spoken for a few minutes. Moreover, McKay hadn’t even known his name.
The post-it note’s message was succinct and frank.
'If you wish to discuss quantum mechanics (which of course you will, after reading the article), meet me at Riviera this Wednesday at eight. And try to do something about your hair. –Rodney McKay'
*
Carson raised an eyebrow, looking torn between amusement and open confusion, and watched as Radek scowled at his reflection and attempted to wet down his hair with little success. It wasn’t that Radek was attempting to dress up for McKay, not at all; Riviera was a high-class restaurant and Radek suspected he’d be politely barred from entering if he showed up with his usual hairstyle of disarray. “So, you’re going to-- ah, dinner, with Professor McKay,” Carson said after a moment. “May I ask why?”
“Because from the moment I saw his chaotic handwriting insulting my thesis, I fell madly in love with him,” Radek said dryly, and gave up on his hair in favor of turning and staring as Brendan made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an, “Aha!”
“No, really, why?” Carson asked, after blinking at Brendan for a moment. He sounded honestly bewildered. Initially, Carson hadn’t thought much of the dinner, cheerfully confident that he would never be affected by the infamous professor and not really caring if Radek was insane to be having a meal with the man; that is, until his thesis advisor had apologized and handed back his McKay-critiqued dissertation. At least Carson had stopped darkly muttering, “Voodoo, my ass,” under his breath every five minutes in favor of questioning Radek’s sanity.
Radek shrugged. “He is trying to coerce me into jumping disciplines by less-than-pleasant measures. If I can get a meal at Riviera out of the experience, I will.” He paused. “I can only hope that McKay does not ruin the dinner for me.” Frowning at his reflection for a moment, he adjusted his tie, which had once been a brilliant blue shade but now was rather faded; he made a mental note to remind McKay that graduate students were not made of money if the other man decided to comment on the less-than-novel appearance of his button-down shirt and the well-worn condition of his shoes.
Carson looked more amused and less bewildered at that. “I see. So you’re willing to have dinner with Professor McKay just for the food? I have to say, I knew the food at Riviera was good, but not that good.”
Radek shrugged, picking up the journal that McKay had given him. “We shall have to see.” Did he even have enough money for a cab? He checked his wallet and made a face. “Could I possibly borrow a few dollars? I do not know if McKay is the tipping type, and I don’t have enough on me for two cab fares and a tip.”
“Somehow, I’m certain he’ll find something to complain about the waiter,” Carson muttered under his breath even as he pulled out a five-dollar from his pocket and handed it over.
“I’ll pay you back,” Radek promised, and both he and Carson ignored Brendan’s disbelieving snort. Radek always paid people back. Eventually. When he remembered that he owed them money (or was reminded that he did). He frowned at his reflection for a final time, and then went to call a cab. He had a feeling McKay did not appreciate tardiness.
*
The host descended upon him like a hawk as soon as he stepped foot in the door, although at least the young man was smiling and not eyeing his clothes with disgust. “Do you have a reservation?” he asked cheerfully, and Radek glanced at his nametag, which read Keras.
“Ah, I believe it is under Rodney McKay,” Radek said, smiling back.
Keras’s grin faltered, and the host looked a bit bemused. “Oh. You’re having dinner with him-- uh, right this way.” He turned on heel, and Radek followed after him, deciding to be amused at the curious looks Keras kept directing at him, as though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why someone like Radek was interacting with McKay.
Keras led him to a table in the back, practically tucked out of sight. McKay was, of course, already there, dressed in a navy dress jacket and wearing an impatient expression. Wondering if perhaps he was late, Radek checked his watch.
“About time,” McKay greeted him, and Radek rolled his eyes.
“I am five minutes early.” Smiling at Keras and watching, amused, as Keras beat a hasty retreat back to the safety of the restaurant’s entrance, Radek sat down and raised an eyebrow. “You did write eight o’clock in the note, correct? Your handwriting is a bit difficult--”
McKay waved a hand. “Fine, fine, you’re early, three cheers. Now, the article?” His expression shifted to one of impatience to expectation, and Radek realized that the thought had never crossed McKay’s mind that Radek wasn’t switching disciplines.
He mentally rolled his eyes at the man’s overconfidence. Pulling out the journal and flipping it open, Radek tapped a finger on a specific paragraph. “Now, when you were discussing the quantum entanglement--”
McKay snatched the journal from him and reread the paragraph Radek had pointed out. “Yes, I was explaining how entangled particles can display properties that are actually quite remarkable, counter-intuitive really, because--”
“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted, and McKay turned a scowl upon the brunette waitress, who smiled back, shark-like. She continued, her tone polite but thoroughly unapologetic. “I’m sorry for interrupting, Dr. McKay, but I wanted to ask if the gentleman here wanted anything to drink.”
“Water, please,” Radek said, and rolled his eyes at McKay’s frown. “I try to avoid the weak alcohol that America is so proud of.” He paused, and added almost wistfully, “What I wouldn’t give for some ‘Ryzlink rýnský’ -- the king of wines and the wine of kings.”
“Water it is,” the waitress said, and smiled at Radek, one that actually reached her eyes. “I’m Janet, by the way.”
“A pleasure,” he said, and ignored McKay as the man rolled his eyes and scowled. He turned back to McKay. “Counter-intuitive?”
“Right, right,” McKay said, his scowl immediately disappearing and an intent look replacing it. He leaned forward in his chair, jabbing a finger at the article. “You see, the entangled particles--”
Much to Radek’s relief, he found that when McKay was explaining his theories, the man wasn’t quite as abrasive as usual. Of course, he occasionally threw in something like, “Oh, I know everything about everything” and “There’s brilliance and then there’s me,” but most of the time he was too busy explaining to be too irritating, and he was actually willing to pause and clarify what he meant by a particular statement. Radek found himself barely tasting his meal as he mechanically ate, too focused on the discussion to pay attention to anything else, and if asked later, he would be unable to remember what he had even ordered.
When Janet cleared her throat pointedly and dropped the check onto the table even though McKay hadn’t asked for it, Radek glanced at his watch and did a double-take. How had that much time flown by?
McKay, who was pulling out a credit card, smirked a little at Radek’s expression. “Time flies when you’re discussing something as engrossing as quantum mechanics,” he said, and looked pleased with himself. “Now, about your dissertation--”
“Ah, yes, about that,” Radek said pleasantly. “I believe you said you would give me the issues of the Journal of Mechatronics if I still wished to continue my dissertation on mechatronics?”
There was a moment of incomprehension, during which McKay just blinked, slowly, as though certain he’d misheard Radek, and then his face turned bright red, eyes going as wide as saucers. “Excuse me?” he all but squawked. “But you-- you asked about the entangled particles and--”
“It is a very interesting science, quantum mechanics,” Radek agreed, even as McKay floundered for words. “It is not, however, what my dissertation is going to be on. Now, shall I pick up the issues tomorrow at your office?”
“I-- you--”
Radek wondered if there was some sort of prize for rendering the notorious Dr. McKay speechless. He pulled out the five that Carson had given to him, leaving it on the table, and added, “Tomorrow then?”
McKay’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and then he glared. “You cannot be serious. You’re going to do your dissertation on mechatronics, wasting your talents, when you have the ability to--”
“I am quite serious about ‘wasting my talents’ on mechatronics,” Radek said, and tried on Laura’s smile, the one with too much teeth. “Though I thank you for the meal and the engrossing discussion. It was quite enjoyable.”
He nodded to both Janet and Keras on his way out, ignoring McKay’s outraged spluttering.
-TBC-
***
After the “Fall of the Iron Curtain” as the Westerners had romantically dubbed it, Radek Zelenka should have known better, really, than to trust the Americans. But he had been floundering and desperate, and really, it was his algorithm, not the Russians, and so he should have been the one to reap the benefits.
And so he had sold the algorithm to the Americans, thinking this earned him a place in their scientific community. NASA, perhaps. He had been more than a bit nonplussed when the Americans had cheerfully informed him, “Thanks a lot for the algorithm, pal, really, here’s your money, but we can’t offer you a job. Can’t trust turncoats and all that jazz, you know.”
And so, in the aftermath of the collapse of communist Russia, Radek had found himself without a job and with a black mark on his record as someone who had sold his soul to the Americans. It was funny, really, how quickly the payment the Americans had handed over dried up, and how one little error in judgment could destroy all of Radek’s future plans.
It was desperation, really, that led him to Canada, and despair that caused him to accept the offer of becoming a science teacher -- a science teacher -- at a secondary school. At times, the memory of being reduced to teaching children made him want to weep with frustration. Still, he settled in as best he could, and the students did like him, even though at times he went into long speeches that were above their heads or he got distracted and began writing a new algorithm on the board rather than the day’s lesson. Then again, perhaps that’s why he was well-liked -- he was easily distracted.
He met Kaleb Miller during his third year as a science teacher. The other man was getting his Master’s in English and planning on being an English teacher, so he was sent to the secondary school to be a student teacher for a semester. Radek and Kaleb quickly became fast friends, especially once Kaleb introduced his girlfriend, Jeannie, who was getting her Master’s in Physics. Finally, someone who could actually follow his mental leaps and point out errors or make suggestions when he showed her his latest algorithm.
When Kaleb and Jeannie announced they were getting married, Radek was extremely happy for them, and honored when Kaleb asked him to be the best man. Of course, that meant renting a tuxedo and trying to do something with his hair, but still, sitting in the front row and watching Jeannie and Kaleb embrace was worth the trouble.
*
“Congratulations,” Radek said again, smiling, and raised his glass in another mock-toast. “You will have to tell me what Niagara Falls is like.” He had been slightly surprised to hear that Jeannie and Kaleb, both born-and-bred Canadians, had never stepped foot near the Niagara Falls.
“We’ll have pictures,” Kaleb assured him with a chuckle, and then raised an eyebrow and made a face. “Oh, wonderful, Jeannie. Looks like your brother decided to show up for the reception after all.”
Radek raised an eyebrow at the strained smile that curved Jeannie’s lips. Catching his look, she sighed. “Mer isn’t too happy about me getting married. He seems to think I should be focusing on contributing to the scientific community, not getting married to the man I love-- hello, Mer.”
‘Mer’ turned out to be none other than Rodney McKay, who didn’t look much different than his pictures in various scientific articles. He was wearing a slight scowl and his tone was accusatory as he said, “Did I read the menu correctly? Tofu chicken?”
“Better than lemon chicken,” Jeannie said too sweetly, and McKay rolled his eyes.
“Ha, funny.” He dropped into the empty seat next to Radek, setting his food-laden plate down with a thump. “Anyways, thought I should, well, offer my congratulations and all that.”
“Thank you,” Kaleb said, and it was only on close inspection that Radek saw his smile didn’t reach his eyes. His tone was certainly sincere, and McKay seemed to buy it, grunting something unintelligible in response and grabbing the nearest glass of water.
When silence fell, Radek cleared his throat. “I do expect pictures. I have heard that Niagara Falls is extremely beautiful.”
McKay blinked at him. “And you are?”
“This is Radek Zelenka, Kaleb’s best man,” Jeannie said, with a bit of an emphasis on the final part. When McKay frowned, she sighed. “He did his speech already, but apparently you weren’t listening.”
McKay gave her a look, as though to say, ‘Well, obviously. Why would I listen to the best man’s speech?’ and then frowned. “Radek Zelenka. Why does that sound familiar?”
Jeannie flushed a little, and shot a look at Radek, who frowned and shook his head slightly. He had been a bit flustered the first time when she had asked him permission to send his algorithm to her brother, who happened to be the Rodney McKay, but after his initial surprise, he had quietly asked her not to. Rodney McKay had better things to do than looking over a science teacher’s algorithm, even if the science teacher had once been a scientist for the Russians and developed the Prague Algorithm.
McKay continued to frown, and Radek said quickly, “Well, I would be a bit insulted if Kaleb and Jeannie never once mentioned my name to you over the years. I consider myself Kaleb’s best friend, after all.” He looked down at his glass of water, and wished he was drinking something stronger, preferably alcoholic.
“That’s not it,” McKay said dismissively, eyes narrowed in thought. When Radek opened his mouth to say something -- he wasn’t quite sure what, exactly -- McKay pointed a finger at him. “Quiet. I’m thinking.”
Unfortunately, one of Kaleb’s students chose that moment to walk over. “Mr. Miller, congrats!” The boy grinned widely and turned towards Radek. “So, Dr. Z, are you going to get married anytime soon?”
Radek resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands as McKay blinked, a light bulb obviously going off in the man’s head. The principal, discovering that Radek had a Ph.D., had insisted that the students called him “Doctor Zelenka” rather than “Mr. Zelenka.” Radek had never thought that would come back to bite him in the ass.
“Wait, wait, wait. Doctor? As in Dr. Radek Zelenka, who created the Prague Algorithm and sold it to the Americans and then dropped off the face of the earth? You’re that Radek Zelenka?”
-TBC-
***
“This is going to be ridiculously expensive, isn’t it?” the man groaned, and then barreled on before Radek Zelenka had a chance to respond, voice strident and filled with exasperation (exasperation, Radek felt, that was thoroughly unwarranted). “You mechanics are all alike. You jack up the prices to make some extra money you haven’t truly earned and--”
“Actually,” Radek said calmly, “the part that is malfunctioning is rather cheap. It will, however, take a few days to order, but as soon as it arrives, I can have your car as good as new. Everything else seems to be in order, so you will just have to pay for the part and the time I spent working on your car.”
“Oh,” the man said, blinking, and Radek took the opportunity to look down at his notepad and read the name ‘Rodney McKay, blue ’96 Toyota Camry LE.’ McKay looked a bit nonplussed to have Radek so calmly correct him. “Well, that’s good to hear.” Then McKay’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, what does ‘rather cheap’ mean exactly?”
Radek resisted the urge to sigh.
Radek Zelenka stared at his thesis paper suspiciously. That was definitely not his thesis advisor’s writing. Professor Kavanagh had precise handwriting, neat and legible, an unusual trait for a scientist, and this-- well, this handwriting could only be described as chaotic, the letters running together as though the writer couldn’t keep up with his or her own thoughts. Moreover, Professor Kavanagh used post-it notes to point out errors or make suggestions. He definitely did not slash out an entire paragraph of Radek’s dissertation with a bright red pen and make snide remarks in the margins about whether or not Radek understood the concept of redundancy.
“Is this a joke?” he said at last, and his two suitemates looked up from their books.
“What are you on about?” Brendan asked, raising an eyebrow, and Radek silently handed his dissertation over to the other man. Brendan glanced at the chaotic handwriting, and immediately blanched. “How the hell did McKay get his hands on your paper?” There was both horror and bewilderment in his voice.
“McKay?” Radek frowned. The name sounded familiar. “The new astrophysics professor?”
“That everyone already wants to kill even though he’s only been at the university for a few weeks?” his other suitemate added helpfully, and looked a little amused. Of course, Carson could afford to be amused. He was getting a Ph.D. in Genetics. There was little chance of him ever running into the infamous Dr. McKay.
Brendan nodded, coloring slowly returning to his face. “He’s been looking over all the dissertations for the astrophysics department and destroying every last one.”
Ah, so McKay was the reason that Brendan had been so angry and gloomy all week. Radek wondered what, exactly, McKay had written about Brendan’s thesis. Then he frowned. “Why would McKay look at my dissertation? I am attempting to get a Ph.D. in Engineering, not Astrophysics.”
Brendan snorted. “Hell if I know. Maybe he’s looking to crush a few more egos and thought the engineering department was the best place to start.” He glanced at the comments McKay had written all over Radek’s dissertation, and his eyes narrowed. “Wait a second.” His tone was almost accusatory. “He’s complimenting you.”
Radek blinked. “Excuse me?” He snatched the dissertation back, and scanned a few of McKay’s comments. “No, no, he didn’t. Unless you consider ‘Did you forget to look at the electronic engineering aspect of mechatronics’ a compliment. Personally, I do not find that complimentary--”
Brendan rolled his eyes. “He also said, ‘If you aren’t completely brainless and actually do some more research -- look at some of Toshio Fukada’s latest papers, for example -- you might not kill us all with your first experiment.’ From McKay, that’s praise. And he doesn’t praise anyone.”
“I see,” Radek said slowly, even if he really didn’t. “So I should be pleased at this back-handed compliment, I assume?” He glanced down at the dissertation, reading a few more of the annotations in red, and frowned. “I think perhaps I should go see Professor Kavanagh.”
Radek knocked politely, and then poked his head inside Kavanagh’s office. “Professor, if I could speak to--”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Kavanagh snapped, without looking away from his computer screen. “McKay has been reading every scientific dissertation he can get his hands on. If he broke your heart by tearing your thesis to pieces, that is not my fault in the slightest.”
Radek blinked. “I do not think he broke my heart,” he said at last. “However, I was wondering if you think I should follow some of Professor McKay’s instructions?”
Kavanagh looked up at that, and snorted. “If he’s instructing you to burn your dissertation and go live in some remote cabin in Alaska, then no, I don’t think you should pay any attention.”
“Actually, he suggested I look up some of Toshio Fukada’s papers so that I don’t kill anyone during my first experiment.”
It was Kavanagh’s turn to blink. “He did?” When Radek nodded, he frowned. “Well then, I suggest you look through the Journal of Mechatronics and find any paper by Fukada that you can.” He paused. “He really didn’t tell you to go live in Alaska?”
“Um, no,” Radek said slowly, and retreated, before he began to feel insulted by Kavanagh’s shock that McKay hadn’t declared him totally incompetent.
“I’m sorry,” the library assistant said with an apologetic smile. “A professor is using every single journal you’re requesting, and I have no idea when he’ll be returning them.”
“What do you mean, a professor is using them? Who could possibly need the Journal of Mechatronics?” Radek demanded, tempted to lean over the desk and read the name on the computer screen to see who has such a fascination with mechatronics. “I am the only one doing my dissertation on mechatronics and there is no class on it, so--”
“I’m sorry,” the library assistant repeated, her smile even more apologetic.
“But the journals aren’t even supposed to leave the library!” He hadn’t meant to shout, truly he hadn’t, but this was ridiculous. He took a breath, and said in a lower voice, “Look, I am simply trying to work on my dissertation. You understand why I am a bit stressed, yes?” Now Radek did lean forward, ignoring the woman’s squawk of outrage, and his eyes narrowed at the name on the screen.
Even as the library assistant frowned at him and said indignantly, “You can’t do that!” he shook his head and muttered a curse in his native Czech under his breath. Of course it would be him.
He walked into the office without asking permission, because he had a suspicion that he would be told to get lost if he attempted knocking, and scowled at the man behind the desk. “Professor McKay, I do not see how I can use Fukada in my dissertation if you have all of the journals that contain his articles.”
McKay snorted. He did not look half as fearsome as Radek had been imagining him to be -- just an ordinary man with broad shoulders, bright blue eyes, and a stubborn-looking chin. He was also surprisingly young, only about three or four years older than Radek. Belatedly, Radek remembered that McKay had been a child prodigy, starting at a university at the tender age of thirteen. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you’re Zelunka.”
“Zelenka,” Radek corrected him. “And yes, I am.” When McKay just looked at him for a moment, he crossed his arms and glared. “The Journal of Mechatronics, please?”
“Mechatronics is wasted on you,” McKay said abruptly. “You should be an astrophysicist.”
He stared. “Wait, are you telling me that criticizing every sentence of my dissertation and stealing the Journal of Mechatronics issues that could be of use to me is your attempt to get me to switch fields?”
McKay rolled his eyes. “Compared to the blathering nitwits in the astrophysics department here, you’re actually intelligent. Nowhere near my level of genius, of course, but you might actually be able to accomplish something as an astrophysicist.”
Radek raised an eyebrow. “I could also have many accomplishments as an engineer,” he reminded McKay, who obviously a bit mad if he thought hindering Radek’s research would make him more inclined to jump disciplines.
McKay waved a hand, dismissing Radek’s potential engineering accomplishments as inconsequential. “But if you were an astrophysicist--” He paused, and shook his head. Scribbling something onto a post-it note, he pulled a journal out of his desk, flipped through it, and stuck the post-it note inside. “Look, just read this article. I think you’ll find astrophysics a lot more interesting than before.”
When McKay thrust the journal that was definitely not an issue of Journal of Mechatronics at him, Radek sighed and accepted it. “Very well, I will read it. However, if I still wish to do my dissertation on mechatronics, will you let me use the Journal of Mechatronics issues that you are currently hoarding?”
McKay scowled. “Yes, fine -- though you’d have to be far less intelligent than I gave you credit for if you continue to be so engrossed by mechatronics after reading that article.” A hint of smugness colored his voice, and Radek resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said dryly, biting back several sarcastic retorts, and made his escape from the office of the infamous (and obviously a bit insane) professor.
Later, he read the article, which was written, of course, by Dr. Rodney McKay, and was all about quantum mechanics. It was (much to Radek’s dismay) actually quite fascinating. Although Radek was not as well-versed in quantum mechanics as other aspects of science, even he could marvel at the moments of brilliant insight that the article was littered with. He was helpless against the urge to discuss the finer points of McKay’s theory with someone, but when he tried to show the article to Brendan, the other man glowered and locked himself in his bedroom.
However, it was the post-it note at the beginning of the article that truly amazed him, which he had only read afterwards, being too busy earlier in the midst of his plan to skim the article and let McKay know that his attempt to convert Radek had failed. He could not help but be astonished at McKay’s self-assurance. After all, they had only spoken for a few minutes. Moreover, McKay hadn’t even known his name.
The post-it note’s message was succinct and frank.
'If you wish to discuss quantum mechanics (which of course you will, after reading the article), meet me at Riviera this Wednesday at eight. And try to do something about your hair. –Rodney McKay'
Carson raised an eyebrow, looking torn between amusement and open confusion, and watched as Radek scowled at his reflection and attempted to wet down his hair with little success. It wasn’t that Radek was attempting to dress up for McKay, not at all; Riviera was a high-class restaurant and Radek suspected he’d be politely barred from entering if he showed up with his usual hairstyle of disarray. “So, you’re going to-- ah, dinner, with Professor McKay,” Carson said after a moment. “May I ask why?”
“Because from the moment I saw his chaotic handwriting insulting my thesis, I fell madly in love with him,” Radek said dryly, and gave up on his hair in favor of turning and staring as Brendan made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an, “Aha!”
“No, really, why?” Carson asked, after blinking at Brendan for a moment. He sounded honestly bewildered. Initially, Carson hadn’t thought much of the dinner, cheerfully confident that he would never be affected by the infamous professor and not really caring if Radek was insane to be having a meal with the man; that is, until his thesis advisor had apologized and handed back his McKay-critiqued dissertation. At least Carson had stopped darkly muttering, “Voodoo, my ass,” under his breath every five minutes in favor of questioning Radek’s sanity.
Radek shrugged. “He is trying to coerce me into jumping disciplines by less-than-pleasant measures. If I can get a meal at Riviera out of the experience, I will.” He paused. “I can only hope that McKay does not ruin the dinner for me.” Frowning at his reflection for a moment, he adjusted his tie, which had once been a brilliant blue shade but now was rather faded; he made a mental note to remind McKay that graduate students were not made of money if the other man decided to comment on the less-than-novel appearance of his button-down shirt and the well-worn condition of his shoes.
Carson looked more amused and less bewildered at that. “I see. So you’re willing to have dinner with Professor McKay just for the food? I have to say, I knew the food at Riviera was good, but not that good.”
Radek shrugged, picking up the journal that McKay had given him. “We shall have to see.” Did he even have enough money for a cab? He checked his wallet and made a face. “Could I possibly borrow a few dollars? I do not know if McKay is the tipping type, and I don’t have enough on me for two cab fares and a tip.”
“Somehow, I’m certain he’ll find something to complain about the waiter,” Carson muttered under his breath even as he pulled out a five-dollar from his pocket and handed it over.
“I’ll pay you back,” Radek promised, and both he and Carson ignored Brendan’s disbelieving snort. Radek always paid people back. Eventually. When he remembered that he owed them money (or was reminded that he did). He frowned at his reflection for a final time, and then went to call a cab. He had a feeling McKay did not appreciate tardiness.
The host descended upon him like a hawk as soon as he stepped foot in the door, although at least the young man was smiling and not eyeing his clothes with disgust. “Do you have a reservation?” he asked cheerfully, and Radek glanced at his nametag, which read Keras.
“Ah, I believe it is under Rodney McKay,” Radek said, smiling back.
Keras’s grin faltered, and the host looked a bit bemused. “Oh. You’re having dinner with him-- uh, right this way.” He turned on heel, and Radek followed after him, deciding to be amused at the curious looks Keras kept directing at him, as though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why someone like Radek was interacting with McKay.
Keras led him to a table in the back, practically tucked out of sight. McKay was, of course, already there, dressed in a navy dress jacket and wearing an impatient expression. Wondering if perhaps he was late, Radek checked his watch.
“About time,” McKay greeted him, and Radek rolled his eyes.
“I am five minutes early.” Smiling at Keras and watching, amused, as Keras beat a hasty retreat back to the safety of the restaurant’s entrance, Radek sat down and raised an eyebrow. “You did write eight o’clock in the note, correct? Your handwriting is a bit difficult--”
McKay waved a hand. “Fine, fine, you’re early, three cheers. Now, the article?” His expression shifted to one of impatience to expectation, and Radek realized that the thought had never crossed McKay’s mind that Radek wasn’t switching disciplines.
He mentally rolled his eyes at the man’s overconfidence. Pulling out the journal and flipping it open, Radek tapped a finger on a specific paragraph. “Now, when you were discussing the quantum entanglement--”
McKay snatched the journal from him and reread the paragraph Radek had pointed out. “Yes, I was explaining how entangled particles can display properties that are actually quite remarkable, counter-intuitive really, because--”
“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted, and McKay turned a scowl upon the brunette waitress, who smiled back, shark-like. She continued, her tone polite but thoroughly unapologetic. “I’m sorry for interrupting, Dr. McKay, but I wanted to ask if the gentleman here wanted anything to drink.”
“Water, please,” Radek said, and rolled his eyes at McKay’s frown. “I try to avoid the weak alcohol that America is so proud of.” He paused, and added almost wistfully, “What I wouldn’t give for some ‘Ryzlink rýnský’ -- the king of wines and the wine of kings.”
“Water it is,” the waitress said, and smiled at Radek, one that actually reached her eyes. “I’m Janet, by the way.”
“A pleasure,” he said, and ignored McKay as the man rolled his eyes and scowled. He turned back to McKay. “Counter-intuitive?”
“Right, right,” McKay said, his scowl immediately disappearing and an intent look replacing it. He leaned forward in his chair, jabbing a finger at the article. “You see, the entangled particles--”
Much to Radek’s relief, he found that when McKay was explaining his theories, the man wasn’t quite as abrasive as usual. Of course, he occasionally threw in something like, “Oh, I know everything about everything” and “There’s brilliance and then there’s me,” but most of the time he was too busy explaining to be too irritating, and he was actually willing to pause and clarify what he meant by a particular statement. Radek found himself barely tasting his meal as he mechanically ate, too focused on the discussion to pay attention to anything else, and if asked later, he would be unable to remember what he had even ordered.
When Janet cleared her throat pointedly and dropped the check onto the table even though McKay hadn’t asked for it, Radek glanced at his watch and did a double-take. How had that much time flown by?
McKay, who was pulling out a credit card, smirked a little at Radek’s expression. “Time flies when you’re discussing something as engrossing as quantum mechanics,” he said, and looked pleased with himself. “Now, about your dissertation--”
“Ah, yes, about that,” Radek said pleasantly. “I believe you said you would give me the issues of the Journal of Mechatronics if I still wished to continue my dissertation on mechatronics?”
There was a moment of incomprehension, during which McKay just blinked, slowly, as though certain he’d misheard Radek, and then his face turned bright red, eyes going as wide as saucers. “Excuse me?” he all but squawked. “But you-- you asked about the entangled particles and--”
“It is a very interesting science, quantum mechanics,” Radek agreed, even as McKay floundered for words. “It is not, however, what my dissertation is going to be on. Now, shall I pick up the issues tomorrow at your office?”
“I-- you--”
Radek wondered if there was some sort of prize for rendering the notorious Dr. McKay speechless. He pulled out the five that Carson had given to him, leaving it on the table, and added, “Tomorrow then?”
McKay’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and then he glared. “You cannot be serious. You’re going to do your dissertation on mechatronics, wasting your talents, when you have the ability to--”
“I am quite serious about ‘wasting my talents’ on mechatronics,” Radek said, and tried on Laura’s smile, the one with too much teeth. “Though I thank you for the meal and the engrossing discussion. It was quite enjoyable.”
He nodded to both Janet and Keras on his way out, ignoring McKay’s outraged spluttering.
-TBC-
***
After the “Fall of the Iron Curtain” as the Westerners had romantically dubbed it, Radek Zelenka should have known better, really, than to trust the Americans. But he had been floundering and desperate, and really, it was his algorithm, not the Russians, and so he should have been the one to reap the benefits.
And so he had sold the algorithm to the Americans, thinking this earned him a place in their scientific community. NASA, perhaps. He had been more than a bit nonplussed when the Americans had cheerfully informed him, “Thanks a lot for the algorithm, pal, really, here’s your money, but we can’t offer you a job. Can’t trust turncoats and all that jazz, you know.”
And so, in the aftermath of the collapse of communist Russia, Radek had found himself without a job and with a black mark on his record as someone who had sold his soul to the Americans. It was funny, really, how quickly the payment the Americans had handed over dried up, and how one little error in judgment could destroy all of Radek’s future plans.
It was desperation, really, that led him to Canada, and despair that caused him to accept the offer of becoming a science teacher -- a science teacher -- at a secondary school. At times, the memory of being reduced to teaching children made him want to weep with frustration. Still, he settled in as best he could, and the students did like him, even though at times he went into long speeches that were above their heads or he got distracted and began writing a new algorithm on the board rather than the day’s lesson. Then again, perhaps that’s why he was well-liked -- he was easily distracted.
He met Kaleb Miller during his third year as a science teacher. The other man was getting his Master’s in English and planning on being an English teacher, so he was sent to the secondary school to be a student teacher for a semester. Radek and Kaleb quickly became fast friends, especially once Kaleb introduced his girlfriend, Jeannie, who was getting her Master’s in Physics. Finally, someone who could actually follow his mental leaps and point out errors or make suggestions when he showed her his latest algorithm.
When Kaleb and Jeannie announced they were getting married, Radek was extremely happy for them, and honored when Kaleb asked him to be the best man. Of course, that meant renting a tuxedo and trying to do something with his hair, but still, sitting in the front row and watching Jeannie and Kaleb embrace was worth the trouble.
“Congratulations,” Radek said again, smiling, and raised his glass in another mock-toast. “You will have to tell me what Niagara Falls is like.” He had been slightly surprised to hear that Jeannie and Kaleb, both born-and-bred Canadians, had never stepped foot near the Niagara Falls.
“We’ll have pictures,” Kaleb assured him with a chuckle, and then raised an eyebrow and made a face. “Oh, wonderful, Jeannie. Looks like your brother decided to show up for the reception after all.”
Radek raised an eyebrow at the strained smile that curved Jeannie’s lips. Catching his look, she sighed. “Mer isn’t too happy about me getting married. He seems to think I should be focusing on contributing to the scientific community, not getting married to the man I love-- hello, Mer.”
‘Mer’ turned out to be none other than Rodney McKay, who didn’t look much different than his pictures in various scientific articles. He was wearing a slight scowl and his tone was accusatory as he said, “Did I read the menu correctly? Tofu chicken?”
“Better than lemon chicken,” Jeannie said too sweetly, and McKay rolled his eyes.
“Ha, funny.” He dropped into the empty seat next to Radek, setting his food-laden plate down with a thump. “Anyways, thought I should, well, offer my congratulations and all that.”
“Thank you,” Kaleb said, and it was only on close inspection that Radek saw his smile didn’t reach his eyes. His tone was certainly sincere, and McKay seemed to buy it, grunting something unintelligible in response and grabbing the nearest glass of water.
When silence fell, Radek cleared his throat. “I do expect pictures. I have heard that Niagara Falls is extremely beautiful.”
McKay blinked at him. “And you are?”
“This is Radek Zelenka, Kaleb’s best man,” Jeannie said, with a bit of an emphasis on the final part. When McKay frowned, she sighed. “He did his speech already, but apparently you weren’t listening.”
McKay gave her a look, as though to say, ‘Well, obviously. Why would I listen to the best man’s speech?’ and then frowned. “Radek Zelenka. Why does that sound familiar?”
Jeannie flushed a little, and shot a look at Radek, who frowned and shook his head slightly. He had been a bit flustered the first time when she had asked him permission to send his algorithm to her brother, who happened to be the Rodney McKay, but after his initial surprise, he had quietly asked her not to. Rodney McKay had better things to do than looking over a science teacher’s algorithm, even if the science teacher had once been a scientist for the Russians and developed the Prague Algorithm.
McKay continued to frown, and Radek said quickly, “Well, I would be a bit insulted if Kaleb and Jeannie never once mentioned my name to you over the years. I consider myself Kaleb’s best friend, after all.” He looked down at his glass of water, and wished he was drinking something stronger, preferably alcoholic.
“That’s not it,” McKay said dismissively, eyes narrowed in thought. When Radek opened his mouth to say something -- he wasn’t quite sure what, exactly -- McKay pointed a finger at him. “Quiet. I’m thinking.”
Unfortunately, one of Kaleb’s students chose that moment to walk over. “Mr. Miller, congrats!” The boy grinned widely and turned towards Radek. “So, Dr. Z, are you going to get married anytime soon?”
Radek resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands as McKay blinked, a light bulb obviously going off in the man’s head. The principal, discovering that Radek had a Ph.D., had insisted that the students called him “Doctor Zelenka” rather than “Mr. Zelenka.” Radek had never thought that would come back to bite him in the ass.
“Wait, wait, wait. Doctor? As in Dr. Radek Zelenka, who created the Prague Algorithm and sold it to the Americans and then dropped off the face of the earth? You’re that Radek Zelenka?”
-TBC-
***
“This is going to be ridiculously expensive, isn’t it?” the man groaned, and then barreled on before Radek Zelenka had a chance to respond, voice strident and filled with exasperation (exasperation, Radek felt, that was thoroughly unwarranted). “You mechanics are all alike. You jack up the prices to make some extra money you haven’t truly earned and--”
“Actually,” Radek said calmly, “the part that is malfunctioning is rather cheap. It will, however, take a few days to order, but as soon as it arrives, I can have your car as good as new. Everything else seems to be in order, so you will just have to pay for the part and the time I spent working on your car.”
“Oh,” the man said, blinking, and Radek took the opportunity to look down at his notepad and read the name ‘Rodney McKay, blue ’96 Toyota Camry LE.’ McKay looked a bit nonplussed to have Radek so calmly correct him. “Well, that’s good to hear.” Then McKay’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, what does ‘rather cheap’ mean exactly?”
Radek resisted the urge to sigh.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2006-10-21 06:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 06:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 06:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 06:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 07:00 am (UTC)hm... pianist!Rodney is always a plus.
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Date: 2006-10-21 07:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 07:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 07:12 am (UTC)Sorry, just really like this AU idea.
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Date: 2006-10-21 05:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 07:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 04:15 pm (UTC)*snorts* I can see Carson staring and being all, "You're going to-- dinner with Professor McKay. Uh, why?" And Radek rolling his eyes and saying something like, "Because from the first moment I saw his chaotic handwriting insulting my thesis, I fell madly in love." And Brendan being all, "Aha!" and Carson and Radek staring at him, and....
Why do I ever think I can write mini-fics? *grins and shakes head ruefully* They never stay small. Ever.
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Date: 2006-10-21 04:21 pm (UTC)Brendan would be so horribly suspicious.
Radek blazing his own way would keep Rodney interested for far longer. And would make for some fun dialogue.
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Date: 2006-10-21 04:35 pm (UTC)*giggles* It would keep Rodney interested far longer. I can so see his look of utter disbelief when Radek told him he's not switching disciplines.
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Date: 2006-10-21 04:39 pm (UTC):) T'would be a fun read.
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Date: 2006-10-21 04:52 pm (UTC)It would be a fun read. *scratches head* And so I guess I'll be writing it then. ;) (Seriously, I shouldn't even try to delude myself into thinking my fics will be short. Ever.)
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Date: 2006-10-21 04:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 05:03 pm (UTC)...I say Radek goes for a second doctorate, but doesn't tell Rodney right away...
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Date: 2006-10-21 05:16 pm (UTC)*snickers* Radek would so do that, and Rodney's expression would be priceless.
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Date: 2006-10-21 05:44 pm (UTC)Grins
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Date: 2006-10-21 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 08:44 pm (UTC)Yay for TBC!
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Date: 2006-10-21 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 11:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-21 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-29 04:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-29 05:08 am (UTC)