Radek Zelenka had very nearly married Regina Fletcher; they had been thrown together at a news conference just as the Stargate Program was going public. Her grandfather had been Czech, and they chatted amiably in that language and Radek would have likely never thought of it again, except that she showed up at his room that night, bringing fresh ground coffee in a little French press that Rodney would have coveted. How she had eluded her handlers and the hounding press, he never knew, but he knew better than to ask. They talked all night and made love all morning, and when she left for a new round of news conferences, she left the French press behind, and made him promise to return it.
He did so, although it was several months and three trips back to Atlantis until he was free to see her again. She called him from cars that were forever driving to airports, and she needled him in her brisk, cheerful way about not working quickly enough on disseminating Asgard beaming technology.
He became an expert on international politics, and found that he saw her more on television than he did in real life. For two years, Rodney nagged him about his time spent on Earth, complaining that without Zelenka on hand, the minions had no one to turn to as "the good cop", that it was messing with his game.
He was with her the week after she won the election, sitting in her bed as she lounged beside him wearing his cast-off dress shirt and nothing else. They had ordered in, and the hotel had fed them sumptuously, but Radek had found the dinner rolls to be especially superb. They sent down for another basket and he handed her a fresh roll, having wrapped it solemnly in a fine linen napkin.
"You should put this in your bag, Regina. To bring to your new office. I do not think the bread there will be so good."
With her increased responsibilities and the ever watchful public eye, they would have no more stolen nights for some time; perhaps ever again.
"I can't help but think you're right," she said, and kissed him, gently.