Breakdown

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but just wait until I win the lottery!

Blink and miss 'em spoilers for The First Ones, Meridian and Descent

A/N: Thanks to Lyn who leapt into the breach when I said I needed a beta for (gulp) a Jonas fic. Also to Grant who tried, and Longstreet Pete who shot me down and made the story stronger. A special thanks to my pod-buddy Luke, the best non-Stargate-fan sounding board around, and Mariel who kept stopping by my desk for story updates and popcorn.

Jonas Quinn tagged wearily behind his teammates on SG1, headed for a post mission physical and debriefing session. His sharp eyes noticed the twitch in Colonel O'Neill's shoulder a split second before the man's head turned. It was enough time for Jonas to straighten up and plaster an attentive look on his face, but as usual, the Colonel didn't notice as he said something to Major Carter.

Jonas sighed inwardly. He'd given up his hope of gaining the man's acceptance, and settled for not being summarily ejected from SG1 and Stargate Command. He worked assiduously to insure that that disaster never happened. Should he be rejected here, he had no place to go, having defected to Earth from his home world, Langara. To be sent back there would be tantamount to a death sentence, as his own government had branded him a traitor.

The people here had shown no inclination to send him back, but in his own mind, the threat still loomed, and it governed all of his actions. He pushed himself to be accommodating. He tried to be open and friendly, showing no offense at the numerous slights and outright dislike many people here displayed. He knew the general feeling was that he had been responsible for the demise of one of this world's most honored scientists. The worst of it was, they were right. It was his act of cowardice that had ultimately resulted in Daniel Jackson's death.

He had initially been so overwhelmed by the shattering of his self-image as an honorable man, that he stood by when his government had turned its back on reality and in a massive cover-up blamed Dr. Jackson for the near nuclear disaster. It was only when Col. O'Neill had tracked him down and called him a coward to his face, that he had dredged up the courage to do what he should have done in the first place.

Though he doubted anyone on Earth or Langara fully understood his actions, he had stolen as much of the naquadria as he could, knowing it he was setting back Kelowna's weapons program by several years. He could only hope that the other nations of his world would not be able to capitalize on his act. He had used his position in the government to travel through the stargate and turn the naquadria over to the Tau'ri of Earth, whom he prayed would put it to a better, nobler use than a bomb.

His expectation had been that he would return immediately home and face the consequences of his deed. Kelowna still used public hanging as the punishment for treason. He had been fairly astonished when General Hammond had refused to allow him to return through the gate, telling him in no uncertain terms that he would not allow Jonas to be punished for doing what was clearly the right thing.

The generosity of spirit had floored him and it had actually taken him quite a while to accept that he even deserved to live. The only way he had been able to justify it was by seizing on the idea of seeing to it that the people of his new adopted home did not lose the wisdom and expertise that Dr. Jackson had provided them.

He threw his rather formidable intellect into reading and understanding all of Dr. Jackson's work. He couldn't replace the man. That was a foregone conclusion from the beginning. But he could and would replace the knowledge. It was the only way he could atone for his sins.

It wasn't all without rewards, of course. He had seen and experienced things that he could barely have imagined before his defection. Wonderful new worlds, and the most amazing people, not all of whom were human.

And he had been given access to a level of technology unheard of on Kelowna. Things that the people of this world took for granted were amazing to him. On his home world, his entire life had been geared to the needs of the state. When early testing showed that he had high intelligence and a natural gift for learning, he had been taken from his family and placed in a state school. He had been taught how to harness his gift for the good of the state. He knew everything there was to know about the Naquadria Project, and how to navigate the political waters of high government, but little about anything else, as it was deemed unnecessary.

Here, he had assumed that it would be the same and he harnessed his ability to understanding the Goa'uld and Replicators. It had come as a shock to him when he discovered that he was allowed to study other things and that he did not have to justify how his new knowledge would benefit this world.

He thought of his recent foray into Earth's flora and fauna. Coming from a world where war was a constant threat, and every plant and animal was judged for its ability to sustain human life, and ruthlessly eradicated if it failed to make the grade, Jonas had been astonished when he stumbled over a Humane Society site on the internet. He'd spent several hours in mute wonder as he discovered his adopted world saved entire species of animals for no other reason than because they could.

It had been a revelation to him, and he ached with the desire to visit a repository called a zoo. He knew it wasn't possible, as he was not allowed outside. He sighed. He'd seen more of alien worlds than he had of Earth. But he hoped that someday he would be allowed 'up top'. Still, he felt guilty at the time he had wasted. He didn't mention his desire. Though he had been told several times that he could study whatever he wanted, he still had an underlying fear of having it all ripped away.

In the meantime, he still had access to the food of this world, another wonder. Because of the continual state of war on Langara, starvation was a reality that not even the elite could always avoid. Jonas could remember a time when his school did not receive rations for two months. What food there was had to be earned by scholastic achievement. Despite his intelligence, there had been many nights that he had gone to bed hungry. Even as an advisor to the First Minister, Jonas was not guaranteed a full belly. In fact, he was expected to set an example for others less fortunate.

Even when food was plentiful, it was bland fare. Kelowna's government had co-opted all of the country's farmland long before Jonas had been born, and the crops planted were chosen for their nutritional value and high yield rather than any consideration of taste. Fresh, unprocessed food was rarely available and far too expensive even on his salary. Besides, food right out of the ground had seemed vaguely unhygienic to Jonas. He had grown up assuming all food was the same, and he never wasted much thought on it.

But then he had come to Earth, where the choices were virtually unlimited. His first meal on his adopted planet had been disconcerting to say the least. He had been shocked to find more than one food item on the plate presented to him, including a portion of animal protein, something he had only tasted a few times before in his entire life.

When some five hours later his keepers announced it was time for another meal, he'd been very confused, as he had assumed with the animal protein earlier, he would not eat again until the next day. The tray they left included another portion of animal protein, this time something called chicken. He cleaned his plate, as it was a sin to waste food. But in the two meals, he had eaten more food than he had in two days at home, and he spent his first night in a great deal of discomfort.

After that, it had taken him some time to bring himself to eat more than one food at a time. The closest thing he had found to the food of his home world was a breakfast cereal called oatmeal. For several days, it was all he would eat. Dr. Frasier took him in hand very quickly explaining that his metabolism was not geared to the foods of Earth, and that he had to eat a variety if he wanted to remain healthy.

From the first days of his time at Stargate Command, he had been subjected to batteries of tests. Dr. Frasier made a point of using the time in the infirmary to introduce Jonas to new foods, teaching him to peel oranges and bananas, keeping him from eating grape stems and apple seeds.

When the test results came in, the doctor had suggested that Jonas eat several small meals throughout the day rather than three larger meals, and had prescribed an herbal tea to help adjust his metabolism. It had taken time, but eventually, Jonas began to embrace the variety of food available, and was able to face and enjoy complex foods and larger meals.

Trudging down a long hallway behind his team, Jonas was already thinking in terms of getting some lunch. As he trailed into the infirmary behind Teal'c, his eyes widened in mild surprise at the splashes of color throughout the otherwise drab suite of rooms. Ahead of him, Major Carter stopped and said in a tone of disappointment, "Aw, did we miss it again?"

Curious, Jonas asked, "Miss what?"

Teal'c inclined his head. "I believe Major Carter is referring to an Earth celebration called Valentine's Day."

Jonas thought for a moment then nodded, "A holiday in honor of a priest from the third century who was put to death for performing secret marriages. A day to celebrate romantic love." He looked around at the balloons and flowers adorning the bedside tables of most of the infirmary's patients. "You celebrate love with balloons?"

Sam Carter put on the patient look she wore whenever Jonas asked what she considered an odd question. "Well, yes and no. Valentine's Day is a day for lovers, but also for friendship. It's a day just to celebrate love in all its forms."

From his seat where he was having his blood pressure taken, Col. O'Neill said dryly, "Don't let her kid you, Jonas. It's a day when every female on this base keeps score of how many flowers and pounds of chocolate every other female gets."

"Sir!" Carter cried in scandalized shock.

With a near smirk, O'Neill replied. "I'll prove it to you." He looked around, and called over a pretty nurse. "Lt. Ortiz, what did Doctor Frasier get for Valentine's Day?"

"She only got a dozen yellow roses from Cassie, but she got a two pound box of Godiva from somebody she won't name." The nurse responded quickly, unaware of the trap.

O'Neill said nothing, but just raised his eyebrow in Major Carter's direction.

Sam rolled her eyes and turned to Jonas. "Don't listen to him, Jonas. Valentine's Day is a day to show friendship and love by giving cards and gifts of candy and flowers."

From his position on an examining table, Teal'c intoned with delicate distaste, "It is a day when the commissary covers all desserts with pink frosting."

"Yeah. Now, see, I just don't get that." O'Neill seized on the comment. "Pink is just unnatural."

Janet Fraiser came striding across the room, clipboard in hand. With a twinkle in her eye, she said for Sam and Jonas' benefit, "This from a man who'll drink a gallon of green beer on St. Patrick's Day."

O'Neill's indignant 'hey!' was drowned out by Sam's chuckle. Jonas didn't quite get the joke, but could tell one had been made, so he smiled. If he got a chance later, he thought he'd take a moment to research the meaning of colors in Earth's foods.

Janet looked around at the four teammates. "Any complaints? Cuts? Bruises? Alien possessions?"

Jonas joined the rest of the team in shaking his head. O'Neill answered for them all. "Naw, Doc, no complaints. Unless you want to count boredom. Oh, and six days of sitting on our keisters, while the natives hemmed and hawed. Did I mention boredom?"

That caught Jonas off guard, but he carefully schooled his look not to betray his surprise. He had found the culture a fascinating mix of ancient Celtic with Hindu influences. The people had been gentle and kind, and more than willing to share their history with him, even though they had eventually turned down the offer of a trade agreement.

"Well, if that's all you suffered, Colonel, I'd say the mission was a success." Making a few notes on her clipboard, Dr. Frasier continued, "Once we get our blood samples, you can all leave."

The woman turned and strode away, her high heels clicking as she walked. Jonas heard O'Neill muttering saying she sold their blood on the internet, but he was fairly confident that the Colonel was not sincere, so he ignored him.

Within a few minutes, a nurse had taken his blood, and Jonas got up to head for his quarters. "Hey," Col. O'Neill called out to him. "Debrief in twenty minutes, don't be late."

Jonas flashed the man a smile, "No, sir, I won't."

As he walked down the hallway, he heard a rumbling comment greeted by laughter, no doubt at his expense. He sighed, wondering if there would ever come a point when Col. O'Neill noticed that he was never late. In the few months that he had been on Earth, it had become increasingly apparent that although he looked like the average Earth-human, he was really as different as Teal'c was with his Goa'uld incubation pouch. One of the differences that Jonas took for granted was his internal clock. He just always knew what time it was.

He decided to drop off his recorder and journal at his office before heading to his quarters and a hot shower, and was surprised and intrigued to find several items on his desk that had not been there when he left. In addition to some pieces of what they called 'mail', there were three boxes in a shape that he recognized as the human abstraction of a heart.

Not totally certain of what to expect, he took the smallest of the three boxes, and after careful inspection, opened it. His eyebrows went up when he saw the five small rounded brown lumps. One whiff and he knew it was chocolate candy. It didn't take long for his mind to make the connection with the Valentine's Day that they had been talking about in the infirmary.

With a slight frown he looked for any marking that would indicate who had given him the treat. He knew it couldn't be romantic love the giver had in mind, but he wasn't sure how strong a friendship had to be to warrant a gift. The box was marked "Palmer", but the only Palmer he knew was Major Palmer of SG14, and the man had never shown any desire to be his friend.

Knowing he had no time to puzzle it out, he put the box down on his desk and as an afterthought, picked out one of the candies and popped it in his mouth. He almost spat it out again when his tongue immediately began to tingle. As he headed for his quarters, he frowned thoughtfully, but continued to chew and swallow the candy, wondering if this was another practical joke like the time someone had put Habenero hot sauce on his stew.

Jonas had decided not to eat anymore of the candy by the time he had reached the cross-corridor outside his quarters. He knew that some of the food on this world, like the hot sauce, was an acquired taste. He found he had no desire to acquire any taste for the strange feeling in his mouth and throat.

He started down the corridor, when suddenly he gasped, or tried to… Something was blocking the air. Jonas tried swallowing, feeling the air turn solid around him. The first tingling of panic seemed to constrict his throat all that much more. As he struggled to get his lungs to pull in the air, his eyes darted around looking for one of the ever-present intercoms. He spied one several feet away, but his panic built when he tried to take a step toward it and his legs turned to rubber beneath him.

With his vision starting to gray out, he tried to force his legs to cooperate. In his agitation, he saw the phone as his only hope for help, not even considering that he could no longer make any sound. When someone placed a hand on his shoulder, he tried desperately to swat it away, his only waning thought to reach the phone. His knees buckled and he crashed to the concrete. He would have cried out in his fear, but the tyranny of his closed throat left him mute.

A face swam into his view, someone saying something he couldn't hear over the rushing of his blood in his ears. He reached up clawing at his throat desperate for some relief, but the hands were back trying to force his down. With no air, he fell quickly into the darkness, the terror following him down. Eventually his hands and body stilled.