CHAPTER TWO – Old Friends
Stars danced and pinwheeled through the fabric of space-time, and one small burst of matter coalesced back into order. In less than the time it took to blink an eye, Jonas Quinn stepped onto the ramp at Stargate Command for the first time in over a year. The air was the same— the stale and neutral smell of scrubbers and artificial ventilation. The ceiling still rose vastly above his head.
He stepped away from the stargate a bit, making room for First Minister Dreylock and Sam, both who followed him a couple of moments later.
"First Minister," greeted Jack from the bottom of the ramp. "Welcome back to Earth."
"General O'Neill," Dreylock returned with all of her quiet dignity.
Despite the sobriety of the occasion, Jonas stepped forward eagerly to greet Teal'c, standing beside Jack. The former first prime had not been with Jack and Sam when they'd come to deliver the news of Doctor Kieran's death. "Hey, Teal'c," he said with a smile.
"It is good to see you again, Jonas Quinn," Teal'c said, nodding his head with subdued smile. "I am sorry for the loss of Doctor Kieran."
The quiet center of sadness and regret inside of Jonas rippled a bit, but settled just as placidly. Strangely, the death of his old mentor had been much easier to take than the reports of his continuing decline over the last few months. More than anything, Jonas was frustrated at not having been able to visit Doctor Kieran once or twice more before he died. Still, there was a profound relief in knowing that the Doctor's personal demons had now been silenced. Jonas could only trust his friend was finally at peace.
"Thanks, Teal'c. I appreciate it."
The last of the Langaran party had by now arrived, which consisted of seven honor escort— apart from Jonas— who'd been chosen to accompany Doctor Kieran's body home. Also of the party were the Andari and Tirannian representatives, who had declared their resolution to pay their respects as well, though Jonas suspected their true motives had more to do with ensuring Kelowna didn't pull any fast deals regarding the stargate behind their backs.
Jonas glanced back and noticed Kianna, who was also eyeing the gate room with familiarity in her expression. She caught his eye and gave a reassuring half-smile. The young scientist had recuperated admirably, Jonas thought, from the mental imprisonment of the Goa'uld symbiote that had held her captive.
Still, he knew she still had her bad days. He thought it would be good for her to get away from the lab for a while, and had been the one to suggest she be part of the honor escort. Kianna had argued, given her lack of acquaintance with Doctor Kieran, but most of the professor's scientific peers had already passed away. Jonas thought it fitting that there be a scientist representative in the group. Kianna had done much to advance the naquadria work that Doctor Kieran had begun.
"Folks, we're going to take you to your assigned quarters now," Jack said over the mild din of conversation that had been building with each person to come through the gate. "Then we've got some refreshments for you. I'm sure you've got a lot to discuss."
First Minister Dreylock succeeded admirably with an expression of diplomatic gratitude, but Councilor Eremal couldn't help narrowing his eyes for a fraction of a second at the former Colonel O'Neill. Undoubtedly he was remembering their last encounter, when Jack had so unceremoniously told the bickering Langaran delegation "where to shove it." Sometimes Jonas wished he'd actually been there to witness it.
He turned back and met Kianna halfway down the ramp. "I'll get that for you," he said, picking up her bag, and adding it to the weight of his own, already thrown over his shoulder.
"Jonas, it weighs about seven dactiles," she said, amused.
"All the more reason it's no trouble," he said with a smile, and they headed off.
It seemed only natural that he fall into step with Sam as the group made its diffuse way through the unvarying gray corridors of the SGC. Smells and sounds Jonas hadn't realized he missed so much came rushing back. "Daniel's still offworld?" he asked. Kianna lingered half a step behind them, and seemed more interested in her whereabouts than in his question to Sam.
"Yeah, he's on the new Tok'ra base at Bilkah," Sam said. "No word yet on when he'll be back."
"I'm sorry I missed him."
"You should come back and visit sometime, you know, just for the heck of it."
Jonas smiled. "I know."
"But you're always too busy."
"That's the way they keep us."
There were too many in the party to use the elevator at once, so Jonas, Sam, and Kianna were among those who waited while Jack took the first group up to level twenty-five. "So, Kianna," Sam began after a moment's awkward silence. "How have things been since… we last saw you?" She had the uncomfortable manner of someone who didn't know how to be concerned without being intrusive.
"I have been very well, Major Carter, thank you," Kianna replied serenely.
"Actually, it's Lieutenant Colonel now," Sam said.
"Oh. Congratulations. And I'm still grateful for all your help last year."
"You're welcome."
The exchange had more meaning than the casual onlooker would have presumed. Though Sam and Kianna's acquaintance hadn't lasted very long, Jonas privately knew how much Sam had helped the younger woman cope with the initial helplessness and disorientation after the Goa'uld had been taken from her.
They were in the next group upstairs, and Jack showed Kianna to her room first. "Doctor Cyr, this will be your room," he said. "Personally, I think it has the best view, so you should count yourself lucky."
Jonas shook his head and glanced at Sam, who returned a small, knowing chuckle. Kianna, who had been looking between the large, framed poster of Pike's Peak on one wall and the photograph of the Blue Angels on the other, turned slowly to give the General a look that was unmistakably sardonic. Jack seemed impressed.
Sam and Jonas broke away from the others and headed two doors down. "I wasn't sure if you'd want your old room or not," she said as she opened the door, "but in the end it just felt kind of weird not to put you in here."
"Thanks, Sam," he said, putting his bag on the bed. "It doesn't really make a difference, to be honest."
"So," she said after a moment, still lingering in the doorway. "Kianna. Are you and she still—?" She broke off and jerked her head meaningfully.
Jonas blinked at her a moment, then said, with some surprise. "Oh! No, no, nothing like that."
"Really, because I thought maybe—" she pointed vaguely in the direction of Kianna's room. "Well, you hadn't said anything, but when I saw she was here—"
Now Jonas blushed slightly. "Yeah, I guess I should have said something, but I think only you would have ever wondered. She's married, Sam."
"Really?
"Yeah! It turns out before I met her she was fairly seriously involved with an old school friend, but when the Goa'uld came along, she didn't find him worth much of anything." Jonas stopped, figuring the rest of the story was pretty self-explanatory. Then he added. "Her husband really doesn't like me," he added, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. He sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Eh, that's no big deal; I don't really like you either," Sam said with a laugh and a mock wave of dismissal. Then she smiled more sincerely.
"It's good, though," he went on. "I think it's really helped her cope with what happened. Faster than she might otherwise have done, I mean." He crossed his arms. "I'm really happy for her."
"So how've you been?" Sam asked. She walked to the bed and took a seat beside him. She mimicked his posture and folded her arms.
"Fine, I guess. Busy." He cocked a half-smile at her. "Like you, when you're not offworld."
"You poor boy. Don't they ever let you out to play?"
"Ah, not really, no."
The sounds of Jack playing hotel clerk were still filtering in from the corridor, and Jonas and Sam watched the pageant of O'Neill versus the politicians for a few amused moments before Jonas finally worked up the courage to ask the question he'd been most longing to since he'd arrived.
"Sam, how is—?" he began, then his brow furrowed in hesitation, and he again puzzled at why this should be so difficult.
"She's fine, Jonas," Sam said, not looking at him. "She's still healthy, still playing music all over the country and ducking her bodyguards."
"Bodyguards?"
"Secret Service. Kinsey was Vice-President for a stint."
"Really?" This was news to Jonas.
"Yeah." Sam paused, as if she wanted to say more, but settled at last for another reassuring expression. "Yeah," she repeated. "She's good. She still drops by for checkups once in a while, though I actually haven't seen her all that much."
"It's good to know anyway," Jonas said quietly.
"I'll let you get unpacked. It's not good to let General O'Neill have too much free reign. Teal'c certainly isn't going to do hold him back."
Sam left Jonas alone with his thoughts. The melancholy of returning to Earth to bring home Doctor Kieran was in no way helped by the ever-present ache stirring up where Amelia Kinsey still had residence in Jonas's heart. If he looked just outside, he could see the door to the room that had been hers those few happiest months of his life.
Amelia was the main reason it had been so easy to let his interest in Kianna Cyr fade away as if it had been swept up by a wormhole. Consciously trying to move on just wasn't going to work, and it hadn't taken him long to realize as much.
Jonas wasn't one to say it was impossible he would ever love anyone else, he just found it very unlikely. And not a day went by when he didn't wonder if, wherever she was, she ever thought the same.
The newest in a long string of secret Tok'ra bases was on a planet called Bilkah. Had Amelia used the ring transporter to leave the base's confines for the planet's surface, she would have been inclined to go straight back down again. The landscape was bare and rocky, with an oddly-colored sky and very little to hold the imagination.
Pondering all this, she said softly, "I miss Enna."
Her nearest companion turned his attention from his books to regard her quizzically. "Sorry?" he asked. Amelia was almost surprised. Daniel Jackson had begun the volume a short while ago, and had barely stirred since.
"The base I stayed on before, when the Tok'ra first cured me," she explained serenely. She gave a wide yawn. It was getting late, and she was finally feeling sleepy. Amelia, with nothing better to do, had spent her first day on Bilkah tromping along after Daniel and SG-12 as they joined a Tok'ra guide on a tour of the new facilities. While the miles and miles and miles of corridor made for terrific exercise, Amelia privately marveled that the Tok'ra didn't carry balls of string or bread crumbs around to mark their way. She had completely lost track of their progress after the ninth turn or so.
"Right," Daniel said, his forehead wrinkled in that calculating expression of his. "I've never actually been to the Enna base— I'm told it's quite beautiful."
"Mmmn," Amelia said with a languid affirmation. She opened her eyes and glanced at over him. "You should make it the poster planet for promoting the upside of the Stargate program when you guys finally go public," she recommended earnestly.
He gave a small smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
Amelia gave a small grin of her own, and returned to her half-dozing posture. It had been many, many months since Daniel Jackson's buzzworthy return from the land of ascension Like everyone, Amelia marveled, but it had been some time before she'd actually met the last of the SGC's four legendary heroes. She had been surprised to discover an extraordinary shyness on her part in doing so. Jonas had confided many personal things to Amelia— doubts, raw regrets— and a great deal of them had been centered around his history with Daniel. Two years later, Amelia still carried the memory of her love for Jonas with a sad fondness; she knew the awe and diffidence she'd felt upon meeting Daniel to be echoes of all of Jonas's feelings.
Daniel was nice enough, she was ready to admit, kind and gentlemanlike, and perfectly willing to befriend her for herself despite the prejudice the SGC at large had held against her father. He shared many of those sorts of traits with Jonas. In fact, any time her mind decided to stop drawing constant comparisons would be fine with her.
Across the room, SG-12's quiet evening conversation came to an end, and the four team members rose to their feet. Lieutenant Casserman, whom Amelia had recently discovered played one mean harmonica, walked over to the corner where Daniel was sitting at the table. Amelia was sitting sideways on the bench-like niche in the wall. "Amelia," he said, "we're going to bed now. Do you want a walk back to your quarters?"
"If you can call them that," she said, sitting up and getting to her feet as well. "The Tok'ra aversion to doors gets on my nerves."
"Yeah, I think we all agree on that one."
"If only they applied their philosophy to metaphorical doors too," Daniel muttered, turning the page of his book without looking up.
Amelia looked at Lieutenant Casserman, who rolled his eyes, causing her to give a soft chuckle. "Goodnight, Doctor Jackson," she said, and she and the Lieutenant trailed off after the rest of SG-12.
"Night," he distantly called after them.
As they passed the entry way to the room, Amelia stooped down for a moment to pick up her violin case from where she'd left it just inside the door— or rather the frame of where the door would be if the room had one.
Noting her action, Lieutenant Casserman said, "That was fun, tonight. I enjoyed your playing. Sometimes I wonder if the Tok'ra even know what music is."
"You do have to wonder," she agreed mirthfully. "Believe me, I've learned the hard way to bring occupation when I come to a Tok'ra base. Especially now that they've given Malek a command again. I've only gotten to see him once since he got here. I have no idea if or when he's going to have time to conduct my checkup."
"Can't he just get somebody else to do it?"
"He could. He'll probably have to. But he's my friend; it's weird not getting to see him much. Anyway," she went on, directing the conversation back on track, "I certainly wasn't expecting any accompaniment. Where'd you learn to play the harmonica?"
"College in the south," he said with a grin. "I have a whole case of them at home, but I usually only bring one with me offworld. I hope you didn't mind playing everything in e-flat."
"Hey, no open strings," she pointed out. "I can get by without fine tuning if I want to."
"Yeah, I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied.
Laughing, she said, "Still. If you want to bring a G or an F along next time, we could have even more fun, I assure you. It's easier to hoe-down in those keys."
"I'll keep that in mind." Looking further down the corridor, he nodded and said, "Speak of the Tok'ra…"
Amelia caught sight of Malek coming towards them and broke into a wide smile and held out her violin to Lieutenant Casserman. "Could you put this in my cave?" she asked. "I'm going to catch up."
"Sure thing," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."
"We'll have to have another session."
"Deal. Goodnight, Amelia."
"Goodnight, Lieutenant."
By this time Malek had reached them and, after making passing greetings with the rest of SG-12, stood expectantly by for the tail end of the conversation. "Good night, Commander," Lieutenant Casserman said with a nod and walked off down the remainder of the corridor, the violin case looking strangely out of place in contrast to his crisp green BDUs.
Once alone, Amelia reached up eagerly to hug her friend around the neck, an embrace which he returned with a trace of amused awkwardness. "It's so good to see you," she said. "It's been months. How's the command going?"
"Times are harried, as always," he said. "The continued momentum of the Jaffa uprising has forced the Tok'ra to change many of our most time-tested tactics. Some adapt to the change more readily than others," he added, his dark eyes flashing weariness. "But it is good to have a command again. I was beginning to think they'd never trust me with one again."
"Seems to me losing a Tok'ra base is a pretty common sob story," Amelia observed. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault."
Malek did not comment, but turned and started heading the way SG-12 had disappeared, but at a much slower pace. "I'm hoping to make time to see you in the lab tomorrow. If this checkup goes as uneventfully as the last two, then we should have you back home in no time."
"You must be thrilled with the success of the experiment."
Malek paused, then gave a rare smile. "Aledar says probably not as much as you, though."
Amelia laughed. Malek's host, Aledar, didn't bother speaking for himself very often, but he was just as dear a friend to her as Malek. "Well, I'm not sure how I feel about a short visit," she confessed. "It's always so nice to have a few days free of the Secret Service agents, but can we please go back to Enna next time?" she implored, turning on him with an exaggerated note of pitiful in her voice.
Malek's amusement was evident by the brief sparkle in his eye, and Amelia was relieved to see that he was beginning to relax. "I might be able to take you there in a few days, if you like," he said. "And of course you're welcome to stay longer on Bilkah too. I think you know how much I favor your visits."
Amelia lapsed into a momentary, awkward silence. That Malek had continued feelings for her wasn't a secret, but her inability to requite them made the topic a painful one for her to dwell on, even when it was barely hinted this way. "Thank you," she finally said. "How do you think Doctor Jackson will succeed in his efforts here?" she added, eager to redirect the conversation as quickly as possible.
"Success is such a relative term," he began slowly. "I can't rightly tell you, beyond observing that I'm not entirely sure what Doctor Jackson wishes to accomplish here."
"Do you support what he's trying to do?"
"If I didn't, he would be having his talks someone else's base," Malek assured her flatly. "But yes, I'm one of few who openly support re-establishing strong ties with the Tau'ri."
"Are you going to be participating in the discussions?"
"I'll be there, but I suspect I'll be acting more as an observer and moderator than a true participant." He turned and peered at her closely. "If you truly want to stay here for a little while, perhaps you should join us."
"Wow, that sounds like all kinds of fun, thanks, Malek," said Amelia wryly. She returned his look. "Honestly, what the heck am I supposed to contribute? I don't know anything about intergalactic wound-salving."
"You'd be surprised what benefit a fresh, un-jaded voice like yours could bring to such a discussion if you wished it to," Malek said. "But I was merely suggesting you acknowledge support of Doctor Jackson with your presence. The success of your cure is one of the few positive things to result from our rocky and tenuous alliance. Believe me, the fact would not be overlooked if you were in the room. You wouldn't have to say much if you didn't want to."
"I'll think about it," she said.
"In the meantime, I'll leave you to get some rest," he said, halting his steps and turning to face her. They were now about fifty feet from her door.
Amelia pulled him into another embrace. As always, Malek's blunt stoicism both comforted and saddened her. "It's good to see you again," she repeated when she pulled away. She kept her hands clasped around his. "You should come visit us tomorrow night. Lieutenant Casserman and I were quite a hit with our music. We're going to play again."
He smiled. "I think I would enjoy it. I'll do my best."
Amelia was just releasing his hands when the loud and heavy sound of impact caused the ground beneath their feet to tremble and dust to shake with belying calm from the ceiling a little ways down the corridor. She gasped, and looked frightfully over at Malek. "What was that?" she asked in trepidation.
His mouth was set so tightly it almost disappeared. "Curses to all hells," he spat. Before he had time to elaborate, there was another, closer-sounding explosion, causing tremblings even more violent. Malek studied the groaning ceiling with narrowed eyes half a moment before seizing Amelia by the hand and running back the way he'd come.
Five seconds later he shouted, "Get down!" and pulled her to the ground just as the ceiling caved, raising a thick cloud of dust and blocking them from SG-12 and everyone else in that part of the base.
Review:
Pike: I'm glad to see you back. Hope the computer cooperates from here on out. :-)
A/N: A couple of general notes I forgot to include last time. As I'm sure most of you figured out, this story is set shortly after Season Eight's Full Alert. Whereas with Amelia's Violin I did my best to adhere to canon whenever possible, here I'm making no such effort. Though to say the truth I can't think of any way that it blatantly opposes canon… Well, regardless, LOL, you can pretty much consider it an AU story.
Also, interesting factoid: thanks to the knowledgeable freifraufischer, I learned that family members of ex-Presidents and ex-VPs have only seven years of Secret Service after said politicians terms are over. It used to be for life, but was changed… at some point. LOL Incidentally, Amelia's secret service code name is (of course) "Violin" though I'm not sure that will ever have a chance to come out in this story. ;-)
Now, just to give you the heads up, I probably won't be posting again for a while, and here's why. (1) I'm switching my focus next week to original fic and the week after that to my Star Wars fic. (2) I've decided I'm not allowing myself to post on this story until I write not one but two chapters ahead, thereby getting ahead of myself exponentially. The good news for you folks is that as soon as the story is finished you'll get speedy updates from then on in. I guess that will make this story go backwards of the way fics usually get posted. LOL
So hang in there. And thanks for all the feedback of the first chapter!
Saché