The disclaimer still stands - don't own any of 'um

Jonas's secret revealed?

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Jonas had a secret...

Cassandra had visited the SGC, whist her mother finished a report for General Hammond, late one Saturday night. She had drifted into Daniel's office, looking for Sam, but had found only Jonas and Colonel O'Neill. She had stayed chatting comfortably with Jack until he was called away, making some dry comment about her hair as he left the room. She'd sighed and retorted to herself, how can someone that old have such a great butt?

Jonas had laughed and answered, "He works out I guess," and then he'd quickly added, "not that I've noticed Colonel O'Neill's butt."

Cassie had turned to face him, astonishment etched on her open face and Jonas had just looked at her puzzled.

"You heard what I thought," she exclaimed and things just escalated from there.

They had stood staring at each other, for what seemed an eternity, their thoughts bounded between the gap like emotional tennis balls. A million and one neural impulses, illuminating each other's mind, opening its limits like a blossoming flower.

Then they'd touched, palm-to-palm, both sensing the change inside of them that stunned and captivated the breath from their bodies. A dazzling light spun around them, silver and gold threads entwining their destinies and they became transfixed in its epicentre, drawing on each other's presence like the moon and the sun. It was as if the fates were forging them together, as if each was a missing part of the other and they would now become whole. Cassandra, who was old for her years due to the bitterness of her childhood and Jonas whose childlike naivety, his exhilaration, glowed in an ill-lit universe.

He had felt the hollowness in his soul grow to be full with an awakening of energy and enlightenment. It had zipped through his body until he thought he would burn with its force, his heart fuelled to bursting point, then as fast it came it was gone and they were left staring at each other, palm-to-palm.

"Wow," was all Cassie had said.

They both knew this was preordained.

Cassandra had accompanied Janet more often after that night. They would sit in Jonas's room playing chess, which was difficult, as they knew each other's moves well in advance. Jonas would watch carefully as Cassie pushed the bishop or gentle lifted the knight mentally, testing her flourishing aptitude. He would then make a clumsy attempt, at the same, usually tipping the board over but Cassie patiently guided his mind until he had been able to do it on his own. Now, whenever they played, they would compete in their minds first and move all the pieces at the end like some fierce battle campaign.

Jonas knew his telekinetic abilities would never match that of Cassandra's. She had such an amazing gift, making the objects glide through distance like a soothing melody of enchantment. He could just about lift something or flick a switch but he had notice a change in other mental skills.

He had always been able to interpret people; he could sense emotions, read body language, pretty well, and on some occasions, he knew if they were hiding something. There was nothing odd about this, most humans do this as a matter of instinct but he had noticed that he perceived things a little faster that those around him. Now this perception had amplified.

He found that emotions were like colours that people inhabit for a time. A vast spectrum of impulsive hues, from almond to yellow, hiding just under the cerebrum of each individual's mind. Jonas had established, with practice, that he could decipher these impressions, these soul fragments, like learning to read hieroglyphs on the wall of a pyramid. It wasn't the same as tapping into someone's thoughts, as you were opening yourself up to handling others emotions and this could be draining.

Sometimes, with intense feelings, he would catch flashes of arguments or passion without even pushing. These images would invade his mind like an indistinct 8mm film noir, it didn't happen often, but when it did, it was sharp and severe causing blood to seep from his nose.

Jonas looked up from where he was sitting, rubbing his eyebrow as if to massage his thoughts; the canteen was starting to fill up with servicemen and women. He acknowledged some with a warm smile and went back to analysing what had happen last week whilst doodling in the pad before him.

Dr Jackson had managed to decipher, with Jonas's help, part of the stone tablet but the meaning was still vague. It seemed to talk about three objects, three keys, needed to open or find the forgotten city. Colonel O'Neill had remarked that it sounded like an introduction to a computer game and had told Major Carter to pack pistols and khaki shorts. Daniel (and Sam) ignored this comment and he had carried on with his summation. The text had given the impression that when the first key was found it would lead to a second and that when these were placed together, would lead to a third. So the question was where do they start to look for key number one?

Jonas had wanted to re-check his work, to see if he could get a definite translation of the ancient text. He had touched the stone, as he had done many times before, feeling the indentions of the symbols, when something bizarre happened; an image flashed through his mind. Just for a second he saw a man, dressed in blue robes, engraving the tablet. He pulled his hand away and then touched it again this time focusing his mind. He felt a sense of panic emanating from the stone, like there was a need to finish something and not enough time. He also felt a restful presence coming from the man whose prophecy was written down before him. Jonas pushed himself further, the image flickering like candlelight, the man looked up at him saying something with meaningless words and then the image, the sensation, was gone. Again, he found this experience taxing, his body seemed to lose its force but he knew if he persevered that he could find the answers they were all looking for.

He'd shown Cassandra this new ability, using some notes on the Rosetta Stone, Dr Jackson had acquired, written in 1822 by Jean-Francois Champollion. Again he got the flashes, a man in poor health, a feeling of deep obsession, excitement, phonetic signs, the Coptic language, all these impressions darted about his head without structure or context leaving Jonas feeling disheartened. Cassie had then placed her hand on his and their destinies joined once more.

Suddenly they were there, 1822, the scene played out in front of them like a hazy dream, shuddering and distorted. They watched as Jean-Francois hurried to his brother's office, the notes and papers, the very key to his success, grasped tightly to his chest. He exploded into the room, a snowstorm of paperwork falling around both men. His brother stood up, concerned, as Jean-Francois gasped for air but his eyes were full of exhilaration. He began to yell, dancing around his brother's office, 'I've found it, I've found it!'

Then he collapsed to the floor, the poor health that had hindered so much of his work surfaced yet again, rendering him unconscious but not dead.

They'd then removed their hands from the paperwork, the buzz of their mental journey pumping through their bodies. Jonas had sat down, fatigued; a small amount of blood fell from his nose. He'd held his hand up to Cassie to let her know he was all right. The thought was there before he could stop it, they could read the stone, together they could read the stone.

This seat taken, echoed a voice in his head.

He looked up at Cassandra who was carrying a red plastic tray with an assortment of snacks and sodas on. He shook his head.

I've brought food, she thought again.

Jonas smiled and grabbed some chips and soda from the tray.

Major Carter stretched her weary muscles as she entered the canteen and selected a strong coffee. She looked around the busy dining hall and saw the two familiar faces of Jonas and Cassie. She thought about joining them and then noticed they were in their own private discussion; only they didn't seem to be talking. She saw Cassie's head move, her hands opening in an insistent manner and Jonas shake his head and rub his brow. She observe how their eyes were locked together, hardly blinking, as if, dear God, as if they were reading each other's thoughts.