CHAPTER NINE - Realizations


Love is too young to know what conscience is,
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body's treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason,
But rising at thy name doth point out thee,
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.

No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her love, for whose dear love I rise and fall.

Sonnet 151 by William Shakespeare


"Jonas, have you just about got that thing figured out?"

At the sound of Colonel O'Neill's voice, Jonas turned to see the other man craning his neck, looking up at the sky through the trees speculatively. "It looks like rain," the Colonel continued. He looked at Jonas. "And I don't know about you, but I don't really fancy a walk up a big hill on a heavy-gravity planet with rainstorm on the side."

Beside Jonas, Sam straightened from where she'd been examining the control panel on the obelisk again. They'd been on P3X-651 for almost two hours now, and Jonas and Sam's frustration hung nearly as heavy as the atmosphere. At first, everything had seemed to go well. As Jonas had guessed, the control console of the obelisk had come to life as soon as they'd activated it with the hand-held key. It had proven difficult, however, to make any further progress. They had accessed a series of menus such as the one in the holocube, but not as extensive.

"Sir, I don't know if we're going to be able to do anything else until we've had time to analyze some of this."

"Well, how long is it going to take, Carter?"

Jonas and Sam exchanged regretful glances, and Jonas turned back. "I'm going to need to reference my materials at the SGC to translate all this more completely," he confessed.

"The only section of interface we haven't exhausted is this one," Sam said, nodding at the hologram that was flickering in the air before their eyes. "It's still...playing," she said hesitantly.

Colonel O'Neill cocked his head and studied the hologram. "That looks kind of like those headphone thingies that came from the ruins," he said, nodding and waving a hand at it. The hologram was indeed spewing a mottled array of rainbow-hued colors.

"Right, we thought so too," Sam confirmed. "They must be connected somehow. Sir, I'd like to set up some equipment to keep recording this, but we don't have it with us."

"So you're saying we should go home."

"Yes, sir. There's not much more we can do today."

As Colonel O'Neill had predicted, drenching rain began to fall as they reached the halfway point back to the stargate. Jonas spent the tedious trek up the hill struggling to keep his notebook and camera protected under the SGC poncho he'd hastily whipped out of one of his vest pockets. When they reached Earth, the team seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief as the wormhole disengaged behind them.

Debriefing did not take long. General Hammond agreed to schedule another trip to PX3-651 to set up Sam's remote recorder. Colonel O'Neill advised that they bring some rain gear to protect the equipment. Afterward, Jonas worked on translations until it was time for a violin lesson as he and Amelia had agreed upon.

He was glad that Amelia was back at the SGC after the craziness of Senator Kinsey's supposed assassination, but he was worried about her too. Since her return from Washington, Amelia had seemed quieter somehow, more fragile. She spoke more softly and less. She visited Doctor Fraiser nearly everyday, but still the doctor hadn't risked administering the Tretonin. Jonas hoped she would soon. He was becoming very concerned for his friend.

Today, Amelia began teaching him how to read music, something he'd already learned a little bit about when he'd been researching the Sentinel mission. The books she used were her own. "I didn't have time to go out and get anything new, so I went through some of my old toy boxes and found my primer books," she'd explained. The books themselves were covered with various sketches and letters in the margins and covers, including a large, shaky "Amelia" in a five-year-old's handwriting on the inside front. When he had commented upon these scribbles, she had only blushed and mumbled something indecipherable.

"What?"

"They're not very impressive compared to the drawings in your notebook," she said, smiling at him. "Trust me, my drawing skills haven't improved very much in nineteen years." She eyed a wobbly attempt at a flower with a dubious eye.

"No, I think they're nice," Jonas said with an encouraging smile. "They help me picture what little Amelia must have been like." He made a scampering motion with his fingers to make her laugh.

Amelia was a very good teacher, and despite the fact that Jonas was catching on to what she was showing him more quickly than she probably realized, he let her work at her own pace. He found Earth's system of musical notation to be both elegant and ingenious in its simplicity.

They'd been working for about half an hour, standing side by side at his worktable, when Amelia stopped to sit down. She lowered herself slowly into his desk chair, her palm flattened on her stomach. "Are you okay?" Jonas asked. "Do you want me to take you to the infirmary?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. I just need to get off my feet."

"You should probably go to bed," he said, looking up at the clock. It was almost twenty-one hundred hours.

Amelia folded her arms on the desk and buried her head in them, emitting a groan.

"What?" Jonas asked, even more alarmed.

There was a pause. "I hate that room," she said, her voice mumbled. The tone of her voice caused Jonas to laugh. She raised her head up again and smiled back at him weakly. "Sorry," she said. "Shouldn't be so whiney."

Relieved that she wasn't becoming more uncomfortable— and frankly not quite sure why she felt the need to apologize— Jonas made a dismissive gesture, his face screwed up in thought. "Oh," he said suddenly, face brightening, "I wanted to show you something I've been working on."

Amelia's expression became puzzled. "What?"

"Remember when we were talking about offworld instruments?"

"Yes."

Jonas retrieved the hand-held crystal device from PX3-651 off the nearby lab table. "This is a musical device created by the Ancients. I thought you'd like to take a look."

She accepted it from him gingerly, looking at it with interest. "How does it work?" she asked. Jonas helped her thread her fingers into the proper grooves and turned it on. He noted that her hands were very cold.

When the light inside the device turned on, brightening the jewel-colored keys, Amelia's eyes widened excitedly. "It's beautiful," she said.

"Play it," Jonas urged, smiling.

Cautiously, Amelia pushed a couple of the keys, emitting the clear, crystalline tones to which Jonas had become accustomed. She smiled, and looked up at him with wide joyful eyes for a moment before returning her attention to the device. "How do you know it's an instrument?" she asked.

"There were some old records we found preserved with the device," Jonas explained. "Actually, I'm not sure that it was used as an instrument, but I do know its intent was musical." He pointed to a red key near her forefinger. "This is C," he said helpfully.

Amelia cocked her head and played the note, smiling wider. Experimentally, she used the fingers of both hands to pick out a major scale, as Jonas had done not long after she'd first taught him scales a couple of weeks ago. "I wonder what the Ancients used for sheet music," she said offhandedly, laughing.

"Well, I doubt they would have used—" Jonas began, but trailed off, something suddenly clicking into place in his brain.

"What?" Amelia asked.

Jonas did not reply, instead circling to the other end of the lab table excitedly, where he retrieved the Ancient headphones. His mind was racing at a ferocious pace. He looked at his watch. Sam was long gone by now. Probably asleep. She went to bed very early. He looked back at Amelia. "This device was found along with the instrument," he said, holding up the headphones, "but I couldn't figure out what its purpose was. The Ancient records didn't say."

"And?"

"And I think," he continued, "that it might be what you said. Sheet music." Jonas gave a broad smile as he concluded. "Well, sort of."

Amelia only stared blankly. "Really?" she finally asked, disbelieving.

"Well, it makes sense. Here, look," he said, and proceeded to demonstrate the device's effects to Amelia. "The colors of the instrument's keys match the colors in these patterns."

"I see what you're saying," Amelia said, catching his excitement. "Match the colors, match the pitch. But what about tempo and rhythm?"

"I think those are built in too," Jonas said. He'd had several weeks, after all, to become familiar with the device's effects.

Taking off the headset again, Amelia looked down at the Ancient instrument still clutched inside her palm. "It'd take some finesse," she observed, "but if you had all these little keys memorized..."

"Exactly," Jonas finished. "I think we're really on to something."

Amelia laughed softly. "We?" she repeated. "Jonas, you just showed me this stuff ten minutes ago."

"Well, now I can't believe I didn't think to show you right away. You're far more an expert at music than any of the rest of us."

"Well then, my pleasure," she replied. Her eyes were still amused. Then she closed them for a second, a slight expression of discomfort on her face.

"Amelia, I really think you should go to bed."

She sighed sadly and looked at the clock, then back at Jonas. "How about a compromise?" she asked. "A movie in the rec room? I've got some medicine to take back in my quarters first. And then I promise I'll relax." At Jonas's hesitation, she added, "Please?"

"Okay," he finally agreed, ignoring the little tug of guilt inside him that was telling him he'd only agreed because the offer was so appealing. "I think Teal'c has a collection. Maybe he'll let us borrow one."

Amelia blinked. "Teal'c likes movies?" she asked with a level expression.

"Hey, it's a really great way to be exposed to Earth culture," Jonas said defensively.

"Right," she said, nodding and laughing.

"Good." He grabbed the sheet music and began assembling it into a stack. "Go ahead and take your medicine. I'll meet you at your room."

The movie Teal'c recommended was called The Fellowship of the Ring and turned out to be quite long. They sat side by side on the sofa in the rec room, and Amelia seemed to be enjoying herself, but as the minutes progressed, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Jonas watched her nearly tip over three times before he pulled a pillow onto his lap and patted it with his hand. She was quick to accept the offer, laying on her side and snuggling her head into the pillow. Within five minutes she was snoring lightly.

Jonas, who wasn't at all sleepy, tried to focus on the movie, but found himself increasingly distracted by the warm weight on his lap. The phosphorescence of the television screen cast a blue pallor to Amelia's pale face, and accentuated the light freckles on her nose and cheeks. Finally, he reached out timidly, and brushed strands of her hair (which was now blond and curly; apparently Colonel O'Neill had pleaded with her to change her wig on the journey home from Washington), and something indescribable stirred in his chest at her innocent, fragile appearance.

It was well after midnight when Jonas finally turned off the TV, but he did not move, for fear of waking his unwitting companion. Instead he shifted himself into as comfortable a position on the couch that he could muster, propped his feet on the coffee table, and laid his head back. Soon he drifted off to join Amelia in sleep.


"Teal'c, have you seen Jonas?"

It was early in the morning, and Jack was not relishing the day ahead. He'd unexpectedly encountered Maybourne over hot dogs yesterday, and then had to listen to an irritatingly smug tale about planets weapons caches and gate addresses. The trouble was (as Maybourne was well aware) Jack couldn't ignore the possibility of such a find.

Maybourne had turned himself into the Air Force this morning and Jack had promised to at least speak with General Hammond about the man's information. The fact that Maybourne was more or less leading him along like an ass following a dangling carrot was really making Jack irritable. Were it not for the remote possibility that the cache of weapons might really exist, Jack would have not allowed his dignity to be compromised this way.

"Is he not in his quarters, O'Neill?"

"No, and he's not in his lab."

"Is he—?"

"—no, he's not in the commissary. I thought of that too."

Teal'c appeared thoughtful. "I spoke with Jonas Quinn yesterday evening just before my kelnorim. He and Amelia Kinsey had planned to watch a movie together in the recreation room. Perhaps you might try here."

Jack blinked. "No kidding?" he asked. "Huh. Well, thanks Teal'c. Hey, I've got a very fun and exciting briefing to give you all in two hours. Carter should be here soon. I'll keep trying to find Jonas," he said with an annoyed sigh. Of all times for that blasted kid to start being unpredictable.

Jack never made it to the rec room very often. In fact, it was rarely used by any of the SGC personnel unless there was a lockdown or quarantine situation and they started to go crazy from inertia. He supposed it made sense that Jonas might have taken advantage of it, but Jonas's brain always seemed far too occupied with other things to be interested in stuff like darts and ping-pong. Jack found it curious, therefore, that Jonas would have gone there, but having no other recourse, he decided to try Teal'c's suggestion.

When he flipped the light switch in the darkened room, a very surprising sight met his eyes. "Well, this is interesting," he said to himself after a disbelieving pause, raising his eyebrows. Jonas was sprawled out on the ratchy old Air Force sofa, one foot on the coffee table, the other on the floor. Amelia Kinsey's head was in his lap. Both were quite soundly asleep.

The picturesque— if very odd— moment lasted only a second. Jonas stirred slightly and made a faint sound of protest at the onslaught of bright, fluorescent light. He blinked several times, rubbed his eyes, and finally took in his surroundings. "Colonel?" he asked in confusion when he spied Jack.

Jack held an amused finger to his lips and pointed. Still looking out of it, Jonas looked down. "Oh," he said quietly. "I forgot."

"Clearly," said Jack, his amusement rising, though it did nothing to allay his surprise. Jonas looked rather like a sixteen-year-old kid who'd just gotten busted for driving the old man's Porsche around on a Saturday night.

It's not my Porsche, kid.

"Colonel, I'm sorry, I don't—I mean— this isn't what it looks like." Jonas sighed in frustration and rubbed his eyes again, then the back of his neck, looking very worried.

"What does it look like, Jonas?" Jack asked, raising his eyebrows meaningfully and resisting the urge to smile. He probably should not be having so much fun with this.

"We were just watching a movie. She fell asleep."

"Ah." Jack stared at him a moment, deliberately letting the silence hang heavy just to torture Jonas. Then he asked lightly, "Good movie?"

"Yes. Yes, it was."

"Well, Sparky, I just wanted to let you know— briefing in two hours. Be there or be square."

Jonas looked confused. "Sir?"

"Don't be late, Jonas."

"Right. Thank you, sir."

Jack looked at his watch. "Carter will probably be here by now. I'm going to let her know."

As it turned out, Sam was running late. Jack waited around in her lab for almost twenty minutes, and was just contemplating the possibility of going to breakfast alone when she finally showed up.

"Sir?" she asked, pulling on the jacket of her fatigues as she stepped inside. "What are you doing here?"

"Briefing. Oh-nine-hundred hours," he said propping his hand on his chin to look at her plaintively.

She looked at the clock. "That's still an hour and a half away. Any special reason you're telling me now?"

"Because I called the briefing."

"Really?" she asked, a piqued expression on her face. She sat down on her very tall lab chair. "Why?"

He made a face and picked up a nearby magnifying glass. "Maybourne," he said, and looked through the glass, appreciating the fact that Carter looked just as nice when she was very magnified.

"Wow, what happened?"

He put down the magnifying glass again. "Now, now," he said, shaking a finger at her with a secretive smile, "you can't expect me to tell you everything."

"Right, sir," she said, giving him a humoring expression. She reached down to turn on her computer.

"Carter?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I just found Jonas in the rec room. He slept in there all night."

"Okay..."

"Amelia Kinsey was in his lap. Well, her head was, anyway."

She paused, an interesting twitch playing at the corners of her mouth. She was clearly interested, clearly amused, but clearly not shocked. "Really?" she asked, a small smile in her voice. She turned on her monitor.

Jack sat up straight, frowning. "You knew about this?"

"Knew about what?" she asked, innocently.

"Jonas and...Kinsey's daughter?" he hissed.

Sam laughed. "Oh, come on sir. You can't tell me you haven't suspected anything."

"Carter, do I usually pay attention to Jonas's social life?"

"Well, to be honest, sir, I'm not entirely sure anything's been going on. I just had my suspicions."

"Why?"

"Don't you know how much time they spend together? She's been teaching him to play the violin for almost a month."

"No, I didn't know that," Jack told her exasperatedly. He scowled. "I don't think there's a worse person on the face of this planet that Jonas could have fallen for."

Sam looked curious. "I thought you liked Amelia now, sir."

"I do! She's got spunk— clearly she was left on the doorstep— but I'm still not very happy about this."

"Why?"

"Because if Kinsey even got a smidgen of a hint this was going on, he'd blame me. Like I need any more of his antagonizing in my life."

The truth was, if Jack hadn't gotten to know Amelia Kinsey a little better during the attempted assassination incident, he would have been very worried, but for other reasons. A member of Kinsey's family holding any measure of influence over a member of SG-1 was dangerous in many, many ways. But something in the girl's eyes the day she'd visited him in his cell rested all Jack's misgivings in this vein. Amelia Kinsey was not her father.

"Well, sir, like I said. Don't worry about it too much. I could be very wrong."

"I don't know, they looked pretty cozy."

Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm hungry. How about some Froot Loops?" she asked in a patronizing voice, taking him by the arm and steering him out the door.

"Very funny, Carter."


When Colonel O'Neill left the room, Jonas gave out a very long, very relieved sigh.

"Well, that was awkward," said a voice from below him. Jonas started, and looked down in surprise to see Amelia's head twist up to smile at him serenely. "Good morning," she said cheerily.

"You were awake?" he asked accusatorily.

She grinned wider and sat up, brushing straying hair out of her eyes. "It was worth it," she said. "Although I confess, I had a hard time keeping from laughing."

"How much did you hear?"

"Everything from 'Colonel, this isn't what it looks like' on," she said, putting an exaggerated element of panic in her voice.

Jonas groaned and put his hand over his eyes. "This is embarrassing," he muttered.

"Well, it would only be embarrassing if it were true, right?"

She asked the question lightly, but when he pulled his hand away from his eyes, Jonas caught a curious and hopeful expression cross her features as she darted a quick sidelong glance at him. The expression was swiftly masked.

"Right," he said softly, gazing at her thoughtfully. There was an awkward pause.

"Anyway," she said, scrambling to her feet and crossing around the sofa. "So, you're going on a mission today? I didn't know that." There was a small white ball on the table where she was standing. Idly, she picked it up and began bouncing it on the table with the paddle that was resting beside it.

"I didn't know, either," Jonas said distractedly, watching her in fascination. "What are you doing?" He got to his feet and walked over to study her actions more closely.

She stopped. "You've never played ping-pong?" she asked, surprised.

"No, what is it?"

"A game. Table tennis, actually, is the proper name," she said, overemphasizing the word 'proper'.

"Which means you're probably pretty good at it, having taken those tennis lessons," Jonas pointed out, crossing his arms.

Amelia gave a smirking sort of smile and shrugged casually. "Maybe," she replied. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief when she looked at him. "Wanna play?"

"Just be nice to the new guy, okay?"

The game was surprisingly fun, and Jonas's only regret was the mindful eye he had to keep on the time. He would have to be at Colonel O'Neill's briefing before long, and he could probably do with a shower. He could definitely do with some breakfast, but something held him where he was.

Amelia was behaving in an uncharacteristically lively manner, jumping about and shrieking with laughter as she chased the ping-pong ball, and scolding him when he teased her. Soon she was breathing heavily and her eyes were very bright. A small voice told Jonas that perhaps she shouldn't be pushing herself so hard, but he nudged it back. There were certain things about Amelia Kinsey that he was becoming increasingly aware of since the previous evening, and the opportunity to linger in her company seemed more appealing than anything else right now.

"Okay, your serve," she said, breathing hard. She threw the ball to him and he caught it deftly.

"Seven serving thirteen," Jonas said with confidence. The game itself was really quite simple to understand. He studied the tabletop for a moment, pondering a course of action, then smiled. The lightest of taps sent it just barely over the net, forcing Amelia to make an unexpected lunge to get to it.

"Now who's being sneaky?" she asked him as it came back Jonas's way.

He rebounded it with ease. "I'd hate to think I was the first person in the history of ping-pong to think of that," he told her. "I think you're withholding tactical advantages."

"Oh yes, Mr. Perfect Health," she said back, hitting the ball extra-hard his way. "I have all the advantage here."

Her last hit had been slightly too well-placed for Jonas, and he could only watch as it bounced erratically off the table and over the sofa behind them. He went to retrieve it. "I suggest you take a look at the score," he pointed out, turning around again. Then he frowned. "Amelia?"

She was standing on the other end of the table, clutching her stomach the way she'd been the evening before and breathing shakily. She gave him a weak smile, "I'll be all right," she assured him.

"No, Amelia," he said, his brow furrowed. He set the ball and the paddle down on the table and made a quick work of circumventing it on the other side. "You're sick, you should really rest."

"I just had a good night's sleep," she protested.

He put his hands on her arms, trying to convey his concern. "Amelia," he said again, more slowly this time, "You're sick. You need to stop." He could feel her pulse under his hands, racing at an alarming speed, and she was very pale.

She frowned in frustration. "Jonas, I'm fine, really! I just need—"

The rest of her words were cut off. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped. Jonas caught her smoothly, a fit of panic overtaking him. "Amelia!" he cried, shaking her slightly. "Oh no," he mumbled. "Amelia!"

Still she did not respond. Jonas did not waste any more time. He gathered her in his arms and carried her out of the room, grateful that the infirmary was only one level away.


A/N: I think I have just as much fun with uncomfortable Jonas as Jack does. ;-)

Saché