TITLE- Amelia's Violin

AUTHOR - Sache8

RATING - PG – Kissing, Light swearing

GENRE - Romance/ Adventure/ Mystery

SUMMARY - Set during Season Six. Senator Kinsey uses his influence to get his daughter special aide at the SGC. She and Jonas strike up an unlikely friendship. Meanwhile, Jonas works to solve the mysteries of a strange but fascinating planet, for which the SGC has high hopes.

DISCLAIMER - Ain't mine (eloquent, yes? I thought so G)

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death, and all oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.

So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

Sonnet 55 by William Shakespeare

CHAPTER ONE - The Tea Drinker

Colonel Jack O'Neill had once remarked that Jonas Quinn was the last person on Earth who needed to become a coffee drinker. The effect, he said, would be somewhat akin to dumping gasoline on an open flame. It was fortunate, therefore, for Colonel O'Neill's sake that Jonas had never really taken to coffee. He actually preferred tea, and drank copious amounts of it. Granted, it was still caffeine, but the milder potency of tea didn't seem to cause the poor Colonel the same level of alarm.

Reflecting on all of this, Jonas studied the Colonel from across the briefing table and decided that he could probably use a good cup of either beverage. A large yawn escaped the older man's lips, and his eyes were staring blankly at Major Carter. She was going through a slideshow of data from PX3-651, for which SG-1 and SG-8 would be departing in just under six hours. Jonas himself was on his second mug of tea, had been awake since 0500 that morning, and showed no signs of yawning.

"Data provided by the MALP shows atmospheric and barometric readings similar to that of PXY-887, which is why we're so interested in this planet."

"Yes, who can forget good ol' 887?" Colonel O'Neill said, propping his chin on his hand and giving Sam a plaintive expression. "I have such fond memories of that place, right Carter?"

"Actually, sir… no, you don't."

"I don't?"

She opened her mouth, presumably to elaborate, but Jonas beat her to it. "Tonane's planet," he said helpfully. "Where you first discovered trinium, right?" Jonas paid little attention to the surprised faces that turned to stare at him. By this time, he was accustomed to it.

As was Sam. She hardly blinked at him before replying affirmatively. "That's right," she said, nodding. "Which explains, Colonel, why you have no fond memories of it. If you remember, you never actually went there."

"No, but I got a lovely trinium-tipped souvenir through my arm for my trouble. So I take it we're hoping that this new planet might have trinium, too?"

"That's correct. As you know, we've managed to find deposits of trinium on various other planets, but most of these we've used up on the Prometheus project. We've yet to find any planet with the quantities that we encountered on 887."

"Which are, of course, inaccessible to us, as the native people seemed to have buried their gate upon returning," added Major Lorne from further down the table, where he was skimming a report. He did not look up from the report, so he missed the very brief and almost unnoticeable glance that passed between Sam, Jack, and Teal'c at these words. But Jonas noticed. Obviously there was something more to the story of 887 than was on file in mission reports, but Jonas doubted he'd ever be told about it.

Instead he raised a couple of questioning fingers at Sam. "Pardon my ignorance, here, Major—" he began.

"Yes, what is it, Jonas?"

"Obviously, SG-8 is being brought into this mission for their experience working with trinium and other various resources we've encountered offworld, but… why SG-1?"

"PX3-651 is considerably near to heavily occupied Goa'uld territory," Teal'c pointed out.

"Teal'c is right. We're coming along as an extra means of precaution." Sam turned to General Hammond and gave a small nod. "That's all I've got, General."

"Thank you, Major. People, you've got the information you need. You have a go for 1300 hours," said Hammond. There was a noise of many scraping chairs and shuffling papers as the two assembled teams began to rise to their feet. Jonas was out of the room faster than anyone. There was little that excited him more than the prospect of a new offworld mission, particularly since he'd been stuck on base for the past two weeks due to Colonel O'Neill's knee giving him trouble again. He had some work he wanted to have cleared up before they headed out.

The hours until 1300 seemed to drag, but finally the two SG teams found themselves on the other side of the gate surveying yet another new world. Colonel O'Neill first ordered them all to start heading down the hill together, but Sam requested staying behind. "I want to set up some equipment, sir," she explained. "The gravity here is a lot heavier than most planets with stargates. It'd be a good chance to study these kinds of conditions."

Colonel O'Neill did not seem exactly thrilled with this, but acquiesced easily enough. "Fine. Jonas, you stay with Carter. If we meet up with any unexpected guests, I want you to dial home immediately and get reinforcements. No heroics, understand?" He looked over his shoulder slightly, as if expecting a battalion of Jaffa to come suddenly springing over the hill.

"Yes, sir," Sam said quickly. She seemed too pleased about having gotten her way to argue.

Jonas tried to hide his own disappointment at being denied the opportunity to explore. Maybe when Sam was finished with her equipment, he could suggest it. Instead, he breathed deep the fresh air with relish, and watched the others' progress down the hill for a while. The Stargate on this planet was perched at the apex of a fair-sized hill, affording a good view of the surrounding area. It was also extremely windy. If Jonas was reading the terrain correctly, the surrounding mountain ranges seemed to be turning this hilly valley into something of a giant wind tunnel.

He watched his companions until they reached the bottom of the hill, then turned his attention to the Stargate. On missions such as this, with relatively peaceful surroundings and nothing to translate, he had taken to noting any new Stargate symbols that hadn't been encountered before. It was a practice he'd picked up from reading Doctor Jackson's journals. On this gate he found two new symbols, not counting the one that was point of origin, and was carefully sketched the shapes into his notebook. Perhaps if a more permanent outpost were set up on this planet, he'd be allowed to come back sometime and try to find constellations to match the symbols in the night sky.

He worked in silence, lost in thought, before helping Sam with her monitoring equipment, which was meant to take continuous readings of the atmosphere after their mission here was done. It was almost an hour later before he turned once more to the landscape falling out below them. "How far of a sweep do they have to do?" he asked.

At his question, Sam looked up from where she'd been fiddling with some instrument or other from her pack. "Sorry, what?" she asked.

Jonas waved his hand towards the horizon where Colonel O'Neill and the others had disappeared. "How far will they conduct searches before knowing whether or not we'll find the trinium we're hoping to?" he clarified.

Sam also studied the horizon for a moment. "That's a tough call," she finally said. "As with any other mineral, there could be great concentrations of it, but only in isolated or scarce regions." She sighed. "And this is a big planet."

"Didn't Tonane's people acquire their trinium near a riverbed?" Jonas asked. He turned his gaze slightly north, shielding his eyes from the bright sunshine.

"That's right," Sam said, nodding. "It came down from deposits in the mountains." She gave a meaningful glance at the high peaks in the distance all around them. "Of course, they had a little bit of help from their 'spirits', but—"

"We're still hoping that the presence of mountains here increases the chances of our finding large trinium deposits," Jonas concluded.


There was a crackle from the radio in his pocket. "Jonas?" came the sound of Colonel O'Neill's voice.

Jonas leaned over to his shoulder and clicked his radio. "I read you, Colonel," he said.

"Looks like you're up to bat, after all. We found something that seems to fall in your department."

Jonas exchanged glances with Sam. "Some kind of writing, I presume?" he asked.

"Righto, and a great big stone… something or other to go with it. Carter, you'd probably better come, too."

It was Sam's turn to go for her radio. "Sir?" she asked.

"Well, you've got all the gizmos to measure this stuff. I'm sending Stewart and Ryans back to cover the gate."

"Yes, sir."

"Head due northwest from the Stargate, I'd estimate about… two klicks," Colonel O'Neill added. "O'Neill out."

Giving Sam an eager expression, Jonas stuffed his notebook and pen into his bag before swinging it up onto his shoulders. Once Sam was situated, the two of them headed down the hill toward the tree clusters below, following the path Colonel O'Neill, Teal'c, and SG-8 had taken. When they finally reached their teammates, Major Lorne and the rest of SG-8 were setting up the some of their special equipment. They were all standing beside a tall stone edifice in the middle of a clearing.

"Colonel!" Jonas called, at which point Colonel O'Neill looked up and nodded, waving them over. "This is impressive," Jonas said excitedly when they reached the pillar. He craned is neck back to see the top of the structure, which was several meters above their heads.

"And incredibly well-preserved," Sam noted, running her hand along the smooth stone. "Probably indicates that someone is taking care of it. Otherwise the wildlife would have overgrown it by now."

"Actually, I'm not so sure about that, Major Carter," said Doctor Weythe, stepping up beside them. Henry Weythe had been with SG-8 for over a year now. He had degrees in both geology and botany, and was a major asset to that team's area of expertise.

"What do you mean, Doctor?" Sam asked curiously.

He shrugged, "I could be wrong, of course, but I don't see any of the usual signs of sentient life forms anywhere in this clearing, at least not recently." He pointed at the ground. "This underbrush is incredibly built up. You've got the usual signs of animal activity, but if there were someone taking care of this structure, there would probably be a path of some kind."

"I believe Doctor Weythe is correct," said Teal'c from where he and Colonel O'Neill were standing a few feet away. "It would not appear that humans or any similar life forms have been here for some time."

Jonas nodded thoughtfully. "Which means," he pointed out, "no Goa'uld, either, right? That's good news, at least."

"Well, it's nothing more than vague speculation," added Doctor Weythe. He gave a wry, somewhat amused smile. "It'd be really stupid to make any sort of conclusion at this point."

"We haven't seen any signs of Goa'uld activity at all since we've been here," Colonel O'Neill said.

"This gate address is from the Abydos cartouche, isn't it?" asked Jonas, puzzled.

"Many of the Abydonian addresses have been abandoned by the Goa'uld," said Teal'c.

"Yeah, but usually they've left a big mess of some kind behind," pointed out the Colonel. "And this close to the System Lords' territory? There's probably a reason they're not here, and none of the reasons I can think of leave me feeling very warm and tingly."

Sam pursed her lips and studied the edifice again. "Perhaps the answer is in this structure," she said. "It's obviously some kind of old alien architecture. If Doctor Weythe's theory is correct, and no one's been here for a while, it's quite possible that there's some mechanism or technology somewhere inside it to help keep it preserved." She tapped the stone once more with a finger, looking thoughtful.

"Colonel, you said you found writing," Jonas added. "Where?"

"I thought you'd never ask," said Colonel O'Neill smugly, waving a hand and jerking his head. "Come on, other side."

They followed him around to the opposite side of the column. It was instantly clear what had the Colonel had been referring to. Before them was what seemed to be a control panel of some kind, with strange keys and buttons, and chiseled in deep letters in the stone above the control panel was writing that Jonas instantly recognized as Ancient.

"Interesting," Sam murmured, leaning forward to run her fingers over the array of small, burnished keys. They were the perfect size and indentation for human fingers.

Jonas stepped up beside her. From this angle, he could see that each metallic key was engraved with a symbol in a thin, blocky script. He looked up and brushed the stone-imbedded script above their heads with his fingertips. "This is obviously Ancient writing, but there's a lot of it I don't recognize."

"Did you bring Daniel's crayons?"

Jonas turned around to give the Colonel a quizzical expression. "Sorry?"

The older man tucked his gun under one arm to free his hands and made a motion like he was drawing something in midair. "Daniel used to make rubbings of that kind of stuff with his crayons," he clarified, nodding and pointing at the inscription that Jonas's hand was still resting on. "I forget what they were really called. Some fancy archeo-babble word, no doubt." He waved his hand dismissively. "Why he didn't just take a picture, I'll never know."

"He did take pictures, sir," said Sam with a knowing smile. She was still studying the inlays on the alien control panel and did not turn around.

"Then what was with the coloring?"

"Daniel Jackson believed this secondary means of recording data provided tactile clues which a photograph alone could not capture," Teal'c said.

The Colonel turned to Teal'c with an incredulous expression. "And you know this how?"

"I asked Daniel Jackson this very question when we were attempting to decipher the writings on the time device from P4X-639."

"Oh. Well, where was I then?"

"I believe you were attempting to convince General Hammond to let all SGC personnel participate in a game of 'Fortune's Circle' in the gate room."

"It's Wheel of Fortune, Teal'c. And I still say the Stargate would make a damn fine wheel. Carter could have been Vanna; it would have been great!"

For once, it seemed Jonas wasn't the only person present who was out of the loop. Sam paused in her examination of the artifact to turn back and gaze at her teammates with an odd mixture if incredulity, suspicion, and amusement on her face. "What?" asked the Colonel, looking suddenly innocent.

Sam studied him for a moment, eyebrows raised, before she shook her head disbelievingly and turned back to the work at hand. "You know, sometimes I don't even want to know," she muttered to Jonas.

Jonas laughed and pulled out his camera. He would need good, clear pictures of all these writings to take back to the SGC, and probably some of the symbols on the control keys, as well. He made a mental note to ask Sam at some point just what a crayon was, anyway.

SG-1's and SG-8's debriefing of General Hammond some time later was an odd mixture of disappointment, satisfaction, and optimism. "Unfortunately," Major Lorne said after they'd all been settled for about fifteen minutes, "preliminary tests show no satisfactory traces of trinium in the soil. However, I believe it would be foolhardy to abandon the possibility just yet. I'd like to do some more extensive testing, General. Maybe even a resonance scan."

"I'll take that under advisement, but remember, the Goa'uld are practically at our back door on this one. We want to be extra cautious in how we proceed."

"Actually, sir," said Sam, "I'm of the firm opinion that this Ancient structure we found has something to do with why the Goa'uld have left this world virtually untouched."

"And I think you'd agree we'd all really like to know what that is, General," Colonel O'Neill pointed out.

Hammond nodded. "Absolutely."

"I'd suggest looking for further structures or signs of the Ancients' presence on the planet," Jonas said. "They may provide us with a more complete picture."

"Sir, I'd recommend sending a UAV to scout the surrounding area," said Sam thoughtfully. "It could look for Jonas's Ancient structures, and if nothing else, gather some valuable geological information for Major Lorne."

"Sounds like a good investment of a UAV to me. I'll see that it gets done first thing in the morning."

"Thank you, sir. I think that's about it for us."

"Very well. You're dismissed from the debriefing, but before you go, there's something I need to advise you of, and I might as well say it now while I have so many of you here."

Jonas cocked his head and looked at the General curiously. There seemed to be the barest hint of annoyed reluctance in his tone. Jonas got the idea Colonel O'Neill sensed it, as well. "What's up?" the Colonel asked.

Hammond gave him a considering gaze and let out a small sigh before he proceeded. "We're expecting a guest on base some time in the next few days," he finally said. "She'll be spending most of her time with Doctor Frasier, I imagine, but you're all to be advised of her presence here."

Sam frowned. "Tok'ra?"

"No, she's from Earth, actually. A civilian. Amelia Kinsey."

Jonas was familiar with the Earth expression 'you could have heard a pin drop,' but he'd never really been able to apply it to a situation before now. "I'm sorry," said Colonel O'Neill after a moment, "could you repeat that, General? Those field rations have never really agreed with me. I could've sworn you just said Kinsey."

"I did, Colonel. Senator Kinsey's youngest daughter, I understand. She'll be taking advantage of our medical facilities."

Colonel O'Neill opened his mouth to comment, but Hammond was swift to cut him off. "The reason I'm telling you this," he said, his gaze sweeping all the personnel present, "is that while Miss Kinsey will be briefed on the bare bones of the Stargate program for convenience purposes, she will not be authorized to know our most sensitive details. If you should encounter her, please take that under advisement. Dismissed."

No doubt General Hammond was aware when he made for his office that SG-1 would be right on his heels. Indeed, even as the four of them filed into the room, he was already facing them from his desk, clearly geared for verbal battle.

Colonel O'Neill wasted no time. "General, are you nuts!" he exclaimed.

Sam, as usual, was more forbearing. "Sir, you can't just drop that on us and not expect us to want a better explanation," she pointed out.

"I thought you'd feel that way, Major," Hammond said, nodding slowly.

"Well?" the Colonel asked after a moment of Hammond's hesitation.

Hammond sighed again. "As you know, Senator Kinsey is given full disclosure of all mission reports that come out of this mountain, including any potential threats, new allies, or useful technologies we encounter on these missions."

"Yes, which he loves hanging over my head," Colonel O'Neill said.

"Not long after your return from Pangar, Senator Kinsey approached the President with a personal request."

"Oh, here we go. Something to do with the Tretonin, no doubt?" The disgust in the Colonel's voice was unmistakable.

"That's right. His daughter has recently been diagnosed with an extremely critical and life-threatening case of cancer. He's requested that she be treated with Tretonin."

"And we're agreeing to this?"

At this, the General suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable, more so than he had before. "In exchange for this favor, Kinsey has agreed to make a very generous contribution to the SGC finances."

"Oh, for crying out loud! I can't believe the president is in favor of this."

"It's a very generous contribution, Colonel. Which will free up parts of the budget for other uses next year."

"I'll bet Kinsey used that argument, too, didn't he? Nice way to place a value on his own daughter. Frankly, I'm surprised he's even suggested this."

"Why's that, sir?" asked Sam.

"What, he's not playing the 'terminally ill daughter' card? Just think of all the sympathy votes. And by the way, General, did anyone bother explaining to Kinsey that the Tretonin doesn't work?"

"Actually, sir, the Tok'ra have adapted and perfected the Pangarans' process," said Sam. At the Colonel's returning glare she shrugged apologetically. "With a steady treatment, Miss Kinsey should be able to make a full recovery."

Colonel O'Neill stared at her for a moment before turning back to Hammond. "General, I'm requesting a full schedule of offworld assignments for SG-1 over the next few weeks. I'd like to avoid having to be near our guest."

"Colonel, don't you think it's a little unfair to judge Miss Kinsey without having met her?" Jonas pointed out.

The Colonel gave him one of those humoring expressions that Jonas was becoming quite accustomed to. "She's a Kinsey, Jonas. I know you've never actually met the man, so I'll cut you a little break. But you really ought to know better."

Jonas looked at Sam and Teal'c. Sam only shrugged again, and Teal'c returned his attention to General Hammond. "I agree with some of each of what O'Neill and Jonas Quinn have said. It is likely that Senator Kinsey's daughter is no threat to us, but we must not underestimate the means by which Senator Kinsey may try to strengthen his influence over Stargate matters. I believe she will require close monitoring."

"Thank you," said the Colonel, waving his hand appreciatively at the Jaffa. He looked back at Hammond. "What he said."

"Miss Kinsey will be treated with the usual standards of security we assign to all of our guests, which, as you know, are extremely high," General Hammond said. "And I see no reason why she should interfere too greatly in any of our lives here, least of all yours, Colonel."

"If only Kinseys didn't have an annoying knack for making my life more difficult, I might be able to agree with you, sir."

Needless to say, Colonel O'Neill wasn't in the best of moods for the rest of the day. Jonas, however, had a great deal of work with which to occupy his mind, and soon the arrival of Senator Kinsey's daughter was, for all intents and purposes, forgotten.

Malcolm Barrett sometimes wished he wasn't so close to his work. Some people used physical exercise as a means to relieve stress, or so he'd heard. A look of irony flitted across his face at that thought. He pushed his headphones up on his head. The truth was, he sometimes expected that if he wasn't forced to make time to exercise for this kind of thing, he'd probably never get it done.

Swinging his arms a couple times to finish his warm-ups, he used the motion to look around, casually checking for any unwanted observers. He was particularly jumpy today. One of his agents had been long overdue in updating, and he'd begun to worry that she had been compromised, but finally, this morning, a report had arrived through the usual channels. Now it was finally time to find out what was in it.

Barrett pressed the play button on his walkman, then pretended to adjust the volume while secretly triggering the device's second play button, one which accessed the digital files he'd loaded into it an hour before. As soon as he was finished he would more than happily revert to the Rhapsody in Blue, but, as always, work came first.

"Good morning, sir," came Rachel's pragmatic but upbeat voice. "I hope you have a good run, and that you catch a lot of crooks today." Barrett suppressed a smile and shook his head a little. Rachel's sunny nature—very uncharacteristic for an agent of any kind of government organization, particularly this sort, was precisely the reason he'd chosen her for this assignment, bypassing a handful of other candidates that an onlooker might have thought more appropriate.

"Things have been pretty quiet around here lately," she continued. "But you know how it is. Things are starting to heat up for the primaries. The Senator hasn't been around that much."

It was a perfectly rational explanation of why she hadn't been reporting, but he was going to have to remind her—whenever he could—that the 'no news is good news' mantra didn't fly over very well for covert undercover agents. "Yesterday, though, he finally came back, ordered me to make his coffee like I was a nincompoop, as always, but we got lucky, sir. I finally got something on the wiretap that might take us somewhere. I think it'll catch your interest. Other than that, not much to report, but it's plenty enough. Well, you'll see for yourself. This is June Cleaver the Senator's secretary, signing off."

Barrett smiled again mid-stride. Yes, Rachel was definitely the last person anyone would suspect of being a spy, even those who, like himself and Robert Kinsey, dealt with shadows every day, in their respective ways.

His thoughts returned to the matter at hand as the sounds of a phone receiver being picked up filtered through the headphones. There was a great deal of constitutional, legal-type stuff that said he wasn't supposed to be listening on anyone's private phone conversations, but since the sort of people Malcolm Barrett was dealing with generally seemed to find the Constitution little more than a mosquito-sized inconvenience, he had lost very little sleep over it. Nevertheless, Kinsey had been careful, thus far. Rachel hadn't yet been able to access his personal cell phone, and certainly not the phone in his home study, which Barrett suspected was where the real cream lay.

"This is Kinsey," said the very impatient-sounding politician on the recording.

"Senator, how good to hear your voice. I don't know if you remember me, we only spoke once, but such an enlightening experience."

There was a very obvious pause of annoyance. "Why on Earth are you calling me? Especially here?"

"I'm afraid the usual channels are simply not expedient enough for me, Senator. You know me. I like to do things in a hurry." The second voice Barrett did not recognize, but he instantly took aversion to the speaker. The voice was male, with a light trace of accent, and a tone that was decidedly oily and… smarmy.

"Well, you'd better get to the point quickly then," Kinsey snarled. "I don't have all day, and don't ever call me here again, understand?"

"Very well. I'm sure you've heard by now about the Stargate program's encounter with a supposed miracle drug," the stranger said bluntly, suddenly all business. "I will be frank, Senator, such a substance could be extremely beneficial to my… project." Here, Barrett frowned. This must have been one of the things Rachel knew would catch his attention. Until now, he'd been mercilessly free of leads on unsanctioned research. Not that he believed for a second there was none going on out there, but the respite had been almost like a Christmas break for him. Well, all respites came to an end eventually. Still, uncovering this sort of thing hadn't exactly been the point of tapping Kinsey's phone.

"If your sources are so well-informed, then you know as well as I do that the drug is flawed."

"So is my project," the other pointed out dispassionately. Then he gave a short, sardonic laugh. "Apart from that, the substance still has potential, and of course I'm not the only one interested. We want some."

"Why are you telling me?"

"Oh, come now, Senator. We're all in this together. Someone—and of course I won't name names, hatched a rather clever plan to get it. Possibly even get it refined in the process, if all goes to plan."

"Why are you telling me?" Kinsey repeated, much more sharply. Barrett imagined him sitting hunched over the desk gritting his teeth into the receiver.

"Even now the Tok'ra scientists are researching improved applications of the drug. I imagine they'd like a willing test case. And your daughter," here the unctuous voice paused dramatically, "—is very ill."

Judging by the very long and flabbergasted pause that followed, Barrett guessed even Kinsey was stunned by the direction the conversation had just taken. Barrett himself blinked several times, his thoughts flying about until they landed on Amelia Kinsey, younger of the senator's two daughters and an accomplished violinist. It was common enough knowledge in Washington's high society circles that the girl's life expectancy wasn't that great.

"I keep my family out of any of this. I thought that was understood."

"Oh, relax. She wouldn't know what was really going on. What I'm proposing to you in no way threatens her safety, and will more than likely save her life."

"Go on."

"Our mutual friends are willing to contribute a good deal of money into your care, Senator, in addition to the money they would front for the cover story, if you'll cooperate in this matter." If Barrett hadn't been jogging, this would have been the part of the recording that caused him to lean forward more intently. It was the 'mutual friends' he was interested in. Kinsey seemed to have connections to all kinds of mysterious 'friends' these days. The NID wanted very much to know who they were.

"And what is it I'm supposed to do?"

"Merely offer to give the SGC a financial boost if they save Miss Kinsey's life with the Tretonin. Of course, eventually she's going to have to come back home, and hopefully bring some of it with her. After that, it's a simple matter to siphon off what samples we need. I don't think I'll need too much for my purposes, and others only wish to study it at this point."

The conversation didn't last much longer, only long enough for Kinsey to agree to the plan before they made a very abrupt goodbye. Barrett listened with half an ear for anything else vaguely relevant, but his mind was already teeming with the wealth of half-enlightening and frustrating information. If only they hadn't been so good at remaining cryptic.

Still, it was far better a lead than he'd had in months. He'd keep an extra close watch on Kinsey's bank accounts in the next few days, and he'd have to keep an eye on this situation with the Senator's daughter, too.

As he wrapped up his jog, he idly wondered why all roads of his career eventually seemed to lead to the Stargate.

A/N: - Welcome to the rewrite of Amelia's Violin. First off, I want to thank all the people who read and reviewed the original version and apologize that this has taken much longer than I'd planned.

I still want (and am planning) to write a sequel. It is just taking a long time because I've spread myself over several projects which I try to give equal consideration. Plus, I've gotten involved in vidding, and I'm also involved in writing original fiction. In other words… so much work, so little Saché. lol

However, I thought I'd divulge a couple of the basic reasons I pursued a revision of this story. While most of the romantic storyline remains intact, I had some problems with the justification of other plot elements. The first was the offworld adventure/ mystery of P3X-651. I liked my concepts, and also thought I had a strong beginning, but the resolution was entirely too convenient to be worthy of Stargate. Too much omniscient author aid. So the obelisk storyline (as we call it) has been completely revamped, and I think everyone will find it much more satisfactory.

Second, I didn't feel like I gave Kinsey enough focus as an antagonist in the original version. Again, it was a matter of things being too convenient. I used him as a device to get Amelia to the SGC (and then to take her away again), but we all know that with Kinsey things are rarely ever what they seem. So although he doesn't have that much more screen time in V2.0, a little more light is shed on his motivations through the character of Malcom Barrett, whose addition to this story was a joy to write.

I think that's all for now. Many thanks go to my friends Melyanna and Dominique for their support, enthusiasm, and feedback in helping me work through this rewrite. I'm going to try to update once a week or so.