He was tired. Tired of smiling. Sick of being amenable. He entered his quarters and in a pique heaved his heavy flak jacket across the room. It flew from his hand and knocked books, papers and an empty tea mug from his desk, scattering the work of days into a random mess on the floor.

Jonas stood blinking, shocked at the violence of his action. He sat down heavily on his bed, staring at the papers on the floor. Running his hand over his face, he had to face the reality that he was angry at himself. His failure on P9Z-994 was entirely his own.

He knew there were time constraints. He knew he had to do the job as efficiently at possible. Yet he had lost his focus over and over again. It was no wonder that Major Carter was disgusted with him. Many more incidents like that and General Hammond himself would toss his butt back through the stargate to Kelowna.

For several more minutes Jonas sat staring at the mess he had made, before slowly getting up and picking things up.