Jonas Quinn tried to straighten up as he returned to the infirmary bed he'd been assigned. He'd seen Colonel O'Neill enter the room just has he had had another humiliating attack and had run for the relief of the toilet. Seeing O'Neill talking to Major Palmer had simply taken the heart out of him, and he slumped on the bed waiting for the final ax to fall.

The last five days had been a disaster. He had initially thought it an opportunity to finally win over some of the most influential members of the SGC's archeology department. These scientists, perhaps more than any others on the base, had been adversely affected by the death of Dr. Jackson. The man had been the driving force and the glue for the entire department, and since his death, the team had more or less fallen apart, driven by private agendas and petty jealousies. Jonas had hoped he could work to bring them together.

That hope had been dispelled shortly after their arrival on P9Z-994 when, as a group, the five archeologists had agreed for the first and only time on the planet. Jonas was told in the nastiest way possible that his assistance was neither wanted nor needed. He had no credentials, no degree, and no business sticking his alien nose in where it was not wanted.

The five men had then turned their collective backs on the Kelownan, and acted as if he weren't there. Intellectually, Jonas understood that the five could not possibly have known that shunning was a powerful and feared punishment on Kelowna, but that didn't mitigate the effect it had on him.

He had enough pride not to beg. If they would ignore him, he would ignore them. He attempted to go about his business, doing the job he had been sent to do. But as the long days stretched out before him, he found his concentration was deteriorating, and the effort to just hold his head up under the perceived condemnation exhausting.

He considered approaching Major Palmer, but the man exuded such an air of contempt, that he was amazed that none of the other scientists seemed to notice it. The other members of SG14 were more open about wanting nothing to do with him, or any of the scientists. They just kept their distance, keeping their interactions with the archeology team polite and formal. In the midst of nine other men, Jonas was more alone that he had even been at the SGC. At least there some people would talk to him.

Sighing, Jonas eased himself down onto the infirmary bed. He felt a certain perverse satisfaction that almost the entire team had come down with the diarrhea that had plagued him from the outset. Not that anyone had noticed.

Trying to get comfortable, Jonas didn't notice Colonel O'Neill approach until the man spoke. "Jonas. So, how did it go?"

Startled, only long habit kept Jonas from flinching. Although his heart was hammering, he responded with a wan grin, "It all came out in the end, Colonel."

O'Neill's eyes widened at the feeble joke. "TMI, Jonas. Listen, we need to talk."

To delay the inevitable, Jonas asked, "TMI, sir?"

"Yeah, TMI. Too much information." The colonel would not be distracted, coming back to his point. "Jonas, you know why I seconded you to SG14, right?"

"Yes, sir. So I could continue the translations I started with our initial visit to the planet." Jonas replied promptly. He kept his gaze level. There was no point in trying to hide the fact that he had failed miserably on both trips to the planet. The colonel had been present at the first trip, and had no doubt heard from Major Palmer about the second.

For some reason, O'Neill seemed nonplussed by his answer. After a long pause, he said. "Right. So we're good?"

It was getting harder and harder for Jonas to follow the colonel's thought processes. His lower gut was roiling again, and he really wanted… needed… With a groan, he could wait no longer, and despite the breach of protocol and the personal humiliation, he ignored his commander. Grabbing his aching stomach, he bolted for the bathroom.