Whether it was the discomfort of the fever, the discomfort of the congestion, or if it were Janet's gentle hands on him that woke him, it wasn't clear, but the Doctor about jumped out of her skin when he spoke up.

"Do I dare ask what you're doing?"

She'd finished with his scalp, his entire head, neck and shoulders and had made her way down to his arms and sides. With her hands running gently along his skin as her sharp eyes looked for anything out of the ordinary, no matter how small. She'd been so intent on what she was doing, that she hadn't even noticed his breathing had changed as he'd woken up, and that he'd been watching her for a couple of long moments.

She made a small, surprised noise when he spoke, and looked up at him, blinding him with the headlamp that she'd been using for extra light.

"Ahhh..." He brought his hand up to shield his eyes, and turned his head away.

"Sorry."

Janet turned the light off, and Jack lowered his hand.

"How do you feel?"

There was a slight hesitation, and he scowled.

"Fine."

He didn't look fine. And he didn't sound fine. His voice was raspy, and his face was flushed.

Fraiser frowned.

"I need the truth, Colonel."

"My throat hurts..."

Janet reached for a glass of water.

"Want a drink?"

"Please."

She handed him the glass – which was really a plastic tumbler – and watched as he took a sip. Then another. Jack looked over the rim of the cup and watched her, his brown eyes looking positively miserable, but also questioning.

"So... are you going to tell me what you were doing?"

Fraiser managed not to blush, simply by reminding herself that he hadn't caught her fondling him or anything – she'd been doing an examination. A necessary one.

"I'm checking your skin for any kind of small cut or wound of some sort," she told him, taking his empty cup from him and refilling it for him.

"Why?"

"Because the skin is the first layer of protection your body has against infection, and you have an infection. So I'm looking to see if something got past that first layer of protection."

"Like aliens getting through the iris?"

"Exactly."

She always knew he wasn't as dumb as he acted. She turned her light back on, careful to make sure she wasn't looking right at his face so she didn't blind him.

"If I find a spot that looks swollen, or red, or like a puncture wound of some sort, then I'll have a possible source of your infection, and I'll know what's making you so sick."

"Not so sick," Jack protested, unwilling to admit that he wasn't at 100 %. It was one thing to admit to a sore throat, quite another to admit he was really sick. "I could probably go home."

"Not a chance."

"I'd know if I had a puncture wound, Doc..."

"Not necessarily." She told him, her attention once more on his arm, her fingers gently sliding down his forearm. "You don't notice a mosquito bite until it starts to itch, right?"

Jack grunted, forced to admit she was right.

"So you think it's a mosquito?"

"I don't know, Colonel. That's why I'm looking."

"Yeah... well... just out of curiosity, how much looking are you going to be doing?"

Janet grinned; oh if only he'd stayed asleep!

"I'm a doctor."

"A doctor who is going to be doing a lot of looking?"

"Quite a bit of looking," Janet confirmed. "Just try to relax..."

"Oh, yeah... relax... no problem..."

She chuckled, softly, understanding completely, but frustrated enough that she wasn't going to let modesty stop her from maybe finding the reason for his illness.

"Want me to put you under?"

"Really? That bad?"

She looked up at him, shrugging.

"It's going to be pretty intimate. You're obviously wiped out, so it wouldn't take much to put you back to sleep." Besides, the rest would do him some good, and Janet could do without having him watching as she worked.

Jack frowned, but he was seriously considering taking her up on her offer. He wasn't all that fond of medications that knocked him out – they tended to make him loopy when he woke up, and he knew it – but he wasn't sure he'd be able to... just lie there.

"Put me out, Doc... my throat hurts..." His throat hurt, and it was just as well he wasn't going to have to deal with the pain. Yeah, that was the reason he wanted to be put under; the sore throat. He didn't buy that any more than Fraiser did, but they both agreed silently to accept that.

She turned off the lamp once more, and stood up, walking over to a medical cabinet and pulling out a syringe. A moment later she was injecting it into the IV tube that was leading into the back of his hand. Then she smiled, and patted his shoulder.

"I'm going to go get a cup of coffee while that takes affect."

"Bring me some."

"It'll get cold." Meaning, he'd be asleep before she returned. "How about some more water?"

Jack shrugged.

"That'll work."

She smiled and took his cup from him, filled it up, handed it back.

"I'll be back."

"I'll be here..." he watched as she left, and looked down at his cup. "...for your viewing enjoyment..."

He smiled at his own small wit, but almost immediately felt the drug kicking in. Setting the untouched glass of water on the stand by his bed, Jack closed his eyes and forced himself to relax against his pillow.