Yeah, he was sick...

When Jack woke up, next, even he had to admit that he wasn't feeling good. Not something he liked to admit, mind you, but his head was pounding, his whole body ached something terrible, and his throat was dry and scratchy. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to open his eyes, and when he moved his hand up to his face to cover his aching eyes, it hurt to move his arm.

"Sir?"

A soft voice told him he wasn't alone – he hadn't kept his eyes opened long enough to look around – and the corpsman who'd been changing the IV bag had just happened to be there when he woke.

"Where's Fraiser?"

Jack wasn't sure if the man even understood what he'd said. His voice had come out a croaking noise.

"I'll get her, Sir."

He didn't move his hand from in front of his eyes. It was far too bright in this room. He did hear the man leaving, though, and a short time later, he heard the door open again.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

"Doc..."

"Not feeling so hot, huh?" Janet asked, sympathetically. That was obvious, just by the way he was acting, and even with his hand over his face, she could tell by the redness on his chest, belly and neck that he was flushed. This wasn't surprising; in the hours he'd been asleep the fever had started gaining ground once more, and Janet wasn't much closer to figuring out what was wrong.

"No..."

Another croak.

She took a cool damp cloth and slid it along his side – she would have done his face, but his hand was covering it, still. Jack risked moving his hand to look at her, and she moved the towel to his forehead.

"You're fever's worse, Colonel, and your lungs are badly congested. You-"

"Sam? Daniel?"

Janet shook her head.

"They're both fine." Noticing the way he was squinting, Fraiser left his side long enough to go turn the lights in the room down a little. Photosensitivity was another symptom for her to add to the long list of problems, apparently. "I found a very small splinter embedded in your wrist under your watch. As near as I can tell, that's what's making you sick. And you don't appear to be contagious."

"That's good..." At least the others weren't sick. Jack wouldn't wish this on any of the rest of his team. He really felt awful.

"Yes... but I still have to find a way to break your infection, so you're going to have to hang in there a while, and give me time, okay?"

"I'm fine, Doc..." Jack told her. "Take your time."

He wasn't fine, Janet knew, but she appreciated the attempt. She ran the cloth along his cheek and forehead once more, and Jack closed his eyes.

"I'm going to go back to my lab and work on this, if I let you have company, will you try to eat something?"

"I'd drink something..." He was thirsty, but the thought of eating made him feel sicker.

"If you need me, I'll be close by, Colonel."

Jack nodded, and it hurt.

"Thanks, Doc."

.. . . . .. . . .

"You can see him, but don't let him talk too much, okay?"

Sam nodded. She'd been standing by the door to Jack's little room for hours, sometimes with Daniel, or Teal'c – or both – and sometimes alone. When the corpsman had told her Jack was awake, it was all she could do to sneak in and check on him when the man had left to get Janet, but she'd forced herself to wait.

"Is he okay?"

"He's very sick, Sam. Just let him drink as much as he can, and don't let him talk too much. His throat is irritated." Another sign of his immune system trying to fight the infection. "If you need me, I'll be in my lab."

Sam nodded and walked through the door, and Janet went back to her microscope. The little sliver had been coated in some sort of protective sap – microscopic, of course, but that didn't mean it wasn't there – and Janet was certain it was the sap that O'Neill's body was reacting to. If she could just isolate what was in the sap, she'd have a better chance at synthesizing an antibiotic that would work on it – or modifying one of the antibiotics she already had. Either way.

O'Neill had closed his eyes again when Janet left, but they opened when he felt the wet towel once more on his cheek. Only this time it wasn't Janet Fraiser holding it, it was Carter. She gave him a worried smile when he looked up at her, and the hand holding the towel stilled, as if she were uncertain he wanted her to do what she'd been doing.

"Hey..."

Janet had been right; his throat must have been irritated, because his voice was hoarse.

"Hi. How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Janet says you're going to be out of here in no time."

"Uh huh." Jack risked a quick glance down at himself – just to make sure he was covered – then looked back at her. "She told me that, too."

They were both lying, of course, but trying to reassure the other. Sam bit her lower lip. He looked awful, and she'd already run out of reassurances. She spotted the water glass, and picked it up.

"Are you thirsty?"

"Yeah..."

Since he was situated in a more or less upright position, Sam handed him the glass, knowing it would only annoy him if she tried to help him when he didn't need the help. O'Neill took the cup from her and downed the entire contents gratefully. Not only did the cool – but not cold – water taste better than anything Jack had ever tasted, it also soothed the raw throat a little. He handed the glass back to her.

"Thanks."

"Do you want more? Janet said you could have as much as you wanted."

He shook his head. The water was good, but drinking it was more effort than he wanted to put out. All he really wanted to do was lie still and do nothing.

"I'm good, thanks..."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

Remembering that Fraiser had told her not to let him talk a lot, Sam fell silent. She did, however, lift the cloth to his cheek once more. When he closed his eyes with a sigh, she took that as a sign he was okay with what she was doing, and she moved the cloth to his other cheek, and then down his neck.

"Feels good?"

Jack nodded, and didn't open his eyes. He could do this forever.

"I'm a little warm..."

That was an understatement. He was burning up. Jack knew it, and Sam knew it. Even though Janet hadn't told her that his fever was worse, she could feel the heat emanating from his body, and as flushed as he was, it had to be worse.

"Then I'll stick around a while, if you don't mind..."

He opened his eyes, and looked over at her. Sam felt a flush of her own reddening her face, and couldn't hide it. Luckily for her, Jack was so miserable he didn't notice it.

"Thanks, Sam... I'd like that."

It was all he said. A moment later he closed his eyes again, and was soon dozing off. Sam smiled, though, despite her worries, and continued to run the cloth along his over-heated body. It was better than just watching him sleep, she supposed, and how often did she get the chance to run her hands along him like this?