He didn't sleep. He couldn't. Not that he wasn't tired, because he was, but he was cold – even though he was also hot – and he couldn't sleep when he was cold like that. When Janet left with the blood sample to continue her tests and studies, Jack was still awake, although his eyes were closed. When they changed the icepacks, Jack shivered and they tried to warm him up with a couple of extra blankets. It didn't help. He wasn't freezing, but he was psychologically bothered and feeling too miserable to be able to force himself past that like he normally would have. So, he didn't sleep. He stayed awake and listened to the heart monitor beeping, watched as an occasional corpsman came in and checked on his assorted tubes and wires, and tried to ignore just how awful he felt.

&&

He wasn't the only one not sleeping, though. Elsewhere in the infirmary, Janet Fraiser and a growing number of microbiologists, xenobiologists and viriologists were studying slides and samples, adding genes to different antibiotics and watching how they reacted to a synthesized sample of the sap that had been taken off the sliver from O'Neill's wrist. They were looking for the one combination in what appeared to be a million that might wipe out the microbe that was attacking his immune system, but as the night stretched into morning there was still little progress. Even with all the doctors working on it – and Janet had pulled in every specialist she knew that was in the area – they were searching for a needle in a haystack, and it was going to take time.

&&

"How is it going, Doctor?"

Hammond had spent the night on base. He'd been hoping that he'd receive a call in the middle of the night from Fraiser, telling him that they'd made progress and that Colonel O'Neill was on his way to recovery. He'd dozed at his desk, and had finally stretched out on the sofa in his office, unwilling to leave the base with his second in command so ill. Janet hadn't called, and Hammond had forced himself to wait as long as possible before coming down to see how things were progressing. Finally, though, when the clock on his wall read a little after 6:00, he'd tossed back the throw blanket he'd been using as a cover, and had headed for the infirmary.

Janet shook her head. She was beat, and it showed. Her eyes were tired from focusing on the microscope all night, and her head was pounding.

"We're still looking, Sir." She told him, holding up a result from the latest round of tests they'd performed on the microbe. (She still wasn't ready to call it a virus, and still wasn't convinced it was a bacterium) "We know we're going in the right direction – the last set of tests showed a slight reduction in the rate of growth of the microbe when we tested it against a type 'D' antigen, but it wasn't much, and the side affects to Colonel O'Neill if we tried that would possibly kill him, so there are a few changes we'll need to make before we can try it again – and even more tests before we dare try to actually use it on him."

"How's he doing?" Hammond hadn't understood much of what she'd just said, but he trusted her, and if she said they needed more time, then he knew she needed more time.

Janet looked at the newest results from blood work, and the latest copy of O'Neill's chart – from about an hour before.

"His fever's still high, and his lungs are congested, which is making his breathing rough and painful – if that continues as it is, he'll be all right, but if it gets much worse, we'll have to put him on a respirator – which we don't want to do if we can avoid it. His other organs seem to be fine, which is a surprise, and makes us believe what we're dealing with is a microbe that attacks only the respiratory system – the fever and other complaints from Colonel O'Neill are simply a by-product of his own immune system trying to fight the infection off on its own."

"Will he be able to?"

"Fight it off without intervention?" Janet asked, making sure she understood the question.

"Yes."

Janet shook her head.

"Right now we're pumping him full of antibiotics – the strongest that we have at our disposal. They're helping him, but only enough to keep the infection at manageable levels. If the microbe attacking him develops a resistance to those antibiotics – and it's possible that it will if we don't beat it down quickly – then we're not going to be able to help him at all, and he's going to get worse. His best hope is that we find a way to kill it ourselves, and save his immune system the effort."

"How long would it take for the... microbe to develop immunity?"

"A week, a few days... I'm not really sure. It depends on how quickly it adapts."

"Have you had a chance to judge that?"

Janet nodded, looking at her results again.

"I'd say we have a few days until our own antibiotics are useless against this thing. Nowhere near a week. There's just no way."

Her frustration was obvious. Janet wanted a quick fix to this thing, and she wasn't finding it.

"You need to get some rest, Doctor." Hammond told her.

"I can't, Sir. I need to-"

"You'll think better if you get some sleep," he reasoned.

"I-"

"That's an order. You can leave it to the rest of the staff long enough for you to sleep for a few hours. You said we have a couple of days before the thing gets out of control, and I'd rather have you working on it fresh than have you miss something because of fatigue."

"Sir-"

"Doctor. I want you out of the infirmary for 4 hours. Go to one of the VIP quarters and get some rest, then get something to eat, and come back and start on it again when you're looking a little less frazzled."

Janet scowled, but there wasn't really much she could do – short of disobeying the direct order. Besides, she knew he was probably right. It wouldn't kill her to take a quick break, and maybe even get some sleep.

"Yes, Sir."

Hammond left, heading for the locker room so he could get a shower and change into a fresh uniform before the base personnel started showing up for their shifts. It wouldn't do for them to see him looking worried and rumpled, after all.

Fraiser watched him leave, then handed her lab results and charts over to her own second in command, who'd just come in to start his shift an hour before and was therefore far more awake than she was.

"I'm going to go check on Colonel O'Neill, then I'm going to find a place to hole up and sleep for a while," she told him, rubbing her face tiredly. "If anything happens, I want you to call me, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, and left the lab, walking past her office, where she could just barely see Sam Carter sprawled on the cot in the corner of the room. She sighed, and went to O'Neill's room, letting herself in and closing the door behind her.

He opened his eyes the moment he heard the door close, and looked over at her as she walked over.

"Hey..." His voice was still a whisper, but he tried for a smile, and she returned it, although hers was just as forced.

"Good morning," she said, checking his monitor out of habit. His temperature was still high but the icepacks were keeping it low enough that there wasn't a danger of him developing complications to his organs because of it. "Have you slept?"

"Sure..."

The way he said it, she knew he was lying, and she frowned.

"Colonel, you need to try and rest. It's the best thing you can do for yourself." He looked exhausted.

"I know."

"Why aren't you?"

"Have you had any sleep?" He was so good at changing the subject.

Janet frowned, and rested her hand on his cheek. He was covered with blankets, but she could feel a tremor run through him as he shivered. Whether from cold or just reaction, she wasn't sure.

"Are you cold still?"

"I'm fine, Doc. You didn't answer my question."

"I'm on my way to get some sleep right now. Are you hungry?"

He shook his head.

"Thirsty?"

"Nah... it makes me sick..."

"Maybe you could drink something besides water? Juice?"

She actually saw him turn a little green around the gills at the thought of something as sweet as fruit juice in his stomach just then. He shook his head.

"I'll be back in a while, Colonel," Janet told him, running her hand along his arm, and checking the icepacks – again. "If you need anything, call for me."

"I will." He wouldn't. He'd let her alone so she could sleep, and they both knew it.

Janet hesitated, and Jack raised his hand, tiredly, and waved her away.

"Go, Doc... I'm fine... I'll try to sleep while you're gone."

She nodded, and left the room. Jack watched her go, then sighed, and looked around him – again. He hated this room. He hated being sick, and he hated how worried everyone was looking when they looked at him. They had better things to worry about than him.