Dr. Will Halstead woke up feeling like he'd been run over by a freight train. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his nose was so stuffy he could barely breathe through it. The early morning light crept through the blinds, and he groaned, sitting up in bed, immediately regretting the effort. He glanced at the clock: 6:30 AM. His shift at Chicago Med started in an hour, and he was in no shape to go.

Will reached for his phone on the bedside table, his hand trembling slightly, hoping against hope that someone could cover his shift.

First on his list was Natalie. She picked up after a couple of rings, her voice cheerful but quickly faltering when she heard Will's sniffly tone.

"Hey, Will, what's up?" Natalie asked.

"Natalie… it's Will," he croaked, his voice thick and congested. "I'm... I'm feeling awful. Could you—"

"Will, I'm sorry to hear that, but I've got Owen's parent-teacher conference today. I wish I could help, but I can't skip it," Natalie's voice was sympathetic but firm.

He cursed under his breath, his head pounding harder with the effort. Next, he called Ethan Choi, hoping for better luck.

"Hey Ethan, it's Will. I'm feeling terrible. Could you cover for me today?"

"Hey Will, I've got the ride along with the ambos today. I'm really sorry, but I can't take your shift," Ethan replied, sounding genuinely apologetic but clearly unable to help.

Will's last hope was Connor Rhodes. He dialed him next, but the outcome was the same. Connor's voicemail message played, and he left a brief, desperate message, "Connor, it's Will. I'm sick and need someone to cover for me. Please, if you can, let me know."

Frustrated but not entirely surprised, Will begrudgingly dragged himself out of bed. He took a hot shower, hoping it would clear his sinuses, but the relief was only temporary. He shuffled to his closet, pulling on his scrubs with slow, deliberate movements, each step making his head spin.

By the time Will arrived at the hospital, he was drenched in sweat and struggling to keep his balance. His usual confident stride was replaced with a slow, deliberate walk, and he had to stop twice just to muffle a couple sneezing fits into his elbow.

At the ER, Will's condition did not improve. He found himself constantly reaching for tissues to stifle his sneezes, the effort making his head throb even more. "HNNGH! H'NGTSH! H'NKCCHH!" The sneezes came in rapid succession, making his colleagues look at him with concern.

The day was grueling. Will's symptoms, including a persistently runny nose and an increasingly scratchy throat, only seemed to get worse. He tried to push through, focusing on his patients and the tasks at hand, but the struggle was evident.

During a brief lull in the action, Will stumbled into the break room, his breathing labored and his eyes red. He leaned against the counter, reaching for another tissue. "H'NGTSH! H'GTSHH!" The sneezes were becoming harder to stifle, leaving him feeling drained.

Dr Charles, passing by, caught sight of him. "Will, you look terrible, you shouldn't be here."

"I... I know, but no one else could cover," Will managed to reply, his voice thick and nasal. He reached for a tissue from the box on the table, his nose already running. "Hh'kshoo!" He sneezed violently into the tissue, his body shaking with the force. "S-sorry."

The day dragged on. Every small task seemed Herculean as Will struggled to maintain his focus. His nose was perpetually stuffed, requiring constant, noisy blows into tissues. His colleagues noticed his struggle but were too busy to offer much more than sympathetic glances.

"Hh'ksshh! Hh...hh'choo!" He barely had time to collect himself before he had to assist a new patient. His voice was barely audible through the congestion, and every word was a struggle.

By the end of his shift, Will was feeling worse than he had all day. His nose was red and raw from blowing it so frequently, and his eyes were heavy with fatigue. He knew he couldn't drive himself home; he felt like he was going to collapse.

He picked up his phone and dialed Jay Halstead's number, his hands shaking. "Jay… I need a ride," he croaked out. "I... I can't drive myself."

Jay picked up immediately, concern evident in his voice. "Will? What's going on? You sound awful."

"I'm... I'm at the hospital. Can you come pick me up? I… I just don't have the energy to drive," Will explained, his voice cracking as he tried to stifle another sneeze.

"Of course, I'm on my way. Just hang in there," Jay said, trying to keep his worry in check.

As Will waited outside the hospital, leaning against the wall for support, he could hear the muffled sounds of the busy ER behind him. He was lost in a haze of exhaustion and discomfort when Jay's car finally pulled up.

Jay's expression was a mix of frustration and concern as he helped Will into the car. "You look terrible, Will. What the hell happened? Why didn't someone cover for you?"

Will shook his head, too tired to offer a coherent explanation. "Natalie, Ethan, Connor… they were all busy," he managed to say, his voice barely a whisper. He reached for a tissue, blowing his nose with a thick, congested sound.

Jay's anger bubbled over as he drove, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "This is ridiculous. They should have figured something out. You're obviously not well enough to be here."

Will managed a weak smile, too exhausted to argue. "Yeah, well, it is what it is."

As they drove, Will's sneezing continued unabated, each one causing him to slump further in his seat. "H'NTSH! H'KSHH! H'NGTSHH!" The sneezes were followed by more congested nose blows, leaving Jay feeling more and more frustrated with each passing minute.

Jay finally pulled up to Will's apartment, helping him out of the car. "Get inside and get some rest. I'll make sure you're okay before I leave."

Will nodded gratefully, though he felt too weak to say much more. He trudged inside, Jay close behind. Once inside, Jay helped Will into the bedroom, grabbing him a glass of water and making sure he was comfortable.

"I'm going to grab some supplies and soup," Jay said, heading back out. "You stay here and try to rest."

Will tried to relax, though his nose was still running, and he felt utterly drained. He blew his nose with another congested "HNNNGH! H'NKCCHH!" and sank into the pillows, feeling the weight of the day's exhaustion finally catching up with him.

Jay returned with soup and various over-the-counter medications, bursting into the apartment, his expression a mixture of worry and determination. The sight that greeted him was disheartening: Will's face was flushed, his breathing ragged, and his eyes barely focused. Jay hurried to his brother's side, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Will, hey, it's me," Jay said gently, placing a hand on Will's forehead. The heat radiating off him was almost unbearable. "You're burning up."

"Jay?" Will mumbles, looking up at Jay with fever-glazed eyes.

"Yeah it's me. Here let's take your temperature," Jay says while placing the thermometer under Will's tongue.

Both brothers sit in silence, only punctuated by Will's sniffles, waiting for the thermometer to beep.

Hearing the thermometer beep, Jay takes it and frowns when at the numbers he sees.

"Shit, Will," Jay breathes, "You're at 103F, that's really high. We should get you back to Med."

"No!" Will coughs out, "Please, just got out."

"Fine, fine," Jay soothes, "Just calm down and rest. I've got you."

Jay hands Will a couple of Tylenol and watches as he swallows them then drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

Jay observed his brother silently, his heart breaking with each of Will's agonized breaths. He dabbed Will's forehead with a cool cloth, desperate to bring Will's fever down. Despite Jay's efforts, Will's fever seemed determined to climb even higher, his body rebelling against being forced to work all day.

In his 104F fevered state, Will began calling out for Jay, not realizing that Jay was right beside him.

"Jay… where are you?" Will mumbled weakly. "I need you. Please… Jay."

"I'm here Will, I'm here," Jay soothes, although this falls on deaf ears.

"I'm sorry Jay. Don't hate me Jay, please." Will rambles.

"Sorry? What for?" Jay asked, confused and concerned.

"I didn't… I didn't mean to… leave you alone to deal with mom," Will mumbled, his words slurred and disjointed.

Jay swallowed, his heart clenching at the mention of their mom.

"Let's not talk about that now Will. We just gotta focus on getting you better," Jay says.

"I'm so… I'm so sorry Jay. Couldn't save dad, couldn't get him back," Will continues "I'll do better, be better. Don't hate me, please. Don't hate me."

Jay's heart ached as he listened. He dabbed the cloth over Will's forehead, hoping it might bring some relief. "You're not making any sense, Will. Just try to stay with me. We'll get you through this."

Will's breathing grew more erratic, and his eyes filled with a sadness that cut through Jay like a knife. "Jay… I love you, man. I just didn't… didn't know how to say it…"

Jay froze, his heart pounding. He had always known Will loved him in some way, but hearing it in this vulnerable state, accompanied by the feverish haze, was a shock. "I love you too, Will," Jay replied softly, trying to steady his voice. "You're my brother. We'll get through this. I promise."

As the night wore on, Jay remained by Will's side, administering medicine and doing everything he could to bring down his fever. He talked to Will in soothing tones, telling him stories of better times, memories from their childhood, and promises of a future where things would get better.

He held Will's hand, gripping it tightly as if willing his brother to pull through. The storm outside seemed to echo the turmoil within the apartment, but Jay's focus was singular: to bring his brother back to him, no matter how long it took.

The first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room. Will's fever had broken during the night, and his breathing had steadied, though he remained deeply asleep. Jay, exhausted from the long hours of caring for him, had finally managed to catch a few moments of rest in the chair beside the bed.

As the sunlight grew stronger, Will stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. The once feverish heat had diminished, leaving him feeling weak but far clearer-headed. He looked around the room, disoriented, until his gaze fell on Jay, who was still slumped in the chair, his head resting on the edge of the bed.

"Jay?" Will said softly, his voice hoarse.

Jay woke with a start, immediately alert. "Hey, Will," he said, sitting up straight. "How are you feeling?"

Will tried to sit up but found his strength lacking. "Like I've been hit by a truck," he replied weakly. "What time is it?"

"It's early," Jay said, reaching for the glass of water. "You had a pretty high fever last night. I was really worried."

Will's mind slowly began to piece together the fragments of the previous night. The feverish confessions, the heartfelt admissions… he winced, embarrassed. "Jay, I'm sorry about what I said. I was… out of it. I didn't mean to—"

"Hey, it's okay," Jay interrupted gently, handing him the water. "You don't have to apologize. I was just glad I could be here for you. You needed me, and I was happy to be here."

Will took a sip of water, feeling his throat start to ease. "But the things I said… I didn't mean to put that on you."

Jay shook his head, his expression softening. "Will, I've got your back man. You're my brother, I can't ever hate you."

Will nods, fighting back tears as he Jay convinces him to rest more.

By mid-morning, Will's fever had subsided enough that Jay felt safe leaving him at home alone to rest, although he made Will promise he would call if his fever crept anywhere close to 101F.

Jay decided to swing by the hospital, on his way to the precinct. Walking through the emergency room doors, Jay's frustration was still palpable, fueled by the lack of sleep from having to sleep sitting up in a chair all night. He found Natalie, Ethan, and Connor in the break room, looking over patient charts. Jay didn't waste any time.

"Hey, can we talk?" Jay's voice was sharp, cutting through the low hum of conversation.

Natalie looked up, surprised. "What's going on, Jay?"

"Will was barely able to make it through his shift yesterday," Jay said, his tone frustrated. "He was clearly sick, and none of you could cover for him? That's unacceptable."

Connor frowned, a defensive edge to his voice. "We all had personal stuff to attend to. Manpower is bad Jay, we're stretched thin. It wasn't a simple situation."

Ethan nodded in agreement. "We did what we could, but we're all working at our limits."

Jay shook his head. "I get that everyone's busy, but there should have been a better way to handle this. Will's health is at stake here, and it's not right to push someone who's clearly unwell."

Natalie looked guilty. "How is he?"

Jay's anger softened slightly, but his concern for his brother remained. "His fever broke early this morning. Thankfully, I was beginning to think I'd have to drag his unwilling ass in despite his delirious protests."

Natalie nods, "We should have figured something out. I'm sorry, Jay. We'll try to do better in the future."

Jay sighs, "Thanks. I know you guys don't have it easy, but seeing Will like that…"

Connor and Ethan clap a hand on Jay's shoulders, a silent show of support.

Just then, the trauma bells ring and the doctors are running out of the break room, ready to assist the next influx of patients. It's not too long before Will is recovered and back in the trenches with his colleagues, fighting tooth and nail to preserve every life that is counting on them.