Chapter Six

"All of it, Colonel," Doctor Fraiser warned in a sharp tone from somewhere outside the room.

'Dang', Jack's hand hovered over the plastic urinal and then reversed direction, 'Doc must have the ears of a bat.'

The full cup sloshed as he held it away from his nose. Apparently she had heard Jack's attempt to dump half the glass of stuff he was supposed to drink into the urinal. That bright red container's rasp across the table that straddled his bed had been like a shout in a quiet church during prayer.

"But it tastes like crap," Jack whined, his mouth wrinkled in distaste.

Unexpectedly acidic bile surged up his throat and threatened to erupt between his lips. He gulped and half-choked as he slammed the glass down onto the table over his lap, the viscous liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim.

Jack ignored it; all of his attention was focused on keeping what little of the stuff he had already swallowed 'inside' his body. God knew it tasted bad enough the first time around; he didn't even want to think about the second time. He breathed shallowly through his mouth as he'd been taught and swallowed convulsively. 'Breathe in your nose,' he gasped, 'breathe out your mouth.'

"Colonel?" The staccato tappity-tap of Doc's high heels on the tiled floors of the Infirmary intruded on his single-minded focus and heralded the imminent arrival of the ruler of this particular corner of the SGC. For once, he was mighty glad of it.

Now bent double, his head rested on the table by his cup, one hand cradled his much abused stomach, the other clapped tightly over his mouth, he groaned and stiffened when he felt cool fingers on his back.

"That's it, sir." She continued to rub the back of his neck. "Breathe slowly out your mouth."

He groaned again but didn't pull away from her comforting touch. "Does that feel better?" She asked in a worried tone.

He didn't trust himself to speak so he just nodded and risked taking his palm away from his mouth, no longer feeling the need to prevent himself from vomiting up what little of the compound he'd managed to swallow thus far.

As her fingers continued to rub his back and neck, he dared to raise his head off the table and leaned into her touch, savoring the rarity. "Thanks, Doc," he moaned. His tongue flicked over parched lips in a futile attempt to moisten the chapped surface.

He started to lie back against his pillows, but stiffened as a cramp rippled across his abdomen, he gritted his teeth - and clenched his buttocks - hard - all to no avail. Crap - literally - lots of crap - right where crap had no right to be.

"Sir?'

As a noxious odor suddenly permeated the room, Jack averted his eyes and shifted uncomfortably as a crimson stain crept up from under his hospital gown, up his neck and covered his face.

With both palms flat on the sheets beside him, he tried to lift himself away from the brownish liquid that crept from his backside. "Sorry," he muttered, his eyes on the foul mess, "Could've sworn I was housebroken a long time ago."

"Not to worry, sir. We'll have you cleaned up in a jiffy." She stepped to the door and beckoned to someone outside Jack's sight. "We could use some help in here. While you're at it, you can bring some clean sheets with you."

A couple of nurses came back with her and she stood back as they took in the situation. "When you've gotten the colonel comfortable, report back to me."

Yes, ma'am," they replied as they began to clean Jack off. "And, sir? I'll get you something for the nausea and diarrhea."

"Thanks, Doc," Jack muttered, totally mortified but relieved that they were taking care of the mess he'd made of his bed. He wanted to help, really he did. But he felt like he'd just ran a fifteen-mile road march, with a backpack full of rocks, with Teal'c slung over his shoulder to boot. Oy!

The last time he'd been this sick, he'd been hung-over from an all-nighter with Ferretti's jarheads. At least then he'd had a good time to show for his misery. This time . . .

He avoided looking his caretakers in the eye; it was easier for all of them that way as they stripped the odiferous gown from his body.

"Let us do the work, sir," directed Joyce as they prepared to help him out of bed and onto a nearby chair. She turned her back to pick up the new gown and her companion turned to help her.

"No, I can do it, really." Jack muttered half to himself as he tried to summon up the energy to get out of bed. No problem - right? He'd been doing it for years.

Jack sighed as he swung his feet to the side and stood by his bed. 'Halfway there, Jack. Just a little bit more and you'll be on your feet. No problem.'

Yep, that was what he planned to do. However, somehow, the directions he sent from his head got sidetracked someplace between his brain and his legs. He made it as far as having his feet flat on the floor, but then his forward momentum carried him up off the bed . . . and pitched him onto his hands and knees as that pesky knee gave way, shrieking pain all the way to the floor. .

"Colonel!" Twin voices chorused.

"Crap," Jack muttered as he struggled - and failed - to lock his elbows to prevent him from kissing the Infirmary tiles. For a moment, he stayed there, swaying like a one-legged man in a strong wind, his crappy bare ass waving in the wind as the nurses darted forward to help him. Then, gravity won and he toppled over onto his side, where he laid there - panting with exertion. Naked as the day he was born. 'Oh, for crying out loud could this get any worse?' Jack thought pessimistically.

"Oh, did I come at a bad time?" Jonas stood at the door, his customary cheese-eating grin turning into a look of horrified surprise.

"Ya think?" Jack glared at him from his position on the floor, refraining from acknowledging the hot coal he laughingly referred to as his knee in front of his unwelcome audience. 'You had to think it, didn't you, Jack? And sure enough, just when you thought that things couldn't get worse, the "aw shit fairy" took a dump all over your sorry ass.'

Dr. Fraiser appeared behind Jonas who seemed frozen in place. "The colonel is not receiving visitors now," she said firmly as she grabbed his arms and bodily moved him out of the doorway and into the hall. With decisive movements, she closed the door firmly behind her.

Then she turned to her nurses who had gathered at the fallen man's side and were attempting to help him to the chair.

"How did this happen?" Dr. Fraiser spat to her staff. "Do I have to do everything myself?"

"No, ma'am," the nurses concentrated on settling Jack safely in the chair and then stood, their eyes wandering across everything except Janet.

"Lay off, Doc. They were trying to help, but I wanted to do it myself," Jack muttered, his eyes studying his bare toes and the brown gunk smeared there. "I figured I could at least get out of bed on my own. Guess I was wrong."

"I realize you're sick and can't do things like you'd like to do, but it would go so much easier if you'd just let us do our jobs, sir. It's what we're trained to do," Joyce pleaded; her eyes bright with unshed tears. Then she turned away and picked up the gown that had drawn her attention before. "Would you like me to help you put this on . . . or can you manage on your own?"

Jack swallowed hard, his own emotions perilously close to the surface. "If you wouldn't mind, I could use the help." Besides, attempting to stand now would expose places that he wanted only Carter to see - someday - he hoped. And those private places had seen way too much daylight lately as it was.

Joyce draped the gown over his exposed back and helped him up and into the chair in stages, stages that kept 'Carter Territory' hidden from prying eyes, or well-meaning but totally inept new team members like Jonas. 'That nosy alien was danged lucky I'm so sick and tired, otherwise, I'd strangle the sucker,' Jack thought with irritation 'And take great pleasure in doing it too.'

He wondered just how much of an eyeful his newest alien teammate had gotten before Fraiser tossed him out? Probably way too much, but then again, it served him right for barging in like he had. Jack knew the last thing, as team leader, he needed was for that butinski to get a gander of his bare backside covered in crap. He groaned. 'This was so not my day. When I got the call from the head guy, my Commander in Chief no less, I thought things were finally looking up. What the hell happened?'

While Jack was busy with his thoughts, the other nurse busied herself with bundling up the dirty sheets and placed them inside a waiting hamper. Then she and Dr. Fraiser set about placing clean linen on the mattress.

Jack couldn't bring himself to lift his eyes from the floor. He didn't want to see the pity in the eyes of the women busily cleaning up after his poop-fest. He was just too tired to cope with that right now. One hand unconsciously kneaded at the slow burn in hi knee.

He didn't feel like crying often, but he felt way too close to blubbering his eyes out right then. And if he'd been alone, he'd probably be doing just that - either that or getting royally shit-faced. 'Wait . . .no, bad example. I'd be getting drunk on my butt. Yeah, that's what I'd be doing,' he consoled himself.

But that particular coping mechanism was not in the cards at the moment, so he'd just have to do the best he could, and hope and pray that crap didn't continue to happen, or if it did, it happened when his butt-cheeks were sitting on the crapper. 'Jeez, Jack, at the rate you're going, they were going to have to put you in Depends by the end of the day.'

With two of them working together, the bed was soon ready for him. This time, Jack waited and allowed the nursing staff to assist him from the chair into the bed. After the nurses had left the room, Janet stood next to Jack and cleared her throat. "Did you hurt yourself when you fell, sir?"

"Only my pride, and since that's been taking a beating lately anyway, there was no harm done," Jack replied softly, his arms cradling his sore stomach.

"I'm sorry that Jonas saw you like that. I'll have orders posted so that it doesn't happen again."

Jack nodded, his gaze focused on the opposite wall.

"In the meantime, I'm going to install an IV, sir."

Jack winced. "Yeah, whatever."

"I was hoping to avoid that, but since you're continuing to lose so much fluid," Janet paused as Jack rolled his eyes and his mouth thinned to a single line of self-disgust. "I don't have a choice."

Her grin took Jack by surprise and he tightened his hold on his roiling stomach, but said nothing.

"On the good side, if you have an IV, I won't have to inject the anti-nausea medicine into your butt, just your IV port."

"Well, that is certainly a plus," Jack muttered sarcastically, wondering how it could possibly get any worse. Somehow he knew it would. "Aren't we Little Mary Sunshine today?"

Tiredly, he flung an arm over his face and tried to ignore how public his suffering was. The other hugged his sore stomach muscles protectively. All the while his leg restlessly sought a position to satisfy the insistent ache of his abused knee. At least the itching had stopped - for the moment. It had been so constant; he almost missed its absence. As for the pressure bandages on his bleeding shoulders, they had escaped getting drenched when he had his accident, and seemed to be okay. The thought of an IV wasn't totally unexpected, considering the circumstances. But considering the alternative, he supposed he shouldn't mind so much that his body would have yet another hole poked in it.

Despite his blatant 'go away and leave me alone' sign, Janet seemed determined to ignore it. "Listen to me, sir. I know you're miserable. And it's not going to get any better. In fact, there's a very good chance that it will get worse before it does." Janet stood with arms crossed, then her face softened. "But believe me when I say this. It will get better. You will get better. We'll get you through this, but we have to work together on this. Which means you have to let us do our jobs, yours will be hard enough as it is. But let us help you through it."

Jack sighed and shook his head. "Just let me have my privacy, Doc. Is that too much to ask? The last thing I want or need is for Carter and Teal'c, or even Hammond hovering over me. I couldn't take that. And they don't need it. It's been too soon since they stood a deathwatch over Daniel. Don't make them do it all over again with me."

Janet looked skeptical. "All right, I'll talk to the general about it. You'll have your privacy, but I want your cooperation in this, sir. Have we got a deal?"

Jack nodded and then curled into the fetal position on the bed, his arms still wrapped around his abdomen as the cramps struck again and again. He bit his lip and moaned.

"Oh God."

***

"No way..."

"Major..."

Sam Carter's mouth snapped shut, but her expression shouted out her displeasure; she was pissed. General Hammond could see that he barely had enough influence to calm her down.

"Sir?"

Hammond nailed Carter, Teal'c, and Quinn with a withering glare before nodding to Doctor Fraiser to continue.

"This decision was Colonel O'Neill's, not mine. But I intend to see that his wishes are met. I promised him, sir."

Hammond slowly drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes seeking out those seated there. He didn't like the idea any better than the major. Teal'c looked . . . well who could tell? Jack could, he knew, but . . .

And Jonas? Well, didn't that beat all? That boy looked like he'd found a bright shiny new silver dollar. Come to think of it, though. That sunshiny smile undoubtedly hid the man's emotions just as effectively as did Teal'c's stoic expression.

He had an idea what lay behind Jack's demand that he have no visitors. His 2IC was proud, but he was certain that more than that lay behind the demand. Jack was methodical and this spoke to more than just saving his pride, this probably had everything to do with limiting the emotional damage if he didn't make it. But it was the colonel's decision, even if he, General George Hammond, was among those to be banned from the man's sick room.

"SG-1, the decision stands. If this is how Colonel O'Neill wants it, we as his friends and fellow officers, must honor his decision." He paused and looked at each member until he saw a nod of acceptance before he moved on to the next person at the table. "You're dismissed."

Major Carter sprang up, too much an officer to glare at him, but too much of a woman to not make a spectacular display of leaving. Hammond slowly rubbed a few fingers across his aching head.

"Doctor..." Hammond softly halted the female CMO, "Stay a moment, please."

Her head followed Teal'c's slow but graceful exit, Jonas had rushed after the major. Hammond had to wonder about the boy's survival instincts. If it were him, he'd keep half the base between him and Carter for as long as he could, and he knew he was fairly safe from her wrath.

Only when George ceased to hear the even, heavy tread of the Jaffa did he return his attention to Fraiser. Her head was down, watching her fingers attempt to strangle themselves. She wasn't happy with the decision either, that was all too clear.

Reaching out, Hammond covered the woman's restless fingers with his larger hand, bringing her eyes to his.

"He's protecting them, isn't he?" His sharp eyes saw the answer in hers and he patted her stilled hands. "No need to answer, I know Jack pretty well by now."

His hand abandoned hers as he reached up to massage his temples with both hands. Fraiser averted her eyes and found her fingers very interesting - again, it was her way of offering privacy. Something he knew she practiced with everyone. With her, he could be a little more human. He wondered if Jack found the same respite in her presence.

"So, no Major Carter, no Teal'c . . . and no me?"

"That is correct, sir. The colonel was very specific, he named each by name."

This is a good thing I gather; despite the pain it is causing his team?"

Fraiser nodded.

"I won't press you for the details of this very obvious O'Neill-type of deal for his cooperation," Hammond peered sharply at the beginnings of an outraged look that quickly wilted into a rather telling blush on his CMO's face.

"What worries me is that the man seems to be burning his bridges and that tells me, and no doubt tells you, that he has doubts about surviving this." Fraiser squirmed uncomfortably, confirming his words.

"Let me ask you something you can answer," now placing both hands firmly on the table. "Did he at any time use the words SG-1 or team when he requested no visitors?"

Fraiser looked at him uncertainly, he could tell she thought his question was nuts, but then being a little nuts helped to deal with the kind of convoluted tactical mind of his second.

"No..."

"So no general descriptive terms were used - only specific names?"

"Uh, that's correct, sir."

"And at no time did he mention denying Jonas Quinn from visiting him?"

Fraiser looked a bit stunned, but when the revelation came so did a smile that could launch a thousand ships.

"No, sir!"

"You do understand what I'm hinting at here, Doctor."

"Yes, sir. I believe I do."

"Then Major, I believe you should find Mr. Quinn and instruct him in your expectations. I distinctly recall Jack mentioning how irritating he found Jonas."

"Sir, with your permission," the doctor rose to her feet with an eager expression on her face.

"Granted," George smiled. He watched as she marched in the direction that Quinn had left in and he continued to thoughtfully gaze after her long after she had vanished from his sight.

Finally Hammond rose to return to his office, leaving his last words on the subject drifting across an empty room.

"If I can get you pissed off enough, Jack; you might just forget the stupid idea that you are mortal after all."

***

Jack felt miserable. What was worse, he was certain he had a chapped butt. And talk about sore: from his throat all the way down to the exit that felt chapped. His guts churned constantly, each expellation of foul smelling sewage-fodder was signaled by painful cramping that should have produced the birth of a full-term baby elephant. All Jack could do was hang on and endure.

Endure the pain and embarrassment. Actually, he'd gotten over the embarrassment; it took too much energy. He just flopped from side to side as requested as the routine of new sheets accelerated in pace. Quickened by the new part of his routine, that involved getting yet another bottomless cup of Naquadah Nectar. He really hated the stuff. He'd rather drink what went out in the sheets than that stuff, but then again on second thought - maybe not.

Again he kicked his legs free of the cloying warmth of the single sheet that covered him. His gown was hiked up so high he'd bet Carter Territory was getting a tan. But he didn't give a damn, he was hot, he hurt, and he wished he could get some sleep. Dozing would be almost as good, but he was too tired to try.

He giggled and attracted the gaze of one of the nurses. He couldn't remember her name, didn't want to remember her name. It was a her? Wasn't it?

'Oh crap.'

"Sir, let's prop you up a bit and drink some more of your medicine," the nameless nurse suggested brightly.

"Okay, you can drink it and I'll stay propped up and watch," Jack replied with a smirk. 'Not more of that Naquadah Nectar, almost anything but more of that crap; I'm sick to death of drinking that crap.' It had been bad enough that the stomach flu had negated any control he had of his bowels, but the Nectar was making it worse, an expression of his body's attempt to expel what it saw as poison.

"Please, sir?" The nurse smiled with encouragement and held the full glass to his lips. Jack tightened his lips and shook his head minutely. To move it anymore was to invite his brains to slosh around inside of his head - and that hurt. He already hurt all over; there was no way he was going to add to his misery.

"Just a little bit?" the nurse wheedled.

'She hasn't gone away yet? I could've sworn she had.' "No," he muttered. "Don't wanna."

"I know you don't sir, but you need to."

"I said no," his voice rose an octave. 'Was she deaf? Why won't she just leave me alone? Can't she see I'm sick?'

"Please?" She smiled again. He hated that smile - so full of sugar and life. "Just a little?"

"I said no!" His hand rose and clumsily connected with his target, the glass held by the nurse, and knocked it out of her hand where it clattered to the floor with a sodden splash. He was just mad enough to be able to ignore the molten fire the move had caused under the thick bandage of that shoulder, later he'd pay for it.

Jack turned his head away and refused to meet the nurse's eyes, eyes he knew would be filled with reproach for his childish behavior. He just didn't care anymore. Caring took too much energy, energy he didn't have - would never have again.

With his last dregs of strength, he heaved himself onto his side and faced the wall, ignoring the sound of footsteps leaving his room. Later became sooner, his shoulder throbbed and the other, being lonely, echoed it a half-beat behind. Searching for any distraction, his eyes followed the plastic tubing that led from his wrist up to a clear plastic bag hung on an IV pole next to his bed.

It wasn't long before he heard the familiar tappity-tap of Dr. Fraiser's pumps enter his room. Sure enough, the nurse had called in reinforcements. No surprise there. At least he'd have some other distraction from the building agony of his shoulder, as the IV hadn't held his attention for long. But that had been no great surprise either.

He kept his face turned to the wall, in the hope that this too would pass - that this particular nuisance would go away if he ignored it long enough - Fraiser and the pain. A forlorn hope, he knew, but it was all he had left.

"Colonel?" She sounded pissed.

"Go away," Jack warned his voice devoid of all emotion. That took too much energy, energy that he didn't have any more. His hand swiped away an unseen tear.

"Is that your medicine on the floor?"

Jack didn't bother answering. 'Stupid question, she already knows the answer. Why's she bothering with a question she knows the answer to anyway?'

He studied the wall in front of him, hoping against hope that she would give up and go away. He'd already managed to keep Teal'c and Carter from visiting him, although he had the sneaky feeling that Fraiser had told them to stay away because of the messy effects of the combination of the flu and the treatment for the radiation sickness had on him.

Jack was beginning to doubt the truth of his Doctor's assertion that he was getting better though. He certainly didn't feel better. If anything, he felt worse than he had before he started the treatment that was supposed to save his life. To keep him from dying like Daniel had.

If this was how his friend had felt, then he could totally understand why he'd wanted it to end. Why he'd grabbed at Oma's offer to help him ascend and why he'd halted Jacob's attempt to heal him.

Not that Oma, Daniel, or the Tok'ra had shown up with the same offer. He didn't expect them to. He wouldn't accept their kind of help if they'd offered it. Too many strings attached.

No, he knew that he was dying, despite everything that Janet, Carter, and Hammond had told him. He could feel it. And no amount of drinking down that crappy glop would change that.

When it came down to it, though, he was tired of fighting to live, tired of carrying the world on his shoulders. And tired of the pain. It was time for him to step aside and let someone else do it for a while. Like for forever. Another tear was absently smeared across his cheek. The pain in his shoulders faded against the bone-deep fatigue that now enveloped him; even his knee was a dim flicker in that fog of weariness.

Janet's shoes tapped around the foot of his bed and her concerned face came into view, despite his resolute stare at the wall in front of him. He bit back a giggle at the thought of the Doc tap-dancing around his bed, just like she was dodging the truth of his illness.

His eyes flicked over her and then moved back to stare straight ahead.

"Colonel? What's going on?"

He briefly considered not answering, but knew she would keep nagging at him if he didn't. "Go away," He whispered; the temptation to just give in to it all was overwhelming.

"No, sir. Not until you tell me what's going on," she knelt down at his bedside; her face took the place of the soothing nothingness of the wall.

Jack sighed and closed his eyes, that very act of self-defense made them sting with fatigue. The pain was never-ending - physical and emotional.

"Tell me, sir. Tell me what's going on." Her voice was soft but held a note of a plea in its tone.

"You lied," Jack turned on his back and his arm flopped over his eyes and wondered why the tears had dried up. Now he really felt like crying. "You all lied."

"We lied?" Her voice was full of disbelief. "About what, sir?"

"About me, about this." His arm came down and his dark eyes bored into hers. She held his stare and didn't flinch. He looked away instead. What did it matter?

"I don't understand what you mean, sir." She touched his arm and he jerked it away. "Please make me understand."

"I'm dying, admit it," his voice was low and monotonous, already devoid of life.

"Not if I can help it, sir." She sounded so sure of herself.

"This cure of yours, it's a phony, isn't it? Go ahead and admit it. It's okay, I don't care anyway," he snarled, beginning to feel angry that she would continue the lie.

"No, sir. It is not a phony cure. It's all you've got, and by god, you should be thankful for it."

He nailed her with a glare that dared her to contradict his conclusion - to compound the lie with another.

"As God is my witness, sir. It's real, and it will cure you."

His expression didn't dampen a bit as he shook his head and then winced when the pain in his head and shoulders protested the undue movement.

"What? You think that we're just experimenting on you? That this is all some sick joke?"

"You said it, I didn't," Jack replied.

"I would never do a thing like that, sir. Not now, not ever." She stood and threw her head back, angry now. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Jack shrugged and said nothing.

"Whether you believe it or not, sir. This medicine will cure you, but it won't be pleasant. It will make you sicker than you already are. It can't cure you if you don't take it, and since my nurses can't seem to get the job done, I'm sending in someone else who has assured me that he will."

"Who?" Despite himself, Jack felt intrigued. "Are you gonna sic Hammond on me? Make him order me to take it?"

"No, I could. But, I'm not. Someone else will be here with you, night and day, until you're on your feet again, though."

"Who?"

Janet gestured toward the open door. "Jonas, you can come in now."

"You're kidding." Jack's mouth gaped open. 'She's got to be kidding, right?'

"No, I'm not. He's a member of your team, isn't he? Think of it as an exercise in team bonding, sir."

She really sounded mad now, and looked it too. Her heels dug into the tile floor as she rounded the bed, on her way out of the room.

She addressed her next words to the man with the huge shit-eating grin on his face. "I'll have his next dose sent in. Make sure he drinks it this time. This medicine is hard to come by and shouldn't be wasted. And good luck, Jonas, maybe he'll listen to you. "

"Jack?" The man's smile was blinding and Jack had to squint against the glare of the light reflecting off his pearly whites.

"Get out," Jack ground out between clenched teeth.

"No," Jonas answered softly, but still sounded pretty determined. Well, he could fix that; He'd managed to get rid of Carter and Teal'c. Jonas would be a piece of cake.

His stomach gurgled a warning at that thought and he grimaced. 'Okay, okay, that was a bad example. Easy;' he amended hastily. 'Getting rid of Jonas would be easy.'