You just had to go and do it again, didn't you?

This was written for the Sheppard H/C community fever fic challenge. It may be an idea to read "A little pain on the side", which is listed here on my profile page. Though this may be read as a stand alone story, it has a few references to the events of that fic. Thanks to Kodiak for the beta.

Chapter 1.

"I'm c-c-cold." John 's teeth chattered as he moaned.

"Yes, yes. You've told me that at least a hundred times already in the last few hours. I get it, Colonel. You're cold." McKay's irritated voice echoed around the empty, dark and slightly chilly lab.

"Why am I naked?" John asked, as he opened his eyes and spied his bare torso and limbs.

McKay snorted. "You're not naked. I thought I'd explained this half-an-hour ago?"

"You did?" John's shivering body shook on the cool, tiled floor.

"Yes, I did," McKay huffed irritably. "You're not naked as you have your underwear on - see?" The physicist pointed to the striped blue and white boxers covering the colonel's modesty.

"So why am I nearly naked?" Sheppard asked again. "Why is it so cold in here, and if it's so cold, why haven't I got my clothes on?"

McKay groaned. "Oh for goodness sake, now you're babbling. I took your clothes off because you're so hot," Rodney explained impatiently.

Sheppard snickered drunkenly.

"No offence, Rodney, but you're really not my type."

McKay groaned again. "Ha, ha. I took your clothes off because Carson told me to."

"He's not my type either. I thought he had a thing for Cadman. He's a dark horse, isn't he?" Sheppard mused.

"This is getting ridiculous. Is this your delirium talking, or is it just your pathetically juvenile sense of humour emerging again? No don't tell me, I think I already know the answer to that." McKay was fast losing what little tolerance he had.

"Carson told me to take your clothes off because you have a very high fever."

"I do?" Sheppard closed his eyes and moaned. "My head hurts. Why does my head hurt?"

McKay reached down to pick up his water flask, and poured some of the contents onto a handkerchief.

"Here, let's put this on your forehead. You have a nasty bruise on it from when you fainted earlier." Mckay emphasised the word fainted.

Sheppard snorted. "Didn't faint. I passed out. Why did I pass out?"

"Because you have a fever and are sick, you idiot."

McKay tapped his headset.

"Carson? I'm really not cut out to nurse flyboys, and this one is particularly irritating. How much longer is Zelenka going to be?" he asked impatiently.

Static burst through Rodney's headset, before Beckett's voice filtered through.

"It's taking longer than he anticipated, I'm afraid. We're two corridors down from you now, and working our way towards you. How's the colonel?"

McKay exhaled in frustration.

"Being a bigger pain than usual. He seems to think you and I have a crush on him and want to see him naked."

Beckett's laughter flooded McKay's headset.

"Good grief. Poor lad must be delirious," he chuckled.

"Well of course he's delirious. I took his temperature ten minutes ago and it's still forty degrees," Rodney whined.

Beckett tutted. "Have you sponged him down with water yet?"

"I put my favourite dampened hanky on his fevered brow," McKay replied in a feminine voice.

Carson huffed. "That's no bloody good. You have to sponge his chest, arms, legs. Do you get the idea?" he asked in an annoyed voice.

"Do I have to? I'm really not comfortable sponging his half-naked body. I'm just not a touchy-feely sort of guy," McKay whined again.

McKay heard Carson cursing under his breath. "Nobody's wanting you to touch Colonel Sheppard. However, if his fever continues to climb, he's likely to have a seizure, and I shouldn't need to explain to a genius such as yourself the ramifications of that."

"Point taken. Just tell Zelenka to hurry up, we've been down here for six hours now. Tell the Czech bastard to pull his finger out. I mean, I know he's a little slow, but this is bordering on incompetent. McKay over, out and thoroughly pissed off," he huffed into his mic.

As McKay removed the cloth from Sheppard's forehead and poured more water on it, he sighed. How on Earth had he got himself in this situation? The answer was simple: John Sheppard.

It had been Sheppard's idea to go to Lab four at six 'o'clock in the morning to test a new Ancient Artefact they'd discovered on T6B-191 several days previously. The explanation for the colonel's early rise? He couldn't sleep; Sheppard couldn't sleep, so he'd woken up the physicist and whined until he'd agreed to go play with him. It soon became obvious to McKay that the colonel wasn't himself. Rodney had then realised, when he'd thought about it, that Sheppard had been a little off the day before. Nothing he could put his finger on, but – quiet and sullen. Not the irritating Sheppard that McKay had come to know and moderately appreciate.

As he began to sponge the colonel's torso, said man moaned and batted at McKay's hand.

"G' 'way. I's cold," John complained.

McKay ignored his delirious friend and continued his task.

"Let's not go through this again." Looking down at the prone man, he noticed John was drifting off to sleep. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty, you're not allowed to nap, remember- bump on the head?"

Sheppard prised open tired, unfocused eyes.

"I bumped my head?" He reached up with his right hand and probed the large egg on his forehead. "Did I get in a fight again, Mitch?"

"This is starting to really piss me off." McKay pulled Sheppard's hand away from his head and placed it back by the colonel's side. "You FAINTED!" he yelled, no longer able to contain his anger.

Sheppard recoiled. "No need to shout. Don't like it when you shout. Makes my head hurt."

McKay swallowed as he took in his friend's words.

"Oh God. Why me?" he asked in desperation. "It's okay, Sheppard. I'm not angry with you, just… incredibly frustrated."

"McKay? What's going on?" Sheppard asked again. "Er, I don't feel so good." McKay noticed the colonel's flushed face blanch.

"You don't feel so good as in you're cold and your head hurts, or you don't feel so good as in you're going to throw up all over me?" McKay's nose wrinkled in disgust.

Sheppard groaned and swallowed. "Sick…" he ground out as he rolled onto his side, pushing himself up on his elbows, and started to gag. He retched violently, as his breakfast put in an appearance. After the dry heaves had stopped, he groaned and flopped back down.

"Why does this keep happening to me?" McKay hoisted the limp colonel onto his lap, being careful to avoid the pool of vomit on the floor. As the shivering man started to slip from his grasp, Rodney put a hand on the floor to steady himself as his other hand grabbed the colonel forcefully. Once he'd found his equilibrium, he raised his palm from the floor, just to realise he'd plopped it down in the sticky mess. "Eeew! That's really disgusting!" he whined as he shook his hand and gulped. "Well, at least you didn't have raisin oatmeal for breakfast this time. Someone up above is obviously only half-pissing on me today!" He wiped his dripping hand on the leg of Sheppard's discarded pants, which were neatly folded nearby.

John smiled weakly.

"Sorry. Good job I only managed half a slice of toast this morning - wasn't hungry. I know you've never forgiven me for the oatmeal incident," he mumbled as he swallowed to ease his burning throat.

"Well, at least I know this isn't your appendix, as that's no longer in your abdomen. Could be more of the Alien STD's though. Did Carson ever check you for any?" McKay asked seriously, though the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his teasing.

Sheppard moaned softly.

"Haven't done anything to get anything. Besides, I'm always prepared. At least I was with Teer," he mumbled.

McKay snorted in disgust.

"You're telling me you carry condoms with you on missions?" The physicist's voice suddenly became high pitched.

John grinned.

"Like I said, I like to be prepared."

"And of course, you never can tell when a condom may be needed on a mission in the Pegasus Galaxy. I was wrong, you're not Kirk, he'd have never carried condoms," Rodney mused. "Arrgh! It's starting to smell in here. What is it with you and vomiting?"

John frowned.

"I said I was sorry, and it's not as if I did it on purpose or anything," he pouted, as he unsuccessfully tried to manouevre himself off of McKay's lap.

"Rodney?" Beckett's voice crackled through the radio. "How's the colonel?"

McKay looked down at the burning, fevered man whose head was against his chest. The heat from Sheppard penetrated through Rodney's own shirt, making him sweat uncomfortably.

"Oh, he's wonderful. At the moment he's half naked and shivering, burning up all over me, saying the most ridiculous things. Ah, and let's not forget that he just threw up - everywhere. It's okay though, it was only toast this time, not the delightful raisin oatmeal I was subjected to the last time he thought it'd be fun to anoint me with his stomach contents!"

Beckett tutted over the airways. "He vomited? When exactly were you going to inform me about this?"

McKay snorted. "Oh, for goodness sake, he just threw up about five minutes ago. It's nothing to get your sporran in a twist over," he replied in a condescending tone, as he groped for the ear thermometer he always carried with him in his rucksack. Sticking the medical instrument in Sheppard's ear he winced as he looked at the reading. 40.3 Degrees. Crap.

"Do I need to remind you that Colonel Sheppard is not only sick, but also has a head injury?" Carson asked in an irate voice.

McKay huffed. "No, I think we all know he's not quite firing on all cylinders at the moment, hence our conversation about condoms."

Beckett's exhalation could be heard through the radio. "I really don't want to know, Rodney. What's the colonel's temperature now?"

"40.3. I've been sponging him down lovingly, before you ask, but he's been saying some strange things." McKay snorted, and smiled wickedly. "I know what you're going to say, how's that different from normal?"

"Rodney, could you stop being so flippant for a minute? Temperature aside, I'm concerned he's vomited. He could have a concussion. Have you checked his pupils again?" Beckett asked forcefully.

McKay bit his lower lip. He hadn't. Why didn't he think of that. Extricating himself from Sheppard, and laying the sick man on the floor again, he fumbled with his rucksack, and rummaged through its contents, until he found his penlight. Quickly carrying out the neurological exam, he tutted, as Sheppard moved away from the light and moaned.

"M'Kay. Sick…" he groaned as he gagged and started to retch.

Rodney sprung to life, and rolled Sheppard for the second time that day.

"Carson? He seems to be showing signs of photosensitivity. His pupils were also sluggish," he informed the doctor anxiously.

"Rodney? Listen to me carefully. I want you to wait until the colonel has finished vomiting. Then, ask him to put his chin on his chest."

Once John had calmed down, and was lying limply on the floor, McKay forwarded Carson's instructions. As soon as John attempted to do as he was asked, he cried out, unable to perform the simple task.

"Oh God, it's meningitis, isn't it?" Rodney's panicked voice echoed around the lab.

Carson answered immediately.

"It's a possibility, I'm afraid."

Rodney stood and started to pace.

"He's got all the symptoms, hasn't he?"

McKay mentally went through the list: fever, headache, vomiting, confusion, photosensitivity, stiffness and pain in the neck. Crap.

"Aye, he does. However, he could have the 'flu and a head injury and have pulled his neck muscles when he fell," Carson explained, trying to calm the neurotic physicist down. "Can you check for any rashes? That could give us more of a clue what's going on."

Rodney scampered around the floor, quickly checking the colonel's body.

"I can't see anything, though I obviously haven't ventured underneath his underwear." He sat back on his heels and grimaced. "Tell me you don't want me to look underneath his boxers – please?"

Beckett chuckled. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Rodney. You gave the colonel Tylenol about three hours ago, and it's had no impact…" The radio went silent as Carson mulled over recent events. "Okay, try and get him to take two more. Is he still conscious?"

McKay looked down to see a glassy-eyed John looking at him dopily through half-closed lids.

"I'm 'wake," Johh slurred. "Head hurts, Doc. Never… thought I'd say this, but really want…to be in infirm'ry now…"

Carson exhaled over the mic. "I know, son. Radek's trying to get through the locked doors to get to you. Kavanagh's working on restoring power. We shouldn't be too much longer, then I'll sort you out, all right?"

"Yeah. Prefer your nurses. M'Kay's not good at…"

Sheppard stopped talking as his body stiffened, and his back arched off the floor.

McKay fell back onto his backside in shock. Quickly scrambling to his knees, he leaned over Sheppard and tried to hold him still.

"Carson? He's seizing. Shit. I don't think he's breathing!" he screamed into the headset.

Carson's voice was calm and commanding as it responded to McKay's outburst.

"Rodney? Calm down. It's not unusual for a patient to temporarily stop breathing as muscles seize. Wait for him to stop convulsing, and if he's not breathing when the seizure has ended, start CPR."

As unexpectedly as the seizure had occurred, it died away.

Sheppard's body relaxed, and he took in a shuddering breath.

Rodney shakily checked John's pulse and laid his hand on Sheppard chest to make sure he was breathing regularly.

"He's breathing. His pulse's racing though."

"That's normal in the circumstances, Rodney. I want you to put him in the recovery position for the moment in case he vomits again. I'm going to speak to Radek and see where we're at," Carson stated.

A soft moan from the floor drew Rodney's attention towards it.

"Colonel? Just lie still. You've gotten too hot again, and have had a nasty turn." Tutting to himself, Rodney shook his head. "God, I sound like Carson," he muttered.

Tapping his radio again, McKay shook his head as he studied the rapidly breathing man on the floor.

"Radek?"

"Rodney. I am very busy. I do not have time to talk to you. You want me to rescue you and Colonel, yes? Shut up please," Radek replied matter-of-factly.

McKay huffed in annoyance. "I just wanted to make sure you realised how urgent this is. I know you Central European's don't work as many long hours as us Canadian's do, but if you were stuck nursing a vomiting, fever-ridden, not to mention delirious pilot, who thinks you're after his body – well, you'd understand how I'm feeling right now…"

Carson's voice cut in over the radio.

"Rodney? Shut up. Radek's trying to work, and may I remind you, that it's yours and the colonel's fault this happened in the first place. If you two daft buggers hadn't been testing Ancient Doodad's at ridiculous hours of the morning, and had actually bothered to inform us what you were doing, then we would have discovered this little fiasco sooner." Carson's breathing could be heard over the air as he recovered from his outburst.

Rodney snorted. "Blame Mr. Insomniac over there. It was his idea. You know, next time he wants to play 'Test the Ancient Device and blow the power in the Eastern side of the city, causing a lockdown and radio blackout' - remind me to stay in bed," he grumbled.

"We're through the next doors. Only two more corridors to go, Rodney." Zelenka's voice chirped.

Rodney anxiously peered down at his friend, and did a double take as his eyes suddenly caught sight of purple dots on Sheppard's nearest forearm.

"Carson! Sheppard's got purple blotches on his arm. I swear they weren't there a minute ago. He's got septicaemia hasn't he?"

Carson could be heard exhaling. "Okay, let's calm down a minute. Do the rashes disappear when you touch them?"

McKay pressed the blotches and quickly removed his hand.

"I can't tell. I need a glass, don't I? I don't have one!" Scrambling to his feet, Rodney looked around the lab and grunted in approval as his eyes caught sight of a tray of empty test tubes on a workbench. Picking up one of the glass tubes, he ran over to John, and rolled it over Sheppard's arm carefully. "No, they're not blanching."

"Damn. There's nothing you can do at the moment. Is the colonel conscious?" Beckett asked, anxiety evident in his voice.

Rodney gently shook Sheppard's shoulders.

"No, and he's burning up . Just hurry – please!" McKay uncharacteristically begged Carson before turning his attention back to Sheppard. "You just had to do it again, didn't you? Why couldn't you just have the 'flu like any normal person? You know sometimes I swear you do this just to annoy me." McKay groaned, and picked up the discarded handkerchief. Wetting it liberally, he began to sponge Sheppard down again, as he waited anxiously for the cavalry to arrive.

Tbc.