AN: I think she makes me do this because she knows I hate you all. But it's either this, or the clown.

As even you may have guessed, ScaryScarecrows does not own Alice in Wonderland, which is in the public domain. She also does not own me, fortunately, and has promised to return me in the condition she found me in-slightly broken. What fun.

This will be updated on Tuesdays and Saturdays, unless I can find a way to destroy the document. Perhaps the computer will meet with an accident...hem. Those of you trying to keep a timeline *stalkers* can fit this into my time in college. I remember very little and I question how much of this is true.


Ahh. Tea, a nice fat book, and her fuzzy blanket. Kitty Richardson really can't ask for much more than this.

Her peace is shattered by a nasty hacking from behind her. Lovely. Just lovely.

"Kitty, I believe you got me sick."

How dare he blame her! If he would go to bed before two AM, his immune system might be better equipped.

She closes her book and sets down her mug. She'll come back to them later.

"You look like death, love."

Jonathan Crane coughs again and wraps his arms around himself. Kitty sighs and gets up to steer him towards a hot shower. Thank god it's winter break.

"Bend down a bit, you're too tall."

He does as she says and she puts her hand on his forehead. Ouch. She'll have to drug him, then-she can't trust him not to get a head start on papers or something.

"Well, Nurse?"

"Shower. March."

"Yes, ma'm."

She waits until she hears the water go on before digging through the medicine cabinet for the NyQuil. Oh, what fun this is going to be.

She's enjoying her book and tea again when he stumbles out of the shower, his hair still wet. He still looks like death.

"Scarecrow's gone."

He sounds like death, too. Fantastic.

"You have a fever, that's all. Come on, into bed with you."

"But…"

"No buts. Come on."

He lets her tug him into their room and tuck him in without complaint.

"Kitty?"

"Maybe no talking."

"Your parents are coming over…"

"At six. It's only two. They're not staying the night, anyway, they're just coming for dinner and then going to the hotel."

"They're still coming over."

"Yes. And they'll forgive you for being in quarantine." She drops a kiss on his head and he squirms out of reach.

"You'll get sick."

"I was sick." she reminds him. "Go to sleep."

"Not tired."

Men. They complain about being sick, and then insist that everything's fine. Sometimes she wonders if cavewomen just knocked them out until the cold was over. Sometimes it's tempting.

"Go. To. Sleep."

He huffs at her and promptly starts to cough. She ruffles his hair-he hates it, but she can't help herself, she really can't-and flicks off the light.

"Kitty?"

She won't cause permanent damage if she knocks him out with a book, will she?

"Yes?"

"Would you make me a cup of tea?"

"Lemon or mint?"

"Lemon."

"Fine."

"Would you make me a sandwich while you're in there?"

Is he serious? He sounds serious, but that's normal. She turns around to check and finds him giving her a sleepy smirk.

"Arsenic or cyanide?"

That should wipe that smirk off his face.

He's half-asleep when she comes back and she takes the opportunity to gather his papers into a stack and lock them in her side of the dresser.

"Thanks, Kitty."

"Mm-hm. Night."

When she looks in on him half an hour later, he's dead asleep.