A/N: Why this chapter, you ask? Because I'm sick and someone else, even a fictional someone else, can now share in my misery. :) That said, it's still pretty cute if I do say so myself. Thanks as always.

Even with the hard studying and sleepless nights, weeks turned into months, and time slipped easily by. Casey's time was strained between work and school. There was a good reason why most law schools would not allow students to work their first year attending. Casey had never actually told the school she was working, but most of her professors knew the cafe where she worked. One of her instructors, who doubled as a judge, stopped by every Friday and bought a mocha with a twenty dollar tip. She appreciated it, and it certainly helped her to get by.

When she had more difficult trouble than normal, either Alex took her out more frequently for meals and coffee as study breaks or else Casey would go to pay her rent and find that it had been paid already in part or in full. Alex never claimed the latter, but Casey knew it was never her parents. Not that they were not generous or willing to help her out. It was just that she did not dare say a thing about any sort of hardship while at Harvard. She had worked so hard to get in. She did not need to be reminded that she could have afforded NYU but not Harvard. That was not a lecture she wanted to hear about.

The winter made the bus route more difficult in Massachusetts than in New York City which was kind of a pain. It also meant that Casey spent more time in Alex's company. The woman had an apartment so close to Harvard that even when it was a blizzard out, it was possible to walk to the campus. It made studying nice and warm. Casey officially had an indentation in the couch as well, two, really. One for sitting and studying, the other for sleeping. More than once when it was below freezing, Alex talked Casey out of going home which was probably just as well because by the time the first session was complete, Casey had come down with a severe case of the sniffles.

Her parents had offered for her to go home over the Christmas holiday, but she had declined with a fever of over one hundred degrees. She had been trembling enough on the phone during a particular late night conversation with Alex Cabot that she suddenly found herself with a blond in her apartment, leaning over her with a cool rag. Somewhere in all of that, she was convinced to leave her own place and lay on the couch in the considerably more well off blond.

That was pretty much the extent of the convincing Alex was able to do. Casey refused to eat, too nauseous and ill to swallow even the soup Alex had warmed up. "No," Casey moaned, even as Alex sat on the coffee table in front of the couch. "I wanna throw up just from the smell, Alex. Please."

"Then, at least drink water, Casey. You're dehydrated. I can't believe you didn't call me sooner. Did you even go to work yesterday?" Alex asked, setting the bowl to the side. Casey shook her head, pulling the blankets tighter around her body. "That's probably a good thing. Jesus, Casey, you so need to call me next time."

"I can take care of myself," Casey retorted.

Alex sighed, picking up the bowl and carrying it back to the kitchen. "Yea, I can see that. Casey, I mean it. I'm your friend."

"And, I'm in your debt enough already." Casey coughed, groaning as she rolled so that she was face down on the couch. She hugged the pillow from the couch to her chest, coughing until she gagged.

Alex set a small trash bin beside the couch. "Are you going to throw up on me?" Casey shook her head. "Yea, right. Turn your head, look at me." Reluctantly, Casey did. "Uh, huh. Just what I thought. Throw it up." She held the bin in front of Casey's face, and the red head adjusted herself so that she was over the bucket. Panting, she threw up.

Almost immediately after, though, she was crying. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, Casey. You're sick. Let me just take care of you, okay?" Casey nodded, coughing again. "Good girl."

"Sorry to ruin Christmas for you. Why aren't you back with your family?"

Alex smiled, stroking Casey's hair out of her face. "My parents are in Italy until well after the next semester starts. I don't like coming in late or leaving early, and my parents aren't into party crashers." Pushing a glass into Casey's hand, Alex held on until Casey rolled over and sat up enough to take a sip. "Swill your mouth out, Casey. That's got to taste gross."

Casey complied, spitting the water back into the offered cup. "You gonna be okay for a minute?" Alex asked, earning herself a nodded response. Casey was not much of a communicator, but she was unusually quiet when she was sick. The more quiet, the more sick. It was a pattern that Alex had become familiar with in the nearly five months they had known each other. Casey's immune system apparently sucked, particularly with little sleep. "I'll be right back."

Ducking out of the room, Alex left Casey to roll back over, shuddering in her blankets. Presently, she felt a hand rub between her shoulder blades. Casey whined at touch, and Alex withdrew her hand. "I don't want to hurt you, Casey. I'm sorry. I know you're not feeling well."

"No, it's okay. It's – I'm sorry."

"Why don't you sleep, Sickey?" Alex suggested. "I've left a bell on the coffee table. If you need anything, I mean anything, ring the bell and I'll come running. The waste basket is behind you if you need to throw up again. There's some water and a bottle of Gatorade on the table as well. I mean it, Casey, anything you need, you let me know."

Once again, Casey only nodded.

"Oh, hot shot, feel better." Alex rubbed Casey's back gently before turning out the light. Casey shuddered, but she was out cold before Alex had even finished speaking. For several seconds in the dark, Alex leaned against her bedroom door off the living room, watching where she knew the couch to be in the darkness. The apartment was too pitch to see much of anything. Softly, Alex shook her head before turning in, her bedroom door open in case Casey needed anything.

Alex woke long before Casey did, though there was some question as to how much sleep Casey had really gotten. Alex had woken up a handful of times to Casey's coughing fits, and she had stayed silent and listened. The problem with being sick was there really just was not much Alex could do except make sure her friend drank water and rested, and even then, it was more that she could make sure those things were provided, not that Casey actually did them.

Muting the television, Alex flipped to the news, her eyes darting over what the weather would be like. For the most part, it was snowy that whole month, and with only four days until Christmas, it seemed that things would not be any different that day. The forecast called for snow and below freezing temperatures throughout the entire day, and, out of habit, Alex turned the thermometer in her apartment up a few degrees. She had an aversion to the cold despite her many years in New York City.

On the couch, Casey rolled over, blurred vision taking in the surrounding as best she could. In truth, she felt as though she had been smashed in the face with a nine pound hammer, and in a lot of ways, she looked the part. Her eyes had sunk a little, rimmed with darker skin than normal. "Alex?" she questioned, sitting up as she saw the blond at the other end of the couch, perched on the arm rest, watching the television.

"Hey," Alex murmured, turning to her. "You feeling okay?" Casey shrugged. "You look like you've been hit by a Mack truck."

"Feel like it, too," Casey mumbled, her voice dry and hoarse.

"Yea. Well, news anchor says to stay indoors today. Not that you need to be outside anyway with a voice like that." Once again, Alex earned herself little more than a shrug. "Lemme fix you some oatmeal. Nothing fancy, but it'll be easy on your stomach and the warmth will be nice for your throat. I think I've got some black tea around here, too, and some honey. We'll get you cured up in no time. No big deal."

Casey simply smiled. "Thanks, Cabot. You're a good person."

"I can't let you be sick at your place all alone. There's more space here, quite frankly, and the heat's more reliable. Your landlord ever come out to look at that?" she asked, referencing the depressingly low temperatures in the building. It seemed to effect the majority of Casey's building, and the tenants had all complained about it. Sometimes, the heat worked, and when it did, it was fantastic. Sometimes, though, it failed miserably, and that left for a lot of clothes and blankets worn all at once.

"It's a broken something or another. The guy was supposed to come out today to fix it," Casey mumbled.

Alex nodded. "That's good. Go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when I have breakfast ready."

Shaking her head, Casey protested. "I'm not hungry."

"Well, I am, and you need to eat something, so I'm making breakfast. Don't argue. You know I'll win because I'm right." Alex flashed Casey an award winning smile before vanishing through the open arch and into the kitchen before Casey had the opportunity to produce a counterargument. One of the few things she could still accomplish while feeling like road kill was arguing. It was just a talent. Still, for that, she did not argue. In part, Alex was right. Especially being sick, she needed to eat. In part, too, because even if she was wrong, Casey had never truly butt heads with Alex over anything those past five months, and to find out who better the argument would attend, Casey was not sure she wanted to know. At any rate, Alex was right, so the latter point had been rendered moot.

Laying on the couch, Casey drifted in and out of the muted news cast, picking up images here and there that melted into her psuedo-dreams producing strange images for her mind to work through. Not that her brain was doing much working. In what seemed like no time at all, though simultaneously felt as though many hours had passed, she woke in a coughing fit, scrambling to squeeze a pillow against her face to force her breathing to slowly and calm down. Casey pulled the pillow from her face to find Alex staring at her with a deer in the headlights look. "You okay, hot shot?" Alex asked. Casey nodded. "Uh, huh. Yea. Okay. Drink some water. Better yet, drink the Gatorade."

Casey did as she had been bid, sitting up with her legs tucked under her as she watched Alex watch her. "I've taken care of myself before," Casey murmured.

"Uh, huh. Yea. Okay," Alex merely repeated.

"I have."

"I believe you. You somehow got to twenty one without dying." Alex winked, ducking out of the living room and back into the kitchen, returning promptly with two bowls and two spoons. "I have honey, brown sugar, regular sugar, and sprinkles. What would you like?"

"You have sprinkles?" Casey asked, eyes wide.

"Best cure for a bad day usually involves sprinkles," Alex suggested. "The little rainbowy kind, mind you."

Curling up, knees to her chest, bowl on her knees, blankets tucked around her, Casey smiled. "It's hard to be sick around you," she mused. "I'll take sprinkles and honey, then."

"You got it." Alex set her bowl down and returned with a little plastic bear of honey and a container of not only rainbow colored sprinkles, but they were star shaped as well. She held them out to Casey who took them, carefully mixing them in to her oatmeal.

"Thanks, Alex. I really do appreciate it," she murmured, setting both containers down on the coffee table. "And, not that I don't or wouldn't do the same, but why come get me and bring me back here?"

Alex pressed the curve of her spoon to her lips, swallowing. "Let me think. Well, first there's the matter of your heater being broken. Yea, I know they'll fix it today, but that didn't help you last night. Then, there's the matter of having someone around to clean up your mess, make sure you eat, make sure you drink, and hold your hair back when you throw up. Casey, it's really no big deal. I just know what I like when I feel sick. I like to have someone take care of me. You're my friend. It's just what friends do."

Casey nodded. "You're a damn good friend, Cabot. Because, honestly, I wouldn't want to hold my hair back." Looking down at her oatmeal bowl, Casey cracked a small smile. It was mischievous and sly, but it was humor nonetheless.

"And, you've been here twelve hours and you're already feeling better." Alex reached forward and grabbed the television remote, turning the volume up on the set and flipping the channel to a movie channel. "Shall we see what Christmas misery is on TV?"

"Aw, why misery?" Casey asked, nibbling at an oat on the end of her spoon. She really was not feeling all that hungry even though she knew she had to eat. She was still cold and shaky, and the air hurt as she breathed. But, Alex had gone through such an effort to make her comfortable, and Casey liked to tease and talk with her, that it seemed unfair to reject the food and return to sleep where she badly wanted to go.

Alex shrugged. "My family doesn't celebrate Christmas," she said. "Well, okay, Uncle Bill used to bring me a present, but my parents were just never that into it. Besides, they said the presents they got me were trips to Spain and Italy – which, I adored, don't get me wrong."

"Still doesn't satisfy the question," Casey murmured, licking her lips of the honey she had found. One of very few foods she would never refuse was honey. Then, Casey Novak had a bit of a sweet tooth. In fact, it was kind of her weakness. She had always hoped as a child to never meet the pedophile with the candy because she would be a goner for sure, not that she knew as a child that people who preyed on children were called pedophiles, but she understood her parents' fears that their children would turn up missing. Moving around a lot meant that it was an exceeding possibility. New neighbors meant that those who had proven themselves safe were no longer around.

Sighing, Alex leaned back into the couch. "They never went on these trips. My dad's this huge investment guru which is why I went into business for my undergrad. He has some strange idea that one of these days I'll go to work for him if lawyering doesn't cut it for me. My mom's just my mom. A wealthy woman. She's always at some high class social gathering black tie thing or else she's hosting dinners and parties or on the committee for charity events. She has nothing better to do than be fashionable."

"Wow. Kind of sucks. I couldn't shake my mom as a kid. If not her, then my oldest brother, Will. He was like Velcro to us younger siblings."

Alex smiled. "What about your dad?"

"He was in the military. Well, still is. He's been in nearly thirty years."

"Damn, and I'm bitching about never there."

Casey shrugged. "It's okay. I mean, he wasn't always deployed. And, a lot of the time, we got to go with him. It was really the whole Middle East Gulf War thing that made my mom finally settle all of us down in New York City. She told my dad we couldn't follow him any more. Kennedy was almost two and Max was just having way too tough a time adjusting to new schools."

"No shit. So, what do you do for Christmas?"

"Well, my mom's the Super Catholic. I mean, I believe and all, but I'm just not as dedicated as she is. So, we do the whole Catholic thing for her. Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, we went to Mass, then after, everyone under fifteen got presents. Once you hit fifteen you were too old." Casey giggled. "I think it's just my parents' way of saving money. We weren't broke, but with a kid always too young for public school, my mom stayed home and worked part time on the weekends sometimes. It was less expensive than day care. My mom's great, but I don't know how she would do in the regular work field anyway. She was raised to be a housewife. But, she raised all of us kids to be independent, so I suppose it all worked out."

"Sounds super fun."

"Except for the Mass part, it is. I mean, okay, I'm Catholic, but I don't really see why God needs you to be in church for you to talk to him. Or, why it's so important that time of year. But, I think when she gets the chance, Mom's going to be in church every day. Will's a little like that. So is Lawrence. I think Kennedy will turn out that way, too. As for the rest of us, we fluctuate somewhere between all of that. Like Cassidy is an Atheist now. He calls himself a recovering Catholic. He's the only one excused from Mass. Robert and Steph are the lapsed Catholics. They show up for Christmas and Easter and whenever Mom decides their souls need a little extra saving. Then, there's me. And, I guess I'm the family Catholic. Like I said, I believe, but I don't get the whole church thing. I can read the Bible anywhere. Todd and Max don't have a choice, they're under eighteen and live with Mom."

Alex nodded slowly, appraising what had been said. "You have a huge family."

"I guess. I mean, you knew I had eight siblings."

"Yea, but it's a little different when you tell me about all of their individual personalities. That's a lot to keep track of."

"You have older brothers," Casey pointed out.

"Yea, two, Sam and Adam. That's a lot fewer than you. And, they were in their twenties when I was born. I was kind of the condom broke child."

Casey giggled. "I think that's what I like about Catholics. You just don't have sex if you're not planning on children."

"I don't think all Catholics see it that way."

"Not any more," Casey agreed. "I suppose religion doesn't mean much to all the religious any more. Then again, I don't know what kind of stone I'm preaching from."

Adjusting herself on the couch, Alex puzzled over Casey's statement. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not exactly the most committed Catholic ever. Just because my sins aren't theirs does not mean that I don't have equally reprehensible sins."

"Okay, so these women don't marry as virgins and have sex out of wedlock. That's pretty bad, right? Way back when, that was good for death in the Roman Catholic church, wasn't it? What's your equally reprehensible sin?"

Casey shrugged, staring down at the bowl in her lap. Her cheeks were bright, bright red, and she shook her head, looking like she wanted to cry. "I don't want to talk about it," she murmured. She blinked, fighting back tears.

"Casey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Alex whispered, scooting close, rubbing her hand over her friend's arm. "Hey, look at me." Casey did. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry. We can talk about something else."

Nodding, Casey stayed curled tightly. "Maybe next Christmas, you can come over, Alex. If you want. My parents would love you, though my mom will try to convert you."

"I'd love to," Alex agreed. "Though, I make no promises on being converted. Oh, you know what movie I went out and bought the other day?" Casey tipped her head in silent question. "How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was actually a pack of three animated movies from that decade about Christmas. I think Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer are in the pack, too."

"Can we start with Rudolph? I like that one best."

"Really? I've never seen them."

"You're kidding?" Alex shook her head. "You have to get in touch with your inner child, Alex, and introduce her to all of these fantastic movies. You've seen The Muppets: A Christmas Carol, right?"

Again, Alex shook her head. "I live under a hideous rock when it comes to entertainment."

"It's okay. It only came out three or four years ago, but Kermit and Miss Piggy and the gang all running around a Dickens' novel? You've gotta see it. It'll make you smile."

"Okay. You convinced me. But, I have Rudolph here, so let's watch that." Standing, Alex prepared and started the VHS, flopping back on the couch with a soft sigh. Casey watched her in silence for several seconds before throwing a pillow on Alex's lap and laying her head on it. Alex adjusted beneath the weight of Casey's head on her legs, one hand coming to rest on Casey's arm, the other playing with her ruby hair. Before the previews to other VHS were over, Casey had fallen into a light sleep on Alex's lap, a light rasp to accompany the sound of her breathing that told tale of both Casey's cough and her sleeping condition.

"Sleep easy, hot shot," Alex murmured as she kicked her feet up on her coffee table and settled deeper into the couch to watch the movie, her fingers still absently playing with Casey's hair.