Author's Note: Ok, before I start with the review responses, let me just vent a mite.

What in the hell is wrong with Ichigo in episode 45? Eh? Toni, you're with me here, aren't you? I just finished rewatching the ep, and between my Masaya-hate and a new spark of Ichigo-loathing, I don't know what to do with these characters! I mean, if Ichigo can't get it through her thick little skull that Kisshu is totally devoted to her after that entire show, then how much of a brain does she have? Dammit, if Kisshu didn't love her so much, I'd do an Ichigo-killing fanfic. How… unfortunate. If only we could just clone Lettuce and hand her out to men; she's a goddess, while Ichigo has some sort of a mental handicap that forces her to become ridiculously obsessed with one-dimensional imbeciles while ignoring someone who goes and dies for her. Oi. Flaming. Vey.

Ok… deep breath. 'sigh'. Lovely . Let's stow that murderous rage away for another time… say a Masaya-death fic.

Now, on to the thank you's and random comments.

BlackWingedGabriel: Hehehe…. I know. The fluff is murder. Ah well :P

KishxIchigo and….etc: Meh. I'm lazy today. Yea.. I dunno if my parents actually know what I'm doing up this late. Which is quite useful. And I have no life… which is also quite useful in this case .

samuraislygirl: Updating as we speak.

Super Lucky Tiki Charm: Updating, updating.

Sheebita and Toni: Crazy fluff monsters… we've already discussed chapter nine. And the squealing. Twas funny :P

Dust-in: Last, but certainly not least. Now, about your suggestion… it is perhaps the freakiest case of ESP I've seen so far :P. About an hour before getting your review, I was sitting and contemplating how to shove PaixLettuce into this fic. So, in answer to your suggestion… yea, I prolly will. Lettuce is goddess, after all.

Now, without further ado, we get to our lovely Disclaimer.

Disclaimer: Go watch episode 45. That in itself is proof that I do not own TMM.

When Kisshu's eyes opened, his blurred vision told him nothing of his surroundings; his cloudy mind did little to help, either. For a few moments, he laid half-conscious, dimly wondering where he was and what it was that he was lying against. It was soft, warm, and as he came to himself, he found that it had a sweet, tender scent that compelled him to huddle even closer to it.

As he made that small movement, he realized that an arm was draped over him, and a light weight rested against his head. Some more movement told him that the weight was a hand, and its fingers were tangled him is hair. This all came with a sharp pain in his chest, a swift reminder of the events of the past two weeks. For a few seconds, he digested this information, his sleep-ridden brain painfully slow, before coming to the final question of exactly what he was lying against.

Or who, actually, because this…this…

The name came as both a jolt of surprise and a blessedly granted wish. Ichigo.

His eyes focused on her face, on her long, delicate lashes, on the strands of strawberry hair messily that hung over her forehead as she slumbered peacefully. A minute ticked by, and he remained frozen, partially in utter confusion at his position, but mostly, overwhelmingly, because he did not want to wake her.

The moment… he could not have imagined, in his wildest fantasies, a more perfect image, a more blissful feeling than this. For so long… so very long… He had wished for this for so very long; every time he saw her, he'd dream of a chance like this, a chance to just be with her. It was something he knew she did not understand; his actions toward her were always so impish or cruel. He was possessive, and he knew this. He was somewhat tyrannical, and he knew this as well, yet that did not change his core, nor the fact that she could hardly guess it. She could never guess how blissful a moment such as this was, how he desired such a thing every time he felt her presence, heard her voice, saw her shining eyes…

It always came out wrong; his nature always twisted it all. He always failed. Yet now… now, if he could just keep from waking her… if he could just allow sleep to govern, perhaps the dream would not have to end.

Such were his thoughts as he watched the sleeping Ichigo, as he moved ever closer to her, closer to her soft, tender lips. One kiss… one kiss, and it would be perfect. One kiss, and he would relinquish control to slumber and hope against all that sleep could preserve the moment.

That precious kiss was stolen from him by a sudden, maddening tickle in his throat and a vicious searing pain jumping from shoulder to chest, causing him to jerk back in utter shock before the tickle forced a ragged cough from him, shaking his thin frame violently.

He would have cursed in frustration had the sudden physical agony not been so complete. The cough robbed him of breath, and had it not, he would have likely screamed at the fiery pain consuming his left side. Had he been able to, he would have cursed it all, because it not only took the kiss, but woke Ichigo.

The girl's period of blissful ignorance was dramatically shorter than Kisshu's; very quickly, she remembered where she was, whom she was with, and what had happened. A millisecond after that, she realized what had awoken her, and wasted no time in trying to help.

"Kisshu," she murmured his name, soft, slightly drowsy voice heavily laced with concern as she began to gently pat the alien on the back, trying to quiet him. A few moments of this proved futile; the icy edge of panic began to cut into her psyche as she sat up straight, grabbing the boy by the shoulders and straightening him as well, holding him up until the hacking subsided, leaving Kisshu wheezing softly.

Both were thoroughly awake now, and both realized with the same stab of dread that the situation had worsened overnight. Ichigo's expression changed from sleepy to sharply concerned as she gave the alien a good look.

He was starkly pale, even for his race, though his cheeks were flushed. His eyes were oddly bright, and a sheen of sweat shone on his forehead. As he slowly gained his breath back, he identified a feeling of weakness and a strange chill despite the warm nest of blankets Ichigo had created. Worst of all was the burning in his throat, only intensified after the coughing episode, which he suddenly felt would not be his last. Fully awake, he realized that he felt awful.

It only made him wish for that sweet, peaceful ecstasy of a few minutes ago even more.

This wistful thought was interrupted by Ichigo's voice.

"Hold still, ok, Kisshu?" Without waiting for a response, the girl reached out and placed a gentle hand on the alien's forehead, worry creasing her face as her fears were realized.

Of course he was feverish; what could she possibly expect after all that had happened? She should have expected it from the night he appeared before her (his usual outfit could hardly be called appropriate for being out in snowfall), and it probably became a given the moment he left her house and spent that half hour or so in the snow, already weakened from previous exposure.

Nevertheless, no matter how expected the diagnosis, Ichigo's heart sank as she watched the boy shiver from a sudden chill, and a sudden pang of tenderness struck her.

She gently pushed the boy back down onto the bed, unwrapping the blankets from around herself as she did so. As she smoothed the covers around him, she was rather surprised to feel the beginnings of tears in her eyes. It's all gotten worse. What am I supposed to do now? I don't know how to cure…

She was even more surprised by the sound of his voice, raspy, weak, yet still holding a trace of his usual cunning.

"Leaving already?"

She looked down at him, stunned, almost wondering if she should scold him for what appeared to be another of his lewd comments, but a simple glance at his face drove that from her mind.

His smirk was there, wan, but there. His eyes held that familiar spark, yet it was dulled by the force of pain, weakness, even fear. Even more intriguing, they held…perhaps, it was her imagination…concern? At first, the notion seemed ridiculous, yet suddenly, she remembered certain times, certain moments that his eyes had been different. Like that night the tapir chimera anima had nearly taken the Mew Mews. That night that had started all of this. That night… she was not quite sure of what had happened that night, but she remembered that same look in his eyes. She remembered how it had confused her, nearly frightened her, how it had caused her to let him slip from her grasp.

Ichigo knew, with no doubt, that she could not let the same thing happen again. No matter what the past said, she had to be different now.

Instead of the snap that his tone may have inspired, she answered with a smile filled with all the reassurance she could muster in her anxiety. "I'm going to get a thermometer, ok? I'll be right back."

Again, to her surprise, he had no more to say. Kisshu lay back against the pillow, a light cough shaking him as she left the room.

As she rummaged through the medicine cabinet, she bit her lip, hands trembling as the icy edge of panic threatened to cut into her psyche. How could she possibly get through this now? It had been different when he had had only a wound. Sure, it was a deep wound, but a few days of bed rest could have allowed him to regain enough strength to be able to take care of himself.

Now… now, it was all so infinitely worse, and the more horrible aspect of it (and she physically cringed when she acknowledged this) was that it was, undeniably, her fault. It was through her rashness and insensitivity that he had fallen so ill so quickly, her fault that she found herself faced with a situation she did not know how to handle.

All this occupied her mind as she left the bathroom with thermometer in hand. As she walked down the hallway, another set of thoughts assaulted her.

You just slept with Kisshu.

She gritted her teeth, frustrated that it would have to wait, annoyed that she had to face that alien boy with these thoughts running dangerously close to her normal train of thought. How desperately she wanted to sort it out! Yet… perhaps it was best that she didn't. Not yet. Somehow, she knew that the results may not be what she expected, nor what she believed she wanted. Somehow, she knew that later was best.

Still, it didn't stop those butterflies of doubt from performing their customary dance in the pit of her stomach.

Ichigo returned to the bedside, taking the thermometer from its casing before sitting down in her desk chair beside Kisshu, holding the instrument before him.

"This is a thermometer. It measures your body temperature. You're going to have to hold it under your tongue for a little while, all right?" She waited for a few seconds, wondering if he would be difficult, but he only nodded (inside, she cringed at the terrible pallor in his face), obediently opening his mouth for her to slip it underneath his tongue.

The thing was electric, and it took only a few seconds for it to register his temperature. She took it out and read it. Thirty-nine degrees Celsius. A few moments of staring at it made her realize that she didn't actually know an alien's normal body temperature. Blushing slightly at the unexpected bout of her annoyingly habitual ditziness, she cleared her throat nervously before asking.

"What's your normal temperature? In our degrees?"

Due to the silence that followed, she thought that the question was too difficult for him in his current state, and was about to interrupt his thinking, when he murmured "Thirty-five."

Thirty-five. Thirty-nine and thirty-five… that's… that's bad.

"You… you're sick, Kisshu." Um… well, duh. She regretted it the moment she had said it, and she was obviously not the only one to see the comment's stupidity.

"I could have told you that, ko—" he broke off coughing, and her own shame vanished as the pain returned to his face. She could only wait until he stopped, though she did place a hand on his head, unconsciously stroking his hair as the episode ended. Her worry only intensified when she realized it had weakened him beyond finishing his quip. He lay trembling slightly under her touch, breathing slowly and a little too shallowly for her liking. She bit her lip again. Somewhere in a corner of her mind, she wondered if, eventually, she'd bite her lip through and taste blood.

Not taking her eyes off the boy as she wondered what to do. She supposed… maybe human medicine would work on aliens? She could at least try it, as long as it wasn't poison. Some food wasn't a bad idea, either. More soup would work. And she still needed to change that bandage. Goodness knew the wound was certainly open now, after that hacking cough.

All this ran through her mind as she absentmindedly stroked his hair. Her other hand smoothed down the blankets. Had she been more aware, less steeped in her thoughts and anxiety, she may have seen that, mostly recovered from the attack, Kisshu watched her with an expression of curious contentment on his flushed face. She wasn't, so she spoke without noticing any of it.

"I'm going to go get some medicines." Now, however, she did notice a sudden spark of… what? Disappointment? Dull fear? Whatever it was, she realized that… he didn't want her to leave. She also knew that it was from none of his normal possessiveness. Suddenly, she became even more aware of the liquid fear in his eyes, and her concerned expression softened even more. A reassuring smile tugged at her lips.

"I'll be back soon. Just down the hall, ok?" She allowed her hand to rest on his forehead. She stood, but her eyes stayed on him, her smile never wavering, her need to comfort him overcoming her doubts with a force that would have shocked her had she been in the state to notice it.

"I promise."

Had she been paying attention to her thoughts, she would have known that those two simple words concerned so much more than a simple trip down the hall.

As usual, she didn't, but that didn't stop the phrase from giving Kisshu some much-needed comfort, and he relaxed as her hand ran against his hair once more before she left.

Author's Note: Oh God… 1:15 AM. Bio test tomorrow. I shall die. But it shall be a happy death. Read and review, please.