Kitty rolls over for the thousand-and-first tissue of the afternoon and silently curses the Riddler. He did this to them. HE DID THIS. TO THEM. ON PURPOSE.

Plague bearer.

When she feels better-or dies and comes back as a vengeful poltergeist, whichever's first-she is going to find him and she is going to hurt him. Sneeze near her, will he? He'll be lucky to sneeze again when she's through with him.

The shower shuts off and a minute later, the bathroom door opens and steam fills the room. Jonathan appears in the middle of it, practically a wraith, and shambles over to the bed with a hoarse, "I'll kill him."

One day. One day.

But not right now-moving makes her dizzy and besides, Jonathan's now doubly-warm after his shower and she's not willing to sacrifice that.

She squeezes against his side and wheezes, "Can we frame him for something terrible? Set everyone else on him instead?"

"Hrm." His hand comes up and he knots his fingers in her hair. "Maybe."

It'll do.

They stay there for a while, until the steam's all gone, and she's starting to drift off when he nudges her and rasps, "Medicine."

Oh.

Right.

They've taken to leaving the medicine in the kitchen, because that ensures they eat with it like you're supposed to. Unfortunately, getting up is a lot harder than it used to be.

But the medicine is calling, and they manage to struggle up and shuffle out there in a fair impression of a pair of zombies. Food-there might be some leftover chicken soup in the fridge, if it really is Wednesday and not Friday, and then pills, and then the sweet, sweet release of sl-

"HIIII!"

The fire alarm is going off. Why is the fire alarm going-oh.

Oh, no.

It's not the fire alarm, it's worse. Fire alarms can be shut off. Harley Quinn…not so much. At least the clown isn't here…

Jonathan starts to cough, glasses sliding halfway down his nose, and Kitty sneezes. Harley vaults over a chair to get to them.

"Ya look awful, what happened? Do ya need anything? How 'bout a hug? Mistah J says laughter's the best medicine but ya know-"

"Harleen. No."

It's probably the loopiness of the fever, but Kitty figures she can spare a thought for, he must be sick, his accent's never that pronounced. And, a second later, shame we're both sick.

Harley steamrolls over him with an unreasonably cheery, "I always figured there was somethin' to a big ol' hug, y'know, the kind your gramma gave when you got in the house-"

"No."

"-so jus' hold still and you'll be better in no time-"

"Harley." she wheezes, and finally the girl shuts up. "If you're going to hug someone, hug Eddie. He deserves it."

"Eh, later. Go siddown, I'll make ya somethin' real nice."

Harley…look. They're not great cooks. Kitty will admit this. But. Harley…Harley makes it look really delicious and then you bite in and realize she put mustard in as a secret ingredient. People have probably died from her cooking. (Shame Joker isn't among them…)

All the same, they're really in no shape to protest, and she shoves them onto a couch that's been neglected for about two weeks.

"Don't. Move."

Once humming is coming from the kitchen, Jonathan sighs and drops his head onto hers.

"Is her voice naturally that shrill?"

"I don't know."

"Kill me."

"You're not leaving me alone with her."

He huffs, breath warm against her hair, and murmurs, "She'll probably kill us both anyway."

Probably, Kitty thinks despondently. And it wasn't…that bad…of a day. The mooks were staying out of the way, Batman hadn't come crashing through the window…

Why. Why must something always go wrong.

She yawns and burrows into his robe a little bit. May as well die comfy.

And, hopefully, with the knowledge that Harley really will go and hug that green fucker. She probably will.

And that, Kitty thinks, is the most fitting punishment of all.

THE END