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You wake up after disturbing nightmarish dreams to a familar itching, and even burning sensation in parts of your body. Even as you feel the pain hit your tail bone you see it legthening further than it was previously. You reach up and feel a similar but less painful growth of your ears as they grow larger, more pointed, more cat-like and obviously become more sensative.

The itchiness gets worse as your new tail's fur sprouts along with all over new parts of your body. The fur appears to be spreading all down your back, even your existing fur grows a bit longer. You look down at your hands and see that part of the flesh of your palms and fingers seems to be padding over further. The very shape of your fingers changing to become more cat-like, as the flesh grows over the reshapping nails to create retractable claws. Your feet follow suit, the flat of the foot the only part that becomes padded though.

Finally you feel your face scretch and change, a painful sensation as it grows a bit more rounded. Tears welling up in your eyes as your nose becomes wider, flatter, and more catlike and your teeth grow longer, sharper, and almost completely feline. Your nose particurally seems more sensative than ever.

Julian woke with a start, the searing sensation across his back forcing him into consciousness. He screamed wordlessly at first, thrashing hard enough to send him crashing to the floor from atop his bed.

"CHESHIRE!" His voice was a hoarse yowl as he grasped at his shirt, trying to yank it off. "MAKE IT STOP!"

I can't stop it, Julian.... Cheshire sounded...pleased? How could he, while Julian was in so much pain? ...But perhaps if you recite, it won't hurt so much.

He opened his mouth to protest, but was met with a sharp, excruciating pain at the base of his spine. The loud popping filled his ears as his tail lengthened, the fur all the while burning itself in.

Very well, very well, don't recite, then. At LEAST focus on me - on my voice. The Jabberwock is furious about all this....

The Jabberwock was the farthest thing from Julian's mind right now - especially as he felt his ears stretching out, the eardrums throbbing under the slow crunching of the cartledge.

Julian tried his hardest to focus on Cheshire's voice - but it was awfully difficult while he wasn't speaking. Perhaps the Cat was angry...and enjoying the show.

The burning sensation of the fur spreading over his body made him writhe against the carpet, pressing his smarting palms against the floor. The padding felt thick and strange - alien.

With a wince, and the pinning back of his new ears, he was painfully reminded of the electrical tape around his fingers and toes. The tape buckled and tore under the strain of his limbs changing shape, the claws getting forced back into their retracted position.

Of course, all this was dwarfed by the horrible sensation of his face changing. He screeched a catlike yowl, padded hands rubbing against his smarting jaws and nose....

...And all at once, it was done.

Julian blacked out there on the floor...now as much Cat as he was human.

____

Cheshire was the one who woke.

Presently, he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, looking rather pleased with himself. He turned his head this way and that, inspecting his ears and silvery fur.

"....Lovely...."

Lifting his hands - or paws? - to his face, he pulled away the torn electrical tape with his teeth, flexing his smarting claws.

"...Every inch a cat, Jabberwock. Was there any question? He's mine...."

Tail flicking, he took a few steps on his cat-like feet, satisfied with the silence the pads provided.

"...He's mine."

"SILENCE!"

With a painful crack of his tail, Cheshire was against the wall, grinning through the sting. "...You shouldn't be so rough. We share a body, after all, and Julian-"

"Never mind what Julian thinks! That's all I hear from you, Cat - JULIAN this or JULIAN that!" The Jabberwock was right in Cheshire's face, holding him against the wall with his claws. Of course, he really wasn't there...a figment of the mind. But figments of the mind, on the other hand, are very real to those whose mind is invaded.

"What it comes down to, Cat, is that I could eat you in one bite. I am in charge."

Cheshire laughed in spite of himself, looking the Jabberwock in the eyes. One of his ears flicked, then flattened back against his head once more.

"Actually, it comes down to a battle of wits, doesn't it? I would say I might win in that department, anyhow. Besides...you're hurting poor Julian, doing this-"

"BROKEN. RECORD." The Jabberwock was getting exasperated. A stinging punch swiped Chesh's face, snapping his head towards one side. "Do you think I care? He's weak, he's DYING!"

"...Please...don't mention that...." Julian himself was there - but only just. His voice was meek and quiet, and he was only watching from the back of his mind. He couldn't stand there like Jabberwock was. The rose bushes had pulled him back again.

"SILENCE, BOY. I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU." Jabberwock's voice was a snarl. Julian complied, frightened and weak, and was completely silent again. He didn't want to listen.

"See, now you've frightened him again. Touchy creature you are."

Jabberwock had about all he could take.

"Just because of the fur and paws, you assume you run things, Cat. But you're quite wrong...and I suppose I'll just have to PROVE that."

____

When Cheshire woke again, it was with a short yowl of pain...turning his grinning face downward to look at the fresh claw marks across his chest. Slowly, he pulled himself off the floor, not troubling himself to turn on the light, and clawed his way into bed.

...Where he began to lick his paws in order to wash his chest.

Julian sniffled, and one ear perked.

"...Shh...it's all right, Julian. I'll protect you...just like before." His grin broadened, his claws splaying outward.

"...You can trust me...."

It was dark in the room. It had been for weeks.

Julian was sitting on his bed, feverishly scribbling at a sheet of lined paper. Paper of the same sort was strewn all about him like a storm had taken place - a torrent of words and scribbles in ink and pencil.

He, also, had been like this for weeks. Sleeping only as his body forced him, eating only when Cheshire insisted in his low purr. Even the Mock Turtle was better fed than him - some lettuce in a bowl in the corner usually furnished by his fellow denizen of 'Wonderland.'

Dried tears were sticky on Julian's face - the tips of his digits raw and bleeding from the constant writing.

"Julian. Julian." Cheshire tried again.

"...Mmnn...?" It was a noncommital, hollow little sound. Even under this noise, his voice seemed hoarse. He kept writing.

"Julian," Cheshire purred, "You need to eat now. And you might consider going outside. You need the fresh air."

"...I don't want to." He hadn't been like this for what seemed like ages - hadn't felt the urge to write so strongly since before the Island.

Cheshire took a moment to think - he couldn't usurp control when Julian was so focused, and that bugged him. His voice became a sultry whine. "...Please, Julian. I'm only looking after you...and you may well kill yourself going on this way."

"...I'm almost done. Have to write this. Have to...this...finish." Broken sentences again - more focus. Julian didn't notice how quiet Cheshire had gotten while he was working - in fact, he scarcely noticed anything.

He couldn't. Noticing hurt too much, and writing was freedom.

"Julian...." But the Cat could do little. Abandoning his effort, he instead took to reading over Julian's shoulder....

...Noticing the subject matter of the book.

"...Yes, Julian," said the Cat, suddenly pleased with himself over something, "...You should finish this one...."

At first, nothing.

Then a soft shuffling, just behind the door. The shuffling became a scratching, the doorknob rattled, and the door opened a slat, revealing nothing but darkness inside.

The door wasn't opened any further, and something in the room shuffled away from the threshold.

The room was an absolute wreck.

Sheets of lined paper were everywhere - on the floor, on the bed. Sitting atop some of them were a series of used-up pens and pencils...most of them tinged red at the ends where they were gripped.

The bedsheets had some tatters on the ends, as if clawed - and the back of the very door had many score marks in the paint. Many things were slashed or broken - save for the Alice books, which were eerily intact and immaculate atop their shelf.

The only sign of life immediately visible in the room was the Mock Turtle - who was sleeping dolefully atop his wilting lettuce.

But just then...there was a strange sound in the bathroom.

Still no answer.

The bathroom was also a mess - some papers were torn into little bits in here, strewn over everything. The mirror was riddled with cracks, some red worming through the lines here and there.

The shower curtain was drawn shut (albeit with some claw marks through it), and there was a faint swishing in the tub.

...And there was Julian, shirtless, kneeling in a couple inches of reddened water and rubbing at his paws.

He looked horrible - dark rings about his eyes, emaciated, bruised body. His hair was an absolute mess, looking as if he had been pulling at it and mussing it up...and the red stood out horribly on the silver of his fur.

He didn't look up, his emerald gaze haunted.

"...Another voice come to haunt me?" His voice was a hoarse croak.