Author's Note: Thank you so much for those who have reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! Please don't forget to REVIEW, and I hope you like this chapter! (Edited by Chereche!)

P.S. I couldn't help myself...a.k.a. Lucaya

UPDATED: 12/12/16

Disclaimer: I don't own Girl Meets World, just the story!

Chapter Twelve: Learning More

"You're going to get sick, Sundance," Maya sniffed.

"Nah, I'll be fine...besides you're only sick because you jumped into that pond," Lucas reminded.

She shook her head. "No, that's not how it works. You can't get sick just because you're out in the cold or something for a while. Colds and the flu are transmitted through viruses, contracted from other people."

He stared at her, his hand frozen halfway to his mouth.

"Technically being exposed to harsh conditions does weaken your immune system, which makes you more susceptible to sickness. So, I guess it was partly because I jumped into the pond," she shrugged, swallowing a bite of carrot.

Lucas raised his eyebrows, and gazed at her in surprise. Noticing him watching her, she glared back and sniffled.

"What?"

"I think the sickness is good for you, Clutterbucket," he teased. "I didn't realize you were so knowledgeable about it."

"Oh, no that's not it." Maya waved her hand around like she was shooing away a fly. "I just paid some attention in Science class last month."

"Then, maybe you should do that more often, huh? You might actually get 'A's'."

"I get lots of 'A's'!" she protested.

Lucas crossed his arms. "What class?"

"That one class where we have projects, and students, and pencils—"

"—and it's art class." He smirked. "Which isn't a real class."

"It is too!" Her jaw dropped. "You better watch your mouth Huckleberry...I'm sick, but I can still kick your butt."

She sneezed, and glanced sheepishly at him. "I still can," she said with less certainty.

"Oh, I know." Lucas winked. "So, how's the soup?"

"Huh? Oh, yah. It's great." Maya glanced down at the bowl, then looked back up at him, smirking. "Did you and your mama make it?"

"Why do you naturally assume that?" He rolled his eyes.

"One word! Muffin. Project."

"That's two."

"Whatever. All I remember was the whole conversation about "good eating and wholesome living"...admit it; you made this."

Lucas started cracking up. "Actually, I just found the can in the back of my cupboards at home."

Her mouth dropped open. "How dare you feed me this! I am deathly ill, and can't eat this "back- of-the-cupboard-soup"!"

"Okay, I'll just take it away, then." He grabbed the edge of the bowl.

"No! I'm sick, not picky," she grumbled, snatching it back.

"You know, for someone who's sick, you're certainly not acting like it," he mused, watching her with amusement. "You've only sneezed a couple of times."

"Must look better than I feel, then," she snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lucas asked, suddenly concerned.

"Oh, calm down, Sundance." Maya noticed his expression. "I just have a headache, and I'm stuffed up."

"Did you check to see if you have a fever?" He asked.

"No, I'm probably fine. See, I don't even sound stuffed up." She waved him off.

Lucas laughed. "Actually, you kind of do."

"Whatever, not the point. I'm sure I'm fine."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and noticed she looked kind of pink, and had only taken a couple bites of soup. Reaching out a hand across the table, he felt her face, which she immediately slapped away. But, he had already touched her forehead.

"I think you might have a fever. You're really warm," Lucas said, standing up to look for a thermometer.

Maya rolled her eyes, causing her head to protest and making the headache worse.

"I don't have a fever...gosh, you're so dramatic!"

"Where's your thermometer?" he asked, ignoring her stubbornness.

"I'll get it," she sighed, sliding off her seat slowly.

"No, I can find it for you."

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Huckleberry! I can take care of myself...in fact, thank you for the soup, but you can leave now. My mom should be home soon, and I'll be fine until then."

"First of all your mom's not coming home until 11, and second, stop trying to be tough all the time. I don't mind getting it." Lucas sighed in exasperation.

Maya rubbed her forehead in part frustration, part pain.

"Okay...fine, I don't really care anymore. It should be in the bathroom somewhere."

Lucas looked at her funny, and headed down the hallway. She had gone from joking to defeat in 2 seconds, and that's when he knew for sure she wasn't feeling well. He found the thermometer quickly, and rushed back to Maya, who had nestled herself into the couch cushions. Sitting next to her, he disinfected the metal, and handed her the gauge.

"I hate these things." She muttered, sticking it beneath her tongue.

"So do I," Lucas admitted, smiling a little.

"Dis' is ald your faulb," Maya pointed a finger at him.

"Don't talk while it's in your mouth. It won't work if you do," he reprimanded, closing her jaw. "And how is this my fault?"

She began to answer, when Lucas remembered what he had just said, and silenced her with a shake of his head.

"Never mind. It doesn't even matter."

They waited in silence for a minute, Maya focused on keeping her headache and sudden queasiness at bay. She hated being sick. Hated it! And she especially disliked her friends to know, so Huckleberry was going to have to leave soon...somehow. It wouldn't matter that she'd be home alone; it wasn't the first time...and it was always embarrassing to be sick. It was like the worst possible form of yourself; looking nasty and gross, and acting the same way uncontrollably. No way did she want anyone around for that. Not to mention the fact that the whole reason she was like this, was because she had jumped into that stupid pond and almost drowned.

"Okay, you should be good." Lucas took the thermometer out of her mouth, and checked for the temperature.

Maya sighed, and swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat. She was not going to throw up...it was bad enough that she had a stuffy nose, and a really annoying headache.

"Yup, you have a fever." He showed the glass to her. "100.5."

"That's not that high." She closed her eyes.

"Uh, kind of...it's still a fever, and it could rise higher. You just need to make sure you drink plenty of water, and I can get you some ibuprofen if your headache is really bothering you." Lucas remarked, cleaning the thermometer.

"Okay, thanks...then you should leave. You could get sick, and remember, you can't get sick."

He rummaged once more through their cabinets, though this time through the medicine and pills.

"I'm not going anywhere, so please stop trying to kick me out. What kind of person leaves a sick girl alone on a couch, anyway?" He asked, checking the label on a white bottle.

"You." She groaned.

"Are you okay?" Lucas glanced her way.

"I'm fine, Ranger Rick."

He found the ibuprofen, and brought the bottle over to the couch, handing it to Maya. Remembering the water, he jumped up and grabbed her cup on the counter, then sat back down again.

"You don't have to be my servant." She squinted at the words printed on the bottle, her eyes hurting just trying to read. "Do I take like two?"

"Start with one, and then we'll see how you feel," Lucas told her, handing her the cup of water.

She lifted the pills to her mouth, but stopped half-way. Crap, she was going to throw up. Setting everything down on the coffee table, she ran to the bathroom, and made it just in time. Now, this she dreaded most of all when she got sick. Throwing up was her worst sick fear, and each time she felt nauseous, Maya would always try to quell it for as long as possible. Although, she knew she was really just delaying the inevitable.

She felt cool hands brush her hair back, as she continued to heave. Great, now Sundance was here. He found a hairband somewhere, and tied the blonde-blue curls back loosely.

Eventually, she finished vomiting, and rested her head on the wall. Maya couldn't meet Lucas's eyes, until he handed her a wet washcloth, which she accepted gratefully.

"I think you're sick." He smiled.

"Don't rub it in," she croaked in response.

"Okay, I think you should lay down. Do you want to rest in your room, or—"

"I'll just stay on the couch." She didn't want to be in her room, alone and with all the holes and depressing lack of artwork.

They cleaned up, and made their way back to the couch, where Maya groaned and sat down. Lucas handed her the ibuprofen and water, watching her closely. She returned his gaze, as she sipped from her glass.

"I'm fine, Hop a' long...and now you really should leave because I've apparently picked up the flu from somewhere, and it's pretty contagious." She warned, leaning back onto a pillow.

"I think I'll live." He smiled at her.

"Ugh, for a cowboy, you sure are stubborn."

"Thank you, ma'am." Lucas tipped his imaginary hat, chuckling as she rolled her eyes. "Regardless, I'm staying...and we should probably let your mom know how you're doing, so I'll give her a call if you like."

"Oh, yah. I think I left my phone in my room, but it's pretty messy in there, so I should go get it," she said.

"No, I can get it...do you remember where you left it?"

"Uh, my backpack or dresser I think." Maya laid her cold hand on her heated forehead. "Somewhere like that."

"Okay, I'll be right back. Do you need anything else?"

She glanced up at him. "Could you get me my blanket off of my bed?"

"Sure." He started for her bedroom.

"Lucas."

He turned around in surprise at his actual name. "Yah?"

"Thanks," she whispered, a small smile on her lips.

"You're welcome, Shortstack."

Lucas winked, and continued his mission. Opening her door, he immediately felt like he was invading her privacy, but that was partly due to the fact that he had snuck in last month and still felt a little guilty. But, he couldn't help but survey the room in daylight. It wasn't a bad room despite the leaks and holes, and Lucas didn't know why she didn't like them there...he'd have to figure it out later. Hunting for her phone was surprisingly easy, because he found it right away in her backpack. Unfortunately, he found something else first. Frowning, he picked up the red spray paint, and shook it to see how much was in there; none. His heart started to beat faster, and he suddenly didn't feel too good. No, he couldn't jump to conclusions; that wasn't fair to anyone. But, things were adding up, and Lucas knew he was involved now; in whatever the heck was going on.

Folding the blanket under his arm, and clutching the phone, he made his way back to Maya; his mind still on the spray paint and "Hope is for suckers" he had seen on her bin. Entering the living room, he laid the blanket gently over her, as she proceeded to tuck the corners in and bury herself in fabric up to her neck.

"Than—choo!" She started, right before lunging for a tissue and sneezing. "This isn't fair. I have a cold and the flu!"

"It could be a lot worse, you know." Lucas pointed out, still sounding sympathetic though. "You really aren't sneezing that much, and you could have a cough."

"But, my nose is stuffed," she continued to complain. "And I have a headache...and I'm hot...and cold."

Lucas couldn't help but laugh a little. "Now you sound like yourself again."

"How?"

"You're complaining." He sat down next to her, and started to call her mother. "Do you want to talk to her, or—"

"Ugh, no you can do it. She won't give you the "it's your own fault" lecture."

"I'm sure your mom would be sympathetic—"

"Or, the "over protective watchdog mom" thing...it depends on her mood." Maya interrupted.

"Okay, be quiet now, I'm waiting for her to pick up." Lucas shushed her.

She began to fiddle with a tassel on the edge of her blanket, running the threads through her fingers. It was strangely calming, and it distracted from her headache.

"Ms. Hart? Hi, this is Lucas...yah, I'm really sorry to interrupt you at work, but I'd thought you'd like to know how Maya is." He spoke into the phone. "...yes, she's sick. No, she won't admit it."

She scowled, and ignored the pain in her forehead as she glared at him. Lucas grinned widely back at her, much to her further annoyance.

"So, we took her temperature, and she has a fever of about 100 point 5, so she just took some ibuprofen...no, but she does have a headache, and a stuffy nose." He cleared his throat, as her mother responded. "...um, no she doesn't, but I think she has the flu too, because she just threw up a minute ago."

Lucas covered the speaker with his hand, as he turned to Maya.

"She wants to know if you want her to come home."

She shook her head. "No, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, and he gave her answer to her mother.

"...then, yes I'd be willing to stay."

Maya groaned, and flopped further into the couch, much to his amusement.

"No, I don't mind; and I have nothing else going on today...yah, but I'm okay getting sick...no, I don't really think I will. I rarely do...okay, I'll let her know, and I'm really sorry to have bothered you...great, thank you. Bye."

Lucas ended the call, and placed the phone on the coffee table.

"Let me know what?" Maya asked from underneath her blanket.

"Oh, she wanted you to know that if you want her to come home at any time, she will." He said.

"Okay..." She sighed. "...but, you really don't have to be here."

"You're getting on my nerves, Clutterbucket! This is the fourth time you've tried to kick me out, and I'm still not going anywhere...you're stuck with me for the day, sorry." He said, sounding unapologetic.

"Fine, but no rope tricks, square dancing, or horse birthing stories, got it?" She listed them off on her fingers.

He laughed. "Sounds good."

Maya watched him with a smile. Their eyes met, as the last chuckle escaped his mouth, and her breath caught in her throat.

Lucas wanted to get out of the awkward moment as much as she did, so he changed the subject.

"So, my mama is really into homeopathic stuff, and I know a couple of things that could make you feel less sick, and get better fast." He cleared his throat. "If you want."

She smirked. "You mean your mama's into "healthy, wholesome living, good eating" and—"

He put his head in his hands. "Come on! You're sick...please don't—"

"—"and the natural cornucopia of the earth's bounty"?" Maya finished innocently.

"Yah, fine she is...but, that's why I don't get sick very often," Lucas said.

"Okay, whatever," She said, knowing she was right. "What do you recommend, Dr. Huckleberry? Ooh, that's a good one."

"Dr. Huckl—you know what? Never mind...well, I could make you some tea; that's always nice."

"Actually, that sounds really good. I don't know if we have any though," Maya admitted.

"Don't worry about it; I brought some." He stood up, and walked to the counter.

She sat up, and turned around to watch him, eyebrows raised.

"What do you mean you brought some? You knew I was going to get sick, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

Her jaw dropped. "Unbelievable."

"Mom," Riley hopped into the seat next to her. "Do you think I'm immature?"

"Why would you ask something like that?" her mother asked in surprise, setting down her book.

"Well, my friends don't like to tell me things...a lot. It kind of makes me feel childish and irresponsible and well, immature. And I know they made the "Riley Committee" to help me, but maybe I want it to end now."

"Okay, well why don't you tell them that?" Mrs. Matthews suggested slowly.

Riley sighed in frustration. "I've tried...they just think I need to be protected."

"Like from what?" she asked, curious to know the reason behind her daughter's sudden quest for maturity.

"Well, apparently there's this huge new story going around that they refuse to tell me about...it's not that important, so much as that they won't tell me."

"Okay. I understand that, Riley. But, maybe you just need to prove to everyone that you're mature enough to handle these kind of things." She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her daughter's ear.

"How can I do that, when they won't give me anything to work with?"

"Well, do you really want to know about the news story?"

Riley nodded.

Her mother sighed, and nodded. "Okay, long story short. There's this small art museum not too far away from here, that got vandalized...no one knows who did it, or how they broke in—"

"Wait," her daughter interrupted. "They got inside?! Oh my gosh, did they steal the paintings?"

"No...not exactly." She shook her head. "They actually painted over the paintings themselves."

Riley's eyes became wide. "How could someone destroy art? That's a stupid, irresponsible, and illogical thing to do!"

"I agree. But, let me just tell you this; at the end of the hunt for these "artists", there's going to be a lot of money to pay, and court sessions to be had," she remarked.

She leaned back. "Wow. That's terrible."

"Yes, it's really disappointing and sad to see people do things like that...why do you think your friends didn't want you to know about this?" She changed the subject.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe it's because they know I have faith in everybody, and see the good in everything. And they know that I'd want to fix it, or I would think about it all the time...I guess they were just being good friends, though."

"Not necessarily, honey." She met her daughter's gaze. "As much as they mean well, I think you're right; they can't protect you forever, and they need to start letting you learn on your own. Because if they don't, as soon as you're on your own, you're going to fall and it's going to be extremely difficult to get back up...so, I think you should readdress it with them, and make sure they understand that you're going to learn from your mistakes, and face the world without them as a shield."

"Okay," Riley nodded in understanding. "I just don't want them to think I don't appreciate them."

"They won't think that, sweetie. Don't worry about it." She squeezed her daughter's hand.

"Thanks, mom."

"Of course, Riley." Mrs. Matthews smiled. "And I'm glad that you feel comfortable coming to me with these things...I really appreciate it."

"You're one of my safe places, mom. You'll always be," she hugged her.

"Good." Mrs. Matthews returned the gesture. "I hope Maya is one of yours too. She needs you just as much as you need her, and even if you're the one talking, it's really special to her that you trust her."

"Oh, you already know she is!" Riley brightened at the mention of her best friend. "Peaches and I need each other to survive."

Her mother laughed at her dramatics. "Yes, you girls are kind of like Shawn and Cory 2.0... How is Maya by the way? I haven't seen her around that often, and I meant to ask."

"Honestly, I don't really know," she sighed. "I do know she's dealing with some stuff right now; which the rest of us are trying to help with."

"Be careful with that, Riley. You can't fix everything, you know, and you definitely can't force people to change; only they can do that themselves," she warned.

"I know, mom. But, it's my responsibility to fix my friends; or at least do whatever I can do to help them. They would all do the same thing for me...and they have."

"I don't know what's going on with Maya, and I'm not asking you to tell me, but I hope you'll come to us if you guys need help," Mrs. Matthews said. "I just don't want you to push Maya too far; because people can only take so much, and sometimes friends don't realize when they need to stop."

"Don't worry about that, mom," Riley reassured her. "I already told you that you'll always be my safe place...and Maya's too; she's told me that she sees you as an important mother figure, and she's really grateful to know you."

"Maya said that?" her mother asked; touched.

"Maybe not in those words, but—yah."

"Well, I hope Maya knows she's welcome to talk to me anytime...in fact, I'd love for her to do so."

Riley leaned back, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I have a good feeling that time will come...probably somewhere in the next couple of months."

"You should go to sleep, you know," Lucas advised. "Your body needs rest."

"I'm not tired." She said with a yawn.

"Right."

"I'm not!" Maya protested.

"Then what do you want to do? Your head hurts, you just threw up again, and there's like a mountain of tissues right next to you."

She glanced at the aforementioned pile.

"Thanks for reminding me of how sick I am," Maya said sarcastically.

"My pleasure," he said, sounding quite pleased with himself. "But seriously, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she answered curtly. "I guess we could talk, if that's alright with you."

"Yah, sure." He smiled, ignoring her irritation.

Maya looked down at her blanket, and ran her hand over the smooth surface.

"Blue."

Lucas smiled, and drank from his cup of ginger-lemon tea.

"This one wasn't too long ago, actually. I was with Shawn at this restaurant—I think it was 3 months ago—and he wanted to spend some time with me or something. So, we weren't actually talking though, and it was really awkward. But then the waitress came up, and asked us if we wanted some free dessert. I'm not even sure why, don't ask me...anyway, we obviously say yes because who doesn't like free food? Then a couple minutes later she brought out this whole plate of different desserts, and it was all blue! Like everything was some shade of blue, from the cake to the cookies to these little chocolates...again, not really sure why, but anyway Shawn gets a kick out of it, and ends up telling me this funny story of how he dyed everyone's food blue when he was a kid." She sipped her own tea, soothing her sore throat. "And then, it all goes uphill from there. He tells a story, I tell one...after that we actually start talking about family and friends. It was one of my first, real important talks with Shawn, and I feel closer to him now than before that day."

Lucas studied her before responding. "I'm glad you have someone like that to talk to. And that Shawn can be kind of like a father to you."

Her eyes revealed her hidden hurt at the mention of the word "father", but she smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Yah, he's pretty cool."

"Okay, I guess I have to do one now?" he asked, changing the subject.

She nodded, and setting down her mug, laid down and watched him from the corner of her eyes.

"So, mine was actually from a long time ago...well, from when I was a little kid I guess. It was my first real picnic, and I was super excited because we were going to go fishing, and hiking, and spend all day playing outside. You know; a little boy's dream. Everything was going great; I had caught a fish, found a really cool rock, and it was the perfect temperature to be outside. Then we were hiking back to the hill to eat our lunch, and my mom tripped over a rock and hit her head really badly. We rushed to the hospital, and I remember the waiting; the nervousness and overwhelming sense of fear it brought. Once we heard the news that she had a mild concussion, and she was going to be okay, everything felt better and the day turned out great after all...but it had still been the scariest moment of my life. I almost lost her."

"Where's the blue, Huckleberry?" Maya asked softly, after a moment of silence.

"When we walked into her hospital room, I immediately rushed into her arms, and hugged her as tight as I could. As soon as we were done, she comforted me and told me everything was going to be okay. Then, she showed me this bracelet I had made her for her birthday last year. She had it around her wrist, and she told me that the whole time she was in pain, she had been thinking of me. I was what helped her feel better...It was a blue bracelet—a small kid's craft—but she kept it."

Maya watched his eyes water a bit, and she placed a hand on his, much to Lucas's surprise. "I'm glad she's here now."

He was filled with gratitude and comfort at Maya's care. "Me too, Shortstack."

She took her hand off, and rolled over on her side to face the wall.

"I'm going to go to sleep now...thank you for helping me."

"I thought you weren't tired," he teased.

"I'm sick, Sundance. Cut a girl some slack," she grumbled, and promptly fell asleep.