Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: As always, thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! Just so you know, it might take longer for me to update because I'm no longer on break from school. But I will try my hardest to get chapters written and posted as fast as I can.

Lucy and Valerie were in the kitchen the next day, talking while Paul sat at the table, conversing whenever one of the two women asked him a question. Even without Lizzy around, he could talk to her family members and not feel awkward about it; they were all extremely friendly and welcoming.

It was just a little past one in the afternoon; Val brought Michelle and little Max over so her husband Max could get some peace and quiet. He was suffering from a wicked hangover--a result of yesterday's celebrations. On top of that, his cold had finally hit him with full force. Needless to say, he wasn't in a very good mood.

Now, Michelle and Max were in the living room; Max was playing with some kind of action figures, and Michelle was flipping through the channels on the TV. Everything was pretty much quiet when Lizzy finally padded into the kitchen, moving slowly, face pale and eyes glassy. She was still in her pajamas, and clearly had no intention of changing for the day.

It was obvious that lack of sleep and being subjected to long amounts of time in the frigid weather had caught up to her. Either that, or she got the cold from Max. The teenager sniffled and sat down at the table, where she went into a sneezing fit, then let out an annoyed groan. Lucy, seeing the state that her daughter was in, immediately moved from where she'd been leaning against the counter, an expression of sympathy on her features. Her maternal instincts instantly kicked in; she pressed her palm to Lizzy's forehead to see if she had a fever. Lizzy, meanwhile, found her mother's cool palm a relief against her overheated skin.

"You're burning up." Lizzy said, the look of sympathy turning to one of worry. She went into the cupboard over the sink and began delving through its contents for the cold medicine.

"Your uncle Max is sick, too." Val told Lizzy. The teen groaned again and laid her head down on her arms, which were folded on top of the table.

"Great," Lizzy muttered, her voice muffled. "Tell him I said thank you." Lucy shook her head at her daughter's sarcasm and set the pill in front of her with a glass of water. She took the medicine willingly, hoping it would take effect soon. Her head was congested and throbbing, she couldn't breathe through her nose, she had the chills, and her throat was all scratchy.

"Hey, Luce, you know what? How 'bout we make some soup for Lizzy and Max?" Val suggested suddenly.

"Sure," Lucy agreed. They didn't have anything to do anyway. Some hot soup would be good for everyone, not just the two who were sick. It was a chilly day outside, and it felt very drafty in the apartment, too. The windows were always drafty in the winter, no matter what they did to reduce the amount of wind that slipped through the cracks. "Lizzy, you should go lay down…keep yourself warm. If you need extra blankets or anything just call, okay?"

Lizzy didn't object to that at all. She nodded and got up, moving at a snail's pace back to her bedroom. Paul followed her, making sure she made it to the room okay, like the good friend that he was. He stood by the doorway, watching as Lizzy climbed into bed and practically buried herself in the blankets, shuddering. She wasn't quite tired enough to go back to sleep, so she just sat there. After a few minutes, she noticed that Paul was still standing far away from where she was, and laughed.

"Ya know, you can sit over here," she smirked. "I'll try not to spread my germs."

"Oh, how kind of you." Paul replied, walking to the bed. Hesitantly, he sat at the edge of it, careful not to take up too much space. The two teens sat quietly, both of them staring off into space. Paul was the one to break the silence. "So…can I, umm, get you anything?"

Lizzy thought for a moment. "I dunno. I'm bored. If you have a solution to said boredom, that would be nice."

"I think I have a pack of cards in my bag…" Paul stated.

"That would work."

"Okay," Paul said, getting to his feet. "I'll be right back…"

"Don't worry, I don't exactly plan on moving from this spot." Lizzy smirked. Paul disappeared down the hall to get the cards from his bag, which he kept under the couch in the living room. When he returned, Lizzy had managed to get herself into a sitting position (with a few pillows propped up behind her back) and Paul sat across from her on the bed. He opened up the pack of cards--the pack was worn with age and some of the cards were bent, but neither cared--and shuffled them around, using some fancy methods his mom had taught him.

Once they decided on a game, he dealt the cards and they began. They ended up playing a variety of games for a good two hours, with Lucy popping in now and then to check on Lizzy. Lizzy didn't mind, even when her mom asked the same questions--Are you all right? Do you need any more medicine? Is there anything I can get you?--over and over again; she knew her mom was just enthusiastic about taking care of her. It was something that she hadn't been able to do in well over a decade.

Jude came in to see Lizzy while the two teens were in the middle of their final round of 'War'. He shuffled in quietly, watching the two of them playing for a bit until Lizzy looked up and noticed he'd walked in.

"Hey," she said, smiling. "Haven't seen you all day. Where've ya been, stranger?"

"Just working on a few things in the studio." Jude told her. She spotted the paint splatters on his clothes and nodded.

"Your mum said you were feelin' a bit under the weather…it's probably not how you wanted to spend your time in New York."

Lizzy shrugged. "Not really. I guess I'm just not used to the cold weather here."

Just then, Valerie poked her head into the room. "Hey, Paul? You think you could help me out for a minute?" she asked.

"Yeah. No problem." Paul said, and followed Val out of the room. Lizzy scooped up the cards and started shoved them back into the box; she was bored of playing, and now felt in a drawing mood.

"Dad?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Can you grab my sketchbook for me? It's over in my bag."

Jude crossed the small distance from where he was currently standing to where Lizzy's bag was sitting on the floor. He opened it up, pulled out the sketchbook, and rifled through the bag for a pencil until he found one. As he was bringing it over to Lizzy, a folded up piece of paper slipped from the pages and fell to the floor. Jude handed the sketchpad and pencil to his daughter before bending down to pick up the stray piece of paper. He went to give it to Lizzy when she told him to open it. As soon as it had fallen, Lizzy knew exactly what it was. Jude gave her a quizzical glance, and unfolded it, finding that the paper was, in fact, a letter--a letter from a college. And not just any college. The School of Visual Arts, which Jude knew was located in Manhattan.

"Well, what have we got here?" Jude asked with a smirk. "You want to study art, yeah? Good for you. I never got the chance. Me mum needed me to bring money into the house, so I never went to college. You should get that opportunity--you're a great artist."

"I think you're slightly responsible for that." Lizzy laughed. Jude shrugged, and set the letter on the nightstand. He threw a cautious glance in the direction of the doorway, and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"So, this guy Paul…" he started, lopsided grin on his face.

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Is he a…umm, boyfriend of yours?"

Lizzy held back a snort. "No," she answered. "He's just a friend…who happens to be a boy."

Jude laughed. "Is that so? Well, you two seem awfully close."

Lizzy shook her head, dismissing her father's assumptions about her relationship with Paul. "We're best friends. We have been since we were kids," she explained. "He's practically my brother."

"I'll take your word for it, then," Jude said, standing. "Feel better, Lizzy." He told her before leaving the room. Once he was gone, Lizzy shook her head, smirking. She couldn't believe he'd assumed such a thing. She guessed he was just doing his job as a father when it came to his daughter and boys, and left it at that.

Lizzy was about to open her sketchbook when Paul entered, saying that the soup was ready. He then told Lizzy that her mother wanted to know if she wanted to eat it in her room or the kitchen. Lizzy chose to eat in the kitchen with the rest of her family, because she could no longer tolerate lying in bed. As Lizzy joined everyone in the kitchen, Max suddenly walked into the apartment.

"We're all outta cold medicine." he announced glumly. He didn't look much better than Lizzy did. Max grumbled something about no one paying attention to him and followed the heavenly aroma of homemade food into the kitchen. He pushed his way though the small crowd in the even smaller room and peered into the pot to see a steaming abundance of chicken noodle soup. "You made homemade soup and didn't bother to tell me?"

"I was going to bring some over, dear." Valerie stated, a bit sarcastically. Max grabbed a bowl and a spoon and scooped out a large portion for himself. He went over to the table where Lizzy, Paul, Michelle and Max Jr. were sitting and squeezed in a seat in between Lizzy and little Max, while the rest of the adults stood.

"So, you're sick, too?" Max asked Lizzy, once he noticed. Lizzy simply nodded, holding in a sarcastic comment about how obvious it was that she wasn't feeling well. "It's not so bad, really."

Lizzy looked at her uncle like he was crazy. "What are you talking about? I hate it."

"Nah, see…what you do is--" Max lowered his voice dramatically before continuing, "You milk it as long as possible. You get everyone to obey your every beck and call, and you don't have to do shit. It's great."

Max hadn't realized that Valerie had heard every word he'd said. "Don't listen to him, Lizzy," she said. "He's damn lazy, that's what he is."

"I love you, too, honey." Max replied cynically.

The rest of the meal was filled with Max making sarcastic comments, Valerie threatening to smack her husband with a dishtowel, and a lot of conversation. After everyone finished, Val helped Lucy do the dishes while Jude, Max and Paul went to the living room, since Max Jr. had roped all the guys into playing some kind of game involving his action figures with him. Lizzy, meanwhile, went back into her room to draw. She curled up in a blanket, sat up with the pillows behind her, and grabbed her sketchbook and pencil.

Lizzy opened up her sketchbook, searching for a clean page. While flipping through the pages, Lizzy came across the last sketch--one that wasn't hers. It was Paul's, from when he had used drawing as a way to keep himself occupied during their road trip. Surprisingly, it wasn't a doodle or a stupid cartoon, or some sad attempt at capturing the scenery they'd happened to pass by at that moment. It wasn't half bad for someone who claimed he was not an artist. It was a rough sketch, but not entirely unrecognizable. It was a profile of a face. Long, dark hair, gently curved lips, and beautiful eyes.

The drawing, Lizzy slowly realized, was of herself.