Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

A/N: I know the last chapter wasn't the best, but goodbyes are always difficult to write. This chapter will be better--it has some Max angst…

"What'd ya think?" Jude asked, stepping back from the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He surveyed the painting that now hung there--Lizzy's painting--with a certain look of pride on his face, and turned to glance at his daughter and wife for their approval.

Lucy had been sitting in an easy chair with a cup of coffee in her hands watching Jude put up the painting for the past five minutes. It was one of the last things they had to get settled into the apartment, since everything else Lizzy had brought with her had been unpacked and set in their respective spots. "Looks perfect."

"What about you, Lizzy? You think it looks good here?"

Lizzy shrugged. "If you must have it in the center of the apartment, then yes." She hadn't been too keen on the idea of having her painting right on the wall above the mantle piece, only because she was very humble about her work. It had been hard enough having it put on display back at the art showcase in Florida. But, if her parents wanted there, then she guessed that she could appease them. Especially because Jude seemed so proud of it. Lizzy didn't blame him, really. It must've been cool to find out his long-lost daughter was artistically inclined, like he was. "It looks fine."

"Good." Jude said at last, finally pleased with the outcome. It was only right that the painting was placed as the center of their home, as it held so much meaning for all three of them. He was still thoroughly impressed with the painting, and made a mental note to talk to Lizzy about maybe sending in some work to the magazine he drew for; maybe they would give her a job, too.

Jude went over to Lucy, who stood so he could take a seat in the chair she had been occupying, which in turn gave her the chance to take up residence in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her slender waist, and planted a kiss in her sunlit tresses. Lucy giggled and set her cup of coffee on the table. She twisted around and proceeded to run her fingers in Jude's hair as he whispered to her, singing one of their favorite songs. He cherished moments like these, which had become all the more frequent since Lizzy had showed up in New York at Christmastime. Lucy was noticeably happier, which in turn made Jude happier. Things had finally gotten back to normal--to the way they should be.

Lizzy watched her parents, grinning. She didn't mind that her parents openly showed their affection toward each other on a daily basis. Coming from the Harrisons house, where they never kissed or anything of that sort in front of her, it was a refreshing change. It was great to know that after all these years--after so much had happened--Lucy and Jude's feelings for each other were just as strong as they had been when the two of them first fell in love.

The teenager went back to what she was doing, a notebook balanced on her knees as she sat on the couch, pen in hand. She was finishing off her letter to Paul. She hadn't written one yet, since they had just talked to each other the day she arrived, and he had sent his own letter last week. She'd been so busy getting unpacked and had gotten so sidetracked with other things that she hadn't had a chance to write back. Now that everything had settled down a bit, she made a note to write more frequently.

Dear Paul,

I can't believe it's already been over two weeks since I left. How is everything back in Florida? Things are going great here. I've settled in, and I'm slowly adjusting to life in the Big Apple. I do have some good news: I got my cast off in the beginning of the week! That means you'll probably be getting more artwork from me. Ha ha. Oh, and JoJo's started teaching me to play guitar. He's giving me lessons twice a week. It's kinda hard. I can never get my fingers in the right positions and it's beginning to make my left wrist hurt. Oh well. I don't think I'll ever be as good as JoJo, anyway. I just thought it would be fun to pick up an instrument.

You have to keep me posted on life back in Florida. How's your mom? Tell her I said hi, okay? Miss you…

Your best friend forever,

Lizzy XO XO

Lizzy folded up the letter, along with a pencil sketch she had done from memory of the two of them on the beach after Prom. She slid the two pieces of paper into the envelope that had already been addressed and had a stamp on it. Sighing, she sealed the envelope and set it on the coffee table. Lizzy was about to go get her sketchbook when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," she told Lucy and Jude, seeing as she was already halfway up. She grabbed the phone off the wall. "Hello? Feeny residence." It felt both wonderful and strange for her to say that.

"Lizzy. Just the girl I wanted to talk to."

"Hey, Aunt Val. What's up?"

"I don't want to, you know, be any trouble especially if you already have plans for the afternoon."

"I'm not doing anything," Lizzy told her. "What do you need?"

"Would you mind watching Max for an hour or two? I have some errands I need to run, and Michelle isn't home and your uncle isn't feeling well."

"I wouldn't mind."

"Oh, thank you so much, Lizzy. Would you be able to come over now?"

"Yeah," Lizzy replied. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Lizzy hung up the phone and went back to the living room, where her parents were still sitting together in the chair.

"I'm going over to watch Max for a few hours." she explained before picking up the letter she had written to Paul.

"Okay," Lucy smiled. "Keep him out of trouble."

"I will." Lizzy slid into her shoes and left the apartment, the letter in hand.

"Thank you so much for doing this, Lizzy. It's a big help," Valerie was saying as she and the teen stood in the middle of the living room of the Carrigan family's apartment. "I know the last thing you want to be doing on a Saturday is babysitting, but your uncle isn't up to keeping an eye on him, and little Max can be quite a handful when I drag him with me to run errands."

"It's not a problem." Lizzy answered, smirking at her little cousin, who was hunched over the coffee table, coloring.

"You won't have to worry about Michelle--she's at a friend's house. And I made lunch; it's in the fridge when the two of you get hungry."

"Thanks, Aunt Val."

"Max, be good for Lizzy, all right?" she asked her son, who nodded, eyes glued to his coloring page, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in determination. "Thanks again, Lizzy." Val called before heading toward the door.

"Oh, wait. I forgot to ask you," Lizzy called, following her aunt, "Can you mail this letter for me on your way out?"

"Of course." Valerie took the letter and tucked it inside her purse.

"Take your time; you don't have to rush home. We'll be okay." The teenager reassured her aunt, who thanked her again and left the apartment. Lizzy approached Max, taking a seat on the couch to watch him as he colored. He was working on a page in a jumbo-sized coloring book, trying his hardest to stay inside the lines. The box of crayons had been spilled out over the table, the empty box lying on the floor next to where he was kneeling.

"You like art, Max?" she asked.

"Uh-huh."

"Me, too."

"You want to color?" he inquired, taking his eyes off the paper to look up at his older cousin.

"Sure."

Max took a moment to tear a page out of the book; a picture of a bunch of flowers with a sun in the sky and a butterfly hovering above them. Something girly, whereas the picture Max was coloring was not, obviously. The two of them colored, making idle conversations as they did so. It was interesting to talk to a six-year-old, especially one as rambunctious as little Max. Lizzy began to notice that there were many similarities between the little boy and his father. For instance, his short attention span. Once Max became bored of coloring, he decided he was hungry, so Lizzy heated up the macaroni and cheese that Valerie had left for them.

Max fell asleep in his room some time after he and Lizzy ate lunch, leaving the teen to sit alone in the living room. She'd cleaned up Max's coloring book and crayons, setting them in the middle of the table. She contemplated taking a nap herself, but decided against it, in case little Max woke up. She didn't want to run the risk of him causing any chaos if he was left momentarily unsupervised. Lizzy was about to turn on the TV when a door opened in the hallway, slamming against the wall loud enough to make her jump. She glanced in the direction of the abrupt noise, and saw her uncle staggering down the hall. He passed by the couch, not taking notice of her--he seemed to be in a daze--and walked into the kitchen. If what he was doing could actually be considered walking, that is. He couldn't move in a straight line without gripping something for support.

Lizzy watched as he reached up to one of the higher cabinets, pushing things aside to search for what he wanted. He moved quickly, furiously tearing through its contents, not caring whether items spilled out onto the counter or the floor. Finally, he pulled out a very large bottle of a honey-colored liquid, which Lizzy guessed to be some type of alcohol. She realized that he wasn't sick at all--he was drunk.

Max tugged off the cap of the bottle, put it to his lips, and started to gulp it down. He was mid-sip when he stopped and threw the half-full bottle into the sink, sputtering. He hissed in pain as one of the broken shards of glass flew up from the sink and sliced his hand; blood instantly oozed out and began dripping onto the floor. Max let out a miserable groan and turned around, leaning against the counter with his face in his hands. He slid to the floor, keeping his back against the lower cabinets, knees up to his chest.

Lizzy didn't know what to do about this. She realized now that what her aunt had said about her uncle 'not feeling well' had actually been code for 'he's having one of his bad days again'. Lizzy knew that Max was a Vietnam vet, and she wasn't ignorant about the psychological effects the soldiers felt for many years afterward, having discussed it extensively in her American History class.

The eighteen-year-old wasn't sure whether she should leave him be, or go ask him if he was okay or…something. She felt terrible for seeing her normally crazy, sarcastic Uncle Max in such a depressed state. Injured, no less. To be completely honest, it scared her a little. Maybe she was better off leaving him alone?

But she couldn't. Being a very sympathetic person, she couldn't just sit by and watch as her beloved uncle made a mess of himself. Not when he had done his best to comfort her once before--she felt the need to return the favor. Slowly, she got off the couch and tip-toed into the kitchen, avoiding any pieces of glass that might've fallen onto the tiles. She took a seat beside Max, her knees drawn to her chest as well. Lizzy silently waited a minute or two, watching as her uncle kept his face in his hands, his head bent down to stare at the floor.

"Uncle Max?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle. Reluctantly, Max glanced sideways to stare into the innocent, blue eyes of his teenage niece. He'd spotted her out of the corner of his eye when he had started drinking, and that's what had made him stop. She didn't need to see him like this…so out of control, so broken.

"Shit," he cursed, his voice sounding uncharacteristically weak. Then again, to Lizzy, a lot of things about this situation seemed out of character for Max. "I'm sorry, Lizzy. I didn' know you were here." There was a strong odor of alcohol on his breath, and some of his words came out slurred, but Lizzy was able to make out what he was saying.

"You don't have to apologize."

"Look at me," He managed a sarcastic laugh, gesturing to himself, "I'm all fucked up…started drinkin' again…shit."

What do I say? Lizzy thought, mentally kicking herself. She was at a loss. She never expected to come here with the intention of watching her cousin, only to be taking care of her uncle instead.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Lizzy suggested. Hopefully, cleaning his injury would give him some time to sober up just a little. The teenager stood, and helped Max to his feet. He swayed a bit, so she steadied him and kept one arm tightly around his back as they made their way to the bathroom. Lizzy had a rough time with Max's weight supported on her because he was a lot taller than she was. Once they'd gotten safely to the bathroom, she told Max to sit on the closed toilet lid so she could look for the first aid kit. Most of the supplies were in the medicine cabinet, so she didn't have much trouble locating everything.

Lizzy pulled up a stool that was obviously used by little Max to reach the sink, and sat in front of her uncle, taking a gentle hold of his hand. The cut in his palm was rather large, but not too deep--she figured he probably wouldn't need stitches, but she couldn't be sure. She'd clean it up now and get a second opinion later by Valerie. The problem was that there was still a shard of glass in the wound, and Lizzy was by no means an expert at medical procedures of any sort. However, she did know that if the glass was left in, there was a good chance it would get infected.

She retrieved the pair of tweezers and glanced at Max cautiously. "Umm…this is gonna hurt, so…just warning you." Carefully, Lizzy used the tweezers to remove the glass from the cut, which she promptly threw into the trashcan nearby. Max visibly flinched, but didn't say a word. "Sorry."

"'S all right." Max answered. Lizzy then dampened a washcloth to wipe away the blood and stop more from flowing. Once she applied some anti-bacterial cream, she placed a band aid on top and secured some gauze around his palm for good measure, in case it started bleeding again. "Not bad." Max commented, inspecting the bandages while Lizzy put everything back and cleaned up.

They walked back toward the living room, Lizzy's arm held tightly around him again. She helped him to the couch, where they both took a seat. Lizzy wanted to make sure he was okay. She was surprised when he let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. Lizzy could tell that he'd sobered up some.

"Bet ya don't think too highly of me now," he said. And then, muttering mostly to himself, "Goddamn crazy Uncle Max…"

Lizzy looked at him, shocked. She was actually angry that he would say such a thing. "You're not crazy, Uncle Max," The teenager said firmly. "You're a hero--you shouldn't put yourself down like that."

"Hero? Oh, that's a new one," he snorted. "I don't see anything heroic about this."

Lizzy forced his gaze to meets hers. "Lots of men are still going through this, too--don't think that you're alone. After all things you've seen and everything you've done, it's not uncommon. You went to war, Uncle Max, and that's not an easy thing, especially when you're forced into it. Not many people can go through all of that, much less come back alive. You're stronger than you think."

Max stayed quiet.

"And yeah, you're still having those rough days, but you've recovered, for the most part. You have a wife, a home, kids and family who love you…" Lizzy sighed. "You know my friend, Paul?"

"Yeah." Max replied, nodding.

"His father was a Vietnam vet," Lizzy explained. "and he walked out on Paul and his mother when Paul was little. He gave up when things got tough. But you didn't, because you're stronger than that. You are a hero, Uncle Max. Not only to your country, but your family, too. Don't ever think otherwise."

Max, still shocked by his niece's lecture, leaned in to kiss her forehead. "And that's why you are going to college." Lizzy laughed.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I think I'll be all right." Max answered.

"Just promise me something."

"Sure."

"No more alcohol to solve your problems."

Max pondered that for a long moment. If he had done it before, he could do it again. "Done."

"And if you're not having a good day, talk to someone," Lizzy advised. "I know that's a lot harder for guys to do such a thing, but it works a lot better than drowning your sorrows in liquor. I'm around, now, if you need me."

Max stared at Lizzy, surprised. She gave him a crooked smile. "What?"

"Nothing," Max shook his head. "I'm just trying to figure out how you grew up so fast. Who'd a' thought my own niece would be more mature than me?"

"I don't think anyone expected you to be that mature."

"Touché."

A/N: Poor Max. I love writing heart-to-hearts with Max and Lizzy…lol. Please review!Although I don't have a true trivia question, I do have a question for you all: What is your favorite Beatles song?