Sorry this took a while. But I've been busy trying to complete other fanfics I've been working on, plus writing Logo Intro Bloopers scripts.
At 3 in the morning, the house was eerily quiet. In Lisa's room, Bart lay curled up on her bed, his body tense, his face contorted in distress. His breathing was shallow, rapid, and his brow furrowed in the throes of a restless sleep. He tossed and turned, the weight of his worry and guilt manifesting in a vivid, unsettling dream.
"N-No… Nooo… Lisa…" Bart whimpered in his sleep, his voice barely audible as he muttered her name, his fists clenched tightly against the soft fabric of the blanket. The dream was pulling him deeper into a haze of confusion and fear.
In the darkness of his mind, he could see Lisa—her pale face, her still body lying motionless in the hospital bed. The machines beeped incessantly, their rhythm steady, but in the dream, something felt wrong, as though the beeping was slowing down, fading away.
"Lisa!" he called out in a panicked voice, his heart racing. He tried to move toward her, but his feet felt heavy, trapped in the thick shadows of his dream. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach her.
"Wake up, Lisa!" His voice cracked as he desperately tried to break free from the dream, but the more he fought, the further she seemed to drift away, her face blurring as the hospital room dissolved around him.
The sounds of the machines became distorted, warping into a steady, rhythmic thump, like the beating of a heart growing fainter. Bart's breath hitched as the darkness enveloped him, his mind unable to escape the terror of seeing his sister slip further away. His heart ached, the dream so vivid, so real, that he felt like he might suffocate from the weight of it.
In his mind, the world around him went silent—Lisa was gone.
"No!" Bart suddenly shot up from the bed, his eyes wide and filled with panic. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his breathing was erratic, chest rising and falling as he gasped for air. He was awake now, his heart still pounding from the nightmare, but the fear lingered, clutching at him with icy fingers.
He looked around, his vision blurry, realizing he was still in Lisa's room. The quietness of the house outside his mind only made the unsettling feeling worse. He rubbed his eyes, his body still trembling from the intensity of the dream.
"Lisa…" he whispered, his voice small and unsure, as he glanced at the empty side of the bed where she should've been. The room felt so much emptier without her, and the weight of the night's events settled back over him, heavier than ever.
Bart carefully uncovered himself, his bare feet making barely a sound as he padded across the cold floor. He moved slowly, his mind still reeling from the nightmare, his thoughts jumbled and filled with worry. The house felt too quiet, the silence pressing in on him, and he couldn't shake the unease that had settled in his chest.
When he reached the stairs, he hesitated, his hand gripping the railing tightly as he fought the weight of his fear. But he knew he couldn't stay upstairs any longer. Not when everything felt so wrong, not when Lisa was still in the hospital.
He slowly made his way down the stairs, each step creaking under his weight, his heart hammering in his chest. The faint light from the hallway cast long shadows on the walls, and he walked as quietly as he could, his mind focused on his parents' bedroom door at the end of the hall.
Bart reached the door, gently pushing it open. Inside, the soft sounds of Homer's snores and the occasional rustle of Marge's sheets filled the room. Marge was lying on her side, facing away from him. Bart moved toward her, his footsteps slow and deliberate, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and uncertainty.
He gently tapped on her arm, his fingers trembling slightly as he touched her.
"M-Mom…?" Bart whispered, his voice quiet but insistent.
Marge stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. She looked confused at first, her tired gaze falling on her son, who was standing beside the bed, his face pale and drawn.
"Bart?" she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and worry. She pushed herself up on one elbow, trying to focus on him through the haze of exhaustion. "What is it, honey? Are you okay?"
Bart opened his mouth to speak, but his throat felt tight, his words caught somewhere between fear and concern. He shook his head, his eyes wide with worry. "I just… I couldn't sleep, Mom… I was scared…" His voice cracked at the end, and he fought back the urge to cry. "I had a dream about Lisa. It felt real… I thought… I thought she was… gone."
Marge's heart clenched at his words, and she reached out to pull him closer, her arms wrapping around him in a comforting hug. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, her voice full of concern. "It was just a dream. Lisa is strong, she's in the best care. But I know it's scary, I know it's hard."
Bart clung to her, his small body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "I'm so scared, Mom… What if she doesn't wake up?"
Marge felt her own heart break at his words, but she held him tighter, trying to offer whatever comfort she could. "I know, Bart. I'm scared too. But we have to believe she'll wake up. We have to keep hoping. We can't give up."
Bart nodded against her shoulder, his tears quiet but steady. For a moment, they just sat there together in the dim light, neither of them saying anything, just holding on to each other for support. It was the only thing they could do in the face of the uncertainty that hung over them all.
"Come here, sweetheart," Marge said softly as she carefully hoisted her son onto the bed. Bart climbed in beside her, his small frame curling up close against her side. She pulled the blanket over him, wrapping her arm protectively around his shoulders.
Bart rested his head against her chest, his sniffles quieting slightly as he listened to her heartbeat. It was steady, calming in a way he desperately needed. For a moment, he let himself feel safe, even as his mind swirled with worry about Lisa.
Marge kissed the top of his head gently, her fingers running through his spiky hair. "It's okay to be scared, Bart," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "We all are. But we're going to get through this together, okay?"
Bart didn't respond right away, his small hands gripping the fabric of her nightgown. "I just miss her, Mom," he said finally, his voice muffled. "I want her to come home."
Marge's throat tightened, and she blinked back fresh tears. "I know, sweetie," she murmured, her own voice breaking. "I want that too."
They stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for their breathing. Marge held Bart close, her own fears momentarily pushed aside as she focused on comforting her son. She knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but in that moment, all that mattered was holding her boy and letting him know he wasn't alone.
Marge gently rocked Bart in her arms, stroking his hair with soft, repetitive motions. "Close your eyes, sweetheart," she whispered soothingly. "Try to rest now, honey. Lisa wouldn't want you to wear yourself out worrying about her."
Bart shifted slightly, his breathing still uneven as he held onto her nightgown. "But what if I have another bad dream?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Marge kissed his forehead, her hand brushing his cheek. "Then I'll be right here," she promised, her voice steady and calm. "If you wake up, you'll see me next to you, okay? You're safe here, Bart."
Bart hesitated, but the warmth of his mother's embrace and the steady rhythm of her voice started to lull him. Marge began humming softly, a tune she used to sing when he was much younger. The familiar melody worked its way into his mind, gently nudging away the lingering fear of his nightmare.
Gradually, Bart's body relaxed against hers, his breathing slowing as sleep began to take over. Marge continued to hum, watching as his eyelids grew heavier and finally closed.
She leaned down and whispered, "Sweet dreams, my little man," before settling back against the pillows, still holding him close to make sure he felt safe through the night.
By the time it was 7 in the morning, the soft light creeping through the hospital blinds cast an eerie glow over Lisa's still form. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the steady beeping of the heart monitor nearby the only sound in the room. Suddenly, a soft whimper escaped her lips, her face contorting with discomfort as her eyes fluttered beneath her eyelids, her mind ensnared by a nightmarish vision.
In her nightmare, Lisa ran through a warped version of her home. The walls were elongated and twisted, her surroundings cast in a sickly green light. Shadows moved erratically, whispering her name in chilling tones.
"Mom? Dad? Bart?" Lisa cried out, her voice echoing back mockingly. Her bare feet slapped against the cold, endless floors as she searched desperately for her family. The air felt thick and unbreathable, as if it were choking her from within.
In the distance, she saw her family standing together, but they were blurry, their faces indistinct. "Mom!" Lisa shouted, sprinting toward them, but the ground stretched, pulling her farther away no matter how hard she tried.
Her mother's voice floated toward her, hollow and eerie. "Lisa... why didn't you stay with us?"
Lisa's chest tightened. "What? No! I'm right here!"
Suddenly, the image of her family warped, their figures twisting and turning into dark, shadowy forms. They melted into the ground, disappearing as the floor cracked beneath Lisa's feet. She screamed as she fell, the sensation of weightlessness mixed with terror consuming her. The shadowy figures lunged at her as she plummeted deeper into the void.
"No! Help me!" Lisa shrieked, her voice hoarse and breaking.
The blackness swallowed her whole, and just as the shadows reached her, her eyes snapped open in reality.
With a bloodcurdling scream, Lisa jolted upright in her hospital bed, her chest heaving as she hyperventilated. Her hands clutched the blanket, her knuckles white, as her entire body trembled. Her wide, tear-filled eyes darted around the room, disoriented and still gripped by the terror of her dream.
The heart monitor beside her beeped rapidly, echoing her panicked heartbeat. The noise and her scream alerted a nearby nurse, who rushed into the room.
"Lisa! Sweetheart, it's okay! You're awake now!" the nurse said, approaching her quickly but gently.
Lisa's breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps as she clutched her chest, trying to ground herself. Her voice trembled as she croaked out, "Mom... where's my mom?"
"Calm down, honey. You're safe," the nurse said, carefully placing a hand on Lisa's shoulder, attempting to ease her panic. She turned toward the door, calling out, "We need someone here—she's awake!"
Lisa continued to tremble, her mind still wrestling with the fading fragments of her nightmare as the room slowly came into focus.
"Lisa. Look at me. Look at me," the nurse repeated, leaning closer, her voice firm but gentle as she placed her hands on Lisa's trembling shoulders.
Lisa's wide, panicked eyes darted around the room, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow gasps. Her grip on the blanket was tight, her knuckles white as though clinging to it would anchor her in reality.
"Listen to me, sweetheart," the nurse said, steadying her. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. I'll help you. In... and out. Just like that. In... and out." Her tone was calm and measured, leading Lisa through the exercise.
Lisa struggled to follow, her breaths still hitched and jagged, but she tried to mimic the nurse's pace. "In... and out," the nurse repeated soothingly, her eyes never leaving Lisa's.
Slowly, Lisa's breathing began to even out. Her trembling eased, though her body still felt weak and heavy, her cheeks wet with tears.
"Where's my mom?" Lisa croaked, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper, a fresh wave of tears welling in her eyes.
The nurse hesitated, her expression softening. "Your mom's not here right now, sweetheart. She's at home resting. But we're all here to take care of you, okay? You're safe."
Lisa let out a small whimper, her chest still aching as she sank back into the bed, her energy drained but her fear still lingering at the edges of her mind.
Lisa let out a series of coughs, each one rattling her chest and sending sharp pains through her raw throat. She winced, her hand weakly moving to clutch at her neck as though it could soothe the discomfort.
The nurse leaned in closer, concern etched across her face. "Easy, sweetheart," she said softly. "Let me get you some water to help with that."
Lisa only managed a faint nod, her head falling back against the pillow, her breathing shallow and labored.
At home, the house was still, the quiet only broken by the soft snoring of Marge and Bart, both curled up in the warmth of the bed. Marge held Bart tightly against her, as if trying to shield him from the worry that still clung to her heart. Her face, though peaceful in sleep, bore the marks of exhaustion from the long hours spent anxiously waiting for news of Lisa.
Bart, nestled in the crook of her arm, slept fitfully, his small form twitching occasionally as though his dreams were filled with the same worry that had kept his mother awake. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the window, casting long shadows across the room.
But despite the quiet peace of the moment, neither of them could escape the tension, the lingering fear for Lisa that weighed on their hearts.
Suddenly, the sharp ring of Marge's cell phone echoed through the quiet room, cutting through the stillness. She let out a tired, groggy moan as she struggled to lift her head from the pillow. Her eyes were heavy, still weighed down with exhaustion, but the sound of the phone pulled her from the fog of sleep. She reached out sluggishly to grab it from the nightstand, the weight of the phone in her hand somehow feeling heavier than usual.
With a shaky breath, she squinted at the screen, her heart beginning to race as she saw the hospital's number flash before her eyes. Her throat tightened as her fingers fumbled to answer.
"Hello?" she said, her voice hoarse from lack of sleep, still thick with worry.
On the other end, the nurse's calm voice broke through, "Mrs. Simpson, I have an update on Lisa."
Marge immediately sat up, her exhaustion forgotten as a rush of anxiety coursed through her. Bart stirred beside her but didn't wake fully. Her grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles white. "Hello? How's Lisa? Is she okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The nurse's voice came through, calm but direct. "Mrs. Simpson, I'm calling to update you on Lisa. She's awake now and stable, but she's still very weak. She's been asking for you."
Marge let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her free hand flying to her chest. "Oh, thank God. She's awake. My baby's awake," she said, relief mixing with lingering worry.
"She's alert but very fatigued," the nurse continued. "She's been given fluids and is responding well. You're welcome to visit when you're ready."
Marge's lip quivered as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Thank you so much for calling."
The nurse's voice softened. "Of course. Take your time, and drive safely."
Marge ended the call, setting the phone down with shaky hands. She turned to her husband, who was stirring. "Homer," she whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. "Lisa's awake. We need to go."
Homer groggily opened his eyes, his expression shifting as her words registered. "She's awake?" he muttered, sitting up quickly.
Marge nodded, her voice trembling. "She's awake. But she's still very weak. We need to go now."
Bart stirred beside her, blinking blearily. "What's going on?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
Marge placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Bart, sweetheart, Lisa's awake. The hospital called. We're going to see her."
Bart shot up, the last remnants of sleep vanishing. "She's awake? Really?"
"Yes, she is," Marge said softly, brushing his hair back. "Get dressed, okay? We'll leave as soon as you're ready."
Bart scrambled out of bed, his face a mix of relief and urgency, as Marge and Homer hurried to prepare for the trip. The house buzzed with movement, the family united in their need to be by Lisa's side as quickly as possible.
After everyone got dressed in their usual attire, Marge headed to Maggie's room. She found the toddler sitting up in her crib, rubbing her eyes and chewing softly on her pacifier.
"Good morning, sweetie," Marge said softly, lifting Maggie into her arms. "We're going to see Lisa now, okay?"
Maggie blinked sleepily, leaning her head against Marge's shoulder as she was carried downstairs. Homer was already at the door with Bart, who stood bouncing slightly on his toes, ready to leave.
"You got everything?" Marge asked as she joined them, adjusting Maggie's blanket around her.
Homer nodded, holding the car keys. "Yeah, let's go."
They piled into the car, Marge securing Maggie in her car seat while Bart buckled himself in the back. The drive to the hospital was quiet but charged with anticipation, the family eager and anxious to finally see Lisa awake.
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Lisa was sitting up in bed, her head resting against the headboard. She was pale, her eyes still heavy with exhaustion, but the clarity in them now reflected a sharp awareness of her surroundings. She winced slightly as she adjusted her position, her body sore and still weak from the toll of the illness. The IV line in her arm was the only sign of the care she had received, and the quiet beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that broke the silence in the room.
The nurse had just checked on her a few minutes ago, adjusting the fluids and giving her a soft word of encouragement before stepping out. Lisa's gaze was fixed on the door now, a faint hope in her heart that her family would arrive soon. She felt disconnected from the world outside, unable to move or speak too much, but the thought of her parents and Bart kept her grounded.
The sterile smell of the room, the cold air, and the constant low hum of medical equipment all felt distant as she closed her eyes for a moment, taking shallow breaths. She was tired, so tired, but her mind refused to rest. The terror of the last couple of days still clung to her, and she was too afraid to drift off, not knowing what the future would bring.
She barely heard the soft knock on the door.
As the door opened, Marge rushed into the room, her steps quick and unsteady, and threw her arms around her daughter. "Oh… Lisa…" she whispered shakily, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her grip was firm yet gentle, as if afraid Lisa might slip away if she let go.
Lisa's eyes widened briefly at the sudden embrace, her body tense at first, but the warmth of her mother's arms melted away her hesitation. Her lips trembled as tears welled up in her own eyes. "Mom… Mommy…" she whimpered, her voice cracking as she clung tightly to Marge, burying her face in her mother's shoulder.
"I was so scared," Marge murmured, her tears falling into Lisa's hair as she stroked it gently. "I thought—oh, my sweet girl—I thought I'd lose you…"
Lisa shook her head against her mother's shoulder, her sobs muffled but raw. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry for scaring you…"
Homer and Bart stood near the doorway, both momentarily frozen by the emotional scene. Bart's face was a mix of guilt and relief, while Homer wiped at his eyes discreetly with the back of his hand. Finally, Bart stepped closer, his voice small and shaky.
"Hey, Lis," he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You really scared us, y'know…"
Lisa lifted her head, her face streaked with tears, and managed a weak smile at her brother. "I'm sorry, Bart… I didn't mean to…"
Bart approached the bed, his usual bravado gone. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't do that again, okay? You're not allowed to scare me like that."
Marge reluctantly pulled back, wiping her eyes, but kept one hand on Lisa's cheek. "You look so pale… but you're here, and that's all that matters."
Lisa nodded, leaning into her mother's touch, her heart swelling with gratitude and relief. "I love you, Mom… all of you."
Homer finally stepped forward, Maggie in his arms. "We love you too, sweetie," he said, his voice uncharacteristically tender as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Don't you ever scare us like that again."
Maggie cooed softly, reaching out a tiny hand to touch Lisa's arm. Lisa's smile grew, the love of her family wrapping around her like a warm blanket, soothing the ache that no medicine could reach.
Bart suddenly lunged forward and hugged Lisa tightly, his arms wrapped around her with a desperate grip. His face pressed against her shoulder as he sniffed hard, his voice breaking. "Lisa… I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry for teasing you earlier back home… I didn't mean it, I swear!"
Lisa winced slightly, her thin frame still aching from the flu and Bart's unintentional force. "Erk…! Bart…!" she croaked, trying to pull back just enough to breathe.
Realizing his mistake, Bart immediately loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely. "Oh, geez, sorry, sorry!" he said hurriedly, pulling back just enough to look at her, his face red and streaked with tears. "I just—I felt awful when you were sent here. I thought…" He trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Lisa, despite the discomfort, gave him a weak smile and gently patted his back. "It's okay, Bart… I know you didn't mean it." Her voice was soft, tired but full of forgiveness. "You're here now… that's what matters."
Bart sniffed again, nodding as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Yeah… yeah, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
Marge watched the scene unfold, her heart breaking and swelling with pride all at once. "You two," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion, "you really do love each other, don't you?"
"Yeah, don't tell anyone, though," Bart muttered, his attempt at humor coming through a tearful smile.
Lisa chuckled weakly, her laughter turning into a small cough, but she waved off Marge's concern with a slight shake of her head.
"How are you feeling, honey?" Homer asked, his voice soft but tinged with concern as he stepped closer to Lisa's bedside.
Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but her breath hitched suddenly. She quickly grabbed a tissue from the nearby box and sneezed into it forcefully, her whole body jerking with the motion. A fiery, searing sensation shot through her chest, and she winced, clutching at her ribs. "Agh…!" she groaned, her voice hoarse and strained.
"Whoa, easy there, kiddo," Homer said, his brow furrowing as he reached out to steady her. "Don't push yourself too much."
Lisa dabbed at her nose with the tissue, her eyes watery from the exertion. "I-I'm okay, Dad… just… everything hurts," she admitted weakly, leaning back against the pillows as she caught her breath.
Marge frowned, placing a hand gently on Lisa's forehead to check her temperature. "You're still burning up, sweetie. We need to take it easy, alright?"
Lisa nodded faintly, her body too exhausted to argue. "I'll try, Mom… but it's hard to breathe, and… and everything feels like it's on fire," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Maggie let out a soft coo from Homer's arms, her little eyes wide with curiosity and concern. Homer glanced at her and then back to Lisa, a rare gentleness in his expression. "Don't you worry, honey. We're all here, and we're not leaving until you're back to your old self. Just hang in there."
Lisa gave a faint smile, her eyes drooping as fatigue crept back in. "Thanks, Dad… I'll try."
She weakly tossed the crumpled tissue into the trashcan beside her bed, her arm dropping limply back to her side afterward. With a heavy sigh, she shifted slightly against the pillows, her eyelids fluttering before they fully closed.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her body succumbing to the exhaustion weighing her down. Marge gently brushed a strand of hair from Lisa's damp forehead, her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought to hold back tears.
"She needs all the rest she can get," Marge murmured quietly, her voice shaky but resolute.
Homer nodded solemnly, his hand still resting protectively on Maggie's back. "Yeah, let's give her some space," he said softly, glancing down at Lisa's peaceful, if slightly pained, expression.
The family lingered for a moment, each silently willing her to recover as they watched over her. Then, one by one, they began to step back, letting her drift deeper into the sleep she so desperately needed.
Bart hesitated at the doorway, his feet unmoving as he glanced back at his sister's sleeping form. His heart felt heavy, watching her so fragile and weak. The playful, annoying sibling banter they usually shared seemed a distant memory, replaced with an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness and concern.
He took a small step back into the room, his eyes lingering on Lisa's peaceful face. The rhythmic sound of her shallow breathing was almost too much to bear—he wanted to say something, anything, to make her feel better, but all he could do was stand there, unsure.
"Hey, Lis…" he whispered softly, just above a murmur, his voice tinged with emotion. "Get better soon, okay? We all need you back to normal."
He stood there for a moment longer, his fingers twitching like he wanted to touch her hand but was afraid to disturb her. With a heavy sigh, he finally turned away, his shoulders slumping as he quietly exited the room.
But something in him shifted. Even though he didn't say it aloud, Bart made a silent vow to himself: he would do anything to see Lisa back to her usual self. No more teasing, no more pushing her buttons—just his sister, healthy and strong again.
Marge stood outside Lisa's hospital room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she spoke with Dr. Hibbert in hushed tones. Her face was lined with worry, her eyes still puffy from the restless night before.
"How much longer will she have to stay here, Doctor?" Marge asked, her voice shaky but insistent.
Dr. Hibbert adjusted his clipboard, his usually cheerful demeanor subdued. "Well, Mrs. Simpson, Lisa's condition is improving, but she's still quite weak. The fever is under control for now, but we need to monitor her breathing and hydration closely for at least another day or two."
Marge pressed a hand to her forehead, nodding slowly. "So… she's not out of the woods yet?"
Dr. Hibbert shook his head gently. "Not entirely, no. But she's making progress, and that's a good sign. Her body just needs time to recover, and we'll be keeping a close eye on her vitals."
Marge bit her lip, glancing back at the door to Lisa's room. "She's been through so much already… I just hate seeing her like this."
Dr. Hibbert placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's hard, I know. But Lisa's a strong girl. With proper care and rest, she'll bounce back. In the meantime, make sure you and the rest of your family are taking care of yourselves too."
Marge nodded reluctantly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Thank you, Doctor."
He gave her a small nod before walking away, leaving Marge to linger by the door, peering through the small window at her sleeping daughter.
("Lisa…") she thought, her heart aching as she watched her daughter's frail figure resting in the bed. The sterile white of the hospital room contrasted sharply with the warmth and liveliness that Lisa used to carry with her, and it felt like the room itself was too quiet, too still.
Marge's thoughts raced, memories of Lisa laughing, playing the saxophone, and debating with her family flashed in her mind. It felt so foreign to imagine her without that usual spark of life. She couldn't bear the idea of losing that—losing her bright, passionate little girl.
She let out a shaky breath, her hand gently brushing the glass of the hospital window, as if she could somehow reach through it and comfort Lisa. "Please, get better, sweetie," Marge whispered under her breath, her voice cracking. "I need you."
The silence in the room was almost suffocating, broken only by the faint hum of machines and the quiet murmurs of other patients in the hallway. But despite the emptiness, Marge knew that Lisa was still fighting, and so, for the sake of her daughter, she would keep fighting too.
Meanwhile, Bart sat on a chair in the corner of the waiting area, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. His head rested against them as he stared at the tiled floor, his usually mischievous energy replaced by a quiet sadness.
The faint sound of hospital monitors and distant conversations barely registered in his mind as his thoughts swirled. He couldn't shake the image of Lisa lying there, pale and frail, hooked up to all those machines. The guilt weighed heavy on his chest.
"Why'd I have to tease her so much?" Bart muttered under his breath, his voice shaky. He wiped at his eyes quickly, glancing around to make sure no one saw him. "She didn't deserve that… not any of it."
Maggie, sitting nearby in her stroller, made a small sound around her pacifier, her wide eyes watching her brother. She couldn't understand everything happening, but even she seemed to sense something was wrong.
Bart sighed deeply, his hands gripping his knees tighter. "Just get better, Lis," he whispered. "Please."
As Bart sat there, lost in his thoughts, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Homer standing beside him, his expression unusually serious, with a trace of sadness in his eyes.
"Hey, kiddo," Homer said softly, sitting down on the chair next to Bart. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them.
"I didn't mean to be so mean to her…" Bart finally mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I just wanted to mess with her, like always. I didn't think..."
Homer sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Bart, I know you love your sister. Teasing's one thing, but right now…" He paused, struggling for words. "Right now, what she needs is for us to be here for her. And that's what we're doing, okay?"
Bart nodded, but the guilt in his chest didn't ease. He looked over at Maggie, who was staring at him with her big, curious eyes. Even she looked worried, though she couldn't say it out loud.
"I just want her to come home better," Bart whispered.
Homer put an arm around Bart's shoulders and pulled him into a side hug. "We all do, son. We all do."
The two sat in silence for a while, the normally boisterous pair unusually subdued. Bart leaned against his dad, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to push away the heavy feeling in his chest. All they could do now was wait.
Hours later, Lisa had finally awoken from her nap. Her head felt heavy and dizzy as she slowly blinked, the room still spinning slightly. Marge was sitting beside her, holding a bucket just in time as Lisa suddenly retched, the sound of her stomach emptying echoing through the room.
The rest of the family stood by the door, exchanging uncomfortable glances, unable to watch their daughter and sister in such a vulnerable state. It felt as though the air in the room had thickened with the heaviness of Lisa's pain. Even Maggie, who usually seemed to bring a bit of lightness to the room, was quiet, her eyes wide with concern.
When Lisa finally stopped, her body trembling, she coughed a few times, wincing with each movement. The pain in her stomach felt like a constant burn, making her clutch at her midsection as she let out a shaky breath.
"Ugh…" she groaned weakly, barely managing to lift her head, her face pale and slick with sweat. The exhaustion was written all over her.
Marge, still holding the bucket, gently stroked Lisa's hair. "It's okay, sweetie. You're going to get through this. I'm right here."
Lisa closed her eyes, her lips trembling as she let out a breath, too weak to respond. Her body felt like it was on fire, and her throat burned with every movement. The relief from the vomiting didn't last long; the ache in her body seemed to intensify as she lay back down, her eyes fluttering closed again.
The room was silent, save for Lisa's labored breathing, as the family looked on helplessly, unsure of how to ease her suffering.
Lisa's breath eventually settled, though her chest still rose and fell heavily. She let out a small series of raspy coughs, each one bringing a twinge of discomfort. Then, with her eyes half-open and a faint, tired smirk, she muttered in a weak voice, "If this is half of what bodies feel like in hell… those guys are so screwed..."
Bart blinked in surprise, then let out a nervous chuckle despite himself. "Well, at least you're not losing your sense of humor," he said, attempting to lighten the mood, though his voice cracked slightly with concern.
Marge gave a faint, sad smile as she gently adjusted the blanket over Lisa. "Sweetie, don't talk too much. Just rest, okay?"
Lisa gave a weak nod, her smirk fading as exhaustion quickly pulled her back under. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted off again, her breathing uneven but calmer than before.
The room fell silent once more, with the weight of her words lingering. Even in the midst of her misery, Lisa still managed to crack a joke—a small glimmer of her usual self shining through the haze of illness.
"Hey, son," Homer said, breaking the heavy silence. "Let's head to the cafeteria and get something to eat. We'll bring back something for your sister too."
Bart hesitated, glancing at Lisa's frail form in the hospital bed. "I don't know, Dad... what if she wakes up while we're gone?"
Marge gently placed a hand on Bart's shoulder. "It's okay, Bart. I'll stay here with Lisa. You go eat with your father, alright? She's asleep now, and I'll be here if she needs anything."
Bart glanced back at Lisa once more, her shallow breathing filling the quiet room. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Okay… but we won't take too long, right?"
"Of course not," Homer replied, giving his son a reassuring pat on the back. "I'll even get one of those pudding cups she likes—hospital version, but still pudding!"
Bart managed a faint smile at that as he followed Homer out of the room, glancing back one last time at Lisa before the door gently closed behind them.
Marge sighed quietly, sitting back down beside Lisa and stroking her daughter's hair. She whispered softly, "We're all here for you, Lisa. Just hang in there, sweetie."