At the cafeteria, Homer and Bart stood in line, staring at the uninspiring selection of food behind the glass. The faint hum of conversation filled the room, along with the sterile scent of reheated meals.

Bart wrinkled his nose. "Ugh. Hospital food looks even worse than school lunch."

Homer scratched his head as he scanned the options. "Yeah… not exactly a Duff Burger and chili fries, but hey, food's food." He grabbed a tray and started picking random items—a bland-looking sandwich, a cup of gelatin, and a carton of milk.

Bart sighed and grabbed a small plate of fries and a soda, but his appetite was still low. As they made their way to a table, he rested his chin on his hand, poking at a fry with disinterest.

Homer sat across from him and took a huge bite of his sandwich, grimacing immediately. "Blegh! Tastes like sadness."

Bart managed a small chuckle but quickly turned serious again. "Dad… do you think Lisa's gonna be okay?"

Homer paused mid-bite, his expression softening. He put the sandwich down and sighed. "I don't know, son… but she's strong. Stronger than me, that's for sure."

Bart stared down at his tray, his fingers fidgeting with the edge. "I just… I don't like seeing her like that."

Homer reached across the table, ruffling Bart's hair gently. "Me neither, buddy. But we're here for her. That's what matters."

Bart nodded slowly, still lost in thought. Then, after a moment, he pushed his tray aside. "Let's just grab something for Lisa and head back."

Homer nodded in agreement and stood up, grabbing a pudding cup for Lisa. As they left the cafeteria, the weight of the situation settled over them once again, heavier than before.

Meanwhile, Lisa lay in the bed, her half-open eyes focused on her mother as Marge gently stroked her hair, her movements soft and comforting despite the heaviness in the air.

"How do you feel, honey?" Marge asked, her voice tender but tinged with worry.

Lisa moaned weakly, her voice hoarse and strained. "Like I got run over by a bus… and backed over again just to add insult to injury... And like I ate a lit kerosene-doused match... And at the same time… I'm freezing… I'm in hell and the arctic right now, Mom…"

Marge couldn't help but let out a small, nervous laugh at Lisa's attempt at humor, though it was laced with sorrow. She gently squeezed Lisa's hand, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. "Lisa… If you ate a kerosene-doused match you'd be… Well… You know…" She trailed off, her throat tightening. She didn't want to say the word dead out loud. Not to Lisa. Not now.

She paused, swallowing hard before continuing in a quieter voice, "I'm just glad you're here, honey. We're all here. You're not alone."

"I'm glad you're here with me, Mom... But... What happened at home while I was here...?" Lisa's voice was faint, barely above a whisper, but there was a curious, almost fragile note to her words.
Marge then sighed, brushing a stray strand of Lisa's damp hair away from her face. "Oh, honey… It's been quiet. Too quiet." She gave a tired smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "No one really wanted to do anything. We didn't even turn on the TV… Bart barely touched his skateboard… Your dad—" She hesitated, glancing away for a moment. "Even he stayed away from beer."

Lisa blinked in surprise, her weak body shifting slightly. "Dad… stayed sober?"

Marge nodded. "And I could barely eat… I couldn't even cook. We just… sat there, waiting for the phone to ring." She let out another sigh, this one shakier than before. "It was like the whole house was just… waiting for you to come back."

Lisa's lips trembled slightly as she processed her mother's words. "I didn't think… I didn't think it'd be that bad…"

Marge squeezed her hand, her thumb stroking the back of it. "We were all scared, sweetie… We still are. But you're here. You're awake." Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept her composure. "That's all that matters."

As Marge planted a gentle kiss on Lisa's cheek, the soft, comforting gesture seemed to ground both of them in the moment. Lisa let out a small, tired smile, grateful for the presence of her mother's warmth.

Suddenly, Maggie reached out, her small hand extending toward her sister. The pacifier bobbed gently in

her mouth as she stared at Lisa with innocent eyes, a silent offer of comfort in her childlike way.

Marge's heart ached as she watched Maggie, the youngest one, still so unaware of the gravity of the situation but offering her sister a silent, loving gesture nonetheless. She placed Lisa's hand into Maggie's and smiled softly. "Your little sister's always looking out for you, honey."

Lisa gave a weak smile, her eyes welling with emotion as she looked down at Maggie's tiny hand in hers. She squeezed it gently, the warmth from both her mother and sister giving her a brief moment of peace amidst the turmoil. "Thanks, Maggie," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "I'll get better… soon."

Just then, Bart and Homer came in from the cafeteria, carrying a small tray with food. Homer held a burger and fries for himself, while Bart carried a bowl of soup and a cup of tea and pudding meant for Lisa.

"Hey, we're back," Bart announced as he set the tray down on the small table beside Lisa's bed. "Got you some soup. Not sure if you can keep it down, but… y'know, it's something."

Lisa glanced at the bowl, her stomach twisting at the thought of eating. "Ugh… I appreciate it, but I don't think my stomach's ready for that yet."

Homer plopped down in a chair, chewing on his burger. "You sure? We even asked the lunch lady to make it extra mushy for ya. Just the way sick people like it."

Bart elbowed him. "Dad, that's not helping."

Lisa let out a small, hoarse chuckle before wincing at the pain it caused in her chest. "Thanks, Bart… Maybe later."

Marge reached over and rubbed Lisa's back gently. "That's okay, sweetie. Just take your time."

Maggie, still holding Lisa's hand, gave it another tiny squeeze. Bart sat down on the edge of the bed, watching his sister with concern. For the first time in a while, the whole family was together again, even if it was in a hospital room.

Suddenly, the sound of two knocks echoed through the room before the door creaked open, revealing Dr. Hibbert alongside one of the nurses. His usual chuckle was absent, his expression more serious than usual. The nurse beside him gave Lisa a soft, sympathetic smile before glancing at the monitor next to her bed.

"Well now," Dr. Hibbert said as he stepped closer. "I see you're finally awake, young lady. How are you feeling?"

Lisa let out a weak sigh. "Like I got hit by a truck… twice… and then set on fire."

Dr. Hibbert hummed. "Well, that's about what I'd expect, given your condition. You've been fighting off a nasty flu, and while your fever has gone down a little, you're still severely dehydrated and weak. You'll need to stay here at least another night."

Marge exhaled sharply, gripping Lisa's hand a little tighter. "Another night…?" she murmured, as if saying it out loud made it more real.

Lisa just gave a slow nod. She wasn't surprised—she still felt like absolute garbage—but hearing it confirmed made her sink further into the bed.

"Will she be okay?" Bart asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Dr. Hibbert nodded. "She's improving, but she's not out of the woods yet. The IV fluids are helping, and she needs as much rest as possible. As long as she stays stable through the night, we can talk about the next steps in the morning."

Marge ran a hand through her slightly disheveled hair. "Okay… okay," she murmured, as if trying to convince herself.

The nurse stepped forward, adjusting Lisa's blankets. "Try to sleep as much as you can, sweetheart. If you feel worse, press the call button right away, alright?"

Lisa gave a small, exhausted nod. "Okay…"

Dr. Hibbert scribbled something on his chart before glancing at Marge and Homer. "We'll check in on her again in a few hours. Just keep her comfortable."

With that, he and the nurse exited the room, leaving the family in a heavy silence. Marge exhaled shakily, then leaned down and kissed Lisa's forehead.

"We're staying with you, sweetie," she whispered. "We're not going anywhere."

"If we're gonna stay here with her... where are we gonna sleep?" Bart asked, glancing around the room.

Homer scratched the back of his head, looking a bit lost. "Uh… good question." He glanced around as if hoping for a pull-out bed to suddenly appear.

Marge let out a sigh. "I'll stay in the chair next to her. I don't care if it's uncomfortable." She kept her gaze on Lisa, her voice soft but firm. "I'm not leaving her side."

Bart frowned. "But what about me and Dad?"

Homer shrugged. "Well, son, hospitals aren't exactly known for their five-star accommodations." He turned to Marge. "Maybe we can ask if they have one of those...uh, visitor cots or something?"

Marge nodded. "I'll check with the nurse in a little bit."

Bart groaned. "So I guess that means I'm stuck in a chair too?"

Lisa, still weak but awake, managed a weak smile. "Welcome to my world."

Bart sighed dramatically. "Great. Now I have to worry about you being sick and waking up with a stiff neck."

Marge smiled softly, reaching over to rub Bart's back. "It'll just be for one night, honey."

Homer grumbled. "Well, I hope I don't wake up with a crick in my neck too." He eyed the room, still clearly unhappy with the lack of space.

Lisa suddenly retched as she pressed her hands firmly against her lips. Marge quickly grabbed the bucket and held it in front of her daughter just in time. Lisa leaned forward, heaving as she emptied her stomach once more. Her body trembled, and her face was damp with sweat. The sound made Bart and Maggie cringe as they looked away, while Homer grimaced and muttered, "Oh man…"

By the time Lisa finished, she let out a shaky breath and weakly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Ugh…" she groaned, her voice raspy. She leaned back against the pillows, her entire body feeling like it had been drained of energy.

Marge gently rubbed her back. "Shh… it's okay, sweetie. Just breathe," she soothed, reaching for some tissues to help wipe Lisa's face and her nose.

Bart still had his head turned away. "Man, I hate seeing her like this."

Lisa closed her eyes, exhausted. "Trust me… I hate being like this…"

Maggie's pacifier bobbed up and down as she watched her sister with wide eyes. She reached out her tiny hand, gently patting her sister's arm in an attempt to comfort her. Lisa cracked one eye open, noticing the gesture, and mustered a weak smile.

"Thanks, Mags…" Lisa murmured, her voice hoarse.

Marge carefully adjusted Lisa's blankets, tucking them around her. "Just rest, honey," she said softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from Lisa's forehead.

Bart, still looking uneasy, sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Man, I hope this flu gets bored of you soon," he muttered.

Lisa let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "Yeah… tell me about it… I'm bored of sitting in a hospital bed and I wanna go home just like all of you..."

Homer sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "We really wish you could, sweetheart… But the doctor says you need to stay until you're strong enough."

Lisa groaned in frustration, resting her head back against the pillow. "Ugh… this sucks…"

Bart crossed his arms, nodding. "Yeah, hospitals are the worst. It's all 'be quiet' this and 'don't touch that' that. And the food? Don't get me started."

Lisa smirked weakly. "Can't be worse than being stuck in a fever dream while you guys eat actual food…"

Marge gave her daughter a sympathetic look and gently stroked her arm. "I know it's hard, sweetie… but we just want you to get better."

Lisa sighed. "I know, Mom… I just want this to be over already."

Maggie's hand remained holding onto Lisa's arm, her pacifier moving steadily as she blinked up at her big sister. Lisa gave her a small smile, appreciating the tiny comfort.

"So, Dad… is it true? Have you really gone without a beer since yesterday?" she asked, turning her tired eyes toward him.

Homer shifted in his seat, scratching the back of his head. "Uh… yeah, I guess so," he admitted. "Didn't really feel right drinking while you were in here."

Lisa raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Wow… I didn't think anything could keep you away from beer."

Bart smirked. "Yeah, what's next? You start eating salads?"

Homer shot him a look. "Hey, don't push it, boy."

Lisa let out a weak chuckle before coughing slightly, wincing at the pain in her throat. Marge quickly handed her a glass of water. "Here, honey. Sip it slowly."

Lisa took the cup and drank carefully, her throat still burning. As she set it down, she glanced back at Homer. "Well… thanks, Dad. It means a lot."

Homer gave her a small smile and patted her head gently. "Anything for my little girl."

"Our little girl," Marge corrected softly, giving Homer a look.

Homer nodded quickly. "Right, right—our little girl."

Lisa managed a small smile at that, though exhaustion was still evident on her face. She let out a slow breath and rested her head back against the pillow.

Bart leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. "Man, I can't wait till you're back home. The house is way too quiet without you nerding it up all the time."

Lisa smirked weakly. "And yet, somehow, your voice still fills the void…"

Bart rolled his eyes but grinned. "Yeah, yeah, just hurry up and get better, will ya?"

Maggie smiled, still clinging to Lisa's arm, her pacifier bobbing.

Marge gently stroked Lisa's hair, her motherly warmth shining through. "We just want you home, sweetie. But only when you're ready."

Lisa sighed, her eyelids feeling heavier. "Me too, Mom… me too…"

Later, Dr. Hibbert was checking Lisa's temperature, the thermometer in her mouth poking under her tongue. The numbers flickered on the screen before settling at 102.8F.

Marge frowned, her worry deepening. "Oh, sweetie… that's still so high."

Dr. Hibbert hummed thoughtfully as he pulled the thermometer away. "It's better than before, but she's not out of the woods yet. We'll keep monitoring her, and if her fever starts dropping steadily overnight, she might be able to go home in a couple of days."

Lisa let out a small groan and sank further into the pillows. "Ugh… a couple more days?"

Bart crossed his arms. "Guess that means more hospital food for you."

Lisa shot him a tired glare. "Not helping, Bart."

"Bart, I thought you settled being sorry for teasing her when she was at home!" Homer scolded, giving him a sharp look.

Bart huffed and slumped in his chair. "I am sorry! I was just making a joke…"

Lisa sighed, rubbing her temple. "Bart, just… not right now, okay?"

Bart glanced at her, then away, feeling a twinge of guilt. "…Yeah, okay. Sorry."

Dr. Hibbert cleared his throat, drawing their attention back. "Well, as long as she gets plenty of rest and keeps her fluids up, we'll see how she's doing by tomorrow."

Marge nodded, still stroking Lisa's hair. "Thank you, Doctor…"

Lisa closed her eyes briefly, exhaling through her nose. She really didn't want to be stuck here any longer, but she didn't have much of a choice.

As the doctor left the room, Lisa moaned, sinking deeper into the bed. "Bart, you're the expert— Is it too late to become atheist?"

Bart smirked. "Pfft, never. But I dunno, Lis, if there is a God, He's really putting you through it right now."

Lisa groaned again, rubbing her forehead. "Ugh… tell me about it."

Marge frowned. "Sweetie, don't talk like that…" She tucked the blanket around Lisa a little tighter, as if that could shield her from everything.

Lisa sighed, her voice hoarse. "Sorry, Mom… Just trying to cope with my unending pain and suffering."

Homer patted her foot gently. "Don't worry, honey, if you see a light, just run the other way."

"Homer!" Marge scolded.

"What? I'm just saying!"

"Ahh, it seems like the good times are back again already…" Bart sighed with humor, leaning back in his chair.

Lisa shot him a weary glare, but a small, tired smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, just like old times…"

Marge shook her head, though she couldn't suppress the faintest chuckle. "You two never change, do you?"

Homer shrugged with a playful grin. "What can we say? We're family."

Lisa let out a small laugh, but it was followed by a deep, painful cough that made her wince.

"Oh, honey, take it easy," Marge said quickly, her hand instinctively brushing her daughter's forehead.

Bart muttered under his breath, "Maybe next time we can have less of the 'dying' humor, though."

Lisa gave him a tired but grateful look. "Yeah, no promises."

"Oh, hey, I forgot you had TVs in here!" Homer said, perking up as he pointed at the small screen mounted on the wall.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dad, because television is exactly what's going to cure my flu."

Homer ignored her sarcasm and grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels. "Let's see what we got… infomercial… infomercial… boring news… Spanish soap opera… Ooh! Monster truck rally!"

Marge sighed. "Homer, this isn't about you. Let Lisa pick something."

Lisa groaned, shifting under her blankets. "Honestly, I don't care. Just… nothing loud."

Bart smirked. "So, no monster trucks?"

"Bart…"

"Fine, fine…" He took the remote from Homer and started flipping channels again. "Hey, what about a nature documentary?"

Lisa gave a weak thumbs-up. "Better than Dad's 'big wheels go vroom' marathon."

Homer crossed his arms. "Your loss."

As nighttime later fell, Bart and Homer tried their hardest to find the right comfortable place around the hospital for them, and Maggie, to sleep, while Marge stayed with Lisa in the room. So far, it's been about 8 minutes.

"Please let there be a place where I don't end up with a cricked neck…" Homer murmured as they walked around.

"Feet are aching…" Bart added, dragging his feet as he trudged along behind his dad.

Homer gave him a glance. "Tell me about it. It's like they've been standing on concrete for hours…" He paused, eyeing the benches lining the hospital hallway. "Hey, what about there?"

Bart raised an eyebrow. "I don't know… that looks like a nice spot for a nap, but I'd probably wake up more stiff than when I started."

"Well, it's better than standing." Homer sat down with a groan, immediately wincing at the discomfort. "Ugh… why is nothing here comfortable?"

Bart sighed, following his dad's example and sitting down beside him. "Yeah, if hospitals were actually designed for comfort, I bet people would be getting sick just to hang out here."

"Not funny, Bart," Homer muttered, pulling Maggie closer as she shifted in his arms. "I just want one night of sleep. Is that too much to ask?"

Bart yawned. "Probably."

Meanwhile, in Lisa's room, Marge sat by her daughter's side, holding her hand gently as the soft sounds of the hospital's nighttime stillness filled the room. Her tired eyes flickered between her daughter's face and the clock, each minute passing slowly.

"I can't stand this any longer, Mom..." complained Lisa, her voice weak but edged with frustration as she shifted in her hospital bed.

Marge looked at her daughter with a sad, understanding expression. "I know, honey... I know. But you need to rest. It's going to help you get better."

Lisa let out a groan, her hands clutching the blankets tightly. "I feel like I've been laying here forever. I just want to go home." She winced slightly as a wave of pain shot through her chest. "This... this is torture."

Marge gently stroked her daughter's hair, her own exhaustion creeping up on her. "I wish I could take you away from all this, sweetie... But you're getting the care you need here. It's the best thing for you right now."

Lisa closed her eyes, clearly worn out, but her frustration was still palpable. "I'm so tired of this," she muttered. "I just want to be myself again. Playing my saxophone, using my smarts."

Marge squeezed her daughter's hand, her heart aching as she watched Lisa struggle. "I know, baby. We all want that."

Lisa sighed as she coughed a few times, each one sending a sharp pang through her sore throat. She winced and clutched her chest, trying to catch her breath. The exhaustion from being stuck in the hospital, combined with the relentless symptoms, made every movement feel like a battle.

"Ugh... I hate this," she muttered, her voice rough from the coughing. Her head fell back against the pillow as she closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing.

Marge's heart sank as she watched her daughter struggle. She gently rubbed Lisa's arm, trying to comfort her, though she knew it was little compared to the pain Lisa was going through. "I know, honey. I know. Just rest… it'll get better soon, I promise."

Lisa opened her eyes just enough to glance at her mother, a weak, tired smile forming on her face. "I just want to go home… sleep in my own bed... not this... hospital prison."

Marge nodded softly, her own voice barely above a whisper. "I wish we could go home too... but you're doing the right thing, being here. Just a little longer, and you'll be out of here in no time. I promise."

Lisa's eyelids fluttered as she tried to fight the overwhelming fatigue pulling at her, but the weight of it soon took over, and she drifted back into a fitful, uneasy sleep.

Marge leaned down and planted a long, gentle kiss on Lisa's forehead, her lips lingering for a moment as she took in the warmth of her daughter's skin. "I love you so much, sweetheart," she whispered softly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from Lisa's face.

She stayed there for a few moments, watching her daughter sleep, the quiet hum of the hospital room filling the silence. It hurt her to see Lisa like this, so frail, sick and vulnerable, but she knew her daughter was strong. She just needed to get through this, and Marge would be there every step of the way.

With a final, quiet sigh, Marge pulled herself back into the chair beside Lisa's bed. She reached out, gently holding her daughter's hand again, as if the simple act could make everything better. She just hoped it could.

Meanwhile, Homer was arguing with the receptionist at the front desk, his voice rising in frustration.

"What do you mean you don't have free beds here?!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands. "My daughter's sick, my wife is stressed out, and now you're telling me we can't even get a place to sleep?"

The receptionist, a tired-looking woman with graying hair and half-lidded eyes, barely glanced up from her computer. "Sir, this is a hospital, not a hotel. Beds are for patients only."

"But my back needs it! You want me to wake up tomorrow shaped like a question mark?!" Homer whined, throwing his hands in the air.

Bart, standing beside him with Maggie in his arms, sighed. "Face it, Dad. We're doomed to the chairs."

Homer groaned dramatically, rubbing his face. "Oh, this is just great! First, my little girl gets sick, and now I have to suffer too?!"

The receptionist gave him a deadpan look. "Sir, you could go home and sleep in your own bed."

Homer gasped as if she had insulted his very existence. "And leave my baby girl here?! Are you insane, lady?!"

Bart rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Dad, because Lisa would totally want you snoring in here all night like a broken lawnmower."

Before Homer could snap back, the receptionist sighed and gestured lazily to the waiting area. "There are recliners. Take one or take the floor. Up to you."

Homer let out a defeated groan. "Fine. But if I wake up paralyzed, you're paying my hospital bill!"

"Yeah, yeah," the receptionist muttered, already typing away again.

Bart just shook his head and walked toward the waiting area, gently bouncing Maggie in his arms. "C'mon, Mags. Let's go claim our luxury seating before some other poor sap takes it."

Maggie took her pacifier out and stuck her tongue out at the receptionist.

The receptionist, unfazed, glanced at Maggie before muttering, "Real mature, kid."

Bart couldn't help but smirk. "She gets it from me."

Homer, tired and frustrated, grumbled, "Well, at least someone in this family's got my back."

Maggie, still clinging to her pacifier, rested her head against Bart's shoulder as he settled in, trying to find some comfort in the chairs. He adjusted her in his arms, then leaned back with a sigh. "Great. Another night of hospital fun."

Homer dragged his feet over to the recliner, flopping down with a heavy sigh, trying to find any comfortable angle. "I give this 15 minutes before my back decides it's done."

Bart stretched his legs out, yawning. "10 minutes tops."

With that, the family tried to settle in, their exhaustion making the night drag on longer than ever before.