A/N: LONGEST CHAPTER EVER. I apologize readers, I hope this chapter is worth the marathon :) 

Amelie didn't cry at her mother's funeral. She remembered two snippets from the day that marked her family's life so profoundly. The massive bouquets of white lilies that stood on either side of the funeral home door, and the moment after they closed the casket. Not the closing of the casket, but the five seconds after.

Amelie had been sneaking around the funeral home. Wandering around the different rooms and walking up or down steps that were meant to be left alone. "Exploring" she used to call it. She had happened to be peering into the viewing room in the moment the casket was closing. She mercifully could no longer vividly picture the actual casket being closed, but she distinctly remembered running down the hall and calling out to the remaining family, "They closed the casket!"

Her aunt Julie had come into view within seconds and snagged her into a side room to scold her for the announcement.

Even thinking about it now brought an embarrassed flush to Amelie's cheeks.

Her grief over her mother's death had come in small waves at random stages of life. It came when she was in Maggie's living room and Maggie would talk to her mother about what to buy at the grocery store. It came when she watched her college friends stress about remembering to send their mothers' cards for Mother's Day. She had felt relieved not to have that same stress and then guilty for even contemplating being relieved to not have a mother.

Amelie had moments when she felt a deep longing for her mother to appear and smile reassuringly down at her, but those smiles were conjured from pictures she had seen, not memories she had pulled up herself. The only memories she could conjure of her mother were of a hand tucking her into bed, a warm lap, or a watercolored face with some dark hair.

One time she distinctly did not feel the loss was when she was sick. Most kids stayed home with their mother when they were sick. But, the only time Amelie's father ever missed a day of work was when Amelie was home sick.

She and her dad had a sick day routine. She would spend the day on the couch rather than in bed so that she could be near the TV and the games when she was feeling better. They would start the day with hot chocolate and cereal, if she could manage to eat. Then he would sit on the couch with her and they'd watch TV all morning.

On one disastrous sick day the only solid food she'd had an appetite for was grilled cheese so the tradition of dipping grilled cheese in tomato soup for lunch had started.

In the afternoons she was usually feeling better so they would play cards or whatever board game she was into at the time.

Whatever they did, Amelie's catalog of best memories with her father were almost all from sick days.

As an adult, she still felt the vestiges of pleasant surprise whenever the first sign of a cold struck, even without her dad there to keep her company.

When she woke up on Saturday morning with a fever, the first thing she did was call her dad.

"Make some hot chocolate, grab three bottles of water, and install yourself in front of the TV for the morning. It's always the worst in the mornings and late at night so make sure you medicate yourself best at those times," he said.

"I know Dad, thank you," Amelie replied scratchily through her sore throat.

He just grunted in response. "Oh and make sure you put some blankets near the couch when you're feeling up to it in preparation for when you're feeling worst. You won't want to get up to grab them."

"Thanks Dad," she said, her words even hoarser this time. "I'm gonna go, I feel my voice failing."

"Okay Am, feel better."

"Thanks Dad, love you."

"Love you too."

She set down the phone and the temporary comfort of nostalgia melted away as a wave a dizziness came over her. Amelie closed her eyes and grabbed onto the chair in front of her to steady herself. There was nothing worse than being alone when you were sick.

Once it had passed, she slowly walked into her kitchen not try to make some breakfast, stopping one more time to control the dizziness. The full tea kettle felt like a thousand pounds in her hand and she almost dropped it as she poured hot water into a mug. The chocolate powder was on the top shelf and she usually had to climb on the cabinets to reach it, even with her height. She groaned and started at the shelf for a minute, contemplating whether traditions were worth the effort of climbing.

They were definitely not worth it.

She reached for the tea bags on the counter and dunked one into the water instead, going for proximity rather than taste. Not bothering to reach up to the second shelf for sugar, she grabbed the steaming mug and turned towards to the couch. Her feet felt like lead and she imagined she looked something like Frankenstein as she dragged them along. Even her eyelids felt too heavy.

She just needed to make it to the couch. Once Amelie sat down, she stared at the wall for ten blank minutes, gathering enough energy to lift up the remote control for the television. She finally managed to raise her arm and flick on the TV, but her energy was extinguished before she could change the channel.

Stuck with the news softly playing, she curled up as tightly as she could and went to sleep, holding back tears as she thought about the next forty eight hours of being sick alone.

Amelie woke up abruptly to a banging noise. She sat up with a jerking motion, immediately regretting it and falling back down to a prone position on the couch as she waited for the dizziness to pass.

Once she had calmed down she opened her eyes to search out the source of the noise. She didn't have to look far, it took only seconds before the actor on TV knocked again on the door.

She groaned on the couch as the noise zapped through her aching head. Sitting up slowly this time, she turned off the TV and sat in peaceful silence.

Her phone lit up with a notification and she noticed it was eleven in the morning. She'd been asleep for two hours. Grunting, she wrapped the blanket around her chilled body and carefully lifted herself up. She walked stiffly and slowly into her kitchen to make some food. She knew she needed to take pain killers to make her fever go down.

What was the easiest thing to eat? She didn't imagine she would be able to stand for much longer, as she was already leaning heavily against the counter.

She staggered to the fridge and grabbed a yogurt, closed the fridge and slid to the floor, leaning against the fridge. After the dizziness had passed again she reached up and opened the utensil drawer to get a spoon. When her hand came back down, she realized she had grabbed a fork, but did not care enough to exchange it.

Eating yogurt on the floor with a fork. She decided she had hit a low point in her day. It would only go up from here.

She managed to grab some ibuprofen since it was conveniently located in the kitchen and dragged herself back to the couch. Feeling slightly less drained than before, she pulled out her phone and opened her texts to tell Adrien she wasn't going to be able to make it today.

Amelie: Can we take a raincheck on the fair today? I'm not feeling great.

He responded in minutes.

Adrien: No problem. Feel better.

Simple. To the point and emotionless. She should be pleased with that answer after fighting with Adrien Thursday but his terse response just made her body feel heavier.

He had completed disrespected her wishes by probing when she said she didn't feel comfortable telling him. That was not okay, right? She thought about it. If Charlotte had pushed her that way she would have forgiven her friend in a heartbeat. She'd have known Charlotte was just looking out for her.

Maybe she was too quick to snap at Adrien? She knew he had a kind heart and wanted the best for her. He also was from a different culture and was bound to make some mistakes with humans.

It wasn't that she was angry at him for caring about her. She just didn't like that he seemed not to listen to her when she told him she didn't want to talk about it. But, again, if Charlotte had said that to her, she probably would have probed at first to make sure her friend was okay. He just needed to get better at knowing what was too far.

She thought about texting him to check in and tease him about going to the fair alone to show him that she was ready to forgive him, but her hand still weighed double what it should and she didn't trust herself to keep up a conversation in her current mental state.

She took a sip from the hardly touched bottle of water and laid herself out on the couch again. Too tired to read, she turned the TV on again and this time managed to change the channel until she found a movie to watch mindlessly.

She made it through the whole movie before her stomach growled again.

Rather than physically searching through the kitchen she mentally catalogued what food she thought she had, none of which included the fixings for tomato soup or grilled cheese. She was pretty sure she had some lentil soup somewhere though and rolled onto her stomach to lift herself up. She was halfway to sitting when there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" she croaked, shocked at how destroyed her voice sounded.

"It's Adrien."

"Come in," she said.

She heard a rattling noise, "Um...I think it's locked," he replied.

"Oh...okay. I'm coming, give me a minute," she whispered as loudly as she could.

Amelie slowly stood up and started making her way to the door. She contemplated stopping to fix her hair so that it was at least all in a ponytail, but that would probably make the pounding in her head worse and it was not worth it. He had seen her looking her best and her worst before. It was no secret to him that there was a range to her beauty.

She finally reached the door and lifted her arm to undo the locks. It fell back to her side and she felt her knees going out. She leaned against the wall the catch herself and landed softly against it with a small "Oof" sound.

"Are you okay?" Adrien asked, sounding slightly panicked.

She panted, out of breath and leaned against the wall, just breathing for a minute before she could respond.

"I'm good," she rasped. "Working on the door now." She kept her head leaning against the wall and reached her arm out to undo the lock. Once it was unlocked she let her arm drop to her side. He opened the door to her half leaning, half falling onto the wall six inches from the door.

"Hi," she croaked, giving him a small smile.

"Um, hi there. You look rather comfy."

"Oh yeah. This is how I relax...leaning against a wall," she replied sarcastically.

"Dare I ask, but would you like a hand?" he asked.

She nodded and then stopped as a crush of pain vibrated through her head. He walked into the kitchen for a second and then returned to her, putting her arm over his shoulders. "Don't pick me up," she whimpered.

"Okay, I'll just walk you back don't worry," he said. He put his arm around her waist, essentially supporting all of her weight, and walked her over to the couch. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Are you hot or cold right now?" He asked.

"Cold," she responded.

"Okay," he said and wrapped the blanket over her shoulders. "Do you want me to grab a sweatshirt and socks for you out of your room?"

"If you don't mind that would be great. Socks are top drawer."

He walked into her room and returned a few seconds later with a gigantic grey sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. Her favorite comfort clothes. She tried to smile at him but her head hurt too much for it to fully form.

He sat down on the couch next to her. "I brought you some tomato soup and the makings for grilled cheese. I remembered that's what you said you ate when you were sick. Have you eaten yet?" Amelie stared at him. He did not. How did he remember that?

"Did you read my mind somehow? Yes, yes to all of that please. I'm starving." She tried to sound excited but her voice just came out in a rasping whisper.

"Okay," he said, smiling. He stood up and walked over to the kitchen. She leaned her head against the armrest of the couch.

Ten minutes later he returned to the couch with a steaming bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

She gently lifted her head up. "Mmmm, thank you so much," she whispered.

"My pleasure. I'm happy to be here," he said and set down the food on the coffee table in front of them. She reached out with weak hands and held the bowl of soup. It took almost a minute for the first spoonful to make it to her mouth.

Adrien grabbed the plate with the grilled cheese off the table and placed it on his lap. "Just let me know when you want a bite of grilled cheese," he said, "I'll hand it to you."

She smiled gratefully. At least he wasn't trying to spoon-feed her. She would never live that embarrassment down.

She reached her hand out to him rather than use her scratchy voice and he handed her a sandwich half. She dipped it into the soup and then lifted it to her mouth. The blanket fell off her shoulder as she lifted her arm and Adrien reached out and pulled it back up her shoulder, smoothing it out. She smiled lightly and leaned into his soft touch. Adrien was fussing over her.

She finished her lunch and Adrien washed her dishes. She watched him from the living room and remarked that his strong arms looked even sexier washing her dishes.

"Feeling any better?" he asked as he sat back down on the couch.

"Mmhmm," she responded.

"Do you want to watch something on TV?" he asked.

"I just finished a movie. Do you want to play cards instead?" she asked.

"Are you sure you're up for that? You still don't look very awake," he said. "Have you taken your temperature yet?" Definitely fussing, she thought and smirked.

"No I actually haven't. There's a thermometer in the first aid kit under the kitchen sink if you want to grab it." He stood up and took out the first aid kit, inspecting it to see what else she had. When he came back he handed her the thermometer and she put it under her tongue. She always felt like a child when she took her temperature.

The thermometer beeped after a few seconds and Adrien took it out of her mouth before she could grab it herself. "102," he said."That makes sense, you seem pretty out of it."

She ignored the condescension. "Cards," was her only response. He chuckled.

"Where?" he asked, mocking her sentence structure.

"Drawer" she replied, trying to keep with the one syllable trend. He looked at her expectantly. He needed more than that. She nodded her head towards the TV. He walked towards the TV and tilted his head questioningly.

She pouted. He was not understanding the game. "They're in the drawer under the TV silly," she croaked. He smirked and retrieved the cards.

They played cards most of the afternoon in relative silence so that Amelie could rest her voice. Despite the silence she appreciated his company immensely. He got up what seemed like every ten minutes to check that she had enough water and that her blanket had not fallen off.

They played a mix of card games that she had grown up with and ones that he adapted from games played in Moore.

They were onto their third round of rummy when she realized she had won almost every game far easier than she usually would have.

"Hey, are you letting me win?" she accused Adrien.

He pulled his lips back over his bottom teeth to show he was 'caught in the act.' Amelie reached out and lightly smacked his arm. How dare he let her win like a child?

"Well stop doing it. From now on play fairly," she said.

"But you're sick!" he exclaimed. "I don't want to beat a sick person. I want to take care of you."

"Right I'm sick so we do what I want. I want you to play fairly. Got it?" she demanded, and pointed her finger sternly at him. He nodded slowly with wide eyes and she giggled at his mockery.

They played for another two hours and ended up tied overall. She was impressed. Card games worked her math brain and she was used to frustrating others with her aptitude for them.

"I'm hungry," Adrien said around four, do you mind if I poke around your kitchen? I only brought food for you, I forgot to grab some for myself."

"Of course, go ahead."

"Do you want anything? Tea? Hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate please. And can you grab me more ibuprofen? I'm worried it's going to wear out soon."

"Okay," he said and squeezed her arm as he got up.

Adrien made himself a sandwich and sat back down next to her, handing her the mug of hot chocolate and some pills. She felt strong enough now to hold the mug up by herself, unlike earlier this morning.

After taking the pills, she set down the hot chocolate on the table and leaned her head against Adrien's shoulder. He immediately slumped down so that her head was at a more comfortable angle, and leaned his cheek onto the top of her head, gently nuzzling her.

"Thank you for being here," she whispered.

"Of course," he said. He turned and kissed the top of her head. She sighed in contentment and snuggled into his shoulder.

Their fight on Thursday had been banging around in her head all morning and she knew she could not keep it strapped in much longer. She turned so her mouth was flush against his shirt and said, "I'm sorry about getting so angry on Thursday. I know you were just being protective." It was easier to apologize when she didn't have to look him in the eye.

She felt him take in a large breath and exhale slowly. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just worry about you." He placed his empty plate on the coffee table and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

She wondered to herself if maybe he had been jealous. Would he have reacted the same had she mentioned she had met some female friends when they were out?

She turned her head so she was no longer speaking into his shirt. "Because you don't want me taken advantage of?" she probed, trying to get him to admit maybe he had been jealous.

"Of course. You're beautiful and men can be horrible. I was worried if you were too drunk some man might have forced himself on you or programmed his number into your phone," he said.

She frowned. That answer just made her feel worse. She pulled away from his warm body to rest her head on the arm of the couch again and said, "That's ridiculous, Adrien. I was fine. You don't need to worry about that."

Adrien turned to look at her, an expression of hurt on his face. "I know, but I do worry. I'm just being honest with you. When I'm not with you....." he let out a big breath, "I think about you. All the time. I feel like you're always there in some way. Ever since we were ten, you've been there, Amelie.

"Maybe, I was a little jealous you gave out your number," he whispered and reached a hand towards hers to interlace their fingers. "But I can't apologize for worrying about you." He shook his head and looked down at their clasped hands.

Her face heated and she caressed the back of his hand with her fingers. There it was. He had been jealous. Her hand reached up, almost of its own accord, towards his sad, sweet face. He looked up at her as she brushed her fingers down his jawline and cupped his face in her hand.

"I understand. It's okay," she said.

He pulled up their clasped hands to his chest and rested them there, then slowly leaned back so that his torso was lying on the couch. Her body followed after her hand and their legs lifted so that they were elongated on the couch, her body resting on top of his. He let go of her for a second to adjust the blanket over her body and then rested his hands on her back.

His body felt warm and soft to lie on and she smiled up at him, resting her chin on the crook of his chest, where his arm began.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked, and one of his arms came up to tangle in her hair. She had to hold back a sound of pleasure.

She wanted to say yes. Yes please let's never move from this position. But traitorous goosebumps broke out on her skin as if in response to the question.

He noticed them and turned his body over gently so that he was laying behind her, his arms wrapped around her body. Spooning her. She wiggled happily and said "Yes, now I am."

She felt him chuckle behind her and stroke her arm lightly in response.

"Would you like to take a nap?" he whispered.

"I don't know if I can sleep at the moment," she replied. Her body felt like there was a live current running through it. "Can we watch something instead?"

"We can do whatever you want. I have no intention of moving unless you want me to," he replied. She reached for his hand that was on her arm and laced her fingers through his.

"No let's not say goodbye again anytime soon," she said, "I've had enough of that with you."