Charlotte

The rest of the weekend was mostly boring, but at last I got a message from Charlie saying that he was coming back that night. Hopefully he would be here before the sun rose up again, and I couldn't help but glance out the window repeatedly to see if his automobile was approaching.

I guess they must have been bursting fireworks somewhere, if I stood near the window near the West Wing, I would hear the faint pop! noises of some of them going off, though, for the actual show, were obscured by the surrounding landscape.

Then, finally, I saw the lights of an automobile approaching from far away. I thought I might've just imagined it or maybe it was some other headed in another direction, but the light gradually became brighter as it came near the house.

Charlie was back!

I was practically bouncing on the balls of my heels in excitement before forcing myself to calm down as I sat down by the foot of the stairs near the entrance.

The door clicked as it opened and he walked in.

"Hello Charlie! How was the rest of your weekend? I'll have you know I managed to finish sweeping up the second floor of the East Wing, and none of those books you left behind had anything I think that would be significant. Also, I know they fixed the lights upstairs but one of the lightbulbs isn't turning on anymore and it needs to be looked at. Thank you again for the Boba Tea, it still felt too sweet so there's one still in the fridge because I thought you might enjoy it more-"

I barraged him with my talk as he smiled while walking in, but I quickly realized that something was off as we continued talking.

"Are you - doing alright?" I asked him. He had a strange, tired look to him - one that I had seen on him earlier on the first night we had met. He had gone on vacation though, right? Shouldn't he be well-rested by now? Or did something happen with his family?

"Yeah, it's just..." he began before grabbing a bottle from a cabinet in the kitchen. "I have this strange headache that I got after the fireworks, I'm going to take a painkiller and hit the hay I guess. Sorry, but can we talk later tomorrow?"

I was a bit crestfallen, though I tried my hardest not to let it show. It was clear that something was wrong - though hopefully it would be better by the next night.

Charlie

Normally you'd think I'd come back from a vacation re-energized and ready to work, but with the flipped schedule of normal daytime activity, it felt like I was more tired in a way than I had been before I had set out. It was surprisingly far more exhausting than I would've thought it would be.

I went to sleep, regretting that I couldn't spend at least a few more minutes with Charlotte, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I thought I would feel better after a good night's (or I guess day's) sleep, but when I woke up, the headache was still there. It crossed my mind to call in sick, but it was mild and I popped another painkiller. I didn't want to call out after the long weekend as it might seem that I was just stacking it with them to get more time off. I was the new guy after all and I didn't want to pull that kind of thing just a few weeks after starting the job. I knew some places would frown on that kind of practice- some of the other places I had worked at were like that.

'I just have a mild headache, I can still go to work,' I told myself. I waved Charlotte goodbye, not really being able to say much to her and feeling awful about it, but I figured that I would be better the next evening.

I was wrong. By midnight it was clear that this wasn't your run-of-the-mill headache that I could get over with a couple of painkillers, no, I really was sick and should've just called out earlier. I actually took a nap when things slowed down, and when Stuart had to shake me awake to get me to wake up, he could tell from my expression that something was off.

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"Everything cool man?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I just kind of... don't feel well," I told him. 'Uh, but I'll finish the rest of my shift I'm good enough for that." I didn't feel like packing up and leaving in the middle after I had showed up, though as the hours seemed to drag on I began wishing I had just left.

I drove home, with my entire body aching now. I collapsed onto my bed, took an NSAID, and then drifted off to sleep. I didn't even notice Charlotte.

When I was supposed to wake up and didn't feel any better, I realized I was going to have to call in sick. I called Dylan to let him know I had to call out - he said he would give Stuart the message after wishing that I get better.

I turned over in bed and fell asleep again, waking up sometime near midnight. Man- I had been out for nearly fourteen hours, and still didn't feel well-rested. I did feel somewhat hungry though and got up.

Charlotte came down the stairs, likely after she had heard me making noises in the kitchen. "Are you... alright?" she asked. She must've known I would normally be at work and had put two and two together as to why I wasn't there.

"Uh, no," I told her. I shrugged. "It's probably nothing though."

"Your forehead," she said, placing a hand on my head. Her skin felt as real as it always did at night, and her hand was somewhat cold.

"I took another Tylenol so I probably don't have a fever," I explained to her. I barely ate half of my cereal before realizing that I couldn't stomach anymore of it and went back to sleep.

I woke up at around ten in the morning, not being able to sleep anymore. Did I feel any better? Only slightly. I also had the strangest dream- of being late to school, only that when I opened the doorway to get in, it warped into the old hospital I had worked at. I ran from room to empty room, finding no one, but constantly being told I had to run somewhere....

Confused, I turned my head to see that Charlotte was there, at the side of my room instead of her usual case. Of course, as sunlight was streaming through the windows, she couldn't move, which meant that she had fallen 'asleep' here on purpose.

The earlier me would've thought she might've just been planning to kill me - though that was clearly not the case anymore.

I went to the kitchen, made something else for myself, sent Dylan another message saying I couldn't come this night either, popped another Tylenol, and went back to sleep.

I woke up just after dusk had settled. I did feel somewhat better now - though I didn't know how much of that was the medication, and I still didn’t feel like eating anything although I had barely had anything in the first place in the last twenty-four hours.

After that, I didn't feel like sleeping and so I slumped onto the couch and switched something on, not sure of what to watch.

Charlotte walked up next to me - in the weird haze my mind was in, I had barely even registered her presence or what she was doing.

"Charlie, how are you feeling now?" she asked.

"Okay I guess," I said. "I still feel bad though." Even walking up the stairs had been a pain.

"Do you... still have a fever?" she asked.

"Maybe," I said. "But like I said before, you wouldn't know given what I'm taking."

"You should get yourself checked," she told me, tugging on my sleeve to get my attention.

"Nah, it's just a normal cold, I don't need to bother anyone about it," I told her.

She took a deep breath. "But... what if it isn't?" I turned to see that she looked very worried - far more than I felt like this warranted.

"What else could it be?"

"What if... what if you have.... tuberculosis?" she blurted out, then cupped her hands over her mouth as if she had just used unparliamentary language.

I probably shouldn't have, but I ended up bursting into laughter at that. Perhaps the sickness and the strange fog my mind was in had taken away any filter I had? "What's so funny!?" she asked, offended.

"I don't have tuberculosis, I'm pretty sure of that," I told her.

"But... what if I gave it to you somehow?" she asked, eyes widened. I had no idea how that thought had even crossed her mind. "I mean, I don't know how this doll's body works, but what if being near me for so long - when no one has ever before, gave you-"

"I don't think that could happen," I told her. "Tuberculosis needs a living cell to actually live, and you turn 'off' every night, so I can't see it working. Plus, you have no symptoms of tuberculosis, do you?"

"But... but what if..." she started. "What if you got it somehow... and it killed you like it did me?"

It took me a moment to realize, in my sickness-addled consciousness, what the actual problem was. "Oh, I forgot to tell you this Charlotte, but we have a cure for tuberculosis now. We've actually had it for about over five decades now." With all the things I had updated her on regarding the modern world, how did that slip my mind?