PARKER | Dark H.S. AU

lvi. sick charlie huhu

~unedited~

Charlie kept on coughing the entire drive to the home, her cold fingers -- whole body, even -- were shaking. Though the heater inside the vehicle helped warm her up, it only lasted several minutes after she finally had to get out of the car and walk the distance between the ginormous gate and the small building up the hill.

She doesn't notice the bed of flowers on both sides of the path this time, though, because as she runs to seek refuge to the facility that has been home for her for all those years, she has to look at the ground to avoid the rain from pelting over her face.

She climbs the slope with hurried steps, her wet clothes already dripping with water and sticking to her skin. She smells the scent of mud and cool vapor lifting in the air, the redolent smell of bitter green grass and flora.

Coughing, she pauses at the stoop just as a little boy comes to welcome her by opening the door. A warm smile set on her face as he looks up at her. His blue eyes weary and wondering, knitted sweater hugging his small body and blonde hair in disarray.

"Charlie, why -" little Luke is cut off as Martha appears behind his small frame.

A frazzled look on her age-defined face, she hurries to pull Charlie in the warmth of the home's threshold. "What on earth happened to you, Charlie?" She asks the blonde girl, her arm coming around her shaky shoulders to put off Charlie's damp coat. She drapes the now heavy article around her arm, taking a mental note to take it to the laundry later. To Luke, Martha says, "Luke, please close the door and come along quickly."

Luke nods and does as what was asked of him before jogging behind Martha and Charlie, trailing them.

"I'm fine." Luke hears Charlie say, her voice is meek and breaking, followed by a small trail of coughs.

Charlie is sick, Luke gathers. He saw her face was a beet red, her nose seemed stuffy. She was shaking when he saw her by the door. Try as Charlie might to seem fine, little Luke thinks she's getting weak. He can see her slouching a little bit as she continues to walk slowly, slower than she usually does on a fine day.

"I just need to change. That's all." Charlie croaks as they turn a corner.

"What did you do in the city?" Martha asks, hugging Charlie closer to her side to provide heat on her body.

"Came to visit Hank and..." Charlie trails off as her voice weakens by the second, closing her eyes as a wave of nausea sends her wobbling a step back. Martha catches her quickly before she goes off-balance, but Charlie presses his feet firmly on the floor and tightens her hold around Martha's arm.

"Charlie." Luke calls, concern underlies his small voice. His glassy eyes meet with Charlie's now squinting ones. Her vision is swinging. She blinks slowly to rid of the blur as she adjusts her weak gaze down at him.

"I'm fine." She repeats her words from earlier; only now she sounds even more unbelievable. Her voice is fragile, like it would break any second if she let out another word.

"You're most certainly not, honey. C'mon, let's get you changed and rest." Martha insists while pulling Charlie to help her as she walks. They make it to the steps that lead down to the basement, the place where Charlie deemed as her temporary dwelling place.

Martha's conscience pulls a string from her heart, making her frown as the memory of the first afternoon they came down here to check on its state and Charlie's belongings were all upstairs, waiting to be moved in the tight room. She could've persuaded Charlie to stay in her room more, but the blonde insisted she was fine.

Martha shakes her head to herself.

Charlie turns the knob of the door, but it's the older woman who pushes it open, quickly flicking the light switch on. She hauls Charlie inside the room with a little help from Luke -- but really, all he does is hold Charlie's hip to make sure she wouldn't fall again, not like his effort is going to make a difference since he's still small. Nevertheless, Charlie appreciates it. So does Martha.

"You don't have to do this. I'm okay, really." Charlie chuckles to convince them but it's of no use. Neither Martha nor Luke is having it.

Luke's head turn about the space. It's small, a gust of cold air escapes from the small window at the top of the wall and making the air freezing inside.

Charlie lives here? He asks himself before landing his gaze at the back of Charlie's head. He looks around again. Most of her things are still sealed in storage boxes, tucked at one corner of the room. The room is painted with off-white color with most of them chipping off of the wall. The room is so uncharacteristic, but he understands why. Charlie is lost. She isn't even supposed to be there. You're supposed to move on, not go back to where you started.

"Let's put you to bed, okay?" Martha says passionately, like talking to an infant. It's Martha. It's the way she talks to everyone else. That's why it's easier for people to trust her, but it's not only in her voice. She also exhibits it, like the way she takes care of every single orphan in the home.

Same is true with Charlie. She's kind and gentle, yet, always fun to be around. Sometimes, Luke sees something Martha-ish in Charlie; and something Charlie-ish in Martha.

And then out of nowhere, in the midst of Luke's continuous wondering, a thud is heard in the middle of the room. It doesn't take long for the little boy to trace the sound as his sight darts down to startled Martha crouching down next to Charlie's body passed out on the floor. She didn't even make it to her bed first before she fell.

As the little boy's feet pad the floor, he feels like the world falls into a slow motion.

Luke reaches them, bending down to study Charlie's face. Her eyes are closed tightly, brows are drawn together like she's in pain. Her lips are slightly parted, hot breath sifting through her teeth.

His heart is racing. He hasn't seen someone in this state before. Despite being surprised by the fall, Martha seems collected, like she knows what to do with the situation, though she's still worried about Charlie all the same. Her show of confidence helps Luke's worry to subside a little. He watches as Martha carefully hoists Charlie's head to her lap, patting her forehead. She flinches slightly.

"She's scorching. Luke," His own name startles him. The world moves back to normal and he averts his blue eyes from Charlie to Martha's who calls his attention. "Tell Abel that Charlie is sick. Send warm water, clothe rag and medicine."

Luke hesitates from leaving, watching Charlie stirring on the floor though her eyes are still shut closed.

As if Martha reads his thought, she speaks to assure him. "It's alright, son. She's going to be okay. Just tell Abel I need him here."

With Abel, the utility guy's face in mind, Luke nods obediently and stands up from the floor, sparing another few seconds to watch Charlie. He catches her opening her eyes only slightly then close them again.

Luke turns around, ready to leave when he hears Charlie croaks out one particular name.

Little Luke just knows exactly who to call.

*****

30 votes on this chapter for the next. If it isn't reached, then I'm sorry. I don't wanna write for people who don't appreciate my efforts. Vote quickly while I still have time to write, you bitchachos.

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Unless, of course, if you want me to pull a ZAYN MALIK on you. TF. I really wanna stop writing but hoe-hoes say I can't do that. Bye