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Charlie couldn’t take this for much longer.
She knew it was damn near impossible for hellborns to die. If she ever met that fate she knew it would be from an angelic blade, not a silly cough. Though that fact didn’t stop her from wishing that the grim reaper would take her now so this all would stop.
Charlie couldn’t remember how long she has been coughing up her lungs for, the days are all blurred together. She took a quick sabbatical from her hotel duties, under the command of Vaggie, but now she was back in her red suit, because even Vaggie couldn’t keep her away from helping sinners. Her voice was scratchy, and very much not quite right, but that didn’t stop her from rambling on about boundaries and coping mechanisms in her therapy session with Angel.
Charlie was fine, because Charlie Morningstar is always fine, because she can’t afford to be anything but fine.
Even as she felt bile rise in her throat, even as she rushed towards the nearest trash can while alarm bells sounded off in her head, even as she stumbled and coughed up her shame right on the carpet, she was still fine.
She groaned, pushing herself up from the hunched over position and patting her suit to make sure it was still presentable. The world spun around her, and her vision desperately tried to refocus. When she finally came to she stared at the pile of blegh on the carpet, and she could’ve sworn that it was laughing at her as the bitter taste rose up in her throat again (she managed to swallow it down this time).
Stupid. She thought as she rose to her feet. I’m gonna be late for team bonding.
She had really done it now. Instead of heading right towards the lounge for another round of show and tell, she had to clean this mess up and rinse her mouth out (stupid, she scolded herself again).
“Ah, Niff…” She grumbled, though she wasn’t calling out for the little hellspawn sinner because why would she make Niffty clean up her pathetic and stupid mess? “Niffty… where would Niffty keep her cleaning supplies?” Charlie really hoped the bleach and towels weren’t stored in that little hole Niffty liked to hang out in, because she couldn’t fit in there and she might die if she had to ask for help.
Charlie turned away from the mess, hoping that a poor resident wouldn’t stumble upon or (hell forbid) step in it. She straightened up, taking a moment to fix her hair and settle back into her smile, before she began to make her way down the halls of the hotel. Charlie was a woman on a mission, a very humiliating mission, but a mission that she would approach like she approaches everything, with a smile and good attitude.
Niffty's cleaning supplies were not in the tiny hole. Charlie chose to take that as a victory.
“Charlie belle?” Alastor’s static voice rang throughout the halls as he manifested from the shadows (god, Charlie hated when he did that). “What are you doing with Niffty's darling toys?” Alastor was right, a spray bottle was equivalent to a Barbie doll in Niffty's eyes.
Charlie’s shoulders slumped, but honesty is her best policy. “Sometimes messes are made.” She starts, and Alastor could tell that the enthusiasm in her voice was forced or at the very least lacking. “And when those messes are made, what matters is how you handle them. Even when you feel like KeeKee because you puked on the carpet, a positive attitude is what matters.”
Charlie’s gaze was set forward, so she didn’t catch how Alastor’s face contorted the slightest bit. “That nasty cough is still plaguing you? Oh, Charlie, you should’ve taken a longer rest. It’s not right for you to be carrying out your responsibilities while you’re so sick. What would our residents think?”
Charlie opened her mouth to respond, but he was gone with the shadows before she could (again, Charlie hated when he did that). She straightened up again, shaking off his comment about rest or whatever, and marched down the hallway back to the pile of blegh.
The clean up was taking longer than Charlie expected. She tried to pass the time by singing and humming a song she once heard from a resident, but she couldn’t remember anything after whistle while you work, so that attempt of staying in high spirits fell through quickly. Now she was just desperately trying to scrub away a stain that was faint but definitely still there.
Charlie was trying to keep her focus on cleaning up the mess she made as fast as she could, she really was trying, but the thought of the sinners she had left hanging refused to leave her mind. What kind of head counselor was she? She felt like a very pathetic one. She was supposed to be in the lounge with them right now, cheering them on as they shared the things special to them, but instead she was cleaning up this stupid mess.
It’s okay. She tried to rationalize with herself. Vaggie has it covered-
“Charlie?”
“Vaggie?”
“What are you-“
“You’re supposed to-“
“Sorry.” They cleared their throats in unison, and Vaggie crouched down beside Charlie.
“You go first, babe.” Vaggie prompts with a nudge, and Charlie picks up on how her eyes wander to the dirty rags and miscellaneous cleaning supplies.
“You’re supposed to be leading show and tell.” Charlie struggled to get her words out, and Vaggie’s hand rested on her back as she coughed into her elbow.
“I came looking for you.”
Normally, Charlie would’ve responded to a comment like that with awe, really? But she couldn’t even think of making words as she endured this cough attack that was probably the equivalent to a torture method.
“What are you cleaning up?”
Ah, shit. Charlie should’ve known that Vaggie would ask that, just like how Alastor interrogated her about the cleaning supplies. She waited until the coughing settled down before she even made the attempt to speak.
“I kinda… threwuponthecarpet-“ Charlie winced at the confession, but she quickly shook the shame away. “But! It’s totally okay because I feel fine now and I’m cleaning it up and it really wasn’t that big of a deal and I’ve been having a great time sitting here and scrubbing I just wish that this fucking stain would come out because it’s driving me insane-“
“Woah, woah, Charlie.” Vaggie interrupted like she would always do when Charlie was rambling and spiraling. “You threw up? That doesn’t sound fine.” She comments with a furrowed brow.
“I know! I know it sounds bad!” Charlie drags her hand (the one that she wasn’t using to scrub) down her face. She takes a break from sounding like a child trying to get out of trouble so she can cough again.
“I knew you should’ve taken a longer break.” Vaggie sighed. Charlie couldn’t help but get the feeling that Vaggie was blaming herself, like it was somehow all Vaggie's fault that Charlie was even sick in the first place. “I should’ve… I don’t know, tied you down to the bed and… fed you soup? Something like that.” Her words elicited a laugh from both of them.
“I think I would’ve gone crazy if I had to spend another day in bed.” Charlie admits. “I had to get back to the hotel, Vaggie. I have to help them. I can’t just rest when the extermination is literally any day now and it’s all my fault that Adam decided to move it up in the first place and I can’t just sit around when I could be protecting them from all of that-“
“Babe.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Vaggie runs a comforting hand on Charlie’s back, and Charlie leans her head on Vaggie’s shoulder. “I think you’re long overdue for a nap and some tea, princess.” Effortlessly, Vaggie scooped Charlie up into her arms.
The thought sounded nice (perfect if she was able to snuggle up with Vaggie and KeeKee), so Charlie smiled, and nodded with a hum.
“Yeah, I think I am.”
Maybe this time she’ll stay down long enough to actually get over this nasty cough.
And, hopefully she won’t get Vaggie sick.