Charlie groaned as her alarm went off, then sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She avoided looking at the small date displayed on the corner of the clock's display.

Two days.

Two whole days since she'd listened to Remi say he was going to Colombia, leaving her to stew over the fact that she couldn't succeed without the safety net offered by his money.

And stew she had.

Throwing the blankets to the side, she stumbled into the bathroom, avoiding the mirror. She knew what she would find: paler than normal skin and purpilish shadows under her eyes.

She turned the shower on, stripping out of her sleep-clothes while she waited for the water to heat up. Less than a week of hot showers and high water pressure had her dreading the idea of suffering through anything less than what she had here.

The shower didn't last as long as she would have liked, and she dried off before wrapping herself in a towel and making her way down to the kitchen. Her wet hair tickled her shoulders as she shuffled through the cabinets, searching for coffee.

She'd discovered on her first day in the house that Remi had taken the liberty of already stocking the cabinets, but she'd been reluctant to go through them until now.

When she finally found what she was looking for, she turned the coffee-maker on and scowled at the words "Colombian Roast" on the side of the package she'd pulled from the cabinet nearest the door. Even when he was gone it was still like he was mocking her.

While she waited on her coffee, Charlie slowly climbed the stairs to get dressed. The events of two nights ago and the two stark choices before her had left her in a fog, possibility and fear whirring through her mind and distracting her from any given task at hand. Not to mention the anger and resentment he'd left her with.

This had not gone unnoticed by Jazira the day before, but Charlie had been able to brush it off as worry over finding a place to stay permanently.

She wandered back into the bathroom after pulling on a pair of running shorts and a tanktop and plugged in a hair straightener. After a moment, she braved meeting the gaze of her reflection as she waited for the straightener to heat up.

The bruises Grayson had left around her throat had faded to light green fingerprints on her skin. 

Charlie nearly jumped out of her skin when someone banged on the front door, the sound echoing through the house. She frowned at her reflection, brow furrowing, and the banging came again.

No one she knew, knew that she lived here now. 

The knocking came a third time, sounding urgent now and Charlie ran down the stairs and across the living room to throw the door open.

"Matty?" she said in disbelief. "What are you..."

Her question was lost when she looked down to find he was carrying a little girl who could have been no more than two years old. The child had her head resting on Matty's shoulder, looking at Charlie with dull eyes.

"I need your help," Matty said.

Charlie hesitated for only a moment before moving to the side and gesturing for him to come in. He waited while she shut and locked the door, bouncing on his feet slightly, the repetitive motion making the little girl's eyes heavy.

"She woke up with a fever early this morning and has been sick four times since then," he said without any preamble.

Charlie frowned. "So why aren't you taking her to a doctor?"

"You are a doctor," he snapped. "You fixed my hands."

She could still see scabs and raw bits of skin where his hands weren't hidden by the child's light jacket. "I'm not really a doctor yet, and I'm certainly not a pediatrician," she said with a sigh. "Why did you bring her to me?"

"Because my baby is sick and I need your help. Mr. Robicheaux trusts you, so I trust you." Matty's eyes were tight. "Please?"

As if on cue, the girl started to squirm and whimper, obviously feeling unwell but unable to articulate that fact. Charlie sighed again, rubbing at her eyes.

"Bring her into the kitchen and take her jacket off," she said, something flittering pleasantly in her stomach at the look of sheer relief Matty gave her as he moved in the direction she pointed him. 

"What's her name?" Charlie asked as he put the girl on the counter, fumbling a little as he unzipped her jacket.

"Luciana," he said, "but we call her Luci."

"Hi, Luci," Charlie said softly, gently touching the girl's cheek. She was still leaning against her father's chest, but she didn't seem afraid. Probably feeling too bad to be shy.

Feeling more than slightly out of her depth, she felt the girl's forehead, wishing she had a proper thermometer with her. Then she pressed gently along the girl's throat, searching for swollen lymph nodes. 

She found what she was looking for with a frown, then glanced at Matty. "Has she had a flu shot this year?"

Matty grimaced, but shook his head. "None of us have."

"What? Why?" Charlie asked. 

She didn't care for the shots herself, but she had to have them. In her mind, overall health was a better bet at defense than a shot that could end up protecting her against the wrong strain anyway, but she supported their use by small children and the elderly.

Again, Matty grimaced. "Too expensive."

"Don't you have insurance?" she asked, then wanted to shake her head at her own stupidity. Insurance probably wasn't a benefit Remi could offer the employees like Matty who were forced to work under the table.

"Yeah," Matty said with a snort. "I'm forced to pay good money for bad insurance and they don't cover nothing." 

Charlie nodded. It wasn't an uncommon story. Insurance had been the death of quality care as far as she was concerned.

"Wait here for a second," she said. When Matty nodded, she jogged up the stairs, snatching a stethoscope—a graduation gift from her grandmother who had been a nurse—from the top of the dresser.

She came back into the kitchen to find Matty holding Luci over the sink, the little girl crying as she tried to throw up. Heart aching with sympathy, she joined Matty, rubbing Luci's back until she had settled down.

Matty was pale, his mouth tight with the anguish of wanting to help but being unable to. 

A glance at the clock had Charlie resigning herself to the fact that she was going to be a little late to her biochem class. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out some orange juice before once again hunting through the cabinets for a small glass.

She filled it about halfway full with the juice, then handed the glass to Matty. "Have her drink some of this. It'll make sure she doesn't get dehydrated and help keep her sugar up."

After a few minutes of Matty coaxing, Luci finally drank the juice. Charlie smiled softly when the little girl took one sip, then tried to snatch the glass from her father, drinking greedily.

Once she had finished the juice, Charlie moved forward. "I'm just going to listen to her heart."

Matty nodded, clasping his hands over Luci's when she tried to grab the end of the stethoscope Charlie placed on her chest. 

She spent a few minutes moving the stethoscope around, listening to Luci's heart and lungs. It made her flinch with surprise when the girl made a small squeaking sound, the vocalization echoing into her ears. Recovering quickly, she smiled at the girl, pleased and surprised when she smiled back.

Matty was wound tight as a spring by the time she straightened up and took the stethoscope from her ears.

"Her heart's a little fast," Charlie began before he could say anything, "I think. Off the top of my head I don't know what the resting heart rate should be for a child her age, but it's not abnormal that a fever would elevate that."

He nodded, smoothing a hand over Luci's dark, wildly curling hair.

"She does have a mild fever," she continued, "and her lymph nodes are a little swollen. All of that indicates she's fighting something. With the other symptoms you told me about, my best guess is the flu. Do you have her in a daycare or anything?"

"No," Matty said. "Vicki stays home with the kids, works from there."

Charlie just nodded in acknowledgement. She should have guessed—if vaccines were too expensive, then outrageously priced daycare certainly was. "How about playdates?"

"No—wait, yes. Luci and Camila went to their cousin's birthday party last weekend. Bunch of kids from the neighborhood were there."

"Okay, and Camila hasn't been sick?" Charlie went to the coffee pot, and Matty shook his head when she offered.

While she poured herself a cup, he said, "No. Not so far."

"Well, Luci probably picked it up from another kid at that party. Try to keep her away from Camila so she doesn't spread it. You and your partner have most likely already been exposed. Just try to keep everything as clean as possible, stay hydrated, all that good stuff."

"What about Luci?" he asked, somewhat impatiently.

"Well, there's not really anything we can do except wait for the virus to run its course. Keep her hydrated and warm, see if you can get her to sleep any. Honestly this is just about fighting symptoms. Beat the symptoms, beat the virus. The most important thing is make sure she's drinking. Some kind of juice or sports drink would be best. Something with lots of salt and sugar."

Matty nodded, not looking pleased by the idea of being unable to give his daughter some magical cure.

"Oh," Charlie shook her head at nearly forgetting, "try to feed her some, I don't know, peaches or pears or something like that. If nothing else, it will give her something to throw up when she does which will make it hurt less. If she can hold it down, maybe some lightly buttered toast, just to get something inside her."

She smiled at the girl one more time as Matty put her jacket back on. Despite the already warming day, Luci was shivering as her body battled the virus making her sick.

Walking him to the door, she said, "Let me know if she gets any worse, okay?"

"Sure thing," Matty stopped for a moment on the front step, "and thank you. Seems Mr. Robicheaux was right. You are good at this."

Charlie had no idea how to respond to that, the mention of Remi making a flood of mixed emotions swell in her chest. Finally she just nodded, waving at Luci as Matty turned and walked to the curb where a car was waiting.

She watched as he got Luci safely into a carseat in the back, then returned his wave as he got into the driver's seat. After he was gone, she retreated back into the house.

The door fell softly shut, and she stood staring at it blankly for a moment. 

"Good, huh?" she muttered under her breath, then rolled her eyes. 

What did it matter if she was good when obviously money meant more? Remi had more than made that clear when he'd been talking to Moira, not knowing she was listening too.

Still shaking her head, she went upstairs to finish hair and makeup, made sure to grab the cinch bag containing her gym shoes and left the house. She had missed the streetcar, but it was hard to be worried about being late to class. Something that would usually have had her heart racing with anxiety just didn't seem all that important while she was still such a mess.

She got to the school in a daze, making her way to her classroom and slipping into a seat in the back, all without being consciously aware of exactly what was going on around her.  

Not that it really mattered. The summer semester was in its last week and all that remained were presentations of capstone projects. Charlie had elected to get her presentation over and done with on the first day, but her professor was finicky and took attendence.

So she half-listened to people drone on about pathogens evading immune responses and something about the lymphatic system, trying at the same time to not overthink what Matty had said.

It didn't really work. Seems Remi was right. You are good at this.

She couldn't help but wonder when he had said that. Then she reminded herself that it still didn't matter. Good or not, the limiting reactant here was still money, pure and simple. Medical school cost money. Room and board cost money.

Nothing came for free. Not even a compliment. Not from him.

Charlie resisted the urge to scream with frustration. The last thing she needed was to give anyone a reason for a psych eval. 

The class seemed to last forever, but eventually, mercifully, the last student wrapped up their presentation and they were free to go. Charlie left the building, then hesitated at the door before  turning right back around. Several other people grumbled at her as she pushed her way through the door, but she didn't care.

Initially she had planned to go to the gym on campus, but that didn't seem like it would do anything to quell her frustration or anger. Instead, she made her way up to one of the computer labs available to students and logged into the nearest computer.

Her fingers tapped impatiently against the table as she waited for the computer to load everything, then she went on a wild internet search, looking for Jedd's place. She was pretty sure it wouldn't be open by eleven in the morning, but it didn't hurt anything to look.

Thirty minutes later and she'd still found nothing, which seemed categorically impossible to her in an age of social media madness. She eventually had to give up, still feeling restless.

Apparently, the day's only intention was to frustrate her at every turn. 

She didn't know what she wanted to do. She didn't even know what she didn't want to do.

Maybe I'll go to the gym anyway.

The thought felt defeated, but she needed some way to stop thinking about the fact that she had enjoyed looking at Luci this morning.

That she had enjoyed the work, regardless of the fact that it was illegal.

She made her slow way to the front of the building again, wondering if Remi had told Matty she was the one to see. And if he had, what then? Did it mean anything that Matty had said Remi trusted her?

Charlie sat on the stairs leading up to the building's entrance and put on her socks and gym shoes, shoving the flip-flops she'd worn to school into the bag. Slinging the straps over her shoulders, she started running, heading back to the house.

She didn't make any effort to pace herself, trying to get lost in the rasp of breath and scream of working muscles. 

By the time she got home, a stitch had formed in her side and she put her hands on her knees, heaving in breath after breath, ignoring the strange looks she was getting from people walking past.

"It's because it was a little girl," she whispered. "You don't like the fact that he came to you because of Remi. You like the fact that you helped Matty and his baby girl."

She nodded firmly to herself and stood up straight, wiping the sweat from her forehead. After she caught her breath she went inside, toed her shoes off and nearly collapsed onto the cool wood floor and started to stretch.

The pull of her hamstring couldn't drown the thought that all she was doing was falling deeper into an ocean that was already drowning her. She knew she'd made her decision already, but it was a little different in practice.

It was just like Remi had so astutely observed.

She could talk herself into anything.

Fun Fact: The brief mention of the biochem research is actually real research. I won't totally geek out on you guys, but the thing about pathogens evading immune responses is super cool and could potentially lead to doctors being able to treat things like the flu and pneumonia by stopping the virus' ability to replicate.