Authors Note: This chapter always makes me warm and fuzzy. Max was able to save Charlie, but where is he now? Thank you for reading! If you see any grammar mistakes please leave a comment and I'll make sure to fix it. Thanks for all the votes and comments!
-Saturn
Charlie woke up in a brightly lit room. His mind felt so foggy, he wasn't even sure what had happened. Was this a hospital? Everything was pure white, with sterling chairs and bed frame. The bed he was in was small but comfortable. It reminded him of the bed he had at home. It was about the same size, but this one was much easier on his back and neck. He had the most trouble with those two areas on his body. Them and his feet were the main parts that ached after a hard day's work. He was only 19 and he already started to feel like an old man sometimes.
The sheets of the bed where nice and white too. They were soft, much like the pillow that his head rested on. It was all so nice. Charlie rarely got to experience anything nice. He just worked to live and lived to work. It was a rough existence, but he knew it wouldn't last. He would figure something out eventually. That or he'd just find a better restaurant to work at. Chef Ryan always said that he wanted to start a bakery. It would be nice to work with him when he finally opened it.
As the bright light shined on his face, he started to wake up a little more. The more he woke up, the more he started to realize that this was some sort of hospital.
He didn't have the money for a hospital! He could barely make rent!
He tried to sit up, but groaned in pain and laid back down. His whole torso felt like he had been hit by a truck. His mouth had a nasty taste to it too. He must have thrown up last night. That would explain why his throat hurt so much too. He never really had that much in his stomach, so throwing up always meant stomach acid and water rather than actual food. And that felt horrible going up.
"Glad to see you're finally awake, son."
Charlie turned his head to see an older man walking into the room. He had a clean-cut beard and his hair was pure white. Other than that, though, he looked handsome for someone his age. He had this aura of professionalism to him that made Charlie a bit nervous about confronting him about how he got here.
As much as there was white and silver everywhere, this place didn't look like a hospital. There were a few hints of light blue that brightened up the room, especially on the curtains by the window and on the cabinets that were surrounding most of the walls. There were small paintings scattered here and there on the wall as well. It made this place look homely almost.
Charlie always wanted to have paintings on his walls. His apartment was small and somewhat plain, but there was a part of him that really saw some potential for it to look beautiful if he could ever find the time and money to decorate it.
It could have been a doctor's office, with how homely the room was. But doctor's offices normally didn't have I.V.'s hooked up to people.
Just having an I.V. in him would probably cost him a fortune.
"Who-?" he couldn't get the rest of the sentence out with his stomach in so much pain. It was even painful to breathe. Every breath he took in burned his throat as well as his stomach.
"Relax, son," the man said, putting some medicine in his hand. His hands were rough but gentle. Charlie felt a little bit safer with them. "Take this. It'll ease the pain."
He tried to push it away.
"Don't have money," he wished he could talk more eloquently, but his ribs burned with every word that came out of his mouth.
"Son, if I was just in this profession for money, I'd be broke by now," the lines around the man's face showed as he smiled at him. He must have been a doctor for a long time. He didn't seem like a nurse. He held Charlie's hand that had the medicine in it and lifted his head up so he could take the pills easier.
The water soothed his throat a little. It was a good feeling. And the pills worked almost immediately. He could feel the tension on his torso being lifted. He could finally breath normally again.
"Thank you," he told the doctor. He truly was grateful that the man helped him so much.
"Now you need to eat," the man said. "That medicine isn't good to have on an empty stomach."
Charlie nodded. He hoped he wouldn't throw up again. He didn't want his throat to hurt any more than it already did. The doctor helped prop him up in the bed with some extra pillows that were stored underneath the frame. Then he handed him a tray with a bowl of yogurt on it. Charlie loved yogurt. It was always best with some fruit, but he wouldn't complain to the one who gave him free medicine.
"Thank you," he said again. He was definitely that type of person to thank someone at least a hundred times over.
"Just doing my job," he smiled at him. He had such a warm smile. "You've been pretty badly beat. Luckily none of your ribs got broken. They are bruised pretty badly, hence the pain, but not broken."
Beat? Charlie then remembered what had happened the night before. That explained why he had thrown up. It was such a great night, but Evon had won in his own way. He knew the man could be mean, but he had no idea that he would beat someone over a tip.
Speaking of tips: he probably stole all of his after that.
One thing he couldn't recall, however, was how he got to a doctor's office, or whatever this place was. He could barely remember anything that happened after he got dragged to the dumpsters.
"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, who brought me here?"
"Dr. Button," he replied, putting more pillows on his back. "I like to stick to only one formality to not confuse people. As for the people who brought you here, they're actually waiting for you. If you want, I can call them in."
Charlie nodded his answer. His curiosity was getting the better of him. Was it one of the other workers? Did Pearl bring him there? No, she left before he did. The only other person he could think of was Ryan.
Oh no, telling Ryan what happened was not going to be fun. Charlie didn't even want to talk about it.
"There's one rule to this," Dr. Button snapped him out of his thoughts. "You have to keep eating that yogurt. You need as much nutrients as possible."
Charlie gave him a sheepish smile and looked back at the food. He was rather hungry, but that was normal for him. He must have disrespected the doctor by not eating the food that he gave him.
"Sorry, Doctor," he said. "I just got distracted."
"There's no need to apologize," the man's ice blue eyes looked soft as he said it. "You're just waking up. I just want to make sure you eat, son."
"It's Charlie," he said. He was used to being called 'son' or 'boy' but it was simpler when people didn't say it all the time. He liked his name too. Most people always had an issue with their name. He didn't.
"Nice to officially meet you, Charlie," the doctor smiled. His face was wrinkled to show that he had smiled often in his life. That was one thing that Charlie hoped he would have when he got older.
"Nice to meet you too, Dr. Button," he laughed at the strange introduction they shared. He felt safe in the room, even if there were so many mysteries that he had still not figured out.
The doctor left the room after that. And Charlie was left by himself. He was starting to feel drowsy again. He ate the yogurt quickly, not afraid of not showing manners when there was no one there. Then he set it on the bedside table. Every part of him felt sore and worn. It seemed that all that working in the restaurant without so much as a break was catching up to him. Twelve hour shifts with only a lunch break were always tough.
Charlie had to force his eyelids open, as they were so close to closing for good. He couldn't go to sleep now. He needed to see who brought him here. The least he could do was thank them.
Even if a part of him really did want to die in between those dumpsters.
Before he could start down that thought process, the white door opened again. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the customer at work come in.
He was one from the table that left him the big tip. The one who had been staring at him the whole night. The one who Charlie wished he had gotten to know his name.
Did he go out of his way to help him? There was no way he was going to be able to pay him back now. The hospital bills were going to be insane. They always were.
Those purple eyes captured his again, just like the night before. They looked curious and concerned. They were intense, but the heat from them relaxed him in more ways than one.
They also excited him. Which was something Charlie would rather not entertain at the moment.
When Charlie could look away from his eyes, he looked over the rest of him. He looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep. There were bags under his eyes and his once perfect hair was all disheveled and ruffled. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before too. Even though he didn't look as kept as last night, he still didn't look bad. The man was a god among men.
"Glad you're awake," he said. He had a small grin on his face that he was trying to hide from the moment he saw him. It was nice to see him look happy rather than serious or intense like he was in the restaurant.
Speaking of which; he had to work today.
"Nice to see you again," he sat up a little more, trying to get a better sense of his surroundings. That medicine helped with the pain a lot. He felt a lot better after he ate as well. "If I can ask, where exactly are we?"
All he could see out of the window to the room were trees. They looked beautiful, but there was no sign of the city anywhere. And Charlie didn't remember a hospital in the middle of the woods.
"A private clinic of my family's," the man answered. The purple eyes watched his every movement with caution.
"A private clinic?" how was he going to pay for this? He couldn't afford insurance, so he always just tried to stay as clean as possible so he didn't get sick. He had to leave so he could get back to work. Even missing one day would be detrimental to him, especially with all these new bills he was going to have.
As soon as he tried to get out of bed, strong arms wrapped around him and gently pushed him back down. It felt so warm having them around him, he never wanted to leave them.
"You shouldn't get up for a while," the man said. "Doctor's orders."
He looked around to see that Dr. Button had not come in with the man. It was just Charlie and this beautiful stranger.
"I'm sorry, Sir," he put a hand on his head. He was getting a bit dizzy just from trying to stand up. "I'm afraid I'm a little confused."
"Why do you call everyone sir?"
"Sorry. I just didn't catch your name last night," he gave him a shy smile. The purple eyes twisted into confusion.
"Max," he said. "My name is Max. Sorry, I thought I told you already."
"It's okay, it happens all the time," he said. "You have no idea how many strangers have known my name before I've known theirs. It comes with the job."
He tried to sit up again, but Max grabbed his arms to stop him.
"Do you need to use the restroom?" he asked. Charlie didn't like how worried Max looked towards him. It seemed foreign for a stranger to worry so much about him.
"Oh no," he shook his head. "I was trying to find my things. Do you know if I brought them with me?"
"They're all in that closet over there," he pointed towards a thin beige door. It was in the one spot of the room Charlie wasn't paying attention to when he was looking around. "I'll get it for you."
"You really don't have to," he said. But it was too late. The red-head was already to the door. He brought out a plastic bag with all his things in it.
"We washed your clothes. They had some dirt and... blood on it."
He looked to see his uniform looking practically brand new. Blood was not easy to get out of anything. But here his uniform was, looking like he had just dry cleaned it. They had even fixed one of the pockets.
"Thank you. I'll try and pay you back as soon as I can," he promised. Even his tips were still there. He could still remember Evon hunched over him by the dumpsters. The man looked disgusting with that evil smirk on his lips. He would have stolen his tips from his entire shift if Max and his family didn't come and help him.
"You don't have to pay us back," Max said. "Just stay here and rest as long as you need to."
"Oh, that's a great gesture, and I really do appreciate the things that you've done, but I really should be fine to head home now," he tried to get up again. This time, it was a better outcome now that he took it a little bit slower. He never took people's kind acts for granted. It was best he left soon so he could try to make it to work on time. "I have a whole shift of work ahead of me."
"You really think you can work right now?" the red-head looked dumbfounded by what he had said. "Charlie, your ribs are bruised beyond belief and it pains you to even lift your head without medicine."
His ribs were bruised? Oh yeah. Dr. Button had told him that. His head was not working properly at the moment. One look Max's way told the man just how confused he was. He remembered what had happened last night, but there were some things that were still fuzzy. He remembered being hurt really bad, but he didn't think that it would lead to his ribs being bruised.
"I'll go get the doctor," Max said. Those purple eyes hooked to every movement and reaction Charlie had. It was strange getting that much attention. "Hold on."
And he was gone. Charlie didn't really know what to think. His brain was foggy, and cluttered with all the memories of last night.
All he knew was that he really needed to get to work. Saturdays were the busiest days at the restaurant, and they were the best days for tips. Charlie was looking at another twelve-hour shift. The Saturdays he worked long hours, which were the days that really paid the bills he needed to pay.
He pulled out his flip phone from the plastic bag. It was a temporary phone that people usually bought when they had no money for a monthly plan. Charlie never really had money for luxuries like that. When he flipped up the phone, the small screen lit up to warn him about how many minutes he had left on it. He was going to have to add more when he got back from work that day.
It was only 10am. Perfect. He didn't go to work until 2pm. He closed with the restaurant tonight. So, this gave him plenty of time to get ready. He'd just head to work from this place. It seemed like it was going to be difficult enough just trying to convince the doctor and Max to let him leave.
The door opened and Dr. Button came in again, followed by Max. Those eyes took ahold of his again, trying to ask an untold question that Charlie wasn't sure he had an answer to.
"Alright, Charlie," Button said. He came in with a clipboard and clicked a pen, "Before I go over your chart, I need to ask you a few things."
"Okay," He hoped he didn't look too nervous when he said that. He looked at Max's eyes again. They still looked at him intensely, but they seemed to calm him rather than work his nerves up.
"What's your full name?"
"Charlie Fairchild," he spelt it out for him just so there wouldn't be any errors in whatever paperwork he was going to have to take home.
"Do you have any family you wish for me to contact, Charlie?"
"No thank you," he answered. He hoped that he didn't say that too quickly. He'd rather not get into his past with them. But the doctor didn't seem to mind. After writing in his clipboard a little, he looked at him. His face was professional, but he had that look that doctors had when they were about to tell you some bad news. Then he looked at Max. After a few seconds of what seemed to be a silent debate, the red-head left the room. And that seemed to stress Charlie out even more.
Fake it 'til you make it. He just had to look okay, and he would be. That's what he always told himself anyway.
"Charlie, how many times a day do you eat?"
That wasn't what he expected. He was talking to a doctor, but he didn't expect a conversation about his diet. Nevertheless, he always tried to be truthful to doctors. The few times he had to see them, that is.
"Usually about once a day I have a big meal."
"What do they usually consist of?"
"Whatever the cook decides at my work," he shrugged shyly. "I've tried just about everything at that restaurant. So, I just let them decide for me."
"Do you just eat at work?"
"For the most part," it sounded bad when he said it out loud. He had heard before that eating one big meal a day wasn't bad for you. So, he never really thought too hard about it.
"And on your days off?"
"I, uh," he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't like how bad this was going to sound either. "I work quite a lot."
"What do you eat on your days off?" Dr. Button asked again. He was persistent with this.
"I - uh - I eat jerky usually."
"Just beef jerky?"
"Well, I only have one day off, and I don't have much time for shopping," he admitted. He didn't want to admit that he barely made enough money to pay rent. These people would probably just laugh at him.
"Son," Dr. Button sat down next to him. "To be honest, you're going to heal quickly from the bruises. You have strong bones and a strong heart. Bruised ribs take a little longer to heal, and they're much more painful than the other bruises that you have. You took a couple hits to your head, but it was all minor fortunately. Normally, I would say that you'll be fully recovered from most of the major injuries in about two weeks. But there is something that is taking away from your quick recovery."
"What do you mean?"
"Charlie," the doctor took his hand and took it between his. It was like a father almost. "You are extremely underweight for your height. That is what is ruining your fast recovery. Your body doesn't have enough nutrients to heal the damages as quickly as it would have, and it has no excess fat to take from your body and use as emergency energy."
He just stayed silent at that. A part of him knew that he wasn't living the healthiest of ways, but it was always different hearing it from a doctor. After a few moments of silence, Dr. Button got up and started walking towards the counters.
"I would like to keep you here for two months," he started, "to monitor your progress. I have a doctor's letter already sent to your work, so there's no need to worry about losing your job."
He already contacted his work? Why? He had so many thoughts going through his head. His heart was racing a mile a minute.
"Why two months?" he asked. He had no idea how he was going to convince the doctor to let him go. His boss was going to throw a fit if he stopped going to work.
"That's most likely how long it's going to take for you to heal from the wounds that you have gotten and achieve a healthy weight again," Dr. Button looked at him. "I'm not saying that you are going to be held captive here for two months. It's just what I recommend."
How was he going to pay for this? How would he pay his rent? His boss would kill him if he didn't go to work for that long. He got mad when he was even a few minutes late. And today was too busy of a day. The dinner rush was going to be chaos without him.
"I'm sorry," he said after a few minutes of silence. "I can't stay here."