Chapter Text
“I’m calling the hospital” Vaggie says, “Husk gave me a list of things he needs.”
Charlie looks at Alastor passed out in his bed and nods because they probably should have made the call hours ago. “Will they send an ambulance? Oh, but what if people hear about it and take the chance to attack him?” She shivers just at the thought of someone hurting Alastor when he’s already so fragile but she knows there are people out there capable of it. Alastor has a lot of enemies and at least one of them would find out if Alastor was taken to hospital. Charlie hasn’t seen any of Vox’s drones today, but the overlord is always watching. “We could ask them to send a doctor? But then they’re risking carrying the infection away with them…” A part of her doesn’t care about that. A part of her just wants Alastor to get better even if it means someone else getting sick. She knows that part is wrong but she can’t help it.
But Vaggie says, “I’m not asking for medics, just medication. It’s less risky that way.”
Charlie nods. “Okay.” She grips Alastor’s too-hot hand. “Thank you.”
Vaggie leaves and Charlie puts her hand to Alastor’s head, wincing at how overheated he is. She almost doesn’t want to take his temperature again because it’s scary high and she knows it hasn’t gone down even though she and Husk have both been nursing him so carefully.
This hell plague spreading through the hotel is her ultimate nightmare. Just endless days of watching her friends suffer and not being able to help them.
Alastor shifts restlessly in his sleep, frowning above the weak smile that is somehow still there. Charlie is starting to suspect he can’t not smile. Does that hurt? She reaches out to stroke his hair, trying to soothe the frown away. Alastor opens his eyes and Charlie retraces her hand, guiltily aware that he doesn’t usually like to be touched. She tries to smile at him, partly to reassure him and partly just because he likes everyone to. “Hi Alastor. Are you awake?” It sounds like a weird thing to say, but his eyes have been open other times today without him making any sense or really knowing where he is.
Alastor sits up slowly. “I do seem to be.” He puts a hand to his head.
“You should lie back down” Charlie tells him, but then she adds, “Actually, wait!” She quickly fills a glass from the jug Husk put by the bed. “Here, while you’re up, you should drink something.”
Alastor takes the glass but his hands are still shaking badly. Charlie hastily grips it over the top of his hand, steadying it before it spills. Alastor lets out a stream of static that somehow conveys embarrassment just as well as a blush would. Actually, his cheeks are flushed, but Charlie is pretty sure that’s the fever. She tells him, “There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
Alastor sighs. “I don’t know what you must think of me.”
“That you’re sick and need some love and care just like everyone does sometimes?” Charlie helps him lift the glass to his lips. After he’s drunk half the glass, Alastor lowers it with a glare and says, accusingly, “You don’t get sick.”
“Sometimes I do. There are illnesses that affect hellborns.” Charlie doesn’t add that she’d swap places with him in a heartbeat right now if she could. It’d only make him feel guilty. Or something. Guilty if Alastor can feel guilty which is kind of an open question. He has to sometimes, right? He has a moral code after all, even if you have to look closely to see it.
Anyway, Charlie thinks, this isn’t about her. If she makes a show of being ready to take this sickness away and have it for him, it’d only make him feel something negative that won’t help him get better. Weak, probably. Alastor probably feels weak already and he doesn’t need a reminder of how she’d probably brush this off easier than he is.
Or a reminder of how this illness couldn’t kill her but might... Well it might…be a closer thing for him. Obviously it won’t kill him. Charlie won’t let it. He has to be okay.
But he has to know that he might not be, right? Maybe not all the time but when he’s like this, awake enough to understand how sick he is, he has to know. Is he scared as well as embarrassed? The idea makes Charlie’s heart hurt. She squeezes his hand over the top of the glass and asks, “Could you drink some more? You’re going to be just fine as long as we keep you hydrated.”
Alastor lets her help him drink a little more but he doesn’t finish the glass, stopping suddenly and shaking his head when she tries to lift it again. Charlie asks, “Do you feel nauseous?”
Alastor shakes his head again, but Charlie can tell he’s lying from how quickly he sets the glass aside.
She tells him, “Try staying sat up for a while, it might help.” She doesn’t add that it might help his breathing too, but it is becoming noticeable, which breathing really shouldn’t be. He’s gone a weird colour too, but then, he hasn’t looked right all day, flushed wherever he isn’t pale. Peaked, her dad would say. Her dad did most of the caring for her when she was sick as a child. Not that her mom wasn’t there. She was always there, she was a great mom! But somehow, all the little things she knows about nursing, how sitting up eases congested breathing and a cool cloth takes the edge off a fever, suddenly she realises that all comes from her father.
Should she get him over here now? Would he know what to do? He couldn’t cure this new sickness, he’s made that pretty clear, but he might know more fever treatment that she can’t remember.
But would he help Alastor? And could she bear to be around him again if he didn’t? Or if he only did it for her, like Alastor doesn’t matter? Charlie decides to leave it for now. If the supplies from the hospital don’t work, then she’ll call him.
Except the supplies from the hospital have to work. Because if they don’t, what are the chances her dad’s advice will? If the hospital can’t help…
No. Charlie won’t let herself go there. She focuses on Alastor, wrapping cool washcloths around his wrists and telling him, “This will help with the fever.”
“Hm. Charlie, dear, where is Husker?”
“I sent him to take a break. Do you want me to fetch him?”
Alastor seems to think about this for a moment before shaking his head. Charlie is a little relieved. Husk has been overdoing it looking after everyone. He’s more than earned a rest.
Alastor shifts uncomfortably and Charlie asks, “Do you want another pillow?”
“No.” Alastor pales noticeably.
“Okay. Something else then?”
“I think…” Alastor winces as static swells around him. “I’m sorry to be pathetic but I think I need to lie down.”
Charlie feels a rush of concern. “Of course” she tells him, “And it’s not pathetic at all. Here, let me help you.” She steadies Alastor as he shuffles forward and eases himself down. Just doing that seems to leave him out of breath, so Charlie is worried he’ll wear himself out when he sits up again pretty quickly. “Al? I think you should rest some more.”
Alastor ignores her and pushes the covers aside, tries to stand up. Charlie darts forward to try to stop him but he’s already on his feet and all she can do is make him fall slower when he lands in an ungainly heap next to the bucket by the bed. Charlie crouches beside him anxiously. “Oh shit, Alastor, are you okay?”
He draws his legs to his chest, curling in on himself.
“Alastor?”
When Alastor speaks, his voice is small and filter free. “Charlie, something’s wrong.”
Charlie feels a flicker of real fear. She asks, “Do you need to be sick?” and actually hopes he does because at least that would explain it.
Alastor shakes his head but says, “I don’t know.”
“The bucket’s right here.” Charlie carefully reaches for Alastor and rubs little circles in his shoulder in what she hopes is a soothing way. Sure, he hates being touched, but she has to comfort him somehow.
He doesn’t stop her. Which is a bad sign, isn’t it?
Then he tips sideways into her lap and she thinks for a moment he’s passed out, but then he’s shaking and she realises it’s worse, it’s a seizure. “Okay” Charlie hears herself say, “Alastor, it’s okay. It’s alright, you’re going to be fine.” She keeps going like that, a litany of reassurances and she doesn’t know if they’re true or not. The thing is, people think she’s honest but she’ll lie through her teeth if that’s all she can do for her friends.
It goes on and on. Charlie tugs at the bed, pulling the covers down to tuck them under Alastor’s head. She listens to herself talk about how okay everything is and how fine he is going to be and she believes herself less and less as Alastor keeps shaking.
Shit, what if this doesn’t stop? What if it just keeps going until he… Charlie scrambles for her phone and works it one handed, her other hand stroking Alastor’s hair. A part of her knows this won’t help but she’s panicking and she needs Vaggie here or her fear will overflow into her voice and what if Alastor can hear her?”
Her girlfriend picks up after the second ring. “Charlie?”
“Vaggie! Vaggie you have to come up here! He’s…”
“I’m on my way.”
The line goes dead and Charlie turns her attention back to Alastor, restarting her description of how okay he’s going to be and how this will pass in a minute while he shakes and part of her freaks out because what if it doesn’t stop?
And then it’s over. Alastor stops shaking and pitches forward, emptying his stomach onto the floor.
“Alastor!” Charlie hugs him, then steadies him up as he heaves again, his arms trembling he pushes himself up.
“Charlie?” Vaggie is coming through the door and Charlie holds her hand out to stop her. “It’s okay” she says, “He’s okay.”
Vaggie looks like she doubts that but she stops and thank goodness for that, because Charlie isn’t sure she could bear it if Vaggie caught this.
Alastor sits back a little, letting Charlie take more of his weight. Vaggie says, “Sweetie, I can’t help if you don’t let me in the room.”
“I know, but he’s stopped now.”
“Stopped?”
“He had a seizure” Charlie explains. She feels tears building behind her eyes just at the memory and then realises she already has tears on her face. She wipes them away quickly before Alastor can see and glances him, but his eyes are glazed and he doesn’t react. Charlie shifts to cup his cheek. “Alastor, can you hear me?”
There is a retuning noise. “Yes, dear” Alastor mumbles. His filter is still gone and he sounds out of breath. His eyelids droop. Charlie realises that if he doesn’t get back into bed quickly, he’ll be sleeping on the floor. “C’mon, Alastor, you need to go to bed.”
Alastor’s ears tilt back at the request but he lets Charlie pull him to his feet and pretty much tip him backwards onto the bed. She lifts his feet so that he’s lying down. He falls asleep so fast it’s kind of scary.
Vaggie hovers, like she wants to help even though Charlie won’t let her come any closer. She asks, “Does he need fresh sheets?”
Charlie crouches to examine the duvet on the floor. “Yeah, this one’s kinda pukey now.”
“On it.”
“Thanks. Oh, and could you bring something for me to clean the floor?”
Vaggie frowns. “Sure, but I’ll have to think of a way to get it past Niffty. She’s been wanting to clean all morning, if she sees me heading for the cleaning cupboard…”
“Oh.” Charlie gets a frown of her own. Niffty is supposed to be resting and definitely not supposed to know that Alastor is sick. She glances down at the streak of clear liquid on the floor. “Well, this is really just water…” She breaks off at that and glances worriedly at Alastor “I can just wipe it up with the washcloths for now.”
“Gross but okay.” Vaggie goes to get a fresh duvet. Charlie bundles the old one out the door, hoping Vaggie will find a way to get it in the wash without Niffty seeing. Then she wipes the floor and dumps the washcloths on top of the duvet.
Next she checks Alastor’s pyjama pants and is relieved to find he managed to not puke on them. She really would have had to wake Husk if he needed help getting changed.
She sits down behind him, runs a hand through his hair and feels a spike of alarm at how freaking hot he is again. She puts the gel cooling pack to his head.
Alastor opens his eyes. Charlie gives him the best smile she can which probably isn’t much but it’s been a horrible day. “Hi, Al. Do you think you could manage more water?”
Alastor sits up slowly and when he looks at her expectantly, Charlie realises that means yes. “Here.” She refills the glass and holds it to his lips. Alastor doesn’t even try to hold the glass himself this time but he does drink all of it and Charlie tries to focus on that.
Vaggie comes back with a duvet and more washcloths, and Charlie holds up a hand to stop her coming in, then points to the floor. “Just leave them there.”
Vaggie does, but says, “I probably can’t catch it anyway, hon.”
“I’m not risking it” says Charlie. Just the thought of Vaggie having a seizure like that makes her feel tearful, so she shoos her girlfriend out before she goes over to fetch the duvet.
Al has fallen asleep again. Charlie tries to focus on how that’s good, because he needs to rest and not on how scary it is that he can’t stay awake for long.
She was so busy being worried earlier that it’s only when she spreads the duvet over him that she notices he has hoof feet like hers. Weird that she’s never seen them before – They do live together, after all! It shows how private he is.
Poor Al, he’s going to feel awful when he realises they’ve all seen him this vulnerable. She’ll have work really hard to reassure him that no one thinks any less of him. Which is a happy thought because it involves Alastor being recovered enough to feel more embarrassed than sick.
Which will only happen if she looks after him now, so Charlie gets to work with the fresh washcloths. She peels the duvet back so that his chest is exposed again and soothes the cool cloths over it. He shifts a little at the contact, then settles back.
Vaggie sticks her head round the door. “Just taking the duvet. Anything else you need?”
“No. Oh, but I meant to ask – What did the hospital say?”
Vaggie pulls a face that’s part annoyance, part concern. “I couldn’t get through. Seems like we’re not the only people trying to call them today.”
“No, of course not.” Charlie doesn’t like to think about how overwhelmed the hospital must be right now. Maybe as princess she should be doing something to show her support for the doctors there, but the last thing they need is her showing up for a visit when they’re already so busy.
And then her worry for Alastor overpowers her worry for everyone else because he needs help now, he can’t afford to wait. She grips Alastor’s hand and Vaggie, watching, adds, “I’ll keep trying.”
Charlie nods. “Tell them I’ll pay anything.” She knows it’s wrong to say that, to offer to out price everyone. Everyone needs medicine, not just the ones who can pay. But this is Hell where the price of medication raises all the time and especially when it’s needed the most. Charlie can’t change that and right now she can’t even think about trying. Right now, she just wants Alastor to get better.
The illness has other plans because as an hour crawls past, Alastor doesn’t get better. Charlie forces herself to take his temperature and finds it is up from last time she and Husk checked. And then when the heat coming off his skin intensifies, she checks again and it’s gone up another half a degree higher. How much higher can it go before he…
Charlie pushes the thought away and focuses on looking after him, on keeping the washcloths cool and talking soothingly to him when he shifts and frowns in his sleep. “It’s okay, Al, you’ll feel better soon” she says, another empty promise. “This whole sickness will go away soon and everything will open up again. You’ll be able to go see Rosie. She’ll be so happy to see you.”
Rosie. Should they call Rosie? Or is it cruel to tell her how sick Al is when there’s nothing she can do to help? It’s not like she could even visit to comfort him. Rosie would be just as ill as Alastor if he caught this. If she came rushing over and got sick, Alastor would be horrified and if she didn’t come rushing over, she’d just sit at home worrying. No, Charlie decides, she’ll hold off on calling Rosie.
But then, wouldn’t she want to know if Alastor was stuck in Cannibal Town this ill?
Wouldn’t Mimzy want to know? Charlie didn’t like the woman the one time she met her, and she gets the impression there’s been some sort of falling out, but none of that matters now Alastor is so ill that he might…
Mimzy should know. If she calls Rosie – when she calls Rosie – Charlie decides she will call Mimzy too. But she’ll wait for now. Maybe if she waits, Alastor will get a bit better and she’ll have something positive to report.
He isn’t getting better right now. His temperature is no lower and his breathing sounds worse. Charlie wishes Husk would come back. Sat here alone with nothing to do but fail to stop Alastor’s fever raging and nothing to listen to but the strained rasp of his breathing, it’s going to drive her crazy. “Come on, Al. I know you can fight this. You’re strong.”
Like he can hear her, Alastor opens his eyes. Charlie plasters a smile over her face. “Hey, Alastor. How do you feel now?” It’s probably a silly question. He probably feels as awful as he looks.
Alastor struggles upright and wraps an arm round his stomach. Charlie touches his shoulder gently and realises, shit, he’s still so hot. All this time trying to cool him and touching him without the barrier of the cool cloths is still a shock because he’s burning. She swallows down her fear and asks, “Do you need something?”
He turns to look at her in mild surprise, like he hadn’t realised anyone was there. “Charlie, dear, could you let Mimzy know I’m leaving? I think she’s at the bar.”
Charlie blinks and decides maybe it’s better just to go with it. Right now, she really has the advantage on Al when it comes to understanding basic reality things like where they are and what year it is. Arguing about it wouldn’t be a fair fight or do him any good. So she says, “Sure, I’ll let her know.”
Alastor nods. “Tell her I’m sorry but I seem to be half seas over.” He frowns at Charlie’s blank face and elaborates by adding, “Spifflicated, dear.”
“Um. Right. I’ll tell her.”
Alastor nods decidedly but instead of lying back down, starts to push the covers back like he’s going to stand. Charlie belatedly realises that letting him think he was about to leave was a bad idea. She puts her hands out to stall him. “Wait, Al, you should lie back down!”
Alastor looks pissed. “Charlie, I need to find a bathroom. There must be one somewhere in this place.”
Oh. Well, thinks Charlie, she’ll have to wake Husk for sure. But then she thinks to ask, “Do you need the bathroom in a need the bathroom way or are you feeling nauseous?”
Alastor doesn’t answer, but he does swallow noticeably and tightens his hold on his stomach, which is answer enough.
“Here, use this.” Charlie hands him the bucket.
Alastor’s hands are shaking too much to hold it, so Charlie grips it in one hand and steers Alastor to lean back against the head board with the other. He stares at the bucket a moment before saying, “Fine.” Then there is a buzz of static and he adds, “But I don’t want to be sick in front of all these people!”
“There’s no one else here, Al. We’re in your bedroom at the hotel, remember?”
Alastor’s ears tilt back and he looks around. “Not at the club?”
“Not at the club” Charlie confirms, not sure what club he’s even talking about.
“Then why is Mimzy here?”
“She’s not, she…” Charlie trails off when Alastor groans and hunches over the bucket. “Oh, Alastor, you poor thing. Just let it happen, you’ll feel better.” She has no idea if this true. Probably Alastor will feel just as bad after puking as he does now. Charlie really wishes she could punch the sickness like she punched Adam. She hates it for doing this to him.
Alastor retches violently, bringing up mouthful after mouthful of liquid, and then gagging emptily while Charlie rubs his back, telling him “It’s okay” and “It’ll stop soon” just in case that helps.
Finally Alastor leans back against the headboard, eyes closed and breathing harsh. Charlie strokes sweaty hair from his sweaty face, frowning at how warm he feels. But then her optimism flickers back to life and she asks “Better?” in a hopeful voice.
Alastor doesn’t answer. Charlie sighs, slips the bucket from his shaky grasp and goes to empty it in the bathroom. It’s just water. He’s not even keeping water down. How is she supposed to help him if he can’t even stay hydrated?
Alastor is asleep when she brings the empty bucket back to the bedside, and doesn’t wake when she lies him down against the mattress. Usually he’d be horrified to need help with just moving. It breaks Charlie’s heart seeing him like this.
After a while, he stops sweating. Charlie thinks that’s a good sign for a moment, until she realises how cracked his lips and how he’s still so hot. Reluctantly, she shakes him awake. It takes a scary long time to rouse him and she still doesn’t have her smile ready, only flicking it on when he finally – finally! – opens his eyes. “Hi, Alastor. I’m sorry to wake you up but I really think you should have another drink.”
Alastor glares above his own weak smile and closes his eyes again. Charlie quickly jostles his shoulder. “Hey, don’t go back to sleep! Come on, Al, please stay awake for me.” When that doesn’t work, she resorts to pulling him upright. He groans at the sudden movement but does open his eyes again. He puts his face in his hands, his ears flattening.
“I’m sorry, Alastor, but you really need to drink some water.” Charlie gently prises his hands from his face and puts the glass to his lips. Alastor’s annoyance seems to be gone, replaced with a sleepy confusion that Charlie finds harder to deal with. Annoyed-but-still-smiling Alastor is an Alastor she knows well. This fragile, confused Alastor with his pained expression and his boyishly tousled bed hair, this isn’t how Alastor is supposed to be. She feels all that and smiles anyway and thinks how proud he’d be of her if he was well enough to notice.
With some coaxing, Alastor drinks half the glass, but then he stops and pushes it away. Charlie puts it to one side, telling him, “That’s okay, we can take a break.” Then she sees his smile slip further into a grimace and how tensely he’s suddenly holding himself. Her heart sinks as she reaches for the bucket and hands it to him.
Alastor mutters, “I don’t need that” but he takes it with a trembling hand and promptly throws up the water. Then there’s another long round of pained, empty heaving until Alastor’s breathing is ragged and uneven and Charlie has to wrap her arm around him to help him stay upright.
He’s hardly awake when it finally ends. Charlie helps him lie down and puts a hand to his head, feeling suddenly tearful at how much warmer he feels. This isn’t fair, she’s been trying so hard to cool him!
Well, then she’s just going to have to try harder. She rewets a washcloth puts it to his head. Alastor scowls and turns his face away as if trying to escape. Charlie tells him, “Sorry, Alastor, I have to cool you down”. Alastor either ignores her or doesn’t hear. He flinches away from her hands and then, when she leans closer, takes hold of her wrist and steers it away, opening his eyes again to glare. Charlie switches to a stern voice as she says, “Alastor, you have to let me help you. I’m going to cool you down and you’re going to let me.”
Static builds for a moment but Alastor seems to be out of energy to fight. He lets go of her wrist, closes his eyes and does what he's told.
Which is scary coming from Alastor. Charlie takes his hand, stroking it gently in silent apology as she works.
Not that it seems to be making any difference. His temperature stays way too high and nothing Charlie does seems to bring it down. A shock of green light spirals around the room suddenly and there is a howl from the bayou. Charlie tenses and looks at Alastor but he is curled up against the mattress and definitely not trying to attack. Just his magic being affected by the fever as much as the rest of him is then. She reaches out to stroke his hair. “Shh, try to relax. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Alastor opens his eyes so Charlie hitches up her smile and says, “Hey, Alastor. Can I get you anything? Cause if not, you should really try and sleep some more.”
“Charlie, dear, where’s Husker?”
“He’s just taking a break. I could go and get him if you want?”
“Hm.” Alastor pushes the duvet off himself, then seems to notice that he’s half naked and tugs it back, pulling it up to his shoulders. “What about Rosie?”
“What about her? Here, Al, you should fold the covers back a bit or you’ll be overheated.” Or more overheated, Charlie thinks.
Alastor scowls as she folds the duvet back, exposing his chest. It strains as he takes a shaky breath in, lets it rattle back out again. Charlie frowns. “Maybe I should prop you up a bit?” She looks around for a spare pillow then turns back to Alastor when he whimpers suddenly. “Al?”
Alastor’s body tenses, then shakes violently. Another seizure. “Oh, shit, Alastor.” Charlie hauls him onto his side, then sits next to him telling him, “It’s okay, this will pass. It’s okay.”
It’s not okay though. It’s awful. Just as violent as before and it seems to go on and on and how is she supposed to stay calm with this happening to someone she loves?
Alastor needs her to stay calm though, so Charlie does, repeating “It’s going to be fine” and “This will be over soon” for herself as much as him.
When it finally stops, his breathing is worse than ever. “Oh Alastor…” Charlie reaches for him but he rolls over, away from her. “Alastor, it’s okay, you’re safe. It’s over now, you’re fine…” Charlie can hear her tears in her voice but she adds, “Everything’s okay now” even as she checks to make sure it’s true, looking Alastor over to make sure he isn’t injured. The one silver lining is he was in bed with his head safely cushioned on the pillow and he doesn’t seem to have hurt his limbs despite the brutal tremors.
He's still moving restlessly, turning on to his back, then his side again, tense with discomfort. That and his strained breathing makes her prise his mouth open to check his airway but it seems clear. This is just as good as his breathing is getting right now. “Alastor, can you hear me?”
Alastor gives no sign that he can. He keeps shifting about, scowling, his hands griping the covers, releasing them, gripping again. Charlie tries holding one hand but he tugs it from her grasp, raises it to grab at the pillow, then clutches the covers again. Charlie tells him, “Al, you have to stop moving. You need to rest.”
In response, Alastor only moves more, inching away from her as magic swells across the walls, then dies down again. Charlie tries, “Alastor! Calm down!”
Alastor says something and Charlie leans in to hear. But he isn’t speaking English, he’s speaking…French maybe? A strange flavour of French that Charlie can’t unpick. Then he’s briefly back to English, seemingly ordering whiskey in a formal way, like he’s at a bar, and then he switches to muttering about music. Charlie sits back. “Of course!” She clears her own throat and starts on a song, a lullaby her dad used to sing when she was little.
It doesn’t help Alastor relax. He doesn’t even seem to hear her. Charlie knows he needs to rest but this tossing and turning isn’t restful and she wishes he would wake up already. She gently shakes his shoulder. Shit, he’s so hot. “Alastor?”
Nothing. Just more magic chasing itself around the room and Alastor rolls over again, facing away from her, then flips onto his back muttering something that is still French but definitely a curse word.
Normally he never swears unless he’s really stressed. Charlie sighs and picks up the washcloth again. Maybe the touch of the cool water will wake him up enough that he’ll know he’s safe and can rest properly. She sets about trying to cool him down, holding the gel filled cool pack to his head. It still doesn’t seem to be making any difference but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t do everything in her power to give her friend the best chance she can to get through this.
Because that’s what it is, there’s no denying that now. A chance. No guarantee. And that thought makes Charlie want to scream.
She doesn’t think she could handle any more of her friends dying. After they lost Sir Pentious, she was ready to give up on her dream. On everything, actually. On all hope. What was the point of hope when someone she loved was wiped out just like that? Charlie had never lost anyone before, not really. Sure her mom is… not here, but at least she’s somewhere! Charlie just doesn’t know where. But Pentious was killed right in front of her, there one minute, gone the next. And then they lost Dazzle…
Charlie can’t lose anyone else. She just can’t.
So she tells Alastor, “You have to be alright, Al. I’m commanding it, okay? Not in a princess way. In a friend way.” A friend way sounds better than a princess way. More important. As a kid, Charlie read stories where characters were tested by having to choose between the people they loved or their power or money or kingdom and she didn’t get it. Where is the choice there?
Probably Alastor would choose very differently. She knows that. And she knows her dad and Vaggie would both say Alastor isn’t really her friend and sometimes she thinks they have a point. But she tells Alastor, “You might not be my friend, Al, but I’m yours. And I’m telling you, you have to get better, okay?”
There is no response of course. Alastor just lies there and burns.