Okay, I don't own anything to do with the perfection that is CM or any of its affiliations. I do, however, have the pleasure of owning my OC, Charlotte. Hope you enjoy the story - and have a great day!

Charlotte POV

Being filled in on what had been happening to me over the last few days was a less than enjoyable experience. When Rossi informed that I had passed out, half naked in front of two of the most attractive men I had ever been around in my entire 23, almost 24 years of living, I was a little miffed. When he then told me I had been placed under the effects of a medically induced coma, so they would be able to flush out all of the unwanted drugs in my system, I was upset, to say the least. I didn't think it was fair that I couldn't even say 'goodbye' to the people that I had the most to thank for, however, it was only when he notified me that Adams had broken ribs, punctured a lung, caused bleeding inside of my brain - which might affect my mental ability to recall memories - and the pounding my legs had taken could leave me wheelchair bound for two months, I was absolutely livid.

No, beyond that. I wanted to defile Adams' grave and set his ashes alight. Sorry, that was a little intense, but still, he would have fucking deserved it.

They had to dose me up with a soft hit of morphine to at least get me to calm down enough so they could restrain me. They didn't need me tearing my stitches, externally or internally for that matter. Doctor Sinclair, who over the few days of my being conscious had become somewhat of an omen of all things bad, as every time she stepped into the room, my day just got worse and worse. Today seemed to be one of those days, apparently.

It was nearing the end December, four days after Christmas, and Sinclair had pushed open the door, holding one of the portable mobiles from the front desk with a sombre and unsettling expression on her face. She had, although unknowingly, interrupted a small joke being shared between Rossi and I, when she had tapped me on my healed shoulder and handed me the phone. I sent her a questioning stare, but accepted it none the less, and held it up to my ear and asked, "Hello?"

A unfamiliar, Hispanic, male voice sounded through the receiver, as he replied, "Senorita Lewis, si?"

I made a sound in the back of my throat, and enquired, "Who, might I ask, is speaking?"

He retorted, "Zachary Lopez, your half-brother."

The air in my lungs caught in my chest and pitched painfully, and I lost the ability to speak. My mouth ran dry, and morbid scenarios ran through my mind - all of which included my mother, pallid and sullen and dead behind the eyes. The phone had been taken out of my hands, but I didn't even notice, I was too busy staring a hole into my light blue bed sheets to really care about anything other than the possibility that my mother, although she was a pretty shitty one, could quite possibly be dead. There would be no other reason for this 'Zachary' to be calling me, other than that, right?

Rossi had taken over for the time being and was conversing with Zachary, however his voice was faded out and quiet under the current of the sudden pumping sound in my ears. I'm sure my pulse was racing and I was finding it hard to breathe properly, and before I knew it, I was hyperventilating. I was clutching the sheets in my fists, and tears leaked from my eyes and my chest convulsed and my body followed suit.

My legs were shaking without my permission and I screamed out in pain as I felt the throbbing run through my damaged nerves and bruised muscle tendons and seemed to spark something inside my body. This seemed enough to convince Sinclair that I needed to be medicated once more, and although I tried to fight away the coolness whooshing through my veins, eventually I fell victim to the darkness once more.

This is what a hangover feels like.

No worse, this is what a hangover feels like after you've been hit by a speeding train at rush hour in the middle of Manhattan. Yeah, sounds about right. My brain was on fire, some kind of burning acid must have been poured through my ears and was now causing some kind of leak inside my head, otherwise I would really have to call Sinclair and bitch and whine until I got some kind of painkiller, preferably ibuprofen as it fucking worked like a dream.

"Ah, you're awake then, Charlotte?"

I simply groaned in response and shield my face away from the blistering light shining right above my eyes. Wasn't it enough that I'm going through some kind of cranial bleeding, but I had to have laser-beams blasted into my mind. A distorted voice asked, "I'm going to need you to open your eyes, please."

Excuse me? Was this fucker completely out of their minds?! Open my eyes? Do they not realise that my eyes were physically welded fucking shut? I grumbled, irritated, "How about you stop shining that light in my face and then maybe we can talk."

I hadn't even realised I had been speaking until I heard a few gasps of shock, and a single chuckle of amusement. I knew that the person in question had to have been Doctor Schmitt; only she could sound so perfectly professional whilst doing something as natural as laughing.

She scribbled something down on a notepad of some kind, I assumed, and stated something along the lines of, "And she's back."

Sarcastic little shit. I didn't have time for this. My eyes stayed scrunched closed as I spat, annoyed, "What's funny?"

She replied, absentmindedly, "Nothing. Just your reactions. They're very interesting."

I huffed, and as the stinging behind my lids lessened, I began slowly cracking my eyes open, and realised that the room had been pitch black. She must have been shining one of those tiny torches in my face whilst I had been unconscious. Probably for some fucking experiment, the damned heathen. I sent her a scathing glare, and she simply brushed it off and went back scrawling in her notepad. I looked around the room, which I noted wasn't the one I had woken up in the last time, and found that something was out of place, and I asked, "Where's Rossi?"

She glanced up for a second, and looked a little shocked that I had asked such a question, meaning that she really hadn't noticed herself that Rossi wasn't here in the first place. She shrugged, and replied, nonchalantly, "Probably in the reception, flirting with the secretary - as usual."

Breathing out a light chuckle, I nodded my head, and went back to staring at the ceiling in silence, completely content with it staying that way for now. Apparently, she wasn't, though, and she began hounding me again. Great.

"I need you to try and sit up for me, take your time."

I did as I was asked, although I'll admit it was a little bit trying to do, all in all. I looked up at her and sarcastically asked, "So what's the verdict, Doc?"

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me, and responded by shining her mini-torch in both of my eyes and watched as my pupils constricted, as they were supposed to. She hummed, and recited, as professional as ever, "There is a significant abnormality in the size of your pupils, this indicates that I was correct in thinking that you're suffering from slight subarachnoid haemorrhaging. It's caused by a rupture of a cerebral aneurysm in the area between your brain and the thin tissue inside your head that protects it. That's why you passed out previously. It's nothing to worry too greatly about - it looks fairly menial, you'll be fine, we will, however, have to operate, and quickly, just to be on the safe side. Now, into bed with you, I'll call your Agent Rossi - he was mighty upset that you were transferred here."

I tilted my head slightly, still struggling to absorb all of the jargon and medical mumbo jumbo that I had just been informed of, even my advanced memory finding it difficult to come to grips with - then I remembered that my brain basically had a mini-explosion, and my memory was going to be a bit shit for a while, and she added, "I will tell you this, however, your mother? She's fine. Your brother only called to ask how you were. Someone from the hospital had to contact her, and tell her of your condition - apparently she fainted or something. She's fine, now that she knows you're okay. Do you feel better now?"

I nodded, slowly, almost detachedly, and she closed the door behind her, shutting me in complete darkness, leaving me to nothing but my thoughts, not for the first time in the last few days.