"I said she stays." Charlie nearly yells at the detective before her. Her mother continues to lay in bed with her. They've been like this for a couple of hours now. Probably the most calm she's felt all week. Both of them. Relaxed and collected.

Morgan lifts his hands in resignation, taking a seat in a chair next to the bed, "Okay. I wasn't arguing." He remains calm himself, remembering what the silver haired woman had told him about her anxiety induced seizures since her initial accident. "I'm just going to record this interview to make things easier for myself to write down later, is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure." She furrows her brow, searching his face. He was familiar, very familiar, "Dreadlocks. You would never wear a shirt...only white linen pants." Charlie grips onto her mother's hand, "Silver."

"Guilty." He nods slowly, "However, I'm better known as Detective Robert Morgan. I've been...undercover for the last two years. Your followers were of great interest to me."

"They weren't following me, they were following you." Charlie clears her throat. "This is...me being like this, is you. It's because of you."

Morgan shakes his head, "I didn't hurt you in any way."

"You let it get too far." Her voice almost at a growl.

"Okay, Charlie. Let's take a step back, sweetheart." Bernie tells her quietly, "You're not in trouble and Detective Morgan is here to help you now. He's going to help take care of everything that's going on...everything from yesterday." She doesn't mention the man's name, though it's etched into her mind.

"He would...drop acid before we'd play." Charlie explains, knowing the only reason she's able to even tell this story is because of her mother's support. She doesn't really know what the detective is looking for, but just says the things that flood into her mind about the man. "He'd be so bloody awful. Absolutely...horrid. I'd scream at Mitchy...he'd hand it out at some of the shows. I mean, if you're at home, or about to have it off, pop a sugar cube and hit all new levels of...whatever. If you're playing a show, especially as a bloody drummer, you need to bring your A-game."

"Does the name Isabella Succoni ring any bells? I know you've had some memory loss, so don't let it bother you much if it doesn't." Morgan tilts his head to the side. Though he isn't aware, Bernie believes he's doing a rather good job of this. Asking her questions in such a way that she isn't bothered by them.

The young woman nods slowly, "She came with her sister to one of the gigs we played...some rich kid's house. She was mates with said kid. Too much money, he didn't know what to do with it. She came with her older sister. I don't remember the sister's name though-"

"Amelia." He offers.

"Yeah. I saw Mitchy give them cubes. He thought he was going to get some...weird threesome out of the deal, kept bragging about it, but he didn't make them right." Charlie swallows, "Or he added something else to the cubes, I'm not really sure. He knew what he did though. She ended up going down. I mean...we could not wake her up, she wasn't breathing. I tried CPR until there was a heartbeat, but still nothing. Her body was mad hot. I yelled out for someone to call a paramedic, but they were more interested in getting out of the house...there were tons of drugs being passed around. Most I did, at that time, was grass. I was over the other...harder stuff."

Morgan runs his nails along his stubbled jaw, surprised this young woman is being so candid about her drug use with her mother right next to her. "Was a paramedic ever called?"

"I called them when I realized no one else was going to." She closes her eyes, the dim lighting of the room getting to her. "I tried...I...never stopped thinking of her."

He can tell this is taking much out of her, he makes eye contact with Bernie who nods for him to continue while he can. "Did you recognize Mitchell Duncan yesterday?"

"Not right away, but...that doesn't mean anything to me at the moment. I didn't recognize my own father for days." Charlie laughs a little to herself. "I loved my band. We had a different drummer before we had to go with him. It changed...and not in a good way. Robinson was never about the drugs. Never. It was all him...and I hate him for it."

The detective nods slowly, "Did Duncan say anything to you?"

"He had wild eyes." She licks her dry lips, "He did, but...I'm sorry, I don't remember what that was. It had something to do with you...with Silver..." Charlie leans her head back again, "Do you have my sun specs?"

"My sun specs?" Bernie raises an eyebrow, reaching over to the side table to obtain them, "Are you almost finished, Detective?"

"I am, actually." Morgan stops the recorder, "Thank you for all of your time, Ms. Wolfe." He watches the young woman, knowing she was completely correct in saying that he let things get too far when he was undercover. "We'll take care of whatever you need."

"You did enough." Charlie mumbles, watching him as he stands.

Bernie watches him a moment, "Didn't you break your leg?" No limping, no cane or crutch. He seemed perfectly fine for the most part.

"All a bit of theatrics...makeup and the like. I knew where Ms. Wolfe was brought and I knew I needed to keep an eye on her without breaking cover." Morgan nods, using his hands as he speaks, "Just a splash of red on my trousers...the people at that bloody party were all so wasted that they never questioned it. I called the ambulance for Ms. Wolfe...waited after they took her away, and staged my own jump...which didn't actually happen. I just told my followers that it did. Spent a half hour in the loo getting the makeup right before I called for myself."

"Why did you need to keep an eye on me?" The younger woman tries to sit up a bit, only to be pulled back down by her mother, knowing the young woman would try to stand up with him.

"Because I knew the people that followed me...saw it as a failure. They never saw that...the other stuff, was completely faked. In fact, I made them turn away. They brought you up with stab wounds to your side. I didn't know they were going to do that, but...I had to play into my delight of it at the time." The youngish detective moved closer, taking a breath, "I had you pegged as the perpetrator for the things that were happening at your gigs. Then I looked into your life away from all that...and I had it all wrong. When the bassist for Robinson was replaced by a friend of Duncan's, who was absolute shit as a bassist...pretty sure my five-year-old could play better, and you tried to give up on them...we knew it wasn't you. Couldn't have been you."

"You have a five-year-old?"

Morgan nods slowly, "She asked me to give you this." He offers the young woman a bright card with a flower drawn in crayon, opening it, she sees the names of some of her students in one of her music classes. "Said The Wolfe was her best friend when she heard me talking of you. Described you perfectly before I showed her a photograph."

Charlie feels her eyes begin to moisten, swallowing, "You're going to make me cry." She clears her throat, "If I...give you something to take back to them...would you?" She pauses, glad there were sunglasses covering her face, "I mean, I'll call you when I've finished writing a letter-" The young woman holds her hands out to show the tremble, "Or I dictate a letter to one of my many assistants-" She motions next to her.

"I am your mother." Bernie smirks, amused by her daughter.

"Would you take it to your daughter?" Charlotte notices him nod before she continues, "What's her name?"

"Megan...Megan Duncan." The detective pulls up his phone to show her a photograph of the beautiful tanned skin girl with light brown ringlet curls.

"Oh, she's beautiful." The young patient nods a little, "Would you do that for me?"

"Of course." Duncan nods, placing his mobile back into his pocket, "Hell, I'll even take you over to see them again once you're better. They've, apparently, been driving the substitutes mad with questions. You're a tough act to follow, Ms. Wolfe."

"So I've heard." Charlie grins broadly, "At least tell her I've said hello." She notices him nod as he nears the entrance to her room, "Crazy isn't it, Detective Morgan, how we live in this big huge world and...everyone is linked like we are?"

"If it wasn't for my daughter, I'd have had a hard time believing your day job." The detective nods, "I'll be seeing you, The Wolfe." He offers her a smirk as he steps out.

"Well...I certainly wasn't expecting that." Bernie watches as her daughter reaches up to quickly wipe a tear from falling past the line of the sunglasses. "You've made quite an impression on those children that you teach."

Charlie sharply breathes in, removing her sunglasses. Finally allowing herself to cry, "and I don't remember a single one of them. Not any of them." Her voice higher pitched as she speaks, filled with emotion. "I mean so much to them and...I mean," She swallows, turning a little to show her mother, "Look." Charlie motions for her mother to take over holding the paper since her hands were shaking a bit, "I love you. I miss you. You're my best mate. Can't wait to see you soon. Please get better soon." She points to another, "Please bring your guitar next time we see you...and the big sound box." She chuckles a little to herself, "I imagine he means an amp."

The blonde leans over, gently kissing her daughter's hairline, "See? You are so immensely loved. Not just by your family, but by these little people...whose lives you're changing for the better each time they see your face or hear your voice." The room falls quiet and she knows her daughter is attempting to keep her emotions in check and failing miserably.

"I won't be able to though, will I..." Charlie looks over to her mother, "My life, and the people within it, is all going to be very different."

"You just need to be patient with yourself, is all." Bernie reaches over to gently stroke the young woman's shaved temple, closing the card and setting it on the side table next to her. "You keep doing what you're doing and, I'd bet, you'll surprise even yourself."

"What, having anxiety attacks and shaking like the greatest vibrator in the world?" Her tone turns angry, "That isn't what I want." She starts to cry a bit more, "I want to remember all those children from the bloody card, I want to remember what songs on the Robinson albums I actually wrote, I want to...walk on my own, without needing to think about it before doing it. I want my life back." Charlie's voice raises a bit before her mother begins to hold her closely, and she holds her back in response.

Bernie just holds her daughter, knowing there isn't much else she could possibly do. She knows, in some respect, what she's going through. Knows about wanting to live a life you couldn't possibly go back to. Knows what it's like to start a new. "Then we will work bloody hard at it together." The younger woman doesn't respond and Bernie doesn't really blame her for not doing so. She doesn't know for certain they'll be able to get her anywhere near where she used to be in her life, or if she'd actually want to go back to where she left off in the first place. They'll help her get to a point where, maybe, she'll be able to shape her life again. She's so talented. There's no way she wouldn't find a way to be herself.