Author's Note:

Wow, already over a 100 views in two days! As in the words of our dear Charlotte, "I am...honored". You guys really inspire me, and make me even more excited for this project!

Still on the hunt for a Beta reader...so, you know what to do if you're interested.

Remember to leave any critiques, thoughts, or questions you have!

Enjoy as usual. :)

"Wow, you've become quite the janitor."

"I guess practice makes perfect."

The mop sank back into the bucket with a soft plop, spraying driblets of murky water. Growling under my breath, I wiped my face. "You know, I studied eight years for this. Eight."

The man next to me clicked his tongue apologetically, shaking his head. "They never tell you how hard it is in the medical field."

"Yeah, well, they never prepared me for this." I gestured to the bucket of brown water. "Did you have to clean up when you first started?"

He shook his head again, looking at me with apologetic eyes. "Nope, sorry."

"Henry, you've got to be kidding me."

"Sorry, Charlie." Henry lifted his shoulders with an aura of regret. "I guess we all have to start somewhere. But cheer up, someone brought in cake for their birthday. Come to the break room with me," He paused, his eyes wandering towards my mop bucket, "unless you're too busy."

I snorted, pushing the bucket away with a swift kick. "Funny. Let's go."

Henry and I made our way to the break room. He was a very relaxed guy, only a few years older than I was. Just being in his presence made someone feel at ease; if was a drink, he would be chamomile tea. We met only seconds after Dr. Strange had more or less shattered my dreams into a thousand tiny pieces. He comforted me with snide comments towards the doctor, and it didn't hurt that he had offered to buy me a bag of chips. We clicked instantly, and only after two weeks, we were like two peas in a pod. We balanced each other perfectly; he was the ISFJ to my ESFJ.

"So you immediately started to work as a nurse when you got here?" I asked, matching my strides to his.

He pursed his lips, scratching the dark stubble on his chin. I constantly teased him about his scraggly, almost patchy beard. He thought he looked like Brad Pitt, but he was more of a young DiCaprio who was trying to grow up too fast. "I guess so. It was kind of messy, considering on the first day I dropped a scalpel into some guy's lasagna."

"Henry!"

He winced playfully as I hit his shoulder. "What? It looked like there was some sort of tumor in there. I was just trying to be a good nurse, obviously."

Laughing, we made our way into the break room. Some of the doctors and nurses had attempted to brighten up the drab, windowless room by scattering a few balloons, tossing some streamers over the fridge, and hanging up a plastic sign that said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY GREG!"

A pudgy man with a tasseled birthday hat, who I assumed was the famous Greg, waddled over to us, arms extended. "Henry!" Greg flung his arms around him, pulling him into a bone-breaking bear hug. "Have some cake kid, have some cake!"

Henry managed a smile, despite his face slowly turning purple. "Ah-okay, thanks, man…" Wriggling out of Greg's fatal embrace, he waved a hand towards me. "Greg, you know Charlie."

Greg's eyes lit up behind his thick spectacles. "Of course, of course! Our newest resident… Has anyone ever told you that you look like Pattie Boyd?"

I shook his sweaty hand, wincing from his death grip. "Oh, yeah. I get it a lot." It was true, I never went a week without someone pointing the similarities (I'll admit, it was kind of flattering).

I brushed my bangs out of my eyes, looking about the room. Small groups of my co-workers had formed, milling about, trying to ingest as much cake as possible before their next shift began. "So, how old are you turning, Greg?"

Greg beamed, revealing two sets of pearly whites with twin golden caps on each canine. "52, yes, 52."

Henry leaned over, muttering in my ear, "Did I mention he has OCD?"

"I heard it was someone's birthday."

Well, shit.

I physically winced; I didn't need to turn around to know who the low, even voice belonged to. The voice that had been ordering me around for past two weeks, completely disregarding my eight years of training, and-oh, did I mention, the voice that more or less obliterated my future?

Stephen Strange swaggered into the room, grinning. He slapped Greg on the back with a thump. "Greg, look at you. 52, and you don't look a day over 36."

"Thank you, thank you." Greg looked flushed, and I could instantly tell he was blushing. Strange did seem to have that effect on people, making them completely starstruck.

"Looks like you're pretty popular today," Strange continued, gazing around the room, then to Henry, and finally, his eyes fell on me. His cheek muscle twitched slightly, and I felt the awkward tension between us growing. "Nice to see you, uh…" He squinted, and I could sense of hint of over-exaggeration. "Charlie, is it?"

Please, like he didn't know my name. Little shit. Of course, I wouldn't dare say that to his face. I was a very non-confrontational person, and I cared too much about what others thought. If I had to choose between winning a debate and making sure people's feelings didn't get hurt, I would've chosen the latter.

"Charlotte, actually."

"Charlotte." Strange repeated, folding his arms. He tore his attention away from my stoic stature and back towards Greg, who was looking on us with an air of confusion. "Anyways, I've been reading up on those PPIs everyone has been talking about. What do you think?"

PPIs...PPIs… A lightbulb went off in my head. I briefly remembered catching a glimpse of some article that was in a newspaper someone had left by the coffee machine that morning. It talked about PPIs; four of the prescriptions given to patients for stomach pain and indigestion. I saw a light in the dark tunnel I was in, a chance to prove myself.

"I think they're great," I jutted in, sticking my chin up a little higher. I was never one to brag, but this was an exception. "I mean, they're FDA approved, safe, and they even have the longest history of effective consumer use."

The two men, including Henry, blinked slowly at me, as if I had just told them that the sun revolves around the earth.

Henry suddenly laughed, which turned into a fit of coughing. Greg took a sharp breath in. And Strange? Well…

"Actually no. When taking a PPI, the overall risk of stroke increases 21%, and a 2010 study found that PPIs were associated with an increased risk of a serious bacterial infection." He shot facts at me like bullets, walking closer and closer to me. Henry told me he loved to argue, but I never thought would find myself on his opposition. "When someone takes a PPI, the amount of their stomach acid is reduced, so therefore it creates the perfect environment for bacteria. Patients who take PPIs also have a 96% increased risk of kidney failure, so, no. PPIs are not 'great'."

"I think Charlie was mistaken," Henry quickly interjected, stepping in between Strange and I as a barrier. He grinned his toothy grin, sure to break any strain. Looking at Henry was like looking at a kitten; it made you melt. "I mean, that study was just published."

Strange raised an eyebrow, cold eyes still set on mine. "A good doctor always keeps his information up to date. It's a good thing you're not one, Charlotte." With that, he swept out of the room.

My heart dropped into my stomach. I fought back hot tears prickling at my eyes, daring to spill over. I clenched my fists, the ring on my thumb making a white indent on my palm. Spinning on my heel, I begin to march out of the room.

"Charlie, wait-" Henry rushed to keep up with me, shooting a apologetic look to Greg. "Sorry, man. Happy Birthday."

The door slammed behind us. My sneakers flopped against the linoleum, Henry's echoing behind me.

"Charlie, just stop."

I came to a dead stop in front of the staff bathrooms, pulling myself into the doorway.

Henry caught up, sliding in beside me. His blonde hair looked white under the lights. "Listen, Charlie." He began to scratch his neck. Obviously, he wasn't great with consoling others. "I know Strange is a bit of an asshole at times, but-"

I snapped. "But what? He's downright rude. He completely shoved all my experience off to the side. He was my role model; the reason I decided to go into this shit. I've worked so hard these past few years, only to be…" My voice quivered and I bit my lip. "Here."

"But here is where you wanted to be."

"I wanted to be here as an actual resident, not someone's maid, picking up all the messes. He doesn't respect me at all. He hasn't even given me a chance."

Henry inhaled through his nose. "Then do something about it."

I looked back at him, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Do something about it, Charlie." He continued, throwing his hands up in emphasis. "You've let him walk all over you. Go show him what you can do. You're the most hard-working, ernest girl I've ever met. Strange should be lucky to work-"

We stopped as the men's bathroom door opened, and out walked the devil himself. Stephen raised an eyebrow at Henry, avoiding eye contact with me, as he wiped his hands on his scrubs.

"I should be lucky to what?"

My friend faltered, his eyes growing wide. "I-I, well, uh…" He searched for words as he slowly backed away from the two of us, eyes darting for an escape route. "I think I'm late for...my...root canal." He disappeared down the corridor.

And then it was two.

Strange and I stared at each other with such an intensity you would've thought I murdered his mother.

I remembered Henry's words, and suddenly found the truth in them. He was right. I was a hard-working young woman, and I spent the last portion of my life training to be where I was right now. I was tired of being tossed around, being taken advantage of. I wasn't the smartest, but I damn well was the best.

"Give me a chance." I suddenly blurted out.

Strange raised an untidy eyebrow. "What?"

"Just...give a chance, Doctor. I didn't leave all my family, my friends, and my entire life just so I could mop up vomit in the lobby." I took a breath, realizing I had been holding it this entire time. "Please."

He paused, obviously contemplating my words. Finally, he spoke. "Listen, Charlotte, I'm sorry. I know I haven't been...the nicest to you. And I don't mean to rain on your parade but…" Strange shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "I just don't think there's room for you here. Believe me, I've read your transcripts. It's not that you're not smart, or capable, but we need to best of the best."

"Then…" I opened my mouth, then closed it sharply. I knew what I needed to say, but every ounce of me told me not to say it. No, don't you dare. Don't lower yourself, don't you even think- "Then teach me."

Oops.

Strange's eyes widened, obviously taken back. "Charlotte, I don't think you-"

"Dr. Strange, please." I practically begged, clasping my hands like a child. "You're the reason I'm here. I could be doing anything, but you inspired me to do this. I know I'm not a genius, but I've worked my ass off to get where I am. Just give me a chance."

The dusty-haired man before me slowly began to recompose, assessing every single detail in my words. "Fine. I'll give you a chance. You can be my assistant."

I audibly sighed in relief. Sure, I hated Dr. Strange with every bone of my being, but I still respected him. Even I knew what an honor it was to work under him. "Thank you, so-"

He held one gloved hand up. "But when I say you're going to be my assistant, you better understand the responsibility that comes with that position. You'll be by my side every hour of every day. When I tell you to do something, you do it. You record anything I tell you to, get anything I tell you to get. And on top of that…" His gray-blue eyes twinkled with a sort of mischievous spark.

"I'll teach you."