Chapter Text
April 2020
The hospital break room was quiet, except for the buzz of the fridge and the flicker of a tired fluorescent bulb overhead. A late April snow was moving through the Twin Cities. Charlotte sat alone at the corner table, her N95 mask dangling around her neck, a warm can of Diet Coke untouched beside her elbow.
On the iPad propped against a bent lunch tray, her father’s face blinked into view—pixelated, grainy, and smiling like he hadn’t slept in days.
“There she is,” Dr. Montgomery Adamson said, relief softening the deep lines around his eyes. “Jesus, Charlie. You look like hell.”
Charlotte let out a dry laugh. “Thanks, Dad. You always know how to make a girl feel pretty.”
“Seriously. When was the last time you slept?”
“Define sleep.”
He sighed. “I mean horizontal. In a bed. Without someone coding down the hall.”
She didn’t answer. Just took a sip of the flat soda, eyes tired.
“It’s bad here, Dad.”
“I know, kiddo.” His voice dropped into something gentler. “It’s bad everywhere.”
They sat in silence for a beat. The kind of silence only people who lived in hospitals understood. Full of sound, but void of peace.
Charlotte leaned back in her chair. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m alright. Not that I’m not needed,” he smirked, “The new guy’s running the ED now. I just lurk in the hallways and lecture terrified interns.”
“Classic.”
Montgomery’s smile faded slowly. He leaned closer to the camera, elbows braced on his desk. The room behind him looked still—dim, familiar. His study.
“Charlie,” he said, softer now. “Come home.”
She straightened, eyes narrowing.
“You don’t have to stay in Minneapolis. You could transfer. CHOP, or Presby. Or even PTMC. I’ve already made a few calls.”
“Dad…”
“No, just—hear me out. We don’t know how long this thing’s gonna last. I don’t like you out there without backup. You’ve got me here. Your own bathroom. Someone to make you a damn sandwich once in a while.”
Charlotte smiled despite herself.
He kept going, voice low but full of that stubborn Adamson worry.
“I just want you close. You’re all I’ve got left. After your mom died… And if this virus gets worse—”
“Dad,” she cut in gently. “Stop.”
He did.
She drew in a breath, then said it clearly.
“I can’t leave. Not right now.”
His face fell—just slightly. He already knew it. But it still hurt to hear.
“I’m not trying to be noble,” she added. “I’m just… needed here. I help out in the ED when I'm needed but delivering babies still goes on. Someone has to stay.”
Dr. Adamson ran a hand over his face, nodding slowly.
“I hate how proud of you I am,” he muttered.
Charlotte smiled, lips tight. “I hate how much that makes me want to cry.”
He leaned closer to the camera again, his voice soft.
“Just promise me something.”
“Okay.”
“When this is over—when it’s safe—will you come?”
Her throat tightened. She hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “When it’s over, I’ll come home.”
Adamson smiled, eyes wet.
“Good. Because I’m not done bossing you around yet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Stay safe for me, Charlie.”
“I will, Dad.”
“Love you.”
Charlotte paused, then smiled, gentle.
“Love you more.”
The screen went black.
She sat there a while longer, staring at her own reflection in the glass.