An Outdated Map

Midnight

A/N: A few weeks late but here we are! Probably only another 2 - 3 chapters left. Depends on how my editing goes. Buckle up my loves, this is going to be a fun ride. As always, let me know what you think!

"I'm so aloneNothing feels like home'm so aloneTrying to find my way back home to you"Alone - Marshmello

Hermione.

The thought – no name – struck recognition within him. A harsh light shone down on him, bleeding through his eyelids. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pounding in his head to go away. His first instinct was to sit up, but he felt tied down. His limbs too heavy to lift. What was happening to him? The question set off alarm bells within his flight or fight response. The rush of his own blood echoing in his ears while panic flooded his being. Somewhere deep within his unconsciousness, he was aware of a danger to him, and he forced down the groan building.

Grasping for a way to soothe his anxiety, he furrowed his brow together and concentrated on the noises around him, searching for something to offer an aid. A quiet hum sounded in the background, indicating multiple machines working in tandem. What devices, he couldn't say. Or at least he figured the sounds were that of working mechanisms buzzing lightly in the backdrop. However, an aggravated tone blared at equal intervals, disturbing the silence that lay over the room. Using the momentum of the tone, he inhaled, hoping to gather some semblance of calm.

With great effort, he inched one eye open and then the other. It took a few moments before they adjusted to the sharpness of the white room, causing a throbbing pain. He grit his teeth together and forced himself to scan his surroundings.

The room was long and filled with row upon row of medical beds, each occupied by a person. All hooked up to an array of tubes and machines. He turned his to the other side and found an equally long line of rows of beds, people and machines.

He was in a hospital, that much he was sure of. However, where and why were the answers he didn't have. He stared back up at the bare ceiling above him. He felt depleted as if he was barely even there. Barely even alive. He closed his eyes momentarily, concentrating on wiggling his fingers. He let out a held breath of air when they moved. His terror at being rendered immobile, appeased for the time being.

He took his time, picking and choosing different appendages to flex, gaining back some mobility. As he was circling his ankles and wrists in opposite movements, he wondered how he'd gotten here. He wracked his brain for his last living memories, and all he could remember was laughing and then pitch black. At least he thinks he laughed. Perhaps he was misremembering. Percy was never good at making jokes. They were never his strong suit. Confusion leaked through his thoughts when suddenly, his eyes sprang open.

The war.

He shot up, and everything rushed back. Pain shot through him, nearly causing him to collapse onto the cot. He grabbed his head, cradling it within his hands. He died. He was crushed by a wall. He was dead. He whipped his hands out in front of him, registering a wide range of assorted scars. Ones that hadn't existed before the accident. Ones that could only exist after being crushed by a wall of stone.

His mind kept whirling through memories when her face finally came to the forefront. Her haunted eyes. Her disbelief. Her sorrow. A new sense of urgency grew in him. He swiped at all the tubes attached to him, causing a machine close by to short and set the alarm off. He growled at the stabbing ache just beneath his skull. He scrunched his face up and used his irritation at this predicament as leverage.

He flicked his blankets off his legs and was shocked to see more scars running down them. Shaking his head, he toppled off the bed and rose shakily. With his hands gripping the metal frame, he regained his balance and scanned the room. A few of the other patients roused in their beds, but no one was on a level consciousness that matched his own.