Awakening (Fred Weasley)

TEN

"Good news!" My healer exclaimed when she came into my- well Fred and I's- room.

I forced a smile, as hard as it was. She was always too happy for my taste. She, like nearly everyone else, acts like a war didn't just end! Of course I doubt she was in the battle. She probably only helped the injured, which isn't a bad thing of course. She just doesn't understand.

She waited for a response, not that she was going to get one. She knew she wasn't going to get a response, so she didn't wait long.

"You're getting released tomorrow!"

That doesn't sound like good news. I would prefer to have a bed here, since I'll probably end up sleeping next to Fred's bed anyway. It's either that or go to the flat that Fred and I shared. A flat filled with memories of smiles... memories of Fred.

My healer either didn't notice my lack of enthusiasm or pretended that she didn't. "The only catch is that you have to go see a therapist to help with the PTSD once a week," she rambled on.

Great. I focused on anything other than the healer. The annoyingly white sheets, the coolness of the room, anything other than the healer telling me that I had to leave Fred.

It seemed like ages before the healer finally left. When she did, I slid down even farther under the covers, welcoming the warmth.

It wasn't long before I fell into the bliss that is sleep.
------
"Welcome home," George said awkwardly as he opened the door to the flat for me.

I didn't say anything. As soon he opened that door and the cool air rushed forward, it felt as if I had slammed into a wall. The air left my lungs. My heart clenched.

Memories came rushing into my mind. Fred chasing me around, trying to get me to apologize for eating the last of Molly's cookies. Fred pressing me against the wall the night we got together. Fred, Dad, and I laughing at the table.

I don't know how much time passed before I finally took a step into the flat. Minutes, hours, I don't know.
----
The floor was cold beneath my feet as I ran through the halls of St. Mungo's.

In my hurry to get to Saint Mungo's, I didn't slip on shoes before I apparated.

I'm sure I looked like a psycho, running through the corridors of Saint Mungo's at four in the morning.

I don't know if it was a dream or not. I only know that the PTSD took over and I shot out of bed, apparating to Saint Mungo's.

Once I reached Fred's room, I was relieved to see that he looked the same as he had before I was released. He's breathing and he has a heartbeat. That's all that matters right now.

It must've been a dream. In the dream, Fred had... passed away. George had woken me up and told me that we were needed at Saint Mungo's. But, I suppose Callie's crying had woken me up. Her loud cries must have been what triggered my PTSD and made me apparate out without any shoes.

I sat down in the chair, clutching Fred's hand tightly.

"C'mon Fred. Wake up. Wake up. I need you. I don't know how much longer I'm going to last without you. You die, I die. You live, I live. I love you so much, Freddie," I whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear.
----
Beeping. Loud beeping. Yelling. No. No, no, no. I'm back at the battle. This can't be. No!

I woke up, panting. I noticed that I was shaking.

The beeping. My head shot up through the fear and looked at Fred's heart monitor. NO!

I wasn't aware of the coldness of the floor on my feet, the ringing in my ears, or the sound of an air conditioner kicking on. The only thing I heard was the long beep resonating from the machine that was monitoring Fred's heartbeat.

Tears started falling from my face as I launched myself at Fred, holding his head in my hands.

Healers pulled me away from him. "NO! NO! DON'T MAKE ME LEAVE HIM!" I screamed at whoever was pulling me away from him.

I was full on sobbing at this point. "Ma'am! Ma'am! Calm down! The healers are going to do everything they can!" The tall man pulling me away exclaimed.

The man turned me and made me face him, which was a bad decision on his part as I started punching his chest. I attempted to push him away, but he was too strong.

Punching and pushing away drained all of my energy, forcing me to stop and collapse on my knees. The adrenaline had finally wore off, making me feel emotionally and physically exhausted. The pain of losing Fred was affecting me physically. Everything hurts. I can't breathe. I can't do anything.

I was in the middle of the corridor, but I didn't care.

All I felt was raw pain.

"Ma'am, he's not dead yet. He could pull through. Stay positive," the man tried to tell me.

I held onto that one thought, the thought that he could still be alive, with everything in me. I focused everything on holding onto that one small glimmer of hope.

It seemed like months before the healers and out of Fred's room.

At the same time, George was rushing down the corridors, Callie in his arms. George reached me at the same time the healers did.

The healers all wore a grave expression, which did nothing to save the hope that was fading away.

George looked at me and then at the healers.

The healers all looked at one another before finally looking back at George and me.

The healer, whom I assume is the head of the department or something because of the arrogance in his stride and the easy way he wore such a grime expression, looked into my eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak and that's when I broke down for what seems like the millionth time today.