Once again, nothing here belongs to me, unless noted by me. Doctor Randolph is a creation of my own mind, and so are the patients, also the nurses.

Thank you Kate for pointing out that children would not be with the regular patients. My knowledge of hospital workings is limited.

Thank you Kelly, Jenny, and GayRon for reviewing.

Recollection of a Weasley: Chapter 2

June 13th, 1998

2:53 pm

"So, doctor, any ideas on what's happening to me?" The patient known as John Doe asked Doctor Randolph, his eyes having trouble focusing on the man. It has been two hours since he first awakened. His hospital bed had been propped to sitting position.

"Mr. Doe, cases such as your own take time to handle," Dr. Randolph answered.

"What does that mean?" John asked, his left hand scratching his fingers that just poked out from the splint. The harsh sound of his heart monitor echoed in his ears.

"People with memory loss regain their memory over time: it may be tomorrow, it may be next week, it may be never." The doctor cleared his throat and reached over and silenced the heart monitor. "What do you remember?"

"I remember that 2+2 =4, how to spell February, although anything beyond that simple stuff is a blank." He sighed deeply.

"There is one thing though, I have a bit of trouble seeing, was I found with glasses on?"

"I'll look into it," was his cryptic answer.

John Doe used his left hand to touch his hair above his bandages, as if he was feeling it for the first time.

"Doctor, what color is my hair?"

"Would you like to examine yourself in a mirror?" The doctor asked.

"Yes, sir."

The doctor turned away from him and went in search of a mirror.

"Hello," a small female voice said to him.

John looked around for the owner of the small voice.

"Hello," he answered back.

"I'm Mary," the little voice said. "I'm in the bed next to you."

"Hello Mary," was all he could find to say.

"You don't know who you are?" the soft voice asked.

"Yes, I don't know who I am."

"That's so sad," she said. "Sometimes I wish I could forget. My father doesn't like us, and mom has been long dead. My brother, Thomas, tries to take care of me, but father doesn't."

Her voice dropped and John had to struggle to hear her.

"Last night, father got so angry with me that he pushed me down the stairs. He walked right over me and went out. Thomas came home an hour later, because of him, I am here."

The meaning of her words sunk into his skull, and he felt his cheeks reddening with a touch of anger.

"Mary, whatever you may think, this is not your fault."

A sniffle was heard and a faint cough followed.

"I tell myself that."

"Can I call you John Doe, like the doctor called you?"

"Yes, Mary," John said.

"Thanks John."

Doctor Randolph returned. "I found that you had a pair of glasses in your stuff that no one has bothered to give back to you." He handed John Doe silver rimmed small squared off glasses.

John examined them the best he could. After successfully unfolding them with his left hand, he managed to slip them on. Blinking, his eyes readjusted to the sights around him. He finally got a good look at Doctor Randolph: late-twenties, brown hair, dark eyes, dressed in doctor.

"That's much better, I can actually see."

Doctor Randolph pulled his left hand from behind his back, "I couldn't find a mirror, but I thought this would work." In his hand was a silver bedpan, with a reversed image reflected.

John gave a short laugh.

Doctor Randolph came closer and held the bedpan in front of John Doe and let him examine himself.

Fiery red hair shown above a layer of white bandages: John brought his left hand up to check to see if it was really he in the mirror. His hair still managed to be a bit soft, but a little thin; he pulled a piece to end length, about two inches. He brought his hand down over the main bandage, then touching the many little bandages spotted on his skin. Freckles blended with his slightly tinted skin. Blue eyes stared back at him through his glasses. Thin pink lips lined his mouth, and to accent it, a nose that fit the rest of his face. His right arm is in a sling. He wasn't thin, but nicely filled. Turning his head slightly, he flexed the muscle in his left arm, not much muscle, but not bony. He next lifted up the standard issue hospital sheet and looked himself over. Long pale legs were at the end, and he crossed his feet just to make sure they were his.

"Anything look familiar?" Doctor Randolph quipped.

"Nope, nothing does."

"I see," the doctor smiled.

"However, I do have a familiar urge," John smiled back.

"And what might that be?"

"To use the bathroom," he answered.

Mary laughed out loud next to him.

"Nurse Oak," Doctor Randolph called.

______

7:09 p.m.

John Doe let his eyes slowly drift shut. He had been awake for nearly seven hours. More then one doctor had performed more then one test on him to make sure he was officially "okay." From what the doctors could tell, he was fine, aside from his right arm problem, and memory loss. Nurse Oak had told him that in the morning they would be moving him to Out Patient.

"Mr. Doe, I hope you get better. I am leaving for the day, I'll visit you in Out Patient," Nurse Oak told him.

John opened them and looked up at her. "Thank you, nurse."

She patted his left hand, "You'll remember, I know you will."

He watched her push the door open and slip out. John moved his limbs around to get comfortable for the night and slipped his glasses off.

"Oh Merlin, Percy, what happened to you?"

John Doe half lididly looked up at who had seemingly talked to him. A hand grasped his own and that woke John up.

John pulled his hand away, quickly slipping his glasses back on. In front of him, a young man stood hovering over his bed. Short black hair, straight and neat, brown eyes, and muscular. The stranger was not a doctor, but dressed in jeans and a maroon shirt. The other guy was obviously shocked that he tore his hand away. John shifted a couple inches away.

"Percy," the stranger said again, still disturbed.

"Do I know you?" John asked, taking note of the Scottish that accented the strangers' words.

The strange man held something in his hand and read it. He took a step back. "What happened to you, Percy: how did you get here? In a muggle hospital nonetheless?"

"Who is Percy?!" John shouted.

The stranger bowed his head.

"Excuse me sir, visiting hours are over," another Nurse came around and tried to guide the stranger away.

"He doesn't know me," the young man whispered, his voice thick with accent.

"Do you know him?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, he is Percy Weasley," the strange young man said.

"Percy Weasley?" John said more to himself then to anyone else.

The stranger looked John up and down, "You don't remember anything?"

"No," John shook his head. "Who are you?"

"Oliver Wood," he lowered his gaze to merely the splint. "I've known you for a long time."

The anonymous nurse took a step back, "If you need me, I'll be around. Do you want your bed repositioned?" John Doe nodded. She fixed the bed and let him get comfortable again. "Mr. Wood, I'd ask that you only spend a few minutes here: visiting hours start again at 9 a.m. John Doe, now Percy Weasley, will be moved to Out Patient in the morning."

"Thanks" Mr. Wood spoke.

"So, Mr. Wood, how do I know you?"

"We've known each other all through our school years, and plus afterward." Mr. Wood looked kind of uncomfortable with the situation. "Percy, you don't remember what happened?"

"No, I don't. Mr. Wood, it's kind of weird being called Percy and not knowing myself, can we slowly work into it?"

Mr. Wood nodded slightly. "Your parents were worried frantic when I told them that you were missing. I was worried frantic," he muttered off.

"I have a family?" John/Percy looked wide eyed, missing the end comment.

"You are almost the middle child." Mr. Wood moved and leaned on the bed.

"Big family?"

"A lot bigger then mine. It's not always the greatest thing to live in," Mr. Wood cryptically said.

John went silent, studying again the man that leaned on his bed, Mr. Wood certainly was handsome.

"I guess I better be going now, I've got to talk to your family." Mr. Wood stood, stretching his back and muscles. John once again found himself checking the other man out.

"Mr. Wood, I look forward to talking to you again. I want to remember my past, to remember anything that I can." John tensely messed with his glasses.

"Bye John," Mr. Wood stepped away from the bed. He let his hand lightly brush over John's good left.

John knew not what to make of this. He watched as Oliver Wood pushed open the door and stepped out into the main hallway.

"Nurse, I'm ready to sleep now," John paged the nurse.

What John didn't know, and what no one saw, Oliver Wood stepped into an empty elevator and with a 'pop' he was gone, silently crying over Percy Weasley.

Many thoughts passed through John's head. 'Why did I keep checking him out? Am I gay? Oliver Wood acted like there was something between us.' John lifted up his hand that Oliver Wood had grasped like a lifeline and flexed his fingers, remembering the feel of Oliver's callused fingers over his. 'Why was he so persistent in wanting to know what happened? He was concerned over me, but it was unusual." John slipped his glasses back off and was ready to slip into sleep.

"Did you learn anything from that guy?" the nurse politely inquired. She repositioned the bed.

"Oliver Wood is his name and he is a link to my past," John answered, himself repositioning for sleep. "My family is coming to visit tomorrow."

"That's nice, then before they do, lets make you presentable in the morning."

"Nurse, one more question, what's a muggle?"

The nurse looked quizingly at him, "Haven't the faintest, but then I don't follow pop culture."

"Thanks," John said.

The nurse pulled the curtain shut to give him privacy.

John sighed to himself. "Percy Weasley," he mumbled his name, shutting his eyes and slipping into a dreamless sleep.

Iris Wood January 21, 1:43 p.m. Updated 5th of April

Next Chapter: The Weasley family comes into visit Percy. How will they react? How will Oliver handle it?

Author's Note: Everything will be explained by about five chapters. Right now, I want to keep things as vague as possible as the situation. As Percy learns things, the audience learns things.