the last thing that the son of apollo remembered was the bridge collapsing above him as he and his siblings defended manhattan.

it had been a source of fear, the cracking of the concrete, then the crumbling of said concrete as it fell around them before the entire structure broke down, collapsing around himself and his siblings.

the moments after were a blur.

coming to conciousness a few times, seeing blurred faces and an unfamiliar place that was not at all the infirmary at camp. it was confusing, it made his head ache.

one thing he did remember clearly though? you. he remembered you.

everytime his eyes opened, even if briefly, he remembered seeing you. hovering over him, brow furrowed with what he assumed was worry. it was comforting knowing that someone familiar was watching over him.

but now he was waking up alone.

it was dark around him, the only light being some dimmed down lanterns that were scattered around the area. it was comforting - it reminded him of his cabin back at camp, but michael knew that this wasn't camp.

shifting, a soft groan escaped his lips as he felt a soft throbbing pain shoot through his body. right, everything was bound to hurt.

"hello…?" michael managed to croak out. his throat felt uncomfortably dry, like sandpaper had been dragged over the flesh inside.

"is someone out there?"

he didn't know where he was. it was eerie, especially because he could see other people around him - people that looked as if they were asleep. maybe he wasn't meant to be awake right now.

and then he heard footsteps softly approaching, a soft yawn filling the air as whoever approached came at a semi fast pace. it sounded as if they had just woken up really - had he just woken them up?

looking around, his gaze settled on someone. not just anyone - you. the same person that had been looking after him while he had come in and out of conciousness. while he was all blurry and confused.

"{{user}}…" michael croaked out. attempting to raise a hand to reach for them, he found that he couldn't - his body hurt too much.

gods he was glad that it was you of all people. it meant that you had survived the war and not only then, you had survived well enough to be able to help people who were recovering from their injuries.

"gods… you're alive." he managed to get out, but he was shushed softly.

the feeling of your hands reaching out, shushing him softly was enough to sooth him. it felt like he was melting as he felt your fingers drift through his hair - gods, you were too good at this care thing.