A/N: THANK YOU EVERYONE who left me your thoughts on the last chapter of my previous story, your words are cherished and your opinion matters a lot to me.
To the readers who felt betrayed by the ending of the Snapshots: Our Days, I'm sorry you felt that way, it was not my intention and I feel bad to have disappointed you. But I still would not want to change that last chapter, that's what I stand by and I hope with this new story you will see there was so much for Aramis to deal with that it felt like a disservice to rush it.
Dear FanandCritic, thank you for liking the story and taking the time to share your thoughts. I assure you I did not get tired of the previous story, I cannot. It had been my companion and my journey for five months, I have invested too much heart in it to feel that way; seeing the story end did give me a sense of accomplishment but I was still sad to wrap it up. And I'm sorry that you felt that the ending was rushed, that was not how I wanted it to come off as, because I can tell you this, a lot of thought and time had gone into that last chapter.
The entire purpose of the 'hurt' was for them to deal with the fallout and come out with their bonds stronger than ever; which we will be getting to in this story.
It was the timing in the previous story that bugged me.
I say this for all those who felt more comfort was needed in that last chapter; I wanted to descend upon Aramis with a lot of hugs, and cuddles and snuggles, wrap him up in a blanket and never let him go but at that point in the story, with all that he had been through, the Aramis in my mind was not ready to be receptive of the love and care. I believe the first step in healing is to accept that you're hurt and where we were in that story, I thought it was obvious that Aramis was avoiding the problem, he needed time.
Dear GratefulReader, thank you for liking the story and taking the time to share your thoughts. I like your idea of posting a separate mini-piece for that original reaction of Aramis waking up in the hospital, I have some rough drafts - that when I get the time - I might brush up in a short one-shot and post it as a missing scene, thank you for the idea.
So this one is for those dear readers who felt let down by the ending of the previous story, I hope you'll find comfort here AND this is for those dear readers who liked the ending of the previous story, thank you for your kindness, understanding and patience.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable here, not making any money either.
Warning: some foul language
...And I will follow thee to the last gasp, with truth and loyalty - [Shakespeare, 'As you like it']
He woke up a few hours before dawn; from asleep to awake in a change of seconds, like the fuel tank of his sleep had simply bottomed out for the moment. He sat up and rubbed at his face, tugging at his beard and wandering when he would be able to rest for more than a few hours. It had been a routine ever since they had come to the farm a week ago but he had to admit, the change of scenery had done him good. Drawing a hand through his hair he took to his feet and padding across the hardwood floor Athos slipped out of his room.
He went to the one across from his own. Opening the door a crack he slid inside and stopped short at the squeak that erupted underfoot, he had to bite back some choice words in deference to the young occupant of the room. Athos scowled at the toy and kicked it aside; Raoul was an organized child, more so than children of his age, but there was only so much that he could stow away. The speed with which he was gaining possessions thanks to his uncles was alarming, as it was, three toy chests and a wall shelf full of books was not enough to clear the clutter from the room.
Athos was thankful that the boy in the bed did not stir at the noise and picked his way carefully to reach his son. It was in the pale bluish light of the moon from that he noticed the bed was empty. Fear rose unchecked and he had to make a conscious effort to not rush out in search of his son.
He noticed that the four stuffed toys Raoul always carried with him were still there, Pip the penguin that Athos gave him, Plushy the lion from Porthos, Potter the otter from Aramis and NawmNawm the monkey from d'Artagnan were still laid out with their heads on the pillow and the blanket tucked up to their middle. Raoul had taken his time to leave them comfortable.
Athos closed his eyes and sighed.
He turned around and went down the hall to the last bedroom on the right, only to find it empty as well. Closing the door after him he decided to check downstairs.
It was something he had only began to notice a few days back; while all three of his uncles were his playmates Raoul still viewed each of them differently. When he wanted affection and stories he sought out his father but when he was afraid it was Porthos he went to, whether to climb up on his shoulders to get away from big dogs or to press his face in the back of his uncle's knee at the sight of eager strangers. D'Artagnan was his teacher, Athos didn't miss the way Raoul hung on to his every word and when he needed to cry, for some reason known only to the child, he had from the first night chosen Aramis.
Coming down the carpeted stairs Athos made his way to the hall, stopping short in the arched entrance. Aramis was sitting on the windowsill, staring out into the darkness and in his lap was Raoul. The boy clung to the front of his shirt, soaking it in tears that fell in silent snuffles, his quiet sorrow somehow more heartbreaking than childish wails. Aramis' arms tightened around his nephew when the child hiccupped and Athos' eyes met his brother's in the window glass.
It was the longest Aramis had held his gaze in a while.
His friend offered him a sad smile and bent his head to whisper something to the child. Raoul pressed closer in response and shook his head, effectively wiping his nose on Aramis' shirt. As Aramis rubbed the boy's back Athos silently came to sit on the ridiculously comfortable sofa.
For a long while they each held their position as the sky outside grew lighter and the trees beyond materialized out of the darkness, until finally Raoul turned his head to Athos. The sight of red rimmed eyes cut him to the heart but then Aramis whispered something in the boy's ear and Raoul giggled.
Sliding off from the windowsill he moved over to his father
"Think you can sleep now?" Athos asked as he gathered up his son.
"Tired," Raoul curled up against his chest.
It was still a surprise for him the way the warm press of a small body full of trust soothed his nerves. Athos held him close and hummed in response; already the boy was sagging in his hold. He looked up as Aramis got to his feet.
"There's plenty of room for all of us," Athos nodded to the empty space beside him.
It stung when Aramis shook his head.
"I have to get ready; will be going around the farm with Senor Alvaro," he said.
"It's not even dawn,"
"It will be soon enough," Aramis said as he moved towards the stairs, "I'll see you in the evening,"
Athos watched him until he couldn't. He had assumed that following Aramis to Spain would at least lessen the distance between them, but it was there, more painfully evident with them being in the same room. His arms tightened around his son and Athos blinked back the moisture in his eyes. Something would have to give, and soon; or Athos feared their brotherhood may not survive.
He did not like the heat; it was fun for the first two hours after they landed, after that Porthos simply hated it. He shifted in the wooden seat of the swing in the porch and got jabbed by a raised nail head for his efforts. The fan above him seemed to be trying its best to make the hot air budge but the only way it moved was in gusts of burning blows that usually stung like a slap to the face.
Porthos stared down at the lemonade in his hand and wondered who was sweating more, him or the rapidly warming glass. He swirled the contents in it and received a timid clink from the almost melted ice cubes.
He frowned.
This was not how he had imagined vacation to be. For him, Athos and Aramis their lives they had always orbited around the other two, they were used to living in each others' pockets, they reveled in it; but being stuck under the same roof while evading each other was tiring. With the house staff bustling about there wasn't even the distraction of chores to lift the irritation off of Porthos. It didn't help his mood either when Constance and d'Artagnan smuggled Raoul over to one of the guest houses where Senor Alvaro was staying with his family.
They were going to spend the day by the pool.
The day that was almost over now, Porthos checked his watch, it was more than half way over at least and he still hadn't laid eyes on Aramis. Setting the glass on the table between them Porthos looked to Athos who was sitting in the chair, wearing a hat and sunglasses and still looking a bit pink on the cheeks above his beard.
"It's not working," Porthos said, "we came all this way and it's still like we're on different planets."
"I know," Athos took off his sunglasses and rubbed at his eyes, he picked at the seal of the water bottle in his lap and when his gaze settled on Porthos it held a hint of desperation, "I don't know what to do."
Porthos could not face the despair that he knew was mirrored in his own face. Instead he turned away to watch the pots of baby citrus trees set in a neat line by the far wall, basking in the heat of the sun that had finally began its slow descent in the sky. His eyes widened at the sight of the man hurrying along the shade of the building. Senor Alvaro smiled when he saw the two of them sitting in the porch.
"Senor Porthos! I assumed you'd wish to be inside until the evening fully sets in," he said.
"I was waiting for you actually," Porthos said as he got up from the swing.
"Me?"
"Aramis went with you," Athos was out of his chair, the plastic of the water bottle protesting audibly under the force of his grip, "he left at dawn, I saw him leave."
Senor Alvaro looked from one man to the other and Porthos did not like the confusion that came on his face. The man shook his head at them.
"He hasn't been with me," Senor Alvaro said.
Porthos drew a hand through his curls, the other tightening into a fist even as he stamped down on the urge to hit something. If Aramis wasn't with them and if he hadn't been with Senor Alvaro then there was only one place he was likely to be. And had been there the entire morning Porthos realized, he cursed under his breath as fear sparked in his chest.
"He can't be that stupid," Athos looked to him.
"I'm not waiting here to find out," Porthos moved past a surprised Senor Alvaro and crossed the sprawling lawn to get to the stables, Athos at his heels.
The two men rushing in startled the stable boy lounging on the hay bales and the lad nearly fell flat on his face in his hurry to get up. The horses scraped the ground in anxiousness, sensing the urgency of the people around them.
"He didn't take a horse," Athos said.
"See how stupid he can be," Porthos groaned.
The boy was moving too slowly for his liking and plucking him up by the back of his shirt, Porthos deposited him aside. He saddled up his own horse as Athos did the same for his, much to the despair of the boy. They left him wringing his hands as they guided the horses away from the lawns, wove through the small grove of mandarin trees and picked up the riding trail on the other side instead of following it from the start and losing precious minutes.
Soon the neat rows of olive trees were flying by on both sides and Porthos felt a twinge of guilt for the animal carrying him; it was too hot for any living creature to be out under the sky. His mind raced ahead to his friend who had apparently been out there all day.
His concern fueled the anger blazing in the pit of his stomach. What had that idiot been thinking?
Porthos' slowed the horse until it came to a stop beside Athos' panting beast. Together they looked up at the scraggly hill that was mostly rocks, loose earth and bushes you did not want to brush against – and of course olive trees Porthos mused, not cultivated yet stubbornly dotting the hillside.
"We'll have to take it slow," Athos said as he turned his horse around.
They followed the beaten dirt path up the hill at as quick a trot as they could. It was not fast enough as far as Porthos was concerned, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and scowled. They had been this way once before and he knew their friend visited here often. But he had never stayed up there this long.
By the time they rounded the shoulder and the brow of the hill came into view, the horses were frothing at the mouth. Up ahead on the ledge just shy of the hilltop, leaning back against the twisty silver bark of an old olive tree, next to the grave of his mother, was Aramis.
Three things he noticed immediately, the frizzy canopy of thin leaves over Aramis provided little to no shade, one of Aramis' hands was clutching the soil of his mother's grave beside him and his other one held a bottle of wine that was nearly empty. Athos only had time to catch the reins Porthos threw at him before the big man was out of the saddle and marching towards their friend.
Many a brave men had fled at the sight of the expression that was on Porthos' face and Athos hurried after him to stop the impending wreck he could see unfolding already.
"Wait! Porthos!" he dropped the reins and made a dash forwards.
Before he could reach them, Porthos had bent down and hauled Aramis up by the scruff of his shirt.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He shook him hard; the bottle of wine fell from Aramis' fingers and rolled away, leaving a red trickle in its wake.
Porthos didn't even glance at it and Athos squeezed his shoulder in a warning before he regarded their brother, who had yet to make a move to dislodge himself from the grip that was keeping him on his toes.
"What are you doing out here? What're you running from Aramis?" Porthos shook him again.
A slow smile pulled at Aramis' lips, full of challenge and arrogance and a coldness that had never before been directed at them; Athos closed his eyes against it. His fingers dug into Porthos' shoulder as he braced himself for the blow.
"Take a guess Porthos," Aramis said, "what does this farmhouse and London had in common?"
Athos was glad he was holding onto his friend, he had a feeling he would have reeled back at the words. He didn't see Porthos let go of Aramis but he did feel him shift back. It forced him to open his eyes and face the truth that was finally out.
"Why?" Athos found the question slip out of its own violation.
Aramis' eyes turned to him and for the first time in their lives Athos was faced with the steely shutters that blocked out the world from reaching the kind soul he knew resided beyond the grim expression.
"Let me put it rationally," Aramis smirked, "better to leave then be left behind, that makes sense for you Athos?"
"When did we…?" Athos stopped short at the realization.
He flinched when Aramis laughed; it was a brittle dry sound that echoed in the rough terrain, bouncing off rocks and bushes like a shower of loose pebbles.
"You remember now?" Aramis asked, "funny how insignificant it was for you to forget it. I had just told you that I felt you didn't trust me and you walked out on me."
Aramis' voice had lowered at the end of his declaration and he looked to Porthos.
"You all walked out," it was lower still.
The sizzling breeze rustled the sparse greenery and kicked up swirls of dust.
Athos had known it would come back to haunt him, he had wondered a number of times if things had been different had they let Aramis come with them. He let his gaze wander over to the perfect rows of olive trees below, the grove of mandarin trees beyond and the speck of red roofed building where they had come chasing their brother, and he had to wonder if this all could have been prevented by that one decision.
Aramis would have had the vantage point to catch M'Lady before she had ambushed them, he would have seen Charon before he had managed to frame Porthos for murder, d'Artagnan might not have been shot, they may not have been trapped in that fire and the list of 'what if's' went on for Athos. He had no answer but what he had then.
"You were hurt Aramis, I didn't want you getting injured anymore," he said.
Those brown eyes softened.
"I know," Aramis said and turned away from him.
Athos looked to Porthos and found him glaring at the sweat soaked back turned to them. There was a glint in his dark eyes that had Athos stepping in his way. But the big man dodged his preemptive hold with easy quick reflexes and grabbing Aramis by the shoulder swung him around to face them.
"We came after you," he growled, "we came after you all the way to Spain,"
"I didn't ask you to,"
"You bloody ungrateful, selfish git!" Porthos shoved him back and Aramis hit the tree trunk behind him.
There was a moment of stunned silence before the younger man launched forwards. Athos could only watch as Porthos turned and grabbed the rushing Aramis in a headlock; but the other man shifted his torso and slid his shoulder against the big man's chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt at the other side he hooked Porthos' leg from behind and tipped back.
The two of them hit the ground hard.
Porthos and Aramis lay on their backs, panting under the burning sun.
"I didn't ask you to," Aramis told the sky.
Porthos turned on his side and regarded him grimly.
"You didn't have to," he said.
Athos grabbed Porthos by the forearm and heaved him to sit up before turning to Aramis. It hurt to have him ignore the gesture and roll over to push himself back up. He made a half hearted attempt to dust off his shirt but stopped short with his eyes clenched shut.
Pulling his hand back from just shy of touching him, Athos forced himself to watch as the other man swayed a little where he stood. Heat exposure and drunk, Athos' mind supplied him as he read the signs of the dangerous combination.
"Why don't we discuss this back at the farmhouse?" he asked.
"Why?" Aramis asked, "Why are you here?"
"In case you didn't notice we came to collect you out of this heat," Porthos wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
"Why are you here?" Aramis waved his arms around, his voice rising, "Why are you here in Spain? Why did you come after me?"
This was the man who had gone around the city collecting him and Porthos when he could have been studying or enjoying with his friends from the medical college, the man who stayed with Athos as he purged himself after drinking when he should have been in his class, the man who was patching up Porthos when he should have been catching up on some well deserved sleep, Athos could not understand how he could even ask them this question.
He looked from Porthos to Aramis.
"Where else would we be?" Athos asked.
Confusion drew his features into a frown.
"I don't know, living your life like you were when I was in prison," Aramis shrugged and turned his head to regard the expanse beyond the hill, almost as if he was afraid to catch their gaze.
It was like watching his nine year old self, after he had tackled Rochefort to the ground in his fury, confessing to them in private that he hadn't actually understood the insult Rochefort had thrown at Porthos. With a shake of his head Athos risked getting closer to the man and held him by the shoulders, infinitely grateful that he was not shoved off.
"It was an act Aramis," he said, "We didn't want you worried for us while you were locked up in there."
The frown deepened and he looked to Porthos who had stepped closer as well.
"You were just out of the hospital, scared out of your mind about us and they were taking you away," Porthos shook his head, "we hoped to ease your mind that we were all happy and safe."
"You weren't?" it was barely above a whisper.
Porthos grasped Aramis by the back of his neck.
"We were worried sick about you," he said.
"But we didn't want you to see that," Athos nodded, "we didn't want anything more to add to the list of all that was troubling you."
He hoped they were getting through and Athos held his breath as Aramis contemplated the ground between the three of them. When he looked up it was to stare past them and although he nodded, Aramis still stepped back and away from their reach, he was slipping away, again.
"Aramis…"
"I get it," he said, "I get it, I'm just going back now,"
"You're not walking back," Porthos went after him, "we're taking the horses,"
Realizing that he had not secured the animals, Athos looked around in panic only to find the two beasts loitering under the olive tree, as if trying to somehow set themselves in the meager shade. He looked back at his friends and it was in that moment he knew that Aramis was going to run.
He was almost within an arm's distance when his stance shifted, a slight bend forwards and a bounce in his step and reading the signs Porthos grabbed Aramis by the waist before he could sprint ahead. Athos reached them even as the other man wriggled to get out of Porthos' hold, it seemed Aramis had forgotten all his training in a moment of rage.
"Let me go!" Aramis yelled at them, "Let me go!"
"Never," Athos grabbed him by an arm.
"Not ever," Porthos grabbed him by the other arm.
"LET ME GO!"
They dragged him back, kicking and screaming under the skimpy shade of the old olive tree, plopping him there on the ground but still not releasing him. Porthos hit his knees beside him as Athos went down on the other side, with each putting an arm around his shoulders and his waist they pinned him between the two of them.
"Go away! Just let me be!" Aramis struggled, panting hard, "Let me go!"
"We're not doing it 'Mis," Porthos shook his head.
"No more running away," Athos said.
They held him tighter as his struggle increased and Porthos wished with all his heart that his brother would just stop, stop fighting them, stop running from them, just stop and let them be there for him. He heard rather then saw the elbow that clipped Athos in the face.
The man hissed but it was Aramis who went completely still in their grip.
Porthos looked over his head to the blood trickling down Athos' chin and hadn't the chance to hold back Aramis as he surged towards Athos.
"I'm sorry Athos, I'm sorry, please," he grabbed his friend's face in both his hands, eyes wide in terror, "please don't die, don't die,"
Porthos felt a jab of pain in his chest at the blatant imploring in his brother's voice and had to blink away the sudden wetness in his eyes. He gently eased his friend back from Athos when Aramis' breathing took on a harsh edge. Only Aramis would not let go of Athos' shirt.
"Please don't die,"
"He's not dying 'Mis," Porthos rubbed his back, "he's alright, no one's dying,"
Athos clasped the hand still clutching his shirt and pressed it flat over his heart. Porthos saw the way Aramis' eyes slid from the blood on his face to their hands on his brother's chest.
"Not dying Aramis," Athos said, "feel that?"
Porthos could see the fingers curling and winced at the sting he imagined Athos must have felt, but his friend didn't even twitch. His eyes were steady as they remained on Aramis who it was seemed was trying to hold Athos' heartbeat itself.
"I may not have mastered medical knowledge but I'm sure I won't die of a split lip," Athos smiled at them.
Aramis still stared at his hand.
Porthos shifted on the ground and pulled his brother closer, letting him rest his side against his broad chest. He pressed his chin over the mop of sweat soaked hair and rubbed Aramis back in circles.
"Not dead 'Mis, and not dying either," he murmured.
He looked to Athos for help when no answer was forthcoming from the man between them. His friend ducked so that he could be at level with the scared brown eyes and offered him a smile again.
"We're here Aramis and we're not leaving you," Athos said.
Aramis nodded and Porthos felt the shudder pass through him. His brother grabbed Athos' wrist and tugged him closer as he let himself sag against Porthos.
He was exhausted, his head was pounding, his throat was scratchy and his tongue felt two sizes too big for his mouth. But everything fell away in the presence of his brothers that surrounded him completely for the moment. Nothing mattered but the weight of Porthos' head on his, the calming reassurance of his large hand at his back and nothing mattered but Athos' grip at the back of his neck, the grounding safety of his hand on his thigh.
"Aramis? Aramis?" someone was tapping his face, "open your eyes,"
He didn't want to, his world was finally getting back its equilibrium and Aramis savored it moving onto an even keel.
" 'Mis? You have to stay awake," Porthos' voice rumbled against his ear.
He hummed in response, not really wanting to heed the words. It was rare these days for him to feel this secure, like he wasn't about to be snagged by an unexpected undercurrent and pulled down. The sense that he could let down his guard; that his brothers' would watch out for him, was overwhelming and Aramis wanted to stay in this moment.
"He's fading," Porthos shifted to hold him up the shoulders.
Aramis flinched at the missing contact and forced his eyes open.
"I think I dropped the bottle of water I had with me, let's just get back" Athos made to stand up.
It was a reflex borne of his fears in the last months and Aramis grabbed a fistful of Porthos' shirt while he snagged Athos' sleeve before the man could completely get back to his feet. He would have cried if he had the moisture to spare.
"Don't leave me please," it ripped out of his chest in a hoarse whisper.
He couldn't look either of them in the face, Aramis was sure that the heat crawling up his neck had nothing to do with the scorching sun. He hadn't the chance to dwell on it as Athos pulled him in for an embrace and he suddenly found his face pressed against his brother's shoulder.
"We can't leave you," Athos' voice was unusually thick, "you idiot, it's not possible,"
And then Porthos was pulling them both in a hug.
"We're not leaving you 'Mis, that's what we've been trying to tell you," he said.
Aramis shivered; it felt like he had been in a free-fall, watching the ground rushing up to meet him and knowing that when he would collide with it he would shatter. Not just break but explode into a million pieces upon impact and scatter - scatter and loose himself completely.
He shivered.
The arms around him tightened and something shifted in his soul, slid in place and locked in.
His breath hitched.
He was caught.
TBC