25/5/13

This is two-shot written for one of my favourite reviewers Almost An Actress. Sorry for the long wait but the words would not come; hope you enjoy anyways!

Also I am currently looking for a beta so PM me if you are interested!

The Three Musketeers

Chapter 1

"Doctor Joly, you are needed in the Emergency Room," a voice called out of the tannoy system. Joly rubbed his hand over his eyes with an exasperated sigh. Every time it was his turn on the night shift the hospital was overrun with patients. His coffee thumped onto the coaster for the tenth time so far that night, and he was half running half sliding down the polished corridors. The emergency room was full of nurses crowded round one gurney. Just as Joly was about to push through to assert himself as the doctor in charge, someone stepped in his way. It was Combeferre. The older doctor wore a grim expression he usually avoided at all cost; Joly instantly knew something was wrong. "Luce? What is it?" he asked, desperately. He certainly wasn't stupid and all the evidence as pointing to one of their friends being carried through on that gurney.

"You're just not needed on this one Jol," he replied, trying to keep an unaffected expression.

"Just tell me who it is!" Joly exclaimed but that question did not need answering. The sobbing Musichetta that followed the gurney was a clear giveaway.

Joly felt as if time had slowed on his heart had stopped. He couldn't hear what anyone was saying and nothing mattered anymore apart from that body. The only noises that he could hear were Musichetta's frantic cries; they roared over everything else and were, in his mind, the only noises that mattered. "It's Bossuet isn't it?" Joly cried out, desperately trying to push past Combeferre. The elder medical student firmly stood stoically in his way.

"It is, that's why you have to stay here with Chetta," Combeferre said supportively as Bossuet was rushed through into surgery straight away. Joly was beginning to shake uncontrollably and couldn't control himself anymore. He needed to be in there with Bossuet; but he certainly was in better hands with Combeferre. After what seemed a life time, but was probably only a few seconds, Joly nodded with tears streaming down his face and Combeferre darted into the operating theatre. At least his love was in the best hands; he trusted no doctor more than he did Combeferre.

The wait was agonising. Four hours is too long to be waiting for news on the fate of your loved one. He had been on the other side of this so many times but now he understood what they were going through. He spent the time snuggling with Musichetta; they were crying on each other's shoulders and trying to stop each other breaking down. Chetta had obviously taken it worse than Joly had but there wasn't much in it. Bossuet had been in a car crash; Joly always hated his partner driving alone but Bossuet did it anyway. His mind kept on replying the moment the gurney sped into ER and trying to think if there was anything he could have done. "There is nothing you could have done Maurice," Musichetta whispered in his ear as if she could read his mind. He wouldn't have been surprised if after all these years, his other love was able to sense his thoughts.

Slowly the amis all came into the uncomfortable waiting room. Why did they design these chairs to be so uncomfortable? The whole focus of a waiting room was to calm you and make you comfortable; these did the complete opposite. It was reassuring that most of his friends were there to support them though this all. But there was one person missing and that was the person that he needed to hear from; Combeferre. Combeferre would be the one bringing the news. And he needed news, now! They waited and waited; the longer it took the less likely it was going to be good news. Silence fell and Chetta was restlessly sleeping on Joly's shoulder. He softly ran his fingers through her hair to try and sooth her night terrors. The doors swung open and everyone looked up. Joly jumped to his feet as Combeferre walked into the room. The doctor had obvious not rested; his face was pale and glistened in the light. Dark bags hung under his eyes and his expression was not hopeful.

"I have news on Bossuet," he murmured and time froze.