If you've read alread one of my other fics you may know, that english isn't my first language. So I'm still happy for any help!
Now have fun with caring Athos suffering Aramis, or suffer with him!
I'm thankful for any review!
It was so cold, he thought his heart had to stop beating any minute. Still, it was racing. He gasped for air, but it wouldn't fell his lungs. Aramis laid a hand onto his chest, as if this could control his breathing. He has lost the feeling of time or for his surroundings, but felt every part of his body throbbing and hurting. The musketeer felt as if he was caught in his own body and wasn't able to escape the pain he was in. Normally he ignored it, normally he concentrated on everything but on the pain he was in. It saved him just as many times as it brought him trouble. But this time was different. It was easier to concentrate on his pain, than on what's happening around him.
Aramis didn't really notices how help arrives. He didn't hear the voices of his brothers, felt their hands on his arms. He felt like his head was going to explode, and that his legs shaked heavily under the weight of his body – which was mostly carried by the other musketeers. He didn't see the lifeless bodies. He didn't see the blood, the intestines or the empty eyes. He had already seen and he wasn't able to see it again. He couldn't.
Aramis was carried onto a wagon, while his dead brothers were counted and brought onto other wagons, who were already waiting for the lifeless freight. The first time the marksman dared to escape from his selfmade-prison, was as Athos gently touched his shoulder. He looked straight into his brothers eyes, emotions - he normally hid - openly showed. "Aramis, mon amie. Are you with us? Do you have a concussion? Brother, we need to know. C'mon, talk to us." Aramis blinked, to clear his view. He looked confused, unfocused and terribly traumatized – Athos thought. "I don't know." The medic touched his head, as if he felt his head bleed now for the first time. It was already bandaged, so he couldn't feel more than the soft material under his fingers. "Can you see clearly? Can you feel your legs?" Athos carefully touched along his brothers extremities, searching for further wounds.
"My head hurts," Aramis admitted, voice dry and rough. It wasn't a good sign when he admitted to his pain so easily. "Anything else?" Athos tried to shove his worry away. It wasn't the right moment for it.
As if his eyes have lost any light, the marksman looked into his brothers. "They're all dead, Athos, am I right? They're dead. All of them… besides me. And Marsac. He still lives, you have to find him." Adrenaline shot through his body and he sat up straight. "Athos we need to find Marsac, he lived!"
The swordsman searched for the right words, sighing. "Aramis, I'm sorry. We searched everywhere as we noticed he was missing. He was nowhere to be found. If he still lives he didn't want to be found." Aramis shook his head, which caused him to moan in pain. "He wouldn't have left us. He searched for help. He knew I still lived – he was searching for help!"
Athos looked at his hands. He didn't know this man for long or well, still it broke his heart seeing him so lost. In this moment he decided to help the marksman as good as he can through the hard time.
"Lay down, Aramis. You've lost a lot of blood and didn't drink or eat for a long time. Rest, I will get you some water." The medic wanted to protest, but was pushed down gently by a strong hand. It was to exhausting to sit up again and the hard wood underneath felt like pillows made of the softest feathers. His body got the rest it needed. But his mind couldn't stop. He lived through the horror again and again, until he finally woke up screaming and sweating. Immediately a strong arm hold him upright and gave him a cup of water. He drank with shaky hands, leaning into his brothers arms, not able to hold his own weight upright. "It's over. We're at the Garrison. It's over."
Confused, Aramis looked around. Athos was right. "How long have I slept?"
"Almost a day."
"And you were here the whole time?" The swordsman nod and put down the empty cup. "I talked to Treville that you shouldn't be alone when you wake up. But now…" "You have work to do. I understand. Go, it's no problem. I'm feeling fine." Athos once again nodded and made his way to the door – he never was a man of many words. "It's okay," Aramis assured him once again, "And thank you for staying here." Athos smiled – so slightly you might have not noticed if you didn't look closely. It was enough for Aramis to see.
After Athos has left, Aramis sat up slowly. His head still throbbed hard, but at least he had regained full feeling of the other parts of his body. The cold has left him, for now. His gaze fell onto a plate with bread, cheese and ham, which stood at the table in the middle of the room. He wasn't hungry at all, but as a medic he knew he would need to eat at lest a little bit. He wasn't sure when his last meal was. It was the breakfast at the day the raid had happened. He tried to think how long this has to be ago, but just couldn't remember how long he sat there in the snow alone. Was it hours or days?
His thoughts were blurry and it was exhausting to think about what had happened, so he decided to eat a bit of the bread. After the first pieces, he felt the hunger rise again and ate everything on the plate. He felt better after it, but as he stood up his head pounded harder than ever before. His sight got blurry and he hastily sat down again. The pain was sharp and dull at the same time, spreading from his head into his upper body. His hands shook, while his chest lifted heavily. Hurried, and as fast as possible, he grabbed the bag, which stood beside his bed. He searched in it for a while, until he found the small bottle. Aramis opened it, the cap feel onto the floor, as he poured the liquid down. It burned in his dry throat, but helped just seconds later. He felt his muscles relax and the pain in his head got less. The medic sighed in relief and laid back down, letting the bottle fall down unnoticed. Sleep. He needed sleep. Finally his body and mind got their well-deserved rest.
This time he didn't dream, he didn't scream or felt the pain. He floated in nothing but softness. It felt good. He felt good.
"Aramis? Aramis wake up. The captain is here." The marksman moaned tiredly and slapped away Athos' hand. "I'm tired," he mumbled.
"Stand up soldier. This is a command." Trevilles voice was rough and loud enough, to pull Aramis out of his own world. He snapped his eyes open and stood up so fast that it went dark before his eyes for a few seconds. He held onto Athos until was able to see the captain clearly. Aramis tried to stand as straight as possible, even if he wished nothing more than to lay back down. His head just didn't stop to pound. It was hard to understand the captain under the dull sound in his ears. "First of all I'm glad to see you alive and back home, Aramis." Treville's voice was much softer than before, still he never lost his straight and untouched gaze. He could not show his soldiers how much he suffered from the losses. "Secondly, I need your report." He looked at Athos, who left the room hastily, closing the door behind him.
The captain pointed onto the two chairs and sat down on one of them. Aramis obeyed and sat down on the opposite side of the table. "What do you need to know?" His voice was rough, from the long sleep. He didn't feel awake, though. "Everything. From your arrival until you were found. And if you have noticed something strange on the travel to Savoy, I need to know it too." Aramis shook his head carefully. "No everything seemed normal. We arrived at the coordinates you gave us. A few of us built up the tents, others took care of the horses. Marsac and I were searching for wood to make a fire." The name of his best friend felt wrong, when he didn't know where and how he was. Aramis already thought about him a lot. Athos was probably right – Marsac didn't want to be found. He left him to die alone. He left him with all of the corpses of their brothers, because he couldn't bear it anymore. Aramis knew this was the only good explanation, still he didn't want to accept it. He took a sip from the water, which stood in front of him. The captain waited patiently, giving the soldier the time he needed. "We noticed nothing – no one. I don't understand. We walked around the whole camp. They had to be already there to observe us. I probably wasn't careful enough."
"Aramis it's not your fault. They probably hid, where no one would have seen them." The medic ignored the captains argument, he already was sure that it was his fault. "We made fire and ate. A few were going to sleep – it was dark and late and we had a long ride behind us. The others kept watch. I was a few hundred meters away, as I heard the first screams. I ran- I ran as fast as possible. It wasn't a mugging, it wasn't a fight." Aramis swept away the sweat on his face, before continuing. "It was a massacre. At least 8 of us were already murdered in their sleep. They never had a chance. I didn't notice how the others fell, I just tried to survive. I killed five men, wounded three more but they were too many. For every man we killed, two more came out of the woods. I remember getting hit on the head by something hard… then, the next thing I know is, that I sat in the snow. Marsac said something I didn't understand, before he left. I thought he would get help. It was, as he had left, as I noticed the… the corpses for the first time. They were slaughtered like pigs. God-" Aramis voice shook, as he hid his face in them. He didn't want to talk about all of this, he didn't want to remember. But as a good soldier, he had to. "I wanted to search for the wounded. I stumbled through the camp, but my vision was blurry and no one answered my calls. No one moved or breathed. I was alone with all these dead men. I wasn't able to walk further to get help, I just fell down somewhere and sat there. I decided I had no other choice to wait. For help or the death."
The captain was silent for a few moments. He wouldn't wish this his greatest enemy. No one deserved this. Above all not Aramis. He was one of his best soldiers and a good man. Treville remembered how the marksman rode away in the first row – happily to go out into the nature for a few days. He remembered how much he loved and cared for his brothers and tried to understand how it had to feel to lose them like this. He couldn't. "I'm sorry, Aramis."
"It doesn't bring them back." Treville sighed, he was right.
"I want to be alone now, if I'm allowed to." The marksman stood up, clearly harassed by the incident. Treville left without saying anything further. Aramis needed time, not words.
Aramis sat down onto his bed, staring onto the wooden floor for a while. He won't see them ever again. They're gone, because he wasn't able to help them.