Hurt

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away
In the end

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Come back!"

"Stop him!"

"ARAMIS!"

~oOo~

Their shouts echoed around his head, even after the dead had been cleared from the field.

"You fool!"

"Get him out of here!"

He got to his feet and wandered to the door. It was an old farm building of some sort they had managed to take shelter in. He didn't pay it any attention. It concealed them from the men with guns. Who they were... what they were doing here... it didn't matter. There were always men with guns. Aramis' arm flared with the pain of a recent shot. It was bound, but his caretaker was nowhere to be seen. It was just another battle, another hurt. He had lived through so many. The scars across his body were a map, Montauban, Île de Ré, Savoy…

His hand wandered to his temple.

Once again, he lived.

It didn't matter. None of this mattered. It was just another battle. There would be more. There would be different men with guns, new wounds with the same old pain. And that other pain. The one that hurt more than anything else.

It would come again. He would feel it again. It was inevitable.

He looked out to the fields rolling away into the distance. On this side of the building it seemed peaceful. On the other side of the building bodies were being counted.

He could walk out into those fields. He could keep walking. One foot in front of the other. Where would it take him? He didn't know where he was. He didn't know where he would end up. He didn't care. If he kept walking, he could let this all go. He could walk away from the men with guns, walk away from the pain. He didn't want to hurt any more. The wounds he could take, but not this…

He could walk away.

Just like Marsac walked away.

With shaking arms he pushed away from the door frame and took a step outside. A hand snagged his wrist and shocked him from his thoughts.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"You should be resting."

He turned around and before he could object Porthos pulled him back inside. He was pushed down onto what passed for a bed and Porthos crouched between his legs.

It was a long moment before Porthos spoke.

"You have to stop doing this."

He frowned. "Doing what?"

"Don't think that I don't know what you're trying to do."

Porthos looked at him with such sorrow it nearly made Aramis feel ashamed.

"Have you nothing to say?" Porthos searched his vacant eyes. "You were reckless before, but this. This is…"

Aramis dropped his head. "It doesn't matter."

Porthos gripped Aramis' chin and pushed his head back up to meet his eyes with something caught between anger and disbelief. "Of course it matters! You matter!"

Porthos took his hand away and stormed to the door. He took a deep breath, but it didn't seem to calm him. He turned to Aramis with frustration in his voice. "Do you know how I felt watching you run out there like a madman?! Did you give any of us a thought when you ran towards their guns? And then when you were shot…" Porthos paused to run a hand down his face. "Tell me, what was going through your head?"

His voice was small when he answered. "I just wanted to be the first to go."

"Aramis…"

"I didn't want to be left behind again."

Porthos took a step closer. "I wouldn't have left you."

"You can't know that! Do you think any of those twenty men had any say in the matter? Everyone dies, Porthos. Everyone I know will die, including you. I couldn't stand to see you fall, I couldn't risk being left. The only thing I could do to make sure was-"

"To go charging at death head on? Is that your way of taking control?" Porthos sat down beside Aramis, their shoulders just touching. "It isn't just today though, it's like you're looking for it. Stop looking. Please."

"Why was I left, Porthos? Of all of them, why me?"

"Only God can answer that."

"And I ask him, every night I ask. He never answers. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe I shouldn't be here. There are only men with guns, and maybe that's his answer. Perhaps he's giving me a chance to put things right."

"Aramis, you are not a mistake. If anything, you are a miracle. So many times we nearly lost you, but you fought your way back. You fought to live. Some part of you must want to be here."

"And what life did I fight for? What have I become?"

"You are Aramis."

"I don't feel like it. He was somebody else, a man free from this pain." His head dropped on to Porthos' shoulder. "I wish I could forget it. I don't want to hurt any more, Porthos."

"I know. If I could take it away, I would." Porthos took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You have to understand though. Seeing you go like that would make me hurt. Promise you won't do that to me?"

"I don't want to make you hurt."

"Promise."

Could he? Every night he closed his eyes and woke on a choked off scream. Could he promise not to seek an escape? Could he condemn himself to living this half life? A life where everyone would be snatched away from him… But Porthos was here, solid at his side. He was there when Aramis woke, he was real when the nightmare grey faces faded away into darkness.

He would not let Porthos down. He would not make Porthos hurt.

"I promise."

Note: Here's a quick and dirty bit of fic. I was just listening to this song and it sort of happened. (To give credit - Hurt is by Trent Reznor, and sung wonderfully by Johnny Cash, the version that instigated this.)

So, long time no fic I know. Unfortunately life happened in a big way, mostly due to me getting two jobs and working six days a week. But fic writing has not ceased entirely. At the end of To Break A Butterfly I mentioned another fic: "I'm six chapters in and it's doing it's best to turn into an epic, I'm doing my best not to let it." Well, I failed spectacularly at that. I'm now on chapter 19 and I'm hoping it'll be finished with chapter 20. It may be summer by the time I get to posting though (one of those jobs involves working in schools - summer hols, yay!). I have missed this, and you guys, if you're still out there :) Now let's see if I can remember how to post stories...