AN- Hey all,
This is just a brief one shot during S1E2. It was one of those ones which stuck in my head until I wrote it. Sorry that it's a bit of a cliffhanger, but I have no real intention of continuing it*unless my email is blown up by requests for it ;) *
I don't own anything, the BBC has that honour. Sigh.
Hopefully you enjoy :D
Athos stumbled down the corridors, choking on the fresh smoke that filled the air. He scanned the floor, checking for rubble that he might trip on. There was still a heat to the chamber as he hurried through it. He turned a corner and gasped in dismay. Sprawled on the ground in front of him was d'Artagnan, unmoving and hideously burnt. Athos dropped his torch and rushed to the young Gascon's side. The shirt had been burnt off his back, pale fabric charred and dark, revealing a panel of mottled burns, bright and angry against the olive skin. His hair was singed, and when Athos rolled him over, careful not to touch his back, he was horrified to find a bleeding gash running from his temple to jaw, purple bruising spreading out from underneath the cut and curling round the boy's eye. Athos numbly reached for the young lads neck, shakily searching for a pulse. It was faint and unsteady, not nearly as reassuring as Athos had hoped. He shifted d'Artagnan in his arms, resting the boy's head in his lap, listening for breath. It was barely leaking out of the boy's lips, a slight whisper of movement in the hot air. Athos' own breath caught with choked emotion. He stared into the face of the young man whose eyes cracked open barely. Athos felt his heart plummet.
"Thos?" d'Artagnan whispered, his voice whistling as it travelled past damaged lungs.
I'm here d'Artagnan." Athos's throat constricted with emotion.
"Mm- hurts." d'Artagnan muttered. His breath caught, and he shook in a series of hacking coughs that echoed in the large corridor. A pained moan was torn from his lips, and tears leaked from his eyes. Athos gathered him into his chest gently, trying not to jostle the boy's back.
"I know lad, I know. Shhhhhh."
The "Help me." d'Artagnan's plea fell from his lips, raw and filled with fear.
"I'm trying lad." Athos replied, blinking back tears. Blood flowed freely from the gash on his face, and Athos could feel blood seeping from the burns from where they had chaffed the floor. So much blood.
"'Thos?" d'Artagnan whispered, blood also rising on his lips, staining them.
"Yes?"
"Scared." d'Artagnan's eyes shone with fear even in the limited light. Athos stared down at them, seeing the boy rapidly losing consciousness.
"Hey, hey stay with me." Athos muttered, wincing at how scared the words sounded "Keep on looking at me, that's it." He could barely find the courage to look at d'Atagnan's eyes, staring at a spot on his forehead, miraculously free of blood or bruising. He place a hand gently on the Gascon's chest, feeling the unsteady rise and fall of his breathing and the beating of his heart, which was even more weak. A pained groan forced its way past d'Artagnan's bloody lips, and he arched. Athos pushed his eyes shut for and instant, before looking down at d'Artagnan's face again.
"Please." The boy uttered, a deathly rattle accompanying the word. His eyes were out of focus, staring straight through Athos.
"Come on lad, fight it. Stay awake."
"Please 'Th-" d'Artagnan's last words was muffled as he slumped in Athos's arms, eyes shut. Athos panicked, waiting desperately for another breath, to prove the boy was alive. The slight movement he felt against his arm sent relief surging through his body.
"Aramis!" He shouted "Aramis! Porthos! Here quickly!". The sound of boots thudding the ground met his ears. Athos returned his gaze to the boy in his arms, the heartbeat beneath his hand reassuring, but terrifying at the same time. He couldn't see the boy die. He couldn't.