When they reached Aramis' room, they found him reclined partially upright, awake and alert. There were heart monitor wires sticking out the neck of his hospital gown and an oxygen cannula under his nose…the sight reminded them of his recently near-fatal car accident.
"One of these days, you're gonna give me a heart attack," Treville told him.
"I didn't have a heart attack," Aramis answered.
Treville smiled and put a hand on Aramis' arm. "Thank God."
Everyone's eyes were drawn to the heart monitor, which was bouncing around in a sometimes-creepy manner.
"How do you feel?" Porthos asked.
"Fine," Aramis predictably answered. He sneezed immediately after.
Everyone sighed, expecting that answer.
"I've taken Mucinex before too," said d'Artagnan. "I had no idea that something like this could happen."
"I feel like a fool," said Aramis, looking away from them.
"Why?" Porthos asked. "You had no idea that your thyroid went in the other direction. The doctor said it's common because it takes time to get the medicine dosage right."
"And people don't think to read labels on something that they've used before," said Treville. "Forget about that and just rest."
Aramis sighed, but nodded. Suddenly he gasped and started to raise his hand to his chest, but quickly lowered it so as not to alarm anyone.
The others noticed anyway, and quickly looked at the heart monitor when the sound changed. The spiking line started dancing again, and the number shot up to 155.
"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed, in shock to see such a high number.
Aramis' breathing increased along with his heartbeat. "I'm...fine."
Porthos grabbed his hand and they watched him with alarm, barely noticing when a woman entered the room.
The nurse checked Aramis' oxygen level and turned it up a little. "He'll be fine," she told the others. "This is expected."
D'Artagnan wondered how she could be so calm, and stared at Aramis' pale face as his breathing tried to keep up with his racing heart.
After what seemed like a year, the number started to drop and eventually hovered between 115 and 120.
Aramis hadn't realized that he'd been clutching Porthos' hand in a death-grip until Porthos squeezed his and said, "You okay?"
Aramis tried to take a deep breath and relaxed against the pillow. "Yeah," he said, his voice sounding rough.
The same thing happened four more times within the space of a half-hour, and Aramis' friends didn't know how on earth he was dealing with it.
"You must be ready to—" D'Artagnan cringed when he'd almost said 'die'. "—scream by now!"
Aramis sighed. "It's not fun. Well, maybe it was the first time, because it was so weird." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
Athos snorted. "Only you could call something like that 'fun'."
Night fell quickly, and none of the other four men budged from Aramis' side. Each time his heart had an episode, they each feared that it would simply stop, despite assurances from the doctor that it wouldn't.
The situation was taking an obvious toll on Aramis, who grew paler and exhausted. Every time he dropped off to sleep, it'd only last minutes before his erratic heartbeat woke him.
"Argggggh," he whined after an episode at four o'clock in the morning. He was so tired that his eyes were only half open as he tried to slow his breathing down.
His four friends sat in chairs on either side of the bed, also tired but not leaving him to deal with it alone.
"Not much longer," Treville said, squeezing his arm. "Tomorrow or the day after, you'll be out of here and it'll be like this never happened."
"When we get back to New York, I'm goin' through your medicine cabinet," Porthos suddenly said.
Aramis' eyes slipped shut. Normally he would give some witty reply, but he was too worn out. "Thanks," he whispered.
Everyone watched as he fell asleep, each of them hoping that Aramis' heart would finally let him rest.
To everyone's relief, he managed to sleep through the next episode—which wasn't as bad, from what they saw on the heart monitor—and he didn't wake from the two that followed, either.
"You don't think he's unconscious, do you?" d'Artagnan suddenly asked.
All four of them looked at each other with alarm, but they were reluctant to try waking Aramis, in case he was finally getting some quality rest.
Athos left to find the doctor, who came back with them and quietly checked Aramis over before he told them that Aramis was likely asleep, which was what he needed.
Three whole hours passed before Aramis woke, when a phlebotomist came to draw some blood. She apologized profusely and was quick, patting him on the arm before she left.
Aramis still looked exhausted, and didn't even have a chance to speak before another episode took over his heart and he winced. After it faded away, he surprised everyone by saying, "I wanna go home."
Aramis was well-known to downplay his condition, always saying that he was fine when he wasn't and doing whatever he could to prevent the others from worrying about him. His statement spoke volumes, showing fear that he always easily hid.
The others didn't blame him at all for being scared; they were terrified.
"You'll be out of here in no time," Treville told him. "Try to sleep."
Aramis sighed and closed his tired eyes.
The day passed slowly. As each episode with Aramis' heart ended, they wondered how long it would be before the next one. He slept on and off through the day, with Porthos eating most of his food when meals came, as Aramis wasn't very hungry. He was still feverish from his cold and continued to sneeze and cough, but the doctor didn't want to give him any drugs while his heartbeat was still irregular.
Later that evening, Aramis fell asleep and his friends sat quietly, fighting sleep themselves but unable to get any rest while Aramis' heart continued it's odd dance. They eventually realized that though Aramis' heartbeat was still irregular, time was passing with no 'flip out' episode, as Porthos had taken to calling it. Aramis continued to sleep, and soon, an hour had passed.
"Do you think it's going away?" d'Artagnan whispered to Athos.
"We can only hope," Athos replied.
Aramis remained out like a light, and his heart had a minor episode an hour later that he slept through. Finally, at just after ten o'clock, the heart monitor abruptly changed into a perfectly regular pattern.
All four men drowsily stared at it for a moment, unsure of what they were seeing. The line was moving up and down the way it should be, at eighty-five beats per minute.
Porthos was the first person to react. "Look!"
They all watched as the normal heartbeat continued, and d'Artagnan quickly let the room to find the doctor.
TBC
