AN/ And now to Aramis...
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC's The Musketeers.
"Let's take a look at Aramis now, shall we?" Fabien announced, crossing the room smartly and sitting opposite his second patient.
Aramis didn't look up when Fabien approached and the Doctor was worried that the musketeer and proficient medic had sat so silently and still while his brother was injured and in need of help.
"Aramis?" Fabien called out to the man. Aramis didn't stir.
"Come on Aramis," Porthos practically begged from the end of the bed. Fabien glanced up at the large musketeer and then back to the Spaniard.
"I'm just going to lift your head Aramis," Fabien said aloud, not wishing to startle his new patient. Gently he tilted the man's chin upwards and examined the man's eyes properly. He clicked his fingers sharply by Aramis' ear, and waved his hand before his face. He then examined the musketeer's head for any kind of wound and, finding none, then tugged sharply on a lock of his hair.
No response.
Fabien stared almost incomprehensibly at his charge.
"What's wrong with 'im Doc?" Porthos asked anxiously.
"It looks to be a very severe form of shock," Fabien theorised. "Whatever occurred was so terrifying, upsetting, or dare I say traumatising that he's locked his mind away. He's escaped into his head, and isn't taking anything else in. I wouldn't be surprised if he can't even hear me speak now, and I'm sitting right in front of him."
"What can we do?" Treville asked, eyeing his musketeers with a worried expression. In all honesty he was more concerned about Aramis than he was d'Artagnan at his particular moment: as grievous as d'Artagnan's wounds were, he knew how to deal with them… he could see them. Whatever was going on in Aramis' head was a whole other story.
"Well, he can't stay like this forever," Fabien sighed. "I can try some smelling salts, but past that, I have no idea how else I might deal with this. I've never seen a case of shock this severe before. At least not off the battlefield."
"So… smelling salts then?" Porthos asked.
"It's our best course of action," Fabien agreed. He rose to collect a vial from his bag, and then returned. "Sit next to him Porthos. If he does wake up, he may need his friends near."
Porthos did as instructed. Athos watched the scene unfold with unease and desperation from where he had seated himself at d'Artagnan's side.
Carefully, Fabien uncapped the vial and held it beneath Aramis' nose. At first there was no response. No movement or reaction. And then Aramis blinked rapidly and pulled back sharply. Porthos grabbed his friend's arm, and Etienne took the other side as Aramis rocked back.
"Aramis?" Porthos called to his friend. "Aramis, it's Porthos. It's alright. You're okay."
Aramis didn't seem to hear. He started shaking as he wildly searched the room. His eyes rested on d'Artagnan's still body and Aramis froze completely as he took in the scene before his eyes drifted to his hands which were still covered in d'Artagnan's blood.
"No," he muttered. "No, no, no, no. No, no…"
"Aramis?!" Porthos tried to interrupt the litany that had erupted from his friend. "Please! Aramis!"
Fabien by now had arisen from his seat and returned with another vial.
"Hold him," the doctor ordered. With the medic stilled in the hands of his friends, Fabien forced the liquid down Aramis' throat, and they all watched as the Spaniard's eyelids' drooped and his head dropped heavily.
"What did you do?" Porthos asked, almost accusingly.
"I sedated him," Fabien said calmly. "He was in distress, and you weren't getting through to him. What I've just given him will help him sleep, calm his nerves, and hopefully make him more pliable when he awakes."
Porthos looked at the doctor doubtfully.
"Will you stay a while Doctor?" Treville interrupted. "Perhaps take a drink in my office with me?"
"Of course," Fabien agreed. "And I'll come by twice a day, or even more often if needed."
The doctor stood and rested his hand on Porthos' shoulder.
"I don't know what your friend saw, but he's had a terrible shock," Fabien said. "The rest will do him good, but beyond that it will take kindness and patience to bring him back. I'm afraid this isn't an illness a Doctor like myself can fix. I have no medicines for this."
Porthos looked at Fabien, and seeing only kindness and honesty in his face, accepted the man's words and nodded his thanks for them.
"I'll only be a call away," Fabien told the musketeers in the room. "Send someone if an issue arises."
Treville and Fabien left, and after Etienne helped Porthos lie Aramis down, he too took his leave, with Henri in tow.
As evening drew in two men lay incognizant in their beds, with their brothers by their sides.