A/N: Thanks for continuing to reading as well as review. We're about half-way to the first of the turning points when things start to get tense and trust becomes an issue. In this installment, Aramis gets to go home but then comes a late-night conversation with Athos.

Also, thanks to Issai for beta reading. Any remaining mistakes are my own doing.


A New Normal?

A few hours later when Aramis has shown no signs of worsening, he is discharged much to his relief. Porthos and d'Artagnan arrive in time to help Athos get Aramis ready to leave. They also bring his spare set of clothes from the office. While Athos and Porthos work to get Aramis dressed carefully, d'Artagnan goes to fill the prescription for a stronger painkiller that will help Aramis through the first week of recovery.

Although he winces and curses, Aramis doesn't resist their help in getting dressed. That is somewhat disconcerting for them but at the moment it's a relief because they need to get him dressed and ready to be picked up by Constance, who's just come back from her summer training classes. She was at home when Athos called to ask the favor, unpacking and showering after spending days in less than ideal conditions but was happy to drive in to help them. Otherwise, they'd have to get an Uber ride or take the train, neither of which would be easy on Aramis' aches and pains. If they hurry, also, they can miss the worst of the rush hour traffic.

The drive is smooth thanks to Constance's driving, which Aramis appreciates. He is also happy to have the front passenger seat because they've reclined it a touch to ease the pressure on his ribs. He dozes on the ride home thanks to his head wound and the painkillers and his half alert as they gently manhandle him into the house.

The last few steps into the house, though, do him in.

"That's… it," he says between gasps at the pain. "No more."

"Thought you'd want to go up to your bed," Porthos asks.

Aramis shakes his head lightly, mindful of his growing headache. "Later…. Hurt."

"Painkillers wore off?"

Aramis nods lightly, relaxing into the wall they've stopped in front of. He doesn't care that they reinforce their grips to keep him upright. He needs to get the pressure off of his ribs and rest his aching head. He might not've had a severe concussion, but the dizziness and pain are throwing him off. He tries to keep his breathing even, working to breathe deeply as the doctor instructed but each attempt brings a sharp pain that makes his breathing hitch and ribs ache.

"Den it is then," Porthos says easily. "d'Artagnan do you mind going to get his pillow and blankets."

"And Fidget," Athos adds quietly. d'Artagnan nods and goes up to get the things from Aramis' room.

"Let's get you into the den before you stiffen up too much," Porthos says, stepping close to Aramis again to keep him upright as they made the final steps.

Aramis sighs but nods his understanding. He tries to take the first step, pushing off from the wall on his own but is left gasping for breath when a bolt of pain radiates from his abdomen out.

"Just let us do the work, 'Mis," Athos says quietly. He slips a hand behind Aramis' back, under his shoulder.

Aramis nods his head again, biting his lips against the pain. He keeps his eyes closed and head bowed as he tries to regain some semblance of control.

"You ready?" Porthos' voice is low, the deepness a comfort to him.

"Yeah." Aramis tries to help, to shuffle his feet along as they support him from both sides. They are careful and slow but it hurts still. He holds back the harshest of the winces at first until he can't and then it's a muttering of apologies from them until he tries to collapse on the couch. Steady hands stop him but it's still a relief on his aching ribs, his pounding head to lay down.

They lift his head up, sliding a familiar pillow underneath. d'Artagnan must be back. There's the blanket that he likes and Fidget. He's been sleeping with Fidget a lot more lately and as much as he won't tell the others, he's glad he has him now. He pulls the bear under the blanket to keep close to his chest.

"I also brought some clothes, a shirt and a pair of sweats." d'Artagnan holds out the items. The sight of them makes Aramis' chest hurt more.

"We'll worry about them later," Athos says, seeing the look of dread on Aramis' face. "Let's get one of your painkillers in you first and let it take effect before we even consider it."

Aramis nods.

"You're going to need to eat something or that pill's going to chew up your stomach," Porthos says. "Yoghurt or toast?"

"Yoghurt," Aramis says without hesitation. Toast seems like too much work. When Porthos goes go get yoghurt and a pill, Athos and d'Artagnan work on getting Aramis into a slightly more upright position, which he appreciates because the alternative is being spoon fed and he has too much pride right now to even admit to wanting the help. He's at a 45-degree angle when he tells them to stop. He's raised up enough that he can eat on his own, albeit carefully. It hurts his head and chest but he doesn't have to put up with it for long so he forces himself to endure.

He tries to down the yoghurt quickly, but his own ribs prevent that, leaving him to take slow, small spoonfuls, resting some between each. When he's done, they give him the painkiller and help him lie back down to rest. Before he drops off into a sleep, they help him to change out of the pants into sweatpants, leaving the shirt for another time.

Except for being woken to eat and take more painkillers, as well as to check his concussion, Aramis sleeps on the couch through the evening, the combined effects of the pain from the accident and the painkiller giving him his first restful sleep in weeks. Athos stays downstairs with him, wanting to be close if the day's events send him into a flashback. He'd already let Treville know that he was taking tomorrow as a personal day to help Aramis and catch up on any sleep he knows he'll miss tonight.

For the first half of the night, Aramis sleeps soundly. Sometime around two in the morning, towards the end of a round of pain medication, he starts muttering, head lolling back and forth lightly. Athos watches, waiting to see if Aramis can ride it out and get a little more sleep but when he continues to grow agitated, Athos steps in to wake him.

"Wake up, 'Mis," Athos says firmly but quietly. He doesn't want to startle Aramis awake. "Come on, you need to wake up, Aramis." It takes a little more prodding until Aramis' eyes slit open. Athos can see that he's still not alert, not really seeing Athos.

"Hey, 'Mis. You're home, on the couch in the den. Do you remember? You're safe, 'Mis." Athos keeps up the steady stream of comforting words, gently rubbing Aramis' shoulder.

"'thos?" Aramis stills, turning his head to look at Athos.

"Yeah. You back with me?"

"Den? Accident? AH," he cries out when he shifts. "Ribs."

"Sounds right. How is the pain?"

"Hurts."

"Number?"

"Six, eight if I move."

"Then don't move." Athos knows that Aramis has told him the truth about the pain. It's a rule in the house. It took time at first to get Aramis comfortable with admitting to the real pain, but it's gone a long way in building up and maintaining their trust.

Aramis chuckles at Athos' light command. Then winces.

"Be careful. You still have a half hour till your next dose."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"Try to get some more sleep."

"Can't. Hurts."

"I'll grab an ice pack. That might help some."

Aramis works on steadying his breathing until Athos returns. He doesn't look forward to waiting out thirty minutes until he has more pain relief. And he'll have to eat first, which means keeping the pain at bay so it doesn't make him queasy.

"Here." Athos hands him an ice pack. There's another in his hand. "This one is for your head. That one is for your ribs."

"Thanks." Aramis slips the ice pack under the blankets, placing it over top his shirt where the pain is the greatest. It momentarily increases the pain but does start to slowly ease it. Athos takes the other ice pack and wraps it in a dish towel to set on Aramis' forehead. He holds it there to make sure it doesn't slip.

"How's the pain now," Athos asks after a few minutes.

"Better. Thanks." Aramis gives him a slight smile.

Athos nods and waits longer before asking about the accident. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Aramis sighs. "I thought I saw someone following us but…"

"What?"

"I couldn't see anyone there. And then there was the car. I couldn't get away in time."

"Do you think that someone is following you?" Athos knows that Aramis is an expert spotter. It was one of his special skills in the Navy, one he honed into being a deadly sniper.

"To be honest, I don't know. I thought I did. But I don't know."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doubting yourself? You know your track record, your skills."

Aramis sighs, breath hitching at the lingering pain in his ribs. "I know it's no secret that I can't sleep. That I'm hovering on the borders of depression. Exhaustion can do things to the mind."

"Yes, it can. Do you think you're slipping down too far?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You would tell me if you were?"

"You keep a watch, don't you?"

"I look after you because I know myself that sometimes it comes upon us with little warning but I trust you to know your own limits."

"I do, I think."

"Do you want to find a psychiatrist? Or perhaps call Lemay? He did leave you his number."

Aramis pauses, thinking. "I want to try to work through it on my own. I've done it before."

"Yes, you have but this has gone on for months, Aramis."

"I know, but it's not serious. I haven't had any major attacks since then. I think I can manage it."

"And are you?"

"I'm trying. It's just been hard with everything that's going on."

"It has been a hard month, but the good news is that you'll have some time off, thanks to this. So, that should give you the chance."

"Yeah." Aramis sighs and gasps. "Is the half hour up?"

"If not, you can eat something and then it should be. What do you feel like?"

"Yoghurt."

"Other than that. You've had yoghurt the last couple times. You need something more."

"And you can't cook."

"Porthos made up a couple sandwiches with the leftover turkey from dinner. I'll go get you one of those."

Aramis doesn't feel like eating a sandwich but he knows he needs something more. So he nods his head and sighs. Athos comes back a minute later with the sandwiches, pills, and a glass of water. He helps Aramis to sit up, propping him up with some pillows. Aramis tries not to gasp at the pain from the movement. He knows that Athos is being careful but his broken ribs burn from the strain of moving and his head aches. Athos waits until he sees the pain in Aramis' face ease and the color return some to his face before handing him the plate.

"At least eat half of it," Athos says, cutting off the comment he knows was coming from Aramis. Aramis sighs and nods, picking up a half of the sandwich. The first couple bites are easy. He is hungry but once the initial hunger is sated, the rest of the sandwich half is a struggle. Still, he eats it because he knows he has to and that will satisfy Athos. The last bite goes down with a big effort and he nearly shoves the plate with the other half into Athos' hands. After taking his painkiller, Athos helps him to lie back down. He puts the plate in the fridge for later and brings back fresh ice packs.

Once he sees that Aramis has settled, not quite sleeping but definitely resting, Athos returns to his seat. He half-watches infomercials on a low volume, keeping his full attention on Aramis as his breathing evens out to sleep.