Athos and Porthos stood staring at Aramis, who looked pained and exhausted, eyes closed.
"I need a bath," Aramis suddenly said, reopening his eyes. "I feel covered with germs by being in a hospital for four days."
"Do you feel capable of bathing?" Athos asked.
Aramis closed his eyes again. "No."
"You're right though, you need to get clean," said Porthos. "I'll run you a soapy bath, all you have to do is lay in it for a while. You'll need clean sheets too."
"I'll take care of that," Athos said.
Porthos went into Aramis' bathroom and turned on the water, pouring in the body wash that sat on the shelf and watching the water turn into suds. He used so much that it looked like a bubble bath and he chuckled before he went back for Aramis. They got him off the bed, helped him shuffle to the bathroom, and minutes later, Aramis was inside the water.
"How's the temp?" Porthos asked. "Do you want it hotter or cooler?"
"Hotter."
Porthos turned the knob and smiled at the look of contentment on Aramis' face. "Don't fall asleep in there."
"Mmm," Aramis answered, eyes closed.
Porthos sat on the closed toilet seat, not thinking it wise to leave Aramis alone.
A few minutes later, Athos poked his head in. He spotted the shower curtain drawn halfway closed and walked in with the dirty sheets, dropping them into the hamper and looking at Aramis, whose head was the only thing visible from a mass of suds. "Please tell me he's not asleep in there."
"I'm…not really sure," Porthos answered.
"That's hardly safe in his condition," Athos scolded.
"I know," Porthos said. "That's why I'm not leavin' this room."
"Don't let the water get cool," said Athos. "He went into shock, remember? He needs to stay warm."
"I know," Porthos said. He reached over to nudge their friend's shoulder. "Hey Aramis? You gotta wake up."
"Mmm...?"
"Wake up."
Aramis slowly turned his head to blink at them.
"He was asleep," said Athos, shooting Porthos an accusing look.
"Let's do your hair, Aramis," Porthos said. "You gotta get back to bed."
A minute later, Aramis was painfully sitting upright in the soapy water, too half-asleep to even feel foolish that his friend was putting shampoo on his head for him.
Porthos gently lathered it up before taking the showerhead from Athos and rinsing it away. "Can you wash your face?" he asked.
Aramis sluggishly reached out for the soap that Athos handed him and obeyed.
"Hold your breath," Porthos told him, before rinsing his face next. "There we go, all done!"
Aramis closed his eyes, unable to keep them open. He suddenly shivered, which caused a flurry of activity for some reason and the next thing he knew, he was painfully sitting on the side of the tub wrapped in towels while Athos held onto him to keep him upright.
Porthos was vigorously scrubbing at his hair with a towel to dry it as much as possible, and then they both helped Aramis into a pair of pajamas.
The activity woke Aramis up a little, and he tried to stay awake while Porthos blow-dried his hair, not wanting to leave his head wet. Getting back to the bed was a struggle for Aramis, even with their help, and he gave an inward sigh once he was in bed again. The scent of fabric softener reminded him that the sheets were fresh, and he felt mentally better, at least. "Thank you," he said to them both, just before he fell asleep.
The others watched him.
"That went well?" Porthos said, sounding unsure.
Athos sighed. "I don't like how weak he is."
Porthos nodded. "Me neither."
They were quiet again as they watched him sleep.
"They gave him anesthesia twice," Porthos said. "While he has a concussion."
Athos nodded. "True. That has to be it." His phone suddenly buzzed and he looked at it, finding a text from Treville.
Does he want anything?
Athos texted back: We gave him a bath and he fell asleep.
Porthos looked over his shoulder. "Tell him Axe body wash," he said, aware that he'd poured half the bottle into the tub. "And Fritos and Cheetos, in case Aramis wants to feed Pusheen again!"
Athos shook his head with amusement and obeyed, waiting for Treville's acknowledgment before he put the phone back into his pocket.
When Treville came back, it was obvious that he'd spent over a hundred dollars. He had all the things that Aramis liked, plus staples like milk, eggs, butter, bread, a case of bottled water, and everything he could think of that they'd need. He'd bought Aramis some magazines to read once he was up to it, and he also had a massive pot of the special chicken soup—still in the pan—from the Italian deli.
"I told them he was getting out of the hospital today and they made it for him this morning," Treville told Athos, putting it on the stove along with a whole loaf of still-warm Italian bread.
"Generous people," Athos commented.
"More than you know," Treville said. He took out a bakery box and opened it, displaying calzones and pastries inside. "They refused to take a dime from me, telling me that Aramis is 'such a sweet boy'." He chuckled.
"They're very generous," Athos amended.
Treville chuckled. "They're delivering a pizza tomorrow night. I bet Aramis never realized that stopping a thief from robbing them last year would make them adopt him!"
Athos nodded. "Indeed."
"How's Aramis doing?" Treville asked as he put the milk into the fridge.
"He's very weak," Athos told him, with a sigh. "The bath appeared to take a lot out of him."
"Probably all the drugs combined with his concussed brain," Treville said.
Athos nodded. "That was the same conclusion that Porthos and I came to."
"He'll be fine," Treville said. "You know Aramis." He sighed though after he said it, leaning both hands on the counter. "But I still can't believe that it wouldn't have happened if only..." He shook his head.
"What's done is done," said Athos. "We can only move on from here. The guilt you feel is normal, and Aramis not wanting you to blame yourself is also normal. No one knows the future; all we can do is live in the present and guard ourselves from repeating the past."
Treville looked at him. "True words of wisdom. Thank you."
Athos nodded, before noticing one of the magazines and picking it up. It was all about Star Wars and cost $20. "He'll love this."
Treville nodded. "I know; it's the least I could do."
Athos helped him put the rest of the groceries away before they took Aramis' prescriptions and went into his bedroom, finding him sleeping soundly with Porthos watching him from a chair beside the bed. They looked a question at him and Porthos gave them the thumbs-up gesture to tell them that Aramis was doing fine.
The next two hours passed quietly, before Aramis suddenly woke coughing. Groggy and momentarily confused, he gave a cry of pain and then a gasp of surprise when a pillow was suddenly shoved against the left side of his ribs.
The drugs had worn off while he'd slept, and pain stabbed through his cracked and bruised body. It was a coughing fit that he'd never forget for the rest of his life, as his lungs didn't cooperate with him when he tried to stop, which continued to increase the pain.
Seconds later, arms unexpectedly snaked around him from behind, hugging the pillow to his ribs and bracing his body, keeping him steady as he coughed. He didn't remember being pulled into that position, but it helped a lot to support his ribs.
Eventually, the coughing died down and his head dropped back against someone's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," came a voice in his ear. "I'm so, so sorry."
Aramis realized that it was Treville, and he was obviously still blaming himself.
Aramis couldn't answer, gasping painfully. A cup suddenly touched his lips and he obediently drank.
"Every drop," said Porthos. "There's painkillers in it."
Aramis obeyed, swallowing the two pills. The cup was pulled away for a second before appearing again.
"The antibiotic now," Porthos told him.
Aramis moved his head to the side so he could catch his breath a little first, and then he drank those too. He scrunched his eyes shut when Treville carefully reclined him against his pillows again, and he couldn't prevent the groan that passed his lips. The pain was so bad that he clenched his hands into fists, and wasn't surprised when someone picked one of them up and pried it open to hold.
"Are you all right?" Athos' voice asked.
Eyes closed, Aramis carefully nodded his aching head.
"We didn't realize the drugs had worn off," Porthos apologetically told him.
"S'okay," Aramis whispered.
The hand holding his gave it a squeeze. "You need to eat with those pills." It was Treville. "We have a lot for you to choose from."
Aramis wasn't hungry, but he'd rather force himself to eat rather than get nauseated from the drugs. "Like...what?" he whispered.
"Your favorite soup," said Treville. "Calzones, meatballs."
Aramis smiled slightly. "Bless their hearts."
"Don't forget the Fritos and Cheetos," said Porthos. "Pusheen has to eat too!" He pointed at the plush cat which sat on the nightstand.
Everyone laughed.
They had a feast, with Aramis eating the soup and a couple of meatballs. It was obvious that he'd forced himself to eat as much as he did; his appetite was still not what it should be—which wasn't surprising, considering—but he did all right.
It grew late quickly, and Aramis fell asleep not long after eating. He appeared to be out like a light, motionless and quiet. They all desperately hoped that he'd sleep through the night, but everyone doubted that he would.
"We'll watch him in shifts," Treville said. "Do you mind if I go first? The chief wants me in his office first thing in the morning."
The others nodded their understanding before taking one last look at their injured friend and leaving the room. They headed towards Aramis' couch and loveseat, each one laying down and getting comfortable. They were quiet for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts.
"This is crazy," Porthos suddenly said, putting a hand over his eyes. "I still can't even believe that this happened."
"I know," Athos agreed.
"I'm glad he's out of the hospital," Porthos continued.
Athos nodded with a sigh of relief. He stood and went into the kitchen before returning with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He handed one to Porthos and filled it.
Porthos was surprised to see his hand shake. "Hey, you okay?"
Athos nodded before gulping the wine. He started to pour himself another glass, but he changed his mind and corked the bottle instead, standing it on the floor beside the loveseat, out of sight.
Porthos watched, realizing that Athos didn't want to risk getting drunk while Aramis needed him. "You don't have to be so stoic all the time, Athos," he said. "One of our closest friends just almost died; it's normal to react. Don't bottle it all in, for your own sake."
Athos scrubbed both hands down his face and remained in that position.
Porthos moved to the loveseat and wrapped an arm around him, feeling the light shaking that filled his body. "I shook nonstop," he said. "The whole time Aramis was in surgery and the first day and night that he was in the ICU. When they pulled him out of the car, I almost couldn't breathe."
Athos remained quiet, hands still over his face.
Porthos squeezed him. "See, this is what happens when you deny yourself human expression," he said. "You eventually crash." He cringed at the word 'crash', wishing he'd thought before he'd spoken. "Say somethin', before you spontaneously combust."
Athos' hands dropped away. "The two of you are my brothers," he softly said. He opened his mouth to say more, but couldn't.
Porthos understood. "I know, and Aramis does too."
Athos sighed and lowered his head. He eventually laid back down again and Porthos went back to the couch. Despite their worry for their friend, they both fell asleep.
TBC
