Treville quietly closed the bedroom door, hoping that the two other men wouldn't hear any noise should Aramis wake. He sat in his chair and stared at Aramis, who remained motionless, deeply asleep. He couldn't stop himself from thinking back to the scene of the accident, of seeing Aramis' limp body being placed on the stretcher. He still couldn't believe that the whole whoopee cushion incident had resulted in Aramis nearly getting killed, and he gave a soundless sigh.

Aramis suddenly moved, shifting his left arm and turning his head slightly. He took a deeper breath and winced with a little cough, but it didn't turn into anything worse and he never opened his eyes.

Treville found himself holding his own breath in an attempt to not wake him if he was dropping right back off to sleep, and he let it out when Aramis' breathing evened out again.

The night passed smoothly with Athos and Porthos taking their own watch over their friend. Aramis woke to cough twice, once with each of them there, and after taking more pain pills, went back to sleep. He slept till mid-morning, and woke to a plate of pancakes.

"How's that?" Porthos proudly asked.

Aramis smiled at him, unable to resist. There were blueberries in them—his favorite—and he smiled wider when Porthos poured the syrup on and literally drowned the pancakes in it.

"The amount of sugar in that is insane," Athos commented.

"I know," said Aramis, taking a happy bite.

He ate them all, to his friends' relief, and they were glad to see that he looked better.

The day consisted in bringing Aramis everything he wanted or needed, and trying to make him eat everything in sight. He stayed awake for longer periods of time, and even replied to concerned posts on his Facebook page, letting people know that he was doing well and would be fine.

Captain Treville texted all three of them throughout the day, and when he returned that afternoon, he brought someone unexpected with him.

"You again?" Porthos blurted.

"I saw Captain Treville pull into this parking lot," d'Artagnan told him. "And decided to see how Detective d'Herblay is doing."

"You followed a cop?" said Porthos. He shook his head with a slight grin. "You have guts."

"I feel terrible about the accident," d'Artagnan said, looking very awkward. "So when Captain Treville drove by me, I saw a chance and I took it."

"Aramis is improving," Athos told him.

D'Artagnan sighed with relief. "Good."

"Who's out there?" they suddenly heard.

Porthos went into the bedroom, and they suddenly heard Aramis say, "Send him in!"

D'Artagnan looked a little surprised, but walked forward when Athos motioned him to. He stood in the doorway and looked at Aramis from there. "Hello."

Aramis smiled, though he was still pale and looking pained. "Come in."

D'Artagnan did, walking over to one of the chairs beside the bed. "Feeling better?" he asked, very aware of the stare that Porthos was giving him from the chair on the other side.

Aramis nodded slightly. "Getting there. Nice of you to visit."

D'Artagnan smiled sheepishly. "Like I told your friends, I feel terrible about the accident. Again, I'm so sorry."

"Like I told my friends, nothing is permanent and I'll be fine," Aramis replied. "It just occurred to me, you weren't hurt from the collision?"

D'Artagnan shook his head and gestured towards his face. "Just these scratches from the airbag, minor whiplash. I feel fine...physically, anyway."

Aramis nodded. "Accidents can be scary. Has it been giving you nightmares or something?"

D'Artagnan sighed. "It has, actually. I mean, when I got up that morning, I never thought that I'd nearly kill someone. A cop, even." He felt the stare from Porthos grow more intense, and he was surprised that a growl didn't accompany it.

Aramis sighed, before flinching with a wince and starting to cough. He pulled the pillow against his left side and tried to suppress the spasming from his lungs.

D'Artagnan winced himself.

Aramis looked at Porthos. "Tea?" he managed to choke out.

Porthos nodded and swiftly left the room.

"Quick," said Aramis, in-between coughs. "What...skills...do you have?"

D'Artagnan blinked at the unexpected question. "Skills? Um…well…I'm a lip-reader."

Aramis' eyebrows shot up.

Porthos quickly returned. "Athos is makin' it for you."

Aramis nodded as the coughing died down. He looked paler, and closed his eyes as he tried to breathe through the pain.

Porthos put a hand on his arm, throwing a glare at d'Artagnan, who looked at the floor.

Aramis reopened his eyes quickly, knowing that d'Artagnan was still there. "I'm all right," he said.

"Strange way to describe yourself," said d'Artagnan.

Athos came in a minute later with the tea and placed it in Aramis' hands, keeping hold of it as Aramis raised it to his lips.

"Mmm," Aramis said, as the wonderful heat warmed his aching chest. "Thank you," he whispered. A wave of dizziness suddenly swept over him when his head suddenly throbbed, and his hands dropped away from the cup as his eyes slipped closed again.

Athos pulled in a startled breath, but let it out when Aramis continued to drink the tea. He tipped the cup back so his injured friend could get it all, before he put it down on the nightstand and fiddled with the blankets that covered him.

"What just happened?" d'Artagnan nervously asked, noticing what had almost looked like a faint.

"He got dizzy," said Porthos, squeezing Aramis' arm.

Athos put a hand on their injured friend's shoulder. "Aramis?" he said.

Aramis moved his head slightly, eyes still closed. He said nothing.

"Maybe you should go," a soft voice whispered behind d'Artagnan, who was startled and turned.

Treville gave him a sympathetic smile, understanding the young man's guilt all too well. "He needs to sleep."

D'Artagnan nodded and quietly stood, giving the others an awkward wave before leaving the room.

Treville followed and closed the bedroom door behind them. "Thank you for caring," he said. "The others appreciate it despite Porthos' attitude."

"I understand," d'Artagnan said. "I'm surprised that he hasn't murdered me yet...though I guess he can't, since he's a cop!" He gave a nervous chuckle.

Treville smiled at the joke. "I know how you feel...the guilt." He sighed. "I'm the one who sent Aramis out that morning...on a stupidly pointless and unnecessary errand."

D'Artagnan was surprised. "Oh. So we have something in common."

Treville nodded.

D'Artagnan nodded back as they approached the door. "Well...my number is in Detective d'Herblay's phone. Please let me know if there's anything I can do, no matter how small; I want to make amends."

"All right," Treville said. "Goodbye."

"Bye," said d'Artagnan, and then he was gone.

Treville went back to Aramis' room and found his eyes half open. He'd apparently recovered from his dizzy spell—partially, at least—but he was still very pale.

"Go to sleep," Porthos was saying, patting his arm.

"Wanted to tell you something," Aramis answered, slowly.

"If it's important, you'll remember it later," Athos said.

Aramis couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried, and he was still dizzy, so he closed his eyes and obeyed.

The other three shot each other stressed expressions, wishing that Aramis hadn't been hurt so badly.

The next two hours passed quietly, and at exactly six o'clock, Aramis opened his eyes again. "He reads lips," he blurted.

The others were startled at his sudden voice and looked at him.

"What?" said Porthos.

"D'Artagnan reads lips," Aramis said, feeling woozy. He blinked and gave his head a shake, which only made it worse. Pain thumped through his head and he winced, shifting slightly and putting his right hand over his cracked ribs.

Treville was ready with his pills, and helped him take them, making him drink an entire glass of water before they addressed what he said. "He reads lips?"

"Yes," Aramis said. "That would be...a great...asset to us." He took a careful breath as he suppressed his lungs' desire to cough.

Treville thought about it. "It would," he said.

"I don't think I can look at that kid every day knowing that he almost killed Aramis," Porthos told him.

Treville was silent for a moment before saying, "Don't you think of that now when you look at me?"

"You couldn't have known what would happen," said Athos.

"Neither could d'Artagnan," said Treville, with a sigh.

Athos and Porthos looked at each other and had a silent conversation.

"Fine," said Porthos, with a sigh. "Havin' a lip-reader would be pretty amazin', with all the silent camera footage we're always lookin' at."

"I agree," said Athos.

"Great!" said Aramis. "I'll tell him." He looked for his cell phone and saw it on the nightstand out of his reach.

"Slow down!" said Treville. "I'll have to interview him first, do a background check, and all that."

Aramis halted, realizing that he was right. Before he could say anything else, the doorbell rang.

Porthos smiled. "That would be our pizza."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The three men again took turns staying in Aramis' room while he slept. Their friend rested quietly for most of the night and only woke at two in the morning to cough. They hoped that he'd sleep the rest of the night undisturbed, but around five, he woke again with a sudden moan.

Athos was the one in the room at the time, and he reached over and put a hand on his friend's arm. "Aramis?" he said.

Aramis scrunched his eyes shut tighter and dragged a hand to his chest, before opening his eyes and looking at Athos.

"Are you all right?" Athos asked with concern.

Aramis looked groggy and shook his head, to Athos' dismay. Before he could ask what was wrong, Aramis started to cough.

Athos pulled him further upright and sat beside him, wrapping an arm around Aramis' back and helping him hold the pillow to his left side.

Aramis continued to cough, wincing from the pain. He managed to stop for a few seconds before moaning again, which renewed the coughing.

The door suddenly opened as Porthos and Treville both came in, looking sleep disheveled. Noticing that Aramis' cough suddenly sounded wet, Treville grabbed some tissues out of the box on the nightstand and placed them in his hand.

Aramis held them to his mouth, coughing again a few times, before suddenly spitting into the tissues...which turned red.

A shock of fear trembled through each one of them, and Treville pulled Aramis' hand away from his face, displaying the bloody tissues.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed. He looked at the others. "Did the doctor say that could happen?!"

No one was sure.

"I'm calling 911!" Porthos said, looking around the room for a phone.

"Wait!" Aramis said.

They all looked at him.

"I'm fine."

"AUGH!" Porthos threw his arms into the air.

"Hold on!" Treville said to him. "It might not be abnormal...he had a hole in his lung, for goodness sake."

"So you want to ignore the fact that Aramis just coughed up blood?!" said Porthos.

"It's not just blood, it's bloody mucus," said Treville. "Not quite the same thing."

Athos looked faintly sick at the notion. He still had his arm around Aramis and handed him some clean tissues. "Spit," he said.

Aramis did, and it wasn't bloody.

"How is your breathing?" Treville asked him. "The same as it's been?"

Aramis nodded.

Treville moved behind him and put his ear on the left side of Aramis' back. "Breathe as deeply as you can."

Aramis obeyed, his breath hitching from the pain.

"I can hear air going in and out," Treville said, relieved. "Not too much congestion, either. That glob might've been bloody from the start, and it took this long to come up."

Everyone stared at Aramis for a minute, critically assessing him. He looked tired, pale, and in pain, but was as alert as he could be, considering.

"He has an appointment at the hospital at ten," said Athos. "Dr. Harris will be there by seven. We can call and ask him then."

Everyone's eyes swung to the clock, to see that it was nearly five-thirty.

"Aramis," said Treville, handing him more tissues. "Cough."

Aramis put them over his mouth and obeyed. To everyone's relief, there was no blood.

"Do you want to wait?" Treville asked him. "If not, we'll take you to the emergency room right now."

Aramis tiredly laid his head on Athos' shoulder. "No ER," he said. "I'll be stuck there waiting anyway."

That was true.

"I don't like this," said Porthos. "I'm googling it, at least!"

Aramis waved his hand as if saying, 'go ahead'.

Treville again placed his ear against Aramis' back to hear his lung. When he pulled away, he looked satisfied, so he and Athos reclined Aramis back against his pillows, watching as he fell back to sleep. They both looked at Porthos, who sat staring at his phone.

"Well?" Athos asked.

Porthos nodded. "It can happen," he whispered back. "But it can also be very bad."

Athos sighed and looked at Treville.

"He didn't literally cough up blood," said the captain. "It wasn't liquid; it was mucus that was bloody. There's a difference."

Athos looked at the clock: 5:35am. One thing was definite: the next hour and a half was going to pass very slowly.

TBC