Finals are done so back to the Musketeers!
She was never going to live down the teasing of her greeting, but he was never going to live down practically fainting at her feet.
"Alcohol."
She passed Aramis the drink and helped the others hold her husband down as the medic took care of Charles' mangled wrists.
Charles was a mess. Once they had gotten him to the infirmary and started checking him over she realized her husband would be there for a while.
"Gauze."
She handed Aramis the bandage and watched as he gently wrapped her husband's wrists.
"Shirt."
She stepped forward and held her husband as Porthos gently slid off his shirt.
As his middle was uncovered all of them gasped. There was a dip where his ribs should be and bruising like nothing she had ever seen before.
"Fight," he murmured in his delirium.
"Promised, must fight."
"Shh," she soothed, "You kept your promise, you came back."
Charles had done his duty and had come back to her against all odds. How she loved this man. He scared her half to death running into danger and he awed her the way he cared for those around him.
"If you could stop daydreaming about your husband for a moment I could use a hand wrapping his ribs."
She blushed and hurried to help Aramis, doing her best to ignore the smirk he sent her way. Feeling Charles' hot skin as she held him Constance wondered if he was fevered.
"Its all the trauma he's been through," comforted Aramis.
"Apparently you've added mind reading to your talents."
"It was written on your face," the exasperating man explained. "D'Artagnan will be sore for a while but he will recover."
"Of course he will," she snapped leaving Aramis to tie up the wrap.
Since it looked like they had addressed all her husband's injuries she decided to make him comfortable as possible. Walking to the end of the bed she tugged on Charles' boots.
"Ahhhhh!"
The wounded cry broke Constance's heart.
"Charles?"
"He's still out," Porthos informed her.
"His boots are burned through. Parts of his feet are a bit burned."
Aramis hurried over to help her carefully nudge the boots off. The medic kept a soothing monologue going of what he was doing. Constance found his gentle voice reassuring and calming.
"Constance, No. I promised. No, no, no! Can't die, I promised. Promised…" sweat was beading up on her husbands body as he thrashed around in his sleep.
"Can't die, Promised."
"Porthos hold him still," demanded Aramis!
The man hurried to do as he was told. Porthos slipped behind her husband and held him around the chest so Charles' feet could be examined.
Her eyes widened, "What's happening?"
"He is reliving his experience, It's the fever," explained Aramis.
"He thought he was going to die." Tears sprang to her eyes, she could feel herself shaking, and her body desperately needed air…
"Constance," he shouted, "pull yourself together and help me out."
"Aramis, she…"
"No, Athos! Constance, Charles needs you now!"
Taking a deep breath she pressed her frantic emotions down and faced Aramis.
"Alright what can I do?"
"Good girl, bathe his face and chest to help cool him down. Athos bring me more water and another cloth I need to take care of these feet!"
Everyone rushed to do his bidding. But Charles' thrashing got worse the more they tried to help.
"Talk to him Constance."
"Talk? Can he hear me?"
"Yes it might keep him calm to hear your voice," Aramis explained.
"Charles if you can understand me I want you to know how angry I am at you."
The heads of all three men swung up to stare aghast at her. She just chuckled.
"You rush head first into danger…"
"Your supposed to be soothing him," complained Porthos.
"I am," she snapped!
Porthos rolled his eyes so she ignored him and continued to talk.
"Duty rates so high to you. Despite that you awe me. You don't shy away from the hardships life offers you. No matter what, you have to do what your conscience dictates."
She looked shyly at the others, they seemed to be focused on their jobs. So she continued.
"Yet I wouldn't love you any other way." This she whispered in his ear.
Still she caught a few smirks from the others so they must have heard. Well they better get used it because the two of them were sticking around if the Captain would have them!
It seemed like all he ever did lately was fall asleep and wake up. Awareness was coming back slowly and with it all his aches and pains. He couldn't seem to take a deep breath and his feet and wrists hurt horribly. But Constance was asleep next to the bed.
"Come back to me."
He smiled he would always come back to her. He loved her deeply. He was in awe of her strength and courage.
She looked so tired though, as did Aramis who was sleeping in a chair further away. How long had they been worrying over him?
"Charles?"
He looked up into Constance's concerned eyes.
"Constance you're here."
"Of course silly man where else would I be?"
"She's been at your side for two days. You developed quite a fever and concussion," explained Aramis.
"For so long Constance?"
She laughed, "You made it my business to sit with you after fainting at my feet."
"You are a beautiful woman, I'm sure you are used to it," he teased.
Aramis snickered in the background and he had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to live all this down. In the short time he'd been in Paris these men had become his friends.
Constance sent the man a death glare before bending down and gracing him with a kiss. It was just as beautiful as the last one. The moment their lips connected he knew he wanted to propose to her. They were already married, but it had been such a staid event. He longed to tell her just how much he loved her and how he wanted to love her till death do us part.
Black spots behind his eyes made him break the kiss. Constance seemed disappointed but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. Something seemed to constrict his lungs. His vision waivered, Constance went blurry then gray.
"Charles?"
He couldn't answer. Right about now he should be making a quip about the effect she had on him…
"Charles, what's the matter? Aramis he can't breathe!"
"That's what happens when you kiss a beautiful woman."
A hearty slap followed that statement. If he had the breath he would have laughed. Aramis deserved that one!
"D'Artagnan breathe with me. Come on now match my breathing. You have injured your ribs, which is why you are having such a hard time. In... out... good again... there you go."
Finally his vision wasn't dancing, however the pain still raged.
"No more kissing beautiful women until your ribs have healed up a bit. Think you can overcome the temptation," teased Aramis?
"Are you looking for another slap," muttered Constance?
Aramis just smirked, for now his full attention was focused on Charles.
D'Artagnan could only nod. He still didn't have the breath to answer. He was beginning to be rather worried about that.
"It's ok D'Artagnan breathe in, breathe out. Your ribs are wrapped so it's taking a while to catch your breath."
"Was the kiss worth it," asked Porthos, standing beside the bed, with a grin covering his face?
"Really," shrieked Constance, "are the two of you a couple of teenagers?"
"It was a good looking kiss," commented Aramis, ignoring Constance's comment, "but I have a few suggestions to make it better."
"Oh yeah, our resident Romeo offering classes for the poor fools who can't figure out love," joked Porthos?
"Yes, remind me to sign you up."
"Oi!"
"Guys," whispered D'Artagnan…
Everyone stopped talking immediately.
"Don't talk about my wife that way," he managed to breathe out.
"Yes, he is a fine kisser and for starters I know he is all mine," snapped Constance with a side-glance Aramis way.
"Ha, she got you there Romeo," snarked Porthos!
Aramis purposefully ignored his friend and continued his check up on D'Artagnan.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine now that you aren't flirting with my wife!"
Aramis rolled his eyes, "If I was flirting she would not have slapped me!"
"Want to bet," snapped Constance glaring at the man?
Taking the safe route Aramis turned back to D'Artagnan, "Besides fine, how do you feel?"
D'Artagnan could sense the annoyance coming off Aramis from that question.
The medic continued, "I can't treat you if I don't know what's happening!"
"Fine," he muttered, " I hurt like I never have before!"
"Ever been almost blown to bits?"
"Porthos," gasped Constance, "that is not something to joke over!"
It seemed Constance was his guarding angel for the moment. Her death glares and face slaps were almost as lethal as the glares Athos threw about. What a women! If she were a man he would want her right next to him in the Musketeers! Maybe he would teach her a few moves if she was up for it. He was jolted out of his thoughts when a mug was thrust under his nose. The strong herbal aroma made him turn away and make a face.
"Drink it!"
How could Aramis sound exactly like his mother when he said that? There had been no refusing her either.
"It's for the pain, it will do you good, now drink it."
Making a face he screwed up his courage and drank it down. It wasn't the worse concoction he had drunk but it certainly wasn't the best!
"There, soon the pain will be more manageable."
He rolled his eyes. He had been doing just fine. A light slap on the side of his face startled him.
"It is ok to admit you are in pain," declared Constance, "I won't think any less of you and neither will they."
"That is true," agreed Porthos. "Don't feel like you have to prove yourself to us. We can't thank you enough for saving Athos' life."
D'Artagnan was feeling drowsy and warm so he just nodded and let himself float away into sleep.
TBC
