His family home looked nothing like it had done the few years ago when he had lived in it. The frame was still there, but the walls had been stripped raw and the furniture too stained to see the luscious colours underneath. In places, the plaster was missing and the edges overgrown with moss. The wallpaper hung limply off of their walls like dying flowers. Athos wasn't really looking around the place for signs of magic use like they were meant to be doing. Instead, he was following Porthos through each room, looking at the way such a beautifully lively place had been ravaged till nothing of its former wealth and passiveness remained.

Athos stepped into the parlour room just behind Porthos. The carpet squelched underneath their boots and a swamp smell seeped into the air. It looked as if a river had run through the entire bottom floor. Dead plants and weeds wrapped around the chair legs and gathered at the far wall and continued down the hallway to their left. Mud to black to be just wet dirt blanketed the wooden floods and seeped out of the archways leading into each room. Porthos flicked through the pile of paper on the desk in the far corner and ignored the way Athos just stood there not knowing what to do, so unlike himself.

Porthos had asked for his permission to search the place once they had pride the double doors apart - they had rotted together - Athos had nodded glumly, not having the focus to use words. He knew Porthos was worried and he knew he should do something other than following the bigger man around. But to fully make an action in a place that held too much pain for him, meant accepting that he was standing in his parlour room where he used to kiss his wife and laugh with his brother.

Athos was having a hard time keeping his empath ability in check, but the distraction was helping him think less about the rooms he was walking through and the things that happened in them. He had linked himself to Porthos once they had exited the car. Not a full link, he hadn't done that in a very long time and wouldn't risk it, - he'd done it with Anne, his mind supplied - but just enough to even out his own emotions. To calm his panic and sedate his fear, at least a little. Porthos was good for that, he always had a hand on the way he felt. His emotions were often stronger and a bit wilder than many others, but Porthos could also calm them and keep a level head when he thought he should and it was that same level-headedness that was keeping him sane.

A gust of wind swept through the house, rattling the foundations and whistling through the cracks. Athos heard mumbles of words in the slight breeze that got to the two agents deep inside the walls. Athos turned and faced down the corridor when he thought the wind had come from. His frown deepened as he stared at the empty hallway that led to the stairs at the end and then to the right. Thomas had 'fallen' down the stairs. Smashed his head open on the tiles at the bottom, there had been blood everywhere. Just like the rest of the rooms, the floor was covered in a black watery mud and the walls overgrown with moss and rot. Nothing of its previous life was left.

The next draught of air came from the half smashed window at the end of the corridor and just in the corner of the frame grew one of those offending forget-me-not veins, that had choked and strangled the brick outside. The small blue flower moved only gently in the wind, as gentle as the soft voice it brought to his ears. The words to tangled in the wind that carried them to make any sense. Just beyond the window stood a large dead tree. The tree, an old oak was once full of green leaves, but after what was committed on its branches, Athos could understand why it chose to die. Athos could still hear the swinging of a heavy weight at the bottom of a rope when he tried to close his eyes at night.

He froze and waited for the next gust, the next haunting words to glide by his ears. Athos stood in the entrance of the hallway and stared at the small blue flower taunting him where it sat so far away. How could something so beautiful and gentle as a blue flower bring such dread and repulsive notions, it made bile rise in the back of Athos throat and his eyes sting with tears.

The next time Athos felt a cool breeze and the forget-me-not flower moved slightly, the words were louder, clearer. Despite not being able to determine individual words, Athos would never forget that voice and the flower across from him assured him of that.

Athos took a tentative step forward, through the arch leading to the corridor. In a gasp, Athos's world went painfully white and the world around him shifted. His senses tingled as the corridor was back to its former glory, the walls decorated with intricately designed wallpaper where intact and not festering anymore. The window far ahead of him let rays of light filter through, lighting up the whole place, making it seem like a domestic place.

Athos watched in horror as the now pristine hallway gave way to the most nightmarish event ever of happened to the man. He heard it first, a few shouts and undefinable words, then the distinctive sound of something hard hitting something with flesh. He couldn't see the commotion just around the corner and up the stairs, but he could hear it. Then the bouncing of a body, falling and hitting ever step on the way down. The dull thudding stopped with a final sickening crack. Athos knew what had made that noise, skull hitting tile.

Without thinking Athos ran to his brother's body, completely forgetting that it wasn't real or that this could be a trap. It didn't matter because his baby brother had just fallen to his death and Athos couldn't help thinking that there might just be a chance that…

Athos skidded around the bannister and fell to his knees in the pool of red that surrounded Thomas's body. His baby brothers eyes were still wide open in panic and shock. Athos let out a painful sob and pulled his brother into his lap and rocked him back and forth, covering his hands in blood. The tears he had strand to keep inside since entering the cursed house, fell and streamed down his cheeks. Whatever composure he had held onto left him with such animosity it made his raw emotions bleed and scream.

Suddenly his brother was ripped away from him and replaced with a panicked looking Porthos, who was holding Athos wrist together to stop him from clawing at the ground where his brother was. Porthos is talking in rushed sentences but Athos isn't listening, he's searching for Thomas.

Porthos hadn't realised that Athos wasn't following him anymore after a few minutes. The bigger man had entered the large dining room the connected to the parlour room. The place was big enough to feed the entire Garrison.

Porthos could feel the link Athos had made with him, he didn't mind. It was a slight nudging in the corner of his mind. Just out of reach to really determine if it was part of his imagination or not. But Porthos could recognise it easily, from his own experiences on the matter. He trusted Athos, he would never use his ability for ill intent. He trusted his leader to have control of the situation and if that meant linking to him and following him around like a lost puppy then so be it. It made Porthos extra generative to his own emotions, keeping himself calm as to not panic Athos was harder than he thought, but considering the older man hadn't had a panic attack yet maybe he was not doing so bad.

So as the bigger man walked through the wrecked dining room, - working his way through the mess of broken chairs and smashed china, - he felt the almost invisible link pull lightly at the back of his mind. Porthos turned around expecting to see Athos looking at some old photo or something, but the older man was nowhere to be seen.

" Athos?" Porthos voice bounced off of the walls, making the sudden disappearance of his friend more worrying.

Porthos started to make his way back over to the parlour room, he focused on the link and the way it pulled a little bit more.
He stumbled when he felt the link broke, hitting his knee and shin hard on a broken chair leg. He heard a strangled yell and he was running. or rather limping quite fast. Porthos followed the sobs to a corridor that led to some stairs. There he found his leader sobbing in a heap by the bannister.

Porthos would usually keep his distance knowing that Athos appreciated his privacy. But when his eye caught the stark red on Athos's hands and his haggard breathing, he found himself hastily limping to Athos side.

By the time he marched down the hallway Athos was in full throws of his panic attack. Porthos rushed to his side, and having experience with panic attacks living with Aramis, knew what to do. Porthos griped Athos wrist together with one hand to stop him from whipping the bloodied fingers on his clothes and used his other hand to force Athos to stop looking at them. On Athos face, Porthos could see where the blood had come from. He nose and most of his mouth were covered in blood and Porthos had never been more relieved about a nose bleed.

" Athos," He said calmly, " Look at me come on."

Athos screwed his eyes shut, " Get it off," he choked out while trying desperately to get his hands back, " Get his blood off me."

" Athos, it's not his blood, okay. It yours, you have a nose bleed," Porthos hoped his voice held a surety that Athos believed.

But Athos didn't seem to be listening or just not believing him, instead, the older man continued to shake his head and mumble about getting whoever he is blood off him. When Athos started gasping for breath and his hands trembled, even more, Porthos pushed the older man's head to the side. It hit a little hard on the banter but Porthos just hoped it added to his attempts of snapping him out of it. Now Athos couldn't see the blood. Porthos manhandled the shaking, weeping man till he had cleaned as much of the blood as he could off with his shirt, till Athos's hands and face only held a slight tinge of red.

Porthos let go of his hold " See, all gone. Please, Athos just look, all gone." Athos opened his eyes with trepidation and looked at his now relatively clean hands.

" Porthos?" Athos's voice was small and raw. Porthos didn't think he had ever heard it like that before.

Porthos side in relief of recognition. " Yer, it's me. What just happened ?"

" I.. I don't know, I was suddenly back there and she killed him, she killed Thomas," Athos spoke with wide, unblinking eyes staring somewhere behind Porthos.

" Okay, okay," Porthos pulled the older man into a hug, Athos being Athos didn't really know what to do and was probably still a bit shocked to hug back, but he appreciated it all the same.

Athos looked around like he had now idea where he was, his eyes lingered at the base of the stairs a little longer before he spoke. " Can we get out of here now? please."

Porthos helped Athos to his feet and was slightly surprised when the older man clung onto his arm for guidance. They sort of waddled out of the decaying house. Porthos positioned a shocked Athos into the passenger seat of his car and got into the driving seat himself. God, he was glad to leave that place.

The fact Athos didn't argue with Porthos driving, spoke volumes of how much the damned house had affected him. They had a two and a half hour drive ahead of them and the silence would even more tense than the drive here. Porthos honestly didn't really know what to do, Athos was not one to speak what was on his mind and Porthos wasn't that great at knowing when to back down and he really didn't want to make the situation worse. His solution, -which was his solution to most problems involving Athos - take him to Aramis.

With a quick text to the Spaniard simply telling him to go to Athos's apartment, he started the engine and began the way home.

By the time Porthos had dropped off Athos at his apartment with a very worried Aramis and explained what happened as briefly as possible he found himself eating under an overpass for Merlin to open his god damned door again.

Night had started to fall and Porthos couldn't help think about how much this day had started out differently. This morning he had work to his two best friends cooking breakfast waiting for their fourth to come round. Now he stood on a Warlock's doorstep while one friend was avoiding his issues and the other having probably the second worked day in his life, right after the murder of his brother and suicide of his wife.

When Porthos had first met Athos nine years ago, the man had been a drunk, a functioning drunk but a drunk all the same. Athos had gotten him his job at the SIU and they had been partners till Aramis joined them a year and a half later. Porthos was good at figuring people out quickly and he felt that he knew Athos, he had watched the man over nine years full of self-hatred and doubt in his own ability and part of Porthos felt privileged to be witness to this, the other half desperately wanted to wrap the older man in a blanket and tuck him sadly in-between him and a crazy sniper.

But for all his efforts Porthos knew Athos would never succumb to his methods of comfort. Their leader needs space and understanding even if the others thought it was wrong, he needed his drink and need someone there when he inevitably crashed. Porthos couldn't do that, Porthos couldn't watch his friend tear himself apart.

That's where Aramis came in, the younger man had a way of just knowing what to do. Knew when to back down of confront someone. Even without some ability to know what someone was thinking of feeling, the man could just tell like he had been through the exact same thing and knew how it felt. Porthos often wondered what their Spaniard's life had been like before they had met.

The metal door creaked open and there in the entrance stood their youngest and Merlin just behind them.

" Where's Athos?" was the first thing d'Artagnan said.

" With Aramis. Merlin, there's someone dark in that house. But we had to cut the trip short." A pause, " Something came on, d'Artagnan we have to head back." Porthos turned to leave.

" Wait," Merlin growled out, " Tell me more."

Porthos really looked like he wanted to leave but turned back around. " There was no sign of magic, but Athos triggered something in one of the corridors. The whole place held a dark Aura and that all I can tell you, Merlin. I'm sorry, but we really have to go." Porthos turned and started liking back to the car.

d'Artagnan quickly thanked Merlin for the tea and answering his questions even if he had more now then when he got there, he planned to ask Aramis Merlin simply reminded him of what he said about keeping an eye on the Spaniard, they said their goodbyes. He had to run to catch up to the hobbling Porthos. " What did you do to your leg?" he asked as the both got into Athos's car.
" A chair." Was all he said before he started the engine and began the way back to Athos's apartment.

When they finally arrived at Athos home Porthos couldn't be more relieved. Aramis was sitting on the couch watching the fire when they entered. He startled a little, clearly lost in thought. Aramis filled them in on Athos, who was sleeping in his bed and that he was thankful okay and really didn't want to talk about what had happened earlier that day ever again, Athos had made it very clear by trying to put the Spaniard when he had pushed a little too hard.

Both Aramis and d'Artagnan still had no idea what had happened themselves and with Athos not wanting to talk about it, he doubted the man ever would, Porthos explained about the evil house and Athos morbid connection to it, he avoided the part he wasn't meant to know that Athos had let slip. But it didn't really sit well with the big man, leaving out information. They needed to know as much as they could about the threat and Porthos was painful worried he knew the necromancers target but was confused as to why she hadn't attacked yet, maybe he was being paranoid. During his reenactment of the event, Aramis spent his time patching up his leg, when was a nice away of blues and purples with a few splinter as well. Once the story was told they sat in silence mulling over what to do next.

They eventually agreed to let their leader have his space and watch from a distance for any threat. But still, as they bunkered down for the night on Athos living room floor, none of then quite ready to let their leader stew in his guilt and past memories, they slept. Well, two slept while Aramis watched the fire till the early morning rays peeked through the windows. Aramis couldn't help thinking about the last time he spent a night at Athos apartment, the night after d'Artagnan woke up, The night after he had murdered someone, the night after he had let Athos feel the guilt he should have been feeling. Aramis wouldn't dare close his eyes and let his thoughts be fuel for his nightmares. So he sat and watched the fire. He didn't get a blanket when the temperatures started to drop or a pillow to cushion the hard wooden floor, instead, he sat on a cold, hard floor. He knew it didn't suffice, but it was sort of a punishment and motivation to stay awake. What else was he meant to do as he waited for morning.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for reading. Let me know about mistakes, please. Next chapter tomorrow because it's already written. Yay.