April 1, 2016 - Hospital - Aramis
There was so much sun... That was the first thought that permeated his brain. The sun filtering in through the window of whatever room he was in was blinding. Though how could one claim it was blinding when one hadn't even opened his eyes yet... So, he tried opening them and they felt thick and sticky and he gave up after only a second of actual trying.
He felt tingles everywhere as though he'd slept wrong on every nerve in his body and they were all deadened. There were familiar beeps and whoosh sounds surrounding him and something foreign in his throat. That last realization panicked him and he struggled to move his arms and open his eyes.
"Aramis?" Someone close to him asked in a soft whisper. "Aramis, it's ok! Porthos, he's waking up, help me here."
Hands gripped his legs and chest, holding him down, making him panic more. He struggled and tried to cry out, but whatever was in his throat made him choke and gag.
"Guys, just leave him be for a moment. Calm down a moment, Aramis, and listen to me..."
Aramis recognized d'Artagnan's voice and settled down immediately his friend's soft voice a balm to his panic.
"Good, good. Now can you open your eyes? All you'll see is that you are in the hospital, surrounded by friends and with a breathing tube down your throat."
Aramis kept his eyes closed a moment longer, allowing the tube to breathe for him and listened to his surroundings. There were familiar sounds of his place of work. Things he took for granted on a daily basis like the squeaking of hospital shoes, heart monitors beeping and electronics humming. He sighed internally, his panic receding completely. It was odd for this place to be a comfort to him, but he loved being a nurse and being able to help the sick people. It was just as much his home as his townhouse with Porthos, or d'Artagnan's ugly flowered office chair, or Athos' couch where they'd sit and watch movies when Porthos worked late.
He finally opened his eyes to quite the sight, surrounding him were his brothers, Captain Treville and Constance. D'Artagnan was situated right beside him as close as one could possible get without being in the actual bed. His friend was also in a wheelchair, his jumbled mind couldn't quite process the why though. Athos was on the other side of him, his hand firmly pressing down on his shoulder in support. Aramis desperately appreciated the silent support that Athos was providing. Treville and Constance were standing at the foot of the bed looking extremely pleased, though Aramis couldn't guess why. Maybe because he was awake? He frowned. Didn't they have jobs to do? Why were they standing around him? Why were his eyes closed, to begin with? Where was Porthos? Oh…
As if she knew who he was searching for, Constance moved out of the way and Aramis' heart actually fluttered in his chest. Porthos, his wonderful Porthos, his very much alive Porthos. The memories of what happened rushed back to him in one fell swoop and he remembered that it was Porthos that saved him. Porthos who declared that he loved Aramis with everything he had in him but could he just hold on for one more moment. The same Porthos who was now scowling at him, looking incredibly uncomfortable and standing as far away from Aramis as he could get in the small room.
They look at each other, neither refusing to relinquish the gaze first until d'Artagnan broke the connection.
"You gave us a pretty good scare there for a bit 'Mis," he said, using Porthos' nickname for him. It wasn't often that anyone but Porthos called him by that name that he figured he must've scared them badly enough they were looking for comfort.
Aramis looked to his left to see his best friend sitting in a wheelchair, looking pale and concerned. D'Artagnan's arm was bound to his chest in a sling and covered in a rigid white cast. He wanted to ask him what happened but the tube in his throat prevented any speaking and he wasn't interested in grunting and whimpering to get his point across. It was then that he realized both of his hands were securely bound to the bed on either side of him. He looked at Constance puzzled about the restraints.
"You were trying to pull it out," she said pointing to the breathing tube. "I think we can remove it in a few minutes if you are amenable?"
Aramis blinked, his eyelids heavy, and nodded. He knew he'd just woken up, but he was still so exhausted. He watched as Constance walked over to a small room in the corner of his space and began washing her hands, presumably to remove the tube from his throat. The second she was facing away from his friends they all converged on his bed. Well, all except Porthos, who stayed leaning against the back wall of the room near the door. He dearly wished that Constance would be quick about removing the tube so he could ask Porthos to come closer.
"Hey Aramis," Athos said softly. His friend was smiling broadly. "It's good to see you awake. How do you feel?"
"Well that's a silly question for someone who can't answer, Athos," Treville said. "But it is good to have you back and I don't plan on losing you again, kid."
Aramis tried his best to smile around the tube and waved Treville off, before trying to give the two of them the thumbs up sign. He frowned having forgotten that his arms were tied to the bed.
"Of course he'd say he was fine,"d'Artagnan chuckled. "You don't have to be brave in front of us, brother. You've been through hell and we intend to help you through it this time."
Aramis waved them off again, but this time there was a shake to his hand that he couldn't quite control. He was holding onto a wobbly ledge and was fighting desperately not to fall to his death, so he needed to pretend that he was ok. He just needed them to allow him a few moments of normalcy so that he could ground himself otherwise he was going to start crying and he wasn't going to be able to stop.
"Boys, why don't we all give Aramis some breathing room. Porthos and I will stay and fill him in on what has happened," Constance said and she began ushering the rest of the crew out.
"Uhhh d'Artagnan can stay, I need to deal with a few things," Porthos said. He shuffled from foot to foot and made a hasty retreat out of the room.
Aramis frowned, he realized that his boyfriend hadn't so much as said one single thing to him since he'd woken up. Except they'd broken up before this whole ordeal, so he supposed he should consider it a blessing his ex-boyfriend even bothered to show up.
D'Artagnan must have noticed Aramis frown because he placed his good hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's ok, Aramis, he'll come around. It's been a rough few weeks for both you and all of us. He's struggling."
"Ahhhhhh, much better," Constance sighed as the door shut behind the others.
With fewer people in the room, Aramis was able to relax and let go some of the stress he'd been feeling. While Constance gathered whatever she would need so she could take the breathing tube out, Aramis finally took a good look at the room's other occupant. D'Artagnan looked like shit. The man looked exhausted and pale, but mostly whole. He caught his friend's eye, questioning his health with a firm look, causing d'Artagnan to laugh nervously and run his hand through his dark hair.
"I'm good, Aramis, honest. I've been sewn up and they have cleared me to get out of bed and walk around. The gunshot was minor and I am not feeling any side effects other than some mild tremors in my hands. They think it's due to the blood loss and I should make a full recovery if I promise to take it easy."
Aramis nodded, knowing d'Artagnan would likely push himself to recover faster than possible. He fought hard not to chuckle because it was exactly what he would do as well. Aramis startled out of his thoughts a moment later when he felt fingers tickling his wrist and saw Constance undoing the buckles pinning his arms to the bed.
"Cough," Constance said taking hold of the end of the tube in his throat. He coughed and gagged as the tube slid out of his throat with only minor discomfort. Once she lifted the bed high enough, he took a drink of the water from the cup held to his lips. It surprised him how much the act of drinking water sapped all the strength from his muscles. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily and tried to control the violent tremors running through his limbs.
"I will go tell the others to give you two some peace, but d'Artagnan you need to get back into bed soon, so keep this chat short. Understand?" Constance ordered.
D'Artagnan nodded.
Aramis waited until Constance left the room before speaking to d'Artagnan. "What the hell happened to you?" He winced, speaking hurt. His friend offered him another drink from the cup of water much to Aramis' relief.
"Victor came out of the church and set it on fire, Victor shot me and Athos shot him in response. It grazed my arm and hit me in the upper chest, near the shoulder," d'Artagnan explained. "It cracked my humerus bone, hence the cast. I apparently bled a lot, though."
"Victor shot you? Is he dead?"
D'Artagnan shook his head. "No, the bastard is hanging on."
Aramis shook his head, wincing as pain raced up his neck into his head. Would he ever be free from him? The bastard just wouldn't go away. "And me?"
"You don't remember what happened to you?"
"I remember Victor cutting Isabelle's throat and promising I would die this time. Then I remember Porthos untying me."
D'Artagnan smiled, a grim look on his face, "I don't know what happened, I was shot and passed out while Athos was attending to me. Athos said you coded before they got you to the hospital and I was already on route and being treated for a gunshot wound. We almost lost you that night, the poison Isabelle gave you was so fast acting. I was in and out of surgery before they even finished getting you into a critical but stable condition. Porthos said that the sedative Victor gave you counteracted the poison Isabelle administered, that's the only reason you are alive right now. They airlifted you here to Paris once they stabilized you."
"How long has it been?" He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Today is the seventh day, your fever only broke late last night."
Aramis knew he should be more shocked by the passage of time, and he would be once the drugs in his system started to dissipate. But he was feeling floaty again and wanted nothing more than to drop off into dreamland for two more weeks.
"What about my leg?" The leg was resting in a fresh, white cast and was propped up on several pillows.
"They looked at it and it was healing really well, but they did surgery and added some stabilizing pins. Once it's fully healed you'll be as good as new."
As good as new on the outside at least, everywhere but where it really counted.
"Aramis, you'll be ok. I'm going to help, I promise," d'Artagnan said softly.
Of course, his friend would see through him and into what was going on in his head.
"Porthos?" He mumbled. His eyes were beginning to close in exhaustion, but he wanted to know more about how his boyfriend was doing if Porthos still wanted to be his boyfriend after all this.
"He's been here every minute of every day and I am sure that today won't be any exception, especially now that you are awake. Don't give up on him yet Aramis, he'll come around. You should get some rest and I should get back to my own bed before Constance finds out I didn't obey her orders."
Aramis chuckled and coughed. He let his mind drift as he listened to d'Artagnan shuffle towards the door.
"I'm so glad we have you back, brother," d'Artagnan whispered.
Aramis just closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm not really sure you should be."
April 1, 2016 - Hospital - D'Artagnan and Porthos
"You have to talk to him at some point, Porthos, regardless of the outcome," d'Artagnan said. "You can't keep hiding behind excuses and the lies as a reason to leave him be."
Porthos sighed and ran a hand through his curls. This was harder than he'd expected it to be. He had Aramis back, he was relatively safe and going to make a full recovery provided he stayed off his leg for another week or so. Really what more could a person want? Well, he actually knew exactly what he wanted and that was for things to go back to how they were a month ago. It wasn't going to happen, though.
"You have to accept things won't go back to the way they were. Also, accept that you both need to relearn each other in the aftermath of this," d'Artagnan continued.
The two of them were sitting in the hospital cafeteria drinking the sludge that passed for coffee. Porthos lived in the cafeteria during the day while the world was awake and especially now that Aramis was awake. At night he'd get comfortable and sleep in a chair at his bedside, stealing away in the early morning when the nurses would rotate their shifts. It was just bad luck that he'd been delayed in leaving this morning and Aramis chose that moment to wake. He'd handled it all wrong as well, running out like a coward before Aramis could ask him any questions.
"It was just so easy in the church," Porthos whispered. "I thought I was going to lose him and the emotions were overwhelming. If those had been his last moments on earth I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd let him think I didn't love him."
"But you're willing to let him believe that you hate him now that he is recovering?"
"What! How could you say that? I don't hate him," Porthos exclaimed. God, he was making a fool of himself. This wasn't coming out right, making him look like this evil villain intent on destroying the fair maiden. "I just… look I just need some time to come to terms with my own thoughts on this before I talk to him."
"Well, come to terms faster. I realize he just woke up this morning but leaving him to worry like this isn't going to help him get better. Every moment you wait puts more distance between you two until there will be a chasm so large it's unrepairable."
Panic flooded Porthos' chest at the thought that the two of them might never be able to fix things. "I don't want that…" He said, his voice trailing off.
D'Artagnan smiled, reached for Porthos' forearm and held it tight. "Then give both of yourselves a break and talk. Listen to him and he will listen to you."