So I went with the ModernAU for this one!

Prompt: Cathartic Shower/Bath


Porthos jogged up the stairs of their safe house, shifting his rifle to his left hand so he could dig into his right pocket for his key. He abandoned the search when the door opened at the top of the stairs, Athos framing the doorway and nodding in greeting.

"Where is he?" Porthos demanded, handing his weapon off to his teammate and searching the small flat with his gaze.

"He went into the bathroom ten minute ago. Said he needed a shower."

Porthos nodded, stripping off his outer jacket and striding towards the closed bathroom door. Once he reached it, he paused, taking a slow, calming breath.

"How did he seem?" Porthos asked over his shoulder to Athos.

Their third team member was still holding Porthos' rifle, his gaze uncertain in a way it had only ever been since they'd started trying to pick up the pieces of what happened in the Savoy Operation.

"Disconnected," Athos replied. "I tried to get him to open the door, but he wouldn't answer me."

Porthos nodded. Athos wouldn't force it. But Porthos wasn't Athos.

"First bloody mission back to active duty and it's a damned catastrophe," he muttered to himself. He just hoped Aramis hadn't spiraled too far too fast.

He focused his attention back on the door and lightly tapped his knuckles against it.

"'Mis…it's me. Open the door."

He could hear the shower running, but Aramis didn't answer him.

"Aramis, talk to me, brother."

Silence was his only reply.

"'Mis," Porthos tried the door and found it locked, so he reached into his pocket for his lockpicks, "I'm comin' in, alright?"

Seconds later he had the door unlocked and carefully eased it open. He glanced over his shoulder at Athos, who nodded once in encouragement, and then he stepped into the bathroom.

There was none of the expected steam from the too hot showers Aramis typically took. As Porthos looked around, he realized there was also no pile of clothes.

"'Mis?" he called carefully.

He could see the shadow of his brother behind the curtain. And could see Aramis' forearm braced against the wall beneath the shower head. The sleeve of Aramis' uniform was still bunched up and sloppily rolled to just above his elbow. He still wore the fingerless gloves he favored. Porthos could see the rusty redness of blood still staining Aramis' fingers, gloves and the skin of his arms.

"Aramis…"

Porthos slowly pulled the curtain aside and sighed.

Aramis was still in full combat gear, TAC vest, boots and all. He had leaned forward under the spray of the shower, letting it pelt into the back of his neck while his head hung low, chin nearly touching his chest. He didn't look up at the movement of the curtain, but his eyes were open, gaze fixed.

Porthos glanced down and saw the swirling of red circling the drain.

"Hey brother," Porthos greeted gently, reaching out to carefully touch Aramis' shoulder.

He drew his hand back sharply when he felt the icy cold spray of the water.

"Bloody hell!"

He latched onto Aramis' arm, forcing him back away from the cold water. He spun the dial to warm. Then did the only thing he could think of to shield Aramis from it while it heated. He stepped into the shower and let the water pelt into his own back instead. He wrapped his hands around Aramis' arms, relieved to see startled brown eyes looking up at him.

"'Mis…"

"It's not mine."

Porthos blinked.

"What?"

"It's not mine." Aramis said again, looking down at his hands. He'd brought them up to hover in the space between them. "It's not mine."

Porthos looked down at Aramis' hands, pale with blue tinged fingernails and covered in half washed blood.

"'Mis…" Porthos shook his head, reaching forward to fold Aramis' hands in his own. He expected them to be cold but was still shocked by how icy Aramis' skin was against his. "You did everything you could. You know that, right?"

Aramis was still staring down at their hands and Porthos worried he was in shock. He expected to hear him repeat the same phrase again.

Instead, when Aramis looked up, his gaze was alert and aware.

"I tried to save him. The asset, I tried to save him," he stated.

"I know you did," Porthos assured. He felt the water growing warm against his back.

"I couldn't," Aramis confessed, voice shaking.

"I know." Porthos squeezed the hands between his and then released them. He took hold of Aramis' biceps again, ducking his head to be sure and meet his eyes. "This wasn't your fault."

Aramis held his gaze, eyes wide and earnest. He didn't argue, but he didn't acknowledge the words either.

"Shit, 'Mis…I'm so sorry," Porthos breathed, finally just pulling his brother to him and wrapping him in a hug. "I'm so sorry this happened, but it wasn't your fault."

Aramis melted into the embrace, as he'd always done since they were children. He'd spent the first ten years of his life with a mother that loved him, that had never denied him physical affection. Porthos was convinced Aramis had been living in withdrawal since her death, always starved for touch, always yearning for it, never getting enough to fill the void she left behind.

Carefully, so they didn't lose their footing, Porthos turned them so that Aramis was back under the spray, the warm water soaking in and washing away the cold.

"I want to train to be a medic," Aramis stated into Porthos' shoulder.

Surprised, Porthos drew back, bracing a hand on the side of Aramis' neck so he could properly look him in the eyes.

"A medic?"

"I'm tired of having people dying on my watch and not knowing how to stop it."

"Aramis, this was not your fault."

"It might have changed things," Aramis insisted, ignoring the assurance. "If I had that training already, I might have been able to do something. I might have been able to help him." He held Porthos' gaze with moisture shining in his eyes. "I might have been able to help them." Aramis' voice broke on the final word and Porthos' heart broke with it.

He stepped closer again, wrapping Aramis back in a tight hug, tighter than the one before.

"That wasn't your fault either," he whispered.

Aramis didn't argue. He hadn't argued once any of the times he'd been told that since the Savoy Operation. But he didn't accept or acknowledge the words. Porthos knew that was because didn't believe them. That was okay. Porthos would keep telling him until he did.


I'll probably write my ModernAU Savoy fic one day. Until then, just know that this takes place mere months after that and while this wasn't exactly "cathartic" it was still a shower and I #dowhatiwant :P

More tomorrow!