Aramis gradually healed a little faster after the nightmares abated. He still had them once in a while, but not nearly as often or quite as traumatic.
His voice was still scratchy and sore, but it no longer inhibited his swallowing, and his brothers and Serge were both relieved and happy to know that he had some solid, nourishing food in his stomach at long last.
One day, after giving Aramis some morning porridge, his brothers came back from muster to find Aramis laying half on the bed and half off, his breathing harsh and rapid.
Hurrying to his bed, the quickly laid him back on the pillows.
"Were you tryin' to get up too soon like you always tell us not to do?" Porthos teased, hoping to get the traumatized look off his brother's face.
Aramis was silent.
Athos softly asked, "What happened, Aramis?"
Aramis' eyes looked at him, but didn't answer.
"Aramis?" Athos prompted gently.
"I…tried to…get up," he finally responded, his voice whisper-soft, and sounding shocked.
"And…"
"I…reached my feet…" Here, he stopped again. "But my…th…throat cl..closed up, and… I couldn't breathe," fear lacing his words.
Aramis was one of the bravest men they had ever known, so his brothers knew it had to have been really bad to elicit this respnse from him.
Athos called over his shoulder to d'Artagnan, "Get Lemay," and the Gascon was out the door a moment later.
"Can you breathe all right now, mon ami?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Aramis' face.
"Yes," came the quiet reply.
"It was only when you were upright that this happened?"
"Yes," a visibly more calm, but confused marksman answered.
"Let us see what Dr. Lemay has to say when he comes," Athos decided. "Try to get some rest, Aramis. We will find out why this happened, I promise you."
xxxxxxxxxxx
Dr. Lemay examined Aramis as soon as he arrived.
Aramis, worried about what had happened, kept his eyes glued on the physician's face the whole time.
Finally, Lemay finished and sat silently for a few moments. Then, he spoke directly to Aramis.
"I remember something pretty similar to this several years ago."
Aramis nodded his head, trying to be patient in finding out what could have happened to him.
"I believe that since you had been in a prone position for quite some time while you were injured, you were probably breathing more quickly from trying to get up after so long. Your throat, still very tender from the trauma you had gone through, swelled. When you felt this happening, you naturally felt a little panic, which didn't help matters, either, even though it would be a natural reaction after what you have been through. I would strongly recommend that, even though you want to heal quickly, that you take it easy and stay in bed a while longer."
Aramis face became one of intense relief now that he knew he could prevent himself from being unable to breathe, which in turn had brought back the moment when he was hung.
Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, Lemay's words having relieved them also, gave their brother comforting pats on the back and shoulders.
"Thank you so very much, Doctor," Athos spoke for them all. "I think you will find that Aramis will follow your advice to the letter," seeing his brother nodding his head at his words.
Lemay then left, telling them that if there were any problems, to just send a message to have him come back.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Aramis was, surprisingly obedient to Lemay's instructions. The medic, who was notorious with his brothers for always insisting he was 'just fine' when he was ill or injured, didn't try any antics to get up and resume his normal activities until Lemay pronounced him well enough to begin walking, and after he was steadier on his feet, light duties.
Athos emphasized 'light' just as a firm reminder, since none of his brothers could quite believe their eyes yet that the marksman had actually, finally done what a physician had told him to do.
Once he was released from any restrictions, he did revert to classic Aramis, insisting on their visiting The Wren that evening.
All the way there, he had them laughing at his tall stories. He was just so overjoyed to be living his regular life again, that he was bursting with energy.
Reaching the tavern, they sat at their regular table, ordered the beef stew that the owner's wife made so well, and leaned back in their chairs for a long, enjoyable evening.
Athos, surprisingly enough, barely drank more than a single glass of wine, content to keep an eye on his rambunctious brother, that Aramis didn't drink too much on his first evening back out.
Aramis was still telling stories, each one more imaginative than the one before.
The barmaid, going about her serving duties, watched him out of the corner of her eye, and winking when she finally caught his attention.
Yes, Aramis was in his element tonight, his brothers each thought to themselves. And they felt happy and blessed that it was so.
They had come much too close to losing him.
Aramis gradually healed a little faster after the nightmares abated. He still had them once in a while, but not nearly as often or quite as traumatic.
His voice was still scratchy and sore, but it no longer inhibited his swallowing, and his brothers and Serge were both relieved and happy to know that he had some solid, nourishing food in his stomach at long last.
One day, after giving Aramis some morning porridge, his brothers came back from muster to find Aramis laying half on the bed and half off, his breathing harsh and rapid.
Hurrying to his bed, the quickly laid him back on the pillows.
"Were you tryin' to get up too soon like you always tell us not to do?" Porthos teased, hoping to get the traumatized look off his brother's face.
Aramis was silent.
Athos softly asked, "What happened, Aramis?"
Aramis' eyes looked at him, but didn't answer.
"Aramis?" Athos prompted gently.
"I…tried to…get up," he finally responded, his voice whisper-soft, and sounding shocked.
"And…"
"I…reached my feet…" Here, he stopped again. "But my…th…throat cl..closed up, and… I couldn't breathe," fear lacing his words.
Aramis was one of the bravest men they had ever known, so his brothers knew it had to have been really bad to elicit this respnse from him.
Athos called over his shoulder to d'Artagnan, "Get Lemay," and the Gascon was out the door a moment later.
"Can you breathe all right now, mon ami?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Aramis' face.
"Yes," came the quiet reply.
"It was only when you were upright that this happened?"
"Yes," a visibly more calm, but confused marksman answered.
"Let us see what Dr. Lemay has to say when he comes," Athos decided. "Try to get some rest, Aramis. We will find out why this happened, I promise you."
xxxxxxxxxxx
Dr. Lemay examined Aramis as soon as he arrived.
Aramis, worried about what had happened, kept his eyes glued on the physician's face the whole time.
Finally, Lemay finished and sat silently for a few moments. Then, he spoke directly to Aramis.
I remember something pretty similar to this several years ago."
Aramis nodded his head, trying to be patient in finding out what could have happened to him.
"I believe that since you had been in a prone position for quite some time while you were injured, you were probably breathing more quickly from trying to get up after so long.
Aramis face became one of intense relief now that he knew he could prevent himself from being unable to breathe, which in turn had brought back the moment when he was hung.
"Your throat, still very tender from the trauma you had gone through, swelled. When you felt this happening, you naturally felt a little panic, which didn't help matters, either, even though it would be a natural reaction after what you have been through. I would strongly recommend that, even though you want to heal quickly, that you take it easy and stay in bed a while longer."
Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, Lemay's words having relieved them also, gave their brother comforting pats on the back and shoulders.
"Thank you so very much, Doctor," Athos spoke for them all. "I think you will find that Aramis will follow your advice to the letter," seeing his brother nodding his head at his words.
Lemay then left, telling them that if there were any problems, to just send a message to have him come back.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Aramis was, surprisingly obedient to Lemay's instructions. The medic who was notorious with his brothers for always insisting he was 'just fine' when he was ill or injured, didn't try any antics to get up and resume his normal activities until Lemay pronounced him well enough to begin walking, and after he was steadier on his feet, light duties.
Athos emphasized 'light' just as a firm reminder, since none of his brothers could quite believe their eyes yet that the marksman had actually, finally done what a physician had told him to do.
Once he was released from any restrictions, he did revert to classic Aramis, insisting on their visiting The Wren that evening.
All the way there, he had them laughing at his tall stories. He was just so overjoyed to be living his regular life again, that he was bursting with energy.
Reaching the tavern, they sat at their regular table, ordered the beef stew that the owner's wife made so well, and leaned back in their chairs for a long, enjoyable evening.
Athos, surprisingly enough, barely drank more than a single glass of wine, content to keep an eye on his rambunctious brother, that Aramis didn't drink too much on his first evening back out.
Aramis was still telling stories, each one more imaginative than the one before.
The barmaid, going about her serving duties, watched him out of the corner of her eye, and winking when she finally caught his attention.
Yes, Aramis was in his element tonight, his brothers each thought to themselves. And they felt happy and blessed that it was so.
They had come much too close to losing him.
Fin.
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Thanks so much for reading!