A/N: Thank you elbcw, shewriteswords, Coffeecup35, LadyWallace, and SnidgetHex for reviewing!

No 13. Delayed Drowning — Aramis

Porthos sprinted through the street for the nearest ramp that led down to the bank of the Seine. Tossing a harried look out over the wall, he could still see the two figures grappling in the river, one doing his best to hold the other's head underwater.

"Move!" he shouted at people who didn't get out of his way fast enough.

A ramp was just ahead. Porthos pushed some fishermen aside and barreled down the plank to the muddy bank. By the time he made it back to the bridge, Aramis was already slogging out of the water, dragging the limp body of his opponent with him.

Porthos splashed into the shallows to help. "He dead?"

Aramis let the body drop once it was halfway out of the river and staggered away to put his hands on his knees and bow forward under a series of hacking coughs.

"Hey, you all right?" Porthos asked.

Aramis gave a wordless nod and waved him off.

Porthos bent down to check their prisoner. He was still alive.

Squelching footsteps and the clink of weapons belts announced Athos's and d'Artagnan's arrival.

"The rest of 'em?" Porthos asked.

"Dead," Athos replied, looking at Aramis. "Are you all right?"

Aramis coughed again. "Fine," he said hoarsely.

Porthos toed the unconscious man at his feet. "Guess we'll have to get our information from this one."

Athos nodded. "D'Artagnan and I will take him to the Chatelet. We'll meet you back at the garrison."

Porthos gave a subtle nod in acknowledgement of the unspoken part of that: he'd take care of Aramis.

The marksman didn't speak as they made their way back to the garrison. Porthos kept a worried eye on him, but aside from a weary slouch to his shoulders and drag in his step, he seemed all right.

Porthos walked him all the way to his room but then left him to change out of his wet clothes, saying he'd get some hot broth. Serge had to heat some up special, but after Porthos told him of Aramis's trip in the river, he was happy to do so.

Several minutes later, Porthos returned to Aramis's room and knocked. "You decent?"

He didn't receive the expected quip, but the door opened, revealing Aramis in a fresh shirt and braes, his soaked trousers and coat draped over the table.

"I'll hang those up outside to dry," Porthos said, passing Aramis the bowl of broth.

Aramis accepted it wordlessly and went to sit on his bed. Porthos took the wet clothes outside and hung them over the wooden railing. He then went back to the kitchens for some bread and wine before returning to Aramis's room.

"How's the broth?" Porthos asked, desperate for a word from his friend.

"Good," Aramis said, then turned away to cough into his elbow.

Porthos frowned.

Aramis gave him a soft look. "I'll be fine. Just swallowed a bit of water."

"Shoulda shot the bastard."

"Yes, well, wet pistols don't fire." Aramis sighed. "It'll take me hours to clean and dry them."

"Got nothin' better to do until Athos and d'Artagnan return," Porthos said with a shrug.

Aramis canted his head at that and finished his broth. He then put on an old pair of trousers and picked up his pistols, and they relocated to the table outside where Aramis set to cleaning his weapons and Porthos grabbed himself a plate of food.

Aramis worked slowly, and he'd only just finished the first pistol by the time Athos and d'Artagnan strode into the garrison.

"What'd you find out?" Porthos asked.

D'Artagnan huffed. "He claims not to know anything. He was only a hired gun and the true mastermind was one of the men we killed on the bridge."

"Convenient," Porthos said with a snort.

"We'll question him again tomorrow," Athos said, taking a seat on the bench and pouring himself a cup of wine.

Porthos turned his attention back to Aramis, who had stopped cleaning his pistol and was rubbing at his chest. "Hey, you all right?"

Aramis didn't seem to hear him. His brows were furrowed tightly and he kept rubbing at his sternum as a shuddering breath shook his frame.

"Aramis," d'Artagnan prompted.

"I can't…" he started, cutting off as his chest hitched. He tried to suck in a deep breath. "Can't- breathe."

Both Porthos and Athos were out of their seats in an instant and moving to his side. Aramis was shaking now as he struggled to get air in.

"Get Lemay," Athos barked at d'Artagnan, who immediately ran off. He nodded to Porthos. "Let's get him in the infirmary."

They both gripped Aramis's arms and hauled him to his feet, then stepped in to support him on either side as they steered him toward the infirmary. Aramis's ragged gasps punctuated each staggering step with how desperately he was struggling.

They got him inside and laid him down on the closest bed. Aramis's eyes were wide and terrified as he locked gazes with Porthos.

Porthos dropped to his knees beside the bed and clasped his hand. "Breathe with me," he urged. "In…out…"

Aramis made a horrible wheezing sound as he fought to obey, but his body just wouldn't cooperate.

Porthos looked up at Athos in horror. What was happening? But Athos didn't have a response for him, so Porthos turned back to Aramis and squeezed his hand harder. "I'm right here. Stay with me."

Aramis kept his eyes fixed on Porthos's as his body jerked and sputtered, unable to draw in enough oxygen.

The doors finally burst open as d'Artagnan hurried in with Doctor Lemay.

"What's wrong wit' him?" Porthos demanded.

Lemay rushed around to the other side of the bed and bent to examine his patient. "D'Artagnan explained what happened at the river. I believe this is delayed drowning."

Porthos's brows shot upward. That was a thing? "But he's been out of the water for hours!"

Lemay nodded. "Thus why it's called delayed. If he got water in his lungs it could have been festering this whole time." He leaned over and pressed an ear to Aramis's chest. After a moment, he straightened with a nod. "There's fluid in his lungs."

"But you can help him," Athos said. "Like you did when Treville was shot and there was blood in his lungs."

Lemay nodded. "Yes, of course."

Porthos swallowed hard as he remembered that procedure, though it had saved the captain's life.

Aramis seemed to remember as well because his eyes had widened further in alarm.

"It helped the captain, remember?" Porthos pressed in a quiet voice. "You'll be able to breathe soon, right? You trust Lemay?"

Aramis's chest hitched again but he managed a jerky nod.

Porthos heard the clinking of instruments as Lemay got prepared, but he never looked away from Aramis. His lips were turning blue.

Lemay hurried back and pulled up Aramis's shirt. "I must make an incision."

Porthos remembered.

Aramis started to turn his head toward it, but Porthos caught his face and turned it back toward him.

"Keep lookin' at me."

Athos and d'Artagnan took up position at Aramis's head and feet, prepared to hold him down. Doctor Lemay pressed the scalpel to skin.

Aramis let out a strangled scream and threw his head back as the cut was made. Porthos squeezed his hand as hard as he could and glanced over at the surgeon. His stomach churned as Lemay inserted the tube between Aramis's ribs and fluid began to leak out. Aramis's body shuddered.

"I'll have to do the other side," Lemay said as he wrapped the tube with bandages to immobilize it.

Porthos didn't want to move but he understood that Aramis likely had water in both lungs. He kept a hold of his hand as he stood and swiftly moved around Aramis's head to the other side. "It's almost over," he promised.

Lemay repeated the procedure on Aramis's right, eliciting another tortured cry. But a moment later, as water aspirated from his lungs, his shuddering breaths settled into easier ones. Porthos held his hand as he waited for Aramis's next breath, and the next. Each one was smoother, less strained, and the blue tinge to his lips began to fade.

"That's it," Porthos soothed, placing his free hand on Aramis's head. "Jus' breathe."

"He'll be okay now?" d'Artagnan asked worriedly.

Lemay nodded. "We'll let his lungs drain a little bit and then I'll remove the tubes. But yes, that should do the trick."

"Thank you," Athos said.

Aramis's eyelids fluttered as he turned a watery gaze to Porthos.

"I'm here," Porthos repeated. "Jus' breathe."

Aramis's chest rose and fell. In and out.

Just breathe.