a/n: I have still be working on this, trying to sort out an ending in between life and work. There is an end in sight, hopefully within a few more chapters. I think I've worked a good ending out.

Thanks to Issa for betareading. Any mistakes remaining are my own doing.

summary: Everyone has to deal with Aramis' decision to cut ties with all of his friends except for Constance.

The Aftermath

-47-

Athos doesn't enjoy his day alone. By midafternoon, hunger forces him out of bed. He puts on a sweatshirt to ward off the chill he feels as he walks downstairs. In the kitchen, he looks through the fridge, contemplating the leftovers before going for the potato chips in the cabinet next to the fridge. With the bag in hand and a glass of water, he goes to the den. Taking a seat on the couch, he turns on the TV, letting it sit on whatever was on last. He doesn't really care as he eats the chips.

And thinks about Aramis.

He doesn't know how to fix the situation. The others will be expecting him to know how because it's Aramis. Porthos could do it, but Athos knows the man is having troubles of his own that he's not ready to admit to. And he doesn't have the right touch. Porthos means well and he's learned that pushing won't help, but he's too caught up in helping Aramis to help Aramis.

And Athos? He knows it's the guilt fueling the depression that had been building for weeks. It's not the longest stretch of depression, but it seems the hardest since Thomas. While he'd like to be angry with Aramis for kicking them out, for blaming him for the stalker and illness and the hospital stay, he can't because he blames himself for all of that too. He should've looked closer, examined the evidence more. Megan being at the hospital was just too much of a coincidence. He should've looked more into Leslie's background. In just days, the police had found the connection between Leslie and Megan. If only he'd looked closer, he might've found the connection, he might've been able to see what was happening and save Aramis from some of this mess.

He knows the younger man is miserable, between depression, lingering illness, and weakness, there's not much that he can do and he still has quite the uncertain future. They don't know how much he'll feel the effects of being poisoned. Farmeth had said to expect lung, heart, and liver troubles, but they'd all found that mentally he was affected too. Even if Aramis never took them back, Athos had weeks ago decided he'd make sure Aramis got the treatment and care he needed for life.

For now, though, the easier option seems to be sitting here. Sitting here, eating chips, he can't do anything wrong. And getting up, pushing himself onto his own two feet seems a daunting task. Feeling the exhaustion come over him in another wave, he sets aside the chips and stretches out on the couch, pulling down the blanket until he remembers that Aramis chose this blanket. He lets go of the blanket, leaving it puddled on the back of the couch, and curls in on himself as the TV goes on in front of him. If he'd had more energy, he would have gone back upstairs to the comfort of his bed, the nest of warming blankets.

Maybe in the afternoon. Maybe once he sleeps a little, he'll have the energy to drag himself back up there.

Porthos thinks that they should make something at home tonight, something that might bring them all together a little, but he doesn't have the energy to cook and d'Artagnan doesn't argue picking up a pizza on the way home. He texts Athos to find out what he wants but doesn't get a response. Treville told him to take care of Athos. He knows the man has spiraled down, but he is sure the solution to the problem is with Aramis. Aramis always managed to pull Athos out of his depressive episodes better than he did. And all Porthos seemed to be able to do lately was make everyone angry or shut him out.

When they get home, he leaves d'Artagnan to take care of the pizza and goes to find Athos. If he has to figure out how to pull him out of his depression, then he'd better start by going to find out where he is. He finds him curled up on the couch, arms tucked underneath his body and feet shoved under a pillow, trying to retain heat. Why the man didn't take the blanket off the couch, he doesn't know, but Athos actually looks peaceful, so he opts to let him sleep. He knows it'll set off his sleep cycle, but Athos spends increasingly more of his nights awake anyway. A few hours of sleep during the day will only help counteract that. He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over Athos, leaving him to go eat some dinner. He doesn't feel like eating, but he has to. That's what he can never get Athos or Aramis to understand. You have to eat even if you don't want to. It's not about gluttony, but about being grateful for the food that is present.

Despite that, he only manages to eat a slice of pizza before giving in to the unsettled feeling. He can't eat another slice. d'Artagnan seems to be content in steadily eating. He doesn't run off because he doesn't want d'Artagnan to see him run off though that's exactly what he wants to do. He'd like to be like Athos and Aramis and take himself off somewhere until he feels better. But there's nothing wrong with him. Nothing.

The days pass in much the same way for all of them. Athos spends just the one day at home, managing to pull himself out of bed and into work the next day, though he's quiet. The silence spreads to the others, even d'Artagnan, who finds himself dreading going to work. They're getting work done, but it's slow and they spend more time working separately at their desks than talking and working together.

Constance stops by to pick up some things for Aramis. Things are apparently going well with him and he's accepting Constance's continued presence there. That is, until one day she comes into work and is clearly not telling them something when they ask for an update.

"Yes, something happened," she says, exasperation clear. "He's fine though. It's all okay."

"Was it medical? Did he have some sort of relapse?" Athos is beyond hiding the worry in his voice; he doesn't have the energy.

"I can't tell you. He still doesn't want me to, but I can tell you that he's fine."

"Leave her be," Treville calls out from the entrance to his office, interrupting Porthos from pushing further. "If something was seriously wrong, we'd know. Now, get back to work. You all have cases to work on."

Porthos, Athos, and d'Artagnan reluctantly go back to their desks to keep working. Constance is relieved that Treville came out to put an end to their questions. Aramis is fine, but his panic attack last night was unexpected. They couldn't tie it to his usual triggers. She'd been allowed to stay later due to the attack because her presence was keeping him calm otherwise it'd have been sedatives again. As a result, she hadn't gotten much sleep and wasn't up for the grilling they were starting in on. By the time she left Aramis, sometime after midnight, he was exhausted, though still jumpy and refused to explain what was going on. He claimed he didn't know, but she suspects he has an idea but doesn't want to say anything. Nevertheless, hopefully, there won't be a repeat today. The nurses know to call her in case of any problems, giving Aramis and his friends some latitude in terms of their normal schedule due to his history.

It doesn't happen again for a few days. Aramis is tense and exhausted, but it's not until the end of the week that he has another attack. This time it's happened when Constance isn't there and they're just sedating him, his arms and legs straining against the straps they've tied him down with. They've threatened them before even though it's in his record to not use them.

"He needs to speak with a psychiatrist," the doctor tells him. It's not Farmeth, but a young woman who's equally competent. They've talked about this before, back before Aramis had kicked out all but her. As much as they realize that he would do better speaking with someone, they know that getting him to do so will be difficult.

"I know, but you do know his history, right? And he knows about it all now. As his friends tell me, getting him to counseling was difficult before this, it's going to be impossible now. He barely trusts me being present," Constance says.

"Yes, I know his history and it's unfortunate that he knows everything now. A couple of weeks ago and we might've been able to get him to talk with someone easily."

Constance isn't entirely pleased with the doctor's rationale. "Are there any hints of why this is happening? He's not unaccustomed to panic attacks, but it is strange that they've shown up suddenly."

"I've been coaching the nurses on his triggers as reported in his file. Are there any that aren't noted," the doctor asks.

"No. That file should be up to date. If there's something new, he hasn't told anyone."

"Okay." The doctor sighs. "It's going to be observation then. Try to get him to talk with someone. If he won't, then see if he'll talk with you about what's going on. I don't like having to sedate him and restrain him and I know that he doesn't like it."

"I imagine it's also not good for him, all of this upset."

"No, it's not. So, the quicker we can figure out what's triggering these attacks, the better."

"I'll talk with him. I doubt he'll see a psychiatrist, but I may be able to get him to talk about what's going on," Constance says.

Aramis' room is quiet when she enters. She removes the restraints, hiding them so that when he wakes, perhaps he won't remember them, at least until he's more alert and aware of his surroundings. She knows that he's always on the groggy side waking up from the sedatives and his memory isn't always in place.

Shortly before she is preparing to leave, he finally begins to stir. She lets him go, not wanting to rush him or startle him. He seems to drift back to sleep a few times, his head lolling gently to the side. When he spots her, he seems to start, eyes opening. She helps him to get a drink of water.

"How long," he asks, licking his lips and looking around as he tries to gather his bearings.

"Five hours, roughly. They sedated you just before I arrived they said. How're you feeling?"

"I want out of here," he says flatly.

"I know, but you're not well enough yet to leave." He is doing better. Strength is starting to return to his muscles, though it will be another week before they're comfortable with letting him walk around. Fortunately, he is trying to eat. Food, however, he says has little taste or appeal. Still, she's relieved that he is making some effort to try. It's not enough for them to ditch the NG tube, but it's progress. He'd make better progress, she thinks, if he'd stop having these panic attacks.

"I know, but I want out of here."

"Give yourself time to recover, Aramis. If you try to leave now, you're going to set yourself back. And, believe it or not, you are making progress." She tries to sound encouraging but it comes across hollow.

"That's what they keep saying. I don't really see it. I just want out of here."

While she's not surprised that Aramis is wanting out, he hasn't really brought it up since this week and has not been so insistent on it like today. There's something about his persistence that makes her wonder if he's figured anything out.

"Have you thought much about your panic attacks?"

"Other than that they don't make any sense? No."

"What doesn't make sense about them?"

"No triggers. They just keep coming. And don't tell me to talk with someone. I don't want to talk to anyone about them."

"I hadn't planned on it, Aramis, but I am concerned. I'm worried that without knowing the cause, then this is going to keep happening it set your recovery back."

"Let me out of here then," Aramis pleads. He doesn't want to sound desperate but being in the hospital has never been his ideal situation and, now, every second he spends here makes his skin crawl. He wants out and no one will listen to him. If he could walk himself, he'd take himself out of here listening to them protest all the way but he's just barely started working on walking and he knows that his shaky legs will get him about a foot from the bed before he collapses in a heap for them to find and force him to stay even longer.

"I know you want out of here. I'd want out myself and I don't hate hospitals as much as you, but you have to know that it's just not feasible right now. At best, you might be able to go to a rehab facility."

"No," Aramis says vehemently.

"Then you're going to have to do what they ask of you in here. You may not like it, but if you want out, Aramis, you're just going to have to do it. And," Constance pauses, considering her decision once more. "And once they've said you can leave, that you're recovered enough, you can come stay with me if you want."

"You're serious?"

"Do you think that I'd offer if I wasn't? But you're going to have to do what it takes to get to a point that they'll release you. That means physical therapy, eating, and trying to sort out these panic attacks."

Aramis sighs. He wants out of here. The physical therapy and eating he's managing but sorting out the panic attacks are a mystery. He's had them since Afghanistan but he knows his triggers and he's not encountered any of them. He just wants out of here. Since he woke, he's been on edge and it only got worse when Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan revealed to him what happened.

"Fine but I'm not talking to any psychologist about it."

"I won't make you, but you do know that if they don't get better, you're going to have to. They could set your recovery back."

"Can't I just talk with you about it?"

Constance hesitates. She understands his distrust of psychologists but she's far from qualified to help him. Still, if he's wanting to talk, then maybe she should take the opportunity to get him talking about it.

"Okay but you're going to have to be okay with some tough questions and talking. I want you to sort this out so you can stop having the attacks."

"Okay." Aramis is relieved that she agrees. She's the only one he feels he can trust at the moment. She's the only one who's always listened to him. She may not have believed him but she listened, unlike the others.