Aramis sauntered through Athos's front door with Porthos and D'Artangan in his shadow. The house was quiet, but he could smell the coffee...and something else. Something familiar.
The sickly smell of blood.
His eyes scanned the open floor plan as the trio slowly became aware of the atmosphere.
"Athos!" Aramis called out, panic rising in his voice.
No answer.
That's when he saw them there. The two of them, Athos and Elle on the floor. The blood pooled around them.
"No!" Aramis ran and collapsed beside his friend to check for a pulse.
D'Artangan immediately pulled out his phone and called paramedics. Porthos drew his weapon from his hip and branched off to inspect the house. Aramis could feel a pulse...or was he imagining it? Was it wishful thinking? No, no he was sure he felt a dull throb.
He threw up a prayer and turned his attentions to Elle. He saw the deep slash along her throat. He check her wrist for a pulse. Yes, he could definitely feel hers. Although deep, it looked as if the knife had missed any arteries.
"Stay with me, Athos." Aramis turned his attentions back to his longtime friend.
"The paramedics are on their way," D'Artangan said as he entered the house again.
He knelt down beside Aramis. The air was thick and tense as they waited for Porthos to return with the all clear. The longer he was gone, the more worried Aramis became. What if whomever did this was still here, and they somehow got the jump on Porthos?
Just when he was getting ready to go find him he heard the heavy footfalls of his friend.
"Clear." Porthos announced as he crouched next to Aramis.
Soon they heard the sirens and D'Artangan buzzed the paramedics through. It happened in a whirlwind. The trio watched as their friends were loaded into ambulances and rushed away. Helpless, they drove behind the ambulances to the hospital where the police were waiting to question them.
They filled them in on everything they knew, which wasn't much.
"This is wrong," Porthos ground out. "We should be out there looking for whoever did this!"
"We know who did this," D'Artangan said flatly.
"I don't think so," Aramis mused. "We assume this has to do with Rebecca, but something tells me she wasn't working alone. Not this time."
He went silent. They all had things to say, but none had the energy to speak. An hour went by before a doctor stepped into the waiting room to address them.
"Firstly, let me say that this young lady is very lucky. Any more force and she wouldn't have survived. As it is, you can see her now. She won't be able to speak, or she'll risk undoing her stitching, but she can write."
"Thank God," Aramis breathed and kissed the crucifix he wore around his neck.
"And Athos?" D'Artangan asked.
"I'm afraid your colleague is still in surgery. The bullet went straight through, which normally would be good...It did major damage to the organs in his chest. We're doing everything we can. I'm sorry."
They gathered themselves and made their way into Elle's room. Her eyes silently pleaded. The nurse passed her a pen and paper.
Athos?
"He's in surgery," Aramis patted her hand.
"Who did this?" Porthos asked.
Elle swallowed slowly, and began writing.
Rebecca.
"I knew it," Porthos breathed.
Elle kept writing,
And her brother.
"Brother?" The three said in unison.
"Did you catch his name?"
Doyle...
Elle shrugged apologetically. She couldn't remember. It was all a bit hazy.
"Right, one of us should stay here with Elle. Just in case. And to keep updated on Athos." D'Artangan said.
"I'll stay," Aramis volunteered. "You two go, and keep me updated on anything you find out about this Doyle."
Elle's eyes relaxed closed as Aramis settled into a chair across the room.
D'Artangan and Porthos headed off to the office where they dug up everything they could, but came up empty.
Meanwhile, Athos's life hung in the balance. By a thread. A very thin thread.