All For Aramis


D'Artagnan would have found the sight laid before him quite endearing; had it not been for the stark reminder of why the painful scene was playing out before him in the Garrison Infirmary. He slid quietly across with a tray of food, courtesy of Serge, taking note of not letting his heels click on the wooden floor. Boots were notoriously noisy on those immaculately clean floors, per Aramis demands. Cleanliness was paramount in his infirmary.

The ever steadfast and stoic Athos was slumped over on the floor in a boneless heap using his shoulder as a pillow and the wall as his bed. Soft wheezes escaped his lips every time he exhaled.

Poor man.

He expended all his energy and effort during the recent return from protecting King and country, and now had no more to supply- simply beyond exhausted after stretching himself thin caring for the regiment and tending to his severely wounded man. A decent rest and good meal would do wonders for a proper recovery.

Porthos chose to recline on a chair angled toward the window overlooking the courtyard; had he been awake he would have seen the fellow ones in his company sparring with each other or attending to the array of weaponry lined up for cleaning under the late afternoon sun and frigid temperature outside. His head was tilted back, well toned bow-legged calves stretched out crossed at the ankles, and those muscular arms neatly folded into each other.

Aramis was the only one who looked remotely comfortable considering the resting options available at present, he was mostly supine on the bed from being swathed in rolls of linen bandages.

A twinge of sorrow moved within D'Artagnan's chest as he held out a bowl of steaming stew in front of the shivering blanket clad Aramis. The dirt had been scrubbed from his gaunt face, but the bluish hue remained on those weather-beaten cracked lips. A dull numbness began to spread from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet, a tingling sensation vibrating it's way through the battered body. It was a sobering sight to behold, especially watching one so dearly beloved to look so frail.

Athos and Porthos quickly took respective positions around the invalid's bed realising their youngest had returned with soup in hand.

"Here is some laudanum and willow's bark to take with it," d'Artagnan offered gently, whilst Porthos added two more blankets over the sickly one's thin frame in between Athos spoon feeding movements.

Aramis nodded absentmindedly, for he could still hear the wave of bullets ricocheting off the frozen bark. Soon the bullets ran dry, and the bandits appeared with swords in hand slashing through the foliage for their targets. The engagement was long and drawn out despite the lack of skill from their opponents. What those wild men lacked in skill swordsmanship was made up with plenty of stamina. It was pure chaos- as often is the case with life and death matters. Had it not been for the most unfortunate circumstance, it would have been a beautiful showcase of exemplary swordsmanship and detailed footwork from the pride and joy of the King's Men. Aramis with his steady hand and impeccable aim stood the test of any who tried to challenge his title as "the best". He truly lived up to his namesake.

Porthos placed a firm hand across their medics' shoulders keeping him in place, whilst d'Artagnan tended to the wounds he received for trying to save Athos from being taken away as ransom for what those insurgents were after. The wounds, though not life-threatening, were rather severe still. Lasting through a firefight and sword fight without sustaining any sort of hurt was impossible- even for a man of Aramis' caliber of skills.

"The importance of your recovery cannot be understated. You are the only person who has the hands of a healer and the heart of a saint. You will be well again." he chided gently. "When we mount our attack on them again, we will be prepared. For now, rest whilst plans are drawn up. I'll not leave you behind, don't you think that for a moment."

"Rest." Athos commanded with the intensity of a candle lit on a cloudless day at high noon. "I'll not have your heroics be for naught. I will recover in time, my injuries are nothing compared to yours. Let the laudanum work, don't resist."

Parry. Thrust. Attack. Feign. Block. Repeat. Save Athos.

Just like a whirlpool, the vortex of reality and perception spun faster and faster until they collided headlong into a cesspool of mire.

Aramis said not a word throughout it all because the floodgate of emotions bound so tight, finally bursted.

Tears were simply the unvoiced words.

Athos nodded understandingly whilst embracing his saviour as gently as possible. The garrison infirmary had none save the four, privacy was theirs in its entirety. Porthos and D'Artagnan offered consoling whispers.

The anguished being sobbed until his tears ran dry. Under his head of disheveled hair matted in disarray, held a pillow soaked in his outburst. The fabric became wet, heavy, and plump with salt water, it swelled and threatened to burst at any moment. More sobs and cries engulf the body, beating his fist into the linen that took it without questions, bounding his clenched hands like strong coils until they drop down- clinging to the blankets so tightly the fine threads fill the gaps in between his fingernails.

The defeated soul sobbed unrelentlessly, the empty vat of tears has found itself miraculously refilled to the brim. His vision was raining. His tears patter against the bruised cheeks, like rain on the windows leaving opaque streaks quickly washed away by another wave of water, and then another. He sobs more, and it spills from the depths of his innards, plummeting down in thick sheets that bang their liquid palms against the roof. He sobs and sobs, the earth sheds her pearly tears alongside his, patiently waiting for the storm to end.

Aramis lived under grey skies of tumultuous weather wreaking havoc, but it would soon disperse with the gentle sunbeams of his brother's affection breaking through those dark clouds.


Part 9 of À Jamais Inséparables- Forever Inseparable Series.

Cheers my lovelies! Bonne lecture et merci pour les commentaires qui me font chaud au cœur. Happy reading and thank you for you comments that warm my heart.

Merci beaucoup pour vos commentaires! Ça me motive pour avancer! Merci beaucoup à tous! Je vous invite à lire ce que j'ai et à me donner votre avis, mais surtout à me corriger et critiquer, histoire que je puisse m'améliorer! Essayez ne pas lire une histoire puis partir après sans me dire ce que vous en avez pensé, même en quelques mots- ça me fera toujours très plaisir.

For all the wonderful reader/writer friends here, I've returned after a short break and ready to dive back into the adventures with our fantastic four.