This is the first of another two- or three-parter. (Thank you, Uia, for your lovely comments, by the way.:)
(Also, sorry I can't be more prolific with this thing - I'm in the deep end of my dissertation and I still very much fear my advisor's wrath. I'll keep trying to post a new chapter each week. Thanks for reading.)
Pain.
Blinding, sickening pain - a wave of nausea pushing over him, his own groan in his ears and his heartbeat a thunder in his chest- clap-clap-clap. The feel of wet, cold dirt on his cheek; a roar, far away and muffled -
"Aramis!"
He couldn't help it. As he was wrenched upright by the shoulders, he had no time nor opportunity to reclaim his wits - he vomited.
On all fours and the support gone, he blinked and blinked to get his bearings, to clear the silver sparks and force his vision to settle. Movement to his right - a blurred shape that could only be Athos - grabbing the musket that had fallen from his hand, rolling over and sinking to his knees in one fluid motion to take aim. Comprehension, however, was slow; his mind lagged behind in catching up - a dead body a few feet to his left, another one further away - a growl of frustration from Athos made him turn, but he regretted it immediately as the pain and nausea flared again.
"I can't see. I can't make him out..." Athos murmured, one eye closed in thick concentration as he leaned over the barrel. The situation down in the courtyard had clearly gotten out of hand - this cursed, steady sheet of rain wasn't helping his vision - D'artagnan, alone and unarmed in the prison yard among a crowd of violent offenders - Porthos, down on the ground, wouldn't get to him in time. They were too far away - Athos didn't have Aramis's eyes – Guerin, their initial target, was towering over d'Artagnan who was on the ground, surrounded by a human wall of jeering, laughing, screeching men. They'd run out of time. Even as his breath hitched and his finger tightened spasmodically around the trigger, Athos knew that he couldn't take the shot.
He stole a desperate glance at Aramis - he was supposed to make this shot!- his look was one of plea, though it went lost in the daze that Aramis couldn't sake off - but Athos's eyes suddenly widened as his gaze shifted and he dropped the musket to leap to his feet, drawing his sword in a flash and that's when Aramis finally realized that something else was wrong.
"What-"
Something slammed into him from behind, sending him sprawling back to the leaf-littered ground. Like he was a mere obstacle in the way he was pushed aside, a massive shape stepping over him - another roar was heard, crude and belligerent- he looked up just in time to see a mountain of a man bearing down on Athos, his friend stumbling back even as he swung his blade in the last moment to block a brutal strike. Throat burning, head pulsing, stomach churning Aramis fumbled around for his dagger - clap-clap-clap – his heart or the thunders rolling overhead? - merde! his hands weren't co-operating - he couldn't reach the dagger let alone draw it - sit upright! - sit upright first -
"Aramis!"
Imploring - desperate - Athos brought his sword to up block another blow, his arm shaking from the force it even as he kept backing away, staggering - "Take the shot! Take the shot - d'Artagnan-" His back hit the trunk of a tree and his words were cut as he ducked and dove low to avoid another zealous thrust.
Take the shot!
Nausea be damned - Aramis grabbed the musket and fell into position again, drawing a furiously shaking hand against his eyes to clear the moisture of blood and rain combined. Take the shot - it was chaos down in the courtyard - that was just about all his crazy vision could discern.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Block out all voice, all pain, to concentrate on stilling the hands and the vision. No sound reached them where they were, but Aramis could just hear the cacophony in his mind: the anger brewing, simmering, boiling as what had started out as a single fight flowed and rushed like a river and took a mad turn to become a full-blown riot. He could distinguish men from groups now. Chaos as the guards rushed in and weapons were drawn, confusion and violence erupting all around - d'Artagnan - he needed to find d'Artagnan.
A desperate sound from Athos almost distracted him but he refused to be diverted. He swallowed against his dry mouth as he carefully, painfully scanned the crowd. There! - there the Gascon was - tall and skinny and dark hair! – but.. Aramis swallowed again, blinking furiously - there was no margin of error here - was that d'Artagnan?
His vision still shifted, gyrating around the edges in a maddening dance - take the shot! - how? - nothing about him was steady -
Another sharp cry from Athos - a body hitting the ground and a growl - Aramis refused the distraction, again - down below, there! - another man that could just be d'Artagnan - tall and skinny and dark hair and in trouble -
"Aramis -" Quiet -
"Aramis, take the - " Strangled and pained-
Aramis took the shot.