December Desolation Chapter 44

Aramis was slow to regain consciousness the next morning, eyelids seeming unwilling to cooperate and he wondered if someone had attached weights to them whilst he was sleeping, he wouldn't put it past Athos if he thought he needed more sleep.

Logically, his brain knew that it was the last remnants of the poppy milk still contaminating his bloodstream that held his eyes shut and his brain on the very edge of consciousness, trapping his mind in that awful inbetween space where he could hear his friends' voices and feel the rough scrape of blanket against his hand, but was unable to fully wake up.

A warm hand grasped his own where it lay limply atop the bedclothes, squeezing gently.

"Aramis" a voice called calmly, "open your eyes, come on. You can do it" they coaxed

Another voice rang clear in the room, a more robust and booming tone who addressed the first speaker.

"How do you know he can hear you? He's been out of it for two days with no sign of life and now suddenly you're harassing him"

"His eyes were moving beneath his eyelids and I saw his fingers twitching" the first speaker responded calmly, giving Aramis' hand another squeeze.

It felt like someone had stuffed his head full of wool, straight from the back of a sheep, brain struggling to function around the thickness. The voices were achingly familiar but as much as he searched within the quagmire of his brain, he couldn't find names or faces to put with them, they remained mysterious shadowy figures that hovered at the very edges of his vision.

"Fight Aramis" the first voice whispered, voice low directly in his ear and Aramis' body shivered involuntarily at the tickly sensation of hot breath brushing against his ear.

The words stoked the embers that were struggling for life within his heart into a blazing inferno. The thick syrupy like substance that seemed to be encasing him thinned ever so slightly as he began to struggle in earnest against it, desiring to return to life for the first time.

Although he couldn't quite remember who the voice belonged to, the tinge of sadness, desperation and… love spoke to him, whoever this person was they cared for him and he didn't want to hear anyone suffer like that.

"Look, you big oaf" Athos exclaimed, gesturing towards the bed "I told you he was waking up"

Aramis fought a valiant battle against the glue that was holding his eyelids shut, succeeding in prising them apart a crack and blinding himself with a flash of light too bright for his tender eyeballs. He moaned pitifully, trying and failing to drag the dead weight of his limbs up to protect himself from the light, rewarded only by the mysterious stranger squeezing his hand once again and murmuring words of encouragement.

Bolstered by this, Aramis tried again, each time managing to prise them open a little further before they watered too much and fell shut again.

Finally, he won the battle with his body, and his eyes remained open to the world before him.

Two men were sat at his bedside, observing him with sheer joy written on their faces, although it was only evident in subtle ways on the face of the second man. On Athos' face, his brain supplied helpfully, and memories came flooding back.

"At… hos" he opened his mouth to greet his friend but merely croaked in an undignified manner, throat closing up around his words at the lack of moisture. If he hadn't known better he would have thought he spent his weekend gargling with sand, or eating Constance's rock cakes bless her heart.

The smooth wooden rim of a cup was pressed to his lips, Athos' cradling the back of his head in one hand to raise him carefully off the pillows. The cold water wetting his lips was like heaven, coating his dry throat like honey and made him feel like he was a man lost in the desert who had just been provided with water to save his life.

Clearing his throat carefully, for it was still a little sore, he thanked Athos for his care.

"Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're conscious enough to drink finally."

"How long was I out?"

"About two and a half days" Porthos supplied, moving to sit on the end of the bed by his friend's feet, careful not to brush the healing appendages. "Gave us all a right fright when you wouldn't wake up, and that fever you had was fierce"

"Infection?" he asked with resignation

"Got it in one" Athos nodded, standing and beginning to unwind the bandages wrapped securely about his brother's feet "you're lucky both of these are still here, it was touch and go for a while but they're healing nicely now"

Prodding gently at the abused flesh Athos nodded to himself in satisfaction at what he saw, deciding to leave Aramis' feet open to the air for now to allow for further healing.

"Do we not need to return to the Garrison soon?" Aramis asked, gaze moving from one friend to the other.

"I sent a despatch to Treville a couple of days ago to inform him we would be delayed so there is no hurry, but I feel we would all be better for being back in Paris"

"You need to eat something and then we want to be making our way home, you'll sleep better in your own bed. Plus, the whelp's already getting the horses ready as we speak" Porthos put in, patting his friend on the leg.

Not long afterwards, Aramis had downed a bowl of thin broth, putting an end to the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach, but unfortunately setting off waves of nausea that threatened to bring all he'd eaten back up again.

With supreme effort, he managed to keep control over his rebellious stomach, waving off his friends' concerns over his rapidly paling face.

Finally, the four men reunited outside the inn, Aramis' arm slung securely over Porthos' shoulder and Porthos' arm snaked around his waist for support. D'artagnan held the reigns to all four horses, a broad grin stretching across his face as he waved jauntily at Aramis in greeting.

"Good to see you up lazybones" he exclaimed cheerfully, "now who are you riding with?"

Aramis scoffed, an affronted look on his face at the suggestion he couldn't ride by himself. Although, he was given no option but to admit he was too weak to keep himself on a horse, when Porthos released him and he promptly crashed to his knees, unable to support his weight on his damaged feet.

Athos directed a scathing glare at Porthos who merely shrugged in response, a cheeky grin on his face as the older man scooped Aramis off the floor and heaved him up onto Roger. Swinging himself up into the saddle behind his brother, he wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him securely against him, and soon the group was riding off down the narrow country lanes towards Paris.

A peaceful atmosphere settled over the men as they travelled, happy to be all together and relatively in one peace.

A/N – sorry it took so long to get this to you guys! Hope you like it :D