December Desolation Chapter 51

A warm breeze blew through the French countryside, rustling leaves and tugging gently at clothing and hair alike. The sun was just sinking its way beneath the horizon, coating the land with streams of blushing pink and burning crimson, signalling the end of another scorching summer day.

He was sitting perched in what should have been an extremely uncomfortable position on a nearby farm fence, face tilted to catch the last dying rays of the sun and feel the breeze in his hair. His hands were kept busy fiddling with a whittling knife and block of wood, which was slowly but surely taking shape, and could with a little bit of imagination and squinting of the eyes, be recognisable as a fleur de lis.

Spotting three clouds of dust in the distance traveling their way rapidly down the lane, he levered himself stiffly to his feet and brushed himself down, pressing a hand to his aching side with a small grimace. One which he hid as soon as possible when his brothers dismounted before him with massive grins and arms spread wide in threat of rib cracking hugs.

"Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed in his loud booming way, throwing an arm around the smaller man's shoulder and wrapping the other around his waist in a not so subtle show of support. "It's good to see you brother."

"You saw me just before you left for the city this morning Porthos" he laughed lightly, patting the much larger man on the back and good naturedly allowing him to steer him back towards the stone cottage behind him.

"I know but I'm still not used to not having you with me all the time when we're out on patrol" he shivered dramatically, "it feels like I'm parading around naked without you there to watch my back."

"Well that was an image I could definitely have done without, I think I'm going to have to wash my eyeballs now!" D'artagnan complained, dumping their saddlebags on the kitchen table, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his arms. "Putting that particular horror aside, how are you feeling?"

Aramis scowled darkly up at his younger brother and pounded his fist into his hand meaningfully.

D'artagnan threw his hands palm up either side of his head in supplication, "Alright grumpy keep your hair on, I'm just worried about you, we all are. We want you back out there with us as soon as possible, and that can only happen if you heal properly."

The youngers face fell as Aramis brushed past him and left the room, muttering about needing some air.

He threw himself dramatically onto the grass, gazing stormily down into the fiercely flowing water of the brook that wound its way through the property. He moodily tore up a handful of grass and threw it forcefully towards the water, glaring balefully as it floated gently towards the ground. He heard the familiar clanking and creaking accompanied by soft footsteps that signalled the approach of one of his brothers, and felt his shoulders creeping higher and higher as he curled further into himself, ignoring the pang it produced in his side.

Unexpectedly, it was not D'artagnan who sat down beside him, but Athos who stretched one leg out to the side, propping his head in his hand and resting his elbow on his knee in order to observe his brother. Really, he should have known that it would be Athos who would come to him first, as much as D'artagnan would want to follow and apologise, he knew him well enough to know that Aramis would need some time to cool off. As a matter of fact, Athos was the only one able to get through to him when he was at his lowest.

"You can quit looking at me like that" he mumbled into his hand, peering sideways at Athos. "I know he only means well but I just can't stand hearing people talk like that, I'm not fragile and I don't need babying. I'm a fully trained medic who can take care of himself and I'll be back on duty as soon as I'm ready."

Athos smiled softly across at him and placed a gently hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly as if to ground himself as much as Aramis. "You have to understand Mis, we… we genuinely thought that we would never see you again. That wound," he gestured emotionally to Aramis' side, " was one of the worst I have ever encountered, Lemay wasn't sure that he could do anything to help you and.." he swallowed hard "it was all too real in that moment, that we could be having a repeat of my funeral, but this time you really would be in the box."

He paused to swipe a thumb across his eyes and Aramis felt his heart clench in his chest as watery blue eyes speared into him. "So forgive us if we are, how to put it, mollycoddling you a little, D'artagnan especially so. He did his best, but he feels as if he let you down and is now trying to make it up to you I suppose, by taking as best care of you as he can. It is going to take us some time to come to terms with what happened, none of us doubt your abilities, strength, or determination, and we know you can handle yourself in battle, but we will be overly protective for a while. You are our brother Aramis, and I do not just say that as a result of the regiment, the connection between all of us runs much deeper than that."

Aramis twisted to face Athos, feeling tears welling up in his own eyes, rubbing at them harshly to try and push back the burning itchy feeling. He gave it up as a lost cause very quickly when he noticed Athos' lip trembling, and allowed the tears to roll silently down his cheeks, before tipping forward and resting his forehead against his brother's leather-clad chest.

Athos' chuckle was thick with tears as he rested one hand on the nape of his brother's neck, tangling his fingers in the dark hair curling there and holding him closer. Having Aramis as a solid, physical weight in his arms was indescribable, the sheer relief of knowing he was alive and as well as he could be after such a serious injury was overwhelming.

By the time they could convince themselves to separate, night had well and truly fallen, the moon dappling the trees and their faces with liquid silver and their joints creaked ominously with stiffness. "We should head back inside, I'm surprised Porthos hasn't already come out to fetch us, the mother hen."

Aramis chuckled, taking Athos' outstretched hand and allowing him to gently tug him to his feet. Together they turned and began to stroll back towards the house, swaying ever so often and brushing shoulders.

"I will return to the regiment soon, you do know that don't you?" Aramis asked quietly, watching his brother's expression carefully.

"Of course I do, you're far too stubborn to let such a wound stop you." Athos paused and smiled ruefully, "but until then, the Captain has given us all leave, so you'll be wishing to see the back of us before too long."

Shock washed over Aramis and his head snapped to stare at the unusually expressive smirk on his brother's face, and he felt a grateful smile creep its way onto his own as he realised the meaning of the words. His brothers would be staying with him.

"You're serious" he grinned, speeding up slightly and fixing his gaze upon the roaring campfire where the other two members of their makeshift family were lounging and drinking wine.

Porthos was the first to spot them returning and surged to his feet, roaring out a tipsy overjoyed greeting and pulling Aramis down to sit beside him. He pressed a bottle of wine into his hand and slung an arm over his shoulders, launching back into whatever raunchy tale he had been spinning before the pause.

Aramis met Athos' eye from where he sat opposite through the flames, sparks dancing in his eyes and gave him a grateful tip of the head. He leant back on his hands and closed his eyes, drinking in the raucous noises of his brothers around him and felt himself relax, this was where he belonged, and he couldn't be happier. There was such a stark difference between now and that disastrous mission back in December when his brothers had, in a moment of bad judgement, left him to flounder by himself. He had never felt more loved or accepted by his family than at this point in time, he could almost swear that he felt less pain from his wound now that his brothers were here, although that could be a side effect of the warm feeling glowing in his chest and stomach.

He was home.