A warning on this one for referenced suicidal thoughts, so proceed with caution if that's something you need to look out for.

Chapter 22 - The Fallen King of Thieves
The Albatross, Over Africa: September 18th

Lupin tossed back and forth in his bed. Sweat was gathering on his head and neck as he wriggled. His breathing was more like that of a panting dog than that of a sleeping man. The thief clenched his fists in his sleep as he continued to struggle against his memories. He flung his head around desperately trying to evade his appalling recollections of his time in Dahomey, West Africa in 1892.

Bullets tore through the air around him. Sometimes the bullet found its mark and a shrill cry of agony would carve its way into Lupin's ears. The heat of the air wrapped its burning fingers around his body, making it harder to breathe. Gunsmoke engulfed the entire battle - it was hard to tell friend from foe. The smoke stung his eyes, leaving the thief to depend on his instincts alone to survive.

Lupin fired his gun and with it brought down a strong warrior who was about to strike one of the French soldiers. Blood went flying from the man's body, who was only trying to defend his home. Lupin was sickened at the sight but continued to fight. He had to.

With an empty barrel, Lupin could only use his bayonet as the enemy troops rushed forwards. Subconsciously, Lupin found himself defending the young man whom he had saved only moments ago. His name was Paul, and he was one of the nicest men Lupin had ever known. He was light-hearted and being in his presence could raise anyone's spirits. Lupin wished he had been so innocent at his age, not a thief parading himself to the galleries.

Lupin ducked under a sword swing and drove the blade into his enemy's chest. Another man came at him and Lupin only just managed to turn around to strike him. After having to kill several people with the blade, blood was dripping down the gun and onto Lupin's hands. The thief was so horrified at the sight, he did not see the gunman who took aim at him.

A bullet suddenly slammed into Lupin's stomach like an iron fist and the pain seemed to freeze time itself. The deafening bangs and yells quieted as Lupin staggered back, clutching his gut. Lupin could feel his blood pouring out of the wound. Paul rushed to catch him as his knees gave way under the sudden strain. Oblivion refused to take Lupin as he lay on the ground in agony.

Remembering the pain and his helplessness made the thief scratch at his scar, digging his nails into the skin. The pain, the blood, the death, the cries of men, it was too much for Lupin to take all at once. There was too much- he couldn't take it, but nor could he wake up. Lupin continued to thrash about, scratching his sides, kicking and calling out. He couldn't take it!

Lupin watched helplessly as Paul was also shot down whilst being distracted. Paul was so young- not even out of his twenties. Lupin could see the fear in his eyes as he succumbed to death almost instantly. Why? Why did that poor lad join the army? So young… So innocent…

It was then Lupin's eyes slipped closed.

Lupin threw himself forwards with a yell of alarm, reaching beside him for an imaginary bayonet. His hand met only blankets. He paused as the realisation hit him. It was a dream. He was alright. It was a dream.

Lupin sat still for a few minutes, his chest heaving, body shaking, and his stomach lurching, remembering the sight of his wound. He focused on taking deep breaths, remembering where he was, that he was safe and Dahomey was nothing more than a distant memory, a nightmare. With a steadying sigh, he climbed out of bed and got dressed before making his way outside. He needed air, his room felt too small, too warm, too suffocating to bear for much longer.

Lupin paused to draw a slow deep breath of the cooler air around him before closing his cabin door. He tried to forget about the dream but that was not so easily done.

In the hopes of not getting spotted, Lupin retreated to the side of the ship, hiding in the shadow of the cabin. For a few minutes, there was tranquillity, nothing but the buzz of the Albatross as she glided across the warm air and the strong but cool winds that followed. He did his best to savour it, for the cold air to push any emotion back down. He didn't fully understand why that dream haunted him again. Perhaps the recent gunfire in Belgium had triggered it somehow. Perhaps it was only a one time occasion? He desperately hoped so.

"Lupin?" Robur said quietly, a fair way off. Lupin snapped his head to the side, but he immediately eased, tried to smile.
"Good evening," he said.
"We both know that's not the case anymore," Robur answered, coming to stand beside him. "But I won't pry, I think I understand."
Lupin sighed, letting his shoulders slump even further. "You heard me?"
"I did… Is there anything I can do for you?" Robur asked, furrowing his brow in concern.

Lupin shook his head. "I'll head back to bed soon. I'm fine, I just needed air."
Robur nodded cautiously. "Very well, you just tell me if that changes."
Lupin thanked him and Robur left him in peace, somewhat reluctantly.

Lupin used his time to think about what happened to him, when his consciousness had flickered to see men surrounding him, trying to help with what little they had. The doctor tended to his wounds with some difficulty. Lupin, when he was conscious and not severely delusional, realised there was very little chance of survival, but his body clung to old instincts. To hold on, to survive. Looking back, he was glad they did.

Days passed as Lupin tried to recover in the army camp. Lupin's breathing didn't come easily to him. He lay on the small canvas bed in a tent, pale, covered in sweat. The candlelight around him seemed to give his skin a golden sheen. He wheezed and tried to sleep on his side, curling up, hoping one way or another the pain would stop. Infection was slowly taking over, wreaking havoc on his entire body. It was unbearable but sleep didn't want him yet. Amongst his painful coughing, he heard the rustle of the tent and footsteps on the dry ground.

He didn't turn to look at who entered the tent. He didn't care. He just wanted to sleep and no one would give him that.
"I'll leave you with him," his commander said quietly. Lupin knew that voice anywhere. He often came to check on him.
"Thank you." That was a gruff voice he didn't recognise. Another doctor here to poke and prod at his injury? He hoped not.

Slowly, he looked down at the foot of his bed, the sheer size of the man took him by surprise. There was a calmness in his face, no small degree of pity. Lupin could only just make out a sad smile under his grey American goatee.
" .." Lupin croaked. The man walked to the side of his bed to save him from having to move his head. He knelt down beside Lupin.
"My name is Jean Robur. I am here to take you back to France."

Lupin furrowed his brow. "W…Why?"
Robur leaned in closer and Lupin gulped.
"I know who you really are, Monsieur. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"
Lupin felt another wave of hot dread wash over him. Not that. That was the last thing he needed. Robur must have picked up on his anxiety and said. "You've nothing to fear, I can promise you that. I want you to heal, anything after that can wait."

"No…"

"No?" Robur raised an eyebrow.
"Others… … others. I. I won't last."
"You will. I'll take the worst injured along with you. But I will be leaving a vast amount of supplies for the rest."
Lupin hissed in pain and tried to curl up. It triggered more coughing. Robur leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him still.

"Deep breaths, slowly now."
The only reply he could muster was a whimper. Robur put a hand on top of Lupin's head, rubbing his hair slightly as one might reassure a child.
"Rest. Let's get you home, healed, after that, I think I can give you a fresh start."

Lupin nodded to himself. A fresh start and a new purpose indeed. Second in command of Les Hommes Mystérieux was impressive, but he was more satisfied with the fact that he was preventing more soldiers from suffering. It was all the purpose he needed for the time being.

But what Nemo had said about Robur... That changed things, and Lupin wasn't sure what to believe. Could he trust Nemo's word over the man who had saved his life and had worked with him for the last seven years, saved his life, cared for him and any wounds he'd collected over that time? Lupin itched his head. For the time being, he wasn't going to choose. He wanted more information before he made a decision. The truth could not hide from Arsène Lupin for long.

Glancing back at the cabin, he decided to try again and get more than a few hours sleep. He took a few long moments of relaxation, drawing deep breaths, and savouring the moonlight. Then he retired. At the very least, he'd be able to rest his eyes, but he expected it to be a long night.

A bit of Lupin backstory, sorta accurate. At one point he does sort of want to end it all because he's lost so much and joins the army in the books, but he's able to get past that, so I based this around that part.