Chapter 10 - Day 5 Part 6 + Epilogue
As soon as they reached the hospital they ran straight to the ward they last saw d'Artagnan on and almost literally bumped straight into his doctor.
If the doctor was startled at having the two men barge unexpectedly through the doors he didn't show it. "You're back. Do you have the antidote?"
"Not exactly, but we know how to make it." Porthos tapped the paperwork he was holding out for the doctor.
The man took the notes and ran his eyes over it quickly. "Okay, this may take more time than we have, but it might be doable. I'll get it to the lab immediately."
Athos held out his hand and gestured for the man not to leave yet. "How is he?" He asked anxiously.
"Not good." The doctor shook his head, "He's still in the same room."
Porthos thanked him and watched as he darted off. They apprehensively headed towards d'Artagnan's room fearing what they would find.
Aramis had not been back in the room for long after the medical team had restarted d'Artagnan's heart when the door opened again to reveal the two people he had been waiting to see for what felt like an eternity.
"Oh my god, you're back!" Aramis, overwhelmed in relief at the sight, pulled his friends into an awkward double hug, "Are you two okay? I heard the nurses saying something about a bomb going off? Was it Vadim's?"
"Yeah it was his, but we're fine, we got lucky…" Porthos trailed off as he looked over to d'Artagnan. It was hard to believe that it was only this morning since they had last seen the boy. He looked so much worse in such a short space of time. "How bad is it?"
Aramis glanced at d'Artagnan and ran his hand through his hair. "He doesn't have much time. His lungs, liver and kidneys have all shut down, he's got a serious infection which has caused a raging fever and his heart stopped beating not long ago, but they managed to bring him back. His body is so weak I don't think it can handle much more of this, he needs the antidote now. You did bring it, right?"
Athos swallowed hard, the guilt he was putting on himself at the situation was palpable. "Sort of, we've given Claude's plans for the antidote to the doctor and he's taken them to the lab."
Porthos watched the mechanical rise and fall of d'Artagnan's chest, "Do you think he can hold on long enough for them to make it again?"
Aramis shrugged and shook his head, he couldn't bring himself to find fake reassurances when really he knew how this was most likely going to end.
. . . . . .
With nothing left to do but wait, Aramis urged his friend's to get checked out. He didn't want to have to worry about the two of them as well as d'Artagnan.
Two young nurses, Amelie and Ninon, led them to adjoining cubicles, pulled round the curtain and instructed them to sit on the bed and remove their shirts.
"This really isn't necessary," Athos grumbled as the nurse carefully pressed at the boot-print shaped bruises beginning to form on his back.
"Maybe not, but I'm sure both you and you're friends would prefer it if you didn't end up collapsing later due to internal bleeding." Amelie smiled, raising an eyebrow, "Better to be safe than sorry, hm? How did this happen anyway?"
"He was kicked down the stairs." Porthos smirked at Athos as a blood pressure cuff was wrapped around his arm.
"No, I wasn't!" Athos replied firmly, immediately wanting to stop the serious look of concern on Amelie's face before he ended up here any longer than necessary, "I was kicked at the top of a staircase, yes, but I didn't fall down."
She picked up some ointment and began to rub it into his back, "Hmm, okay."
"Pressure's normal," Ninon confirmed as she undid the cuff and started to press Porthos' ribs. "You've got a few bruises but nothing appears to be broken. Considering you were both were involved in an explosion you've been incredibly lucky."
"Yeah we know. It could have been a lot worse considering the size of the place. Damn shame about the building though." Porthos winced as Ninon moved onto cleaning the scrapes on his palms.
She disinfected the shallow cuts and determined that they would not require stitches. Athos', much to his dismay, would. He vaguely remembers the feeling of scraping his arm during the rough landing the bomb blast had provided but had honestly forgotten about it in the midst of everything else going on.
"It's not too deep, so I can use steri-strips rather than stitches, but you'll still need to keep it clean and dry whilst it heals." Amelie scrunched her nose in concentration before instructing Athos to lie down so that she could easily reach his forearm.
She disinfected the area and wiped away any blood residue before placing the strips with complete precision and covered the wound with a dressing.
Athos and Porthos were in the middle of getting redressed when Aramis hastily pulled back the curtain. "The antidote's ready."
. . . . . .
The three men entered the room to see the doctor checking d'Artagnan's vitals.
"Is this definitely going to work?" Porthos asked as he closed the door.
The doctor hesitated before answering. "Honestly, we don't know for sure. This entire situation with d'Artagnan has been a guessing game and I wish I could tell you with the utmost confidence that it will work, but I can't. We've followed the instructions you gave me but even then this man that you got it from may have done something ever so slightly different that could make all the difference to whether or not this works."
"But he's going to die if you don't do anything right? So we've got nothing to lose." Athos muttered sombrely. They were this close to having d'Artagnan back with them, he had to believe it was going to work.
The doctor nodded and prepared the syringe. Just as he was about to inject d'Artagnan, he paused. "The three of you need to know that even if this works, even if this stops the poison from spreading further, it may not undo the damage it's caused."
"What do you mean?" Aramis asked.
"He's in liver failure, kidney failure, we've had to perform CPR several times which could have majorly effected his brain function, on top of that he's got severe blood poisoning. This antidote might not save his life."
It took Aramis a second to register what the doctor was saying. He hadn't considered any of that. This entire bedside vigil he'd held onto the hope that his friends would find the antidote and that when it was given to d'Artagnan he had just assumed that the boy would be fine. That somehow this life saving remedy would put an end to all the pain and suffering he was going through and that miraculously he would be completely healed.
Not once had it occurred to him that the antidote wasn't going to be the final step in saving d'Artagnan.
Before he could dwell on it further the machines connected to d'Artagnan started their goddamn beeping again.
All four of them stared at the monitor in confusion at the sudden noise.
The doctor's eyes scanned the information quickly before turning back to the others. "He's gone into VF. It's now or never."
Athos gave a single, tight-lipped, nod. "Do it."
The doctor double checked the amount in the syringe one last time before sticking it into the IV cannula already in the crook of d'Artagnan's elbow and pushed the antidote into his system.
Aramis rested clasped hands against his chin, eyes flitting between d'Artagnan's pale, weak body and the heart monitor.
Porthos, biting his nail, did not take his eyes off the rise and fall of d'Artagnan's chest.
Athos gently picked up d'Artagnan's hand that was closest to him and squeezed it. If this was to be the boy's final moments he didn't want him to feel alone.
No one dared breathe as they waited for a sign that it had worked and for a moment nothing happened.
Then d'Artagnan moved. His head shifted to the side slightly, still obstructed by the tube, but it allowed a few beads of sweat still on his forehead to roll down into his hair.
His eyes scrunched up, though it was unclear whether this was from pain or from trying to finally open again.
He then gave a gentle squeeze back to Athos' hand and the four men watching him gave a collective sigh of relief. He might have a long recovery ahead of him, but for now all that mattered was that the antidote had saved their friend from the clutches of death that had come far too close for their liking.
The doctor observed the machines as they continued to show that d'Artagnan's vitals had still not quite settled yet. He frowned as he read the data, but he wasn't too worried, d'Artagnan's body had been through a lot, it was bound to need a moment to register that all was okay.
Porthos gave Aramis a friendly slap on the back as he couldn't stop the grin from growing on his face, "We sure like cutting things close, don't we?"
Athos gave a huff of laughter as he used his free hand to sandwich d'Artagnan's grasp.
The boy had so much more to live for and Athos would never have forgiven himself if they had failed at the final hurdle.
Then, the still fast beeping of the monitor slowed to a gentler pace.
But, before it could be enjoyed for long, it stopped beeping all together as the long, drawn out tone sounded. Athos felt his heart plummet as d'Artagnan's hand became lifeless in his grip once more.
The doctor rushed to the door to shout for help before starting CPR, again.
Athos, Aramis and Porthos were ushered back so that everyone could do their job, but they made no move to leave the room and no one tried to stop them from staying. Aramis wanted to ask what was going on, but he was too shocked and confused to even utter a single word. It was like his brain couldn't keep up with what was happening. One second ago he was feeling so much relief he had almost fallen over and now his heart was being crushed all over again.
For the second time that day Porthos found himself in the middle of his two friends, holding onto their hands, hoping beyond hope that their boy would be saved.
. . . . . .
Now that the rush was over and the adrenaline was gone, Athos was able to fully take in and accept all of the events - and outcomes - of today.
According to Treville all members of Vadim's gang that were waiting to set off the bombs had been safely rounded up and brought in.
The organisation for the clean-up of the church had already started, but that was going to be a long, arduous process that the city and its people were going to have to deal with. Luckily no one had been seriously injured and shop owners were apparently in quite good spirits despite the damage.
The festival was reaching its climax now. Of course, everyone had heard the explosion, but thankfully after one quick announcement from the main podium and the reassurances from several calm, collected officers, the festival attendees were convinced of their safety and allowed the celebration to continue.
Athos spared a thought for the young cadets who would have had their work cut out for them today. A bomb scare, potentially thousands of terrified people to deal with and half of their support called away to deal with other matters. He didn't envy them at all, but he had enough faith in them to believe that they made it through okay.
It was almost midnight which meant that, if it was anything like previous years, the streets would be filled with colourful lights and party music. Soon they'd be lighting the floating lanterns and the sky would be filled with the wishes and good intentions of the attendees for all those they loved.
Athos was sad to miss it; it was always his favourite part of the festival. But right now, he was where he needed to be.
It had been several hours since d'Artagnan had been given the antidote and the three of them had not left his side since.
His face was still somewhat pale and he had not yet woken up, but right now it was enough that he was alive. That he was healing.
The doctor was truly amazed by how his body was reacting. A real life miracle he had called.
As predicted, he wasn't instantly cured, but once his heart was beating again it was clear that his body was responding to the antidote.
He had needed some help, drugs that Athos couldn't recall the name of, but his major organs were no longer failing.
The sepsis was tricky, but they had been combating that since it presented itself so it should clear up and not leave any lasting damage.
The only lasting damage that the doctor could not predict was his brain. They wouldn't know if anything was wrong until he woke up and there was no telling when that would happen. Just give him time, the doctor had told them, he might be healing but his body has still been through a lot so just be patient, talk to him and he'll come back to you.
So that's where they were. D'Artagnan, still unconscious with a nasal cannula sitting under his nose and far less IV's than before, being forced to endure Aramis' anecdotes.
"And then there was that time that Porthos had a slight personal dilemma."
Porthos looked up with narrow eyes at the mention of his name, worried about where Aramis might be going with this.
"He was having a lovely night in with a certain special lady…"
"No." Porthos warned, knowing instantly what story he was about to tell, but Aramis was not dissuaded as he continued with a smirk.
"Now, now Porthos, I know it didn't last long but she was a lovely girl."
"You never even met her!" Porthos complained.
"I did that night," Aramis laughed as he continued talking to d'Artagnan. "He's quite the romantic, our Porthos. You see he called me in the late evening, all flustered, begging me to come over and help. Now, I knew he had a lady over so at first I was quite surprised by the request."
A small smile slowly grew on Athos' face as he studied the pair sitting on the other side of the bed from him. Aramis was enjoying it far too much whilst Porthos was visibly uncomfortable, squirming in his seat despite the fact that d'Artagnan probably couldn't even hear anything going on around him. This was obviously a story that Athos had not heard about either.
"So I turn up, let myself in with my spare key and first I walk through the dining room. The lights are dimmed, there's candles, a lovely bouquet of roses, empty plates on the table, but no Porthos. So I shout out for him and he calls out to me from inside the bedroom."
Porthos let out a small groan as he noticed Athos listening intently to the story.
"So I knock on the door and he tells me to come in and what do I find? Porthos and- what was her name?"
"Melissa." Porthos provided glumly.
"Melissa! That was it," Aramis was getting far too excited, "well he and Melissa had been having a bit of fun and after some miscommunication, they had both ended up handcuffed to the bed with the only set of keys sitting on the dresser on the other side of the room."
Laughter forced itself out of Athos unexpectedly and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Sorry," he muttered to Porthos, pursing his lips to try and stop the laughter.
Porthos glared at him but soon gave in as he tried and failed to contain a smirk. "It was all going so well okay, it's not like I wanted to get you involved!"
"Well, you did kick me out as soon as I handed you the keys so I didn't exactly interrupt much of your night!" Aramis chortled.
Athos, smiling, rolled his eyes just as something caught his attention.
A pair of dark brown eyes were staring at him. Eyes he had been waiting to see for what felt like a lifetime.
"D'Artagnan?" He asked softly, not daring to believe that their boy was finally awake and back with them.
The boy blinked a few times, as if trying to clear his vision, but didn't respond.
His brow furrowed as he seemed to notice the nasal cannula resting on his face and with all the strength of a newborn kitten, he slowly lifted his hand to try and remove it.
Feeling a sense of déjà vu, Athos gently caught hold of it before it could do any damage and placed it back on the bed, "Best leave that alone."
D'Artagnan looked confused and opened his mouth ready to speak, before slowly closing it again.
Athos looked over to his friends, the worried expression clear on his face, but Aramis simply smiled reassuringly back at him as he leant forward and gently covered d'Artagnan's hand with his own, "It's okay, take your time, we're not going anywhere."
. . . . . .
Epilogue
2 Months Later
"Aramis, please! Be careful!" Athos shouted out from where he was perched on the bench.
Side-eyeing his friend, Aramis huffed as he held out a hand for d'Artagnan to grab hold of and helped him up from the mat. "You're the one who agreed that he needed to get back into shape."
"And flinging him to the ground is going to achieve that, is it?" Athos frowned.
D'Artagnan wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist and swallowed hard as he tried to get his breath back.
Aramis took this opportunity to hand d'Artagnan his water bottle. He watched to make sure the boy was taking a drink before replying. "If I take it easy on him he's never going to learn, is he? Besides, it's just a bit of light sparing."
"Well, try even lighter, yeah?" Athos tipped his head to gesture to where d'Artagnan was currently rubbing his shoulder.
"Athos, I'm sure d'Artagnan can handle it. It's nothing he and Aramis haven't done before." Porthos perked up from the corner of the gym where he was placing a set of dumbbells back onto the rack.
"Yeah but that was before. You don't know what his body can handle now." Athos stated, seriously.
"His body is healing!" Aramis massaged his temples. He understood his friend's worries, but was getting severely frustrated at the thought of how much it could potentially hinder d'Artagnan's progress. "If you're going to keep mother-henning and distracting us, then just go and get a coffee or something whilst we finish up."
Athos opened his mouth to retaliate, but before they could continue going in circles with the same discourse they'd been having for weeks, d'Artagnan interrupted with an exasperated sigh.
"Guys. I am right here, you know. You don't have to keep arguing about me."
Athos' tone became very gentle as if the previous volume of his words would be too much for the boy to handle. "We just don't want you to push yourself too hard."
"I'm not," d'Artagnan gave a soft, reassuring smile, "And I promised to tell you if it was ever too much for me."
As he leant down to place his bottle on the floor a sudden pain shot through his side. It faded as quickly as it came, but that didn't stop the slight hiss that left d'Artagnan's mouth as his hand reached up to press against the scar of his stab wound.
Instantly he knew that as soon as he looked up he'd find three sets of worried eyes watching him.
"I'm fine, it's just cramp. Come on."
He brought his closed fists back up to chest height in a signal to Aramis that he was ready to carry on.
Aramis admired d'Artagnan's perseverance but even he knew that his friend was too stubborn to admit defeat. "You've worked hard this morning, maybe we should call it a day? I know I could do with a break." He smiled.
D'Artagnan gave him an incredulous look but nodded in agreement.
The four headed into the changing rooms to shower and change into their work attire.
Aramis took the opportunity of having d'Artagnan shirtless in front of him to sit him down and check his wound.
There wasn't much to see. On the outside it had healed completely leaving only a thick pink scar, but the doctor had informed them all of what to look out for if it ever started seriously hurting or showing signs of swelling.
It had been a long road for d'Artagnan to get to where he was now so Aramis supposed he should take the current situation as a win.
When d'Artagnan had first woken up he had been very confused. He couldn't speak, could barely move, he was just so weak.
As the week went on, his condition began to improve at a steady pace. Athos had been there when he said his first words. In fact it had scared him half to death to hear a sudden ghostly whisper after being alone in a quiet room with d'Artagnan for hours.
It was Porthos who witnessed the first time d'Artagnan managed to sit up unaided, with an undeniable feeling of pride bubbling in his chest.
Aramis had the privilege of helping d'Artagnan out of bed for the first time, watching as he braved the few paces to the door and back.
It was also Aramis who had been there when d'Artagnan cried for the first time.
D'Artagnan had been awake for five days when he broke. Everyone had been telling him that it would be a slow recovery and to not push himself, but as he lay there on his side, alone in the room, wanting to roll over but just not having the strength, he felt so pathetic.
It was only a quiet whimper, but it was loud enough to d'Artagnan's ears that he did not hear Aramis opening the door. He did, however, feel the gentle pressure of a calloused hand grip his own as another began stroking his hair.
Words were not necessary, the grounding touch of his friend being enough to open the floodgates completely, allowing d'Artagnan to let out the confusing mix of emotions he had been bottling up.
By the end of his second week he had improved massively, enough to be allowed home. The condition of his major organs had been steadily increasing since the antidote had been administered and his stab wound was healing nicely but would still require him to take things slowly - something both the doctor and his friends had made clear to him several times.
As the weeks went by his body got stronger and with the help from his scheduled physical therapy sessions he was finally back at work on very light duty.
It was this step forward that prompted d'Artagnan's request to join them again during their gym sessions and now things were truly feeling like they were getting back to normal.
After getting dressed, the four men piled into their respective cars, d'Artagnan hitching a ride with Athos, and they made their way to the police station.
. . . . . .
They entered the station and headed straight to their office, only to bump into Treville as he exited the break room.
"Ah, I wasn't expecting you all until later, but since you're here, I have some news you might be happy to hear." He smiled as he led the group to their office.
Treville motioned for them to enter the room with the wad of paperwork he had clutched in his hand.
They all made themselves comfortable and ready to listen, Aramis taking a seat in his chair, Porthos and d'Artagnan sitting on the edges of their own desks and Athos choosing to remain standing close to Treville.
The captain flicked through the paperwork he was holding and pulled out a sheet, placing it on the top of the pile.
"I've gotten word back about Vadim's case. All evidence we submitted has been accepted and processed and they'll have a trial date by the end of the day."
"Any idea on how long he'll get?" Athos questioned.
"I don't know officially, but the judge reckons she can bump it right up and go for a life sentence, what with the attempted murder and planning of a terrorist attack."
"He's not gonna wriggle out of this one anytime soon." Porthos grinned as he leant over and gave d'Artagnan a friendly slap on the back.
"What about the others?" D'Artagnan asked.
"Everyone who was found waiting at one of the bomb locations will get fifteen years at least. Though, the rest of his crew have gotten off too lightly in my opinion, either community service or less than a few months of prison time depending on their conviction."
D'Artagnan wasn't sure how he felt about that. They were criminals and the majority of them had been prepared to follow Vadim until the end, but they had been surprisingly welcoming to him.
"And Claude Beaumont," Treville continued as he glanced down at his notes, "will be lucky if he gets out before he turns 80. They're going to try and take him down for attempted murder on top of his terrorist attack."
"Can't believe it's over." Aramis marvelled.
The four of them were astounded, d'Artagnan's recovery had made the past two months seem very long and drawn out, but now that he was back at work and their case with Vadim was finally going to be closed, it felt a bit strange.
"Yes, well just because you've finished with Vadim doesn't mean I don't have any work for you," Treville directed this to Aramis and Porthos in particular which made d'Artagnan smile.
"Do you have a case for us, Sir?" Athos asked, ever the professional.
"I do indeed, I've sent you all an email of the details. It's going to be a long one."
D'Artagnan perked up at this. "All of us?"
Treville nodded once with a slight twinkle in his eye. It was warming to see d'Artagnan so eager to get stuck back in. He'd been worried that the boy's near death experience would put him off the job for life but he shouldn't have been worried at all. D'Artagnan was young, impulsive, reckless but most importantly, always determined to get involved and get the job done.
Athos bowed his head in contemplation before making eye contact with Treville, "Sir, do you think that's the best idea?"
This statement, however expected it may have been, made d'Artagnan get up from where he had been leaning on the desk and stand closer to his friend. "Athos," he started with a smirk, "we've been here before, we can go round and round in circles, you with your grumpy old man face and me with my cocky comebacks until you agree with me that I'm ready."
Knowing the boy was right but still wanting to make his point, Athos raised a wary eyebrow, "You've been through a lot in these past few months and you haven't exactly been back long. Nobody would expect you to be ready."
"Maybe not, but I am. I know how bad the last assignment must have been for you lot, but to get back out there is exactly what I need." D'Artagnan remarked, "We'll be okay."
Athos gently squeezed d'Artagnan's shoulder and nodded. The boy was right, he would probably never feel ready to let d'Artagnan back on an assignment for fear of almost losing him again, but holding him back was going to do him no good.
"Great, take a look at the case and let me know what you find," Treville said as they all moved to take their seats.
In that instance the atmosphere in the room changed, whether they realised it or not, now that things were finally, officially back to normal.
As Treville left the room and closed the door behind him he could already hear the four of them chatting excitably. He smiled to himself as he walked away. Yeah, they'll be okay.
The End.
Thanks for reading! x