Hypocrite

Athos drove home from the hospital. He was angry, he didn't understand why Aramis didn't try to get help for his PTSD, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Athos realized he has been a bit of a hypocrite. He had been doing self-destructive activities for at least five years now. Athos thought back, he joined the army when he was 23, got involved with the special task force when he was 25 and he was 28 now. So yeah, five years. He never thought he would have got so engaged with it. Athos supposed that Porthos and Aramis had helped him enjoy his service time. He never really enjoyed thinking back too far, for the memories reminded him of someone he once loved. Athos could see her face now, she was beautiful with green-blue eyes, brown curly hair and pale skin. Athos shivered, he didn't want to think of her. He parked his car in his driveway, got out of the car and headed out to the pub a block away. Athos got there in under five minutes, when he wants to drink, he moves quickly. He ordered a pitcher for himself and sat alone at "his" table at the back. Athos drunk to numb the emotional pain. He then got mad at himself for being drunk. This made him more emotional than before. This was the vicious cycle that he repeated frequently. Athos ordered another pitcher. It was almost 24:00 when he got a call. He clumsily pulled out his phone from his pocket. He didn't recognize the number or maybe he was too drunk to recognize it.

"Hello?" His voice was slurred.

"Athos?" asked the voice that he knew from somewhere.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Athos, it's Anne." His eyes widened and he suddenly got extremely angry.

"Why are you calling me!" He had begun to yell, most heads turned to him.

"I just wanted to talk, I was behaving well so I got a phone call."

"Don't ever call me again, don't ever try to find me! I never want to think about you again!"

He hung up, left 30 euros on the table and left the pub in a panic. How could they let her call him? Athos was fuming, upset and completely drunk. He was spinning in circles, pulling his hair in anger. Why, why did she keep on bothering him? Athos never wanted to think about her, but always did. It made him so mad, that he couldn't think. He yelled, stomped and threw a fit. His vision was quite blurry by now, his tears and drunkenness both played part in this. Suddenly he heard a loud honk. He felt pain, but it was only for a second, for he had blacked out.

Porthos was barely awake when he got a phone call from Treville.

"Hello?"

"Porthos, this is Treville."

"Director, why are you calling, it's quite late?" Asked Porthos, his voice was groggy.

"Are you still at the Hotel Dieu hospital?"

"Yes, sir."

"Meet me in room 245."

"Why, what happened to you?"

"Not me, Athos, now please come."

Porthos hung up without saying anymore. He decided not to wake up D'Artagnan. He didn't bother using the elevator and went down the stairs jumping over three steps at a time. He reached the room and found Treville waiting outside looking more tired than usual.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Got drunk, ran into the streets and got hit."

"Dear God." Whispered Porthos under his breath.

"I need you to go in and talk to him, he refused to see me. He through the remote that controls that bed at me."

"Alright." Said Porthos as he approached the door, prepared for the worst. He had dealt with a drunk Athos more than once, he usually hid his drunkenness pretty well. Porthos wondered what state he was in if he had begun throwing stuff at their superior. He walked in and saw that the lights were turned down low.

"Athos?"

"Get out!" Athos was almost incomprehensible.

"No." Porthos was firm.

"What!"

"I'm not leaving."

"Just Fuck off!"

Porthos was getting very mad. In one day two of his closest friends had managed to injure themselves through their destructive ways.

"Fuck you! You asshole, how could you do this?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Yes, it does!"

"No."

There was a brief awkward silence.

"You're a hypocrite." Said Porthos matter-o-factly.

"Huh?"

"Only five hours ago you were ranting about how idiotic Aramis is for refusing help and how he brought this all on himself. Now here you are, hospitalized."

"Go away."

"Fine, but next time you give yourself alcohol poisoning don't come to me for help!" Porthos stormed out of the room, regretting every word he said, for he really didn't mean them.