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Hey everyone, I'm pleased to be giving you this next chapter before Christmas so consider it a Christmas gift from me to you. So Merry Christmas to everyone and if you don't celebrate Christmas then happy holidays J
I went with a request from 'Ann' on AO3 who asked for Aramis being hugged after the death of Marsac. I know it's another serious one but I can't help it, sad and/or hurt Aramis is my favourite and it makes me melt when they get all gooshy and cute.
I just wanted to say thank you very much for all the reviews, favourites, comments, kudos, follows and bookmarks I have received from everyone. I read and appreciate all of them very much. With regards to this this one; quite a lot happens in here because I simply couldn't accept a hug from the boys and everyone's happy and fine afterwards so it's quite a bit longer than the others.
Warnings: a small amount of fighting and a very wet, very unhappy Aramis.
…
Aramis watched as the rain drops turned the freshly dug grave sand into mud. It was only when the mud started to pool at his boots did he realise the rain had increased in intensity. He slowly came out of his state of deep thought at the realisation that he was quite cold and soaked all the way through. He sighed deeply. He did not have the will or the energy to get out of the rain. He stared at Marsac's grave a little longer. He always knew that, somewhere out there, Marsac was alive and probably going through everything he was going through. And in some strange ways, it was a small comfort. Yet now, with his own hand, he had rendered himself truly alone. A small part of the both of them had died in Savoy, but Marsac's obsession with it had eaten away what life remained in his heart; so when Aramis pulled the trigger he was shooting a man who was already dead.
Then there were his brothers. He understood d'Artagnan's reluctance to help him but there was no denying the boy had done what he could for Aramis. Aramis' stomach turned into a knot at the realisation that d'Artagnan, who had not known him very long, was willing to help, while Athos and Porthos merely stood by. They were supposed to be his friends, his brothers. He had known them for years and the fact that they had abandoned him… had taken Treville's side over his made him feel sick. He could feel his face contorting as the anger built up inside him. He felt betrayed, but worst of all he felt alone.
Aramis slowly backed away from Marsac's grave and turned away. He wondered, as he slowly walked in the rain, if he should go to his brothers. Would they comfort him? Would they apologise? Or would they simply go on as if nothing had happened? No, he decided, he would go drink on his own.
He walked slowly to the closest tavern, ignoring the droplets that had now grown bigger and the wind that blew them into his face. He was so lost in his anger and sadness that he miss-stepped and slipped in a puddle. He fell on his back into a pool of mud, soaking his body even more with icy water than it was before. He got up with an angry groan and tried to flick some of the mud off his hands and feet. By the time he got to the tavern he was carrying his hat, which had been reduced to a muddy rag, and his hair was a wet mop plastered to his forehead.
"A table near the fire monsieur?" The barmaid asked after taking in his muddy state.
"Thank you." He replied and followed her into the tavern.
He wasn't sure how long he had been seated but he still felt quite wet. He was sipping his wine slowly, no intention of drinking too much. He was listening to all the conversations going on around him, trying to take his mind off Marsac. One table was playing cards, another had a man flirting with the barmaid and the other table close to him had a very drunk man celebrating his birthday. He was showing off to his friends happily.
Aramis sighed, he wondered if he even still had friends. It was an odd thing, being alone. On the one hand there was no one to pass any judgement on him and on the other it made his chest ache with so much sadness he craved any kind of attention he could get. Aramis was startled out of his brooding when the drunken man from the third table tripped and fell next to him in an attempt to get more drink from the bar.
"Are you alright, monsieur?" Aramis asked him, a tiny bubble of amusement rising in his chest.
The man tried to stand up and growled as he dusted his hands off. Aramis watched as he swayed on his feet and could hear his friends laughing at him. He held out a hand to help the man straighten but the man shoved it away and looked at Aramis angrily.
"You tripped me!" The man yelled. He looked back at his friends and pointed at Aramis, "This man tripped me!"
Aramis watched as the man's friends all stopped laughing and stood up, clearly in the mood for a fight.
Aramis held his hands up passively, "I did no such thing, monsieur. Please allow me to buy you a drink."
But the man sneered and, with quite a lot of accuracy for a man in his state, punched Aramis hard on the side of his face. He fell off his chair and felt the man grab his wet uniform and yank him to his feet.
"Apologise!" The man yelled in his face as he shook him.
He heard someone yell, "Oi!" and the man was suddenly yanked away from him.
Aramis watched as Porthos shoved the man against the wall with enough force to match that of an angry bull.
"Don't touch him!" Porthos snarled at him and shoved him away, causing the man to land on the floor.
"That stupid Spanish scum tripped me," The man said and spat on the floor beside him.
"You will watch your mouth sir, otherwise my friend and I will happily shut it for you." A voice said from behind Aramis.
He turned to see Athos, whom he only then realised was holding him by his upper arm. When he glanced back the drunk man was squirming away from Porthos and hurrying back to his friends, who it seemed, had decided not to take their chances with the big man.
Porthos turned away to look at Aramis and his threatening expression slipped off his face to be replaced with a more neutral one.
"Are you alright?" He asked as he took in the muddy sight of his brother.
It was a strange feeling, being conflicted between diving into Porthos' arms or turning away in anger. But the feelings of abandonment, betrayal and anger were too fresh so Aramis yanked his shoulder away from Athos' grip and sat back down, ignoring his brothers completely.
"Aramis?" Athos asked as he and Porthos sat opposite him, "Why are you so wet my friend?"
"You would know," Aramis said scathingly, "if you were there. But you weren't."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Porthos asked.
Aramis simply glared at him and turned back to the fire, his attention going back to sipping his wine. He thought he heard Athos sigh but neither of his brothers said a word after they ordered drinks of their own. They sat in silence and it was poison. The fact that neither of them had even mentioned Marsac was adding wood to the burning flames in Aramis' heart. They did not even attempt to start a conversation with him and Aramis' grip on his wine tightened furiously. The silence between them became such a deafening presence; Aramis just had to escape its strangling clutch.
He banged his mug on the table and watched as Athos and Porthos both startled. He looked at them expectantly but they just sat there, staring at him.
"Ara-" Porthos started but stopped when Aramis got to his feet.
Aramis took his hat off the table and marched away from his brothers. He walked out the tavern, not daring to turn back. He knew if he did he would cave and stay, ask for their comfort. He didn't understand why they were being so silent about the whole matter. As he stepped out back into the rain he could not decide what had hurt him most; their continued silence or the fact that they had not even bothered to come after him.
The cold air was the only thing keeping him motivated to return to his room at the garrison. The rain had turned into a soft drizzle but succeeded in wetting him through once again. When he reached the garrison he started to feel like a bit of a fool for his actions and dared to look behind him to see if his brothers had indeed followed. They hadn't and Aramis felt his heart break just a little more and his anger return. Surely they had known how important this was to him? He still did not understand why they had left him to deal with this alone. Once inside, he removed his wet clothes and climbed into dry underclothes before getting to bed. He rested his head on his pillow, not caring that his hair was still wet.
He tried to sleep but was plagued by thoughts of Marsac. His mind, it seemed, was still wide awake. He turned on his side and shamefully wished one of his brothers were lying beside him. Curling in on himself as tightly as he could, he wasn't sure if the cold he was feeling was from the weather or from the snowy memories in his mind. By some miracle, he managed to fall asleep.
…
When Aramis woke he was lying in the same position on his side, with his arms wrapped around his knees. His mouth was terribly dry and he swallowed hard, which caused a sharp pain to go down his throat. Coughing a little, he sat up and groaned when he felt a sudden throbbing in his head. Swallowing again, he found the pain in his throat remained there. Sighing, he realised all the time spent in the rain the day before had made him sick. As he wiped his hands over his face, he realised he had been sweating in his sleep and decided a bath was in order.
He made his way down for breakfast after he bathed and dressed and found, with relief, he was one of the first to wake. Serge placed a bowl of hot oats in front of him and Aramis took a spoonful into his mouth. The oats did little to soothe his throat however, and he found himself suddenly losing his appetite. Not long after, Porthos joined him on the opposite side of the table.
"Morning." Porthos said and accepted his breakfast from Serge.
Aramis ignored him, not trusting what words would come out of him in anger and not trusting his own voice, which he was sure would come out croaky. Athos joined minutes later with instructions from Treville.
Treville, it seemed, had given them all patrol duties for the day. Aramis truly was not in the mood to patrol the streets, especially with Athos and Porthos, as he just knew they would try to talk to him. He felt a twinge of guilt at ignoring his brothers. He knew he was being childish but he still felt a large amount of anger towards them.
Aramis' grouchy mood was fuelled by his growing headache as they patrolled the streets. Athos and Porthos had tried a few times to engage him in conversation but he had simply ignored them. Eventually, they had stopped trying altogether and seemed to have grown sour themselves.
As the day progressed, Aramis was feeling worse. He had finished all his water hours before they were scheduled to end their patrol in an attempt to soothe his throat. He was too proud and too angry to say anything about how he was feeling and decided to simply suffer in silence.
When the end of the day came, the three inseparables found themselves at the garrison. Aramis made to head straight back for his room when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He turned to find Athos staring at him, Porthos watching the exchange a few steps back with his arms folded and a frown on his face.
"We are going to the tavern, would you care to join us?" Athos asked him, as if he were merely being polite. They both knew what response Aramis would give him, or lack thereof.
Aramis shook Athos' hand off his shoulder and turned to head upstairs.
"Aramis," He heard Porthos say, "How much longer is this stupidity going to go on for?"
"Stupidity?" Aramis asked as he turned. He had tried to yell but winced at how gruff and weak his voice came out.
"You think what happened out there in that forest was stupid?" Aramis asked Porthos. He walked straight to his brother and shoved him back. Porthos barely even budged but relaxed his arms as they fell to his sides.
"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Porthos said back, raising his voice slightly, "and what is wrong with your voice?"
Aramis' reply was cut off by Athos placing his palm to Aramis' cheek. Aramis pulled back from him instantly, not taking his gaze from Porthos.
"You're a little warm, Aramis." Athos said, "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine!" Aramis snapped. He winced at the pain it had caused his throat and began to cough.
Porthos' expression changed from rage to concern in a flash and he closed the gap between him and his brother. He placed a hand on Aramis' back as if to soothe his coughing. Athos' hand retuned to feel Aramis' forehead this time but Aramis yanked himself away from both of them as soon as his coughing had abided.
"Oh now suddenly you care?" Aramis asked as loudly as his sore throat would allow.
Athos and Porthos had the decency to look ashamed of themselves. It was Porthos who decided to break the silence.
"Aramis," He said, "Please try to look at this from our perspective."
"Your perspective?" Aramis yelled, which came out scratchy and Porthos and Athos actually winced. He could see a few heads turn in their direction out of the corner of his eye.
"There was me and then there was Treville." Aramis continued, "And you chose him. You abandoned me!"
Porthos looked like he had been punched in the face and Athos rubbed a hand through his hair.
"Aramis please," Athos said, "This was not so black and white. You know that."
Aramis shook his head which only made his throbbing headache worse. He groaned and rubbed at his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He watched as Porthos stepped forward worriedly.
"Stay away from me!" Aramis snapped at them, which stopped Porthos in his tracks. "You don't get to decide to be my friend when it is only convenient to you."
He turned and marched up the steps to his room and slammed the door behind him as loudly as he could. He immediately felt like the biggest fool alive. He knew he had hurt them with the things he had said but he was far too stubborn to go back out and apologise. He looked out his window in time to see them both heading back out the garrison. Athos had a hand on Porthos' shoulder and Aramis felt his stomach drop. Porthos was such a kind person. Aramis knew Porthos would never truly abandon him. Instead of asking why they had not helped him more in a calm way like they would, he had yelled and let his anger get the better of him. He took a deep breath and realised how terrible he felt. He felt guilty but physically he felt absolutely wretched. His throat ached, his head hurt and he could feel his fever growing stronger.
As he got undressed he felt tears run down his face. The only true friends he had were the only people he wanted and needed right now and he had pushed them away. The look on Porthos' face when Aramis had accused them of abandoning him had broken his heart. Porthos was the most loyal man he knew. Yet this only added to Aramis' confusion. Why weren't they there? They hadn't even stood by him when he watched Marsac get buried.
Aramis climbed into his bed longing for comfort from his brothers. He wondered if he would ever get it again. He coughed a little more and winced as his coughing caused a shot of pain along his chest. He fell into a restless nightmare-plagued sleep.
Aramis wasn't sure how long he had been asleep when he woke again. It was his fever that had woken him. He was hot. Very hot. He threw his covers off his bed but it did little to help. He could feel the sweat running from his forehead. It made his hair stick to his head. The heat was inescapable and seemed to have spread through his entire body, right down to his toes. He had to get out of bed, away from its warmth. With all the grace of a drunken sailor he attempted to throw his legs over the bed. Only, instead of rendering him upright, like he had hoped, his legs pulled the rest of his body with them and he hit the floor beside his bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs.
He crawled away from the sheets and spread himself on his wooden floor, attempting to soak in the tiny amount of coolness it provided. He gazed at his door and wished he could just open it and let in some of that nice cold wind from earlier that day. With only one name on his lips, Aramis passed out on the floor.
"P'ths"
…
They had only had one mug of wine each before heading back. Porthos knew why Aramis was angry but he couldn't deny that his brothers' words had stung. Aramis was upset and when he was upset he refused to listen. Porthos climbed the stairs that lead to his room. He was glad that Aramis' room was just next door to his. He wanted to check on his brother. They could both hear Aramis was sick when he spoke for the first time that day, but did not want to upset his brother more by invading the space he clearly needed.
They hadn't been gone for a long time so he knew there was a strong possibility that Aramis was still awake. He gave a soft knock on the door but received no reply. Porthos sighed, in the back of his mind he knew Aramis would not answer regardless of whether he was asleep or awake. He turned and headed into his own room.
He began to undress when he heard a soft thud from next door. Porthos paused in removing his shirt and frowned. He pulled his shirt back down and stepped outside. He knocked again on Aramis' door and received no reply.
"Aramis?" Porthos asked, "You alright in there?"
When he got no reply Porthos felt his irritation from earlier start to build up again.
"A simple yes or no will suffice." Porthos tried again. He sighed and would have stepped away but he heard a soft mumble.
Porthos' worry increased and he tried to door handle, not caring if Aramis yelled at him about privacy. He turned it more when he found it was unlocked and opened the door, allowing the moonlight in.
"I'm coming in," He called, "you better not be naked."
His stomach dropped when he saw Aramis lying chest-down the floor. He bolted into the room and crouched beside his brother.
"Aramis?" He called to him frantically, "Aramis?"
When he got no response he turned Aramis over, drawing a breath in sharply as he felt how warm he was. Aramis gave a small groan at being moved and Porthos handled his brother with as much gentleness as he could, as if Aramis were made of glass. Once he had Aramis on his back he realised how pale and shaky his brother was. Even though Aramis appeared to be asleep, he was trembling slightly. Porthos gently patted Aramis' face and his worry increased when he got no reaction out of his brother.
"Aramis," Porthos tried again, "say something please."
Aramis groaned and opened his eyes a little. His eyes wandered all over the room as if he was not registering what he was seeing.
"'m hot." Aramis mumbled softly.
"I know my friend, I know," Porthos soothed, "I'm going to help you."
As gently as he could, Porthos lifted Aramis off the floor by placing a hand under his neck and an arm under his legs. He lowered Aramis back onto his bed and pushed him close to the wall, as far away from the edge as possible.
Porthos hurried to Athos' room to retrieve him. He banged on the door and, if the situation were not as serious, would have laughed at the menacing expression on his brother's face when he answered.
"What?" Athos snapped then relaxed his face when he saw it was Porthos. "What's wrong?"
"Aramis," Porthos said, his voice shaking, "He has a fever."
Athos followed Porthos back to Aramis' room. When they got there Porthos watched as Athos placed his palm on Aramis' cheek as he had done earlier that day.
Athos frowned, "We need to cool him down, now."
They found some rags in Aramis' draws and wet them. They wiped down his torso and arms, leaving a wet rag on his forehead. Every now and then Aramis would groan. This was how they spent the rest of the night. Aramis' fever had apparently taken his nightmares and distorted them. He called out for Marsac and Athos and Porthos, begging them not to leave him. Every time they would whisper in his ear to calm him down.
"Shhh," Porthos soothed, "We're right here and we're not going anywhere."
"It was stupid of us not to be there," Athos finally said as he replaced the rag on Aramis' head.
Porthos sighed and nodded his agreement, "We didn't even bother explaining ourselves. S' no wonder he's so angry. And we left him to bury Marsac alone. Who knows how long he stood there in the rain? I'll bet that's what made him sick."
Athos rested a hand on Porthos' shoulder, "He is going to be fine brother. His fever has already gone down quite significantly. Why don't we rest a little? We can talk about all of this tomorrow."
Porthos ran a hand down his face and nodded. They both fell asleep in their respective chairs. Ordinarily, they would have climbed in beside their brother but they did not want to add to the persistent heat that surrounded him. Porthos fell asleep to the sight of Athos carding his fingers through Aramis' hair and smiled. Athos always knew how to take care of them.
…
When Aramis woke it was to the feeling of something cool on his forehead and someone running their fingers through his hair. He opened his eyes to the bright morning light and he could hear a hushed conversation above him.
"Do you think he will need a physician?" One voice whispered.
"Honestly? I think he needs a punch in the face for being so damn stubborn." The other voice replied.
"Athos…"
"No. His fever is mostly gone and he's coughing a lot less. I believe he will be fine. Aramis?"
"He's awake!"
"Aramis can you hear me?" Athos' voice became a little clearer as his face came into focus above him.
Aramis groaned and rubbed at his temple.
"How do you feel?" He heard Porthos ask and he felt the mattress tilt a little as Porthos climbed on, "You almost ended me when I found you lying on the floor."
"Flo-or?" Aramis croaked out.
"Here, drink some of this." Athos said as he lifted Aramis' head and placed a mug to his lips, "It's water with honey. It will do your throat good."
Aramis sipped some and sighed at the instant relief it caused, spreading pure bliss down his throat. He wriggled a little to get himself higher on the pillow. His brothers immediately interpreted his need and Porthos lifted him under the arms easily as Athos added another pillow behind him.
"Thank you." He said softly. He remembered all the events of the previous two days and felt his face grow a little warm at his reactions. He felt a finger under his chin and looked up as Porthos lifted his head.
"You leave the brooding to Athos alright?" Porthos said with a smirk.
Aramis heard Athos snort. He looked at his brothers and opened his mouth to apologise but his voice betrayed him and the strain on it caused him to start coughing instead. Porthos immediately leaned him forward so that he could rub a hand soothingly up and down his back. As soon as he was done, Athos made him drink more of the honeyed water.
"I…" Aramis began, testing his voice out again, "I owe you two an apology."
They both shook their heads and Athos raised his hand to stop Aramis from talking further.
"I told you he would try apologising first." Porthos said with a sad smile, not taking his eyes away from Aramis.
"Aramis," Athos said, "It is we who owe you an apology. We left you to deal with all of this alone without even providing so much as a proper explanation. Will you please allow us to explain? Even if it is two days too late?"
Aramis nodded, although he didn't agree with the statement.
"We knew this was important to you," Porthos began, "It was important to us too although we have a rather poor way of showing it. You see, Athos and I have been with you since you came back from Savoy. We know how it haunts your dreams and we have heard you cry out in your sleep too often than not. You normally cry out his name, Aramis. And every night that you had to relive the moment when he left you only made us hate him even more."
Aramis tried to make sense of his brother's words but his foggy mind would not let him. However, something in Porthos' words was starting to shine a little light on their behaviour. As if seeing Aramis' internal struggle, Athos squeezed his arm.
"What Porthos is trying to say, Aramis, is that since Savoy, we don't think there is a man that we hated more than Marsac. When he returned you seemed so intent on helping him that we realised our hate towards him would do more harm than good. We never intended to take sides but in our minds there was Marsac – the man who had left you out in the snow, and there was Treville – our captain. And somehow, because of that, we forgot about you and how this was all affecting you. We never realised that you were feeling the same conflicting emotions we were. We wanted to stay away from the man that had hurt you because we simply didn't trust ourselves to be around him. The instant we saw him we wanted to punch him, passionately. We did not realise that by keeping our distance from Marsac, we were also keeping our distance from you. And for that, Aramis, we are truly sorry. And after Marsac died, we honestly assumed you wanted to be alone. Just as you sometimes do when thoughts of Savoy trouble you. We had not the slightest idea it was only causing you pain, causing you to resent us. Aramis, my dear friend, we apologise."
Aramis felt his chest tighten at his brother's words and the nod from Porthos. Of course they were angry with Marsac. It all made sense. If only he had seen it from their point of view. He looked down at his hands and felt a tear escape his eyes. The last two days had all been simply too much. He had gone from shooting a brother to thinking he had permanently pushed two away.
"Hey," He heard Porthos whisper, "Everything is going to be alright."
Aramis felt the mattress tilt again and suddenly Porthos was wrapping his arms around him. Porthos held him tightly and Aramis sniffled as a few more tears escaped. He rested his head on Porthos' chest and relaxed as he felt Porthos stroke his back. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be hugged, feeling better with every passing moment.
"Would you stop hogging him?" He heard Athos moan, "Just because I'm the brooding one of the three of us does not mean I am incapable of affection."
Porthos and Aramis chuckled as Pothos gently transferred Aramis into Athos' waiting arms. He sagged with even more relief as Athos hugged him and he felt Porthos run his fingers through his hair which made him sigh with relief.
"Don't you dare frighten us like that again," Athos whispered, "your fever was very high, Aramis."
"Sorry." Aramis mumbled.
"No need to apologise," Porthos said, "Just gave us a proper scare there."
"It was a foolish thought of mine." Aramis replied.
"What was?" Porthos asked.
"I thought that I had pushed you two away for good," Aramis admitted, "I thought I was completely alone."
"How very foolish indeed." Athos replied.