Chapter Text
'Just a little longer' he thought 'There's no need to worry them, I haven't received the results yet. Hope is the last to die, after all' a painful fit of cough interrupted Aramis' thoughts and his hand flew on his mouth, blood dripping from between his fingers. Nausea hit him, as it always did, and he was forced to run towards the bathroom to 'free' his stomach from what little had he managed to eat.
He knew what that was or, at least, had some suspects (though, since he was a medic, and a very skilled one, he knew he was not mistaken), but he still hoped he was, even though the symptoms were those: he had been having terrible headaches and had experienced blurry vision, nearly blindness, nausea and blood-coughing, and painful seizures. He had taken no meds, no morphine, nothing, he didn't want to even though the pain was sometimes unbearable
"Hey, 'Mis" D'Artagnan's voice came from the door of the medic's apartment. He quickly buttoned up his shirt and adjusted his hair a little before leaving the bathroom "G'day, my dear D'Artagnan. What do you need, my friend?" he asked with his usual calm, while trying to ignore the pain coming from his chest and ribcage. D'Artagnan put an arm behind his neck, as he always did when he was either nervous or uncomfortable "The Captain requested us, we need to go to HQ ASAP"
Aramis prepared his work bag and fixed his shirt collar before following his protégé outside; Athos and Porthos were there too, waiting for the two nurses in the older man's black Chevrolet Corvette. Aramis murmured something about Athos being a filthy rich bastard and about how little they paid him, and about how useless were budget cuts' meetings but the three other men knew he wasn't being serious (they agreed on the third, though)
"C'mon, Treville's waitin' for us" Athos said, as his best friend's best friend and his best friend’s best friend’s best friend ('thos-'mis-D'Art) got in the car; he could see Aramis was struggling for breath, his face was paler than usual and sweaty, his eyes were unfocused and his hands were shaking. Was he sick? Probably. And, as usual, he hadn't told them about it "Athos, drive to the hospital!" "Was about to. Brace yourselves!" he exclaimed, stepping on the gas without giving a damn about the highway code.
Punctually, a traffic patrol began to chase them and, punctually, Athos burned rubber "GN on to us, 'thos, give more gas. D'Art, how's 'Mis doin' back there?" "He's cold and he's running a fever, a bad one. How long 'till we're here, Athos?" "Gimme ten more mins. Porthos, how many of them?" the big Agent looked behind to see ten more squad cars chasing them "Twelve, going to fifteen probably" his cell began ringing "It's the Cap'n. He's probably pissed off wiv' us" "Aramis' life is far more important than some budget cuts' meeting" Athos exclaimed while drifting; one of the squad cars coming from the other direction crashed into his car, smashing one of the car doors and cracking the window
"Fuck! You're gonna pay for this, you DEA bastard! Shoot him, Porthos, shoot him!" Aramis began coughing blood, and the weak moan that escaped his lips was the only thing that 'saved' the poor DEA Agent from certain death "Shit! D'Art, talk to him, keep him conscious!" the older man drifted again, the car's engine taken to the extreme "Aramis? Aramis, it's D'Artagnan. Hey, look at me, look at me" the medic remained unresponsive and didn't react when his protégé shook him gently, his eyes glassy "Aramis? Aramis, answer me! Aramis! Athos, hurry!"
Athos pushed harder and they ended up crashing into the hospital's hall, and God only knows how they escaped without a scratch "What the...!" a medic exclaimed, but was cut off by Porthos "No time, doc. Our friend's not doin' well, he needs help" "What are his symptoms?" the two men turned to the other nurse they had, who immediately felt nervous "He... he's having difficulties breathing and is shaking badly, has a bad fever, around 105° and he's been coughing blood. His eyes are unfocused, and he has been unresponsive since he got in the car. We... haven't stipped him so we don't know if he has any bruise but, when I arrived, he was coughing and throwing up, there was blood on his fingers"
Porthos' cell began ringing, and Athos looked at him, trying to not show the concern that was eating him up "Damn, Treville will have our heads" the big Agent picked up the call from his Captain "Sir" "Where the hell are you?!" the man was, indeed, pissed off. Porthos took a deep breath before answering "It's Aramis, Sir. He's sick, badly" "They're taking him to the O.R. right now" D'Artagnan said, and the two exchanged horrified looks "Is he that bad?" Treville asked on the other end, concerned. The young nurse nodded "He is. I'll follow them, see what I can do" "Wait!" Porthos said, stopping the man on his tracks by grabbing his arm;
D'Artagnan turned and was met by a face that held too much pain and concern for a simple friend. Suddendly, he understood how much Aramis meant for Porthos and just how painfully his death would have hit the bigger man "Promise me he'll be fine. Please" there were tears in the Agent's brown eyes, tears that were threatening to fall. D'Artagnan couldn't promise his friend that, but he surely was going to do everything he could to save his mentor "He will be, I will do everything in my power to save our friend" he hugged Porthos briefly before leaving for the O.R. to stay by Aramis' side.
Athos was still talking with Treville, but the other Senior Agent knew he was watching him "The Captain has given us medical leave. Let's learn about Aramis' medical proxies so we can contact them" he received a small nod in response and he felt his heart ache, but dismissed the thought that had formed in his mind; Aramis was going to be fine, stop. He breathed in and out a few more times before walking towards a medic who had just entered the (destroyed) hall "Dr Lemay" he greeted the man "Athos, hi. May I can ask what is a car doing in the hall?" "Uh, let's call it 'a bump in the road', okay? Anyway, it's not why we're here. We need to know who Aramis' medical proxies are, can you give us their names?" the Agent asked, and was surprised when the medic smiled slightly
"Porthos is listed as his first emergency contact, with Captain Treville as his second and you and young D'Artagnan are his medical proxies" Athos and Porthos inwardly smiled, happy, before the younger man asked the question they dreaded "What happened to Aramis?" Lemay sighed "There isn't a easy way to tell you something like this" he said, running a hand through his black hair "Like what, doc?" the medic looked at the two Agents with sadness in his eyes
"Aramis has a brain tumor. An Astrocytoma, a very aggressive one" that hit the two hard: a brain tumor? Aramis? Hadn't he suffered enough with the horrors of Savoy that still haunted him? "How?" was all Athos managed to ask, his voice shaking and barely audible; Lemay shook his head "I'm afraid I don't know" his pager went off and he excused himself, walking away towards the O.R., where D'Artagnan was waiting, wearing a surgical gown and a white mask covering his mouth. His hands were covered by blue gloves as his hair was by a surgical cap, and he was holding two pair of surgical glasses
"Doctor, I'd like to help in every way I can. Please. Even just being by Aramis' side would be good for me" the medical student said, almost begging, and Lemay nodded "I will need all the help I can get. Aramis told me about you, he says you are a brilliant student and a good friend" the young nurse smiled a little, but his smile was quickly replaced by a frown "What is he suffering from?" "Astrocytoma, a very bad form of it. Let's pray we're not too late" they put on the glasses and entered the O.R.