Work Text:
Sleepless Nights.
I watch hollowly from my spot by the window as four mysterious riders on gallant horses approach the old house through the blistering thunderstorm and hammering rain.
Their cloaks are soaked through, hanging down in great heavy slacks against their horses flanks.
Three of them wear hats, which direct the flow of rain off the brim and tunneling down onto the floor below.
Yet, the smaller one trudging along behind them does not, his straggly hair plastered to the sides of his face, his posture slumped and arm wrapped protectively around his torso beneath the drenched cloak.
An odd burning feeling emanates from within the boy, drawing me from my perch and yanking at my swaying attention.
Swiftly and silently I float down the staircase, sifting through layers of untouched dust and cobwebs, until I reach the entrance.
I wince slightly as the huge doors swing open, the wind yowling wildly as it claws its way into the house, tugging at the settled silence until it no longer exists.
The four men stumble in blindly, a flurry of curses and grumbles exploding from their mouths and minds.
"Porthos, d'Artagnan get the door!" One of the men bellows as he leans heavily against one of the old table, his features aged but handsome, with captivating sea foam blue eyes and a dry smile.
The larger man releases a grunt, his dark eyes and complexion flickering wickedly against the fading light, his tight dark curls and broad frame filling the room with his character.
When the young and severely intriguing d'Artagnan fails to respond, seemingly lost in his own world, the final one shifts.
"For god's sake, boy." He cries, is fiery brown eyes and long glossly hair shimmering with anger and damp as he storms over and aids Porthos to close the writhing doors.
I swoop closer to the boy, his face a facade to hide the agony he's enduring. Panic clutching at my non existent heart I scan over the boy, locating a deep thick gash across the length of his torso.
I hiss, and the boy starts.
"Athos?" The angry one demands, gaining the eldests attention. "The provisions are soaked through!"
Athos let's out a low growl of frustration, glaring at the young man who's struggling desperately to not sway.
The boy looks up suddenly. "I'm-I'm so sorry..." He begins only to be snickered at impatiently by the others.
"d'Artagnan!" Athos hisses. "All you had to do was keep them dry!"
The young boy recoils slightly, his olive skin growing painfully paler by the minute and his dark eyes pleading with the men before him.
"Sorry." Is all he manages.
I shift again beside him, my heart reaching out to his gentle and brave soul, heartbroken at the amount of care and love he still holds for the men before him.
The boy twitches again.
"Do..do we have to stay here?" He asks sheepishly as the men begin to make their way through the large house.
The three stop abruptly.
"Why ever not?" Athos hollers as Aramis (as I've learnt his name is) glowers confusedly at the boy.
"It's just...I don't know...it's a little...eerie?" He tries, his cheeks flushing considerably and he clamps down a little tighter on his side.
The three before him erupt into laughter before Athos begins scolding him, the other two jeering at his cowardice.
d'Artagnan visibly winces and my heart thrums again, anger bubbling deep within me.
"Just go to bed." Athos huffs, sending another hurtful stare at d'Artagnan before they part to share seperate rooms along a single corridor.
I watch helplessly as d'Artagnan hobbles to his own room for the night, nervously lighting a lantern from his pack as he enters the room.
Weakly he manages to set up his blankets against the four poster bed and peels his boots and jacket off before he slumps into bed, the pain flaring along his side and consuming his thoughts with one terrifying blow.
Consumed suddenly with panic and red raw anger at the youngests mistreatment, I float across through the rooms, stopping abruptly as I reach Athos'.
The older man snoring softly against the bed, his arm wrapped protectively around his head whilst the other clutches a knife beneath his pillow.
I bite back a sneer.
Preparing to unleash hell on the three men who dared mis treat the young Gascon boy. .............................................................................
Athos' Nightmare.
I stumble blindly through the battlefield of smoke. The thick, choking air lodging itself deep within my throat and nose, burning my eyes.
"Aramis? Porthos? d'Artagnan?" I call breaking out into hoarse and ragged coughs.
All that answers me is eerie silence and the distant thrum of my own heart beat racing in my chest.
Wiping my streaming eyes, I drop lower to the ground, scuffling against the dry, cracked floor.
A small huddled figure, shivering on the ground appears from the dense fog. I speed up towards it, passing through the swirling air before dropping to my knees.
My heart fails to beat.
"d'Artagnan!" I breath, rolling the figure over with a trembling hand.
My breath hitches and my stomach rolls painfully. "Oh, lord!"
d'Artagnans face is deathly pale, his face taut with pain and agony and eyes squeezes shut. My eyes drift nervously to his torso where an impossibly large plume of blood has soaked straight through his clothes.
"'Thos." The boy wheezes, a ripple of blood exploding from his pale and chapped lips they break into a relieved smile.
Without thinking I scoop him up, laying his weak body against my lap and stroking through his hair.
"So...s'rry...'thos..." He chokes out on a sob, arching his back as more blood dribbles from his mouth and onto his chin.
"Ssh. d'Artagnan. Easy bow. You're going to be fine...I promise..." I blurt out, my voice straining as tears begin running down my cheeks as I hold the boy even closer.
"So...s'rry...so...so...s'rry..." He draws out before heaving one last final breath, his eyes suddenly fading.
"No, no, no!" I choke out with a gut wrenching sob. "d'Artagnan! d'Artagnan!" I beg, shaking his stiff body by the shoulders desperately. "Please! d'Artagnan! Please!"
My heart clenches painfully, causing me to bend over with one more wail of distress, d'Artagnan face shifting to appear like Thomas' before changing back once more.
"No!" I cry.
"No!"
I lurch up from bed, cold sweat soaking my through, my mouth dry and hot wet tears settling against my cheeks.
I swallow thickly, peering around the room in a frantic panic.
Slowly and steadily my nerves calm down as my memory does too. Waves of immense relief flood over me at the knowledge of our Gascon's safety.
Sucking in a cool deep breath I settle back down.
Still to afraid to close my eyes. .............................................................................
Porthos' Nightmare.
The ringing in my ears grows louder and louder with each second.
Wincing slightly and blinking rapidly I try to clear my vision. Something wiggles below me and I suddenly become aware of something laying in my arms.
I peer down in confusion only to cry out in shock.
For resting helplessly on my knees is d'Artagnan, his hand clutching desperately at his throat which is bleeding profusely, his eyes wide and mouth gargling with thick blood.
"Merde!" I hiss, losing my grip on the lad slightly in utter shock as his blood begins to spill down around his neck and against my palms.
"P'thos..." He chokes, grabbing feebly on my doublet, jarring me back into gm senses and forcing me to pull him into my arms.
With little hesitation I rip part of my shirt off and squash it to the gaping wound across his throat.
Panic begins bubbling on my chest, causing me to breath increasingly shallowly.
There's so much blood.
Too much blood.
d'Artagnan's writhing becomes weaker and weaker, the life draining out of him with each droplet of blood spilt and I find myself losing my composure.
"Please, d'Artagnan!" I plead with him, my voice barely above a whisper as emotion starts choking my voice.
"Stay awake, c'mon lad. Stay awake." My heart stutters.
Where is Aramis?
The feeling of powerlessness is overwhelming, peaking suddenly as the boy draws one last, pained breath before going limp in my arms. His dark eyes staring blankly up at me, pleading silently.
I choke out another sob, flopping weakly on top of the boy's body. Blinding waves of sadness and despair crashing against my shaking body.
"Please." I sob against his chest.
"Please!"
My eyes flying open, staring frantically up at the ceiling as my body's trembling subsides.
"d'Artagnan." I heave, sitting up slowly and scanning the dimly lit room.
I frown slightly.
The dream felt so real.
So, so, very real.
A flash of shame washes over me as I notice the tears on my cheeks. The feeling only growing as I recall how I'd mistreated the lad earlier today.
Peering weakly out of the window I realize morning is not far off, and decide to perch beside it instead of facing falling asleep once more.
Scared of what I may witness. .............................................................................
Aramis' Nightmare.
"Aramis!" Athos roars in my ear, tugging me through the infirmary doors.
Stumbling blindly, I barely have a chance to breathe when the patient is literally pushed before me.
I pause.
d'Artagnan lays before me, his eyes rolling in his head as his body writhes with pain, a deep, dark stab wound soaking blood over his gut.
Bile rises in my throat.
"There's...nothing...nothing I can do..." I breathe, staring down hopelessly at the young Gascon.
"'Mis..." He sobs, and I can't help but do so too.
"I'm so sorry." I blurt out, running my fingers through his hair, images of our little whelp flashing before me.
His fire and recklessness having captured our hearts as he earned his place in our brotherhood.
My heart clenches again as he cries out, gripping the sides of the table as more blood streams from the wound.
I let out another sob, dropping weakly to my knees and resting my head against the operating table where he lays. Whispering silent prayers into the table and clasping d'Artagnan's hands until they go limp.
I let out an agonized wail.
"d'Artagnan!"
I jolt out of bed, smacking my head against the nightstand as I spring out.
Stumbling slightly to my feet, my eyes begin to dart around the room.
I suck in a deep, calming breath, gathering my thoughts slowly.
Running a trembling hand through my sweaty hair I slump back down against the end of the bed..
"Just a dream." I sigh, reassuring my shaking body.
Lying back against the bedsheets, I gaze up at the ceiling.
Never daring to close my eyes, until morning comes and I lay eyes on the Gascon himself.
There's no point waking him now. .............................................................................
Feeling a little flustered, I wait impatiently outside d'Artagnan's room, urging his three friends go wake.
Uttering a sigh of relief, I watch as the three doors swing open in total harmony, the three men baring concerned looks and heavy, black bags under their eyes.
"You look great." Athos remarks dryly as Aramis rubs his eyes sleepily.
"Nightmares." He mutters back, instantly gaining the pairs attention.
"Same." They both whisper, sharing wide eyed looks, communicating silently.
Without looking at the other two, Aramis strides towards d'Artagnan door and knock on it accordingly.
"d'Artagnan?" He calls, leaning against the hardwood.
No reply.
"d'Artagnan?" I can't help but smile at the concern in his voice, before the three practically launch into the boys room.
I swoop in beside the boy, placing myself up against the mattress.
Porthos, Aramis and Athos all propel themselves towards the boy.
"d'Artagnan?" Aramis asks softly, leaning over the buy and poking his shoulder, frowning at the thick sheen of sweat lacing the young man's brow.
d'Artagnan let's out a moan. "Hursss." He whimpers, rolling away from the men.
"What does?" Athos asks suddenly, stepping around the bed and facing the boy, crouching close to him.
All the boy manages is another moan as he slips the sheets down further to show the deep, pus filled gash across his torso.
Aramis erupts in a flurry of spanish curses, as Athos slips behind the boy. Positioning him so that his limp head lolls against the man's shoulders, the boy's waist placed firmly between the man's legs to hold him steady.
Immediately Porthos rushes from the room, returning shortly with a medical stachel and some water.
I watch with a sad smile as he leans over and helps d'Artagnan to drink it, Athos whispering sweet nothingness' into his ears as he whimpers and moans in pain.
Aramis, meanwhile, begins prepping his needles.
"M'so...s'rry..." The boy begins only to be hushed by his 'mentor'.
"Easy, d'Artagnan. It's okay." He mumbles, soothing and relaxing the boy instantly.
"S'cold..." The boy manages weakly.
"I know, lad." Porthos say softly, yanking of his jacket and wrapping it over the boys shoulders before slipping off to gather some more.
Once he's returned Aramis has drained most of the pus and is stitching the wound. d'Artagnan now too weak to cry out, except the odd sob or moan, wriggles pathetically in Athos' arms, who's now buried his face into the lad's hair, pulling him close whilst apologizing for his actions yesterday.
My grin broadens as the men settle down around the boy. Porthos wrapping an arm around him as Aramis crisscrosses it on the other side.
I feel weak at the knees as d'Artagnan releases a weak sigh as he gives in to sleep in his smiling brothers arms.
My work here is done, I sigh weakly before returning to my post by the window sill.
Smiling contently. .............................................................................