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The heat makes it hard to breathe, his eyes feel like they are full of sand. The desert doesn't let him go; Good Lord knows how long he's been wandering here. Vague shadows flicker around, but his eye does not catch on to any of them. Until a dark figure almost blocks his path. Aramis takes an unsure step forward, trying to look closer, but the features blur in a wavering haze.
"Goodbye, old friend, " is heard all around, and suddenly his vision clears.
The sand is soaked with blood, a bunch of crows is circling in the distance. The man in front of him smiles sadly, squinting the blue eyes. There's a hole in his chest, leaking red. Athos!.. Gasping with horror, Aramis takes a couple of steps towards him, stretching out his hands, but his friend is already disappearing behind a white shroud...
The heat suddenly gives way to a blizzard, making the tears freeze on his cheeks. He screams, breaking his voice, but there is still only snow and silence around. Then all of a sudden, a warm light appears in the distance. Someone approaches, taking him into a strong embrace, covering him with a wide musketeer cloak, and Aramis allows himself to cry, burying his face in someone's doublet, smelling of leather and wine and horses.
"Hush, hush, what is it?" a familiar voice mutters softly over his ear, a gentle hand rubbing his shoulder.
The feelings gradually return, bringing the flickering of candles, the prickly blanket, the smell of vinegar... And the pain that takes his breath away. He groans, unable to help himself. The hands holding him clench a bit tighter.
"Shh, lie still, the good doctor won't appreciate you opening the wound." Athos — real, alive — carefully lays him down on the bed, looks into his face, wiping his wet cheeks with a palm of his hand. His eyes are full of worry and pain, the face looks haggard. But he is so damn alive...
"Hush, mi amigo, todo bien...* " The language of his childhood is always soothing, even in Athos' clumsy pronunciation. Aramis blindly reaches for his hand, presses it to his cheek. Alive... Just a nightmare, nothing more. He sobs again, this time with relief. Athos leans to him, awkwardly kisses his forehead. "It's all right, you're safe. We are all safe."
Then there is a mug pressed to his lips, and Aramis obediently swallows the bitter liquid. He still lacks the strength to speak. Athos straightens the blanket, strokes his hair tenderly like he is a child. "Go to sleep, my friend, we are all here." Aramis meets his gaze, frowns, hardly moving the chapped lips.
"You all... Just live... please…"
Falling into the cozy dark oblivion, he still manages to hear Athos' hoarse reply.
"You too…"
___
* my friend, it's all right