#A few episodes later he's in the corner holding back tears when he realizes Constance is gonna be okay

[nobodysdaydreams]

Presenting the Crowning Achievement of Jeffers' Career:

Inspired by this post by @amysterywrappedinanenigma

@mvshortcut Here it is. Hopefully the clip is okay.

[veneataur]

Prompt: Grief

Fandom: BBC’s The Musketeers

Title: The Phone Call

As Aramis stands, tucked in the alleyway to protect against the wind, he knows he will hear it from the others when he sees them. That is precisely the reason he called Constance, once he managed to convince the stranger that his badge was, in fact, real and he was an officer in distress. He also made sure to delete the call, a trick he learned from Athos.

That one-minute call feels like it was made hours ago but Aramis knows that it can’t have been more than a dozen or so minutes. It’s the cold and the snow and the wind that’s making the time drag. And it doesn’t help that in his rush from the building, he forgot his jacket. It was still light when he left, mid-afternoon if he remembers correctly. Now, the sun has set and he’s in his old haunting grounds. His clothes are muddy and wet both from tripping in his frantic run and the falling snow, which started just before sunset. He’s been shivering since he stopped running and realized where he was and is sure that he’ll get sick. The scrapes on his hands and face from not quite catching himself when he fell ache and sting.

Quite simply, he is miserable, both physically and emotionally.

When he sees a car turn the corner, he moves to step out of his makeshift shelter. But then the car zooms past and he catches the license plate to see that it’s not Constance. For a brief moment his little shelter feels warm with the lack of wind when he steps back in, but then the cold seeps back in and he shivers anew.

He shouldn’t’ve run. The others didn’t even know why. They were asking him what happened. He saw their mouths move, their questioning looks, but missed the shock and concern as he bolted. They might’ve made some connections if Athos was able to break through his phone. The man could do it, Aramis was sure of that. And while he normally wouldn’t breach Aramis’ privacy, this was not a normal occurrence.

Minutes later, when the shivering is tooth-rattling and he regrets not layering better today, Constance arrives. He waits this time for the car to stop fully before coming out of his shelter. When she yells his name out, he walks quickly over. Slipping is the last thing he needs for his day.

“Here.” Constance holds out a thick blanket, which he grabs right away and wraps around himself. Then he gets in and buckles up. But she doesn’t take off right away.

“They know I was coming to get you,” she says.

“Th…anks.” The shivers seem to be even more pronounced now despite the warmth that is gradually seeping in.

“They wanted to come with. I told them I’d keep them updated.”

“Thank… you.”

“And Treville gave me this.” She holds out an inhaler which he takes right away and uses. Running in the cold had aggravated his asthma.

She sends a quick text, which he guesses is to Athos and then takes off. They don’t speak on the drive for which he is grateful. The heater is up high and he knows that she must be sweating but it’s taking everything not to throw his face right in front of the vents to thaw it out. He’s not surprised when she takes him to her place instead of going home. All of them have spent a night at her place, him most of all.

When they get there, she is out first and just as he manages to undo his seatbelt and open the door, she is there with a hand to help him up. He doesn’t balk at the help, feeling like an old man as the temperature change has left his body aching. He stands, huddled pathetically in the now cold and wet blanket as she locks up the car and then turns to help him in her apartment. The elevator is broken, leaving them to climb three flights.

His wet clothes chafe and weigh him down nearly as much as his heart and mind but he keeps it to himself. Instead, he puts one foot in front of the other, thinking only about dry clothes and a hot shower. Slowly, they put the flights behind them.

“Why don’t you go get a shower and I’ll get something together for dinner,” Constance says once they’re in her apartment.

He nods and wanders off. He knows where everything is.

He can’t think of a better shower in more recent memory. He tries not to use all of the hot water, but he does. He doesn’t want to get out, sure that once he does the warmth, the comfort will be gone. He knows it will because then he will have to face the phone call.

But he does and not because the hot water runs out. He likes to think he’s the sort who doesn’t run from his problems but he does. He has. If nothing else, he can say that he will face them in time, his time.

He puts on his warmest clothes. Constance insisted when it became clear that her spare bedroom was a safe zone for them that they at least keep a couple spare sets of clothes there. He wears a pair of sweatpants, thick wool socks Athos found for him one Christmas, an undershirt, a long-sleeved shirt and a sweater, one his oldest sister knitted him and he is warm. More than that, he is cozy.

His scrapes cleaned and the worst of them bandaged, he pads out into the kitchen where Constance is just finishing up dinner.

“I don’t have much, but I thought I nice hot meal would help you warm up,” she says with a smile.

“You didn’t have to do anything. I’ve asked too much of you already.”

“It’s nothing. I had the extra chili in the fridge and the corn muffins took hardly any work. There’s some water in the kettle, which should be hot. You can make yourself some tea.”

“Thanks.” He goes to make the tea, keen to have something warm to drink.

“It’s what friends do, Aramis,” Constance says.

Aramis smiles, as he looks down at his tea brewing. This is why he likes Constance. He gets on well with the others, but there’s a special bond between him and Constance. More than any of the others, they’re on the same wavelength. She gets him in ways that frustrate the others.

“They’ve all sent their well-wishes and offer their help in whatever way they can,” Constance says.

“Thanks for dealing with them.”

“Well, you can’t really without your phone, can you?” She pulls the phone out of her pocket and puts it on the counter. He makes no move for it and she doesn’t say a word other than that dinner is ready.

They chat idly as they eat.

When the dishes are done and both are sitting in the living room with mugs of hot chocolate in their hands, Aramis wrapped in a blanket against the cold that he can still feel in his bones and what will come, they talk.

His phone has migrated from the kitchen counter to the coffee table. He can’t help but stare at it.

“How’re you doing,” Constance asks.

“Tired and cold.”

“I’m not surprised. You were miles from headquarters and sopping wet when I found you. What happened?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure how I got there,” Aramis says, closing his eyes. “All I remember is running.”

“Did you have a panic attack or a flashback?”

“Yeah but I don’t think I can tell you which right now. It’s not quite clear. I kept seeing Afghanistan and the massacre. I’m not sure how I came out of it.” He looks at her and shrugs his shoulders. “I was sitting in that alley when I realized where I was.” He remembers having the usual confusion and haziness that came with an episode.

“How are you feeling with them now?”

“Fine.” He shrugs again.

“You okay with talking about what happened?”

Aramis sighs and nods. He’s not but he knows he has to.

“Who called?” Her voice is quiet and reassuring. He sets the mug aside.

“I didn’t know them. I don’t know how they got my number,” he answers, voice flat. He squeezes his eyes shut at the memories. Then there’s a gentle hand rubbing against his.

“Aramis, who were they?”

“The parents of one of the children I got killed,” he answers with a strangled sob. Constance is next to him in an instant, mug set aside and a hand around him, pulling him close.

“You didn’t get them killed,” she says. Most days now he understands that but there are some days still that it doesn’t matter how many times they say it, how many ways, he will never believe it. She lets him work through his tears before continuing.

“What did they want?” She rubs a hand on his back.

“They’re going to be in the States to meet with some charities and politicians. They want to see me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Aramis says plainly.

“They didn’t say?”

“I didn’t hear. I blanked out after the visiting and ran out soon after that.”

“Oh. Well, maybe it’s something good.” She tries to be cheerful.

“No. They’re angry and they have every right to be. I got their child killed.”

“You didn’t but I know you’re not going to believe that right now, so I’ll leave it. But tomorrow and every day after that I’m going to remind you that you didn’t get them killed.” She pauses to let the words sink in. “Did they sound angry?”

“It was choppy. They were having a hard time speaking English. They didn’t know that I speak Pashto.”

“Well, I doubt you were able to speak.”

“No, I couldn’t.” Aramis shakes his head.

“Maybe it was just a misinterpretation,” Constance says.

“No.”

“You don’t know for sure unless you speak with them again.”

“I couldn’t.” Aramis’ face goes paler than it is already.

“You can because I’ll be there to help you. So will the others, probably, but I won’t speak for them.”

“I….”

“You need to,” she interrupts him. “You’re not going to be able to settle until you know what’s coming.”

Aramis sighs. She knows him well.

“You won’t be alone.” She reassures him, giving him a hug.

“I know. I know,” he mutters.

They’re silent for a while, Aramis enjoying the warmth and Constance’s steady presence.

“How mad are they,” Aramis asks.

“They’re not mad. They were puzzled and worried. They wanted to search for you.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t.”

“Treville convinced them it would be pointless for a few hours.”

“He knows me well.” Aramis smiles lightly.

“Anyway, I warned them before I left about giving you too much flack for this. Told them you had a good reason and that I wouldn’t stand for them bombarding you with questions and their concerns.”

“And that’s why I’m here?”

“Do you not want to be?” She turns to look at him.

“No, I’m happy here. I couldn’t face them tonight. I know they care but they’re overwhelming together.”

“Oh, I understand that.” She’d faced them all this evening right after Aramis called.

As they lapse back into silence, Aramis finds himself strangely content. He’s not thinking about his past or the phone call. He doesn’t fret over still having to deal with the call and the parents. Instead, he’s content and he thanks Constance for that.