A/N: Here is the promised epilogue! It isn't long, and I apologize for that, but it's what the boys decided to give me so we'll just have to abide by that.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and put this story down as a favorite. A special thank you to the guest reviewers to whom I cannot respond personally (especially Sandy, whose words actually brought tears to my eyes: thank you!). You are all amazing.

Also, there seems to be some technical error concerning some reviews. I've received all of them (again, thank you!) and will respond as soon as it gets fixed!

~Epilogue~

"He really needs to be awake for this?" Porthos asks, uncertainty written plainly on his face where he stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

Lemay gives him a sympathetic look.

"It will be a little unpleasant," the doc amends, "but the rude awakening he would get if we let him sleep would be worse, I guarantee you."

Aramis moves his left hand slightly – it still requires much more effort than he's entirely comfortable with – and Porthos is immediately at his side, squeezing it reassuringly.

"We are sure it is not too soon?" Athos asks from where he stands to Aramis' right, and although Aramis understands his friend's concern – shares it, to some degree – he is more than ready to be rid of this thing.

"His lungs looked clear enough on the latest x-ray, and he has proven that he is able to breathe on his own; it's time we remove this tube." Lemay turns to Aramis. "Now, this might feel slightly uncomfortable, but just continue to breathe at a regular, slow pace."

Aramis nods his understanding and, as Lemay moves closer to grab the tube, he allows his eyes to fall shut. When Lemay starts extracting it, he feels himself wanting to gag, but forcibly resists it.

When it's finally out, he takes his first unaided breath in days; it tickles in his throat, and he swallows down the urge to cough, wincing.

"Nice and slow," Lemay coaxes. "Breaths as deep as you can."

Aramis does as instructed, and doesn't open his eyes until he's sure that he won't suddenly burst into a coughing fit. His memory of the previous days is still a bit murky, but he can feel the remnants of those in his abused chest and lungs, and does not wish an encore.

Swallowing what feels like a week's worth of dust, he tests his mouth, reveling at the spaciousness of it now that the tube is finally gone.

A cup of water suddenly appears in front of him, and he takes it, arm still weak, hand trembling, and sips at its content. It stings in his throat but succeeds in washing the dust away, leaving behind it the fresh feeling of a spring's stream, and he sighs contentedly.

Three sets of eyes are watching him expectantly and he lets his eyes wander over them, lets them linger on the two men that he knows have been constantly by his side, even though he still fails to remember most of it. That he can always rely on, no matter what. That are more than teammates, more than friends.

He raises a tired eyebrow at them; it feels like it weighs a ton.

"You're staring," he says – or at least tries to; all that comes out is a barely comprehensible croak.

Nonetheless, Porthos' face splits into a huge grin.

"Better get used to it, mate, 'cause you ain't gettin' rid of us anytime soon."

Aramis can't even find it in him to fake affront.

Lemay moves closer to the bed, stethoscope firmly in hand.

"Let's take a look at you, then, shall we?"

At his instructions, Athos and Porthos help Aramis into a more upright position, and the next few minutes pass in relative silence, the only sounds Aramis' carefully controlled breathing and the occasional hum from Lemay.

When it's over, he's gently pushed back against the pillows. As he blinks his surroundings back into focus, a cup materializes in front of him anew. He doesn't reach for it, but allows Porthos to help him swallow the cool water, and can't help but to wince slightly as it jabs at his abused throat like an army of fire ants.

Of course, that doesn't go unnoticed by Lemay, who then submits him to a thorough throat exam that, by the time it's completed, has left Aramis feeling utterly drained.

"Your larynx is slightly inflamed, so you will most likely experience some difficulty swallowing for a few days. It should heal on its own, though."

Aramis nods in lieu of answering. He can feel a coughing fit building after all the moving about and wants to postpone it for as long as possible.

Still, there is one question that needs answering.

Swallowing, and wincing, Aramis looks to Lemay.

"So, when can I leave?"

Athos heaves an almighty sigh and looks skyward – presumably in a rare plea for some divine intervention – and Porthos' face is stuck in such a comical combination of amusement and pure, unadulterated disbelief that Aramis would have laughed, had he not been so sure it would end with him hacking up a lung.

Lemay, well-practiced in ignoring their antics, shakes his head.

"It all depends on the progress you're making, but I want you to stay for observation for a few more day, at the very least."

Aramis frowns.

"Why?"

Athos makes a frustrated sound through his nose.

"Was the damage to your memory more severe than previously expected, or are you honestly that much of an idiot?" he asks, and Aramis blinks at him, taken off-guard by the amount of anger coating Athos' voice. "You nearly died, Aramis. If Dr. Lemay advises you to stay put, then you Stay. Put."

"Surely recovering someplace else would be just as efficient," he protests weakly.

"You haven't been able to breathe on your own for over a week," Porthos points out, and Aramis heaves a sigh, because of course they're both right.

As if to drive the point home, that's when his lungs decide that they have waited their turn long enough and he's overtaken by a bout of violent coughing.

Somewhere in the distance, Athos swears, and Aramis feels himself being pushed forwards, hands on his shoulders keeping him from folding in on himself completely.

The fit isn't particularly drawn-out, but what it lacks in persistence it makes up for tenfold in ruthlessness, and by the time it's over, Aramis feels as though he's been tossed around in a dryer – and quite possibly lost a lung in the process.

He takes a tentative breath, and when it doesn't immediately make his entire torso seize up, he cracks bleary eyes open and, upon doing so, he realizes two things.

One: Athos and Porthos have somehow managed to press themselves as close to him as is possible on the hospital bed without ending up in his lap, successfully sandwiching him between them.

Two: It's not entirely uncomfortable.

"Back with us?" Porthos asks, voice a gentle rumble that seeps into Aramis' bones like a balm.

Aramis hums noncommittally. He wants to offer them further reassurances, but between the inebriated stumble of his brain cells – connecting words into sentences: a skill he is apparently lacking, at the moment – and the blissful sensation of Athos' almost tender fingers carding through his hair, it's increasingly difficult.

"Aramis?"

He somehow manages to concentrate long enough to raise his hand in a short, dismissive kind of wave, before it flops back down in his lap.

"Fine," he mumbles, though he makes no move to extract himself from either of them. He doesn't have the energy to, just yet. "But maybe staying here isn't such a bad idea, after all."

Athos huffs, the headshake audible in his voice.

"You are impossible."

"I'm sure that was somehow meant as a compliment," Aramis quips around a smirk, letting his eyes fall close again.

Athos gives him an unimpressed look – he can't actually see it, of course, but he knows it's there.

"I think I preferred it when you didn't talk."

Porthos doesn't make a sound, but Aramis can feel him shaking in silent laughter and only grins wider.

The road to recovery will be a long one, he knows. He feels it in the lingering heaviness of his limbs, in the fog still clouding his mind, in the distant rattle of his lungs. Yes, it will take time, and there will be discomfort, a fair amount of frustration, and plenty of verbal sparring, no doubt. Not to mention extreme boredom.

Now though, in this moment, secured between the steadiness of his brothers, soaking in their gentle care, Aramis can't really find it in him to complain.

A/N: That's all for now, folks! If you enjoyed it, stay tuned, because there's still much more to come ;)

All the best!

Linguam