Chapter Text
“If I die, d’you think I’ll go to heaven?” Sputtering words that were feeble and hardly perceptible left the soldier’s lips. Crimson, crimson everywhere. Blood was no stranger to Aramis, but this was ungodly.
“I believe if you repent, you shall.” His brother-in-arms lay at his feet gurgling in his own claret liquid that once ran through his veins.
“Tell 'em m’sorry.” The man was not small, fragility had never been in his nature until this point. His usually ochre skin was just as pale as Aramis’, and the latter all but refused to let him pass, here and now.
“This is not your time. You will tell them yourself, on God.” Choking, he was choking on his tears. He had to be strong. Not for himself, but for his comrade who lay sprawled in agony upon the dirt and rubble of the passing battle. He didn’t deserve to die like this. He was a good man. Everyone made terrible decisions, yet this particular soldier had made very few, and far between.
“You are a saint, Porthos. God will forgive you.” Aramis’ hands grasped the front of his closest friend’s armour. Despite all that was happening, the wounded monsieur began to laugh. A hearty, but weak chuckle that made those dimples crease and those eyes twinkle.
“I’ve killed men, Ar’mis. M’ hardly a decent man, much less a man of god.”
“Please. Athos will arrive soon, you can hold out till then, yeah?” His sooty hands clutched that leather jacket’s collar, fingers becoming white, knuckles even whiter.
“I’ve never been patient.” Porthos coughed. His body shook, similarly to how Aramis’ at this point. They lay in each others’ grasp, silently but for the rasping, ragged breathing that came from the marred man.
“You’re too good a man to go to hell.”
“Put in a good word with God for me, ‘Miz.”
His eyes began to tear up. “I’ll get to see my mum soon.”
“I reckon you will.” Aramis squeezed his eyes shut. Despite the darkened world that closed eyes brought him, the vision of Porthos’ pained face stuck in his mind. He couldnt let his friend die, but there was nothing left to do. “You’ll go to purgatory, at the very least.”
“Miz’.”
A strangled noise of inquiry left his lips.
“Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
And with that, the man drew his last breath.