Alone in their bedroom, Aramis lifts his head at the sound of the door. His body feels stiff right down to his fingers, still clutching at the phone in his hands. He'd fumbled Porthos' number twice, and the calls that made it through went unanswered. It must have been hours ago now. Aramis takes a breath around the lump in his throat.

He knows very well what this is. This is shock, but the knowing it doesn't make it any easier to move, nor does it help him to push past this numbness to confusing mix of elation, surprise, and near panic beneath. Aramis clears his throat, but all he manages is a croak of Porthos' name.