Disclaimer: Planning on getting the S1 DVD on blu-ray soon, but I'm fairly certain that's as much of it as I'll ever own. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

A/N: I don't know what it is about 'The Good Soldier' but I just keep coming back to it. This story is dedicated to Richefic and his amazing epic 'All For One', as it was this story that really got me into Athos and Aramis moments. The title is a play on Queen Elizabeth's I quote on how the past cannot be cured.

Curing the Past

The past is never dead. It is not even past. – William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun

True friendship multiplies the good in life and divides its evil. – Baltasar Gracian

The stars glowed softly over the small, silent town. All of its inhabitants had long since retired for the evening, and unlike Paris, where (in parts) the nights could be livelier than the days, the dark meant only rest for the citizens here – a time for rejuvenation and preparation for what each hoped would be a productive and prosperous morning. It was the sort of town that Athos and his brothers seldom found themselves but Athos was grateful for it. Just as he was (and forever would be) grateful for the man who in his great wisdom understood that an uneventful mission that took them a long ways from Paris was exactly what was needed. Indeed, it only served to further cement in his mind that Treville was truly among the best of men. Not even the truth of Savoy could change Athos' opinion on that and he was eternally grateful that his brother and the captain had seemed to make peace, for Athos knew all too well the burden of duty and what could cost a man to choose it over his heart.

It was Treville, in fact, who was partially responsible for their stop in this town – calling Athos into his office a few days prior to the mission to tell him of their destination, making sure to point out the towns along the way and, in particular, those large enough to have inns. Athos had nodded his understanding and immediately proceeded to plan their itinerary, doing his best to ensure that even with any unforeseen trouble that they'd be able to make civilization each evening so as to minimize any chance of forest sleeping. But even with the careful preparations and the rather large, comfortable room they were all sharing, Athos had a feeling that tonight would be a restless one. Call it an instinct, honed through years of personal experience – and tonight it whispered that the demons were coming for his brother. It's why he had chosen for forego sleep tonight – recent events had also stirred up his own ghosts and he knew that he did not have the strength to battle both his own and Aramis'.

"Mmmmm." The groan stirred Athos from his reverie and his head snapped towards the bed to see if the battle had begun. Instead he felt a smile ghost over his lips at the sight before him: d'Artagnan had rolled over onto his front, his arm now hanging over the edge of the bed, his hand scraping the floor that might soon be his next resting spot. Athos rolled his eyes even as an amused huff escaped his lips. The boy had somehow got it in his head that he was intruding by sharing the bed and stubbornly insisted taking the far edge. Athos was almost to the point where he was hoping that the boy would roll off the bed. Perhaps that would teach him. Athos shook his head – it seemed that his next task would be resolving this conundrum.

An unexpected wave of emotion washed over Athos as he suddenly considered how quickly d'Artagnan had become a part of them, of him. Indeed, there were times when it seemed as if he'd been with them forever, when in reality it had only been a few months. And in some ways, it had been even less for Athos, who had at first resisted drawing close to the boy with every fiber of his being.

"If you don't tell them, I will."

Something shifted in Athos the moment those words were spoken. Up until then he'd still been unsure as to the boy's place in their (his) life. While he would have admitted to being impressed by the boy's talent and aptitude and (even if only to himself) to a growing fondness for the boy, he was still just that – a boy: reckless, impulsive, and above all young, both in age and experience – all traits that made Athos wary. Even the events at la Fère had not changed Athos' opinions on that, but in that moment d'Artagnan's choice revealed an insightfulness that Athos had not expected. Moments before he'd willingly lied to his captain, spectacularly embarrassing himself in the process, but he would not allow Aramis to keep this from his brothers. Any reservations that Athos may have had fell away in that moment – knowing that d'Artagnan instinctively recognized the danger that Marsac had posed to their brotherhood and that he had willingly braved both the captain's wrath and Aramis' displeasure to ensure its safety.

"No…"

The soft cry drew Athos from his reverie and he quickly made his way over to Aramis' side of the bed. Aramis' eyes were moving swiftly behind closed lids and he'd already begun to shake and twitch. Athos hesitated for but a moment before placing his hands over Aramis' and calling his name.

"Aramis," he called again when his first attempt failed. "Aramis, wake up. You're safe." Aramis bolted upright with a start his breath ragged, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Athos waited for his brother's breath to slow before gently squeezing the wrists he'd caught to keep Aramis from flailing. Simultaneously, Aramis' head snapped towards the direction of the pressure while he also tried to jerk away from the unexpected contact. Athos felt his chest constrict at Aramis' reaction before his brother began to blink, each flicker seemingly bringing his brother slowly back to the present.

"Apologies," muttered Aramis turning away while slow extricating himself from Athos' grip. "I did not mean to wake you." Aramis kept his eyes fixed on a small crease in the sheets between him and Porthos, unable to meet Athos' eyes – his emotions still far too raw, too numerous and too close to the surface.

"No apologies necessary, I was already up." Athos held back a sigh at Aramis' lack of reaction to his confession. "I have not your skill with words or healing, but if you wish to speak I would listen." Athos felt a lump form in his own throat as he watched his brother swallow heavily, head bowed, his eyes still fixated on the same point on the bed.

"I'm always so close," spoke Aramis at last, his hoarse whisper barely breaking the silence. "But I'm never in time. I'm always too late…too late to save him."

"Aramis," said Athos, reaching out to cover his brother's hand with his own, "you did all that you could. He didn't want to be saved."

"I should have done more," said Aramis, shaking his head. "I should have stopped him."

"When? Before you knew what he was planning or after he knocked you unconscious."

"Not then, before…Savoy…," trailed Aramis.

"Aramis," hissed Athos vehemently, surging forwards to cup Aramis' face in his hands forcing his brother to turn to him. "You were wounded, near mortally so, barely dressed and freezing and he abandoned you!" Athos wrestled down the fury that grew within him at the thought. Marsac. His mind spat the name like the curse it was. A part of him wished that he could have found a reason to kill the man himself – whatever it might have cost him, it surely would have been worth sparing Aramis this.

"He saved my life." Aramis shook his head, refusing to meet Athos' eyes and Athos had to resist the urge to shake sense into his brother at the brokenly whispered words.

"You saved your life," declared Athos, moving one of his hands to behind Aramis' neck and squeezing to re-enforce his words. "First in those woods and then after – with your will and your courage you pulled yourself through. To know you and to be called your brother is one of the greatest privileges I have had in my life." Athos felt himself relax slightly as Aramis finally met his eyes, a small smile ghosting his face. Then something flashed in Aramis' eyes and he dropped his gaze again and Athos felt the lump reforming in his throat.

"I have been poor brother as of late," confessed Aramis. "I could have gotten you all hanged and then before…"

"Before?" questioned Athos. Aramis said nothing, but raised his gaze once more to lock eyes with his brother and all at once it dawned on Athos. "Aramis you cannot possibly see any wrong in your actions at la Fère. Porthos was your first priority and should have been mine had I not been such a coward…"

"Athos, don't." Aramis cut his brother off, placing a hand and squeezing on his outstretched arm. "I above all know what it is to have a place haunt you, and you showed more courage than I ever could have. You went back – I would never have the strength to return to Savoy, not even if it meant saving your lives."

"Aramis, you cannot possibly believe that. You who will take neither food nor water nor rest before he has ensured that he has tended to any and all of his injured brothers; who pours his heart and soul into saving every man he can – even those who at first, perhaps, did not wish to be saved," confessed Athos.

Aramis swallowed at Athos' words, looking away again; for a long moment silence hung heavy between them. "So you're saying that you can save people who don't want to be saved."

"Only those who are wise enough to listen," declared Athos firmly, placing a hand on Aramis' chin, forcing him to face him once more.

"I don't suppose I could get that in writing," mused Aramis, finally meeting his brother's eyes, his lips quirking upwards slightly. Athos felt his chest loosen at even the ghost of the familiar expression he'd grown so fond of.

"Perhaps, but only if you use that good sense that I know that you must possess somewhere in that thick head of yours and listen to me. You did all that you could, fought and risked everything you were for him – even beyond death. So much so that he now lies at home with his brothers; something I am sure that he never would have dreamed possible. He made his choices – he chose to leave and he chose to stay away." Athos leaned in close as he spoke the whispered yet passionate words, pressing his forehead to Aramis'.

"And you chose to join."

"And you chose to stay, in every way – and I will forever be grateful for that. Believe me when I say I know the strength it can take to make that choice…do you trust me Aramis?" Athos felt his own emotions well at the quick nod his brother gave. "Then trust me when I say that you chose well – and many lives have been saved and made better because of your choice, your strength." Athos squeezed Aramis' shoulder to re-enforce his words and when he met his brother's eyes he was pleased to see that the man had taken his words to heart, even if he could still see the doubt shading the edges.

BANG!

Athos and Aramis both started at the sound, their heads jerking towards the noise, while Porthos shot straight up hand instinctively going to where his hip where sword normally rest. "What's going on?" exclaimed Porthos. Any response was cut-off by the groan of a familiar voice and Athos couldn't help the amused snort that escaped his nostrils as the three men peered over the side of the bed to look down at the dark-haired heap on the floor.

"Well, you can't say we didn't warn you," murmured Athos, half exasperatedly. However, he felt his heart swell at the amused guffaw that escaped from Aramis.

"Nmmmmm," groaned the Gascon, "what ha-…" D'Artagnan flushed a deep shade of crimson as the realization of what just occurred hit him with its full, utterly mortifying force. "My God, did I wake everyone?"

"Only the one who's most dangerous when he's startled awake," joked Aramis.

Porthos shot a look at the two of them, but the small shake of Athos' head kept him silent. For his part, d'Artagnan seemed not to notice any of it, still completely mortified by the situation. "I am so sorry; I'm so very…"

"Never mind that." Athos quickly cut their youngest member off before he could continue his babbling. "Just get back into bed – here." He pointed at the spot between Porthos and Aramis. "Now everyone get some sleep, I want to get an early start tomorrow." Aramis lay back down and closed his eyes but found that he was still too wound to sleep. So instead he focused on the sounds of his brothers' breathing, listening for the change when they fell back to sleep. Porthos was first and d'Artagnan followed soon after. At that, Aramis cracked his eyes open and watched contentedly at the gentle rise and fall of his brothers' chest. A sudden thought caused Aramis to freeze – the horrifying image stealing his breath away. He inhaled sharply at the feeling of a hand squeezing his shoulder.

"Sleep Aramis," instructed Athos as Aramis turned to meet his eyes. "We have many long days ahead of us." Aramis smiled at his brother's words and as he exhaled he felt his eyes close as the tension left his body, his mind protectively wrapping itself in Athos' unspoken promise. We're here. You're safe. We'll all be here in the morning…and every morning after.