I have written one more short story about the Prisoners of War episode. Each time I've watched it, I can't believe the writers just had Aramis' brothers totally ignore him after the rescue. It goes against the whole brotherhood aspect so carefully built up through the previous seasons, especially since all three of them had experienced what Grimaud was capable of personally, and almost died doing so. There are three times that one of the brothers is injured where they were shown love and compassion: The first episode where d'Artagnan passes out in front of Constance and she takes care of him; Porthos' injury in Commodities; and Athos twice-after he was attacked by Grimaud and Sylvie and Constance took care of him, and after he was poisoned and Elodie sat with him. If I missed one, please let me know. All three of the others, but never Aramis, other than the jokes spoken when they found he was alive in Through a Glass Darkly.

And there is another aspect that has just occurred to me, as well. This idea is happening more and more in tv/movies. Someone is shot, stabbed, injured in some way by a bad guy, and gets up and acts as if nothing is wrong. This is a very bad idea to implant in impressionable minds, who already like to imitate what they see on film, that they can't really inflict much harm by anything they might do.

IGNORED

Aramis didn't think they would ever get home. He had never been so happy to see the gates of the garrison looming ahead of him.

He was actually surprised that he had stayed in his saddle the whole way, without landing face-first in the dirt along the road. His head was throbbing and making him extremely dizzy, his ribs made him want to wrap his arms around them they hurt so badly, his wrists were inflamed and rubbed raw from the shackles, and he thought both shoulders might be dislocated. Then, there was the foot that Grimaud had stomped in fury at his almost having escaped.

After Grimaud had escaped, Athos busied himself with giving the cadets instructions for the disposition of the Spanish prisoners, concerning himself with making sure they got food and water, and weren't too uncomfortable in the wagon in which they were being transported.

Porthos and d'Artagnan stood to one side, talking about d'Artagnan's cousin and how he had saved Athos' life, and their frustration that Grimaud had once more got away. But Aramis couldn't help the thought that ran through his head. Not one of them had looked his way since his outburst after being rescued. They had totally ignored him. They had not asked how he was, despite the fact that Grimaud's reputation was well-known to all of them, that he was vindictive, violent,cruel and sadistic-not to mention that he was known to hate the Musketeers. Had not one of his brothers wondered once about what might have happened while he was in the man's clutches?

He caught himself as he nearly slipped out of his saddle. None of his brothers even noticed.

He righted himself, and stopped the sigh that had almost escaped. Were they that angry with him for trying to negotiate with Spain for a long hoped-for peace? He had asked Anne more than once to bring their negotating efforts to Louis' notice, but each time she had been adamant in her refusal, and he loved her so much he could refuse her nothing.

He had been so wrapped up in his confusion over his brothers' behavior that they were already inside the garrison gates before he even noticed. His brothers had all dismounted, and were heading off in different directions, Athos up to his office, Porthos and d'Artagnan to the table for some hoped-for lunch.

Aramis very slowly dismounted, afraid of making a fool of himself in front of the cadet now patiently holding the reins of his horse. Moving very slowly and with a pronounced,painful limp, he headed for his room, finally able to shut the door and head for his bed to lay his body down for some much-needed rest.

Only he never made it to his bed but only about two steps inside his door before he crumpled to the floor, slamming against his table on the way down, where he lay in a heap.

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Next morning, Porthos and d'Artagnan were at muster as Athos gave out their assignments.

"Where is Aramis?" Athos asked.

Porthos, in a very good mood after an excellent breakfast, joked, "Queen probably sent him off on another 'personal' assignment," to which d'Artagnan, the perfect foil, laughed.

Athos was not amused. "Porthos, go roust him out. I need all three of you for an assignment. I have not seen him since we got back, so obviously he has had enough rest."

Porthos knocked on Aramis' door, but received no reply. Frowning, he came back. "Maybe he went right back out again to a lady friend's?"

"Check the refectory, d'Artagnan."

"He isn't there,either. We just came from breakfast."

Athos asked if anyone else had seen him, but received one shake of the head after another.

"Check the stables and the gun room. He may have decided to give his horse a rubdown, or work on some of the guns."

D'Artagnan came back shaking his head. "Not in either of those places."

But instead of being concerned about their missing brother, all three of his friends wondered what he was up to now, still upset with his secret plans with the Queen.

Athos said, "I will let him know what happens with dereliction of duty when he finally returns. Porthos, d'Artagnan, you have your orders."

Turning on his heel, he headed back to his office, Porthos and d'Artagnan to their assignment.

Coming back hours later, Porthos asked if Aramis had come back. Receiving a shake of the cadet's head, he frowned and began to be worried.

Heading over to Aramis' room, he tried knocking on the door again. No answer. This time, he tried the door knob, and finding it unlocked, opened the door. Shock replaced his frown at the sight that met his eyes.

Aramis was sprawled on the floor, his table overturned and its contents spilled around him. It was obvious that he had hit the table on his way down, or maybe had tried to grab hold of it to stop his fall.

Porthos leaned his head out the door and yelled "Athos!", before moving swiftly to his brother and kneeling at his side. Laying his hand on his brother's shoulder, he gently shook it, not knowing about Aramis' injuries. Aramis let out an agonizing scream, curling into himself in pain as Porthos hurriedly took his hand away.

"Aramis!" Porthos said again, thinking his friend was conscious because of the reaction, but he received no reply. Aramis had reacted in a half-conscious state, still unresponsive to his name.

Athos came hurriedly through the door, freezing at the sight which greeted him. Moving to his brother's side, he asked Porthos, "What happened?"

Porthos shook his head, saying, "He was this way when I opened the door. Do you think he has been like this since we came back?"

Athos shook his head, never taking his eyes off of Aramis' face.

D'Artagnan flew in the door next, stopping just as Athos had, shock registering on his face.

Athos told him, "Go get Constance. She will know where the palace physician is." D'Artagnan turned without a word to get his wife, worry for his friend making him run.

Athos said, "We need to get him into his bed. We have no idea how long he has been on the floor like this, but a soft mattress will be much better."

Silently, they lifted their brother, who continued to be limp and silent.

Laying him on the bed, Athos and Porthos began taking off his weapons, sash and belt. But when they had undone his doublet and started to remove it, Aramis let out a deep groan of pain. Startled, they hesitated. But Athos said, "We need to see his injuries. It is obvious he is wounded somewhere on his upper body, and the only way to find out is to remove his doublet and shirt."

They got his doublet off, but not without several moans from their unconscious brother. Next, they began to take off his shirt, but the reaction this time was louder and more agonizing than before. Now, even more worried, Athos pulled his main gauche and ran it under the fastenings, severing them in one move. He then made short work of the sleeves, cutting them off in his haste, and they finally were able to look and see what was wrong with their brother.

The first thing that became glaringly obvious was that his shoulders were massively swollen. Looking at each other, they knew what that meant-they were dislocated. What in the world had Grimaud done to him to cause this? Knowing they had to cause their brother even more pain by putting the shoulder bones back in place, they delayed a few moments, taking stock of his other injuries.

He had several long, painful-looking marks across his ribcage, and they suspected that he had either bruised or broken ribs because of the deep purplish color in that area. His face was heavily bruised, but it was the goose-egg on his forehead that concerned them more. He may have acquired a concussion from that.

Athos was feeling the top of his head gently, when he encountered another bump on the back. Feeling sick at heart, he said to Porthos, "He has more than one head injury. If he was indeed unconscious since yesterday, that is undoubtedly why."

Porthos had been examining the rest of Aramis' body while Athos checked his head. He now said, "Athos," very quietly.

When Athos looked up, Porthos pointed to Aramis' left foot, which was laying at an odd angle. They looked at each other, and Athos said,"Broken." Porthos responded angrily, "Mangled's a better work for it."

Athos was becoming more sick to his stomach as Aramis' injuries unfolded. Aramis had been at the mercy of a man known for his cruel and sadistic behavior, and his friends, his brothers, had not spared a moment to ask him how he was. In fact, they had basically ignored him since freeing him from the shackles Grimaud had put on his wrists and ankles, self-righeously angry that he had not informed them of what he and the Queen had been doing. They had ignored him so completely that they had not even noticed the pain he had to have been in, the bruising, even the very unusual quietness of their usually garrulous and easy-going brother. That alone should have warned them that something was terribly wrong. But no, they had been too concerned instead for the Spanish prisoners.

Constance and d'Artagnan arrived very soon thereafter with Dr. Laurent in tow. He was a somewhat young man, but obviously with a sterling reputation to have already become the chief physician to the French royal court. Athos thought to himself, thank goodness for Constance, who had already struck up a friendship with the new doctor.

Constance gasped when she first beheld the extent of Aramis' injuries. Dr. Laurent got right to work with a minimum of introductions. He was obviously a man of few words, but as they watched his treatment of Aramis, they were thankful for his gentleness and obvious knowledge of his profession.

He didn't kick them out, just asked them to stand aside a bit so he could work unhindered. He opened his bag, and after removing various things he would need, set to work. He cleaned each of the nasty-looking wounds, gently rubbing salves of various kinds into the injuries, then binding them.

He frowned when he examined the head wounds. "These are what we especially need to keep an eye on," he told the Musketeers. "Head wounds can be very difficult to assess. And he has two. He will definitely have a pounding head and a lot of dizziness when he awakes. I am not sure what other symptoms will arise, as these kinds of wounds vary in their intensity and symptoms." He cleaned and bandaged them, still tsk-tsk-ing as he worked. This did not make the Musketeers feel at ease at all. But none of them felt they had any right to feel at ease anyway.

Then, he looked up to the Musketeers. "I need you to hold him absolutely still while I put the shoulder bones back into place, also the foot."

Porthos laid his hands upon Aramis' chest as gently as he could while still maintaining his stillness. Athos held down his legs. D'Artagnan sat near Aramis' head, threading his fingers through the unruly hair in an attempt to get through to their brother that they were there for him.

Dr. Laurent wasted no time. He laid hold of Aramis' right shoulder and pushed it into place at once. Aramis screamed, but still wasn't fully conscious. The good doctor no sooner let go of that shoulder than he did the other one, resulting in an even more agonizing scream that his brothers were sure they would remember for a very long time. He quickly and quite efficiently bandaged the shoulders, binding them to Aramis' chest on each side. Their brother wouldn't be able to do much for himself for a few days, but at least the shoulders should heal properly now.

Moving to Aramis' foot, the doctor continued his swift actions, and had the bone in proper place in a few seconds. By this time, although still not conscious, Aramis was breathing rapidly through the pain the settings had caused.

Replacing everything in his bag, the doctor asked, "Who of you is in charge, please?"

Athos indicated himself, and the doctor handed him several bottles, clear names and instructions printed on the labels. "These are for pain and for giving him more ability to rest. Please make sure he takes them, as listed. I will come again tomorrow, but if there is a change in his condition for the worse, please let Madame d'Artagnan know. She will know how to find me. Good day, gentlemen."

Rising, he prepared to leave, with all of them's profuse thanks for taking care of their brother.

When he had left, and Constance had returned with him to visit with the Queen, no doubt telling her about Aramis, the others looked at each other with sad hearts.

"I feel we have massively let down our brother,"Athos said. "How could we have neglected to at least ask him how he was? We knew Grimaud's reputation well enough."

"You are so right. How do we make this up to him?" Porthos asked. "We had concern for the prisoners, but not for our brother? I remember what we said to Marcheaux, when he showed no compassion for the Spanish generals. We said 'but we should do better'. But we didn't."

D'Artagnan listened, then said, "Aramis is always the one caring for us. We get used to his being on the giving end, not needing care himself. We were so wrong."

They didn't bother deciding who would take which watch, as none of them wanted to be anywhere else. They drew chairs up near the bed, bringing a couple from Athos and Porthos' rooms, as Aramis only had the one. They were determined to be there the moment their brother awoke. None of them said "if he awoke".

Aramis did not wake up the rest of the day nor during the ensuing night. He let out soft moans from time to time, letting them know that he was sometimes partially conscious. But he never opened his eyes or responded to them in any way.

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With the morning, they all gazed hopefully at Aramis, hoping that maybe he might finally wake up. But he remained unconscious, the occasional small sounds he emitted letting them know just how much pain he was in.

Around mid-afternoon, they began to see some signs that he might be waking up. His eyelids fluttered, and they could see a little frown creasing his forehead. Finally, his eyes began to open. Looking up, he frowned again, blinking rapidly and beginning to looked confused.

"Aramis, can you hear me? It's Porthos, mon ami," as Porthos anxiously looked down upon him. But Aramis showed no recognition.

Athos tried next. "Aramis, we are all here for you." This made Aramis' frown deepen, however.

They didn't understand his frown, and worried that the head wounds were the cause.

Then, he slowly spoke with great difficulty, words that tore at their hearts. "I...I am not w..w..wanted here," he spoke in a voice barely audible. "I f..finally un...", stopping as the tears started to come, unbidden. "I f..finally under..stand. There is n..no one f..for all any m..more." The tears were coming faster and faster now, and Aramis closed his eyes again.

They were stunned, speechless to counter what Aramis had so heartbreakingly revealed. They each knew their behavior was to blame. Their lack of brotherhood was so glaringly obvious, after-the-fact, that they had no way to deny his words.

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Laying his hand on his brother's shoulder, Athos frowned at the heat he found there. Then, he laid a hand on Aramis' forehead, and fear crept into his face, something rarely seen in the Musketeer Captain. "He has begun to be feverish. I was afraid this might happen, and at the worst possible time. I am afraid for him with his mind in the state it is in right now," he said, looking up at the painful expressions on Porthos and d'Artagnan's faces. "It is not good for him to be feeling rejected, especially not when he needs so much to know how much we do love him. I do not have the faith Aramis has, but I am hoping God will spare him and bring him back to us, so we can prove to our brother we made a huge mistake, one that we will never make again, and that we love him very much."

Aramis was unconscious for two days before showing any signs of regaining consciousness. His brothers barely got any rest between the three of them, not wanting to leave his bedside or sleep,for fear the unthinkable might happen and their brother might be taken from them.

They were all shaken to the core. Yes, war had made them harder, and drawn the three of them together in a way that Aramis found difficult to penetrate. They reacted as one to difficult situations as they had done on the battlefield, in order to survive harrowing situations.

Porthos had his own source of pain that he had caused Aramis. 'We learned to live wihout you.' Even now, months later, he could see the shocked look on his brother's face. And then,he had learned that Aramis had done it because he had made a vow to God to do so if God saved Anne and his son's lives. He hadn't even asked for his own life, if only God would spare theirs. But Porthos had subconsciously wanted Aramis to have chosen their Musketeer vow over a vow to God, and to a man of deep faith as Aramis was, he could not do so.

They were all remembering things they had done that went against the brotherhood they professed. Athos' worst moment was when he had aimed a pistol at his own brother to get a jewel back. He had used duty as an excuse, but did that duty hold true when Sylvie was being whipped, at the King's order- the same King he was performing his duty for about the jewel? He had shrugged that duty aside to save the woman he was falling in love with, and Aramis had only been trying to shield his childhood friend from hurt. Every time he remembered his gun aimed at Aramis, he flinched, but forced himself to remember how he had turned on his dearest friend.

D'Artagnan's thoughts were on the times Aramis had asked questions when he or Porthos talked about battlefield experiences. They should have explained themselves, he told himself. Aramis was expected to try a rescue attempt using an idea that he knew nothing about, one he and Porthos knew about , but Aramis had to ask. They should have realized he would at least need to know the bare bones of the wartime maneuver before they had already embarked on it, as his life was being risked in the endeavor just like theirs was. And it made him feel like an outsider within their brotherhood, to have to ask how everyone else did things now.

But they all agreed this was the worst time of all. They all had experienced near-death at Grimaud's hands. The man had a hatred of the Musketeers that fueled his repeated attempts to kill them. Athos somberly thought, he nearly succeeded with me. And how could I ignore thinking about what Grimaud could very well be doing to a captured and helpless Aramis? And now, they were reeling from their thoughts and pain.

Aramis could very well turn around and go back to the monastery he had ridden away from with them months ago. If he felt that they didn't want him, it would be the logical choice for him to choose. Athos knew Aramis was a Musketeer through and through, as they all were. In fact, he had been amongst the very first Musketeers when the regiment had been formed. He had performed his duties courageously and with all his heart through the years.

Aramis finally showed some signs of awakening on the third day. He had been so still and silent for so long, they had almost given up hope.

When they saw his eyes moving under his lids, they waited anxiously for him to open them. They had a deep, burning need to talk to him, to make him realize just how sorry they were for their uncaring attitude. They could each now put themselves partially in his place and realize how they would have felt if they had been ignored as he had been. How could he even forgive them? And that question scared them more than anything else.

His eyes finally began to open, blinking rapidly against the midday sun streaming in the window. D'Artagnan quickly got to his feet and closed the shutters, before hurrying back to Aramis' bedside.

Athos leaned over to his brother, asking, "Aramis, we are all here for you, brother."

Aramis, his eyes now fully open, didn't say anything, just looked from one to the other of his brothers, lines of pain written across his face. They didn't know how aware he was yet, but sat silently as he continued to look at them.

Finally, Porthos couldn't handle the silence any more. A man of action, he needed to let his Aramis, his dear friend, know how awful he felt because of what he and they had done to him.

"Aramis, I am so sorry for not paying you the attention you were needing. I could maybe make up excuses, but I'm not going to. I was wrong. And I am sorry for hurting you so much at the monastery when I said 'we learned to live without you'. I was hurting from missing you, and I just reacted and hurt you back. It was not my finest moment, and I am not proud of myself. I'm not the best with words, but I'm telling you now I've got no excuses for not noticing you were injured. Do you think you could forgive me-us, mon amie?", the pleading note in his voice accompanied by silent tears that now streaked his face.

Still, Aramis said nothing.

D'Artagnan spoke next, earnest as always, needing to ask his forgiveness as Porthos had. He spoke so quickly, words tripping out as fast as they could come.

"Aramis, we could tell you we were busy, we could tell you that you hide your injuries and we didn't know any better, we could tell you our minds were on finishing the mission and bringing the Spanish prisoners back to Paris. But they would be excuses, as Porthos has already said. We are so incredibly sorry, Aramis. I could understand if you never forgave us. I really could. But I am asking, we are all asking if you could find it in your heart to give us another chance. Please?", ending on the plea for forgiveness in a voice raw with emotion and barely audible.

Still, Aramis kept looking at them and remaining silent.

Finally, Athos, who had remained silent as well, took Aramis' hand in his own and gently squeezed it as he looked into his brother's eyes.

"Aramis, we have all done things we shouldn't have to you since you came back to us. We may have seemed like we were in our own little world. We did grow very tight-knit through the brutal battles of the war fighting for our lives, but we never thought to ourselves 'he's safe where he is. He isn't having his life threatened'. We thought, and even talked about it that we were so glad you were safe from what we were going through, that your life wasn't being threatened as ours were.

Then, we came back to Paris, and right away trouble embroiled our lives. Grimaud. Feron. Gaston. Marcheaux, kept us so busy, we never had a chance, or never made a concerted effort to sit down and talk about everything. It's not an excuse, just what happened. But in the meantime, you were feeling like you were on the outside looking in during some of that time.

But Aramis, I can never forgive myself for aiming that gun at you. I, who interfered with Sylvie's punishment because I loved her. I believed I had the right to stop the King's punishment because I loved her. How is that different from your stepping in the way to protect the heart of your childhood friend from being hurt?

I said later that you were my penance. But Aramis, you are not a penance, but a dear, cherished friend-to me, to all of us. We profess 'one for all' to each other, a motto that has carried us through good times and bad, heartwarming as well as heartbreaking times. We each would willingly give our lives for our brothers because of the strength of our brotherhood.

We have done wrong by you, been terribly wrong, and I can understand if you cannot forgive us. You will have shattered our hearts, but I...we," looking at Porthos and d'Artagnan, "we will understand. But if you can find it in your heart to give us another chance, to forgive us, you will bring us a joy and a peace that our brotherhood has survived a blow that would destroy many others. It is your choice-and your right, brother. We will abide by your decision because we love you."

When he had finished, their was utter silence in the room.

Aramis' eyes slowly closed, his body still. They were afraid to say more, but didn't know if they had said enough. All they could do was wait.

And then, they saw the tears begin to fall, slowly at first, then gathering force until his body shook with his emotions. Looking at each other, as one they moved closer, reaching out to comfort their stricken brother.

Eyes still closed, he tried to control his tears. "I...was so full of joy...to come back...to you," he began softly. Then, in a voice so quiet, they could barely hear them, he said, "But...since we have been back...I thought..." They waited quietly, giving Aramis a chance to recover enough to speak.

"I thought..you didn't want me," and all the tears he had finally suppressed burst through again, and he couldn't continue.

They were all stricken, looking at each bereft of words. He thought they didn't want him? No wonder he had raged at them after they rescued him from Grimaud. They knew Aramis. He had been so angry that they wouldn't shoot him to get to Grimaud. 'You should have all fired.' It was his way of telling them he would lay down his life to get the man who had almost killed all of them at one time or another. They knew now he also probably thought they weren't treating him as any other Musketeer who was willing to give himself to complete a mission, that he wasn't as good any more.

Athos slowly began to speak again. "Aramis, we want you more than we can possibly say. I realize now that you may very well have thought we wouldn't shoot you to get to Grimaud because we didn't consider you the same as us in being willing to give your life for the cause. But Aramis", he continued, looking deeply into the pain-filled brown eyes of his beloved brother, "we couldn't do it. We had barely got you back. We did not want to get you back just to lose you again. The first time was incredibly painful, the second would have broken all of us.

Then, we discovered how badly you were injured, and it tore us apart. We might still lose you again after we had just got you back. Before we had been given time to just be together in peace ...at our tavern, for instance. Before we had a chance to talk about four years apart in order to bring us truly back together as one."

He could see his brother's gaze intent on his every word now. He continued.

"When one of us is apart from the rest, it is like a piece is missing from the whole. It is the meaning of our motto, Aramis. Without you, that motto doesn't function with us." Then, without ever taking his eyes from his brother's, he slowly extended his hand.

Porthos quickly laid his hand over Athos', followed by d'Artagnan, all of them misty-eyed by now. They stayed still...waiting.

Just when their hearts had dropped another notch in despair, Aramis very slowly lifted his hand, regardless of the bandage holding most of the arm immobile, and gently laid it on top of their stacked hands, looking from one to the other of his beloved brothers' faces openly now.

Letting their hands fall away, Athos was the first to tenderly wrap his arms around Aramis as gently as he could, taking into consideration the sheer number of injuries his brother was dealing with. He was followed in turn by Porthos and d'Artagnan. The atmosphere of joy in the room was overwhelming.

Porthos gently assisted Aramis to lay flat again, concern for his injuries paramount in his mind. He didn't want to ever leave his brother's side again after experiencing just how close to leaving he had been. Athos and d'Artagnan, feeling exactly the same way, didn't intend to stray from the room whether they missed lunch and dinner both. There was nowhere else any of them wanted to be.

Aramis could barely keep his eyes open now. They continued to slowly move from one brother's face to another's, a little smile now playing at the corners of his mouth. He truly loved his brothers, and the warmth in his heart now finally brought him the peace he had been seeking. He was home and he was loved in return. God was very good.