Chapter Three

Aramis had to stop himself from making any inappropriate comments. Athos was staring at him without the slightest hint of recognition. Thinking quickly Aramis knew that a knock to the head could cause the victim to awaken confused for a few minutes. Surely Athos was just a little disorientated? But his eyes were focused.

'Can you see me alright?' Aramis asked, wondering if perhaps the injury had partially blinded him.

Aramis was not sure if an answer in the positive or negative to the question would be better.

'Yes,' came the uncertain reply, 'do I know you?'

'Yes, it's Aramis,' the marksman said pointing at himself as he tried to hide the growing concern.

'Do you recognise either of them?'

Aramis pointed at Porthos and d'Artagnan.

Athos looked at his brothers again, the same confused expression remained on his face.

'No, should I recognise you all?'

Athos tried to sit up, but the action must have hurt him as he paused and screwed his eyes shut again.

'Easy, Athos, you've had a knock to the head, you've been unconscious for a couple of hours.'

Athos was breathing quickly, he allowed Aramis to push him back down to the ground, although Aramis suspected the man was in too much pain to resist him. Aramis glanced up at his brother who wore the same concerned expressions. D'Artagnan was staring at him, his eyes wide.

'Is he alright?' the young Musketeer asked quietly enough that the injured man probably did not hear him.

Aramis shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. The man lying between them was clearly suffering from the effects of the injury, but Aramis did not know to what extent.

As they watched Athos calm his breathing he again opened his eyes.

'Is the headache bad?' asked Aramis, deciding that he would worry about the memory issues after he had assessed how much pain his brother was in.

'It hurts,' came the reply.

'Try to sleep,' said Aramis, 'we'll be here when you wake up.'

Athos did not reply, but his pained expression slowly lessened until it was obvious the injured man had fallen asleep.

Aramis sat back on his heels and looked at his brothers again. He suspected his own expression was as stunned as both of theirs.

Porthos whispered, 'that's temporary right?'

D'Artagnan looked between them, 'of course it is, he'll wake up in a bit and be fine. He probably won't even remember what just happened.'

Aramis wanted to agree with them both but found that he could not.

'I'm not sure...I think this might be a serious problem.'

'He's just confused,' reiterated Porthos, 'we've all been there.'

Aramis shook his head, 'but he was focused on us. When that sort of thing normally happens there an obvious lack of focus. Athos was not unfocused he looked at us each but did not know us.'

The two men looked at their sleeping brother.

'What do we do?' asked d'Artagnan.

'For now, we let him rest...it might sort itself out...I really don't know...I'm just a field medic…'

Aramis was struggling to find the words.

'You've done everything you can, and should, for him so far,' said Porthos looking across to Aramis.

Aramis nodded, hoping the man was right. He thought back over his actions immediately after the skirmish. Had he done everything he should have done? Had he missed some crucial step in dealing with a head injury? It would be the first time if he had. But it only took one mistake. What if he had somehow caused Athos to lose his memory?

They sat for another few minutes, the fire crackled a few times. D'Artagnan looked at it before picking up a stick and poking at it. Porthos sighed loudly before rising to his feet and wandering off. Aramis could hear him quietly circling their camp. They had been attacked here once, it would be unfortunate to be caught off guard again, particularly now they were down to three men.

Methodically Aramis went back to changing the damp cloth on Athos face. The injured man's brief spell of confused consciousness had left him with a sheen of sweat across his face. Aramis gently wiped the sweat away, wishing he could take the head injury away as easily. He decided he would give his injured brother a little longer to sleep before rousing him. With Porthos patrolling their perimeter and d'Artagnan distracted by the fire Aramis pulled his jewelled cross from his neck, he kissed it before saying a quiet prayer. He knew his brothers may not have believed as fervently as he did, but he doubted they would object to the sentiment. Aramis was willing to accept any help he was given to restore their brother to them as he should be.

MMMM

When Porthos returned and settled in the same place as before and d'Artagnan discarded his stick, Aramis glanced at them both. Porthos nodded to him, d'Artagnan did not react, the younger man still carried a worried look on his face. Aramis leaned forward and shook Athos shoulders.

Athos opened his eyes more decisively than the last time. Again, he stared at Aramis with no hint of recognition.

'Athos,' said Aramis quietly, 'how is the pain?'

Athos appeared to think for a moment before responding.

'I don't know who you are…'

Aramis was aware of Porthos reaching out and putting his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

'That's alright Athos,' continued Aramis, 'we're not going to hurt you. I just want to know that you're feeling better. Can you tell me how bad the pain is?'

Athos looked at him sceptically.

'It hurts. Was I hit by something?'

'Yes Athos, you were hit. You hurt your head.'

Athos managed a small nod of understanding.

'Is that my name?' he asked. 'Athos?'

D'Artagnan had to stifle a gasp.

'Yes, it is,' said Aramis, 'you hit your head and you've lost your memory.'

Aramis paused for a moment, he was unsure what to say to his friend.

'Can you remember anything?' asked Porthos.

Athos looked across to him. He stared at Porthos for a few moments before responding. Aramis wondered what his friend was thinking, wondered what it was like to find that you did not know who you were, surrounded by people you did not know.

'No,' Athos said, 'sorry, I don't know you...or me.'

Athos seemed so lost, so unsure. Aramis had never seen his friend in such a state before. It was unnerving.

'Can I sit up?'

'Of course, let me help you, take it slowly,' said Aramis, pleased to be able to do something.

He supported Athos back as the man slowly pulled himself up, d'Artagnan had his hand on Athos' other shoulder.

Porthos handed him the waterskin. Athos looked at it a little confused.

'It's water,' reassured Porthos.

Hesitantly Athos took the skin and drank, he handed it back to Porthos before slowly looking around himself.

'Do you recognise anything?' asked d'Artagnan.

Athos slowly shook his head, 'I'm sorry, I really don't.'

Aramis watched as Athos slowly looked around again, he blinked a few times.

'Are you tired? It's not unusual with a head injury, you should sleep a bit longer.'

Athos nodded, he looked at them each again.

Porthos said, 'you don't know it, but we're your friends and we ain't going anywhere. You're safe.'

Aramis steadied Athos as he lay back down. D'Artagnan passed him a blanket which they threw over the injured man who had already closed his eyes. It did not take long for Athos to fall asleep again.

Aramis waited a few minutes until he was sure Athos was asleep before looking back up at his brothers.

'As I said before, I'm only a field medic. He may yet wake up after a few hours of rest and be fine again-'

Porthos interrupted him, 'may be fine.'

Aramis shook his head, 'I don't know, I hope, I pray, he'll be alright, but I really don't know.'

Aramis paused, he looked at Athos, then at d'Artagnan and Porthos before speaking again.

'This might be permanent.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan stood up suddenly. He did not say anything he merely turned away from them and walked off. Porthos watched him go. The young man stopped at the point the light from the fire diminished so that he would not be able to see the ground properly. D'Artagnan put one hand against a tree before leaning over. They could hear him throwing up.

Porthos looked back at Aramis. He had not realised how pale the marksman had become.

'Are you alright?' he asked.

Aramis looked back at him and shook his head, 'did I do something wrong when I treated him...did I cause this?'

Porthos knew the indecision and self-doubt was understandable in his friend. They all trusted him with their lives when it came to injuries in battle, occasionally that was a lot of trust to be placed in one man's hands. Despite how capable Porthos knew Aramis to be.

'You did everything right,' he said with a reassuring smile.

'You're right, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be, this is a shock for us all. I can't imagine how we are going to deal with this...what if the memories never come back?'

Porthos looked back across to d'Artagnan who appeared to have recovered somewhat and had started a slow walk around the edge of their camp. He reached a fallen tree and sat down heavily on it, staring out into the darkening night.

'We'll stay here for the rest of the night. If he's able to ride in the morning I think we should head back to Paris as soon as possible.'

Porthos spoke decisively, Aramis nodded, 'I agree. He can ride with one of us...but memory loss is strange, he may remember how to ride...we won't know until he's in less pain and can start to do things.'

'He looked confused by the waterskin,' remarked Porthos.

Aramis nodded, 'it may take a while to find out what he does and doesn't know.'

'Or,' said Porthos, 'he may wake up in a couple of hours and have a go at us all for worrying about him unnecessarily.'

'Let's hope so,' replied Aramis.

Porthos noted the optimism in his friend's voice.

MMMM

D'Artagnan straightened up after throwing up what little food he had in him. He caught his breath and started to walk around the camp, keeping to the point where the glow from the fire stopped lighting the ground. Once Athos had fallen asleep again d'Artagnan found he was struggling to remain calm. When Aramis had intimated the memory-loss might be permanent d'Artagnan knew he could not stay where he was. He was not surprised when he threw up. He felt a little embarrassed, but he knew his brothers would not say anything. He suspected they were struggling to contain themselves as well.

He did not know what to think. Should he be hopeful that Athos would regain his memory, and all would be well? Or should he prepare himself for the worst? Should he prepare himself for the loss of the man he looked up to?

Realising he was shaking slightly he sat down on a fallen tree trunk. He sat with his back to the camp. He stared off into the wood. The sounds of the night time, the sounds of creatures going about their nocturnal business suddenly seemed to be deafening. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in hands. He sniffed. He had not even realised he had tears in his eyes. He did not want Aramis and Porthos to see him crying. He was a soldier, a Musketeer, he should not be crying.

But Athos could be gone.

The man they all knew might not exist anymore. The poor soul currently lying injured at the centre of their camp was not Athos.

Much as he liked to pretend he was on a par with the rest of the inseparables he knew he was still learning. He had been a commissioned Musketeer for barely a year. Athos was still finding ways that he could improve his sword work. Were there to be no more lessons?

He was aware of one of his brothers approaching him.

'There is nothing wrong with feeling upset,' said Aramis as he sat beside him, a reassuring hand on his back.

D'Artagnan sniffed, he wiped his eyes and sat up. Aramis moved his arm to rest across d'Artagnan's shoulders pulling him towards him slightly. D'Artagnan allowed himself to be held by the older man, wondering if the action was as much for Aramis' benefit as his own.

'This is a shock for us as well-'

'Sorry,' said d'Artagnan, 'you've known him longer…'

'No, d'Artagnan, that's not what I mean. I mean...I mean…'

Aramis trailed off, d'Artagnan could tell the marksman was struggling with his own emotions.

They sat in silence, the night creatures continued their activity unaware of the unfolding drama in the clearing near their territory.

'It could have been any one of us,' said Aramis after a while.

'But it was him,' replied d'Artagnan.

Not that he would have wished the injury on either Aramis or Porthos, or even himself. But Athos was the one that led them. He led with a subtlety that was barely noticeable, he hardly did anything a normal leader would do, but he was still in charge.

'It was him,' repeated Aramis.

D'Artagnan sighed, 'if he doesn't remember...what should we do?'

The thought of losing Athos, the man they all knew, was abhorrent, but there was still a man lying injured a few yards away.

'We'll work that out as we go along.'

They continued to stare out into the now complete darkness of the wood.

MMMM

Authors note: The next chapter will go up (work commute permitting) at around 1600 on Monday as I am on an early shift – bit of a wait, sorry.