Athos told Treville that Aramis was asleep, and their captain accepted it with a nod, knowing of the awful nightmares that plagued Aramis since the slaughter in Savoy. They'd continued the training without him, and Pierre felt terrible about hurting Aramis and wished to apologize. Athos told him that he would have an opportunity later, as he assumed that Aramis would eventually come back outside.

By lunchtime, Aramis had yet to come down, and though they were all surprised—as it had been four hours—they were glad that he was getting the sleep that he obviously needed.

"I'm gonna go see if he's awake," Porthos said; as the others sat down to eat. He had a bowl of stew in each hand, obviously intending to bring one up to their friend.

Athos nodded. "If he is, let us know and we'll come up." He still had the nagging feeling that something beyond nightmares was wrong with Aramis that he wasn't telling them.

Porthos nodded and headed for the stairs, quickly climbing them and approaching their friend's door. He tried to open it quietly and succeeded before peeking inside and spotting Aramis still lying quietly on his bed, eyes closed. Part of him expected Aramis to be awake, and he hesitated before quietly creeping inside, intending to leave the bowl on the nightstand so it would be there when Aramis woke up.

Porthos placed the bowl down and turned to go, but after one step, he suddenly heard, "Porthos?" Turning, he found his friend's eyes open. "Sorry," he said, contrite. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Aramis blinked at him a little groggily. He was still dizzy.

"I left you some stew," Porthos said; seeing that his friend didn't appear fully awake.

Those words and the smell of the delicious food seemed to penetrate the fog in Aramis' mind, and he blinked again. "Thank you." He started to sit up, before wincing and using just his right arm.

Porthos took the bowl off the nightstand and handed it to him. "You sure you're awake enough to eat that?" he asked, thinking that his friend still looked half-asleep.

Aramis nodded, which was foolish as it only increased the dizziness and he nearly missed the spoon when he reached for it.

Porthos went over to the window and leaned out, spotting Athos and d'Artagnan looking up. He waved to let them know that Aramis was awake before ducking back inside the room. He sat in the chair beside the bed and started on his own food.

A minute later, they heard footsteps outside the door before it opened and Athos and d'Artagnan entered, each with their own half-eaten bowls of stew.

"Feeling better?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis smiled as he chewed. "Much."

"How's the arm?" Athos asked him.

"It's fine," said Aramis. "Doesn't hurt too much."

Athos nodded. The injury was minor, despite needing stitches.

D'Artagnan sat on the side of the bed while Athos grabbed another chair, and they all ate in silence.

"Pierre is mortified over what happened," said Porthos. "He thinks it's his fault."

"Are you trying to say that it was my fault?" asked Aramis, jokingly.

"He wishes to apologize," said Athos. "You have been warned."

Aramis chuckled. The new recruits practically worshipped the ground that Athos, Porthos, d'Artagnan, and himself walked on. The poor boy was probably shaking in his boots at the thought of having wounded one of France's great heroes.

Once they were finished, Porthos piled the bowls on the nightstand.

Aramis closed his eyes with a sigh, annoyed at the dizziness that wouldn't go away.

"Still tired?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis quickly reopened his eyes, having momentarily forgotten that he was hiding his condition from them. "Feeling lazy," he lied.

"Well, Treville accepted Athos' explanation, so you might as well take advantage of it," said Porthos. He stood when they heard Treville shout that lunchtime was over; he was cutting it short so they could finish before the rain began. The sky was looking very dark, and they likely hadn't much time left.

D'Artagnan stood too. "Rest well," he said to Aramis.

"Get some more sleep," said Athos. "You never know when a new mission will come our way." He studied Aramis as he said it, still convinced that their friend was hiding something.

"All right," Aramis answered.

"See you later," said Porthos, taking the bowls as they left.

Aramis nodded, and was once more left alone. He yawned, and fell back to sleep before he had a chance to ask himself why he felt so tired.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The sound of falling rain woke Aramis some time later. He lay there for a few minutes, trying to decide if he should get up. It was guaranteed that the regiment was no longer training, and since the room was currently not occupied by at least one of his other three friends, Treville must've given them all some other task. Mucking out the stables, probably.

Aramis yawned, before deciding that he should get up before he fell back to sleep. The last thing he needed was to sleep all day and lie awake all night. With another yawn, he sat up, frowning when he grew so lightheaded that he had to close his eyes. It took a moment to pass, and he blinked his eyes open with a frown, assessing himself to see if there were any other symptoms.

There weren't.

"This doesn't make sense," he said aloud. Carefully, he stood up, and the lightheadedness remained. With a sigh, Aramis slowly looked around the room for his jacket, before remembering that he'd taken it off outside before he'd fought the recruit. Taking careful steps towards the door, he unexpectedly spotted it draped over a chair; apparently, one of his friends must've brought it up for him while he'd slept. Picking it up, he was glad that he hadn't been wearing it when his arm had been sliced, and he carefully slid his wounded arm inside the sleeve with a wince. He gingerly buckled his belt over his jacket, glad that the wound was in his forearm; if it had been in his upper arm, he'd have much more limited movement.

Heading down the stairs to the courtyard wasn't too hard thanks to the rail, and when he reached the bottom, he stood there for a moment and slowly looked around for the others as raindrops bounced off his hat. The lightheadedness seemed to distort his perception.

"Aramis!"

He blinked, realizing that he was looking right at his friends.

Porthos headed over to him. "How you feelin'?"

"I'm all right," Aramis answered. He realized that he was still gripping the rail with his right hand, and let go.

"Someone wants to talk to you," said Porthos. He took Aramis' right arm and steered him in the correct direction.

Aramis had to hold back a gasp when his brain didn't immediately catch up with the movement and his senses reeled. He would've fallen flat on his face if not for Porthos' grip. He somehow managed to hide his problem, and was suddenly face-to-face with a nervous Pierre.

"Monsieur Aramis," said the boy, ducking his head as if Aramis were the king and he was just a lowly peasant. "I deeply apologize for your injury." His eyes strayed to Aramis' left arm.

Aramis felt sorry for him, he was obviously taking it hard. "It was not your fault, Pierre, I slipped in the mud," he said. "Consider it a lesson; no matter how seasoned a soldier you are, accidents happen and no one is infallible."

Pierre nodded and raised his head, relieved that Aramis wasn't angry with him.

Aramis smiled and clapped the boy on the shoulder before slowly turning to see where his friends were. Spotting them, he walked over to where they were indeed mucking the stables. Porthos was with them…Aramis hadn't even noticed him walk away.

"How is your arm?" Athos asked.

Aramis automatically put his right hand over the wound. "It's fine. Thank you for stitching it."

Athos nodded. "Just returning the favor."

Aramis smiled at that. He'd lost count a long time ago of how many stitches he'd put in his friends over the years.

"Get anymore sleep?" d'Artagnan asked, as he tossed a pile of straw a few feet away.

Aramis nodded, before realizing that his brain wouldn't like that motion. "Yes, I woke just before I came here."

They were all pleased to hear that.

"Aramis," they suddenly heard.

Aramis turned to see Treville walking over. He'd been slightly startled and turned a little too fast, and closed his eyes against the dizziness without thinking.

Treville frowned, but when he reached them, Aramis' eyes were open and he looked fine, so he thought he'd simply seen a shadow. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," Aramis said, remembering not to nod this time. "The injury is minor."

Treville nodded. "Good. Are you rested? If I give you a mission tomorrow, will you be up to it?"

Aramis opened his mouth to say 'of course', but Athos spoke first.

"What is the mission?" he asked, assuming that all four of them would be going.

"Escorting a Spanish spy to Paris," Treville said. "Captain DeFond."

All four Musketeers were surprised to hear that. Captain DeFond had been captain of the Red Guard many years ago, before defecting to Spain. He'd been the obvious source of many French secrets that the Spanish had grown knowledge of.

"Yes," said Aramis. "I'll be ready."

Treville nodded. "He's being held prisoner in the wine cellar of an inn a few hours away from the Spanish border. Apparently, the innkeeper recognized and captured him. I need my best men for this; the journey back with DeFond might be dangerous. There are many who would see him dead, and might take matters into their own hands rather than wait for his execution."

Aramis could sense his friends' uneasiness in having him along with a stitched wound in his arm.

"You have the day off," Treville told Aramis. "If you require more rest, there is no shame in obtaining it." He remembered very well hearing Aramis up in the middle of the night from the terrifying nightmares of Savoy five years ago, and he'd never been able to let go of the guilt from his part in Aramis' suffering. If he was having those dreams again, then Treville wanted to ensure that Aramis had as much sleep as possible before embarking on a mission, especially since he knew that Aramis would say he was fine even if he wasn't.

"Thank you," Aramis said. "I'll be ready," he repeated.

Treville nodded and left.

"Are you sure about that?" Porthos asked.

Aramis looked at him and raised his left arm slightly. "This isn't my sword arm."

That was true.

Athos nodded. "Go back to your room and rest; we'll come see if you're awake before we go to the tavern."

"All right," Aramis agreed. What else could he say? Maybe more rest was what he needed to get rid of this annoying, unexplained lightheadedness.

Everyone was surprised when he agreed so easily, and watched as Aramis climbed the stairs to go back to his room. They all shared a look.

"Somethin's wrong here," said Porthos.

"I've suspected that since yesterday," said Athos.

"You think it's more than the nightmares?" d'Artagnan asked.

Athos nodded. "Yes," he said. "I do."

TBC