Sorry this is such a short chapter. The tail end of this past week was much too busy. But the next chapter will be longer.
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The man at the table in the dingy tavern at the eastern outskirts of Paris had been brooding over his drink for over an hour. He was a big man, with broad shoulders, dressed as a farmer. He had winged black brows that were drawn together in a frown. He hadn't bothered to remove his hat, preoccupied with his thoughts.
Finally, he saw the three men he had been waiting for come through the tavern door, cross the room and take seats around his table. The barmaid brought drinks for the newcomers, all of whom wore the common garb of farmers.
"What took you so long?" demanded the first man.
"There are Musketeers everywhere we have gone in Paris, and we have been extra careful," one of the men, a middle-aged, stoop-backed man, said.
This immediately drew the ire of the first man, obviously the leader of the small group gathered at the table. "Why ever do you imagine you needed to be extra careful?," he said slowly and angrily. "No one has ever seen us with our first victim, so they wouldn't even be looking for us, now would they?", asking the question as if he was addressing a small child. The man he spoke to lowered his head in embarrassment.
A second man spoke up after a few moments. "What do we do next?"
"We focus for now on the other targets. Those three Red Guards need to be exterminated like the vermin they are," the leader hissed. "Our first target will, in all likelihood, never recover. As much satisfaction as I got with what we were able to do with him while we had him, we need to know that he is dead before we leave Paris, or our mission will have been for naught. Once that good news is received, only then will we return to our homes and finally find peace, if such a thing can ever be possible again with our loved ones taken from us."
Downing his drink in one gulp, he rose and headed for the door, the other three close behind.
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Athos took Aramis' hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed the knuckles, a rare gesture from him. Looking into Aramis' eyes, he repeated his words of a few moments before. "I am so sorry for driving you away-before you disappeared from us, Aramis," he whispered.
But at these words, Aramis' face registered complete confusion, as it had whenever anything to do with the time he was missing. His eyes searched Athos' face, as if he had no idea what Athos was referring to. Athos' heart sank. He hadn't meant to bring bewilderment to Aramis again. He definitely remembered nothing about his kidnapping, or the moments leading up to it either, it would seem. Aramis had just heard the sadness in his voice, and responded to that. But at least, he did remember his brothers and his life before his disappearance, for which he was very thankful.
Porthos and d'Artagnan, as quietly as he had spoken, had heard his whispered apology, and now joined him at Aramis' bedside. When Aramis again looked at them with recognition clear in his eyes, their faces positively beamed.
Porthos teased him, saying, "I suppose you want us to rustle up some food for you since you decided to wake up?"
Without waiting for an answer, d'Artagnan, eager to be doing something to help, headed to the door, saying, "I can see what Serge has in the kitchen," before disappearing outside.
He was barely gone before Treville came through the door. "Where was d'Artagnan going in such a hurry? He barely nodded his head as he passed me." And then, he saw Aramis' eyes open, and the subject of d'Artagnan's destination disappeared from his thoughts as he smiled.
"It is very good to see you alert, Aramis," he said. "Athos tells me you slept for quite some time. That is a very good sign,"he continued, as he laid a hand gently on Aramis' shoulder.
In an aside to Athos, he said to be prepared to add the meds Lemay had left them to whatever d'Artagnan brought back. They were obviously doing Aramis a lot of good. Rest, along with as much food and water as they could get him to take, were very important aspects towards his recovery. Of course, as he well knew, the presence of his brothers did him a world of good. He just needed to make sure they didn't wear themselves out while taking care of him round-the-clock, or he would have four men out of the rotation instead of just one, and his best men at that.
He studied Athos' and Porthos' still-exhausted faces, and noticed something new that was present. Hope had been added, which told him how much they had thought (without daring to ever voice it) their brother might not make it. He had felt the same way, but constantly pushed the thought away, almost as if feeling that way might make it actually happen. He figured that is what had been going through their minds, as well.
Getting an idea, he excused himself, telling them mysteriously that he had an idea to investigate. They looked at him, wondering why he was being vague, but he didn't enlighten them, just saying he would be back in a hopefully short while.
Once out the door, he headed for the kitchen, also looking for Serge and a treat he had in mind for the cook to prepare for Aramis.
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A little while later, d'Artagnan came back, laden with a tray filled with the mouth-watering scents of Serge's chicken and potato soup and several slices of bread that he had just taken out of the oven. Everyone knew that Aramis was very special to Serge, and d'Artagnan told them Serge was just so happy to make every dish that Aramis liked.
As he laid the tray down, d'Artagnan looked over at Porthos with a look of pure mischief, as he said, "Serge had a special message for you, Porthos."
At Porthos' look of surprise, d'Artagnan couldn't hold back another moment before saying, "He said if he finds that you tried to sneak some of Aramis' food, he would be coming after you personally."
Athos couldn't help it. He started laughing and couldn't stop. After Porthos' first expression of outraged "innocence", he and d'Artagnan joined in. Even Aramis' eyes had a slight twinkle amidst the pain and weariness that was ever-present.
