For the next few days, Aramis was feverish and did nothing but eat, sleep, and cough…rather, he tried to eat with no appetite and craved sleep but woke often, his nose too stuffed to breathe through. Blowing his nose—gently—didn't help much and only made him dizzier, and every time he dozed off, he woke again to cough.

"You two should leave," he croaked at one point. "I don't want you to catch this."

"And let you faint—I mean, 'pass out'—if you have to get up?" said Porthos.

"We've already been exposed," said Athos. "It makes no difference now."

Aramis sighed at that, which made him cough again, and he stuck his face under the blanket.

It wasn't until day four after returning to the garrison that Aramis was finally able to get some real sleep. When two whole hours passed without him waking, Athos and Porthos dared to hope that he was turning the corner.

"It feels like this has gone on forever," Porthos whispered to Athos.

Athos nodded. Aramis' fainting spells had started the day after they'd left for their journey; that had been ten days ago. "Soon, this will be but a distant memory."

Porthos watched Aramis sleep, sighing at the sight of the fever flush on his pale face. "The sooner, the better."

Aramis slept for another whole hour before waking to cough, but dropped off to sleep again a few minutes later. The cycle continued through most of the day, and once mid-afternoon came, they reluctantly woke him.

"Aramis?" Athos whispered, not surprised when their sick friend gave no reaction. "Aramis?"

A sleepy grunt met their ears.

"You've slept most of the day away," said Athos. "Wake now, lest you lie awake all night."

Through Aramis' sleepy brain, the words got through and Aramis opened eyes that felt stuck closed. "Mfph," he mumbled, before breaking into a coughing fit.

Porthos had a cup of water ready, and he helped him drink it once the coughing ended.

Aramis blinked sleepily again.

"How are you feeling?" Athos asked.

"Mfph," Aramis repeated, closing his eyes again and wincing.

Porthos frowned with concern. "Hey, open those eyes back up."

Aramis weakly dragged up a hand and pressed it to the side of his head before obeying.

"Dizzy?" Porthos guessed.

"Mmm," Aramis answered, before closing his eyes again.

Athos removed the wet cloth from Aramis' forehead and found the fever unchanged, so he rewet it and put it back. "Do you feel better at all?" he asked. "You've slept today almost more than the past few days combined."

Another undecipherable mumble was Aramis' answer, and his hand dropped back to the bed as his head lolled.

"Broth?" Athos said to Porthos. "Before he goes out again."

Porthos nodded and crossed to the pot on the fireplace, filling a mug and bringing it back.

Athos slid his arm under Aramis' shoulders and gently pulled him slightly upright, frowning when Aramis remained completely limp without reacting. "Aramis, drink," he said, when Porthos put the cup to his lips.

Their sick friend didn't react.

"Aramis?" Athos said, gently tapping his face.

When there was still no reaction, Porthos looked at him. "He fainted?! Really?"

Both of them looked at Aramis again, waiting for him to complain at their words by saying, 'passed out', but he said nothing.

"It appears so," Athos said, gently laying him back down to the pillow.

Porthos put the mug down, watching worriedly. "You don't think he's been unconscious all day, not asleep, do you?"

Athos had no answer for that.

The doctor was summoned, and had nothing good to say.

"This is the worst ear infection I've ever seen in all of my years," the doctor told him. "The infection inside his inner ear is affecting his equilibrium in a very severe way."

"You still think he'll recover?" Porthos asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, but it appears that it will take more time than would be considered normal."

The others didn't like the sound of that.

Captain Treville entered the garrison as the doctor was leaving, and after asking him about Aramis, he went up to the sick musketeer's room, entering to find Athos holding Aramis up while Porthos held a cup to his lips. "He's awake?"

"No," said Porthos. "We're tryin' to force 'im."

Treville walked over to watch, and was relieved when Aramis suddenly squeezed his eyes shut tighter and moved his head slightly, trying to get away from whatever was in his face.

"S'okay, Aramis," said Porthos. "It's your favorite, hot broth."

It took a few more seconds for their groggy friend to understand, and he finally drank the broth; every single drop. Once finished, he started coughing, and Athos continued to hold him upright, to make it easier for him.

Treville winced at the sound.

Aramis suddenly moaned and his head lolled against Athos' chest.

Athos adjusted his grip and held him tighter. It was a sight that Treville didn't see often from the normally stoic Athos.

"He gets real dizzy when he coughs," Porthos told him.

Treville sighed, before sitting on the side of the bed and moving the wet cloth from Aramis' forehead so he could check his fever. "Thank God it isn't too high."

Porthos nodded. "Yeah."

Aramis gave no reaction to the captain's touch, laying limply in Athos' arm. His face was very pale under the fever-flush on his cheeks and his eyes were tightly closed.

Treville looked at Athos, wondering why he was still holding Aramis. He understood a moment later when Aramis' scrunched-up eyes relaxed and Athos carefully laid him back down, having obviously waited for the dizziness to ease.

"I hate this," Porthos suddenly whispered.

Treville glanced at him before looking at Aramis again who lay quietly, eyes still closed. He hadn't been jesting when he'd said to Aramis that the spectacularness of his skills including falling ill. Of everyone in the garrison, sicknesses always hit Aramis the hardest. "He'll be fine," he replied, just like he always said.

"There is no other option," Athos agreed.

Porthos sighed, but nodded. Of course Aramis would recover; they'd make sure of it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was long after nightfall before Aramis finally opened his eyes again. He'd woken more than once after the scene that Treville had witnessed, but was never capable of heeding his friends' request to look at them. When he finally did, he was greeted with Porthos' smiling face.

"It's about time!" he'd exclaimed. "This was the longest day I've ever 'ad, ya know."

Aramis turned one corner of his mouth up in a slight smile before a coughing fit overtook him.

Athos was ready afterwards with a cup of water, and they waited-out the inevitable dizziness before feeding it to him.

Aramis drank it gratefully, before giving a careful sigh and closing his eyes again.

"Oh no you don't," said Porthos, giving Aramis' arm a gentle shake through the blankets. "You've been out for long enough. We have a disagreement and need your opinion."

Aramis opened bleary eyes at that, blinking with a frown. "What is it?" he croaked.

Porthos gestured with his thumb at their other friend. "Athos here thinks you're really as sick as you seem, but I think you're makin' it all up because you want us to do everythin' for ya."

Aramis smiled slightly.

"And I think you're addicted to broth," said Porthos, getting up to fetch some as it warmed over the fire.

Aramis chuckled, but it turned into another coughing fit. When it ended, Porthos was there with the broth and it soothed Aramis' chilled body.

"Thank you," Aramis whispered to them, before falling back to sleep.

Porthos smiled at him fondly and checked his fever, finding it unchanged. He was relieved to have heard his friend speak, but he spared a worried glance with Athos anyway.

Treville soon came to share the watch over Aramis through the long, chilly night. The blazing fire blasted the room with heat, yet Aramis shivered. He didn't wake to cough, even when they eventually started to hear mucus rattling in his throat.

Treville was watching him when the sound really became noticeable, and he waited to see if Aramis would wake on his own. When he didn't, he reluctantly put a hand on his sick musketeer's shoulder. "Aramis," he called.

There was no reaction as he continued to sleep.

"Aramis," Treville repeated, shaking his shoulder again.

Aramis woke startled, taking a quick breath and choking on the mucus.

Treville slid an arm under his shoulders and raised him up higher.

Athos and Porthos, despite their valiant effort to remain awake, were deep in slumber, exhausted from all the sleep they'd lost while caring for Aramis. They slept on, to Treville's surprise, with Porthos loudly snoring.

Aramis coughed hard before clearing his throat with a wince, eyes closed.

"Take it easy," Treville whispered.

Dazed brown eyes opened slightly. "Captain?"

Treville smiled. "That's right. Feeling any better?"

Aramis blinked drowsily. "What?"

Treville had forgotten about Aramis' ringing ear. He leaned his head closer and repeated, "Feeling any better?"

"I'm fine."

Treville fought the urge to roll his eyes as he watched Aramis shiver. "Of course you are." He fed him some water before lying him down again and adjusting the blankets. "Sleep."

Aramis closed his eyes again and did just that.

Treville checked his fever and found it slightly higher. With a sigh, he rewet the cloth and placed it back on his forehead, inwardly praying that the next day would find Aramis' health improved.

TBC