I am so sorry I left you hanging, but I was at the hospital yesterday for a procedure, and the day before with prep. I am so glad that you are enjoying my story. There is still quite a bit of story left, with Aramis' dire situation and Albert and his vengeful brother coming back later. Hope you enjoy!
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Next morning, Athos called his brothers together a slight distance from the bed. He said, " We need to get Aramis to take some food and water. He has been at least 2 days without, and is more than likely dehydrated by now.
Porthos laid his hand upon Aramis' good shoulder, lightly tapping it to awaken him. "Come on, Aramis, can you open your eyes for us, please?"
It took several tries before he saw movement under Aramis' eyelids, and then his eyes blinking open and shut again, as he came back gradually to consciousness. His eyes,pain-glazed and beyond tired, opened at last and looked at Porthos.
Porthos, for his part, was delighted to see his old friend awake and recognizing him. "I know you're in pain, brother, but you need water and some food. You feel up to it?"
Aramis, still groggy from sleep, was slow to comprehend. Athos leaned over and murmured to him, "Will you try to drink some water for us, Aramis, please?"
With a small nod of his head, Aramis assented, although all he really wanted to do was rest. He didn't think he had ever been this tired, and his body constantly let him know how much in pain it was.
As Porthos was filling a cup with water, Athos spoke in an undertone, saying, "We need to get some pain meds in him. Let's try putting some in his water. At least, he will be able to get some sleep that is hopefully pain-free and maybe without nightmares if the meds work."
Porthos replied, "Will he swallow? He'll know it from the taste. He's the medic, remember? It's usually him forcing them into us."
"I intended for us tell him first then. He knows we only want to help him."
"We can try. He's forced some mighty bad tasting things down our throats, but is a horrible patient himself. He can be awful stubborn."
Athos brought a cup to the bed. Sitting down, he leaned forward and put the edge of the cup to Aramis' lips. "Drink. We put some pain meds in the water so you can rest easy. Will you take it?"
Aramis opened his mouth, but when he smelled the concoction, he turned his head away. "Smells aw..awful."
After several exasperating tries, Athos resorted to something he knew Aramis would comply with. "Aramis, I am your Captain. I order you to drink this now." He felt terrible using his position to force Aramis to obey, but he knew it would quiet the pain and allow his brother a little uninterrupted rest, something he badly needed now, so he swallowed his conscience.
Glaring at Athos, Aramis slowly opened his mouth and allowed the liquid to be slowly trickled in. Once he had swallowed it all, his eyes closed and consciousness left him again, this time peacefully. His brothers heaved a great sigh of relief.
They didn't really think they would be able to leave the next morning. Aramis' injuries were much too extensive to be riding a horse, and they had no cart with them. But they, so far, didn't have permission to stay away from the garrison without word sent.
Athos made a decision, and had d'Artagnan ride back to Paris to inform Treville of their whereabouts and why they were delayed. D'Artagnan really didn't want to leave Aramis just after they found him, but one look at Athos' face let him know arguing wouldn't change his mind. So, he saddled up and left, visiting Aramis' bedside first to wish his brother well before departing, even though Aramis was not conscious to hear his words.
Aramis lay without moving until almost midday. Athos, who was sitting in a chair by his bed dozing with a hand on Aramis' head, felt movement. Looking up, he saw that the pain meds had obviously worn off. Aramis' face was twisted in pain,and he was once again restless. Then, suddenly, he screamed, "No, no!" His whole body was shaking with tremors.
In a quiet voice, Athos attempted to calm him down. "Aramis, it's Athos. You are all right. You were having a nightmare. Can you open your eyes, please? I'm here with you."
Aramis gradually settled down, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to open his eyes. Then, he opened them, looking at Athos in recognition.
In a voice so soft, it was barely audible, Aramis asked, "What ...," before a fit of coughing stopped him.
Porthos, who had come back in from getting more kindling, brought a canteen to the bed when he saw his friend begin to cough. Holding it to Aramis' lips, he said,
Drink Aramis. It's just water."
Athos lifted him up enough to drink. Aramis was as weak as a kitten, laying limp in his arms. The tremors throughout his body still wracked him, and he was as pale as a ghost. He drank the water, then Athos laid him gently back down on the bed.
Aramis tried again, "Why did they ...," but he couldn't finish,
Athos responded sadly, "We do not know why this happened, Aramis. Someone obviously had a serious grudge against you, but for what reason, we have no idea."
Aramis was exhausted, even with the little time he had been conscious, but said, "Said I k..killed their b..brother."
Athos told him, "We will find them, and they will wish they never encountered us, of that you can be sure, Aramis. Now, you need to rest. I will get the pain meds for you again, and this time, please do not give me any trouble," smiling as he teased him.
After Aramis took the pain meds with a little water, he slept almost immediately. Athos and Porthos became uneasy soon after, though, as they could see the beginnings of a fever in their brother: clammy skin, sweating, and restlessness, even with the pain meds in effect. They worried for their brother, as he was already terribly weak and in pain. What would a fever do to him?
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The fever increased in intensity throughout the evening and through the night. Again, as the first night they had Aramis back, none of the brothers would leave his bedside. When the fever would cause him to thrash his head and body about, and he would groan with the pain it caused the wounds he bore, they would each position themselves to keep him still on the bed, fearful that the movements would break open the just closed musket wound or disturb the broken bones. He refused to drink any water when they attempted to give it to him. They would put cool cloths on his forehead and chest in an attempt to calm the fever raging within him, but they didn't seem to have any effect.
Then, towards morning, they noticed his body begin to quiet down. Porthos said, "Maybe the fever is done?"
They wanted to hope, but knew they needed to wait before getting their hopes up, as they had all seen fevers calm and rise again fiercing than before. By mid-morning, thougn, he was still calm and unmoving. They each breathed a sigh of relief that the fever would not claim their brother, and he still had a chance to recover.
Athos said, "When he awakens, we need to not only get more water into him, but try and get him to eat something-maybe broth. He nearly did not make it, and without nourishment, he will not be strong enough to fight for his life."
By mid-afternoon, Aramis showed signs of regaining consciousness again. He weakly moved his head, moaning as even the slight movement caused his injuries to flare to life. His eyes flickered open, gazing slowly from Athos' face, to Porthos, to d'Artagnan, his eyes registering recognition that his brothers were surrounding him.
Athos quietly murmured, "Aramis, it's Athos. We are all here for you. We would like to give you some broth, to give your body a chance to regain a little of its strength. We will not force you, however. Would you try it for us?"
He was silent for a moment, and they were afraid he was going to pass out again. But, after a moment, he gave a slight nod of assent.
Porthos came around to the head of the bed, and leaning over Aramis, told him, "I will lift you just high enough to be able to take the broth. Eat as much as you can for us, ok?"
LIfting him incredibly gently, considering the strength this gentle giant contained within him, he held Aramis steady with his arms beneath his shoulders and head. Athos spoonfed him as much as Aramis was able to take, before he weakly shook his head "enough".
Athos told him, "You did well, Aramis. Would you take some more water with pain meds before we let you sleep again?" He received a very weak and slow nod, indicating that Aramis was almost out again.
They managed to get him to swallow half the glass before sleep claimed their beloved brother, but this time, without the fever that had almost taken him from them.
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Treville arrived next morning, with d'Artagnan and two other Musketeers. Athos came out the door to meet him, not wanting to disturb the much-needed rest Aramis needed.
Treville said, "D'Artagnan filled me in on what happened. How is he?"
Athos told him, "He nearly did not make it yesterday. He fought a very high fever, but fortunately, survived it. He is resting now."
Treville wanted to see him right away. Athos brought him inside, where the Captain sped across the room to his injured Musketeer's bedside. Aramis seemed to sense something, and his eyes slowly opened, beholding his Captain.
` Treville gave a wide smile. "It is good to see you back with us, Aramis. Your brothers have been very worried about you. How are you feeling?"
Aramis was silent for a moment, still only half-awake. Then, he replied, "N..not my best. Why... w..would ...", grimaced in pain, and passed out once more.
Treville was very concerned. Aramis was obviously in very bad shape. He was unable to stay awake for more than a few moments at a time. Athos told him Aramis was very confused each time he awoke about what had happened to him.
The Captain decided they needed to chance the journey in the cart he had brought with them. Aramis needed to be seen by Dr. Lemay as quickly as possible. He told Athos to get the cart ready by piling any and all blankets and even their doublets in the cart for Aramis to be laid upon, and covered with to cushion him as much as possible from the rough road they would be traveling. Then, they transferred Aramis to the cart. All three of his comrades insisted they were riding in the cart with him, not wanting to be separated now. Within seconds of getting in, Porthos had Aramis' head in his lap, and the others were busily tucking blankets around him. Then, their hands settled on their friend's head, hand and shoulder, so he would know he wasn't alone if he awoke, and stayed as they began the journey.
