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Later that day, Aramis woke from a nightmareless sleep, his first since being injured. Slowly opening his eyes, he beheld - he stopped - Athos, that was the man's name, nodding next to his bed. "I knew him before," he thought. "This man and the other two obviously care very much about me. Why can't I remember them?" These thoughts caused tears to fill his eyes. Would he never get his memory back?
Just dwelling on this thought caused the migraine he invariably woke up with to spike, causing him to groan aloud. It wasn't very loud, but Athos awoke immediately, concerned that Aramis was in pain. Before his injury, he would protest vehemently whenever he was injured and one of his brothers tasked him with the fact. "I'm fine," was always his reply. Athos thought, "What I wouldn't give to hear him say this just once now."
Filling a cup with water from the copper pitcher Amelie had thoughtfully left on the table beside the bed, Athos said to Aramis, "Would you like some water, Aramis?" All three of his friends had decided among themselves to use his name as often as they could, hoping maybe hearing it over and over would bring him back.
Receiving a weary nod, Athos gently lifted Aramis' head and shoulders a little way, and held the cup to his lips to drink. Aramis finished the cup, and surprised him by saying, "I'm hungry?"
Athos nodded, and left the room for a moment to ask Amelie if she could prepare something. Coming back, he smiled as Aramis was still awake, as he had been sleeping almost continually since they had found him. He did have that slight frown again, his eyes fixed on Athos almost as though he felt if he looked hard enough at each of them he would force his memory to return.
"Aramis, would you like me to share some of our time together with you?" Athos asked hesitantly.
"Please?", Aramis replied, the second time he had used the slight supplication since yesterday when they had found him.
Athos began, "Our youngest, d'Artagnan, made a very dramatic entrance into our lives. Before, it had always been the three of us, you, me and Porthos. D'Artagnan showed up at the garrison one day demanding I fight a duel with him, saying I had killed his father. None of us could get through to him to stop fighting as I had nothing to do with his father's murder. He ended up trying to fight all three of us at once, despite the fact that, unbeknownst to us, he was injured while doing so. But he ended up helping you and Porthos prove my innocence after I had been accused of the killing. We grew to love him as one of us, just as he returned the same love to us."
While he had been relating this story to Aramis, Athos watched for any sign that it was opening up any avenue of memory for him, and his heart clenched and he sighed as he could see that the same confusion and frustration remained in his eyes.
Amelie came in a few moments later with a bowl of chicken broth and some freshly baked bread for Aramis. Athos took it from her with a sad smile, and she understood completely how much emotional hurt he was in, smiling at him in return.
As Aramis accepted spoonfuls of brother and bites of bread from Athos, his mind silently kept asking, "Why can't I remember? It's obvious how much they care, and it's like I'm rejecting them. I don't want to do that." He smiled as he finished eating, trying to show his appreciation for what Athos was doing, both sharing and helping him to eat. Athos tried to smile back, but the heartache glimmered in his eyes as he did so.
Feeling tired once more, his eyes closed in sleep, as Athos pulled the blanket farther up, then left the room sadly.
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Porthos was beside him when he awoke the next time. He was confused why he remembered each of them's names after only hearing them once or twice, when he couldn't remember his own. Everything was so strange and distorted for him now.
Porthos smiled as soon as he saw Aramis' eyes open. "About time you woke up, sleepyhead," he told him.
"You want anything, you just ask, you hear?"
Aramis smiled in return, almost hoping Porthos would share stories as Athos had earlier. "Would you ..." he trailed off, as he didn't know whether to ask.
Porthos asked, "Would I what, Aramis? Just ask. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, brother." Aramis could hear the hurt behind the comment, and wished with all his heart a light would just come on and he would be fine.
He decided to just swallow and ask. "Athos was sharing things about ... about ... us when he was here earlier. Would you..."
" There's nothing I'd rather do. You want serious, heroic, silly, outrageous?"
"We were all those things?"
"Of course, Aramis. 'Specially the two of us. Athos and Treville - he's our Captain, ok? We musta given 'em quite a few grey hairs these past few years," laughing out loud as he said this.
Aramis, curious, said, "If you don't mind, the outrageous one, please?" Porthos noticed that even though Aramis couldn't remember his past or any of his brothers, his way of speech was still the same, still as polite as he ever had been.
"All right. How 'bout the melons?" Porthos didn't think it would necessarily make Aramis remember by beginning that way, but it was just his way of being as lighthearted as he could for his brother.
That statement really made Aramis eyebrows lift. What could he possibly relate about melons?
"Every once in a while, not often, mind, we would entertain the patrons of whatever tavern we happened to be at. You'd put a melon on your head, preen with your mustache, give me th' go ahead, 'n then stand very still. I'd shoot the melon off your head, while everyone went kinda crazy seeing it work. 'Course, it would only work if I'd taken a little too much of the bottle b'fore I did it," laughing again at the memories.
Aramis could see that the situation would have been very dramatic and, for Porthos, funny, as well. He wanted so much to picture himself with a yellow melon on his head, entertaining everyone, being with his friends, laughing, joking. But in his mind, there was still nothing of his past.
Porthos was hurting inside, the same as Athos was before, that Aramis still couldn't remember. But he was determined not to hurt him more by letting him know just how much it hurt. He reminded himself how grateful he was that Aramis was alive, as he had seen the embankment his friend had fallen down-and the rocks he had hit. He very well could have lost his beloved brother permanently, so having him alive in front of him now was still a blessing he was very thankful for. If it took all the time in the world to share and help his memory return, he was willing to give that time. He loved his brother very much, and he would be there for him always.
