That night, Aramis slept well and had many dreams. He saw his mother again, Treville, and his three friends. They were mostly nice dreams of good times, but in one of them, he was lying in bed with his friends surrounding him with terrified expressions.

"I had many dreams," he told the others during breakfast.

Everyone paused with their fork to their mouths.

Aramis laughed at the sight. "If everything I dreamed was a memory, then I live a very happy life. Well, almost everything."

"There was something bad?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis took a bite and chewed before answering. "I was lying in bed with everyone surrounding me. Actually, no, you weren't there, d'Artagnan, but Captain Treville was."

"So Athos, me, and the captain?" said Porthos.

Aramis nodded.

"Were you injured or wounded?"

Aramis thought for a moment. "I didn't seem to be, but the three of you were very worried, especially you, Porthos. You were squeezing my hand and saying that you were back."

Porthos and Athos shared a glance.

"What happened to him?" d'Artagnan asked.

"A nearly-fatal fever," said Athos. "Porthos had been sent on a mission alone one morning, and you started acting strangely, Aramis,"* he said. "The captain mentioned that you looked pale and you said that you hadn't slept well and had a resulting headache. When you barely ate breakfast and lunch, you told me that that you were simply out of sorts. I assumed that you were simply worried for Porthos..." He stopped and sighed.

Aramis and d'Artagnan stared, listening intently.

"It wasn't until mid-afternoon that I realized you were ill," said Athos, obviously feeling guilty. "By then, your fever was already high. I feared that you would not survive long enough to see Porthos again."

At that, Porthos closed his eyes.

"The doctor suggested leeches—" said Athos.

Aramis cut him off. "He didn't use them, did he?"

"No," Porthos said. "We didn't let him."

Aramis sighed with relief, before frowning at his own reaction. "Do I have a personal vendetta against leeches?"

Everyone smiled.

"You think that part of doctorin' is insane, unnecessary, and can cause further harm," Porthos said.

"Looks like you just remembered something else!" said d'Artagnan.

Aramis smiled.

"Porthos returned," Athos said, continuing the story. "And we put you into a tub of water to bring your fever down. It worked and you eventually recovered."

Aramis sighed. "That's a relief."

D'Artagnan chuckled.

A horse neighed and everyone looked up to see Treville ride through the gate. He immediately headed straight for them and dismounted. "There's been another robbery."

"Where?" Athos asked.

"Two streets away from the last one," said Treville. "And this time, the robber was seen."

Porthos stood. "What did he look like?"

"Tall, dark cloak. It appeared to be a man, from the height."

Athos looked at Aramis. "Does that description sound familiar?"

Aramis thought for a moment. "No." He sounded disappointed.

"Let's go investigate," said d'Artagnan. "He could still be the man who attacked you."

Treville watched as everyone stood. "Do you feel up to it, Aramis?"

Aramis hesitated. "I'm much better."

Everyone glanced at each other. At least he wasn't saying that he was 'fine'.

Treville felt a strong need to protect his injured musketeer...more than usual, considering his vulnerability.

"You don't want me to go with them?" Aramis asked, not sure what he was thinking.

"I want you to be safe," Treville said. "Your head injury was serious, to have caused this kind of damage. You've had more than your fair share of concussions, and I'd hate for you to come to more harm, especially while not recovered."

The 'old' Aramis would make a face and pronounce himself perfectly fine, but this Aramis nodded slightly. "I understand."

The others glanced at each other. They shared the sentiment, but they wanted Aramis to get his memory back yesterday.

Treville saw their looks. "There's no way to guarantee his safety. If you should come upon the thief and Aramis is attacked again, another head injury could prove fatal so soon. Look at him."

Everyone did, making Aramis squirm slightly. The terrible bruising hadn't faded at all; if anything, it looked worse, after having changed colors.

"What if I promise to be careful?" Aramis suddenly said.

Porthos' face changed from concern to delight, and he laughed. "Now that sounds like Aramis!"

Treville sighed and dropped his head, shaking it. "That's a promise that you've never been able to keep!" He raised his head in time to see d'Artagnan's puppy-dog eyes. "Fine! Can I trust this Aramis to actually be careful?"

Aramis smiled slightly. "I promise."

Porthos chuckled again. "Unless his memory happens to come back a minute before he would've been careful!"

Treville sent him a sharp look.

"Probably shouldn't say that," d'Artagnan whispered.

"Go, then," Treville told Aramis. "But please, go easy on yourself. We can all see the headache that you still have."

The old Aramis would've scoffed at showing pain, but the new Aramis nodded slightly.

Five minutes later, they were mounted and leaving the garrison.

"Doin' okay?" Porthos asked a few minutes later.

"Considering," said Aramis. He kept feeling like he was tipping sideways; it was obvious that his brain wasn't yet able to handle the height and swaying from the horse.

An answer like that was proof that something wasn't right, so Athos asked, "What's wrong?"

Aramis pressed a hand to the side of his head as if to keep it straight. "I'm..." He cut himself off with a frown.

Everyone stopped their horses and Porthos grabbed his arm. "Hey!" he said, with alarm.

"Inestable?" Aramis said.

"What?" said d'Artagnan.

"Torcido?" Aramis tried.

"Spanish," said Athos.

Aramis blinked and looked at them. "I can't think of the French palabra...I mean, French word." He suddenly looked very pale.

"K, back to the garrison," Porthos said, tightening his grip.

"No!" Aramis said. "Puedo seguir."

"What?"

Aramis blinked. "I can go on. I want to find this ladron...thief." He looked at Athos. "Por favor?" He didn't correct himself that time, apparently not realizing that he'd spoken the wrong language.

Everyone knew it was the Spanish word for 'please', and they looked at Athos.

Athos sighed. "Stay close to him," he told Porthos.

Porthos nodded, not letting go of Aramis' arm. "Always."

They rode on more slowly, watching Aramis quietly, alert for any indication that he was growing worse.

"Are you all right?" Athos eventually asked.

"Si," Aramis answered. He didn't correct himself.

The other three wondered what it meant, that Aramis was suddenly losing his grasp on the French language. Would it be temporary, or was it a sign of lasting damage?

They arrived ten minutes later, and Porthos helped Aramis get down.

With a wince, Aramis leaned against his horse, feeling Porthos grip his arm tighter. It was a minute before he could reopen his eyes, and he gave Porthos a pale smile. "Gracias," he said. His eyes suddenly opened wider, and he looked at his friend. "Did I just do it again?"

"Yes," Porthos told him.

"Apologies," Aramis told him. "Do any of you speak Spanish?"

"Only words and phrases here and there," d'Artagnan answered, as they all watched their injured friend. "Courtesy of you."

Once he was ready, they headed over to the door and knocked.

A woman answered it, looking nervous. She let them in when Athos explained why they were there, and they looked around.

"It happened in the night," she told them, as a child hid behind her leg. "I heard a sound and came out, and he was standing right there."

"Tengo una pregunta," Aramis suddenly said.

Everyone looked at him.

"God help me," Aramis whispered to himself. "I meant to say, I have a question. Did he drop any of his own possessions or accidentally leave something behind?"

She shook her head. "Nothing that I happened to find."

That was disappointing to the musketeers, but not surprising. They followed her through the small house as she pointed out what was missing, but there was a distinct lack of clues.

When they finally made their way back to the main room, a dizzy spell suddenly assaulted Aramis, and he threw a hand out to grab something.

Porthos had remained glued to Aramis' side, and caught him when he faltered. He pulled Aramis over to the table and carefully sat him in a chair.

The woman was startled, especially when she only then spotted the awful bruising on the left side of Aramis' face. "What happened?!" she exclaimed.

Athos reached for Aramis' face, lifting it up to see that their friend was conscious, but blinking rapidly. "A glass of water, please?" he requested.

The woman hastened to comply, bringing it back quickly.

Porthos took the cup and helped Aramis drink it. They all watched as he came to his senses.

Aramis was embarrassed to see them all staring at him. "Lo siento," he said.

The musketeers knew what that meant, but the woman didn't.

"That was an apology," d'Artagnan told her. "He was attacked last week, possibly by this serial thief. If there's anything else you can think of that might help us catch him, please let us know."

She nodded. "I will."

They helped Aramis up and got him outside, mounting him on his horse and riding close beside him.

Porthos kept a hand around one of Aramis' arms. "You all right?" he asked.

"Si. Yes." Aramis looked at him. "I speak Spanish without thought."

"We noticed," said Porthos.

Aramis' horse neighed, and Aramis petted her. "Forgive me, Bella, I'll be back to myself soon, I promise."

It took a few seconds for the others to realize what had just happened.

"Aramis!" said d'Artagnan. "You remembered her name!"

Aramis looked startled, before he smiled. "Bella," he said. "I named her Bella." He suddenly made a surprised face.

Porthos stopped riding, which forced Bella to stop walking too, and they all quietly watched Aramis as he obviously remembered something.

It was a full minute before Aramis blinked and came back to himself.

"What did you remember?" Porthos asked.

Aramis blinked again and swayed a little to the right, prompting Porthos to tighten the grip on his left arm and pull him closer to him.

"Whoa, hey," said Porthos.

Aramis held up his other hand as if to tell them that he was all right, before he took a deep breath and looked at them. "I remember when the garrison got new horses after Savoy. Bella chose me."

Porthos grinned ear-to-ear. "That she did, Aramis!"

D'Artagnan's eyebrows shot up. "Story time?"

Aramis smiled and told them of how the troupe of horses had been brought in and Bella had walked right over to Aramis and refused to leave his side. She would only let him touch her, and she was his from that instant.

As they rode through the garrison gate, they spotted Treville sitting at the outside table.

The captain watched as they rode towards him, and he instantly noticed Porthos holding onto Aramis' left arm. He stood and walked over to them. "Is he all right?"

"Dizzy spells," d'Artagnan informed him.

Treville reached up a hand to help Aramis get down, and was a little surprised when his knees didn't lock. He quickly grabbed Aramis under the arms and leaned him against his horse to keep him upright.

"Lo siento," Aramis said, again, closing his eyes.

The others had forgotten about Aramis speaking Spanish instead of French, since he hadn't done it at all while telling d'Artagnan about Bella.

Treville looked at Athos.

"He's suddenly finding French words to be difficult," Athos explained.

Treville was stunned. "Are you saying that he forgot the language?!"

"Nonono," Porthos interrupted. "It's more like an unexpected lapse, or unable to think of a certain word."

Aramis reopened his eyes and looked at them. "I can speak French."

Treville nodded. "I'm relieved to hear it." He wrapped an arm around Aramis' back and helped him over to the bench, sitting him down and pouring him a cup of water from the pitcher on the table.

As Aramis drank it, the others told Treville what they found—or rather, didn't find—at the woman's house. They then told him that Aramis had remembered Bella, and he was overjoyed.

"That's an excellent sign, Aramis!" Treville said, smiling.

Aramis smiled back. "Yes. Now I don't feel as..." He paused, as if searching for the word. "Empty."

Treville patted his shoulder. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"It suddenly occurred to me earlier that after you were attacked, you managed to get yourself back home to the garrison."

Everyone looked at Aramis.

"Do you remember anything about how you got here?" Treville asked.

Aramis blinked, thinking.

"Tracing your steps in the dark made sense to us because it was night when you were attacked," Treville continued. "But you didn't recognize anything perhaps because you can't remember where anything is. But if you see, say, a blacksmith's shop in the daylight, it might trigger your memory that you were attacked there, or something."

Aramis looked at him again. "That makes sense." He sighed. "And no, I don't remember how I got here. I recall the fact that I was walking, but that's all."

"You passed out after entering the gate and I found you early the next morning," Treville told him. "Do you remember that?"

"Slightly."

"You'd likely been out here for hours...you were ice cold and shivering," Treville said. "The damage to your brain from the blow must've worsened overnight, but you'd still had enough of your memory to make it home."

Porthos sighed with relief at that.

"So I should retrace my steps now, in the daylight," Aramis said, standing to his feet.

Athos shot out his hand to grab him when Aramis faltered. "Now seems to be too soon, considering."

Aramis dizzily leaned one arm against the table and closed his eyes. "Esto es tan frustrante!"

Everyone shot glances at each other. Aramis didn't correct himself, but 'frustrante' made it obvious what he'd said.

"You have to go slowly," said Treville. "Your injury is serious."

Aramis reopened his eyes, looking paler as he sank back down to the bench. "Estoy tan harta de esto."

Treville hesitated. "Can you speak French?"

Aramis looked at him. "Of course."

Everyone waited, but he didn't seem to realize that he'd spoken Spanish again.

"We know that you're frustrated," d'Artagnan said.

"And sick of this," said Aramis, not realizing that he was translating his second statement.

"We're going to help you every step of the way," d'Artagnan continued. "But you need to take care of yourself or you'll make your recovery harder."

Aramis knew that he was right, and sighed, raising a slightly-shaking hand to rub his aching head. "You're right," he said, his voice cracking with fatigue. "I'm sorry to be such a burden."

Everyone frowned at that.

"A what?!" said Porthos. "You're not a burden! Why would you think that?" He realized the answer right as he said it.

"Because he cannot remember us," said Athos.

Aramis looked at them under his hand. "I'm starting to," he said. "Rather, I know that I've known you all for years...I feel the familiarity and camaraderie. Sometimes I'll feel that I've experienced certain things before, or recognize a phrase, or something about one of you." He looked at Porthos. "Of all the musketeers here, I know that I've been closest to you the longest."

Porthos' smile could've lit up the darkest night. "That's right!"

"You're the brother that I never had," Aramis told him. "As are you," he told Athos. He looked at Treville next. "I feel that you've not only been my captain and friend, but also a father figure. I have the feeling that you've scolded me and offered advice in equal parts."

Treville had to smile at that. "Sometimes the scolding seemed to outweigh the advice!"

Everyone chuckled.

"D'Artagnan," Aramis said, finally lowering his hand. "You've become a brother quickly, and for some reason, I think I see something of myself in you..." He shrugged. "If I only I could remember what!"

"That's easy!" said Porthos. "He can be really annoyin' sometimes!"

D'Artagnan looked at him in mock shock.

Everyone laughed.

"Oh, my friend," said Aramis, placing a hand on his chest. "You wound me!"

The others smiled at the familiar mannerism. The old Aramis was still in there somewhere!

TBC

*'Things Aren't What They Seem', story ID 11946024