The night passed slowly, with Athos, Porthos, d'Artagnan, and Treville taking turns sleeping and watching over Aramis, as well as trying to come up with a solution to the Richelieu problem.
They came up with nothing.
Aramis slept most of the night; the few times he'd woken, he hadn't been very aware of anything and simply dropped back to sleep. His fever remained unchanged, and that was very worrisome.
The next day brought heavy rain around mid-morning, and the noise woke Aramis abruptly. He opened his eyes and found Treville sitting beside the bed, rewetting the cloth on his forehead.
Treville was glad to see him awake. "Good morning," he said. "How do you feel?"
Aramis thought about it for a moment before answering. "Better." It was the truth; he wasn't dizzy anymore, just lightheaded, and his headache wasn't bad.
Treville smiled as he wrung out the towel. "I'm glad to hear that. Your fever has finally broken," he said, using the towel to wipe away the sweat from Aramis' forehead and face.
Aramis closed his eyes; the cool water felt wonderful on his skin. "Where are the others?"
Treville motioned to the left. "Asleep."
Aramis reopened his eyes. "How long has it been?"
"Two days since you returned," Treville told him.
Aramis tried to blink away the lightheadedness and turned his head to see his three friends sprawled in chairs. Porthos was lightly snoring, as usual.
Treville poured a cup of water. "Here," he said. He helped Aramis sit up a little and held the cup as he drank.
Aramis raised a hand to take the cup, but Treville didn't let go. Once it was empty, Treville put it back on the nightstand before placing his hand on Aramis' forehead. The fever had broken, but it was still slightly there, so he placed the wet towel back on his forehead.
Aramis closed his eyes and let out a breath. He still felt weak and tired.
Porthos snorted in his sleep and woke himself up. He sleepily blinked and looked towards the bed, and when he spotted Aramis sitting up, he nearly fell out of his chair in his haste to stand. "He's awake!" he exclaimed.
The other two instantly woke at his voice.
Aramis opened his eyes at his friend's excited words, and watched as they hurried to the bed. He smiled at them.
The other three smiled back. "You look better," said Porthos.
Aramis nodded. "I'm fine."
Athos rolled his eyes.
D'Artagnan chuckled. "I wouldn't go that far just yet."
"His fever has broken," said Treville.
That was the best news they could have gotten. Porthos sighed with relief and sat on the side of the bed. "I dunno about them," he said, gesturing to Athos and d'Artagnan. "But there were a few times when I wasn't sure that you were going to make it."
Aramis reached over and put a hand on his arm. "Forgive me for worrying you."
Porthos shook his head and patted his hand. "No need for forgiveness. Just get back to your old self and we'll be happy."
Aramis smiled.
"Are you hungry?" d'Artagnan asked. "I can get you some more soup."
Aramis shook his head. "Not right now, thank you." He looked at Athos, who was quiet, as usual. "I seem to recall you mentioning who poisoned me, but the details escape me now."
"It was Antoine, the new recruit," Athos told him. "He put poison on the hilt of your sword. Every time you held it, the substance was absorbed into your blood."
Aramis sighed. "Why? Someone put him up to it, I assume?"
Everyone looked at Athos, to see what he would say.
Aramis noticed. "What aren't you telling me?"
Athos sighed. "Antoine told us that the Cardinal paid him to do it."
Any color that Aramis had regained in his face quickly drained away. "The Cardinal?"
Athos nodded.
Aramis looked away, appearing dazed.
"Take it easy," Porthos said. "Antoine is dead and the Cardinal doesn't know it. We have time to figure out what to do."
Aramis took a deep breath. "Adele." He shook his head. "He must've found out."
"It appears so," said Athos.
"If he does anything to hurt her…" Aramis said.
"Don't think about that," said Porthos. "There's nothing you can do anyway."
That was true. Aramis sighed and closed his eyes. He was silent for a moment, before saying, "Do we have a plan?"
"Not yet," said d'Artagnan.
"We'll figure it out, Aramis," said Treville. "Just rest, regain your strength."
Aramis sighed again, making no reply.
The rest of the day passed slowly. It continued to rain, darkening his mood even more. It appeared that the poison was leaving his bloodstream, as he didn't lose consciousness again or fall asleep in the middle of eating…when he actually ate.
"Come on, Aramis, don't tell us that you aren't hungry again," Porthos said, as they had supper.
Aramis sighed. "Being the subject of the Cardinal's murderous quest tends to spoil one's appetite," he answered. He picked at his food but forced himself to eat as much as he could, knowing that he wouldn't get stronger otherwise.
The rain continued into the night, and despite Aramis' troubled mind, he slept, his body still weak and demanding rest. His dreams were distressing and woke him more than once, but he never remembered what he'd dreamed, which was a blessing. When morning came, the lingering headache and lightheadedness were minor, and his fever was completely gone. He wanted to get out of bed, but his friends wouldn't let him.
"It's too soon, Aramis," said Porthos. "You're still too weak."
Aramis sighed. "If the Cardinal is going to try to kill me some other way now, then I need to find out how mobile I am."
"You're right," Athos said. He pulled the covers off their friend and reached for Aramis' arm, helping him sit up on the side of the bed.
"I hope you don't regret this," said Porthos as he took his friend's other arm.
"So do I," Aramis answered. He blinked his eyes a few times.
"Dizzy again?" d'Artagnan asked, watching with concern.
"Not unexpected, considering," Aramis answered.
No one countered his statement. "Let us know when you're ready," Athos said, patiently.
Aramis wisely stayed put for another moment before telling them so, and they carefully pulled him to his feet.
Aramis sucked in a breath when the room swirled before his face, and he closed his eyes. He felt Athos and Porthos move to sit him back down on the bed, but he said, "No," and managed to remain standing.
Porthos sighed as he tightened his grip.
The intensity of the dizziness lessened, and Aramis opened his eyes to see d'Artagnan's worried face in front of his own, having grabbed Aramis under the armpits while Athos and Porthos held him up on each side.
"I believe the answer is, 'not at all'," Athos suddenly said.
"What?" Aramis answered, blinking his vision into focus.
"To the question of how mobile you are."
Despite the situation, Aramis chuckled. "Nonsense…you know what it's like to stand up the first time after being bedridden." With that, he took a step forward, which forced d'Artagnan to take a step back.
"What are you doing?" d'Artagnan asked.
"You're bright," said Aramis. "I'm sure you can figure it out."
D'Artagnan smiled and shook his head. "You're very stubborn."
"A shared trait between all of us," Athos remarked.
D'Artagnan, still smiling, let go of him and moved aside so Aramis could attempt walking with Porthos and Athos' help. He took a few shuffling steps, still feeling weak, but he managed.
"Let go," Aramis told Athos.
"Are you sure?" Athos asked.
"Yes."
Athos obeyed, knowing that Porthos would never let him fall. He and d'Artagnan watched Aramis slowly walk around the room with Porthos' help, and he did all right, considering how sick he'd been.
Porthos brought Aramis back to the bed and sat him down. "That was pretty good," he remarked.
"Considering," said Aramis, breathing fast. "But not good enough; I don't want any of you hurt defending me because I'm too weak to properly defend myself."
"You haven't given yourself a chance to recover," said Athos. "You know that it can take some time to regain lost strength."
Aramis looked at him. "We don't have any time," he said. "This is the Cardinal we're dealing with!"
Everyone knew that he was right.
"You can't will yourself to get stronger any faster, Aramis," said d'Artagnan.
"Staying in bed will keep me weak," Aramis told them. "If I lie down, I'll sleep."
"Good, sleep is what you need the most," Porthos argued.
Aramis shook his head. "I need to be active."
"Active?" they suddenly heard.
Turning, they saw that Treville had come into the room.
"You fever has barely left and you want to be active?" he said, as he walked over to the bed. "Your body isn't ready, you'll only make the fever return."
Aramis shook his head, even though it made him lightheaded. "The substance has left my blood," At least, most of it, Aramis thought. "The poison is what caused the fever, not some illness. It's not the same thing."
"If one of us had been poisoned, you would not let us out of our bed," Athos said.
"That's right," said Porthos. "And you would risk your life to defend us from further harm."
Aramis looked up at them with a sigh. "And you would feel the same way that I do and be making the same argument that I am."
That was true. Not only that, but it wasn't as if Aramis had some painful injury that would worsen with movement.
"You are not leaving this room," said Athos. "If you want to remain out of bed, so be it, there are plenty of chairs."
Aramis couldn't ask for more, considering that they were right and it was foolish for him to get up so soon. "Fine."
As one, each of the others were suddenly in motion; Athos and d'Artagnan grabbing chairs while Porthos pulled a blanket off the bed.
Treville stepped closer to Aramis, as if having the duty of preventing him from standing up.
Porthos shook out the blanket and wrapped it around Aramis from behind, and he and Treville pulled him to his feet and helped him walk over to the chairs that the others had placed near the window. Porthos stood up a pillow on one chair to cushion Aramis' back and head, and they gently lowered him to sit, with Athos grabbing his legs and placing them onto the other chair. Porthos went back to the bed and grabbed another blanket, draping it over Aramis and tucking in the ends.
"How's that?" Porthos asked.
Aramis looked at himself practically cocooned, and smiled at them. "You make me feel truly spoiled, my friends."
They all smiled back at him.
"You'd better stay there," said d'Artagnan.
Aramis nodded. "I will. Thank you." He looked towards the window, wishing that he could sit right beside it and watch the goings-on in the garrison, but he knew that he was safer out of sight, should Richelieu decide to simply have someone shoot him through the window.
"What's wrong?" Porthos suddenly asked.
Aramis sighed. "I don't like being hidden."
The others understood; none of them would like it either. "It won't be for long," d'Artagnan said, sounding determined. "We promise."
Aramis nodded, hoping that it was a promise they'd be able to keep.
TBC
