A/N: I am constantly overwhelmed by your amazing feedback. Seriously. It's just been so much love which was exactly what I needed the past few weeks, so again, Thank you. Thank you for reading. Thank you for reviewing. Thank you for loving this series and these characters as much as I do. Cheers!

Patience

Chapter 14

It was dark, so dark, but at the same time so light! What devilry made this possible?

The whiteness of the snow burnt his eyes where he was held down against something hard. Dark feathers rained over him as cruel talons tore at his flesh. He struggled, but some ungodly force prevented him from raising his arms. Instead he simply thrashed from side to side in an attempt to deter the vile birds that seared his skin with their fiery talons.

One foul creature turned its head to stare at him. Its blood-red eye searched his soul. Derisive laughter seemed to emanate from the bird as it shrieked its vicious caws. Launching into the air, the bird settled on a man's shoulder – Albert, staring sightlessly at Aramis. Blood still poured from his many wounds.

"What did you do?" the man demanded coldly. Accusation was heavy in each word.

Aramis caught his breath.

"How could you let this happen? You let me die!" the corpse screamed. "You let us all die!"

"No! I'm sorry!" Aramis shouted, fighting harder against the invisible forces restraining his arms and legs. "I tried to fight! There was nothing I could do!"

The corpse and the crow laughed at him as the birds turned and rose en masse to feast on the dead man.

"No!" Aramis screamed, "Get away! Get off of him!"

The dark mass of feathers rose and took the shape of a man. Aramis could feel the cold of the snow as he crouched on the ground. Snow had begun to fall as he watched this man tear his pauldron from his side again.

"Stop! Brother! Please!" Aramis cried, "We have to help them! Please! They can't all be dead! Please brother! Help me! We have to save them! Don't leave…please...don't leave me alone," he begged. The man just turned, his light blue eyes staring at Aramis, that familiar smirk on his face as he slowly melted into the darkness that was growing around him.

"No! Don't leave! MARSAC!" Aramis screamed.

oOo

Porthos and Athos released their hold on Aramis' limbs as the marksman settled again. It had been nearly a day since the surgeon had come and Aramis still had not awoken.

Well, not awoken in a sense to bring comfort to his brothers.

This was the fourth time that Aramis had been pulled from his sleep, thrashing violently and screaming and pleading with invisible figures. His eyes were open, but as his head swept manically around the room, they knew he couldn't see them.

Their words of comfort fell on deaf ears, and all they could do was hold him down on the bed and hope that he didn't hurt himself. The harder they held him, the harder he fought and each waking nightmare ended on that one word: Marsac.

Treville had reported his findings upon his return once the surgeon had left.

Twenty bodies had been recovered.

Twenty musketeers lay covered in the two large wagons that were now resting in the barn of the inn.

Twenty lives had been taken from them, and only Aramis had been left.

"Marsac's body was not among the dead. His pauldron was recovered not far from where we found Aramis," Treville said sadly.

"He couldn't have left them," Porthos said disbelievingly, his voice cracking under the strain of the day.

"Until there is proof otherwise, it looks as though Marsac fled, abandoning his brothers and his duty. He will be branded a traitor and sentenced to death if he is found," said Treville.

Athos had said nothing, yet clenched his fist tighter at his side.

Marsac abandoned them all.

He abandoned Aramis amongst the bodies of twenty dead brothers-in-arms.

He abandoned him for what appeared to be five days based on the surgeon's assessment of the bodies of the other musketeers.

Five days without food, water, or comfort, just the slowly decomposing bodies of his brethren.

Athos didn't care what the King's orders would be. If Athos ever saw Marsac again, it would be his hands that would be taking his life for betraying their brotherhood and abandoning Aramis in those woods.

Porthos wiped at the marksman's forehead with a cool damp cloth.

"He can't keep goin' on like this," he said worriedly. "He's gotta eat something."

"He'll wake," Athos said firmly. He had to.

oOo

It was nearing the end of the second day since the surgeon had visited when Aramis finally showed signs of stirring.

Porthos and Athos gathered near the bed; Captain Treville held back. After all that Aramis had suffered, and clearly continued to suffer, Treville didn't know how he could face the marksman who was now struggling to wake.

"Aramis? Aramis, it's Porthos. Can you hear me?" The man said, taking his hand. "Athos is here too. Can you open your eyes?"

Aramis groaned.

Athos brushed the hair from the marksman's brow and placed his hand on the man's face.

"Aramis, you're safe. We've got you. Open your eyes," Athos said, almost as though issuing an order. Aramis groaned again, his eyelids fluttering as they struggled under the weight of his thick eyelashes. Slowly, the dark brown eyes peeked through.

"Athos…Porthos…" a gravelly voice whispered painfully. A bark of relieved laughter came forward from Porthos. He reached for the water goblet on the table and brought it to the marksman's lips. Athos helped him to raise his head and the man sipped greedily from the glass. He moaned as it was taken from him.

"Easy, easy," said Porthos, "It's been some time since you've had anything to eat or drink. Let that settle and you can have some more."

"Where am I?" he asked groggily, his voice hoarse.

"What can you remember?" asked Treville stepping forward.

At the sight of the Captain, Aramis' eyes bulged, and all the memories came flooding back to him. He desperately fought to push himself upright, Athos and Porthos doing what they could to help. Suddenly, he pitched forward, pressing a shaking hand to his head.

"Careful son, careful," said the Captain.

"Breathe, Aramis, just breathe. Like this," said Porthos as he took the hand that he had been grasping and placed it on his chest. With an effort Aramis calmed and managed to regulate his breathing.

He was pale and sweaty, his sudden weight loss making him look almost wraithlike. Porthos lifted the glass to his lips once more and again he drank before pushing the cup away. It was clear to all three men that he was fading fast.

"We arrived at our campsite without issue. We set up camp. Everything was fine. First day of training went well. Michel and Hugo had first watch. They were supposed to wake Marsac and I in three hours…Don't know what happened. I just had a feeling…something was wrong. Woke Marsac. All of a sudden there was chaos everywhere. We were under attack." Aramis' eyes lost focus as the battle played out again in his mind.

"They must have killed Hugo and Michel first...We had no warning...Half the men…half the men were butchered in their sleep. They were unarmed. Defenceless. It was a training mission on peaceful lands. There was no reason for us to expect an attack. The men who attacked us were dressed in black. I fought their leader…managed to injure him…Something hit me and I went down…Marsac…he pulled me to safety, then everything went black."

Tears had begun to roll down Aramis' cheeks as his eyes began to droop. "When I awoke, there was nothing left. Everyone was dead. And Marsac…he…he…he left. He left me alone. They were all dead. There was nothing I could do. I was alone. He left us...He left me...the crows…"Aramis trailed off as unconsciousness took him.

The three men were silent as they continued to read the fear and devastation that was clearly written on the man's face.

Porthos was the first to move as he turned away from the bed and flung the glass he was still holding against the wall where it shattered. Treville didn't move. Athos remained where he sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked the marksman's face. He would not show the others the tears that were fighting to escape from the frozen pools of his eyes. "He has pulled his stitches," was all he said.

"I'll fetch the doctor. When he wakes again we should get him to eat something," Treville said hoarsely as he cleared his throat. "I've sent word to the garrison. I plan to return our men to Paris in two days' time." Athos looked up at this.

"With all due respect Captain, Aramis will not be ready to travel in two days," said Athos. His anger had started to simmer, but his face remained impassive.

"I know, but he cannot stay here in this shadow…and the others...take what time you need, then bring him home." Treville turned and left the room and stumbled down the stairs to write the letter to the King that he had been dreading.

oOo

Aramis was woken by his tortured dreams twice more that night and three times the night after. Each time, the fear and violence of Aramis' dreams terrified his brothers who were unable to help.

They had stopped restraining him as that only seemed to make things worse. Instead they repeated calling his name, reaffirming that he was safe. When that didn't work, they simply held him against them and ran their fingers through his hair or rubbed the back of his neck, any kind of action they could offer him to bring him comfort.

It was near dawn when Aramis woke. Athos was lying in the bed next to his. Porthos had fallen asleep in the chair by the bedside. They had taken it in turns to watch over him, but it appeared as though sleep had gotten the better of both of them. He shifted only slightly and Porthos sprang awake.

"Aramis," he breathed as his soft brown eyes took in the haunted looking man.

Aramis cringed and drew back.

"How are you feeling?" Porthos asked and immediately chastised himself for the inane question.

"I'm fine," said Aramis blankly. He stared back at the brawler and Porthos fought the urge to flinch. The dark eyes that stared at him were completely devoid of what was once the insatiable light of the marksman. Gone were any signs of the life, laughter or mischief that usually dwelt in their dark depths. Instead, an emptiness stared back at him, desperate for some sort of meaning, some sort of reassurance. Porthos fought the urge to shudder, but he refused to break eye contact.

"You're not fine," he said, "But you will be." A slow tear fell down his cheek. "I shoulda been there with you," he muttered.

"Then you'd be dead," said Aramis flatly as he wrapped his arms around himself and rolled onto his side away from the stunned larger man. "They're all dead."

oOo