A/N away all weekend so shall leave this for you hoping to get more written and posted before I vanish to New York end of next week. Thanks for all your amazing support! This was a tough chapter to write. Enjoy comments always welcome

Chapter 14

It was early the following morning when Aramis finally came to. It wasn't an easy awakening. The marksman suffered with the harsh light causing pain to shoot through his head and confused mind. He went to reach up to feel his head for a wound but his hand was stopped by a strong yet gentle one.

"Easy brother. You took a nasty blow to the head," Porthos' voice soothed him gently, just as the room fell into darkness when Athos pulled the curtains shut blocking out the sun and then lit a candle. Aramis sighed deeply, easing himself back against his pillows as a sharp pain from his knee caused by a slight movement, made him cry out. Porthos winced, glancing at Athos who stayed standing at the end of the bed. "Aramis, you must lay still. You were shot in the knee…They made sure you wouldn't follow," Athos told him. The confusion held in bright brown orbs confirmed Athos' suspicions that Aramis had no idea what had happened. Porthos shifted slightly, taking hold of the injured musketeer's hand.

"Aramis…do you remember anything that happened?" Porthos asked him gently. Aramis stayed silent for a few moments before shaking his head slowly. "Not much. I remember going into a building…and I found Thomas and D'Artagnan…then it went blank…" He trailed off, looking between his two friends. "Thomas is safe right? He was okay when I saw him," Aramis said, his voice begging them to tell him it was okay. Porthos squeezed his hand gently while Athos took a deep breath. "Aramis…look at me brother," he called to the marksman, forcing himself to hold the big brown eyes with his own. "There was an explosion and the building went up. We couldn't get back to Thomas and D'Artagnan quick enough…I am so sorry Aramis…they are both dead," Athos whispered, feeling his heart shatter as devastation like he had never seen crossed over the man's face.

"My little is boy is dead?" Aramis breathed, shaking his head. "No, you are lying. You are lying! Why would you say this? Why?!" he cried, pulling his hand from Porthos' grip. "Get out!" he hissed. Athos stepped towards him while Porthos didn't move. "I SAID GET OUT! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN QUICKER AND SAVED THEM! GET OUT!" he screamed, picking up the jug by his bed and throwing it at Athos, forcing the man to duck to avoid it.

"Aramis stop!" Porthos barked, grabbing both his friend's arms and holding them tightly. "Get off me! You let them die you both let them die!" Aramis cried, trying to pull his hands free but Porthos held on tighter. Athos took a step back towards the door, He couldn't do this, couldn't watch his brother completely break down.

"Give me my pistol. I don't want to be here any more. You should have left me to die! Let me die! Give/me/my/gun!" Aramis demanded, fighting harder against the bigger musketeer. Athos stepped out the door. "Athos don't!" Porthos warned him as he continued to fight the marksman in his arms. Aramis' cries had now turned to ones of distress for his son and wife mixed with the begging for them to shoot him and take his life.

"I can't Porthos. I am sorry. I can't do this" Athos muttered. "You think I can? Athos please. I need your help here. Aramis needs our help. Please don't turn your back on him," Porthos begged but Athos shook his head, not being able to listen to his brother beg for death any more. "I am sorry Aramis," was all he could say before he turned and left, ignoring Porthos shouting after him and the soul shattering cries of the broken man that Porthos held in his arms.

Porthos didn't know how long he had sat cradling his friend, his brother in his arms. Aramis had gone through every emotion before fatigue had taken hold and left him sobbing as he clung weakly to Porthos' shirt that was now soaked from tears. Porthos held the man the whole time, rocking him gently and muttering words of comfort in a hope to soothe Aramis even though he knew those words weren't heard. He, himself, had given up fighting his own tears, letting them fall to merge with those of the musketeer slumped in his embrace.

"Hush now, Aramis. Try and calm down for me, brother," Porthos whispered to him, resting his head upon Aramis' own and still rocking him gently trying to ease his tears. He could feel the marksman get weaker, his body shaking with exhaustion. A knock at the door made him look up where he saw Treville enter with the physician behind him. As Porthos caught the Captain's eye and the sorrowful look that graced his features, he shook his head sadly answering Treville's silent question. Treville didn't say anything, instead walking to the bed and dropping down at the other side of Aramis. Porthos watched as the normally impassive man struggled to keep a hold on the raw emotion that had clearly gripped him upon seeing the state the young man in front of him was in.

"Aramis?" Treville called to him gently, placing a hand on the man's knee in a hope to gauge some reaction from him. When he received nothing, Treville sighed deeply before glancing the man stood behind him and nodding for him to step forward.

"Aramis, I have brought the physician. He needs to check your injuries for me, son," he paused, looking at Porthos sadly. "And to give you something for the pain," he added. Standing up, he let the man tend to Aramis. Porthos kept hold of him in case Aramis was to be a problem. Instead, Aramis didn't move and made no inclination he was even aware of the man as he gently checked the musketeer over. Finally, he stepped back, looking at the two men.

"His head wound is healing and his knee will also heal as long as he rests it," he paused, before continuing in a voice full of regret. "I can give you endless amount of sedative and may I make a suggestion that we keep Aramis on the drug for now…?" He was stopped by Porthos shaking his head. "No, I am not having him doped constantly. That is not fair!" he snapped, watching as the physician prepared a drink for Aramis before bringing it to the young musketeer to force the man to drink it. What happened next happened so quickly and unexpectedly that the 3 men present in the room had no hope of stopping it.

Aramis suddenly seemed to snap from his trance as if possessed. Growling like a wild animal, he flung his hand out, knocking the cup of water and the physician flying before stumbling from his bed and limping to a wall, pistol drawn and eyes watching them with a dangerous look held in them.

"Why are you trying to poison me?! I know! I hear what you say!" he hissed.

No one dared move for a few seconds, scared if they did that the trigger would be pulled. Finally, Porthos moved slowly towards him, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm. "Aramis, no one is trying to poison you. The physician was wanting to give you something for the pain. That is all," he told him quietly. Aramis held Porthos' gaze with a confused one of his own. "Nothing can stop the pain," he muttered. Porthos stopped, not sure what to say to that. "At least let us try and help you, Aramis. Come on. Put the gun down," Porthos pleaded. By now he was stood in front of his friend and he was aware of Treville moving round to Aramis' other side while the physician watched silently, a fresh cup of the herbs held in his hands.

Aramis surveyed Porthos, pushing himself closer to the wall as the bigger man advanced, but lowering the pistol as asked. He went to say something when a flash of light flared behind his eyes bringing with it a pain he had never experienced, before he dropped like the dead straight into the arms of his brother.

"Aramis? No Aramis come on…Come on mate!" Porthos called to him as he sank to the floor, the physician by his side in an instant. "What's wrong with him?" Porthos demanded of the man as he checked his pupils. Seeing them fixed and dilated, the physician looked up at the musketeer. "His head wound has caused him to pass out but am I concerned he has damage greater than we think. After watching that episode, I am not sure there is more than what we can see. I would like a second opinion. A second assessment if you will. Gentlemen, I think you need to consider Aramis being committed," he spoke softly, startling at the snarl that escaped Porthos as he scooped the unconscious man up and placed him gently on the bed. "I am not having you lock him up like some wild animal!" he snapped, spinning round to face them though he stopped suddenly, dropping into a bow causing the others to turn to the door seeing the Queen stood in the entrance, her face pale and distressed. It was clear she had seen or at least heard all that had happened.

"Your majesty," Treville greeted her. "You should not be here. Aramis is not well enough for visitors at the moment," he added. Anne shook her head, stepping into the room and her eyes falling on the figure on the bed. She looked to the physician. "Have Jacques, the royal physician sent here. Have him assess Aramis and if he agrees with you and…" She paused, swallowing her tears at the realisation that the musketeer was so sick this was now their only option. She took a shaky breath before she continued. "If he agrees that Aramis' depression is beyond help and having him committed is the kindest thing…then be sure that he is given the best care we have. He deserves no less," she ordered, her voice wavering at the last bit, ignoring the look of devastation on Porthos' face at her words. They had known if Thomas died this would happen but faced with the reality of it was something none of them had prepared for.

"This isn't right," Porthos muttered, running a large hand through the thick curls of his friend. "He isn't mad!" Anne placed a small hand to his shoulder and squeezed it gently, aware of both Treville and the physician leaving. "None of what Aramis has been dealt is fair, Porthos, but I heard all that was said…he is beyond our help now…" She trailed off, not having any more words to say and instead she turned and left the room, giving Porthos his privacy as he watched over his brother, coming to terms with the realisation he could no longer save him from his dangerous mind.