The next time Aramis awoke was painful, the residual effects of his attempts to move from the previous day. The first thing he saw, or rather the first three things he saw when he opened his eyes, were his brothers' anxious eyes watching him.

He knew he was the cause of their anxiety, and in hindsight realized he had been very foolish in his action of trying to move so soon. His face must have revealed his guilt, because Athos took his hand and said, "We cannot blame you for wanting to know exactly what condition you are in, Aramis. Any one of us who was in the same position would probably have done the same thing, and we are not even the healer among us. You would have even more of a temptation than any of us, as you have so much understanding of injuries and what they can do. That said, I still have to say please do not frighten us like that again! Just ask?"

Aramis closed his eyes for a moment, then said, "I have definitely learned my lesson." Pausing, he then asked,"What state does Dr. Lemay say I am in, please?" looking at each of his brothers in a plea for honesty to his question.

"I will say first that he was very pleased that you have got your voice back. He told us he feared that you might have lost it permanently when he first examined you."

Shock registered on Aramis' face at this revelation. He closed his eyes for a moment, and in the silence of his mind, he wondered what had been done to have caused it, but didn't voice it aloud.

Porthos grabbed his brother's unoccupied hand and squeezed gently. "It's all right, mon ami. Take it slow. It's a lot to take in all at once."

Aramis' eyes opened once again, and he flashed Porthos a slight smile of gratitude for his words. His brothers knew him so well.

"Athos?" he asked, in the voice that was still barely above a whisper.

Athos knew what he was asking him, but again wished he wasn't the de facto leader of the Inseparables at this moment.

Then he began slowly, his heart hurting for the brother he loved so much. Just talking about what was done to him was too painful.

Before he began an accounting of what had been done to him, he spoke softly and, for a man who said he had no faith, with great conviction. "It is a miracle that you are with us again, Aramis. Each time we see you looking back at us, we realize the gift of your life that has been given back to us.

"They starved you, Aramis. They gave you barely enough food and water to keep you alive. We suspected as much from your body's condition. You were...still are...emaciated, and your skin was as dry as paper to the touch."

He stopped. He had known how hard this would be to talk about, but it was far worse than even he had thought. Most people, from Athos' outward demeanor, saw an emotionless man for the most part: cool, calm, detached. With his brothers, he was anything but that man, and his face showed his anguish at his words. He had barely begun, and wished he was finished already.

Then, he went on. "We believe they kept you bound and gagged or muzzled the entire time. We do not know if they feared someone hearing your cries, or just did it to be as cruel as possible. Given their torments upon you, it is likely that it was the latter."

Aramis interjected with a question. "Does Dr. Lemay believe that is why I lost my voice?"

"Yes," Athos continued, "but we are so grateful that it has come back."

Aramis again smiled at how much they cared about him. Then, "Please go on?"

With a long sigh, Athos continued. "I have never seen someone as tormented as you were, Aramis. To have done this, there had to have been an unbelievable amount of anger. Misplaced, of course, but someone clearly had to have done something to these men to draw this amount of fury at someone.

During the course of your captivity, you were subjected to beatings, a good many of them from looking at the bruising. They..." he couldn't go on.

Porthos took up the tale."They used knives and ... you had burns from something. We've never figured out what caused them. They staged a fake hanging, but to you, it would have been terrifyingly real because you had no way of knowing they wouldn't finish it." Tears were now running down Porthos' face at the sheer number of torments his brother had endured. "And you were flogged."

Porthos continued, "There were most likely other things that were not physical," stopping when he saw Aramis' questioning look. "Just the physical things they did tells me they probably constantly spoke harshly or shouted at you, too. You were surrounded for a whole month by men who probably let you know all the time what they thought of you, and that can be hard on a man's mind, too."

He stopped for a moment, as utter silence reigned in the room.

Athos continued the account, softer than Aramis had ever heard him speak. "But you were stronger than they thought," he said with pride in his brother for having that strength. "They tried so hard, but in the end, they were defeated when you held on long enough for us to find and take you home."

Again, there was silence in the room Then, Aramis spoke again. "I knew, from what my body was telling me, that it was bad. But I had no idea just how bad." Silence again, then, "Why?"

No one knew what to tell him.

After a short while, he spoke again. "Words do not convey what I feel right now. I am still confused as to why this happened. But one thing I do know. I feel..." closing his eyes for a moment as he was plainly exhausted from taking it all in, then opening them to look fondly at each one of his brothers, "I feel very loved," as his eyes closed in sleep once more.

They looked at each other in silence and smiled, the sadness of the previous few moments intermixed with the joy they felt that their beloved brother was healing...slowly, but healing all the same.

Porthos spoke softly, saying, "He will be avenged at the proper time. We will give him justice for all he has suffered at their hands."

Laying a hand on Aramis', d'Artagnan quickly laid his on Porthos', followed by Athos.

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When Aramis awoke several hours later, Porthos told him Serge had outdone himself again, playfully complaining, "Why are you his favorite? This cherry tart is mouthwatering, but he only made them for you!"

Aramis just smiled. He knew Serge openly treated him as his favorite, and no amount of talking to him over the years had ever made the slightest difference. So, he had just grown used to it, and loved the cantankerous old man even more.

Porthos asked him, "Do you mind if we keep your dinner back a while? We don't get to spend a lot of time with you sleeping so much." Pausing, "Not that we are complaining at your sleeping. It's the best thing for your healing. But we do miss your company, you know."

Aramis smiled again and nodded.

They kept the conversation off the whole subject of his ordeal, sharing tales of missions they had gone on and accomplished, lighthearted reminiscences of evenings spent at a favorite tavern, or an outrageous conquest of a card game bragged about by Porthos. Peals of laughter punctuated their evening, as each one of them then seemed to try to outdo the tale the previous one had regaled them with. It had been so long since they had enjoyed a relaxed evening together, and they really didn't want it to end, but they could see from Aramis' drooping eyelids just how tired he was, even though he protested when it was mentioned.

Serge had prepared a delicious beef stew, with plenty of potatoes and carrots thrown in. He seemed determined to put the proper weight back on his favorite Musketeer as fast as possible, Porthos said. Aramis just grinned and enjoyed it. He also enjoyed the cherry tart, while Porthos watched in mock frustration.

As usual, he had barely finished when he was asleep once more, the steady rise and fall of his chest in his breathing like a healing balm to his brothers' hearts.

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Athos was sitting quietly at the table with d'Artagnan an hour later, Porthos at Aramis' bedside.

D'Artagnan spoke up after they had been quiet for a while, the frustration plain in his voice. "Why, Athos? That's what I keep asking myself. And why that list of women's names found in that farmhouse? Has anyone tracked down who they were? And surely Aramis is not the first man in Paris with a nickname like "Ladies' Man"? Why were they so sure it was him?"

The questions came fast and one after the other. Athos just shook his head, understanding the younger man's frustration, but not having the answers at the moment.

"I do not know, d'Artagnan," he replied, "but believe me, we will get to the bottom of this mystery. These men will rue the day they hurt our brother. I promise him that."

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Emile and his band had been laying low after their raids of the week before. He was a very wily man, and knew they would be hunted. Meeting at the tavern near the eastern edge of Paris, he looked around at his men seated at the table, and said, "We have such an easy time with our escapades. It's amazing. The law has absolutely no idea who makes these raids. And as long as we space them out over time, and go to new areas each time, it will be very difficult to track us down. We have the perfect life, gentlemen," he boasted. "We look for new prey one week from today. Keep your eyes and ears open," lifting his cup in a mock toast to himself and his men, his boasting having no bounds. The man thought he would never be caught, and with each raid completed, their confidence increased.

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Treville and the Musketeers continued their hunt for clues to the men who had nearly killed Aramis. They canvassed Paris from one end to the other, but not a clue was run to earth. It was very frustrating. It was also a worry that the men who had done it were still on the loose, and could very well be in Paris at the moment. Treville kept double watches at the gates to the garrison, as a result.

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It wasn't until two days later that they had very disturbing news. A Red Guard had been attacked in an alleyway on the other side of the city. He had been nearly killed, and a note had been pinned to his jacket. "We will avenge the loss of our women upon the Musketeer and Red Guards who did the deed." Attached to the paper was a feather from Aramis' hat.