A/N: Thank you for continuing to follow along with me. Your reviews mean everything.

Treville is redeemed! But Aramis is not out of the woods yet!

Patience

Chapter 21

Aramis left Treville's office and staggered back to his barracks. He wasn't sure if it was the brandy or the aftereffects of the drugs or the sheer output of emotional exhaustion that was causing him to sway, but regardless, he knew it would still be a long night.

He opened the door to his room to find Athos and Porthos awaiting him inside. Porthos was seated at the table, his head in his hands. Athos was pacing a new path across the worn carpet in the room. Both men looked up as he entered.

"You're going to owe me a new carpet," Aramis said as Athos' eyes bulged in response.

"Aramis –"

"What did the captain say?"

Aramis held up his hand and took a seat on the bed. He sighed heavily.

Two jaws snapped shut as their eyes stared at Aramis where he sat.

"I need to apologize to you. Both of you," he said earnestly as he lowered his hands to his lap. "Since that night in Savoy…since that day that you found me in the snow and willed me back to health…since that day I have treated you terribly. I am ashamed," he said.

Both Athos and Porthos tried to interrupt, but Aramis raised his hand to stop them. "No, please," he said, "I need to say this."

The two men again fell silent as their eyes softened in concern. Aramis felt a burning in his chest as he looked at the gleaming brown and blue eyes and swallowed thickly.

"I have been terrible to you. I have been cruel and bitter and have lashed out at you at every opportunity in one way or another. First I had tried to drive you away, certain that you would abandon me too…like Marsac did." Porthos frowned and Athos clenched his fist at this. "When I realized that despite my best efforts you would stay by me, I thought then of leaving you – of escaping, if not physically, then mentally. I wanted to spare you from this curse that was haunting me," he said bitterly.

"I've been struggling with everything…trying to figure out how I was supposed to act, how I was supposed to be the man I was…it was only in all those days with you at the inn, or when I was with Bella in the stable...when I could stop thinking about it and just let myself be, that I felt...calm," he said.

"When we got back here, when the memories of all those brave men seemed to pummel me all at once, I thought my heart would stop. I couldn't face it. I was terrified of the others. I was afraid of their anger, but mostly, I was afraid of their pity. I couldn't let them know the details of this tragedy. I couldn't allow them to hear my screams so I put on a mask. I smiled and joked and I forced myself to be who I thought they wanted me to be," he said. "You were right. You both were, that night by the Seine. I was hiding and I was lying and I was a coward. It was killing me. The effort alone…"

Aramis sighed deeply again and cast his eye towards his bedside table. "The drug…it was helpful at first. It allowed me to sleep without waking the others when my nightmares took over. I couldn't rest, but at least I wouldn't wake the others with my screams. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I knew that you would still both be there if even the drugs couldn't help me. It gave me so much comfort, but I couldn't tell you...Through everything, despite everything, you were both there…And I hope you still will be," he said as he raised his head to meet their eyes.

Neither man said anything, but simply waited for Aramis to continue. With a deep breath, he resumed.

"I need your help," he said, his eyes beginning to brim. "I want to get better. I want to get past this. It's going to hurt, it'll be awful, but I need to. Please, will you help me?" he pleaded desperately. "I need you. I need my brothers."

A silence fell.

And then:

"Always," Athos said, his icy blue eyes bright with tears that he was fighting to hold back as he looked into the eyes of the marksman, who, for the first time in weeks, finally resembled his brother once more.

"We'll never leave you," said Porthos, who was openly weeping, physically expressing the love and relief that he couldn't contain in his heart alone.

He stood suddenly and moved towards the bed and engulfed Aramis in his arms. The marksman broke down in the warm embrace, his own tears falling freely from his eyes. A moment later, a second impact indicated that Athos too had joined in the embrace, and for the first time in their lives, all three men felt whole.

The embrace lingered for a few moments before they withdrew.

"This will not be easy," Aramis said miserably, his dark tear-filled gaze still marked by the dark circles under his eyes.

"We know. We aren't goin' anywhere," said Porthos seriously.

Athos nodded his assent. "Let me clean your hands," he said and gathering a bowl full of warm water and a clean towel and some bandages from Aramis' cabinet, he delicately cleansed his brother's torn and bruised knuckles as Aramis leant heavily against his other brother for support.

oOo

That first night was terrible.

Porthos and Athos sat up with Aramis late into the night as he began his fight against the pull of that liquid devil. As they watched him, it seemed as though Aramis aged before their eyes as his need for the drug's relief made its first overtures.

Eventually he fell asleep, his body tossing and turning as his plagued mind went rampant without the dangerous restraints of the drugs. His cries began around three. Athos sat next to Aramis' bed and tenderly ran his hands through the man's hair as he whimpered.

As Aramis' body flinched more and more violently, Porthos was roused as well. Taking a seat across from Athos, they sat with the marksman as his mind ravaged his body with that hated word, "Marsac", once again bringing an end to the nightmares just before dawn. Porthos breathed a sigh of relief as Aramis stilled, and prayed that the man receive at least a few hours of peace.

When Aramis rose, his pallour was grey. His eyes were wide and agitated. The withdrawal had just begun and would grow much worse before it got better, Athos knew.

The dark circles under Aramis' eyes seemed to grow darker – a testament to this first anguished night, but he smiled softly at his brothers. Internally, Athos pleaded with any cosmic being that might be listening for Aramis to be spared at least one of the pains he would be suffering – either the plaguing of his mind from the nightmares or the torture of his body from the withdrawal.

Porthos carried a tray of breakfast into the room. The sight and smell of the porridge made Aramis' stomach clench and he pushed the bowl away from him.

"You need to eat something," Athos said.

Aramis bit his lip. "I know," he said weakly, "I just…can't. I fear my stomach won't be able to handle it."

"Try this," Athos said, removing the porridge and handing him a piece of bread. "The toxins will be fighting to clear out of your body. It will be painful and exhausting. You'll need some sustenance to combat it."

"Plus, you're too skinny already," Porthos said, baiting his brother.

A flicker of the fire of Aramis returned to his eyes at Porthos' quip. "I'm sure I can find a few lovely beings that would disagree with you."

Porthos beamed at this reply and even Athos had to look away to hide his grin at the familiar banter.

Sighing, Aramis picked up the bread and began to eat. He managed a few mouthfuls before stopping.

"How are you feeling?" Athos asked sombrely.

Aramis frowned and considered his response. "Tight…like an overwound bow string. And weak. It's as though my body doesn't know itself."

Athos nodded. "Rest. We will be right here."

Aramis' complexion hadn't improved since he had awoken and a sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead. Athos could tell by the slight tremble in the man that Aramis was hiding the true extent of his discomfort. He didn't protest the instruction to rest, and shakily he rose from the table and returned to his bed.

"You won't leave?" he asked weakly as he pulled the sheets back over him, the creases around his eyes evidencing the pain he was in.

"Never," said Porthos. Aramis sighed deeply and with a small smile he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The next two nights grew progressively worse. When he wasn't tormented by the images in his dreams, Aramis' waking body was rebelling violently. His stomach expelled any contents that were forced into it and when it was empty, Aramis was ravaged by violent dry-heaves. Athos and Porthos did what they could. They held him against them in his feverish nightmares, his hand desperately clasping theirs as they continuously affirmed that he was safe. They held him down and bolstered him up and wiped the moisture from his brow.

Captain Treville had come by to check on his marksman, but he didn't stay. He couldn't stay. He had realized after their conversation in his office that their relationship had changed. The trauma of Savoy, the distance he had insisted upon putting between them and his own lingering guilt had altered it. He would no longer be the pillar that Aramis turned to for support. No, that would be Athos and Porthos now. Treville's eyes watered at this thought. He was filled with relief and pride and his own remorse over this sacrifice. But he was a captain, and he couldn't let his true feelings show.

For four days and five nights Aramis struggled. He fought food and drink and pain and sleep. The few brief hours he was awake and was not violently ill, he trembled severely as he hallucinated. When he was too delirious to eat, Athos had to force the clear broth into the man as his body continued to expel its nourishment along with the toxins that were fighting for the sovereignty of his body. When he slept the nightmares continued, though if Porthos and Athos dared to hope, they seemed to be less frequent, less severe, and less long. Whether that was because of Aramis' sheer exhaustion or his mental and physical health improving, it was hard to say, but they were both secretly hopeful.

The fifth day was the worst. It was as though the drugs were making one last desperate battle for Aramis' life, and perhaps his soul based on his pleas – but Athos and Porthos would not let the drugs win. He trembled and sobbed all day as Porthos held him against his chest, whispering words of comfort as Athos tried to cool his fevered brow with compresses.

It was just after dusk when he finally went still. Porthos gently lay the man on his bed, but for the first time in weeks, Aramis actually looked peaceful. His dark curls were splayed upon the pillow; the creases near his eyes were far lessened and the slight pink tone on his cheeks all looked like signs from God that their brother had turned a corner – that he might recover and come back to them after all.

Aramis rose the next morning with Athos gently bathing his brow.

"We really should stop meeting like this," he whispered hoarsely causing Athos' lip to quirk.

"You mean with one of us indisposed?" he replied. "I'll leave that with you as you're the one who believes in miracles," Athos said causing Aramis to grin in response. Their soft words woke Porthos who had been asleep in the chair by the bed. He beamed at the easy banter that had returned to the brothers and the playful gleam in Aramis' eye.

"How are you feeling?" Porthos asked gently, leaning forward and bashfully taking Aramis' hand. The marksman gave his hand a weak squeeze, but the emotional look in his eyes was strong.

"Hungry," he said, which caused the big man to chuckle.

"I'll go tell Serge. He'll be thrilled," said Porthos as he made to rise.

"Porthos," Aramis called causing the tall man to hesitate, "Anything but porridge, please."

Porthos grinned and left the room.

Athos was staring at the calmly resting marksman. Aramis raised his eyebrow quizzically at the man, who frowned as he contemplated how to phrase his question.

"Athos," said Aramis, spurring his brother to speak.

"Do you…What do you remember from last night?" he asked cautiously.

Aramis frowned and thought hard. "Nothing," he said as his own brow creased.

"You didn't seem to have any nightmares," Athos explained. "They seemed to be lessening as your body fought the drugs. Maybe your mind was fighting demons of its own simultaneously."

"I'm not sure," said Aramis, "But I'm hopeful. I do not believe that these nightmares will ever truly leave me, but if they can be deterred or managed…" he said hopefully.

Athos nodded. "Let's see how you fair today, but I too am hopeful," he said.

Aramis grinned. "I thought you said you didn't believe in miracles?"

"Perhaps you could convince me," he said with a grin back as Porthos bustled through the door with a heaping tray of food.

oOo