D'Artagnan was sitting with Aramis when he woke up the following morning. He hadn't taken as many shifts since Aramis had become conscious because he knew Athos and Porthos had become close to Aramis long before he had entered the picture. He loved his brothers and wanted to do this for them. But he was so happy to spend the time with his brother now.
As the others had, he also had Aramis' hand held within his own, a finger gently massaging the back of it as he slept.
"Good morning, Aramis," he said as Aramis' eyes opened.
It was obvious that Aramis was still half-asleep, as he didn't reply for a moment, blinking his eyes drowsily. The meds knocked him out so strongly it did take a while for him to wake up most times. D'Artagnan just let him take his time.
Finally, Aramis looked at him, saying, "You can be by my bedside like Athos and Porthos, you know."
Whatever d'Artagnan might have expected Aramis to say, that wasn't it. He didn't respond at first, not knowing what to say.
Then, he began quietly. "They've known you longer, Aramis. I wanted to give them time with you, so I..."
Aramis gently interrupted him, saying, "You are every bit as important, d'Artagnan. I love you, and I know you love me, too. I am very surprised that Athos or Porthos hasn't taken you to task about this already. They are very observant. But with everything going on, it has probably taken a toll on them, too. Lack of sleep often makes the powers of observation blur a little.
I have seen that you are doing most of the errands, bringing meals and other things. I really appreciate that, but I also would like to see you here sometimes when I wake up, too," raising his brows meaningfully to their youngest brother.
D'Artagnan was rather speechless at what had just been said, but he began to feel all warm inside at the gentle chiding filled with love from his brother, and squeezed his hand softly (ever mindful of the broken fingers) to let him know.
Porthos came in the door a few moments later, a heavy tray balanced in one hand as he shut the door with the other. Beaming, he headed for the bed. "Serge has been at it again, Aramis. I swear he is going to put a hundred pounds on you before he's done!"
Aramis surprised them by saying, "Could we delay breakfast for a few minutes? I need to talk to you all right now."
Not understanding what he needed to speak of so urgently, they nevertheless all gathered around his bed, waiting expectantly.
"I have a favor to ask," he began, looking them each in the eyes. "I know I am not in shape, and can barely do anything for myself. But ... just in case, I would like to keep a pistol under my pillow. I may never have to use it, but it would be a source of peace of mind for me. I know you are all here with me, and I have complete trust in each of you. It's just that, right now, it will ease the fears that keep cropping up in my mind. If an emergency were to happen, and you were called away, as unlikely as that seems, I would at least have something near to hand."
Complete silence greeted his comments. Then, Athos laid his hand gently on his brother's shoulder and said, "We understand, Aramis. It is not that you do not trust us to guard you. It is more a security in your mind at this time. I do not know if you would be able to fire a pistol yet with your broken fingers, but one will be laid under your pillow at all times." The others nodded that they understood, as well.
Aramis let out his breath, which he hadn't even been aware that he had been holding until then. He looked at them each again, and said a barely audible "Thank you."
Porthos said, "Enough of this serious talk. Serge has been busy on your behalf, and will be very unhappy if he finds out you let it get cold!"
He took the cover off the bowl to reveal his usual porridge, sugared apples laid on top. Next to the bowl were two thick slices of just-baked bread, with plenty of butter and strawberry jam on top. Aramis' eyes lit up, and he couldn't wait to eat it. Athos and Porthos insisted that it was d'Artagnan's turn to feed Aramis, and that caused the young Musketeers' eyes to light up, as well.
Aramis tried his best to stay awake for a while after eating, but finally gave in when he couldn't keep his eyelids open any more. His brothers just smiled to see the slight hint of the old stubbornness. More of his normal traits were popping out slowly but surely, another sign that his healing was headed in the right direction.
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Emile and his band were gone two days, and left scenes of horror and destruction in each of the three farms they visited. It went some way towards giving him satisfaction, but as they entered the tavern, his mind was already thinking of what he needed to do next.
He had barely sat down before he said, "I am hearing around the garrison that Aramis is more alert and talking again. That is not good. We don't know what he knows, or if those revenge-minded farmers said something they shouldn't have. I've decided we need to eliminate the risk to our being found out as soon as possible. I will take care of this business myself, as I am at the garrison, and no one will suspect anything," he said, the picture of a supremely arrogant man who thought he could do anything and get away with it.
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Anne had called Constance to come and see her. When Constance came into her rooms, Anne drew her over to the seat against the wall. Constance was barely seated, when Anne asked, "How is he?"
Constance had known that was what Anne had wanted to talk to her about. Anne was so much in love with her Musketeer. Almost having lost him had traumatized the normally cool and calm Queen. Letting her know he was starting to do better had helped to quiet the worries quite a bit, but Constance knew that until Aramis was well again, her friend would need reassuring whenever she could bring her a bit of good news.
"He is doing much better, Anne," she was glad she could tell her. "He is eating all his meals now, and the meds that Dr. Lemay gave him help him to sleep and dull the pain."
At those words, though, Anne's face fell. "He is still in pain, then?"
"If he didn't have the meds, he would be in a great deal more pain, so his being given them is a great source of comfort for his brothers. It hurt them so much to see him helpless and hurting so badly before.
Serge, the garrison cook, has been spoiling Aramis as much as possible! He makes no bones about Aramis being his favorite, so he has been baking one delicious dish after another." She knew that would bring a smile to Anne's lips, which it did.
Anne nudged Constance's shoulder before saying softly, "I, too, have something special I would like you to bring to him, if you do not mind, dear Constance."
Constance wasn't surprised that Anne wanted to do something special for her lover. She couldn't go to him herself, so the only thing she could do instead was send him something.
Anne got up and went to a small inlaid-wood side table. Opening the drawer, she drew something out that was wrapped in black silk. Bringing it back to Constance, she handed it to her.
Constance folded back the layers of silk, and gasped when she saw what was inside. A highly-polished pistol with an ornately carved fleur-de-lys on the black handle was matched by a main gauche that had an identical handle laying by its side. The two weapons must have cost a small fortune, the merchant's wife thought to herself with a smile.
She laid her hand softly on Anne's arm, saying, "He will love this, especially if he knows they came from you."
"I wanted him to have something from me that he can use to protect himself," Anne said. "He had everything taken from him when he was kidnapped, did he not?"
Constance remembered telling Anne about that fact, not knowing that she would want to do something about it personally. She thought 'I should have known, though', and smiling.
Anne got up again and went back to the same table. This time, she withdrew a white silk-wrapped bundle, and brought it back.
"I hope you do not mind carrying both of these to the garrison, Constance. I had to give him this, too," she said, almost blushing.
Constance opened the second parcel, and revealed a fine linen shirt with an open neck, such as she knew Aramis wore. Around the collar and cuffs was a small, intricate lace fleur-de-lys pattern. She hadn't told Anne about the shirt she herself had given Aramis, but knew he would love them both. She also knew he could have ill-afforded to lose the few possessions he had, and having two brand-new hand-made shirts would be almost a luxury for him, to say nothing of the weapons.
"I will take them to him now, Anne, and will let you know what he says. I know he will love them," she said, getting up to take her leave.
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Later that day, Constance arrived at Aramis' room just as he was once more waking up. Athos, who was sitting with Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan raised their eyebrows in curiosity at the bundles she was carrying.
"They are from the Queen," Constance whispered, not wanting the surprise to be let out before Aramis saw his gifts, and remembered to add, "on behalf of the royal family for their Musketeer to get well again."
Going over to Aramis' other side, she laid her packages on the table, sat down and took Aramis' hand. "Have you been following dear Dr. Lemay's orders, Aramis?", knowing his reputation for trying to do too much too soon.
He smiled at her, nodded, and before he could say anything, Porthos answered for him, "So far. We are keeping a good eye on him, Constance," his eyes twinkling as he said this.
"I have brought you some gifts, Aramis. Would you like to see them?" knowing he would still be having difficulty using his hands with the broken fingers. He nodded, his face curious.
She unwrapped the first one, and Aramis' eyes grew wide at the sight of the pistol and main gauche revealed. He could see the intricate carvings on the handle, and knew these were a very expensive set of weapons. He didn't have any idea who might have sent them to him, and looked up at Constance in question.
She shook her head. "Not yet. I have another gift for you yet," unwrapping the second parcel as she spoke.
His eyes shone as he saw the workmanship of the shirt. He knew he could never have afforded this quality of material on his Musketeer income. He laid his hand on the material, finding it soft and luxurious to the touch. His eyes once came back to Constance's, the question still in them.
"Her Majesty wanted to give you these gifts, Aramis, on behalf of the royal family. They value their Musketeers and your service, and wanted to show it in this way." Her eyes were telling him something further, though, that she couldn't voice out loud in company.
His eyes were shining, a smile lighting up his weary face, as he looked up at his brothers.
Athos spoke up, saying, "I guess we know which pistol you want under your pillow?" smiling as he said it.
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As many of you have already guessed, next week's chapter is probably going to be very dramatic! This one was kind-of leading up to it. As always, I very much appreciate reviews, as they often let me know what needs tweeking or what really worked, so a great big thank you for them!