A/N only a couple more chapters left and then this story is over. Am sad at this thought I loved writing it! I do have another planned focusing more on one of the others not so much Aramis this time! For now though enjoy what we have left of this one! Don't be a silent reader and thank you to those that do review.

Chapter 25

Treville followed the guard as he led him through the cells towards where Lucas was being held. He needed to see the man, to look upon the person who had destroyed his four best men, nodding to the guard to open the cell. Lucas turned as the door opened.

"Captain Treville! I did wonder if I would have the pleasure of your company during my stay," Lucas smirked, his voice cold and calm. Treville set his jaw, glaring at the man infront of him, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk off his face.

"Your trial has been put on hold. The king is not well," Treville informed him watching as Lucas leant back against the wall.

"That's a shame. I was so looking forward to a meeting with the king. Tell me how is Aramis? Is he dead yet?" he asked, a look of mock concern on his face. When he got no response he broke into a twisted grin. "Poor Thomas becoming an orphan so young."

"Why did you do it Lucas? You brought this on yourself you had no one to blame for your disgrace! You were one of my best men. Why?" Treville questioned, ignoring Lucas' own inquire about the sick Muskateer.

"I do not answer to you any more Captain Treville," Lucas sneered in reply. Treville narrowed his eyes.

"You did not have to kill Marie," Treville said bitterly. Lucas threw his head back as a cold callous laugh filled the cell. When he had calmed down, he trained his eyes back on the man in front of him.

"Oh but I did. I hit them right where it hurt! She was loved amongst the mighty four. It was perfect. Shame though she was a very pretty girl, completely wasted with the pathetic excuse of a marksman," Lucas mocked. In seconds he found himself against the wall, a hand tightly gripped around his throat.

"Aramis is not dead Lucas! You might have succeeded in destroying him when you killed Marie and he will never recover from that, but he will live and I will tell you why! He has a family, people who care about him, who would die for him, a brotherhood. But above all else he has his son. He is loved. And he will see you hang for what you did!" Treville spat shoving Lucas hard one last time against the wall before turning and leaving, not trusting himself to be left alone with the vermin any longer and do something drastic which he probably won't even regret.

Athos sighed deeply watching his friend sleep. To their relief, he had survived the night and had stayed asleep, allowing Porthos and Athos to get some rest while D'Artagnan watched Aramis.

Now though as morning went on, it was time to wake the musketeer. Thomas would be arriving soon and they needed Aramis awake and settled before the little boy saw him. Taking a deep breath, Athos gently shook his friend.

"Aramis? Aramis come on brother. Come back to us," he called to him, watching as the sick man stirred slightly but did not wake. Athos shook him harder. Within moments, confused brown eyes stared back at him, before panic flashed in them quickly, followed by a look Athos did not recognise.

"Have you found her? Marie, have you found her?" Aramis asked weakly. Athos closed his eyes briefly before glancing at the other two. This was not what they had hoped for.

"Aramis...you know that Marie is no longer with us. She is dead, brother you know this," Porthos told him gently. Aramis shook his head glaring at them as he struggled to get himself up into a sitting position.

"Why do you keep saying that? It's a lie! Marie cannot be gone," he demanded.

"We aren't lying Aramis. Please, believe me," D'Artagnan pleaded. Luckily Porthos saw what Aramis was about to do moments before he did it, and once again he found himself holding his friend down, Athos again helping him.

"Get off me! Leave me alone. Let me go! Let me go!" Aramis screamed, fighting against his three friends.

"Aramis! Aramis, stop this now! Stop it, you have to calm down!" Athos told him firmly but he knew he was being ignored.

"Stop hurting papa!" A little voice caused everyone to still as four pairs of eyes turned to the door. Constance was stood, a look of utter horror on her face, holding back the three year old as he tried to rush to his father, Emilie right next to her. Thomas struggled against her, blue eyes over flowing with tears as he watched his father try to get away from his friends.

"Thomas," Aramis muttered, his entire demeanor changing as soon as he saw his son. Athos nodded at Constance, who hesitantly walked to the bed allowing Thomas to climb from her arms straight into his father's. Aramis scooped him up and held him tightly to him, closing his eyes as tears fell.

"Papa. I missed you," Thomas sobbed, burying himself even more into Aramis' embrace.

Aramis shook all over as sobs racked through his body. "Thomas, Oh my god, Thomas! I thought I had lost you. I thought I had lost you too," Aramis whispered, clinging to the little boy not wanting to let him go.

The five friends stood silently, watching the reunion. Aramis pulled away slightly, eyes taking in every part of his son before pulling him close again, soothing the little boy gently as he cried.

"Papa? Papa why were you fighting Uncle Athos?" Thomas asked, his voice muffled by Aramis' shoulder.

Aramis pulled away slightly, looking at his son in confusion. "What?"

Thomas stared back with wide innocent eyes, his lower lip quivering as his small brain tried to understand why his papa would fight with his best friends. Aramis cupped his son's cheek, kissing his brow. "It doesn't matter, son. You're here now, that's all that matters."

Thomas nodded, "Are you angry because you miss mama?" There was silence in the room as Aramis' eyes filled with fresh tears, but the toddler continued, unaware. "That's okay, papa. I miss mama too. But Uncle Athos said she has gone to a nice place and we will go there one day also."

For a horrible second, Athos thought that he would have to get Thomas out of Aramis' reach, when the same look of angry disbelief flashed on his face that he had had when told about Marie's death before; but after a moment, it passed. Aramis closed his eyes, and bowed his head, his body shaking with silent sobs. Thomas tangled his tiny fingers into Aramis' locks, and brought his face up so that Aramis was facing him.

"Don't cry papa. Please, don't cry."

The little kid's earnest whisper had Athos tearing up as well, and Aramis simply enveloped him into another hug.

"He can't stay for too long," Athos was brought back from his musings by Constance' whisper. "Thomas is still weak from his sickness. It is not safe for him to be around when Aramis is in such a state," she continued. Athos nodded he knew she was right.

"I know, but it's not going to be easy to take him away from Aramis just yet," Athos said, sighing. A small part of him, the part that was glad to have a glimpse of his friend, not delirious and half-mad with fever and rage didn't want the kid to go.

"I am sorry Athos. But Aramis is too sick for Thomas to be near him right now. If something happens to the little one…" Emilie trailed off, her voice breaking as she took in the sight of Aramis and Thomas with the latter talking animatedly, telling his father of all the things he saw on his trip home. She turned to Athos, her eyes resolute. "Then Aramis will never forgive us. He needs to rest and eat and heal before he is well enough to take care of his son."

Again Athos nodded. None of them spoke for several minutes, everyone content to simply listen to Thomas' chatter. Even Aramis looked more at peace listening to his son's ramblings about a lame rabbit that a soldier had to put down and how Thomas had prayed for it just like his papa had taught him.

After a while, Athos beckoned to the other two men and moved towards the bed. "Thomas you have to say goodbye to your papa for a bit now," he said to the little one, fully expecting the glare that Aramis shot him, as the latter tightened his hold on his son.

"Why? No, you are not taking him from me! I will not let anyone take my son!" Aramis snapped, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I don't want to go away from papa too," Thomas begged, looking at his uncle earnestly.

"I know, little one, but your papa is not very well. He needs to get some rest. You can come back and see him later?" Athos explained. Thomas studied him for a few seconds before nodding, but Aramis tightened his grip even more, refusing to let him leave.

"I won't let you take him, he can stay here," he said. Athos shook his head, gently, locking eyes with Aramis and hoping against hope that for once, the man would see sense.

"No he can't, Aramis. Thomas was sick with a fever when he was away. It broke just a couple of days ago and he's still recovering. Him being here for a long period of time, with you so sick too, it's not safe. He could pick up any type of infection. He is better off at home. I promise he will come and visit you again this afternoon. I will have Emilie and Constance bring him twice a day until you are stronger and well enough to go home," Athos told him, watching his friend closely making sure to keep eye contact.

Aramis hesitated for a few moments, big brown eyes looking at Athos pleading with him to keep his trust. Athos place a hand gently on Aramis' own. "You have my word, brother," he swore. Aramis nodded then, kissing Thomas tenderly on the head before loosening his grip and allowing Constance to pick him up.

"Look after him please. Bring him back to me later. He's… He's all I have left," Aramis begged, tears coming to his eyes at the last sentence.

"I promise Aramis," Constance replied gently. "Eat something and get some rest. You need to get stronger and better soon. Thomas needs his father back."

"Bye bye, Papa. I love you!" Thomas called, waving at his father.

Aramis watched his son leave, putting on a watery smile for the kid's benefit, but all he could manage was a short wave; his throat being too clogged to speak. Porthos appeared by his side holding a bowl of soup.

"Here get this down, you. You have to start eating Aramis. At this rate, even Thomas can take you in a fight," he said, Aramis looking away from the door his son had disappeared through and at the bowl only at the mention of his son's name. He took it, and shakily lifted the spoon to his mouth. That one action seemed to exhaust the musketeer.

"Let me help," D'Artagnan murmured, taking the spoon and silently feeding the his sick friend. By the time he had finished the bowl, he was drained. It worried the friends that that small action had wiped him out, but they were also gladdened at the fact that he had managed to finish all of it.

Athos wasn't too worried anymore. In his brother's eyes, he had finally seen what he had been hoping for, the light of hope. Aramis had found his reason to fight again.

"Get some rest Aramis. Thomas will be back later and you need to be well enough to see him," Athos said easing him back against the pillows, Porthos pulling the covers around him.

"Stay?" Aramis pleaded quietly, big brown eyes looking at each of them, begging them not to leave. Porthos squeezed his hand gently.

"We will be right here," he promised, relaxing as did the other two when Aramis nodded drifting off into a peaceful sleep with a slight smile on his lips.

Maybe, things were going to be okay again.