"Aramis!" Out of a dense fog, he heard voices calling, as if from a great distance away. He blinked, looking at nothing. He hadn't heard voices of any kind for so long.

It sounded like Porthos. But that was impossible. Porthos wouldn't be where he himself was. He was dead. Where am I? Aramis asked himself. Did I make it to heaven, or was this the other place? He missed his brothers so badly, but didn't wish them to die to join him. They deserved better than that.

In all his imaginings of heaven and hell, this was not remotely like anything he had ever seen. He seemed to be living now in a sort-of pea soup, not able to move or speak. He vaguely remembered being incredibly helpless as the wagon he had held in had swerved and violently crashed. After that, he didn't know what happened. But he knew he was dead. No one could have survived what he had been through.

He didn't realize that the afterlife was just the white space he was in now. This had to be hell. No one would wish to be here, as he had wished for heaven when he died. There was no one here, just this void.

Porthos' voice was his imagination speaking, wanting so desperately to be with his brothers, at least to have been able to say farewell. They had to be shattered emotionally, as he himself would be if something had happened to one of them.

Would he be like this for all eternity, he questioned? He couldn't bear it if this was to be all it was. He felt he must be in hell or purgatory, paying for all the sins he had committed while he had been alive. He knew he hadn't been the best that he could be, but was this eternal punishment? He had no idea.

He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, as he was overcome by the pain he was in. I'm lost forever, he thought, wandering in this fog.

Then, he heard another voice. "Aramis!" Athos?

Did all of his brothers die in some way after him? That couldn't be! And they wouldn't be where he was now. They were such good men, always fighting for justice and right. Why would they come here?

"Aramis! Please wake up. You have us so worried." Porthos' voice again, and another voice chimed in, too, "Aramis, we need you. Please, open your eyes for us."

D'Artagnan? They couldn't all be dead, could they? All dead, and lying here with him in this strange place?

Then, "Aramis, if you don't wake up right now, when we get you back to the garrison, I'm gonna eat every meal Serge makes for you, including those apple tarts!" Porthos' voice again, angry-sounding, but at the same time sounding terrified.

He struggled. His eyes didn't want to open. His first attempt failed miserably.

He tried again, slitting them open marginally.

"He's opening his eyes! Come on, Aramis, you can do it all the way," Porthos said, sounding very excited.

When his eyes were open further, he saw three very worried, yet hopeful faces looking down at him. His eyes traveled from one of them to the next, in wonder. He tried to speak, but he was so dry, nothing came out.

D'Artagnan left and came back with a cup of water, handing it to Athos. Porthos gently lifted his brother up so that Athos could trickle a little water in. At first, it spilled down the side of Aramis' mouth. The next time, though, he was able to take a few sips. When Porthos took the cup away, something that sounded very like a frustrated moan came from Aramis' lips.

Athos said, "That is what you do to us when we are ill or injured. You always say it's because if we take too much in when we have been deprived, it will just come back up again," finishing with a raised eyebrow. Aramis just looked at him.

After a moment, he tried speaking again. "You're not dead and in hell with me" causing all three of them's eyebrows to lift nearly to their hairlines at the comment.

"Aramis, why would you think we were all in hell?"

Aramis looked terribly confused. Speaking in a barely audible voice, he said, "I...I thought...I was dead. When I heard your voices, I couldn't believe ..."

"What couldn't you believe, Aramis?" Porthos asked.

"I couldn't believe you would all...be in hell with me," he finished, looking down.

"And why would you believe you would be in hell, and we wouldn't?" Athos asked.

"My sins. I...have so many of them," Aramis said.

"And we do not, Aramis?" Athos gently asked.

Aramis was very quiet for a few moments. Then, continuing in a soft voice, he said, "You are all ... really here? I'm not dreaming?"

For an answer, Athos lifted one of Aramis' hands up to gently give the back of it a kiss. Porthos squeezed the other one, and d'Artagnan ruffled his curly mop of hair. They were watching him closely, and saw exactly when the tears started to form in the corners of his eyes. He was truly back with them!

Aramis was nearly sobbing now, his eyes switching from one face to the other, as if he couldn't get enough of seeing his brothers. And then, he saw another face in the background. Athos saw his eye movement, and said, "Aramis, we need to introduce you to this lovely young woman. It was she and her husband who found you, and have been taking care of you all this time. Marie, please come here."

Marie, who had been watching everything and thanking God her patient was becoming himself again, slowly came forward. She didn't really want to become the center of attention. She wanted her patient-they had called him Aramis-to enjoy being with his friends after being so alone in his head for so long. But she came when Athos continued to insist.

Athos took her by the hand, and turned back to his brother, saying, "Aramis, this is Marie. She and her husband, Jacques, found the wagon destroyed in an alleyway. The box they had locked you into had broken open, and you were lying half in and half out of it unconscious. Her husband carried you here to their house, and she has nursed you ever since."

Aramis let go of Athos' hand, and slowly reached out to grasp Marie's. His body didn't have much movement yet, but he was able to squeeze her hand. "Thank you for my life," he said simply.

Marie blushed at his words, gazing into his eyes. Porthos and d'Artagnan looked at each other as if to say 'even barely back conscious and flat on his back, and he still makes women blush'!

Athos said to her, "I hope I am not making too much work for you, but might you have a little soup or broth our brother could try eating? You had said he has not had anything to eat since he has been with you?"

Marie nodded her head, saying, "Of course. I have a whole pot on the fire for when my husband comes back from work. I will get a bowl for you," hurrying to the fireplace.

Aramis' still scratchy voice asked, "How long?"

Porthos answered, saying, "Three very long days and part of today. We've been tearing Paris apart trying to find you."

"Did you get..."

"Yes, Aramis, we did. They are all dead now. They cannot ever hurt you or anyone else again," Athos told him.

"Athos is being modest, Aramis," Porthos intervened. "He ran Black Wing through in the middle of a tavern with a cheering crowd!"

"Porthos!" Athos remonstrated, but with a smile.

Quietly, Aramis said, "Thank you. My nightmare is over then?"

"Finally," Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan almost simultaneously breathed the word.

"I don't even know if I reinjured myself when they..." stopping at the memory.

"We do not think so, Aramis. Marie said only that you sustained a bump on the back of your head, and saw only some bruises on your torso. We do not know how you were able to come away without major injuries, but we are very thankful. You do not know what it did to us when we saw the extent of the wreckage, and knew you had been in the wagon."

Aramis eyes were starting to droop in weariness, but he fought it off, afraid of being lost in the fog again. But his eyes, despite his efforts, kept insisting on closing again.

But Athos, seeing how exhausted Aramis was even from the little time he had been awake, suspected that his friend's bump on the head had resulted in a concussion. Knowing he needed the rest he was now denying himself, he said, "Now, rest a bit, and then you can eat as much as you are able, brother." He had barely finished his sentence when Aramis' eyes closed in sleep.

Turning to Marie, Athos said, "We will have to wait a little while to feed him, it seems."

Porthos said with a fond smile while looking down at his brother, "He's just plain tuckered out, isn't he?" chuckling as he said it.

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Athos turned to d'Artagnan, and asked him, "I know how much we all want to be with Aramis now, but would you mind going to let Treville know? He is going to wonder what happened to us otherwise."

Nodding his head, d'Artagnan left, heading for the garrison.

Heading up to the office once he came through the gates, he burst throught the door enthusiastically, saying, "We found him, Captain," startling Treville, who had been engrossed in finishing some important paperwork for Louis.

Hearing these words drove the 'important' paperwork from his mind immediately as he asked," You found Aramis? Where is he? How is he?"

D'Artagnan filled him in on what had been happening, including the demise of 'the farmers'.

"So, there is finally an end of their reign of terror. I can't say anyone will probably miss them. Where is Aramis?"

When d'Artagnan told him the location, Treville murmured, "So, we did have two reliable witnesses. Lead me back to him, d'Artagnan. I need to see my best marksman, and finally out of danger," putting his hat on as he spoke.

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When Aramis next awoke, his head felt fuzzy. Panicking, he started to frantically look around, desperately afraid that what had happened when he awakened the other time had indeed been all a dream. Then, he saw a two pairs of very familiar smiling looking back at him.

"So I wasn't dreaming? I was so afraid to go to sleep for fear it was still all my imagination," Aramis said, speaking so softly they had to lean in to hear what he was saying.

"No, Aramis, we are really here, and we will be here each time you wake until you are well," Athos replied. "Are you hungry, mon ami?"

Aramis' smile gave them all the reply they needed. Porthos gathered his brother's upper body into his lap, leaning his brother's head against his own chest. Porthos could feel Aramis' body relax, as Athos took up the bowl of chicken soup and a spoon.

He finished over half the bowl before nearly falling asleep and planting his face in the bowl. His brothers just smiled fondly at him, laying him down once more to rest peacefully. Then, they looked at each other and just beamed.

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Aramis didn't sleep very long this time. When he awoke again, the first person he saw was Treville. "Captain?"

"It is very good to see you, Aramis. I am so glad we have found you. How do you feel?"

"Just fi..."

Porthos finished for him. "He has a concussion, and needs plenty of rest, Captain. He also needs to eat the soup Marie has ready for him, as he hasn't eaten in over three days."

When Aramis pointedly looked at him, Porthos continued. "He WILL be fine, once he recovers, won't you, Aramis?"

Aramis, knowing when he was defeated, just shrugged. Porthos continued, with a grin, "I knew you would agree," causing Aramis to have a look on his face that just widened that grin.

The Musketeers moved off the bed as Marie approached with the bowl of delicious-smelling soup, allowing her to sit at Aramis' side to feed him, while they ringed the bed standing up, for all the world like a little guard of honor.

I hope you enjoyed the reunion! We are almost at the end of this story. I think there will be only one more chapter, or at the most, two. Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, etc. They always encourage me in my writing!