He had been tortured before. Beaten into unconsciousness, pushed under water until his lungs burned for air or kept in darkness for days.
But this was different. This was worse.
There was no way he could escape the torture. There wasn't the option to fight against his torturers or to hope for a rescue from brothers.
He couldn't even pray that death would save him from this ordeal, because physically there was no threat against his life.
Aramis hadn't got a clue how to get out of his misery. He had taken a lodging faraway from the Garrison after he had been healed enough to leave the bed. Like this, at least the others wouldn't notice. But he also was alone.
And it was the worth when he was alone. In the evening, when he laid down and closed his eyes. When he tried to give his body the long needed rest, they came. There hadn't been a night without them before his inner eyes. Screaming, bleeding, dying.
It was slightly better to stay awake. And that he did, as long as possible. But even if it was better, it wasn't okay yet. When the darkness consumed all the light, leaving only a few flickering candles behind that threw dangerous dancing shadows on the walls, they visited him. Standing in front of his window, staring into his room, right inside his soul with their white, empty eyes. He always felt colder then, as if he was back in Savoy. Or like a ghost just had entered his house.
He had always got a fire going, but it was never enough.
By now, he had made curtains out of old sheets to shield from their view. He had bought as many candles as possible to keep the darkness out. He tried to stay awake and his mind occupied with reading or praying. But there was always a moment where they managed to break into his head, grabbing his heart with icy fingers and squeezing the air out his lungs.
And when he became too tired and his body finally gave in to get at least a few hours of sleep he lived through the massacre again and again until his lungs burned from screaming and his sheets were clamp from sweat.
Aramis soon noticed that it got easier in company. At least when he stayed awake. So he started visiting the taverns and when even these got empty and left him alone in the darkest hours of the night, he visited a Lady. There was always a woman waiting for him, no matter how late he would come, someone would be there. He was careful to leave before he could fall back asleep with a beautiful lady in his arms. He didn't want to frighten them, didn't want anyone to see.
He found a steady rhythm and somehow lived through the upcoming weeks like this. And even though the rings under his eyes were dark and his hands always a little bit too shaky and his mind somehow muddled, he managed to get through without further accidents.
Until his first longer mission since the massacre came. It was a simple mission but they would have to right with six men to the countryside to escort some duke to the King. It was a three days ride to the Duke – meaning six nights to sleep in the presence of others, sleeping in Inns that weren't familiar to him or outside.
He had felt sick all night and morning before their departure, his hands were clammy inside his gloves and there was this thick rope wrapped around his chest, closing ever tighter with each hour passing.
The saddle felt heavier in his arms as he heaved it up on Esmé and tightened the straps. The others were no where to be seen yet – probably still getting breakfast. He didn't want to eat anything. So, to have something to do, he readied the five horses he knew where belonging to the men joining him. And just as he was ready with the last horse Rafael, Luca, Porthos, Gabriel and Athos were coming to the stables, greeting him cheerful.
"This will be great. Six days enjoying the beautiful weather with nothing to worry about." Porthos grinned and mounted up, following the lead of Athos.
Aramis just nodded in response as he also mounted up. He got a lot to worry about.
They rode until the sun started to set. Relatively close to Paris there were still many villages and twice as many Inn's they could sleep in. Aramis was glad that they wouldn't have to sleep outside, but after checking the coins Treville had given them, they agreed to only meet two rooms.
Would he had the money, Aramis would have paid for an own room from his own income – but just as every other soldier, he was glad to have enough coins to buy food and pay his lodging. So he had to settle in a room with Athos and Luca, while the other three shared a room up the hallway.
Luca fell asleep once he laid down, unlike Athos and Aramis. Aramis settled down with a book on one of the chairs, desperate to stay awake as long as possible without being conspicuous. He cursed Athos who obviously didn't need much sleep either and had spread two maps on the bed he already sat on.
Aramis couldn't help but to look over to him from time to time. Thinking with a clenching heart that this once had been his task, his position. It once had been his decision which route to take and it had been him who would advise Treville in which Soldiers were best suited for a mission.
But he had failed them all. Since the massacre Treville had pushed him away, hadn't even tried to give him some of his responsibility back. And Aramis didn't want it – he thought. He didn't want to be guilty for something like Savoy ever again. But he couldn't deny the sudden jealously that rose as he watched Athos. He noticed how the new lieutenant drew lines on the card on which routes they could take and made crosses where bandits or other risks would wait.
Aramis fought the urge to give him tips, even though he thought he could have done the work much quicker. But then he shook the thoughts off. He was being unfair to Athos.
"You should sleep too." The otherwise silent lieutenant suddenly spoke up and rolled up his maps. "We will rise early in the morning." Aramis smiled weakly and forced himself to a nod.
He waited for Athos to lie down before he dropped down beside him, turning his back to the lieutenant and staring at the last burning candle in the room.
Aramis was glad to have survived the night without falling asleep, but his body took revenge by noon. He could barely stay upright in his saddle, his eyes falling shut every now and then before he would rip them open in shock.
He almost felt thankful as they stopped for the night in a small clearing, surrounded by trees and a small creek not far away.
Once he had dismounted he felt slightly more awake, moving helping wonders. So he helped Luca to struck a fire while Porthos and Gabriel were hunting and Athos searched for more firewood. He almost managed to ignore the hovering trees, to ignore the lurking darkness between their thick trunks or the rustling sounds of animals running through the bushes.
Once the fire was burning high and Porthos and Luca had returned with three rabbits to roast, he sat as close by the flames as possible without being burned. He felt some of the coldness leaving his body, but he never managed to feel warm.
He forced himself to eat some meat to sustain his strength and then nominated himself for the first watch. He thought about not switching it and just to stay awake a second night but soon he felt his eyelids drop again and exhaustion winning over.
The sound of bird flying through the trees startled him from the doze he had fell in, causing his heart to race in his chest and reminding him of the dangers out there. No, if he couldn't be trusted to guard them properly he had to wake someone.
So he woke Porthos, who had earlier volunteerd for second watch and laid down on his bedroll by the fire.
But as much as he needed it, he couldn't sleep. Once his eyes fell close, there was a sound startling him awake or one of many gruesome images flickering in his mind. He couldn't risk to wake them all by having a nightmare but he knew he had to sleep. His body would not be able to stay up much longer.
So, with his back turned to Porthos, he took one of his gloves and his belt. He tried to be as silent and inconspicuous with his movements.
Once he was done, without Porthos noticing anything, he allowed his body to fall into a restless sleep.
…
Porthos had just woke Athos for his turn as a muffled scream ripped through the otherwise silent night. Both their eyes searched for whatever could have caused the sound, hands already on the hilts of their swords.
Another scream followed soon and then, in the flickering light of the flames, they noticed Aramis trashing from on side to the other side.
They both shared a uncertain look. Should they wake him or act like they hadn't noticed? Aramis could feel ashamed if he knew they had noticed him having a nightmare.
But as his trashing became stronger they agreed silently to investigate. Once close enough to see details in the dim light, they froze on the spot.
"Is this-"
"A selfmade gag? Yes." Athos frowned, kneeling down beside Aramis and placing a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. This would at least explain the muffled screams.
"Why?" Porthos asked, worry openly shown on his face as he sat down on the other side of Aramis.
"So we wouldn't hear him scream." Athos explained, a hint of sadness in his normally composed voice.
Porthos shook his head. Aramis should not have done this to himself and should not be scared or ashamed of them seeing him having a nightmare. Every men had them, soldiers especially.
"He must have known that he wouldn't sleep peacefully." Porthos then observed.
Athos nodded and as another scream broke through the glove struck in Aramis' mouth, held tight by his belt wrapped around his head, he shook the man's shoulder.
The reaction was immediate. Aramis sat up straight, his hands wrapping around Athos' arm with a deathlike grip. His eyes were wild and sweaty strains hung into his face.
"It's okay. Just us." Porthos hushed, hands already opening the belt around the marksman's head. Slowly, Aramis came back to his senses and once the gag was removed he looked down ashamed.
"I'm sorry." He rasped, voice hoarse from screaming.
"There's nothing to be sorry about. Except for gagging yourself." Porthos shook his head in disbelief at the action.
"I didn't want –" Aramis stopped midsentence not really knowing what he didn't want. To wake them? To embarass himself?
"Just don't do it again." Athos said softly. "I know we don't know each other well, but you don't have to feel ashamed for anything like this."
"Exactly." Porthos agreed. "You can talk to us, if you like. Or we just sit here?"
Aramis didn't know what to say, he didn't want to speak if he was true to himself.
But company didn't sound so bad. It was always worse when he was alone.
But since Porthos and Athos knew about his troubles, he had never been alone again. And it was better like this. Better in their company.