He felt the rough texture of the rope as the noose was dropped over his head and tightened around his neck. Fear was like a live thing now, his breathing speeding up and his heart hammering inside of him.

He heard the raucous cries of the crowd, clamoring to 'get on with it!' They were roaring for the hanging to happen, the hanging that was going to snuff out his life.

He knew that if his brothers were aware that he had been taken, nothing on this earth would keep them from pursuing and finding him.

But he had been taken so suddenly and unexpectedly. He didn't blame Flea's attempt at running away for his predicament. She had no way of knowing, either.

And who could have foreseen that there would be an immediate execution?

He wasn't ready to die. He had so much to live for.

He could hear movement from the man he knew was standing near the lever-the lever that would bring his life to an excruciatingly painful end, choking on the end of a rope.

He began to pray the prayer he had turned to several times in his life-the prayer of the dying. Into Your hands, Lord, I commend my spirit.

The few other times he had thought he was about to die, his brothers came thundering to his rescue. Not this time, though, tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.

Eyes closed, he only had a second's notice, as almost at the same time he heard movement from near the lever, he dropped.

The noose tightened. Oh how it hurt! He couldn't breathe! Vaguely, he began vhoking, then could feel his arms and legs flailing, and then-nothing. Everything went black, and his body became horribly still.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

He felt like he was floating in black waters. Where am I? he wondered vaguely.

It seemed like a long time, he remained there content in its peace.

But then, he heard a voice. It was calling his name. He knew that voice. It belonged to someone he loved. Athos!

He could feel muscular arms around him now. Porthos!

He had to answer. The voice sounded so sad. Opening his mouth at last, he attempted to speak.

Nothing!

He tried again, harder. His throat felt horribly scratch as he tried as hard as he could to use it.

Nothing! No could make no sound at all!

His eyes flew open as he panicked. What was wrong?

He heard Athos, faintly as from a long distance, trying to reassure him, but the words ratcheted up his fear.

Why couldn't he speak? He couldn't make a sound!

It was scaring him. He didn't understand. But then he passed out.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

He awoke again, not knowing where he was. His face reflected his confusion.

Then, once more he tried to speak. But he couldn't make a sound, becoming agitated as he tried.

He heard Athos speaking gently softly, "Your throat was injured" immediately bringing back the horror of being helpless, plummeting down, the rope so tight it cut his breathing abruptly off, then…nothing.

His breathing sped up so much, he began gasping for air. He dimly thought he was taking his last breaths before he went utterly limp, blacking out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

D'Artagnan, whose time at Aramis' bedside it was, tried to calm his brother down, but to no avail.

Finally, he lifted Aramis up against him, speaking soothing words to him as he looked back over his shoulder towards his brothers.

Both of them were rapidly moving towards the bed, sitting down on either side of them.

Porthos began rubbing gentle circles on Aramis' upper back and shoulders, while Athos began carding his fingers softly through the marksman's tousled hair.

Within minutes, Aramis had calmed down, until he let out a shuddering sigh.

Moments passed, and he finally opened weary eyes. The nightmares had come frequently and strongly for over three days. During one of them, his breathing had stopped, sending them all into uncharacteristic panic. Fortunately, it began after nearly half a minute in which they were afraid that they might have lost their brother.

"Aramis?" Athos spoke quietly so as not to startle him.

At first, they thought he wouldn't respond. He hadn't after any of the other episodes.

But finally, weary, pain-filled eyes blinked several times, then finally opened. Looking dazedly around, he stilled when he saw where he was. Looking at each of their faces, he let out the breath he had been holding.

"W..why am I i...in the in...infirmary," he asked, his voice raspy and barely audible, confusion filling his face now. "D..did I g..get injured?"

His brothers, remembering what had happened when they slightly mentioned his injury last time, were silent.

Athos asked him slowly, "Do you remember anything, Aramis?"

He was silent for so long, they didn't know what was going through his head.

Then he said in a voice that was barely audible, "I couldn't … couldn't breathe."

He stopped, drawing a long, shaky breath. "I … f..felt m..myself … d..dying."

Athos couldn't remember such a silent moment in his life. All of them just sat stunned, and wishing they could remove the horror he had been through.

It wasn't Aramis alone who had silent tears begin to fall. All of their emotions poured from them.

"I bl..blacked out. I..I don't even k..know h..how I'm alive."

D'Artagnan quiet, stricken voice answered. "Athos severed the rope with a bullet, Aramis."

Aramis, deeply moved, said simply, "Th..thank you f ..for my life."

"I would have done anything to save your life, Aramis. All of us would. You went through hell, and for what? Saving the life of your brother. This whole insane…." he stopped, torn at the unspeakable travesty his beloved brother had been forced to endure.

Aramis eyes shone with the love and gratitude he felt for his brothers. But now his eyes, despite trying to keep awake, were closing with exhaustion.

"Sleep, brother. We can speak again later."

Within seconds, he was asleep. They just hoped that he might have a night of rest this time, to help him to heal.