Chapter Five

He was alone again. Apart from the spiders. He thought it was the next day. The sun was intermittently shining. He watched the patch of light appear and fade as clouds moved to cover the sun.

He spent some time imagining he felt different. Imagining pain or discomfort where there was none. Whatever they had given him was not affecting him. Aramis concluded it was only water and the elaborate method of delivery was to intimidate or frighten him.

'Aramis, you need to stay awake. I am not carrying you. And I am not leaving you...'

Aramis opened his eyes. The dream had felt real. He rubbed his hand across his chest as he remembered the assault he had endured that day with Athos forced to watch. He remembered Athos feeling guilty that only he had been hurt.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his memories. He watched the door wondering who would be visiting him. As the door was pulled open, he pushed himself away to lean against the wall. It made no difference. There were too many of them.

In a repeat of the previous day, the men went to grab Aramis and restrain him.

Aramis fought back harder. He managed to pull away from the man that tried to grab him from behind. The leader anticipated the move and grasped the chains on the manacles, pulling Aramis' arms down allowing the man with the garlic breath to immobilise him. At the same time, the tufty-haired man and the bald man grabbed his legs firmly. Despite his best efforts, Aramis found himself restrained in the same position as the previous day.

The leader pushed his head back, grabbing at his sore jaw. Aramis tensed up but to no avail. The wheezing man had his meaty hand on Aramis' forehead, forcing him back further. There was a momentary pause before the pain in his leg made him gasp.

The liquid was forced into him again. Again, he tried to spit it out. Again, they prevented him.

Then the enforced standoff began. His captors kept him still.

'What is it you're giving me?'

Aramis tried to look at the other men. They all remained silent. The leader watched him like a hawk watches its prey, waiting for the moment of vulnerability.

Then they left him. Although this time more of the fresh bread and another apple had also been left. He stared at the meagre offering. He imagined himself grabbing the apple in a fit of rage and hurling it at the wall watching it smash into the dull grey stones. He reached out and picked up the red fruit, feeling its smooth skin under his fingers. He looked at the wall for a few seconds. He put the apple down and picked up the bread instead. He tore a piece off and ate it, closing his eyes to savour the warmth it brought.

He sighed.

He looked at the shadow on the wall, watching it come and go a few times before a thought struck him. The shadow was in the same place as it had been the previous day after the men forced him to drink the liquid. He wondered if that was just a coincidence. Or was there a reason?

'Get him untied, we need to clean this-'

Aramis jerked awake. Another vivid dream. This time it was Athos who had been hurt. Whipped in an attempt to get the rest of them to talk. Poor d'Artagnan had looked close to cracking, watching his mentor being tortured in front of them.

There was no sun at all; Aramis did not think it was dawn or dusk. Or it was, and he had been asleep for longer than he thought. The concept of time was lost to him when he did not have the shadows and sun rays to guide him. He stared at the grey stone on the wall opposite. Was the third one slightly brighter? If it was, the men might come again, thought Aramis. If they were going to visit him daily and at the same time.

He smiled to himself as he heard the noises that announced their arrival. His theory was correct.

He pushed himself to his feet and leaned against the wall.

The gunman was the first into the room. Aramis was sure he saw a smile play across the man's lips before he stepped aside to allow the rest of the men in. Garlic breath man stalked towards him. Aramis found himself solely focused on the man that would try to restrain him with strength alone. He took a step back, the chains clinking as he moved. He realised his mistake too late to do anything about it. The two men who would be holding his legs had circled to the other side of the cell. They grabbed him and spun him around. Before Aramis could raise his hands to fight them, Garlic-breath grabbed him. Tufty hooked a foot around Aramis' ankle and forced him to the ground. Garlic breath did not let him fall. The strong man controlled his movements.

All too soon he was back on the floor trying to spit the liquid out.

Trying and failing.

As they left him, he looked down. Three times, he thought. Three times he had been subjected to the same treatment.

Was it three times?

Or was it four?

Five?

Aramis picked up the bread that had been left. He watched the grey stones as the sun made a brief appearance and marked the fifth stone. However many times they had come they were still coming at the same time each day.

Then they did not come.

Aramis stared at the fourth stone. He did not think he had watched the defined line of sun and shadow cross that brick. At least not since his odd torture had begun. He listened, and he waited. No footsteps, no sound in the distance to announce the arrival of his tormentors. As the fifth stone was crossed by the reliable rays of the sun Aramis wondered if he was actually being subjected to mental torture rather than a physical one. He was being assaulted by the men each day, but now that they were not there, and he was expecting them… he was missing them.

Was it the contact? Was he missing Garlic-breath holding him firmly and Wheezy pulling his head back?

He knew he was not missing the leader forcing the liquid into his mouth. Whatever the liquid was.

There was also no food that day. He had started to see the warm bread and juicy apple as a reward for the torment.

He had none of those things that day.

'Just breath, Porthos. Take a breath. Slowly…'

The familiar grey walls were welcome after the dream. Trying to get his friend to take full breaths after being almost drowned was not something Aramis wanted to relive. It was rare for Porthos to panic, but he had been panicked that day. The final time the brute had held Porthos under the water had almost been too long. Almost.

Aramis shook his head. He guessed that with nothing to do but dwell on past events, it was inevitable that the uncomfortable ones and the ones he would rather forget would be at the forefront of his mind.

The echoing bang. Aramis looked towards the door, listening as the men got closer. He did not try to stand. He knew he was too weak from not getting enough food to fight them.

The door was pushed open; the men filled the room. He was grabbed and manipulated. He tried and failed to prevent the liquid from being forced into him.

'If you think you can break me with this, you're wrong,' he said to the leader who, as always, did not react.

They left. They left with little ceremony. The gunman did not even bother to aim the gun. His captors knew he could not fight back anymore. They had weakened him enough to not be worried he might lash out with any power.

Aramis realised his hand was shaking as he reached for the hunk of bread.

MMMM

The light was drifting off the fourth stone again. They had not come again. Two days in a row. Or so he thought. It was difficult to gauge.

He was thirsty. The juice from the apples was not enough. The water in the liquid helped to slake his thirst.

His mind wandered as he thought of drinking cool cups of water. There had been a time a few months before when Athos had been ill. A fever that had left him confused and at times combative. Aramis recalled having to force his friend to drink.

Although he had not pinned Athos down and grabbed him around the face to force his mouth open. Aramis smiled as he remembered bargaining with his friend. Offering him some watered-down wine. Athos was too feverish to realise there was barely any wine in the water. Only enough to give the taste to the confused man. He had felt a little guilty for lying to Athos, but it had worked.

Aramis stretched; his back felt stiff. Perhaps he had been sitting for too long. He got to his feet. The wound on his leg was barely hurting, but the weakness he felt throughout his body made up for the lack of pain. He was sure he would not be able to walk far even though he could take weight on this right leg again.

He took a few steps. As far as his chains would allow. He could hear them trailing behind him, dragging across the stone floor. The noise annoyed him. He pulled at the chains for a few seconds, feeling the metal of the manacles bite into his wrists. The pain made him look at his wrists. He had not noticed how bruised they had become during his incarceration.

He looked up at the window and squinted at the brightness of the sun streaming through. That annoyed him as well.

He shuffled across the room in the other direction and looked up at Speckled. The spider was still waiting patiently for something to be caught in her web. Aramis shook his head; the spider would die of starvation. Perhaps they would both die at the same time.

The echoing clang brought a strange hope to Aramis' thoughts.

He moved to stand opposite the door. As the door opened, he knelt.

He did not resist the men as they gathered around him.

They had missed two days, but they were there again. They would feed him again. He would feel better afterwards.

When the men had gone, he knew he felt better. Better for the contact. Better for the water and the food.

The bread was the best he had tasted since he had been captured. The apple was the shiniest.

'D'Artagnan, let me look at your wrists. D'Artagnan, they've gone. It's over. You're safe now.'

Poor d'Artagnan. Confused and unable to raise his arms for some time after they had cut him down. The young Musketeer had felt nauseous for a few hours after they had dealt with their tormentors.

Aramis felt nauseous. It annoyed him that he felt ill.

But it annoyed him more that the men had not come for two days again. He felt the same as he had felt the last time they had not come.

The spiders were not doing anything to distract him.

He tried to sleep but kept watching the grey stones on the opposite wall.

Why had they not come?

Aramis felt hot. He tried to shrug out of the doublet. He could not take it off completely, but he could push it off his shoulders. But then he was cold. He shivered.

Why had they not come?

He stared at the door as the realisation hit him.

The liquid.

Whatever was in the liquid. That slight bitter tang.

Aramis wanted it.

He needed it.

They had made him addicted to it.

This was the torture. The way he felt at that moment. That was what the men had wanted from the start.

And now they had it.

MMMM