First, I would like to apologize to everyone who read Chapter 24. I don't know what happened after I posted it in fanfiction, but I had formatted it as I normally do beforehand. I looked it oer after I published, and it was fine. Then, something happened at the other end. Thank you so much for your patience in reading it!
Aramis came back to awareness, finding that once more the wound in his side had been tended. It had started to bleed from the blow to his torso earlier, but obviously, Richelieu didn't want him to die more quickly from loss of blood or infection. He still wanted things prolonged.
Still, the gang leader continued to come back. Every time he did, the marksman was hit somewhere-just once each time, but the blows were hard and savage in their intensity. Twice, the blows to his torso had felt like something had given way-or broken.
The man would move slowly down the ladder, taking his time, hoping to work on Aramis' mind to create further torment of what would happen. Slowly he would stalk across the dirt floor of the pit towards him. The chain ocnnecting Aramis with the wall gave him a little room to move, but he didn't try, as the man would only laugh at his attempts to hold off the blow for a moment or two. He was trapped, and the man who came to attack him enjoyed that fact. He was at the man's complete mercy.
He had hit Aramis once in the head and once in the lower back, but he seemed to delight on most of his visits in aiming his boot into the marksman's stomach. He seemed to enjoy the gasp of pain that Aramis wasn't any longer able to hold back when the booted foot connected. Then, he would stand over his victim for a few moments, probably to make Aramis wonder if this time it was going to continue past the single blow.
Aramis, when he was alone, sometimes drifted in and out of consciousness, but still had begun to pick up a pattern. The length of time in between the man's visits made the marksman think that he was coming once a day. He tried to remember how many times so far, and realized that if he was right, they had been going on for a week. He had no conception, though, of how long he had been imprisoned before the visits.
He was beginning to be more thankful, though, that they had left his shirt and breeches on as the air had become much cooler. Since he had been taken at the very end of summer, autumn was now making its presence felt. How long have I been buried here, he asked himself? Will I ever be found? Will I go mad? Or will I never wake up again on one of my lapses of consciousness?
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Laurent had at last presented Athos with a list of places his brother had taken him, beginning when he was only seven years old. What kind of a sick mind does that to a young boy, Athos asked himself, and then thought of Aramis helpless in the man's power. Shaking himself, he deliberately broke his train of thought, the pain of it tearing him apart.
Starting down the list, which was actually quite long, he first scratched out any buildings that he knew had since been destroyed. Next, he eliminated the ones he had heard about that had been bought and converted to other purposes by merchants and tradesmen.
Then, calling in Porthos and d'Artagnan, Treville being in attendance on the king at the palace, the three of them went through the list again, Athos hoping one of his brothers might have some knowledge unknown to himself that could shorten the list further.
"This one was blown up a long time ago," Porthos said, indicating one of the names at the beginning of the list. "I remember the men talking about it in the Court."
"It was probably long before I left Pinon to come to Paris," Athos said, drawing a line through the place,"so I would not have recognized the name."
D'Artagnan had no information to whittle it down further, having been in Paris the shortest length of time of the brothers.
"There are still over a dozen places," Athos said somewhat dejectedly in spite of himself. "D'Artagnan, go and make inquiries of some of the merchants tomorrow morning. Discreetly. We do not know what connections these men have in Paris. Nor do we know who they are working for. Porthos, you and I will be visiting the palace. Not only do we need to use the same cautions there, but we also do not want Louis or Richelieu aware of what we are doing. We do not need Louis' curiosity right now, and we know how meddling and suspicious Richelieu can be. Let us hope we discover something useful to aid us in finding our brother."
Heading off to the kitchen, none of them had the stomach for more than a few bites, their systems too worked up for food to settle in them. None of them slept well that night either, hoping against hope that they might find the information they desperately needed the next day.
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One day, not long after one of his painful visits, the light above appeared again. The boots walked across to the grate, and Aramis heard it being unlocked. As Aramis laid a hand over his eyes to protect them, he thought 'Again! He was just here!'
The man's head poked itself over the side, and looking down at Aramis, he said, "Almost forgot. Can't have you starving, now can we?" beginning to lower the waterskin and bag down.
Since Aramis had his eyes shielded, he didn't notice what the man had done until he heard the grate closed and locked, and the boots walking away. His eyes were more accustomed to the dark than the light now, but even so, it took a moment before he saw the waterskin and bag on the ground-on the other side of the pit. Aramis tried so hard, but he just couldn't reach them. He was so hungry and thirsty, and even though he wasn't allowed very much, at least it was something. But to do this-the cruelty was unbelievable. The sustenance was in plain sight, but it might as well have been half a world away from him.
Despair ate at him. He had dealt with many bad and cruel people in his years as a Musketeer, but this man seemed to find such great enjoyment in what he did. Aramis had never understood what made some minds different than others. Parents. Their childhoods. Something they had gone through in their line of work. A friend who exerted an influence over them that turned their minds. Tragedy.
All he knew right now was that without that bit of food and especially the water, his life was going to end soon. Someone could go without food for quite some time, although they would suffer their body's protests at the lack of it. But a man could only go three days without water in most cases. Considering the long sretches between being given them, he thought they might be deliberately waiting for almost those three days each time. He was very thirsty, his mouth dry as a bone.
Had Richelieu changed his plans? Was he now to die sooner of starvation and dehydration instead? He had no idea.
Curling up again, he let the encroaching darkness take away his thoughts, his pains, his fears.
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Aramis' brothers spent the whole day seeking out information about the buildings on Laurent's list. They were more disheartened than ever. Aside from crossing two more places off the list, it still left ten that they knew nothing about.
Trudging back through the garrison gates, their steps were far from the eager, light feet of the morning when they had set out hopeful that they would learn something useful at last. As evening faded into night with their return, they had nothing to show for their efforts.
Not even hungry, they each slowly made their weary ways to their rooms, not sure what new idea they could try in the morning.
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The sound of the lock opening and the grate being raised woke Aramis, who no sooner opened his eyes than had to squeeze them shut and shade them from the light again.
The mocking voice called down to him, "Well, would you look at that. I seem to have miscalculated where I put your food and water."
Laughing, he lowered the same two items down again, this time practically dropping them onto Aramis' legs. Cutting the rope, as he did each time, he gave Aramis one more long look before backing away, slamming and locking the grate. The light was extinguished, and Aramis heard him leave.
He made himself wait until he had no audience before grabbing the waterskin, finishing the half-full skin in gulps. He tore into the heel of bread almost as quickly.
Afterwards, he took a deep breath before thinking to himself, 'Thank God!' He had been trying to prepare himself to die, and at the same time asking the God he loved so much for the strength to endure either death or the continued existence he found himself in.
He began to pray again that his brothers would find a way to locate him-before it was too late.
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Next morning, Aramis' brothers dragged themselves out of bed, meeting at their table to force some breakfast down. They looked at each other, seeing the same anxiety and sadness in the others' eyes that they felt themselves.
Athos was just about to ask if Porthos and d'Artagnan had any ideas when Laurent came running across the compound, shouting their names to get their attention.
All three men leaped to their feet, almost afraid to hope that he had good news.
He couldn't wait to tell them, "I remembered the name of a prison I didn't write down on my list. My brother took me there when I was only eight."
It was another name for their list, but they were already thinking that maybe this might be the one. No one had known any of the other places? Was this a sign?
And then Laurent added, "I remember my brother telling me at the time, "if I ever needed to hide out somewhere, no one would ever find me here," and he was laughing almost gleefully as he said it,when the place was giving me the chills as I was looking around me . He always liked the strangest things."
"It is in Paris or outside, Laurent?"
"Outside. What's left of it is mostly underground. Point de Non Retour*, he said it's name was. He said he would never want to be locked up there, but if someone needed locking up, he would gladly throw him in there."
Then, he apologized to them. "I think I blocked the memory out of my mind. It was so horrible having to hear my own brother wishing that on someone."
Athos and his brothers looked at each other, the dawn of hope in their eyes growing stronger with Laurent's words.
*Point de Non Retour-Point of No Return.