I'm sorry this is rather short. I may have another piece done by Monday or Tuesday. Thanks so much for reading my story!

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At the abandoned prison, an outraged and furious voice laid into two of the men Mattieu had left behind just in case Richelieu happened to pay an unexpected visit, as he tended to do.
"He's gone?! Someone's head will pay for this!"

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Aramis slept the rest of that day and night, and most of the next day. One of his brothers was at his side at all times. Their hostess came both days to check on him. She expressed concern about his side and wrists the first day, taking herself back upstairs and coming back down with salves that she rubbed into the injuries.

"You come and get me if these get any worse," she told them. "I don't like the looks of them," she said, before covering him with the blanket once more and going back upstairs again.

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He was shivering. He fought to open eyelids that stubbornly refused to obey him. He persisted, and finally, they responded in opening the tiniest bit. But after his struggle, he couldn't see anything.

'Why is it so..dark?' he asked himself. 'My brothers came, didn't they? But..it's so dark, like…' stopping himself from going on, terrified of finding confirmation of his fears.

Next, he heard booted feet, something he had always heard with the 'visits'. 'No, no,' he could feel the panic rising in him.

But then, he became conscious of his hand being held in another's. 'I was never given a kind touch. Maybe..' his thoughts interrupted by the flare of a match, then light glowing softly from the corner.

Lifting his eyes, he found the steady gaze of Athos upon him, concern and affection mirrored in them. "You .. really came," Aramis breathed the words in a whisper-soft voice. He found that he couldn't quit looking, afraid that if he closed his eyes, no one would be there..

Their hostess had warned them, after they had described as much of Aramis' ordeal as they knew, that this might happen a few times. Aramis' mind had been so traumatized that for e next few upon awakening, might need reassurance that he was indeed safe.

"Yes, we did, mon ami," Athos replied in a soft voice, and squeezing Aramis' hand. "How do you feel?"

Aramis said in a halting voice, "Tired and sore."

Knowing his brother's usual insistence on being 'just fine', it told Athos that Aramis was likely experiencing a great deal of pain. He was just about to respond when Aramis murmured, "Hot."

Athos' worry level went up when he heard this. Studying his brother more closely, he now saw tiny beads of sweat on his face and neck. They had a blanket over him, but Athos knew it wasn't an outer warmth affecting Aramis. It was what they had all feared-infection had set in.

Knowing his brothers were right at his shoulders, Athos, without turning his head, said, "D'Artagnan, get Madame, please.

Aramis, seeing the worry on Athos' face, asked, "what's wrong?"

Athos, not wanting to upset him, said, "You have not eaten in far too long, mon ami.

"I don't..think my stomach can..take anything."

"She can make a broth. You just close your eyes and rest, brother." Athos' voice was infinitely gentle, a tone which no one but his brothers ever heard. As much as they had been hoping Aramis would regain his alertness, they all three hoped he would tire and fall asleep again before he could hear them discussing the infection with their hostess.

But it wasn't to be. Aramis, even as ill and injured as he was, could read their faces as clearly as a book. A little flare of panic ran through him as he asked again, "What's wrong?" his gaze flitting from one of their faces to the next for answers.

This was when Athos hated being their leader. He knew he needed to give Aramis an answer, and he knew that if it wasn't the truth but instead something designed to calm him, that his brother would know. All four of them could read each other, but Aramis' talent for it was by far the strongest.

He sighed as he said slowly, "We believe one of your wounds has become infected, and that's why…

"That's why I feel so hot," Aramis finished for him. I thought ...maybe that was it," surprising them with being more alert than they had thought.

Before any of them could react verbally to that, their hostess came down the steps.

Reaching the bedside, she saw that his eyes were open, and said, "I am very pleased to at last make your acquaintance, my sleepy patient," she teased him.

And Aramis, even in as bad a shape as he was in, responded to her playful greeting as if she were one of the high-born ladies of the Court, saying, "The pleasure is all mine, my beautiful nurse," gazing up at her with the chocolate eyes that half the women in the palace would wish were on them.

Their hostess broke into a lovely smile as she said, "You have a golden tongue, monsieur ," but it was said in a soft voice as she tousled his hair.

It was a lighthearted moment, his brothers slightly incredulous that, even flat on his back and in very bad shape, he still could flatter and fluster the heart of the woman tending him with his words and gaze. Was there any female heart that could harden against him, they wondered.

"It is easy to find the words when I have my inspiration in front of me," he returned.

"You, monsieur, are a delight for the ears. Now, lie still and let me examine you," she said, the smile remaining.

It was both playful and compliment on Aramis' part. But then, she started to examine him. They could see how even the slightest touch of her hands, as gentle as she was doing it, was causing him excruciating pain when it got near the much-abused wound in his side.

But it was nothing compared to the moment her fingers brushed as lightly as she could on the wound itself. His back arched, and an angushed cry came from him before he passed out.

Let me know if I didn't find all of the formatting errors. Fanfiction once again tried to make it all one paragraph.

If there are any medical goofs, I don't have any medical expertise, although a sister, niece and cousin are in the field.