Athos slapped his cheek slightly. "C'mon Aramis, wake up. The Captain is coming back soon!" The swordsman let out a frustrated groan, as Aramis didn't seem able to be woken up. Athos thought about the many times he had wished someone would have woken him while he had slept through his latest hangover. He slapped Aramis again, now harder. The marksman shot his head up. At first he looked confused, before he glared at Athos furious. "How dare you?!" Aramis stood up, pushing the other musketeer away. "You needed to wake up. The captain-" Athos wasn't able to come to an end, as a fist made contact with his face. He stumbled back against the table. The fight had summoned the attention of the whole regiment. Some looked amused, others concerned and worried.

Aramis grabbed Athos at his collar, ready to blow another hit. "ENOUGH!" Treville dismounted and came up with quick steps. Aramis let go of the swordsman cursing. He felt dizzy, as if he weren't totally awake by now. The voice of the captain seemed to be muffled by cotton. And Aramis knew the grip on his arm was supposed to hurt, still it felt like a soft touch. He blinked a few times, trying to see clear but it didn't work. "We have let pass a lot of things you've done the past days, Aramis. But enough is enough." Aramis felt how he was dragged up the stair and into the room of the Captain. Athos followed silently.

Treville pushed Aramis into a chair and sat down in his own one, while Athos remained staying. "Aramis we all understand that you're going through a tough time and-" "You understand nothing!" The marksman wanted to stand up but was held down by Athos. "We try to understand," Treville corrected himself. "But you can't behave like this. You're late to the morning calls, you're fighting with every other musketeer near you. Goddamn, you nearly killed Serge as you threw a bowl after him!"

Aramis looked down at his hands. This wasn't himself, he knew that. He knew that his behavior was wrong but he wasn't able to change it. It felt right in the moment and minutes later he regretted it. Then he took some milk of the poppy and everything was fine again. All the scolding looks left, all the guilt was gone.

Treville sighed, running his hand over his face. "I don't like to do this but I don't see another way out. You're dismissed until you're yourself again. Until you don't need this drug anymore and can fulfill your duties." Aramis wasn't shocked or sad or angry, but he wasn't felt happy either. He just felt… empty. He always had the feeling that the work, the easiest tasks, were too much for him. That being with other musketeers was too much. Still he needed it. He needed a reason to get out of bed, even though it was already noon when he did. The medic sighed and stood up slowly. This time Athos let him. Aramis looked at the Captain, then at Athos who's eye was already colored in a dark blue.

"I'm sorry." Aramis muttered as he walked out of the room. He didn't know if he excused for the punch, his behavior or because he had let them all down. Treville and Athos had told him a many times how happy all of them were to have him back, to have at least one alive. It had to be hard for them as he pushed them away again and again. Still, he wasn't able to control it.

Aramis went to his room and laid down on his bed. He had slept over ten hours and was awake for three but felt tired already. He slept for five more until he walked through his room restless. He heard the commands down in the court, the guns and the swords. He wanted to be there and he wanted to be alone. Aramis let out a frustrated scream. He didn't even know himself what he wanted! He had never felt so alone and lost. He just couldn't get rid of this feeling since Marsac left him in the woods to die.

It knocked in the same moment as the door opened. Athos didn't wait for an invitation that would never have come. "Let me help you." Aramis looked at the musketeers long and thoughtful. He has always wondered why Athos was so interested in helping him. Aramis didn't know Athos, although they're working together since nearly a year. But what Aramis knew that Athos was a drunkard. Always in a bad mood and unsociable. "Why?" Aramis asked the question that went through his head so many times.

Athos seemed to be taken back by the question for a moment. He expected another punch, screams, curses or silence. But not this. "I don't want to see a good man getting lost like this. I don't want anyone to be lost like this." Like me, the swordsman thought. Aramis nod, as he understood what was behind the words. He noticed his head felt clear for the first time in days, but with this the headache came back. He massaged his temple as he sat down. "You're not yourself in the moment but you can get it back." Aramis looked up skeptical. "I fear you're wrong this time. You can't get back what's lost."

"Sometimes you have to search a bit, but nothing is ever really… away. Nothing just vanishes." Aramis didn't think that Athos was right. He knew that he won't ever be able to forget what had happened in Savoy. He knew that a part of him died there. But Aramis was tired and just wanted to stop all of this. The pain, the guilt, the loneliness, the despair. He wanted to feel something again that wasn't bad. So he nod slightly. "Do what you want."

Athos smiled, just so slightly you wouldn't have noticed if you didn't look exactly. "You will not like it." Aramis closed his eyes as his head hurt even more. He grabbed into his pocket and took out the medicine. Athos took the bottle before Aramis had the chance to even open it. "I will have to take very bottle you have of this. You don't need it anymore."

Aramis looked horrified. Of course he needed it! Without it he wasn't able to withstand the immense pain in his head. He wanted to protest as Athos searched for further bottles, but everything spinned as he stood up. "Don't. I need it." He had to watch helplessly as Athos broke the bottles and let the precious liquid escape. Aramis saw how it sunk into the wooden floor slowly, turning it into a darker shade of brown. "I need it." He repeated, as he supported his head with his hands.

"Your wounds are healed since a long time Aramis. It's your soul that needs help, not your body." Athos knew what he was talking about.

Aramis didn't answer. He felt too weak and the pain just got harder with every second. "Can I sleep now?"

Athos shook his head. "You've slept enough. You will eat now." Aramis got sick as he thought about the smell of pork or cheese. No, he wasn't hungry at all. "When did you eat the last time?" Athos asked, inspecting the thin man. "Don't know. Yesterday or something like that."

The swordsman put down a plate with bread, steak and potatoes and a bowl of soup. Aramis sighed, as he tried of the soup. He felt like he needed to throw up. "I can't." The marksman stood up fast and stumbled to the window to get a bit of fresh air. He had to hold onto the windowsill to not fall down. Athos sighed as he realized that he would need to be more patient. Wounds need time to heal and a broken soul is nothing different. "Rest." He commanded and guided Aramis to his bed. He didn't protest, which worried the swordsman even more. Aramis seemed so weak at the moment.