The next day, Treville entered the room with a grave expression on his face. He saw that Aramis was sleeping, and was relieved, as it gave him a chance to speak to the other two first. "How is he?" he asked.

Athos stood from his chair next to the bed and walked to the other side of the room, so as not to disturb Aramis. "Last night was the most sleep he's gotten since it happened," he whispered.

Treville was glad to hear that, but upset that he was about to ruin whatever progress Aramis was making.

Athos could see that something was wrong. "What is it?"

Treville hesitated.

"Are Porthos and I needed for a mission?" Athos asked.

Treville shook his head. "No...the king has summoned Aramis."

Porthos stood from where he sat beside the bed and hurried over. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

Treville sighed. "Yes. He wants a report on what happened."

"Everyone knows what happened!" Porthos replied.

"I know, Porthos!" said Treville. "We all know." Suddenly, he looked older than his years, and they noticed the dark smudges under his eyes that spoke of many sleepless nights. "But he wants an account from someone who was there..."

The words, and no one came back but Aramis went unsaid.

"But he can't!" Porthos said. "Aramis has been through hell since then! We've been trying to help him not think about it!"

"I know that too," Treville said. "You forget that I was here almost as much as you, at first."

That was true. Treville had stayed at Aramis' side all night and every spare minute for at least a week after Savoy...changing his bandages, waking him from nightmares, and doing everything possible for him.

"I agree with Porthos," Athos said. "I don't see how Aramis will be able to do this."

"With all of us by his side. He has to," said Treville. "I tried to talk Louis out of it, but he's been waiting all these weeks and I couldn't put him off anymore...he wants as much information as possible." He sighed. "We need Aramis' account just as we'd need a report on any other kind of altercation."

The others knew that was true, and as one, all three of them looked to the bed, to find Aramis still asleep.

"Louis knows that Aramis' injuries were grave," Treville said. "I told him that he nearly didn't survive and has had...trouble...with his mind. I blamed it on the head wound and told him that Aramis will make a full recovery. With the way Aramis has been affected by this, another regiment might have discharged him. I've done everything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Then why did you mention the trouble with his mind at all?!" Porthos asked.

"To explain whatever happens today in the throne room!" Treville told him.

In other words, in case Aramis gets locked in a flashback.

All three men sighed. "When is he expecting us?" Athos asked.

"I gave him no exact time," said Treville. "I told the king that it'll take a while to get Aramis presentable because he is still bedridden."

Athos nodded. "Then we wait for him to wake on his own and break it to him carefully."

Treville nodded back, expecting nothing else.

The next hour passed very tensely for everyone, and when Aramis woke, he did so with a groan, as usual.

Athos had some hot chocolate warming over the fire, and he poured it into a cup and brought it to the bed.

"Morning," Porthos said, squeezing his arm. "How ya feelin'?"

Aramis blinked a few times. "All right," he answered, ridiculously.

"How's the pain?" Athos asked as he came over to the bed. "Any better?"

"A little," Aramis said, letting Porthos recline him upright.

"Hungry?" Porthos asked.

"No," said Aramis, taking the cup that Athos handed him.

All three of them figured that was probably a good thing...if Aramis ate and then found out what the king wanted of him, he'd probably throw it right back up again.

Treville stayed back as he watched Athos and Porthos care for their friend, waiting until they decided to break the news to him.

Aramis handed Athos the cup before taking a deep breath and letting it out. "All right, tell me."

Porthos blinked. "Tell you what?"

"Whatever it is that you're reluctant to say," Aramis answered.

They were all slightly surprised that he was able to read them that well while still in pain, and they both sat on either sides of the bed. "The king has made a demand of Captain Treville."

At that, Treville came closer. "I'm sorry, Aramis...but Louis wishes to speak with you."

Aramis was slightly startled at his presence, and just looked at him. "With me?"

Treville nodded. "About what happened."

Aramis immediately paled. "You mean he...wants me to...explain...?" He stopped, unable to go on.

Treville sighed. "I'm sorry...I tried so hard to spare you this."

Images that Aramis hoped to forget quickly flooded his mind. Death...bloodied snow...hungry crows...Marsac… Suddenly he couldn't breathe, and he felt his friends' hands grab onto him to try to calm him down.

Treville's face suddenly came into view, and Aramis abruptly realized that he was speaking.

"Breathe, Aramis! Listen to me...in and out, in and out. Aramis!"

Treville shook him hard, and pain exploded in Aramis' head, making him wince and close his eyes, bringing up shaking hands to grasp it.

Treville winced himself, having not wanted to resort to that. He reclined Aramis back against his pillows and placed a comforting hand on the wounded musketeer's hair. "I'm sorry, Aramis, I'm so sorry."

Aramis gave no reply, breathing heavily and grasping his head. "I can't do it," he gasped.

"Yes you can," Athos said, squeezing his shoulder. "We'll be there with you; you won't be alone."

"You'll never be alone again," said Porthos, tugging one of Aramis' hands away from his head and squeezing it tightly.

Treville sighed, inwardly furious that Marsac had abandoned Aramis wounded and alone amongst the carnage.

Aramis gave no reply, breathing heavily and still holding his head with the hand that wasn't clasped by Porthos. His face was extremely pale. "When?" he finally whispered.

"Whenever you're ready," said Treville, nearly expecting Aramis to say that he'd never be ready.

Aramis took a few more breaths before opening his eyes. He didn't look at them at first, still grasping his head. Eventually, his eyes strayed to his left hand, held so strongly by Porthos.

Porthos tightened his hold. "You're not goin' alone."

Aramis finally looked at them, one at a time, before sighing heavily. "Let's get it over with, then."

Treville sent a note to the palace informing the king of their impending arrival, and the next hour was spent making Aramis presentable. He was still weak and needed help dressing, and they put two extra shirts on him to keep him warm and help fill out the uniform, which was visibly too big. They trimmed his mustache and beard and asked again if he was hungry, to which he replied 'no'. Athos gave him more of the hot chocolate, which Aramis nearly dropped: his hand was shaking too badly to hold it.

Treville sat next to him on the side of the bed. "Try to be calm, Aramis," he said, placing a hand on his back in comfort.

Aramis took a shuddering breath, looking impossibly young. Treville had to remind himself that he was only twenty-three years old, and had experienced a horror that would break even much older men.

Athos urged him to drink, keeping hold of the cup.

The scent of the hot chocolate filled the air, and Treville looked at Athos with surprise, knowing how expensive it was.

Athos didn't notice his look as he helped Aramis drink it, and when he finished, he placed the cup on the nightstand and all three of them stared at Aramis, waiting for him to make the first move.

Aramis took another deep breath, suddenly feeling dizzy. He was so nervous that he wasn't even sure if he could walk. Looking up, he saw his friends waiting patiently, and he held out a shaking hand.

Porthos grasped it and pulled him to his feet, with Athos helping on the other side. Once Aramis was standing, he suddenly swayed and his knees buckled.

All three of them caught him and lowered him back down to the bed, his upper body ending up in Treville's arms.

Aramis' eyes were closed in unconsciousness.

"Tell the king 'no'!" Porthos exclaimed. "Aramis is still too sick!"

"I have been, for weeks!" Treville told him. "Aramis is right that he should get this over with. Why keep him in an anxious state knowing that he'll just have to do this tomorrow instead?" With that, he shook the wounded musketeer. "Aramis, wake up!" It took two more tries before Aramis gave a soft moan, and Athos and Porthos pulled him out of Treville's arms and sat him up.

Aramis' head lolled weakly to one side as he dizzily blinked.

"Aramis?" said Athos, grasping his shoulder. "Stay with us."

It took another moment of quiet blinking before Aramis came back to himself. He looked at them with confusion, not remembering passing out. "Are we back?" he asked.

Treville sighed. "No, we haven't left yet."

Aramis sighed again. His head was throbbing, and he closed his eyes.

"Come," said Athos, against his better judgment. "This won't take long and then you can rest."

Aramis let them pull him to his feet and hold him there until they were sure that he wouldn't pass out again.

Treville grabbed Aramis' blue cape and tied it on him before placing his hat atop his head, careful not to let the brim touch the still-healing wound. He stepped back and looked the musketeer over, wishing that he didn't look so pale and tired. It was obvious how much weight he'd lost, though the cape helped to disguise it somewhat.

Crossing to the door, Treville held it open as Athos and Porthos helped Aramis along, and soon they were in the stable, saddling their horses. They made Aramis sit on a bale of hay while they did it, and carefully got him mounted once his horse was ready.

Aramis held on tightly, still dizzy from his faint. It was obvious to the others how unsteady he was, and they rode to the palace slowly.

The closer they got, the more anxious Aramis became, and after they arrived, he nearly fell off his horse when the others helped him down. As they entered the palace, Aramis tried to draw on whatever meager strength he possessed, and forced himself to walk tall and straight. The effect was ruined by his rapidly paling face, and he looked white as a ghost once they arrived at the throne room.

Before they entered, Porthos stopped walking, effectively stopping his friends. "All for one, Aramis," he said to him. "Just remember that."

Aramis gave him a shaky smile in reply, before they headed inside.

TBC