Chapter Fourteen

"I don't want to go. I need to find him."

Aramis tried to pull away from Porthos. They wanted to leave Foix, but he would stand little chance of tracking Romero if they did. Brother Lussier insisted that Romero was gone, but he had to know for sure. He didn't want to let his friend down.

"No you don't. Now get on the horse."

"He's my friend."

"We are your friends, and we have to go."

"Stop lying!" They were not his friends. They were strangers at best. The Athos and Porthos he used to know were a fiction. Going with them felt like another sort of captivity.

"Athos?"

Athos stepped forwards and Aramis stepped back, but Porthos' hand was there to restrain him.

"Let. Go." Aramis grit out.

"We're trying to help you." Athos started to reach out a hand, but then thought better of it and let it drop to his side. "I know you don't see it, but we're trying to help. Come with us, and once we're away from here we can sort everything out. I promise."

"Can't you just let me go?" Aramis asked quietly.

"It's not safe. We only want to go somewhere safe."

"Romero keeps me safe."

Porthos seemed to bristle at his side. "Romero got you into this mess."

"But he is my friend."

"Stop saying that!" Porthos growled, but he calmed as soon as Aramis flinched at his raised voice. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted… Look, we can ride to the nearest inn, get some food and rest. Wouldn't you like to sleep in a bed?"

"I don't want to leave him behind."

"You're not leaving him behind, he's not here anymore." Porthos couldn't keep the frustration from his voice.

"I need to see."

Aramis turned his back on them and made an attempt to walk away. This time Athos did not hesitate, he grabbed Aramis' undamaged arm and held him back. Aramis started to struggle, so Athos brought his other arm to bear across Aramis' chest. He fought harder, writhing against Athos' hold. His arm came loose and Aramis swung it at Athos' face.

"Aramis, calm down!"

"GET OFF ME!"

"Be still! You will hurt yourself!"

"You're the one hurting me!"

For a few moments they wrestled with each other. Aramis, frantic and flailing. Athos, desperately trying to hold on. Porthos held back, seemingly unsure of whether or how to intervene.

"Porthos! Do something!" Athos yelled.

"I can't."

"We haven't got time for this!"

"Don't ask me to."

"If you won't, I will." Athos growled as he fought to restrain Aramis.

Porthos hesitated a moment, and then he reached for his pistol with some distaste. "I'm sorry."

Too late Aramis realised what was happening. The butt of the pistol came down. "No! Do-"

~oOo~

Disembodied voices echoed around the thick fog of his mind. He could latch onto words if he concentrated hard enough.

"... drink… arm… pass me…"

But it seemed too much effort to keep hold of them. He let the words drift away again. The voices ebbed and flowed around. They crashed into him as a sliver more awareness came back. Words joined together, battering against his consciousness.

"... beyond stitching, but healing well…"

"... eat a little…"

"... this will help with the pain…"

His eyes slid open. He was in a room, in a bed. The comfort seemed strange. Porthos sat by him.

"Aramis?"

He frowned.

"Come here, drink this."

Porthos helped him lean forwards to take a sip of some concoction. And then he realised what he was doing, and what had happened.

He pushed Porthos' arm away. "You… you hit me."

"You didn't give me a choice." Porthos sighed. "I am sorry."

"Am I your prisoner?" He was confused. They hadn't tied him up. Far from it. In fact, they had tended his wounds. He was bandaged and his arm was splinted and wrapped. They appeared to have cared for him. But Porthos had knocked him out and stolen him away. And he was sure that if he tried to leave, they would try to stop him.

"Our prisoner? God no, Aramis, why would you think that?"

"You took me away… and you hit me." His voice felt as slow as his sluggish thoughts.

"You are not our prisoner. We would never do that to you."

"Then let me go."

A pause, and then Athos stepped forwards from his place hidden away in the corner. "We are doing what is best for you. Just trust us for now, that's all I ask."

"Not you…"

"Then trust me." Porthos tried.

"But you hit me." He couldn't think, he just wanted to sleep. To get away and sleep. To be left alone. To find Romero…

And then whatever he had been given to drink took effect. Suddenly the pain was gone. Fire no longer tortured him and his tense muscles relaxed. Aramis' eyes widened and his mouth hung open at the shock of it. He had forgotten what it was like to be free from pain, and now feeling normality return to his body... it was as if he had ascended to heaven.

A tear fell freely down his cheek.

Porthos leaned forwards. "Aramis? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I feel… nothing."

"Are you all right?"

"It's gone. The… the pain." His eyes welled up and more tears fell. "Do you know how wonderful it is to feel nothing?"

Porthos smiled sadly. "I can imagine. Sleep now, Aramis. Get some rest."

For the first time in a long time he was in a bed, and he didn't hurt. Aramis closed his eyes and he was gone.

~oOo~

When Aramis woke again he was given another drink, and insisted on sitting up. Then Porthos went to fetch them something to eat. That left Aramis alone in the room with Athos. A fact that did not make him happy.

For a while they bore an awkward silence. Eventually Aramis decided to break it with a question.

"Will you let me go now?"

Athos sighed. "Where will you go?"

To Foix, to find Romero… but he knew that wasn't the answer Athos wanted to hear.

"Away from here… to a monastery perhaps."

"And to Foix on your way there, hm?"

"You can't stop me."

"We already have."

Athos came to sit on the end of the bed then. He stared at Aramis intently. Aramis met his gaze, though it made his skin prickle uncomfortably. He didn't like Athos being so close. He felt like a specimen being observed under a magnifying glass.

"What did he do to you?"

"He told me the truth."

"That we are the enemy and he is your friend?"

"He made more sense than you ever did, Comte."

"How could he condemn us when he has never met us?"

"He didn't need to meet you, he knows your sort. You're all the same."

"And all our years of friendship, everything we've been through… Does it mean nothing to you?"

"It wasn't real. I was just a means to your end."

"It was real." Athos' voice seemed to catch. "Do you know how much I've missed you? We used to sit around our campfire just waiting for you to appear, knowing you never would. Do you not realise the hole you left behind?"

"And do you not realise I won't listen to your lies?"

"They're not lies. Remember what we had. Remember riding through the fields outside Paris, racing against the wind and each other. Remember late nights in tavern corners with flowing wine and conversation. Remember crossing swords in a friendly sparring match and laughing?"

"I remember you showing off that you had the fastest horse and the fastest sword. I remember dragging you from a tavern corner, wallowing in your own demons, forgetting about everybody else's. Can't you remember turning your back on me when Marsac returned? Where were you when I needed you? You've never been there when I needed you."

Athos looked away, just as Porthos came in. He couldn't fail to notice the strained silence between them.

"The innkeeper's going to send us something up."

Aramis cleared his throat and spoke to Porthos. "Not necessary. I would like to go now."

As Porthos sat down Athos got to his feet and went to the window. Aramis felt he could breathe a little easier with him out of the way.

"We would like you to come with us. We're going to meet with Treville at Limoges. There is a lot to sort out and he will be able to help."

"He can't help me." Aramis muttered darkly.

"You know he will. He's the Minister, he has all sorts of influence."

A bitter look soured Aramis' face. "Can he stop the war? Can he bring back the dead?"

"Not even Treville has that power. But whatever you want to do, he will help. Whether it's rejoin the regiment, or take a place in his office…"

"I want none of those things. I only want to be left alone."

Athos turned from the window. "No, you want to find Romero don't you?"

Aramis just looked away. He didn't even want to engage Athos with a response.

It didn't stop Athos from continuing. "For some incomprehensible reason your only desire is to run away and find your so called 'friend'."

"Athos…" Came Porthos' voice with a warning.

"If he is such a good friend, then where is he? Hm? Why is he not here, tending your wounds, helping you eat and drink?"

"You don't understand, he had to leave-"

"Then help me understand! Tell me what happened!"

Athos' brusque manner was beginning to stoke Aramis' ire. "You can't understand! Not you! You'll never understand what we were trying to do."

His breath came faster and he leaned forwards, glaring at Athos. How could Athos possibly understand the depravity he grew from and wallowed in? He was everything Aramis fought against. He would never be able to see the truth, for he was blinded by privilege.

"I can't understand if you don't explain yourself! Aramis, for goodness sake, you were implicated in an explosion that killed many people - innocent people. I need an explanation!"

"Athos, why don't you take a walk?" Porthos cut in.

For a tense moment Athos looked between the two of them, and then he seemed to deflate, the anger leaking out of him. "Very well. If you need me I will be checking on the horses."

Porthos waited until Athos was out of the door before gently putting a hand to Aramis' arm.

"If you're not ready to talk, I won't push you. But we have to move forwards. What happened, happened, and it's in the past now. You just have to work out where to go from here. Foix is behind you, so stop looking back."

"I can't see anything ahead…" Aramis sounded lost when he spoke.

"Well, wherever you're looking, see me standing beside you. I'll be there, even if there's nothing else."

Aramis felt like he should smile. That's what he would have done before, back in Paris, a lifetime ago. He would smile, offer some reassurance or appreciation. But he couldn't. He felt cold, like there was something missing at the heart of him. Porthos wasn't Athos, although he was surely under the Comte's influence, he wasn't the same. He knew poverty and desperation. Porthos could perhaps understand in time… but Aramis still could not smile at him.

In the face of his silence Porthos offered a small smile and squeezed his arm. "Just think about Limoges. You never know what paths will open up beyond there, you might just find something. I'll leave you to rest a while."

Aramis watched as Porthos got to his feet and made for the door. No doubt he would find Athos, and they would end up deep in discussion, thick as thieves. Still, Aramis' thoughts did turn to Limoges. If nothing else, meeting Treville would give him a chance to find out how the war was going, and more besides. Should he find Romero again he would be in possession of some valuable information.

~oOo~

It was quiet.

He couldn't breathe. His mouth was stopped up by mud.

He was underground, in his grave. A ditch. The worms fed on the meat of the dead, on his flesh. Crawling, nameless creatures, skittered along his skin. Digging, digging down. His fingers twitched - the only movement he was capable of - though he wanted to frantically thrash and claw his way out. He was frozen and trapped, held down by the weight of the dirt blocking his eyes, blocking his ears. And his mouth. Screaming. Internally screaming.

It was quiet.

And then he was screaming, flailing. He broke the surface and heaved in a breath.

His eyes were wide with shock.

Darkness. There was nothing. His eyes were still blocked, he couldn't see. He was blind. He-

And then Porthos pulled him in tight. Aramis was crushed against his chest. Suddenly the world seemed a little more real and something in him broke.

Through the shuddering and sobbing Aramis latched on to a quiet voice. He couldn't make out the words, but the low, soft tone was grounding. Usually he was left alone to claw his way from a nightmare. In the pitch black of his cell Aramis was never really sure he was out of it. But now the warmth of another person and their reassuring voice were dragging him back.

His frantic heart began to settle, and his breath began to slow. Until Porthos lit a candle across the room. Aramis realised then - he was in Athos' arms. He tensed and his senses took flight again. He pushed against Athos, desperate to be free of his embrace.

"Get off me!"

For a moment Athos just held on, his grip seemed to tighten. But after a distressed whine from Aramis he let go and backed away.

Aramis' gaze skittered around the room. The flickering candlelight threw distorted shadows across the walls, it matched the chaos of his mind. It felt good to have the comfort of his brother, but it wasn't his brother, it was Athos. He didn't want Athos. But he missed that relinquished touch, it had been so long, so very long, since he had been touched with kindness. It was deception though, there was no kindness behind his touch. He didn't want Athos, and yet he wanted Athos. It was all so confusing…

Amidst the confusion Aramis screwed his eyes shut and put a hand to his head. His fingers fisted and twisted in his hair, and a frustrated growl came from deep in his throat. This didn't make sense. Nothing made sense any more.

If only Romero had been there. He would make sense of it…

Aramis felt his hand being tugged away. He looked up to find Porthos holding it.

"You're all right. You're safe with us now. You-"

Aramis suddenly realised that he didn't need Romero there to know what he would have said.

"I don't want him touching me." Aramis spat as he glared at Athos.

Athos' face was in shadow, his expression unreadable, but the slump of his shoulders told of dejection.

Porthos went on as if he hadn't heard a word. "You're safe, we won't let any harm come to you."

Aramis screwed his eyes tight shut. The flailing had ignited the pain in his arm and now coming back to his senses it was demanding his attention. He grit his teeth and tried to speak. "Can I have a dr… a drink of…"

"It's here."

Porthos poured some of the tincture out and handed it to Aramis who near enough snatched it up. He downed it in one go and waited for the pleasant warmth to spread through his limbs. When it began to take effect and he loosened up Porthos gently tugged the cup from his lax grip.

"Lie back. Try to sleep."

He only managed a couple of hours before he woke choking on dirt again.

~oOo~

The three men stayed at the inn another day and night before the decision to leave was taken out of their hands.

Aramis was lightly dozing after another night of broken sleep. He took no notice of the knock at their door and kept his eyes tightly closed.

"Is everything all right Monsieur?" Porthos must have opened the door.

"I wish I could say it was." That was the voice of the innkeeper, and he sounded regretful.

"What's the problem?"

"I've had complaints about the noise... I am sorry, but I will have to ask you to leave."

"He can't help the nightmares-"

"I know, I was a soldier in my younger days. Believe me, I know what suffering keeps him awake at night. But I have to think of my other patrons. There is a mother with her young daughter across the way, he's scaring the child screaming like that."

"Have a little compassion-"

Athos cut in then. "Porthos, we can go. We weren't going to stop much longer anyway. Let's leave these people in peace."

A pain flared in Aramis' heart that had nothing to do with his injuries. It was the thought that he was being a disturbance. The fact he had scared a small child. He shouldn't be near anybody like this…

The next thing he knew a hand was shaking him gently.

"Aramis?" It was Porthos.

"I'm awake."

"Let's get you up, we need to change those bandages."

"Are we leaving?"

A moment of quiet. "You heard then?"

He smiled bitterly. "I'm scaring children."

Porthos frowned. "It's not your fault."

"We should go. I don't want to be a burden."

Porthos leaned forwards then. "Listen to me. You are not - and you never will be - a burden."

Aramis wiped at his eyes with his good hand, not really knowing what to say. "Let's just go."

"You are not a burden Aramis." Porthos sat back with a long exhale. "Does this mean you're coming with us?"

"Yes, I'll come."

It seemed Porthos couldn't hide his smile. "Good, we'll change your bandages and eat first. Will you manage a few more days in the saddle?"

"I'll bear it."

~oOo~

It wasn't pleasant.

Though the tincture kept much of his pain at bay, Aramis still felt light headed. He started out on a horse of his own, but once he began swaying a little too much he was cajoled onto Porthos' horse. At least he could lie back and drift away. Though when he surrendered his consciousness his sleep was fitful. Often Porthos woke him and whispered quiet reassurances at his ear.

They stopped frequently to rest and eat. While Porthos checked Aramis over and got him settled, Athos spent time with the horses and drifted at the edge of their camp. He always muttered something about keeping watch, but Aramis suspected keeping his distance was more accurate. Aramis was glad anyway, he didn't want Athos near him. Although some part of him remembered that warm embrace… he pushed it away.

Nights passed restlessly, but out in the wilds there was nobody to disturb. Only the nocturnal animals heard his screams and took fright. Daylight loosened his mind's nightmare hold, but he never seemed to be free of it entirely. Aramis kept seeing things moving in the corner of his eye. Formless shapes, creatures, villains… he didn't know what they were, but whenever he turned to look they were gone.

One grey morning they were riding through a wooded area while Aramis drifted. His head rested back against Porthos who kept one hand on him and one on the reins.

"Am I awake, Porthos?" He mumbled.

"Yes, you are."

"It's just that the trees are whispering…"

"It's the rain."

There was a faint hissing sound all around. Aramis couldn't make out the words, but he knew they were saying something. Still, if he were awake it couldn't be real. Trees didn't have voices.

"Are you sure? I don't feel wet."

"That's because the trees are too thick here. If it comes down any harder you'll feel it for sure. Hold on…"

Porthos twisted slightly and his horse went in another direction. Moments later Aramis felt the raindrops hitting him. They had moved to an area where the trees thinned out, it wasn't exactly a clearing, but the leaves no longer formed a tight canopy above. Aramis tilted his head back and let the cool rain hit his face.

"You feel it now?"

Aramis smiled as the rain ran down his cheeks. "Yes."

"And that sweet earthy smell?"

"It's there."

"Take it in. Breathe it in. You're awake, and this is real."

He felt like the sweat and dirt on his brow was being washed away. If he sat there long enough the rain might just wash the rest of him away too. There was a sense of peace in it, the soft hissing, the running water, and the fresh air.

But the peace was broken by a shout from Athos.

"Porthos?"

"A moment!" Porthos shouted back. He paused, letting Aramis savour the calm a little longer before reluctantly making a move. "Come on, he'll think we've got lost."

"I don't mind being lost." Aramis mumbled absently.

Porthos gave an amused huff and turned his horse back around.

Just ahead Athos emerged from the trees with Aramis' horse in tow, and an expression of annoyance on his face. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing Athos, it's fine."

The annoyance softened and his eyes dropped to Aramis. "Is he all right?"

"Yes, as I said - everything's fine. We were just taking a moment to appreciate the rain."

"Well, if it's all the same to you I'd rather be out of it."

With that they set out on their path again.