Aramis slept almost the whole day, then the night also, until the wee hours of the morning, when he became restless again. He had already kicked off his blankets before Porthos and Athos could get enough of a hold on him to pin him to the bed. They didn't want to restrain him at all, because they knew from past experience that it just brought horrid memories to him of his helplessness during the wolf attack. But they also knew that if they didn't, he could tear open all the work Lemay had done on the wounds and risk infection, so they had no choice.

D'Artagnan, having risen much earlier than the others, came through the door then, and seeing what was happening, rushed across the room to assist his brothers.

Aramis cried out as he fought against the hands holding him still, tearing at their hearts. "Why? Jean, why?" struggling weakly against what he thought were the ropes keeping him immobile against the threat before him. "No-o-o!" and he kicked out once again, both feet together against an invisible foe. "Please!" he whispered, pleading, but they didn't know to who he was speaking.

Finally, Athos reached his arms around Aramis and pulled his still struggling brother into his arms, holding him firmly against his chest, and whispering, "Aramis. Aramis!" he called a little louder. "It is the love of your brothers holding you. You are safe. "As he was speaking, one of his hands was rubbing gentle circles on Aramis' back to soothe him.

The others, seeing what Athos was doing and saying, laid their hands on him, too, trying to convey their love to him by squeezing his shoulder and ruffling his disordered curls.

At first, their words and actions didn't seem to be communicating themselves to him, but after several minutes, his struggles gradually began to ease off, until he finally lay spent against Athos' shoulder. His breathing was still ragged, as his body tried to calm itself down. He hiccouphed a few times, then drew in a long, shuddering breath and became quite still.

"Aramis, are you with us now?" Athos asked him, never interrupting the motions on his back. He waited for a reply, sensing that his brother was emotionally spent.

Finally, "Safe," a barely audible Aramis replied, followed by another deep breath.

"Yes, you are, brother. We killed the wolves, Aramis. We will always protect you, as you protect us."

"You did have us a little worried, Aramis," Porthos said, still afraid for his best friend's condition.

"S...sorry," Aramis mumbled, to which Porthos replied, "Don't you apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. The fault is...," stopping when he felt a hand on his arm. Looking up, he saw Athos' silent expression warning him against mentioning any more of the cause of the nightmares right now.

They were quiet for a while, glad that Aramis was over his nightmare. Then, they all seemed to realize that the way to counter his nightmares was to hold him close, evoking a sense of security in him. Such a simple thing, but if it could take away his anguish, one they were all more than willing to do for him. They were so relieved to have anything that seemed to actually work.

Since Aramis seemed to be awake enough and even relaxed at the moment, Porthos asked him if he would like to try eating, and surprised when he received a 'yes', hurried off to find Serge and get something.

Athos decided to take advantage of Aramis being awake, too, and began to check the bites and change the bandages. Aramis lay quietly while he worked, but when he finally finished, spoke.

"Athos?"

When he had his brother's attention,Aramis said, "I think I'm having a run of bad luck, a very bad run."

"Everyone has times of good and times of bad, Aramis. It's just a fluke that they came to closely together this time. Do not dwell on it, mon ami."

"I've spent too much time in this bed the past two weeks. Could I..."

Athos, knowing his brother, stopped him before he could go any further. "No, Aramis," in that no-nonsense tone that only the former Comte de la Fere would use. "You are not well enough to get up yet."

"But..."

"It is not open for discussion, Aramis. You are not well enough yet. You are very lucky that you were not even more severely injured by that dog, so give thanks for it."

But Aramis looked so down that he relented just a bit.

"How about we prop you up with some pillows so that you are not flat on your back for a while?"

Aramis' whole face it up at Athos' words, as he nodded in agreement.

When Porthos returned with a plate full of Serge's beef stew, he found a smiling Aramis waiting for him.

Aramis finished the whole plate, and soon was fast asleep again, this time not troubled by nightmares.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Philippe was not a happy young man. His father, as well as his father's servants, were keeping a close eye on him. He found that there was nowhere he could go that he wasn't being observed, and it made him furious.

The Comte de Dammartin had told his son in no uncertain terms that he would not stand idly by and watch the ancient and honored Dammartin family name to be dragged through the mud. The Comte had said, "You may not realize what your words and actions can do, but I do. If you cause trouble again, you will find yourself banished to our estates, and remain there as long as I yet live-which could be for many years to come. You know me, and you know I am a man of my word. You will do exactly as I have said."

Philippe had no choice but to obey, but inside he was seething. He walked through the halls of the palace, smiling on the outside, but beyond angry and frustrated in mind.

As he passed two courtiers talking near the courtyard entrance, he heard what was to him a very interesting conversation.

"Seems His Majesty is not happy that one of his Musketeers has had two very close calls, and nearly lost his life."

The two courtiers did have an accurate sense of why the King was upset, though. Everything to do with Louis related to his own person. When Louis heard about anything happening to his own guards, the men who were handpicked to have charge of his protection, it left himself feeling more vulnerable, with less men to guard him from any dangers. And if highly skilled soldiers could have near-fatal accidents, it scared him into thinking he could, too.

Philippe, after hearing about what had happened to Aramis, selfishly rejoiced inside that one of the men he was so angry at, and who he wasn't allowed to take his frustrations out on, had nearly been killed twice. He decided fate must be on his side, not theirs.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile, in another part of Paris, a poor and run-down area, a disheveled man sat in a tavern, running ideas through his head for his next 'accident'. He knew he needed to be very careful, as two times could remain looking like an accident, but three might start looking somewhat suspicious. So far, no one seemed to have any clue that the Musketeer was being targetted. They thought he was just having a very unlucky couple of weeks.

A nasty grin appeared as he thought of just the right situation to create next.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aramis had slept for several house twice now in two days, and no nightmares had troubled him at all. His brothers couldn't be happier. The bites were healing nicely, with no signs of infection and no rabies had appeared. He ate everything they brought him, took his meds, and he had a smile for everyone.

He did keep pushing to do more, wanting to get up and go outside way too soon, and being Aramis, he could become very adamant when he wanted to do something. But they stayed firm, and even though he showed his displeasure at their decisions, he still abided by them.

They, unbeknownst to each other, were each thinking the same thing. Maybe now, things would finally be back truly to normal again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Of course, they should have known that Aramis being Aramis, he would try toD test himself out. So, early the next morning Porthos, who had taken his turn at his brother's bedside the night before, awoke to find his brother's bed empty and the door ajar. Waking the others, they flew the doorway. Fearing the worse, their eyes anxiously swept the garrison, lit by the first rays of dawn, then froze seeing him slumped over their table motionless.

D'Artagnan reached him first, gently nudging him on the shoulder. They all quieted down when they saw him slowly lift his head and look up at them with sleepy eyes. Then, their worry turned to exasperation.

"You know you scared us half to death, don't you?" Porthos said.

"I was tired of being cooped up," Aramis explained, with a huge yawn.

"Aramis, you do know we have only been keeping you in your bed until the stitches have a chance to knit, do you not?" Athos said next, trying to keep the grin hidden that threatened to break out. "What do you always tell us and any of your patients when they are recovering from a wound? Stay put, and give nature a chance to heal things naturally."

"What part of that doesn't apply to you, Aramis?" Porthos demanded, his very gruffness an attempt to hide his worry.

Aramis was by now hanging his head, knowing full well as he heard his medic advice given back to him, that they were right. Wearily, He rose to his feet.

Instantly, Porthos had an arm around his shoulder to assist him. The others just smiled. Yes, Aramis was being Aramis, and they wouldn't have him any other way.

Athos' mind was busy on the way back to Aramis' room, though. He was wondering why only Aramis was having 'accidents', a gnawing gut feeling telling him something just didn't seem right about them.