Treville had gone to rinse out the bowl and then he started pacing up and down restlessly. He hadn't given Aramis an answer, he had just backed out of the room and bolted the door again. What answer could he give? Treville's mind was a flurry of thoughts. He just hoped Portier would hurry.

A knock from Aramis' door suddenly interrupted Treville's pacing. He stared at it for a few moments before approaching warily.

"Aramis?"

There was no answer. So Treville unlocked the door and opened it just a sliver.

Aramis was sitting cross legged on the cot covered by a blanket. He cocked his head as he looked up at Treville. "Captain, are you alright?"

Treville huffed out a slightly amused breath at the absurdity of Aramis asking if he was alright. "Yes, I'm fine… Just tired, and worried about you."

"There's no need to worry, my head is feeling a lot clearer already. Will you sit and keep me company?"

Treville hesitated in the doorway for a moment, but then he gave in and took a seat on the floor by the cot. Aramis seemed to be himself for now.

Aramis licked his dry lips before asking his next question. "How long before we can leave for Paris?"

"Later today, or tomorrow I hope." Treville refrained from saying anything about carts filled with the dead, or the fact Aramis wasn't going anywhere until the Portier had seen him.

They passed a little time with small talk. Treville was eager to keep Aramis' mind away from the massacre and screaming voices on the wind that nobody else could hear. They talked around safe topics, such as women and the new recruits. Eventually Aramis gave a wince and put a hand to his temple.

"Is your head hurting?"

He gave a slight nod.

"Here, have a drink, and then you should rest for a bit."

Treville went to retrieve a cup of water from atop a barrel. That's when he noticed the shadow in the corner of the room wasn't a shadow at all. It was the cat.

It was dead.

Treville whipped around in confusion and horror. The wild and dangerous look was back on Aramis' face again. The young man pulled back the blankets to reveal Portier's scissors clutched tightly in his hand, and then he lunged forwards with a growl. Treville shot towards the door, as soon as he was through he tried to slam it shut but Aramis had got there and was pushing it open. The two strained on either side.

"Aramis, this is not you!" Treville bellowed, hoping he could get through to the man.

"I know." Aramis answered through gritted teeth.

"Stop this, now!"

"I can't."

Treville felt himself slipping backwards, and so he abruptly left the door and turned to run. With the loss of resistance Aramis went hurtling forwards, he nearly fell to the floor before catching his balance. It was only a matter of moments before he threw himself at Treville and the two slammed down to the hard floor. It severely winded Treville, he gasped helplessly at the air as Aramis straddled him and roughly turned him over. The scissors were held aloft while something feral danced behind the young man's eyes.

"-mis… no…" Treville managed to huff from breathless lungs.

The scissors came down and Treville tried to raise his arms to fend them off. Aramis swept them to one side and stabbed down. There was nothing Treville could do to stop the blow entirely. He threw himself to one side as much as Aramis would allow. Instead of hitting his throat the scissors penetrated flesh nearer his shoulder. Treville yelled and Aramis growled. The sharp tip withdrew, flecking blood through the air in its wake. Hot pain ran through Treville's shoulder. He felt blood well and run, but that familiar battlefield rush was taking over and lending him the strength to push through it and push back. When Aramis lashed out again Treville threw his arm up to block the blow before it gained any momentum. A look of confusion passed Aramis' face before Treville twisted his arm to one side sending the scissors flying from his grip. Taking advantage of the brief disruption, Treville bucked the young man off.

Treville reached for his dagger, while Aramis scrabbled to retrieve the scissors. At the same moment both men gained their weapons and gained their feet. Treville backed off and put a sturdy table between them. Slowly he withdrew his rapier.

"Aramis, drop the scissors. That is an order." He hoped something of the soldier might still remain in there somewhere.

The young man cocked his head on one side before a vicious snarl took his face. "Orders. You think I follow orders now? Orders led me here, orders led to this."

"Put the scissors down and go back to your room. Let us sit and talk about this." Treville tried to infuse his voice with a calming tone.

"How can I sit there when you're screaming at me?!" Aramis shouted. "The greatest sin is yours! You sent us out there to die!"

Guilt twisted something inside Treville. "I didn't know that would happen."

But he had known something would happen. He had been told to pass on the position of his men…

"Guilt bleeds out of your eyes. Don't think that I can't see it!" Aramis spat and pointed the scissors threateningly.

He began to circle around the table and Treville stood rooted to the spot. As Aramis approached Treville held out his rapier, but he was hampered by the fact he didn't really want to hurt the man before him. Aramis seemed to detect his hesitation and reached out to grip the blade. Treville came to his senses and pulled at the sword, but Aramis held on, even as blood leaked from between his fingers to stain the steel. At that Treville simply dropped the sword and ran. He made for the door, hoping to get outside and put some distance between them.

The blinding white of the snow was quite startling to Treville's eyes. As he darted from the farmhouse his boots sank deeply into it. He threw a look over his shoulder to see Aramis framed in the doorway. It spurred Treville on a little faster. But his legs were growing heavier, and the further he went the more uncoordinated he became. Treville eventually settled into a stumbling walk. He put a hand to the wound at his shoulder, and took in a sharp breath as his fingers came away slick and wet. He looked down to see a stream of red staining his front. From somewhere far away the thought came to Treville that the blood loss was catching up with him, and the rush was wearing off. The urge to lie down and sleep suddenly took him, but another urgent thought rose up telling him that would mean death.

Eventually the point came where Treville had no say in the matter. His legs buckled and he was sent head first into the snow. That nagging voice told him to get up, but all the strength had suddenly left his limbs. Treville lay there, blinking heavily, watching a trail of red leak out across the white ground. Time passed, each moment seemed an hour long, it felt like forever when a distant soft crunching reached Treville's ears. The ominous sound grew louder and louder until a pair of boots stepped into his hazy vision. One of them viciously shot out to tip him over onto his back. Treville groaned and lazily closed his eyes, when he opened them again he found Aramis straddling him. Their faces were inches apart.

Treville felt Aramis' warm breath at his cheek. The feral look had been replaced with something more studious but no less terrifying.

"Where is it? The eyes… maybe the eyes." Aramis seemed to be talking to himself, lost in his own horrific world.

And then Treville saw the tip of the scissors cross his field of vision. He felt them dig in to the flesh of his eye socket. He took in a careful breath, not wanting to jar the hand that held the scissors.

"Aramis… please..." Treville whispered and closed his eyes.

At that Aramis grabbed the Captain's jaw and dug in his fingers. "Look. Keep looking, I want to see. And I want you to see... It must be the eyes, they took the eyes first. But the sinners were all gone before they started digging. If I take your eyes, will you stay with me? Will I have to dig deeper?"

"You're not making any sense… please… stop this." Treville gritted out.

Aramis sucked in a hissed breath. "I'm making perfect sense, you're just not listening carefully enough. Maybe if I take your eyes you will start listening. One sense to replace another. It all makes sense."

Treville felt the scissors dig in a little deeper. He closed his eyes but Aramis' nails dug in to his flesh. "I said keep looking." The man growled.

All he could do was stare into Aramis' eyes as they stared into his. The friendly warmth he was used to seeing had been replaced by something cold, hard, and terrifying. Treville searched those dark brown eyes, desperately trying to find something of the old Aramis in them. But there was nothing left.

The pressure on the scissors increased and Treville felt a bead of blood well up. He swallowed hard and waited for the unimaginable pain he knew was coming. He would be left as a sightless corpse in the snow like the rest of his men. It was fitting. Perhaps he deserved this. Maybe some angel of vengeance had taken Aramis to do its work, visiting sins upon the sinners. But as he looked into those dark eyes there was nothing angelic to be seen there. Still, angels were monstrous in their own way, and there was certainly something monstrous behind those eyes.

Treville braced himself for the first slice, and then miraculously the awful pressure at his eye released. The sound of a gun cocking met his ears, and Treville felt he was coming back to the world.

"I said - get off him."

That was Portier. Treville couldn't see the man from where Aramis had him pinned, but the voice was unmistakable.

"He is mine!" Aramis snarled his answer.

"Get off him. I will put a bullet in you."

Treville could see the calculations going on in Aramis' head. And then he pushed away, dropping the scissors to one side. Even as weak as he was Treville managed to roll over and seize them.

"Captain, are you alright?" Portier asked.

"Wounded in the shoulder, but you saved me from a much worse fate."

"It seems we are even now, you saved my life from this wretch and now I have saved yours." He stepped closer to Aramis. "Shall we secure him inside?"

"There's a room we can lock him in." Treville shakily got to his feet. He noted Aramis had not stopped staring at him, even held at gunpoint as he was. "Get moving, Aramis."

"I am not him." Was the growled reply.

~oOo~

Once Aramis was safely locked away in his room again Treville went to sit at the kitchen table and let Portier tend his wound. The Captain told him what happened, as well as all the events that led up to that moment outside in the snow. Once the wound was stitched Portier helped Treville into a fresh shirt and went to find a few bits of food. They continued speaking over their small meal. Portier had an older brother residing in a monastery where they helped the sick. He suggested writing a letter to his sibling to seek guidance. Working in a village, Portier was not used to treating such maladies, but he was hopeful that something could be done.

Portier pushed away his empty bowl. "May I see him myself? I would like to conduct a more thorough examination."

Treville shook his head. "It's too dangerous with him like this."

"If I can give every detail available to my brother, it may help cure him."

With that thought Treville begrudgingly agreed. They made their way over to Aramis' room and paused before the door.

"Stay outside for now, let me go in and see how he is."

The physician gave a nod and stepped back to wait while Treville went inside.

The first thing that hit Treville was the smell. It choked him and turned his stomach. Aramis sat in the corner with the cat's eviscerated body on his lap. His hands were red with blood as they clutched at the small twisted body. Black fur lay torn around exposed organs, and bones protruded at strange angles where Aramis had pulled at them.

It seemed to take a moment for Aramis to notice him, the man was so engrossed in his work. Treville crept a little closer and cleared his throat. The reaction was instantaneous. Aramis sat bolt upright and his hands turned to fists in the ruined fur and gore. His head cocked to one side and a chill ran down Treville's spine as Aramis' cold stare tried to pick him apart.

"Can you hear the screaming?" Aramis asked.

But Treville remained silent.

Aramis squinted, as if he were stripping away Treville's skin with his eyes. "I want to pick your bones apart and find out what you are made of… There is something screaming inside you. Can't you hear it?"

That garnered a response. For a moment Treville let the hard soldier in him take over. "That's enough, Aramis."

But Aramis wouldn't stop. "I will take your voice apart… separate each word, each letter… Why stone? Why hard as stone? I am not him."

"Aramis, please…"

The man's face transformed into a snarl. "I AM NOT HIM! Heathens… heathens… all of you, made up of sins. That's what I will find in your bones... in your voice... dust of sins. You've stolen me away and smothered me with sins… No matter… No matter… I will strip you of them eventually."

Treville's mind reeled, wondering how he could get Aramis to leave this madness behind. Removing the mutilated cat would probably be a good start.

"Let it go, Aramis."

Aramis looked down at his fingers deep in the viscera of the poor animal, but he just seemed to clench his fists a little more tightly. Then he leaned forwards slightly and looked up with bared teeth. "I will have you one day."

There was a tentative knock at the door. Portier was probably concerned at the raised voices. So Treville backed up to open it. He didn't want to expose his back to Aramis. It would only take a moment for him to gain his feet and launch an attack.

Treville opened the door a crack, it was enough for Portier to catch sight of the mess on the floor.

"Do you think something can be done when he is this far gone?" Treville's voice was quiet and strained.

Portier held a hand over his nose and mouth, he removed it only to speak. "He is suffering a severe malady that is for sure. The cause of this has had a deep effect. Together with the head injury, the cold and the trauma..." The physician paused to sigh a hopeless breath. "Truthfully, I don't know… I can't promise anything. We can but try."

Treville ran a weary hand over his face. The carts would be passing soon. His men would be returning to Paris and they would expect the Captain to go with them. They were traumatised enough already with twenty dead brothers, they didn't need to see Aramis reduced to a raving, wild, feral thing. Of all of them Porthos would be especially distressed. He was a fairly new recruit, but Aramis had taken a shine to him and shown him the ropes. They were never seen one without the other now.

"Can you give him something? I don't want the others to see him like this."

"Here, this will render him insensible." The physician bent to retrieve a bottle from his bag. "You intend to keep him unconscious all the way to Paris?"

"And in Paris, if necessary."

The physician gave a thoughtful hum. "It is dangerous for a man to remain insensible for too long. But maybe it will allow his mind to rest and heal." Portier reached down to pick up another bottle. "Keep him under for as long as you need to, you will have to allow it to wear off periodically to see how he is. If he wakes, and if he's still like this, send for me."

Solemnly Treville wet a cloth with his heart breaking at what he was having to do. And then the two men advanced on Aramis. He resisted and struggled, but it didn't take long to overpower him. Still Aramis screamed and shouted. Madness spilled from his lips with every breath. Treville smothered it all with the cloth, and every breath betrayed him. Gradually Aramis weakened. Though his body failed bit by bit his eyes still bored into Treville. It seemed to take forever for them to flicker and close.

And finally the screaming stopped.

~oOo~

Back in Paris the streets were lined with people clutching their hats to their chests as the carts passed by. Only one returned to the garrison. Treville sat in the back with Aramis' head on his lap. He tried to smile when Porthos approached warily. But he couldn't show joy at the man's relief, Porthos didn't yet know he might not have brought Aramis back.

"Aramis! You found him!" Porthos put his hands to the back of the cart. He sounded more than a little surprised along with the relief.

"Yes, he lives." Some part of him anyway…

"Thank God… I knew if anybody was going to cheat death it would be Aramis." Treville shuffled forwards and Porthos reached in to take his friend. "Is he hurt?"

"A blow to the head, he may be out for some time. Take him to one of the sick rooms, I'll be up shortly."

"Of course, Captain."

Treville watched Porthos' back as he retreated with Aramis in his arms. He hoped it really was Aramis in his arms, for both their sakes…

It was some days later when Treville sent Porthos off on some errand. He made sure there was nobody else about outside before waving a pungent smelling vial beneath Aramis' nose. Another cloth was close to hand if this did not go well. Treville drew the vial away and leaned in when Aramis frowned and gave a slight cough.

"Aramis?"

It took a moment for a response to come. But eventually Aramis blinked his heavy eyelids and made an attempt to focus on Treville's face.

"Captain?" His voice was weary and barely there.

"It's me… What can you hear, Aramis?" Treville rested an anxious hand on his arm.

He frowned, confused. "Hm?"

"Listen to me, this is important - What can you hear?"

Aramis' eyes drifted shut and his head turned away. Unwilling to let him sleep again, Treville put a hand to his cheek and brought his head back around.

"Aramis, wake up. Tell me what you hear." A touch of panic crept into Treville's tone.

Aramis' eyes slid open. They settled on Treville, and the Captain searched them for any sign Aramis was not himself. There was nothing wild and feral held within. He dared to hope.

"Nothing." Aramis' brow furrowed with confusion. "I don't hear a thing."

Treville let out a long relieved breath and sat back.

If this fragile hope was to be believed it seemed René was gone for now. Treville would have to keep a wary eye out for his return.

Treville's fear of René gradually faded away the longer Aramis remained Aramis. Still, the fear never left completely. Some dark corner of Treville's mind remembered the mutilated men and creatures. He recalled a promise snarled between bared teeth… I will have you one day.

Many years later Treville came to wonder if he would rather have found twenty one bodies in the snow at Savoy.

Or perhaps he should have seen Aramis chained in some distant monastery at Portier's behest.

In the end it was a length of rope that silenced the screaming for good.

~oOo~

Come here, come away. He's gone, you can't help...

But did you listen? Did you learn?

Can you hear it now?

You've been here too long. The ravens have noticed.

Sleek black feathers brush bare flesh and their cries entwine about ears that can't hear their sweet melody. They think they're singing you see. The innocent ones sing. They don't know they're screaming.

But you hear it now, don't you?

Don't look down.

I told you not to.

The scarlet stains are clawed from undeserving flesh. Put it to your lips and you will taste the dust of sins. Be careful lest it cloy your throat. They will start to dig at you too. Hush… don't fight. You were helping.

There are still so many to help. Take up your blade, and start the story again. You will be safe. There is no rope any more. Not in this world, with screens and machines of lightning. Everything changes, but sins remain the same. Ever the same filth embeds itself deep in fetid, rotten hearts. Take it out.

Maybe in time you'll regret coming here. Maybe in time you'll forget you ever did.

I'm sorry.

I did warn you...

The patience of the ravens has come to an end.