Cold as Death
A Musketeers story by Deana

My entry in the Fete des Mousquetaires contest for January: light.

This story is for Snow-Glory!

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"Aramis, stay with me. Aramis?"

No answer.

Athos sighed and adjusted the hold on his injured friend. It was cold and damp where they sat in the dark, and they were stuck where they were until morning. All they needed was light…just a little light, so Athos could see how far down they were in the animal trap that they had fallen into.

An few hours earlier, the two musketeers had been pursued through the forest, trying to outrun a group of bandits who had attacked their campsite. They'd been on their way back to Paris after delivering a letter for the king, and had stopped for the night to warm themselves up and sleep. Five bandits had attacked out of nowhere and driven-off the musketeer's horses, forcing Athos and Aramis to run after a hail of gunfire rained around them in the moonless night.

It was so dark that neither of them had noticed the trap, and the ground disappeared beneath them abruptly, sending their hearts into their throats and giving them a painful landing.

Athos landed on top of Aramis and they just laid there for a few seconds, in shock over their unexpected fall. A sudden gasp from Aramis had Athos scrambling off him, and they listened as the bandits' horses approached.

Alarm filled Athos when he realized that the men could ride right into the hole, and he grabbed Aramis and quickly pulled him as far to the side of the hole as he could. The two of them cringed as the horses approached, but miraculously, they all rode past and never saw the hole.

Once the noise died down, Athos realized that Aramis was collapsed against him, not moving. "Aramis?" he said, grasping his friend's upper arms. A hand clenched itself in the front of Athos' doublet, but Aramis didn't answer him. "Where are you hurt?"

The gasping coming from Aramis was painful to listen to. "Ribs," he finally managed to get out, his forehead on Athos' shoulder.

Athos wasn't surprised...he'd landed on him, after all. His own body was aching but he ignored it. "Broken or bruised?"

Aramis' hand tightened in his doublet. "Both," he whispered.

A thrill of fear slid down Athos' spine; broken ribs could puncture lungs and kill a person quickly. He squinted in the dark, trying to see him better. "Anything else?" he asked.

"A-arm," Aramis told him.

"Broken?" asked Athos.

Aramis could only nod, before suddenly groaning and tightening his right hand in Athos' doublet again.

Athos was mortified at the reason for such severe injuries. "I'm sorry, I landed on you."

Aramis made a sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh, before he gasped again.

"Don't be a fool, save your breath," Athos told him, his heart pounding with anxiety as he wondered if his friend would survive the night. "Do you think your lungs are punctured? Shake your head or nod."

He felt Aramis shake his head.

Athos closed his eyes for a second, in utter relief. "Are those your only injuries?"

"The...im...portant...ones..."

Athos sighed. That would have to do for now, considering that he couldn't see to tend him anyway. "Can you move at all?"

Aramis shifted ever so slightly before making another pained sound and halting.

Athos remained immobile himself, not wanting to jostle him. "Easy. Wait until you're ready." He kept the grip on his friend, feeling tremors of pain coursing through Aramis' body.

It seemed an eternity before Aramis gained enough control to even-out his breathing, and Athos carefully helped move him so he was resting back against the side of the hole.

Aramis started gasping again, squeezing Athos' arm in a death grip.

Athos squinted in the dark, wishing that he could see his friend better. "What can I do?" he asked, feeling helpless.

Aramis dryly swallowed, wishing that they had water with them. The pain filling his body was horrendous, making his head spin.

The hand on his shoulder tightened. "Aramis, try to slow your breathing. You're making it worse for yourself."

If Aramis had enough breath to laugh with, he would've. How many times had he said that exact phrase to one of his friends? He was no stranger to pain by any means, but it was much easier to say it rather than to do it.

Athos watched the faint outline of his friend with anxiety. Aramis was so skilled at helping them when they were injured, and even though he'd taught them what to do if he wasn't there-or if he was the injured one-Athos still hadn't much confidence and certainly didn't possess the knowledge or skill. He waited for Aramis to regain some control over his breathing, before repeating, "What can I do?"

Aramis suddenly shivered, hard enough to make him wince and nearly lose control over his breathing again. It was approaching mid-autumn, and though he'd already been quite chilled-he was known for having an intolerance to the cold-it didn't explain the icy feeling that had suddenly gripped his body.

"Aramis?" Athos said, having felt the tremor.

Aramis said nothing, closing his eyes with a wince.

Athos sighed and wished that he could see his friend better. His eyes were growing more used to the dark, but nowhere near enough. He lowered his hands to find Aramis' weapons belts and started to undo them, dropping them beside him on the ground before untying Aramis' sash.

"I'm going to lean you forward," he told his friend.

Aramis gave no reply, and Athos could feel the tension in his body as he carefully pulled him forward, putting one hand behind his friend's neck to guide his forehead to rest against his shoulder.

Aramis' breath hitched a few times from the pain, but he let Athos do what he had to.

With Aramis in that position, Athos was able to unwind his friend's blue sash and drop it beside his weapons. Once finished, he ran his hand up and down Aramis' back to make sure none of the ribs back there were broken.

Aramis stiffened, and Athos felt contrite again for landing on him. "I'm sorry."

He received no reply.

Athos let him rest there a moment before gently leaning him back again and unbuttoning his doublet before pulling the shirt out of his pants. He noticed after a minute that his friend's breathing was a little less harsh. "Better?" he asked, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

He felt Aramis nod.

"What about your arm?" Athos asked, reaching to where he thought it to be. "How bad is the break?"

"Not...bleeding," Aramis answered.

Athos was relieved beyond words to hear that. He found Aramis' left hand and lightly touched it. "Should we set it or leave it for now?"

Aramis took a couple of strained breaths before saying, "Is there...a pulse...in it?"

Athos was surprised at the seemingly odd question, but Aramis knew much more about injuries than he did. He gently placed his fingers on his friend's wrist, finding the skin cold over the reassuring beat. "Yes."

"Can you...feel...the break...?" Aramis asked.

Athos carefully slid his hand up Aramis' forearm and found the bulge nearly halfway up.

Aramis' entire body jerked when he touched it.

"Yes," Athos said unnecessarily.

"Put your...left hand...a few inches...above it," Aramis instructed.

Athos obeyed, before shifting his other hand a few inches below. "And pull?"

"Yes," Aramis breathlessly said.

Athos obeyed, hearing a *crunch*.

Aramis made what could only be described as a wail of pain.

Athos didn't let go of his broken arm, making sure he wouldn't move it accidentally.

Aramis was gasping like a fish out of water, the pain of his broken ribs making breathing nearly impossible.

Athos let go and stepped over Aramis' legs to his right side and slid his hands behind his friend to pull his head against him. "Breathe," he said.

Nothing had ever felt more impossible. The pain shooting through Aramis' midsection and arm was mind-blowing, and his brain was spinning as he fought for air. Trying to breathe meant more pain, and more pain was preventing him from breathing.

Athos held onto his friend tightly, very aware that he was hardly getting any air. He'd had bones set throughout his lifetime himself, and he knew exactly how it felt to have his breath taken away by the agony. He couldn't imagine, however, dealing with the pain and shock while also unable to breathe from broken ribs. Feeling helpless, he rubbed his friend's back. "Breathe, Aramis," he said, feeling that he was inadequately stating the obvious.

Aramis felt like his lungs would burst as he tried to breathe despite the pain. He suddenly felt like he was floating, and everything seemed to stop.

Athos caught his own breath when Aramis suddenly slumped bonelessly and the sound of his frantic gasps stopped. "Aramis?" he called, quickly reaching for the pulse in his neck. When he found it, he sighed with relief. Aramis had passed out, but was alive.

Quickly, Athos took advantage of Aramis unconsciousness to splint his broken arm, using the sheaths of both their daggers. He reluctantly cut Aramis' blue sash into three pieces and used it to wrap his arm and ribs, with the last piece as a sling. He then tried to arrange Aramis into a more comfortable position and listened to his breathing for a while. Ironically, Aramis was breathing easier while unconscious and unable to feel the pain.

Athos eventually stood and tried to figure out how deep the trap was that they were stuck in. It was too hard to tell in the dark, with no light from the moon or stars.

All too soon, Aramis' eyes scrunched up and he moved his head slightly.

Athos went back and knelt, reaching out to touch his good arm and finding his wrist in the dark. "Aramis?"

"Oooooooh," Aramis groaned, turning his hand to grasp Athos', squeezing it hard as he became aware of the pain.

Athos bore it without complaint. "Keep still."

Aramis' breathing started coming faster, though Athos could tell that he was trying to control it.

"Your arm is set and wrapped," Athos told him. "I also wrapped your ribs. Has it helped your breathing?"

"Yes," Aramis whispered, grateful for the bracing support. "Thank you."

"Of course," Athos answered. He was quiet for a moment, not sure what to say next. It would be ridiculous to ask how he felt.

Suddenly, a deep shudder ran through Aramis' body.

Athos frowned. "Aramis?"

"Cold," Aramis explained.

Athos was slightly chilled, but it was easily bearable, especially down the hole out of the wind. He reached over to fix Aramis' cloak around him better, before taking off his own and laying it over him. "Just rest."

But Aramis shivered hard again, wincing as the tremor jostled his injuries.

Athos felt it and knew that it wasn't normal. "Aramis?"

"Fast...heartbeat?" Aramis answered.

It took a second for Athos to realize what Aramis was asking. He checked the pulse in Aramis' wrist and found his pulse racing. "Yes."

"You know...when someone...loses blood?" Aramis whispered. "They get cold...sometimes unresponsive."

"Yes," Athos said. He'd seen it happen many times.

"Same effect...can happen...with broken bones..." Aramis exclaimed. He paused to take a few breaths. "Any serious trauma...can shock...the body."

"I understand," said Athos. "What can I do?"

Aramis shook his head slightly. "Nothing...down here."

That was true; there was no way to help Aramis while they were trapped in that hole. It was obvious that Aramis needed to be kept warm and Athos again wished for light-any amount of light!-as he slid closer to Aramis and tucked the cloak around him better. He then sat beside his friend against the wall of dirt and carefully pulled Aramis' upper body sideways against his chest.

Aramis shivered harder from the movement, biting back another groan.

Athos wrapped both of his arms around him, fixing the cloak a little better. "Rest."

It took a few minutes for Aramis' body to lose some of its tension, but he melted against his friend, trying to stop shivering and keep his breathing even despite the terrible pain. "Talk," he eventually said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Talk," Aramis said. "To keep me...awake."

Athos was generally a very quiet person, and it took him a moment to think of something to say. "D'Artagnan is coming along very well."

"Yes," Aramis agreed. "He'll be a...musketeer...by year's end."

Athos' eyebrows rose. "You are that sure?"

"Yes...he needs...a pauldron...ready."

Athos thought about it. "I'll leave that to you when you recover."

"Gladly," Aramis answered.

Athos again tried to think of something to say.

"Athos," Aramis whispered.

"Hush," Athos answered. "Save your breath."

"This trap," Aramis said. "You should...try to...get out."

Athos sighed. "I can't tell how high it is."

"When it's light...climb," Aramis said.

"Not without you," said Athos.

"This is...an...animal trap."

Athos closed his eyes, knowing exactly what his friend was trying to say. "It's here for a reason, yes," he said. "To catch an animal; a specific animal."

"Coyote...mountain lion..."

"All the more reason not to leave you down here defenseless," Athos told him. "Stop talking-for your own sake-and let me think." He knew that Porthos and d'Artagnan wouldn't come looking for them until they were late, so waiting for them was not an option.

They both fell quiet after that.

The night was utterly still, with no sounds except for their breathing. Every time there was the snap of a twig or flutter of a bird, Athos was ready to put Aramis down and grab their knives.

No dangerous animal presented itself, and Athos wondered if it had already been dealt with and the trap was old.

Time passed and Athos was too busy trying to figure out what to do to realize that Aramis needed to be kept awake. When he suddenly realized how quiet his injured friend was, he let go of him with one hand to touch the pulse in his neck. "Aramis?" he called. He thought his friend moved his head slightly in response, but it was hard to be sure. "Aramis, stay with me."

No answer.

Athos adjusted the hold on his friend, wishing that light would bestow itself upon the earth so he could better care for Aramis...and somehow get them out of the trap.

Aramis appeared to be in a light daze, still shivering as his body tried to deal with the shock of his injuries. It seemed that he could hear Athos, but was incapable of answering. His pulse was still fast but steady, so Athos decided to leave him that way, as it would be a respite from the pain.

A hour or two later, Athos became aware of a noise sounding like something walking through grass and leaves. He held his breath and gripped his knife, hoping that it wasn't the animal that their trap had been set for. If it was a person, perhaps they'd be able to help, but he didn't want to risk calling out if it wasn't.

The sound came closer, and Athos was prepared to lay Aramis on the ground. A sudden grunt sounded, and Athos caught the vague outline of an animal standing at the edge of the hole. Not daring to breathe, Athos watched it.

The outline nosed around a little but then moved away.

Athos waited until it was gone before letting out his breath, closing his eyes and dropping his chin onto his friend's head.

Aramis made a soft noise at the contact.

"Hush," Athos whispered in his ear. "Make no sound."

Aramis was quiet after that, though he eventually shifted a numb leg slightly. "Is it...gone?" he eventually whispered back.

"I believe so," Athos answered.

"What was it?"

"I couldn't tell," said Athos.

Aramis let out his breath carefully, still shivering.

"How do you feel?" Athos asked.

"Wonderful."

Athos rolled his eyes. "You've been out of it for a few hours...dawn can't be too far away."

"Then you can...find help."

Athos sighed at that. How could he leave his friend there helpless and alone?

Aramis fell silent after that, and eventually, the dark became a little lighter as dawn approached.

When Athos could finally see Aramis, he was relieved beyond words. He frowned at how pale he was, and his heart nearly seized in his chest when he saw that blood had dripped down one side of Aramis' mouth. Had a lung been punctured after all? A quick exam showed him that it had not; the blood was from a cut on his lip from the landing. He carefully reclined Aramis against the side of the dirt wall and stood, stretching cramped muscles as he looked up at the ground.

To his shock, he found that he probably wouldn't be able to climb out; the hole was immensely deep, perhaps twelve or fourteen feet...no wonder Aramis' injuries were so severe. He shook his head with relief that he himself hadn't been injured more than painful bumps and bruises, though he wished that he hadn't had to land on his friend to attain that.

"No good?"

Athos turned to his friend with a sigh. "Escape does not seem likely." He crossed back over to Aramis and crouched beside him, able to see him even better as the sun finally rose.

Aramis seemed even paler now, his breathing shallow and strained. His body was tensed up from the pain that greeted every breath.

Athos reached over and adjusted the sling. "Forgive me," he said. "I had to rip your sash."

Aramis nodded slightly. "I have...another."

Athos was glad.

Aramis suddenly closed his eyes, his body giving an involuntary shudder.

"Aramis?" Athos called, reaching to touch his uninjured arm.

Aramis grabbed his hand and squeezed it as he endured the pain, and Athos was struck by its icy feel. Aramis was very, very cold.

Cold as death. Athos shuddered himself, at that. No, he told himself. He is not dying.

The grip on his hand loosened, and Athos watched the stuttery rise and fall of his friend's chest. What do I do? he asked himself.

"Try...to...climb."

Athos was surprised-but then again, not-when Aramis answered the question that Athos hadn't voiced aloud. With a sigh, he let go of Aramis' hand and went back over to the far side of the hole, looking up for a moment before he tried to climb.

It wasn't easy, but Athos was fit and strong and got up a few feet before the dirt crumbled and sent him back down.

"Don't fall...on me," came Aramis' voice.

Athos looked at him, to see a pale smile on his friend's face. He rolled his eyes. "I shall endeavor to do my best."

Aramis made a sound that was obviously supposed to be a one-syllable laugh.

Athos tried to climb again...and again...and again. Each time he thought he was getting somewhere, the dirt would loosen and he was sent back down.

"Athos."

Athos turned and headed over to his friend, not wanting him to strain to be heard.

"Sit."

Athos obeyed, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"Not easy?" Aramis asked.

Athos shot him an incredulous expression, seeing another smile on his friend's face. He knew that his injured friend was jesting for his benefit, to alleviate some of his worry. "No, not at all. How's the pain?"

Aramis let out a careful breath. "Not as bad."

Athos was glad to hear that, though he knew it wasn't always a good sign; more than once, he'd heard of a person's paid decreasing just before they died...

Aramis was still extremely pale and obviously cold; Athos could see that he was still shivering but trying to hide it. The two cloaks weren't enough.

Athos shrugged off his doublet and gently laid it over Aramis' chest before standing and heading back over to the wall of dirt.

For hours, Athos tried to get out of the hole without succeeding...especially after it began to rain.

Their hats provided shelter for their faces, but there was no way to prevent their bodies from getting wet.

"Take it."

"No," Athos said, refusing to take back his doublet. "You need it more than I." He reached over to tug Aramis' hat down a little to protect his face better, before checking to make sure no rainwater was sneaking by and sliding down his neck.

Aramis didn't move, still in terrible pain but trying to hide the fact from his friend. "Thanks."

Athos nodded, very aware that Aramis was using as few words as possible.

The rain continued all afternoon, and Athos sat wedged beside his friend in support, watching as the sides of the trap got more and more muddy.

Aramis continued to shiver, and eventually drifted off into a half-conscious state; eyes closed but still slightly aware.

Athos watched him with growing unease, wishing there was a way to get him back to the garrison. Not for the first time, he wished that Porthos and d'Artagnan had been with them…they would've been able to fight the men instead of falling into the hole.

The day wore on and the rain continued. Aramis' eyes remained closed, and an occasional soft moan was the only thing that Athos ever heard from him.

When sunset approached, Athos' heart felt as if it dropped straight to his boots. Light was what they needed, and they were about to loose it all.

Aramis came out of his stupor, blinking tiredly and moaning with a wince. His shivering increased and he felt something move behind him.

"Keep still," said Athos' voice.

Aramis opened his eyes to find his friend pressed against his side with an arm around his back. It was lightly raining, and he frowned with confusion. "What?" he asked, his voice soft and shaky. "Where?"

Athos frowned, but before he could open his mouth, he saw comprehension come into his friend's eyes.

"Oh," Aramis said, remembering their situation. He winced again and tried to shift his numb body.

"Keep still," Athos repeated.

The pain flared and Aramis sucked in a breath, which made the pain flare even more.

"No," Athos said, realizing what would happen next. "Be calm, breathe gently."

Aramis knew the instructions, being the one to usually tell that to his injured friends, and he obeyed, wincing at the pain but not allowing his lungs to lose control.

Athos tightened the hold around his friend, knowing the pain very well. He said nothing more, letting his friend concentrate.

Aramis closed his eyes, breathing in and out, in and out, until the flare died down. The pain was still terrible, but at least he wasn't making it worse for himself anymore.

Athos was relieved to see his friend bring his breathing under control. "Better?" he asked.

Aramis nodded and tiredly opened his eyes, his face extremely pale.

"I couldn't get out," Athos told him.

Aramis nodded slightly. "I noticed."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Aramis.

They were quiet for a few minutes, before Aramis said, "Sunset soon?"

Athos nodded. "Yes, and then we'll have no light."

"Rain," Aramis pointed out, still using few words.

"I think it's stopping," Athos said.

"Too late," Aramis answered.

"Yes," said Athos. "Much too late."

The light began to fade, and it didn't take long for darkness to follow. The rain eventually stopped and the two men sat quietly, listening for the wild animal that the trap had been set for. The temperature seemed to be cooler than the night before, which wasn't good for the injured musketeer.

"Go to sleep, Aramis," Athos said. "I won't let any harm come to you."

Aramis tried, but the pain had grown worse in his arm. He said nothing as his shivering continued.

Athos was carefully holding him again, trying to keep him warm. It didn't seem to be helping very much.

There was still light when the sound of horses suddenly met Athos' ears. "Aramis!" he said. "Do you hear that?" He received no answer and had to repeat himself.

"What?" Aramis whispered.

"Someone is coming," Athos told him. He gently shifted Aramis against the wall of dirt before standing.

The sound grew louder, and Athos hoped that they'd be able to hear him. "Stop!" he called. "There's a trap!"

The horses came closer, and Athos continued to shout. Suddenly, he heard the horses slow down and stop.

"We need help!" Athos called. "There's an injured man down here."

A face appeared over one side of the hole, and a laugh drifted down. "So that's where you disappeared to!" He turned his head and called out, "They fell in a hole!"

More laughter filled the air, and Athos realized with dread that they were the bandits that had attacked them the night before. He walked back over to Aramis and stood in front of him in a protective stance.

"Should we leave them down there?" the man asked his friends.

Athos couldn't hear the answers.

"You're right," the apparent leader said before looking back at Athos. "You're worth more to us alive."

Athos said nothing. He and Aramis were completely at their mercy.

"Get the rope," the leader told his men.

Athos knelt beside Aramis and found his eyes open. "Did you hear all that?" he asked.

Aramis nodded.

Athos turned and stood again, watching as two of the henchmen slipped their way down while holding onto a rope. The mud made it very hard, and it would've been a humorous sight if the circumstances had been different.

One of them headed right over to Aramis, and the other grabbed Athos before he could do anything.

The man pointed a gun against Aramis' head before looking at Athos. "Give him your weapons or your friend dies."

Athos had both their knives and he handed them over.

"Do you have any?" the man asked Aramis, nudging his head with the gun.

"No," Aramis answered.

"What are his injuries?" the leader called out from the top of the hole.

"Broken ribs and arm," Athos said.

"Better to leave him then," said the man. "The animal that this trap was set for will kill him quickly. One musketeer is worth enough."

"No!" Athos shouted. "He is worth far more than I am!"

"And why is that?"

"He is the Comte de la Fere," Athos lied. "He will fetch a substantial ransom."

It was known that many sons of the nobility joined the esteemed musketeers, and the men murmured with excitement.

"I know the name," said their foe. "That changes things; get him up here."

Athos took a step towards Aramis, but was stopped by the man holding onto his arm. "Let me help," Athos called up. "Moving him risks a punctured lung."

The man waved at his henchman to let go.

Athos pulled his arm away and knelt beside his friend. "Aramis?"

"I heard."

"This will not be easy," Athos said. "Or painless."

Aramis gave him a rueful grin. "Of course not."

Athos squeezed his uninjured arm before standing and taking the rope that he was handed.

The men at the top of the hole with the other end of the rope walked around to the side where Aramis was, waiting to pull him up.

Athos tied the rope around his friend's chest, under his arms. "All right?"

Aramis nodded, and Athos saw that he was still shivering.

"Pull him up!" someone exclaimed.

Aramis closed his eyes and winced at the first tug, keeping them tightly closed as he was pulled up the side of the hole.

Another rope suddenly appeared a few feet away, and Athos grabbed it, quickly climbing to the top before Aramis arrived.

The men pulled Aramis up slowly, not wanting to damage their prize anymore than he already was.

Finally, Athos reached down to pull his friend over the top onto the grass, where Aramis lay gasping.

Athos turned him onto his side to make his breathing easier. "It's over," he told him.

Aramis showed no reaction to his words.

The leader of the bandits walked over. "Get him up."

Athos looked at him, ready to tell him that Aramis needed a minute, but then he realized something. "You look familiar."

The man nodded. "Pierre LeBeau. We've faced each other before."

Athos nodded, remembering the previous year when LeBeau had ransacked a small town not too far from Paris. "We hunted you for weeks."

"Well, it looks like you finally found me," said LeBeau. "Or rather, I found you." He looked down at Aramis. "Get up, Comte. You're about to make me a lot of money."

Aramis looked up at Athos, knowing that he had no choice.

Athos wrapped an arm around his friend's back and waited for him to get his legs under himself before pulling him up carefully, not wanting to stretch his ribs.

Careful or not, pain seared through Aramis' midsection and he gave a cry of agony, unable to lock his knees.

Athos held onto him tightly, but it was an awkward grip; he couldn't pull Aramis' good arm around his neck to support him or he'd be pulling on his ribs. He had to simply keep his left arm around his friend's back and keep his other hand under Aramis' right armpit.

Aramis remained hunched over, fighting to breathe. The pain was awful in both his ribs and his arm.

LeBeau prodded Athos with his pistol. "It's almost dark, get him mounted."

Aramis opened his eyes, seeing the light rapidly fading. He knew that he couldn't ride.

Athos tightened the grip around his friend's back before looking up. "Someone bring us a horse."

"The honored Comte can ride mine," said LeBeau, walking over and grabbing its reins to lead it over. "I taught him to kneel."

Both Athos and Aramis knew that it wasn't an act of kindness; the man simply wanted his money.

Seconds later, the majestic white horse was kneeling in the grass.

Athos helped Aramis shuffle the few steps over and sat him in the saddle, holding his shoulders to keep him steady. "Don't slide off," he said without humor. He then stepped over the horse to get behind Aramis, still holding onto him, before reaching over to grab Aramis' right leg.

Aramis clenched the horse's mane with his right hand, holding onto it as he was forced to shift his position in order to sit facing forward in the saddle.

Athos still had hold of Aramis with his left hand, even when LeBeau impatiently came over and held Aramis up on the left, avoiding the musketeer's slinged arm.

Aramis was once more left gasping, cold sweat sliding down his face.

Once finished getting Aramis settled, Athos pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his friend before making him drink more water.

Aramis kept his eyes closed and lowered his head as Athos mounted the horse behind him.

Athos carefully held onto his friend as the horse stood, feeling the tension and shaking in Aramis' body. "Aramis?" he said, once the horse was standing.

Aramis simply nodded, head still lowered.

"Let's go," LeBeau said, grabbing the reins before Athos could take hold of them. He mounted one of his men's horses and they were off towards Paris.

Athos was relieved that they weren't galloping; motion like that could kill Aramis. He gently pulled his friend to lean back against him. "Rest," he said.

Aramis smiled slightly. "Easy…for you…to say."

The remaining light faded quickly after that, making the musketeers even more vulnerable.

"When are we stopping?" Athos eventually asked LeBeau. "He can't take much more of this."

It was true; Aramis was trembling from pain and exhaustion, on the verge of passing out.

"I need to check his ribs," Athos continued. "All this jostling could pierce a lung, and you can't get ransom for a dead man."

LeBeau sighed but knew that he was right. "We make camp here," he told his men.

Everyone dismounted, and LeBeau whispered the command to his horse to make him kneel.

The horse obeyed, and the motion forced a gasp out of Aramis.

Athos held onto him tightly, grateful for the moonlight they didn't have the night before. He gently pulled his friend off the horse and sat him on the ground.

LeBeau remained holding the reins of the horse, and Athos realized that he was keeping the animal in that position, so he gently pushed Aramis to lean against its side.

"How do you feel?" Athos asked.

Aramis was visibly shaking, face pale, eyes half-closed. "Perfect."

Athos shook his head at the sarcasm. "Anything I should know?" he asked.

Aramis tiredly shook his head, knowing that his friend was asking if there was any fluid in his lungs.

Athos unwrapped the blue sash from Aramis' midsection, finding that the bruises had deepened. He rewrapped them securly, before checking his arm and finding his makeshift splint to be holding.

The men built a fire and Athos was slightly surprised when LeBeau gave them some bread. He was relieved for Aramis' sake.

Aramis had been reluctant at first, not wanting to move, but Athos helped him and he looked a little more coherent afterwards.

"Are you fully aware of what's happening?" Athos whispered.

Aramis frowned, not sure if he'd missed anything in his pain-filled haze during the ride.

"I had to give you my identity," Athos whispered.

Aramis nodded slightly. "Yes...thank you." If talking had been easier, he would've made some kind of jest.

A half-hour later, Aramis had fallen into a dose, still reclining against the obedient horse.

Athos remained beside him, his eyes ever watchful of their surroundings. Suddenly, he heard the hoot of an owl, and froze.

Porthos.

Athos tried to look for him without seeming obvious, and he heard it again and caught the faint outline of his friend about a hundred feet away. "Aramis," he whispered.

No reaction.

Athos slid his hand behind the injured musketeer's neck and gently squeezed. "Aramis," he repeated.

"Mmm..."

"Porthos is here."

Aramis opened tired eyes. "Thank God," he replied.

A few minutes later, two gunshots sounded and two of the men fell over where they sat. Before the rest of them had a chance to react, Porthos and d'Artagnan charged out of the woods, swords drawn.

Athos immediately leaned over Aramis to protect him, hearing the clashing of metal.

"Athos!"

A thud sounded nearby, and Athos looked to see one of the bandit's pistols lying in the grass. He grabbed it and moved to point it over the horse, but the animal began to stand, alerted by a shouted command from LeBeau.

Athos had to drop the gun and grab Aramis before he fell over, and the horse stood and trotted off, leaving them both out in the open.

Quickly, Athos scooted behind Aramis to keep him upright against his back, and he grabbed the pistol again, pointing it at the men...only to find them all on the ground except for Porthos and d'Artagnan.

Porthos hurried over to them and quickly knelt. "Where is he hurt?"

"Broken ribs and arm," Athos said. He waited until Porthos slipped an arm around Aramis and then he stood, heading over to the alive LeBeau who lay in the path of d'Artagnan's pointed sword.

"Are we taking him back to Paris, Athos?" d'Artagnan asked.

LeBeau frowned. "Athos? You're the Comte de la Fere?"

Athos nodded. "Yes," he simply said.

"Then we didn't need the other musketeer!" said LeBeau. "Just you!"

Athos ignored him, nodding at d'Artagnan in answer to his own question before heading back to Aramis.

Soon after, they had their injured friend settled on Porthos' bedroll, covered with every blanket they had. Porthos and d'Artagnan split the watch, never waking Athos for a turn considering his lack of sleep the night before while they were down in the trap.

Athos woke anyway, unable to remain asleep all night with Aramis injured so badly, especially with the occasional groans that Aramis couldn't hold in.

After a stab of pain had Aramis' eyes fly open, he was relieved at what he saw. "Light," he said.

"That's right," said a voice. "It's morning."

Aramis found Porthos sitting beside them. "You found us."

Porthos nodded. "When your horses walked into the garrison without you, we went lookin'."

Aramis was relieved to hear that his horse was safe.

"Here," said Porthos. He gently slid a hand under Aramis' head and held a cup of water to his lips.

Aramis drank it gratefully, but couldn't prevent a wince when Porthos settled him back down. "When…do we…leave?"

"Now," said Athos' voice.

Soon after, Aramis was again settled on LeBeau's kneeling horse with Porthos behind him. It was a very painful ride and the sun was very bright, making Aramis keep his eyes closed. He found it ironic, after craving light so badly while stuck in the hole.

After what felt like an eternity, they rode into the garrison and Treville was instantly at their side, putting a hand on Aramis' good arm.

Aramis opened his eyes and gave him a pale smile. "Good to…see you…captain."

Treville gave him a concerned smile in return. "I'll send for a doctor."

Knowing that he couldn't refuse, Aramis nodded. His friends got him to his room and it was only minutes before the physician came. After a painful examination, the doctor determined that three of the ribs on his left side were broken and the rest were bruised. Complete bed rest was commanded, and Aramis was forced to drink something that he assumed was water, until he tasted the bitterness of laudanum.

Aramis didn't even complain; every breath he took was agony, and he drifted off into painless sleep with utter relief. He dreamed of being stuck in the hole again in cold darkness, telling Athos over and over how badly he needed light.

When he opened his eyes two days later, sunlight was streaming into his room. He felt groggy, especially when his friends told him that they'd continued to give him the laudanum so he would sleep.

"You mumbled about needing light sometimes," Porthos told him. "The times that you were half-awake."

Aramis wasn't surprised. "Felt helpless…without it."

The others fully understood why.

"Go back to sleep," Treville told him. "The sun will rise again tomorrow."

Aramis obeyed, and his dreams that night were full of bright summer warmth.

THE END