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[afineseamstress]

He loses track of time again.

The room is well lit, loud beyond the door and bustling with activity when doctors or nurses enter, but Aramis drifts. In that damnable basement, his only knowledge of passing minutes was the degree of his own thirst, and here in his bed, he can only count the continued ease of his breaths, and the pass of familiar calloused fingers over his own knuckles where his hands lie in the sheets.

There is some sort of brace on one of his wrists. Aramis has not yet recovered the nerve to ask if his hand can still pull a trigger, even if he could speak without effort. His head is too heavy to turn away from the sight, and Aramis shifts his eyes, fighting sleep to discern the new shape in the door.

He hopes it belongs to someone without a clipboard.

[open post if the spirit moves you]

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[somepoorsoul]

Athos looks up from their clasped hands to meet Aramis’ gaze, surprise briefly visible in the way his eyes widen. It has been so long since Aramis has spoken of his calling to the priesthood, the life here here so different from the one that had once coaxed him down a holier path, that it sounds strange to hear him speak of such a thing coming to pass. And yet, should Athos really be surprised. At home, he would have mourned the loss, but accepted the inevitability of the decision.

But following from such a dark series of events, Athos fears that such a decision might have come from loss and pain, not a higher calling. He tips his head to the side, watching his friend gently. “Oh, Aramis."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis' eyes grow hot. He knew Athos would not shout as Porthos had - they process their feelings too differently, but he knows the pain that comes from such a revelation must be the same.

"His heart is broken," he murmurs, wishing he did not feel the echo of that heart in his own breast. "I grieve for him. I would rather have died in that basement than go back to France and live without my brothers."

[somepoorsoul]

“I would prefer you alive, wherever you are.” Pain and anger flashes in his eyes at the thought of Aramis’ death, however abstract, especially so shortly after finding him again. "Even locked away in a monastery.” Athos strokes the back of Aramis’ hand, chest tight with the thought of the loss, but also at the pain Aramis must have been suffering to come to such a decision.

[afineseamstress]

It would not be living. Athos and Porthos have been Aramis' heart too long for him to flourish without them, but he will not willingly cause Athos more pain in speaking of it.

"I am glad to be here," he says instead, savoring the scrape of Athos' callouses against his hand. With his only sensations being of pain for so many hours strung together, each tiny kindness is almost unbearably dear. "You should know," he says, not so exhausted that he can't feel the tiniest stir of jealousy in his heart, "It was Milady who saved me from the rack. She broke me from my prison and brought me to you and the others."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos stills. He has allowed himself to assume that once she left court, their lives would have been free of Milady once again. The pain of her simultaneous absence and presence he has kept at bay with reminders of who she is - what she is. The woman he once called his Anne is a liar, a whore, a murderer; she seeks her own advancement at any cost. She is not anyone’s savior: not his, and certainly not Aramis’.

“What is her scheme?” Surely she is not capable of a selfless act. Surely.

[afineseamstress]

"I do not know," admits Aramis with regret. "There is some arrangement, but I do not know the terms, and everything happens so swiftly after I am freed there is no time to discuss it. And then I am gone, knowing that lingering would be too painful."

Aramis' hand twitches in Athos' own, trying to squeeze it with his abused fingers. "I am sorry. The Musketeers are banned from the palace - she is the only one who could enter, but I do not know what convinced her. Are you terribly troubled, my friend?"

[somepoorsoul]

Athos makes a dismissive gesture, though his heart remains tight in his chest. He does not want to worry Aramis with his own pain, not when neither of them can do anything about it. Perhaps they bribed her; for all the idea disgusts him, he would do so happily to save Aramis. And the thought sits easier with him than the idea that she might be capable of kindness after all.

“One learns to be skeptical of her motives,” he answers with what calm he can muster, and squeezes Aramis’ hand in return. “But I suppose we had to improvise. She has her uses.”

[afineseamstress]

"Who better to help me cheat death than one who has done so many times before?" Aramis asks, despising the tightness he can see in Athos' features. He does not deserve to keep suffering for this woman, but Aramis will not keep the truth from him.

"She did seem different," he admits. "It was only a feeling I had - we did not discuss it. Perhaps it was only a trick, but I felt that some of the coldness had gone from her eyes."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos acknowledges the quip with a small hum, but he cannot quite bring himself to smile. Aramis is right, though: Anne is clever and resilient, and willing to do what decent people would not. By the sound of things, that it precisely what they needed.

Athos takes a slow breath, finding it far too easy to picture his wife’s eyes when they were warm and full of light; that had been a lie, and any echo of it now is likely a reflection of her pleasure at her reward. Isn’t it?

“Whatever the reasons for her actions, I owe her thanks,” he says, certain of that much, even if he is no longer certain of so much else.

[afineseamstress]

"And I," says Aramis, for even if he truly would prefer death to losing his brothers, that death does not come at the rack. "There is a moment when I am returned to you all - I saw the pair of you disappear into another room. For payment perhaps, I cannot be sure. I wish I could tell you more, Athos."

He remembers the agony of not knowing what had become of Isabelle for many years. "Even with all the torment these memories have brought, sometimes it is worse to wonder."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos shakes his head, for it is no fault of Aramis’ that he did not see everything. No doubt Athos was as reluctant to share what was in his heart then has he ever has been - and that certainly would include whatever agreement he had with Milady. “You have told me much already, and I am grateful,” he answers, and despite the way his heart still clenches, Aramis is right - it is better to know than to wonder.

“Perhaps she has changed.” His voice is low and a little rough as he speaks what he most hopes for and fears.

[afineseamstress]

"If she has," says Aramis, "I am fearful." Athos is not a man to be told what to do and when, but Aramis would try. He would keep him from her, lest that hope lead to Athos losing what's left of his heart to her. But he cannot from Douai. If Milady has changed, Aramis is without power to protect him.

"You cannot be hurt like that a second time and endure it."

[somepoorsoul]

But Aramis has more power than he knows, for his words of caution now are enough to pull Athos back from his miserable wondering. He bows his head. “Surely you do not think I would be so foolish twice,” he says, but he does not mean to make his answer so sharp, not when Aramis only worries.

“No man can return to the past,” he adds with more calm, and he looks up to meet Aramis’ gaze. “And I would not wish to."

[afineseamstress]

Aramis flinches, for that is the passion he has feared to stir, and he wishes there was not so much of it simmering beneath Athos' tight control. "She would not make you happy," he says in agreement with Athos' words.

"Porthos will, I want to, as soon as I am freed from this bed."

[somepoorsoul]

“You already do,” Athos says, looking away, for he is still embarrassed to speak such simple words, as genuinely as he feels them. For a moment he imagines Anne in Darrow, not as he last saw her, but as she once was - laughing, and playful, and bright with love. He can only hold the thought for a second before it disappears like smoke, for such a thing will never come to pass. She never was the woman he remembers.

It is easier to dismiss such a foolish fantasy when he has a warm reality to return to. Aramis and Porthos have seen him at his worst, and they embrace him all the same, and he would never - could never - give them up.

“I know where I belong, Aramis.” Here, he adds silently with a squeeze of his hand. Not with her.