What Darkness Lurks - TazzyJan (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

2005

Athos stared in horror at the sight before him, his mind almost refusing to process it. His father lay slumped on the floor in the corner of their dining room, his once white shirt stained crimson with blood from the jagged hole in his neck. His little brother, Tommy, lay on the dining room table, struggling against the hand on his throat that held him pinned in place.

The hand that was covered in their father’s blood.

The hand that was holding a bloody butcher’s knife over Tommy’s chest.

The hand that belonged to their mother.

Their mother.

Their mother, whose eyes had suddenly turned black as midnight as she smiled at him. It was a smile he would remember for the rest of his life. A smile that would haunt his dreams for years to come.

“Mom?” Athos whispered, his voice trembling.

“Time for Tommy to die,” she sing-songed before plunging the knife downward, burying it in her youngest son’s chest up to the hilt.

“No!” Athos screamed, rooted to the spot as he watched his brother’s legs kick out then go still, his whole body suddenly going boneless as the life drained out of him.

With a preternatural strength, she ripped the knife from her son’s chest. Throughout it all, her eyes had never left Athos’. “Your turn,” she said as she began to step around the table.

Knowing there was nothing he could do for his brother anymore, Athos spun and bolted for the door. He slammed out onto the porch and vaulted over the side rail just as a police car came skidding to a halt in front of his house. Remembering the black-eyed thing his mother had become, Athos did not stop.

He heard the police officers behind him, telling her to stop, to put the knife down. The sound of gunshots rang out, causing him to whirl around. What happened next was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. He saw his mother’s body jerk back as the bullets hit her, throwing her to the ground. He saw her lurch up toward the pair of police officers and they opened fire again. This time when she went down, she did not get back up again.

2016: 11 Years Later

“So who is this guy?” Aramis asked as he sat down at the computer with Athos.

“His name is Porthos,” Athos said. “I met him online when I was looking for information about my mom.”

“And he's legit?” Aramis asked carefully.

“I’m pretty sure. I mean he doesn’t come across as a nut job and he seems to know what he’s talking about.”

“And he believed you.”

“Yeah.” Athos ran his hand through his hair and glanced nervously at Aramis. Aramis was the first person he'd actually told about what happened since shortly after it had occurred.

He had tried to tell the authorities, but they thought he was hysterical, in shock from what he had witnessed. He had persisted, right up until they had started talking about institutionalizing him. After that, he shut up and never said a word about it again. As it was, he had not intended to tell Aramis. A few beers too many, celebrating Aramis’ impending graduation from Seminary, had loosened Athos’ tongue and when his best friend had asked why Athos never talked about his family, Athos had told him. That revelation, in turn, had led to Aramis ultimately leaving Seminary without taking his orders and now they were working together to see what they could discover about what had happened all those years ago.

Now Athos was working on setting up a meeting with Porthos, both to see if he was as legitimate as he claimed and to find out if he would be willing to help them with their investigation. Athos thought the three of them had a lot of potential, assuming Porthos was everything he claimed to be online. Aramis, however, remained skeptical. He remembered Athos telling him of no one believing him, of them thinking him crazy even. He remembered his own priest's reaction when he had gone to him for guidance, too. That the man who had mentored him for four years could turn his back on him, could expect him to turn his back on Athos, both astonished and enraged him. It was because of this that Aramis was so hesitant now. The last thing he wanted was to see Athos hurt again.

As it turned out, Porthos had some business in their area the next day and agreed to meet them over lunch. He made no promises other than to hear them out, refusing to commit to anything until he had met them both in person. He had seemed a bit put out when Athos had mentioned Aramis to him but Athos had vouched for him and Porthos had reluctantly accepted it.

“Your new friend is somewhat mistrustful,” Aramis remarked once Athos cut the connection.

“He’s cautious,” Athos replied. “He’s had some problems in the past.”

“Like you have?”

“Not quite,” Athos hedged, unsure how to explain about Porthos distrust of anything church related. “He’s had some disagreements with the church. Which turned into disagreements with the cops. So now he’s...”

“Cautious,” Aramis finished for him. “Does he know about me? That I was in Seminary before all of this?”

“Ah, no,” Athos said. He ran his hand through his hair guiltily. He had not meant to hide Aramis’ history from the man. He certainly was not ashamed of his friend. He was anything but. Aramis meant the world to him. He was the reason he had changed majors his senior year from psychology to philosophy. Just knowing the then seventeen-year-old religious studies major for a few months had been enough to turn Athos’ entire life around and make it something worth living again. He still did, even if he was never able to tell his friend exactly how much he had come to mean to him.

“Maybe it would be best if I didn't go with you tomorrow,” Aramis suggested. He tried to make it sound as if he was unconcerned but from the look on Athos’ face realized he must have failed miserably.

“No,” Athos said. “We're a team. He either takes us together or we don’t need him.”

“But you do need him,” Aramis argued.

“Not more than I need you,” Athos told him.

They arranged to meet Porthos at a local diner. It had just enough student traffic that no one really took any notice of strangers, even rather noticeable strangers. Like ones such as the large, well-muscled black man in the worn leather jacket that had just ridden up on a motorcycle outside. Athos recognized Porthos right away from a profile picture he had found online. He had not expected him to be quite so… big, though.

“You’re staring,” Aramis said, twirling his cup idly as he watched his best friend.

Athos quickly looked away and cleared his throat. He glanced up at Aramis as he waited for Porthos to make his way inside. The look in his friend’s eyes, however, confused him. If he did not know better, he would swear Aramis looked hurt… or jealous. It was no secret between them that Athos liked men just as much as he did women, probably more so. Athos always found it surprising that, as religious as Aramis was, he never had anything negative to say about it. Even when he had first come out to him, Aramis had been nothing but understanding and supportive. However, as supportive as Aramis had been, he had never once given any indication that what he felt for him was more than platonic. If he had, Athos had a feeling he would have ended up leaving the priesthood behind a hell of a lot sooner.

Athos started to say something, to ask Aramis what was wrong, when Porthos walked up. “You Athos?” he asked.

“Yes,” Athos said, standing. “And this is Aramis. Thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

“Like I said, I had business in the area,” Porthos shrugged and sat down. A bored looking waitress came over and took their orders then left them alone once more. “So, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes,” Athos said. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture, and started slightly when he felt Aramis’ foot gently nudge his own. “Sorry. This is rather difficult for me to talk about.”

“What about you?” Porthos asked, looking at Aramis.

“What about me?”

“How do you fit into all of this?”

“I’m his friend,” Aramis explained. “And I believe him. Whole-heartedly and without reservation.”

“Just like that?” Porthos asked, goading him slightly.

“Just like that,” Aramis replied evenly. “I have known him for seven years. In all that time, he has never once lied to me. I refuse to believe he has chosen to start now.”

“Everybody lies,” Porthos scoffed.

“Not him. Not to me.”

The conviction in Aramis’ voice gave Porthos pause. He looked at Athos and took in the way the man was looking at his friend, as if he held all the answer to the universe if he could only figure out the right questions to ask.

“You know what they say about those pesky lies of omission,” Porthos remarked, gauging Aramis’ reaction carefully.

“He is not required to tell me every secret of his heart,” Aramis said softly. “He is as entitled to decide what he will and will not share as the next man. If all you have come here to do is attack our relationship, then I thank you not to waste our time.”

“He’s a feisty one,” Porthos grinned at Athos.

“You will find Aramis quite protective of those he cares about,” Athos replied, still somewhat stunned by his friend’s ardent words.

“Alright,” Porthos said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I know what it is you’re looking into. What exactly do you need my help for?”

“We have found out a great deal so far,” Athos began, “but we have little to no experience with this. It is hard for us to tell at first what is a possible lead and what is…”

“Utter bullsh*t?” Porthos supplied.

“Exactly,” Athos said. “We were hoping someone of your experience might make our investigation more fruitful.”

“Yeah, I can help you cut through the malarkey,” Porthos agreed, “But I can’t do it right now.”

“Why not?” Aramis asked. He knew how important this was to Athos. They needed this man’s help if they were going to get anywhere.

“I’ve got this thing,” Porthos said. He looked around to make sure no one was listening and that the waitress was not headed in their direction. “Couple of kids were playing in an abandoned school over in Lake Oswego. Something happened. Something I need to check out. I got a kid that’s going to help me. He’s supposed to be a whiz with all the technical stuff. I don’t mind helping you guys out, but I promised some people I’d check into this for them and I need to take care of that before I commit to anything else.”

“We could give you a hand,” Athos offered. “I mean, if you think we could be of any help, that is.”

Porthos looked them both over, thinking carefully. It was never good to go into these things alone. And this d’Artagnan kid was just that, a wet behind the ears kid. He could use a couple more people with him, just to help keep an eye on things and to help get them all out safely if something did go wrong.

“Well, I won’t turn down the help,” he said after a moment. “But are you sure you want to do this? I don’t really know what we could be dealing with. Things could get hairy.”

“This kid you mentioned…” Aramis began.

“d’Artagnan,” Porthos supplied.

“How young is he?” Aramis asked, a bit worried.

“Not that young,” Porthos grinned. “He’s twenty-one, he just looks like he’s sixteen. And before you ask, I checked.”

“Aramis?” Athos asked. He looked at his friend, trying to read him. Aramis, however, was making it rather difficult at the moment.

“If this is what you want to do, then I’m with you,” Aramis shrugged. It was as simple as that for him. He had left behind everything he had worked his entire adult life for, for Athos. He certainly was not going to leave the man now. If this was what he felt they needed to do then this was what they would do, but Aramis would be keeping a close eye on their new friend.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Porthos found his mind wandering as he waited for d’Artagnan to finish gathering the equipment he had put together for them. The kid had been a bit flustered to find out there would be two more joining them and was scrambling to gather enough gear for them as well. While he waited, Porthos let his thoughts turn to the two men. He had met Athos online a few weeks ago and had felt an instant connection with him. That had only strengthened when he had learned what had happened to the man’s family.

Aramis, on the other hand, was a different story. He knew next to nothing about the man, having only learned of his involvement two days ago. That alone was enough to put Porthos on edge. He liked to have at least some idea of the people he was dealing with. Trusting too easily had come back to bite him too many times in the past for him to chance it again. Add to that the way Athos looked at the guy while Aramis seemed all but oblivious and Porthos felt his hackles rise. If he wasn’t interested, that was one thing, but to string Athos along was just cruel.

That thought gave Porthos pause. He remembered their meeting and how defensive Aramis had gotten over Athos. Porthos had to wonder if he had feelings for him after all or if he was just that possessive. He had known guys like that, though it was usually their ex-girlfriends they were pulling that kind of bullsh*t on. They didn’t want to be with them but they weren’t going to allow anyone else to either.

“All set,” d’Artagnan said, snapping Porthos from his thoughts with a jolt.

“Let’s hit the road then,” Porthos replied. He decided then that he would keep an eye on Athos. If it looked like this Aramis guy was just screwing with him, well, he wouldn’t be the first guy Porthos had needed to have a “talk” with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Athos asked as they neared the abandoned East Lake Elementary school.

“As ready as I can be,” Aramis replied as he slipped his rosary out of his pocket and hung it around his neck, tucking it inside his shirt.

“I don’t suppose you brought anything else with you?” Athos asked, glancing at him.

“Just some Holy Water,” Aramis shrugged. “He said he wasn’t sure what we might be dealing with so I thought it prudent to be prepared.”

“Good thinking,” Athos grinned.

He pulled his Jeep up next to a big, silver SUV that he assumed was Porthos’ as the motorcycle he had been riding the previous day was nowhere to be seen. When they got out, they found the man in question talking to a slim, somewhat hyper young man that did, indeed, look all of sixteen.

“I see you made it,” Porthos said, waving them over before turning his attention back to the young man and the array of equipment spread out before them.

“I’m d’Artagnan,” the young man introduced himself, holding out his hand.

“Athos and Aramis,” Athos replied, shaking his hand. Aramis shook hands with him as well. He frowned slightly when the young man seemed to study his face but dismissed it when he turned away.

“So what’s all this?” Athos asked as he surveyed the equipment curiously.

“Gear the kid here put together for us,” Porthos said, his voice conveying his approval and causing d’Artagnan to blush faintly.

“We’ve got two-way radios to keep in touch in case we split up or get separated,” d’Artagnan explained, going over each piece of equipment quickly. “An EMF detector, thermal scanner, couple of mini tape recorders, and a couple of camcorders with night vision.”

“Plus some flashlights with extra batteries and a first aid kid,” Porthos added.

“A first aid kit?” Aramis questioned. “Is that going to be necessary?”

“Maybe not,” Porthos replied. “But I’d rather have it and not need it than the other way around.”

“Seems like you thought of everything,” Athos remarked.

“Yeah, it always does until the sh*t hits the fan,” Porthos said. “But between the four of us, I think we’ll manage.”

“So do we split up once we go inside?” Athos asked, unsure what the protocol for something like this was.

“No,” Porthos shook his head as he began handing out the equipment. “Not right away at least. I wanna try to get a feel for the place first.”

“Makes sense,” Athos replied. He looked over his shoulder and saw Aramis looking toward the school, his gaze fixed on the second story windows, and felt a chill run down his spine. “’Mis, you okay?”

The sound of Athos’ voice calling his name seemed to snap him out of his thoughts and he shook his head. He walked up beside his friend and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “I’m fine,” he said softly.

“You two finished?” Porthos asked, his mouth twisting wryly as he watched them.

“Ah, ready when you are,” Athos said, deliberately stepping away from Aramis. With his eyes on Porthos, he missed the twin frowns his actions drew from Aramis and d’Artagnan. Having little choice if they did not want to be left behind, the pair followed the other two men and entered the school.

“Where to first?” d’Artagnan asked as he turned on his flashlight and readied one of the video cameras.

“The kids said they were playing in one of the classrooms upstairs when everything started,” Porthos explained. “I want to start there.”

“Why’d they close this place down anyway?” Aramis asked as they carefully made their way up the stairs to the second floor.

“Fire back in ’96,” Porthos said. “Trapped the first and second grade classes in the gym. Killed almost a dozen kids and hurt a bunch more. Rather than rebuild after that, they just shuttered the place.”

“Madre de Dios,” Aramis muttered, barely resisting the urge to reach for his rosary. He saw d’Artagnan glance at him again but the young man did not say anything as they continued onward.

D’Artagnan was stumped. He knew he had seen Aramis somewhere before but, try as he might, he could not seem to recall where. He could feel it, right there hovering at the edge of his memory, but he could not call it forward. Frustrated, he shoved the thought away. He knew it would come to him in time and until it did, there was no point in trying to force it.

When they reached the second floor, it was obvious which classroom the children had been in. Even if their footprints in the dusty hallway had not been a clear indication, the one lone door standing ajar would have been.

They approached the door cautiously, walking around the tracks made by the boys as much as possible. D’Artagnan had filmed them before they had approached so they would have a record of them for later. It was clear both from the chaotic mass of shoeprints as well as from the sheer number of them, that the children had been running when they had fled the room. Running and obviously terrified.

When they entered the classroom, it was somewhat surreal. While it was a typical elementary school classroom, if twenty years out of date, everything was covered in a fine layer of dust, except where the boys had disturbed it. As they walked around the room, looking for signs of anything out of the ordinary, d’Artagnan suddenly called out.

“What is it?” Porthos asked, coming over to where the younger man was standing staring down at something on the floor.

“Is that blood?” d’Artagnan asked, pointing to a dark reddish-brown stain on the floor. It was hidden from view behind the teacher’s desk which is why they had not noticed it when they had first entered the room.

“Hard to tell,” Porthos said. “Probably though. Looks like it at any rate.”

Aramis turned away, crossing himself. He was not sure what he had expected to find in the derelict school, but bloodstains on the floor had certainly not been it. He had expected their discoveries to be of a more… incorporeal nature. This was anything but.

“Now I remember!” d’Artagnan exclaimed suddenly, causing everyone to look at him. “Didn’t you used to help out with Mass at Sacred Heart sometimes?”

“Little old for a choir boy, don’t ya think?” Porthos scoffed.

“Former Seminary student actually. We all had rotations at various churches,” Aramis replied evenly.

“You’re a priest?” Porthos all but snarled.

“No. I was a Seminary student,” Aramis corrected.

“What happened? Decide banging altar boys wasn’t your thing after all?” Porthos sneered.

Aramis stared at the man, the words actually taking a moment to register. When they did, he lunged toward him, stopped from reaching his intended target by Athos and d’Artagnan throwing themselves between the pair. Aramis locked eyes with his friend, rage burning through him. He could practically hear Athos begging him to stop, to calm down, his green eyes pleading in a way Aramis hated to see.

Breathing harshly, Aramis took a step back, letting Athos know that the fight, as far as he was concerned, was effectively over. Without a word, Aramis turned and stormed from the room. He had to ball his hands into fists to keep from taking a swing at Porthos’ smirking face as he went.

“You might want to tread carefully where Aramis is concerned,” Athos said as he looked after where his friend had gone.

“Why’s that?” Porthos asked dismissively.

“Because he holds black belts in a number of disciplines,” Athos told him.

“Wow,” d’Artagnan said, impressed. “He’s like… Ninjamis.”

Athos closed his eyes for a moment and sighed then shook his head. He leveled a glare at Porthos then headed off to find where Aramis had gone. He did not like the idea of Aramis being alone in this place, especially right now.

D’Artagnan watched Athos follow after Aramis. He waited until the man had left the room before looking at Porthos again. “If you’ve got a problem with people being a certain way, then maybe I shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, not wanting his voice to carry in case the other two men were still nearby.

“What are you talking about?” Porthos asked, scowling at the kid.

“What you said to him,” d’Artagnan began. He ran a hand through his hair then shook his head. “You’ve been looking at them funny ever since they got here. If you’ve got a problem with gays or whatever, then say so, man.”

“Hey, no, it’s nothing like that,” Porthos said quickly.

“Then what is it?” d’Artagnan asked. “Because it’s clear you’ve got a problem with Aramis and from what I can see the guy hasn’t done anything to you. And you really don’t like it when Athos gets too close to him either.”

“That’s not…” Porthos began but d’Artagnan cut him off.

“I’m just telling you how I see it. You jumped on them outside when Athos was just asking if he was okay. You told me these guys were new to this. I’d expect them to be a little nervous, you know.”

“Look, I didn’t mean for what I said to seem like I was… was prejudiced or something,” Porthos said, suddenly ashamed of how he had acted.

“Yeah, well, what is your deal with Aramis?”

“I don’t like priests,” Porthos said.

“That’s your problem?” d’Artagnan asked incredulously. “You what? Met a few asshole priests so all of them must be?”

“You made your point, kid,” Porthos growled.

“I hope so,” d’Artagnan said. “Because if you talk to him like that again, I’m out of here.”

Out in the hallway, Athos looked for Aramis. He found him standing near the staircase, looking out the window. He walked up behind him, making sure to make enough noise so that Aramis would hear his approach. He laid his hand on his friend’s right shoulder and rested his chin his left.

“We’re leaving. Let’s go,” Athos told him.

“No,” Aramis said without turning around.

“Why not?” Athos asked, surprised and yet not by his friend’s refusal to leave.

“Because there are children in danger,” Aramis told him. “And I will not leave that boy alone with only him to watch out for him.”

“So we take the kid with us,” Athos countered.

“There are still children in danger. Besides, you need his help if you are ever going to find the answers you seek.”

“Nobody speaks to you that way, Aramis. Not in front of me,” Athos told him, his voice turning hard.

“I thank you for that, my friend,” Aramis sighed. “But there are more important things to worry about here than my pride.”

“There is nothing more important to me than you.”

They stayed out in the hall for a few minutes longer. Athos had wrapped his arms around Aramis and held him, allowing him to regain his calm before they rejoined the others. Athos could understand Aramis’ desire to help the kids that had wandered in here. He could even understand his reluctance to leave d’Artagnan here alone with Porthos. What he was having a harder time dealing with was the fact that Aramis seemed to be just as willing to put up with such blatant abuse because he thought Athos needed Porthos. He was willing to swallow his pride and allow someone to disrespect something Aramis held in the highest regard.

Aramis had been willing to dedicate his entire life to the church and had not walked away from it until it had failed to stand behind him when he needed it most. Even so, Aramis’ faith was still quite dear to him. He believed in the tenets of his religion. To have something so sacred to him disparaged in such a way had been enough to cause him to lose control to a degree Athos had never witnessed before.

“I don’t remember ever seeing you lose control like that before,” Athos remarked.

“I have,” Aramis replied.

“Really? When?” Athos asked curiously. He knew Aramis studied martial arts for the outlet. It was a way for him to subvert his sexual desires into something else. He had not, in the all the years he had known him, ever seen him attack another person outside of a sparring session.

“When those jocks tried to haze you because you were bi,” Aramis told him.

“Aramis? What did you do?” Athos asked.

“Taught them the benefit of loving thy neighbor and what happens to pretentious little pricks when they fail to do so,” Aramis replied.

“There were four of them!” Athos shouted.

“Yes, Athos, I am aware,” Aramis replied calmly. “They did manage to land a few hits of their own.”

“Did they hurt you?” he asked, suddenly guilty for the pain his friend might have endured in his name, even if he hadn’t known anything about it.

“Nothing serious,” Aramis told him, refusing to lie. “Bruised a couple of my ribs but they didn’t manage to break anything.”

“f*ck, ‘Mis,” Athos said. He buried his head against his neck and held him, choking back a moan when Aramis covered his arms with his own and held him back.

“They tried to hurt you,” Aramis said, his voice soft and earnest. “If I had not done something, they would have very likely tried again. I was not going to stand by and watch you be hurt. By the time I was finished with them, they knew to leave you the hell alone.”

Athos pulled back and pressed a soft kiss to Aramis’ temple. He had to force himself to leave it at that, not to pepper the side of his face with kisses the way he wanted to so badly. Instead, he gave Aramis one last squeeze then let go and stepped back.

“We should probably rejoin the others if we are going to,” Athos said somewhat reluctantly.

“We are,” Aramis said. “I will not leave d’Artagnan here alone and, ass or not, you need him.”

“If he speaks to you that way again, I’ll break his nose myself,” Athos vowed.

“Don’t be hasty,” Aramis chuckled. “I’m the black belt here, not you. Besides, breaking his nose is not conducive to getting him to assist you.”

When they walked back into the classroom they found Porthos studying the apparent bloodstain while d’Artagnan hovered near the door looking anxious. He looked at Aramis when they walked in but Aramis’ hand on his shoulder seemed to mitigate the worst of his concern.

“You guys okay?” he asked softly, glancing back and forth between the pair.

“We’re fine,” Aramis told him before redirecting his attention back to the topic at hand. “Did you figure out if it’s blood or not?”

“I can’t tell without taking a sample and getting it analyzed,” Porthos said from across the room. “Don’t see much point really. Even if it is blood, it could be from anything.”

“Where to now?” Athos asked somewhat abruptly making Porthos and d’Artagnan both stiffen.

“Athos,” Aramis whispered. “Let it go.”

Athos looked at Aramis and nodded. He took a breath and tried again. “My apologies,” he said calmly. “Where did you want to check next?”

“I thought we’d finish off the upper floor,” Porthos said as he straightened up. He could see the residual anger on Athos’ face for his friend and could not really blame him. He had been out of line and he knew it. When he glanced at Aramis, however, the white-hot rage he saw in the man’s eyes startled him. He had expected him to be somewhat angry still, but from the way he had asked Athos to let it go he had assumed he had written the incident off. The look in his eyes said something completely different.

They made their way throughout the second floor systematically, room by room. They started at the end by the stairs where they had come up and began working their way down on one side of the hall. They went into each classroom, searching it, looking for anything out of the ordinary. They found little more than dust and decades old textbooks, a forgotten raincoat.

It was on their way back down the hall, checking the classrooms on the other side, that something happened. The sharp cracking sound froze all four of them in place as they made their way from one room to the next. When it came again, they looked up just in time to see a thick, jagged line race along the ceiling above them.

“Move!” Porthos shouted a second before the ceiling began to come crashing down.

He and Athos raced forward, trying to get out from under the falling plaster. They heard d’Artagnan shout behind them then the young man was hurtling toward them as Aramis shoved him out of the way hard just before a mass of plaster, wood, and metal crashed down right where they had been standing.

“Aramis!” Athos shouted as plaster dust filled the air preventing him from seeing. He steadied d’Artagnan who had ended up almost falling into his arms from where Aramis had shoved him then began trying to clear the air, looking for the other man.

“I’m alright,” Aramis called out weakly then started to cough from all the dust.

“Where are you?” Athos called.

“A few feet in front of you,” he answered. “I’m on the floor. My foot’s pinned.”

“Hang on,” Porthos said. “Let some of this dust settle and we’ll get you out of it. Anything broken?”

“No,” Aramis replied. “Just wedged in too tight for me to get it free.”

“Alright, sit tight,” Porthos advised. “Don’t try to pull it out. You could end up bringing more of it down on yourself. We’ll be able to help you in a couple of minutes.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to come back over here?” Aramis asked. He did not want them to put themselves in danger. He was sure he could get himself free once he was able to see what he was dealing with.

“f*ck safe,” Athos spat.

“We’ll be careful,” Porthos said. “But Athos is right. We’re not just gonna leave you to try and get yourself out.”

“I’m sure I can manage once the dust clears,” Aramis said. He was already able to see somewhat and could make out the general shape of the debris pinning his foot in place. He frowned slightly as he looked at it. It would take some work for him to get himself unburied but he was certain he could do it.

“’Mis, please,” Athos said, his voice coming out somewhat desperate.

“Tell you what,” Porthos began. “How about if Athos and d’Artagnan stay back where it’s safe and I come help you move whatever’s pinning your foot down? That way if anything happens they’re still in the clear.”

“No,” Athos protested but Aramis quickly overruled him.

“That works,” Aramis said to Porthos.

“Aramis…”

“Keep an eye on the kid, yeah?” Aramis told Athos. He knew if he gave his friend something, or rather someone, to be responsible for, that it would keep him focused. And making him responsible, even temporarily, for the young man would keep Athos from worrying about him.

When the dust finally settled down, Porthos got a good look at the mess pinning Aramis in place. It looked like half the ceiling had fallen in on top of where they were standing. Luckily, the majority of it had missed them, but a fair sized slab, along with the remains of a light fixture, was keeping Aramis trapped.

“Keep this aimed on us,” Porthos said as he handed d’Artagnan his flashlight. His hands now free, he moved around to where Aramis lay. He stepped carefully, not wanting to shift anything balancing precariously. He also eyed the ceiling, trying to gauge if any more of it might come down.

“We good?” Aramis asked once Porthos crouched down next to him.

“I don’t think any more of its going to come down,” he said, “but let’s get you out of here before we find out. I’m gonna lift this slab of plaster up. You see if you can slide your leg out when I do. If not, tell me and we’ll try something else.”

“Alright,” Aramis agreed.

Porthos got a grip on the chunk of plaster then gave a quick nod and lifted it. He grunted at the strain, surprised at how heavy it was. Aramis would be lucky if he could walk on his leg after having this thing on top of it. Knowing he could not hold it for long, he glanced at the other man and was relieved to see him pulling his leg free, though he was having to use his hands to do so.

“I’m out,” Aramis gasped as soon as his leg was clear. He could see how much of a strain it was putting on Porthos to lift the wreckage off of him and wanted to let him know he was free to drop it.

As soon as Aramis gave the okay, Porthos let the debris clatter back to the ground. He quickly stepped around it and over to the man still on the ground. Reached down, he slid his hands under his armpits and helped lift him back to his feet. He made sure to keep a grip on him, unsure if his leg would be able to bear his weight.

“I think I’m good,” Aramis said as he gingerly tested his ankle.

“You sure?” Porthos asked.

“Yeah,” Aramis replied. “Just a little sore. I can walk.”

Porthos kept a steadying hand on his arm until they were safely back beside the others. He was not surprised when Athos quickly slipped under his friend’s arm, supporting his injured leg. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” Porthos said, causing Aramis to look up at him sharply.

“I thought you wanted to finish checking out the classrooms,” Aramis said.

“You’re hurt,” Porthos replied, stunned and a bit ashamed the man would think he would want to keep going despite the fact he was injured.

“I’m fine,” Aramis insisted.

“Still, probably for the best to give that ankle a rest for tonight,” Porthos said. “Put some ice on it and see how it feels in the morning, yeah?”

“Yes,” Athos said before Aramis could argue.

“Fine,” Aramis agreed. His ankle really was starting to hurt and he needed to get off it he wanted to be able to walk at all tomorrow.

“There’s a hotel in town,” Porthos said. “How about we get a room and go over what we’ve found so far? Then we can figure out where to go from here.”

“’Mis?” Athos asked, willing to leave the decision to him.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” he replied. “The sooner I get some ice on this the better probably.”

Luckily, the hotel was close by and it didn’t take long to get them checked in and into a room. Athos had started to protest sharing a double room, but Aramis had stopped him, only checking to make sure d’Artagnan was fine with the arrangement.

“You can bunk with the kid yourself if you’re so worried about him,” Porthos had joked, grinning.

“No,” Athos replied quietly before Aramis could so much as open his mouth.

“He’s just yanking your chain,” d’Artagnan said, shaking his head at Porthos. He had settled down next to Aramis who had his leg propped up on a pillow with an ice pack on his swollen ankle. He was going over the various pieces of equipment, showing him how they worked and the modifications he had made on each of them.

“You’re really good at this,” Aramis remarked.

“Thanks,” d’Artagnan said, ducking his head. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t know he’d flip out like that.”

“Not your fault,” Aramis told him. “You are not responsible for the actions of another, d’Artagnan. Porthos’ prejudices are his own.”

“I told him if he talked to you like that again that I was out of here.”

“That is not necessary, but I thank you for it. I have dealt with bigots before, though never due to my religion.”

“Really?” d’Artagnan asked. “What was it over?”

“Athos,” Aramis replied. “Some less than enlightened individuals took exception to his dating preferences.”

“They didn’t like that he’s gay?”

“Bi actually, but no, they did not.”

“Did they hurt him?” d’Artagnan asked glancing over at Athos worriedly. Athos, however, was currently engrossed in his conversation with Porthos and not paying any attention to them.

“No. He managed to get away before they could do any damage. It was more hazing than anything else. That time. I made sure that time was the only time.”

“I’m kind of surprised they didn’t go after you, too.”

“Why would they?” Aramis asked, confused.

“Aren’t you guys…” d’Artagnan asked quietly, not wanting the others to overhear.

“Ah,” Aramis signed, though he too was quiet, not wanting Athos to overhear them talking about something so private. “No. Athos does not harbor those kinds of feelings for me.”

“Um, Aramis? Are you blind or something?” d’Artagnan asked him in disbelief.

“Believe me, d’Artagnan, if he felt anything like that for me he would have said something already.”

“You were studying to be a priest. What was he supposed to say?” d’Artagnan asked him gently.

Aramis stared at the young man as his words sank in. He had a point. He and Athos had met in college. Aramis was already a religious studies major, his plans to become a priest no secret. Athos had always respected that, respected his decision. He had never tried to tempt him, regardless of the vice. He had respected his desire to only drink in moderation, not pushing him to overindulge. He had respected his desire to abstain from sex as well, never engaging in the risqué conversations most young men their age did.

Athos had respected him and his convictions. He would never have betrayed the trust between them by making Aramis feel as though he had to choose. He certainly would never have done anything to make Aramis feel uncomfortable or self-conscious in his presence. D’Artagnan was right. What could Athos possibly have said to him that would not have made things, at the very least, awkward between them?

Of course, that was assuming that Aramis remained on his given path after Athos’ revelation. As dedicated as Aramis was, as committed to the life of a priest, he could not say for certain what he would have done. At the very least, his friend’s admission would have caused a crisis of faith for him as he struggled to decide which path was truly right for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They seem awful cozy,” Porthos commented as he and Athos cracked open a couple of beers.

“Aramis worries for him,” Athos shrugged, refusing to let Porthos know that the pair’s closeness did actually bother him slightly.

“You still pissed at me for I said to your boy?” Porthos asked bluntly. He could tell that Athos was and thought it best to get it out in the open where they could deal with it and move on. Aramis, for the most part, didn’t seem to be holding a grudge, though he was awfully wary about the kid.

“First, Aramis is not ‘my boy’ as you put it,” Athos said testily. “And second, yes.”

“You sure look at him like he is,” Porthos replied. “Or like you want him to be. It’s none of my business, but with him being a priest and all, seems like you’re maybe barking up the wrong tree.”

“I am not barking up any tree,” Athos said, his voice somewhat resigned. “I know where I stand with him. He is my friend.”

“But that’s not what you want him to be. At least not all you want him to be.”

“The point is moot regardless.”

“Not into guys, huh?” Porthos ventured.

“Aramis is as unfettered by gender as I am. He simply does not see me that way,” Athos replied.

“Then maybe you should stop looking at him that way,” Porthos suggested.

“And who do you suggest I look at that way?” Athos asked, letting a hint of aggravation color his words. “You perhaps?”

“Hey, no. Sorry. I wasn’t hitting on you,” Porthos said, backpedaling quickly. “Just seems to me like you’re throwing yourself at some guy who doesn’t even see you.”

“I am not throwing myself at him and Aramis always sees me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So why did you leave Seminary?” d’Artagnan asked suddenly, the question coming out a bit louder than he had intended. “You had to be close to finished, weren’t you?”

“Athos again,” Aramis replied. “When he told me about what happened with his family, I went to my superiors for guidance. They told me… they told me that he was either lying or crazy, that I shouldn’t have anything more to do with him, not if I still planned on being a priest. They wanted me to turn my back on him. So I turned my back on them instead.”

“Your boy’s loyal, I’ll give him that,” Porthos said softly. He and Athos had heard d’Artagnan’s question and had paused their conversation to hear Aramis’ answer. Athos knew, of course. Aramis had told him what his advisors had said but it was different hearing him describe it to the young man. It seemed even larger somehow.

“He walked away from everything for me. His entire life had been dedicated to a single purpose, becoming a priest, and he walked away from it all for me,” Athos said, his voice awed.

“Wow,” d’Artagnan said, smiling widely. “You really love him a lot.”

“Yes,” Aramis smiled. “He is my best friend. He is… Yes, d’Artagnan, I love him a lot. But enough about me. Tell me about you. Any pretty girlfriends out there? Or boyfriends?”

“Ah, no,” d’Artagnan said, blushing and looking away. “I, um, I don’t really date.”

“Oh,” Aramis said, caught off-guard. “Well, nothing wrong with that.” Even as he said it, Aramis had to wonder what would make a bright young man like d’Artagnan not want to seek companionship. While it could be any number of reasons, Aramis found himself automatically wondering who might have hurt the young man and just what they could do to help him.

“You’d be surprised how many people seem to think so,” d’Artagnan said softly.

“Well, I am not one of them,” Aramis assured him. “And neither is Athos.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time morning rolled around Aramis’ ankle was feeling much better. It was still tender and he knew he would need to take it somewhat easy, but he thought he should be able to manage. They ate breakfast at a nearby diner and headed back to the school, ready to pick up their investigation where they had left off.

After going over their findings from the previous day, they had decided to give the rest of the upstairs classrooms a quick look and then concentrate on the main level. Porthos thought they might start in the gym where the fire had broken out twenty years ago. If there was anything supernatural hanging about the school, it would likely be drawn there if it had not been spawned from there to begin with.

“You sure you’re up to this?” Porthos asked as they began preparing to reenter the school.

“I’m fine,” Aramis told him. “It’s sore but I can walk on it. I’ve had worse, I assure you.”

“Yeah, Athos said you were a black belt,” Porthos said, looking him up and down for a moment. At first glance, he would not have considered Aramis much of a threat, physically. Now, however, Porthos reconsidered it. Aramis was lean, wiry even, but Porthos could see that it was almost all muscle.

“Did he now?” Aramis replied, amused.

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan put in. “I’m pretty sure he was just trying to keep Porthos from getting his head kicked in the next time he decided to piss you off.”

“Oh no,” Athos said, smirking slightly. “I was bragging, too.”

“Conceit does not become you, brother,” Aramis said, smiling widely now.

“Yes, it does,” Athos replied.

It did not take them long to clear the upper floor. They had not expected to find anything in the remaining few classrooms and had not, though they made sure to check and document everything just to be sure. Back on the main floor, they stopped in the atrium to recheck their gear. If anything was likely to happen, it would be in the gym and they wanted to be ready for it.

“Alright, everyone keep their eyes open and stay close,” Porthos said. “I don’t kn…”

The sound of glass breaking interrupted whatever Porthos was going to say as all the windows on the main floor exploded inward. All four men ducked, covering their faces, as bits of glass shot into the hall all around them. A piercing wail reverberated through the room, seeming to echo off the very walls, and the bookcases lining the atrium began to shake violently.

Bits of plaster began to shake off the walls and rain down from the ceiling as the men glanced around, unsure which way to go. “Out!” Porthos yelled, giving d’Artagnan a quick shove back toward the entryway.

They had only taken a few steps when a horrible cracking sound froze them in place. A quick glance upward, showed thick, dark lines snaking across the ceiling once more. Understanding what was about to happen, all four men dove out of the way, with Athos and d’Artagnan diving to the right and Aramis and Porthos throwing themselves backward.

“Are you okay?” Athos said as he knelt next to d’Artagnan, helping the younger man up.

“Yeah. You?” he asked as he got to his feet. He turned to look at the mess behind him and grimaced. It looked like the entire ceiling had come down. As he continued to look around, he realized he did not see their two companions anywhere.

“Aramis!” Athos called loudly.

“We’re here,” Aramis called back, his voice a bit strained. “We’re alright, but I don’t think we can get around this. Not from here at least.”

“Can you two get outside?” Porthos called. He did not like the way this was going. This was the second time the ceiling had collapsed on top of them, yet it did not appear to be falling in anywhere else. Now, they were cut off from each other. If he could get the other two out of the building, then he would. He and Aramis could find their own way out.

“I think so,” Athos said. “Assuming nothing else tries to crash down on top of us. What about you two?”

“No good,” Porthos replied. “Not from here. We’ll have to go farther in and see if we can find a way outside.”

“We’re not leaving you in here,” Athos said at once.

“What good does remaining in here do?” Aramis asked. “You cannot get to us from where you are. If you are outside then you should be safe. All of us being trapped does no one any good.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Athos told him.

“Athos,” Aramis said softly. “Please.”

“Aramis…”

“I’ll get him out,” Porthos told him. “I swear it. I’ll get him out, but I can’t do that if I’m worrying about the two of you being trapped in here as well.”

“Alri…” Athos began only to be cut off by d’Artagnan tugging sharply on his arm. “What is it?”

“We gotta go,” d’Artagnan said, the fear in his voice unmistakable. “Now, Athos. Now. Run!”

“Athos! Athos!” Aramis shouted, fear gripping his heart like a vise.

“Aramis, we gotta go,” Porthos said suddenly, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him.

“No! Athos!” Aramis shouted again, unwilling to leave the other man.

“Aramis, come on!” Porthos snapped. He grabbed him by the arm and jerked him hard, forcing him to stumble down the hallway behind him. He heard him hiss as he came down wrong on his injured ankle but there was no time to worry about that.

Porthos cast a glance over his shoulder and cursed as the inky, black shape drew closer. He felt Aramis tense and knew the other man had seen it, too. Its long, clawed arms were stretched toward them, reaching for them and, at the rate they were moving, it was only a matter of time before it caught them.

“We need a place to hide,” Porthos said as they rounded a corner, both men scanning the hall for a potential place.

“There!” Aramis said, pointing to what looked like a janitor’s closet. It was small but it should fit them both. They rushed over to it and threw back the latch holding it shut.

Aramis quickly opened the door and glanced inside. It was just big enough for the two of them. Looking back at the thing coming for them, he grabbed Porthos by the jacket and spun him around, shoving him forward and into the small room hard and fast. He had just enough time to slam the door and slide the bolt into place before the other man banged into the door from the other side.

“What the f*ck are you doing?” Porthos yelled through the door.

“This door will not keep that thing out and you know it,” Aramis panted as he took a moment to steady himself. “And my leg is only slowing us down. I will lead it away. You should be safe enough in there.”

“No! No, you’re not doing this,” Porthos shouted. “Aramis. Aramis! No, damn it!”

Aramis could not afford to waste any more time. He took off down the hall as quickly as he could, praying the thing chasing them would follow him and ignore Porthos. He had a feeling it would. He was, after all, still out in the open and he was injured. By rights, he should be an easy target. Muttering a prayer, he ran. He glanced back over his shoulder only once, to make sure it had followed him and had not gone for Porthos instead. Once was all he needed to.

Aramis felt his heart miss a beat when he saw that the thing was hot on his heels and closer than ever. He tried to run faster, but every step he took was sending fire lancing through his ankle. He knew it would not be long before it gave out altogether and he began looking for a room of his own to duck into. Somewhere to go to ground, where he could attempt to hide or, failing that, make a stand that was not out in the open like this.

Spying a door near the end of the hall standing slightly ajar, he headed toward it. He had a moment to wonder about the rather convenient nature of it but realized he had no choice, not unless he wanted to face this thing out here.

Bursting into the room, Aramis stopped short when he found himself in what must have been a music room at one time. Chairs and music stands lay scattered about the room and a large, dusty piano stood off in the corner. Out of time, he went farther into the room, looking for somewhere to hide. The sound of the door being smashed open behind him made him spin around and he watched in horror as the thing that had been chasing him literally oozed through the wreckage and into the room.

Aramis reached for the rosary tucked into his shirt, his other hand going to his pocket for the Holy Water he had there. His hand had only just touched his rosary before he found himself flung backward across the room. He landed on the floor in a heap, stunned. He barely had time to catch his breath before something was lifting him again and hurling him as child would a doll. This time he landed on top of the piano, the jolt forcing the air from his lungs.

As he tried to draw in a breath again, he felt something brush against his right wrist. He jerked his hand away only for something thin and wiry to suddenly wrap itself around his other wrist and pull. His arm was yanked to the side and down as whatever had hold of him tightened painfully. He could feel it cutting into his wrist and cried out as he turned on his side, trying to free himself. He made it halfway onto his side before he felt something curl around his other wrist and pull hard, forcing him back over again.

“No!” Aramis shouted as he struggled. He tried to get his feet under him, to get some traction, some sort of leverage, but as soon as he did he felt something wrap around his ankles and jerk his legs down. He could not stop the cry of pain that escaped him when his injured ankle was brutally squeezed.

Turning his head from side to side, Aramis tried to see what was holding him down. Every time he moved his arms it felt as if his bonds were cutting into his wrists. He thought he could actually feel blood running down one of them already. He was so focused on trying to look around without moving his arms that he did not notice the wire approaching his neck until it wound itself around his throat. He tried to pull away from it, but tied down as he was, there was nothing he could do. He felt his rosary suddenly ripped from him and the same sharp, thin wire that was imprisoning his wrists was wrapped snuggly around his throat as well.

Aramis felt his breath stutter in his chest when the first tinkling note sounded on the piano beneath him. He could feel the reverberation all along the wire encasing his left wrist causing it to tighten and vibrate painfully. When the second note rang out, the same thing happened to his right wrist. Moaning in a mixture of pain and horror, Aramis realized that the wires holding him prisoner were piano wires and that, somehow, they were still connected to the piano.

Suddenly, Aramis heard a dark chuckling from behind his head but he did not dare to look, too afraid of what he might see. Instead, he concentrated on staying calm as note after note rang out, each one tightening one of the wires binding him a little bit more. It was not long before he was moaning in pain then even that was denied him as the wire around his neck tightened to the point where he could barely pull in any air at all.

As he grew light-headed and the room began to dim, Aramis had to wonder if this was how he would die. If so, he prayed that Athos would not be the one to find him. His dear friend had endured so much in his life. He did not deserve to have to endure this as well.

“Please protect him,” he prayed as the darkness finally claimed him.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

“I don’t hear it anymore,” d’Artagnan whispered to Athos as he listened intently, trying to discern if the thing that had chased them was still out there somewhere. They had heard it tearing up and down the hallway when they had ducked into the classroom, closing and barricading the door behind them. Now, however, all was silent.

“Then let’s go,” Athos said impatiently, eager to find their companions and make sure they were alright.

“Easy man,” d’Artagnan said. He was in no hurry to run into that thing. He had only gotten a look at it for a minute but it had been long enough to see the razor sharp claws on its long, black arms, arms that outstretched had spanned the entire width of the hallway. “I know you’re worried about him, but letting that thing get its hands on you isn’t going to do him any good.”

“I know,” Athos said, forcing himself to stop for a moment. D’Artagnan was right. Rushing headlong into unknown danger would not do Aramis any good. In fact, it could end up costing the man dearly if it delayed them getting to him.

“Let me take a look real quick and see if there’s any sign of it,” d’Artagnan said as he started to open the door.

Athos grabbed him by the arm, stopping him before he could. “No,” he said quietly. “Let me do it and stay behind me.”

“I’m not a kid, Athos,” d’Artagnan huffed, annoyed but only slightly so.

“No, but Aramis would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you,” he replied. “So stay behind me.”

Athos carefully peeked his head out of the room and glanced up and down the hallway. Seeing no sign of the malevolent entity that had chased them, he and d’Artagnan ventured out. After a few minutes, it was clear that the thing, whatever it was, was gone for the time being, leaving the two men alone.

“What now?” d’Artagnan asked.

“We need to find the others,” Athos said and turned to head back the way they had come.

D’Artagnan’s hand on his arm stopped him. “We can’t get to them that way. The collapsed, remember? We need to find a way out and then back in on the other side.”

“Then let’s find a way out,” Athos said anxiously. “I…”

“What?” d’Artagnan asked when Athos trailed off.

“Something’s wrong,” Athos said, running his hand through his hair in agitation. “I don’t know what, but something’s wrong.”

“I’m not going to ask and I’m not going to question you,” d’Artagnan said. “If you say something’s wrong then I believe you, so let’s find a way out of here and get to them already.”

They looked around, trying to get a feel for where they were exactly. When the thing had attacked they had simply run, paying little heed to where they were going. Now they needed to figure out where they were and how to get outside again.

As they started down the hall toward where they thought an exit might be, d’Artagnan suddenly stopped. “Crap!” he exclaimed as he began patting himself down, looking for something.

“What’s wrong?” Athos asked.

“My radio, it’s gone,” he said. “Do you still have yours?”

Athos stared at him blankly for a second then began frantically looking for his own radio. He found it dangling precariously from a clip on his belt. Yanking it off, he handed it to d’Artagnan, unsure how to even work the thing.

“Porthos. Aramis. Can you hear me?” d’Artagnan called when he keyed up the radio.

Precious seconds ticked by without any reply filling both men with dread before Porthos’ staticy voice came back. “I’m here,” he replied. “I’m trapped in a broom closet or something.”

“Are you okay?” d’Artagnan asked.

“I’m fine,” Porthos replied. “Just locked in.”

“Where’s Aramis?” Athos asked when d’Artagnan keyed up the radio again.

There was a long pause before Porthos voice came back. “I don’t know,” he replied. “He’s the one who locked me in here.”

“What? Why?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Because he couldn’t keep running with is ankle all bunged up and he knew a door wasn’t going to keep that thing out,” Porthos replied honestly. “He shoved me in here, bolted the damn door and… and led it away. Now come and get me the f*ck out of here so we can go find the dumb bastard.”

It took them another hour to make their way out of and back into the school and find Porthos. Once he was out, the three of them began searching for Aramis. They had tried him on the radio numerous times, but he had either lost his like d’Artagnan had or was unable to answer. Either way, it did not bode well for their missing friend. Athos was doing his best to remain calm, but the longer Aramis was missing the more frantic he became as the feeling that something was wrong grew inside of him.

“He had to have gone this way,” Porthos said as he looked up and down the corridor. They were standing at an intersection. Aramis could have gone any one of three different ways. Porthos, however, was right. Judging by the undisturbed layer of dust down two of the hallways, there was only one way he could have gone.

Moving as quickly as they could without simply running blindly after the man, they made their way down the hall. As they neared the end of it, the sound of piano notes made them pause. While it would not be unheard of for a piano to have been left behind when the place was abandoned, who the hell was playing it? It certainly was not Aramis.

“You two be ready,” Porthos whispered as they continued down the hall, albeit at a much more cautious pace.

As they neared, they could see that the doors to the room had been all but obliterated. They stepped over the debris, being mindful of their footing and scanned the room for the source of the piano music. What they saw was enough to freeze all three of them in place.

Aramis lay stretched out atop the piano, wires binding his hands and feet and spreading them wide. They could see from across the room how tight the wires were, how they cut into his wrists causing blood to drip off his fingers. The worst, however, was his wire around his neck. Even as they stood there, another note rang out and they watched as the wire around his neck tightened, cutting off his air completely and making him gasp soundlessly as he tried to in vain to draw in air. In no time at all it seemed, his eyelids began to flutter as his consciousness began to slip away.

Later, Athos would not be able to say what broke his paralysis, though he thought it might have been the way Aramis’ leg gave an involuntary kick. It was so very reminiscent of how Tommy had kicked as he lay dying and Athos could not bear the thought of standing by and watching someone else he loved die in front of him. In any event, he shoved Porthos aside and rushed to Aramis, grabbing at the wire around his neck with his bare hands.

Porthos and d’Artagnan were right behind him, Porthos quickly donning a pair of gloves and d’Artagnan scrambling in his toolkit for a pair of anything that might cut through the wire. Pulling out a pair of snips, he slid to the ground at Aramis’ head and quickly cut the wire leading from his neck to the piano. Once it was cut, Athos immediately began to unwind it, not caring about the way it cut into his hands as he pulled it away from his friend’s throat.

“Give me those snips,” Porthos said, holding his hand out to d’Artagnan. He passed him the first aid kit in exchange. “Get some gauze and bandages ready. You’ll need to put pressure on his throat but not too much. He’s had his breathing restricted too much as it is.”

Porthos left the other two to work on Aramis’ neck as he began freeing his hands. He was relieved to see that the damage to his wrists looked superficial, the cuts minor enough not to need stitches. He was lucky. Piano wire was nasty. It could cut through a person’s throat with ease. The fact that Aramis was still alive, that the thing had not killed him when it obviously could have, said a great deal about the level of sadism they were dealing with.

“How are his wrists?” d’Artagnan asked once Porthos had moved on to freeing the man’s legs.

“Not too bad,” Porthos replied. “Could use some bandages but nothing major. How’s his neck?”

“Bruised. Cut up some but…”

“But?”

“Man, we both know piano wire should have done a hell of a lot more damage than this,” d’Artagnan said quietly. “This thing… whatever it is… it didn’t want to kill him.”

“No,” Porthos agreed. “It wanted to hurt him. You saw how fast he passed out when it cut off his air?”

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan said, frowning in confusion.

“That kind of thing normally takes a good couple of minutes. You got any idea how many times he would have needed to be choked unconscious before it started happening that fast?”

“f*ck,” d’Artagnan swore.

“Yeah,” Porthos said. “He was missing what, hour and half, two hours? I got a feeling that thing was torturing him for most of that.”

Once they had him freed and his wrists bandaged, the two men moved back up to where Athos was. He was sitting on the piano with Aramis, the man’s head pulled into his lap and he was carding his fingers through his hair gently. For his part, Aramis was merely laying there, looking up at his friend, not doing or saying anything.

“Athos, we need to get him out of here,” Porthos said quietly. “I can carry him out to the truck, but I need you to let me take him.”

“No,” Athos told him, his voice strangled.

“Athos,” d’Artagnan said, coming around so that he was standing where Athos could see him. “You got him back, man. He’s going to be okay. But we need to get him out of here. Athos… we don’t know when that thing might come back. We can’t afford for Aramis to be here when it does. Not now. Not like this.”

“It’s okay, Athos,” Aramis whispered, his voice sounding almost bruised. “But he doesn’t have to carry me. I can walk. If you don’t mind helping me a little.”

“I’ll always help you, ‘Mis,” Athos told him.

With d’Artagnan’s help, Athos managed to get Aramis to his car. They briefly considered piling everyone into Porthos’ truck but had not wanted to leave Athos’ car behind. The hotel where they were staying was close at least so it was not long before they were able to get Aramis out of the car and stretched out on one of the beds.

“Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?” Athos asked once they were safely inside the room. He had suggested it in the car but Aramis had told him no, saying he was fine and just needed some rest. Athos had not wanted to argue with him but now that they were all here he was hoping that they could outvote him.

“How do you feel?” Porthos asked Aramis.

“Tired,” he said truthfully. “Sore. My throat hurts. My ankle could use some ice. That’s about the worst of it.”

“How many times did you lose consciousness?” Porthos asked him bluntly.

“I don’t know,” Aramis admitted. “More than three less than ten?”

“You know if we take you to the hospital, we’ll have to lie,” Porthos said. “If we tell them it was a ghost or spirit or something, they’ll lock you in the psych ward. And if you tell them you lost consciousness multiple times, they might do it anyway thinking you’re on drugs. At the very least, they’ll want to keep you for a few days.”

“No hospital,” Aramis said. “I’m not hurt that bad.”

“Aramis,” Athos implored, sitting down on the bed next to him.

“Athos, I’m serious. I got hurt worse than this when I took on those jocks,” he told him. “I’m fine. I just need a good night’s sleep, that’s all.”

“I thought you said they didn’t hurt you,” Athos replied.

“I said they bruised my ribs but didn’t break anything,” Aramis countered. “Which is worse than this, I can assure you.”

“I do want to take a look at your neck, though,” Porthos told him. “Actually, I want to clean all your wounds again. We don’t need anything getting infected.”

“Can Athos stay with me?” Aramis asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Porthos said, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly at the nervousness in the other man’s voice. “Athos can stay right there with you while me and the kid get you all taken care of. That sound okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Aramis agreed. He smiled softly when Athos moved up and pulled his head into his lap once more. The feel of Athos running his fingers through his hair was heavenly. He had never been touched with such care, such open love before, and it made his insides twist even as it made his heart hammer in his chest.

They started with his neck. Porthos carefully unwound the hasty bandage that had been applied, noting the relatively small amount of blood on it. Once the bandages were completely removed, Porthos was relieved to see that all of the cuts were shallow, even if there were quite a few of them. He thought about cleaning them with some of the alcohol swabs in the kit, but did not have the heart to cause the man any more pain. Instead, he took the antibiotic ointment out and began applying it to the shallow wounds. They would simply have to keep a close eye on them until they healed up.

They worked on his wrists next, one on each. They were in slightly worse shape. Aramis had obviously struggled and the thing, whatever it was, had not been as careful with his wrists as it had his throat. While some of the cuts were deep, none of them really needed more than butterfly bandages to hold them closed. Again, they were liberally covered with ointment before being wrapped once more.

Now all that was left were his ankles. While Porthos was not worried about any cuts there, he knew more damage had been done to Aramis’ previous injury and he needed to assess how badly he was hurt. Standing up, he leaned down and placed a hand on the waistband of Aramis’ pants.

“How about we get these off you so can be comfortable while I check out your ankle?” Porthos said.

Aramis froze at the feel of Porthos’ hand on his pants. He looked up at him, wide-eyed and tried to shrink back. It felt like his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest and he glanced quickly over to d’Artagnan, his eyes pleading.

“You know,” d’Artagnan began as he slid between the pair, forcing Porthos to move back and away from Aramis. “You got kinda cold last night with that ice pack on your ankle. How about me and Porthos go out to restock the med kit and pick you up some sweats for tonight? I know I could sure use some. Porthos about kicked me out of the bed for putting my cold feet on him last night.”

“Ye-yeah,” Aramis stammered. “Yeah. I… Yeah.”

“Okay,” d’Artagnan nodded. “We’ll pick up some food, too. Think you two can hold down the fort here for a couple of hours while we’re gone?”

“We’ll be fine,” Athos told him. He was as shaken as the rest of them by Aramis’ reaction and exceedingly grateful for d’Artagnan’s intervention.

“Aramis?” d’Artagnan asked, needing to hear it from the other man.

“I’ll be fine,” Aramis parroted. “Athos is here with me.”

After making a quick list of what all they needed to replace, Porthos and d’Artagnan left, leaving Athos and Aramis alone in the hotel room. Athos had not moved from his place at the head of the bed, Aramis’ head still resting in his lap.

He continued to run his fingers through his friend’s hair, stroking him soothingly. He had never done anything so intimate with Aramis before. They had touched, of course. They had hugged. They had held hands on occasion. He had even gone so far as to press a kiss to Aramis’ temple before. But this, this was so much more than anything he had ever allowed himself to do. Athos had always considered Aramis’ body as something sacred, sacrosanct even. He never wanted to do anything to defile it, to desecrate the sanctity of it.

“This feels nice,” Aramis murmured, enjoying the feel of Athos touching him so. He had never felt anything like it. Athos had never touched him in such a manner before and he had never even come close to allowing anyone else to.

“I’m glad,” Athos said, smiling down at him. “I like it, too.”

Aramis closed his eyes and just let himself feel. It felt so good and after the hellish day he had endured it eased something in his soul. Athos was with him. He was safe. He could close his eyes and allow himself the simple pleasure of his best friend’s hand running through his hair, touching him as if he was something precious to him, as if he mattered to Athos.

As he laid there, his head resting on Athos’ thigh, those strong fingers touching him, he felt his body begin to respond. At first, Aramis did not even realize what was happening, it was so unexpected. He had felt desire before, of course. He was only human and a young man at that. Though he had adhered to his vow of celibacy, he had not been able to avoid feelings of arousal altogether. He was not, however, accustomed to feeling them in relation to Athos’ touch.

Aramis felt his face heat even as he willed his body not to respond. He knew within moments that it was a futile endeavor, his traitorous flesh refusing to heed his wishes as his friend continued to gently touch him. He shifted on the bed, trying unconsciously to find a way to relieve the tightness pressing against his pants and felt the hand in his hair still.

“Aramis? What’s wrong?” Athos asked, noticing the hot flush that had stolen over his friend’s face as well as they way he shifted restlessly on the bed.

“Ah, what you are doing,” Aramis began, blushing even hotter as he tried to explain. “It… I’m not used to being touched like this. My body…” He looked down at himself, his erection unmistakable in his jeans then closed his eyes in embarrassment.

“Oh,” Athos said, sucking in a breath. He had followed Aramis’ eyes and could easily see the hardness straining against the confines of his pants. Reluctantly, he began to remove his hand from Aramis’ hair. He had not meant to overstep himself and felt horrible for causing his friend such distress.

“Please don’t stop,” Aramis whispered, his eyes still closed.

Athos froze at the words, unsure. He carefully slid his hand back into Aramis’ hair and held it there. “Are you sure?” he asked. He did not want to do something that Aramis did not want.

“Please,” Aramis said again, opening his eyes to look up into his friend’s. “Your touch… Athos… it feels so good.”

“I’ll touch you any way you want me to,” Athos told him as he began combing his fingers through Aramis’ hair once more. “I’ll touch you forever. You just have to tell me what you want. I don’t want to… to push you into anything.”

“You never would,” Aramis told him. “You never could. It… it would never be pushing with you.”

“God, Aramis,” Athos moaned, his friend’s words making his heart clench. He continued to look down at him, searching his eyes. The look of open adoration on Aramis’ face was making his own body respond and before Athos could stop himself, he was leaning down and covering his friend’s mouth in a soft kiss.

Aramis gasped into Athos’ mouth as his friend pressed their mouths together. It was the first time Aramis had ever been kissed like this before. Time seemed to slow down as he tried to catalogue everything at once, the feel of Athos’ lips against his, the smell of his skin, the taste of his mouth. He heard himself keen when he felt him start to draw back and brought his arms up to grab him, to hold him in place and stop him from breaking their kiss, from taking this from him, afraid that he would never have it again.

“Shhh,” Athos whispered against his lips. He did not try to pull away again, more than content to remain as they were if Aramis wanted it. The sound his friend had made tore at his heart, though, making him instinctively want to comfort him, to let him know that he was not going anywhere, that he would stay just like this for as long as Aramis wanted him to.

“Athos,” Aramis moaned. “I never… I don’t know what to do…”

“Oh ‘Mis,” Athos said, stroking the side of his face. “Just breathe. Okay? Just breathe with me, nice and slow and try to calm down. Can you do that?”

Eventually both men managed to calm themselves once more. Athos stayed where he was until Aramis released him then he sat back up and began carding his fingers through Aramis’ hair once again. A quick glance up and down his friend’s body showed that his arousal had abated for the most part, which was good, as d’Artagnan and Porthos were due back soon. It was not so much that Aramis would have been embarrassed for them to notice the state he was in as it would have been for Athos to help him change clothes in such a state.

“Athos,” Aramis called softly, looking up at the man.

“Yes?” Athos replied.

“You…” Aramis was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the lock. The door opened and Porthos and d’Artagnan entered, bags in hand.

“We stopped for chicken,” Porthos said as he set the dinner on the table. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Athos said, blinking at the sudden change in direction his thoughts required.

“Figured Aramis could use the protein after everything,” Porthos explained.

“Probably,” Aramis agreed. Reluctantly, he forced himself to sit up on the bed, wincing as his injured foot came to rest on the floor.

“We need to get that ankle looked at,” Porthos said. “You want Athos to help you get changed? Then we can get it wrapped and get some food into you.”

D’Artagnan eyed the pair on the bed, taking in the Aramis’ flushed appearance as well as how out of breath he seemed. Looking more closely at Athos, he could see the man was in slightly better shape but only just. Something had obviously gone on between the pair while they were gone. Something other than talking.

“I can help you if you want,” d’Artagnan offered, not wanting Aramis to feel as though he had no one else to turn to but Athos. He saw the frown Athos sent in his direction but ignored it. He was much more concerned with Aramis right now.

“Thanks, d’Artagnan, but Athos can help me,” Aramis said, smiling at the young man. He understood why he had offered and was grateful. “It won’t exactly be the first time he’s had to help me after an injury.”

“Those jocks?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Yes, to name one incident,” Aramis replied.

“What jocks?” Porthos asked.

“Bunch of jocks tried to give Athos a hard time about who he chose to date,” d’Artagnan explained. “Aramis showed them the error of their ways.”

“How many’s a bunch?” Porthos asked.

“Four,” Aramis replied then turned to Athos. “Help me up?”

“Yeah,” Athos said, standing. He helped Aramis to his feet and headed toward the bathroom to help him change. D’Artagnan handed him a bag on the way, presumably with sweats inside, though he did not bother to look. Once he had Aramis inside he sat him down on the toilet then closed the door behind them.

Athos set the bag on the sink and pulled out the sweats. He set them aside as well and turned back to Aramis. “Did you want to talk about…” he began, but Aramis quickly cut him off.

“I think I can get my shoes off if you help me a little,” Aramis said, looking down at his feet. He could not bring himself to look at the other man just then. He knew he was being cowardly, but so much had happened and he just needed a little time to try to process everything, to wrap his head around all of this and what it might mean for the two of them.

“Of course,” Athos said softly. It took everything he had to mask the hurt that Aramis’ words had caused. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, that his touches were not actually wanted and he had imposed upon the other man in some way.

Athos knelt down in front of Aramis to begin helping him with his shoes. He kept his eyes averted, not wanting to risk any inadvertent eye contact, too afraid of what he might see. He worked the shoe off his good foot first, mindful that even that one drew a hiss from the man. Once that shoe and sock had been removed, he set them aside and carefully lifted his injured leg and propped it up with his own.

“This may hurt a bit,” Athos warned him. “I will be as careful as I can.”

“I know you won’t hurt me,” Aramis said.

Athos snorted at Aramis’ words and bit back his somewhat bitter retort, thinking that it was quite clear he already had. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, which was getting Aramis’ shoe off without causing him undue pain.

It took several minutes, but Athos finally managed to work Aramis’ shoe off while only eliciting a few painful hisses. He sock came away easily, though Athos was concerned to find it stained with dried blood.

“Can you stand enough for me to get your pants off?” Athos asked as he set Aramis’ foot back onto the floor and got to his feet.

“If you help me up, I should be able to,” Aramis said.

“Perhaps it would be best if I got d’Artagnan after all,” Athos said. Helping Aramis to stand was not the problem. However, he would have to touch him rather intimately to help him out of his jeans and into the sweatpants. He was not sure his friend would welcome such a touch from him right now.

“Athos?” Aramis asked, alarmed. He looked at the other man, trying to catch his eyes, but Athos refused to look at his face, keeping his eyes firmly averted.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Athos said softly. “And it is clear that my earlier behavior has done so. I apologize…”

“No,” Aramis said sharply. “I am not… That is not why… Please, Athos.”

“Then why?” Athos asked, still refusing to look at him.

“Because I do not know how to deal with all of this,” Aramis told him. “I have never even imagined something like this. I need time. You didn’t do anything wrong. Not in my eyes. Though I really wish you would look at me right now.”

Athos looked up then, no more able to deny a request from Aramis than he could stop the sun from rising. As he looked at his best friend, he saw the worry on his face and hated that he was the cause of it. After everything Aramis had endured today, the last thing he needed was Athos adding to his stress.

“If time is what you need, then you shall have it,” Athos said. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give you, Aramis. Not if it is mine to give. Now let’s get you changed so we can get those wounds seen to and some ice on that ankle.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s got you so worried?” Porthos asked d’Artagnan after the other two had disappeared into the bathroom. He had been as surprised as the others had by the kid’s offer, not having expected him to try to get between the two lovebirds, even as oblivious as the pair of them were.

“Nothing,” d’Artagnan said with a shrug. He hoped Porthos would just let it go but had a feeling that was not going to happen.

“Yeah right, kid,” Porthos snorted. “Anyone with eyes can see Athos has got it bad for the guy and you’re not blind. Trying to get between that, it won’t end well. You know what I’m saying?”

“I’m not trying to get between anything,” d’Artagnan told him. “I just wanted Aramis to know that Athos wasn’t the only one he could turn to if he needed help.”

“Really?” Porthos asked, regarding him intently.

“Really,” d’Artagnan told him. “I don’t… Look, let’s just say it’s a non-issue with me and leave it at that.”

When the bathroom door opened, Porthos and d’Artagnan were waiting. They helped Athos get Aramis settled back on the bed then they sat down at the foot of the bed with the med kit. Porthos was relieved to see that the one ankle was only bruised and swollen, nothing a bit of rest wouldn’t take care of.

When they bared his other leg, though, it was a different story. The ankle was bruised and swollen as well, but the bruising was much worse as deep, black marks encircled his entire lower leg. It was also quite badly swollen and making it clear that the only thing previously holding the swelling at bay had been the shoe he had been wearing.

“How bad are the cuts?” Athos asked from his place at the head of the bed next to Aramis.

“Superficial mostly,” Porthos replied. “I need to clean them, though. Not just use the ointment. It’s gonna hurt.”

“Is that truly necessary?” Athos asked, not liking the thought of Aramis being hurt yet again.

“Yes, it is,” Aramis answered before Porthos could. “The wound needs to be debrided if nothing else to make sure there’s not something still there. The cuts may be shallow but even shallow cuts can become infected. That is a complication we do not need, especially when it can be avoided so easily.”

“You seem to know a lot about this stuff,” d’Artagnan remarked.

“I took a few first aid and emergency medical classes,” Aramis said. “I like being useful. And people… people who have maybe had a rough time with life… they tend to be a bit more trusting if you’ve helped them first… if they know they can come to you for help, no questions asked, if they need it.”

“d’Artagnan, I need you to hold his leg still,” Porthos said, taking Aramis answer for consent. “Try not to let him kick either one of us. I’m going to pour some alcohol over it to flush it then I’ll look it over again.”

Porthos moved his leg over until it hung off the side of the bed, not wanting to soak their bed with alcohol. He laid a towel down to catch the worst of it and nodded to d’Artagnan to be ready. Using his free hand, he grabbed Aramis’ leg well above the injured area then poured the liquid over the raw and bleeding wound.

Aramis sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his jaw hard at the feel of liquid fire being poured over his ankle. He arched his back on the bed, fighting against the pain, and did his best to keep his leg as still as he could.

It was over much sooner than he would have thought and a few moments later he was even able to make out the sounds of his friends whispering softly to him, trying to ease his pain. “I’m alright,” he managed after a bit.

“Everything looks good,” Porthos said as he examined the injury once more. “I think we can just slather it in ointment and wrap it. You sure nothing feels broken?”

“No,” Aramis said weakly. “I can walk on it if I have to. And I’ve broken a bone in my ankle before. I can tell the difference. It’s damaged, sprained for sure. At worst, I may have cracked a bone or two but nothing is actually broken.”

“Okay. Once we get this wrapped, we’ll put some ice on it. If we keep it iced tonight you should be able to hobble around on it by morning without too much pain,” Porthos said.

“I am not unaccustomed to pain,” Aramis told him. “This will not be enough to keep me down for more than a night, I assure you.”

Porthos stilled at Aramis’ words, frowning slightly. He did not know what to make of them. From what the kid had said earlier the guy had gotten into his fair share of fights and not just sparring sessions and such.

“What was it the kid said? Beating up jocks, was it?” Porthos asked.

“Among other things,” Aramis replied.

“So who else have you beaten the crap out of?” Porthos asked as he began applying the ointment to the cuts on his ankle. He was trying to keep the man talking to keep his mind off the pain in his ankle as well as to try to get to know him some. He was beginning to realize that he had misjudged the man badly and wanted to find a way to make up for that.

“As a rule, I do not go around picking fights,” Aramis said, grinning slightly.

“No, you’re not the sort to pick a fight. But you don’t back down from one either, do you?”

“Depends on what I am fighting for,” Aramis admitted. “If it is solely a matter of my pride, then yes, I will back down. But if I am protecting someone else, then no, no I will not back down from that.”

“Considering the difference in your ages, I would have thought Athos would be the one protecting you,” Porthos said.

“Athos is not the only person I have protected,” Aramis said.

“Who?” Athos asked curiously, unsure whom Aramis was referring to.

“Becca,” Aramis answered.

“I don’t remember…”

“The time I broke my hand,” he added softly.

“You broke your hand on somebody?” d’Artagnan sputtered.

“They tried to hurt her,” Aramis replied, his eyes darkening. He felt Athos squeeze his shoulder and looked up at him. “She got away but… the damage was done. She went to campus security but they all lied to cover each other.”

“Bit of a white knight, huh?” Porthos commented.

“He is completely unable to not defend those he cares for,” Athos said looking down at him fondly. “And it does not matter to him how steeply the odds are stacked against him.”

“Alright, you’re all patched up,” Porthos said. He gathered up the rest of the supplies and stood. “d’Artagnan, get some ice to on this. You feel up to trying to eat something?”

“I can try,” Aramis said. He knew he should eat, that his body needed to fuel in order to facilitate healing, but the thought of food was vaguely nauseating.

“Good enough,” Porthos said.

In the end, Aramis managed to eat a little bit and keep it down, much to everyone’s relief. Once they had eaten, Porthos gave him some ibuprofen to help with the pain and swelling. He had offered him something stronger for the pain but Aramis had refused.

“We still have no idea what we are dealing with,” Aramis had said. “While I sincerely hope it will not be necessary, I would rather you hang onto those, just in case.”

That night, Aramis found himself unable to sleep. While Athos had started the night with a rather surprising amount of distance between them, he had gravitated toward him and now slept pressed against his side. Aramis had managed to slip his arm under him and curl it around his back, pressing him closer still. He had not meant to make the other man leery of him, of his proximity. That was the last thing he wanted. Athos’ presence was like a balm and the thought of losing that was a physical pain to him.

“You okay?” Porthos asked softly, not wanting to wake either of the other two men. Years of having no one to rely on other than himself had honed his survival instincts and he could always tell when someone was watching him. Or, as in this case, awake in the same room where he was trying to sleep.

“Yeah,” Aramis replied, turning his head to regard the man on the other bed. “Can’t seem to sleep is all.”

“Your ankle hurting?”

“No,” Aramis said. “Not enough to keep me awake anyway.”

“You want to talk about it?” Porthos asked. He could tell that something was bothering the man and he did not think it had to do with whatever was happening between him and Athos. Normally, he was not one to pry. A man’s problems were his own. If he needed help, he would ask for it. But this was his team. He was responsible for these men and this one had gotten hurt, not only on his watch but protecting him no less. If he needed someone to play Agony Aunt then Porthos would do so.

“No need to concern yourself,” Aramis told him. “I will be able to go on come morning.”

“I wasn’t asking because of that,” Porthos said. He sat up then, throwing his legs over the side of the bed so he could look at Aramis. “I just thought you might want to talk about whatever was keeping you up. I know it’s not him. You wouldn’t be holding him like that if it was.”

“No, I am not troubled by Athos,” Aramis agreed.

“But you are troubled by something?”

“May I ask you something?” Aramis asked, ignoring Porthos’ question.

“Go ahead,” Porthos said, bracing himself. Remembering how caustic he had been to Aramis in the beginning, he could only imagine the various questions the man could want to ask him now.

“Why do you despise priests so much?” Aramis asked. He did so with no malice in his voice, only a genuine desire to try to understand.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” Porthos asked in reply. “I ask because it’s not a pretty story and I can tell how much the church and all that means to you.”

“The church does mean a great deal to me,” Aramis agreed. “And yet, it does not mean more to me than Athos. I believe that fact alone should answer your question.”

“A few years back, I had this girlfriend,” Porthos began. “She had a kid. Little boy, about five or six I think. He was a great kid, did good in school, really enjoyed it, right up until he didn’t anymore. It took us a while to figure out what was going on, why he went from this happy, smart kid to this angry little boy that would throw his books across the room.”

“Someone was hurting him,” Aramis said softly.

“Yeah,” Porthos said. “Once we figured out something was going on, it was just a matter of figuring out who was doing it. There were only a handful of teachers he had contact with on a regular basis. It took a little time, but we managed to get the whole story out of him. When we did, when we found out who was hurting him, we went to the school.”

“What happened?” Aramis asked, though from the look of disgust on Porthos’ face he had a good idea of how things had gone.

“They didn’t believe us,” Porthos snarled. “Said he was lying. That Father Francis would never do something like that and that Jonas obviously needed help if he was telling such lies about one of their most upstanding priests.”

Aramis closed his eyes at the harsh reality of Porthos’ words. He felt sick inside, both for what that innocent child had been forced to endure and for those who had tried to get him help but had not been listened to. “I am sorry,” he offered, knowing the words were inadequate but having nothing else to offer the man.

“We took it to the cops after that,” Porthos went on. “They didn’t believe us any more than the school did. They told us if we didn’t stop spreading rumors that they would sue us for slander. I wanted to keep pressing it, but Monica wouldn’t let me. She was afraid they’d try to take her kid away or something if we kept at it.”

“I can see now why you despise those in the priesthood so,” Aramis said. “I am truly sorry for what happened to your friend and her child. If you tell me their names and the name of the priest involved, I will see to it that the matter is investigated.”

“Didn’t know you still had any pull, what with bailing on them like you did,” Porthos said, surprised by Aramis’ offer and trying to cover for it.

“Officially, I don’t,” Aramis agreed. “But I still have friends and there are those that will listen to me, especially if there is a child involved. We are not all of us monsters who prey upon the weak. There are some of us who still believe in protecting those who need protection.”

“You mind if I ask you something now?” Porthos asked.

“Go ahead,” Aramis told him.

“Is Athos the real reason you left Seminary?” Porthos asked him.

“Yes,” Aramis replied. “I was prepared to take my vows when I graduated in six months. I felt it was my calling. It was what I had been groomed for my entire life. It was the single goal I had worked for since I was a boy.”

“Yet you walked away from all of that for Athos,” Porthos commented.

“Yes,” Aramis said. “They would not even listen to his story. They wanted me to cut ties with him, to walk away from him as if he meant nothing to me. How was I to take my vows, to dedicate myself to the service of God, if those guiding me would turn their backs on one who came to them in true need for no other reason than because they were afraid?

“Athos’ tale did not fit within their carefully crafted world. If they accepted it as truth then they would be forced to reexamine all that they believed in and they were too cowardly to do so. They would rather turn their backs on him, leave him to struggle and flounder on his own. I refused to do so.”

“So they turned their backs on both of you,” Porthos said.

“They gave me a choice,” Aramis clarified. “If I wished to remain in Seminary, if I wished to become a priest as I had worked my entire adult life to do, then I would have to cut all ties with him. They gave me a choice, the priesthood or Athos. I chose Athos.”

“And he knows this?” Porthos asked. He was unsure how the man could not know, but if he did then he had to know Aramis felt a hell of a lot more than friendship for him.

“He knows most of it,” Aramis replied. “He does not know just how heated my final conversations with my superiors became. He does not know how very close it came to becoming a physical altercation at once point.”

“Pissed you off, did they?”

“Father Benedict’s assistant made the mistake of saying Athos was crazy and insinuating that he might have had something to do with his family’s deaths. He was very lucky Father Benedict and Father Bernard were there to stop me putting my fist through the pompous little weasel’s face.”

When Athos and d’Artagnan awoke, it was to find Aramis and Porthos already awake and talking quietly. “We can’t go back in there like this,” Porthos said, shaking his head.

“What’s going on?” d’Artagnan asked, sitting up.

With no small amount of reluctance, Athos drew back from Aramis. He felt the absence of his arm around him immediately but they had work to do now and staying curled around each other was not conducive to getting that done.

“We were trying to figure out where to go from here,” Aramis said to d’Artagnan before turning his head to regard Athos. “Good morning. Did you sleep alright?”

“Ah, fine,” Athos said, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat.

“I’m glad,” Aramis said, ignoring the amused snort from Porthos. “If you don’t mind helping me again, we should be able to be on our way shortly.”

“Always,” Athos said then forced his gaze away from Aramis to look at the other two. “Where are we going?”

“Whatever is in that school is powerful,” Porthos said. “We’ve got to get more information before we try to go back in there. It’s only been playing with us so far. If we go back in there unprepared again, someone could really get hurt.”

“You don’t consider this really hurt?” Athos said, gesturing down Aramis’ body.

“No, I don’t,” Porthos said. “Athos, that thing could have easily killed him before we got to him and you know it. It didn’t because it chose not to, not because of anything we did. We can’t take a chance on anything like that happening again.”

“Any ideas where we start?” d’Artagnan asked.

“That’s what we were talking about,” Aramis said. “Since it has not pursued us beyond the school, we must assume that it is confined to it somehow. That being the case, the most logical place to start would be with the fire twenty years ago.”

They decided to head back to their respective homes to clean up and change clothes then they would reconvene at Porthos’ place. He lived and worked out of a converted warehouse loft, giving him the space and privacy he needed. While it wouldn’t be anything fancy, there was more than enough room for them all.

“We can stop this,” Athos said as he drove them back to the apartment they currently shared. “I can tell Porthos that it’s just too much.”

“No,” Aramis said. He was looking out the window, watching the scenery go by. His head was a wild jumble of thoughts ranging from their encounters at the school to the turn his relationship with Athos appeared to be taking.

“Aramis?”

“Sorry,” Aramis said, turning to look Athos. “We are not quitting. There are still children in danger, for all that I theorized that the entity cannot as yet leave the school proper.”

“And you don’t want to leave d’Artagnan,” Athos added, his voice low.

Aramis stared at him for a moment, stunned. He had no idea why Athos was jealous of the boy, but it was clear that he was. “No, I don’t,” Aramis replied honestly. “But only because he is young and this is dangerous. Porthos can only look after him so much.”

“You’re right,” Athos agreed, ashamed. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful. You’ve been hurt twice now. I don’t want there to be third time.”

“Neither do I,” Aramis assured him. “I will be careful but…”

“But?”

“But I protect the things that are precious to me,” Aramis told him. He let his hand come to rest on Athos’ thigh and squeezed lightly.

They had each packed a bag and grabbed their laptops before heading to Porthos’ place. After leaving Seminary, Aramis had moved in with Athos. Athos had insisted on it, saying it was his fault that Aramis had left school so the least he could do was give him a place to stay until he got his life sorted out again. Not that Aramis really minded. He always enjoyed being in Athos’ presence and sharing an apartment with him was ideal in his eyes.

It wasn’t as if Aramis had a lot of choices at that point. His grandmother was still furious at him for throwing his life away, as she called it. She would never turn him away, but staying with her would have been stressful on everyone. Luckily, Athos was what could easily be considered well off. His inheritance, along with the insurance money from his parents, kept him comfortably set.

Aramis knew what some people thought. He had heard the snide remarks on campus even when he was still in Seminary. After a while, he had stopped bristling every time he heard someone refer to him as ‘Athos’ boy’. He did not care what a bunch of jealous Neanderthals thought about him. As long as it did not upset Athos, Aramis was fine with it.

“You brought laptops,” Porthos commented when they arrived. “Good. We can divvy the research up between us.”

“You sure you don’t mind us staying here?” Aramis asked for the third time. He understood now where Porthos extreme dislike of the clergy stemmed from and while he was not a priest, he had come close enough. He had no wish to force his presence on the man if it was unwanted.

“Aramis, I’m sure,” Porthos told him again, a hint of fond exasperation in his voice. He knew why the man kept asking and he appreciated it. It was respectful in a way that people often weren’t, not to him. That fact alone would be enough for him look past the whole former priest thing, not to mention the man’s very sincere offer to have the incident with Jonas looked into. Besides, they were his team, at least they were to him, and he wanted them where he could keep an eye on them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was two days later before they had their first significant break. Aramis was going through old newspaper articles about the fire twenty years ago. He had started with archives of the local paper from two days before the fire and was working his way forward. The first articles had all been stating what a horrible tragedy it was and how the entire town was in shock. Eventually, the names of the deceased, as well as those injured, were listed. There were several moving memorials for the victims and their families as well as articles extolling the efforts of the teachers who helped save those children they could.

Aramis was scanning articles about two months post fire when he found something interesting. There was an op-ed piece that he nearly missed. It was not very big but it posed a theory that the fire at the school was not the accident everyone thought it was. While it did not go so far as to name names, it was clear that the author thought the fire had been deliberately set.

Aramis sat back and thought about what that might mean in regards to what they were dealing with. If the fire had been deliberately set, could such an act of evil have somehow tainted the place? It was hard to imagine an act so heinous not leaving some sort of mark behind.

“Porthos?” Aramis called out. He did not have enough knowledge about this sort of thing and needed to know if he was making more out of this than it truly was.

“Yeah? You find something?”

“I’m not sure,” Aramis said, pushing back from the table and spinning his chair around to face the other man. “Hypothetically, could a deliberately evil act leave a trace of itself behind in some way?”

“Sure,” Porthos shrugged. “Everything can leave a trace of itself. Think of it like, ah, burnt popcorn. Even after you toss it, the smell lingers. Why do you ask?”

“I found an article about the fire,” Aramis explained. “Someone seemed to think it was not an accident after all. I was wondering if that might account for what we encountered there.”

“It could, yeah,” Porthos said after a moment. “The original act might not have been enough, but all of the pain and suffering… all of the death… that would have been enough for any number of things.”

“Like what?” Athos asked, joining them along with d’Artagnan.

“It could be the spirit of one of the people that died there,” Porthos said. “Their pain and anger twisting them, especially after so long.”

“Most of the dead were children. The only adults were a couple of teachers. That doesn’t feel right,” Aramis said. He was thinking of his time in the music room. There was no way a child, even one twisted by years of pain and fear, could have done that.

“There are other theories,” Porthos said, nodding his agreement. “The original act could have left enough of a taint on the place to draw something to it from outside.”

“But shouldn’t it be able to leave then?” d’Artagnan asked. “I mean, if it came to the school, it should be able to leave the school.”

“Yeah,” Porthos said. “The other general theory is that all of the pain and suffering opened a gateway of some sort.”

“A gateway?” Aramis repeated, a sudden feeling of coldness washing over him.

“So you are telling us that a gateway opened and something… what? Something demonic came though?” Athos asked incredulously.

“Pretty much,” Porthos said bluntly. “I mean, I can’t be sure yet, but from what all we’ve found out and what we saw of that thing, I would say that’s our best bet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Having any luck?”Aramis asked as he sat down next to d’Artagnan. He had waited until Athos and Porthos were engrossed in a conversation before approaching the younger man.

“Not really,” d’Artagnan said, pushing his laptop aside in frustration. “Nothing that we didn’t already know.”

“Knowing what possibilities can be eliminated can be equally helpful, if not more so,” Aramis told him.

“You’d have made a good priest,” d’Artagnan chuckled, shaking his head ruefully.

“I hate to think that almost eight years of schooling was completely wasted,” Aramis grinned for a moment before sobering. “d’Artagnan, may I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure,” d’Artagnan replied.

“When we were in the hotel, you offered me your assistance,” Aramis began, choosing his words carefully. “You knew Athos was there and had already said he would assist me. Yet you felt the need to do so as well. May I ask why?”

“You want the truth or the pretty bullsh*t?” d’Artagnan asked him.

“The truth, please. Always.”

“I could tell that something other than conversation had gone on while we were gone,” d’Artagnan replied. “I could also tell that you were… struggling… a bit. I didn’t want you to think that Athos was the only one you could turn to if you needed help with something.”

“I thank you for your honesty,” Aramis told him. “I thank you even more for your concern for my well-being. You were right, of course. We did do more than talk and I was struggling with it. But while I may struggle with then changes taking place in my relationship with Athos, I will never struggle with him. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

“Yeah, man, I get it,” d’Artagnan said, smiling widely at him. “But just so you know, I’m still going to ask, because this is all new to you and you don’t know what to expect, okay. Look, Aramis, I know what it’s like to struggle with something like this, to have everyone tell you one thing and then, well, it doesn’t always turn out that way. So, I’m going to ask when I see you struggling, just to make sure. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Meanwhile, Athos and Porthos were having their own conversation. “So, how’d you get into all this?” Athos asked. He knew Porthos had been doing his paranormal investigations for a while now and he was curious as to what had prompted it.

Porthos stopped typing and spun his chair around. He knew the gist of Athos’ story, the man had shared it with him online. It was how they had connected. He supposed it was only natural for him to be curious about Porthos’ own. Still, he hesitated. Telling anyone normally did not go well for him.

“Porthos, I’m the last guy who’s going to judge you,” Athos told him. “But it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I understand.”

“Sorry,” Porthos said. “I know you get it, confiding in someone only for them to look at you like you’re nuts.”

“After my family was murdered, I tried to tell people. I stopped when they started talking about having me locked up. Aramis is the first person I told since and I only did that because I was drunk,” Athos admitted.

“Huh. I would have thought you told each other everything,” Porthos said.

“Normally,” Athos agreed. “But I lost too many people because of it already. I couldn’t take a chance on losing him, too.”

“But when you told him, he was cool with it?” Porthos asked.

“Yes,” Athos nodded. “He was understanding and sympathetic and enraged in turns. When I woke up the next morning and realized what I’d told him and that he was still there, I don’t think I’d ever been so relieved in all my life.”

“I was going to community college at night,” Porthos began. “Taking Criminal Justice courses so I could try to be a cop. I figured it was a decent enough living. Some friends of mine from high school, I don’t know what they did, but they pissed someone off.”

“Someone?” Athos asked.

“Someone powerful,” Porthos replied. “Like voodoo powerful. She put some kind of curse on them. I thought they were full of sh*t when they told me. You know, f*cking with me or high or something. Turned out they weren’t.

“sh*t started happening. Bad sh*t that couldn’t be explained. By the time I realized they were telling the truth, two of them were already dead. In the end, Stevie was the only one I managed to save.

“After that, word just kind of spread,” Porthos said, shaking his head. “I tried to go back to school, to get back to my life, but people kept coming to me needing help. I couldn’t turn them away. They didn’t have any place else to go.”

“You’re a good man, Porthos,” Athos told him.

“No, I’m not,” Porthos replied. “But I’m trying to be. Maybe one day. If I live that long.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis had to admit, for a converted warehouse, Porthos’ loft had its pluses. The balcony he was currently sitting out on being chief among them. After his discovery and their subsequent postulation, he had needed some time to think. As farfetched as it was, Porthos’ theory about a gateway being opened within the school and allowing something to come though made the most sense. It would, at least, explain the raw power that the entity seemed to possess. In truth, that was one of the things that worried him the most. Whatever they were dealing with, it was powerful. Much more powerful than they were. He was not sure how they could go up against it and come out alive.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Athos said as he came out onto the balcony. He sat down on the chair next to Aramis’ and regarded his best friend.

“I’m not sure you want to know actually,” Aramis chuckled, shaking his head.

“I always want to know what you’re thinking,” Athos told him. “I can tell you’re worried. Do you really think we’re dealing with some kind of demonic… something?”

“I don’t know,” Aramis admitted. “But I know it is a distinct possibility. A probability, in all truth. And that scares me.”

“No it doesn’t,” Athos said. “You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known. This doesn’t scare you.”

“I didn’t say it was myself I was scared for,” Aramis replied. “I’m not worried about what might happen to me. You, however…”

“I can look after myself,” Athos told him.

“Under most circ*mstances, yes,” Aramis said. “But if this really is a demon, we are all of us in mortal danger. If I thought for one second that I could convince you and d’Artagnan to remain behind and let me and Porthos…”

“No,” Athos interrupted angrily.

“I know,” Aramis said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I know you will not allow me to face this danger without you by my side. Just as I would not in your place. In all honesty, I’m glad you’ll be there. I…”

“’Mis?”

“I’m always stronger with you beside me,” Aramis said softly.

“I’ll always be beside you,” Athos vowed. He took Aramis’ hand in his own and held it. “You know we’re going to have to talk about that kiss eventually, right?”

“I know,” Aramis said, ducking his head and grinning slightly even as he felt his cheeks warm. “I… I liked it. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I liked it very much. I just don’t really know how to talk about it.”

“Well, pretty much like we are right now,” Athos said. “I’m glad you liked it. I was worried that I had pushed you into something you didn’t want or maybe weren’t ready for.”

“No, Athos. No,” Aramis told him, squeezing his hand hard. “I wanted it and I was, well, as ready for it as I could have been, I guess. I don’t think I would have ever actually been ready for something like that.”

“You… you’d never even… not even that much before?” Athos asked, trying to wrap his mind around the fact. He had known Aramis was a virgin, but he had assumed that he had dated as a young man, had at least kissed another before.

“No,” Aramis said, looking away completely to hide his embarrassment. He had only told Athos that he was a virgin, having known since he was boy that he was bound for the priesthood and therefore saw no need to indulge in something he would later be forced to give up. He had gone on the occasional date, but they had been nothing more than platonic outings with friends.

“Hey, look at me,” Athos said, calling him back. He frowned when he saw the embarrassed way Aramis tried to avoid his eyes when he turned back toward him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. I only wish I’d known. I would have taken it a bit more slowly.”

“I’m not sure that would have been possible,” Aramis replied weakly. He did, at least, manage to look Athos in the eyes, even if his cheeks still felt overly warm.

“I’m not going to rush you, ‘Mis,” Athos said. “If this is something you want, then we do it at your pace. It’s not like I’ve got a ton of experience myself.”

“You went out with enough people,” Aramis grinned, recalling the numerous dates Athos had gone on since they had known each other. “Though none of them did make it past the second or third time for some reason.”

“For some reason, he says,” Athos grinned back. “They didn’t make it past two or three dates because, most of the time, I didn’t put out. And before you ask, I didn’t put out because there was this guy I met my senior year of college that I fell head over heels for. If I couldn’t have him, I didn’t really want anyone else.”

“Athos,” Aramis gasped, shocked. He had no idea Athos had felt like that for him all this time. His friend had never given any indication, never made him feel uncomfortable in any way. He had even gone out of his way to make sure he never came close to crossing a line with him.

“We don’t have to talk about this now,” Athos told him. “But, since it seems my feelings may actually be returned, I thought it prudent for you to know.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Aramis asked him, still somewhat stunned.

“What was I supposed to say? That I was in love with you, but please don’t pity me because I know you have dedicated yourself to something much more important than me.”

Aramis sat forward then and grabbed Athos’ free hand so that he was holding both of them. “There is nothing in my life more important than you,” Aramis told him, his voice more serious than Athos had ever heard it. “If you had told me then… if you had told me then, I would have left Seminary in a much less dramatic fashion.”

“What kind of friend would I have been, to ask you to give up everything you ever wanted for me?” Athos said, his voice strained.

“Everything I ever wanted?” Aramis repeated. “Everything I ever wanted is sitting right here in front of me. I was just too blind to see it. My eyes aren’t closed anymore, Athos.”

“Aramis…”

“Hey guys,” d’Artagnan called as he walked out onto the balcony. He watched the two men freeze and quickly took in the way they were sitting, how tightly Aramis was gripping Athos’ hands, the intense looks on both their faces, and realized he had definitely interrupted something. “Ah, sorry. Porthos wanted me to come get you. He’s, ah, got something to, uh, go over with us.”

“Thank you, d’Artagnan. We’ll be inside in a moment,” Aramis said without ever taking his eyes from Athos.

“We should go,” Athos said once they were alone again.

“Probably,” Aramis said, smiling wryly. “But I meant every word I said. I won’t willfully blind myself again. Not to you.” Lifting both of Athos’ hands to his face, he placed a quick kiss to each of them then released him and stood. It was time to get back to work.

Porthos and d’Artagnan were waiting for them when they walked back inside. Once they joined them at the table where their computers were set up, Porthos began to fill them in. “As much as I hate to say it, we’ve found out all we’re going to this way. At least for now. Which means I’ve got to go back to the school and see what else I can find out. There has to be something there that will give us a clue as to what we’re dealing with. Without knowing what it is, or at least a clear idea as to what it is, we won’t have a chance in hell of getting rid of it.”

“When do we leave?” Aramis asked. He had not missed the way Porthos had said that he would need to go back to the school, as if the three of them would allow him to return alone.

“We don’t,” Porthos told him resolutely. “I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

“Not alone you’re not,” Aramis told him.

“Look, you’ve already been hurt,” Porthos began.

“Which is why you’re not going back alone,” Aramis cut in. “It’s too dangerous. If I had been there alone and that thing had… had done what it did, it would have killed me.”

“It could have killed you any time it wanted to,” Porthos pointed out.

“And yet, it did not,” Aramis shot back. “Don’t you wonder why?”

“Because it’s sad*stic as f*ck and wanted to make you hurt,” Porthos answered.

“Are you certain?” Aramis asked calmly. “Are you certain that is the only reason? Or are you guessing? I will admit, it’s a good assumption, but an assumption is all it is. And it is beside the point regardless.”

“Oh really?” Porthos said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the other man.

“It’s not as if we don’t know where the school is,” Aramis said in the same calm yet infuriating voice. “So unless you plan on somehow managing to overpower the three of us and leave us trussed up here, then we are going with you.”

“Athos, talk to him,” Porthos said, hoping to appeal to the other man’s inherent protectiveness of Aramis.

“There is nothing I can say,” Athos admitted. “Even if I did not agree with him, he will not allow a friend to face danger alone. And since I am quite sure we would not be able to convince d’Artagnan not to follow you even if we were not going to, well…”

“sh*t,” Porthos snarled. “Fine, but if things get too hairy we bail. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Aramis said. “I have no desire to risk myself foolishly, but as Athos said, I will not stand by and watch while my friends risk themselves.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hang on a second,” Athos said, laying his hand on Aramis’ arm before he could get out of the Jeep. He pulled a small pouch out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Aramis. During his last encounter with the entity, Aramis has lost his rosary. Athos had not wanted him to go back inside this place without one.

Aramis took the pouch from his friend and opened it. He poured the contents out into his hand and felt his breath stutter. The carved, wooden rosary was beautiful. He looked at it then up at Athos. “Thank you,” he smiled.

“I didn’t want you going back in there without one,” Athos said. “I protect the things that are precious to me, too.”

Porthos eyed the pair as they walked up, taking in the rosary that Aramis slipped around his neck but did not bother to tuck into his shirt this time. “You two ready?” he asked. When they nodded, he grinned. “Okay, we stick together. Everybody’s got a radio, just in case, but we keep within sight of each other at all times.”

They entered the school, keeping a careful watch and sticking close together. Reluctantly, Porthos led them back toward the music room. He did not want to take Aramis back into that room, Athos either for that matter, but they needed to find out whatever they could about this thing and it had spent a significant amount of time there.

When they reached the first juncture of hallways, a faint thrumming could be heard. It was almost like a pulse and it seemed to come from the very walls themselves. They paused, looking about for any signs of the malevolent entity they had encountered before. With no sign of it other than the low, eerie sound, they continued.

They had just started back down the hallway when a gust of wind whipped past them, stirring up dust and debris and startling the four of them. Before they could do more than throw their hands up to shield their faces, the walls began to shake, lockers rattling loudly as doors slammed open and closed up and down the hallway.

D’Artagnan cried out, jerking back, when something slammed into his head from behind. It had not been hard enough to do any damage but it had hurt. The other three looked over to him and saw what looked like a piece of a chalkboard lying discarded on the ground next to him. Before they could make any sense of it, more pieces of debris began to fly into the hallway, forcing them to duck and cover their heads protectively.

By the time the debris stopped flying and the dust began to settle once more, all of them were bruised and bashed to one degree or another, though it was all superficial. As Porthos got his bearing, he looked about, checking over his team. D’Artagnan had a cut on his temple but the bleeding had already started to slow. Athos looked like he would have a few bruises but nothing worse. Aramis… was nowhere to be seen.

Porthos looked around frantically, hoping against hope that the man had simply dove for cover somewhere a bit further down the hall. “Aramis!” he shouted when he did not see him anywhere. “Aramis! Damn it!”

“Where is he?” Athos asked, fear gripping his heart like a vise.

“I don’t know. He was here with us when everything starting flying around,” Porthos said.

“Aramis? Aramis, can you hear me?” d’Artagnan called over the radio. The resounding squawk drew all of their attention and they found Aramis’ radio a few feet away on the floor. Lying next to it was the rosary Athos had given him.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Part 4

Aramis moaned as he began to come around. He could tell he had only been out for a few minutes at most but even that was dangerous in his current circ*mstances. He tried to move his arms and felt panic seize him when he realized that he could not. Memories of the music room flooded his mind and he had to force himself to calm down before he hyperventilated.

As consciousness returned, he realized he was sitting up and his arms were being held stretched wide over his head. Looking around the room, he tried to get a feeling for where he was. One look at the burned out half of the room and he knew he was in the gymnasium. He supposed that only made sense. If this was where the demon had spawned from then it would likely be strongest here.

Before he could put too much thought into it, Aramis felt the ropes binding his wrists begin to tighten. He bit down on a moan of pain as the coarse fiber abraded still-tender flesh. He need not have bothered. All at once, he was jerked upward hard and fast, a cry torn him his throat as he was suspended over the floor by his outstretched wrists. Even through the haze of pain, the crucifixion symmetry did not escape him and he shuddered at the blatant taunt.

Aramis told himself all he had to do was stay calm. The others would be coming for him. He was still within the school so it would not take them long to find him. All he had to do was hold out until they did. The entity had not killed him the last time it had him in its clutches, that meant that it had either enjoyed tormenting him too much or that it could not for some reason. Either way, it meant that there was a good chance he could live through this as long as he kept his head together.

He tried not to think about the pain in his wrists and shoulders. He knew the damage would not be permanent. Little more than strained muscles and joints. Nothing that a few days rest would not easily take care of. Trying to stay calm, he concentrated on Athos. Athos was coming for him. Even now, he would be searching for him, Aramis was sure.

He was focusing so intently on Athos and staying calm that the first ghosting touch along his stomach made him tense and jerk, then moan at the flare of pain his inadvertent movement caused. He looked down at himself, trying to see what had touched him but nothing was there.

As he continued to look down, he felt another touch, this time across his chest and sucked in a breath. He had seen his shirt move as something had touched him, but that was all he had been able to see. Panic began to rise in him again as he felt twin touches on both of his calves. It felt as if something was twining itself around his legs, then they were being held fast as whatever was touching him began to snake its way up his body.

Aramis bit back a sob as he felt the entity continue to touch him. He could not see it, it was not allowing itself to be seen, so he had no way to know where it was going to touch him next. He could feel it winding along his thighs, circling around him, its touch light and almost caressing and Aramis felt his stomach roil as his body began to respond to the phantom touch.

It spread his thighs apart, holding his legs open, and Aramis shuddered at the implication. Even as it held him spread-eagle, he felt another touch ghost along his stomach. It wormed its way across him until it managed to snake its way beneath his shirt and touch his bare flesh.

“No,” Aramis gasped, unable to stop himself. He was utterly helpless, hardly able to move, let alone attempt to fend off the thing’s unwanted touches. He felt violated in a way he had never imagined and tears pricked his eyes.

The grip on his thighs tightened and spread his legs further still, pulling down on them and placing even more strain on his aching shoulders. He did not mind the pain, it distracted his body from the other sensations he was feeling, sensations Aramis had no experience with and no way to safeguard against.

“Please… stop…,” he moaned weakly when he felt the touch against his stomach move up to his chest. The touch moved across his nipples, stroking over them and making him sob as he grew hard in his jeans. He had never felt such shame in his life and screwed his eyes closed tight against the reality of it.

As it continued to touch him, he felt the thing wind itself in his hair as well and jerk his head back hard. He cried out at the unexpected pain and suddenly his mouth was filled with… something. He tried to force it out, to thrash his head, to do anything to make it stop, but he was helpless. All Aramis could do was hang there and choke as the demon shoved itself down his throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Athos, Porthos, and d’Artagnan made their way down the hall as quickly as they could. They found drag marks beginning a few feet down the corridor. They were intermittent, but they appeared just often enough to keep them on the trail. They only hoped it was leading them to Aramis and not away from him.

When they reached a large set of double doors, Porthos stopped them. “This is the gymnasium,” he told them. “Where the fire started.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Athos demanded.

“Running into a trap won’t help him,” Porthos told him. “You two let me go in first and stay back until we know it’s safe.” Opening the door as little as possible, Porthos carefully slipped into the room with Athos and d’Artagnan a few steps behind. What they say made them all stop and stare.

Aramis hung from the ceiling, ropes running from the rafters, suspending him by his outstretched wrists. Something appeared to be holding his legs as well, for they were held open and it was clear that more than just Aramis’ body weight was bearing down on his shoulders. The worst part, though, was the horrible choking sounds Aramis was making. It was as if something was trapped in his throat and he was struggling to expel it.

Shoving past Porthos, Athos managed only a few quick steps into the room before the ropes holding Aramis aloft suddenly gave way and he came crashing to the ground. Athos sprang forward, but there was no way for him to reach the other man before he hit the ground.

Aramis could not hold back his scream when he landed on his abused ankle. He coughed and gagged, as if trying to expel something vile from inside of him. He could feel Athos’ hand rubbing up and down his back and shivered at the touch. He felt unclean, filthy, after what that thing had done to him and just wanted to get someplace where he could scrub himself until he felt clean again.

The sight of Aramis hitting the ground had broken the other men’s paralysis and they had rushed over. D'Artagnan watched as Athos continued to rub soothingly up and down Aramis’ back. Each pass of his hand, however, only served to make the man curl in on himself a little bit more. They needed to get him out of there. That much was paramount, but they could not do that if Aramis shut down on them and that was what was going to happen if someone did not do something.

Moving up next to Athos, d’Artagnan placed a hand on his arm. “Let me try to talk to him,” he said. The worry on Athos’ face was plain to see but he was willing to give him a chance if there was a way d’Artagnan thought he could help.

D’Artagnan waited until Athos had backed off, giving him and Aramis a little bit of space. “Aramis, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” d’Artagnan said softly. He leaned in close so that only Aramis could hear his words but, at the same time, he made sure not to touch the man in any way. He had seen the way Athos’ touch was making him almost panic and his heart hurt at the implications.

“d’Artagnan?” Aramis said after a moment.

“Yeah, man, it’s me,” he replied. “I’m right here. Athos and Porthos, too. We’re all right here. We got you. You’re safe now.”

“Thank you for that,” Aramis said after a moment as his panic began to abate.

“For what?” d’Artagnan asked.

“For getting Athos to stop touching me,” Aramis whispered, ashamed. “I… I just…”

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” d’Artagnan told him. “I know how it is to not want to be touched. I figured you could use a few minutes to get yourself together, that’s all.”

“Would you… would you mind riding back with Athos?” Aramis asked him suddenly. He knew his friend. There was no way Athos would be able to give him the space he needed right now. There was no way Athos would understand why he needed it, not without Aramis explaining it to him and he was not up to that right now.

“I don’t mind,” d’Artagnan told him. “But can you tell me why you’d rather ride with Porthos all of a sudden?”

“Because he can barely stand me so I doubt he will try to talk to me,” Aramis replied.

“You’re wrong about Porthos,” d’Artagnan told him. “But I’ll ride back with Athos anyway.” He stood up and offered Aramis his hand, letting him take it as he would to get to his feet. He was relieved when he did so, but understood the intrinsic difference between initiating contact and having someone else touch you, even someone you loved.

D’Artagnan walked close to Aramis, ready to support him if the man should need it, but otherwise keeping his hands to himself and making sure the others did as well. When they reached the vehicles, Aramis headed toward Porthos’ SUV rather than Athos’ Jeep causing Athos and Porthos to both stop in their tracks.

Aramis grasped the handle and opened the door just in time for Athos to rush toward him, stopping on the other side of the car door. “What did I do?” he whispered brokenly. “Please. I didn’t mean to…”.

“Athos, no,” Aramis said. He had to close his eyes against the sudden sting of tears as everything crashed over him once more. He felt so horribly ashamed of himself, of the way he had reacted to that thing’s touch. What was Athos going to think of him when he told him?

“It’s not you, man,” d’Artagnan told him. He had come around as well and was standing next to Athos. “He just needs some space and some quiet. That’s all.”

“Please,” Athos said again. “I won’t try to talk to you. I won’t… won’t touch you. But please, I need to be able to see that you’re okay.”

Aramis stood for a moment, trying to regain some of his equilibrium. He nodded his consent to Athos. He had not meant to upset the other man. He had only wanted a bit of distance as d’Artagnan had said. It was going to be hard enough telling them of what the demon had done to him. Telling Athos, admitting to Athos how his body had betrayed him, how he had enjoyed the demon’s touch, would be a betrayal of everything that was between them. Aramis was not sure how he would survive it if Athos could not find a way to forgive him.

“Why the f*ck did it have to be him?” d’Artagnan spat as he sat next to Porthos in the SUV, his body nearly vibrating in suppressed anger.

“Kid?” Porthos asked, glancing sideways at him as he drove toward his loft.

“That thing,” d’Artagnan snarled. “It did something to him. I don’t know what exactly, but I know that look.”

“You saying he was raped?” Porthos asked in alarm, his stomach rolling violently at the thought. For all his talk of getting into fights, Aramis struck him as a gentle man and something like that could destroy a person.

“I don’t think it went that far but something along those lines definitely happened,” d’Artagnan told him. “f*ck! Why did it have to be him, huh? That f*cking demon couldn’t have picked a better target if it tried.”

“Why do you say that?” Porthos asked. He was confused as to why d’Artagnan was as upset as he was. He was upset about Aramis getting hurt, too, but he did not see why Aramis getting hurt was so much worse than any of the rest of them.

“Because we all have some experience to fall back on at least,” d’Artagnan explained dejectedly. “I mean I don’t even do sex anymore, but I at least have before. I would have known what to expect. Aramis…”

“What? He never…”

“No,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “Man, Porthos, I think his first kiss was with Athos a couple of days ago.”

Athos parked Jeep outside Porthos’ building. He came around to Aramis’ side of the car then hesitated, unsure what to do. He remembered his friend’s reluctance to be touched and held back.

“’Mis?” he called out softly.

“It’s alright,” Aramis said. “My ankle’s starting to get a bit stiff. You think you could help me inside?” After how he had acted at the school, he understood that Athos needed to hear him say the words right now. He would not take anything for granted at the moment.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I get d’Artagnan?” Athos asked softly, telling himself that it was for Aramis’ peace of mind.

“No,” Aramis replied. “Not unless you would rather not touch me now.”

“Nothing would make me not want to touch you anymore. I only… my touch… you didn’t want it before. It was upsetting you…”

Porthos chose that moment to come over, interrupting the pair. “Hey guys, let’s get him inside. If you two need to have a heart to heart, me and the kid’ll give you some space, but let’s at least get him inside so we can assess his injuries first.”

Athos helped Aramis into the apartment while Porthos and d’Artagnan brought up all of their gear. As soon as they were all inside, Porthos began checking him for injuries. Keeping d’Artagnan’s words in mind, he made sure to let Aramis know before he touched him, silently waiting for permission before touching any new areas.

Once the new abrasions on his wrists were seen to, d’Artagnan went to get an ice pack for his ankle. He had landed on it somewhat painfully, but had done no further damage to it. Once his leg was propped up and the rest of his injuries seen to, Porthos and d’Artagnan moved back.

“You want us to get lost for a bit?” Porthos asked bluntly.

“Please,” Aramis replied.

“You got it,” Porthos said. “We’ll lock up behind us. Just give us a call when you’re ready for us to come home. We’ll pick up some food on the way back.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said. He was a bit embarrassed to be throwing the man out of his own home but he desperately needed to talk to Athos and he knew he would not be able to with them there.

Porthos hesitated a second then carefully squeezed his shoulder. “We won’t be far. If you need us, you call. We can be back here in five minutes.”

Athos waited until the door clicked shut behind Porthos then he was on his knees beside Aramis’ chair, and looking at him imploringly. “Talk to me,” he begged. “What did that thing do to you?”

“You saw,” Aramis replied quietly.

“I saw you strung up and choking,” Athos said. “Then I watched while you crashed to the ground.”

“It was touching me. It… all over…,” Aramis stammered, his composure quickly fleeing. “When I was choking, it was… was shoving itself down my throat.”

“Oh God. ‘Mis. I’m so sorry,” Athos said, tears stinging his eyes at his friend’s pain.

“It touched me other places, too,” Aramis whispered, shame stealing his voice and making him unable to meet Athos’ eyes.

“Aramis?”

“I had always thought, that if I were to be touched in such a way, it would be by you,” Aramis said, his eyes glued to the floor. “To have it not be… to have that… that thing to-touch me a-a-and make me like it… I only ever wanted it to be you.”

“Aramis… Please… f*ck, I just want to hold you right now and tell you everything will be okay but I don’t even know if you want me to touch you,” Athos moaned.

“No, don’t,” Aramis shook his head.

Athos flinched at the rebuke. He had balled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching his friend but it was killing him to do so. He had never thought there would be a time when he would not be able to comfort his friend.

“I’m… I’m unclean… d-dirty…,” Aramis continued. “You should not have to touch such f-filth.”

Athos stared at him, agape. Before he could stop himself, he was grabbing Aramis by the arms and shaking him. Hard. “Don’t you ever say that again,” he snapped angrily. “Do you hear me? I love you! I love you, and I won’t sit there and listen to you call yourself filth.”

“But… after…”

“Aramis…,” Athos began then stopped. He relaxed his grip on the man’s arms but did not let go. “You have never been touched like that before. You couldn’t help how your body reacted. No one could have. You did not want that thing’s touch. If you became… aroused it meant nothing more than that you have functioning anatomy.”

“You… you still want…”

“Still want what?” Athos asked, afraid to even breathe.

“This… with me?” Aramis asked shyly.

“I have loved you for seven years, Aramis,” Athos told him as gently as he could. “I will love you for the rest of my life. Nothing is going to change that, especially some demon that we are going to personally send back to hell.”

“I love you, too,” Aramis told him. “I think I always have.”

They talked a bit more, Athos sitting on the couch beside Aramis, the other man held against him. It was mostly of inconsequential things, shared memories of their times together, anything Athos could think of to help calm Aramis again. When they finally called Porthos to let him know it was okay to come back, both men were feeling better.

The sound of a key in the lock, however, made them start. Athos tightened his arms around Aramis’ middle, holding him closer against him. “Do you feel up to telling them what happened or would you rather I do it?”

Aramis hesitated. The thought of anyone else knowing sent a hot flush of shame through him. He understood that they could not afford to keep this information to themselves, though. Too much was at stake. “I can tell them,” he said softly.

“They don’t need to know the details if you don’t want them to,” Athos assured him as Porthos and d’Artagnan approached the couch they were sitting on.

“Everything okay?” Porthos asked as he sat down in the worn, leather chair opposite them. He could see the unease marring Aramis’ face and wished he had some way to ease the man.

“Yes,” Aramis said, smiling slightly though it did not reach his eyes. “I… I need to tell you both about what happened to me. I don’t know if it will be useful or not but… but you should at least be aware.”

“Are you sure you feel up to it?” Porthos asked warily. He looked at the pair of them, at the way Athos held the other man. Aramis was sitting between Athos’ spread legs, Athos’ arms secure around his waist. They were pressed together chest to back and it was clear that Aramis was drawing his strength from the other man’s presence.

“No,” Aramis replied truthfully. “But it must be done all the same.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t need to be done now,” Porthos told him.

“I thank you for that,” Aramis said. “But I would rather get it over with.”

It took a little while, even without Aramis divulging too many of the details. He had to stop and start again a few times when fear and shame both threatened to stifle him. He told them all of the physical facts he could recall – the thing’s strength, its control, the way it left a mark on the physical world yet managed to remain invisible. He had to look away when he told them about it forcing its way into his mouth. He had not wanted to but was unsure what information might end up proving useful.

Nobody spoke for long minutes after Aramis finally fell silent. Athos kept his arms firmly around him and d’Artagnan had shifted subtly closer. He laid a tentative hand on Aramis’ knee, hoping to convey that he was there and that he understood.

“Some time very soon you will tell me who hurt you,” Aramis said to d’Artagnan, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“Nobody hurt me,” d’Artagnan said, shaking his head ruefully.

Aramis opened his mouth to argue but Porthos’ quiet vow stopped him. “I promise you, I will sent that thing back to hell where it belongs.”

“We,” Athos corrected. “We will send it back to hell.”

Aramis looked back and forth between the three men that were, quite literally, surrounding him and felt at a bit of a loss. He was not accustomed to being protected like this. Normally, he was the one doing the protecting, the defending. It was a very different feeling to be on the receiving end of it for once.

“So,” Aramis said when the silence began to become oppressive once more. “What did we learn? Please tell me we were able to learn something.”

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan assured him at once. “Porthos and I have a pretty good idea of what we’re up against now.”

“At least close enough to know how to get rid of the thing,” Porthos clarified.

“That is truly wonderful news,” Aramis said then paused and glanced sideways at Porthos and d’Artagnan. “Unless you are about to tell me that it requires a virgin sacrifice in which case you can both kiss my ass.”

Porthos snorted loudly, relieved to see some of the fight returning to Aramis. “No, brother,” he grinned widely. “But how’s your Latin these days?”

“I was a fourth year Seminary student,” Aramis replied with the quirk of an eyebrow. “My Latin is excellent.”

“Good. Then all we need are a few supplies and the appropriate Latin incantations.”

“And by incantations, I am sure you actually meant Holy prayers and not something that smacks of witchcraft and black magic?”

“Right,” Porthos amended quickly. “Prayers.” He would have to remember that he had a priest with him now. Former priest. Wanna-be priest. Former wanna-be priest. Whatever the hell Aramis was.

“Um, Porthos,” d’Artagnan called, taking the other man aside.

“Yeah?” Porthos whispered once they were a safe distance away from the other two. He was suddenly worried. The kid looked nervous and that was never a good sign.

“You know, we really do need, like, virgin blood to lure this thing where we want it,” d’Artagnan reminded him.

“Oh sh*t,” Porthos said a bit louder than he intended as both of them glanced in Aramis’ direction.

“What?” Aramis asked when he saw them looking at him. The twin looks of guilt on their faces told him all he needed to know, though, and he glowered at the pair. “You have got to be f*cking kidding me!”

“We only need a little,” d’Artagnan said quickly.

“I would really like to know what you plan to do when you no longer have an on-call virgin around,” Aramis snapped testily causing Athos to nearly choke on his own tongue.

“Well don’t look at me,” d’Artagnan quipped, grinning. “I lost mine when I was fifteen.”

“I think I missed something,” Athos said, his eyes glued to Aramis.

“They need some of my blood,” Aramis explained, his words gentle even as continued to glare at the other two.

“Why?” Athos bristled, not liking the sound of that at all.

“Because it’s pure in a way that the rest of ours isn’t,” Porthos answered bluntly.

“Because he is still a virgin,” Athos said, more to himself than to the others.

“Yes,” Aramis confirmed, unable to stop himself from blushing.

Athos tightened his grip around Aramis’ middle, letting one arm come up across his chest protectively, conveying all that he felt through that simple touch alone. “That is not something you should feel ashamed of,” Athos told him. “And you need not be in any hurry to change that if you don’t want to. I didn’t even know that was something you would want.”

“I want you,” Aramis replied.

“You have me,” Athos assured him decisively. “Sex is not a prerequisite of that.”

“I don’t expect you to remain celibate, Athos,” Aramis chuckled, amused at the very thought.

“And I don’t expect you to do something that you are not comfortable with,” Athos countered.

Aramis had to stop for a moment at that. He had not considered how Athos might look at things, that he might think he found the prospect of sex uncomfortable after denying himself for so long. He didn’t, but he had to admit to a certain amount of apprehension. The thought of his friend consigning himself to a life void of such a basic human need simply to be with him was not something Aramis could endure, though. No matter how apprehensive he was about entering into a physical relationship with Athos, he was not going to see his friend suffer for being with him.

“I appreciate the concern, my friend,” Aramis told him. “But being with you, in any manner, could never make me uncomfortable.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took them a couple of days to get everything together that they would need as well as find the exact prayers in Latin that Aramis would be required to recite. Porthos had argued that he could do the recitation if Aramis just coached him a bit but Aramis had flat out refused, arguing that if something went wrong they might need the person saying the prayer to actually know what it was he was saying.

They had decided to split up into teams. Aramis and d’Artagnan would handle the ritual, with Aramis doing the actual work and d’Artagnan assisting. While they were doing that, Athos and Porthos would be concentrating on protecting them. Their sole job would be to keep the entity from getting to them before they could complete the banishing.

They left Athos’ Jeep behind this time, all piling into Porthos’ SUV. They paused for a moment outside the school and rechecked everything one last time. “Everybody ready?” Porthos asked. He looked over Aramis and d’Artagnan, the two youngest members of this team of his, and felt a shiver of fear. Of the four of them, they would be in the most danger, and the entity had already targeted Aramis on multiple occasions. There was no reason to think it would not do so again.

“We’re good, boss,” d’Artagnan said. He knew Porthos was worried for him and Aramis but they would hold up their end of things. Porthos did not need to worry about that.

“Be careful, both of you,” Athos said. He opened his mouth to say more then closed it. Anything else he had to say would be redundant. Aramis knew how he felt. He did not need to voice it here and now.

They entered the school with a degree of determination they had not displayed before. They did not bother to try to mask their arrival, knowing it would be futile. The entity had probably known they were there from the moment they had entered the grounds. Instead, they headed straight for the gymnasium. It was past time to end this.

Aramis feet stuttered to a stop when they entered the gym, the sight of the ropes on the floor sending a cold wash of fear through him. Shaking off the memory, he forced himself to continue into the room to the center. He kicked the ropes out of the way angrily, clearing a space for the two of them to work.

“You sure you want to do it here?” d’Artagnan asked him softly.

“Yes,” Aramis said firmly, refusing to appear intimidated. He knew how important a show of strength was in times such as this and he refused to falter.

D’Artagnan set the backpack he had brought with them on the floor next to him. He withdrew the salt from inside of it and handed it to Aramis. He watched as Aramis drew a wide circle on the floor with the salt, quietly intoning a prayer in Latin as he did so.

Next, d’Artagnan handed him a container of consecrated soil. Aramis drew another, smaller circle inside the first, repeating the prayer as he did so. Once that he was done, he handed the remainder back to d’Artagnan. Taking his rosary from his neck, he wrapped it around his left hand and held out his other hand to d’Artagnan.

D’Artagnan swallowed thickly as he handed Aramis the knife. He had not liked this part. He had wanted to use a syringe to take a bit of blood from Aramis, but Aramis had insisted that it would be much more effective if he spilt it himself at the school. He was right, of course, but d’Artagnan still did not like it.

“You don’t have to look,” Aramis told him, seeing the somewhat green look on the younger man’s face.

“I’m okay,” d’Artagnan said, breathing out. “Just do it.”

“Alright,” Aramis said. Taking a deep breath, he drew the blade across his hand, between the rosary beads. He held it over the center of the two circles, watching as his blood splattered on the gymnasium floor.

Dust and debris began to swirl about the room, coming in through the open doorway, toward where Aramis and d’Artagnan stood. Aramis waited, watching as the swirling cacophony drew closer. They needed to know the entity was actually there before beginning the banishing ritual.

“Be ready,” Porthos called to Athos, keeping his eyes fixed on the pair by the circle. He knew they could not take a chance on the entity sinking its claws into Aramis again. He had a feeling it would do more than just toy with him this time.

As soon as the inky, black form began to take shape, Aramis started to pray. He recited the words in Latin easily, having committed them to memory. He had taken the precaution of writing the prayer out for d’Artagnan and teaching him the proper pronunciation should anything happen to him, but he hoped it would not come to that. He did not know if the boy had the fortitude to withstand such an onslaught and had no wish to find out.

Almost at once, the entity surged toward Aramis. Athos was quicker, though, splashing a stream of Holy Water across it and forcing it to draw back. When it turned and made as if to attack d’Artagnan instead, Porthos was there, driving it back toward the center of the circle. Both men understood that this would not hold it for long. The Holy Water might be driving it back, but it would not stop it indefinitely. Their only hope was that Aramis could complete the banishing before the entity could either break through their defenses or find a way around them.

Aramis did not so much as flinch as the thing he was attempting to banish lunged for him. He continued his litany, his voice strong and sure as he fought to return the demon to hell where it belonged. He faltered for a brief moment when the thing had turned toward d’Artagnan, but Porthos had protected the boy and he had redoubled his efforts, determined to rid this place of the evil haunting it once and for all.

As Aramis continued to recite the prayer that would send the creature back to where it had come from, it began to grow larger, taking on a more cohesive shape. A horrible shrieking filled the room, causing the others to flinch but Aramis stood his ground. There would be no more running for him.

Enraged, the entity began to violently hurl anything not bolted down about the room. Porthos turned to d’Artagnan, intent on protecting him. He never saw the metal char that few threw the air at him, colliding with the side of his face, dropping him where he stood like a marionette with its strings cut.

“Porthos!” d’Artagnan cried out. He managed to take a step forward then something was grabbing him and tossing him across the room as well. He landed in a heap, too stunned to even cry out, the breath driven from his body. All he could do was watch as Athos and Aramis fought on.

Aramis felt his heart plummet when he saw d’Artagnan thrown across the room to land in a broken pile. He prayed inside that young man was okay but he dared not take the time to check. He could tell by the entity’s growing fury that they were getting close. If they could just hold on a little bit longer, this nightmare would be over. Then they could see to their fallen friends.

A strangled sound to his right drew Aramis’ attention. What he saw in that moment made his heart hammer painfully and his mouth run dry. The rope that he had kicked away, the rope that had bound him in this very room, now coiled around Athos. It snaked up his body, pinning his arms in place, and wrapped menacingly around his throat.

The demon’s message was all too clear – stop or watch him die.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Aramis did the only thing he could; he turned back to the circle and continued to recite the prayer that would force the entity back to hell where it belonged. He felt tears sting his eyes at the sound of Athos struggling a few feet away. He could hear him gasping for breath, choking, and he remembered what that had felt like, how he had panicked thinking he was going to die.

Aramis shook as he fought not to react to the pain of those around him. He was nearing the end of the prayer and his voice grew stronger as he did so. He would finish this. He would end this thing’s reign of terror and ensure that it did no more harm.

Suddenly, Aramis found himself face to face with the dark, swirling mass. It was inches from him, seeming to almost dance upon the air. It appeared vaguely humanoid in shape, with long, claw-tipped appendages. Aramis understood that this was simply how it chose to appear, for it had not appeared quite like this when it had been chasing him and Porthos and had even made itself invisible before. Still, seeing it so close gave him a start but he refused to step back. He would not allow this thing to force him to move. To show such weakness would surely doom them all.

He did his best to ignore the creature’s clawed hands as they reached toward him. He knew it was moving with deliberate slowness, trying to frighten him. He had a feeling that, for whatever reason, it could not touch him. If it could, it certainly would have by now. He was, after all, virtually defenseless. He had no weapons save his rosary. The others were all incapacitated. He was on his own, totally alone, and yet the creature had yet to lay a metaphorical finger on him.

Aramis stared at it, all but snarling in the thing’s face, as he completed the prayer. He watched as the thing threw back its head and let out a scream loud enough to make the walls shake. Then it turned its face toward him and bared its teeth, or what amounted to them at any rate.

“Howl all you want,” Aramis told it. “But you are going back to hell.”

The words had no more than left Aramis’ mouth before the floor in the center of the circle began to glow. The entity screeched again as tendrils of light reached out from the circle and wrapped themselves around it. It struggled futilely but the ropes of light drug it steadily back. As soon as it was completely within its boundary, light exploded from the center, causing Aramis to throw his arms up instinctively. When he looked back, all that remained was a faint wisp of smoke. The entity was gone.

“Athos!” Aramis shouted. The danger now removed, Aramis rushed to where Athos lay crumpled on the floor. He pulled the now slackened ropes away from his friend. He could see the rise and fall of his chest, which eased his panic somewhat, but he needed to see his friend awake and alert to know that he was truly okay.

“I’m alright,” Athos managed once Aramis had gotten the rope most of the way off and rolled him over onto his back. His throat ached from where the thing had tried to choke him but other than that, and a bit of light-headedness, he was fine.

“I’m so sorry,” Aramis told him as he pulled away the last of the rope entangling him.

“You didn’t have much choice,” Athos rasped. “If you had stopped, it probably would have killed us all. Speaking of which, how are the others?”

“I don’t know,” Aramis told him. “I had to check on you first…”

“I’m fine, ‘Mis,” Athos said. “Go see about the others.”

“I’ll be right back,” Aramis told him. He started to get up then stopped. Leaning down, he placed a quick, closed-mouth kiss to Athos’ lips then stood.

He moved to Porthos first. He had seen d’Artagnan moving a bit so knew he was at least conscious. Porthos, however, had not moved since taking that blow to the head. He rolled him over onto his back as carefully as he could. There was blood running down his temple into his hair, making Aramis’ worry surge. A hard blow to the temple could be serious. Life threateningly serious. They needed to get Porthos to a hospital as quickly as possible.

Knowing they would need something to carry him out on, Aramis began to scan the room. He had finally decided on him and Athos simply carrying him out between them when Porthos began to stir. Aramis pressed his hands to the man’s shoulders, wanting him to stay as still as possible until they determined how injured he actually was.

“Wha’ happ’n?” Porthos slurred as he blinked his eyes slowly, trying to bring Aramis’ face into focus.

“You got hit in the head,” Aramis told him. “Don’t try to move.”

“Hit wi’ wha’?” Porthos frowned.

“A metal chair,” Aramis replied. “Do you feel nauseous at all?”

“Don’ thin’ so,” Porthos said.

“That’s good,” Aramis replied. “I need to look at your eyes for a second. Can you hold still for me?”

“Go hea’,” Porthos told him, content for the time being to simply lie where he was and try to get his bearings.

Aramis examined his pupils, dismayed to see a marked difference in their sizes. The man definitely had a concussion, though how bad of one, Aramis could not tell. If he was not nauseous, that was a good sign. That might change, however, once they tried to get him up.

“You, my friend, have a concussion,” Aramis told him. “What I need you to do is lay right here while I go and check on d’Artagnan. Once I have him seen to, Athos and I will come over and see about getting you up and out to the truck.”

“Wha’ abou’ the…”

“It has been taken care of,” Aramis told him. “For good. Now rest here for a few minutes and I will be right back.”

By the time Aramis got to d’Artagnan, the younger man was sitting up. He was cradling his left arm but, other than that, appeared unharmed. “Are you hurt?” Aramis asked him.

“Banged up my arm,” d’Artagnan told him. “I don’t think anything’s broken. Other than that, just bumps and bruises.”

“Can you walk?” Aramis asked. He took him by his good arm and helped him to his feet.

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan told him. “Like I said, it’s just the arm. How’s Porthos?”

“Concussed,” Aramis told him. “I’m not sure how serious yet. Once we get him up and moving a bit I’ll be able to tell more.”

“And Athos?” d’Artagnan asked cautiously. He had seen the thing trying to choke the life from the man and Aramis having no choice but to stand his ground and ignore it.

“His throat’s pretty bruised but other than that, he’s fine,” Aramis said. “Do you think you can take the backpack? I’m going to need Athos to help me get Porthos out to the truck.”

“Yeah, man, I’ll take care of it,” d’Artagnan told him. “You just worry about the boss.”

They got Porthos back to the loft without him puking all over his own truck, though it had been close once. Aramis had wanted to take him to the hospital but Porthos had refused. Aramis did agree that the concussion was probably not serious enough that he could not treat it himself and had relented when Athos and d’Artagnan had both promised to help keep an eye on Porthos and wake him at regular intervals until any danger had passed.

Now that they were safely back home as it were, everyone’s injuries seen to, Aramis felt the last few hours start to catch up to him. Leaning his head back on the couch, he closed his eyes only to snap them back open a few short minutes later as the picture of Athos, that hateful rope snaking around his body and ending in a deadly coil around his throat, flashed unbidden before his eyes.

“’Mis, you okay?” Athos asked.

“Yeah,” Aramis replied, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep,” Athos suggested, noting how worn out he looked. “We’ll keep an eye on Porthos.”

“Okay,” Aramis agreed somewhat reluctantly. He was not too sure he really wanted to go to sleep at the moment, but he had to admit he was exhausted. Climbing wearily to his feet, he went to the spare room he and Athos had been sharing. He stripped down to his boxers then crawled onto the bed, the cool, crisp sheets heavenly against his tired, aching body. In no time at all, he was fast asleep.

The creature swirled before him, its black claws reaching for him but never quite touching him. He heard it laugh, a grating, broken sound, like glass shattering, as it writhed about him, less than an inch of space between them.

“And here I thought he meant something to you,” the thing said, its voice so wrong it made Aramis’ skin crawl. “Oh well.”

With a blinding flash of light, the nightmare creature was gone. Aramis stood where he was, rooted to the spot for long seconds, then he rushed to Athos’ side. He slid to his knees beside his friend, desperately pulling at the rope coiled around his neck. But everything he did just made the rope tighten even more. Tears began to run down his face as he took in Athos’ lax features, his blue-tinged lips and vacant eyes telling Aramis something he refused to believe. Athos could not be dead. He could not lose him. Not now. Not after finally finding him.

Gasping, Aramis shot straight up in the bed. Tears streamed down his face and he shook as he remembered his horrible dream. He needed to see Athos. He had to see with his own eyes that he was still fine, that his dream had been just hat, a horrible dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s your arm?” Athos asked as he sat down on the other end of the couch from d’Artagnan.

“Okay,” d’Artagnan replied. He was reclined against the back of the couch, his arm in a sling and cradled protectively to his chest. It ached all the way down to the bone but he was still pretty sure nothing was broken.

“Do you want something for the pain? I’m sure Porthos has something around here.”

“No thanks,” d’Artagnan smiled as he laid his head back and closed his eyes. “It just aches. I really am fine, Athos.”

“Sorry,” Athos said, ducking his head a bit. Taking care of those younger than him was almost instinctual. It was what had drawn him to Aramis in the first place. He had looked so young. Young and skinny and alone and Athos had felt an almost visceral pang. It was what had made him go up to the boy and introduce himself. It was what now made him want to tuck young d’Artagnan up under his arm where he could make sure nothing else could get near him.

“Don’t apologize for caring, man,” d’Artagnan told him without opening his eyes. “It’s nice. Usually, the only people who give a damn about me are my family. Which is cool, I mean, I don’t care. But it’s nice all the same.”

“You don’t have a lot of friends, I take it?” Athos asked carefully.

“Not really,” d’Artagnan shrugged. “Most people don’t really get me. They either think I’m a geek, which I am. Or they get to know me and think I’m a freak. Which I am.”

“You are not a freak, d’Artagnan,” Athos told him, his voice gentle but firm even as he wanted to shake the young man for even thinking such a thing about himself.

“By most people’s standards I am,” d’Artagnan replied softly.

“Most people, in case you have somehow failed to notice, are idiots.”

D’Artagnan snorted out a laugh at that but had to agree with the man. Most people really were idiots. Idiots or sheep, mindless and willing to blindly follow anyone, even to the slaughterhouse. “I’m not exactly normal,” the young man admitted hesitantly.

“Who is?” Athos countered, huffing out a laugh of his own. “Or better yet, whose definition of normal are you using? Mine? Aramis’? Porthos’? Your parent’s? I assure you, they all differ to one degree or another.”

“I guess,” d’Artagnan said without conviction.

“Is this… Does this have something to do with what you mentioned before? About not really dating?” Athos asked.

“Kind of,” d’Artagnan replied reluctantly. He was not sure how much about himself he should tell the other man. If it were Aramis he was talking to, he would not hesitate, sure the other man would not judge him. He was not quite so sure of Athos yet.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Athos told him. “But nothing you say will go any farther than me if you don’t want it to.”

“It’s not so much that,” d’Artagnan mumbled.

“I will not judge you for who you are, d’Artagnan,” Athos said softly.

“No offense, man, but I’ve heard that before,” d’Artagnan told him. He lifted his head and looked Athos in the eyes, weighing the man’s sincerity. “But I don’t think Aramis would love you like he does if you were that kind of guy and I don’t think you’d love him like you do either.”

“You’re right about that much,” Athos replied. “I love Aramis unconditionally and I accept him on his terms. Our relationship, the physical side of it, will go only as far as he is comfortable with.”

“You gotta let him try,” d’Artagnan told him. “It may get uncomfortable for him at times, but you’ve got to give him the chance to decide for himself if he wants it or not.”

“I don’t want him to put himself through something he finds unpleasant just for me,” Athos argued.

“How is he supposed to know if he finds it unpleasant or not if he doesn’t at least try,” d’Artagnan told him. “It’s not fun sometimes, when you figure out that you really don’t like all the stuff that everyone else thinks is so great. But don’t take that choice away from him.”

“Alright,” Athos relented. He studied d’Artagnan for a moment then decided to just say what he was thinking. “Is that what happened with you?”

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan admitted as he laid his head back and closed his eyes again. “I tried just about everything, with boys and girls both. None of it… none of it…”

“You didn’t like it,” Athos finished for him.

“No,” d’Artagnan said. “I liked the companionship. I liked holding and kissing someone. I liked going to bed with them and waking up with them. It was all that other stuff that I didn’t really like.”

“And because of that, you think you are a freak?”

“Everybody I’ve ever tried to date seemed to,” d’Artagnan said, his voice laced with bitterness. “Everybody I ever tried to explain it to seemed to. I guess I figured they couldn’t all be wrong.”

“They are,” Athos told him. “Every one of them. There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with being different. Just…”

“Just?” d’Artagnan asked cautiously, cracking one eye open to look at Athos.

“Aramis can be rather affectionate with those he cares for. If he ever becomes… overbearing, you only have to tell him. Or tell me, if you’d rather, and I will let him know that you need some space.”

“I… you guys…,” d’Artagnan had to stop and swallow around the lump in his throat. “I don’t mind that. It’s nice. No one ever really touches me outside of my family. I miss it, sometimes. Like I said, it’s not the companionship I have a problem with.”

“Good,” Athos replied. “But if you ever do need us to back off a bit, to give you some breathing room, all you have to do is say so. We won’t be angry or hurt or offended. We will understand. Okay?”

“Thanks,” d’Artagnan whispered as he closed his eyes once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on then padded out of the bedroom. He didn’t bother to pull his jeans back on. He needed to check on Athos, to make sure he was fine. Scrubbing a hand over his face to remove the last traces of tears, he headed for the living room. He paused on the threshold when he saw Athos and d’Artagnan quietly talking on the couch. Just the sight of Athos, safe and whole, sitting with d’Artagnan, was such a relief that his knees nearly buckled.

Holding onto the doorframe, Aramis stood watching the pair. He felt his heart twist at the sight of the two men. D’Artagnan looked incredibly young next to Athos and Aramis felt guilty all over again that he had been hurt. He actually started to take a step forward and had to stop himself, the urge to go to the pair and pull them both close nearly overwhelming. He had always been very family oriented. Family was everything to him, be it his natural one or the one he made for himself. He supposed a large part of it stemmed from losing his parents so early in life. Their loss had taught him to hold on to those that were dear to him. And no one was more dear to Aramis than the shaggy-haired man sitting on the couch a few short feet away.

“Aramis? What’s wrong?” Athos frowned when he saw him. He turned, starting to rise, intent on going to his friend.

“Nothing,” Aramis said quickly, crossing the room before Athos could get up. “I just woke up and…”

“And?” Athos asked. He took Aramis by the hand and tugged him down onto the couch between him and d’Artagnan.

“And I missed you,” Aramis said, deflecting slightly. He really did miss Athos. He always missed him when they were separated, even if just by a room. He did not, however, want to tell him about his nightmare, not wanting to burden the man with it. His guilt was his to deal with.

“You guys want me to give you some privacy?” d’Artagnan asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He liked seeing the pair of them openly affectionate like this. Aramis was so innocent in some ways and Athos was so painstakingly careful with that innocence, as if he understood just how precious a thing it was.

“No,” Aramis said at once then flushed as he realized how that might have sounded.

“It’s okay, ‘Mis,” Athos said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “After everything that happened, you want us close. We get that.”

“I don’t need to…” d’Artagnan began only for Athos to cut him off.

“Hush, runt,” Athos said softly. “We’re right here, Aramis. Safe and sound, thanks to you.”

“Not me,” Aramis said shakily. He let Athos pull him in closer then, curling into the man’s side, content to know that everyone was safe and healing.

“Yes you,” Athos told him as he held him. “None of us could have gotten rid of that thing. Even if we’d have known how, none of us would have been able to stand against it. Not like you did.”

“Don’t you mean ignore the pain and suffering of everyone around me?”

“Stop that,” Athos admonished. “If you had stopped, even for a second, that thing would have been on you and we all would have died. You did what needed to be done.”

“Listen to him,” d’Artagnan put in. “I was watching you from where I landed on the other side of the room. I don’t know how you managed to stand there with that thing twisting all around you like it was. I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

“Yes, you would have,” Aramis told him. “If you knew someone you loved would die if you did not, you would have found the strength.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis knew he was not going to go back to sleep, at least not now. Seeing how tired the other two men were, he insisted they both get some rest while he stayed up to keep an eye on Porthos. There really was no need to keep such a careful watch. Porthos was past any danger and had awoken easily, if somewhat grumpily, each time they had attempted it. Still, Aramis would not rest easy until the man was fully himself again.

D’Artagnan only put up a token resistance when Aramis began shooing him to bed. He was exhausted and his arm ached. He longed to stretch out and forget about the last few days for a little while. Athos did not resist, either, meekly helping d’Artagnan to his room and making sure he had no further need of him before leaving. Rather than heading to the room he shared with Aramis, however, Athos returned to the living room.

“I thought you were going to get some rest,” Aramis huffed good-naturedly.

“Is there a law that says I can only do that from the other room?” Athos asked as he sat down on the couch once more.

“You won’t be comfortable out here,” Aramis said, eying Athos’ jeans.

“I can take them off it you’d like,” Athos told him. “I doubt d’Artagnan will object and Porthos is not likely to be up and about any time soon.”

Aramis looked away at that, a faint blush stealing over his cheeks at the thought of Athos stripping out of his clothes. It was not as if he had not seen him before. He had seen his friend in all manner of dress, including completely naked. When they shared a bed, they both did so in nothing but their boxers. This, however, seemed different.

“Aramis?” Athos called softly. He had not meant to push and had not realized that he was until Aramis had looked away. “I don’t have to. I suggested it because you were worried I wouldn’t be able to rest. The only thing that will truly keep me from resting is being apart from you. That’s why I came back out here. I don’t have to take my pants off for that, though.”

“I’m being stupid,” Aramis said, angry at himself for acting like this.

“No, you are being you,” Athos told him. “A man with little to no experience with such things who is finding his way. If I ever do anything to make you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me.”

“That’s not it,” Aramis said, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Then what is it?”

“It… it just seemed like… more,” Aramis tried to explain. “I mean we’ve shared a bed before. I’ve seen you naked before. You helped me shower when my hand was all messed up so I wouldn’t get the cast wet.”

“But this seems different,” Athos said, understanding somewhat.

“Yeah,” Aramis replied.

“If it helps, it seems different to me, too,” Athos told him. “Helping you when you’re hurt or sick, climbing into bed next to you to sleep, that’s one thing. Stripping off deliberately, knowing only one of us is going to be sleeping, well, that’s… different.”

Athos did end up stripping down to his boxers and a t-shirt and stretching out on the couch. Aramis sat in the chair next to it, content to be close to him and not wanting to wake him with his own restlessness. In the end, Athos and d’Artagnan slept for several hours. Aramis checked on d’Artagnan once, making sure the young man was sleeping peacefully, then went to check on Porthos once more.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit of a mother hen?” Porthos commented from the bed when Aramis came in to check on him.

“It has been mentioned a time or two,” Aramis replied as entered the room and came over to the side of the bed. He sat down carefully, not wanting to jostle the man, and eyed him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit in the face with a chair,” Porthos smirked then sobered. “Seriously, though, I’m okay. My head still hurts but not like it did and I’m not nauseous anymore.”

“You sound much better,” Aramis agreed. “Your speech isn’t slurred any longer. That was worrisome for a time.”

“I bet,” Porthos replied. “Tends to happen with me, though, when I take a hard hit to the head like that.”

“Happens to you often, does it?” Aramis quipped.

“More so than you’d think,” Porthos replied. “I’m over the worst of it now, though. Give me another day or so and I’ll be good as new.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Aramis admonished. “We’re here and we’re not going anywhere. At least not until you’re well enough to actually fend for yourself. Take the time to heal.”

“I’m sure you’ve all got better things to do…”

“Like what?” Aramis interrupted. “I just dropped out of Seminary and am basically living off of Athos’ largess. D’Artagnan does not strike me as having very many demands on his time, at least not any that cannot be pushed aside with ease. And Athos, well, Athos does as he pleases. His family inheritance sees to that.”

“Okay, stop right there,” Porthos told him. “You’re not living off of Athos’ anything. If you think your sugar daddy gives a f*ck who pays the bills, you’re nuts. And yeah, the kid may be a bit of a free agent but…”

“But what?”

“I guess I’m just not used to people sticking around after,” Porthos shrugged. “I don’t normally work with other people. When I do, it’s more like a business transaction than anything else. Once it’s over, it’s over.”

“We are not a business transactions, my friend,” Aramis told him. “And we are not going to simply abandon you now that the job is done. That wouldn’t happen even if you were not still injured. I am sorry, Porthos, but I’m afraid you are stuck with us.”

“Aramis…,” Porthos began hesitantly.

“What is it?” Aramis asked, frowning. From everything Aramis had seen Porthos was not normally one for hesitancy. In anything.

“I owe you an apology,” Porthos said, looking the other man in the eye. He had brushed his harsh words from before off, but he realized now that he owed the man more respect than that. Aramis had come through for them. Without him, they would not have been able to win against that thing. More telling yet, he had not once held Porthos’ words against him. Even now, he was concerned for his welfare. Porthos needed to make things right between them. If not for Aramis’ sake, then his own.

“That’s not necessary,” Aramis said, shaking his head.

“Yes, it is,” Porthos argued.

“I don’t hold grudges, Porthos,” Aramis told him. “The incident was over when I walked away from it. Yes, I was still angry. I am not quite as good at letting go of my anger at times, but I have now.”

“You’d hold a grudge if it was Athos I said something like that to,” Porthos challenged.

“I assure you, I would not,” Aramis said, smiling sharply at him.

“Really?” Porthos replied, the disbelief in his voice quite clear.

“Really,” Aramis told him. “I would not have needed to hold a grudge, my friend. Because if you had spoken that way to Athos, I promise you, they would not have stopped me. But you did not, so it is irrelevant. As is this need to apologize to me that you feel.”

“Let me do it anyway,” Porthos said. “For my own sake.”

Aramis stopped then and sighed. “Alright,” he relented. He still did not think it necessary, but he could understand the other man’s need to relieve himself of the guilt he obviously carried for the hateful words he had spoken. Aramis would not force him to continue to carry that guilt.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you,” Porthos apologized. “It was wrong and it was completely uncalled for. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Aramis replied. “Now let the incident truly be forgotten.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

D’Artagnan awoke first and padded back out into the living room. He shook his head at the sight of Athos sleeping on the couch. He was not surprised. He wasn’t overly keen on letting Aramis out of his sight right now and he wasn’t in love with the guy.

“Get enough rest?” Aramis asked when the young man walked into the room.

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan said, grinning at him, warmed by the genuine caring in the man’s voice.

“How’s your arm? Not hurting too much?”

“I’m fine, Aramis,” he chuckled. “I’ll take a couple of ibuprofen in a few minutes and that’ll settle it down again. It’s just aches a bit.”

“Alright,” Aramis relented. “I don’t mean to be pushy.”

“You’re not being pushy. You’re being a friend. A very concerned friend at that. But I promise you, I’m fine,” d’Artagnan said. “I’m beginning to think if you had become a priest you’d have worried yourself to death with an entire parish to fuss over.”

“I’m not quite this bad with everyone,” Aramis told him, ducking his head a bit self-consciously.

“No? Then what’s so special about me? I mean, I get it with Athos. You love the guy. You’re going to worry if he has a hangnail. But you just met me. I basically nobody to you.”

“You are not nobody to me,” Aramis said vehemently. “We may not have known each other for long, d’Artagnan, but you… you mean something to me. You are my friend. I have a great many acquaintances but I those I choose to call friend are much fewer in number.”

“Thanks,” d’Artagnan said. “You’re my friend, too. I don’t have very many of those, either. Most people, once they get to know me, well, they don’t really want anything to do with me.”

“Why not?” Aramis asked, frowning. That did not make any sense. D’Artagnan was a kind young man whose presence lit up any room he entered. How could anyone not want to be friends with him?

“Because I’m not normal,” d’Artagnan told him honestly. “I don’t do sex so that makes me some kind of freak. Or community service project or something. Either way, they either don’t want anything to do with me or want to change me.”

“May I ask you something?”

“Nobody hurt me, Aramis,” d’Artagnan said. “This isn’t because of trauma or abuse or anything like that. I tried sex, with both sexes. I just didn’t like it. Like I told Athos, I like companionship, crave it actually, but anything past kissing I’m not interested in.”

“I am sorry that your journey to figure this out has been so difficult for you,” Aramis said. “But you are not a freak just because you do not fit into what society currently deems normal. You are you, d’Artagnan. Exactly as God made you. How can that be wrong?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis was visibly nervous when he and Athos prepared to go to bed for the night. He had tried to argue that someone needed to stay up for Porthos but both Athos and d’Artagnan had insisted that, if that was the case, one of them would do so since they had both gotten more sleep than Aramis had. In the end, he’d had no choice but to acquiesce. He hoped that having Athos in the bed next to him would help keep the nightmares at bay. In truth, he had only had the one so there was no real reason to think he would have more. Still, Aramis was apprehensive. He did not want to see Athos’ sightless eyes staring back at him ever again, even in a dream.

“If you would rather I sleep in another room, all you have to do is tell me,” Athos said softly as he watched Aramis prepare for bed.

“No,” Aramis said quickly as he spun around to face the other man.

“Then what’s wrong?” Athos asked. “And please don’t tell me nothing.”

“I’m tired and my nerves are still frayed,” Aramis said. It was the truth, even if it did leave out a few key factors.

Athos stepped around the bed and over to him. He put his hands on Aramis’ shoulders and squeezed. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, his breath ghosting across Aramis’ neck making his shiver.

“You are doing it,” he said, swallowing thickly. Even as off-balance as he felt, Athos’ proximity and the feel of his breath along his skin had sent a frisson of desire through Aramis.

“’Mis?” Athos whispered, moving closer so he was pressed against Aramis’ back. He let his hands slide down the man’s arms and felt another shudder run through him. “Do you need me to stop?”

“No,” Aramis moaned. He let his head fall back onto Athos’ shoulder, baring his neck. They were both shirtless and the feel of Athos’ skin against his own was almost more than he could take. Despite his exhaustion, he felt his co*ck start to harden as Athos brought his arms around, one hand splayed on his chest, the other low on his stomach.

“I’ve got you,” Athos whispered into his ear. He could feel Aramis trembling in his arms and it made him both want to cradle him and kiss him senseless at once. Moving his lips down, he kissed the side of Aramis’ neck lightly. When the other man gasped, he did it again and then a third time.

“Athos, please,” Aramis begged. He was not sure what he was begging for at this point, but his body felt like it was on fire. He was hard and he could feel himself shaking but there was nothing he could do about either.

“What?” Athos asked as he kissed him on the neck again, sucking gently this time. “What is it you want? Tell me and it’s yours.”

“Kiss me,” Aramis gasped. “Please, kiss me.”

Athos spun him around at once and cupped Aramis’ face in his hands. He brought their lips together gently, aware that Aramis had never done this before. He kept the kiss closed-mouthed at first, but when Aramis parted his lips, Athos did so as well.

Athos took it slow, gently pulling Aramis’ lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it and laving it with his tongue. He was careful not to do more than lick across Aramis’ lips with his tongue. He did not so much as attempt to push his tongue into Aramis’ mouth. When he wanted that, he would let him know. Until then, Athos was more than happy with this.

Aramis shook as Athos kissed him. He kept his lips closed at first, but that was not the sort of kiss Aramis wanted. Not this time. Tentatively, he opened his mouth and was relieved when Athos did the same. When the man pulled his lip into his mouth and began to suck on it, Aramis felt desire slam through him.

Reluctantly, Athos pulled back from the kiss. Aramis made a helpless keening sound when he did, just as he had in the hotel room that first time and it made Athos’ heart ache to hear it. “Shhh. It’s okay,” Athos soothed. “But let’s lay down on the bed before we end up in a heap on the floor. Okay?”

Aramis looked at him and nodded, unable to get words out at the moment. His body was on fire, caught up in a wild jumble of sensations and emotions he had never experienced before and he had no idea how to articulate that right now. Luckily, Athos seemed to understand and simply helped him lie down on the bed before stretching out beside him.

“Do you want to continue or do you want to stop?” Athos asked. He could see Aramis’ blatant arousal. Even if they were not in their boxer shorts, it would have been hard to miss. He could also see how overwhelming all of this was for his friend and he did not want to push him too far.

Aramis stared at Athos and realized he was going to have to voice his desire if he wanted to continue. If he could not, Athos would refuse to go on, too worried for his well-being. That fact alone warmed him and helped him get himself under some semblance of control again.

“I don’t want to stop,” Aramis said at last.

“Okay,” Athos smiled. “But don’t push yourself too hard. I’m not going anywhere and I’ll wait for you as long as you need me to.”

“I love you,” Aramis said softly. “So much. Please kiss me again.”

Unable to deny such a request, Athos moved over so he was laying half on top of Aramis. He did not want to lay fully atop him, not wanting him to feel trapped. He looked down at him for a moment, brushing the hair off his forehead, then leaned down and kissed him once more.

Athos pulled Aramis’ lip into his mouth once more and sucked on it. He swallowed down Aramis’ moan and felt him arch beneath him. A few seconds later, he felt the first tentative touch of Aramis’ tongue against his lips. Now it was Athos’ turn to moan as Aramis pushed the tip of his tongue into his mouth.

Letting go of Aramis’ lip, Athos began to suckle on his tongue instead, pulling it further into his mouth. Aramis actually shouted this time and bucked beneath him as the feel of Athos’ mouth sucking on his tongue went straight to his co*ck. Athos continued to suck on Aramis’ tongue, the feeling of him writhing beneath him, ratcheting his own desire up considerably. He could not stop himself from grinding down against the other man, his own co*ck a hard line that he pressed into Aramis’ hip.

“f*ck,” Athos swore, forcing himself to pull back. He looked at Aramis and saw the lust-blown look on his face. His lips were bright red and he was panting as he lay on his back and looked up at Athos. It took everything Athos had not simply lean back down and take the man’s mouth again.

“A-A-Athos,” Aramis stammered, clutching the other man by the arms. He felt like he was about to come right there from Athos’ kisses alone. He knew he should probably be mortified by that but he was far too aroused to care.

“Tell me what you want,” Athos said. “Do you want me to make you come? I will, if you want me to. I can just keep kissing you or… or I can use my hand. Whatever you want from me, ‘Mis, it’s yours.”

“K-Keep kiss-kissing me,” Aramis managed, his face heating with more than arousal as he voiced his desire.

Athos didn’t say anything else. He simply leaned back down and began kissing Aramis again. This time, he let his own tongue push into Aramis’ mouth, taking a moment to taste his lover before using it to coax Aramis’ own tongue back into his mouth. He let his tongue run all along it, stroking it, before beginning to suck on it once more. He could feel Aramis thrusting against him, his co*ck hard as steel as it pressed into Athos’ hip.

It did not take much longer, it simply could not. Aramis was too wound up. When Athos ground down against him as he writhed, it was enough to push him over the edge and Aramis bucked up hard and froze. He gave a strangled shout into Athos’ mouth and began to come in his boxers, his sem*n soaking them as he thrust helplessly. Finally, he collapsed back down on the bed, utterly spent.

“f*ck! Are you okay?” Athos asked, raising himself up again so he could look at the other man.

Aramis just lay there, still struggling to get his breathing under control. He could see the worry on his friend’s face and wanted to ease it but he did not know how. He was so overwhelmed he could hardly breathe, much less speak. He had never experienced something so intense and had no idea how to handle it.

“I’m sorry,” Athos said guilty. “I didn’t mean to push you that far. f*ck. Please, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m… I’m okay,” Aramis managed after a moment. He hated seeing Athos in distress and hated it even more that he was the cause of it this time. It was not Athos’ fault that his lover was a shrinking violet who quailed when he was so much as touched.

Athos sat on the bed while Aramis went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. He could not believe he had been so stupid. He had seen how overwhelmed Aramis was becoming and he had kept going. Aramis had not been anywhere near ready for something like this. Athos felt like he had betrayed the man, betrayed the trust between them by taking something from Aramis that he not been prepared to give, had not even realized he was giving, until it was too late.

Aramis stared at himself in the mirror above the sink. He did not look any different. He knew it was stupid to think that he might bear some outward sign but still. He felt so completely changed on the inside that it was hard to imagine there not being some corresponding difference on the outside as well. Taking off his soiled boxers, he wadded them up and set them on the sink. He cleaned himself up quickly, grimacing at the coldness of the water. He needed to get back to Athos. He had no idea what he was going to say to the man but he had not missed the guilt in his eyes. He did not want Athos feeling guilty for this. He was a grown man after all. He could have said no.

When Aramis returned to their room, he found Athos still sitting on the bed where he had left him. He hesitated for a moment then sat down next to him. Reaching out, he took his hand and squeezed it. “Hey,” he said. “I really am okay. I know things went a bit, um, far, but…”

“But you forgive me for pushing you into something you clearly did not want and were not ready for?” Athos finished bitterly.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Aramis told him. “That isn’t what I was going to say at all. Nor is it true. I did want it.”

“You just weren’t ready for it,” Athos said, picking up on what Aramis exactly what Aramis had and had not said.

“Maybe not,” Aramis shrugged. “But it’s still okay. We’re both finding our way in this. I’m pretty sure you haven’t bedded a lot of twenty-four year old virgins. And I wasn’t exactly saying stop.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Athos ground out angrily. He was furious with himself for what he had done to Aramis. He had sworn he would never hurt the man, especially in this and he had broken that promise already.

“You can’t read my mind, Athos,” Aramis told him. “If I don’t want something, if something is going too far or too fast, it’s up to me to tell you that. I’m… I’m sorry that I didn’t. I never meant to hurt you like this.”

“Hurt me?” Athos snapped, jerking his hand from Aramis’ grip. “What the f*ck, ‘Mis?”

“Yes, Athos, hurt you,” Aramis said as he reached out and took his friend’s hand once more. “I didn’t tell you to stop and I became overwhelmed and that ended up hurting you. For that, I am sorry.”

Seeing that continuing the conversation was only going to make matters worse, they agreed to table it until the morning. Both of them were exhausted, Aramis even more so than Athos, and they needed some rest. Maybe, come morning, they would both be able to look at things a bit differently.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Athos lay beside Aramis, listening to him breathe. He knew it would not take long for the other man to fall asleep. He had only gotten about an hour or so earlier in the day and was exhausted. Add his org*sm to that and there was no way for him not to fall asleep. Only when he was sure Aramis was sleeping soundly, did Athos carefully slip from the bed. He grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it back on then headed into the living room. He had put Aramis through enough tonight. He was not going to force his presence on the man after all of that. Besides, he was not sure he could handle waking up and seeing Aramis regarding him with uncertainty now. No, it would be best if he slept elsewhere, at least for the time being.

Aramis stood in the gymnasium, the entity right in front of him. It twisted around him, its black tendrils like smoke as they wrapped around him, so close but never quite touching. He heard the sound of someone gasping for breath off to the side but he could not afford to take his attention away from the creature.

A cry of pain made him wince but he held his ground. They would win this. They would rid this place of this evil. The sounds of struggling began to grow fainter and he knew he had to hurry, that Athos did not have much time.

“And here I thought he meant something to you,” the thing laughed in its grotesque voice. “Oh well. I’m sure you can find a replacement easily enough.”

Once the creature was gone, Aramis rushed to where Athos lay crumpled on the floor. He tugged at the ropes, twisting and pulling, but they would not give, tightening more and more with every move he made. He began to cry, shaking his head as he took in the dead, vacant look in Athos’ eyes. He could not believe it had come to this. He could not believe he had lost him. How was he supposed to go on?

Aramis jolted upright in the bed, a cry on his lips. He looked about frantically for Athos but he was nowhere to be seen. His heart began to hammer in his chest as he threw back the blanket and raced from the room. He came to a stumbling halt just inside the living room, the sight of Athos sleeping peacefully on the couch, actually driving him to his knees.

He stayed like that for nearly ten minutes, staring at Athos’ sleeping form and trying to keep from throwing up all over Porthos’ living room floor. When he finally felt strong enough to stand, he rose and returned to the bedroom. Knowing he was not going back to sleep, he pulled on a t-shirt and slipped into his jeans. He headed back into the living room, grabbing his laptop on the way, then went out onto the balcony. It was cold in the wee hours of the morning but Aramis hardly felt it, the numbness inside of him far outweighing any physical discomfort.

When Athos turned over for the fifth time in less than an hour, he knew trying to sleep was a lost cause. It was not the couch he was sleeping on. He had slept on it earlier just fine. It was Aramis. He could not get what had happened out of his head. Not only had he pushed him into something he was not ready for, Aramis had ended up apologizing to him, saying he was sorry for hurting him by not speaking up. As overwrought as Aramis had been, Athos was not sure the man had even realized how far things were going until they had abruptly ended up there.

No, the fault was Athos’. He was the older, more experienced partner. He was supposed to be looking out for Aramis in this regard, not pushing him headlong into things without a thought to the repercussions. Since sleep was out of the question, and lying about berating himself was not doing anyone any good, Athos got up. He would look in on Aramis just to make sure he was still sleeping then he would check in on Porthos. Maybe after that, his head would be a bit clearer.

Athos frowned when he approached the door to their bedroom. He distinctly remembered closing it when he had left the room last night. His stomach tightening in apprehension, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The blanket was thrown back on the bed but Aramis was nowhere to be seen. Athos glanced around the room and saw that Aramis’ clothes were gone as well. He felt his heart lodge in his throat as he spun around and rushed back into the main room. He nearly staggered when he noticed that Aramis’ laptop was missing from their makeshift work area as well.

Athos told himself to calm down, that Aramis would not simply have left. First of all, where would he have gone? Second, how would he have gotten there? He would not have just taken Athos’ Jeep and Porthos was still too injured to drive. Of course, Aramis could have borrowed Porthos’ SUV. Grabbing his jacket, Athos was about to head outside to see if the cars were still there when he spied the door to the balcony standing ajar. Praying that he was right, he threw his jacket over the back of the couch and headed toward it.

“Thank God,” Athos said, sagging against the doorframe when he saw Aramis sitting in one of the chairs, his laptop perched on his knees. He took a moment to steady himself then sat down in the other chair. “’Mis, what are you doing out here?”

“Thinking,” Aramis replied dully. He was staring off into the distance, not even looking at his computer. Athos picked it up and closed it then set it aside. He reached out to take his friend’s hand and gasped at how cold it was.

“How long have you been out here?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Aramis said, shrugging and shaking his head. “I woke up and…”

“And?”

“Nothing,” Aramis said, swallowing against the sudden sting of tears. “You may have the bedroom. I can sleep elsewhere.”

“Aramis? Please tell me what’s wrong,” Athos implored. He did not like the way Aramis was talking, the refusal to look at him was bad enough, but the complete lack of emotion was starting to scare him.

“You didn’t want to share the room last night,” Aramis explained. “I won’t force you to do so. You can have the room. I’ll find someplace else to sleep.”

“I didn’t want to push you,” Athos said fervently. “And I was being a coward.”

Aramis frowned and turned his head to look at Athos then. “Come again?”

“I was afraid,” Athos said. “I didn’t think I could take it if you woke up and you were scared of me. Even if it was just for a second. So I ran away and hid out on the couch. Some friend I turned out to be.”

“Don’t,” Aramis told him. “You are the best friend I’ve ever had. Don’t disparage that.”

“You’re mine too, you know,” Athos said. “And I’m sorry that I bailed on you last night. I shouldn’t have. I just thought you might want some space. I should have asked you though instead of trying to read your mind.”

“I never want space from you,” Aramis told him. “You’re the only thing that always makes sense to me.”

“Aramis,” Athos sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Come on, let’s get you inside. You’re nearly frozen. Please tell me you haven’t been out here all night.”

“I woke up. You were gone,” Aramis said as Athos helped him to his feet. He was surprisingly unsteady and glad for the support. “I couldn’t face going back in there alone so I came out here.”

“I won’t leave you like that again,” Athos promised. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“A bit,” Aramis hedged. He did, in truth, though he doubted it was much before the nightmare awoke him and he had steadfastly refused to so much as close his eyes afterwards.

“Hmm. You don’t look it,” Athos told him. “You want to lie back down for a little while? I’ll lie down with you, if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” Aramis said quickly. Too quickly, really, but it was too late to take it back now.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Athos asked him again.

“I’m fine, Athos,” Aramis replied. “I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were all relieved to see Porthos up and around the following day. Aramis still made him take it easy and only let him up for a few hours, but it made them all rest a bit easier knowing he was truly out of the woods and healing. Aramis had even made pancakes for the lot of them, saying only that cooking helped him relax when they asked him about it.

“We need to go around to our place and pick up some more clothes,” Aramis said over breakfast. He was not really hungry himself but was happy that the others were all eating.

“I need to do that, too,” d’Artagnan piped up. “And let my folks know I won’t be home for awhile.”

“Don’t see why you don’t just move in here if we’re going to keep working together,” Porthos said around a bite of pancake. He had meant it as a joke but now that he thought about it he realized it was a good idea.

“Are you serious?” Athos asked, equal parts amused and interested. It was an intriguing idea. The place was certainly big enough, with plenty of space for them to work undisturbed. It would also solve the problem of eventually leaving Porthos here alone, something he knew Aramis was loathe to do.

“I was joking when I said it,” Porthos admitted. “But as soon as I did, I realized it was a good idea. If you guys want, that is. I mean, it’s not like you’re rowdy or anything. And it’s safer if we’re together.”

“And not in more occupied areas should something come up,” Aramis added.

“Huh,” Porthos paused. “I wasn’t really thinking about that, but you’ve got a point.”

“My folks won’t be too happy about it, but they won’t try to stop me,” d’Artagnan said. “I need to get out of their house before I turn into that creepy guy who still lives in his parent’s basem*nt when he’s forty.”

“Aramis?” Athos asked. He would leave the decision up to him. He thought it a good idea but considering the start he and Porthos had gotten off to, he was not sure Aramis felt comfortable doing so.

“Like I told you before, if this is what you want to do then I’m with you,” Aramis replied.

Athos studied his friend, lover now, carefully. He could see the exhaustion etched in the lines of Aramis’ young face. He could also see the sincerity. He meant what he said. If this was what Athos wanted to do, what he thought best, then Aramis would go along with it. It was a heady feeling to realize he held such sway over the other man.

“We’re in,” Athos said decisively, turning his attention back to Porthos. “It will take us a bit to get moved in, though. Unlike d’Artagnan, we have an entire apartment worth of stuff to either move or dispose of.”

“Well, if any of it’s better than what’s here, bring it and we’ll dump this stuff,” Porthos said. “I’ve had most of it for years and it wasn’t exactly new when I picked it up.”

Once breakfast was done, Aramis and d’Artagnan cleared away the dishes while Athos took Porthos into the living room. Aramis was still concerned about the man’s balance and did not want him walking anywhere without one of them with him. The last thing they needed was for him to take a fall and hit his head.

“Will you two be alright for a couple of hours?” Aramis asked.

“Sure,” Porthos replied. “Why?”

“D’Artagnan and I are going to run by our places and pick up some clothes and things. We can see about getting the rest moved over later.”

“You sure you don’t want me to go?” Athos asked.

“The fresh air will do me good,” Aramis shook his head.

“You look tired,” d’Artagnan said as they climbed into Athos’ Jeep. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“A bit,” Aramis replied vaguely. “I’m fine, d’Artagnan. No need to worry.”

“Okay, but if you want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

They went to d’Artagnan’s place first. Aramis waited in the Jeep, not wanting to intrude on what could end up being a very personal family discussion. He hoped they did not give the young man too much trouble about his rather abrupt decision to move out. He knew how difficult it could be when you felt your actions were somehow a disappointment to your family. He had only to look at his own life for that. While his grandmother had never come out and said that she blamed Athos for the turn his life had taken, she did not attempt to hide it either. When Aramis had told her he was moving in with the other man, she had refused to speak to him for nearly a month. He sincerely hoped d’Artagnan’s family was not similarly inclined.

“How’d it go?” Aramis asked when d’Artagnan climbed back into the Jeep. He had thrown a large carry-all into the back along with a toolbox.

“Okay,” he shrugged. “They’re not thrilled but mostly because I haven’t known you guys for that long. I kinda had to lie and say I’d known Porthos for a couple of months. Otherwise, they would have thrown a fit. There’s not a lot they really can say, though. I’m twenty-one. It’s not like they can stop me.”

“I know,” Aramis replied. “That doesn’t make it any easier when your family is disapproving of your choices, though.”

“You, too, huh?”

“Yes. My grandmother was furious when I dropped out of Seminary. She blames Athos. When I moved in with him, well, she didn’t take it well.”

“That sucks,” d’Artagnan commiserated. “Maybe she’ll come around, though. Just give her a little time.”

“Me becoming a priest was her life dream, d’Artagnan,” Aramis told him. “She is never going to come around. I am lucky she is even speaking to me. She will never forgive me for what she sees as a betrayal of her as well as God.”

The rest of the ride to Athos’ apartment was done in silence. Aramis did not mind. His thoughts were elsewhere and he was glad not to have to try to keep up his end of a conversation. D’Artagnan, at least, was intuitive enough to pick up on that and gave him the peace he needed to think.

It did not take him long to gather what he and Athos would need for the next little while until they could see about moving. He wanted to give Athos some time to really think about what this would mean. He did not truly mind one way or the other. As he had said to Porthos before, he was basically living off Athos, if the man wanted to move then they would move.

Other than clothes and toiletries, the only other thing Aramis packed was his Bible. Everything else they could either do without or purchase on the fly. Walking out of the building, Aramis heard a faint cry. He looked around, frowning, but did not see anything.

“What is it?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Did you hear that?” he asked. Before d’Artagnan could reply, the sound came again, slightly louder this time. Handing his bags to the other man, he began looking for the source of the noise. It did not take long for him to locate the tiny kitten hunched down next to the front stoop.

Aramis bent down slowly, not wanting to frighten the thing, and carefully lifted it. He knew right away that there was no mother about, the thing was practically skin and bones in his hands. As he looked into its wide, green eyes, he knew he could not simply leave it there. It would surely starve to death if he did. No, they would take it with them back to Porthos’ loft. If need be, he was sure he could find someone to take the poor thing in.

“Porthos is going to have a kitten of his own when you bring that thing back,” d’Artagnan said even as he reached out to gently rub its head. He could not fault Aramis, though. He did not think he would be able to simply leave the thing either. And it was kind of cute, with patchwork fur of brown and orange and white.

“If he minds, I’ll find it a home,” Aramis said. “I can’t leave it here to starve, though.”

“No,” d’Artagnan agreed. “Let’s get going. We’re going to need to stop at the pet store on the way back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s Aramis doing?” Porthos asked once he and Athos were alone.

“He’s managing,” Athos said after a moment. “He didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“No?” Porthos replied, concerned.

“No. We had a bit of a… misstep I suppose,” Athos said, running a hand through his hair.

“What kind of misstep?” Porthos asked seriously. He generally made it a point to stay out of other people’s business, especially their love lives, but this was his team. Add to that Aramis’ complete lack of experience and Porthos found himself feeling more protective than he would have expected.

“Things went a bit too far too fast,” Athos replied. “He wasn’t ready for what happened. I should have seen it was too much for him, but I got caught up and didn’t.”

“Care to elaborate on too much too fast?”

Athos looked up sharply, taking in Porthos’ expression. He could see the worry in the other man’s eyes and understood then that he was actually worried about what Athos might have pushed Aramis into. “Nothing… nothing like that,” Athos said, licking his lips nervously. “We were kissing. He…”

“Ah, got it,” Porthos said, feeling his face heat. “Sorry. I just… he’s young and a freaking virgin and he’s been sheltered his whole life. You can’t tell me he hasn’t.”

“I won’t take advantage of him,” Athos said.

“Not intentionally, no,” Porthos agreed. “I know that. I also know that thing hurt him. I guess I can’t help but worry a bit.”

“That makes two of us then,” Athos said. He hesitated for a moment, unsure how to bring up the subject of finances without offending the other man. In the end, he decided to simply come out with it. “This place, you rent it, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Porthos replied. “Why?”

“I have not seen any other tenants,” Athos remarked, ignoring his question for the time being.

“That’s because there aren’t any,” Porthos told him. “Why are you asking?”

“Because it occurred to me that if someone were to rent another portion of the building it could prove problematic for us,” Athos said.

“Probably,” Porthos said. It was something he had considered many times himself, but there was nothing he could do about it. Luckily, most people weren’t interested in living in a converted warehouse. Yet. “Not much to be done for it, though.”

“Do you think the owner would be willing to sell the building to us?” Athos asked bluntly.

“I’m sure he would,” Porthos said. “But it’s not like I’ve got that kind of money. I can barely afford to rent this place.”

“That was on your own,” Athos said. “There are four of us now.”

“None of which are gainfully employed,” Porthos pointed out.

“We don’t need to be,” Athos said bluntly. “Neither Aramis nor I are working and I assure you, my apartment is not cheap. I can only assume that you take in some money from these endeavors to be able to get by.”

“Yeah, I get paid most of the time,” Porthos agreed. “Not a lot. Depends on the gig and who I’m doing it for. What they can afford, that kind of thing.”

“Then owning the building would take a considerable burden off of you,” Athos said.

“So I’d be paying you rent instead,” Porthos said.

“You would not be paying anyone rent,” Athos argued. “We would own the building collectively. Rather, our company would. Any money we made would go toward our continued endeavors. Or would you rather I simply paid you for helping me with my problem?”

“I don’t want your money,” Porthos huffed. He was tempted. Very tempted. He was telling the truth, he did get paid, but some months it was a choice between paying the rent and buying food. It would be nice not to have to make that choice again.

“I know you don’t,” Athos said. “But I would very much like to do this.”

“Why?” Porthos asked, needing to know Athos’ motivations before he could give the man an answer.

“Several reasons actually,” Athos began. “I think we make a good team and I would like to do my part. I don’t have your knowledge or Aramis’ faith or d’Artagnan’s mechanical skills. What I do have is a great deal of money.”

“Why else?” Porthos asked. He understood Athos’ point, though he was still unsure.

“Aramis,” Athos said.

“You’re going to have to explain that one,” Porthos said.

Athos regarded the other man. He was not sure how much he should reveal, if Aramis would consider it a betrayal of sorts. Athos did not think he would, but he had already screwed up once, he did not want to mess up again. Still, if they were to be a team, they were going to have to trust each other.

“Since leaving Seminary, Aramis has been somewhat restless,” Athos said, searching for the words to convey how at a loss his friend had been. “He had walked away from everything. Since he was a boy, it was the single thing he strove toward. When that was suddenly gone, he didn’t know what to do. That loss of purpose has been taking its toll on him. This, however, has given him a purpose again. I will do whatever I need to in order for that to continue.”

“You don’t have to buy the building for you guys to keep working with me,” Porthos said.

“No, I don’t,” Athos agreed. “But it would make things easier. It would increase our space exponentially. We could put in a work area for d’Artagnan downstairs, as well as an area for Aramis to work out.”

“So, what? We’d just keep the whole place for us?” Porthos asked.

“Yes,” Athos said.

“That’ll get expensive, especially in the winter,” Porthos pointed out.

“We can partition off the areas we are not using,” Athos replied. “Put space heaters in the ones we only use on a limited basis, or have separate units for separate parts of the building so we can heat and cool them as needed. All I ask, is that you consider it.”

“Yeah, alright. Let me think about it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Seriously?” Porthos laughed when Aramis and d’Artagnan walked in with a tiny ball of fur curled protectively in his arms.

“She was all alone,” Aramis said imploringly. “I couldn’t leave her to starve. I can find her another home if you don’t want her here.”

“Jesus,” Porthos sighed. He looked over at Athos but the man just quirked an eyebrow at him. Apparently it was going to be his call. “Keep her out of the electronics and I ain’t cleaning up after her.”

“Really?” Aramis asked, his face brightening. “You don’t mind?”

“No, man. It’s a warehouse. Be good to have a cat around to take care of any mice that get in,” Porthos told him.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Athos asked him as he came over to see the newest addition to their motley crew.

“Um, I was thinking… Sylvie?” Aramis replied.

“Very fitting,” Athos smiled.

Now that the entity at the school had been dealt with, it was time to start looking into what had happened to Athos’ family. Porthos knew that the first step would be to have Athos walk them through that day, from beginning to end. He knew it was going to be hell for the man, even with Aramis there for him to lean on. While he would have preferred to wait until he was back on his feet a bit more, he knew it would be better for Athos to get it over and done with.

“Hey kid, how about grabbing that six pack out of the fridge for me,” Porthos said.

“Porthos, you can’t…,” Aramis began but Porthos held his hand up, stopping him.

“It’s for you guys, not me,” Porthos said. He waited until d’Artagnan had joined them again with the requested beer before continuing. “Athos needs to walk us through that day, beginning to end. I thought the beer might help.”

“Got anything stronger?” Athos laughed darkly, looking away.

“Yeah,” Porthos replied. “You really want it?”

“Yes,” Athos said truthfully. “But don’t get it. Aramis doesn’t like it when I drink too much and if you bring that out now, I’ll end up finishing it off.”

“It’s a full bottle,” Porthos grinned.

“That won’t matter,” Athos told him.

“Is this gonna be enough?” d’Artagnan asked. There were three of them after all and one six-pack wouldn’t go that far.

“I don’t plan on drinking,” Aramis said as he stroked Sylvie’s soft patchwork fur. He had fed her earlier and she was now curled up in his lap purring contentedly.

“You don’t drink?” Porthos asked, surprised.

“I do,” Aramis told him. “Just not very much and I prefer not to tonight. You are still injured. I would rather have my wits about me for the time being.”

“I’m fine, mother hen,” Porthos chuckled.

“All the same,” Aramis replied. “Athos can have mine.”

“Where do you want me start?” Athos asked once Aramis had handed him a beer.

“How about I ask you some general questions and we see where it goes from there?” Porthos suggested. “And if you need to take a break or anything, just say so.”

“Let me go grab something to record this one,” d’Artagnan said standing suddenly. He saw Athos pale and rushed to explain. “I don’t want you to have to go through this more than once, man. If we have a question later, we can just refer back to the recording. If you don’t want me to, though, I won’t.”

“No. No, that’s a good idea,” Athos said. “I really don’t want to have to do this more than once.”

“I can tell them if you’d rather,” Aramis offered. He hated seeing Athos like this. He hated seeing him in pain and he knew it would only get worse the more he was forced to relive that horrible night.

“Aramis, you can’t,” Porthos said gently. “I know you want to protect him, but there are going to be things that he remembers that you don’t know about. Things he didn’t bother to mention when he told you because he didn’t think they were important, or things he just plain forgot.”

“He’s right,” Athos said, reaching out and taking Aramis’ hand. “You weren’t there. I was. He needs to hear it from me.”

“Okay,” Porthos said once d’Artagnan had returned with the recorder and set it up. “Let’s start with the basics. How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” Athos replied. “My mom and dad were, um, forty-three and forty-five. Tommy was… he was… twelve.”

“Was there any significance to the day?” Porthos asked. “To you or your family personally, like a birthday or anniversary or anything?”

“Um, no, not that I recall,” Athos said. He thought for a moment and his eyes grew wide. “Wait. That day wasn’t anything special, but the next day was supposed to be.”

“What was supposed to happen the next day?” Porthos asked.

“Tommy’s confirmation,” Athos said softly. In all the ensuing chaos, he had forgotten. It had seemed so trivial, completely unrelated. If Porthos had not asked that specific question, he did not think he would have recalled it.

“Okay, that’s pretty significant,” Porthos stated. They would definitely need to look into that and see what sort of difference something like that could make. In the meantime, they needed to keep going.

“So let’s start at the beginning. What day of the week was it?” Porthos asked.

“Tuesday,” Athos replied. “Tommy’s confirmation was set for Wednesday afternoon right before Mass.”

“Walk me through that day. Start from the time you got up that morning. Try not to leave anything out, no matter how insignificant it might seem. If you remember what you ate for breakfast that morning, tell me,” Porthos instructed.

“Okay, yeah, it was, uh, Tuesday, May the tenth. I had school that day so I woke up about six, I think,” Athos said. He had to force himself to think back to that day. He had spent the last ten plus years trying to erase it from his memory and now he was having to recall it in excruciating detail. He thought me might be sick.

“I didn’t bother with breakfast. I never did. I remember… I remember waking Tommy up and telling him to get a move on if he wanted me to drive him to school instead of mom. He always liked it when I dropped him off. Said it made him look cooler.”

Athos had to close his eyes for a moment as the memory of that morning assailed him. He could remember his little brother rushing around trying to get ready so Athos would not make him ride to school with their mom. Athos would have waited for him, no matter how long the kid took. He would always wait for Tommy.

“I would have waited for him,” Athos said aloud. “It wasn’t my fault the kid hadn’t figured that out yet. Anyway, we left. I dropped him off at school then went to mine. Mom was picking him up that day because I… I had a drama club meeting. We were trying to decide what play we wanted to put on next year. I wanted to do Macbeth. The girls all wanted Romeo and Juliet.

“The meeting ran later than I thought it would,” Athos continued. “I didn’t get home until almost five. Dad was already home. His car was in the driveway so I parked on the street. I planned to switch them around for him later that night. He always liked his car on the end because he left for work early some mornings and didn’t want to have to move my car.”

Athos had to stop again as tears stung his eyes. He scrubbed at them viciously, refusing to let them fall. He had shed enough tears over this. He knew his brother would not want him to still be mourning him after all this time.

“You’re doing good, Athos,” Porthos told him. “Real good. Take your time.”

Athos felt Aramis squeeze his hand and squeezed back hard. “I’m okay,” he said, breathing out hard. “When I walked into the house… when I walked into the house… I thought it was strange that I didn’t hear anyone. Normally, mom was in the kitchen and Tommy was doing homework. But the house was just… silent. Then I walked into the kitchen and…

“And?” Porthos prompted after Athos failed to speak for over a minute.

“And I found my father dead on the floor in a corner. His throat had been slashed open. His shirt… it was soaked in his blood. My little brother… my… Tommy was on the kitchen table. Our mother was holding him down. She had a knife… a butcher knife… she was holding it over her head. She said… she said…

“What did she say, Athos?” Porthos asked gently.

“She said ‘time for Tommy to die’,” Athos replied. “Then she stabbed him in the chest with the knife. He… he jerked… after… and then he just… deflated… like a balloon.”

“Oh God,” Aramis gasped. Athos had told him of this, but never in such detail. He had not realized how horrific an event it had truly been for the man. His stomach clenched painfully and he found himself stroking Sylvie’s fur almost rhythmically to calm himself.

“She wrenched the knife out of him,” Athos continued. “Like… like it was nothing. She shouldn’t have been able to do that, right?”

“No, Athos. No, she shouldn’t have,” Porthos confirmed.

Athos nodded, seemingly satisfied that his suspicion had been confirmed. “She said ‘your turn’ to me and started to come around the table. That’s when I bolted. I hit the porch and jumped over the railing. A cop car had come skidding into the front yard but I didn’t stop.”

“Why not?” Porthos asked.

“Her eyes,” Athos replied.

“What about her eyes?” Porthos urged.

“They were black,” Athos said. “When she was inside, standing over Tommy, her eyes were black. Not just the pupils or whatever, but the whole thing. It was like in the movies where the actors wear those contacts to make their eyes look like aliens or something.”

“Was there anything else you noticed about her other than her eyes?” Porthos asked.

“She was strong, like I said,” Athos replied then paused for a moment. “And when she talked, it wasn’t… she didn’t speak. She like said it in this sing-song voice. Like a little kid or something.”

“Okay. So you hit the front yard, saw the cops, but kept going. Then what?”

“I heard them yell at her to stop, to drop the knife. Then I heard shots. I spun around then. She was on the ground. She had been shot, but she just… she just got back up and like sprang at the cops. They shot her again… a lot… and she went down. She… she didn’t get up again.”

His story finally over, Athos tipped up the beer he was holding and drank it without stopping. He handed the empty bottle to Aramis who took it without a word and handed him another. He nodded his thanks, unable to even muster the smallest of smiles for his friend at the moment. He felt raw on the inside, raw and bleeding in a way he hadn’t in a very long time and all he wanted to do was find someplace dark and quiet where he could curl up and sob until the pain went away again.

Athos ended up drinking all but one of the beers which d’Artagnan polished off. Aramis did not mind. He would not have minded if Athos decided to get blind drunk. Not after that. They were home, such as it was, and they were safe. If his friend felt the need to forget, and required some liquid assistance to do so, then Aramis would not stop him. Athos contented himself with the beer, however, knowing Aramis worried when he drank too much. There had been a few times, in the early days of their acquaintance, when Athos had gotten quite drunk. It was normally around the anniversary of his family’s death, though Aramis had not known that at the time. Aramis had never said anything, but the quiet worry in his friend’s eyes had been enough to curtail that particular pursuit.

Aramis made sure both Porthos and d’Artagnan were safely in bed, both men clucking at his over protectiveness, before joining Athos in their room. Athos was sitting on the side of the bed looking down at Sylvie. “I don’t think your cat likes me,” he said.

“Of course she does,” Aramis replied as he bent down to scoop her up. “And you like her as well. However, as much as we all like each other, she is not sleeping in here. Not tonight.” Aramis set her down outside their room and closed the door. He said a silent prayer that she did not get into any mischief during the night and sat back down beside Athos on the bed.

“You could have let her stay,” Athos told him as Aramis linked their hands together.

“She will be fine,” Aramis said. “I am more worried about you at the moment.”

“I’m fine. It just brought up a lot of things I’ve spent the last ten years trying to forget,” Athos explained. “I really am fine, though.”

“You are not fine,” Aramis told him. “But you will be and that is all that I can ask for. Do you want me to say or would you rather I take the couch?”

Athos looked at him in alarm until he remembered their early morning discussion out on the balcony. “I’m sorry I left like I did last night,” Athos said quickly. “I shouldn’t have. Please… please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Aramis promised. “Not if you don’t want me to. I just… I didn’t want to presume.”

“f*ck,” Athos swore. “Is this what I’ve done to us? You don’t want to presume?”

“Hey, no,” Aramis said, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around him. “You’ve been through hell tonight, Athos. I just don’t want to add to that. If me being here makes it better, then I’ll be here.”

“What do you want?” Athos asked, his voice muffled by Aramis’ chest.

“To make you happy,” Aramis replied honestly. “To find this thing that hurt you so badly and hurt it even worse. To protect you.”

“What do you want for you?” Athos pressed.

“That is what I want for me,” Aramis said simply.

They got undressed for bed, with Aramis keeping an eye on Athos the entire time. Most of a six-pack was not normally enough for Athos to be considered drunk, but it had been a trying few days. Once they were down to their boxers, they laid down on the bed together.

“Are you sure about this, Athos?” Aramis asked suddenly.

“Sure about what exactly?”

“Moving in here with Porthos,” Aramis clarified.

“I think so, yes,” Athos answered. “I told him I wanted to buy the building, that way we would not have to worry about the possibility of other tenants and would have all the space the four of us could possibly need.”

“You want to buy the building,” Aramis repeated slowly. “For Porthos?”

“For all of us,” Athos told him, frowning slightly. “You don’t like the idea.”

“No, I’m sure it’s a wonderful idea,” Aramis tried to recover. “It makes sense.”

“What don’t you like about it?” Athos asked him.

“I guess I am surprised at how close you and Porthos have grown so quickly,” Aramis said, trying to put his feelings into words and failing. “It is irrelevant anyway.”

“Your feelings are not irrelevant,” Athos said. “Not to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie padded around the loft, taking in her new home. She could not believe how easy it was to trick the priest into bringing her here. She had thought she would have to follow them and hang around outside looking pathetic for at least a few days before one of them finally took her in. If that had not worked, she would have had to resort to sneaking in and being “found”. This had worked out so much better than she could have hoped.

She liked this place, it was big and open but with enough nooks and crannies that she could hide unobserved. The humans would never know she was there if she did not want them to. The priest was already enamored with her. And the rest of them all but fawned over him. She wondered if his purity was what called to them. It certainly called to her, making her want to do such delicious things to him. She had always found the pure ones’ screams to be so much sweeter than any others.

She was quite surprised by the Survivor. Never before had a Survivor sought her out. Normally, they shied away from the memories she left them with, as this one had done for nearly a decade. Now, however, he was seeking answers, looking for reasons and truths and… vengeance.

He would soon learn what a mistake that was. She had stripped him of one family, left him the only one standing in the ruin of his life. She could easily do so again. And she would enjoy it. She wondered if she could somehow claim the priest as her own. To do so, he would have to offer himself willingly. As long as he was still a virgin, that was. Once he lost that precious status, he was as open and vulnerable to her as the rest of them.

She grinned as she licked her paw and rubbed it over her face. She could only imagine how distraught the Survivor would feel when he found out that he was the very one who had stripped the priest’s protection from him. For, if it came to pass, she would make sure he found out.

Satisfied, she leapt up onto the back of the couch and curled up in a ball. While nighttime was normally the time for cats to play, she preferred to sleep. The humans would be up bright and early and she needed to be ready for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis awoke with a sob, Athos’ name on his lips. He sat bolt upright in the bed and looked around frantically for the other man. His eyes finally fell on him, sleeping peacefully beside him, and his heart stuttered until he saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. Feeling his stomach about to rebel, Aramis hurried from the bed, grabbing the small trashcan by the door just in time. He fell to his knees as he retched again and again, the hateful vision of his dream more than he could withstand. By the time he was finished, tears streamed down his face and his stomached ached from the painful heaving.

Setting the can aside, he rose shakily to his feet. He spared another moment to simply watch Athos sleeping undisturbed, then he picked up the trashcan and headed to the bathroom. He returned the clean can a few minutes later and grabbed his jeans and t-shirt. He pulled them on then padded out into the living room. There was no way he was going back to sleep. Not after that.

As Aramis sat down on the couch, Sylvie jumped into his lap and curled up in a ball. She purred happily as Aramis absently stroked her fur. Aramis well and truly did not know what to do. He knew he could not avoid sleep forever. No one could. Eventually, he would have to sleep and then the dreams would come. He thought about telling Athos about them but he did not want to. This was his burden to bear. Athos already bore so much of the burden where he was concerned. He could not stand the idea of putting even more on the man.

When Athos awoke a few hours later, it was to an empty bed. He looked around the room for Aramis but it obvious that he had left some time ago. Getting up, he quickly threw on his clothes and went in search of the other man.

He found him sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of scones across from him, pecking away at his laptop. Athos went over and placed a kiss on the top of his head then sat down on the chair next to him. “Couldn’t sleep again?” he asked softly.

Aramis just shrugged. It was not that he could not sleep, it was what happened when he did. He stroked his fingers along Sylvie’s fur, letting the soft purr calm him. “Just felt like baking,” he said, though he did not look up from his computer screen.

Athos watched his friend, growing more and more worried. The fact that Aramis would not look at him again was disconcerting enough, but Aramis only ever felt like baking when he was deeply troubled. Athos had termed it “stress baking”. When Aramis was overly stressed about something and he could find no other outlet, he baked.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Athos said. He hated that he felt the actual need to say those words aloud to Aramis. He had never thought there would be a time when the man would not know that. Yet whatever Aramis was going through, and it was clear he was going through something, he seemed reluctant to talk about.

Aramis looked up from his computer, taking in Athos’ worried expression. He reached out to take Athos’ hand when ten tiny, razor-sharp talons suddenly dug into his leg. With a strangled yelp, he shoved his chair back and looked down at his lap. Sylvie blinked up at him, green eyes impossibly wide, and Aramis shook his head with a laugh. “Not very nice, you,” he admonished as he lifted her off his leg and set her down on the floor.

Athos watched the pair, annoyed that the cat had interrupted them when Aramis finally seemed ready to talk. He started to say something again, to bring the conversation back around, when d’Artagnan came all but bounding into the room, startling the two men and sending Sylvie running for cover.

“Oh sorry,” he grinned sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to scare her like that.”

“She’ll be fine,” Aramis told him. “She needs to get used to us anyway.”

They had the scones Aramis made for breakfast, with Porthos joking about making him their resident chef if he kept cooking like this. Aramis had flipped him off good-naturedly before setting a dish of food down for Sylvie.

“I am already the resident virgin,” he stated airily. “I do believe I am fulfilling quite enough roles, thank you.”

“Fair enough,” Porthos laughed. “So what’s on the agenda for today? I gotta tell you guys, laying around in bed all day is getting pretty boring.”

“Well, I wanted to go by my grandmother’s house and pick up the books I left there,” Aramis said. “They have to do with religion, in one form or another, and may prove useful to us. If you feel up to it, we could all go and then we could take you by the apartment. You could look the place over and see what you might want to bring over.”

“Believe me, man, I feel up to it,” Porthos said.

“It would probably be best if the three of you waited in the car for me when I go to get the books,” Aramis said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“His grandmother blames me for Aramis dropping out of Seminary,” Athos explained. “She is right about that much, but she also thinks I am Satan incarnate so the less contact we have with each other the better.”

“We can take my truck,” Porthos offered. “It’ll give us more room to bring stuff back.”

“Only if you don’t mind someone else driving it,” Aramis said. “I don’t want you driving yet.”

“Yes, mother hen,” Porthos said. “I don’t care who drives just as long as I can get out of here for a bit. I need a change of scenery.”

They headed to Aramis’ grandmother’s house first. The closer they got, the more nervous Aramis became. He was not looking forward to the coming confrontation. His grandmother was still quite put out with him. When she found out that he and Athos were moving into a warehouse with two other men, she was going to lose it.

Not feeling right simply walking into a house he no longer lived in, even if it was his grandmother’s, Aramis knocked on the door. Clara, one of his cousins answered. “Is Nana here?” Aramis asked as he stepped inside.

“No,” Clara said. “She and Mrs. Durham went to the market fair. She probably won’t be back for another couple of hours.”

“Ah, okay,” Aramis said. “Well, I need to get some books I left here. Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead,” she replied. “Is that Athos outside waiting for you?”

“Yes and a couple of other friends,” Aramis told her. “Oh, we’re moving, Athos and I. I’ll write the new address and phone number down in case you need to reach me.”

“Where are you moving to?” she asked as she watched him shove books into a duffle bag.

“A converted warehouse over on Fosters. We’re sharing it with the other two guys out in the truck.”

“So you’re moving in with three guys now?” she said slowly, pursing her lips.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Aramis asked testily as he threw the last book into the duffle and zipped it shut.

“It means that Nana already thinks you’re having wild orgies or something at your boy’s place. When she finds out about this she’s going to go ballistic,” Clara said.

Aramis stood up and looked down at his cousin. She was right, of course, but there was nothing to be done for it. “I’m sorry, Clara, but I can’t live my life for other people any more. I did that for the last twenty-four years. I’m not doing it any longer.”

As soon as Aramis came back out of the house, Athos could tell he was upset. He was not angry, but he was close to it. Athos wondered if it would not be a good idea to suggest a short stop at the dojo so Aramis could get a workout in.

“He doesn’t look happy,” Porthos said under his breath as Aramis approached.

“Yeah,” Athos agreed. “We may need to make a pit stop.”

“Whatever you need,” Porthos told him.

Aramis threw the duffle into the back of the SUV and climbed in next to d’Artagnan. He saw the worried look Athos shot his way and blew out a breath. “She wasn’t home. My cousin Clara was. She seems to think my grandmother will object when she finds out about the move.”

“Will she?” d’Artagnan asked.

“Most definitely,” Aramis replied. “She sees my life with Athos as… hedonistic.”

“Satan incarnate, huh?” Porthos said.

“Apparently Athos is the serpent and I am the innocent in the garden just waiting to be misled,” Aramis spat.

“Easy, ‘Mis,” Athos said softly.

“Sorry,” Aramis said after a moment. “I shouldn’t let it get to me. I’m done living my life by other people’s standards. I did that for over twenty years. I want to live for me now.”

“Then do that,” d’Artagnan told him. “It’ll be hard, man. Sometimes it’ll seem like it’s too damn hard, but we’ll help you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Aramis said, grinning at the young man beside him. “Now let’s get out of here before she returns. Her fury will be bad enough when it catches up to me. I would rather not have that happen right now.”

By the time they reached the apartment building, Aramis had calmed considerably. He was still upset, but it was more in anticipation of things to come than with what had transpired at the house. He knew his cousin had not meant anything by her words. She was only being truthful. His grandmother was not going to like this new arrangement. At all. And she would have no qualms about making her dislike known.

The pair walked Porthos and d’Artagnan through the apartment, showing them the furniture and other household goods. “This stuff is a hell of a lot better than what I’ve got,” Porthos said, admiringly. “We can just dump mine and move this stuff over.”

“Let’s not dump anything until we decide what, exactly, we’re doing,” Athos said. “If we do expand, we could just move your existing stuff downstairs.”

“I didn’t think about that,” Porthos said. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

In the end, they decided they would simply pack up the apartment as a whole and move it over. There was enough room for it and it would be easier to figure out what to keep and what to get rid of once they had everything in one place.

“What about you, kid?” Porthos asked. “You need to pick up anything?”

“Just some clothes and a few books,” d’Artagnan said. “Nothing we need to worry about now. My folks will hold on to it all until I come for it. I think they’re hoping I end up moving back. I kind of don’t want to take that away from them yet.”

When they returned to the loft, Aramis was in much better spirits. They brought up the books Aramis had taken from his grandmother’s along with the few additional odds and ends they had grabbed at the apartment. Athos would be calling the landlord tomorrow to see about terminating their lease. He would also be talking to his lawyer about the four of them forming a company to operate as. It would provide them a certain degree of personal protection should something go awry and it would ensure that if something happened to one of them the others would be able to continue if they chose to.

“Hey kid, see what’s on the answering machine, will ya?” Porthos called as they set everything down on the kitchen table.

“Not a kid,” d’Artagnan called back but he went to hit play on the phone.

The voice on the recording froze Aramis and Athos in their tracks. It was Aramis’ grandmother and she was beyond angry. “Aramis! How dare you!” she spat, more reminiscent of an angry house cat than a seventy-something year old woman. “It was bad enough that you abandoned God to be his kept boy. Now your cousin tells me the two of you are moving into some warehouse with two other men.

“Do you take me for a fool? Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? The vile things you get up to? You are a sinner and you will burn in hell for what you are doing! How could you do this to me? I took you in, boy. I raised you after your parents died and this is how you repay me. By… by flaunting your disgusting, unnatural relationship with another man for everyone to see! It’s a perversion!”

“Jesus,” d’Artagnan gasped, shocked at the hateful vitriol that was coming out of the phone. Aramis had turned an ashen grey color and d’Artagnan worried that he might collapse. The message, however, was not quite over.

“If that’s how you want to live, if you want to be some rich man’s whor*, then I wash my hands of you. God help you, Aramis, but I’m glad your parents are already dead. I couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in their eyes if they could see you now.”

With that the message suddenly cut off. The room was deathly silent. No one knew what to say. Aramis had said she would not be happy about the arrangement but none of them had expected to hear such hate and spewed at Aramis no less.

“Aramis...,” Athos began, unsure what exactly to say to his friend. He had known she had not liked him, had blamed him for Aramis leaving Seminary, but had not imagined it was this bad.

“Don’t,” Aramis said, his voice strangled. He swallowed thickly, trying to get the sudden lump out of his throat. “Please. I just need a few minutes.” With that, he set down the books in his hand and headed toward what was quickly becoming his sanctuary, the balcony. Closing the door behind him, he did not see Sylvie as she slipped through.

“f*ck,” Porthos swore. “Was that really…”

“Yes,” Athos said in disbelief. “But I never… I mean, I knew she didn’t like me, that she blamed me, but I had no idea. My God, how long has he been putting up with… with that?”

“Probably since he’s known you,” d’Artagnan told him. “If not longer. I know Aramis said he was always planning on entering the priesthood but do you know if he ever showed any interest in anyone, girl or boy?”

“I, ah, I know he went out a few times as a teenager, but it was just as friends,” Athos replied. “I would assume, since he was attending a rather strict Catholic school, that his dates were all with girls.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” d’Artagnan shook his head sadly. “If he knew he was never going to have a relationship like that then why rock the boat.”

Athos took a deep breath and did his best to let go of the anger that had gripped him when he had heard Aramis being spoken to so cruelly. He needed to go and talk to Aramis. Steeling himself, he headed to the door that led out to the balcony. He let himself out, careful to close the door behind him, wanting to give Aramis what privacy he could.

“Hey,” Athos said softly was he sat down in the chair beside Aramis’.

“Come to collect your boy?” Aramis asked bitterly.

“Is that really how you see yourself?” Athos asked, unable to mask the pain in his voice at even the thought of such a thing.

“Do you want the truth or would you prefer the pretty lie?” Aramis came back. He did not mean to be harsh, especially to Athos, but his emotions were like a raw, open wound and he was afraid to let anyone get close to them right now.

“I always want the truth from you,” Athos replied. “Even when it’s painful.”

“I’m sorry,” Aramis said. “I don’t mean to take my anger out on you.”

“It’s not like you can take it out on her,” Athos said. “But you didn’t answer my question. Is that really how you feel?”

Aramis looked at his friend, at the honest desire to know, to understand in his eyes and felt guilty all over again. Still, Athos had asked for the truth. “Sometimes,” Aramis admitted.

Athos felt his heart seize painfully in his chest. He had heard the whispers on campus, but they had not bothered him. He had thought Aramis either oblivious to them or as unconcerned with them as he was. Now, however, it seemed otherwise.

“What can I do?” Athos asked desperately. “How can I fix this? Please.”

“Athos, no,” Aramis said, sitting up in his chair. He let his hands come to rest on the other man’s knees, needing the physical contact. “There’s nothing for you to do. This isn’t your fault. I know I shouldn’t let her get to me like this.”

“It’s more than that, though,” Athos said. “This isn’t just about her hom*ophobic rant.”

Aramis hesitated then decided to simply tell his friend one of the things that was troubling him. “Maybe I find the idea of living off of you difficult to stomach at times,” he finally admitted.

“Oh,” Athos said, taken aback slightly. His money had never been a sticking point between the two of them. At least not before Aramis had left Seminary. To find out that it suddenly was, was distressing.

“I’m sorry,” Aramis apologized yet again. “I must sound terribly ungrateful. You take me in, give me a home when I have nothing and I have the temerity to complain that it hurts my pride. Forgive me, my friend.”

“Please stop apologizing,” Athos said in a strained voice. “You think I don’t understand? I do. I just… I hadn’t thought it mattered. Not between us.”

“It doesn’t,” Aramis told him. “Not really.”

“Obviously it does,” Athos replied.

“Don’t be stubborn,” Aramis told him. “And no, it does not. I am upset and hurting and I am taking it out on you. Yes, the perception of being your kept boy bothers me at times. Yes, I worry for what I will do now that I have left Seminary and have no actual marketable skills. None of that is anything you need be concerned with.”

“Now who is being stubborn?” Athos asked. “There isn’t much I can do about other people’s perceptions of us. Other than to start getting into fights, but I’m afraid that would only reinforce those misperceptions.”

“Don’t do that,” Aramis huffed out a laugh. “One of us getting into fights is quite enough.”

“Fair enough. As for your marketable skills, as you put it, I was rather hoping this endeavor might work out for us.”

“What? This?” Aramis asked, surprised.

“Why not?” Athos asked.

Aramis drew back a bit and mulled the idea over. It was obvious that Athos wanted to do this. Aramis was just not sure why exactly and that bothered him. “I guess there could be worse things to do,” he said at last. “You seem to get on with Porthos well enough at any rate.”

“Why do I think there’s more to that statement than what you actually said?” Athos asked warily.

“There isn’t,” Aramis told him. He felt something tug at the bottom of his jeans and looked down to see Sylvie. He reached down and lifted her up into his lap.

“’Mis?” Athos could tell there was something that the other man was not saying. If it were anyone else, he would say they were jealous but that was absurd. Aramis knew Athos loved him, was in love with him and had been for years. To be jealous of Porthos was nothing short of absurd.

“He… He would be…”

“A very good friend to have,” Athos finished for him. “For both of us. You ready to come back inside or do you want to sit out here for a while longer?”

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” Aramis said. “It’s peaceful.”

“Alright,” Athos said, getting to his feet. “Make sure to bring your cat back inside when you come. Wouldn’t want her to get locked out.” Athos made sure to shut the door behind him when he came back into the loft. He was still worried about Aramis but knew he would be okay. He could not, however, say the same for his grandmother if Athos got his hands on her any time soon.

“How is he?” Porthos asked when Athos came back in. He had expected Aramis to come with him and was somewhat dismayed that he had not.

“Upset,” Athos replied. “But calming down. I can’t believe she would say something like that to him. He’ll be okay, though. He just needs a little time.”

“Whatever he needs, man,” Porthos said. “Just let us know.”

“Thanks,” Athos replied sincerely, glad there were others that cared about Aramis’ well-being besides him. He sat down at the kitchen table and Porthos sat down across from him.

“So, I’ve been giving your suggestion some thought. Do you still want to do this? Buy the building and the four of us work together, like officially?” Porthos asked.

“Yes,” Athos said at once. “I think we could really help some people.”

“And it would give Aramis a purpose again,” Porthos added, wanting all of their cards on the table.

“Yes,” Athos agreed. “He needs one and this would be perfect for him.”

While Athos and Porthos talked, d’Artagnan quietly slipped out onto the balcony. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Athos, but he wanted to see for himself that Aramis was okay. He kept quiet when he sat down on the empty chair next to him. He had not come out here to disturb whatever peace Aramis had found. He simply wanted him to know that he was there for him and that he understood, at least to some degree, what he was going through.

“I am alright,” Aramis said as he continued to look out over the railing at the rest of the city. “You don’t need to worry.”

“You’re my friend,” d’Artagnan said. “I can’t help it.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said, his voice sincere. He turned his head to look at the young man next to him. For one so young, d’Artagnan was quite mature. Aramis thought it probably had to do with trying to come to grips with his sexuality and the fact that it did not conform to what society generally deemed as acceptable.

D’Artagnan shook his head fondly, a bit exasperated that Aramis was thanking him for something like that. “I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you want to talk. If not, well, I can just sit here and keep you company.”

Aramis turned back and looked out at the city once more. He idly stroked Sylvie under her chin, enjoying her rumbling purr. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” he said off-handedly. “I mean, it’s not exactly the first time something like that’s been implied.”

“Maybe,” d’Artagnan said. “But she did a bit more than imply and it wasn’t just anyone saying it.”

“No,” Aramis agreed. “No, it wasn’t.”

“You know she’s wrong, right?” d’Artagnan said carefully. He could see that Aramis was still emotionally fragile and he needed to tread carefully.

“Are you sure?” Aramis asked. “After all, Athos does support me. I contribute nothing to our arrangement except myself. Is that not the very definition of…”

“Stop it,” d’Artagnan said sharply, all thoughts of treading carefully forgotten. “You’re not his whor*, Aramis.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, my friend. Forgive me,” Aramis said.

“It’s okay, man, just… you’re not… that. And it would kill Athos if he heard you say something like that about yourself.”

When d’Artagnan got up to go back inside, Aramis went with him. He knew it worried Athos whenever he pulled in on himself like this and the man had enough to deal with without adding Aramis’ insecurities into the mix. Entering the main room, they found Athos and Porthos still deep in discussion at the kitchen table.

Aramis set Sylvie down on the back of the couch then he and d’Artagnan came over to join the other two men. They sat down across from each other at the table, looking back and forth between Athos and Porthos, waiting for one of them to fill them in.

“Well?” Aramis asked when both men just looked at the pair. “What’s going on?”

“Ah, nothing,” Porthos offered hesitantly. “We were, uh, just talking about what we wanted to do.”

“Porthos was asking if I still wanted to buy the building so we could set up a base of sorts here,” Athos explained. “I told him I did. Though I realize now I probably should have spoken with you first. If you no longer wish to do this…”

“Don’t be stupid,” Aramis said softly. “I have already told you, more than once, if this is what you want to do then I’m in.”

“I know that,” Athos said. “But I also know that moving here is what triggered… that. I don’t want to cause a problem with your family, ‘Mis.”

“You aren’t the one causing the problem,” Aramis told him. “She is. If she wishes to disown me because of who I choose to love, then… then I am better off without her in my life. I am not giving you up. Not for her. Not for anybody.

“So, if you want to move here and buy the building and set up shop then so be it. Just… bear with me. She is the last tie I had to my parents and losing that is difficult.”

“Believe me, I understand,” Athos told him. He took his hand and squeezed it. As he let go, he a fine tremor run through his friend. He noted the dark circles under his eyes and the overall fatigue that was practically etched into his face. “You’re exhausted. You need to get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Aramis said, biting back the urge to yawn as he did so. The last thing he wanted to do was try to sleep again. Every time he did, the nightmares came. He did not think he could handle seeing Athos die in his dreams again right now.

“No, you’re not,” Athos argued. He had no idea why Aramis was so resistant to getting some rest. Of the two of them, he was normally much more practical one about such things.

“He’s right,” Porthos put in when Aramis opened his mouth to argue. “You’re dead on your feet. We’re all okay, mother hen. You can take a little time for yourself now.”

Aramis felt his temper start to rise and took a deep breath. He held it for a moment then let it out slowly. “You’re right,” he said. “I am beyond tired. If you don’t need me for anything, I think I’ll go lie down for a bit.”

Aramis rose from the table, careful to keep his movements even and measured. He was still annoyed at being conspired against, even if it was for his own good. He was a grown man. If he did not want to sleep, he should not be forced to. Stepping away from the table, he scooped up Sylvie and carried her with him into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Wow,” Porthos said once the bedroom door was safely closed. “He’s kind of scary when he’s pissed.”

“He doesn’t like being manipulated,” Athos explained.

“We weren’t manipulating him,” d’Artagnan frowned.

“No, but he is exhausted and right now he sees our insistence that we know what is best for him as insulting. Hopefully, a few hours sleep with restore his equilibrium.”

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Aramis kicked his shoes off and lay down on the bed with Sylvie on his chest. He stared into her green eyes as he stroked the fur between her ears making her rumble and purr. He could feel the vibration within his own chest, an almost tickling sensation, and it warmed him. Aramis felt his eyes begin to grow heavy as he continued to stroke Sylvie’s fur. As they slid shut, sleep taking him, he did not see her eyes turn black.

Aramis moaned when he found himself back in the abandoned school once more. He was in the hallway leading to the gymnasium. He looked around for any sign of the others, but he was alone. He felt a tingle of fear run down his spine and quickened his pace. This was not right. The others should be here with him.

As he approached the gym, a blood-curdling scream split the air. He nearly choked when he recognized Athos’ voice. Abandoning any pretence of stealth, he ran toward the sound, intent on getting to the other man. When he burst through the double doors, the sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees.

Athos was above him, strung up high above the floor. His arms were spread wide, vicious wires wrapped around his wrists, slicing through the delicate skin. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the floor as he hung suspended by the wires around his wrists, his entire body weight pulling on them and digging the wires in deeply.

Even as he watched, another strand of wires began slithering along Athos’ body, snaking their way upwards until they reached his neck. They quickly wound themselves around his throat and began to tighten, cutting off his air as they sliced into him. Blood began to run down Athos’ neck as Aramis looked about frantically for a way to get him down. As he scanned the room, he saw Porthos and d’Artagnan sprawled in a heap. From the way they were laying, it was clear they were both dead. Choking back a sob, Aramis pushed them from his mind. He could do nothing for them now. He needed to find a way to help Athos.

All at once, the wires holding Athos aloft snapped. Aramis dove toward him, but he was too far away. Athos hit the ground with a sickening crunch and Aramis slid to his knees beside his fallen body a moment later. He rolled him over carefully, but he already knew it was too late. If the angle Athos’ head had been at was not enough to tell him so, the horrible way it rolled, as if completely disconnected, would have.

“No,” Aramis cried, tears streaming down his face as he cradled Athos in his arms. He felt like he had died inside and had no idea how he was supposed to go on. He didn’t care about the entity any more. He didn’t care about anything. He leaned down, intending to press a kiss to Athos’ forehead, when his eyes snapped open.

For a moment all Aramis could do was stare. A second later, he began to scream as a pair of midnight black eyes stared back at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All three of them jumped when they heard the sound of Aramis screaming. Athos was up and running for the bedroom before d’Artagnan and Porthos had even started to rise. He threw open the bedroom door and found Aramis on the bed, tossing his head back and forth and screaming. How he had not woken himself up, Athos neither knew nor cared. All he cared about was getting to Aramis and waking him.

Throwing himself onto the bed, Athos took Aramis by the shoulders and shook him. “Aramis!” he shouted as he tried to get through to him. “Wake up! Aramis!”

Aramis came awake with a start, jerkin away from Athos and scooting back on the bed. He looked frantically around the room, trying to determine where he was. The last thing he remembered was a black-eyed Athos staring up at him. A dead black-eyed Athos. But that had been at the school and he was most definitely not at the school now.

“Aramis?” Athos called softly. Porthos and d’Artagnan had entered the room but were hanging back by the door, unsure if their presence would be a help or a hindrance. “Aramis, are you okay?”

“A-A-Athos?” Aramis stammered. “Wha-wha-what…”

“You had a nightmare,” Athos told him. He had to fight not to reach out and pull the man into his arms but he could see how distressed Aramis still was. He remembered the panic in his eyes when he had opened his eyes and seen him and did not want to frighten him still more.

“Nightmare. Right,” Aramis said shakily. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a broken laugh. It turned out to be a mistake as it quickly morphed into a sob and, once the first one had escaped, there was no holding back the rest.

“No,” Athos said angrily as he watched Aramis crumple and start to sob. He could not just sit there and do nothing. He reached out, mindful to keep his movements slow, and pulled Aramis into his arms. Luckily, Aramis came willingly and Athos was soon holding him tight and rocking him back and forth.

By the time Athos managed to get Aramis calmed down enough to help him out to the living room, d’Artagnan had a cup of tea waiting for him. Porthos was sitting in the chair next to the couch and jumped up when Athos brought Aramis into the room, eager to help. It had scared both of them badly when Aramis had started screaming but at least now they knew why the man looked so tired. He obviously was not sleeping because of the nightmares. Porthos shuddered to think of him enduring them all this time. Four days with little to no sleep, add to that the fiasco with his grandmother, and it was a wonder Aramis had not cracked under the strain.

“Here, let me,” Porthos said, coming over to take the arm not wrapped around Athos’ waist in order to help get Aramis to the couch. When Aramis made a plaintive sound and tried to pull away, Porthos stopped and slowly spread his hands wide.

“’Mis?” Athos called softly, unsure if Aramis might not still be trapped in his nightmare to some extent.

“It’s just me, man,” Porthos told him, though he did not try to touch him again. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help get you settled. Is that okay?”

“Porthos?” Aramis queried as if seeing the man for the first time.

“Yeah, ‘Mis. It’s just me,” Porthos said again. He reached toward him, making sure his hands were clearly visible, and was relieved when Aramis didn’t draw away this time.

“I think I must still be dreaming,” Aramis mused as they led him the rest of the way to the couch and sat him down in the center of it.

“Why’s that?” Athos asked him. He sat down beside him and picked up the mug of tea d’Artagnan had made, handing it to Aramis. He kept his hand close in case the other man suddenly lost his grip, not wanting him to spill the hot liquid on himself.

“Porthos called me ‘Mis,” Aramis replied, taking the proffered cup. He took a sip, the liquid soothing his raw and tender throat.

“Ah, sorry,” Porthos offered, having retaken his seat in the chair next to the couch. He could feel his face heat and was glad his skin was dark enough to mask it for the most part.

“Don’t be,” Aramis said, surprising him. “I don’t mind it.”

“I thought maybe it was something only Athos called you.”

“No,” Aramis smiled softly. “My family calls me that, too. Well, they did anyway.”

“She’s just one person,” d’Artagnan said as he sat down on Aramis’ other side, bracketing him between himself and Athos. “I doubt she speaks for everyone in your family.”

“Actually, she does,” Aramis said glumly. “My family is very traditional in many ways. My grandmother is the head of the family. What she says goes for everyone if they don’t want to find themselves cast out like me.”

“That’s…” d’Artagnan began only for Athos to quietly cut him off.

“How things work in very traditional families. Especially ones not too far removed from their immigrant roots.”

“It’s how things were done in the old country as my grandmother called it,” Aramis explained. “Children, even grown children with families of their own, were expected to be obedient. Doing anything that might bring shame on your family was punished quite harshly.”

“Okay, don’t get mad, but you are so much better off with us,” d’Artagnan told him. It astounded him that there were people who still lived like that, and who tried to force others to do so as well. Aramis really was better off with them. At least with them, he was free to be the man that he wanted to be rather than the one everyone else seemed intent on making him into.

“Not to change the subject,” Porthos began a bit reluctantly. He didn’t want to bring this up but he knew they needed to talk about this if they were going to find a way to help Aramis. “But these nightmares, you’ve been having them since the school, right?”

“Yes,” Aramis admitted. He looked down then, studying the mug in his hands. “Since everyone got hurt the last time.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but I still just stood there, doing nothing…”

“I don’t call banishing a demon back to hell nothing, Aramis,” Athos said.

“It wasn’t your fault, brother,” Porthos told him as sincerely as he could. Leaning forward in his chair, he reached out and covered Aramis’ free hand with his own. “And you came for us as fast as you could. I was out cold and I know that. And no, nobody told me. They didn’t have to. I know it because I know you.”

Aramis stared at Porthos’ hand covering his and felt fresh tears sting his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to force them away, not wanting the others to think he was a complete wreck. When Porthos started to draw his hand back, however, Aramis turned his hand over and grabbed onto him, holding tightly to the other man. He did not know why he did not want Porthos to let go of him, he only knew that he did not.

“I’m here,” Porthos said as he edged a bit closer. “We’re all right here. Here and safe. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, ‘Mis. You’re not going to lose us. Not me, not the kid and certainly not Athos. Nobody’s going to take him from you without going through me to do it. Okay?”

“God, you must think me pathetic,” Aramis said, gasping out a laugh that sounded far too close to a sob.

“For what? For giving a damn if we live or die?” Porthos asked him. “I get that it’s Athos you’re really worried about...”

“It’s not just Athos,” Aramis broke in, unable to stand the thought of them thinking that Athos was the only one he cared about, that Athos’ life was the only one he would mourn if something were to happen.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Porthos told him. He covered their clasped hands with his other one, holding Aramis’ hand gripped between both of his. “I know you’d care if I bit it and if anything happened to the kid you’d probably never forgive yourself. But losing Athos… losing Athos would kill you right along with him.”

“Can you tell us about the nightmares?” Athos asked. He had his arm around Aramis’ shoulders, attempting to hold him close without smothering him. What he really wanted to do, though, was pull him into his lap, wrap his arms around him and never let go.

Aramis nodded and finally looked up, his eyes meeting Porthos’. He saw a wealth of concern reflected back at him but no trace of disdain or pity. That alone was enough to bolster him and he turned to look at Athos. “I can try,” he said.

“Take your time,” d’Artagnan encouraged, finally speaking up. He had kept silent, letting the other two try to calm and reassure Aramis, but he needed the man to know that he was there for him, too. “Would it be easier if it was just Athos here?”

“Probably,” Aramis said, “but I don’t want you to go. We are a team, are we not?”

“Yes, we are,” Porthos said firmly.

“Then I would have you here,” Aramis replied. He took a deep breath and set the mug of tea back on the coffee table. His other hand now free, he reached out to d’Artagnan. He smiled shyly when the young man took his hand, gripping it tightly. With all of them here, like this, safe and within reach, he thought he might be able to do this.

“We are here,” Athos whispered, repeating Porthos’ words of earlier.

Nodding again, Aramis began. “They are all relatively similar though they have been… intensifying. Each time, I find myself in the school… in the gymnasium. Each time, I am banishing the demon. Afterwards, I rush to Athos, just as I did in reality. However… however… in my dream…”

“Aramis?” Athos called softly when Aramis began to shake.

“I’m sorry,” Aramis said, sucking in a deep breath and trying to regain his composure. “In my dream, by the time I get to his side, he is already dead. In the latest one… it had him strung up, suspended above the floor. The wires were cutting into his wrists. His blood… his blood was dripping…

“When the wires wrapped around his throat and began to tighten, I grew frantic. I tried to find a way to get to him, to free him, but before I could, it… it dropped him. The sound… the sound… when he hit the floor… I knew he was dead. There was no way for him not to be.”

“Aramis,” Athos gasped. He tightened his arm around his friend’s shoulders and held him. He could see the tears running down his face and felt his heart ache.

“I ran to him anyway,” Aramis continued. “I had to be sure. His head, the way it moved, I knew right away. I cradled him to me. And… and then I leaned down to… to place a kiss on his forehead. That was when his eyes flew open. His beautiful eyes… they were black. That was when I started screaming.”

Athos could not take any more. He pulled Aramis around to face him, forcing him to let go of the others’ hands. “It did not happen,” he said, giving Aramis a little shake as he did so. “Do you hear me? It did not happen. I am here and alive and fine. You saved me. You did that by standing up to that thing and sending it back to hell. You did not fail me. You couldn’t if you tried.”

Aramis sat frozen, taking in Athos’ words, then he lunged forward and engulfed the other man in his arms. He held Athos to him, burying his face in the side of his neck, and let the tears come then. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and had no resistance left. All of his fear and pain came pouring out of him as he felt Athos’ arms come around him, holding him in return, even as two other hands squeezed his shoulders, letting him know that they were there and he was not alone.

His tears finally spent, Aramis tried to pull back, but Athos kept his arms around him, refusing to let him go. He settled them both into as comfortable a position as possible with Aramis still tucked up safe in his arms. He ran his hands up and down the other man’s back, trying to ease the fine tremors that still ran through him. Aramis was spent, completely and utterly. He needed to rest and Athos was hoping that he might be able to if he could feel that Athos was right there with him, safe and whole.

Aramis tried to stay awake, still afraid to sleep even with Athos holding him, but it was a losing battle. He felt d’Artagnan move up behind him, pressing close to his back, and before he could think of a way to protest he was asleep.

“At the first sign of a nightmare, wake him up,” Porthos advised, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb the sleeping man. “Having his sleep interrupted by us will be better than suffering another one of those dreams.”

“Agreed,” Athos said quietly. He looked at Porthos and d’Artagnan and smiled when he realized that both men intended to stay right where they were. “You don’t have to stay. I can look after him from here.”

“We know,” Porthos replied, sitting back in his chair and getting comfortable. He had a feeling they were going to be there for a while.

“He wouldn’t leave if it was one of us,” d’Artagnan shrugged.

“Thank you,” Athos told them as he, too, closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was starting to get dark by the time Aramis finally began to stir. He had slept the entire day wrapped up in Athos’ arms. D’Artagnan and Porthos had taken it in turns, staying next to him as well. They had made sure to stay close enough so that Aramis could feel them pressing against his back in his sleep and know they were there with him.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Athos said as Aramis blinked his eyes awake.

“Hey,” Aramis replied, his voice raspy from the long hours of sleep, not to mention screaming himself hoarse earlier.

“Sleep okay?” Athos asked him.

“Yeah,” Aramis said smiling. He looked around a bit, trying to gauge how long he had been asleep. The heavy weight at his back, however, prevented him from moving much. “Who?”

“d’Artagnan,” Athos answered. “He and Porthos have been with us the entire time. Even wrapped up here with me, I don’t think they felt entirely comfortable leaving your back exposed. In any event, you slept without nightmares so I’m grateful.”

“I don’t mean to be a burden,” Aramis said softly.

“Don’t be stupid,” Porthos said as he walked over and sat back down in his chair. “Was I a burden when you were nursing my concussion?”

“No, of course not,” Aramis said at once.

“Then why do you think you’re one now?” Porthos replied. “We all took a hit. Yours was… it was on the inside instead of the outside is all. And we didn’t see it at first. I’m sorry about that. I won’t let it happen again.”

“I didn’t tell you,” Aramis said. “It was my fault.”

“I won’t let it happen again,” Porthos repeated, his words ringing of a promise made.

“Are you still tired?” Athos asked, changing the subject before Aramis could become overwhelmed. His emotions were still quite raw and Athos knew how that tended to affect him.

“A bit,” Aramis admitted. “Though at the moment I feel almost hung over. How long was I asleep?”

“All day,” Porthos replied.

“All day!” Aramis said, alarmed. “What time is it?”

“About six,” Porthos shrugged. “Relax. You needed the rest.”

“But Athos…”

“Needed it, too, or he wouldn’t have spent almost the entire time sound asleep with you,” Porthos told him. “And before you even start, me and the kid took it in shifts. The down time did us all good, Aramis.”

“Alright,” Aramis said, smiling despite himself. “I concede your point, my friend, and thank you. Thank you both very much.”

“You’re welcome,” d’Artagnan told him. He rose from the couch and stretched then leaned down and placed a quick kiss to the side of Aramis’ head. “I’m going to go pick up Chinese for dinner. Any special requests?”

“I’ll go with you,” Porthos said. “Don’t worry, I’ll let the kid drive, mother hen.”

“We really need to work on his subtlety,” Aramis said once he and Athos were alone.

“He means well, though,” Athos replied. “And I’m not going to complain about getting time alone with you.”

“Even when I prove so troublesome?” Aramis quipped.

“You are never troublesome,” Athos told him, “but even if you were, the answer would be yes. I love you, ‘Mis. That includes your hang-ups, your religion, your bitch of a grandmother, everything.”

“I worry sometimes,” Aramis admitted.

“Worry about what?”

“That you’ll grow tired of me and all my bullsh*t. You say you don’t mind waiting and it’s not that I don’t believe you, but every man has his limits. What happens when you get tired of waiting?”

“I won’t, but I can see where you might have a hard time believing that. So how about this? How about I promise to sit down and talk to you if that starts to happen? That way we can try to work through the issue together. Does that sound acceptable?”

Aramis nodded and burrowed back down into Athos’ arms. It sounded like a fine plan, though he was not sure how successful it would be. There was so much he still didn’t know and it was making it difficult to predict what might lie ahead for them. He had a good idea of what he thought Athos wanted but he wasn’t entirely sure. Athos said he loved him, that he wanted him, but it was the nature of that want that still eluded Aramis.

“What is it?” Athos asked, frowning. He had felt Aramis relax into his arms but he was starting to tense again.

“I… I was thinking that part of the reason I am so… apprehensive is because I don’t really know where this is all going,” Aramis said softly. “I don’t know what you want. Not really. You say you want me but that doesn’t really tell me anything. How do you want me? Do you… do you want to f*ck me? Do you…”

“Okay, stop,” Athos said. He sat up on the couch, bringing Aramis with him. As much as he would love to have this conversation with Aramis wrapped safely in his arms, they needed to be able to look at each other. “This is definitely a conversation we need to have. Do you want to do it here or would you rather go into our room in case the others come back before we’re finished?”

“Ah, you have a valid point,” Aramis said, rising and holding out a hand to Athos. They went into their room and closed the door behind them before settled down facing each other on the bed.

Athos took Aramis’ hands in his own and held them loosely. “First of all, I love you,” he said earnestly. “Second, I have no intention of ever f*cking you. I want to make love with you. I want to have sex with you. I don’t ever want to simply f*ck you. Do you understand the distinction I’m making here?”

“Yes,” Aramis said, blushing faintly. “I didn’t mean to make it sound so… crude.”

“I know. You wanted to make sure there was no mistaking exactly what act you were referring to and saying having sex is too vague. Even saying making love can still be somewhat vague. I don’t mind the crudeness of the words, I just don’t want you thinking that I would ever want such a crude act between us.”

“So you do want that, with me?” Aramis asked, trying to move past the verbiage issue and get to the heart of the matter.

“I want everything with you,” Athos said. “Everything that you are willing to give me… to share with me. If there is something you don’t want to do, you just have to tell me.”

“That’s just it,” Aramis sighed. “I don’t know what I want or might want.”

“Then we take it slow,” Athos offered. “We do this at your pace. As much or as little as you’re comfortable with. If you want to try things, we can do that. If you find you don’t like them afterwards then we won’t do them again. If you find you don’t like them during, then just say so and we stop. All you have to do is tell me, ‘Mis. I won’t ever force you to do something you don’t want to.”

“You never have to tell me that,” Aramis said. “I know you would never do anything to hurt me. Or even make me uncomfortable. You spent seven years hiding your feelings for me to keep from doing just that.”

Athos grinned at him. His friend was right about that much. If Aramis had gone through with becoming a priest, Athos would have hidden his feelings for the rest of his life. Luckily, that had not happened. Still, Athos needed to try to get some idea of what Aramis might want or not want or at least what he thought he might be ready to try. If not, he was basically flying blind and that would only end up with them crashing and burning. Again.

“I know you don’t know what you might want in the long term,” Athos began, “but what do you want right now? Can you tell me that?”

Aramis tensed and looked away. There was something he wanted but he was afraid to ask for it for a couple of reasons. First, he was not sure he could go through with it even though he thought about it often. Second, he could not help but fear what Athos’ might think of him for asking for such a thing. He knew it was stupid, that Athos would not think anything bad of him for it, that he would most likely consider it an innocuous request, but to Aramis it was anything but. To Aramis, it crossed a very deliberate line regardless of how the encounter turned out.

“If you can’t, that’s okay, too,” Athos said after a moment. “I don’t mean to pressure you. I just don’t want to screw up again by pushing you into something you’re not ready for. That’s all.”

Aramis turned back to look at Athos then quickly dropped his gaze to their joined hands. He tightened his grip and felt himself blushing hotly as he forced himself to speak. “I…,” Aramis paused and had to take a breath then tried again. “I would very much like to share a shower with you. I…”

“Aramis?” Athos said, the word barely audible as his own voice locked up at the thought of him and Aramis together in the small shower.

“I want to bathe you,” Aramis said finally. “I want to bathe you when I can take my time and… and enjoy it. I want to feel you under my hands. If you don’t want to…”

“I want to,” Athos said at once. “You know I won’t be able to keep from getting aroused.”

“I want you to,” Aramis said somewhat shyly.

“Oh,” Athos replied, surprised by the admission. “That’s… that’s good. May I bathe you as well?”

“If you want to,” Aramis shrugged. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. God, ‘Mis, I want to. But tell me if it gets to be too much, okay? If you need me to stop or anything, you just say so and I will.”

“I know and I promise to tell you if I need you to stop.”

“When…” Athos began then stopped himself. He didn’t want to seem as though he was pressuring Aramis. The thought of sharing such an experience with him, though, was making him hard already. Just the thought of the other man’s hands sliding over his body, touching him so intimately, for no other reason than because Aramis wanted to, was almost more than he could stand.

Aramis looked up sharply at Athos’ aborted question. He took in the flushed look of his friend and the way he sat slightly hunched over, as if trying to conceal himself. “You seem quite taken with the idea,” he mused, smiling even as his eyes glittered with the first stirrings of desire.

“I am,” Athos said honestly. “I have felt your hands on me before, tending me when I’ve been sick or hurt. I’ve fantasized many times about what it might feel like to have you touch me as a lover. But I don’t want to rush you.”

“And if I want to be rushed?” Aramis asked.

“Aramis,” Athos groaned as desire shot through him.

“Kiss me,” Aramis said suddenly. He rose up onto his knees then and moved closer to Athos forcing the other man to lean back on the bed. “Kiss me like you did the last time.”

Aramis continued forward, pressing Athos down onto his back on the bed. He leaned over him until their faces were bare inches apart. “Kiss me then take me into the bathroom and undress me and bathe with me.”

Unable to resist any longer, Athos reached up and grabbed Aramis by the back of the head. Seeing Aramis like this, bold and assertive, had gone straight to his co*ck and he pulled him down, bringing their mouths together and kissing him as he had the other night. He licked and nipped at Aramis’ bottom lip until the man opened his mouth then Athos pushed his tongue inside. He moaned aloud at the taste of the other man, using his tongue to gently coax Aramis’ own tongue from his mouth.

As soon as Aramis’ tongue pushed into Athos’ mouth, he latched onto it and sucked gently. He was instantly rewarded with a shout and an abortive thrust of Aramis’ hips against his own. Remembering how quickly Aramis had become overwhelmed the last time, Athos reluctantly pulled back much sooner than he wanted to. Sometime very soon, he promised himself that he would get Aramis to let him make him come again just from kissing him, and this time his friend would be prepared for it.

“Come on,” Athos said before Aramis could start them kissing again. “There’s a shower here with our name on it.”

They managed to get to the bathroom without falling over which was no small feat as they were kissing most of the way there. Once inside, Athos locked the door behind them, not wanting to chance anyone walking in on them should the others return without them hearing. Turning the shower on to get warm, he turned back to Aramis and stopped to simply look at him.

Aramis was gorgeous. There had never been any denying that. Athos, however, had always looked at his friend from a more aesthetic viewpoint, recognizing his beauty the same way he would that of a sunrise. Majestic and holy and completely untouchable. Now, however, Aramis was decidedly not untouchable and Athos found himself a bit awed at the man standing before him.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever known,” Athos told him suddenly. He saw Aramis frown and start to open his mouth and hurried on. “And I am not just referring to your body. You are beautiful inside and out and it still amazes me that you desire me of all people.”

Aramis closed the short distance between them and cupped Athos’ face. “I love you,” he said and leaned down to pressed a closed-mouth kiss to his lips. “More than life itself. Porthos was right about that much, losing you would destroy me.”

“May I undress you?” Athos asked. He knew he did not have to, Aramis had already given him permission, after all, but he wanted to all the same.

“Please,” Aramis replied, his dark eyes going even darker at the request.

They took it in turns, Athos removing a piece of Aramis’ clothing and then Aramis doing the same for Athos. Athos thought it might make it easier if Aramis were not suddenly standing naked while he was clothed. It seemed to work as both men were still relaxed by the time they were undressed, or as relaxed as two men with rather insistent erections could be.

Athos got in first and pulled Aramis in after him then closed the door. He ran his hands up and down Aramis’ arms, warming him slightly before reaching out to press his hands against the shower walls for support. He watched, mesmerized, as Aramis poured shower gel into his hands and rubbed them together then reached out and took Athos’ hand and began bathing him.

Athos sucked in a breath when Aramis began washing him with his hands, the feel of those strong, sure hands touching him so making him ache with want. He had not expected that and the intimate touch went straight to his groin. He had to bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud at the feel of Aramis’ wet, slippery hands running up and down first one arm then the other before moving on to his chest.

Athos actually whimpered when Aramis brushed his hands over his nipples, causing them to stiffen. His co*ck jerking at every touch, as if Aramis’ hands were sending jolts of electricity through him. His balls ached and the lower Aramis’ hands moved the harder they seemed to throb.

“You okay?” Aramis asked softly as he ran his hands across Athos’ belly, carefully avoiding the hard co*ck that curved upward toward his navel.

“Yeah,” Athos said, panting slightly. “Your hands… f*ck. They feel so good. I don’t know how much more of this I can take before…”

“Before?” Aramis asked, stilling.

“Before I end up coming all over the both of us,” Athos told him, locking eyes with the man as he did so.

Aramis had to close his own eyes for a moment as Athos’ words made his own body ache in sudden arousal. Athos was not the only one who was hard but Aramis had a bit more practice at ignoring his arousal than Athos. Besides, Athos wasn’t touching him. If he was, Aramis doubted if he would be in any better state. As it was, just the feel of Athos’ body under his hands was nearly enough to undo him. Add to that the way his lover panted and moaned and Aramis was biting his own lip to hold his arousal at bay.

“Turn around,” Aramis said, his voice rough. “I want to wash your back.”

Athos did as Aramis asked without question. He had to fight not to reach down and take himself in hand. He wanted more than anything to feel Aramis’ hand on him there but he wasn’t going to ask. It would be Aramis’ decision if he wanted to go that far. If not, Athos was quite able to take care of himself.

“I don’t think it would be wise of me to try to wash your legs,” Aramis said as he began running his soapy hands all along Athos’ back. “I’m not sure either of us could survive it if I went to my knees right now.”

Athos actually had to grip onto the wall to keep himself upright when Aramis said that, the picture of Aramis on his knees before him, like this, enough to make his balls tighten dangerously. “f*ck, ‘Mis,” Athos swore. “Are you trying to make me come?”

“Not at the moment,” Aramis replied. He hesitated for a few brief seconds then pressed up against Athos’ back. He wrapped one arm around his waist as he felt him stiffen then relax against him. Holding him against him, Aramis began to pepper his neck in kisses, enjoying the feel of him wet and naked and pliant in his arms.

“Aramis, please,” Athos begged. His body was on fire. The feel of Aramis’ strong body pressing against his own, both of them wet and slippery was driving him mad. It was taking everything within him not to turn around in Aramis’ arms and kiss the man senseless. He understood that wasn’t what Aramis needed, though. Aramis needed to be the one in control.

“What is it?” Aramis whispered into his ear as he continued to gently kiss his neck. When he had pressed himself against Athos, he had been careful to only let his chest press against the man’s back. The feeling of that alone, Athos’ trim back pressed against his naked chest, made his own knees feel a bit weak. Now however, he let himself press against him more fully, allowing his own straining erection to be felt.

“Oh,” Athos moaned, unable to do anything else as he was nearly overcome.

“Do you feel me?” Aramis whispered into Athos’ ear as he continued to kiss up and down his neck. “Do you feel what just touching you like this is doing to me?”

“Oh God,” Athos gasped, the feel of Aramis’ erection pressing against his backside too good to be true. The hot, hard length of it pushing into him, undeniable proof that Aramis wanted this just as badly as Athos did, ratcheted his desire up even higher and Athos began to fear he might actually go insane before this encounter was over.

“Tell me,” Aramis urged as he continued to hold him close, his hand rubbing circles against his belly as he pushed his hips into the other man’s. “Tell me what you want, what you need.”

“I need to come,” Athos gasped out desperately. “Please. I need to… to touch myself… something…”

“Let me,” Aramis whispered. He looked down over Athos’ shoulder and brought the arm not holding him up to his hip. He hesitated for a second then. He had never touched another man in such a way before. He had never even touched himself like this, not with the intention of bringing himself off. But this was Athos and there was nothing he would not do for him.

“You don’t have to,” Athos said when he felt Aramis hesitate.

“Hush,” Aramis told him and closed his slippery fist around his lover’s erection for the very first time. He tightened his arm around Athos’ waist when the man bucked forward into his hand and bit down on the side of his neck lightly.

Once he was certain Athos was somewhat steady again, Aramis began to stroke him. He kept them molded together as he moved his hand slowly at first, stroking over the length of him from balls to crown. After the third stroke, he let his thumb circle over the head and the whimper it pulled from Athos made his own co*ck throb against the man’s hip. Biting back a moan, Aramis began to move his hand faster, letting his thumb circle over the head of his co*ck every other stroke.

In no time at all, Athos was moaning and gripping onto the arm Aramis had around his waist. He was trying to buck into his lover’s fist but Aramis held him too tightly. All he could manager were short, abortive thrusts that left him more aroused than ever. He could feel his balls drawing up tight and began to pant as his org*sm rushed toward him.

Aramis could tell Athos was getting close. The co*ck in his fist was swelling even more and the man was letting out a soft, steady keening sound as Aramis stroked him. On his next downward stroke, Aramis dipped his hand lower, caressing Athos’ drawn up balls, and it was enough to finally send him over the edge.

With a shout, Athos thrust forward one last time and began to come. He looked down, watching fascinated as Aramis’ hand stroked him through his org*sm. His own hands continued to grip the man’s arm, grateful for it since it was the only thing currently holding him up. After what felt like forever, Athos finally calmed enough to be able to stand on his own once more.

Once Aramis was sure Athos was okay to stand on his own, he reluctantly let go and let a sliver of space between them once more.. He was a bit surprised when Athos spun around at once and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. He went willingly, though, kissing him back eagerly.

“What can I do for you?” Athos asked as he looked up and down Aramis’ body. He could see that his lover was still painfully aroused but wasn’t sure if Aramis was ready for someone else to touch him like that.

“Will you bathe me now?” Aramis asked breathlessly.

“You don’t want to, um, do something about that first?” Athos asked as he gestured toward Aramis’ groin.

“I assure you, the feel of your hands on me, even just to bathe me, will be more than enough to… take care of things,” Aramis said, blushing a bit at the admission.

Athos looked at him for a moment then pulled him in for another kiss. “Just me touching you, bathing you, will be enough to make you come?” Athos whispered against his lips, gratified when he saw Aramis’ eyes darken even further in want.

“If you continue on as you are right now, you won’t even have to do that much,” Aramis told him.

“Then I better stop,” Athos said. “Because I really want to touch you right now.” Athos took a step back and quickly rinsed himself off. He took up the shower gel and lathered his hands then reached out and began washing Aramis just as he had done to him.

By the time Athos got to Aramis’ chest, the man was already panting. Athos ran his hands over his entire chest then came back to his taut nipples. He circled both of them at once then rubbed directly over both pert nubs. He was taken by surprise when Aramis suddenly threw back his head and cried out, his co*ck jerking as he began to come.

Keeping one hand on his chest, Athos moved the other down to Aramis’ waist to steady him. Even as he did so, he could not tear his eyes away from Aramis’ face as he came. He was magnificent to behold, open and free and beautiful, and Athos thought he could easily spend entire days watching him like this.

When Aramis finally came back to himself, he was panting hard and barely able to stand. Athos kept a careful hold on him until he recovered. After that, he quickly finished washing him then rinsed him off and helped him from the shower.

“You okay?” Athos asked as he gently dried the other man off.

Aramis regarded him but did not reply. Instead, he pulled Athos to him and kissed him. It wasn’t the passionate kisses they had shared earlier but it conveyed his message all the same. When Athos pulled away he was smiling.

Once Porthos and d’Artagnan returned they found Athos and Aramis lying together on the couch. Both men were dressed in t-shirts and sweat pants. Aramis lay between Athos’ spread legs, his back against Athos’ chest with Athos’ arm wrapped snugly around his waist.

D’Artagnan took one look at them and grinned broadly before bringing the food over to the coffee table and spreading it out. Porthos joined them and they quickly dug in. Aramis had not realized that, in addition to not sleeping, he had not been eating very much either. The others had noticed, though, and were glad to see him eating again.

“You two seem better,” Porthos remarked once they had finished eating and cleared away the leftovers.

“We are,” Athos replied. “A bit more rest and we’ll be good as new.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie prowled around the living room restlessly. She couldn’t make herself settle tonight. She was too excited. They had come so close. If the Survivor wasn’t so worried about hurting the priest he probably would have taken him right there in the shower. That would have been delicious. Not only would she have gotten a front row seat to the priest’s deflowering but she would have gotten to watch as his greatest protection was ripped from him.

She knew now that it was just a matter of time, even without the nightmares to act as a catalyst. Humans, and men in particular, were ruled by their urges, especially their sexual ones. Sooner or later, the Survivor would grow weary of the priest’s coy act and would take what he wanted. She had no doubt that the priest would allow it, too. The Survivor was his patron, after all. He could not afford to lose his favor.

Forcing herself to stop pacing and settle down on the couch, Sylvie thought of all the things she would do to the priest once he was vulnerable. Things that she would force the Survivor to watch. This would not be like the relative quick and easy death she had offered to his first family. No, she would take her time with this one, drawing his suffering out until he begged for death. His pain would only be second to his humiliation as she degraded him in every way imaginable. Every soft lover’s caress they shared, she would revisit on him as brutally as possible. She would make the Survivor understand the folly of seeking her out and she would use his precious priest to do so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Athos a couple of days to get their old lease taken care of and arrange for movers to transfer the contents of their apartment to the warehouse. At the same time, he talked to his lawyer and got him started setting up a company for the four of them. Next, he had a meeting set up with the building owner to see if the man was interested in selling them the building outright. Considering the fact that Porthos was his only tenant, Athos had a feeling he would happy to unload the place.

“What time is the meeting with the landlord?” Aramis asked he busied himself in the kitchen making breakfast for the lot of them.

“At ten. Porthos and I are meeting him at his office,” Athos replied. He was going over the paperwork one last time, making sure everything was in order. His lawyer had assured him, if he was satisfied with the terms, he could go ahead and make an offer on the building and he would handle getting it put in the company’s name once everything was set up.

“We’re not all going?” Aramis asked, pausing in the middle of his preparations.

“No,” Athos shook his head without looking up. “My lawyer told me everything I need to know. I just need Porthos with me to keep him honest.”

“Right,” Aramis said softly, turning his attention back to his cooking. With his focus entirely on Athos, he missed the concerned frown d’Artagnan sent his way.

Breakfast was its usual boisterous affair, though Aramis contributed precious little to the conversation. Neither Athos nor Porthos seemed to notice, though, as they were wholly engrossed in discussion about the upcoming visit with the landlord. D’Artagnan tried to draw Aramis into the conversation a time or two but Aramis politely rebuffed his efforts, so d’Artagnan let him be.

D’Artagnan was growing more irritated the longer he sat and watched the interaction between the others. He had seen how hurt Aramis had been by Athos’ apparent disregard for him. While it was probably true that neither of them would have brought much to the talk with the building owner, to be summarily dismissed as unimportant stung. He could only imagine how much it had to hurt Aramis, especially when the man was already having trouble dealing with others perception of him as little more than Athos’ boy toy.

He was about to snap at Athos when he felt something nudge his foot under the table. Looking up, he saw Aramis give him a slight shake of his head before looking back down at his mostly untouched breakfast. Huffing in annoyance, d’Artagnan nodded his agreement all the same. He was not going to disregard Aramis’ wishes but he would be talking to the man about it once the other two left.

“You two need anything while we’re out?” Porthos asked as he and Athos prepared to leave.

“No,” Aramis said succinctly as he and d’Artagnan cleared the table. D’Artagnan had offered to clean up since Aramis had cooked but Aramis had brushed it off, saying that he preferred to be useful.

Porthos hesitated, looking at the pair. Something was off with them, Aramis especially. He was about to question the man about it when Athos walked up and clapped him on the shoulder. “You ready?” Athos asked, not wanting to keep the landlord waiting.

“Yeah,” Porthos said, letting his worry for Aramis go for now.

“Let’s go then.”

A short while later, Aramis and d’Artagnan were sitting out on the balcony. They had their laptops with them but neither of them felt like working at the moment. Instead, Aramis had Sylvie in his lap batting playfully at his fingers.

“So, wanna tell me what all that was about?” d’Artagnan asked, worriedly. He hated it whenever Aramis got quiet like this. It meant something was really bothering him. He understood that Aramis was still adjusting to all of the changes taking place but Athos’ attitude this morning had not helped matters in that regard.

“Me being an idiot,” Aramis said. “Nothing for you to be concerned with.”

“I was referring to Athos practically ignoring you all morning, not anything you did,” d’Artagnan said gently.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Aramis told him. “He can get rather focused at times until he gets everything sorted out to his liking.”

“And that includes hurting your feelings and then ignoring you?” d’Artagnan pressed, hoping that giving Aramis someone to talk to would help him to sort out his feelings a bit.

“He didn’t hurt my feelings,” Aramis chuckled.

“Don’t bullsh*t me. I saw your face when he just… just dismissed you for Porthos. That hurt you.”

“As I said, I was being an idiot,” Aramis told him.

“Were you?” d’Artagnan asked causing Aramis to look up at him, a flash of real fear in his eyes.

“Is there something I should know?” Aramis came back. His heart was beating so hard he could almost taste it. Was d’Artagnan aware of something he was not? He had to admit, with the nightmares and then his grandmother, he had been rather wrapped up in himself. Had he somehow missed something?

“No,” d’Artagnan said quickly. “Not that I know anything about man, I swear. It’s just, you don’t strike me as the type to get jealous over nothing and you’ve known Athos a lot longer than I have. Obviously, something’s bothering you. I just wondered what it was, that’s all.”

Aramis ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the dark locks in frustration. “It’s nothing, d’Artagnan. Truly. It is my own insecurities. Athos, he does not normally trust easily. That he did with Porthos is…”

“It bothers you,” d’Artagnan said.

“It doesn’t really bother me,” Aramis tried to explain. “But it does make me wonder. There is a pull between them. A bond. I know you have sensed it. I can’t help but wonder how strong it is, how strong it might grow to be. If it might one day eclipse the bond I share with him.”

“Okay, you really are an idiot,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “I’ve seen what you’re talking about between them, yeah. And you’re not the only one who feels a bit jealous of that. But, Aramis, it will never eclipse what you and Athos have. That just isn’t possible.”

“You’re jealous of what they have, too?” Aramis asked, surprised at first, until he recalled what d’Artagnan had told him about not having any true friends and his own desires for companionship.

“Who wouldn’t be?” d’Artagnan replied. “Just because I don’t like sex doesn’t mean I’m some kind of robot. I need…”

“I don’t think you’re a robot,” Aramis interrupted him. “I know you have feelings the same as any other man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

“I know,” d’Artagnan smiled at him, though it did not quite reach his eyes. “It’s been a long time since I was close to anyone other than my family. Being here, like this, it’s good and bad at the same time. It’s good, getting out on my own, being with you guys, doing this. But at the same time…”

“It’s painful,” Aramis finished. “To see the closeness of others and feel you’ll never have that for yourself.”

“I knew you’d get it.”

By the time Athos and Porthos returned, Aramis and d’Artagnan had come in from the balcony and were working side by side on the couch. They were each focusing on a different avenue of investigation into the attack on Athos’ family. D’Artagnan was analyzing all of the data they could find, from lunar cycles to weather patterns. Aramis was concentrating on Athos himself and was researching his family, trying to see if there was anything in his lineage that might provide some insight.

“How’d it go?” d’Artagnan asked as soon as they walked in.

Porthos’ grin nearly split his face. “We’ll be the proud new owners by the end of the week,” he said.

“My attorney should have the company set up by then so all we’ll need to do is sign a few hundred forms and everything will be taken care of,” Athos said as he came over and sat down on the couch on the other side of d’Artagnan.

“Sounds great,” Aramis said without looking up from his laptop.

“You find something?” Porthos asked, taking in how absorbed Aramis seemed in what he was doing.

“Ah, not yet,” Aramis replied. “I may be on to something, though. I’ll let you know when I’ve figured it out.”

“Okay,” Porthos said unsure how to take Aramis’ response. It wasn’t exactly dismissive, but it was a clear request to let the subject drop.

Athos ended up spending the rest of the day tied up with his lawyer over one matter or another. Aramis kept his nose buried in his laptop, refusing to be coaxed out of it for anything. Even Sylvie had given up on getting him to pay attention to her, settling for curling up on the back of the couch next to his shoulder.

“Hey kid, give me a hand with something?” Porthos called from the kitchen once he was sure Athos was tied up with his lawyer yet again.

“What’s up?” d’Artagnan asked as he entered the kitchen and saw Porthos leaning against the sink.

“What’s wrong with Aramis?” he asked bluntly.

“Nothing,” d’Artagnan said, turning away to go back into the other room. He was not going to do this. He was not going to talk about Aramis behind his back.

“Hey,” Porthos said as he quickly reached out and grabbed d’Artagnan by the arm. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I can tell something’s wrong and I’m worried about him.”

“Sorry, man,” d’Artagnan said, relaxing slightly. “But it’s not really my place to say. If you want to know, you need to ask him.”

“But there’s something for me to ask him about?” Porthos pressed. “I’m not imagining things.”

“If you’re asking if Aramis has something on his mind, the answer is yes,” d’Artagnan told him. “Anything more than that you need to get from the man yourself.”

“We can’t be a team and have secrets, d’Artagnan,” Porthos told him.

“No, we can’t. And if this was something that had the potential to cause a problem, I’d say so. Or I’d make him talk to you. But, at the moment, it doesn’t. Trust me, if the situation hasn’t resolved itself before we get another gig, I’ll do something about it.”

“Alright,” Porthos agreed, willing to trust the younger man for now. “One last question then. Do I need to sit down and talk to him about whatever’s wrong or do you think I’ll only make it worse?”

“I don’t think Aramis knowing you’re concerned about him could ever make things worse,” d’Artagnan said after thinking for a minute. “He may not want to talk about it, though.”

“Fair enough,” Porthos said.

He mulled over what d’Artagnan had told him, keeping an eye on Aramis as he did so. He kept hoping the man would simply shake off whatever was bothering him but he simply wasn’t. Porthos didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t or that he just hadn’t really tried. Either way, he was done watching one of his team struggling while he did nothing.

“How’s it going?” he asked as he sat down next to Aramis on the couch. He purposely avoided the chair he normally sat in, wanting to be closer to the man on every level.

“Ah, fine,” Aramis said, somewhat thrown by Porthos’ unexpected interest.

“I know something’s bothering you,” Porthos said bluntly. “And if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but I’m here if you do. If you need help with something, Aramis, you can come to me. And if you don’t want anyone else to know about whatever it is, well, I can do that, too.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Aramis said. He was stunned by the man’s offer as well as the sincerity behind it. It was not an overture he would have expected from the man, at least not in regards to him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Porthos told him. “I just wanted you to know. I told you before, I wouldn’t let it happen again and I won’t.”

“I… Thank you,” Aramis said inclining his head. He closed his laptop and set it down on the coffee table in front of them then sat back and regarded Porthos. “I didn’t expect such an offer from you. It has thrown me a bit. But I thank you for it all the same and I want you to know that I would never ask you to keep something from the others. Anything I tell you, you can feel free to share as you see fit.”

“Okay. That’s good,” Porthos nodded, his dark eyes studying the other man carefully. “Secrets between teammates, that doesn’t work out so well. Especially ones in as dangerous a line of work as ours can be.”

“Agreed.”

“So, will you tell me what’s bothering you?” Porthos asked outright. “I’d like to help if I can.”

“Ah, I don’t think you can help me with this exactly,” Aramis hedged. He could feel his face heating slightly and ducked his head, knowing Porthos would be able to pick up the faint trace of color in his cheeks.

“Aramis? What is it?” Porthos asked, alarmed now. He had been ready for any number of reactions, but embarrassment had not been one of them.

“It’s nothing, Porthos,” Aramis said, attempting to laugh at himself but failing. “I was being stupid. Nothing more than that.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe,” Porthos told him. He could see how embarrassed Aramis was and softened his voice. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that you could come to me, that’s all.”

“I appreciate that, I do,” Aramis told him. “There are… things I am working through. Mostly, it is my attempting to come to grips with… well, with everything. I will get there, my friend. You do not need to worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you, brother.”

Porthos gave Aramis his space but stayed close enough to keep an eye on the man. He knew d’Artagnan was doing so as well. The only one who seemed oblivious to Aramis’ emotional state was Athos. That, in and of itself, was worrisome but Aramis had explained that Athos had a tendency to get wrapped up in things at times. Once everything was taken care of, he would become aware of those around him again.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m hungry. Feel like making a food run with me?” Porthos asked Aramis. He thought a bit of fresh air might do the man some good. If nothing else, his eyes could use a rest from looking at his laptop all day.

“Sure,” Aramis said. He saved his work and closed his computer, plugging it in to charge. He made sure to grab his phone just in case the others needed to reach them and followed Porthos out of the loft.

The Thai restaurant Porthos loved was only a few blocks away so they decided to walk. Aramis didn’t mind. He had been cooped up inside all day and it felt good to get out and stretch his legs. He really needed to either find a local gym or set up an area in the warehouse to work out in. All of this inactivity of late was wreaking havoc with his routine and Aramis needed the outlet to help maintain his equilibrium.

“Do you know anything about any of the local gyms?” Aramis asked as they walked.

“Not really. Why?”

“I need to find a place to work out,” Aramis said.

“Oh yeah. Athos said something about setting up a place for you to work out,” Porthos said. “Would you rather go to a gym instead?”

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “I don’t really care either way. I just need a place to work out. A heavy bag, some weights.”

“We should be able to get that set up easy enough,” Porthos said.

“That would be much appreciated,” Aramis said, relief evident in his voice. “You know, you never did tell me the names of your friend and her child. I meant what I said about having the incident investigated. If you are worried about possible repercussions for her, I can ask that it be done so anonymously.”

“You sure? I mean, you’re taking the word of a woman and kid you don’t even know,” Porthos said.

“I don’t have to know them. I know you,” Aramis said. “That’s good enough for me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Athos came out of the bedroom, pleased to have finally gotten everything squared away. By the end of the week his lawyer would have the papers drawn up to form the company and transfer the building along with a few more of Athos’ assets into the company name. His lawyer was even taking care of getting the bank accounts set up for them.

He set the binder with all of the documents for the company down on top of his computer and went into the kitchen to grab a beer. When he came back out, he headed into the living room and dropped down on the couch next to d’Artagnan. Only then did he notice that he and d’Artagnan appeared to be the only ones there.

“Where are Aramis and Porthos?” Athos asked, sitting forward on the couch and looking around.

“They left about a half hour ago to pick up food,” d’Artagnan said a bit coolly.

Athos looked at him, blinking. “Have I done something?” he asked.

“No,” d’Artagnan sighed. He knew Aramis would prefer it if he just let it go. It was hard, though. Aramis was his friend and he was hurting.

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“Because it’s not altogether the truth,” d’Artagnan admitted. “You really hurt him this morning, you know.”

“What? Hurt who?” Athos asked frowning.

“Aramis. He’s already having a tough time dealing with all the changes being thrown at him at once. He doesn’t need you suddenly treating him like he’s disposable.”

“Disposable?” Athos repeated dangerously. “You think I treated him like…”

“Like he had nothing at all useful to bring to the table and was in your way this morning? Yes,” d’Artagnan told him.

“That’s ridiculous,” Athos scoffed even as his insides knotted painfully. He knew how he got sometimes. Had he really made Aramis feel disposable?

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” d’Artagnan said softly. “Look, it’s cool, Athos. He isn’t pissed or anything, even though I think he should be. He was just… hurt. He sees how you are with Porthos, how fast you two seemed to hit it off and…”

“And?” Athos asked, unable to keep the trace of fear from his voice.

“And he worries,” d’Artagnan replied. “After that head game his f*cking grandmother tried to pull on him, he’s not exactly thinking all that clear.”

“f*ck!” Athos swore angrily. “I need to…”

“To wait here until they get back,” d’Artagnan told him. “They’ll be back in an hour or so. You can wait that long.”

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

“Is this place always so busy?” Aramis asked as they left the restaurant. The place had been packed and they’d had to wait a good while to get their order. Now, they were finally on their way back to the loft, food in hand.

“Usually only on a Saturday night,” Porthos said. “Must be something going on.”

“Really?” Aramis snorted. They had just rounded the corner when a shrill voice called out freezing them both.

“Aramis!” an elderly woman shouted angrily as she strode toward them.

Aramis closed his eyes in resignation, a fresh wave of humiliation overtaking him at the thought of Porthos bearing witness to what was about to come.

“This your grandmother?” Porthos asked under his breath as he eyed the woman approaching as one would a snarling, ravenous wolf. Possibly a rabid one.

“Yes,” Aramis said weakly. He felt Porthos’ hand grab his bicep and squeeze, and some of his strength returned.

“You want me to tell her to take a hike?” Porthos asked, more than willing to go to battle to protect this young man if necessary.

“She will not listen,” Aramis told him.

Before Porthos could reply the old woman was in front of them. She looked Porthos up and down and snorted at him in disdain before turning her wrath on her grandson. “Is this how you plan to behave?” she spat. “Flaunting yourself like some shameless…”

“Hey!” Porthos shouted. “I don’t know what your deal is…”

“Shut your mouth!” she snapped at Porthos before turning back to Aramis.

“Nana!” Aramis said, his voice tight and angry. “You will not speak to him like that. If you cannot be respectful to my friends…”

“Respectful? You expect me to show respect to your whor*master?” she nearly shrieked.

“That’s enough!” Porthos snarled. He stepped forward then, putting himself between Aramis and his grandmother and forcing her to take a step back. “I don’t give a flying f*ck who you think you are. You don’t get to talk to him like that. Now move the f*ck out of our way before I move you myself.”

Porthos was still fuming by the time they got back to the loft. Aramis was moving as if in a daze, but Porthos’ firm grip on his elbow kept him going in the right direction. As soon as they walked in the door, d’Artagnan and Athos knew that something had happened. Both men sprang up from the couch and hurried over to them, ushering them inside and securing the door behind them.

“What happened?” Athos demanded as he sat Aramis down on the couch with d’Artagnan next to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Porthos, in the meantime, set the bags of take-out down on the coffee table and went over to the side cabinet to retrieve the bottle of bourbon he had stashed there and some glasses. Coming back over, he set the glasses down then filled one and handed it to Aramis.

“Drink,” Porthos ordered curtly as he filled another glass for himself then sat down in his chair.

Aramis stared at the glass in his hand for a moment before bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink of the amber liquid. It burned a trail all the way down his throat but he didn’t care. It did what it was meant to, it steadied his nerves and allowed him to focus once more.

“What happened?” Athos asked again, more desperately this time.

“We ran into Aramis’ grandmother on the walk home,” Porthos snarled as he threw back his own drink and poured himself another.

“Oh no,” d’Artagnan moaned. “Did she say anything?”

“Yeah,” Porthos snorted. “She said something alright.”

“What did she say?” Athos asked, his voice low and angry in a way the other two men had not heard before.

“I didn’t give her a chance to say much,” Porthos said, outlining their encounter with the woman. “When she called me his whor*master I told her to move before I moved her and hustled him back here.”

“If she comes near you again, so help me…” Athos began only for Aramis’ quiet voice to cut him off mid-rant.

“No,” Aramis said softly. “Please don’t. She will not come here. I doubt she will even attempt to call here again.”

“Yeah, but if you’re going to keep running into her,” d’Artagnan put in, “she can’t just keep doing this to you.”

“I doubt I will run into her again,” Aramis said. “At least not here. I don’t know what she was even doing there.”

“If she keeps her distance, I won’t say anything but if she attacks you again, I will not sit by and simply watch,” Athos told him.

“It’s not your fight, Athos,” Aramis said wearily.

“All of your fights are my fights,” Athos argued. “I’m sorry if my behavior this morning gave you cause to doubt that. I promise you, that was never my intent. You know how I can get when I’m trying to work things out. I didn’t mean to be hurtful.”

Aramis shot d’Artagnan a look but the younger man merely shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” Aramis said to Athos. “As I told d’Artagnan, I was the one being foolish.”

“Do I wanna know what you were being foolish about?” Porthos asked, a bit concerned.

“No,” Aramis said firmly. “May we please just have dinner?”

“Sure,” Porthos relented, unwilling to push Aramis any further. He was still strung out from the nightmares and lack of sleep. He didn’t need any more stress right now.

They ate in silence, each of them keeping an eye on Aramis to one degree or another. Athos frowned when he only picked at his food once again. Aramis was one of those people who could not eat when upset. The previous night had been the first decent meal the man had managed in days. Athos had hoped they were past that hurdle, but it did not look that way.

“Don’t force yourself,” he said softly when he saw Aramis lift his fork with a grimace.

“Sorry,” he said, setting the fork back down with relief.

“Not your fault,” Athos said.

“Something wrong with the food?” Porthos asked.

“No,” Aramis replied. “I just don’t like to eat when I’m upset.”

“I would rather he not force himself simply for my peace of mind,” Athos added. He remembered all too well how that tended to turn out.

Picking up his half-filled glass of bourbon, Aramis leaned back on the couch and sighed. “I am sorry for spoiling today for you all.”

“What you are talking about?” Porthos asked, confused.

“We should be celebrating the start of our new partnership, not sitting here listening to my woes.”

“We will celebrate. Later. When you feel up to it,” Porthos said. “You seem to be missing the point to all of this, Aramis.”

“And what point is that?”

“That we’re a team,” Porthos told him. “That means if one of us takes a hit, we all do. When she laid into you like that, when she hurt you, she hurt us, too. Not as bad, maybe, but it still hurt.”

Aramis eyed the big man sitting across from him. He could see the sincerity in his deep brown eyes, as well as the carefully banked anger. For all of Athos’ very vocal threats, Porthos was equally enraged over the way Aramis’ grandmother had treated him. That realization was enough to make him stop and think about what this partnership might mean, not just for Athos but for all of them.

“’Mis?” Athos called after a moment. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Aramis said. “I was simply musing on the meaning of brotherhood.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie’s tail flicked back and forth irritably as she watched the humans from her current hiding place. She doubted they would find her here even if they were to hunt for her. Humans rarely thought to look up when searching for something and she had tucked herself into the darkest corner at the very top of the bookshelf. Not that she needed to hide. The humans, especially the priest, thought nothing of speaking freely in front of her. Still, she enjoyed knowing they were completely unaware of her silent observation.

As she watched and listened, she found herself growing quite intrigued. The priest’s grandmother sounded like a true delight, someone who would not scruple at keeping him firmly under her thumb. While Sylvie was enjoying the emotional pain her diatribes were causing, the last thing she needed was for the old woman’s interference to cause a delay in the priest’s deflowering. She would have to keep a careful eye on the situation. If need be, she could always pay the old woman a visit.

That decided, Sylvie considered the other things she had learned. Things that promised to be even more fun than plucking the eyes from interfering old hags. Who would have thought the virginal priest, gorgeous as he was, would be jealous of his lover’s new friend. And the over protective man-child only made it better! Sylvie wondered what might happen if the Survivor’s new friend suddenly took a bit more than a friendly interest in the priest. After all, he had no practical experience to speak of. Would he even recognize the look of desire in another man’s eyes? And what would he do if he did? Now that the Survivor had thrown their lot in with this one, it would not be so easy to just pick up stakes and walk away. How would he handle watching another man lust after what was supposed to be his? Maybe it would even be the catalyst needed to push him into finally taking the priest.

Curling her long tail around herself, Sylvie settled in for a nap. She would have to think carefully about how to proceed. She was not sure if the big man even leaned in that direction. He had given no indication that he did. Even so, she would still have to tread lightly or risk losing her chance at the priest altogether. It was definitely something to sleep on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Porthos asked as Aramis got ready to leave. He was meeting with a friend of his from the local diocese to discuss the incident with Jonas that Porthos had told him about. While the meeting was unofficial, Aramis had faith that the matter would be given the consideration it deserved.

“Can you assure me you will be able to keep your temper in check?” Aramis asked, already quite aware of the answer.

Porthos grumbled and looked away, knowing the man had a point. “Then take Athos with you,” he said.

Aramis pulled on his jacked and stopped. He gave the man’s suggestion thought but dismissed it in the end. “Jonas may be a child, but he is as deserving of privacy as anyone.”

“I just don’t like you going alone,” Porthos groused.

“I’ll be fine,” Aramis grinned. “I’m meeting Stefan at his church. And before you ask, I don’t believe my grandmother has ever set foot in it. But I don’t think that’s what you’re so worried about, is it?”

“Not really,” Porthos admitted. “I just… got a bad feeling, I guess. If anything happened to you, Athos would never forgive me. The kid either.”

“First of all, nothing is going to happen to me. Second, it would not be your fault if it did. I may allow Athos to support me but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself when necessary.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” Porthos said at once. He knew how much of a sore spot this was for Aramis at times and had not meant to upset him. “I know you can look out for yourself, but you’re my team. I’m always going to want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said, touched by Porthos’ caring. He was used to it from Athos but only from Athos. Having other people so invested in his well-being was taking some getting used to. “If you are truly that worried, Stefan will not mind if you accompany me.”

“That’s okay, brother,” Porthos said. He took the keys to his SUV off the peg by the door and tossed them to Aramis. “Take the truck, though. I don’t want you walking.”

“Now who is being the mother hen?” Aramis chuckled.

The drive to Father Stefan’s church was a short one. Aramis really would have been fine walking but he took the truck as Porthos had asked. He understood his reasoning. Stefan’s church may not be familiar to his grandmother, but Aramis had not expected to run into her leaving the restaurant either and she did know where they lived. Not that Aramis thought she would intentionally seek him out. He doubted he would hear from her again unless they happened to run into each other by chance. While that thought saddened him, it was her choice, not his.

Pulling up in front of Saint Mark’s, Aramis pushed his thoughts of his grandmother aside. Perhaps another time he could speak with Stefan about the situation and get his advice. The older priest had expressed sadness at the news that Aramis was leaving the clergy, but he had said he understood as well, telling Aramis his door would always be open should he need someone to talk to. That was the reason he was here now. Aramis knew Stefan would listen and would not dismiss the allegations out of hand simply because of who made them. Then or now.

“Aramis, come in,” Stefan greeted warmly as he held open the door. He was a tall man, about the same height as Aramis himself, with ash blond hair that was just starting to go grey at the temples. It gave him a somewhat 'fatherly' appearance and he found made his parishioners even more at ease in his presence. With a smile, he ushered the younger man in, clapping him on the back, and led him toward his office in the rectory where they could talk without interruption.

“It’s good to see you, Father,” Aramis said as he walked in. He took a moment to glance around the church as they walked through it and felt an unexpected pang of longing. He had spent many nights imagining what his own church would eventually look like. Now, that dream was gone.

“Stefan is fine,” the priest told him. “Unless you plan to make Confession.”

“Ah, not at the moment,” Aramis replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He really did need to make Confession. He had not been to church proper since leaving Seminary. Yet another subject to speak with Stefan about it would seem.

“So what brings you here today?” Stefan asked once they were comfortably seated in the two big armchairs in front of his desk. “You said it was rather important.”

“It is,” Aramis confirmed. “And delicate.”

“Tell me,” Stefan said. “You have always been a very level-headed young man. I do not think that has changed in the short time you have been away. Whatever you have to say, I will take your word on.”

Aramis barked a laugh and ran a hand though his dark curls. “If you had been my advisor I’d still be with the church,” he said, an edge of bitterness to his words that he could not completely hide.

Stefan regarded him for long moments, his hazel eyes accessing but kind, before finally speaking. “No. I don’t think you would. You may have made it a bit longer, but…”

“But?” Aramis asked, looking up at him and narrowing his dark eyes.

“Your heart lay elsewhere,” Stefan told him honestly. “If I had to guess, I would say it was probably with that gentleman you spent every free moment with.”

“Athos,” Aramis whispered, swallowing thickly.

“Yes, him,” Stefan replied. “But I don’t think he’s the reason you’re here today. So tell me about this delicate matter you need my help with and let’s see what we can figure out.”

Aramis told Stefan everything Porthos had told him about Jonas and what had happened to him, from their first inklings that something was wrong to finally figuring out what was being done to the child and by whom. He told Stefan about their attempts to go to the authorities, both within the church and without, and how they had been thwarted at every turn.

“This is a very serious allegation, Aramis,” Stefan said. He saw Aramis start to bristle and held his hand up, forestalling him. “I do not doubt your word or that of the child. I am only saying that I must proceed carefully. There are people I can speak to who will listen to me and will act appropriately. I will, of course, have to leave your name out of it. I will do my best to leave the child’s name out of it as well, but I may not have a choice.”

“Can you let me know so I can alert my friend before that happens?” Aramis asked him.

“Of course,” Stefan said. “I won’t give the boy’s name without your okay. This child has been hurt enough. We will not allow further harm to come to him by forcing him to go through this again if he feels he cannot.”

“Thank you, Stefan,” Aramis said, grateful. “I knew you would see the incident investigated properly.”

“It will be,” Stefan promised. “And now, I would like to ask something of you, my friend.”

“Name it,” Aramis replied.

“Come back to church,” Stefan said gently. “Just because you felt the need to leave the clergy does not mean you must leave the church altogether.”

“I know,” Aramis said, looking down at his clasped hands rather than at the man sitting across from him. “But I didn’t want to offend anyone.”

“Aramis,” Stefan said, exasperation coloring his voice. “You did not truly think you would be unwelcome, did you?”

“The thought did occur,” Aramis admitted.

“Why would you think such a thing?” Stefan asked.

“Because my own grandmother refused to speak to me for a month after I left,” Aramis explained, the words coming out in a rush. “And now...”

“Now?” Stefan prompted. He could see how upset Aramis was and wondered what had happened. He was not exactly surprised that the young man’s grandmother had been so upset. She had been very adamant about her grandson becoming a priest. She probably saw his decision to leave the clergy as a personal affront.

“Now, she hates me,” Aramis told him. “She has disowned me. The things she said to me… I knew she was angry, that she blamed Athos, but to hear such hatred from her was not something I expected.”

“She objects to your relationship with Athos,” Stefan said.

“To put it mildly,” Aramis said. “She said… she said if I wanted to be a rich man’s whor* then she wanted nothing more to do with me.”

Stefan closed his eyes at the pain in Aramis’ words. He could not believe anyone could be so cruel to someone as kind and gentle as Aramis, let alone the very woman who had raised him. “I am so sorry, Aramis,” he said. “She had no cause to say such a thing to you.”

“Didn’t she?” Aramis asked.

“No, she did not,” Stefan told him. “You forget, young man, I saw you on campus. I saw you with your friend. No juvenile campus rumors could cheapen what you two shared.”

“And if I tell you he is more than simply my friend?” Aramis asked tentatively.

“Then I would say I am glad for you,” Stefan told him. “As I said, I saw you on campus with him. I knew your heart lay elsewhere. I am only sorry that your grandmother cannot see past her own desires to see what is truly best for you.”

In the end, Aramis agreed to come to Mass soon. Stefan had told him he was welcome to bring Athos if he wanted, that all of his friends were welcome to come. Aramis had thanked him and said he would speak to them, that he was not sure if Athos would come but that d’Artagnan would probably be willing to join him. As he started to leave, Stefan stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Yes?” Aramis asked when the other man failed to say anything.

“The story you told your advisors about Athos’ family, it was true?” Stefan asked somewhat nervously.

“Yes,” Aramis said firmly.

“You’re sure?” Stefan pressed.

“Yes,” Aramis said again. “Why are you asking me this, Stefan?”

Stefan took a deep breath. Aramis had trusted him, now it was his turn to return that trust. “I have a family in my parish. I think they may have a similar problem. Well, not similar, really, but…”

“But… you think they may have a problem with something… other?” Aramis asked, choosing his words very carefully.

“Yes,” Stefan said, relieved that Aramis seemed to understand right away.

Aramis quickly got their information from Stefan, as well as what all the priest knew about the nature of the problem. He told him he could not promise anything, but that he would talk to his friends and get back to him. Stefan thanked him and the two men shook hands and parted ways.

When Aramis got back to the loft he found Porthos waiting for him. “How’d it go?” he asked anxiously.

“Stefan is having the matter looked into. He’ll keep the boy’s name out of it if he can. If not, he’ll contact us and get permission before proceeding,” Aramis explained as he took off his jacket and came over to sit beside Porthos on the couch.

“Thanks,” Porthos said quietly. He felt ashamed all over again at the way he had treated Aramis. The man had not deserved it, neither his hostility nor his mistrust. Porthos only wished there was some way to undo the damage he had done.

“Stop that,” Aramis chided. “It is in the past. Leave it there, my friend.”

“I wish it was that simple,” Porthos said. “But you and I both know it isn’t.”

“It can be,” Aramis argued.

“Can you really sit there and tell me you trust me? That you know I’ll have your back?”

“I trust you to do so for Athos and d’Artagnan. That’s good enough for me.” Aramis said the words as gently as he could. He didn’t want to hurt Porthos but he would not lie to the man. “Trust takes time. The fact that you have earned Athos’, well, it goes a long way in your favor. I know you will not allow me to come to harm, but at the same time, I do not believe you would put yourself at risk for me.”

“Guess I deserved that,” Porthos said somewhat dejectedly. Glancing at Aramis, he suddenly realized that while the space that separated them was only a few feet, it felt like miles and he had no idea how to bridge the gap.

“Give it time, Porthos,” Aramis told him. “In the meantime, however, there is something I would discuss with you.”

Porthos took a breath and forced himself to let his concerns about things with Aramis go for now. He would speak to Athos about it later. Maybe he could offer some suggestions or at least tell him how to keep from making things worse. For now, there were other things to attend to.

Aramis told Porthos about the family Stefan had told him of. When he was finished, he waited nervously for his response. Even with Stefan looking into the incident with the child, there was no guarantee that Porthos would be willing to accept a potential client from a priest. If that turned out to be the case, then Aramis would be forced to find a way to investigate the matter on his own.

He knew, in all likelihood, that d’Artagnan would be willing to help him but he would not allow the young man to endanger himself so recklessly. The four of them going up against something unknown was one thing, but the two of them alone was far too great a risk.

“You want to look into this, I take it?” Porthos asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Aramis replied. “Stefan would not have told me of this if the family was not desperate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You think this is a legitimate case for us?” Athos asked Porthos, eying him skeptically. They were out on the balcony for once talking about the information Aramis had given Porthos.

“Truthfully, I don’t know. Religious types, they tend to get a bit hysterical sometimes. Don’t tell Aramis I said that,” Porthos replied.

“I won’t,” Athos chuckled. “Mostly because you’re not wrong.”

“Ha!” Porthos laughed then sobered. “Aramis wants to look into it. I’m not going to tell him no. Not for something as simple as this.”

“Can I ask why?” Athos kept his eyes fixed on the buildings across the street, being there for Porthos, yet attempting to give the man his privacy at the same time.

“I screwed up, man,” Porthos said, running a hand through his dense, black curls and blowing out an annoyed breath.

“He has forgiven you for that,” Athos said.

“Maybe, but he hasn’t forgotten it,” Porthos countered. “We talked a bit. I told him I knew he didn’t trust me, not really. Do you know what he told me?”

Athos shook his head. With how worked up Porthos was, he was almost afraid to hear what it was Aramis had said to the man.

“He said he trusted me where you and the kid were concerned and that was good enough. He said he knew I wouldn’t just stand by and let him get hurt but he didn’t think I’d risk myself for him either.”

Athos winced at the bitterness in Porthos’ voice. He could understand why the man was as upset as he was now. “He did not mean to be hurtful,” he said after a moment.

“I know that,” Porthos replied. “Even when he was saying all that to me, he was… was kind about it. I just wish I knew what to do to fix it is all.”

“You think taking this case will help with that?”

“I think it’ll show him that I trust him, trust his judgment,” Porthos shrugged.

“You’re right,” Athos agreed. “And I think that will help. I think part of the reason he feels he can’t trust you is because he thinks you don’t trust him. Well, not that you don’t trust him really. I think it’s more along the lines of him feeling that you don’t value what it is he brings to the table.”

Porthos thought about that for a few minutes, playing it over in his head and trying to put it into context with what he knew of Aramis. “So if I see his contribution as worthless, then I must see him that way as well?”

“Exactly,” Athos said sadly.

“And only a fool puts himself at risk for something worthless,” Porthos concluded, the words like ash in his mouth.

“Aramis knows you are not a fool. What Aramis does not always know, however, is his own worth.”

“I swear to God, Athos, if I could get my hands on his grandmother I’d wring her f*cking neck,” Porthos snarled angrily.

“First, you’re not alone,” Athos told him. “Second, don’t ever let Aramis hear you say that. No matter what, she raised him and he won’t listen to her being maligned.”

“Yeah, alright,” Porthos grumbled.

“Besides, she’s not the only one who caused this. She couldn’t have been, but it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s just something I thought you should be aware of if you’re going to try to bridge the gap between the two of you.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even possible,” Porthos said disconsolately.

“It is,” Athos assured him. “But it won’t come easy and it won’t be quick. Just don’t give up on him.’

“He’s part of my team now. You all are. I’ll never give up on him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis came out of the bathroom scrubbing a towel through his damp hair. He had expected to find Athos in the living room waiting for him but the man was nowhere to be seen. Instead, d’Artagnan lay stretched out on the couch, his arm thrown over his face, covering his eyes. Drying his hair a bit more, Aramis ducked back into his bedroom and quickly pulled on a t-shirt then headed back out to see what was bothering his young friend.

“d’Artagnan?” Aramis called softly as he sat down on the chair next to the couch.

“Yeah?” d’Artagnan replied without removing his arm from his face.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” he replied. The monotone quality of his voice made it obvious that everything was far from fine.

“Lying to the clergy is a sin, young man,” Aramis said earning a huff of a laugh from d’Artagnan.

“You’re not a priest, remember?” d’Artagnan replied.

“And you’re not fine,” Aramis came back.

D’Artagnan lowered his arm and turned his head to look at his friend. He smiled faintly then turned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “No,” he admitted. “But I will be. Don’t worry about me.”

“You are my friend,” Aramis told him. “I care about you. If something is wrong, I would like to help.”

D’Artagnan squeezed his eyes shut at Aramis’ words. He longed to reach out, to tell the man just what was wrong. He knew Aramis would understand, knew he would do his best to help him, but that was the problem. Aramis would try to help him and, while he and Aramis would be fine with it, he was not at all sure if everyone else concerned would be.

“d’Artagnan?” Aramis called, growing concerned when his words seemed to upset the young man even more. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, Aramis, really,” he tried again. One quick glance at the other man let him know that he was going to have to tell him something. “It’s what I talked to you about before… about being here.”

Aramis frowned then his eyes grew wide in understanding. “Why didn’t you say something?’ he asked.

“What was I supposed to say?” d’Artagnan laughed darkly. “I’m lonely, can I have a hug?”

“Yes,” Aramis said resolutely. “Did you truly think you couldn’t come to me with this?”

“No, I knew I could come to you with it,” he said. “Not altogether sure Athos would be too thrilled about it, though.”

“Athos will understand,” Aramis told him as he rose from the chair and held out his hand. “Come on. Up you get.”

“Excuse me?” d’Artagnan replied, quirking an eyebrow and looking at him like he’d suddenly lost his mind.

“Get up,” Aramis repeated.

“Okay,” d’Artagnan replied slowly, deciding to humor his friend. He took Aramis’ hand and let himself be pulled up. He started to protest when Aramis laid down in his place until Aramis suddenly pulled him down on top of him.

“Oof,” Aramis grunted as he began maneuvering d’Artagnan into a more comfortable position atop him. “You’re a bit sturdier than you look.”

“What are you doing?” d’Artagnan asked. He had gone still in shock when Aramis had pulled him down on top of him. That had quickly worn off to be replaced by such a feeling of… contentment that he simply could not bring himself to move away. No matter how much he knew he should.

“Arranging you so that your more pointy bits are not bruising me,” Aramis told him.

“You know what I mean,” d’Artagnan said, his voice strangled. He was really going to have to talk to Aramis about innuendo.

“You are lonely,” Aramis said softly, his lips inches from d’Artagnan’s ear. “You ache for companionship, for touch. There is no reason you should not find that here, among those who would be your closest friends.”

“Athos…”

“Will understand,” Aramis assured him. “I will explain it to him if need be. He will not begrudge you the need to be close to someone, d’Artagnan.”

They pair lay like that on the couch, with d’Artagnan resting on Aramis’ chest, his long legs in between Aramis’ own. They had talked at first, of inconsequential things, until d’Artagnan could finally relax, then they fell silent simply enjoying the closeness. Aramis thought d’Artagnan might have even fallen asleep at one point for a few minutes and was pleased that the young man trusted him enough to do so.

Laying together so quietly, both men knew when Athos and Porthos came in from the balcony. They also knew the moment when they saw the pair of them on the couch as their conversation suddenly ceased. Aramis felt d’Artagnan tense against him and tightened his arms around him.

“It’s alright,” he whispered soothingly. He glanced up at Athos then hoping to get him to help reassure the worried young man, but the understanding he had expected to see in his eyes was not there. Instead, he saw a mix of pain and fear and the barest hint of betrayal, the sight of which made Aramis’ insides go cold.

“Uh, is everything okay?” Porthos asked, breaking the heavy silence and causing Athos to start slightly. Before anyone could reply, however, the phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” d’Artagnan said at once, moving off of Aramis quickly.

Aramis stood up and started to go to Athos, intent on talking to the man and hashing this out. The sound of d’Artagnan frantically trying to calm someone down on the other end of the phone, however, put that plan on hold.

“What’s going on?” Porthos asked as he joined d’Artagnan.

“The Mendoza’s,” d’Artagnan said covering the phone receiver. “Something’s happened. I don’t know what. She won’t stop crying.”

Aramis crossed the room in three quick strides. He took the phone from d’Artagnan and began speaking quickly in Spanish. A few minutes later he hung up and turned to Porthos only to find him and the others already gathering their gear.

“Fill us in on the way,” Porthos told him.

When they pulled up outside of the Mendoza’s home, everything appeared in order. The house was almost picture perfect in its normality. Considering the terrified phone call Aramis had taken, it set the entire team even more on edge.

“Let me go first,” Aramis said as they approached the front door. Porthos had grabbed his arm, stopping him, but Aramis had shaken his head. “They are afraid and they know me. Also, if they start speaking in Spanish again, I will be able to understand them.”

“Alright,” Porthos agreed, “but I’ll be right behind you.”

“Just keep an eye on Athos and d’Artagnan,” Aramis told him. He turned back to the door before Porthos could reply and rang the bell. He took a step back when an anxious woman quickly opened the door. She looked out at him with deep brown eyes that were filled with fear and Aramis felt a surge of anger for her and her family.

“Aramis?” she asked, her voice hopeful and fearful at once.

“Yes, Ma’am. May we come in?” It only took five minutes for them to determine that the Mendozas could not remain in their home. Not safely. Athos offered to have them taken to a hotel until they could resolve the situation but they said that they had relatives they could stay with. In less than an hour, the family was on their way, leaving the four of them alone in the house.

The next few hours were spent documenting everything they could. D’Artagnan concentrated on taking pictures and video of everything. Athos and Porthos took every conceivable measurement, from temperature to air and water samples. Aramis, for his part, concentrated on those things that were disturbed in each room, especially if they appeared to have any emotional or religious significance. By the end of the day, they had gathered a great deal of information and needed to return to the loft to start sifting through it. They had told the Mendozas that this might take some time after all.

“So what do we do first?” d’Artagnan asked as they began unloading their gear around the kitchen table.

“You and Porthos can start going over the information we gathered,” Aramis said before anyone else had a chance to speak up. “Athos and I need to take care of something.”

“We do?” Athos asked looking up at Aramis, his eyes wide in a combination of surprise and worry.

“Yes,” Aramis said as he set the last of his things on the table. “d’Artagnan, would you mind putting this away for me?”

“I’ll take care of it,” d’Artagnan told him quietly. He had a pretty good idea about what Aramis needed to take care of with Athos and felt horrible for causing his friend such a problem. He only hoped Athos wasn’t too angry with him.

“You worry too much, my friend,” Aramis told him, squeezing the back of his neck affectionately before turning to Athos. He saw that same flash of fear in Athos’ eyes that he had earlier when he and d’Artagnan had been lying on the couch together and shook his head. Letting go of d’Artagnan, he reached out and took Athos by the hand and began leading him toward their shared room.

Aramis pulled Athos all the way into their room and pushed him down on the bed. He closed the door then sat down beside him and took his hand once more. “I am sorry if my earlier behavior with d’Artagnan upset you,” he said softly. “I did not mean for it to. He was lonely. He craves closeness, companionship. I thought it would be best for everyone if he could get that here, with those who would be his closest friends. If I am wrong, if I have overstepped myself in this, please tell me.”

“When I came out and I saw you, it was like a punch in the gut,” Athos told him. “Both of you are so young, so beautiful, and to see you wrapped around each other… I am not used to you seeing you let anyone that close to you but me.”

“I know the feeling well,” Aramis replied derisively.

“Aramis? What do you mean?” Athos asked, frowning in puzzlement.

“You do not trust easily,” Aramis explained. “And yet you trusted Porthos almost from the moment you met him. You cannot deny the bond you have with him. Even d’Artagnan has noticed it. I can’t help but wonder when you will grow tired of waiting for me and realize there are… other options.”

Athos stared at him, agape. He could not believe that Aramis actually considered Porthos a threat to them, to what they shared. Porthos was his friend, yes, but that was all he was. “Aramis,” Athos began only to draw a complete blank as to how to reply.

“It’s alright,” Aramis said, smiling shakily. “It is understandable. I said I did not expect you to remain celibate and I meant it. If I am not moving fast enough for you…”

“Stop!” Athos shouted, surprising them both. He took a deep breath and then another before beginning again much softer. “Please, stop. First, there is nothing between me and Porthos. We’re friends, ‘Mis. That’s all. I don’t even think he leans that way. Second, I will never get tired of waiting for you. Do you not understand that? I love you. I’m not going to… to… I will wait for you for as long as you need me to.”

“I don’t mean to frustrate you,” Aramis said. He knew Athos meant what he said, that he would not lie to him, but he still found it difficult to believe that he had not grown tired of wooing a blushing virgin by now.

“You don’t,” Athos told him. “At least not in that regard. And I’m sorry I overreacted about d’Artagnan. I just saw him with you and realized he’s everything I’m not. He has so much more to offer you.”

“Now who’s being foolish?” Aramis asked tilting his head and looking up at him. “He has nothing to offer me but his friendship. Everything else, I get from you.”

“And if that friendship turns into more?” Athos asked.

Aramis looked at him, confusing marring his face then he threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, love. I believe you are forgetting something.”

“What’s that?” Athos asked eyeing him warily.

“D’Artagnan may be young and beautiful but he does not care to engage in sex with other people,” Aramis reminded him.

“Oh,” Athos said. “I… I think I actually forgot that.”

“I think you did, too. D’Artagnan is no threat to you, Athos. If he was not the way he was, I would never have allowed him as close as I did. Surely you know that.”

“Well I do now,” Athos groused, annoyed with himself now.

“Good,” Aramis told him. “But seriously, I meant what I said. If I have overstepped myself in this, please tell me. I did not mean to make you doubt me, to make you think that I would ever betray you in such a way.”

“Oh God, Aramis, no. You didn’t,” Athos said in a rush.

“Obviously I did,” Aramis countered his voice soft and sad. “I saw it in your eyes both then and again in the kitchen a few minutes ago. I know what betrayal looks like, Athos. I have seen it in my grandmother’s eyes often enough of late.”

“I’m sorry,” Athos told him. “I reacted poorly both times. You didn’t betray me. You would never do something like that and if I had been thinking clearly, I would have known that. You don’t hurt people, Aramis. Even Porthos said you were kind when you told him you didn’t really trust him.”

“Talked to you about that, did he?” Aramis asked, unsure if he was amused, embarrassed, or upset about it.

“Yeah,” Athos admitted. “He was worried. He doesn’t want to do something to screw things up even worse between the two of you. For what it’s worth, he really does care about you. You should have seen him the time I told him things went a bit too far and you were upset.”

“What do you mean?” Aramis asked him, suddenly nervous.

“You know the time I’m talking about?” Athos asked. When Aramis nodded, he continued. “When you guys went to pick up more clothes and stuff, he asked how you were doing. I told him we had a misstep, that things went a little too far too fast. He asked me, very politely, to explain exactly what that meant. If you would have seen his face at the time, you wouldn’t doubt that he cares for you.”

“He was angry?” Aramis asked incredulously.

“Not angry,” Athos told him. “Worried. Scared I had hurt you or forced you into something. Which I had but…”

“No, you hadn’t,” Aramis snapped. “I was there. I could have said stop at any time. I didn’t. The fault was just as much mine as yours. And how dare he think you would ever…”

“Hey,” Athos interrupted him. “He was just worried. He knows this is all new to you and he cares about what happens to you. That’s all.”

When they finally emerged from their bedroom, they found Porthos and d’Artagnan going over the data from the Mendoza’s house. “Everything okay?” Porthos asked when they walked out.

“Everything’s fine,” Aramis replied as he sat down next to d’Artagnan, leaving the chair next to Porthos for Athos.

“Apparently we can both be jealous idiots where the other is concerned,” Athos said as he sat down as well.

“What… seriously?” Porthos asked chuckling. “I hadn’t thought d’Artagnan spent all that much time with you?”

“It wasn’t d’Artagnan he had concerns about,” Athos replied.

Porthos froze as Athos’ words sank in. He looked at the man then turned to regard Aramis. The faint blush that had stolen over his cheeks told him that Athos had not been kidding. Aramis really had been jealous of him. Porthos tried to think of anything he could have said or done that might have given the younger man that sort of impression, but he could not come up with anything. He remembered cautioning Athos about Aramis in the beginning but that was before Aramis had made it clear that he returned Athos’ feelings.

“It was nothing you did,” Aramis said after a tense moment. “I am not used to seeing him open up around others. That he did so with you and so quickly… well, I am not exactly worldly by any stretch of the imagination. I couldn’t help but wonder what it might mean or me, for us, that there was suddenly another where for so long there had been only the two of us.”

“It was much the same with me in regards to d’Artagnan,” Athos added. “It didn’t matter that d’Artagnan is not interested in a physical relationship with anyone. I only saw another man somewhere I had only been allowed to be and I got scared.”

“You guys know we would never…” d’Artagnan began only for Aramis to take his hand and squeeze him, effectively cutting him off.

“Of course we do,” he said. “Neither of you are the kind of men to do such a thing even if Athos or I were to suddenly prove so utterly faithless.”

There wasn't much to be said after that and the four of them settled down to go over what they had found out so far. There was a family that was depending on them and Aramis was determined not to let them down. He took a moment to contact Stefan and let him know of this latest development. He wanted to keep him in the loop in case the family needed anything and in case they needed any additional assistance from the church.

So far, Aramis had been able to handle such things himself, but as d'Artagnan had said just that morning, he was not a priest. He did not command the same authority that a priest would in such situations. He wanted to be prepared should something they came up against prove more resistant to him than anticipated.

"Whatever it is, I believe it is focusing on the daughter for whatever reason," Aramis said. When he had looked at all of the things that had been disturbed, it had been quite evident that the little girl's room had been the focus. He had no idea why an entity, even a malevolent one would attach itself to a seven year old child and he did not care as long as they got rid of thing before it could cause the child and her family any more harm.

"Why's that?" Porthos asked. He was starting to come to the same conclusion but wanted to hear the other man's reasoning.

"When I was examining what the entity had disturbed, I noticed that it all seemed to center on the little girl," he explained. "Even the damage done to the possessions of the other family members related to her in some way."

"I think you're right," Porthos said. "I don't know why but we get the strongest readings in the little girl's room. The farther we get away from it, the weaker they get."

"There are a few other places where they're strong," d'Artagnan added. "But again, they are places where she spends the most time."

"Why would it concentrate on the child?" Athos asked. "I would think it would make one of the adults its primary target in order to get rid of them."

"What more effective way is there to drive a parent to their knees than to threaten harm to their child?" Aramis asked. "They will do whatever is necessary to try to protect them while at the same time being terrified out of their minds."

"We have to find a way to stop this thing," d'Artagnan said.

"We will," Aramis told him. "The family is safe for now. We will keep them that way and find a way to rid them of this malevolent spirit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You still seem troubled," Athos said as he and Aramis got ready for bed. He could see that Aramis had something on his mind and it wasn't the Mendoza family's problems.

"Would it upset you if I told you I was worried about d'Artagnan?" Aramis asked honestly.

"No," Athos said, smiling softly at him, his green eyes conveying nothing but understanding and sympathy. "He is your friend. You care for him and you always worry for the people you care for. What is it that you are worried about?"

"I'm afraid he'll try to pull back," Aramis said. He had stripped down his just his boxer shorts and stretched out on his side of the bed waiting for Athos to join him.

"Because of me, of how I reacted?" Athos asked as he stripped down as well and lay beside the other man.

"Yes," Aramis said. "He was worried from the start. When I first made to lie with him on the couch, he was worried about your reaction. Even though we have told him everything is okay, I'm afraid he may try to pull away to keep from causing a problem between us."

"I'll talk to him," Athos told him as he turned on his side and took Aramis' hand. "I'll let him know that he doesn't have to do that. That he isn't going to cause a problem between us by being your friend, even your very good friend that needs a bit more physical contact than most. You just keep being there for him. He won't be able to fight both of us on it."

"Thank you," Aramis said. "I don't deserve you."

"Don't be stupid," Athos huffed. "The only thing you don't deserve is to be stuck with likes of me."

"Stuck with you?" Aramis laughed. He rolled over onto his side then quickly moved up onto his hands and knees. He saw Athos' eyes go dark, just as they had when he had done this before their shower and grinned wickedly. Reaching out, he pushed Athos over onto his back and crawled over the top of him until he was staring down at him, their faces now only inches apart.

"Aramis," Athos whispered as he looked up into the eyes of his best friend. He loved this man so much and to finally have him, like this, was a dream come true for him. Reaching up, he stroked his hand along Aramis' face, cupping his cheek and letting his thumb brush over his lips.

Opening his mouth, Aramis bit down lightly on Athos' thumb and sucked it into his mouth. The startled gasp he pulled from his friend made his own co*ck twitch as he sucked and laved the digit while Athos lay beneath him, staring up at him and panting.

Releasing Athos' thumb, Aramis leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. As soon as Athos opened his mouth beneath him, Aramis pushed his tongue inside it, moaning himself at the hot, silken feel of it. He ran his tongue all along Athos' own, not giving the man a chance to start suckling on his, knowing it would reduce him to a whimpering mess in no time and that was not what he wanted tonight. No, tonight would be for Athos, for showing his lover that he was his and that he was capable of satisfying him.

For long minutes, all they did was kiss. Aramis held himself above Athos, allowing only their mouths to touch for now. He kissed him until the need for air forced him to pull away then he rested his forehead against the other man's and simply breathed for a moment. Once he had his breath back, Aramis began to pepper Athos' face with kisses. He kissed all along his face and jaw then down the side if his neck. He sucked on the pulse point there, gratified at the sounds it pulled from the man as well as they way Athos could not seem to stay still as he nibbled and sucked. Sometime very soon, he would suck bruises onto that beautiful neck, but that was for another time.

Moving lower, he began to kiss along Athos' chest. He remembered how much Athos had liked it when he had stroked across his nipples in the shower. Turning his attention to them now, he licked first one then the other, even going so far as to bite down gently once the nubs were standing up all puffy and red.

Leaving his nipples, Aramis began to work his way lower still. He could feel Athos trembling slightly as he did and rested his hand on the man's hip to steady him. He could understand the feeling. If he wasn't concentrating so hard on what he was trying to do, he would probably be close to shaking apart himself. Moving slowly, Aramis kissed a trail down to Athos' navel. He planted a sucking kiss on it before circling his tongue all around it. He heard Athos let out a strangled sound then go rigid beneath him and he froze as well.

"What... What are you doing?" Athos panted, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought for control. Aramis had never touched him in such a manner, never touched him so brazenly at all and Athos had no idea what to make of it.

"I would have thought that would be obvious," Aramis chuckled, though the sound was forced. "Though perhaps I am not doing this correctly after all."

"Aramis? Are you sure?" Athos asked, needing to be certain. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to," Aramis told him. "I want... Let me please you. Let me show you..."

"Show me what?" Athos asked him.

"Please," Aramis replied, not saying any more. He wanted to do this. He wanted to do this for Athos, to show him how much he loved him and to prove that he could do this, that he could be the lover Athos needed him to be.

"Alright," Athos agreed, too strung out to argue, not with Aramis leaning over him, his mouth much too close to where Athos wanted it for sanity's sake.

Permission now granted, Aramis began kissing all along Athos' navel again. He licked and sucked at it, reveling in the way it made his lover moan and twist beneath him. Finally, he began to kiss along the trail of hair that led down, only stopping when he met the waistband of Athos' boxers.

"Lift up," Aramis said, tugging at the offending material. He smiled to himself when Athos did so immediately and quickly pulled them down and off his legs. Now that Athos was completely naked, Aramis took a minute to simply look at him. His lover was beautiful, lean and strong and masculine, and he felt his body stir even more at the sight of him spread out before him.

Aramis lowered himself down onto his elbows then reached out and wrapped one hand around Athos' length. It was only the second time he had touched another man in such a way and it still felt strange to him. Holding Athos' erection, he stroked his hand up and down it, watching the way it seemed to swell even more. When he saw the first bead of fluid form at the tip, he hesitantly leaned forward and swiped his tongue across it.

Athos could not contain his shout when he felt Aramis' tongue swipe over the head of his co*ck. He had not been expecting anything like that, thinking his lover meant to bring him off with his hand again. The feel of Aramis' tongue on him there sent a white-hot bolt of desire through him that had him thrusting up hard, his co*ck eager for more.

Aramis felt a shock run through him at the strength of Athos' reaction as well as his own. He had not expected such a visceral feeling to come from what he had done but he could not deny it. It was not even his own desire fueling it, but rather his desire to please Athos, to make this as good for his lover as he possibly could.

"Ar-ar-Aramis?" Athos called out when Aramis made no move to continue.

"My apologies," Aramis said, chuckling self-consciously. "I had not expected to react so strongly to touching you like this."

"Are you okay?" Athos asked, suddenly concerned once more.

"I am fine," Aramis told him. "Your taste...it is...different."

"You don't like..."

"I didn't say that," Aramis told him quickly. "There is nothing I do not like about you. Now lay there and let me try to please you."

"You always please me," Athos told him. He reached out and ran his hand through Aramis' hair, the action seeming to calm them both, before letting his hand fall away once more. His co*ck was hard and aching, throbbing in Aramis' grip but he held himself as still as he could. Aramis would decide how far things went, how much he was ready for.

Better prepared this time, Aramis leaned back down and swiped his tongue along Athos' co*ck again. The reaction, while less volatile, was no less gratifying and Aramis quickly did it again. The third time, he opened his mouth and sucked the entire head inside, moaning at the weight of it on his tongue. After a moment, however, he let Athos' co*ck slip from his mouth and pulled back.

"I... I don't know what to do," he admitted, embarrassed yet again by his failure to be able to satisfy his lover.

"It's...it's okay," Athos panted.

"Can you..."

"What? Can I what?" Athos asked when Aramis failed to speak.

"Can you tell me what to do?" Aramis asked, blushing hotly as he did so.

"Is that what you want?" Athos asked him as he stroked his face again. "Do you want me to tell you how to suck me off?"

"Yes," Aramis moaned. Athos' coarse words had gone straight to his co*ck, making it throb in sympathy. "Tell me... Tell me how to suck your co*ck. Please..."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Athos said quickly. "But tell me if you need to stop or anything."

"I will," Aramis promised. "Now tell me how to suck you."

"f*ck," Athos groaned. "Take...take me back in your mouth again. Just the head. Hold me there in your mouth like that for just a minute. I... I want to feel myself in your mouth."

Aramis did as Athos instructed, taking the head of his co*ck back into his mouth and simply holding it. After a moment, he let his tongue move against it some and was rewarded with a soft curse and an abortive thrust of Athos' hips.

"Open your mouth a little wider," Athos panted. "Don't try to take me in too far. I don't want to choke you or anything."

Aramis did as Athos told him once more, opening his mouth wider and letting more of Athos' co*ck slide inside it. He moaned at the feel of his mouth being filled, imagining for a moment what it would be like to be filled in such a way elsewhere. He quickly pushed that thought away, knowing he was not ready for that right now. Besides, this time was for Athos.

As carefully as he could, Aramis began to move his mouth up and down Athos' co*ck. Athos had not needed to tell him to, the way the man's body kept trying to thrust had done so for him. He didn't go down that far, taking only about half of him in, but from the way Athos was sinking his hands in his hair and moaning, Aramis did not think he would complain.

"Aramis... Aramis... I'm gonna come," Athos panted as he tightened his grip on Aramis' hair and tried to pull him away from his co*ck.

Aramis, however, had other ideas. Refusing to let Athos pull him away, he kept going, pushing his mouth down farther still and taking Athos in even more. He had the barest moment to consider what he was doing before Athos shouted and gripped his hair convulsively as he began to come in his mouth.

Aramis felt the hard flesh in his mouth swell suddenly then begin to pulse. A second later, thick fluid was filling his mouth and he had to fight not to gag at the sudden taste and feel of it. Still, he refused to pull back, keeping Athos deep in his mouth as his lover came, letting him fill him, and forcing himself to swallow down everything he was given.

"Oh f*ck. Aramis," Athos moaned when he was finished at last. "Come up here, please."

Aramis swallowed once more and hastened to comply. He quickly stretched himself out next to Athos, his head coming to rest on the man's shoulder. He had avoided looking him in the eyes, unsure of what he might see there. Inexpert would be the kindest thing to call him but he was sure he would get better with time.

"Hey," Athos said softly, trying to get Aramis to look at him. "Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay," Aramis replied, glad that it was, more or less, the truth.

"That was..."

"Horrible, I know," Aramis grimaced. "But I am sure I can improve given sufficient practice."

"I was going to say amazing," Athos told him.

"Oh."

"I love you," Athos said. "And that really was amazing. Is there anything I can do for you now?"

"No," Aramis replied.

"You came?" Athos asked.

"Ah, no," Aramis admitted. "But I'm good. I didn't do that because I expected you to return the favor, so to speak."

"I know that," Athos said. "But can I ask what did bring it on?"

"Nothing really. I just wanted to please you. To show you that I could, I guess."

"Aramis..."

"I love you," Aramis told him. "More than anything in this world. Is it so wrong that I want to make you happy?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie purred softly as she slid further back into the nook she had found in the priest’s bedroom, not wanting them to discover her. Though, all things considered, she doubted if they would notice a full-blown demon materializing in the room at the moment. No, they were much too caught up in each other to notice anything else.

Still, it would not be prudent to take chances, not with her goal edging ever closer. She had not imagined that the priest’s insecurities over the Protector, as she had taken to calling him, would cause him to act so rashly. She had thought to try to manipulate him into making the Survivor jealous but this was so much better.

And now the Survivor was feeling threatened by the man-child! Perhaps he was the one she could manipulate. He said he did not care to indulge in such things but that did not mean he did not feel them, that he did not know lust and want. Couple that with his youth and air of relative innocence and the Survivor would be wise to feel threatened.

Closing her eyes, Sylvie grinned in the darkness. Watching the priest’s nervous fumbling as he tried to please the other man had been a delight and she knew those memories would amuse her for days to come. In the meantime, she would plan for the time when she finally had him in her grip, helpless and hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey,” Aramis said as he sat down beside d’Artagnan. They were out on the balcony once again, leaving Athos and Porthos inside putting together a list of supplies they would need before trying to confront the entity currently menacing the Mendoza family.

“Hey,” d’Artagnan replied. He had been expecting Aramis to come talk to him all morning. He had a fairly decent idea of what the man was going to say and had been stealing himself for it. He knew Aramis had said it was okay, but just because Athos understood this time didn’t mean he was going to condone it going forward.

“If I ask you what’s wrong, will you tell me?” Aramis asked him. He hated to see the younger man like this. It was exactly what he was afraid of, what he had told Athos he feared might happen. D’Artagnan was pulling away from him and Aramis wasn’t sure how to stop him.

“I’m pretty sure you already know,” d’Artagnan snorted.

“And I already told you everything was fine,” Aramis replied, careful to keep his voice even lest d’Artagnan think he was upset with him on top of everything else.

“This time,” d’Artagnan said, deciding to just get it out in the open and be done with it. “But you can’t sit there and tell me he’s going to let it happen again. That he’s going to be okay with walking in and seeing me… seeing us… all over each other.”

“Shall I go get him so he can tell you himself?” Aramis challenged. “We talked about this last night. He knows you don’t want anything other than companionship from me…”

“And if I do?” d’Artagnan asked.

Aramis stopped and stared. He had not expected anything like that from the other man and wasn’t sure how to respond. Finally, he said the only thing he could think of. “Do you?”

D’Artagnan huffed out a sigh and shook his head. He didn’t really want anything other than Aramis’ friendship, though he wanted it on a much more tactile level than a friend would normally allow. Unless, of course, they were the friends with benefits type of friends, but d’Artagnan was not interested in that and he knew Aramis wasn’t either.

“Then why did you say it?” Aramis asked him.

“Because what I do want is considered a hell of a lot more than just friendship,” d’Artagnan tried to explain. “It’s… I do feel, you know. I feel the same as every other person. I feel love and lust and… and loss just like everyone else.”

“We know you do,” Athos said from the doorway. He had come out to get the pair, to tell them that he and Porthos were ready to go over the list they had made but had not wanted to interrupt them. Now, he was glad he hadn’t. He had caused this and he needed to find a way to fix it.

“So what happens when friendship leads to something else?” d’Artagnan asked, turning in his chair to look at Athos. “What happens when the next time you walk in and find us like that, I’m hard from it?”

“What do you normally do when that happens?” Athos asked as calmly as he could.

“It doesn’t,” d’Artagnan spat. “It doesn’t because people don’t let me get this close to them. When they find out what a freak I am they tend to stay the hell away.”

“I told you before, you’re not a freak,” Athos said. “And I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear then. I can only assume you either ignore your arousal or take care of it on your own since you prefer not to engage in sexual relations with other people.”

“I… Athos…” d’Artagnan tried to respond but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t see any anger in the man’s eyes. No censure. No hint of the violence that he knew Athos more than capable of, especially where Aramis was concerned.

“d’Artagnan, calm down,” Athos said. He crossed the balcony and crouched down next to the younger man’s chair. He felt him flinch when he rested his hand on his knee but ignored it.

“Most guys would be beating the crap out of me at this point,” d’Artagnan pointed out.

“I am not most guys,” Athos told him. “I can’t guarantee I will never get jealous. You two are very beautiful together and I can’t help but admire that as well as despair of it at times. But that doesn’t make you a threat. It just makes me an insecure asshole who needs to have more faith in his lover.”

“Listen to Athos,” Aramis said. “We know you have feelings the same as we do. Just because you don’t like sex doesn’t mean your body won’t react at times. You’re not some kind of Ken doll and we don’t expect you to be. Okay?”

“Athos, man, did you get lost?” Porthos called as he came out onto the balcony as well. Athos had gone to get the other two ten minutes ago and had not come back inside yet.

“Ah, no,” Athos said, standing up. “Just needed to clear up a few things first. We’re ready to go over what all we think we’ll need before going back to the house.”

“Right,” Aramis said as he got to his feet. He held out his hand for d’Artagnan and smiled at him when he only hesitated for a moment before taking it and letting Aramis pull him to his feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they got to the house, Aramis went in first. While the others didn’t like it, they understood his reasoning behind it and really couldn’t argue with it. Still, they kept close, not wanting to take a chance on becoming separated. The house was not large, by any means, but even a short time cut off from each other could prove deadly.

From the information they had gathered, Porthos and d’Artagnan had concluded that they were most likely dealing with a poltergeist. Why it had attached itself to the family, and the child in particular, they didn’t know. What they did know, however, was how to get rid of it.

This time, Porthos had insisted on more than just Aramis knowing what to do. If he had a choice, he would rather their two youngest members hung back while he and Athos did the heavy lifting. Even though Athos agreed with his sentiment whole-heartedly, Aramis and d’Artagnan did not and had voiced their displeasure at the idea quite loudly. Aramis had even gone so far as to refuse to assist them if they continued to try to force them to stay behind.

In the end, Porthos had had no choice but to give in. His only concession was that Aramis made sure at least one other person knew what to do should something happen to him. His mistake, however, had been in not specifying just who that person should be or, more importantly, should not be, and Aramis had chosen d’Artagnan as his back up. When he had told him, the string of curses Porthos had expelled would have made a sailor blush yet Aramis simply stood there, as intractable as ever.

Now, he and Athos were forced to watch as the other two men put themselves at risk while they could only stand by and do their best to keep them safe. Something they had not done very well at the last time that had been their job. At least with a poltergeist, things were relatively straightforward. Exorcising the house and blessing it should take care of things, but the fact that it seemed fixated on the child led them to believe that it had somehow attached itself to something within the house, probably something belonging to the little girl. They would need to find that as well and destroy it to keep it from coming back.

The only flaw in that plan was the fact that they had not, as yet, determined what the thing might have attached itself to. They were hoping Aramis might be able to do that as the exorcism progressed. If not, they might have to destroy everything associated with the little girl. They really didn't want to have to do that. The family had been through enough.

They had decided to set up in the living room. It would give them the most room to work and had multiple exits if they should need them. The most dangerous part, at least in terms of getting separated, would be in going into the little girl's room to try to determine what the entity might have attached itself to. The room was small. It would not hold four grown men. Aramis would need to go in alone to see if he could get a sense of anything. He considered taking d'Artagnan in with him, but did not think it wise for both of them to be in the small room alone. If the entity should attack while they were in there, the others would not be able to get in to assist them. No, it was better if d'Artagnan, as his back up, stayed safely with the others while he checked the room.

"I don't like this part," Athos said for the fourth time.

"Yes," Aramis said. "You have said so. But it must be done and I am the best one to do it. You will be right outside the door if anything should happen."

"I'd still rather be beside you."

"I know, and I would rather have you beside me. But there is not much room in there. I will be quick, I promise."

Stepping into the little girl's bedroom, Aramis felt an immediate sense of foreboding. It was like the air suddenly got heavier, thicker, and it made his skin crawl to imagine a child trying to sleep in such a place. Taking a deep breath, he let the feeling wash over him, letting it pull him toward it, hoping it would lead him to its source. He walked about the room, he let his hand trail over the various objects, touching each of them lightly. As his hand brushed over a silver locket, the sound of a shout from the other room startled him and he snatched up the locket and raced into the kitchen headed back toward the living room.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, he knew something was wrong. D'Artagnan was standing pressed against the counter as if held there and Athos and Porthos were nowhere in sight. He opened his mouth to shout for them when he felt something seem to flow through him. The next thing he knew was darkness.

D'Artagnan watched, horrified, as Aramis came running into the room. They had heard the sound of glass shattering and had run toward the living room. As soon as Athos and Porthos were through the entryway, the door between the two rooms had slammed closed, sealing him inside. Alone.

Just as Aramis burst into the room, d'Artagnan felt something slam him back against the counter and hold him there. He tried to fight it, to pull away, but he was held firm. He could only watch as Aramis ran in, looked about for a moment, then collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Knowing he had to do something, d'Artagnan began to do as Aramis had instructed him. He knew the items he needed were in the other room, but he couldn't get to them. Not yet. He would have to make the best of it for now and hope the others were not equally incapacitated. As he recited the prayers Aramis had taught him, d'Artagnan felt the force holding him in place begin to lessen. At the same time, he could feel the thing's anger growing. It had not expected someone else to be able to fight it. It had thought Aramis the only threat.

Suddenly, d'Artagnan stumbled forward as the force holding him in place gave way. Without stopping his prayer, he rushed toward Aramis, desperate to see how badly he was hurt. As he slid to his knees beside him, he heard the kitchen drawers bang open. He turned his head just in time to see a dozen knives rise up out of the open drawers and hover in the air before streaking toward him.

D'Artagnan knew he could never get out of the way in time and even if he did, he would be leaving Aramis defenseless. Instead, he threw himself over the prone man, covering him and trying to protect him from the worst of the danger.

Gripping Aramis tightly, d'Artagnan cried out when he felt several of the sharp blades slice into his arms and back. He felt one actually embed itself into his shoulder and gasped at the sickening nausea that welled inside of him. Still, he kept up his litany of prayers, knowing it was the only thing that would banish the spirit and get them out of there alive.

With a shuddering breath, he pushed himself up and off Aramis. He could feel blood running down his arms and back but he did his best to ignore it. He concentrated on the prayers, instead, and tried not to think about the other two men whose condition he had no idea of at the moment.

As the last words of the final prayer left his mouth, the kitchen door flew open and Athos and Porthos spilled into the room. Both men froze at the sight of d'Artagnan standing, dazed and bloody, over Aramis' prone form. "Get the med kit," Porthos said, his eyes never leaving d'Artagnan. When Athos didn't move, he reached over and shoved the man toward the door. "Get the damn med kit!"

Porthos' shove seemed to break whatever paralysis had gripped him and Athos dashed from the room to get their med kit. He came rushing back in with it a moment later to find Porthos taking d'Artagnan by the arm and sitting him down on a chair. He passed the kit to Porthos then knelt down next to Aramis. As carefully as he could, he began checking the man for injures.

There were splashes of blood on him, but Athos could find no wounds and assumed they had come from d'Artagnan. He felt Aramis' head and could find no bump or contusion, nothing that would indicate why he was currently lying unconscious on the floor. Apparently, they were going to need d'Artagnan for that but the younger man looked to be on the verge of going into shock.

"How is he?" Porthos asked as he checked d'Artagnan's injuries. Most of them were superficial, but the wound in his shoulder was worrisome.

"Out cold," Athos said, "though I have no idea why. I can't find any sign of a wound."

"There isn't one," d'Artagnan rasped weakly.

"What do you mean?" Porthos asked. He was glad to see the kid talking. If they could keep him talking and coherent then they might be able to keep him from slipping into shock.

"He ran into the room and stopped then he just collapsed," d'Artagnan explained.

"Nothing hit him? Nothing attacked him?" Athos asked from next to Aramis.

"No, nothing," d'Artagnan confirmed. "He just...dropped."

"Are you alright?" Athos asked, realizing he had not even stopped to check on the man though he had been covered in his own blood.

"Just peachy," d'Artagnan quipped, though his voice came out high and strangled.

"Hey, easy now," Porthos soothed. "You're gonna be okay. Most of this is superficial. I think your shoulder might need some stitches, though."

"Just bandage it," d'Artagnan told him. "I don't want to go to the ER. Too many questions."

"Aramis can stitch it," Athos told him. "Emergency medicine classes, remember?"

"Forgot about that," Porthos said. "But he's gotta wake up first. Alright, kid, you're good. Now you sit tight and let me go take a look at Aramis."

Porthos gave d'Artagnan's knee a reassuring pat then moved to kneel next to Aramis on the floor. He came to the same conclusion that Athos did, there was nothing physically wrong with the man. He was just unconscious. As the minutes ticked by and Aramis failed to come around, the three of them became more and more worried. A dozen scenarios played themselves out in Athos' head, each one more terrifying than the last. He felt panic welling up inside of him and one look at Porthos showed the man to be in much the same state.

"Why isn't he waking up?" D'Artagnan asked softly as he came over and knelt down beside the man as well.

"I don't know," Porthos whispered. It had been a little over half an hour now since they had finally managed to break into the room. D'Artagnan had said Aramis had collapsed well before that. If he did not wake up soon, they would have no choice but to take him to the hospital. If they had to do that, Porthos was unsure what might happen. The three of them could concoct a story but if Aramis awoke without them there to fill him in, it could prove problematic. Also, Porthos was not altogether sure if Aramis had bothered to get Athos officially declared as his next of kin. If he hadn't and his grandmother got wind of things, they could find themselves barred from access to him until he was awake and coherent enough to grant it himself. All of this and more ran through Porthos' head as he knelt next to his fallen teammate, worry like a lead weight in his belly.

"We have to take him to the hospital," Athos said, his fear nearly choking him.

"Not yet," Porthos told him. When Athos glared at him, he held his hand up in surrender. "I know, man. But this kind of thing, it can cause problems. Let's give it a few more minutes. If we can't get him to come around then we'll take him. Maybe that priest friend of his'll be able to help if we run into any problems."

While the two men talked, d'Artagnan reached out and took Aramis' hand. When he did, he felt something clutched in it. Frowning, he turned his hand over and gently pried it open. Nestled inside lay a silver locket. Taking it from his hand, d'Artagnan held it up to the light to get a better look.

As soon as the locket was out of Aramis' hand, he began to stir. He groaned, his eyes fluttering open, as he took in the faces of his three friends. "What happened?" He asked thickly.

Three pairs of eyes met then they all zeroed in on the locked hanging from d'Artagnan's hand. "Give me that thing," Porthos snarled as he snatched the offending necklace from the other man and shot to his feet. He stormed into the living room where the rest of their supplies where and prepared to end this once and for all.

By the time Porthos returned to the kitchen from destroying the necklace and thus the entity's last link to the Mendoza family, Athos and d'Artagnan were helping a still groggy Aramis to his feet. They had given him a brief explanation of events, promising to fill him in fully once he was more coherent. As Porthos stood in the doorway watching them, he felt a surge of relief. They may not have come out of it unscathed, but at least they had come out of it together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s your shoulder?” Aramis asked d’Artagnan as he slipped into his room. He wanted to check on the young man one last time before he turned in for the night. In truth, he was having a hard time letting him out of his sight right now. When d’Artagnan had told them about what had happened in the kitchen, about the poltergeist hurling knives at him, Aramis had felt sick. But when he had said his only move had been to throw himself over Aramis in an attempt to protect him…

Thinking about it later, he realized how much worse it could have been. D’Artagnan could have easily died. If one of those knives had embedded itself in his back, or his neck, the man could have bled to death before the others reached him. As it was, when he had come out of his daze enough to realize that d’Artagnan was covered in blood, he had nearly gone into a panic. Only Porthos’ assurances that he had already checked his injuries and only one of them required further attention had calmed him at all. Now, he wanted to check in on him again and make sure he was alright, both physically as well as emotionally.

“Sore,” d’Artagnan answered as he sat up and scooted back on the bed so that he was resting against the headboard. “But I’ll live. Thanks again for stitching it up.”

“Thank you for nearly getting yourself killed protecting me,” Aramis countered.

“Yeah okay, I’ll stop,” d’Artagnan laughed. “I really am fine, though. You don’t have to come check on me every hour.”

“I’m not,” Aramis replied. “But I was getting ready for bed and wanted to check in one last time before I did. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“I’m positive. Porthos gave me something for the pain. I figure that’ll knock me out soon enough.”

“Well, if you do need something you know where I am. Even if it’s just someone to talk to. You’ve had a very trying day. No one expects you to just shrug that off as if nothing happened.”

“I know. If I need you, I’ll come find you. Now go spend some time with your boyfriend before he comes looking for you. I’m pretty sure finding you in my bedroom would be a little more than he could take today.”

“You’re probably right,” Aramis agreed. With that, he bid d’Artagnan goodnight and went to join Athos in their room. He found his lover sitting up in bed, waiting for him.

“How is he?” Athos asked when Aramis walked in.

“Good,” Aramis replied. “I’m a bit worried about when all of this catches up to him but there’s not much to do for that other than be there when it happens.”

“We will be,” Athos promised.

Aramis stripped down and lay on the bed next to Athos. He turned onto his side so he could look at him. “You have always been there for me, haven’t you, my love?” he mused. “Since the day we met almost.”

“Not hardly,” Athos said. “But I’ve tried to be. I would have been if I could have. I’ll be there for him, too, and not just because I know you want me to. I care about him, too, Aramis.”

“I know you do and I’m glad. He couldn’t have a better friend, a better brother, than you.”

“Is that what he is to you? A brother?” Athos asked.

“Not yet,” Aramis said after a moment. “But I think he will be. I think that’s what he needs to be. If he can only allow himself to do so.”

“Then we’ll find a way to help him to.”

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Aramis took a deep breath as he parked the Jeep in the lot next to Saint Mark’s. Even though Stefan had invited him, he had to admit, he was a bit nervous. He had not been to church since he had left Seminary, not wanting to upset anyone or cause a scene should his presence be unwelcome.

“It’ll be fine,” d’Artagnan told him. “Father Stefan wouldn’t have invited you if it would cause a problem. And after what you did for the Mendozas…”

“What we did,” Aramis told him. “You more than anyone, I might add.”

“Using myself as a human shield hardly counts as doing something,” d’Artagnan teased.

“And if you ever do that again, young man, you will definitely regret it,” Aramis warned.

“Yes, mom.”

“That’s mother hen. Get it right.”

“Come on before we’re late then, mother hen” d’Artagnan told him, happy to see Aramis laughing and joking once more. He understood how much his actions had affected the man but, if he had to do it over again, he would do the same thing. Aramis was just going to have to accept that.

They didn’t actually walk in holding hands but it was a close thing. Aramis barely remembered to stop himself as they approached the front steps of the church. D’Artagnan had chuckled at the way he had dropped his hand as if it had burned him. When he glanced over at him and saw that he was in fact blushing, he had laughed aloud.

As they made their way to a pew, Mr. and Mrs. Mendoza came over and greeted them. Mrs. Mendoza hugged them both warmly, thanking them again for everything they had done for their family. Athos had even gone so far as to replace little Rosalinda’s silver locket with an identical one, leaving the child none the wiser.

D’Artagnan could feel Aramis growing nervous as they settled in and waited for the service to begin. He reached over and surreptitiously took his hand, squeezing it. “Are you okay to do this?” he asked. He would have thought, once they were inside, that Aramis would start to calm some but he wasn’t.

“Yes,” Aramis told him. “It’s just been a while. I keep expecting someone to jump out and start ranting about me having no business being in a house of God.”

“Okay, that’s not going to happen,” d’Artagnan whispered. “And if it did, we’d need to spend some of Athos’ money to bail me out of jail. Assuming Father Stefan and Mr. Mendoza didn’t beat me to him.”

“Ah, thank you, my friend,” Aramis laughed softly. “I was being a bit foolish.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of have a right to be.”

As nervous as Aramis was before the service started, once things got under way he began to relax. The farther along the service went, the more at peace he seemed to be. It made d’Artagnan’s heart hurt to realize how much Aramis had been missing this, how much he had been denying himself this comfort, because he felt he was unwelcome. D’Artagnan made a mental note to thank Father Stefan again for convincing him to come back.

When the service concluded, Aramis held back wanting to take a moment to speak to Stefan without holding up the rest of the congregation. He knew d’Artagnan was a bit confused as to why he hadn’t taken Communion but he didn’t feel he had the right. He had not made Confession nor received Absolution. In truth, he didn’t think he would ever be able to do so. What he was doing with Athos was a sin yet he did not regret it. And one could not receive Absolution for something one did not sincerely regret.

“Aramis! You came!” Stefan greeted enthusiastically when he and d’Artagnan finally walked over.

“Yes,” Aramis said. He reached out to shake Stefan’s hand and found himself pulled into a fierce hug. “I can’t thank you enough for what you and your friends did. If there is ever anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Aramis said. “I’d like you to meet d’Artagnan. He’s one of the men who helped me.”

“It’s a pleasure, d’Artagnan,” Stefan said. He took the young man’s hand and went to pull him into a hug as well but Aramis’ hand on his arm stopped him.

“I am sorry, Stefan. He is still nursing an injury to his shoulder and I would rather not see it aggravated.”

“You were hurt?” Stefan asked, wide-eyed.

“Only a few stitches, Father,” d’Artagnan assured him quickly. “I’m fine, really.”

“Stitches. My God, child. What happened?”

“It really is fine, Stefan,” Aramis told him. “I stitched it up myself so you know it was not serious or I would have insisted on taking him to the ER.”

“But…”

“What do you want me to say, my friend?” Aramis replied. “The entity did not wish to be banished. It fought back. We prevailed.”

“Alright,” Stefan said, blowing out a breath. He had realized that there was an element of danger involved but had not thought anyone would actually get hurt. And yet these men had made no mention of it, would not have said anything to him now if Aramis had not wanted to keep him from inadvertently causing the young man pain.

“Thank you for having us, Father,” d’Artagnan said, trying to change the subject to something less upsetting for the man. “It was a lovely service.”

“Thank you for coming and I’m glad you enjoyed it. I do expect to see you here regularly from now on,” Stefan said, directing his words to Aramis. “Perhaps the next time you can bring the rest of your friends with you.”

“We’ll see,” Aramis smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“All the stuff’s in for Aramis’ gym. I’m gonna go try to get it set up while he’s still at church,” Porthos told Athos.

“Do you need any help?” Athos asked him.

“No, I’m good. I’d kind of like to do it, if you don’t mind or anything.”

“I don’t mind and Aramis will appreciate the gesture.”

With Porthos headed downstairs to start work on Aramis’ own personal dojo, Athos had a project of his own in mind. Something had been bothering him of late, niggling at the back of his mind. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly, but he knew it had to do with Aramis. And for some unknown reason he kept finding himself wanting to page through the man’s old Theology textbooks.

Deciding to simply go with his instincts, Athos looked over the books lining the bookcase in their room. He hesitated at one that was particularly worn and pulled it out. He remembered this book. Aramis had been almost obsessed with it for weeks, going over and over it, making notes in it, and even debating the content with his professor to the point that the man had threatened to have him expelled from his class.

Athos had tried to talk to him about it, but whenever he brought it up, Aramis clammed up. He had gone so far as to try to sneak a look at it when Aramis had fallen asleep one time but he had woken up before Athos had managed to do more than open the thing. The look of betrayal Aramis had given him had Athos snapping the book shut and handing it back without a word. Afterward, Aramis had avoided him for almost a week and Athos had felt sick at the thought that he had lost his best friend.

When Aramis had finally shown up at his dorm room again, Athos had fallen over himself apologizing and promising to never invade his privacy like that again. Now, however, the book was just sitting on the shelf with all of his other texts. And Athos had a feeling that at least some of the answers he was looking for were inside of it.

Grabbing a bottle of water, he took the book out onto the balcony and settled in to read. He flipped through the pages until he found the ones Aramis had dog-eared. He started by scanning the notes Aramis had jotted in the margins but they didn’t make much sense out of context. Many of them were single words like ‘why’ and ‘still?’. A few were even expletives, such as ‘bullsh*t’, which surprised Athos a great deal. While Aramis had been known to swear back then, it had been very infrequently and certainly never in regards to something of a theological nature.

Since this was obviously where he needed to start, Athos looked at the first heading on the page. ‘hom*osexuality and the Catholic Church’ it read. Well, that didn’t sound foreboding at all, Athos thought. Athos quickly scanned the section, feeling more and more disgusted with the archaic doctrines the further he read. He could tell that Aramis had grown upset as well as his comments grew more acerbic. At one point he had written quite boldly ‘NOT ATHOS!’, underlining it hard enough to nearly tear the page. When he read the description of hom*osexuals as little more than mentally defective deviants, he understood his anger.

Having read quite enough, Athos closed the book. He thought he had a good idea of what had been bothering him now. It was Aramis. Or rather, Aramis’ refusal to allow Athos to touch him. And now Athos understood why. The book had called the sharing of bodies between two men a desecration. Aramis had underlined the passage and even made notes out to the side about it, questioning the validity of the statement. While there were not answers, Athos could well imagine what Aramis’ superiors had told him.

At least he understood now why Aramis didn’t want him to touch him. To give himself like that to Athos would be to allow him to desecrate the sanctity of his body. It would be willingly allowing Athos to defile him. It was no wonder Aramis did not want to allow such a thing. And Aramis would not know how to tell Athos something like that, too afraid to disappoint him, to have him decide to look elsewhere for what he was not getting from Aramis. That was absurd, of course. Athos would never look elsewhere, even if Aramis decided he didn’t want a physical relationship at all. In fact, if Aramis truly did feel that giving his body to Athos would be an act of defilement, then what kind of man would he be to continue pursuing a physical relationship with him? No, Athos could not do that. He would not do that. Not to Aramis.

Mind made up, he knew what he had to do now was sit Aramis down and talk to him. He had to let him know that he would back off, that he would not continue to pressure him for sex knowing that it was something he didn’t want. He had gone for seven years with barely having sex and what sex he did have was mediocre at best. He would gladly give that up to have Aramis as his lover, even if it did relegate him to a lifetime of cold showers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aramis and d’Artagnan were laughing when they walked into the warehouse to head up to the loft. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they almost didn’t notice the corner of the open area that Porthos had managed to convert into a fairly reasonable representation of a dojo in a remarkably short amount of time. Because none of this had been there when they had left that morning, and now well over a quarter of the space had been transformed.

“I’ll just head on up,” d’Artagnan said as Aramis stood staring at the sight before him. When Porthos set down the heavy bag he had been preparing to hang, Aramis turned his attention to him.

“Did you do all of this?” he asked, awe-struck.

“Yeah,” Porthos replied. “I know you said you liked to work out and all. I figured since we had the room, why not just do it here.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said earnestly. He looked around again, taking in all of the work Porthos had done. It was amazing how he had transformed the place. Aramis knew he would end up spending a great deal of time down here and hoped he could convince Porthos to join him at some point.

“So how did the unveiling go?” Athos asked when d’Artagnan came up.

“You know that expression kid in a candy store?” d’Artagnan laughed.

“That well, huh?”

“You may not see him before Thanksgiving.”

Athos snorted, though he did agree that Aramis would probably be a bit scarce around the loft for the next few weeks until he got back into a routine. “How was Mass?” he asked next.

“It was good. Then Mendozas were there,” d’Artagnan said.

“But?” Athos pressed, able to tell that something was bothering him about it.

“Nothing really,” d’Artagnan replied. “It’s just… Aramis didn’t take Communion.”

“No,” Athos sighed. “He wouldn’t have. Not without making Confession first.”

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan said sadly. “It’s not fair. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“In the eyes of the church, I’m afraid we are,” Athos replied. “And I have to wonder if we aren’t in Aramis’ eyes as well.”

“Athos…”

“It will be alright, d’Artagnan. Whatever Aramis decides is right for him, I’ll be fine with.”

When Aramis finally made it upstairs, he was beaming. Athos hated having to sit down and talk to him but it had to be done. Besides, he thought it might be a relief to Aramis to know Athos would no longer be pressuring him for sex.

“I take it you liked your surprise,” Athos said as he followed Aramis into their bedroom. He paused then, realizing he had not considered whether or not Aramis would want separate bedrooms. He would need to talk to him about that as well.

“Yes,” Aramis grinned as he began quickly changing into a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“I’m glad,” Athos told him. “Before you go running off, I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Aramis said sitting down on the bed and making room for Athos to do the same.

Athos sat down next to him then turned to face him and took his hand. “D’Artagnan told him that you didn’t take Communion,” he began gently. He felt Aramis stiffen and tightened his grip so he couldn’t pull away. “I think I understand now what’s been going on with you… why you don’t want me to touch you.”

“Athos, no,” Aramis shook his head, paling. He didn’t like where this conversation appeared to be going. Not at all.

“Your body is a sacred thing,” Athos continued calmly. “It always has been. I understand that and I don’t blame you for not wanting me to defile it.”

Aramis stared at his friend, his lover, aghast and felt something inside of him twist painfully. “No,” he said again, his voice so strangled he could barely get that single word out.

“I love you,” Athos told him. “Nothing will ever change that. I told you before that sex wasn’t a prerequisite of us being together and I meant it.” With that, Athos leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Aramis’ forehead before getting to his feet and heading back into the other room.

Aramis stared after Athos, his emotions a wild mix of fear and pain and anger and loss. Not knowing what to do, only knowing that he needed space, he rose and left the room. Without a word, he headed downstairs to the gym Porthos was putting the finishing touches on.

Porthos looked up when Aramis came back in, grinning at the man’s exuberance. One look at his face, however, wiped his grin right off. He didn’t know what had happened, but something clearly had. And it was not good from the looks of things. He opened his mouth to say something but Aramis walked right past him without so much as a glance and he decided against it. He had obviously come down here to work it out, whatever it was, so Porthos would shut up and let him do so in peace. He would keep an eye on him while he did, though, just in case.

As Porthos watched him tear into the heavy bag like a man possessed, he began to rethink his plan. Aramis had not bothered to even tape his hands and Porthos knew his knuckles would soon start to bleed. He could see his lips moving every once in a while but couldn’t make out what he was saying from where he was. Out of desperation, Porthos pulled out his cell phone and dialed Athos’ number.

“What’s wrong?” Athos asked as soon as he saw who was calling.

“Get down here,” Porthos hissed then closed the phone and slid it back into his pocket, not wanting Aramis to see it.

Less than a minute later, Athos was hurrying into the room, his heart in his throat at the thought of what he might find. The sight of Aramis beating his bloodied fists into the bag Porthos had hung from the ceiling made his heart clench and Athos hung his head for a moment before looking at Porthos.

“Close the door on your way out,” he said quietly.

“You sure?” Porthos asked worriedly.

“Yes.”

Alone now, Athos moved closer. Once he was close enough he could make out part of what Aramis was saying and it stopped him in his tracks.

“Defile…” he heard Aramis snarl as he struck the bag again and again as hard as he could. “Think I would find… touch… defilement!”

“Aramis?” Athos called softly, not wanting to startle him as upset as he was.

Aramis spun around at the sound of Athos’ voice. His hands were still clenched tightly into fists and he was panting with exertion. His face was set in a thunderous mask and when he took a step forward, Athos actually found himself taking a step back.

“I am fairly certain that beating the crap out of me won’t actually help matters any,” Athos tried to joke, hoping to break the sudden tension. From the way Aramis’ eyes narrowed and he stalked forward, Athos knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

“Are you?” Aramis growled. “Because I’m not.” Like lightning, Aramis’ hand shot out and fisted in Athos’ shirt. A quick pivot and Athos was suddenly turning as his back slammed painfully into the wall now behind him.

“f*ck,” Athos gasped as Aramis pressed up against him. He was shocked to feel the hard line of the other man’s co*ck digging into his hip through their clothes.

“Now there’s a thought,” Aramis all but purred into his ear, causing Athos to go rigid. Clamping his hand around his wrist in a punishing grip, Aramis shoved Athos’ hand down between them, forcing it against the bulge in his pants.

“Aramis… what…”

“Touch my co*ck,” Aramis snarled as he sank his teeth into Athos’ neck and sucked hard.

“No!” Athos cried out and began squirming, trying to get away. This was not happening. He would not allow it. Not like this.

Aramis froze as Athos’ panicked shout penetrated the haze that had taken over his mind. A moment later he realized what he was doing, that he was literally pinning Athos in place and forcing the man to touch him. He jerked away from him and staggered back, horrified at what he had done. An unbidden thought suddenly ran thought his head: and here Athos had worried about his touch being a defilement.

“Aramis?” Athos called, hoping to draw him back out of his thoughts. He could see from the devastated look on his face just where those thoughts were headed and he needed to curtail them quickly.

“Athos,” Aramis pleaded helplessly, torn between going to the man and running as far from him as possible.

“It’s okay,” Athos said as he took a careful step toward him, afraid he would run if he moved too fast.

“Okay?” Aramis repeated, the word coming out high and hysterical. “I-I-I…”

Athos took another step forward, taking advantage of Aramis’ distraction. Within arm’s reach, he quickly latched onto his t-shirt and hauled him forward into his arms before he could get away. “It’s okay,” he said again as he held him. “Christ, ‘Mis, I didn’t mean to upset you like this. I was trying to make things easier for you. Not… not do this.”

“I love you,” Aramis gasped into his neck, his own arms coming around to hold Athos back. “I love you so much. How could you think I would… that I would think it a defilement?”

“You don’t want me to touch you like that. You won’t take Communion. And I know what all your books say about it,” Athos explained.

Aramis raised his head so he could look at Athos as he spoke. “I can’t take Communion without confessing and repenting of my sins. I will never repent of my love for you.”

“Aramis…”

“Be quiet,” Aramis told him brusquely. “I don’t give a damn what those books say. They say our love is an abomination. I do not believe that for one second. I refuse to.

“You are right about one thing, though. I have been holding myself back from you. That ends now.”

“You don’t need to push yourself if you’re not ready,” Athos told him. “I don’t mind waiting for you.”

“I think I have made us both wait quite long enough,” Aramis said. “I made you wait so long that you thought I would actually abhor your touch.”

“No,” Athos said, shaking his head.

“I am so sorry,” Aramis said as he buried his face in Athos’ neck again. “I never meant to make you think your touch was anything but precious to me.”

“Aramis, hey, it’s alright,” Athos said as he ran his hands up and down Aramis’ back trying to soothe him.

“No, it is not,” Aramis insisted. “Do you have any idea how ashamed I feel?”

“Stop, please,” Athos pleaded. “It’s my fault as much as yours. I should have talked to you rather than simply assumed I knew what was best.”

“You did talk to me.”

“No, I talked at you. I told you everything I had figured out without getting any input from you at all and made a unilateral decision about our relationship. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Aramis stopped and let Athos’ words sink in. He knew he was right, that they were both at fault but he still felt guilty. While Athos may have jumped to a few incorrect conclusions based on Aramis’ behavior, he had not physically attacked him.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. He knew what he was capable of, especially when he was angry.

“No,” Athos said at once. His neck still stung where Aramis had bitten down on it and his wrist throbbed but he knew both of those would be gone by the next day.

“Did I frighten you?” Aramis asked next, even more afraid of what the answer to this question might be.

“No,” Athos said sincerely. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. Not really.”

“I wish I had your faith in that,” Aramis admitted, ashamed all over again.

“Aramis? Hey, look at me,” Athos said. He waited until Aramis had raised his head so he could look him in the eye. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I was out of control,” Aramis told him. “I… There was this haze… this anger.”

“Listen to me, you were never out of control. If you had been, I would still be on the floor trying to figure out how to breathe with my ribs in pieces. You were in complete control. You were angry, yes, but you were never out of control and I was never in danger. Not from you.”

Aramis leaned forward and kissed him then, softly and gently on the lips. He felt Athos’ lips part slightly under his and let his tongue slip inside. He felt Athos’ moan as well as heard it and it made a bolt of desire run through him. Moving slowly, still mindful of how aggressive he had been only moments ago, he deepened the kiss, letting his desire for his lover have free rein for once.

“Are you sure?” Athos asked as he pulled back, panting. Their foreheads were pressed together, their mouths so close they breathed each other’s air.

“Please,” Aramis begged. “I want you. I want to feel you. I want to show you that I’m yours.”

“Do you want to go upstairs?”

“Here,” Aramis said, desperate to replace the earlier memories with more pleasant ones.

“Okay,” Athos agreed. He bore Aramis down onto the mats that were laid out on the floor until the man was spread out on his back. He looked at him for a moment, drinking in the sight of him before leaning down and kissing him hard, sucking his tongue into his mouth in that way he knew Aramis was helpless against.

Athos didn’t pull back until Aramis was actually moaning and writhing on the mat. He smiled down at him when he did, thinking to himself that Aramis had never looked more beautiful than he did at that moment, disheveled and breathless, his eyes wide, the pleasure nearly overwhelming him.

“Tell me what you want,” Athos said softly as he ran his hand up and down Aramis’ chest lazily. “Do you want my hand on you? Or would you rather have my mouth?”

“Athos, please,” Aramis panted, unable to think past the sensations flooding him. His co*ck was so hard it ached. All he wanted was for Athos to touch him, to take his body and finally make it his own. “Touch me. Please, touch me.”

“I will,” Athos told him. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, helping Aramis sit up briefly so he could get it off. He spread it out beneath him so he would not have to lie against the cold mat, then grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants. “You sure?”

At Aramis’ nod, Athos pulled those and his underwear off as well and tossing them aside. Once he was naked, Athos could see how hard Aramis was and he reached for him, only hesitating at the last second.

“Athos?” Aramis asked his voice rough and desperate.

“Ask me again,” he told him. It wasn’t that he wanted to make Aramis beg for his touch, but rather the overpowering need to be sure that this was what the other man truly wanted.

“Please,” Aramis said, understanding what it was his lover needed. “Please, touch me.”

Wasting no more time, Athos reached out then and wrapped his hand around Aramis’ straining erection. He smiled when his lover arched up, thrusting into his hand and crying out at the feel of him. Holding onto his hip with his free hand, Athos pressed him back down onto the mat and began to slowly stroke him.

In no time at all, Aramis was moaning and writhing once more. Athos knew it would not take much to make him come. He was too excited, the sensations too new. Instead of trying to prolong it, Athos kept his pace steady. When he swiped his thumb over the sticky head, however, Aramis’ whole body went rigid and he came with a shout, ropes of thick, white fluid shooting out over his chest and belly as Athos gently stroked him through it.

Once he was finally spent, Athos reluctantly let him go, not knowing how sensitive Aramis might be. Grabbing his discarded underwear, he wiped him as clean as he could, then stretched out beside him. As soon as he did, Aramis turned onto his side and wrapped his arm around him, pulling Athos close.

“Are you okay?” Athos asked as he held him.

“Yes...”

“Aramis?”

“My body is still a temple,” Aramis told him, “but it is your temple now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie was beside herself. She could not believe how close she had come. She had almost managed to get the priest to force the other man. Who would have thought his anger would make him so susceptible? But it had. That and the essence she had been siphoning off him each night. Not much mind, just a tiny bit, but it was clearly enough. It had been enough to allow her to slip in just a little bit.

Just enough to influence.

Just enough to push.

And she had very nearly gotten what she wanted with the Survivor destroyed to boot. Not that she thought the priest’s attacked would have destroyed him. She was sure he would have forgiven his remorseful lover. But the damage would have been done.

Even though her plan hadn’t worked, she was still one step closer to sinking her claws into the dear priest. Perhaps she would change her plans for the priest once she finally had him. She had planned to destroy him utterly while the Survivor looked on, but would it not be even more fun to make him the very instrument of the Survivor’s pain?

It was certainly something to think about.

For now, though, she had other things she could do. She’d had such success nudging him along, perhaps it was time to try it on the others. After all, she had been here, surrounded by them, subtly leaving tracers of herself behind, for weeks now. With the priest’s essence bolstering her, she could feel her power growing stronger. Even if she found she couldn’t affect them all directly, she could still influence their dreams again. Maybe this time, she would try pushing them in a somewhat different direction.

Who knows, the priest might be hers for the taking soon after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I do believe your cat finds sleeping on your chest almost as enjoyable as I do,” Athos whispered as he snuggled up to Aramis’ side and kissed him good morning. Said cat was currently curled up in a ball in the center of Aramis’ chest, purring contentedly.

“Oh really?” Aramis grinned. He scratched Sylvie between her ears then lifted her off his chest and set her on the floor. “Well, I much prefer you there.”

“Good to know,” Athos replied as he pushed up onto one arm and gave his lover another kiss.

“Very much prefer.”

Now that the Mendoza family was safely back in their home, they were free to return their attention to Athos’ past once more. Before the emergency with the Mendozas had come up, Aramis had been making some headway, or thought he might be, and he was eager to get back to it. He knew d’Artagnan had some things he wanted to work on as well, new ideas for equipment he had come up with that he thought would benefit them in the field.

“Hey, Porthos, you mind if I borrow your truck?” d’Artagnan asked over breakfast.

“Go ahead. Keys are by the door,” Porthos told him.

“Is anything wrong, d’Artagnan?” Aramis asked.

“No, mother hen,” d’Artagnan grinned. “I just need to pick up some stuff from my folks’ place and stop at the hardware store.”

“If you’re going by the hardware store, get some extra keys made for it,” Porthos said. “That way if I forget and grab ‘em you guys won’t be stuck.”

“Good idea,” Athos said. “I’ll get some made for the Jeep as well.”

“You guys don’t mind us just taking your cars and stuff?” d’Artagnan asked a bit hesitantly.

“No, we don’t mind,” Athos answered for the both of them.

When d’Artagnan pulled up at his parents’ house, he was not surprised by his mother’s over enthusiastic welcome. “I missed you, too, mom,” he said as he hugged her tightly.

“So what brings my baby boy here today?” she asked when she finally released him. She knew it was good for her son to be out on his own but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“I wanted to see you,” he said then paused and added, “and I need to pick up a few things.”

His mother laughed and swatted him on the arm. They sat down at the kitchen table then and caught up over coffee. His mother told him about the new ladies’ church group his grandmother had joined and he told her all about the others, especially Aramis.

“He sounds like a remarkable young man,” she commented.

“He is,” d’Artagnan agreed. “He… he’s there for me. As a friend… and he doesn’t expect anything… else. He doesn’t think I’m just being a tease or playing hard to get or…”

“He is your friend,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Then you, my son, are a very lucky man.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do either of you need me for anything today?” Aramis asked once breakfast had been cleared away.

“I always need you, but not for anything pressing,” Athos replied to which Porthos snorted.

“Thank you for that,” Aramis smiled, ignoring Porthos. “If you don’t, I have some research I’d like to get back to.”

“That stuff you were working on about Athos’ family?”

“Yes. I think I might have found a connection but I need to do more digging to be sure.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Athos asked.

“Just try to let me work in peace,” Aramis told them. He knew Athos would easily recall how he was in college, how focused he could get when delving into his studies. This was no different. He would work best if left undisturbed so he could give his work his full concentration. He trusted Athos to ensure Porthos understood.

By the time d’Artagnan returned to the loft it was close to dinner time. Aramis had been engrossed in his research all day and Athos and Porthos had left him to it. Porthos had grown concerned when lunchtime came and went and Aramis didn't so much as look up but Athos had assured him that this was normal for Aramis in 'research mode'.

"You should have seen him whenever he had a major paper due," Athos had told him. "It was like having a ghost in my dorm room. He was there but not."

"Why didn't you just tell him to go back to his own room?" Porthos asked.

"Because if he was with me I could at least make sure he got some food in him and a few hours of sleep that wasn't spent sprawled over a desk," Athos replied fondly.

"And you got to be with him," Porthos supplied. "Even if he wasn't completely there, it was better than nothing."

"Quite true."

They did manage to pull Aramis away from his work for dinner, Athos having convinced him that he had done more than enough for one day. They weren't going to solve the mystery tonight. There was no reason for Aramis to work himself into the ground in an attempt to do so.

After dinner, Athos took Aramis out to get ice cream, wanting to get him out of the loft for a couple of hours. They promised to bring some back for Porthos and d'Artagnan but told them not to be in a hurry to get it. The two men had just laughed as they watched their friends leave.

"How'd it go at your folks' today?" Porthos asked as they sat down in the living room.

"Good," d'Artagnan replied. "I got my stuff and spent some time catching up with my mom. They miss me but they know it was time for me to get out on my own. Or, you know, close to it anyway."

"This counts, kid," Porthos assured him. He knew what it was like to be on your own for the first time. What a gamble it was. How insecure it could make you feel. It didn't matter that there were four of them in it together, it was still a bit step for him and he admired him for it.

The sound of the downstairs buzzer had both men frowning. They wondered for a moment if the other two had forgotten their keys but there was no way both of them forgot their keys and their phones. Going over to the video-com Athos had installed, d'Artagnan was surprised to find his mother outside the door to their warehouse.

"It's my mom," he said, bewildered.

"Then you best go let her in," Porthos told him. While d'Artagnan went down to escort his mother up, he gave the loft a quick look, making sure nothing blatantly offensive was sitting out. The place was relatively clean and there was no booze or p*rn sitting out so he figured they were good. Besides, there were four men living here. She should know better than to expect Martha Stewart.

When the two made it back up to the loft, Porthos saw that d'Artagnan was frowning. After a quick round of introductions in which d'Artagnan's mother insisted Porthos call her Rachel, they were seated on the couch with Porthos in the chair beside it.

"Mama, what's wrong?" D'Artagnan asked. "And don't tell me nothing. I can see you're upset."

She opened her mouth to speak then glanced at Porthos. She thought for a moment again then shook her head. "Your grandmother, she went to her new church group. You know, I told you about it."

"Yes."

"There was a woman there. She said...she said the other man that lives here...the one you told me of..."

"What did she say?" Porthos asked his voice going stony.

"She said he was sick," Rachel told him. "She said he preyed upon the weak, that he was a liar and a deceiver. That he would...that he would hurt d'Artagnan...would use him..."

"Mama, stop," d'Artagnan said, unable to listen to any more.

"That woman is the liar," Porthos told her firmly. "She's Aramis' grandmother and from what we can tell, she hates him. Aramis is a good man. He would never do anything..."

"I am so sorry," Aramis said softly from the doorway. His eyes were wide and bright and the look of abject misery on his face was heartbreaking. "She should never have spoken of d'Artagnan in such a manner. He would never allow such a thing... I'm sorry." Unable to stand the scrutiny any more, Aramis fled to his room, Athos right behind him.

"Ma'am. Rachel, I don't mean to be disrespectful to you and certainly not in front of your son, but please don't speak about Aramis like that again in this house. He's not like that. His grandmother... I don't know what her problem is other than she's pissed he dropped out of the priesthood and he's with Athos. But he's not some monster, he's not some deviant, he's not some pedophile.

"He'd lay down his life for your son without blinking an eye. He'd do that for any one of us and we'd do the same for him."

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, horrified at what she had accused this man that her son seemed to love so well of.

"Don't apologize for trying to protect your son," Porthos told her gently. "He's a good kid. He deserves to be protected."

"I would like to apologize to Aramis," she said.

"I'll tell him," d'Artagnan said, "but I don't think now would be a good time. His grandmother, she's been making life hard for him. This is just the latest stunt she's pulled."

"I will inform your grandmother not to listen to this woman," Rachel said as she stood up. "I'm not sure if there is much else that can be done for the talk that she is spreading, though."

"Just as long as you guys know it's not true," d'Artagnan said. "That's the important part." He walked his mother back out to her car, not surprised to find Porthos still the only one in the living room when he returned.

"She okay?" Porthos asked. He had poured himself a glass of bourbon again and sat nursing it. At this rate, he was going to need to restock soon.

"Yeah," he replied, running his hand through his hair. "She's more upset about hurting Aramis than anything right now. I need to go talk to him."

"You may want to give them some time."

"You really think letting this sit and fester is going to help? Athos may be keeping him calm but until he knows we took care of it..."

"Did we, though? I mean, with your family, sure. But who else is she running her mouth to?"

"Likely anyone that will listen," Aramis said from the bedroom doorway. He moved into the room slowly, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"We don't know that," Athos said as he came up behind him. He moved with him over to the couch and sat down next to him. "And even if it is true, we will set them straight. One person at a time, if necessary."

"Just like Porthos did with my mom," d'Artagnan added.

Aramis looked over at Porthos then and offered a tremulous smile. He had heard their conversation from the bedroom, both her words and Porthos' ardent defense of him. He had recognized the ringing sincerity of them, the man's honest belief in what he was saying. Porthos truly did believe him a good man, a man who would give his life for any one of them and who any one of them would give their life for in return.

"Thank you for what you said," Aramis told him. "It...it meant a great deal to me."

"It was only the truth, brother."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So do you guys have any like plans for Halloween?" D'Artagnan asked. They were just settling down to work for the morning. He and Aramis had really been making some headway into Athos' past and were almost ready to let the others in on what they had uncovered. In the meantime, however, d'Artagnan was curious to know if his teammates had any plans for the upcoming holiday and, if not, if he could talk them into any.

"Not really," Porthos shrugged. "It's the warehouse district so no trick-or-treaters to worry about. Why?"

"There's this really cool haunted house. It's like huge, with different areas set up in different ways. One wing's a fun house set up, another's a typical haunted house, another's a maze. I wanted to go last year but I ended up in the hospital with pneumonia and never got a chance to."

"A haunted house? Really?" Porthos asked, the disbelief in his voice clear. "Don't we get enough of that already?"

"If you would like to go, d'Artagnan, I'd be happy to go with you," Aramis told him. He understood what the younger man wanted. Haunted houses and their ilk were all part and parcel of Halloween. He could only imagine how disappointed he would have been last year to have been too ill to take part in the festivities. If he wanted to do so this year, Aramis would gladly go with him, even if such things were not normally something he enjoyed all that much.

"Really?" D'Artagnan asked, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

"Of course we will," Athos answered for all of them. "Isn't that right, Porthos?"

"Yes," Porthos said, clueing in on how much this apparently meant to their youngest member. "Just let us know when and where."

By the end of the week, d'Artagnan had purchased tickets for the Sloss Halloween Experience for the four of them. He was nearly bouncing when he told Aramis that afternoon. Aramis had grinned right back, the younger man's excitement contagious. They were for three weeks from now, on the Friday before Halloween.

"Thanks again for doing this," d'Artagnan told him. "I know this isn't exactly your thing."

"No," Aramis agreed. "But it is something you want to do. We all make concessions for each other. That's what a family does."

"Family," d'Artagnan repeated. He moved up behind Aramis and wrapped his arms around him for a moment, hugging him from behind. He placed a quick kiss on his cheek before pulling away once more.

"D'Artagnan?"

"You ready to fill them in on what you've found?" D'Artagnan asked, changing the subject.

Aramis let the subject drop and went to gather his notebook while d'Artagnan got Athos and Porthos. When he came back out into the living room, all three men were waiting for him. He sat down on the couch between Athos and d'Artagnan and flipped through his notes until he found the ones he was looking for.

Aramis reached out and took Athos' hand in his. He knew this was going to be difficult for him. Anything having to do with his family and what happened to them was. At least this was not related to his immediate family, but rather more distant ancestors.

"So, you know I've been looking into Athos' past. Specifically, his family's distant relatives and ancestral tree," Aramis began. "I believe I have found a connection to what happened to Athos and some of his relatives. And I believe I have detected a pattern to these occurrences as well."

"This... This has happened before?" Athos asked incredulously.

"Yes. I am sure of it," Aramis told him.

"But how is that possible? How would we not know about it? Entire families being wiped out..."

"Because it only occurs every five generations," Aramis answered. "Plenty of time for the prior incident to have been forgotten."

"Five generations?" Porthos repeated, surprised himself now. "Just how far back does this go?"

"Far," Aramis said. "I have uncovered five separate incidents, including what I believe to be the first one."

"You traced my family history back twenty-five generations?"

"Yes. It would not have taken as long as it did, but the deaths were always on your mother's side of the family. They followed her family line even though it was the first-born son that was allowed to live each time. I have to wonder what would have happened had there been no first-born son. What if the couple had been barren or all their children were girls? Would they all have been slaughtered?"

"That doesn't sound like it's random," Porthos observed. "Not going back that far with that kind of regularity."

"No, it doesn't," Aramis agreed. "I don't know what the triggering event that precipitated this was yet, but you can be sure there was one."

"And it was personal," Porthos added. "Personal enough for whatever is behind this to keep coming back, to focus on not just your family, but a specific branch of it."

"What's the point of leaving the survivors, though?" D'Artagnan asked. "I mean, if somebody pissed something off, wouldn't it make more sense for it to wipe out the entire family."

Aramis hesitated but a reassuring squeeze from Athos' hand bade him continue. "I believe there are two reasons. The first is sheer sadism. It wants to cause as much pain as possible. Leaving a lone survivor ensures that. The second is pride. It wants someone to bear witness to its handiwork, to the evil it has wrought, so it leaves a survivor."

"Jesus," Athos said under his breath. He had to close his eyes against the sudden sting of tears Aramis' words provoked. He remembered all the horror and pain he had felt back then, that he had continued to feel for years, that if he was honest with himself he still felt to this day. To know that it was done intentionally, that the fear and pain were part of what the thing was after, made his blood run cold even as it enraged him.

Porthos opened his mouth to speak when a loud crash from the kitchen made all four of them jump. Just then Sylvie came streaking out of the room, making a bee-line for Aramis. She jumped into his lap, burrowing into him. She even went so far as to dig her sharp claws into his leg so he could not shove her away.

"Hey, easy girl," Aramis soothed as he stroked her with his free hand.

"What the f*ck was that?" Porthos asked, eyeing the kitchen warily.

"If I had to guess, I would say Sylvie got into something she should not have," Athos said rather drolly.

"No sh*t," Porthos snorted. "So what else do you have for us, Aramis."

"Um, that's about it I'm afraid," Aramis replied. "I've traced it back to a beginning but have no idea as to why it started. I'll keep looking but unless I can find a written account of some phenomena that occurred, it is likely we will never know."

"Alright. Just do your best," Porthos said. "What you've found so far could prove to be invaluable. I mean, we know now it's not random, that it targeted Athos' family for a reason. That changes things completely."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie lay curled in her corner, watching the two humans sleep. She was waiting, wanting to make sure the priest was deeply asleep before approaching. She had not expected him to be such an accomplished researcher. He had found out a great deal about her prior activities in a very short amount of time. She would have to keep an eye on that. It would not do for him to figure out what drove her actions. She enjoyed her familial sacrifices, infrequent though they were. She was not in any hurry to give them up.

Once she was sure the priest and his lover were both fast asleep, she jumped down from her perch and crept silently across the floor. She sprang up onto the bed, light and agile, careful not to jostle either man too much. While she did not think they would put her out of the room, she did not want to chance it and possibly miss her midnight snack.

Stalking forward, she moved onto Aramis' chest as lightly as she could. When the priest didn't even stir, she crouched down low and placed her mouth and nose right under his. As he exhaled, she sucked in hard, pulling in the air he expelled as well as drawing more from within him. On the second breath, she let her power flow outward and began to pull more than just the air from Aramis' lungs.

As tempting as it was to simply lay there and glut herself on his essence, Sylvie forced herself to pull back after only a few sips. It would not be wise for the others to realize something was amiss with the priest. Not yet. So for now she would content herself with mere sips. Soon enough she would be able to drink her fill. Soon enough she would be able to drink him dry.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

The Sloss Halloween Experience was advertised to be the scariest haunted house in the U.S. It was more than just a haunted house, though. It was actually a huge, multi-story building that had been remodeled and sectioned off into "zones". Each zone was centered around a different Halloween theme. One was a typical haunted house setting, another was modeled after a carnival fun house with clowns and crazy hallways and distorted mirrors. Yet another was an elaborate mirror maze with special exits positioned throughout it in case guests simply could not find their way out.

The zone d'Artagnan was most looking forward to, though, was the horror movie zone. It was supposed to be modeled after all of the great horror movie villains, both old and new, from Universal Studios Dracula and Wolf Man to Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers. D'Artagnan had never told the others, but he was a diehard horror movie fan. He would watch just about anything from old black and white movies like The Screaming Skull to the latest slasher flick. He supposed, given what he did for a living these days, his love of horror movies might be considered in bad taste but he didn't care. They were innocent fun. An escape where he could laugh at the ineptitude of the hapless teenagers more often than not.

d'Artagnan was nearly bouncing when the night of the haunted house finally came around. Aramis had smiled at him indulgently while Porthos had laughed outright at his boyish enthusiasm. Athos had only shaken his head and told himself that a night of teenagers in costumes jumping out of the shadows at them wouldn't kill him. They took the SUV, not seeing the need to bring two vehicles and stopped for an early dinner along the way.

When they got there it was still fairly early in the evening and the wait wasn't too long. They let people inside in small groups. They claimed it enhanced the experience to know that there weren't a bunch of other people milling about around you. From all the reviews on the place, it seemed to work.

Their turn came up and the four of them headed through the archway and into the first staging area. As soon as they passed over the threshold, Porthos felt something was amiss. He felt a sudden rush of cold air but the room itself was warm, almost too warm. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he opened his mouth to shout a warning, to tell the others to get out, when the next thing he knew, everything was black.

When the lights came back up d'Artagnan looked around, trying to see what had changed in the room. The most obvious, and disturbing, change was the fact that he was suddenly alone. "Guys?" He called out. "Aramis... Porthos... Athos? If this is a joke, it isn't funny."

Realizing he was, indeed, alone, d'Artagnan took stock of his situation. He was in a large, open room. The door that should have been behind him, the one they had all come through just a few moments ago, was now gone, replaced by a solid wall. There was a single door with an exit sign above it across the room. And while the room appeared empty, he had a feeling it was anything but.

He knew he wasn't going to figure this out and find the others by standing here all night so he headed for the exit. Maybe this was just an elaborate prank on their part, payback for making them come here in the first place. He doubted it, but he could hope. As he crossed the room, he kept his eyes open, watching for any sign of movement. Half way across the room, he stopped in his tracks as he suddenly remembered the cell phone in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and swiped his thumb across it but the screen failed to light up. Frowning, he swiped it again yet the phone remained black. Upon inspection, he realized it was completely drained of power though he had made sure it was fully charged before they left the loft.

D'Artagnan slipped his phone back into his pocket. He was really starting to freak out now. His phone should have at least turned on whether he could get a signal inside the place or not. There was no way his battery should have been completely drained like that. Since there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, he pushed it to the back of his mind for the time being. Right now, he was more concerned with finding the others. Whatever was going on was looking less like normal Halloween night shenanigans and more like the kind of thing they normally dealt with.

Having reached the door, d'Artagnan hesitated. It was a typical wooden door with an old fashioned keyhole. He thought about bending down to try to look through it, but a hundred horror movie scenes ran through his head reminding him of what a bad idea that normally turned out to be. Instead, he pressed his ear to the door and tried to listen, hoping to hear if anything was awaiting him on the other side.

D'Artagnan didn't hear anything, but then he hadn't really expected to. Even a flimsy wooden door was hard to hear through unless the person on the other side was making one hell of a racket. This door was more of the old fashioned kind, thick and heavy. He only hoped it wasn't locked as well. Turning the knob, he was relieved to find that the door did open so at least he wasn't trapped inside.

Swinging the door open wide, d'Artagnan stared down the dark hallway. He reached into his other jacket pocket and pulled out the small flashlight he had brought along. He crossed his fingers as he flicked it on and blew out a breath when it flared to life, shining a steady beam down the darkened passage. He shined it along the walls, noting the doors on either side as well as the one at the far end. Knowing he was never going to find the others just standing there, d'Artagnan ventured out into the passageway.

As soon as he was all the way in the hall, the door slammed shut behind him. When d'Artagnan spun around to look, he was met with a blank wall where the door had once been. "Definitely not in Kansas anymore," he muttered under his breath. There was no doubt in his mind now that there was something supernatural at work here. He only wished he had a clue what and if the others were experiencing the same thing he was. He thought of Aramis and felt a sudden flash of fear. He prayed that Aramis wasn't alone in this place, that he and Athos at least were together. He wasn't so worried for himself and Porthos, or even Athos really. Just Aramis. Because it was Aramis that had been singled out before. He did not want to think of what all could happen to him should something else take an interest in him.

With his way back now gone, d'Artagnan had no choice but to go forward. He could see a single door at the end of the long hallway with an exit sign flickering above it. He had a feeling it wasn't going to lead to the way out but he had no other choice. His current occupation, not to mention a steady diet of horror films, had taught him to be mindful in situations such as these. What he had not expected, could never have anticipated in even his worst nightmares, was the deluge of hideously grotesque spiders that suddenly rained down from the ceiling.

D’Artagnan let out a scream born purely of primal fear as he felt their fat, hairy bodies hitting him. He tried to cover his face and head, but when he felt one strike his hand, its spindly legs scrambling for purchase, he jerked it away, shaking his hand furiously in an effort to rid himself of the thing. That, however, was a mistake. For now his head and face were open to the things as more and more of them continued to fall in a never-ending torrent. He felt them land in his hair and shook his head wildly, but the things held on, their legs twisting and gripping him as he thrashed.

When he felt the first bite, hard enough to pierce the denim of his jeans, he knew he was in trouble. When the next one came, high up on his shoulder, biting through both leather and cloth to bury sharp fangs deep into his flesh, he really began to worry. And when the hot, stinging pain began to spread out from those bites, letting him know that more than just fangs had pierced him, he began to wonder if he might make it out of there at all.

D’Artagnan took a staggering step forward as a wave of dizziness nearly brought him to his knees. He could feel more of them biting him, sudden sharp pinpricks of pain followed by searing fire that raced along his veins, spreading their poison throughout his system. He could feel them crawling on him, wiggling down beneath his shirt so they could sink their deadly fangs into him without even that thin layer of protection.

As he finally staggered to the door, his hand grasping at the knob weakly, he felt something large brush against his neck. He stopped for a second, terror freezing him in his tracks, then fangs that felt as big as daggers were plunging into his neck.

D’Artagnan screamed again weakly as his hand slipped off the knob and his legs gave out from under him. He hit his knees, barely aware of the multitude of eight-legged bodies that began to swarm up his thighs as soon as he did. He looked up at the handle of the door again and his vision swam. He tried to lift his hand toward it, still fighting, and was horrified to see his entire arm covered in a writhing blanket of spiders. His last thought, as he felt his consciousness slowly bleeding away, was I hope Aramis is okay.

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Porthos groaned as he opened his eyes and sat up. He looked around, trying to get an idea of where he was. It was clear he wasn’t in the same room he had been when the lights went out. That didn’t trouble him nearly as much as the fact that he was also, quite clearly, alone. He pulled out his phone but wasn’t surprised to find it dead. That would have been too easy by far. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to find the others sitting here on his ass.

Getting to his feet, Porthos surveyed the room he was currently in. It was reminiscent of a carnival fun house, complete with distorting mirrors and oddly shaped doors. The garish red, yellow, and blue color scheme was almost painful on the eyes and he shook his head at the absurdity of it. “What the hell is this place,” he muttered as he began looking for a way out.

Porthos tried each oddly-shaped, rainbow-colored door until he found one that didn’t simply lead to a bricked up wall. It was so low he almost had to crawl to get through it. When he stood up on the other side and looked around, he winced. Wherever he was, it still looked like a fun house of some sort. Looking down the hall, he felt his stomach lurch at the way it seemed to sway. He didn’t know if it was due to sloping angles or the garish colors or some combination of the two. He only knew it made him feel sick, as if his balance was off, and that was not a good thing.

“This is the last f*cking time I let a pair of big, brown eyes talk me into something I know I’m gonna regret. I don’t care who they belong to,” Porthos said as he carefully made his way down the nauseating hall. He could feel eyes on him, watching him, and it made the hair on the back of neck stand up. He looked all around the narrow corridor but even the tumultuous cacophony of color didn’t appear to be hiding anything. There was no glass to suggest a two-way mirror, no little black boxes with cameras inside tucked into corners, there were not even any obvious places for a peephole. Yet Porthos could feel it, like icy fingers tickling along his spine, just waiting for him to let his guard down enough to pounce.

With his only other choice being to return to the room that resembled the birthplace for evil clowns, Porthos moved onward. He needed to find a way out and find his team. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew they were in trouble. Very bad trouble. It was the same way he knew he was not alone, that he was being watched, and that soon his watcher would make himself known. He needed to be ready for him.

As it turned out, he did not have long to wait. He was a little more than halfway down the corridor when a panel slid back in the wall to his left. He watched in disbelief as two of the most ghastly looking clowns he had ever seen stepped through. One wore a typical clown's costume of baggy yellow overalls, so bright they made his eyes hurt, over a brilliant purple shirt. Huge red pompoms the size of baseballs even adorned the front of it.

It was not the thing's clothing that gave Porthos pause. It was the row upon row of sharp, pointed teeth, yellowed and foul, that filled its too-wide mouth. It was the shockingly white face, too smooth and somehow weathered, to be any trick of make-up. The creases and lines in its face were black with something Porthos could not name and didn't want to. It reeked, like something that had crawled out of a grave, and the grime that clung to its face reminded him of graveyard dirt, black and rich from the bodies that fed it. Riotous tufts of hair stuck out from its head at all angles, twisted and snarled as if it had a life of its own and could reach out and snare him if he let the thing close enough. It was red as blood and dripped the same all over the floor whenever the monstrous thing moved, making Porthos want to gag at the thought of what all it could be. Worst of all, though, was its wickedly curved claws. They were easily four inches long and as yellowed and foul as the things teeth. He could see them flex again and again as if the thing could not wait to sink them into Porthos' flesh and rend him to the bone.

The second clown, however, was even worse. He was tall, at least seven feet, though most of it was due to the thing's legs. It was as if he was on stilts, yet Porthos knew that was not the case as it towered over him. Its costume was black and white, checkered on one side and stripped on the other, but it was streaked so liberally with blood and gore that Porthos almost thought it red as well. When he realized it wasn't, he had to swallow against the sudden surge of bile in his throat. The thing's eyes were black - huge, round, jet black holes set in its white, white face. They were like looking into an abyss, like looking into Hell itself, only Hell was staring back at you, staring back and smiling. Its maniacal grin was an obscenity that stretched nearly ear to ear. It's lips were painted red in what Porthos prayed was not the blood of some poor innocent, even as he knew it likely was, and its blackened teeth were caked with bits of torn flesh. It made Porthos wonder why it even bothered with the three-foot long machete it carried. It obviously had no need of it and preferred to tear its victims apart much more personally.

Porthos realized, belatedly, that he was in shock. This was his childhood nightmare come to life before him and his mind simply had no defense against such a thing. On the heels of that thought came the certainty that if he did not do something, he was going to die here. And so, probably, was his team. That was enough to break his fear-induced paralysis and he took a step back, hoping to put at least some distance between him and the things in front of him. He thrust his hands in his pockets, searching for something he could use as a weapon. The only thing he came up with was his keys. ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘it’s better than nothing.’

He gripped the keys in his fist tightly, letting two of them stick out from between his fingers. As brass knuckles went, they weren’t the best but he had seen the kind of damage a set of keys could do to a man’s face, especially if you got him in the eyes. He wasn’t sure if these things in front of him were as susceptible but he was going to find out.

He watched them approach, the colorful one moving in a jerky, disjointed manner that made him think of some sort of f*cked up animatronic. It laughed as it came closer, a high-pitched chuckling sound that set Porthos’ teeth on edge. As he watched it come closer, he suddenly realized his mistake when a flash of movement caught his eye.

Throwing himself backward, Porthos barely managed to avoid the long snake-like tongue of the other clown. It had managed to creep closer to him, nearly flanking him, while the other one had distracted him, drawing his attention. He had no idea what the thing’s tongue could do, if it was somehow poisonous or what, and he did not want to find out. Keeping his back to the wall, he divided his attention between the pair, trying to keep both of them in sight.

It quickly became clear that was not going to work. They had spread themselves out, keeping just far enough apart that he had to turn his head to see them. Whenever he did, it left him open to the other one. Twice more, the snake-like tongue of the tall clown had come close to hitting him. The last time it had come so near Porthos had felt its passing. He had thrown himself to the side, terror driving him to get away, but in doing so he had put himself in reach of the other one.

Porthos grunted, biting down on a scream, as the first clown’s claws slashed across his arm. He felt the thing’s talons slice through his jacket and cut deeply into his muscle. His hand spasmed and he nearly lost his grip on the keys but he managed to hold on to them. He was going to have to take a chance with one of them unless he planned to just stand there and let them kill him. Since that was not how he planned to go out, he tried to decide which of the pair he had a better chance with.

In truth, he thought his odds about the same either way. Not wanting to end up forced back the way he had just come, Porthos decided to take his chances against the more colorful of the pair. At least that one didn’t have a machete he could use as a back-up. He tightened his grip on the keys once more and said a quick prayer that there was a way out at the end of this f*cked up hallway then launched himself toward the grinning, jerking figure.

Porthos slammed into the thing as hard as he could, hoping to knock it down or at least stun it. When the thing hardly moved, he quickly drew back barely managing to duck beneath a swipe of its razor-sharp claws. Not knowing what else to do, he slammed his fist into the side of the thing’s neck, digging the ends of the two keys in as far as he could and ripping them out viciously. He felt a moment of satisfaction when the thing howled, its blood spraying over him hot and sticky. Drawing his arm back, he slammed his fist into the thing again, this time aiming for its face and driving one of the metal keys deep into its eye.

The monstrosity flung itself away from him with an inhuman shriek, blood and ichor fountaining from it as it continued to thrash. Porthos did not stop to watch no matter how much he wanted to see the thing die. Instead, he ran toward the end of the hall. He had no idea how close the other one might be. He did not think for one second that it would stop for its wounded companion. No, it would come for him and he didn’t know how much fight he had left in him right now.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Porthos found a door off to the side, nearly hidden from view in the shadows. He had no idea what was on the other side of it. At the moment, he didn’t care. Anywhere was better than here. Shoving the door open, he barreled through it, slamming it closed behind him.

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Athos blinked at the blinding light that suddenly filled the room. At first, all he could see were starbursts of white as his eyes fought to adjust to the abrupt change. When he could finally see again, he noticed two things. The first thing he noticed was that he was alone, there was no sign of any of the others. The second was that he was in what looked to be some kind of mirror maze. He could see long rows of mirrors on either side of him. They stretched for what seemed like forever, but he knew that was probably due to the reflective quality of the glass, then turned to the right.

He took a few minutes to search over his immediate vicinity, looking for any possible way out or hidden exit. When that proved futile, he thought of his phone and patted himself down but could not find it. He had either forgotten it at home or had lost it somewhere along the way. Regardless, he didn’t have it now.

As Athos began walking down the mirror-lined hallway, he felt his stomach suddenly tighten in dread. He had told d’Artagnan once that he knew Aramis was in trouble and he had been right. Recognizing the feeling, Athos realized that Aramis was in trouble again. That alone was enough to hasten his steps and he abandoned stealth for speed. While he was not so foolish as to run blindly, he meant to find his lover as well as their other two friends.

He slowed only slightly when he neared the end of the hall. He couldn’t see around the corner and needed to be cautious. He would do Aramis no good if he ran headlong into a trap of some sort. As he approached the corner, peeking carefully around it, he heard the sound of Aramis’ voice and froze. It was faint, barely discernible, but Athos was sure he had not imagined it.

“No, please,” he heard Aramis cry out weakly.

Athos rushed around the corner then, no longer caring about a possible attack. He had to get to his lover. Half-way down the hall he stopped again. The mirrors covering the walls were distorting things, making it hard to tell how far he had come, how much farther he had to go. He could not hear Aramis any longer and wondered now if he had heard him at all. Spinning around, Athos became unsure of which way to go. Everything looked the same. It was endless reflections of himself over and over and over again.

Out of nowhere, a flicker of light in one of the mirrors caught his attention. Athos ran to it and looked into it, trying to see if there was something on the other side of it. All at once, the mirror turned black. When it began to lighten again, it no longer reflected an image of Athos. Instead, it showed something else, something that made Athos moan and keen as his knees turned to jelly and he had to brace himself against the glass to keep from falling.

Peering into the glass, Athos could only watch helplessly as Aramis was tortured before him. Thick coils of rope were wrapped tightly around his torso, binding him to a heavy, wooden cross that protruded from the ground. His arms were spread wide and lashed to it as well. When men wearing long, black robes came up beside him and forced his hand open, Athos felt his blood run cold.

Shaking his head in horror, Athos began to pound on the glass. He was desperate to break it, to get through to where Aramis was and stop this. “No!” he shouted as he pounded and kicked at the unyielding surface. “Don’t! Don’t do this! Stop! Stop it! Stop!” The last thing he heard before the glass turned black again was the sound of a hammer falling and Aramis’ scream.

A few seconds later and the dark glass was a plain ordinary mirror once more. Athos didn’t know what to do. It was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to break through whatever these mirrors were made of. It was also obvious that these were not merely mirrors. He had no idea where he was or where Aramis was but he knew he had to find him. The look of stark terror on Aramis’ face would stay with Athos for the rest of his life, as would the sound of his scream.

Athos spent a moment looking about the corridor, looking for something he might use to try to break the glass, or whatever it was. He knew if he could just get through it, he could find Aramis and save him. A soft moan, low and pain-filled stopped him mid search. Athos froze, straining to hear it, to find some clue as to how to reach his lover.

When it came again, followed by a bitten-off sob, Athos tore off in the direction he was sure it had come from. He paid no heed to anything he might encounter, caring only about getting to Aramis. When he saw another section of mirror flickering, he ran straight to it and began pounding at it before it even had a chance to turn black.

It was futile, though. The mirror held firm, as if made of steel rather than glass. It turned first black then lightened again to show more of the hellish scene. Aramis’ one hand had been nailed to the cross, a thick, rusty spike impaling his palm as blood ran freely down it to drip onto the ground. Aramis had tears running down his face as he thrashed his head back and forth in pain and denial of what was being done to him. Even so, Athos could see the fear there, he could see the terror in his lover’s eyes. Aramis was helpless, completely at the mercy of these men, and he knew it.

Athos felt his own tears start to fall when the men moved around to Aramis’ other side. He watched his lover ball his hand into a fist in an attempt to stop them but there was nothing he could do. “No,” Athos moaned as he watched Aramis’ other hand being stretched out, a horrible spike positioned against the center of his palm. “Please… please… don’t. Please…”

Athos continued to fight and kick and punch the glass until his hands bled, but still it held. Just as the hammer was drawn back to pound the spike through Aramis’ tender hand, the mirror began to blacken once more. The last thing Athos heard was Aramis crying out his name as the hammer fell once more.

Staggering back from the mirror, Athos felt his stomach roil. Suddenly, he doubled over and began to retch, vomiting in the hallway at the memory of Aramis’ pain and suffering. By the time it passed, Athos was shaking, his own body nearly overcome with fear and adrenaline. He stood up, though, and forced himself to go on. He would find Aramis and get him out of here if it was the last thing he did. He had only taken another step before a flicker of light at the end of the passageway caught his attention.

Fear gripped his insides like an icy vice but Athos refused to let it stop him. He strode toward the light, intent on finding Aramis and ending this nightmare. When he reached the light, however, rather than doing as it had before it moved. As soon as he drew near, the light would go out in one mirror and on in the next, as if leading him.

“Take me to him,” Athos said boldly.

The flickering light stopped for a second then flared to life. It raced down the row of mirrors, lighting a path that disappeared around the corner at the far end of the hall. Praying that it was leading him to Aramis at last, Athos raced along after it. Turning the corner, Athos saw the light pulsing around the mirror set into the wall at the far end. It was a dead end, of course. In all likelihood, it was a trap, but Athos didn’t care.

Striding forward, Athos stopped in front of the glass and slammed his bruised and bloodied fist into it as hard as he could. “Give him back!” he demanded angrily.

The mirror turned black for long seconds then flared to life so brightly Athos had to shield his eyes at first. When the light died down and Athos lowered his arm, he immediately wished he hadn’t. For there was Aramis, still nailed to that horrible cross. His lover hung there limply, the spikes in his hands as well as the one driven through his feet, holding him up. The only way Athos knew he still lived was the too rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Give him back,” he said again, though his voice was weak, the scene before him robbing him of his strength. “Take me. Take me instead. Please. Oh God, please, take me instead of him.”

Suddenly, the two robed figures came back into view. They moved toward Aramis, unaffected by Athos’ pleas. One of them, the taller of the two, moved around behind Aramis while the other stood in front of him. It was only then, when they were in position, that Athos noticed the butcher’s knife in hand of the one standing in front.

“No!” Athos screamed, pounding and kicking at the glass with renewed force. This could not be happening. He could not do this again. He could not watch someone he loved die before his eyes, not and stay sane.

“Time for Aramis to die,” the robed figure sing-songed as it lifted the knife high above his head. The one behind Aramis grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head back, holding it there so he would see what was coming.

“No! Nonononono!” Athos wailed as the thing holding the knife plunged it down and into Aramis’ chest. Athos felt his own heart stutter to a stop as Aramis’ brown eyes widened in stunned horror then slowly glazed over, the light in them extinguished forever.

Even as the mirror turned black, Athos stood there, his face pressed against the glass, his hands balled into fists on either side of it. All he could say, over and over again, was “no”. No, this was not possible. No, he could not endure such a thing again. No, not Aramis. Please, God, not Aramis.

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Aramis awoke to the feel of his knees pressing painfully into the cold, hard tiles beneath him. He groaned as he tried to move then went completely still when he realized that he couldn't, that he was bound in place. Shaking his head to clear it, he quickly took stock of his situation. He was on his knees in what looked like an old, abandoned swimming pool. He could see the depth markers along the side of the cracked wall, showing where the depth reached four, five and finally six feet deep.

His hands were bound behind his back and wiggling them a bit told him that they were bound to his crossed ankles as well, rendering him even further immobilized. He tried to push himself over onto his side, thinking perhaps he could get free enough to be able to at least get to his feet. If nothing else, he wanted out of the dilapidated swimming pool he had been placed in. He had no idea why he had been put there but knew, whatever the reason, it did not bode well for him. When he tried to throw himself over onto his side, however, he found himself unable to. Looking down, he saw that his entire torso was bound in the same thick rope. It coiled around him like a python yet instead of squeezing the life from his body, it held him trapped on his knees, unable to move more than an inch in any one direction.

Aramis told himself he was in no immediate danger, that there was no need to panic. Yes, he was bound hand and foot but he was alone and, for the moment, safe. He should have known better than to even think such a thing. No sooner had he thought it than he felt something cold agains the side of his calf. With a gasp, he looked down and felt his heart give a lurch. Water was slowly seeping across the floor of the pool. Casting about frantically, he saw it trickling down from the fill holes set into the walls. As he watched, the flow seemed to increase, pouring water into the pool even faster.

He felt the icy sting of it against his leg again as the water level began to rise and he tried to pull back. The ropes holding him in place would not let him move, though, and he could do nothing to avoid the sharp bite of the frigid water as it slowly crept up. He could hear it now, pouring down the walls and into the pool. He could hear the sound of it change as the water slowly deepened. It was very similar to the sound water made when a car went off a bridge and water began to slowly fill it as it sank to the bottom of a lake. He would know, of course. He was intimately familiar with that particular sound. Even if it had been over twenty years ago since he'd last heard it, he knew it was a sound he would never forget.

It was, after all, the sound of his family dying.

Aramis was excited. They were on their way to the zoo! He had begged and begged to be able to go to the zoo for his fourth birthday. It was the one thing he wanted most of all. His papa had said they would take him but it would just be the four of them - him, mama, papa, and his big sister Julia. Gramma was supposed to come with but she had caught a cold so it was just the four of them. Aramis didn't mind, though. He loved doing things with his mama and papa and sister. They always took care of him and made sure he had fun, especially Julia. She would even leave playing with her own friends to make sure he was alright and having fun. As far as Aramis was concerned, she was the best big sister in the whole wide world.

Aramis didn't know how close to the zoo they were when it happened. One minute, he and Julia were singing 99 Bottles of Soda and the next there was the sounds of blaring horns and squealing tires and metal on metal. He screamed, his hand reaching for his sister's as the car seemed to sprout wings and fly, then it was plunging downward in the worst roller coaster drop ever before landing with a bone-jarring splash in the waters of the icy lake.

"We're in the water! We're in the water!" Aramis screamed as he whipped his head back and forth trying to look out all the car windows at once. He had seen the water splash up over the roof of the car when they landed after nearly being thrown out of his seat with the impact. He would have been if Julia hadn't grabbed him and thrown herself on top of him, holding him to the seat. Now, she lay sprawled across him, unmoving. His parents, he suddenly noticed, were not moving either. His papa was slumped against the steering wheel and mama was leaning sideways, her head pressed against his shoulder. He tried to reach toward them, but Julia's weight was pinning him down, keeping him from being able to get to them.

Suddenly, something wet touched his foot and Aramis let out a shriek. He looked down and saw that water was filling up the floorboards of the car. He jerked his feet up, trying to keep them out of the frigid water. He felt fear start to overcome him as he realized that the car was sinking.

The car was sinking.

THE CAR WAS SINKING!

Aramis began to scream in pure, unadulterated terror. He pushed and shoved at his sister, trying to rouse her. He screamed for his mama and papa but they didn't move either. He could hear the water rushing into the car, filling it fuller and fuller and pulling it down into the cold, cold water. He knew he had to get out. He knew he did. Papa had told him this. Papa had told him, if he was ever trapped in a car and it went in the water that he had to get out no matter what. But Aramis didn't know how to get out, not with his sister on top of him, her body trapping his own. Besides, even if he could get out, what about his mama and his papa and his sister? He couldn't just leave them.

Unable to help himself, Aramis began to cry. He tried to be a big boy like papa said but he was so scared and now he was all alone. Aramis had never been all alone before. There was always mama or papa or Julia. Always. Even when Aramis went to Gramma's, Julia always went with him. Now he was alone and he didn't know what to do. He felt the water touch his legs again and tried to jerk them back but he couldn't pull them back any farther. Julia was right on top of them. He wrapped his little arms around his sister's neck and tried to pull her back again, not trying to move her off of him this time, but just trying to keep her out of the rising water. Her face was cold and wet where it had been laying in the water. Aramis frowned at the blue-tinge to her skin, especially her lips. He knew that wasn't right. Lips were supposed to be pink or red, not blue.

He tried to give his sister a shake, hoping to make her wake up. Her thick, black hair clung wetly to her face and Aramis wished he had a hand free to brush it away. He knew how much Julia hated having hair in her face. It was why she was always asking mama to cut it for her. He felt the water come up over his lap and held his sister to him as tightly as he could. He was crying full out now but he didn't care anymore. He was scared and alone and wet and cold and scared.

Suddenly, a light shone in through the window next to him. Aramis jerked away from it, frightened, and clung to his sister that much harder. He heard something slam against the window hard and then again. The third time, the window shattered, spraying glass inside and letting in a torrent of freezing lake water.

Aramis screamed as a pair of hands reached through the window and began hauling him out. He tried to hold onto Julia but he wasn't strong enough and he was pulled away from her. He kicked and fought, trying to get free, to get back to his sister, but it was no use.

A week later, the funeral for the Herblay family was held at Our Lady of Perpetual Grace. Mr. And Mrs. Herblay along with their oldest child, Julia, were buried together. The only survivor of the accident, four year old Aramis stood silently with his grandmother while his family was laid to rest.

The memory of that day, so many years ago, was like a punch in the stomach to Aramis. It knocked the breath from his lungs and left him reeling. He could almost feel his dead sister's body pinning him helplessly in place once again as he struggled against the ropes keeping him prisoner. He remembered that terror, that horrible, choking terror as he had struggled to get free from beneath Julia, as he struggled to find a way out, to find a way to save himself, to save all of them. But he had failed them. In his mind, he had failed his family and they had died.

He knew, intellectually, that they had all died on impact. The only reason he had lived was because Julia, beautiful, sweet Julia, had thrown herself across him, using her own fragile body to shield and protect him one final time. Still, the impotent fear gripped him, refusing to let go as those long buried memories assaulted him.

As the water began to creep up his thighs, bringing with it a biting, searing pain, Aramis felt his panic creep up as well. Of all the ways to die, this was his most feared. He would rather walk through fire than face the prospect of drowning again. His teeth began to chatter as the cold started to take hold. He could feel the water covering his hands and it felt like jagged shards of glass trying to strip the flesh from his bones. He gagged as the scent of lake water and fish suddenly assaulted him, the smell so overpowering he nearly threw up right there. He looked about wildly for any sign of what it could be from, but saw nothing but dirt and debris around the derelict pool.

Tears stung Aramis' eyes as he tried to work his hands free of the rope. He had hoped the water might help somehow, perhaps providing some type of lubrication, something to help him, but it seemed to be the opposite. The water made the ropes around him constrict and tighten to the point that Aramis could barely move his fingers now. He still tugged futilely, praying as he did so.

By the time the water reached Aramis' chest, it was gushing in through the fill holes faster than he thought possible. He let out a sob as a discarded piece of wood bumped his arm, startling him. He felt tears run down his face as he finally gave in to his fear. He knew he did not have much time left, not at the rate the pool was filling now. Another foot at the most was all it would take and he would be totally submersed. He wondered if his lips would turn blue like Julia's had. On the heels of that was the fervent prayer that Athos never had to see him that way.

"Please, God," Aramis prayed. "Do not let my death destroy him." It never once occurred to Aramis that Athos could be in danger of his own. The thought that Athos could be in trouble, could be hurt or trapped somewhere and Aramis could do nothing about it was so horrific that Aramis' mind would not even let him consider it. His own impending death was not so torturous a thought as one of Athos forced to endure the same fate.

It was not much longer before the water was lapping at his chin. The cold was rapidly sapping his strength and what it did not steal, fear was trying to. It was becoming a struggle to hold his head up and out of the rising water. Part of him wondered why he bothered to still fight. He had no way to get free, there was almost no chance any of the others would find him in time and that was assuming they even still lived. There was nothing to say that they had not met grisly fates of their own. The despair that thought brought with it tore a sob from Aramis’ throat and he shook his head weakly in denial. He would not give in to such thoughts. The others would make it out. Porthos was strong, d’Artagnan was brilliant, and Athos was a veritable well of determination. They would escape this place. He believed that with every fiber of his being. He had to. It was his sole comfort as the icy water continued to rise.

The first taste of the dirty water was so disgusting Aramis nearly retched. He spat it out as best he could, but it was nearly impossible with the water now brushing his lips even with his head tipped back as far as he could manage. Strangely, his panic seemed to abate now that the end was upon him. He had another minute, maybe two, before the water would cover his face completely but he was no longer afraid. He was going to die here and Hell very probably awaited him but he had no regrets. Their time may have been short, but he had never felt so loved in all his life as he had with Athos. No matter what the consequences, he would never regret it.

Finally, taking a last, deep breath, Aramis began to pray. “Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, I accept from Your hands whatever kind of death it may please You to send me this day with all its pains, penalties and sorrows…”

Aramis had to struggle, pushing himself upward to keep his mouth clear of the water enough to finish his final prayer. “…in reparation for all of my sins, for the souls in Purgatory, for all those who will die today and for Your greater glory.”

The sound of his ‘Amen’ was lost to the water that surged over his face, covering it completely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Porthos stood panting for a moment, his back pressed against the door he had just run through. He knew better than to stop for long but he needed a moment to get his wind back. A few seconds later, he turned around to see if he there was anything he could do to prevent his pursuers from following him through. Instead of the door he had just come through, however, all he found was a smooth wall.

“Well, at least they won’t be following me,” he said aloud. He was trying to keep a lid on his fear but it was getting harder with each display of supernatural power. Sliding walls were easy enough to disguise and he could have missed it, it was dim in the hallway and he hadn’t been looking for trap f*cking doors. This, though… this was something else. A door did not simply become a wall and certainly not while he was still leaning against it.

He had just leaned back against the wall again, feeling safe enough for the time being to rest for a moment longer, when the sound of a scream, faint and pained reached him. He jolted upright, listening hard to try to discern where it had come from. Another soft whimper had him moving forward as quickly as he could. He knew that voice. It was d’Artagnan. The kid was close.

Not thinking about what could have made the young man cry out like that, Porthos concentrated on finding him. He would deal with whatever had hurt him once he found him and made sure he was alright. Rounding the corner of yet another seemingly endless corridor, he came to a pair of doors. The first stood slightly ajar and when he pushed it open, it revealed another long hallway. Turning back to the other door, Porthos grasped the knob and tried to turn it.

Of course the door was locked, that would only make sense. Unsure what might be on the other side of the door or even where, exactly, d’Artagnan might be, Porthos didn’t want to simply kick the door in. If the kid was right there, he could hurt him on accident. Still, he didn’t really want to go yelling through the door and announcing himself either.

In the end, worry for d’Artagnan trumped concern for his own safety and Porthos called softly through the door. “Kid, you in there?” He tried not to be too loud about it and was both relieved and dismayed when he heard an answering groan from the other side of the door.

“P-p-por-por-thos,” d’Artagnan stammered, barely able to get the word out. It hurt to breathe now, and his whole body felt numb. He wasn’t even sure if Porthos was really there or if he had hallucinated him.

“Kid? D’Artagnan?” Porthos called a bit louder when d’Artagnan didn't respond with anything else.

“Help… please…”

Porthos’ eyes widened and he hesitated for only a second before he reared back and brought his leg up, kicking the door as hard as he could. It flew open, nearly shattering, and revealed the dimly lit hallway where d’Artagnan knelt.

For a moment, Porthos thought the carpet was moving, then he realized that what he was seeing wasn’t carpet but spiders. Hundreds and hundreds of spiders. They surged toward him when the door flew open but seemed to withdraw from the light, scurrying back as he pushed the door open wide.

“Oh f*ck!” Porthos cried out, aghast, when he saw d’Artagnan on his knees on the ground. Spiders were crawling all over him yet he simply sat there, making no move to even try to brush them off. It was then that Porthos realized that he simply couldn’t. Whatever had happened to the boy, he could not seem to move. Looking at him, Porthos realized he was barely managing to even breathe.

Striding angrily forward, Porthos stomped over the spiders, kicking the ones he didn’t stomp out of the way. He didn’t even think about it as he reached down into the writhing black mass and plucked d’Artagnan up off the ground. He brushed as many of the ugly things from him as he could then carried him into the outer hall and into the light. As soon as they started to cross the threshold, the spiders began to fall away, scurrying back off d’Artagnan as if by command. Porthos didn’t stop, though. He didn’t dare. Not without a way to bar the spiders from coming back after them. Holding d’Artagnan to him tightly, he carried him through the other door, glad now he had left it standing slightly open. Only when he had kicked it shut behind them did he kneel down, carefully setting the injured young man down on the ground so he could try to see how badly he was hurt.

“d’Artagnan? Can you hear me?” Porthos asked as he began checking him over. He could see several vicious bite marks on him, some bleeding quite freely. The most troubling one was the pair of deep puncture wounds on the boy’s neck. They were dangerously close to his jugular, but what worried Porthos the most were the dark red lines he saw radiating out from them, lines that clearly shrieked ‘POISON’.

D'Artagnan managed to turn his head enough to look at Porthos, watching the man as he fussed over him. If his own labored breathing hadn't told him how bad it was, the look on Porthos' face would have. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, in direct counterpoint to how slow he was breathing. He wished he could think straight, even for just a minute. He knew they were still in danger, that they were not safe. He also noticed that there was still no sign of Aramis and Athos.

"Your...arm..." D'Artagnan whispered as Porthos tore off a strip from the bottom of his shirt.

"Got scratched by a clown," Porthos said as he took the strip of cloth and wound it around the other man's neck, careful not to make it too tight but needing to put some pressure on that wound to stop the bleeding. D'Artagnan was fading on him fast, losing any more blood would only make that worse. As it was, Porthos was going to have to carry him out of there.

"Must'a been a hell of a clown," d'Artagnan wheezed.

"When we get home, I'll tell you all about it," Porthos said.

"Promise?" He asked weakly.

Porthos paused for a moment and looked at the young man. He could see the naked fear he was trying so hard to hide. He tried not to think about what he must have gone through. It was one thing to think you were going to die, and it was clear d'Artagnan had thought that. But it was another for that death to come so slowly and in such a gruesome manner. "Promise," Porthos told him, knowing he was promising so much more than to simply tell him about his run in with the clowns once they were home and meaning every bit of it.

"Do you...do you know where the others..."

"Not yet," Porthos said. "But we're going to find them. Can you stand, if I help you?"

"I'll crawl if I have to," d'Artagnan told him. He still felt weak, like he could barely draw a breath let alone move, but he felt stronger than he did. He didn't know if it was being away from the spiders or just Porthos' fortifying presence but his head felt the slightest bit clearer and he knew they were running out of time.

"Pretty sure I can carry you," Porthos said, grinning at the boy's feistiness.

"And if we find Aramis in the same shape? Or worse?" D'Artagnan asked as Porthos slipped his arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet. "You can't carry two of us at the same time."

"Don't forget about Athos," Porthos told him. "And there's no reason to think anyone else is hurt."

"You don't believe that any more than I do. You know he's hurt. Athos, too, probably. Porthos, if it comes down to it, get Aramis out of here first."

"No f*cking way..."

"Porthos," d'Artagnan cut him off sharply, the effort costing him a great deal of his strength. "These things...they zero in on him and you know it. I don't know why but they do. If you have to, you get him out first."

"Kid, if I leave you behind to get him out, he'll f*cking kill me when he finds out," Porthos told him. He didn't bother to mention that he'd never be able to look at himself in a mirror again if he did that. Before d'Artagnan could voice any more arguments, Porthos got them under way, knowing the boy would have to save his strength for putting one foot in front of the other and wouldn't have any to spare for arguing with him. He would just have to hope that either Aramis was still able to walk on his own or that Athos was hale enough to help get him out.

With Porthos having to almost carry d'Artagnan, their pace was slower than they would have liked. They could both tell they were running out of time. They needed to find their other two missing friends and get out of there. The longer they spent searching for them, the greater the danger, especially for one member of their party. D'Artagnan had been right about that much. The entities they had gone up against seemed to single out Aramis in one way or another. Even the poltergeist had knocked him out and might have killed him if d'Artagnan had not shielded him as he had.

Porthos grumbled something under his breath causing d'Artagnan to frown. "What was that?" He asked as they made their way down another long hallway. This place was a maze of hallway after hallway but, for better or worse, they seemed to be leading them in a single direction.

"Was just wondering how much of a fuss Athos would put up if I got a collar and leash for his boy," Porthos said. "Maybe that way we'd stop losing the f*cker."

D'Artagnan snorted a laugh, groaning at the pain it caused. "I'm not sure which he'd be more, pissed or turned on, but give me a heads up before you ask him. I'd like to have some popcorn ready."

Porthos closed his eyes for a second and shook his head. "I really didn't need that image in my head, kid."

"Oops."

When they turned down the next corridor, Porthos paused. He thought he heard something and stopped to listen more closely. A moment later, he heard it again, a steady thumping sound. He didn't know what it might be, but the last sound he had heard had led him to the kid. He was hoping this one might lead him to one of the others.

"Do you think?" D'Artagnan asked.

"Don't know," Porthos said but he tightened his grip around D'Artagnan's waist and picked up the pace. "But we're going to find out." After going around another bend, they found themselves at a locked door. Porthos carefully propped d'Artagnan against the wall and stepped back. One strong kick later and the door slammed open.

Glancing down the hall, he didn't see anything so he gathered d'Artagnan up again and headed down it. As they went, the sound of thumping grew louder. Walking down the narrow halls, d'Artagnan was the one to point out that it was lined with mirrors, causing Porthos to slow their pace a bit for fear of what they might encounter. When they finally found the source of the rhythmic pounding, neither man was prepared for the sight.

Athos stood with his forehead pressed against one of the mirrors. His right hand was balled into a bloody fist and he was slamming it into the glass over and over again. The man appeared unhurt, but Porthos could tell that something was very, very wrong. He helped d'Artagnan lean against a wall again then cautiously approached the other man.

"Athos?" He called softly, not knowing if Athos had even realized he was no longer alone.

"Go away," Athos said dully, refusing to even turn his head to look at the others. He was glad that they were still alive. He hoped they found a way out of this place, whatever it was.

"Athos, what happened?" Porthos tried again, ignoring the man's words.

"He's dead," Athos said woodenly.

"What?" Porthos gasped. He heard d'Artagnan let out a moan behind him and slide down the wall to land on his knees once more.

"Aramis is dead," Athos repeated, the words coming out high and strangled. He felt shattered inside, like everything inside of him was nothing more than shards of broken glass and every breath he took only cut him more.

"No," Porthos said. "I don't believe it." In truth, he didn't know if it was true or not. Aramis could very well be dead, but he wasn't going to believe it without proof. More importantly, he wasn't going to let Athos and d'Artagnan believe it. He knew it might be considered cruel, to give Athos hope only to find out later that Aramis really was dead, but there was no way he was getting the man out of there otherwise.

"I saw him die," Athos told him, his voice as dead as he claimed Aramis to be.

"Saw it where?" Pothos pressed.

"In the mirrors," Athos explained. "They kept showing him to me. They showed him being...being crucified. Then they showed him...they showed him... He was nailed to a f*cking cross, Porthos, and those bastards just killed him!"

"Athos, listen to me," Porthos said as he stepped forward and grabbed his friend. He turned him around, away from the mirror, so that he was looking at him. "I don't give a f*ck what the mirrors showed you. Listen to yourself. You believe he's dead because some f*cked up fun house mirrors showed it to you?"

"You really think he could still be alive?" Athos asked, the hope in his voice heartbreaking to hear.

"I think so, yeah," Porthos told him. "I think I'm not about to give up on him. Not until I know for sure. Now, can you walk?"

"Yeah," Athos said, struggling to wrap his mind around the idea that Aramis might not be dead. Not yet anyway.

"Good, because the kid's hurt and I can't carry you both."

"What happened to d'Artagnan?" Athos asked as he looked past Porthos to where d'Artagnan knelt on the floor.

"Spiders," Porthos answered with a shudder. "I think some of them were poisonous, too. So we need to find Aramis and get them both the f*ck out of here. Alright?"

With d'Artagnan's weight distributed between them, they were able to move a bit faster. They weren't sure which way to go at first, Athos was certain that there was nothing back the way he had come and Porthos didn't recall passing anything on the way there. As they tried to decide, d'Artagnan pointed toward the bottom of one of the mirror panels.

"Do you see?" D'Artagnan panted weakly.

Porthos looked where d'Artagnan was motioning toward and saw it. There was light coming out from under one of the mirror panels. It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was definitely there. He handed the younger man to Athos and pulled off his jacket. He wrapped it around his hand for protection and approached the mirror. Since it had worked so well the last two times, Porthos drew back his leg and kicked hard. The mirror cracked but didn't break.

"Do it again!" Athos shouted when he saw the mirror crack. Nothing he had done had made so much as a dent in any of them. He just knew, though he had no idea how, that the key to finding Aramis was in getting through these mirrors.

Porthos glanced at the other man and saw the fevered light in his eyes. He remembered the way they had found Athos, pounding incessantly at the glass, his hands already bruised and bloodied from his attempts to break them. Pulling his leg back, he kicked out again and was rewarded with the sound of breaking glass as the mirror shattered.

Using the hand with his jacket around it, he knocked the remaining glass out of the panel. Athos and d'Artagnan had joined him by then and once again took d'Artagnan's arm over his shoulder as they stepped through the newly created doorway.

It was, of course, another corridor. The thing that stood out this time was the faint smell of chlorine in the air. It reminded Porthos of the city pool, but in the off season, when it was closed down and scents of chlorine grew weak. He hoped that whatever he was smelling was just left over trace chemicals and that there wasn't really a pool here someplace. He didn't want to think about what all could be done to a man with a swimming pool at hand.

It wasn't long before the corridor ended in a door. Porthos was surprised to find it unlocked and expected it to lead to another hallway of some sort. What he had not expected was to walk into an indoor pool filled to the brim with dirty water. He stopped for a moment, looking around, trying to figure out what was going on when a shout from d'Artagnan drew his attention.

That was when Porthos saw him. There, in the deep end of the pool, completely submerged, was Aramis. He appeared to be on his knees, something holding him to the bottom of the deep end of the pool. The fact that he was not moving, was not struggling, nearly drove Porthos to his knees and he felt d'Artagnan slip from his grip to land in a heap on the floor.

"Noo!" Athos cried out behind him, breaking Porthos from his paralysis.

He whirled around and grabbed Athos by the shirt. "Find a way to drain the water," he ordered as he ran toward the pool and dove in. He swam down to his friend as quickly as he could and began tugging at the ropes holding him in place. His hands were bound to his ankles and there were ropes all along his chest. It was these that were keeping him secured to the bottom.

He felt his own lungs start to burn as he tried to find a way to undo them. He ran his hands over Aramis' body, feeling along the ropes until he finally came to a knot high up in the middle of Aramis' back. He tugged at the ends of it and was surprised when the ropes gave way. Grabbing Aramis around the waist he draped him over his shoulder and kicked toward the light.

Breaking the surface, Porthos swam toward the edge of the pool and quickly hoisted Aramis' body up and over the side. He hauled himself up after him and spread him out on the ground. With no time to waste, he quickly began CPR, praying feverishly in his head.

Athos had seen Porthos haul Aramis' limp body from the pool and had rushed toward the pair. He dropped down next to Porthos, taking Aramis' cold hand in his own and squeezing it as he pleaded with him to please just breathe, just take a breath, just one, just for him.

After what felt like forever to the other three men, Aramis let out a weak cough. Porthos drew back as he breathed in and then turned on his side and began to expel the foul water he had taken in. Once it was clear Aramis would continue to breathe on his own, Porthos drew back even farther, allowing Athos to wrap himself around his shivering lover as he went to check on d'Artagnan.

"You okay, kid?" Porthos asked as he knelt down next to him.

"He was dead," d'Artagnan replied weakly.

"Hey, easy now," Porthos said, recognizing the warning signs of shock in their youngest. "We got him back. He's gonna be okay. We just need to get out of here and get you both home. That water was freezing."

"Take my jacket," d'Artagnan said as he began trying to take his jacket off.

"No," Pothos said, laying his hands over the other man's. "You're close to going into shock, kid. You need to stay warm. I've got mine and Athos has his. We'll wrap him in those for now."

They ended up stripping Aramis down to his jeans and putting Athos' shirt and Porthos' jacket on him. Athos wanted to get him out of his wet jeans as well, but Aramis refused to walk around without any pants on, even as out of it as he was.

"Can you manage him?" Porthos asked as he bent down and simply lifted d'Artagnan into his arms. The boy was spent, both physically and emotionally. Porthos could not stand the thought of watching him try to keep going, not when he could carry him.

"I've got him," Athos told him. Aramis was weak but not in nearly as bad of condition as d'Artagnan was, at least physically. Emotionally, Athos knew, would likely be another story.

With their charges ready, they headed toward the door marked 'Exit', hoping it would not lead them into yet more danger. To everyone's surprise, the door opened up onto the outside and the four of them rushed out before it could somehow disappear. What they saw when they emerged was just as mystifying as everything else that night. They were no longer at the haunted house attraction. Instead, they were standing beside what appeared to be a derelict building in an overgrown field. There was no sign of anyone else ever having been there. In fact, the size of the building from the outside could in no way account for the elaborate maze of corridors they had travelled while inside.

Seeing his SUV parked a few feet away, Porthos decided he didn't really care at the moment. All he cared about was getting his team someplace safe and warm where he could see to their various injuries and determine if the kid needed to go to the ER or not. He seemed lucid and at least a little bit stronger than he had been when he had first found him, but Porthos was still worried.

"Let's go," he said, breaking them out of their collective stupor as he started carrying d'Artagnan toward the truck. He stopped next to the driver's side door and looked at Athos and Aramis. "I hope one of you has your keys on you."

"What happened to yours?" Athos asked as he dug the requested keys from his pocket.

"Killed an evil clown with them," he said as the man unlocked and opened the door for him so he could place d'Artagnan inside.

"Evil clown?" Aramis rasped as he settled in beside d'Artagnan. The younger man wrapped himself around Aramis at once, hissing at how cold the man still was.

"I'll tell you all about it when we get home," Porthos said. "Just like I promised."

"Thanks," d'Artagnan whispered as he clung to Aramis, unable to let go. He could not get the picture of him, limp and dead and blue out of his mind and needed to feel him in his arms to know that he was still alive and with them.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

All the way home, d’Artagnan stayed wrapped around Aramis. He told himself he was just trying to warm the other man up, that it had nothing to do with seeing Aramis cold and dead at the bottom of that pool. He was lying, though. He couldn’t get the awful image out of his head and every time he tried to let go, Aramis’ cold, still face flashed before his eyes and he found himself clutching him even tighter.

“I am alright,” Aramis whispered to d’Artagnan as he pressed his face to the younger man’s hair and held him back as tightly as his exhausted body could manage. He could see that he was hurt as well, the hasty bandage around his neck a give-away. He wanted to ask what had happened to him but refrained, unsure if the young man could handle it right now. He would find out once they were home and he would tend to the wound on his neck as well as any others he had. Maybe then he would be able to let him get more than an arm’s length away without panicking.

“God,” d’Artagnan shuddered as he buried his face in Aramis’ chest. He knew he was being pathetic but he couldn’t help it. He supposed he could blame it on all the spider bites and blood loss if need be but at the moment he simply didn’t care. All he cared about was that Aramis was alive and safe in his arms.

“You want me to pull over so you can get in the back with them?” Porthos asked when he saw Athos glance behind him for the fifth time.

“No,” Athos shook his head. “Let’s just get them home. I’m not sure d’Artagnan is going to let anyone else near him right now anyway.”

“He’s pretty out of it, Athos,” Porthos offered. “All those bites and…”

“I don’t blame him, Porthos,” Athos said, stopping his friend and letting him know that he was not upset with d’Artagnan. How could he be? The boy had watched his closest friend die. Athos knew first hand just how traumatizing it could be to watch someone you loved die in front of you. If d’Artagnan needed Aramis’ physical presence to reassure himself that the man was still with them Athos would not begrudge him that.

“Are you hurt at all?” Porthos asked as he drove. He had not seen any injuries on Athos other than his bruised and bloodied hand but that didn’t mean anything.

“No,” Athos said. “Whatever it was, it didn’t do anything physical to me. It only made me watch.”

“Good,” Porthos said then flinched. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know what you meant,” Athos said. “And it is good. All of us being physically injured would be a very bad thing. What about you? How badly are you hurt?”

“Not too bad. It clawed my arm pretty good but that’s it.”

“Do you need stitches?” Athos asked worriedly. He didn’t think Aramis was up to that tonight.

“Nah,” Porthos said understanding Athos’ worry. “I got plenty of bandages at the loft. I can butterfly it closed.”

“Do you think we should take them to the hospital?” Athos asked after a moment.

Porthos paused and thought, clearly torn. “I think we’re okay. If the kid hadn’t starting coming around from those bites, I’d say yeah but they seem to be wearing off. We’ll need to keep an eye on him, especially tonight.”

“Well since he doesn’t seem inclined to letting Aramis go I don’t think that will be much of a problem,” Athos said.

When they got to the loft, it took a bit of cajoling to get d’Artagnan to release his hold on Aramis. Porthos and Athos both promised it would only be for long enough to get them inside. Since d’Artagnan couldn’t really walk on his own right now and Aramis was still shivering from his wet clothes, he had agreed and reluctantly let go of the man so Porthos could carry him inside while Athos helped Aramis.

Inside, they sat the pair on the couch and Athos began stripping Aramis out of his wet jeans while Porthos went to get him some clothes to put on. Aramis was still dangerously cold and they needed to get his body temperature up.

“Can we…” Aramis began then trailed off.

“Can we what?” Athos asked as he helped Aramis stand so he could begin working his wet jeans down his legs.

“Can we shower?” he asked softly. “I feel… I am filthy. I want… I want to be clean.”

“Are you strong enough to stand up on your own?” Athos asked, not wanting to deny him but unsure if he could manage him by himself.

“What’s wrong?” Porthos asked when he came back out with the clothes.

“Aramis wants to take a shower to get clean but I’m not sure if he’s strong enough and I don’t know if I can support him on my own,” Athos explained.

“Alright,” Porthos said. “Do you just need help getting him in and out or do you need help holding him as well?”

“Porthos?” Aramis asked confused.

“If you want that place washed off you then that’s what we’ll do,” Porthos told him.

“D’Artagnan…”

“Will be fine for the few minutes we’re in the bathroom,” Porthos said. “I’ll leave the bathroom door open so I can hear if he needs us.”

“Please,” Aramis said. “I need to get clean. All I can smell is… is lake.”

Athos sucked in a breath at that, not realizing what past horrors Aramis’ experience might have reminded him of. “Of course. I didn’t think,” Athos said quickly. “I just need help getting him in and out. I can hold him while he bathes, I just don’t want to take a chance on him falling.”

“No problem. Finish getting him out of those wet clothes while I start the shower running. He’s so cold, I’m gonna set it to warm at first. You can turn it up gradually as his body adjusts. You gonna be okay for just a little bit, kid?”

“Don’t worry about me,” d’Artagnan said. “Just take care of Aramis.”

“I’ll take care of all of us. Just gotta be patient with me,” Porthos promised.

Athos got d’Artagnan to help him with the remainder of Aramis’ wet clothes, thinking involving him might help. It was clear he was not in a very good place in his head right now but there was little Athos could do about it. Once Aramis was seen to, they could concentrate on giving d’Artagnan what he needed.

Athos left Aramis’ underwear on him until he was in the bathroom. He saw Aramis blush as he knelt down to remove them but didn’t know what to say. He appreciated the fact that Porthos merely stood next to Aramis, keeping a steadying hand on his arm, offering neither comment nor suggestion.

“I have spent a great deal of time in gyms, Athos,” Aramis said once his lover was standing next to him again. “I am used to communal showers.”

“Maybe,” Porthos said. “But not with other guys touching you in them. I’m sorry, Aramis. I know this is crossing a line.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aramis told him, touched that Porthos would be so concerned about what was really a trivial thing. “It is necessary and if it were you injured it would likely be the two of us assisting in some manner. I don’t find your touch offensive, Porthos. Merely… unfamiliar. As I have said, the only man I have ever allowed to touch me in any way has been Athos. If I startle, it is only unfamiliarity, nothing more.”

“Alright, brother,” Porthos said. “Athos, you go ahead and get in then I’ll help Aramis in.”

Athos quickly stripped down and got in, blanching at the coldness of the water. “Shouldn’t I turn this up?”

“Not yet,” Porthos said as he helped Aramis in, heedless of the water soaking his shirt. “It feels cold to you but it won’t to him. Anything hotter would burn him right now. Let him get used to that then turn it up some. Try to stay in until you’ve got it to where it’s at least warm for you.”

“Alright,” Athos said. He pressed his back against Aramis’ once he was in, both to steady him and to warm him.

“I’ll be out in the living room with d’Artagnan. When you turn the shower off, I’ll come and help you get him out.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said, trying hard not to moan at the feel of the warm water raining down on him along with Athos’ naked body pressed up against him.

As soon as Porthos left, Athos wrapped both arms around Aramis and just held him. He felt Aramis’ hands come down and grip his arms tightly and Athos sucked in a shuddering breath. His lover still felt so cold but he was slowly warming so Athos continued to simply hold him for now.

“Do you want me to bathe you?” Athos asked once both of them began to relax a bit.

“Please,” Aramis whispered.

“Okay. I’m going to turn the hot water up a little bit. Tell me if it’s too much.” Aramis nodded and Athos adjusted the water temperature. When he got no complaint, he poured some soap into his hands and began washing Aramis. While he longed to take his time and do this right, he knew Aramis was fast running out of endurance so washed over him quickly. Once he had his strength back, he would do this for as long as Aramis wanted him to.

“My hair,” Aramis said before Athos could turn off the shower.

“Alright. Close your eyes and lean your head back,” Athos told him. He spent a bit longer washing Aramis’ hair, hoping it would chase away whatever phantom scents he was smelling. Aramis had complained of smelling the lake but Athos could detect no trace of it on him. He knew it was likely psychological but that did not make it any less real for Aramis.

His hair washed and rinsed, Athos turned off the shower and wrapped his arms around Aramis again as he waited for Porthos. He thought he could probably maneuver Aramis out by himself but didn’t want to chance it. A few short minutes later and Porthos came in, warm towels in hand. He took Aramis by the arm and helped him out of the shower then wrapped one of the towels around his shoulders. He handed the other one to Athos then stepped aside so he could begin drying the man.

“Do you need help getting him dressed?” Porthos asked, glad yet again that his darker coloring hid any telltale blushes. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed for himself. It was more for Aramis’ sake.

“No, I can manage,” Athos said, touched that Porthos had offered despite how uncomfortable it clearly made him.

“How is d’Artagnan?” Aramis asked, trying to distract himself from the knowledge that he was standing completely naked, with Porthos in the room while Athos knelt down in front of him drying him off.

“Edgy. Scared,” Porthos shrugged. “I tried to get him to talk but he won’t say much. I’m hoping he’ll talk to you.”

“How badly is he hurt?” Aramis asked.

“He got bit up pretty bad,” Porthos said.

“Bit up? By what?” Aramis asked. He had not seen any bite marks on him, only the bandage around his neck.

“Spiders,” Porthos replied, realizing he had not told Aramis about d’Artagnan’s ordeal.

“Spiders!”

“Yeah. Got a really nasty bite on his neck. I need you to look at that if you feel up to it.”

“Of course. I should have seen to it already,” Aramis said anxiously.

“You had to get you sorted first, ‘Mis,” Porthos said gently. “You’re no good to anyone if you drop on us or are too agitated to think straight. He’s a lot better than he was or I would have taken him straight to the ER.”

“Well, I am sorted now,” Aramis said. “Take me out to him and bring me the med kit. The big one.”

Porthos grinned and squeezed his arm then went to get the med kit he had asked for. He stopped in d’Artagnan’s room and grabbed some sweats for the kid as well, wanting to get him settled for the night if they could. He wasn’t sure how they were going to do this. The kid obviously wanted Aramis right now. Porthos couldn’t really blame him for that one. He wanted to wrap himself around the man and not let go, too. Maybe then he’d stop getting hurt on them. That wasn’t the problem really. The problem was that Athos wanted to wrap himself around Aramis like a python as well and, as Aramis’ lover, he trumped the rest of them in that regard.

Athos led Aramis back out to the couch where d'Artagnan waited. Instead of sitting next to him, however, Aramis sat down on the coffee table in front of him so he could better assess his injuries. Now that he was not half frozen and close to shock, he could see that the younger man was hurting badly.

"How much pain are you in?" Aramis asked as he took d'Artagnan's hand in his and held it.

"Some, I guess," he shrugged.

"That is less than helpful," Aramis teased, trying to get a better answer from him. When none was forthcoming, he tried again. "Describe how you feel."

"Tired," d'Artagnan replied. "Achy. My skin feels, I don't know, hot I guess?"

"I need to take a look at your injuries," Aramis said, growing worried. He didn't like the way d'Artagnan was answering his questions, as if he couldn't pull his thoughts together enough to put them into words.

"Okay," d'Artagnan said and began pulling off his jacket.

Aramis helped him and they quickly had him stripped to the waist. He couldn't hold back a gasp when he saw the multitude of puncture wounds decorating d'Artagnan's body. They were all over his chest and arms and he knew they likely covered his back as well. Some of them still had faint red lines radiating out from them, indicating the presence of venom. Aramis had to stop for a moment and steady himself as the reality of what he was seeing hit him. Had any of these spiders been truly venomous, d'Artagnan would have died.

"I'm okay," d'Artagnan said when he noticed the stricken look on Aramis' face.

"You could have died," Aramis gasped.

"Yeah, well, you did so..."

Aramis jerked his head up and looked at the young man then. He could see the pain in his eyes and it tore at him. He slid forward onto his knees between the coffee table and the couch and wrapped his arms around the other man. "I am so sorry you had to see that, my friend," he said as he held him ever mindful of the injuries covering him.

"You were dead," d'Artagnan whispered as he buried his face in the side of Aramis' neck.

"Shhh. I'm here. It's alright, d'Artagnan. We're going to be okay. I promise."

"Sorry," d'Artagnan mumbled as he held onto Aramis. He was embarrassed at falling apart like this but at the same time he didn't care. Aramis had been dead. He couldn't seem to get that thought out of his mind.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Athos said, reaching out to lay a tentative hand on his back. "Caring about him is not something you should ever be sorry about."

"Okay guys, let's see about getting the kid cleaned up," Porthos said as he set the med kit down on the table next to where Aramis was sitting. "I didn't like the look of that bite on his neck."

Somewhat reluctantly, Aramis pulled back and sat on the coffee table once more. He opened up the med kit and spread it out then turned back to the young man on the couch. He started with his chest and arms, looking them over and taking care of any bites he found. He covered them with antiseptic ointment, bandaging the larger ones. Moving onto his back, he cringed at the angry looking bite high up on his shoulder. He took his time with that one, cleaning it thoroughly before bandaging it.

With d'Artagnan's torso seen to, Aramis moved on to the impromptu bandage Porthos had wrapped around his neck. He removed it carefully, mindful of where dried blood held it in place. Once he finally had it unwrapped, he got his first glimpse of the wound and felt his stomach roil. The bite was huge with over an inch between the two entry points. It still seeped blood and the skin around the punctures was red and swollen.

"There is no way for me to clean this that will not hurt," Aramis told him. "If you would rather we take you to the ER where they can give you an anesthetic first, we can do that."

"No," d'Artagnan shook his head. "Just you. Please."

"Alright, but I need to clean the wound with alcohol before I can reapply the bandage," Aramis explained. "We will need to keep a close eye on you as well. If you develop a fever, we are taking you to the hospital at once, no arguments. Agreed?"

"Yeah," d'Artagnan said listlessly. He would agree to whatever Aramis wanted if it meant he didn't have to go to the ER and have a bunch of strangers pawing at him all night. He really didn't think he could handle that right now. Most of the time, casual touch didn't bother him. This was not one of those times.

"Can you stay still or do you need one of them to help hold you?" Aramis asked.

"I can be still," d'Artagnan replied with a shudder. "I don't...I don't want to be held down."

"No, perrito," Aramis said, squeezing the back of his neck gently. "No one would ever hold you down. Only help hold you still so you don't jerk away too badly."

"Okay," d'Artagnan agreed, not really seeing the difference.

"Tell you what," Porthos suggested. "How about it you lay your head in Aramis' lap and I can pour the alcohol? That way it's Aramis that's got you."

"Can we do that?" he asked, casting pleading eyes at the men surrounding him.

"Of course," Aramis replied at once. They rearranged themselves so that Aramis was sitting on the couch with a thick towel spread out across his lap. D'Artagnan lay down and rested his head on Aramis' thigh so that the bite was accessible. Aramis let his fingers card through the younger man's hair, hoping to comfort him as Porthos got ready to disinfect the wound.

D'Artagnan went rigid when Porthos poured the alcohol over the bite mark, hissing at the pain. He managed to hold his head still, though, barely jerking against Aramis' leg. His vision grew cloudy and when he blinked to clear it, he realized his eyes had filled with tears. He wasn't sure if it was due to the pain or just because of everything but he gripped the hand Aramis slipped into his as tightly as he could.

When the burning sensation began to fade, he could make out Aramis whispering to him. The man was hunched over him protectively, telling him over and over that he would be alright and that he was there. He managed a weak "okay", letting Aramis know that he had at least heard him. He was relieved when Aramis didn't immediately pull away, but continued to lean over him, whispering softly to him.

D'Artagnan understood then that he was probably quite close to going into shock. He knew, intellectually, that should concern him but he couldn't muster up the energy to care. They were all safe and home and relatively okay. That was all he cared about. Everything else could sort itself out.

"D'Artagnan, I need to finish treating your neck now," Aramis said softly. He had continued to card his fingers through the younger man's hair, drawing as much comfort from the act as he was giving.

"D'Artagnan... Sweetie... I need you to tell me it's okay," Aramis tried again when he didn't get an answer. "I don't want to touch you without your permission."

"You always have my permission, 'Mis," d'Artagnan said.

"O-okay," Aramis said, taken aback slightly by the boy's easy acceptance of him when so obviously compromised. "I'm just going to examine the bite a little, then I'll put some ointment on it and bandage it up."

Aramis didn't bother waiting for a reply this time, knowing he was unlikely to get one. Instead, he concentrated on getting the wound addressed so they could all see about getting some rest. He was beyond tired and knew the others had to be as well. He palpated around the bite, pleased when only a small amount of blood came out. Satisfied for now, he spread a layer of ointment over it and covered it in a loose bandage.

"All done," Aramis said as he sat back. He knew that d'Artagnan was not yet ready to relinquish his hold on him so didn't try to move away. In truth, he wasn't ready to let go either.

"Think you two'll be okay long enough for me and Athos to get cleaned up some?" Porthos skied now that d'Artagnan was taken care of.

"Yes," Aramis said before Athos could object. "Go clean up before we all collapse. I promise, unless the couch bursts into flames, we aren't moving."

"I won't be long," Athos said as he pressed a kiss to Aramis' forehead. He quickly ducked into their bedroom, leaving the bathroom free for Porthos. He winced as he undressed, his injured hand protesting the movement. He needed to put some ice on it if he wanted to be able to use it at all tomorrow. Aramis was probably going to yell at him for waiting this long. As soon as he thought it, Athos realized how lucky he was that Aramis was still here to yell at him at all and had to sit down to keep from ending up in a heap on the floor. All the way home, he had steadfastly refused to think about it, filling his mind with what needed to be done instead. Now that everything was taken care of, Athos had nothing left to distract himself with.

As he sat on the side of their bed, he felt the room start to close in on him. It got harder and harder to breathe as he recalled the way his lover had looked laid out next to that pool, his lips tinged blue and his face pale and lax. Suddenly, strong arms were wrapping around him and pulling him to his feet as he struggled to draw in another breath.

"Athos, it's okay," Porthos said as he pulled the man up and held him. He had come out after slapping a hasty bandage over the slashes on his arm and putting on a clean shirt to find Athos hadn't come back out yet. Now he understood why. "He's alright. You didn't lose him. Come on now. You gotta breathe."

At Porthos' quiet insistence, the bands around his lungs eased and Athos was able to breathe again. He didn't try to move, letting Porthos support him for a few moments while he got himself back together. "Thanks," he said when he finally felt steady once more.

"You okay now?" Porthos asked, eyeing him carefully as he stepped back.

"I think so," Athos replied truthfully.

"Everything just hit you at once, huh?"

"I suddenly realized how close he came to dying," Athos said, running a shaky hand through his hair. "That he did, in fact, die."

"Hey, no," Porthos countered. "He stopped breathing, but he didn't die. One of you saying that's bad enough. I can't handle you and the kid both going off the deep end right now."

Athos looked at him, quirking an eyebrow at his choice of words and Porthos winced. Hard.

"Sorry. Jeez," Porthos said. "I can't believe I..."

"It's alright," Athos said, placing a calming hand on his arm. "Just try not to say that around d'Artagnan any time soon. He...he's not taking this well."

"Can't say I blame the kid," Porthos said. He stopped then and looked at Athos. "You, uh, you okay with him?"

Athos thought about how best to answer that then smiled. "If you are asking about the way he's wrapped around my lover like a blanket, the answer is yes. Aramis...means a very great deal to him. Probably more than either of them are willing to admit and he nearly lost him tonight."

"So did you," Porthos pointed out.

"Yes. Hence the panic attack you pulled me out of."

Porthos nodded, getting it. "I'm not sure how you're going to get the kid off of him tonight," he said, voicing his primary concern now that he knew everyone was more or less okay.

"I have no intention to," Athos told him. When he saw Porthos looking at him askance, he sighed. "D'Artagnan has been through hell tonight. They both have. I'm not going to take away the comfort they find in each other simply because I'm feeling... proprietary."

"Again, so did you," Porthos said. "He's your lover, Athos. That pretty much trumps everyone else."

"And if d'Artagnan had a lover or anyone else he felt he could turn to, I wouldn't hesitate. But we both know he doesn't. He was his family who I am sure he does not want to know of this and he has us. And before you even say it, you know he has not formed the kind of bond with us that he has with him."

"What about what Aramis needs?" Porthos asked. "I know he's wrapped around the kind like a blanket, too, but I gotta think he'd rather it was you."

"I didn't think about that," Athos replied, a bit stunned. "I only thought that he wouldn't want d'Artagnan to be alone tonight."

"Look, I'll stay with the kid and make sure he gets to sleep okay," Porthos suggested. "I owe him a bedtime story anyway."

"Your evil clown encounter?" Athos chuckled.

"Yeah, and for the record, I am never setting foot in a fun house again."

When the pair came out of the bedroom they found d'Artagnan and Aramis watching the doorway anxiously. Athos went to them at once and sat down next to Aramis, taking his free hand and holding it. "I'm okay," he said softly then leaned over and kissed him on the temple.

Porthos joined them a few minutes later carrying a blanket. He sat down on the other end of the couch, next to d'Artagnan and proceeded to wrap the blanket around the younger man’s shoulders. "Why don't you come over here for a while, kid, and I'll tell you about my run in with the clowns from hell?"

D'Artagnan tensed at Porthos' suggestion, his arms automatically tightening around Aramis' middle. Taking a breath, he forced himself to relax and let go of the other man, though he didn't want to. He needed to feel Aramis, warm and alive, to banish the image of him cold and dead from his mind. He knew, however, that he could not hold onto him all night. Aramis needed rest and Athos would never allow such a thing.

"You do not have to," Aramis said softly when he saw how hard d'Artagnan struggled to release him. He could commiserate. He was not happy about the other being out of his arms either, even if he did ache to feel Athos holding him.

"Yes, I do," d'Artagnan replied just as softly, his eyes cutting to Athos then away again.

Athos reached out and placed his hand on d’Artagnan’s arm, stopping him. "If you need him, he is here for you," he said. "I would never deny you his comfort, or him yours. You two... you need to tell me what you need. If it's d'Artagnan you need close right now, Aramis, I understand it, I do, but you need to tell me that."

Aramis looked at his lover and had to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. He could see how much Athos was hurting, how much he needed him after everything he had been through, yet still he offered to step back, to wait, if Aramis needed the comfort of another. As if any arms could bring him more comfort than Athos' own. He touched his lover's face, stroking it and smiled tiredly.

"You are such a good man," Aramis said to him. "I am terrified to have him out of my arms for fear that something else will happen to him."

He saw Athos open his mouth to speak and quickly covered his lips with his fingers. "Yet I positively ache to feel you holding me," he finished.

It took a second for Aramis' words to register then Athos let out a heart-wrenching sob. He let go of d'Artagnan and wrapped his arms around his lover, pressing his forehead against his temple. "I love you. I love you," Athos repeated again and again as tears ran unchecked down his face.

While Aramis worked on calming Athos, Porthos pulled d'Artagnan over to him and carefully wrapped his arms around the younger man's middle. Athos had explained to him about his sexual orientation so Porthos understood that his touch might not be entirely wanted. "It this okay?" he asked a bit anxiously. "If it's not, just tell me."

"Th-thanks," d'Artagnan said and gripped onto Porthos' arm in return as they watched the other two men.

"You don't have to thank me for this," Porthos said. "Aramis isn't the only one who cares about you. Me and Athos do, too. If you need us, we're here for you."

The genuine honesty in Porthos' words was more than d'Artagnan's fragile control could take. He felt emotion well up inside of him and clamped his jaw shut but it was futile. A strangled sob escaped causing Porthos to tighten his grip and then he was crying in earnest, sobbing out all of the pain and fear churning inside of him. Before he knew it, he was being turned around, his head pressed to Porthos' shoulder, as the bigger man rocked him like a child.

Athos managed to get himself back under control fairly quickly, all things considered. Just having Aramis in his arms was enough to allay the worst of his fears. As he was holding onto Aramis and being held in return, he could not help but wince at the sound of d'Artagnan's pain. He knew Aramis was feeling it even worse and squeezed him before pulling back a bit.

"If you need to go to him," Athos began but Aramis was shaking his head and pulling him back against him before he even finished speaking.

For his part, Aramis held onto Athos and closed his eyes. He couldn't stand seeing d'Artagnan in so much pain yet there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing any of them could do. He had gone through a terrible ordeal, his first trial of such magnitude if Aramis had to guess, and it would take time for that wound to heal. Knowing that, however, didn't make it any easier to watch.

"Why don't you and Aramis go lay down," Porthos suggested when d'Artagnan finally began to calm. "I'll stay with him tonight."

"I..." Aramis began only for Athos to stop him.

"You're exhausted," Athos gently pointed out.

"Yes, alright," Aramis relented, knowing he was right. He felt on the verge of passing out and could well imagine the affect that would likely have on the others.

Athos stood and helped him up then waited while he placed a kiss to the top of first d'Artagnan's head then, after only a second's hesitation, Porthos' as well. Athos held his arm as he led him to their room, aware of how unsteady he still was. Once there, he paused by the side of the bed, suddenly unsure. "Do you want to get undressed or do you just want us to sleep in our sweats?"

"Undressed, please," Aramis said. He knew, as done in as they both were, they should probably just lie down already but he needed to feel his lover and didn't want even the thin barrier of their clothes between them right now.

"Okay," Athos nodded. He helped Aramis out of his clothes and into the bed then quickly shed his own and climbed in next to him. He meant to leave some little bit of space between them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but Aramis grabbed him as soon as he was close enough and pulled him flush against him.

"I need you close," Aramis whispered by way of explanation, knowing Athos would understand.

"I'm here," Athos told him. He laid his head on Aramis' shoulder and rested his arm across his stomach and chest. He let his legs twine with his lover's, pressing them together from head to foot. He tried for a moment to keep from pressing his genitals against him but decided that if Aramis had a problem with it he would let him know and simply molded himself all along his side.

"Oh," Aramis sighed as he felt Athos touching him so completely. The feel of his lover there with him, holding him, safe beside him, eased the tight knot of dread that had been coiled within him ever since he had awoken by the pool.

As Athos lay beside him, holding him, he felt a shudder run through him at the thought of how close they had come. And not just to losing Aramis. He was not sure of the particulars, but he had a feeling d'Artagnan could have easily died from his encounter with those spiders and they still had not heard the story behind Porthos' clowns.

"Athos?" Aramis whispered when he felt his lover tremble against him.

"I'm okay," Athos said, taking a breath and blowing it out again. "I... My God, I nearly lost you tonight."

"Oh, love," Aramis said as he rolled onto his side facing Athos. He pulled him into his arms and held him, pressing every inch of his body against Athos that he could.

"Sorry. Sorry," Athos said into his neck as he just held him back.

"Shhh. Do not apologize for caring. I will not hear it," Aramis told him. "I was so scared yet at the end, I was at peace. I knew I was likely bound for hell but it did not matter. I had no regrets. Our time together may have been short but it had been worth it. To me, it had been worth it."

"Oh God," Athos gasped, biting back a sob. He gripped Aramis to him tightly and fought to get himself under control once more. "It’s worth it to me, too. You're worth everything to me. I love you so damn much."

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

D'Artagnan moaned fitfully from where he lay sleeping on the couch. Porthos had tried to get him to lay down in his bed, but he had refused. He couldn't stand the thought of being that far away from everyone else, the idea of being alone terrifying him. Every time he closed his eyes he thought he felt something crawling on him. It had taken Porthos the better part of an hour to get him eased into sleep. He had sat with him for another half hour after that, wanting to make sure he was truly asleep before venturing to his own room to lay down.

Suddenly, a crash from the living room had Porthos sitting bolt upright. A moment later he heard d'Artagnan scream and scrambled from the bed. He rushed into the living room in time to see the lamp on the floor and the young man fighting the blanket as he tossed his head from side to side.

"No!" D'Artagnan cried out again as he thrashed in his sleep. "Stop, please!"

As Porthos crossed the room to the couch, he saw Aramis and Athos burst into the room. "What's wrong?" Aramis called out as he rushed to the younger man's side. He threw himself down next to the couch heedless of the bits of shattered lamp on the floor and grabbed d'Artagnan's shoulder to try to wake him.

As soon as Aramis touched him, d'Artagnan let out a scream as his eyes shot open. He tried to jerk away, not realizing who, or what, was touching him at first. "Easy," Aramis soothed, pulling his hand back and giving the younger man some space.

D'Artagnan's eyes flitted all around the room, taking in his surroundings. When they landed on Aramis, he let out a moan and fisted his hand in the t-shirt Aramis had thrown on before running out. He tugged on him weakly, as if unable to pull any harder but he did not need to. Aramis moved closer at once, putting his arm around him and pulling him against his chest.

"What happened?" Athos asked quietly, directing his question to Porthos.

"Don't know. Nightmare I'm guessing," Porthos replied.

"Spiders or Aramis?" Athos wondered.

"Knowing the kid, probably Aramis getting eaten by spiders," Porthos said, scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

The two men watched, hating the feeling of helplessness that swamped them. They wished there was something thy could do to help the younger man but they know there wasn't. Only time could do that. Time and Aramis. Aramis who was holding d'Artagnan to him tightly as he whispered in his ear.

As Aramis held him, he felt d'Artagnan shaking in his arms. His face was pressed to his chest and Aramis rested his cheek against the top of his head. "It's alright," he whispered. "You're safe now. We're home and safe. Nothing can hurt you here. I won't let it."

"Not me I'm worried about," d'Artagnan whispered back, clutching Aramis to him even harder.

"D'Artagnan?"

"I saw you die!" D'Artagnan wailed loudly, startling everyone.

"Oh my friend," Aramis said softly as he tried to soothe the distraught young man. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. I am alright. Do not do this to yourself because of me."

They stayed like that until Aramis felt d'Artagnan begin to calm. Even then, he only pulled back slightly, keeping his arms around the other man. He felt a familiar ache start up in his knees but he ignored it. He had knelt much longer than this before and there was no way he was leaving him now.

"You feel up to carrying him one more time?" Athos asked Porthos as he watched the pair on the couch. "I'm not sure he's steady enough to walk right now."

"Yeah, but he doesn't want to sleep in his room," Porthos replied.

"That's fine," Athos said, waving his hand dismissively. "You're carrying him to ours anyway."

"You sure about this?" Porthos asked warily.

"Do you have the heart to try to separate them?"

"Athos?" Aramis called out hesitantly. He had heard what his lover said and did not know how to react. It was one thing not to mind them holding each other, but to bring him to their bed, even innocently, was quite another.

"He needs you," Athos said as he knelt down next to them. "And I think you need him as well, but you both also need rest and you cannot get that here like this."

"What about you?" Aramis asked, unwilling to put his own needs above those of his lover.

"If my presence will not distress him too much, I'll stay. If it will then I can take the couch myself."

"You can always bunk with me, brother," Porthos offered. He saw Aramis go completely still and realized just how his words could have been taken. Especially considering the younger man's current emotional state.

"Aramis," Athos huffed softly, amused at his lover's show of jealousy.

"Yeah, okay. Let's just forget I said that."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean..."

"We're all strung out tonight," Porthos said cutting him off. "Let's just worry about getting you and the kid someplace where you can get some rest."

"Thank you, my friend," Aramis said. He leaned back a bit farther from d'Artagnan so he could look at him. "I need to let go of you now but only for a little bit. Porthos is going to carry you into my room so you can rest with me tonight. Would you like that?"

"Yes," d'Artagnan said softly, his hands tightening in Aramis' shirt unconsciously. "But...Athos...he won't..."

"It's alright, d'Artagnan," Athos said from where he still knelt beside the pair. "I won't take him from you. Not tonight. He needs you just as badly as you need him."

It took a minute for Aramis to get d'Artagnan to actually let go of him. Once he did, Athos helped him to his feet then Porthos lifted the younger man from the couch and the four of them headed to the bedroom. As soon as d'Artagnan was in the bed, Aramis scrambled in beside him making the other two men smile.

"D'Artagnan, do you mind if I sleep on this side of Aramis?" Athos asked. "He would be between us the whole time, but if it is too intimate for you just say so and I will sleep in the other room."

"You...you would do that?" D'Artagnan asked, stunned at the lengths they all seemed willing to go to for him.

"Of course I would. I would never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable."

"Thanks," d'Artagnan whispered. "I...I don't mind if you stay but..."

"But?" Athos urged.

"But then Porthos is all alone out there. What if the clowns..."

"Kid..." Porthos huffed, rubbing a hand over his face to hide his sudden embarrassment at the young man's obvious concern for him.

"The clowns are gone, d'Artagnan. They cannot get to him. Not here," Aramis said as he held the younger man to him.

"I know," d'Artagnan replied meekly. He did know. He knew they were home and safe. That whatever had been attacking them was long gone. He knew that he was being irrational but he could not seem to stop.

"Yes," Aramis agreed. "Yes, you do. But what the head knows and the heart feels are often two different things. I knew I was not in a freezing lake trapped in a car with my family. Yet, for a moment, I was."

"Oh Sweetheart," Athos said as he sat down on the bed next to Aramis. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"I'm alright," Aramis told him.

"No, you're not," Porthos said. "And that's okay. None of us are. Just...wait here a minute." He left the room returning a few minutes later sleeping bag in hand. The relief he saw in d'Artagnan's eyes didn't surprise him. The fact that it was mirrored in Aramis' however, did.

"Will you be alright down there?" Athos asked somewhat guiltily. Of all of them, he was the only one who had not been physically attacked. If anyone should be sleeping on the floor it should be him.

"Don't even go there," Porthos laughed. "There's no way in hell your boy's sleeping curled up with me. I'm fine where I am. We can see about alternatives tomorrow if we need to."

They settled down to sleep after that. Or they tried to at least. Athos and Porthos managed to nod off quite quickly. Aramis was another story, though. For while d'Artagnan managed to sleep, his sleep was restless. He was constantly moving or calling out, so much so that Aramis found himself waking every few minutes. By the time morning came, Aramis was more tired than he could ever remember being. He was so tired he actually felt physically ill.

"Thanks for letting me sleep here last night," d'Artagnan whispered when he saw Aramis open his eyes.

"You're welcome," Aramis said smiling as best he could. It was not d'Artagnan's fault he had not slept well because of his worry.

"Did I keep you up?" He asked noticing how tired Aramis looked.

"No. I simply had too much on my mind to be able to rest easy," Aramis replied. "I'll be fine, though."

"Athos, you awake?" Porthos called from his makeshift bed on the floor.

"Yes," Athos replied sitting up.

"Think you can get those two settled on the couch while I fix us all something to eat?"

"I can help..." Aramis began but Porthos' snort of laughter cut him off.

"You're exhausted, 'Mis. Even I can tell. You just take it easy. After breakfast you can play nursemaid and check everybody's wounds. How's that?"

While Athos kept a steadying hand on d'Artagnan's arm as he guided him to the couch, he kept an eye on Aramis as well. He was alarmed at how unsteady his lover was on his feet. He was even worse now than he had been last night, if that were possible, and Athos had to wonder exactly how much sleep Aramis had gotten. He remembered all too well what happened the last time Aramis went days with virtually no sleep. He did not want to see that happen again.

By the time breakfast was over, everyone seemed a bit revived. Even Aramis, much to Athos' relief, was a touch more alert. They had gathered on the couch again and Porthos had pulled out the "big" first aid kit as Aramis called it. It contained everything, including suture kits. Porthos made a mental note to get his hands on some novocaine to add to it. He didn't mind getting stitched up without it himself, but he knew it killed Aramis to have to hurt any of them and if he had to stitch the kid up again he didn't want it to be any harder on him than it had to be.

"Alright, d'Artagnan, let's start with you," Aramis said, coughing slightly to clear his voice. It was slightly raspy this morning which Aramis attributed to his time in the pool. He was certain it would be gone by tomorrow.

As carefully as he could, Aramis unwound the bandage from around d'Artagnan's neck. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the punctures were healing as they should without any signs of infection. He palpated the area, gauging the other man's level of pain as he did so. Luckily, he only hissed slightly when Aramis pushed directly on the wound. Pleased with how it was healing, he applied a thin layer of antibiotic ointment and bandaged it once more. He gave their youngest's other wounds a quick look just to make sure they were all healing as they should be and quickly pronounced him on his way to being well again.

"Next," Aramis called out once d'Artagnan had been seen to.

"Guess that's me," Porthos chuckled. "I'm fine, though. Really."

"I'm sure you are," Aramis rasped. "You will, however, allow me to make certain of that. You said it clawed your arm?"

"Yeah," Porthos replied and began pulling his shirt over his head. He knew better than to try to argue with the man. He was quickly learning that where his team's well-being was concerned, Aramis would not back down.

Aramis frowned when he saw the bandage around Porthos' bicep. Blood had soaked through it in a few areas. Not many, but enough to cause Aramis concern. As he began unwinding the bandage, he realized that the dried blood was actually causing it to stick to Porthos' wound in places. Not wanting to do any additional damage or cause Porthos any undue pain, he turned to Athos.

"Athos, can you get some warm water and a few washcloths?" Aramis asked, still examining Porthos' arm.

"Sure," Athos said. He quickly returned with the items Aramis had asked for and set them down on the coffee table next to the first aid kit.

"I need to soak this off," Aramis explained to Porthos as he wet one of the cloths in the warm water. "It has adhered to your wound and I don't want to just rip it off."

"Whatever you need to do, brother," Porthos told him. "I trust you."

Aramis paused for a moment, his eyes cutting to Porthos' own. He saw the sincerity there and had to look away lest his emotions swamp him. He did not know why he felt so out of control right now only that he did. Perhaps it was simply his overwhelming tiredness.

When he finally got the bandage soaked off and saw the wound up close, Aramis cursed. No wonder the bandage was soaked in blood. These wounds were too deep to be bandaged closed. They needed to be stitched. They should have been stitched last night.

"I'm sorry," Aramis said softly as he began removing the bandages holding the wounds closed.

"What are you talking about?" Porthos frowned, confused.

"I should have taken care of this last night," Aramis said. "This needs to be stitched up. These wounds are much too deep to simply bandage closed. I'm sorry..."

"Hey," Porthos said, interrupting him and forcing Aramis to meet his eyes. "I made the call. Not you. I knew how bad it was and I made the call not to show it to you. You think I don't know you would have stitched this up last night no matter how tired you were, how much you were hurting, if I had shown it to you?"

"Of course I would have," Aramis replied.

"And that's why I took care of it. You needed to rest..."

"I need for my team to be adequately taken care of," Aramis told him. "Do not hide an injury from me again. I don't care how hurt or tired I am."

"Alright, brother," Porthos nodded. "I won't hide something like this from you again. None of us will. But you don't get to hide from us either. Got it?"

"Got it. Now, I need to stitch up your arm. I am afraid this is going to hurt."

By that evening, d'Artagnan had regained enough of his equilibrium to not need to be in constant physical contact with Aramis, though he did become nervous if Aramis was out of his sight for very long. Athos, sensing that Aramis was beginning to feel a bit smothered, had backed off leaving the pair on the couch with Sylvie while he and Porthos went over paperwork his lawyer had sent over about the finalization of the building purchase.

"You okay?" Porthos asked when he caught Athos watching the pair on the couch yet again.

"I'm fine," Athos told him.

"The kid knows he's got to let up," Porthos offered.

"Does he?" Athos asked. "As I said last night, I certainly have no intention of forcing the pair apart. He has been through a terrible ordeal. They both have. I won't make it worse for them."

"Alright, but I think Aramis could use a break pretty soon," Porthos said, making sure his voice was low enough not to carry. "He looks like he hasn't slept in days. Again."

"I know," Athos agreed. "I'll try to make sure he gets some rest tonight. I think everything is just finally catching up to him."

Porthos and Athos managed to make dinner that night, it wasn't much but it was filling and that was all they cared about. While they were cleaning up the kitchen, Porthos broached the subject of sleeping arrangements for the night.

"How about I suggest the kid come with me and we see how he takes it?" Porthos offered. "We can play it by ear from there."

"He is not going to like it, but we can try if you want," Athos said. He understood Porthos' concerns. He shared many of them. He was not worried about his relationship with Aramis as Porthos feared, though. He knew Aramis loved him. That was not in question. But Aramis had within him a very great capacity for love in all its myriad forms. And by his own admission, d'Artagnan had never been offered such complete acceptance before.

When the pair walked back into the living room, they found Aramis sitting up against the arm of the couch with d'Artagnan laying against his chest, Aramis' arms wrapped securely around him and Sylvie laying next to him. Athos turned his head slightly and cast a glance at Porthos. He had to bite back a snicker when he saw the man shake his head fondly at the pair.

"So," Porthos began, refusing to back down. Athos deserved to be able to spend some time with his lover. Alone time. Porthos understood that d'Artagnan had been through something horrific but so had Aramis. So had all of them. If he was going to keep doing this then he was going to have to learn how to stand on his own, or at least lean on someone other than Aramis.

"Yes?" Aramis prompted when Porthos failed to continue.

"How about you come with me tonight, kid? Give the lovebirds some alone time," Porthos said.

D'Artagnan stiffened as soon as the words left Porthos' mouth. He felt Aramis' arms tighten around him as well and a tiny bit of the fear inside of him eased. He felt stronger than he had last night, no longer in the throes of near panic whenever Aramis was outside of his arms. Still, it was hard to have him out of sight.

"It's alright..." Athos began only for Porthos to move between him and the couch and kneel down.

"Look, kid, we get it," Porthos said, going for blunt honesty. "He nearly died and you can't get it out of your head. Neither can I, if you want to know the truth. I can't get the image of you, half-dead on your knees out of my head either. Or Athos slamming his bloody fist into that mirror over and over again."

"Porthos?" D'Artagnan said, sitting up and eying the other man.

"You're my team and I nearly lost you," Porthos said. "You think sleeping on the floor last night was some kind of hardship, some kind of favor I was doing for you. It wasn't. It let me actually get some sleep knowing you were all right there where I could protect you."

"I didn't... You didn't seem upset," d'Artagnan said, confused.

"Where I come from, you learn real quick not to give anything away. All I'm trying to say is, Aramis isn't the only one who cares about you. He's not the only one you can come to if you need something. If you don't want to sleep alone because of the nightmares, you don't have to. But Aramis is ready to fall over and he needs to get some rest. So we need to let Athos take him on to bed and not worry about us for tonight. Can you do that?"

D'Artagnan turned his head and looked back at Aramis then. He could clearly see the exhaustion on his friend's face and realized he was one of the reasons for it. "Yeah," he said as he disentangled himself and sat up more fully. "Yeah, I can do that."

"We will just be in our room if you need us," Athos assured them both. He squeezed Porthos' good shoulder gratefully, then began helping Aramis to his feet. He felt alarm shoot through him when the man stumbled slightly but he quickly caught him and held him until he was steady once more.

"Sorry," Aramis said hoarsely. "Stood up too fast."

"Let's get you to bed," Athos told him. He kept a tight grip on his arm, not trusting his lover to keep his feet on his own at the moment. If he did not think it would embarrass Aramis in the extreme, he would pick him up and carry him but he restrained himself.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, Athos' concern had grown exponentially. Aramis was stumbling as he walked as if he was drunk. Sitting him down on the bed, Athos stripped him down to his boxers and guided him back and under the covers. Athos made short work of his own clothes then slid in beside him. He could not hold back a moan when Aramis turned to him at once, his head coming to rest against this shoulder as his entire body molded along his side.

“’Mis?” Athos called softly when he felt a fine tremor run through his lover.

“I’m alright,” Aramis whispered back, though his voice was so lacking in conviction that Aramis himself winced.

“You are not,” Athos said. “You are tired and hurt and scared. And I don’t think it’s just d’Artagnan you’re scared for. That pool, what happened, it brought up a lot of memories for you.”

Aramis said nothing for long moments. He felt overwhelmed, completely out of control, as emotions roiled through him, one after the other. “I had not thought of Julia in… in a very long time,” he said at last. “I do not actually remember the last time. What does that say about me? I am her brother. She died for me. Yet I cannot remember the last time I thought of her.”

“Aramis,” Athos said softly as he pulled his lover close. “Don’t do this to yourself. She would never want that. If she loved you enough to… to die protecting you then she would not want you to spend the rest of your life chained to her memory. She would want you to live. For both of you.”

“I miss them so much,” Aramis said, his voice filled with anguished longing. “God, you must think me utterly pathetic. I was barely more than an infant when I lost them and here I lay moaning that I miss them when you…”

“Stop it,” Athos said sternly. “You are anything but pathetic in my eyes, do you hear me? And you may have been a child but that doesn’t mean you loved them any less. Hell, Aramis, at that age they were your entire world. You probably loved Julia even more than I did Tommy. I mean, I knew there was a whole world out there. You… you only had them.”

They lay quietly for a little longer as Aramis calmed. There was so much on his mind, so many thoughts running through it over and over. He knew if he did not let some of them escape he would go mad. He did not want to cause Athos pain, though, and he knew talking of such things did.

“Talk to me,” Athos said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

“Why is it you can read my mind?” Aramis chuckled, though it was a bit forced.

“Because I know you and I can tell when you are holding something inside of yourself,” Athos said honestly. “If you’re worried about upsetting me, you have to know seeing you like this is worse than anything you could possibly need to talk about.”

“I…” Aramis began then stopped. It felt as if his whole body had frozen along with his voice. He had to take a moment to simply breathe before he could try again to voice the fear inside of him.

“Aramis?”

“I do not want to die that way,” Aramis finally forced himself to say. “I would rather… rather… anything but that.”

“Oh God, ‘Mis,” Athos groaned. He turned on his side then rolled back over, taking Aramis with him so that the man was on top of him rather than beside him. He pushed his head back down on his shoulder and just held him like that. The thought of Aramis dying at all was enough to send Athos into a near panic but the thought of Aramis dying like that, in the one way that terrified him above all others, made him scared and hurt and angry all at once.

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Sylvie nudged the door open and stole silently into the room. She hopped up onto the bed and took in the sight of the two men. They lay entwined together, the Survivor on his back with the Priest practically lying atop him. She studied him for a moment, trying to discern the best way to get close to the Priest without waking one of them.

As carefully as she could, Sylvie crept up onto the pillow beside the Priest’s head. She moved her muzzle over next to his nose and began to softly inhale. At first, all she drew from him was his breath. The next pull, however, yielded what she was truly after as the faintest trace of the Priest’s essence, his life force, flowed out of him and into her.

Much too soon for her liking, she forced herself to pull away. It would not do to take too much. The Priest was weakening and the sickness she had tasted inside of him would speed that along. If she took too much too fast someone might grow suspicious. Or he could land himself in the hospital which would put him firmly outside of her reach. That she could not allow to happen.

Knowing she had taken all she could for now and not wanting to push her luck, Sylvie jumped down from the bed and padded from the room. Perhaps she would see how the boy was holding up. He seemed a favorite of the Priest after all. His nightmares, while not as good as those of the Priest, would still be quite delicious.

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Athos came awake with a stretch the next morning, causing the man sleeping on his chest to stir as well. He cursed himself when he realized he had woken Aramis but the damage was done. “Sorry,” he said as he placed a kiss on the end of his nose. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I need to get up anyway,” Aramis said. His voice was even more strained than it was the day before and he grimaced when he forced himself to swallow.

“You should stay in bed,” Athos said, frowning at the way his lover sounded.

“I’m fine,” Aramis told him, his voice marginally better than a moment ago. “Besides, someone needs to cook breakfast.”

“Porthos and I can manage that,” Athos said. “We did just fine yesterday.”

“I still need to check d’Artagnan’s neck and Porthos’ arm,” Aramis insisted as he rolled away from Athos and sat up on the side of the bed. The abrupt change in position made his head spin and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from being sick.

The feel of Athos’ hand on his shoulder helped settle him once more. His lover simply rested it there, not squeezing and not asking what was wrong. The intrinsic understanding between them was something Aramis would always cherish, but never more so than at times like this.

“Get up too fast again?” Athos asked once he felt Aramis relax under his hand.

“Thanks,” Aramis replied, nodding. He knew Athos was worried for him. He could hear it in his voice but there was nothing to be done for it. He was simply tired. Overwhelmingly so. The well-being of his team, however, came before his own comfort. He would see to them, attempt to get some food into himself, and then perhaps try to get some more rest.

When they made it into the living room after helping Aramis don a pair of sweat pants and long sleeved shirt, they found d’Artagnan on the couch looking worriedly toward the kitchen. As they reached the couch, they understood why when they heard a crash followed by Porthos cursing loudly.

At the sound of Porthos’ cry, Aramis was up and off the couch before Athos could stop him, his earlier fatigue completely forgotten. He raced into the kitchen to find the man shoving his hand under the running faucet, his face set in a grimace of pain. Aramis grimaced as well when he got a look at the burn covering it.

“Keep it under the water,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” True to his word, he returned a brief moment later, first aid kit in hand. Athos and d’Artagnan had come into the kitchen as well to see what all of the commotion was about.

“What happened?” Athos asked as he sat d’Artagnan down at the table and came over to assist Aramis.

“Hand slipped when I picked up the pan,” Porthos said. “Don’t know how, but I ended up grabbing the bottom of it.”

“Ouch,” d’Artagnan cringed.

“No sh*t,” Porthos snapped then instantly felt bad. “Sorry, kid. Ignore me right now. This hurts like a bitch.”

While they talked, Aramis quickly spread out what he would need, directing Athos to get him a clean, dry towel. Once he had everything set up to his liking, he had Porthos remove his hand from the water and rest his arm on the counter. He patted it dry as gently as he could then quickly assessed the wound. The burn was bad but not so bad that he couldn’t treat it there at home. He would have to keep an eye on it for infection but he was confident he could take care of it himself.

“I’m going to put some ointment on it,” Aramis said. “It will hurt at first but should dull the pain a bit soon after. I don’t think we need to take you to the ER but I will need to keep an eye on it. At the first sign of infection, you’re going.”

“No problem,” Porthos said, his words somewhat labored from the searing pain in his hand. “I’ve seen what happens to burns that don’t get taken care of. I’d like to keep my hand, thanks.”

Working silently after that, Aramis applied the ointment then wrapped the hand in a sterile dressing. As long as it showed no signs of leaking, he would check it again tonight. The less it was disturbed while it healed, the better off Porthos would be.

“Now, sit down with d’Artagnan and let me see what I can do about salvaging breakfast,” Aramis said once the first aid kit was packed up again. He made a mental note to go through all of the various kits in the loft and refill them as soon as he felt better.

“I can do that,” Athos said at once.

“You can clean up what landed on the floor,” Aramis replied. He saw Athos start to protest and held his hand up to stop him. “His hand is going to start hurting again and soon. I would like to get some food into him so I can give him something for it before it gets too bad.”

The rest of the day progressed the same way. Aramis kept a close eye on Porthos and d’Artagnan both. After giving Porthos some of his stronger pain medication, he made him comfortable in his recliner and covered him with a blanket once he fell asleep. He had considered putting him in his bedroom, but did not want him that far away.

D’Artagnan was little better. He seemed thrown by the fact that Porthos had been hurt, even though it had been a run of the mill kitchen mishap. Aramis could understand. After everything else, so much as a paper cut on one of them was apt to have him pulling out the first aid kit right now. With the others taking up so much of his mind, Aramis failed to notice how tired he was. He found himself staring off into space more than once, having no idea what he had been thinking about or how long he had been sitting there doing nothing. He knew Athos was worried about him, too, but he could not bring himself to leave the others.

By nightfall, Aramis was barely on his feet. He checked Porthos’ hand and was pleased to see no signs of infection. He recovered the wound, wrapping it a bit more thoroughly so it would not get damaged during the night. He gave d’Artagnan’s neck a quick check as well and was pleased to see it healing as it should.

“Alright, kid, I’m beat,” Porthos said. “You ready to hit the sack?”

“Are you sure?” d’Artagnan asked, the hope in his voice easy to hear. “I mean, I don’t want to hurt your hand or anything.”

“My hand’ll be fine,” Porthos told him. “Besides, I won’t be able to sleep with you out here by yourself.”

That decided, Porthos and d’Artagnan retired to his room for the night, leaving Athos and Aramis alone in the living room. “Come on,” Athos said, taking Aramis by the arm and helping him up from the couch. His eyes widened when Aramis swayed alarmingly and he tightened his grip to keep the other man from stumbling.

“I’m alright,” Aramis said though he sounded far from it.

“I am getting tired of hearing you say that when you obviously are not,” Athos scolded gently. “It is past time you were in bed. You need to rest. You have been through just as much, if not more, than everyone else. Please stop acting as if you haven’t.”

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Aramis awoke with a groan. He hurt everywhere. Even his eyelids ached. When he tried to swallow, it felt like he was gargling with a handful of razor blades. He coughed weakly and it seemed to set off a firestorm in his chest. Rolling to his side, he leaned over the bed and coughed until he felt like he might actually have sprained something. By the time he finally managed to stop, he was panting and black dots danced before his eyes. He had just managed to flop back over onto his back when Athos came rushing into the room. His hair was still damp letting Aramis know he had come straight from the bathroom.

"My lawyer called," Athos said casting no more than a glance toward where Aramis lay. "Porthos and I need to go meet with him and the building owner. It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. D'Artagnan's on the couch. I told him you were still asleep but would probably be up and about soon." He pulled a tie from the dresser and rushed over to place a hasty kiss to Aramis' forehead before heading out the door once more.

"Well, that was quick," Aramis said between panting breaths. He bit back a grin as he imagined the whirlwind that was Athos when he got like this. His lover definitely liked having his ducks in a row as the saying went and tended to get quite focused, to the exclusion of almost everything else around him, until it was taken care of to his satisfaction. Aramis hoped the seller wasn't causing some kind of problem. Poor guy probably wouldn't know what hit him.

Aramis had no idea how long he lay in bed before he finally forced himself to get up. The idea of d'Artagnan out in the living room alone was enough for him to forget how miserable he felt. The younger man was doing better, he was not nearly as prone to panic if one of them was out of his sight now, but Aramis still worried for him. It was not just d'Artagnan's state of mind he worried for, either. He remembered all too well what he had looked like covered in spider bites, venom still coursing through his veins. He remembered how weak he had been as he clung to him in the back of Porthos' SUV. If he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to check on d'Artagnan for his own peace of mind as much as for the other man's.

Somehow, Aramis made it to the bedroom doorway. He had to squeeze his eyes shut as he braced himself against it until he no longer felt in danger of the room spinning out from beneath his feet. Once the wave of dizziness had passed, he opened his eyes and took several slow, painful breaths. It felt like iron bands were wrapped around his chest, tightening each time he breathed in. Not exactly a good sign, he knew.

Aware he could not stay leaning against the doorframe indefinitely, he forced himself to push away from it. He made it all of two steps into the room before he felt everything alarmingly turn sideways. Blackness suddenly crowded in on his vision as if he was looking through a long, thin tube, and what he could still see was hazy and indistinct. He tried to call out to d'Artagnan but all at once he could not seem to breathe, his lungs locked up within his chest and refusing to function. Fear gripped him for a moment as memories of suffocation and icy water rushed back then his knees gave out and he crashed painfully to the floor. His mind was so muddled he didn’t even realize it when his head hit the floor with a sickening crack.

D’Artagnan had heard Aramis entering the room and had turned toward him just in time to see his eyes roll up as he collapsed. He cried out as he sprang up from the couch and rushed to his friend’s side. He carefully turned him over onto his back, cradling his head as he did so. He had heard it hit the floor, Aramis making no move to check his fall. The carpet might have saved him from actually cracking his skull open but that was all it had done.

D’Artagnan tried to think of what he should do but the blind panic he felt pushed all else from his mind. Aramis was still breathing, but even he could see that he was laboring to do so. His chest rose and fell much too slowly and when it did, the movement was a great deal less than it should have been. For d’Artagnan, it was the pool all over again. Only this time, there was only him to save his friend and he had no idea what to do.

With shaking hands, d’Artagnan lifted Aramis’ head as gently as he could and cradled it in his lap. He stroked his fingers through his hair, remembering how much the other man had admitted to enjoying the sensation. He knew he should do something but he didn’t know what. His phone was on the other side of the room and he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Aramis long enough to get it, too afraid that if he did, he would return to find nothing but a corpse where his friend should be.

“Please,” d’Artagnan pleaded softly, tears filling his eyes. “Please, ‘Mis. I don’t know what to do.”

Aramis felt like he was drowning all over again, only this time there was no water. At least, there was no water around him. The water was already in his lungs, filling them up and leaving no room for air. He felt panic seize him but it fled almost as soon as it tried to take root. His mind was simply unable to hold onto any thought long enough to form panic. He knew he could not breathe. He knew that should matter. But he was just too tired to care.

The sound of the key turning in the lock jerked d’Artagnan out of his momentary stupor and he clutched at Aramis as he stared wildly toward the front door. When Porthos and Athos came bustling through the door, d'Artagnan was so relieved he was literally speechless.

"We forgot the paperwork the lawyer sent over," Athos said as he began rifling through papers on the work table. A few moments later he cried out and held the folder up with a triumphant smile.

With a sinking heart d'Artagnan realized that, from where they were, the others couldn't really see them. They had no idea Aramis was lying on the floor struggling to breathe. He watched Athos and Porthos both turn back toward the door and knew if he didn't do something they were going to leave.

"Help!" D'Artagnan cried out just as Porthos' hand closed over the door handle. It startled both men so much that they actually jumped and spun around to see what had happened.

"D'Artagnan? What is it?" Porthos asked as he moved toward him. As soon as he was in the room fully, he saw them. He froze for half a second, taking in the completely unexpected sight of Aramis lying on the floor barely conscious, then he rushed to the pair and dropped down beside them.

"What's wrong?" Athos asked, rushing over himself when he saw Porthos' reaction.

"He's barely breathing," Porthos said. "We need an ambulance."

"Wait!" Athos said then ran into the bedroom for the first aid kit Aramis kept tucked under their bed. It had a few items in it especially for him. He jerked it out and dumped the contents out on the bed. He quickly spotted the rescue inhaler Aramis always kept stocked and grabbed it then rushed back out.

"What's that?" Porthos asked.

"Rescue inhaler," Athos replied. "Sit him up a bit. Come on, 'Mis. Just try to take some in. It'll help. You know it will." As Athos spoke, he held the end of the inhaler in Aramis' mouth and triggered it. He waited a few seconds then did it again, knowing Aramis wasn't getting very much of the medicine into his lungs just yet. Still, he didn't need much. Not really. Even a little would be enough to get his lungs opening up a bit so he could get a proper dose into him.

It was a tense couple of minutes as they waited for the medicine to do its work. They all visibly relaxed when Aramis began to breathe a bit easier. Athos helped him to take another hit on the inhaler, satisfied with the amount he was able to take in this time. After that, they simply sat with him on the floor, allowing him to get his breath back and all of them to calm their racing hearts.

"Didn't know he had asthma," Porthos said after a while.

"He doesn't," Athos said. "At least, not anymore. He had stress asthma as a child after the accident that killed his family, but he outgrew it."

"So why the inhaler?" Pothos asked.

"Because Aramis is nothing if not prepared," Athos said, smiling softly. "He knows his asthma is triggered by stress rather than any underlying medical condition. Therefore, it could reoccur at any time. He prefers to be prepared just in case."

"Thank God," d'Artagnan said, shuddering.

Athos laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. "He'll be okay. He's sick right now. Much sicker than any of us realized I think, but he'll be okay. Thank you for taking such good care of him."

"Good care?" D'Artagnan choked. "I didn't do anything. Anything! I... I panicked. I..."

"You stayed with him so he would not be alone," Athos said. "You have no idea how much that means to Aramis. And to me."

"Not to change the subject or anything, but what's the shelf life on that stuff you gave him?" Porthos asked. He had to wonder how effective it was if it had been sitting in some kit for who knew how long.

"A year, I think," Athos said. "But Aramis changes them out every few months when he checks the first aid kit."

"We're gonna have to start an inventory list with how many of those things we've got around here now," Porthos chuckled.

"Indeed," Athos agreed.

"And I want one of those in all the kits from now on," Porthos said.

"I'll take care of it myself," Athos promised. He was rewarded by both Porthos and d'Artagnan relaxing slightly. He was about to suggest trying to move Aramis from the floor when the man began to groan.

"What...what happened?" Aramis asked groggily. The last thing he remembered was attempting to walk into the living room.

"You collapsed," d'Artagnan whispered, unable to hide the anguish in his voice. "You...you couldn't breathe..."

"As far as I can tell, you had an asthma attack," Athos told him. "Though I could be wrong. You're a lot sicker than you told me."

"Sorry," Aramis rasped. "I... I didn't know. Not until...until this morning."

Athos closed his eyes, not wanting Aramis to see the pain in them. "And I was too preoccupied to notice."

"Stop that," Aramis said. He attempted to be stern but it was almost impossible when he could barely speak above a whisper. "I did not tell you. You can't read my mind, love."

"Alright, let's get him someplace more comfortable than the floor then we can all talk," Porthos said. "You've got two choices here, brother, the couch or your bed. Which do you want?"

"The couch is closest," Aramis sighed.

"Aramis," Porthos said softly, resting his hand on the man's arm until he looked at him. "If you want back in your bed, then I'll take you there."

"You are injured..."

"Not so much that I can't take care of my brother when he needs me," Porthos told him.

Aramis looked away briefly before nodding. It was almost impossible for him to think clearly right now so he did not bother to try. He and Porthos were still building their relationship and Aramis found moments like this hard to take at first. Still, he needed to give his brother an answer.

"The...the couch," he said at last. "I don't want to be...to be so far away."

It took a little maneuvering to get Aramis up off the floor and onto the couch. Porthos' arm and hand were still bothering him and the last thing he wanted was to injure Aramis by dropping him. Once they had him settled, propped up slightly to make it easier to breathe, Athos put in a call to his doctor. An hour later, said doctor was sitting on the side of the couch listening to Aramis attempt to breathe.

"Without x-rays I can't be completely certain, but I'm fairly sure you have pneumonia," the doctor said. He turned to Athos then regarding him evenly. "I would recommend he be in the hospital."

"Is it that bad?" D'Artagnan asked worriedly. He knew pneumonia was dangerous but he thought that was just for old people.

"Not yet," the doctor admitted. "And I would prefer that it not get there."

"No hospital," Aramis said weakly. It still hurt to breathe but not nearly as much as it had before. He understood why the doctor wanted him admitted. It really would be the safest course of action, but he still did not want to do it. He did not want to be away from Athos and he would not put it past his grandmother to come there to berate him in person if she somehow found out.

"Why am I not surprised," the doctor muttered. "I can give you a couple of shots and write a prescription for antibiotics as well as some prednisone to help with your breathing."

"You carry medications with you?" Aramis asked.

"When Athos explained your symptoms, I had a pretty good idea of what I might need," the doctor said as he began pulling out bottles and syringes before directing his attention to Athos once more. "I want him watched closely. If his fever spikes, he goes to the hospital. If he has another asthmatic episode, he goes to the hospital. If he doesn't appear to be improving after two days, he goes to the hospital. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly," Athos told him.

It didn't take long to get the shots over with and Aramis once more tucked in on the couch. Porthos saw the doctor out then went to get Aramis' prescriptions filled leaving Athos and d'Artagnan to watch over their charge. By the time he got back, he found Aramis had fallen asleep on the couch, d'Artagnan curled up at the opposite end of it.

"How is he doing?" Porthos whispered as he set the medicine down on the coffee table. He winced at the dark bruise that had already formed on the side of he man's head from his fall.

"Better," Athos replied. He was surprised at how quickly the shots seemed to both ease Aramis' breathing and make him fall asleep. "He is breathing easier now, though I worry that might change once that shot wears off."

"At least he's breathing good now and getting some rest," Porthos told him. "We can dose him up once he wakes up again. One of those is a pretty strong couch medicine so we'll need to try to get some food into him before he passes out again."

"Thank you, my friend," Athos said, catching Porthos' hand as he went to move past him and holding it. "I know you didn't intend to act as den mother when you agreed to all of this."

Porthos stopped and looked at the man then crouched down beside the chair so they were on an even level. "I haven't had a team...a family...in a very long time. Having people to take care of, having people who trust me enough to let me take care of them, it means more to me than you know. Don't thank me for this, brother. Don't ever thank me for this."

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

It was a week before Aramis finally felt like he was on the mend. His entire midsection ached from the near constant coughing, even with the cough medicine Athos' doctor had prescribed. Still, he was sleeping through the night now and could take a deep breath without it triggering a coughing fit. D'Artagnan was better, too. He had gotten over the trauma of the funhouse, no longer needing to keep Aramis in sight at all times. He was still somewhat clingy, though, regardless of his attempts not to be. Even Porthos' arm had healed up better than Aramis had thought it would.

They had also managed to finalize everything on the building purchase, though Athos had insisted that any additional meetings be conducted at the loft. He was not going to take a chance on leaving Aramis, or d'Artagnan, alone until he was sure they were well. Now, their newly formed company was the proud owner of the entire building and the four of them spent their days talking over what changes they wanted to make to the place.

Porthos had been a bit leery of making any major changes, all too aware that it was not his money he would be spending. Aramis, however, had taken him aside and talked to him, explaining that Athos being able to use his family's money for this, for something constructive, something that he actually wanted to do, was worth so much more. Seeing the sincerity in Aramis' eyes and the true gratefulness had been enough to convince him to let his pride take a backseat.

Now, they had plans laid out to incorporate an actual office for the four of them as well as plans in place to close off the sections of the building not in use to save on heating and cooling costs. They even had a workshop in the plans for d'Artagnan that would allow the younger man to keep their equipment up and running as well as allow him to continue making modifications. All in all, they were quite happy with how things were shaping up.

When Aramis finally began to stir, blinking awake, he was not surprised to find Athos' side of the bed empty, though he was a bit saddened by it. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was already after ten and sighed. He understood that his body needed rest in order to heal but sleeping in like this still made him feel guilty, as if he was wasting the day away rather than being productive. Added to that was the fact that all this sleeping seriously cut into his time with Athos. He felt like he had not spent any quality time with his lover in forever. Athos would tell him he was being foolish, of course, but he still couldn't help but feel that way.

Forcing himself to get up, he threw on some sweats and a t-shirt before leaving the bedroom in search of Athos. When he entered the main room, he was rather surprised to find Athos and Porthos huddled together on the couch, staring intently at the laptop that was perched between them. Suddenly, Porthos laughed out loud causing Athos to jump slightly. This made the laptop start to fall and both grabbed for it, Porthos’ hand coming to rest on Athos’ thigh in their haste as both men grinned.

It was not so much that Porthos was touching Athos, but rather how intimately he seemed to be doing so that made Aramis’ stomach tense. Even more troubling, though, was their reaction to his unexpected appearance. As soon as they noticed him in the doorway, both men looked up, eyes widening. The expression on their faces could not be called anything but guilty as they practically slammed the laptop closed.

“Am I interrupting?” Aramis asked, steadfastly refusing to read anything into the situation.

“No!” Athos said quickly, cringing inside at the force of his reply. “We were just looking something up.”

“Anything I can help with?” Aramis asked as he came over to join them on the couch.

“Ah, no, that's okay,” Athos said, sliding even closer to Porthos in order to make room for Aramis on the other side of him.

Aramis hesitated, looking back and forth between the pair. He could tell that there was something Athos wasn't telling him. He started to say something but Athos grabbed his hand and pulled him down next to him. Silently admonishing himself for letting his insecurities run wild, he settled in beside his lover.

“How are you feeling?” Athos asked once he felt Aramis relax against him.

“Better,” Aramis replied.

“You still sound tired. You should take it easy today.”

“That's all I've been doing for a week now,” Aramis groused.

“And you obviously needed the rest,” Athos argued.

“So what do you have planned for today?” Aramis asked, effectively changing the subject. He knew Athos was right, but he was sick of lying around the loft doing nothing all day. And he missed his lover.

“Not much,” Athos hedged. He had never been good at keeping something from Aramis and this time was no different. “Porthos and I need to run out and, ah, see about something. We won't be long.”

“Oh,” Aramis said, surprised. Ever since his asthma attack, Athos had all but refused to leave the loft. That he was so eager to now, made Aramis’ stomach tense all over again. “Well, let me change and I'll go with you.”

“No, that's alright,” Athos said in a rush. “Like I said, we won't be long. You don't want to overexert yourself now that you're finally getting better.”

“Right,” Aramis said softly, trying not to let the hurt he felt show.

“I'll go start the truck,” Porthos said, making a hasty exit from the couch. He was going to have to give Athos some pointers if he wanted to keep this a secret for very long. He was amazingly bad at hiding something where Aramis was concerned.

“I'll be right there,” Athos said, jumping at the chance to escape before he inadvertently gave something away.

Shaking his head, Porthos set the laptop back on its charging dock and grabbed his keys. The quicker they got out of there, the better. If Athos kept on the way he was, Aramis was sure to get suspicious and Porthos did not want to have to lie to the man, even for a surprise.

Just as the door closed behind the pair, d'Artagnan came out of his room. Seeing Aramis alone on the couch, he frowned. “Did they go somewhere?” He asked as he came over to join him.

“Yes,” Aramis replied, still a bit bewildered by Athos' behavior. “They went to go see about something.”

“What?” D'Artagnan asked, not knowing of anything the pair would need to leave for.

“I haven't any idea,” Aramis replied. “They were looking at something on Porthos' laptop when I came out then they just left.”

“Well, let's take a look.” With that, d'Artagnan bounded up from the couch and grabbed Porthos' laptop. He sat back down beside Aramis and opened it. It took him less than a minute to pull up the browsing history. What came up, gave both men pause.

“Why would Porthos be looks up romantic gay-friendly bed and breakfasts?” D'Artagnan mused aloud.

“Porthos and Athos,” Aramis corrected. “They were looking at them together.”

“Oh! Oh, Aramis, hey,” d'Artagnan said, trying to backpedal. “You don't really think...”

“No,” Aramis said much too quickly. “Of course not.”

D'Artagnan studied his friend, taking in the sudden worry he saw on his face. He shut the laptop down and set it on the coffee table then turned to face the other man. “Aramis?” He called softly.

“I am fine,” Aramis smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. “I am sure there is a logical explanation. We are simply unaware of it.”

“Yeah,” d'Artagnan agreed though he was hard pressed to come up with one at the moment. “They would never do something like that. Not to you.”

“You would be surprised at what people will do for the sake of love,” Aramis replied gently. “But I am sure you are correct. I am making something of nothing. Just ignore me, my friend.”

Two hours later, both men had just about managed to forget their earlier worries. Aramis had told himself time and again that it was only his insecurities making him think such things. Athos would never betray him. They loved each other too much for that. D'Artagnan had done his level best to take their minds off things, too, even going so far as to take apart the latest gizmo he was working on just to show Aramis all of the modifications he had made to it. When the phone rang a short while later, Aramis was the one to answer it since d'Artagnan was still elbow deep in the device he had been explaining.

“Is this Athos de la Fere?” A woman's voice asked over the phone.

“No,” Aramis replied. “He isn't in right now. May I take a message?”

“Well, this is Mrs. Walsh at the Bellaterra,” she said. “I'm afraid he dropped his wallet when he and his, um, friend were here earlier.”

“The Bellaterra?” Aramis repeated. The name was familiar but he couldn't seem to place it.

“Yes, Sir. The Bellaterra Bed and Breakfast,” she said proudly. “The most romantic Bed and Breakfast in the entire state. He and his gentleman friend were here earlier inquiring about a weekend getaway and I'm afraid he must have dropped his wallet. One of our guests found it in the parking lot and brought it in.”

“He...he was asking about...”

“Oh yes,” she went on cheerily. “He and his friend even made a reservation for later in the week. It's always so nice to see young people in love. It brings a smile to my face every time. And they were such nice men. So polite. They were worried about having problems being two men and all but I assured them they wouldn't have any problems like that here. Will you let him know we have his wallet here at the front desk whenever he'd like to come and get it?”

“I'll let him know,” Aramis replied all but in a daze. “Thank you for calling.”

Aramis had no more than hung up the phone and turned back to d'Artagnan before the sound of the front door being unlocked stopped him. He froze for a second, unsure what to do then walked, robot-like, to the couch and sat down. He could see the concern in his friend's eyes but he could think of nothing to say to reassure him. His mind was running in circles. All he could think of was the woman's cheerful voice saying what a nice couple Athos and Porthos were.

“Aramis, are you alright?” D'Artagnan asked worriedly. He hadn't really been paying attention to the phone call and regretted it now. “Who was that on the phone?”

“I'm fine,” Aramis replied automatically.

“Who was on the phone?” D'Artagnan asked again, pitching his voice low so the two men coming in the door would not hear.

“No one important,” Aramis said, unable to face the prospect of explaining all of this to the younger man right now. “Excuse me, d'Artagnan. I... I need some fresh air.”

Before d'Artagnan could rely, Aramis rose and headed for the balcony. He knew he could not simply run away from this, that he had to face facts, but he needed a few minutes to get himself under control. He would need to speak to Athos. If it were true, he and Porthos should not feel the need to hide their relationship. Nor should they feel the need to go away somewhere simply to be together. This was Porthos' home. He would not drive him from it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie was beside herself as she slipped through the balcony door just as Aramis was closing it. It had not taken much from her at all, just the slightest nudge to rekindle all of the Priest's insecurities. She knew part of the reason for the ease with which she managed to influence him had to do with the essence she was steadily siphoning from him. That brief connection not only allowed her access to his thoughts but also formed a tenuous link between them.

She waited for the Priest to drop down onto one of the chairs then quickly jumped into his lap. His hand began to stroke her by rote and she purred contentedly as she snuggled down. Not wanting to overdo it and damage the fragile link she had established, she kept her influence subtle. Instead of outright working against his trust of the two, she projected a general air of suspicion, just enough to keep his doubts about his lover's fidelity at the forefront of his mind. She would need to find a way to keep them apart for a little while in order to give the Priest's worries a chance to grow and become solid. Once they had, she would be able to influence him to a much greater degree. For as much as she wanted to see the Priest's innocence spoiled, she wanted to watch the pair suffer even more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coming into the living room, Athos saw d'Artagnan alone on the couch and frowned. He looked around the room for his lover but saw no sign of him. Thinking he had simply gone to lie down and get some rest, he headed into his office to work on some things.

As soon as Athos left the room, d'Artagnan scooped up the laptop intent on putting it back. Luckily, Athos had come up alone, giving him time to slip it back before anyone noticed. Their snooping now covered, he hesitated. Whoever had called had clearly upset Aramis but it was obvious the man didn't want to talk about it. Not wanting to pressure his friend, he decided to let it be. If Aramis wanted to talk to him about it, he would. With that thought in mind, he gathered up the equipment he had been working on and headed down to his make-shift shop to work.

Aramis was a bit surprised when no one came outside to join him. He had expected Athos to, fussing at him for being outside in the cold. He ruthlessly tried to ignore the little voice inside him that said he was probably too busy with Porthos to notice. He knew he was being unfair, perhaps even irrational. After all, he only had that woman's word. For all he knew, she could be lying. Yet he had to ask himself why. Why would she lie about something like that?

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This was ridiculous. Athos would not betray him in such a manner. Athos would never betray him. He knew that. As he tried to force the doubts from his mind, he felt Sylvie nip at his fingers. Looking down at her, he felt a fresh surge of doubt hit him. Was he being ridiculous? Was it really so far-fetched to think that Athos might have grown tired of waiting for him? Was it really so unbelievable that he could want someone else?

When he actually began to shiver from the cold, he knew it was time to go back inside. He didn't want to end up sick again. No, he needed his strength to face Athos and Porthos, though the thought of doing so made him want to be ill. As he stood up carrying Sylvie tucked in the crook of his arm, he tried to think about what he would do if...when...Athos confirmed his suspicions. He literally had nowhere else to go. He would live on the streets before he tried to return to his grandmother's house. Besides, he loved Athos. He did not want to contemplate a life without him. He would rather stay and take what he could get. Assuming, of course, that Porthos would allow it.

Still in a daze, he went back inside. He was surprised again to find the living room empty. He knew d'Artagnan was probably downstairs tinkering in the temporary workshop he had set up. He thought about going down and asking if he knew where the others were then realized he didn't really want to know. Not if they were...together...somewhere. Holding onto Sylvie almost desperately, he headed to the bedroom and the welcome oblivion of sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie lay on the Priest’s chest, purring happily. She could feel the turmoil within him as he struggled to hold on to his belief in the Survivor. Every time he started to convince himself that he was wrong to be worried, she sent another wave of doubt to him along their link.

As he closed his eyes in defeat, she smiled inside. He would find no respite in sleep. Not this night. She would make sure of it, the link between them not only allowing her to see his dreams but to mold them however she wished.

Over and over again, she forced Aramis to relive the scene on the couch. Every time she did, she changed it a tiny bit. She made the Survivor lean into the other man. She made his hand stroke the Survivor’s thigh rather than simply grasp it. By the time she was finished tormenting the Priest, she had made him watch his lover practically giving himself to the other man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Athos was starting to get worried. Aramis had seemed fine the day before yesterday when he and Porthos had gone out to look at potential places he could take Aramis to for a surprise getaway. Now, he was anything but. His lover had grown distant in the last two days. That was the only way he could describe it. He didn't actually shy away from his touch, but it was close. And he refused to be in the same room as Porthos for more than a few minutes. Not even d'Artagnan seemed to know what was bothering him. It was starting to scare Athos. A lot.

“You need to talk to him,” Porthos said as he sat down at the table across from him. Aramis was downstairs working out in his gym so they had no fear of being overheard.

“You don't think I've tried?” Athos replied tiredly. “He hardly lets me near him and if I do manage to corner him, he says he's tired and needs to rest.”

“Yeah,” Porthos nodded, having seen Aramis do just that when Athos tried to talk to him again last night. “But if you don't do something, you're gonna lose him, brother.”

Athos looked up sharply at that, the fear he felt plain to see. Porthos was right. Whatever was going on with Aramis was pulling him away from all of them. If he didn't get to the root of it soon, he would not be the only one to lose him. Athos was about to say something when d'Artagnan all but threw himself down in the chair next to him.

“He got a phone call,” d'Artagnan said after looking around to make sure Aramis was nowhere around. “Right before you got home the other day. It really upset him but he wouldn't say why or who it was that called.”

“You think that's got something to do with how he's acting?” Porthos asked.

“It has to,” d'Artagnan replied. “The only other thing was...”

“Was what?” Athos asked when d'Artagnan suddenly stopped.

D'Artagnan flushed and looked away. He didn't want to admit that they had been snooping. He hadn't meant any harm. He had actually been hoping to reassure Aramis that it was nothing to be worried about. It didn't quite work out that way, though.

“Kid, whatever it is, just tell us,” Porthos said gently. He could see that d'Artagnan was scared but they needed to know if they were going to help Aramis.

“We didn't mean any harm,” d'Artagnan said, staring resolutely at the top of the kitchen table as he spoke. “He was kind of worried when you guys just took off. I only wanted to show him it wasn't anything.”

“What did you do?” Porthos asked again, his voice soft but firm.

“We snooped through your laptop to see what you guys had been looking at,” d'Artagnan admitted.

“f*ck,” Porthos sighed then shook his head. “No. There's got to be something else. That may be adding to it but no way is it all that's causing this.”

“Do you remember anything about the phone call?” Athos asked. His heart was hammering in his chest. He knew just how wrong of a conclusion Aramis could have come to after looking through Porthos' laptop. But Porthos was right. That didn't come close to explaining all of this.

“I wasn't really listening,” d'Artagnan said dejectedly.

“C'mon, kid. Think,” Porthos urged. “Anything could help. A name...”

“A name!” D'Artagnan said quickly. “He repeated a name, It was familiar. Bell... Bella...something.”

“Bellaterra?” Athos asked.

“Yeah,” d'Artagnan nodded.

“That's one of the bed and breakfasts we looked at,” Athos said. “The one I made the reservation at.”

“The one with the little old lady that thought we were a couple?”

Athos only nodded. He had a feeling he had a good idea what had happened. If the woman had gone on to Aramis about why they were there, he supposed he couldn't blame him for thinking what he surely must be.

“He wouldn't really think you'd...” Porthos trailed off.

“Aramis, as you may have noticed, is not the most secure man in the world,” Athos replied. “Add to that his fears that I shall grow tired of waiting for him and it isn't all that hard to believe.”

It was d'Artagnan that called the Bellaterra, wanting to know exactly what was said to Aramis. By the time he hung up the phone, he wanted to scream. Or cry. “She called because you dropped your wallet,” he explained. “She remembered talking to Aramis and remarking about what a cute couple you were and how nice it was to see young people in love. She also confirmed the reservation you made for the weekend.”

“Come on,” Porthos said, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste as he stood.

“Where are we going?” Athos asked.

“Down to the gym to talk this out. He's not spending another second thinking that we...”

“Let's go,” Athos agreed.

They found Aramis in his gym going at the heavy bag like a man possessed. Athos paused, remembering the last time he had come upon get Aramis like this. He motioned for Porthos to wait then walked toward him. “Aramis?” He called out.

Aramis spun around angrily at the sound of Athos' voice. His balance was still off and he ended up having to grab onto the bag to keep from falling. The intent, however, was clear in his eyes as they flashed dangerously. Porthos took a step forward, actually worried for Athos but Athos shook his head stopping him.

“Close the door on your way out,” Athos said, the words eerily familiar to the last time as well.

“Athos...” Porthos began.

“Don't worry. I know better than to touch what is not mine,” Aramis said, his eyes meeting Porthos' before he turned away.

Athos waited until Porthos had closed the door behind him before drawing near. “Will you let me explain?” He asked carefully.

Aramis kept his back to him, knowing that if he looked at him right now he would be lost. “Why didn't you just tell me?” He asked brokenly, barely holding back a sob.

“Aramis. I love you,” Athos said, his own voice pained. He didn't blame his lover for the conclusion he had come to. He would likely have thought the same himself. He only hated the pain he was in, had been in for days now.

“And him?” Aramis forced himself to ask.

“Porthos... Porthos is my friend,” Athos tried to explain. “He's my friend and my teammate and...and my brother. He is not my lover. And he never will be.”

“The woman from the hotel...” Aramis argued but Athos cut him off.

“Was a very nice lady who got the wrong idea,” Athos continued as he slowly came up behind him. “The reservation was for us. It was a surprise for you.”

“I want to believe you,” Aramis said. He was still facing away from Athos, too afraid to look at him. Seven years of friendship and trust were screaming at him to give in, to believe Athos, but something inside him made him hesitant.

Athos stopped just behind him. He wanted so badly to reach out to him but he couldn't. Not yet. “Do you remember what you told Porthos the day we met him?” He asked as he struggled to find the right words to get through to his lover.

“I said a lot of things that day,” Aramis replied.

“You told him that you believed me. That in all the time we had known each other I had not once lied to you. Do you truly think I would do so now?”

“No,” Aramis said, shaking his head.

“Then why won't you believe me?”

Aramis hung his head, squeezing his eyes shut at the onslaught of emotions Athos' words heralded. When he felt the other man's arm slip carefully around his waist he felt something inside of him break. He tried to stop it, but a painful sob tore its way past his lips as everything came crashing in on him at once.

“Please,” Athos pleaded, his own emotions threatening to swamp him. He didn't know what to do if Aramis refused to believe him. The only thing he knew was that he would never give up. He would never stop trying to make things right.

“You are everything to me,” Aramis said, his voice low and urgent. “I am...am nothing without you. I-I-If you wish him, too, I will learn to live with it.”

“No,” Athos all but snarled, his arms tightening around the other man unconsciously.

“I would understand...”

“No,” Athos spat again. He spun Aramis around, forcing the man to face him. “I want no one but you. No one!”

“Are you certain?” Aramis asked softly. Even though he was now facing Athos, he still could not meet his eyes for fear of what he might see. “I know you...you are attracted to him.”

Athos opened his mouth to argue then stopped. Taking Aramis' chin in hand, he gently raised his head, giving him no choice but to look at him. The stark fear he saw there nearly broke his heart and he felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. “Yes,” he said calmly. “I am attracted to him, but that does not mean I want him. There are many people I am attracted to yet I do not want a relationship with them.

“Porthos is my friend. If he were to proposition me today, I would decline and not just because my heart belongs to you. I simply do not have those types of feelings for him. He is attractive, yes, but it goes no deeper than that.

“I know that you are struggling to believe me,” Athos went on when Aramis failed to speak. “I am so sorry that I have given you cause to doubt me so. If you wish us to leave here...”

“Athos, no!” Aramis gasped, shocked by his offer. After throwing their lot in with Porthos he had not expected the man to be so willing to part ways.

“If you wish us to leave,” Athos repeated slowly, “you only have to say the word. Nothing is more important to me than you are. Not Porthos. Not this team. Not even finding out what happened to my family. I will walk away from all of it, if that is what it will take for you to believe in me again.”

By the time Athos finished speaking, Aramis had started to shake. That Athos would walk away from everything just for him was almost too much for him to comprehend. He knew how badly Athos wanted answers. He needed to find out what had happened to his family. Yet he was willing to turn his back on it if that was what he needed. All at once, it was as if a fog had lifted in Aramis’ mind and he could think clearly again. He was almost overcome with shame at what he had thought of both men. He knew Athos loved him, loved him as he did no other. He couldn't understand how he had ever doubted him.

“I'm so sorry,” Aramis said earnestly as he pulled Athos to him and buried his face in his neck. Now that he was holding Athos back, he could feel the fine tremors that were running through his body was well.

“It's alright,” Athos said as relief surged through him so strongly he felt almost faint with it.

“No, it isn't,” Aramis insisted as he held his lover. “I should never have doubted you. I don't know why... I'm so sorry.”

“Shhh. It's alright,” Athos said again, trying to soothe him. “I don't blame you. Everything's alright now.”

“I love you so much,” Aramis said, his voice breaking. “I was so scared I'd lost you.”

“Never,” Athos vowed. “You will never lose me, Sweetheart. I swear it.”

It took awhile for both men to calm down enough to venture back upstairs. Aramis was ashamed of himself for thinking such a thing about Athos and Porthos. He held onto Athos' hand tightly as they came into the living room, not looking forward to facing Porthos. As it was, he need not have worried.

“Where's Porthos?” Athos asked when they walked in and found only d'Artagnan waiting for them.

“He, uh, went to go pick up your wallet,” he replied as he eyed Aramis carefully. “You guys...you get everything sorted out?”

“Yes,” Aramis replied, chagrined. “I have no excuse for my behavior...”

“You don't need one,” Athos said, refusing to allow Aramis to beat himself up over this. “It was a misunderstanding that any one of us could have made.”

“You are far too forgiving of me,” Aramis said. “I doubt Porthos will be so generous.”

“Hey,” d'Artagnan said. “Athos is right. I'd have thought the same thing. And Porthos is worried sick about you right now. It's why he left. He couldn't handle just sitting here waiting any longer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Porthos sat behind the wheel of his SUV, trying to decide what to do. He knew the kid was probably starting to worry by now. He had left over two hours ago to go pick up Athos' wallet for him. He hadn't meant to be gone so long but he had run into an old friend of his mother's and she'd had a problem. So they had gone out for a cup of coffee and he had listened to her. Once she'd finished, he had taken her home and promised her that he would look into it. The relief on her face was enough to quell any misgivings he had. It was likely nothing, or at least nothing that fell under his auspices, but he would check it out all the same.

Now, he was sitting outside the loft in his truck trying to decide if he should go up or not. After talking to the lady at the Bellaterra himself, he understood how Aramis could have come to think what he did. No matter how much he understood it, though, it still stung to know that the man thought he would do that to him. Still, he only had himself to blame for the rocky start the pair of them had gotten off to. If Aramis wasn't able to trust him completely yet, that just meant he needed to work at it a bit harder.

He contemplated calling the kid on his cell just to get an idea of what he might be walking into. If Athos was still talking with Aramis, still trying to get through to him, then Porthos didn't want to walk in and screw anything up. If Athos was still trying to convince him after this long, though, the likelihood of him succeeding was slim at best and Porthos' presence probably wouldn't make much difference either way.

Knowing he couldn't stay in his truck all night, he got out and headed inside. The thought that he could very well lose his fledgling team over this was niggling at the back of his mind but he steadfastly ignored it. These men weren't just his team, they were becoming his family. He wasn't going to let them go without a fight.

Porthos made sure to make enough noise opening the door that there was no way he could surprise anyone. If Aramis still couldn't tolerate his company, he wanted to give the man enough time to make himself scarce. He hoped that wasn't the case but he wanted to be prepared regardless.

When he finally came into the living room, he found d'Artagnan working on something at the kitchen table while Athos and Aramis sat on the couch. He took in their tightly clasped hands and breathed a sigh of relief. Athos had managed to get through to him somewhat at least.

“We were starting to get worried,” d'Artagnan said without looking up from whatever he was currently building.

“Sorry,” Porthos said. He pulled Athos' wallet from his jacket pocket and tossed it to the man. “I ran into one of my mom's friends. She had something she needed to talk to me about.”

“Is everything alright?” Athos asked, frowning slightly at the deliberate distance Porthos seemed to be keeping from them.

“Yeah. Might have a job, though. It's probably nothing but I told her I'd look into it.” He started to say something else but stopped when Aramis let go of Athos' hand and stood.

Aramis approached him almost warily. He was embarrassed by how he had acted, practically accusing the man of sleeping with Athos behind his back. He knew his relationship with Porthos was not the strongest but the man did not deserve such suspicion from him.

“Aramis?” Porthos asked when he approached.

“Would you join me on the balcony?” Aramis asked.

“Ah, sure,” Porthos said as he followed him.

Aramis waited for Porthos to join him then closed the door. He wanted to afford Porthos the privacy to say what he wished without worry about Athos overhearing. Once the door was closed, he sat down in one of the chairs and waited for Porthos to do the same before he began.

“I wanted to apologize to you for my behavior of late,” Aramis began, his face flushing in shame. “I had no right to act the way I did. I am sorry.”

“Aramis,” Porthos huffed, visibly relaxing now that he understood why Aramis had asked to speak with him. “It's alright. I get it. After talking to the lady, I can't blame you for coming to the conclusion that you did. I know you don't exactly trust me and that's my own fault. But there's nothing like that between me and Athos and there never will be.”

“I know that,” Aramis said. “I do. But I also see the attraction between the two of you. The connection. And I cannot help but wonder what that might become over time.”

Porthos stared at him, taken aback somewhat. He understood what Aramis meant about the connection he had formed with Athos but he would not call it attraction. At least not on his part. “Yeah,” he agreed, choosing his words carefully. “We connected, right from the start. But it's not that kind of connection. I don't see him that way. I know you don't believe me...”

“I do,” Aramis cut in. “I just wonder how you can possibly not see him that way. He is...he is everything to me. He has been for years, though I would not admit it to myself. That he could somehow be less to anyone else is difficult for me to fathom.”

“Aramis,” Porthos chided fondly. “I see him as a brother. Same as I do you and the kid. But even more importantly, Athos is devoted to you. He would never hurt you. Not intentionally. And neither would I.”

Aramis closed his eyes as he wrestled with his emotions. He knew part of it was due to how tired he was, his sleep being anything but restful of late. Still, Porthos’ forgiveness, his willingness to look past Aramis’ unfounded accusations, humbled him.

“Come on, brother,” Porthos said as he took Aramis by the arm. He could feel how chilled the man’s skin was and frowned. “Let’s get you back inside before you come down sick again. If you want to talk more there, we can.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said. He covered Porthos’ hand on his arm and squeezed it. “You are a good man, my friend, and I am so very sorry I doubted you.”

“This wasn’t your fault. Anyone would have thought the same thing. Now come on, you look like you’re about ready to fall over. Are you having trouble sleeping again?”

“A bit,” Aramis admitted, flushing slightly. “My dreams have been… unpleasant of late.”

“I’m sorry, brother,” Porthos told him. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up. Then maybe Athos can help you get some actual rest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie lay curled in a tight ball. She had tucked herself into the farthest corner of the highest shelf of the bookcase and hissed menacingly at anyone who dared approach her. She was enraged! How dare the Survivor take the Priest away now! He was almost within her grasp. Even his vaulted purity would not protect him, not if she could establish enough of a link between them. And she was close. She had sowed the seeds of doubt in him, making him think his precious lover had betrayed him.

He had managed to shake off her influence in the end but that mattered little. The fact that she had established enough of a link to influence him, that was the important part. And now...now when she should be strengthening her hold even more, he was being whisked away well out of her reach. She would be lucky if she did not have to begin the entire process over again. If that happened, she promised herself she would make him pay for it. Dearly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Aramis asked as he finished packing. After the way he had behaved, he would not blame Athos for simply cancelling the whole thing.

“Very,” Athos replied as he closed his own bag and went over to his lover. “I love you. I want to take you away somewhere, just the two of us. I let you forget how much you mean to me. I don't plan on doing so again.”

“That wasn't your fault,” Aramis said as he gratefully let Athos pull him close.

“Yes, it was,” Athos said. “Maybe not completely, but it would never have reached that stage if I was treating you like I should.”

“Athos, no,” Aramis said, shaking his head and drawing back so he could look at him. “I don't know why I thought what I did, but it certainly wasn't your fault. I don't even know what I was thinking really. Those days, they all seem like a blur now.”

Athos could tell Aramis was starting to grow agitated so he let the matter drop for now. Aramis seemed to get upset whenever he tried to explain himself and why he had acted as he had. In truth, Athos was a bit worried that there was something Aramis wasn't telling him. His genuine distress, however, made him refuse to push the issue. Suffice it to say, he would be a good deal more diligent where his lover was concerned from here on out.

The drive to the Bellaterra wasn't a long one and Athos found himself getting nervous the closer they got to it. He knew it wasn't overly rational of him but he worried about Aramis meeting the proprietress. After everything, he didn't want to take a chance on anything else upsetting him. Like little old ladies going on and on about the other young man he had come here with.

Sensing Athos' growing dread, Aramis reached out and took his free hand. “It will be alright,” he said quietly. “I will not doubt you again.”

“Sorry,” Athos said, gripping his hand. “I just don't want anything to upset you this weekend.”

“As long as I am with you, little else matters.”

When they got there, Mrs. Walsh was once again at the front desk. She seemed surprised to see a completely different man with Athos. He explained about the apparent mixup, though he left out the near catastrophic results. Mrs. Walsh apologized profusely for her mistake and Aramis himself assured her that no lasting harm had been done.

Ten minutes later, they were safely alone inside their room. Athos set his bag next to the bureau then took Aramis' and set it aside as well. He took another moment to make sure the door was securely locked then turned back to his lover. Locking eyes with Aramis, he strode forward until he was right in front of him, their chests nearly touching. He reached down and took Aramis' hands in his own and held them both.

“I love you,” he said earnestly. “I love you more than anyone or anything in this world. Just being your friend would have been worth everything to me. That you return my feelings, that you love me back, is more than I ever dreamed of.”

"Athos," Aramis whispered, tears pricking his eyes. He leaned forward, closing the scant space between them and pressed his head against Athos' shoulder. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He loved this man so much. That he had thought, for even a second, that he would betray him actually hurt Aramis.

"I love you, Sweetheart," Athos said again. He let go of his hands then and wrapped his arms around him. He felt Aramis immediately do the same and pressed his cheek against the side of his head. "I love you and I refuse to lose you now that I finally have you."

"You won't lose me," Aramis told him without lifting his head. "Even if...even if you had...had wanted... I would never have left you. You're everything to me, Athos."

"Oh love," Athos whispered tightening his arms around him even more. "That you would endure such a thing for me... I would never do that to you."

"I know," Aramis said. "I know you wouldn't. Just as you know that nothing you do or say will ever make me leave you."

"Enough of this," Athos said, feeling his own eyes sting with tears. He could not believe that Aramis would endure something like that for him, that he would allow Athos to treat him so callously and still remain by his side.

Aramis could hear how upset Athos was getting and raised his head to look at him. He stared into his eyes, taking in all of the love and trust and awe that Athos felt. He only hoped that Athos could read his own feelings as easily. He loved this man so much and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by his side. A thought occurred to him then as he thought of all the ways he belonged to this man and all the ways he still did not. That was something he could certainly do something about and he fully intended to.

"What is it?" Athos asked. He had seen the exact moment when Aramis' eyes grew determined, though he had no idea what it was in regards to.

"I would like it, very much, if you would make love to me," Aramis said keeping his eyes locked with Athos' own.

"And by make love you mean..."

"I want you to take me," Aramis clarified. "I want to give myself to you completely. I no longer wish to be the resident virgin as it were. What I wish, is to be yours, in every conceivable way."

"Aramis, you don't have to do this," Athos said as he tried to get his body to calm down. As much as his libido would like nothing more, he did not want Aramis to do this because he felt he had to. He would wait for his lover for as long as he needed. He only wished Aramis would believe that.

"I know that," Aramis said, smiling softly. "You would never pressure me into doing something I did not want to or was not ready for. I want this, Athos. I want you."

"I want you, too. But I don't want you to do this because you think you're taking too long or something. As far as I'm concerned, we never have to have penetrative sex. Not if you don't want to."

"And if I do want to?" Aramis asked. "If I want to for me, because I wish to take that step with you?"

"Then I would be honored to share that with you," Athos told him. "Just promise me you're not doing this because you're afraid of losing me."

"I swear to you, that is not why I want to do this," Aramis assured him. "The only reason I want to do this is because I want to share that experience with you. I want to be yours, in every way."

Athos leaned in and slowly covered Aramis' mouth with his own. He groaned when Aramis opened his mouth to him. He held back for a second then opened his own mouth, letting his tongue come out and stroke across his lover's parted lips. He felt a tremor run through his lover then his tongue was there, stroking hesitantly against Athos'. Letting go of Aramis, he sank both hands in his hair and kissed him deeply, pressing his tongue inside his mouth, tasting every inch of him he could.

Aramis groaned loudly when Athos' tongue pushed into his mouth. When Athos fisted his hands in his hair, gripping him and holding him in place while he took his mouth, his knees nearly buckled and he had to grip onto Athos' waist. He could feel his co*ck hardening as Athos kissed him, the feelings all still so new that he had little resistance.

"I want you," Athos breathed as he broke their kiss. They were both panting and he knew he needed to get a handle on things before they spiraled out of control. He would not have Aramis' first time be some desperate fumbling encounter. He wanted to lay his lover out on the bed and worship him from top to bottom until he was a writhing, begging mess. Only then would he finally take him.

"I am yours," Aramis panted, their mouths so close their breath mingled.

"Yes, you are," Athos said. "You are mine and I intend to spend the entire night loving you as you deserve to be loved. Will you let me do that, Sweetheart? Will you let me take my time and make this night perfect for you?"

"It's already perfect," Aramis said. "Just being here, like this, with you makes it perfect. But I am yours, my Athos. Do with me as you will."

Athos groaned and kissed him again. He pressed his entire body against him, making sure he could feel his hardness. That Aramis was equally hard only made Athos hotter. He wanted to strip Aramis naked and cover his body with kisses. He wanted to drop to his knees and take him into his mouth. He wanted to hold him and stroke him and press his fingers inside of him as he carefully prepared him for what was to come. And he wanted Aramis to do all of that to him, as well. He would gladly spread his legs for his lover. In fact, he was eager to feel Aramis take him that way. In the past, it was not an act he had cared much for, being on the receiving end of things, but with Aramis he found himself looking forward to the experience.

"Athos," Aramis moaned, tearing his mouth away. His co*ck was hard and aching in his pants from Athos' kisses alone. "If you do not stop, you are going to make me come in my pants."

"And if I want you to come in your pants?" Athos all but growled into his ear.

"Then keep kissing me as you have been," Aramis told him honestly. "You enflame me. I have no defenses against you and I want none. If you want me to come in my pants like a schoolboy, I... I will not tell you no."

"I want you to come in my mouth," Athos said, pleased when Aramis' dark eyes widened then went darker still. "Can I do that, Aramis? Can I suck your co*ck until you come in my mouth, just like you did for me?"

"Yes," Aramis moaned helplessly. "Anything. Any way you want me."

Knowing he needed to get them stripped down and on the bed before they ended up in a heap on the floor, Athos reluctantly pulled back. The fact that Aramis was giving himself to him, was placing his body completely in Athos' hands, was making it hard to think. He needed to step back for a minute, though, to get himself under control. Aramis was trusting him in this and Athos was not going to disappoint him.

"You are so beautiful," Athos said as he took his hand and walked him over to the bed. He stopped next to it and began slowly undoing the buttons on Aramis' shirt. When he had it open, he pushed it down off his lover's shoulders, letting it drop onto the floor. He leaned up and covered Aramis' mouth again relishing in the feel of his bare skin under his hands as he ran them up and down Aramis' back.

Pulling back, Athos rested his hands on Aramis' belt. "Okay?" He asked, waiting. He knew Aramis wanted this as much as he did, but didn't want him to become overwhelmed. He wanted him to know he had a choice, even now. If he suddenly changed his mind, Athos would not hesitate to stop.

"Please," Aramis said, suddenly eager to be out of the tight constraints of his clothes. He wanted to be naked, to feel Athos' body against his, skin to skin.

Smiling, Athos undid his pants. He dropped to his knees, causing Aramis to suck in a breath, then began pushing his pants down his legs. Once they were pooled at his ankles, he slipped off his shoes and helped him to step out of them leaving his boxers on for now.

Once Aramis was down to just his underwear, Athos stood back up. He started to unbutton his own shirt, but Aramis stopped him, covering his hands with his own. "Let me," he said, wanting to be the one to do it. Athos nodded, dropping his hands to his sides and waited.

"I am not the beautiful one," Aramis said as he slipped Athos' shirt down and off his shoulders. He stopped then and simply looked at the other man, taking in the sight of his lover's body. Athos' solid body never failed to stir him and this time was no exception. Before he could stop himself, he reached forward and rubbed his thumb over one taut nipple, earning him a moan of pleasure.

"Aramis," Athos gasped as desire coursed through him. All at once, he found himself on the brink of throwing the other man down on the bed and ravishing him. He had to go so far as to ball his hands into fists to stay still for him.

"Sorry," Aramis grinned impishly. His smile let Athos know that he was in no way actually sorry. Athos' shirt taken care of, he copied his lover's actions and unfastened his pants. He paused for a moment then dropped to his knees to help Athos out of his clothes, leaving Athos in nothing but his boxers as well.

Athos managed not to groan aloud when Aramis went to his knees before him, but it was a near thing. As soon as he was standing again, Athos took him by the arms and bore him back onto the bed. Aramis went willingly, smiling shyly at him as he sat down then moved back to make room for his lover. Athos wasted no time in crawling in next to Aramis and soon both men were stretched out, Aramis flat on his back and Athos propped up on one elbow beside him.

Looking down at his lover, Athos saw the wealth of trust in Aramis' dark eyes. He stroked his cheek, letting his thumb trail over his slightly reddened lips. Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep, savoring the taste and feel of him as he took his time simply kissing him.

Aramis felt himself start to shake as Athos leaned over him, kissing him. He could feel his lover's body pressed against his side. The feel of their skin touching never failed to arouse him to one degree or another, but like this, with Athos taking such thorough possession of his mouth, it was making him ache.

Needing to be more active, he slid his arm underneath Athos so he could wrap it around his back. He held the man to him then, refusing to let him pull away. With his free hand, he reached down and squeezed his aching erection, attempting to calm himself somewhat. While Athos had teased him about making him come in his pants, he did not think the man actually wanted him to do so and he was dangerously close.

When Athos felt Aramis' arm snake under and around him, holding him pressed in tight to his side, he barely held back a groan. That Aramis wanted this, wanted him, was still something he found hard to believe. It was his most fervent dream come true and he vowed to himself to never take what they had for granted.

With a last nip to Aramis' lips, Athos pulled back from their kiss. He rested his forehead against his lover's as they both panted. A quick glance down Aramis' body showed him to be as aroused as Athos himself was. That only served to fuel the fire for Athos and he ground his erection against his lover's hip, wanting him to feel how affected he was simply from kissing him.

"Athos," Aramis moaned when he felt him press his erection into his hip. His body was on fire. He wanted to feel his lover touching him, taking him. And while part of him was nervous about what was to come, he still longed for it. He longed for Athos to take him, to possess him, to claim him as his own. Never had he wanted to be owned by another, to belong to someone heart and body and soul. Not until Athos. Now, he found himself yearning for it.

"What do you want?" Athos asked softly as he stroked Aramis' jaw again. "Tell me, Sweetheart. Tell me and I'll make it yours."

"I want...want so much," Aramis said as he struggled to put his desires into words, the fire inside of him making it hard to think clearly.

"I'll give it to you," Athos promised. "Everything you want. Do you want to take me? Is that it? You can. You can have me any way you want."

"No," Aramis shook his head slightly. "Not...not yet."

"Then tell me what you want," Athos urged.

"You," Aramis finally managed. "I want you to...to take me. I want to be yours. To belong to you. I want you to...to own me."

Athos stilled as Aramis' words slammed into him. The thought of taking this man, of making him his as Aramis was asking him to, made his co*ck throb. He had never been the possessive type, but with Aramis he found himself wanting to possess him, to own him as Aramis was all but begging him to.

"You do not have to..."

"Do you have any idea how much I want that?" Athos asked, interrupting Aramis before he could say more. "I have never wanted to...to do that before, to claim another as my own, to take on the responsibility of them. Not until you came along and turned my life upside down. You taught me how to live again when I didn't think such a thing was possible."

"I love you," Aramis replied, his words choked with emotion. "You are everything to me. I would happily devote the rest of my life to pleasing you, to making you happy. There is no one else on this earth that I would give myself to willingly. No one save you."

"You always make me happy. You have since the day we met. You don't have to do this if you're not ready. You don't ever have to give yourself to me like this. Not if you don't want to."

"I want to," Aramis assured him. "I want to more than almost anything. I want to feel you claiming me."

Unable to resist, Athos rolled on top of Aramis. He cradled his skull in his hands, wrapping them in his hair and tipping his head back. Then he was kissing him again. This time, however, his kiss was forceful, demanding. If Aramis wanted him to claim him, then he would do so. Before he was finished, his lover would know who he belonged to. Before he was finished, Athos would lay claim to every inch of him.

Aramis tried to buck up but Athos' weight held him to the bed. He could feel Athos' erection pressing into his thigh, so close to his own. His arms wrapped around his lover, holding him for a moment before Aramis scratched his blunt nails all down his back.

Athos nearly shouted when he felt Aramis' nails scrape down his back. He ground his co*ck against him hard and tightened his fists in his lover's hair. Pulling back, he bared Aramis' throat to him and began sucking and biting his way across his jaw. When he finally reached his neck, he began to suck hard, intent on leaving his mark on this man for everyone to see. He knew his lover would likely blush every time someone saw it, but he didn't care. Aramis wanted him to claim him and Athos would begin by making sure he wore his mark.

Aramis cried out when Athos latched onto his neck, sucking hard. He could practically feel the mark his lover was leaving behind. Part of him was embarrassed by it, by the blatant evidence of their actions, but a larger part of him thrilled at it. Athos was laying claim to him, putting his visible mark on him, making sure everyone knew that Aramis was owned.

"You're mine," Athos whispered into his ear when he finally released his neck. He glanced down at the mark he had left and was pleased by the livid purple he saw staining his lover's neck. He had placed it high enough that it would show no matter what Aramis did to try to cover it.

"Please," Aramis begged as he lay beneath Athos, panting. His lover was still holding his head back, forcing him to bare his neck to him. He knew he could break the hold easily enough if he wanted to, but he did not want that.

"Please what?" Athos asked, raising up enough so he could stare down into Aramis' eyes.

"Anything," Aramis gasped. "Anything. Please..."

"Shhh. Easy," Athos soothed. He knew they needed to calm down a bit. He didn't want to rush this. As much as Aramis said he wanted to be claimed, to be owned, Athos still refused to cause him pain in this. Releasing his head, he pushed himself up so that he was sitting astride Aramis' legs. One glance down his flushed body told him that his lover was close to losing control. While Athos intended to make him come before he took him, he was not quite ready for him to yet.

"Athos, please," Aramis begged, unsure what he was actually begging for. All he knew was that he was burning up and Athos was the only one who could save him.

"I want to take my time with you," Athos said as he continued to straddle him, effectively holding Aramis to the bed. "I want to taste you absolutely everywhere. I want to worship you with my hands and mouth. Will you let me do that, Aramis? Will you let me lay worship to you, Sweetheart?"

"Yes," Aramis nearly sobbed. "Yes, anything. I... I am yours."

"Will you do what I tell you to?" Athos asked, Aramis' words of claiming and ownership giving him an idea.

"Always," Aramis replied.

"You are so good to me," Athos said, smiling down at him. "Now, I want you to lift your arms over your head and take hold of the headboard. I want you to keep your hands there. Don't take them down unless you want me to stop what I'm doing. Okay?"

"Yes. Yes, okay," Aramis nodded eagerly. He reached up and took hold of one of the bars that made up the scrollwork of the headboard. Licking his lips, he looked up at Athos, waiting for his lover to begin whatever it was he had in mind.

Athos spent a few moments just looking at Aramis. His lover looked amazing all stretched out beneath him, his strong arms gripping onto the headboard tightly. Aramis wasn't bound, he could let go any time he chose to, but Athos knew he would not. He would not let go unless he truly needed Athos to stop. Such trust, such willingness to put himself into his hands, made Athos heady with lust. Enough just looking, though. There were much more pleasant things he could do than simply look at his beautiful lover.

Leaning down again, Athos placed a single kiss to Aramis' lips. From there, he began to kiss his way along his jaw again, all the way down to the darkening mark he had left on him. He placed a gentle kiss on it, knowing it would likely be a bit sore, then continued his downward path until he came to the juncture of Aramis' neck and shoulder.

Athos started out gently. He knew this spot was a bit sensitive for Aramis. Not wanting to overwhelm him, he bit down softly, pressing his teeth in but not biting down. He felt Aramis go stiff beneath him then buck up hard as he turned his head to the side, giving Athos better access. Athos didn't hesitate, he bit down harder, letting his teeth dig in then sucked hard. He was rewarded by a keening moan from his lover that made his own co*ck twitch.

Aramis felt electricity sizzle along his nerves as Athos bit down. They had already known he was somewhat sensitive there but he had never imagined it would feel so good. It was like whatever Athos was doing was going straight from his neck to his co*ck. Aramis tried to writhe, tried to buck up, but Athos' weight made it so he could barely move. Instead, he turned his head to the side and allowed Athos to do as he wished.

Aramis' obvious pleasure was thrilling and Athos redoubled his efforts on his neck. He knew he was likely leaving another mark but he didn't care. He would gladly cover Aramis in his marks if the man would allow it. And it seemed that Aramis would not only allow it but wanted him to.

"Athos... Athos..." Aramis gasped, tightening his grip on the headboard. "I'm going to come. If you don't stop..."

With a great deal of reluctance, Athos relinquished Aramis' neck. He fully intended to make the man come but he wanted it to be in his mouth not his boxers. He gave him a few seconds to calm down then began kissing his way down his chest. He stopped at his nipples, taking one pert nub into his mouth. He licked around it then bit down gently earning him a gasp and whimper from the man.

"Mmm," Athos smiled slyly as he blew across the damp nub making Aramis shiver. "I love how responsive you are. I love making you cry out, knowing it's from my touch and my touch alone."

"No one but you," Aramis panted.

Athos met his eyes and smiled softly. He stretched forward and placed another kiss to his lover's lips then returned to his chest. He kept kissing and sucking until the other nipple was just as red and swollen as the first and Aramis was whimpering steadily. Sitting up, Athos paused then moved off of Aramis' legs to sit beside him.

"I want you naked," he said as he ran a finger under the waistband of his boxers. "May I?"

"Please," Aramis nodded enthusiastically. He was more than ready to be out of the last of his confining clothes.

Athos carefully peeled his boxers down his legs and off, dropping them over the side of the bed. Now that Aramis was naked, he spread his legs and came to sit between them, pushing his thighs wide to accommodate him. He spent a bit longer just looking at his lover again, taking in the flush that spread all the way down his body now. His nipples were still red and puffy from his earlier ministrations and the two marks he had left on his neck stood out darkly. Satisfied with his work so far, he crawled over him and began to once more kiss his way down Aramis' chest and stomach until he reached his navel.

Athos kissed all around Aramis' navel, enjoying the way his stomach muscles jumped each time his lips touched him. He placed a last kiss directly over it then let his tongue slip out to dip inside. Aramis' reaction was immediate. He shouted and bucked up hard, the action driving Athos' tongue even deeper. Moaning himself, Athos began to lave the shallow indentation, driving his tongue in deeply as he sought to taste him.

Aramis was trying his best not to shake as Athos drove his tongue into his navel. It was the most intense sensation he had ever felt and he struggled to maintain his grip on the headboard. His co*ck was throbbing with each press of Athos' clever tongue. He knew if he kept this up for very long, he would come no matter how much he tried to hold back.

To say Athos was enjoying himself would be an understatement. Tasting Aramis like this was Heaven. He could taste the tang of his sweat as he trembled beneath him. It was a taste he knew he would never grow tired of. In fact, he was having a hard time pulling himself away even knowing how close Aramis was getting. In the end, he finally managed it, telling himself he would have plenty of time later to make Aramis come from just this.

Aramis breathed a sigh of relief when Athos finally relented. He knew it would not be long before his lover was tormenting him anew and he struggled to calm himself as much as he could. He knew Athos was purposely prolonging his exquisite torture, doing his best to drive him out of his mind with pleasure before he even came close to actually taking him.

Athos paused, giving himself a chance to calm as well as Aramis. He didn't wait long, though, wanting to keep his lover teetering on the brink for as long as he possibly could. Placing a last kiss on his navel, he began to kiss his way downward, following the trail of dark hair that led south. He made sure to avoid Aramis' red and swollen co*ck at first, kissing all around it. Finally unable to wait any longer, he licked a single stripe along the length of him.

"Athos!" Aramis cried out as he felt his lover's tongue caress his aching flesh. He tried to buck, trying mindlessly to push himself closer to the source of his pleasure, but Athos' hands clamped down on his hips holding him in place. He let out a frustrated sob as he realized that Athos was nowhere near done playing with him.

"What is it?" Athos asked, his voice low and thick with desire. "Tell me what you want."

"Your mouth," Aramis answered at once. "Please."

"My mouth how?" Athos pressed, wanting more than anything to hear Aramis asking him for this.

"Suck me," Aramis moaned, his face flushing hotly as he said the words. "Please. Please, suck my co*ck."

Athos moaned himself then. To hear Aramis asking him for this, saying those words to him, begging for his mouth was almost too much. Releasing his hips, he reached down and took his lover's erection in hand. Holding it steady, he opened his mouth and took Aramis inside of him for the first time.

Aramis thrust up hard, mindless in his intent to bury himself in the wet heat that engulfed him. Athos moved with him, though, keeping little more than the head of his co*ck in his mouth. Aramis thrashed his head back and forth as sensations roiled through him, one after the other, almost faster than he could process. He was shaking and covered in sweat. All he knew was that he couldn't let go of the headboard. Not if he wanted this wonderful onslaught to continue.

Holding Aramis' co*ck inside his mouth, Athos swirled his tongue around the head. The taste of his lover exploded in his mouth and he moaned softly. He had never tasted Aramis like this before. Athos knew it was a taste he would never get enough of and began sucking him in earnest, almost desperate to make him come in his mouth so he could taste him that way as well.

It wasn't long before Aramis' co*ck was swelling even more in Athos' mouth letting him know his lover was close. He took him in as far as he could then, swallowing around the head as he did so. He was rewarded with an abortive thrust by Aramis as he cried out and began to come. Wanting to taste him, Athos pulled back so that only the head was in his mouth. He moaned when he tasted Arami's come on his tongue, the vibration causing Aramis to try to thrust yet again.

Finally, Aramis' co*ck stopped pulsing. Even then, Athos didn't let him go. Instead, he ran his tongue all around the head, cleaning away every last trace of his lover's essence. By the time he finally released him, Aramis was panting and shaking, his entire body overly sensitized. Athos moved off of him, coming to rest on his side next to him. He reached up and gently took Aramis' hands down from the headboard, rubbing his arms to try to ease him.

As soon as Aramis could make his limbs obey, he wrapped his arms around Athos and pulled him in against him. He was still shaking, too overloaded with sensation to be able to calm yet. Having Athos in his arms helped, though, so he simply held him.

"It's alright," Athos whispered as Aramis held him. He held him back as best he could, aware that Aramis was overwhelmed by what he had just experienced.

"Will you..." Aramis began softly only to trail off, a hot flush stealing over him once more.

"What, Sweetheart?" Athos asked, eager to give his lover whatever he might want.

"Kiss me?" Aramis asked hesitantly. "I want... I want to taste myself...in your mouth."

Athos moaned at the very thought of Aramis tasting himself in such a way. He quickly pushed up onto his elbow then leaned down and kissed his lover. He pressed his tongue into his mouth then used it to coax Aramis' own out. Soon Aramis was licking into his mouth and moaning at the taste of his own seed on his lover's tongue.

They kissed for long minutes, giving Athos' arousal a chance to abate a bit and giving Aramis' body a chance to calm. Even this was further than Aramis had ever gone before and Athos wanted to give him a bit to simply enjoy it. He wasn't finished with his lover, not by far, but Aramis' body could only take so much. He would give him a little while to settle down then he could continue. There were, after all, still parts of Aramis he had yet to taste. He planned to remedy that as soon as possible.

Aramis could not get enough of the taste of himself in his lover's mouth. That Athos had taken him into himself like that amazed him. He knew he had done the same thing to Athos once before but it seemed like so much more when Athos did it for him. It wasn't that he did not expect Athos to be willing to do such a thing, but his eagerness for it and clear enjoyment of it, surprised him a little.

"What is it?" Athos asked when he drew back. He could tell something was on his lover's mind and wanted to make sure he wasn't distressed in some way.

"I was just thinking how amazed I was that you did that," Aramis told him.

Athos frowned slightly at Aramis' words. "Did you think I would not?"

"No," Aramis said quickly. "I knew you would be quite willing. I just did not expect you to, well, enjoy it as much as you did."

"Didn't you enjoy it when you did it?" Athos asked, suddenly worried that Aramis had forced himself to do something he did not want to.

"Oh yes," Aramis said. "But you are not me. Saying it aloud, I realize how silly it sounds."

"I am not so different from you," Athos said, smiling fondly. "And there is no act with you that I do not find immensely enjoyable. At least none that I can think of."

"And are there many acts that you have thought of doing with me?" Aramis asked teasingly.

"You have no idea," Athos replied. "I haven't even finished tasting you yet."

"I am fairly certain you have tasted me everywhere there is. What else could you possibly taste on me, love?"

Athos found himself blushing now as he thought about exactly where he still wanted to taste Aramis. He knew his lover would likely be shocked if he told him. Possibly even too shocked to enjoy it. Wanting Aramis to at least give it a try, he thought the best course of action might be to skip the explanation and simply go for it.

"How about if I just show you?" Athos suggested.

Aramis stared at Athos for a moment then slowly lifted his arms above his head to grasp onto the headboard once more. "I am yours," he said.

"Yes, you are," Athos said as he rose up over him then settled back between his spread legs. "And before we leave here, you will have no doubt of it."

Still unsure just what Athos intended, Aramis watched as he pushed his legs up. He flushed at being splayed open like this, his body completely bared to his lover. He sucked in a breath when Athos leaned down and placed a kiss on the head of his softened co*ck. His co*ck tried in vain to respond as Athos trailed gentle kisses all down it until he reached his balls.

Athos spent a little time licking and sucking Aramis' balls. He was careful not to be too forceful, understanding his lover was still quite sensitive. When he released them and pushed Aramis' thighs up he saw him frown in confusion. Athos hid his smirk as he leant down and slowly swiped his tongue over Aramis' bared hole.

Aramis was in shock. He could not believe that Athos was licking him there. He had never imagined such a thing. The pure lecherousness of it had him blushing deeply even as his body could not help but respond. He had a second to prepare as Athos breath ghosted over his exposed hole then his lover's tongue was right there, licking across him and sending wild frissons of desire all throughout him.

Athos had felt Aramis go suddenly still and paused briefly, giving the man time to take in what he had done. When Aramis blushed crimson yet made no move to let go of the headboard, Athos relaxed. Going back to his task, he breathed across Aramis' damp hole before swiping his tongue over it once more. This time, he did not stop at a single swipe. He ran his tongue all around his lover's hole, laving it as Aramis began to shake once more.

"You taste so good," Athos said as he pulled back, giving his lover another chance to calm. "I could do this all day and still not get enough of it."

"A-A-Athos..." Aramis stammered. He was beyond words. Athos' tongue was driving him wild, making his spent co*ck twitch. He wasn't sure which he was more, turned on or mortified by Athos' actions. That his lover would do something so... That he would find such pleasure in it... Aramis didn't know what to think.

"Can I taste you some more?" Athos asked, giving Aramis the choice. "Please, tell me I can. I want to taste you like this so badly."

"I... I-I-I am yours," Aramis barely managed to get out.

With a long, low moan Athos bent his head back down and began licking at his hole once more. He didn't hesitate, stroking over it until he felt Aramis start to relax. Only then did he press his tongue directly against it and push inward, breaching his lover's body for the very first time.

Athos kept at it, pushing his tongue in little by little. Aramis was all but writhing beneath him, his head thrashing from side to side as he struggled to hold on to both the headboard and his sanity. Athos knew he could not keep this up for long, not without completely overwhelming him. Reluctantly, he began to back off, letting his tongue slip free of his lover and placing tender kisses to both his quivering thighs.

"Athos... Athos, please," Aramis begged when Athos finally stopped his wicked torment.

"What? What do you want, Sweetheart?"

"Kiss me," Aramis panted. "Please, kiss me."

Athos hesitated, unsure if Aramis truly wanted him to kiss him after what he had just done. He started to ask him but the almost wild look in Aramis' eyes stopped him. Surging up and over his lover, he kissed Aramis deeply, letting him taste himself on his tongue yet again.

Aramis opened himself to Athos, letting the man kiss him as he would. He could taste a sharp, musky flavor on Athos' tongue and realized it was himself he was tasting. This was what Athos had tasted when he had licked him...there. This was what Athos had all but begged to be allowed to taste. That Athos wanted him so much, in so many ways, made Aramis' heart swell in his chest. He had never imagined a love as strong as this, had never imagined desiring another person beyond all reason. Yet that was what he had found with Athos. It was a miracle he would forever be thankful of.

Athos finally broke their kiss, pulling away but staying close to him. He could see the shock in his lover's eyes and it made his heart clench. "There is no part of you I do not want, crave even. You are as essential to me as air. I want to lay worship to you over and over again."

"I want... I want that too," Aramis husked. "I want everything with you. I want you to...to have me, to take me any way you wish. I meant it when I said I am yours. I am just a bit surprised at the depth of your own desire."

"Oh Sweetheart, if I could I would crawl inside you and never come out," Athos said. "Do you feel up to continuing now or do you need a few more minutes?"

"I can go on," Aramis said then chuckled. "It's a shame you didn't pack some rope. Then I wouldn't have to worry about letting go of the headboard."

Athos had to close his eyes against the image Aramis' words invoked. The thought of his lover tied to the bed made his balls tighten dangerously. He knew Aramis was only teasing but the man had no idea how much that very thought appealed to him.

"I see," Aramis said, licking his lips nervously as he took in Athos' sudden change in demeanor. "I had not meant... That is... If you wish..."

"No," Athos croaked. "At least not now. As I said, there is no way I do not want you and the thought of you spread out, rendered helpless before me, is quite affecting. I do not wish to frighten you, though. You know I would never..."

"Of course I do," Aramis said, cutting him off. "And you could never frighten me. Make me apprehensive, perhaps, but only because the experience is such a new one for me. I am not afraid of you, my Athos, and I never shall be."

"I love you so much," Athos said, his voice turning rough with emotion once more. Giving Aramis a last, quick kiss, he got up and walked over to the bags he had set beside the bureau. He located the lube and condoms he had packed and carried them both back to the bed.

"Do we truly need to use those?" Aramis asked as he eyed the condoms in Athos' hand.

"Not if you don't want to," Athos told him. "I'm clean. I was always adamant about using them the few times I did have penetrative sex."

"Oh. If you want to use them now..."

"I don't," Athos told him honestly. "But it's up to you. I don't plan on having any other lover. Ever. If you want to forego the condoms, we can."

"There will never be another for me either. I want to feel you, not latex," Aramis said firmly.

With a grin, Athos tossed the condoms over the side of the bed. It made him somewhat nervous to do this bare. He had never taken another like that, not even as a teenager. It was a huge commitment but he was more than willing to for Aramis' sake.

"Alright, Sweetheart, I need you to stay nice and relaxed for me," Athos said as he positioned himself between Aramis' spread thighs.

"I am not made of glass," Aramis grinned up at him.

"I know," Athos said. "But I don't want to hurt you. Not in this. Not in anything really."

Aramis swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. Athos always took such care with him. He should have known that would extend even here. Especially here. This was not just sex for either one of them and Athos would never forgive himself if he ended up causing him pain.

Athos could see the effect his words had on his lover and refrained from saying anything else. Instead, he took up the lube and began to warm some on his fingers. Pushing one of Aramis' legs back, he let his slippery fingers stroke all along his lover's cleft. He watched Aramis' eyes widen at the feel of his finger there but he didn't pull away. Rather, he simply ran his fingers up and down, slicking over him completely.

"Athos," Aramis gasped, the word sounding as if it had been punched out of him. His fingers felt so very different than his tongue. There seemed to Aramis to be so much more intent behind them. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that those fingers that were merely stroking over his hole right now would soon be pushing inside of him, taking his body in a way he had never dared dream of.

Pulling his hand away, Athos slicked his fingers again. He felt Aramis start to tense at his withdrawal and rushed to soothe him. "No, no," he said softly. "Don't tense up. Stay nice and relaxed for me. I haven't gone anywhere. See? I'm right here."

"Inside me," Aramis implored, his entire being suddenly feverish. "Please. I need...need you inside me."

"Okay, Sweetheart," Athos replied at once. "But you have to keep nice and relaxed for me."

"Yes. Please, anything..."

Hearing Aramis actually beg for his touch was more than Athos could take. He carefully pressed a single finger against Aramis' hole then slowly began to push it inside of him. He kept his eyes glued to his lover's face, not wanting to miss a moment of his reaction and carefully scanning for any sign of distress.

"Oh..." Aramis moaned when he felt Athos' finger breech him. His lover had stilled with barely more than the tip inside of him. To Aramis, it felt much larger than a single finger and he wondered how huge Athos' co*ck would seem when he finally took him.

"'Mis? Are you okay?" Athos asked, his words tinged with worry. He wasn't sure how to interpret the look on his face so he had stilled.

"Oh Athos... You're inside me," Aramis said in awe.

"Yes," Athos replied as relief and desire tore through him at once.

Aramis heard the unmistakable lust in his lover's voice and his own eyes darkened. "Make me ready for you," he whispered as he spread his legs a bit wider, the invitation in the gesture clear.

Athos had to clamp down on his libido to keep from simply shoving his finger inside him fully. Not wanting to move too fast and hurt him, he began to slide his finger in and out, working a little more of it in each time until it was fully seated. He held it there then, allowing Aramis' body time to grow accustomed to the intrusion. When he felt the tightness around his finger start to ease, he knew Aramis was ready for more.

Taking the oil in his free hand, Athos drizzled some down Aramis' cleft and onto his finger where it disappeared inside of him. Aramis gasped at the feel of the oil running down him then moaned. He squeezed his eyes shut as he blushed, but he spread his legs wider still. Slowly, Athos drew his finger back until only the tip was inside him once more. He paused for a moment then began to push back in. He re-entered him as slowly as he had withdrawn and Aramis was soon shaking as the magnitude of sensations threatened to overwhelm him.

"You are amazing," Athos whispered as he moved that single finger in and out of him with torturous slowness. "You are so beautiful like this. I have never seen you so free."

"Your fault," Aramis rasped. "You're the one who set me free. I did not...did not even know I was caged until you."

"Aramis," Athos moaned, the man's words making his own eyes sting. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too. Now make me ready for you. I want to feel more than just your finger inside me."

Athos felt lust roll through him like a wave at Aramis' bold words. Powerless to deny them, he slipped his finger free and coated his hand with oil once more. This time, it was two slick digits he pressed inside his lover's body, pulling a guttural cry from the man at the stretch and burn of it. He paused for a moment again, waiting until Aramis' body was no longer clamping down on him, then he pressed forward once more. He did not stop until his fingers were fully seated and the palm of his hand rested against his groin.

Aramis could not stop his cry when Athos pushed back into him with two fingers. His fingers felt so big, like he was trying to push three or four of them into him rather than just two. He was grateful when Athos stopped to give his body time to adjust. When he started pressing forward again, though, Aramis began to pant as conflicting emotions warred within him. Telling himself that this was Athos, he forced the worst of his fears away and felt his body relax once more.

"You're doing so good," Athos praised as he began working his fingers in and out of him, stretching the tight ring of muscle in preparation for what was to come. Aramis' body was so tight, even on his fingers. Athos could not imagine how that would feel on his co*ck. He would be lucky if he didn't come as soon as he started to penetrate him. Wanting to loosen him further, Athos brushed his fingers over his lover's prostate for the first time. Aramis' reaction was instantaneous.

"Athos, please!" Aramis begged, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to ride out the wild sensations that coursed through him without warning. "Please! I can't take anymore. I need you inside me!"

"Alright," Athos quickly replied. Keeping his fingers inside of him, he leaned up over Aramis and kissed him, hoping to calm him some. It seemed to work and Athos settled back between his legs. Withdrawing his hand for the last time, he hastily wiped it on the bedding then picked up the lube once more. His hands were shaking slightly as he slicked himself and he had to stop and take a deep breath to calm down. Once he was steady again, he moved over Aramis, using his own legs to spread the man's thighs wide. He placed the hard, wet head of his co*ck at Aramis' slightly reddened hole then locked eyes with the man as he began to push inside of him for the first time.

"Ah ah ah,"Aramis panted as Athos' co*ck pushed into him. He could feel it stretching him wider than even his fingers had and tried his best not to tense up. He knew that would only make things harder on both of them.

"Breathe, Sweetheart," Athos said as he continued to press forward. He could feel Aramis' body fighting against him and backed off a bit.

"No, don't stop," Aramis said as he gripped onto Athos' arms.

"I won't," Athos promised, "but you have to try to relax. Just take a deep breath, nice and slow."

Aramis did as Athos said, breathing in deeply then letting it out. He could actually feel his body relaxing so he did it again then nodded up at his lover. When Athos started to press into him again, he made sure to keep breathing as evenly as he could, coaxing his body to relax and allow Athos into him.

When the guardian muscle finally gave way and the head of his co*ck slipped inside, Athos stilled. He pressed his forehead to Aramis' as he moaned weakly. Aramis' body felt like a hot, tight vise on his co*ck and he had to fight not to slam all the way inside of him. A few agonizing seconds later, Athos pressed forward a bit more. He heard Aramis suck in a sharp breath and pulled back a bit. Slowly, he began working his co*ck back and forth, inching it a fraction deeper with each thrust.

Aramis moaned and gasped as Athos' thick co*ck slowly invaded him. It felt like he was being split in two as his body was taken, inch by careful inch. He had known the feel of Athos taking him would be different from his fingers, but he had underestimated just how different. He had not realized at the time how accurate the word taking was for this act. For that was what Aramis felt. Taken. Completely and utterly taken.

It seemed to take forever, but finally Athos was all the way inside of him. He stilled then, his groin pressed tight to Aramis'. He could feel that hot channel clamping down on him, clenching over and over again as his body fought to adjust to the intrusion.

"Aramis..." Athos rasped, brokenly. "You feel... My God. I never imagined..."

"Athos," Aramis gasped as he stared up at him. So many feelings were roiling within him, all mixing together, as he struggled to relax around Athos' length. "So big... So much... I can't..."

"Do you need me to stop?" Athos asked at once, willing to if that was what Aramis needed him to do.

"No," Aramis said, shaking his head. "Don't stop. Please. Just...so much..."

"I know, Sweetheart," Athos said. He leaned down and kissed him then, letting his hands run up and down his arms, hoping to soothe and distract him. Almost at once, he could feel Aramis' body start to relax, the vise-like grip on his co*ck easing slightly.

"Oh," Aramis moaned into their kiss. Athos' mouth was distracting him from the unrelenting stretch but it only served to add to the feeling of being taken. It was as if Athos was taking him everywhere. While his co*ck plundered his body, his tongue did likewise to his mouth, making Aramis take him in every way possible.

When Athos felt the pressure around him ease a bit more, he pulled back then carefully pressed forward again. He felt Aramis gasp into their kiss and did so again, pulling back a bit farther this time. The feel of Aramis all around him, gripping him so tightly, taking him inside himself was almost more than Athos' could withstand. He ached to simply take the man, to thrust inside of him until he came, until they both came, but he forced himself to hold back.

Twisting his mouth away, Aramis panted as Athos continued his gentle movements. He could see what a strain holding back like this was putting on the man but he didn't know what he could do to ease it. Instead, he concentrated on relaxing, taking slow, deep breaths until his body stopped fighting the other man and simply gave in.

Athos felt the pressure around him finally ease as Aramis worked on breathing through the worst of it. "Love you so much," he whispered as he began to thrust in earnest. He could feel his balls tightening already and knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. Wanting Aramis to come with him, he changed the angle of his thrusts until his lover jerked and cried out.

After that, Athos didn't hesitate. He kept his thrusts as even as he could as he drove into Aramis' prostate again and again. Soon, the man was writhing beneath him and gripping his arms tightly as he gasped out his name on every inward thrust.

Without warning, Aramis threw back his head and cried out as his body clamped down hard on Athos' co*ck. A moment later, he was coming across his stomach as his body clenched helplessly. Athos could only watch in awe as Aramis came. He could feel the man's body gripping his length rhythmically and knew he would not be far behind. In fact, a few sharp thrusts later and Athos drove forward hard and stilled as he began to come inside of his lover for the very first time.

When they were finally spent, both men lay panting. Athos had all but collapsed on top of Aramis, forcing him to bear his weight as he struggled for control. He could feel Aramis shaking beneath him and wrapped his arms around him as best he could. Raising his head, he looked down into his lover's eyes and was not surprised to find them wet.

"Are you alright?" Athos asked, hoping he had not inadvertently harmed Aramis in some way.

Aramis opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. After a moment, he closed it and settled for nodding. He was simply too overcome by everything to speak. Somehow, he thought Athos would understand.

"I love you," Athos told him as he continued to stare down into his eyes. "You were amazing. I've never felt anything...anything even close to that."

"I love you, too," Aramis finally managed, his voice rough and hoarse.

"Are you alright?" Athos asked again, needing to hear Aramis actually say the words.

"I will be," Aramis replied. "I am still a bit...overwhelmed...by everything. I knew it would be intense, however..."

"I know," Athos said. He pushed himself up on his elbows and slowly began to withdraw from Aramis' body. He winced at the hiss of discomfort it pulled from his lover. Once he was out, he grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor and gave them both a cursory cleaning before throwing it back over the side and moving up to lay curled against his lover.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

"Do you think they'll get everything worked out?" D'Artagnan asked as he sat down on the couch. Porthos was in his recliner, beer in hand, seemingly lost in thought.

"Yeah," Porthos nodded. "Athos won't stop trying until he gets through to him. He'll make sure Aramis knows the truth. I just hope..."

"What?" D'Artagnan asked when Porthos trailed off.

"I just hope they don't decide being here's more trouble than it's worth," Porthos admitted. "I mean, I can understand if they do. Athos, he's got to think of Aramis in all of this. If he's not going to be comfortable here then Athos won't want to stay."

"You don't really think that, do you?" D'Artagnan asked, suddenly worried.

"I hope not," Porthos said. "But I'm a realist, kid. And I prefer to be prepared."

"Hope for the best but plan for the worst?"

"Exactly."

"So what happens to us if they bail?" D'Artagnan tried not to think about Aramis leaving. He hadn't meant to get so attached to the other man but there wasn't much he could do about that now.

"Depends," Porthos shrugged. "Just because they don't want to live here doesn't mean they don't still want to work with us. And even if they do want to cut ties completely, that doesn't mean things have to change for us. Not if you don't want them to. You've got a home here, d'Artagnan. That isn't going to change just because Athos and Aramis decide they need their own space."

"Thanks," d'Artagnan said, ducking his head in embarrassment. He wasn't sure how to put the gratefulness he felt into words. This was the first "home" he'd had outside of his parent's house. He didn't want to lose it and that had nothing to do with his feelings for Aramis.

"And that's probably not going to happen anyway," Porthos said, trying to reassure him. He wasn't blind. He understood just how much Aramis had come to mean to the kid. "Athos did just buy the building. I can't see him wanting to throw away that kind of money. And Aramis..."

"What about Aramis?" D'Artagnan asked when Porthos suddenly trailed off.

"I don't think he's going to be in any hurry to leave you any time soon," Porthos said carefully. "Remember how worried about you he was back at the school? And that was before he got to know you. Don't worry. We're not letting them go without a fight."

"He got under your skin, too, huh?" D'Artagnan grinned.

"He's had a rough time of it, especially lately," Porthos tried to deflect, shrugging his shoulders. "Between his bitch of a grandmother and everything he's trying to come to terms with, I guess I can't help but feel a bit protective of him. Him and you, both."

"You don't need to worry about me," d'Artagnan said, blushing a bit at Porthos' admission.

"Kid, that's non-negotiable," Porthos told him flat out. He saw d'Artagnan start to protest and went on, trying to explain. "Look, I know you're not a kid but you're young as f*ck. And I don't think the world's been all that kind to you, either. I know you told Aramis that nobody hurt you, that that's not why you don't like sex, but..."

"But?" D'Artagnan prompted nervously, going still.

"But I know that wasn't the entire truth," Porthos replied honestly. "It may not be the reason you don't like sex, but I know damn well somebody hurt you. You wouldn't have been able to take one look at Aramis after that thing strung him up and known what was wrong with him otherwise."

"It...it wasn't anything bad," d'Artagnan said. "Not really. I wasn't raped or anything like that."

"But you were hurt."

"He kept pressuring me," d'Artagnan explained, his voice low and strained. "Kept telling me I'd like it if I just kept trying. That if I loved him, I'd do it. Or let him do it. You...you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Porthos said grimly.

"I was with him for eight months before my mom picked me up one day and just drove. She didn't stop until we were like two towns away. Then she sat me down and told me that she didn't know what was going on, what Mike was doing to me, but whatever it was, she could tell it wasn't anything good.

"I broke down and told her everything then. By the time we headed home, she had called my dad and he had gone over to pack my stuff up. They didn't want me anywhere near him. I don't know what my folks said to him, but I never heard from him again."

"Good," Porthos said. "Nobody has the right to make you do something you don't want to do. What he was doing to you, kid, that was as close to rape as you can get. I'm just sorry you had to go through something like that. You sure as hell don't deserve it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Athos' first thought upon blinking awake was that he had not meant to fall asleep. As he became more aware, he felt the rise and fall of Aramis' chest beneath his head. The slow, steady breaths told him that he was not the only one who had succumbed. Being careful not to wake him, he raised his head and took a good, long look at his lover.

If Athos had to choose one word to describe Aramis in that moment, it would be peaceful. Gone were the pinched lines across his forehead and the dark shadows that plagued his eyes, both from within and without. He looked calm. Happy. And younger than Athos could remember seeing him look in a very long time.

As if knowing he was being watched, Aramis' own eyes slowly opened. He smiled up at Athos, his lover's presence like a soothing balm to his overtaxed nerves. "Did I fall asleep?" He asked softly.

"We both did," Athos replied, smiling in return. Leaning down, he kissed Aramis tenderly, doing his best to convey everything he felt for the man and knowing he never could.

"Guess we needed it."

"Yes," Athos said, thinking that Aramis could use a few more hours of sleep actually but knowing he would refuse.

"I'm fine," Aramis said, easily reading the concern in his eyes.

"You are," Athos agreed. "But you are mine and I take care of what belongs to me."

Aramis sucked in a breath at Athos' words. He could not deny that they stirred something within him, something small and needy that craved such words from this man. He had never been one to care for that sort of thing, all too often seeing the ways in which one person used their power over another to abuse them. But this was Athos, and Athos would never abuse the trust Aramis placed in him.

"Aramis?" Athos queried when his lover failed to say anything after long, nervous seconds.

"I have never in my life wanted something like that," Aramis began, trying to explain it to himself as much as Athos. "I have actively counseled people against such things. But with you...with you, I cannot help but want it. I know I am safe with you. I know that I can give myself to you completely and you will shelter me, loving and caring for me. You will never abuse the trust I willingly place in you. And that...that makes me want to give myself to you in every possible way."

Athos had to clear his throat twice before he could reply. "I love you," he said huskily. "More than life itself, as cliched as that might be to say. You are my world, Aramis. I would be quite happy to spend the rest of our lives just making you happy. I would take you everywhere you ever wanted to go."

"That is a very lovely picture you have painted," Aramis replied. "But we both know that is not the life for us. We have already found our calling, as it were. It is awaiting us back at home with d'Artagnan and Porthos."

"Are you sure?" Athos asked him seriously. He had meant it before when he had told Aramis they would leave if that was what Aramis wanted them to do.

"I am sure," Aramis replied. "We are not abandoning the life we have begun to build simply because I went off the deep end for a bit."

Athos couldn't help but cringe at Aramis' choice of words. He did not think he would ever be able to hear that particular phrase without being forcibly reminded of Aramis in that pool. He hoped, in time, the sharp, hot pain of it would dull though.

"Ah, sorry," Aramis said when he saw Athos flinch. When he realized exactly what he had said he wanted to kick himself.

"It's okay," Athos told him. "Like I told Porthos, just try not to say that around d'Artagnan. He's better but he's still not over everything. Not completely."

"I won't," Aramis promised. "My poor choice of words aside, I am sure, Athos."

Athos kissed him again then and lay back down next to him. "I'm glad," he admitted. "I still think we will make a very good team, the four of us. And I don't want to simply abandon the others, though I would if that was what you wanted."

"I know," Aramis told him as he reached down and took his hand. "And walking away from them, it would be painful."

Athos knew that Aramis was mostly referring to d'Artagnan but he didn't say anything. He had seen just how close the pair had grown and knew that Aramis would have a very hard time walking away from the younger man. It was on the tip of Athos' tongue to tell him that, if Aramis wanted it, he would be more than willing to take d'Artagnan with them as well.

"I am not in love with him," Aramis said suddenly, his voice soft and low but still loud enough for Athos to hear him quite clearly.

"I know you aren't," Athos said, giving his hand a squeeze. "He is like a brother to you. He is to me, as well."

"You said before that Porthos was too," Aramis said carefully.

"He is," Athos replied. "He's a good man and a good friend. I trust him and you know that doesn't come easy for me."

"I am aware," Aramis said. "I... I do not mean to mistrust him. We did not get off to the best of starts and it has been one thing after another since we met him. I have not really had time to...settle in, I suppose. I think, in time, it will be that way between us, too. At least, I hope it will."

"I hope so, too. I know he cares the world for you and he worries for you. A lot. I think it's natural for him to want to protect the people he cares for. If those people are younger or in some way unable to protect themselves, that just makes it worse."

"I can look after myself. I am a black belt, you know," Aramis pointed out.

"I know you can. So does he," Athos said, not wanting Aramis to get the idea that either of them thought him weak in some way. "But there are things that you aren't as prepared to deal with as the rest of us are. He worries about you when it comes to stuff like that. Not to mention the way that these things keep seeming to zero in on you whenever we encounter something...other."

Aramis paused for a moment, taking in what Athos had said. He could see his point. It was obvious that he was easily overwhelmed when it came to the more physical aspects of their relationship. He could see where someone might worry about how he was coping. Still, it was a bit strange to think of Porthos worrying for him like that. As for their supernatural encounters, Aramis could not really argue there. Whatever evil they came across did seem to focus on him. In truth, he was glad for it. It meant that whatever it was wasn't hurting one of the others. He could understand that Athos might disagree with him on that one, though.

Rolling over onto his side, he propped himself up on one arm so he was looking down at the other man. "There isn't much we can do about the things we run into. However, I do believe we have made a good start on...expanding my horizons."

Athos huffed out a laugh and pulled Aramis over so he was lying on top of him. Slipping one hand into his dark, thick hair, he pulled him down and kissed him again. When he finally let go, both of them were breathing hard once more.

"Keep that up and you will be expanding more than my horizons," Aramis joked.

Athos stared up at him then shook his head fondly. "Not any time soon, I won't be," he countered. "You may not feel it right now, but you are entirely too sore to even attempt to do that again."

"And is f*cking me all you can think to do with me now?" Aramis whispered in his lowest voice, pleased when he saw Athos' eyes go dark with arousal.

"Hardly," Athos smiled at him. "I could spend the rest of my life and still not run out of things I want to do to you, with you and for you."

Aramis opened his mouth then closed it again, unable to think of anything to say. How could he deny it when he felt the exact same thing? Instead, he settled against Athos, letting his silence speak for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie was practically vibrating with excitement. They had done it! They had actually done it! She had felt their union through the tentative link she still shared with the Priest. Now that the Survivor had stripped him of his innocence, there was nothing left to protect him. All she had to do now was wait for him to return. Then she would take him.

And when he was hers, the Survivor would relearn the definition of fear.

And of pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I am almost sad to be leaving here," Aramis said as he and Athos packed their things to return home. The weekend away had done wonders for both men, firmly cementing their union and allowing them the privacy and freedom to take their relationship further.

"We can always come back again," Athos said, zipping his bag closed.

"You would not mind?"

"No," Athos said. He crossed the room to Aramis and pulled him into his arms. "We could make it our own personal tradition."

"I would like that," Aramis said, returning the embrace.

Reluctantly, Athos released him so he could finish packing. When Aramis zipped his own bag closed, Athos reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch. Opening it, he removed an ornate wooden rosary. It was the same one he had giving Aramis when they had been investigating the school. Athos had retrieved it from the place and had been meaning to return it to his lover.

"What's that?" Aramis asked.

"My grandmother's rosary," Athos replied. "I recovered it from the school. I took the liberty of having it blessed. I hope you do not mind."

"Mind?" Aramis repeated, stunned by his lover's thoughtfulness. "Wait, this was your grandmother's? Are you sure you want me to have it?"

"Very sure," Athos replied as he slipped the rosary around his lover's neck. While he himself did not put much stock in protective relics such as this, he knew Aramis did. If it did no more than bring the man some peace of mind, that was good enough for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Relax, kid," Porthos said as he watched d'Artagnan. The younger man was nearly vibrating with nervous energy. He had tried to distract him, knowing it could be late tonight before Athos and Aramis returned. After the third attemp, he gave up and settled for keeping an eye on him so he didn't accidentally hurt himself.

"Sorry," d'Artagnan replied sheepishly. He knew he had to be getting on Porthos' nerves by know, but he couldn't help it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get what Porthos had said out of his head - that there was a chance the pair might leave. This was another reason he didn't let himself get close to people. It hurt too much when they left.

"You're gonna worry yourself sick and then Aramis'll have my ass," Porthos groused.

"Didn't think you were into that," d'Artagnan shot back, unable to resist the opening.

Porthos froze, replaying what he had just said, then shook his head. Sometimes he forgot how young d'Artagnan was but the kid always managed to remind him. "Why don't you see if you can find any information about Mrs. Mason's little problem," he suggested with a long-suffering sigh. He still wasn't convinced it was an actual case for them but he had promised the lady he would look into it. Besides that, it would keep he kid occupied until Aramis got back.

Two hours later, Porthos was relieved to hear the front door opening. He had been seriously considering tying the kid down. Now that he pair was back, maybe he would finally stop worrying. At least Porthos hoped that was the case. If Aramis actually left, he knew d'Artagnan would be heart-broken.

When Aramis and Athos walked through the door, d'Artagnan practically bounded over to them, more over-eager puppy than grown man. Aramis dropped his carry all and pulled him into a hug. Smiling at the pair, Athos simply picked up Aramis' bag and carried it with his own into their bedroom. When he set them on the bed and turned around, he was not surprised to find that Porthos had followed him.

"Have a good time?" Porthos asked as casually as he could.

"Yes," Athos replied, grinning widely.

"So you guys got everything worked out then?" Porthos asked before he could stop himself, his own worry about what might happen getting the better of him.

"We did that before we left," Athos told him. "What is it you are concerned about?"

Porthos ran his hand through his dense curls, embarrassed at having to voice his fear. "Just worried you might have decided this was more trouble than it was worth."

"You thought we might leave?" Athos asked, understanding now why his friend seemed so worried.

"Figured there was a chance, yeah," Porthos admitted. "I know Aramis means everything to you. If being here is going to keep upsetting him, you won't do it."

"You're right," Athos agreed. "If being here was going to make him keep doubting me, then I wouldn't stay. But I don't think being here is what caused this. And Porthos, Aramis means a very great deal to me, but he is not everything. We would not have left if there was any way at all for us to make this work."

Porthos blew out a shaky breath, more relieved than he expected at Athos' words. He had been sincere when he told d'Artagnan that even if the pair did leave, the boy should still consider this place his home. He was just damn glad they weren't leaving.

"I take it this was the reason for d'Artagnan's rather exuberant greeting?" Athos inquired.

"Yeah. Poor kid's about worried himself sick over it. I told him, no matter what, he'd always have a place here, but..."

"But you are not Aramis," Athos finished for him.

Porthos nodded, surprised once again by how accepting Athos was of d'Artagnan's feelings for Aramis. Even if the kid wasn't a threat on a physical level, he was still encroaching on another man's lover. And, in Porthos' experience, emotional infidelity was oftentimes the worst of all.

"You worry entirely too much," Athos told him. He sat down on the bed and motioned for Porthos to join him. "I am not naive. I see what's between them. And while Aramis has ruthlessly not allowed himself to fall in love with him, I have to wonder how much longer it will be before d'Artagnan realizes the same cannot be said for him."

"You think the kids' in love with him?" Porthos asked worriedly.

"You don't?" Athos challenged.

"And you're okay with it?" The incredulity in Porthos' voice was clear.

"We'll work it out," Athos replied calmly. "I love him, that will not change. I care very deeply for d'Artagnan, that too will not change. And because I care about him, I will not take the first true friend that boy has probably ever had from him."

"Yeah, I get it," Porthos said, still somewhat worried regardless of Athos' reassurances. "Just know I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

"Thank you, my friend."

Out in the living room, Aramis was having a similar conversation with d'Artagnan. They had settled on the couch with d'Artagnan all but wrapped around Aramis. Now that the man was back, he felt like he could breathe again.

"Tell me what is wrong," Aramis said softly.

"Nothing," d'Artagnan replied, not wanting to admit how worried he had been that they simply would not come back.

"Now what did I tell you about lying to a priest?" Aramis teased.

It had the desired effect, making d'Artagnan laugh and relax against him. "You are not a priest, he said, just as he had the first time.

"And you are again not being honest," Aramis countered.

"I was just worried," d'Artagnan hedged.

"About?"

"About you guys deciding you didn't want to stay here any more," he finally admitted.

Aramis froze, unsure at first what to say. It had never occurred to him that d'Artagnan might worry about such a thing. "Well," he said at last, "you have nothing to worry about in that regard. And even if we did decide to move out, it would not mean you and I would no longer be friends. I'm afraid you are quite stuck with me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvie sat watching from her hiding place at the top of the bookcase. The Survivor and the big one were in the other room, leaving the Priest and the boy alone on the couch. She doubted if she would ever get a better opportunity and her time was growing short. The body she was in would not be able to house her for much longer. She needed to act.

Gathering her power, she concentrated on the Priest, flooding her essence into him along the bond they still shared. She watched as he stiffened and gasped, then something seared against his(her) chest and she was being forcibly expelled. With a speech of pure rage, she swirled around the room, scattering objects all about as she vented her fury.

Porthos and Athos both started at the unholy shriek that sounded from the living room. A second later, Porthos ran for the door, Athos not far behind him. He had no sooner crossed the threshold than one of the desks slid across the floor, slamming into his legs and ramming him against the wall. Before he could react, the desk upended itself, hitting him with the force of a wrecking ball and rendering him unconscious.

As for Athos, he had just reached the doorway when something grabbed him and yanked him back into the bedroom. Staggering to his feet, he ran for the door again only for it to slam shut in his face, trapping him. He grabbed the knob and let out a yell as the flesh was seared from his hand. A quick look down showed the knob to be glowing with heat. Cradling his badly burned hand to his chest,he scoured the room frantically for something to use to get the door open.

In the living room, all Aramis and d'Artagnan could do was watch in stunned horror as something tore through the place. They saw Porthos slammed into the wall and tried to get to him, but a literal wall of flying debris blocked their way. Not knowing what else to do, Aramis gripped the rosary around his neck and began to pray.

Enraged at the Priest's defiance, Sylvie battered at him again, refusing to give up her prize. His innocence had been willingly cast aside, he should be hers for the taking, yet some force still prevented her. Fine! If she could not take him, she would take the one he had come to care so much for. Gathering herself once more, she surged at d'Artagnan, enveloping him in her essence.

It was over in an instant. Unlike the Priest, the boy had nothing to protect him. There was nothing to stop her from sinking her talons into his soul and swamping his mind with her presence. All at once, the maelstrom in the room ceased. The books and papers and shards of broken things that had been flying all around them suddenly fell to the ground in a harmless mess.

The abruptness with which the attack ended was almost as unnerving as the assault itself had been and Aramis looked about wildly for some new sign of danger. Now that the room was no longer filled with the roaring chaos of a moment ago, he could make out Athos pounding on their bedroom door and frantically calling for them. Aramis took a step in his direction but was stopped by a vice-like grip on his arm. He looked at d'Artagnan, not understanding why he had stopped him and felt his blood turn to ice as a pair of jet black orbs stared back at him.

The sudden silence after the wild cacophony of noise from the other side of the door filled Athos with dread. He wasn't sure why, but he knew it did not bode well for any of them. Aramis was in trouble. He didn't understand how he could know without a doubt that his lover was in danger, but he did.

"Aramis!" he yelled as he pounded on the door heedless of the pain in his blistered hand. "Aramis, run!"

"Yes, Aramis," the d'Artagnan-thing said, grinning at him in an almost sickening way. "Run. I always enjoy a good chase." With that, d'Artagnan released the painful grip he had on Aramis' arm and stepped back, waiting to see what his quarry would do.

Aramis didn't hesitate. Though the thought of leaving Athos and Porthos alone with whatever thing had taken possession of d'Artagnan made his heart clench, he knew he had no choice. The look of malicious glee in the thing's black eyes, he refused to think of that monstrosity as d'Artagnan, made its intent quite clear. If his choices were run or die, he would run and hope the thing chose to pursue him rather than turning its attention to the others.

He slammed through the front door and bolted for the stairs, knowing better than to let the thing trap him in an enclosed elevator. He practically threw himself down them, skidding to a halt when he reached the bottom floor. He started toward the door leading to the outside then stopped. He could not allow this thing to get out. Who knew how many innocent people it might harm if it did. No, he needed to keep it contained within the building.

With that thought in mind, he headed for the gym. There were places to hide in there as well as a number of weapons he knew how to use very effectively. He did not want to hurt d'Artagnan, the very thought made him want to weep, but at the same time he knew the creature, whatever it was, had to be stopped.

Besides, all he had to do was keep it busy for a time. He knew Athos and Porthos, if he was able, would be coming after them. He simply had to keep the thing at bay until they did. Then together they could take the thing down and find a way to restore their friend.

Inside the gym, Aramis glanced about looking for the best place to hide. He had no doubt the thing would find him, he was only trying to buy a little time until the others got there. He knew better than to think he was any match for this thing on his own. He had no idea what it even was or where it came from. That rendered him virtually powerless to stop it.

Running over to the equipment rack, he carefully squeezed himself behind it. He knew it was just big enough for him to fit, having had to retrieve Sylvie from behind it more than once. He had just managed to secrete himself when the door banged open and the black-eyed thing wearing d'Artagnan's body sauntered in.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," it called tauntingly. "I know you're in here. There's no way you would risk me following you outside and there's no place else for you to go. You might as well come out already. If you do, I promise to only make you scream for hours instead of days."

Aramis didn't even breathe as the thing moved through the room. His eyes tracked it, his body tense, ready for the fight he knew was coming. Not wanting to let the thing corner him here, he waited until it walked past him, then burst from his hiding place.

Aramis had hoped the surprise of his attack would give him some small edge. D'Artagnan, however, merely turned, grabbing his arm before he could even make contact. The younger man's hand felt like a steel band around his forearm and he couldn't stop himself from crying out when the thing spun him around and twisted it high up his back.

"Now now," the thing said, its mouth so close to his ear that Aramis could feel its breath. "That wasn't very nice of you. I think you need to learn some manners."

"No!" Aramis shouted as he struggled against the hold the thing had on him.

Without warning, the thing fisted its free hand in his hair and jerked his head back so hard he had to arch his back to keep his hair from being ripped from his scalp. A moment later, he was being shoved down, his fact slamming into the mats as the thing pressed him to the floor.

"Mmm, I like you like this," the thing purred. "But I really want to see your face." Before Aramis could comprehend what it was saying, it flipped him over onto his back. It grabbed his wrists and jerked them over his head, pinning them in place easily with a single hand. Its other hand free, it reached behind its back and drew out a butcher's knives that Aramis had not even noticed it had.

Aramis' eyes went wide at the sight of the knife. He stilled then, unsure what the creature meant to do. Was it going to kill him? From its earlier comment, Aramis didn't think so and that scared him even more. Swallowing thickly, he waited, his eyes glued to the long, sharp knife mere inches from his face.

"That's better," the thing said as it began running the knife over Aramis' nose and lips. "Now, I'm going to let go of your hands and you're not going to move them. Not unless you want me to start slicing your face off. Understood?"

Aramis stared up at his friend in horror. He could feel the sharp edge of the knife running over his face. He couldn't suppress a shudder when the thing ran it just beneath his eye, its intent evident. Trying his best to keep his fear from getting the best of him, he began to silently pray.

"I asked you a question," the thing spat, digging the tip of the knife into his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

"Y-y-yes," Aramis stammered. "Yes, I understand."

"Good boy," it purred again. Slowly, it released the grip it had on Aramis' wrists, pleased when the man did not try to move them. Now that it had a hand free again, it began running it up and down Aramis' chest caressingly.

"No, please," Aramis begged as he felt the thing's hand touching him. Suddenly, the knife moved away from his face, but before Aramis could so much as take a breath of relief, he felt it slip under the hem of his shirt. He went stock still at the feel of that cold blade against his stomach, then it was pulling upward hard, slicing through his shirt.

Aramis' shirt now cut apart, the thing used the knife blade to flick it open, baring his chest and stomach completely. It began to trace the blade of the knife along his chest, circling his nipples with it then dragging it down his stomach to dig lightly in his navel. It smiled at the high-pitched keen that Aramis let out and licked its lips in anticipation of what was to come.

Keeping the knife pressed against his unprotected belly, the thing leaned down and pressed his cheek against' Aramis'. It inhaled deeply through its nose, enjoying the cloying scent of fear the Priest now reeked of. Raising its head, it locked eyes with Aramis, staring at him for long seconds before slamming their mouths together.

Aramis tried to turn his head out of the unwanted kiss, but the thing used its free hand to grab him by the hair and force his head still. A second later, he felt the tip of the knife digging into his cheek again as the thing drew back. "Open your mouth," it hissed at him, digging the knife in harder.

"Please. Please, don't," Aramis begged, shame twisting inside of him like a living thing. He hated that he was begging this thing for mercy, even as he knew he would receive none, but the thought of simply allowing such a violation was unthinkable to him.

"Open your mouth," it said again, "or I'll cut my own hole in it."

Tears stinging his eyes, Aramis knew he had little choice but to comply. Parting his lips, he began to pray silently once more, begging God to somehow save him from this nightmare. Hoping against hope that Athos and Porthos would soon be there, he squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"That's a good little whor*," the thing cooed then it shoved its mouth against Aramis' once more, this time driving its tongue in deeply. It felt more than heard Aramis' "no" but that only spurred it on, urging it to force as much of itself into Aramis' unwilling body as possible.

After long minutes, it finally broke the kiss and pulled back. Looking down at Aramis, it was satisfied that its captive would not try to resist him again. With the knife still pressed against his cheek, it began to let its hand roam over Aramis' naked chest. When it reached a nipple, it caressed it softly then twisted it hard, laughing at the way Aramis cried out at the abuse. With a wicked grin, it let its hand move lower until it reached the waistband of the man's jeans. Slowly, it popped the button then lowered the zipper, drawing it out as Aramis began to shake.

When Aramis felt the thing slip its hand beneath his clothes and grasp his limp flesh, he could not hold back a sob. It was born of both fear and revulsion and he felt his gorge rise as the thing above him began to fondle him. "No," Aramis moaned. "Please, God..."

"Your god isn't here, whor*," the thing said as it began to stroke his slowly responding flesh. "You walked away from your god. Remember? He wants no part of you now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Athos rammed his shoulder against the door again and heard a loud crack. He paused for only a second before ramming into it again. It gave way, slamming against the far wall and spilling the man into the room and all but on top of Porthos.

"Porthos," Athos called, moving up beside the man and gently tapping his face. He could see a thin trickle of blood running down his temple and had no idea how badly hurt the man was. "Porthos, wake up. Wake up!"

"Athos," Porthos called fuzzily. His whole body ached, but his head most of all. Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus on the man leaning over him and was relieved when he more or less came into focus. "What happened?"

"Something attacked us," Athos said as he helped Porthos sit up. "I have no idea what. It trapped me in the bedroom. I shouted at Aramis to run. I assume he must have or he would be here."

"Any sign of the kid?" Porthos asked, his insides twisting painfully at the thought of the younger man in danger.

"No," Athos said, giving the room another quick glance in case he missed something. "He must be with Aramis."

"We need to find them," Porthos said as he began struggling to his feet. Athos quickly got his shoulder under the man's arm and helped him rise. "Anything that could do that kind of damage that quickly isn't something they can handle on their own."

"Alright. Let me grab something," Athos said. He helped Porthos lean against the wall then dashed back into the bedroom. He jerked Aramis' nightstand drawer out and dumped its contents on the bed. He sifted through them, quickly finding the small flask of Holy Water he had been looking for. Coming back out into the living room, he handed it to Porthos.

"Don't suppose you've got any more of this," Porthos said as they headed for the open front door.

"Sorry," Athos replied. "I'll make sure to stock it from now on."

As quietly as they could, they began to make their way down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, Porthos turned toward the outer door but Athos stopped him. "Aramis would not have allowed the thing to leave the building if he could help it."

"You think it's still in here?" Porthos asked, eying the door to the gym warily. It was slightly ajar, giving even more credence to Athos' words.

"I think Aramis would have done everything he could to ensure the thing did not attempt to leave. He would never put innocents at risk if he could help it."

Gripping the flask tight, Porthos unscrewed the lid. He didn't think they were going to get more than one shot at this thing, whatever it was. He wanted to be ready for it. Aramis and d'Artagnan were depending on him. "Be ready, brother," Porthos whispered as they advanced upon the door.

Athos nodded then slowly pushed the door open fully. What they saw was nothing they could have expected. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare. D'Artagnan had Aramis pinned to the floor, his hand shoved down his pants and a very large knife pressing against his the side of his face.

All at once, Porthos charged toward the pair, the flask of blessed water clutched tight in his hand. He splashed it across the back of the thing, he too refused to think of whatever this was as d'Artagnan, then barreled into it, intent on getting if off of Aramis however he had to.

It was so fixated on the delicious fear rolling off the Priest in waves, that it did not even sense the presence of the others until a line of acid was burning across its back and the big one was slamming into it, knocking it off the Priest. With a roar of pain, it slashed out with the knife, cutting a deep gash in the big one's arm. Rage unlike any it had ever felt threatened to consume it as it watched the Survivor pull the Priest back and away.

Knowing better than to let them trap it, it roared again then rushed toward the open door with inhuman speed. Before either man could do anything, it was through the door to the gym. Hearing the sound of movement behind it, it threw the outer door open and dashed outside.

Back in the gym, Athos cradled a terrified Aramis in his arms as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from the deep cut on his face. "Porthos!" He called out, never taking his eyes from his lover. When the other man didn't answer, Athos looked across the room and saw Porthos slumped on the floor, bood pouring from his arm. Not knowing what else to do or how badly Porthos was hurt, Athos dug his cell phone out of his pocked and dailed 911.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Athos sat in the uncomfortable chair in the corner of Porthos' hospital room. He had come around in the ambulance but had fallen unconscious again before they had reached the hospital. After a rather intense hour spend going back and forth between getting Aramis' face sewn up and getting his hand seen to, a doctor had come out and told them that Porthos was going to be fine but, since he had lost consciousness more than once, they wanted to keep him for a couple of days. The doctor had assured him it was just for observation and Athos had no choice but to reluctantly agree.

He had gotten in touch with his lawyer then and pulled more than a few strings. They were now all listed as each other's next of kin with medical power of attorney. A few more favors later and a lounger had been set up in Porthos' private room.

Now, Athos sat in the small chair in the corner and looked over at his lover sleeping in the lounger. The nurses had come in with some heated blankets for him, concerned about shock after his ordeal. He had been forced to make up a rather convoluted story about a break in at their building and a thwarted attack on Aramis that had left both of them in their current state. When questioned about his hand, he said he had burned it in on a hot pan in the kitchen which is why he and Porthos did not hear the initial break in, they were all too busy tending to his injured hand. When the nurses prepared to leave after giving Aramis something to help calm his shattered nerves, Athos had thanked them gratefully, his eyes watching every move they made around the other two men. He had even gone so far as to check the medication they had given Aramis before allowing them to, saying simply that he reacted badly to some things. Now, he watched them sleep, determined to keep them safe this time.

Scanning the room once more, Athos let his eyes land on Porthos' sleeping form. The big man looked so small in the hospital bed with IV's and monitors hooked up to him. He had a bandage on his arm covering the new set of stitches they had put in it. It was similar to the one Aramis had on his face. Once they had him sewn up, the doctor had taken Athos aside and given him the name of a very good plastic surgeon. Aramis, it would seem, would not escape this nightmare without a physical scar either. Athos had to wonder how much he would be reminded of this every time he looked in the mirror now.

Finally, Athos' thoughts turned to their missing fourth. He had steadfastly refused to think of the younger man, distracting himself with Aramis and then Porthos. It seemed he had run out of distractions. D'Artagnan was out there somewhere, lost and alone. God only knew he if was hurt. Or even still alive. There was nothing to say that whatever had been possessing him had not killed him by now. He felt his heart ache at the thought of the younger man being lost to them. He knew his loss would devastate Aramis and, from how Porthos had reacted when he had found out, likely him as well.

It was like the slaughter of his family all over again, only this time there were more survivors than simply him. For the first time since he was seventeen, Athos truly did not know what to do. All he knew was that he would protect these men with his dying breath and he would never stop trying to get d'Artagnan back.

To be continued...