Title: Purification in Purgatory

By: tidia

Disclaimer- see part 1

Notes: This is the finale! I hope you enjoy it and I thank everyone for their support. I am working on another installment of Paris, Texas which will be Commodities based due to requests.

Epilogue

Aramis's legs rested on the bed as he slept tucked into the chair beside the bed. Petronilla had cots brought in, too and Athos had put one against the wall so he slept seated with his legs extending onto the bed while Porthos was laid flat.

d'Artagnan for all his bravado had quickly deteriorated. When no one had seen him after retiring to his room earlier, Athos had gone to check on him only to find the Gascon in delirium, struggling to breath. Days passed and the three inseparables remained with their brother in arms.

Aramis slowly opened his eyes when he heard the groan. He wasn't dreaming about Anne or Isabelle. It was a good sign for him- God would provide a healing grace to his soul.

"Why do I smell like a cooking chicken?" d'Artagnan said in a crackly voice that had Aramis putting his feet down and reaching for the pitcher of water.

"A poultice of onion and mustard seed that saved your life." He poured the water into a glass, and handed it to d'Artagnan, made sure the young man had a grip on the glass. Aramis's hands hovered nearby; ready to retrieve the glass after the Gascon had his drink. "I was the only one that could stand the smell of it." He gestured to the others, still sleeping as he was keeping his voice low and the young musketeer's voice had no strength to carry very far.

"Are you well?" d'Artagnan asked after taking a few sips of water that left him exhausted. Aramis took the glass from his hand and picked off the poultice. It had broken up the congestion, causing the younger man to cough and spit out the phlegm.

"Some stitch work, but I have bathed and slept and feel fit. You on the other hand had an untended wound that the maggots dealt with, a fever and congestion." Aramis frowned. "You should have spoken of it earlier. You gave Athos and Porthos a scare." Aramis patted the younger man's leg. "How did it happen?"

D'Artagnan wrinkled his forehead. "The wound? When I was leaving here. I did see to it," he said haltingly, looking like he was accessing the memories. "I wanted to make sure we returned to help you."

"You did." Aramis thought it was time for the others to wake up. He tossed one of the pillows across the room, hitting his mark as usual. Porthos snorted awake and Athos followed.

d'Artagnan coughed, which got the two other men hurrying over. "I'm sorry for all this." He shifted in the bed. "Are they gone? The maggots?"

Porthos shook his head. "You couldn't breathe and you are worried about some maggots?"

The Gascon's hand moved up to his injury. "The maggots?"

"Removed, fattened up and content," Athos reported, scrubbing a hand down his face, wiping away the concern and replacing it with relief. He needed more sleep himself.

They had been told that they only thing left to do was pray and Aramis had armed himself reverently. He learned that God was with him. There was a plan God had with his child with the Queen, and he had a role to play. There was also potential for him to do better and help others.

d'Artagnan coughed. It was noisy and Aramis passed him a cloth to spit into. "How long?" he asked once the fit had subsided.

"Four days," Athos answered. "Treville's here now. We're to help the baron for the time being."

"It will give you time to regain your strength." Athos's eyes studied the young musketeer. He did look pitiful, but the sharp edge caused by missing Constance did not seem to be there. Aramis thought it may have been lost on the journey.

"And we all have time to enjoy the hospitality of the baron and baroness." Porthos boomed now that his friend was no longer in danger. "They are thankful that we saved the day." He grinned.

d'Artagnan glanced at Aramis with a smirk. "I'm glad that you are pleased. Next time I will try to stay healthy, though. "

"That's the spirit!" Porthos laughed. "The whole countryside is talking about you."

The Gascon raked a hand through his hair. "Me? Why?"

"The musketeer who rallied an army," Porthos explained.

d'Artagnan frowned, trying to figure out if the larger man was teasing him. "I wouldn't say it was an army and I did not ask them to."

"All is well because of it." Aramis nodded. "A reward is being mentioned."

"Get some rest." Athos said to d'Artagnan, then gave a nod to Aramis. "We will report to the captain."

d'Artagnan yawned, then coughed, but it was a short spell. Aramis refilled the glass again. "You seem lighter."

"My conscience is," Aramis divulged, watching the young man take a few more sips. "You are lighter. I will see about some broth." He stood. The baroness wanted to know about the Gascon. It had been she who had made the poultice. "And how is your heart?" The time away had been arranged for them to ease their minds, and instead they found another battle.

"Better, but she will hold a piece of it for some time." d'Artagnan answered truthfully, feeling less of the sting. He accepted that for now it was not meant to be, possibly never.

Aramis understood, and the rest would be filled with the musketeers, brotherhood, with God and adventures. Their fates laid elsewhere.

The end