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All of us have ways in which we mask and cover our pain.
Iyanla Vanzant

December 1630

Silence had never been a part of their lives, so to speak, but since the three of them had come together in brotherhood, silence had been nothing but a distant memory.

Aramis didn't do silence, at least not well. He could, if he had to, be absolutely still and quiet. But those times were rare and always tied to the use of his musket. But every other waking moment of the day he was moving or talking; usually both. Even in sleep there was rarely silence found because he talked then, too, usually in a mixture of languages and usually making very little sense.

Silence just wasn't something they'd had for any duration of time since Porthos, and then Athos, had come to know the marksman.

But silence is what they found themselves trapped in now.

They sat, side by side, next to the bed that held their still and silent – so silent – brother.

It had started as a headache. Aramis got those often enough none of them had worried over it. They'd tried to keep him out of the sun, had forgone shooting practice in favor of weapons maintenance. It wasn't until Aramis had fumbled and dropped his whetstone, accidentally slicing open his hand with his dagger, that any of them had realized something more was wrong.

The fever had struck hard and fast after that.

What could be done, had been done, and all they could do was wait.

He would either be able to fight off the fever or he wouldn't.

"Somebody say something," Constance said abruptly from her place sitting near the fire. D'Artagnan, who was sitting cross legged near the hearth poking the smoldering logs with a stick, glanced at her then over at Athos and Porthos.

Porthos shifted in his chair, leaning forward to check Aramis' fever for what felt like the millionth time.

"He'd be going crazy if he was awake… All this quiet," he commented.

Athos' lips quirked slightly.

"He'd have launched into one of his stories by now," d'Artagnan agreed.

Porthos chuckled. And then, in his best impression of Aramis,

"Have I told you about the time I fought a pirate in Calais and was nearly abducted?"

D'Artagnan grinned and added his own impression.

"Have I told you about the time I thought myself surrounded in a small cabin only to realize in the end…"

"It was a flock of pigeons," all of them, even Constance, finished together. They all shared a laugh about that one.

"He's a wonderful storyteller," Constance decided. "Even when you've heard it before, somehow it's always better in its retelling."

"That's because he takes a certain liberty with the truth," Porthos pointed out with a grin.

"That's half the fun of it," Constance replied. "Sitting there listening and trying to sort out what's truth and what's not."

"He certainly has a flair for the dramatic, our Aramis," Porthos agreed with a weary grin. He reached out again, pushing the limp sweaty curls off of Aramis' forehead.

"You'd be surprised, I think, how much of it is truth." They all turned in varying states of surprise to see Treville standing in the doorway.

"Was he really nearly kidnapped by pirates?" d'Artagnan asked.

Treville's expression momentarily lit with memory and he nodded once, sharply.

"In Calais. Quite a mess, that one."

"What about the one with the horses in Rouen?" Constance asked.

Treville nodded again.

"Truth."

"The pigeons in the armory?" d'Artagnan wondered.

Treville's lips twitched at the memory.

"Truth."

"The cat and the river?" Porthos spoke up now.

An actual grin flitted across Treville's face this time before he schooled his features.

"An unfortunate truth."

D'Artagnan was shaking his head in awe, apparently stunned that Aramis was not as habitual a liar as he thought.

Constance was smiling fondly as she looked across the room at the ill musketeer.

Porthos stroked his hand absently through Aramis' hair, chuckling softly to himself.

But Athos was looking at Treville, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"The soldier and the deserter who turned out to be a spy?" he asked quietly.

The captain's expression softened ever so slightly and a fond light lit his eyes.

"A fortunate truth."

"What's that one?" d'Artagnan asked curiously.

"A story for another time," Treville replied. "Ask Aramis when he's well. He'll tell you."

"It would be interesting, though, to hear the soldier's point of view," Athos said with a challenging quirk to his brow.

D'Artagnan's eyes widened.

"You're the soldier?"

"Settle in, pup," Porthos grinned. "This is a good one."

Treville's storytelling abilities were a few shades less thrilling than Aramis' but the story itself kept them all riveted, even Athos and Porthos who had heard Aramis tell it before. By the time Treville finished, early dawn was breaking through the window.

"That young spy then became one of my first Musketeers, one of the original five to wear the uniform that you all wear now."

"It was Aramis," d'Artagnan realized with a proud smile. "That's how you met Aramis."

Treville nodded once.

"And he's not had a day of peace since," a weak, tired voice rose from the bed.

The ensuing jubilant reactions took several minutes to calm.

"What happened?" Aramis asked as Porthos helped him sit up a bit in bed.

"A fever," Athos explained, eyeing the marksman warily as if expecting him to faint on them again.

Aramis frowned, obviously not remembering much of how he came to be so sick.

"How do you feel?" Constance asked worriedly as she hovered behind Athos and Porthos, with d'Artagnan at her side.

"Well…" Aramis took a moment to take stock of himself, "a few more notable annoyances, but nothing more."

Porthos breathed a relieved chuckle and Athos' lips quirked in a wry grin. Constance smiled warmly and d'Artagnan sighed as if releasing all anxiety with that breath. At the door Treville just shook his head in fond exasperation.

Not one of them called Aramis on the obvious lie.

They had never been so glad to hear it.

End of Just a Flesh Wound

Hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing! :D Hope to be bringing my first Musketeers long-fic to you guys soon! At the very least, see you next month for the next challenge and go read the rest of the fics in this month's and vote for your favorites!

Drop me a line if you have a moment!