Chapter Seven

Aramis was grateful that neither Porthos or Athos said anything about his preparations. He had told them he would not move from his bed, but he was standing by the next bed indicating for them to lay the unconscious d'Artagnan down.

'Knife wounds,' said Athos, 'most do not look too serious. The one on his leg is the worst, it will need stitching.'

Aramis nodded, he looked at Porthos, taking in the dressing on his shoulder. The big musketeer shook his head, he could wait. Aramis nodded again and returned his attention to d'Artagnan as Athos was busy cutting the man's breeches off so that they could deal with the wound on his leg.

They worked quickly and quietly, d'Artagnan did not stir, he looked exhausted. He was shivering, cold, they stripped off his bloody shirt and covered him in blankets, much as Porthos had done with Aramis earlier. Athos cleaned the leg wound as Aramis readied a needle and thread. As he stitched the wound shut, Athos cleaned the other cuts and bound the worst ones to keep them clean.

The door to the infirmary opened. A half-finished conversation between Treville and the physician broke the relative quiet.

'I do not think you need to tell them…'

'They have a right to know,' said Treville firmly.

Treville entered, followed by the physician. The physician took one look at the scene, saw that the injured man was being dealt with and turned to leave. He looked sombre and clearly did not want to be there. Treville did not even argue with the man.

'Tell them what?' asked Athos.

'We found the bodies of the other victims.'

All three conscious musketeers looked up. Aramis paused his stitching, he was nearly finished, the wound had stopped bleeding.

'They were all fit healthy young men…some had been treated in the same way as d'Artagnan, and some had just been beaten, and they were all,' Treville paused a look of disgust crossing his features, '…they had all been molested.'

Aramis looked away and let out a shaky breath. He glanced down at the still form of d'Artagnan, thoughts of what could have happened to his young friend and possibly himself rushing though his mind. He felt Porthos move closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, to offer reassurance. He was grateful. He went back to his stitching in an attempt to focus on something else.

Treville continued, 'the house was full of…torture equipment, those men must have been…' he paused, struggling to find the words again, 'sick of the mind. It was, frankly disgusting. I like to think I am open minded, but what they appeared to want to do was just…wrong.'

Aramis continued stitching, he did not really want to listen anymore. He did not notice Treville leave them alone.

As Aramis had worked he did not noticed Porthos place a chair behind him. It was only when he found himself being forced to sit down, that he realised he had been swaying slightly. He looked up at Porthos and Athos who were both eyeing him with concern.

'I'm fine, I can do this,' he said by way of reassurance.

Once he had finished he sat back. Porthos pushed a cup of water into his hands, with a stern look. Aramis took the cup and drank to placate his friend. He handed the cup back to Porthos who placed it down with a thud on the table.

They all looked back at d'Artagnan when he visibly jumped.

MMMM

'D'Artagnan?' asked Aramis quietly, gently touching his uninjured shoulder.

The young man did not move, Porthos looked at Athos puzzled. Athos looked over at the cup on the table and nodded towards it. Porthos understood, he picked it up and placed it down again firmly, making the same thudding noise.

D'Artagnan flinched again.

Porthos shook his head, furious. The sound of the cup on the table must have caused the reaction in the young man, even in his unconscious state. They began to get an idea of what he had been through, all those hours tied to the wall in the cellar.

Aramis looked up saying quietly, 'I'm not sure if we should be really quiet or not.'

'It's been too quiet…please don't be quiet.'

Porthos took a step forward as d'Artagnan slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times before focusing on Aramis. He opened his mouth to speak, but Aramis beat him to it.

'I'm fine. They found me, it's not so bad, only bruising,' he said, managing a smile at the obviously concerned man.

'Do you want to tell us what happened?' asked Athos.

D'Artagnan turned to him, 'I will, but I'm just so tired.'

'When you are ready then…we'll keep talking if you want,' said Aramis, 'I think they want to tell me off anyway.'

D'Artagnan managed a smile, before closing his eyes again.

MMMM

'I'm sorry,' said Aramis.

'What for?' asked Porthos.

'This,' he replied indicating d'Artagnan, 'if we hadn't been out drinking this wouldn't have happened.'

'Don't blame yourself, you idiot. They've been doing it for a while now, you should've see the marks on the wall. You two weren't the first and wouldn't have been the last either.'

Athos watched the exchange from his seat beside d'Artagnan. Porthos was sat on one of the other beds with Aramis stood next to him stitching his shoulder wound. Athos was wryly amused by the way Porthos winced each time the needle was pushed through his skin. Under normal circumstances he would have made a fuss about the pain, but he was clearly holding back for Aramis' sake.

And the marksman was clearly on the point of collapse himself, Athos had made eye contact with Porthos and pointedly glanced up at Aramis. Porthos nodded imperceptibly. He was ready should the stubborn musketeer fall.

Athos sat forward slightly as Aramis did indeed sway dramatically when he had finished the stitching. Porthos had his good arm around his friend's waist before he could travel very far. He pulled Aramis down to sit on the bed next to him. Keeping hold of him until he was steady again.

'I think, if you needed to be punished for allowing our young friend to have too much to drink, you have managed to do so all on your own,' said Athos quietly, 'rest. Now. We can keep an eye on him…and you will be next to him anyway.'

Aramis nodded contritely and allowed Porthos to manoeuvre him back onto his bed. He lay back and shut his eye, the energy he had enjoyed whilst working with purpose on his friend leaving him.

Athos studied Porthos, who looked full of rage, for a moment before saying, 'the men who did this are dead, they won't be attacking anyone else.'

'I know. But the thought of what could've happened…'

'It did not, and they will both be fine,' said Athos firmly.

MMMM

A few hours later Porthos placed a bottle of wine on the table in the tavern. D'Artagnan had wanted noise, and this was the only place he had suggested. Despite still being tired the young musketeer had struggled to sleep in the relative calm of the garrison infirmary. Aramis had been a bit shocked at the suggestion, but Porthos had pointed out that between Athos and himself d'Artagnan stood a better chance of not getting attacked again.

They had explained to d'Artagnan what had happened with the other victims. Porthos thought he took the news well, better than Aramis had done. But Aramis felt responsible. It had taken d'Artagnan quite some time to convince the marksman it was not his fault and that he was just as responsible for drinking too much and leaving them vulnerable. Aramis had eventually acquiesced.

D'Artagnan was sat with his back to the wall of the tavern, they had allowed him to pick his seat. They wanted him to be as comfortable as possible and to feel safe. He had described what had happened, how he had endured the lengthy silences, which explained his wish for the buzz of constant sound that the tavern provided.

Porthos had looked questioningly at Aramis when he had made to join them, but the expression on his face said he was not being left behind. It was probably a mixture of not wanting to leave d'Artagnan's side and not wanting to be alone himself.

Whilst Athos had kept close to d'Artagnan on the walk through the streets, Porthos had watched over Aramis, who was still a bit shaky. Porthos suspected the marksman still had a headache and this outing was not going to do him any favours.

They had been sat for a few minutes. D'Artagnan had visibly relaxed and was soon leant back and slightly to the side resting his shoulder against Aramis. It had not taken long for d'Artagnan to fall asleep. Porthos had looked at Athos and smirked.

'Well this has to be the oddest place to bring someone to help them fall asleep,' he said.

'Particularly, when neither of them have had a drink this time,' replied Athos nodding towards Aramis who had also shut his eyes and appeared to be asleep as well.

'I doubt either of them will for a bit,' said Porthos grabbing the bottle and pouring them each a cup of wine, 'and to be honest, I wouldn't blame them.'

The End.

Authors note: Thanks for all the great reviews. I hope you enjoyed it.