Marmion was dead, the crisis was over.

The Musketeers were finally escorting the Royal family back to the palace, and were most of the way there.

Unbeknownst to Aramis, riding with his brothers behind the royal carriage, the eyes of one of the three tended to keep coming back to him.

Athos, who had heard second-hand from Milady de Winter that his brother had been violently thrust out of a window on an upper floor, and had perished, couldn't help keeping an eye on the brother he had so nearly lost this day.

His heart had nearly stopped when he heard the words. Not Aramis! The man of nine lives. The man who had faced the threat of death multiple times over the past few years, and seemed to dare it to trying taking him. It couldn't be true, he told himself.

But he knew his wife. Or thought he once had. The matter-of-fact manner of her recitation of events had only seemed to reinforce what she had told hi and Treville.

Then, when he had come through the doorway and seen his brother at the top of the stairs, gun in hand, peace returned, washing over him in waves. He wasn't gone. His brother was alive!

Now, heading back along the road to Paris and the garrison, though, he had an uneasy feeling. He knew that it concerned Aramis, hence his surreptitious surveillance of his brother.

Aramis had insisted that he 'was fine'. But that was almost a standard reply from him when questioned about his health.

He had said the same thing when a crossbow bolt had torn through his shoulder, embedding itself and refusing to pull free for what seemed to Athos as much too long a time.

He had also given his standard response when caught in a building that had been rocked by explosives. When they had found him under a pile of rubble and barely conscious, he found just enough breath to whisper the words before passing out.

Athos was just a little leary of relaxing just yet, his eyes straying yet again to his brother's form.

Even though he had been keeping a watchful eye, he still wasn't quick enough when Aramis' body, without warning, suddenly went limp. Without a sound, he tumbled from his horse's back, landing in a graceless heap in the middle of the dirt road and lying still.

Dismounting from his horse faster than he probably ever had in his life, he dropped to his knees next to his fallen brother. He heard Porthos and d'Artagnan doing the same, his eyes never leaving Aramis.

"What is wrong with the Musketeer, Treville," came Louis' voice, full of curiosity rather than concern.

Treville, trying to disguise his shock from his King, responded much more calmly than he felt inside, "I will find out Majesty", turning his horse as he spoke.

When Athos heard the question, and knowing Rochefort's habit of trying to paint the Musketeers in the worst light, he realized they had to get Aramis somewhere away from the Royal family, Rochefort and the Red Guards' attention to take care of him.

He rapidly scanned their surroundings, his eyes lighting upon a copse of trees at the bottom of the hill they were currently on. The trees would give them shade from the heat of the sun beating down, as well as giving them privacy while they took care of Aramis. They also didn't need Aramis possibly waking up to multiple eyes to later carry gossip back to the Court.

As he and his brothers carefully began to lift Aramis off the ground, Treville's voice sounded quietly behind him, "How is he?"

Without looking back, Athos replied, "I honestly do not know yet, Captain. I was keeping somewhat of an eye on him when he told me he was fine earlier."

Treville, in other circumstances, might have chuckled in agreement with Athos' comment, but under the circumstances, he responded, "Wise of you. I will hold off the King and other curiosity seekers. Take your time, take care of him (the affection for the marksman coloring his words), and bring him back to us", laying a firm hand on Athos' shoulder, before returning to the King.

Carrying Aramis down the hill was not an easy maneuver, but they finally accomplished it, laying him down in the grass.

Athos sent d'Artagnan and Porthos back up to retrieve the horses.

When they had returned, Porthos brought over his saddle, which he laid on the ground. D'Artagnan had retrieved a couple of blankets and Aramis' medic bag, smoothing one of the blankets out on the grass. Aramis was then lifted and gently deposited on the blanket, the saddle becoming his pillow.

Athos began softly probing under Aramis' curls, and it didn't take long to find a very large lump hidden there.

"This is most likely what caused him to pass out," he said to his brothers.

Porthos agreed,saying, "If it was anyone he was taking care of, he would have told them how dangerous a knock on the head can be."

D'Artagnan spoke up, "He is so different when he is the patient from when he is a medic, isn't he?"

Athos heaved a sigh and nodded. Aramis had done this for as long as he had known him, never telling anyone he was injured, preferring to take care of things himself. He wondered sometimes if it could have something to do with the relationship with his father, who he rarely mentioned.

There wasn't really anything they could do for the lump, other than to try and keep him still. They had all known men who had received a blow to the heading battle, who had never awakened again. They could only hope and pray that it wouldn't be Aramis' fate, as well.

They gingerly sifted through his hair next to remove the glass shards tangled in it. Several were slightly imbedded in his scalp, along with dried blood. Athos was shaking his head by the time they had finished the process.

Athos said, "We need to take his clothes off and check him for any other injuries he may have. Once he wakes up, he will not let us do it."

While taking off his doublet and shirt, they had to shake out more shards of glass. His neck and chest looked fine, but when they turned him over, all three of them let out gasps.

"How on Earth did he manage to rescue the Queen, fight Marmion's men and ride a horse with a concussion and this?" Porthos said, eyebrows raised and gesturing towards his brother's now bare back.

Athos and d'Artagnan didn't say a word, just stared at the mess.

His skin was heavily black and blue from his collarbone to his waist. Several deep gashes mixed themselves into the skin, as well.

Athos indicated the area of his ribs and began probing gently. Finished, he looked up at them, saying, "I suppose it could probably have been worse. He does have at least two broken ribs, however."

Mostly in silence, they set to work. Cleaning his back as delicately as possible in order not to bring any more pain than he had to be in already, they next bandaged his ribs as tightly as they dared. They checked once more to make sure they hadn't missed any glass shards, then pulled a blanket over him.

Through it all, he never made a sound or woke up.

They arranged themselves around him, and settled in to wait for him to awaken.

They were still waiting the next morning, and throughout that day. They had just moved a few feet away to discuss divvying up a night watch, as all three of them were exhausted from being up for two days, when all three of them turned almost simultaneously at hearing a quiet groan in back of them.

"Aramis?" Athos tentatively spoke.

Porthos chimed in, "You with us, mon ami?"

They waited as they watched his eyelids try to prise themselves open, not wanting to rush him even if they were impatient internally, needing to assure themselves that he was going to be all righti.

Finally, his lids lifted, finally revealing exhausted brown eyes.

"Wh..what happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and scratchy from lack of liquids.

Athos replied, "You fell, brother."

His eyes becoming impossibly wide, Aramis asked, "H..how? D..did I …get shot?"

They looked at each other, wondering if the concussion had taken his memory.

"Aramis," Athos continued, "what is the last thing you remember?"

"Kneeling b..before the Q..queen," he responded, his face continuing to reveal his confusion.

"Do you remember anything before that, Aramis?"

They could see his concentration as he tried to remember.

"A..after I cl..climbed up the s..side of the b..building and….", he didn't get any further as three voices sounded as one exclaiming, "You did what?!"

"M..Marmion p..pushed me out a w..window. W..when I woke up, I c..climbed up the side to g..get b..back in."

Aramis' brothers, by this time, were beside themselves. Not only had he been pushed out a window in an upper story and been presumed dead, he had risked his life scaling the side of the building!

"Aramis, when did you kneel before the Queen?" Athos asked.

"A..after I f..fought the Marmion guard. Got p..punched a c..couple of times, th..then kn..knocked him out."

Aramis' brothers were now staring at him as his story continued to unravel.

"Then you found the Queen?"

"Y..yes. And the..then you," he finished quietly.

There was utter silence now, his brothers realizing he nearly could have died three times, but survived. They were utterly grateful he had survived such a horrendous time.

"B..but how d..did I fall?" Aramis asked,back to his former question.

"The events of your day simply caught up with you, Aramis," Athos told him softly. "The large bump on the back of your head…."

"W..what?" Aramis asked, tentatively lifting his hand to search out the bump,only to have Porthos gently grasp it and return it to his side.

"The shards of glass stuck in your scalp…" Aramis' shocked reaction continued. "And the state of your back…"

Here Aramis interrupted him, stutter finally shocked out of him, "What?!"

"The horrendous bruising from your collarbone to your waist, mixed up with cuts and gashes. And the bruising on your upper leg, as well."

Silence reigned again. It wasn't often that Aramis' mute, but this had become one of them. He had known he was sore, but the adrenaline running through his body as he desperately had to get to Anne had seemed to wipe it away at the time. He felt every bit of it now, and profound love and gratitude for his brothers' care and concern, borne out of their love for him.

His eyes closed for a moment, silently offering a prayer of gratitude.

Athos' voice came again, bringing his eyes back open.

"Aramis, you have no idea how concerned we were. You were unconscious for over a day, brother. We have one request for you."

Aramis waited, ready knowing what his request was, and knowing Athos would voice it.

"We love you, Aramis. Please do not keep your injuries, your illnesses, your troubles from us. We are brothers, and we care for, and take care of, each other in all ways."

Aramis was silent yet again. Then slowly, his hand reached out palm down. One by one, each of his brothers did the same. One for all, and he was blessed more than he could put into words that he had been given these friends, these brothers, whom he loved, respected and cared about with all his heart.