When the three men returned to their room d'Artagnan was still resting peacefully and a hand on his forehead confirmed that while still present, his fever was much improved. Aramis and Porthos claimed the other bed and, once undressed down to their smalls, arranged themselves comfortably under the blanket together. Athos had brought with him a fresh bottle of wine and he sat next to d'Artagnan's bed, intending to watch over him while he drank.

Morning found Athos still in the chair next to the Gascon's bed, with his head slumped uncomfortably to one side. This was how d'Artagnan discovered him upon waking as he carefully lifted himself up onto his elbows, startled to find that he was the first one awake. Deciding to collect breakfast for his brothers, d'Artagnan slowly levered himself to an upright position, adjusting to the change in elevation by sitting on the bed for a few moments. When he felt ready he pushed himself carefully off the bed and dressed in his shirt and breeches.

The trip down the stairs was less painful than the last time he'd made it, but by the time he was returning to the room, he felt winded and worn out again. He reasoned with himself that after Athos' anger at him the previous evening, the least he could do was to bring the man his morning meal. Setting the basket of food on the table, d'Artagnan was startled to find the other three awake and staring at him. "I brought breakfast," he said, pointing at the basket. He began laying the food out on the table only to be stopped by Porthos who placed a hand on his. Looking up at the swarthy man he saw Porthos shake his head no.

Next, Aramis grasped his arm and led him back to the bed where Athos pushed him back down to sit. "You're supposed to be resting so you can heal." Aramis began as he lifted d'Artagnan's shirt to gain access to his wounds.

"Getting us breakfast don't count as resting." Porthos added, unpacking the basket.

"So you're going to sit here and let Aramis check your wounds. Then you'll eat a proper breakfast and you'll rest here while we get the horses ready," Athos finished.

d'Artagnan looked from one man to the next, realizing that there was no argument he could successfully make against their combined force. Sighing, he resigned himself to being looked at and rebandaged by Aramis, and then ate everything Porthos placed infront of him in an effort to appease his friends. When he was finished he made to stand but a look from Athos had him sitting back against the wall behind the bed instead. Athos smiled at that and inclined his head slightly in satisfaction at the action.

By the time that the horses were saddled and they were ready to go, d'Artagnan was restless and anxiously waiting for permission to leave his bed. Receiving a last warning from Aramis to let them know if the pain of riding became too great, d'Artagnan was finally allowed to leave and happily made his way out of the inn where the horses were waiting.

Mounting his horse was painful but d'Artagnan managed it without too much difficulty, stifling a groan that threatened to be voiced at the act. If he thought his brothers had been fooled, he was mistaken, and the three men shared a silent vow that one of them would stay beside the Gascon for the duration of their trip to Paris. They set out at a slow walk, allowing d'Artagnan to adjust to the motion of the horse beneath him and minimizing the pull on his wounds every time the horse shifted.

As expected, the young man didn't voice any complaints but as the day wore on the Musketeers could see lines of pain around d'Artagnan's eyes and his face gathered a fine sheen of sweat as he battled silently with the pain. "Enough," Portos stated, "you've been biting your lip in pain for the last hour and if you sway any more, we'll be pickin' you up off the ground."

He reached over and grabbed the reins of d'Artagnan's horse, pulling both mounts to a stop. Ahead, Athos and Aramis had also stopped at Porthos' exclamation and were now turning their horses back to regroup with the other two men. Aramis pulled his horse next to d'Artagnan's and cast a careful eye over him before proclaiming that it was time to stop and rest. Porthos led d'Artagnan's horse into the shade of nearby tree, dismounted and tied up both horses, then turned to help the younger man down.

d'Artagnan barely stifled a groan as his body protested the motion of dismounting and for a few moments Porthos bore all of the other man's weight as he waited for the Gascon to become aware enough to stand on his own. When d'Artagnan nodded, Porthos led him the few steps to the tree and gently lowered him to a sitting position against the trunk.

Aramis was already waiting for him and immediately pulled at the young man's shirt to get access to his side. To his pleasure, both wounds still looked good and none of the stiches had been torn. Athos passed Aramis a water skin and he helped d'Artagnan drink his fill, before lowering him back to lay on the ground, a folded cloak under his head as a pillow. It was a clear sign to the three men that their young friend was not only in pain but also exhausted as he didn't protest their care at all and was asleep within moments of laying down.

The Musketeers moved to stand several feet away from where the young man lay sleeping, Aramis and Porthos looking expectantly at Athos. After a moment, Athos looked up from the ground, stating, "It's only a few more hours' ride to Paris. While the situation is less than ideal, the danger posed by spending a night out of doors is too great." Athos caught Aramis' gaze, asking, "Can the boy make it?"

Aramis had been expecting the question and he nodded slowly in reply. "His wounds are healing and are clear of infection. He'll be uncomfortable, but he'll be fit enough to ride after an hour or two of rest."

Their plans made, the three returned take care of the horses and then settled at d'Artagnan's side to wait until he awoke.

It seemed that d'Artagnan was not to get the rest he so badly needed as he startled awake to Porthos' gentle shaking a mere three quarters of an hour later. As he opened weary eyes, he caught sight of Porthos' concerned look. "You 'ad a nightmare. Thought it'd be better to wake you than to let it go on." d'Artagnan nodded in acknowledgement of the other man's words. "You alright now?" Porthos asked.

"Fine," d'Artagnan replied, running a hand over his face to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep. "I'm fine," he repeated. "Is it time to go?" he asked, motioning towards the horses with his head, where Athos and Aramis had begun their preparations to depart.

"If you feel up to it, then yes. It would be prudent on our part to reach Paris before dark." Athos explained.

The young man simply nodded his agreement and moved to stand, gratefully clasping Porthos' extended hand so that he could be pulled to his feet. Porthos released his hand once he was certain the young man had his feet under him, but stayed close as they walked to d'Artagnan horse before helping him to get seated in the saddle.

"d'Artagnan," Athos began, "we would like to reach Paris before nightfall tonight, however," he paused, considering his words, "our arrival time is unimportant when compared to the state in which we arrive. Understood?"

d'Artagnan ducked his head, a grin gracing his face. "Understood."

Athos nodded and motioned with his hand for his two companions to take the lead while he positioned his horse next to the younger man's so that he could keep watch over him during the ride. While d'Artagnan expected to feel annoyance at the man's words and actions, he felt instead a slow warmth spreading through his chest. Here, with these three men, he had truly found safe harbour.