Chapter Nine

D'Artagnan stared for a second. Athos was not moving, his face turned away. Herrera was not moving, sprawled on top of his friend.

Blinking a couple of times, d'Artagnan forced himself to react, he took the final step forward, he had been less than a yard away when the fighting had stopped and both men had slumped to the floor. He grabbed at Herrera, pushing him firmly off Athos. As Herrera rolled away, d'Artagnan saw the bruise blossoming on his temple, a trickle of blood winding its way around the dirt on the man's face.

Herrera was dead.

D'Artagnan turned his focus to his friend. Athos was starting to move but had become very pale. He was breathing hard. As he tried to lift his left arm a large stone dropped from his fingers, a splash of blood on its surface telling d'Artagnan it had been responsible for Herrera's death. Athos must have grabbed the rock as he was pushed about by the mercenary.

Treville crouched on Athos' other side, resting his hand on the injured man's chest, trying to stop him from moving too much.

'It's alright,' said d'Artagnan quietly, 'he's gone. Keep still.'

'Where's his injury?'

D'Artagnan looked around, into the hut, Aramis was watching them. He had managed to twist himself slightly onto his side, the restraints preventing him from moving any further. He looked pale and on the verge of passing out again. But d'Artagnan was glad his friend was conscious and coherent.

'A deep laceration to his arm,' said Treville who was undoing Athos' belt and doublet.

'Ara...mis?' slurred Athos.

'He'll be fine,' said Treville, 'provided he behaves. Now, you be still and do as you are told as well.'

Athos managed a weak smile, 'yes, Captain. It is good to have you back.'

Treville nodded, 'thank you.'

Athos took a couple of breaths, blinked a few times and closed his eyes.

'He's passed out,' said d'Artagnan unnecessarily.

For the second time in an hour, d'Artagnan and Treville worked together on an injured friend. Treville pushed Athos' doubted off his shoulder and eased his right arm from the sleeve. Even unconscious Athos reacted to the movement, his expression was not calm. The wound to his arm was bleeding, d'Artagnan used a temporary bandage so that they could check Athos for any other injuries.

He glanced back toward Aramis and Porthos. Porthos was slowly undoing the belts which were keeping Aramis tied to the bed. Aramis did not question why he had been restrained; he had probably guessed he had been combative. Explanations could wait. Despite obviously still suffering the effects of the earlier blast, Porthos managed to ease Aramis off the bed, settling him on the floor of the hut. Athos would need the bed once they had seen to his immediate needs. Aramis was very pale and looked as though he would pass out again.

'How deep is the wound?' asked Aramis.

Treville was busy feeling Athos' ribs as he replied, 'deep, it's still bleeding.'

'Clean...it thoroughly…'

'We can do this Aramis…'

D'Artagnan watched as Aramis tried for a few more seconds to remain conscious but lost the battle. Porthos slipped his arm around his friend's shoulders and supported the injured man against him.

Treville sighed, 'I'm sorry,' he said.

'What for?' asked d'Artagnan.

'If I hadn't got caught, this wouldn't have happened to you all.'

'You shouldn't have been doing this alone,' said Porthos from behind them.

Treville paused, he did not stop d'Artagnan from taking the bandage from his hands and starting to wind the material around Athos' arm. D'Artagnan glanced up at his Captain, a look of guilt crossing the man's face.

'I know,' Treville said, 'but the King did not want the information to be shared with anyone else-'

'We don't need to know the information,' said Porthos, butting in, 'we need to keep the information, and therefore you, safe.'

D'Artagnan looked up again and nodded his agreement with Porthos' statement. Treville smiled.

'I will remember that for next time, Porthos,' said Treville.

'Good,' replied Porthos, 'he ain't ready to take over yet,' Porthos nodded towards Athos' still form. 'We need our Captain.'

'I thought you were injured?'

'Bruised. I'll survive.'

'Could you survive without telling me off?' asked Treville.

D'Artagnan could not help a smirk as he finished tying the bandage on Athos' arm. Despite the nasty injuries they had received, they were all alive and had achieved their goal of rescuing the Captain. The light-hearted banter between the Captain and Porthos was welcome.

MMMM

Treville rubbed his palm across his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue. He knew he should wake d'Artagnan to take his turn on watch. But the Musketeer was asleep, lying next to the bed, a sort of last line of defence for Athos. Athos had come around briefly a few hours before. He had managed to drink some water.

He had explained that Herrera and he had fought until the mercenary had been lucky enough to push Athos over. The unfortunate swordsman had stumbled back and crashed to the floor. He had been left stunned for a few seconds. Why Herrera had not taken advantage and killed him, Athos did not know. When he had been able to get to his feet he had pursued the Spaniard who seemed to know about the shepherd's hut. Treville had thanked Athos for his timely arrival. Athos had fallen into an uneasy sleep.

Porthos had finally given up pretending he had not been badly affected by the blast and succumbed to the call of sleep himself a few minutes later. He was lying stretched out on the floor next to Aramis.

Treville had spent some time apologising to Aramis for tying him to the bed. Aramis had been a little embarrassed when he found out the reason for his restraints. The two men had agreed to pretend the incident had not happened. Aramis was asleep, lying next to Porthos. Aramis did not look particularly comfortable, but he would recover.

All his men had been hurt, even d'Artagnan was not without several nasty bruises from the fight. Treville felt responsible, despite them telling him he was not. He was annoyed that the King had set them the ultimatum that if they did not succeed, they would be executed. There would have been no need, they would have come for him regardless.

D'Artagnan murmured in his sleep and swatted at some unseen foe with his hand. The dream only lasted a few seconds, before he settled again. Treville decided to let him sleep on for a while. He doubted he would sleep when he did allow his Musketeer to take over the watch.

He had been the cause of his men getting injured, of his men coming close to being killed.

The information he had, the delicate negotiations he had taken part in would help the King and France to better their friendship with the neighbouring country.

But was it worth the potential loss of the lives of his men?

Treville hoped it was.

The End.

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for all the reviews and favourites/follows.