Want to give a HUGE shout out to my beta SpaceCowboy. Thanks for all the help!
D'Artagnan kissed Constance one last time before she strolled toward the Queen's carriage. He walked over to the other musketeers after it pulled away, a lingering smile on his face. When his brothers caught him lost in reflection, his face turned red and he quickly cleared his throat to disguise his amorous thoughts.
"I think she really likes you," Aramis teased.
D'Artagnan smiled at his friend. He noticed Aramis had several cuts on his face and hands. The musketeer was battered but still standing. How he wasn't dead d'Artagnan didn't know. When he was pushed out the second story window they had feared the worst. If one of them were to go, d'Artagnan wasn't sure how their band of brothers could continue.
"Now that you are done with your paramour, can we get back to the garrison?" Athos asked.
D'Artagnan smiled when Porthos slapped him on the back. The large musketeer laughed as they walked together, along with their Captain, over to the horses. When he was mounted, he saw Athos fiddling with his bridle while also watching Aramis, and he wondered what Athos was waiting for.
He followed his gaze over to Aramis where he was putting his foot in the stirrup in preparation to mount. That was as far as he got and d'Artagnan stomach clenched as Aramis crumbled to the ground. He jumped off his horse then ran to Aramis.
"Aramis!" Porthos yelled.
D'Artagnan reached Aramis a few steps behind Athos. He could see Aramis' eyes were open but unfocused.
"Aramis," Athos called, but got no response.
"Is he alright?" d'Artagnan asked.
"Of course he's not alright!" Porthos bellowed, making d'Artagnan jump. "He was pushed out a window."
"Easy, Porthos," Treville soothed.
D'Artagnan watched Athos remove his gloves to check Aramis' head. Earlier, d'Artagnan noticed blood matting the marksman's hair, so he wasn't surprised when Athos' fingers came away sticky with blood.
"Ouch," Aramis cried, batting Athos' hand. "What happened?"
"You passed out," Porthos answered.
"How badly are you hurt?" asked the captain.
Aramis winced. "I've been better."
"Let's get him back to the garrison," suggested Athos.
D'Artagnan grabbed one of Aramis' arms while Athos grabbed the other. They pulled him to his feet, keeping hold until he was steady. D'Artagnan let Porthos help Aramis onto his horse, watching helplessly as Aramis swayed in the saddle.
Porthos held him upright until Athos rode alongside and grabbed the marksman's arm. D'Artagnan saw Athos nod slightly, indicating he had Aramis, so he gathered his reins and swung himself into his saddle, unsure if Aramis needed more than just a helping hand.
"At the least, he has a concussion," Treville remarked, riding to Aramis' other side.
"Are you ready?" Athos asked, squeezing Aramis' arm, to which the marksman replied with a deep breath and nod.
The horses moved out with Aramis, Treville and Athos riding abreast. D'Artagnan rode with Porthos, following close behind. The ride took a little under an hour, and as they passed through the archway leading into the garrison, d'Artagnan let out a long breath, relieved they had made it back without mishap.
"Get him to his rooms," Treville instructed. "I'll get the supplies."
They got Aramis off his horse then up the stairs. D'Artagnan could see Aramis limping on his right leg, so once they were in Aramis' room, d'Artagnan sat him in a chair with Porthos' help and stepped back to let Porthos remove Aramis' leather doublet.
"I've got it," Aramis complained, pushing the hands away. He fumbled with the buttons for a few moments then dropped his hands to his sides. "Maybe you better do it."
D'Artagnan smiled when Porthos laughed then moved in to help remove the doublet. As he unbuckled the pauldron he noticed it sticky with blood.
"He's bleeding on this shoulder," d'Artagnan said, holding up his bloody fingers.
"I suppose it was inevitable since I used glass to break my fall," joked Aramis.
Treville entered with bandages and warm water. D'Artagnan looked up, but a groan from Aramis diverted his attention back to his friend.
His heart skipped a beat. Porthos was trying to remove their friend's shirt, but congealed blood adhered it to his skin. D'Artagnan rushed to help, hoping to make the process easier on Aramis, but the marksman still groaned each time they tugged on the shirt. When it was off, they found the culprit- a long gash leading down from his left shoulder with a shard of glass still embedded within.
"How did you not feel that?" d'Artagnan asked.
"I don't know," Aramis admitted. "I just knew I had to save the Queen and the Dauphin."
"Let's get that out of there," Treville ordered.
Porthos carefully grabbed the shard and pulled. It came out easy but now the wound bled freely. D'Artagnan grimaced and grabbed a bandage so Porthos could apply pressure.
"This is going to need stitches," Porthos remarked.
"Keep pressure on it," Athos advised. "Let's try to get the glass out of his hair and check his head wound. Then if it needs stitches we can do everything at once."
D'Artagnan looked around the small room. He swiped a comb off a table, passing it to Athos while Aramis bent forward with his head between his knees. Athos nodded then used it to carefully removed the shards of glass from Aramis' hair.
D'Artagnan glanced at Porthos, wondering how he was handling this and noticed he was quiet. The Gascon knew this meant he was concerned, so when the gruff musketeer looked back at him he tried to convey confidence in his smile. But Porthos only grunted then returned to rubbing his friend's back while simultaneously applying pressure to the wound.
"D'Artagnan," Athos called. "Put that bucket between his feet."
D'Artagnan saw the bucket against the wall and retrieved it, placing it where Athos instructed. Treville poured the warm water over the head wound; the water flowing red into the bucket at Aramis' feet as Athos gently cleaned the wound.
D'Artagnan flinched as a shudder racked Aramis' body.
"Be quick, Athos," Porthos advised. "He has the shakes."
"I'm alright," Aramis assured. "Just cold."
"Almost done," Athos said, looking up at Treville. "Do you think it needs stitches?"
"No," Treville said, taking a closer look. "We'd have to shave his head."
"Over my dead body," Aramis said, in alarm.
D'Artagnan laughed. "That got his attention."
Treville chuckled. "We'll wrap it tight and try to keep what little brain he has left contained."
"You're enjoying this," Aramis accused.
"A little," Athos said dryly.
"Let's get him comfortable in the bed," Treville instructed. "It will be easier to stitch his shoulder if he's lying down."
"Not Porthos," Aramis pleaded as he was lead to the bed.
Porthos frowned. "You don't like my stitches?"
"They do tend to scar," Athos said, helping Aramis to lie down.
"I'll do it," a distinctively feminine voice called from the open door.
D'Artagnan looked up surprised to see Constance.
"My lady, you have saved me from disfigurement," sighed Aramis.
"Constance," d'Artagnan said, escorting her inside. "What brings you here?"
"I knew Aramis had to be hurt," she said, walking to the bed. "He did fall two stories."
"Four," Aramis corrected. They gave him a look. "It felt like four."
D'Artagnan laughed as Constance rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. He moved to the foot end, watching as Treville handed her the needle and thread. Athos leaned in and pinned Aramis' shoulders while Porthos and d'Artagnan grabbed his legs. Constance removed the rag and handed it to Treville.
D'Artagnan frowned when Constance touched Aramis' shoulder and whispered in his ear. He had no idea what she said, but it made both Aramis and Athos laugh and there was a smile on her face when she sat back.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"For you, my lady," Aramis said. "Always."
"Even hurt he's flirting with your girl," Porthos teased.
D'Artagnan accepted the tease with a smile then tightened his grip on Aramis' legs. As Constance began, Aramis gripped the edge of the bed. D'Artagnan grimaced, imagining how much it must hurt, so he was not at all surprised when the marksman's breathing got faster.
D'Artagnan felt Aramis go slack as his body could take no more and he passed out.
With a sigh of relief, d'Artagnan stepped back, noting how Constance was having an easier time closing the wound without Aramis twitching. He feared for his friend, but at least now he was no longer in pain. To keep himself distracted from the worry churning his stomach, he went around the room picking up the various pieces of Aramis' uniform they'd removed earlier.
The scent of brandy grabbed his attention. The sweet smell reminded him of better times, but right now all it did was make him feel nauseous. Constance was pouring it on a bandage to clean Aramis' wounds, illuminating the stark reality his friend was injured. He sat down before his legs gave out beneath him. He knew Constance was doing everything she could. He didn't doubt her capabilities, but fueled by nervous concern, he pointed out the obvious cut he found earlier under the pauldron.
As he sat in the chair leaning over his knees, he watched as both Constance and Athos finished cleaning the various cuts and scrapes adorning the marksman's body, binding them when they were done.
Constance pulled a blanket up Aramis' body then kissed him on the cheek. The tender moment of friendship brought a smile to d'Artagnan's face, reflecting his adoration and why he loved this woman so much.
"Look out, d'Artagnan," Porthos laughed. "Even unconscious he's stealing your girl."
Athos gave d'Artagnan one of his rare smiles. "He is quite handsome."
D'Artagnan mocked their teasing with a crooked smile, knowing exactly where Constance stood and proud she had enough compassion to share with all of them.
"He'll need to be watched," Constance said, and his heart fluttered. Aramis had needed her and they had all needed Aramis alive. She'd not only just helped the marksman, but them as well. "Head wounds can be tricky."
"Don't worry, Madame, he's in good hands," Treville assured her.
"I have to get back," Constance said, standing.
"I'll walk with you," d'Artagnan offered, wanting to spend as much time with her as possible.
D'Artagnan took her arm, walking her out to the balcony as the others followed. Treville bid them a good day as he continued to his office. Athos and Porthos leaned against the rail as d'Artagnan headed for the stairs with Constance.
"Wait," Porthos called. "What did you say to make Athos and Aramis laugh?"
"Yes, what did you say?" d'Artagnan said, giving her a quizzical look.
"That I owe him a slap for scaring me half to death."
D'Artagnan shook his head as he escorted her down the stairs, smiling as he heard Porthos' boisterous laugh from above. He looked over his shoulder to see Athos heading back into Aramis' room, so knowing his friend was in good hands, he continued to the gate with Constance.
He kissed her good-bye and thanked her for not just helping Aramis, but all of them. For without one, they weren't a complete whole.