Oops, sorry! Forgot to keep updating this! I've been trying to get this as updated as the story on AO3 but I got distracted by real life. I'll try and get the story here at the same point as the one on AO3.
Aramis motioned to Porthos.
"Let's get Athos out of this ruined shirt. He'll rest better when he's warm and comfortable." Porthos moved away from d'Artagnan's side to help, leaving the younger man watching, knowing that the two friends had it in hand and he would only get in the way. It left him with time to think and feel guilty. He had had the choice a few days before, on which order to do his errands in as his duties meant that he could choose to finish the mission with either Aramis or Athos. As he wanted a chance to improve his shooting he chose Aramis. If he had gone with Athos he may have been able to stop him being hurt, or at the very least made sure that he got some medical attention as soon as he arrived in the village. He knew he was being irrational, but it hurt to feel like he was in some small way responsible for his friend's state.
By the time Treville had come into the room with the landlord, both managing to carry two chairs each, Athos was dressed in one of his clean shirts that Aramis had grabbed out of his saddlebags when he went to get his salve (all their belonging were currently in the stables as the hadn't managed to get them upstairs yet; Athos was too injured to carry them, Porthos was hurrying to find Athos after discovering a stable boy cleaning blood off Athos' horse and Aramis and d'Artagnan had rushed from the stable after being told of their companion's injuries) and covered in a multitude of blankets taken from their adjoining unused rooms.
The chairs were gathered around the bed in the middle of the room and as the landlord left the room they all settled down in them. Even d'Artagnan left his spot by the wall to sit at his mentor's side.
From his position, now close enough to touch, d'Artagnan could see that Athos' lips were pale and his fingernails were slightly blue at the base. Reaching out to grasp the still fingers with one hand he was shocked to find them almost ice cold and moved to clasp them between his two warm hands in an attempt to warm them up. He looked over at Aramis, concerned.
"It's the blood loss, his skin will feel cool whilst he recovers from the wound. He'll be feeling the cold for a few weeks."
Charlotte appeared at the doorway again and spotted the untouched bowls of soup that she had left earlier.
"You lads need something to eat. I know your friend is badly hurt, but you all will need to eat something if you are going to look after him. I've got a big pot of stew going for you, I expect you all to eat it!" She took the tray of bowls and descended the stairs into the kitchen. Aramis raised his eyebrows and grinned.
"I like her, she's bossy!"
Porthos snorted, Treville grinned and even d'Artagnan gave a little smile at Aramis' small attempt to lighten the mood of the room.
Silence descended again until Charlotte came into the room carrying a large pot in one hand and a pile of bowls in the other. A bunch of spoons could be seen peeking out from the pocket of her apron. Porthos hurried to her side and relieved her of the pot and put it near the fire to keep warm as instructed. The bowls and spoons went on the top of the dresser.
"I don't expect you to eat now, but I want all the stew gone by morning. It'll keep warm until you feel like eating. Is there anything else you need?" There were shaking heads all round. "I'm retiring now so if you need me later just knock on the first door to the right after you've gone through the kitchen. I bid you gentlemen goodnight." She left, leaving four men trying to get comfortable in hard wooden chairs, preparing themselves for a long night vigil.
They passed the next hour talking about their missions and reporting to Treville all that had been forgotten once they found out the injuries of their friend. They also discussed how to punish the recruits, Porthos was in favour of terminating their training straight away and denying them commissions whilst Treville tried to be diplomatic and give them a second chance although they could see that he was as dismayed by the recruits' lack of concern as his men. Aramis didn't want anything to do with them, if they couldn't look out for one of their own in peace time, what would they do in the midst of a battle?
During their hushed heated discussion, Treville disrupted them with mention of food.
"Gentlemen, we have all night to decide what to do. But for now we need to eat and be there for Athos." He leaned back and grabbed the bowls and tables from the dresser. "Porthos, pass the pot." Despite being the captain, a position which would expect someone else to serve up his food, he ladled the steaming food into the bowls and passed them round to his men.
The stew was hearty and fulfilling; had this been any other day they would be rejoicing at the good food, but at the moment it felt like lead shot at the bottom of their stomachs.
Food eaten and pot empty, Treville placed the pile of bowls and spoons and the pot outside the door and shut it quietly; he didn't want anyone else interrupting this private moment. Turning, he looked over his men, they all were looking solemn, like men that had already lost important people in their lives and couldn't bear to lose another one.
Aramis had his crucifix clasped in both hands and his lips were moving in a silent prayer. D'Artagnan was back clasping one of Athos' hands in both of his own, as if by strength of will alone he could stop death. Porthos had one hand on Aramis' knee in a gesture of support, the other on resting on Athos' free wrist, fingers deftly finding the pulse point. Treville settled back in his chair by d'Artagnan and waited.
They stayed like that all night, anxiously watching each small breath. Apart from Treville, who left a few hours before dawn to catch a little sleep before training in the morning and gave orders to waken him if Athos looked like he was getting worse, they all were silent and still. They caught a few minutes of sleep in small snatches, desperate to be awake and aware if the worst should happen and Athos slipped away.
This chapter is dedicated to my brother, who at the time of writing had his university graduation ceremony. He now has a degree in physics! My family now has the full set of science degrees (biology, chemistry and physics), I'm the odd one out with an archaeology degree.