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When Porthos had returned after a few hours' rest, Athos had relinquished their charges into his friend's care, explaining that he needed to check on the horses and consult with the innkeeper about lengthening their stay. Unknown to the others, he also made a trip to visit the physician, not being able to bear the thought of his protégé in so much pain that he could barely keep water down. Both Aramis and d'Artagnan had spent portions of the afternoon awake, and Porthos was especially glad when Aramis managed another cup of broth along with some bread and kept both down. Disturbingly, Aramis hadn't asked about d'Artagnan and the younger man kept quiet during those times when he knew Aramis was awake. For his part, the Gascon was still struggling to cope with the pain he suffered, doing his best to lay still even when he wasn't sleeping, but finding it difficult as the hours of boredom went on. Porthos had come to sit with him a couple of times while Aramis slept, and d'Artagnan couldn't help but feel guilty at the relief he felt that Athos was not in the room.

Porthos proved to be a good distraction, ensuring the young man didn't overtax himself by trying to talk too much, and entertaining him with stories of past skirmishes that were oddly bereft of Athos' presence. When Athos returned that night, he brought more broth and bread for the two convalescing men. Passing a portion off to Porthos, he moved quickly to help Aramis eat before the other man could, leaving him to tend to d'Artagnan instead. If the Gascon was surprised, his face showed none of it and he slowly drained the cup he'd been given before eating a portion of the bread. When he'd finished, he felt the familiar churning in his stomach but wanted to desperately to avoid being sick again.

Porthos looked over at Athos who had noticed the boy's distress and now held a small vial in his hands, motioning to the larger man to take it from him. Porthos squeezed the boy's ankle, rising to collect the bottle from his friend, leaning over as he did so to hear Athos' words. "I got this from the physician today. Add several drops to his water and it should lessen his pain." Porthos looked uncertainly at d'Artagnan, uneasy about the prospect of drugging the boy without his knowledge, but the pain on his friend's face as he forced himself to take slow even breaths, holding his left arm with his other hand to stabilize it, had the large man moving to carry out Athos' instructions.

"Here," Porthos held the cup out to d'Artagnan, "maybe this'll help."

d'Artagnan didn't seem inclined to agree, but grudgingly took the cup, taking a couple of sips when Porthos glared at him. Several minutes passed and Porthos could see the young man's features relaxing, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders and his eyelids getting heavy. d'Artagnan didn't understand what was happening and he looked blearily at his friend as the man took the cup of water from his hand before it fell. "It's alright, whelp, get some sleep," Porthos ordered with a grin. The young man blinked heavily once last time before he drifted off.

Porthos placed d'Artagnan's cup on the table, taking note of its location so they could provide him more pain relief when he needed it, and returned to Athos' side. "He won't appreciate being drugged," he advised his friend. Athos shrugged, unrepentant that they'd eased the boy's pain.

"And how is our other patient doing?" Porthos asked, his gaze falling on Aramis.

"Pfft, m'fine," came the man's slurred response.

"Of course you are," Porthos agreed, his grin growing larger, while Athos merely rolled his eyes at the two men.

"He is not completely incorrect," Athos admitted, "and he managed the cup of broth as well as some bread. His mind seems clearer, also."

Porthos made a questioning look, motioning to the Gascon and then looking back at Aramis. Athos shrugged in reply – the man still hadn't asked about his bedridden friend so it was impossible to tell whether he remembered the boy or not.

As Aramis closed his eyes and followed d'Artagnan's example, Porthos yawned widely. Athos' lips quirked at the sight of his tired friend and rose from his spot at Aramis' side, pushing his friend down to sit in his place. "I believe Aramis rested well with you at his side last night and it's important for his recovery that he have another good night."

Porthos snorted at him, knowing full well what was happening. "Yeah, yeah, no need to get pushy about it. And what about you," the large man asked his friend.

"I believe my back can manage another night in the chair," Athos replied, moving to sit next to the Gascon while he slept.

"You know he'll forgive you, right?" Porthos reminded him.

Athos nodded, "He has a very forgiving nature," he trailed off and waited until Porthos had turned away and settled against Aramis' side before continuing under his breath, "but perhaps there is no forgiveness for me this time." Sighing, he settled down to sleep, praying that the following day would be an easier one than today.

It seemed that they had struck upon the right formula to ensure their patients rested properly; d'Artagnan's drugged body allowed him to sleep through the night without waking, while Porthos' closeness did the same for Aramis. In the morning, it was Aramis who awoke first, finding himself pinned by the larger man's arm around his waist, bringing a smile to his lips. Looking around the room, he spotted the other occupied bed with Athos slumped awkwardly in a chair beside it. He frowned when he saw the young man lying in bed, a part of him recognizing that he'd seen the man earlier but not remembering the surrounding events.

Prodding at the larger man's arm, Aramis endeavored to wake his friend so he could ask about the young man. Porthos woke quickly, a part of his mind remaining aware in case his friend needed him, and he was overjoyed to see Aramis already awake. Pushing himself up on his elbow, he grinned down at his friend. "It's good to see you awake. How do you feel?"

Now that Aramis actually considered the question, he realized that he was feeling much better than before. His head barely ached and his thinking was clearer than it had been in…actually, he didn't know how long. The thought brought a frown to his face and he asked, "How long has it been?"

"Since we found you?" Porthos clarified. At Aramis' nod, he said, "two days."

Two days, Aramis contemplated. Not great but not awful for a head wound. "What about d'Artagnan?" he questioned. "He looks terrible."

Porthos grinned widened as he took in the meaning of Aramis' words – the man had remembered their other friend and was now showing signs of concerns for the boy. Aramis mistook the look on Porthos' face and admonished him, "His condition hardly seems worthy of mirth. What happened to him?"

Porthos shook his head, deciding it would be too complicated to explain now and choosing simply to answer the man's question instead. "He'll be alright. Left arm's broken as are one or more of his ribs on his right side. Other than that, he just needs some rest and proper food, just like you."

Aramis seemed annoyed at his friend's suggestion that he was anything less than well and refocused their conversation on the young man. "Has he been seen by a physician? Broken bones are nothing to sneeze at."

"Yes," Porthos replied affectionately at his friend's concern, "he splinted the boy's arm and Athos made the sling and wrapped his ribs." As Porthos assessed their young friend, he realized the man looked more comfortable than he had been in the previous two days. "Honestly, this looks like the best sleep he's gotten since we found you."

That was twice now that Porthos had talking about finding them and Aramis was curious to hear more. "What do you mean, found us? What exactly happened?"

"You don't remember?" Porthos confirmed.

Aramis lifted his hand to touch the bandage at his temple. "I recall images but apparently there are still some gaps in my memory," he said with an embarrassed smile.

Porthos clasped his hand to prevent him from prodding the wound and explained, "You and d'Artagnan were to check three farms to the east to see if there was any sign of the escaped prisoners." Aramis' eyebrow raised at this, clearly having forgotten the mission that brought them there in the first place. "Both of you ended up being thrown off your horses, which is how you hurt your head. d'Artagnan managed to get you part of the way back here, but you had only one horse and a storm moved in." Porthos took a deep breath and Aramis could see the worry that had plagued his friend during the previous days. "He kept you alive long enough for us to find you but you were both half-frozen by then, laying in the snow, unconscious."

Aramis squeezed the hand he still clasped in his own and murmured to his friend, "Thank you for finding us and for taking care of us. I can see we have not made it easy for you."

Porthos shrugged, uncomfortable with his friend's appreciation, "Was nothin'."

"It is never nothing when a friend spends hours worrying over his friends, taking care of their every need, especially when those friends have a reputation for being especially challenging patients, such as d'Artagnan and I do." Aramis smiled as he spoke but Porthos could see the deep sincerity in his friend's eyes and gave a quick nod of acknowledgement at the man's words.

"And how are they?" Aramis queried.

"I'm surprised you remember that," Porthos confessed.

Aramis shrugged, "I'm not sure I do, not really, but what I recall from our time here seems…tense."

Porthos snorted at his friend understatement as he countered, "The two of 'em have been dancing around each other, both with hurt feelings and neither one of 'em knowing how to fix things." He sighed, "It's been hard to watch, especially with everything else that's been going on."

Aramis nodded in understanding as he declared, "Then it's a good thing that the two of us are smarter than they are, since it will be up to us to bring them to their senses."

"Bring who to their senses?" Athos asked dryly, having wandered over to stand behind Porthos as his friends finished their conversation.

"You two, of course," Porthos retorted. "And now I have help," he grinned, pointing to Aramis who wore a dimmer version of his usual smile.

Athos leaned over his friend, clasping his arm, "It is good to see you awake, my friend. I cannot claim the same, but Porthos was extremely concerned," his lips turned up slightly, belying the sentiment in his words.

"How's d'Artagnan?" Porthos asked now that some of his concern of Aramis had abated.

Athos looked over his shoulder at the young man's bed, seeing that he was starting to wake. "He slept soundly and will hopefully be ready to eat this morning. Speaking of which, I'll head downstairs and see what's for breakfast."

As Athos exited the room, Porthos scowled at his back, "Coward."

"Has it been like this the entire time?" Aramis asked.

"Pretty much. Pair of bloody idiots." With a sigh, he hefted himself up, intending to be at d'Artagnan's side when the boy awakened, but he was stopped by Aramis' hand on his thigh.

"Help me get up?" Aramis requested.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Aramis," Porthos began.

"Good idea or not, I need to get up, so you can either help me or pick me up when I've fallen over," Aramis retorted. Understanding dawned on the other man's face and he moved to help his friend upright, steadying him as he found his feet. "Thank you," Aramis whispered when his head cleared and he pulled away from his friend. "Go, I'm fine now."

Porthos left his friend to take care of his needs, moving to sit in the chair that Athos had vacated. The Gascon had indeed been waking and was now blinking fuzzily at the ceiling. "Morning," Porthos said.

The young man turned his head to find the larger man sitting beside him, and licked his lips as he murmured a reply, "Morning." Porthos handed him a cup of water and the Gascon eyed it warily, slowly coming to the realization that his dry mouth was a result of being drugged. "Is this one safe to drink?" he asked wryly.

Knowing that it would do no good to deny it, Porthos simply nodded at the young man's glare. Taking a few sips, d'Artagnan noticed Aramis out of his bed and asked eagerly about his condition. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

"Yeah, he's a lot better today. The rest last night seems to have done him a world of good." Porthos nodded meaningfully at the cup of water in the boy's hands, "You too." The comment did nothing to remove the scowl from the young man's face, but he didn't dispute the other man's claims.

"And Athos?" he asked.

"Gone to get some breakfast. We'll need to leave by tomorrow if we're to be back on time and for that to happen, you'll need to regain your strength," Porthos told him.

Aramis had finished his business and now moved to sit on the end of d'Artagnan's bed, placing a hand on the boy's ankle as he cast an appraising look over him. "I understand that you've managed to damage yourself," he stated, a glint of humour in his eyes. "Is it alright if I have a look?"

The Gascon knew of Aramis' overwhelming need to ensure the well-being of his friends and, while Aramis had only just moved from his own sick bed, d'Artagnan knew that the man needed to satisfy himself that all was well. He nodded at Aramis' expectant gaze, allowing the man to move closer and pull back his blankets, he sat pliantly as his friend pressed gently against his right side, checking on his sore ribs.

A frown appeared on Aramis' face as he looked at Porthos and asked, "How many broken ribs did the physician find?"

"He said one cracked or broken for sure, maybe one more."

"Mmm," Aramis hummed. "Two are definitely broken, I can feel them clearly." Aramis turned his attention to the boy's arm, "May I?" The young man nodded again, tensing in anticipation of the pain. Aramis was as gentle as possible as he removed the boy's arm from its sling and then felt along its length to confirm the sole break and to ensure that the bones were properly aligned as they healed. Aramis replaced the boy's arm gently in the sling, then looked up at his pained face, "Apologies, d'Artagnan, I had to be sure. If the bones had not been properly aligned as they healed…"

There was no need for him to continue as they all knew of others whose bones had fused together incorrectly, creating the need for them to be re-broken or leaving the person lame for life.

Athos had slipped back into the room to see the end of Aramis' examination and he now threw a questioning look at his friend, confirming that the boy was healing well. d'Artagnan had not yet noticed his entrance, having closed his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing and manage his pain. Athos grabbed the cup containing the physician's pain reliever and waited for the Gascon to open his eyes before attempting to hand it to him.

d'Artagnan stared at the cup defiantly but made no move to take it. "Have a few sips of this and then you can have some breakfast," Athos stated.

"I don't need anything for the pain," the boy retorted.

Athos' gaze found Porthos' as he realized that the young man knew he'd been drugged. Turning his attention back to the boy, he countered, "You need to be able to keep food down if you're to regain your strength and ride back with us tomorrow." If possible, the scowl on the boy's face deepened, resenting the fact that his mentor had brought up his bouts of sickness as a way of getting him to drink the medicine he held. Getting frustrated, Athos stuck the cup under the young man's nose, as he angrily scolded the boy. "Don't be stupid and drink it."

Shock appeared on the three men's faces as they processed the words Athos had uttered, and without a word, d'Artagnan grabbed the cup from him and drained it, thrusting it back at the older man when he was done. Seemingly stunned by his own words, Athos stared at the empty cup in his hands, not wanting to face the gazes of his friends. "I'm sorry, I had no right," he apologized quietly.

"No, you're right," d'Artagnan stated flatly, "I can't keep anything down while I'm in pain and I don't intend to be a burden on anyone." Turning to Porthos, he requested, overly politely, "May I have something to eat, please?"

Porthos moved to get some food for the young man, while Aramis rose from the bed and grasped Athos' arm, saying, "Help me back, please."

Athos wordlessly gripped Aramis' elbow, keeping him steady as they made their way back to the other man's bed and then helped him settle against the pillows and wall behind the bed. When he was comfortable, Aramis turned a compassionate gaze to his friend, admonishing him, "Take care, Athos. The boy does not take kindly to being told what to do and recent circumstances have created a more tenuous position than normal." Athos scowled at his friend as he spoke and Aramis further softened his gaze. "Athos, the boy is in pain and hurting as well from the sting of your earlier words. All is not lost but you must tread carefully so that you may pull him closer rather than pushing him further away."

"You're right, of course," Athos replied quietly. "I don't honestly know what came over me." He paused at Aramis' insightful stare that said Aramis didn't believe him. "I may have some idea of why I've been on edge as of late, but I confess, I have no idea how to stop."

Aramis could see his friend's vulnerability as he shared his fears about the current rift between himself and d'Artagnan and he gripped his friend's arm as he advised, "d'Artagnan is not a fool. He knows that something troubles you and that you do not mean what you say. However, he needs some time before he'll be ready to admit that and to listen to your apology."

Athos nodded, knowing that his friend was correct and moved to get him some breakfast. As he did so, Aramis sighed and leaned back against his pillows, realizing that the next few days were likely to remain tense until Athos resolved to share whatever was bothering him and the Gascon was ready to listen and accept the older man's apology.