Treville didn't think he'd ever seen Aramis move so fast as he did when Porthos's shout sounded through the air. The medic had practically flown to the larger man's side within seconds, and if the desperate pleading of D'Artangan's name mixed with a string of Spanish, that the captain strongly suspected was the sharpshooter cursing Pierre and his men, was anything to go by his newest soldier was in worse shape then any of them had anticipated.
And then, as if the universe was trying to spite them, the heavens opened and within seconds every man was soaked.
Athos and Aramis had reached Porthos's side within seconds of each other, the medic's focus immediately locked on to the unnaturally still and pale young man lying on the floor, covered in so much blood, all in different stages of drying and clotting it was apparent that the gascon had been bleeding for a while.
So focused on his charge was Aramis that it was only when Porthos cursed the sudden rain that the medic became aware of his surroundings.
"We need to get him out of here!" the medic's shouted over the pounding rain, panic for their young friend clearly evident in his voice. "He's weak enough already this rain is doing more damage to him!"
Athos steeled himself at the sight of Aramis panicking over the rain. Their gascon had suffered through enough near-death situations to last several lifetimes and still managed to pull through, every single time. He knew that worrying at this precise moment was doing nothing to help the boy currently bleeding to death on the ground. He was not a medic like Aramis but there was something he could do for the boy now.
"Porthos!" he barked, snapping the larger man's attention away from his attempts to rouse their fallen friend. "Get the horses, we need to get back to the cave, its closer than the village, it'll be dry and Aramis can get to work. My horse can easily carry two at speed for such a distance and the sooner we get him out of the rain the better."
Grateful to do something to help his brother Porthos raced to get the horses, filling in the captain and the over musketeers, who had been watching at a respectful distance – knowing that the boy would need his brothers more than them at the moment if he was to pull through.
Once Athos was mounted with a still unconscious D'Artangan tucked safely in his arms he nodded to Porthos and they kicked the horses into a canter, Aramis had raced off as soon as he saw his horse, eager to get things ready for when the men arrived with his patient.
Arriving to the cave Athos was pleased to Aramis had, had enough time to relight the fire and lay out a blanket and his supplies and was waiting on the ground to being, what would most likely be the monumental task of saving their youngest life.
"He's burning up 'Mis" Athos stated to the medic, concern seeping into the short sentence as he laid his injured protégé down by the medic.
Aramis took a deep breath before taking a knife to, what remained of D'Artangan's shirt. What awaited him made his blood turn cold. There was not a patch of his brother's chest that wasn't covered in either blood or almost black bruises.
"I need water, and cloth" Aramis instructed his brothers, who at the hollowness of their medics voice and the sight of their injured brother forced themselves to swallow their rage and move to get the items requested. Only to be stopped by Treville passing over a bucket and several cloths "How is he" he asked gruffly as Athos took the bucket with a nod of thanks.
"Bad… Really bad" the usually chipper medic supplied without looking up from gently cleaning off the blood that covered their young gascon. "Most of his ribs are broken or badly bruised, he has several deep stab wounds, which are covered in the dirt he was laying in which means they're almost guaranteed to get infected – he looks like he hasn't had much, if any food since he's been gone, or gotten proper rest which is putting his body in an even more critical state." He paused, looking up at the men surrounding him making sure they understood what he was about to say "and that is just his front, I haven't even moved onto the rest of him yet. I… I do not know if he can pull through this one." Unwilling to divert his focus from his charge for long, in case his panic overtook him, he returned to what he could do, because despite what he said to his brothers he was determined not to let the young man in front of him go without a fight.
During Aramis's explanation of D'Artangan's wounds Athos found himself flickering between wanting to punch something and drinking himself into oblivion, a particularly pain filled hitched breath from the gascon had him shaking such thoughts from his mind and moving to take his hand, he might not be able to do much but damned if his brother was going to face this alone, only to curse under his breath when he felt the unmistakably disfigured hand of his protégé "Aramis" his tone was like cold steel and had the medic lifting his head from where he had been stitching one of the many stab wounds that littered the man's chest He's going to have so many scars he remarked sadly. Athos voice drew him from his thoughts "You need to check hands, Pierre did some real damage" he explained carefully lifting the limb to show the medic, who paled further at the sight, before immediately checking the other one, immensely pleased when he realized that, although bruised it had not be subjected to the same amount of damage as the other.
"Fuck!" Porthos swore as he saw the offending limb. Each finger looked to be either broken or dislocated and every fingernail had been pulled from their proper place leaving the lad with a mangled bloody mess that could easily make those with the strongest stomachs loose their lunches.
Aramis moved quickly, unwilling to leave the few still bleeding stab wounds he had yet to stitch alone for long, but he knew if the lad was to have any hope of regaining full function of his, thankfully not dominate, hand the bones would have to be set and joints reset as soon as possible. Grimacing as his actions to save the hand drew a heart-wrenching whimper from their young pup the medic quickly bandaged up the hand, once again thankful for his earlier initiative to buy more medical supplies, before turning to the men beside him "get his breeches off, I'm almost finished stitching his front. I need to know the state of his legs before we can move him so I can look at his back"
Relieved to have something to do then to be left with their dark thoughts the men made quick work removing the youngster's breeches – both breathing sighs of relief when they saw the lack of damage there – some prominent bruising but thankfully nothing broken. Relaying this information to their medic caused a ghost of smile to grace the man's face.
"D'Art's got some cuts on his feet, probably from the stones near where we found 'im. Don't look deep enough to need your needlework 'Mis I'll clean and bandage them"
Nodding his thanks he turned to Athos "As soon as Porthos is done we need to turn him over. If this is what happened to his front I can only imagine what his back looks like"
They were stopped from talking further when the quietest voice whispered out "'Mis?" that one pain laced word had all three men wanting to cry as they turned sharply to see their little brothers eyes, glazed with pain and fever staring at the medic.
"Mon Dieu! D'Artangan you're awake!" Aramis felt like kissing the boy, such was his joy of seeing the lad awake, though the boy's next sentence had his heart breaking for the gascon "…'Mis… E… Ev… Everythin' … Hurts"
Running his hand through the gascon's hair soothingly Aramis spoke as softly as he could to the young man "rest D'Artangan" he implored, desperate for his friend to return to the freedom from pain that only unconsciousness could provide at this point "We have you D'Artangan, just rest." He sighed in relief when the man, as if waiting permission, returned to the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness. Looking at the hopeful faces of his brothers Aramis returned to medic mode "That he woke up was a very good sign. If his back isn't too bad and we can keep both infections and his fever at bay he has a chance. Now help me turn him"
The three men worked tirelessly through the night to put their young gascon back together again. His back had been worse then any of them could imagine. The boy had clearly been whipped – numerous painful gashes were prominent on his back, as were several deep burn wounds that looked to be from a burning poker being pushed against the boy's skin and held there for a while. The burns had shown signs of being in the early stage of infection, but Aramis was hopeful he could stop them getting worse.
The men had ignored everything that wasn't related to the young man in front of them, ignoring the pull on their own wounds, Treville asking for information and the other musketeer's attempts at getting them to eat something.
Dawn was beginning to break when Aramis finally declared he was finished with the boy – who was now covered almost head-to-toe in bandages and smelt like something between an apothecary's and a tavern what with all the poultices applied on bandages and the alcohol used to clean the wounds.
Despite being exhausted none of the three men looked ready to leave their charge and it was only when the captain threatened to hold them down and force feed them and then knock them out that they agreed to eat something before resting – once they had the captain promise to wake them if anything changed.
Looking at the pale young soldier laying next to him Treville couldn't help but be reminded of the last time he'd seen the boy awake before they all left for their mission. The boy had been chasing after Porthos as the big man had once again stolen the lad's breakfast. D'Artangan had been so full of life and energy. Such a stark contrast to now. He mused before switching his gaze briefly to his three sleeping men before returning it to the brother they had left in his care. Don't you dare die on us D'Artangan. Those men wont survive it if you do.
