Athos burst through the doors, noticing immediately the panicked look on his friends' faces as they looked at him.

"Quickly," said Aramis. "We need you."

As soon as he spoke Athos realised that both of them were holding down D'Artagnan, who appeared to be jerking and thrashing beneath their hands. Athos ran over and threw himself to his knees beside them all.

"What's happening? What do I do?" He looked at Porthos, who was holding the boy down by the shoulders, and Aramis who was practically sitting on his legs.

"He's trying to fight off the shock; we need to hold him still in case he makes his injury worse. If he rips the stitches I'll need to cauterise." Aramis spoke calmly, trying to reassure himself as much as anyone else.

Immediately Athos knelt up and leant over D'Artagnan, trapping his arms at his sides, and using his own body to hold the other still, without putting too much weight on him. "Why is this happening?"

"I think he tried to wake up. It could just be the blood loss. It's hard to tell, but he's fighting something."

Porthos spoke up. "How long will it last?"

"I don't know."

The three fell silent as they held onto their friend, all three faces full of worry and pity for the man in their hands. It felt to Athos as if they were there for hours, prayers running through his head as he begged for D'Artagnan's life. In reality it wasn't long before he felt the body beneath him slacken and the fight go out of him. Athos raised his head in panic, looking up at Porthos who looked terrified as he searched at D'Artagnan's throat for a pulse. A grin crossed the big man's face as he found it and Athos felt the tension being released from all three of them. He sat back up, releasing his hold.

"Now what?" Porthos asked.

Aramis had climbed off D'Artagnan's legs and made his way to the side opposite Athos. He checked the wound and checked the pulse for himself, and smiled at the others. "He's unconscious again. He will sleep for some hours I think."

Porthos let out a relieved sigh, glancing quickly at Athos before he spoke. "Will he be ok?"

Aramis reached out and clasped his friend's shoulder, giving him a genuine smile. "As long as there's no infection, which there shouldn't be, then I believe he will be."

Porthos reached up, briefly covering the hand that rested on his shoulder, before looking once again at their leader. "Athos? You with us?"

Athos hadn't moved since sitting up. He knelt by D'Artagnan's side, frozen in place with his head bent down to his chest. Aramis and Porthos shared a look, both in agreement about what they were about to do.

"Athos?" Porthos kept speaking quietly to him as they moved slowly round until Aramis was at his side and Porthos was kneeling directly behind him. "It's alright Athos, it's ok." With the briefest of hesitations as he wondered whether this action was going to get him a punch in the face, Porthos slowly put his arms round Athos. When the man didn't flinch he placed his hands gently on his torso, and wrapped him into a tight hug. "It's alright."

With sadness etched deeply into his face, Aramis reached forward and gently took hold of Athos' hands. "Athos? It's going to be fine, honestly. Are you with us?" A squeeze of his hands let Aramis know that he was heard and understood.

"I can't, I can't take much more of this." Athos' words were a pained whisper, laced with shame as he let his brothers see his weakness. The response was a tightening of Porthos' arms, and Aramis' arms joining in the embrace as he wrapped his arms around both of them.

"We're here, alright?"

Athos couldn't help but smile a little as he tried to nod but couldn't move his head as he was so tightly wrapped up in the arms of his friends. "Yes, I know. Thank you."

They stayed like that for several minutes, Aramis and Porthos waiting for a sign that Athos had relaxed. Athos let the comfort and love wash over him for a few minutes, before he reached up with his hands and patted Aramis on the back and one of Porthos' strong arms. They said nothing as they released the embrace and moved away, standing up. Back to business.

"I'll go and bring the horses over." Porthos called over his shoulder as he headed for the doors.

"Check the cart for supplies would you?" Aramis called after him. Porthos nodded before heading outside. "I'm going to take care of our prisoner, then check the hayloft for sleep options." Aramis also walked away, leaving Athos to sit back down by D'Artagnan's unconscious form. He watched as Aramis checked the prisoner, who was thankfully still unconscious, smiling as Aramis grabbed the bastard by the feet and dragged him to a corner of the barn. The musketeer quickly located a length of rope and trussed the man up so tightly he'd be lucky if he could feel any of his limbs when he awoke. He was left facing the wall, unable to intrude on the privacy of the musketeers as they went about their business. Aramis sent a quick grin to Athos before climbing the ladder into the hayloft. His voice drifted back down. "Come and get me if you need to."

Athos smiled and shook his head. Aramis' subtle way of letting him know that he was going to stay up there and give him some time alone. He listened as Aramis moved around some hay above, making himself a bed for the night. Just as the noise stopped, Porthos came back through the doors carrying a bundle he had obviously gathered from the cart outside. With a grin he approached Athos.

"This should keep us going for the next few hours. Here." He tossed some bread to Athos before dropping a couple of blankets on the floor next to him. "Aramis?"

"Hayloft."

Porthos gave him a quick clap on the shoulder before he turned on his heel and headed straight for the ladders. Athos watched as the big musketeer moved out of sight. He looked at the bread in his hands, but put it aside for later. He couldn't eat just now. Instead he took the blankets and covered D'Artagnan with the first one, trying to wrap him as carefully and snugly as possible. Then he lay down beside him, curling his body into him and pulled the other blanket over himself. He rested his chin on D'Artagnan's shoulder, breathing in the scent of him deeply, and buried his face in his hair. He moved the arm that he lay on so that he could find D'Artagnan's hand under the blanket. His other arm wriggled its way under the blanket to lie protectively across his stomach. He pressed a kiss into his head before closing his eyes. "I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

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"Aramis?" Porthos looked around the hay that scattered across the loft. He couldn't see his friend, so he listened instead for the signs he was looking for.

A sniff.

Porthos walked steadily to the corner the sound came from, looking round the pile of hay that Aramis had hastily gathered to hide behind. The musketeer was lying on his back, one head pulling his hair back from his forehead, the other clenched at his side. Porthos sighed as he noticed the tears that filled his friend's eyes and moved to sit quietly beside him.

"You didn't have to hide you know."

"I don't want Athos seeing me."

"He won't mind."

"He's got enough to worry about without me blubbering like a fool. He loves that boy."

Porthos chuckled quietly and stretched out beside Aramis. "I know he does. He still wouldn't mind."

"I've done this a hundred times Porthos, I should be able to handle it." Aramis lifted the hand from his forehead and slapped it back down in frustration.

"And how many of those hundred times have involved one of us? We are aware that you do this when it's important to you, you know."

Aramis turned to look questioningly at Porthos. The big man shrugged.

"Did you think I didn't notice it took you half an hour to wash your hands after you stitched up Athos when got shot the last time?" Porthos laughed as Aramis averted his eyes in embarrassment. "It's not a weakness; you're the strongest person I know, possibly with the exception of Athos. But it can't be easy, being the one that has to fix us all the time."

"It's never felt like this before."

"What? D'Artagnan makes it worse?"

Aramis shook his head. "No, that's the same. It's just...Athos. I've never seen him look like that, have you?"

Porthos grew serious. "No, never. Not even at his worst."

"How long do you think it's been going on?"

"No idea." Porthos shrugged. "I noticed the boy's hero-worship straight away of course, but I didn't notice when it was reciprocated."

"Me neither. Do you think we should tell him we know?"

"I think he probably realises that we've guessed something. But it wouldn't do much good for them to get too relaxed, what if someone else saw?"

"Love is never simple." Aramis' voice was sad.

"No, it isn't." Porthos slid a look over the Aramis. "Now, do you need a hug to feel better?"

Aramis laughed. "I'm fine thanks."

Porthos just laughed back and reached over to pull his friend into his embrace. He wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Porthos, you're roasting!"

"Shut up and just be grateful will you?" Porthos closed his eyes, ready to go to sleep with his friend securely in his arms.

Aramis spoke softly. "I am." He closed his own eyes, determined to get some sleep. First he prayed that D'Artagnan would wake soon, and that Athos' damaged heart would not be broken.

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Athos kept his eyes closed when he awoke a few hours later. He had fallen into a much deeper sleep than he intended, and he was reluctant to open his eyes and look at D'Artagnan. He lay for a few moments, before realising that the torso he was wrapped around was rising and falling evenly with steady breaths. A second after he registered this, causing a sharp intake in his own breath, he felt his hand being squeezed gently.

"Athos?"

He opened his eyes, his head still buried in D'Artagnan's hair. He was still reluctant to move.

"Athos?"

This time he sat up, looking down to see D'Artagnan's eyes wide open and looking at him, his mouth smiling slightly as he gazed up at him.

"Hi." The short monosyllable was all Athos could manage as his throat closed up.

D'Artagnan smiled wider. "Hi."

Athos held his gaze for a few moments, before he lay back down and buried himself as closely into D'Artagnan as he could, letting his emotions flow freely at last.

D'Artagnan tried to lift his free hand to touch Athos, but found that he couldn't move it without searing pain shooting through him. Instead he squeezed the hand he held even tighter and whispered softly to the trembling man beside him. "It's ok. I'm here, I'm fine. I'm alright Athos."

He almost missed the words that were whispered against his neck as Athos finally controlled his breath.

"I love you."

A/N Back to action next chapter. And look, no cliffhanger! ;-)

Thanks for reading!