Hello all. I have the next chapter ready for you. My busy time at work starts up again (first two weeks of each month) so I really wanted to get this one done before the work flood happens and I don't have a lot of time for writing. It may be a bit before the next chapter is ready. It all depends on how the work flows in. I hope this will tide you over until then. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews!

Chapter 7

The sun was just starting to rise above the horizon when the exhausted band of brothers made their way through the gates of the musketeer garrison. The going had been slow due to d'Artagnan's injuries and the men had stopped several times to calm the now delirious Gascon down. In his mind, it seemed, he was still in that cellar and it broke the Inseparables a little bit inside each time he would cry out for the pain to stop, or for his brothers to forgive him and allow him to come home. They said nothing to each other during these times, each man lost in his own feelings of guilt. They spoke softly to d'Artagnan, assuring him that there was nothing to forgive and that he was already home, but each time it was exhaustion that would drag the young man back into oblivion and allow the men to proceed on with their journey home. In all it had taken nearly three hours to navigate the early morning streets so when the garrison finally came into view the three men each heaved huge sighs of relief.

There were musketeers just starting to fill the garrison yard when the three men and their youngest brother rode through the gates. The musketeers all eyed them with surprise and worry when their eyes fell upon the unconscious form of their newest member. They had all been told that d'Artagnan was on a simple mission so the sight of him so gravely injured shocked them all. They stared as the Inseparables made their way into the yard and stopped before the stables. Several musketeers rushed forward to aid the men in getting d'Artagnan down from Athos' horse, but Porthos and Aramis politely pushed them back, not allowing anyone other than themselves to touch the broken boy. The commotion in the yard drew Treville from his office and when he laid eyes on d'Artagnan his stomach knotted. The boy looked terrible, all bruises and blood, his face so swollen he was barely recognizable. Treville called out for a doctor to be summoned before he descended the steps and hurried to where his favored musketeers had stopped.

"What has happened to him?" Treville asked as he reached the men.

"Not here," Athos whispered, his eyes locked on the boy now held in Porthos' arms.

"Get him to the infirmary. The doctor will be here soon," Treville said with a nod of his head. "You men, get some water on to boil! And you two, bring clean linens and rags! You, Francoise, go to Serge and have him bring food for these men to the infirmary," he commanded as he pointed to several musketeers.

The garrison became a frenzy of activity as men were dispatched to help with anything that needed to be done, while others prepared for their various missions and duties. Porthos carried d'Artagnan up the stairs toward the infirmary, followed closely by Athos, Aramis and Treville. Once they entered the infirmary, Aramis instructed Porthos to place d'Artagnan on the large table, which Porthos did with uncharacteristic gentleness. While they waited for the linens, rags and water to be brought, Athos explained to Treville all that they knew.

"So, Richelieu is responsible for this? Are you sure?" Treville asked once Athos was finished.

Athos nodded, his eyes never leaving the form of his wounded brother. "We saw him leaving the area where d'Artagnan was being held. Anne…Milady de Winter, told us of his interest in the lad. He meant for d'Artagnan to die," he said in reply, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

"But why? What kind of interest does he have with the lad? Is he so angered that d'Artagnan beat Labarge and embarrassed him in front of the King?" Treville asked, his voice laced with confusion.

Athos shook his head as he turned to his Captain. "That may be part of it, but I think his interest began before that, if Milady is to be trusted. She said that he had a hatred of the boy's family, but did not go into details. From what I gathered, his plan was to destroy the musketeers by using d'Artagnan, and then kill him to finish it all," he spat venomously.

Treville wished to further the discussion, but it was then that several musketeers rushed into the room with the linens, rags and water. A few moments later, the doctor arrived and once a bed was prepared for when d'Artagnan had been patched up, the room was emptied except for Treville, the doctor and the Inseparables. Treville, Athos and Porthos stood back while Aramis and the doctor, LeMieux by his introduction, began their triage of the boy's injuries. The list was long…cuts, bruises, broken cheekbone and nose, cracked ribs. When they got to d'Artagnan's fingernails and the fact that they had been ripped from his nail beds, it took all of Athos' and Treville's strength to keep Porthos from charging from the room, intent on hunting the cardinal down and making him pay for what he had done to their pup. Finally, they had calmed him enough to be able to unhand him, but his eyes were still murderous as he stared at d'Artagnan's hands. They watched as Aramis and LeMieux carefully turned d'Artagnan on his side so they could check his back and rushed forward when Aramis sucked in a startled breath.

"What is it?" Athos queried shakily, the man not liking the look on the medic's face.

"It is not good," Aramis responded in a voice filled with dread.

"Tell us," Porthos said softly. "Please, Aramis, we must know."

Aramis met his friend's eyes then glanced at the doctor. LeMieux straightened and took in the men and their urgent stares. "The cuts and bruises and broken bones, though painful and worrisome due to possible infection can be managed, but…but those are the least of our worries now," he stated carefully.

"Explain please," Treville commanded, the calm between the two storms brewing on either side of him.

The doctor took a calming breath before responding. "There is deep bruising on his lower back. It appears as though he was repeatedly punched, or beaten with some sort of hard object. In either case, it is quite possible that there is damage to one or both of his kidneys which, depending on the severity of the damage, could result in his death," he explained wearily.

There was silence for several moments while the men took in this news. It was Athos' shattered voice that finally broke the silence. "So, he was beaten so badly that his kidneys are most likely damaged and he could die? So, you are saying that I could very well be responsible for my brother's death?"

The doctor cocked his head as he met the musketeer's eyes. "Are you the one who beat him? Why would you be responsible?" he asked.

"No, I am not the one who beat him, but I may as well be. I am the one who put him out on the street where he could be taken and tortured…alone and thinking that he had lost the only family he could still claim. If he dies, it is because of me," Athos hissed as he turned away, unable to continue to look upon the damage that he had caused his brother to endure.

"Athos, this is not your fault…" Aramis started, his words cut off when an enraged Athos spun around, fury in his eyes.

"Then tell me, if not my fault, then whose?! I sent him away! I accused him of betraying me…of betraying all of us when it was I who betrayed him! I…I accused him of killing his own father! How can this not be my fault!?" he bellowed, self hatred blazing in his eyes.

Porthos stepped forward and placed his hand on Athos' shoulder. "Athos, we all are at fault for what happened that night, but my friend, we are not at fault for this," he said softly.

"I put him on the street. If it were not for that, he never would have been taken and tortured. Why do you not see that?"

"Because I know the man you are, Athos. You are a good man and you did not mean the things you said to the lad. You were hurt and drunk and…"

"I was a monster! How could I say those things to him? How could I have hurt him so? My little brother…I have killed my little brother…"

Aramis came from around the table to stand before his grieving friend. "Athos, if you are going to fault yourself for what has happened, I cannot stop you, but if the blame lies with you, then it also lies with Porthos and I as well. We did not intervene. We took your side and we pushed him away…"

"No, it is I alone who did this…"

"We are brothers…all of us. All for one and one for all. We are in this together and we will not allow you to take this burden on alone."

Athos looked up into his friend's eyes blinked back tears. "What if he dies? What will we do? It is as if he has always been here, like, I cannot remember what it was like before he came to us and now I cannot imagine my life without him in it," he cried.

"Nor can I, Athos," Porthos said as he squeezed his friend's shoulder.

"Nor I," Aramis added, his hand coming to rest on Athos' other shoulder.

Athos looked to each of his brothers and sadly smiled. "He cannot die," he whispered.

"And he shall not," Aramis said. "I will not allow him to."

"I know you will not," Athos responded.

The three men stood there for a moment, united in their shared grief while the other two men could only watch and wait. It was the sudden groan coming from the object of everyone's worries that brought them out of their reverie. They rushed to d'Artagnan's side, Dr. LeMieux immediately turning his attention back to his patient. With Aramis' help, he got the boy situated on his back once more then looked up at the expectant eyes of the musketeers.

"I need to clean these wounds and stitch the worst of them. It will take some time so I would suggest you all get some food and then rest. I will…"

"We will rest when d'Artagnan is settled," Athos stated, his eyes resting on the boy's face.

The doctor sighed and glanced at each man. "At least eat. You will need your strength if you are intent on staying with the lad," he said.

"Serge will be here soon with food and drink. I will assist you with d'Artagnan's injuries while we wait," Aramis offered with a tired smile.

As if on cue the door to the room opened and Serge, along with another musketeer, carried two trays of food to another table in the room. They set the trays, laden with bread, cheese and cured meat down. Serge made a quiet comment to his helper then turned to the men as the musketeer hurried from the room. His eyes fell upon the wounded d'Artagnan and he sighed sadly. "How is the pup?" he asked gruffly, though his eyes held only kindness for the unconscious boy.

Aramis glanced over and shook his head slightly. "He has been tortured and is gravely injured, but he is strong. He will recover, that I am sure of," he explained.

"Yes, he is a strong lad. I have no doubt that you three will pull him through. If anyone can, it is you," Serge said with a tip of his head. "Henri is bringing drink for all of you. Sit and eat. It looks as if you will need your strength," he added, his gaze turning toward the door when Henri entered with two pitchers, one with wine and the other with water, along with drinking glasses for all of them.

Serge nodded as the pitchers and glasses were placed on the table, then hurried Henri and himself out of the room. Treville watched them go then turned to the Inseparables. "Go…eat," he instructed, his look leaving no room for argument from the men, save for Aramis.

"I must assist the doctor with d'Artagnan's wounds. I will eat once that is done," Aramis stated as he turned his attention back to his young friend.

Treville looked questioningly at the doctor, who nodded his agreement that he was indeed in need of assistance. Treville sighed as he gave in. "Fine, help the doctor then you eat," he said. "You all need to rest as well. I do not care if it is in your own rooms or here, but you will rest. d'Artagnan will need you all at your best when he awakens," he added.

Athos looked at the boy then at his captain. "I highly doubt that d'Artagnan will want to see me when he awakens. I will leave once that happens, but until then, I will remain in this room," he said.

Porthos looked at his friend and sighed. "Athos, d'Artagnan will need you…he will need all of us, but he will need you the most. You cannot leave 'im just 'cause you feel guilty," he explained.

"My presence will just cause him pain. I will be near, but I cannot be here when he awakens," Athos replied, his eyes sad as he glanced once again at the Gascon.

"I believe that you are mistaken, Athos. Your absence is what will cause d'Artagnan pain," Aramis spoke up from where he stood helping LeMieux clean the blood and dirt from the boy's body.

Athos shook his head as he looked at his friend. "You saw his face, his eyes. My words and actions cut him deeply. He wished for me to kill him! He said his life was forfeit. I did that to him! I pushed him to feel that way!" he cried.

"He said 'is life was forfeit if he were forced to give us up. If he lost the family that we 'ad become. If you leave, he will believe that he 'as lost you," Porthos reasoned, his dark eyes pleading with his friend to hear him.

Athos dropped his eyes and sighed. "The damage is too great. He will have you and Aramis, but it is best if he does not see me…at least not right away. Maybe eventually he will be able to forgive what I have done to him, but why should he?"

"Athos…"

"No, Aramis. When he begins to awaken, I shall leave. You and Porthos will remain with him. You will let him know that he still has his brothers…"

"But not all of 'em, right?" Porthos interrupted.

"This is for the best, Porthos. At least for now."

"You are a damned stubborn fool, Athos! He needs you!"

"He needs you and Aramis and I am sure that you will be forgiven."

"Yes, he does need us," Aramis said. "But he needs you more…surely you see that!"

Athos brushed his hand through his hair and closed his eyes. "I cannot bring him more pain when he is recovering. Eventually, I pray, he will once again see me as he did before, but for now it is best that he not see me. I will not have his recovery impeded by my presence," he said.

Porthos threw his hands up in frustration and stalked to the table that held the food and drink. He cursed under his breath as he slapped food on a plate. He sloshed wine on the table as he poured it then hurried to a corner of the room, dropped to the floor and began to eat. He eyed Athos with flashing dark eyes, but did not say another word. Treville, who had stayed silent through the entire exchange, shook his head and blew out a deep breath.

"I will not tell you what to do, Athos, for only you can decide what you think is best, but I will tell you this…stay near. If d'Artagnan asks for you, you will come to him, do you understand?" he said gruffly, his gaze stern.

"Yes, I understand," Athos answered.

"Good. Now, get something to eat then report to my office. We have a few things to discuss," Treville commanded before turning and leaving the room.

Athos watched as Treville left then walked to the table of food. He silently filled his plate with some bread and cheese and a glass with wine then looked over at where Porthos was sat on the floor. A narrowing of the large man's eyes told him that he should find a different place to sit so he moved to the bed that had been prepared for d'Artagnan and sat. Aramis looked from one friend to the other, shook his head then turned his attention back to cleaning d'Artagnan's wounds. The doctor was intently working at stitching one deep cut, purposely keeping himself busy to avoid the tension in the room. d'Artagnan moaned lightly as the needle pierced his skin, but he thankfully remained unconscious. Porthos and Athos avoided each other's gazes and silently ate their meals. When Athos was done, he set his empty plate and glass on the floor at his feet. He rose and walked to the table where Aramis and LeMieux still worked. He looked down at the beaten form of his brother and sighed. He reached out a shaky hand and lightly brushed sweat soaked bangs away from d'Artagnan's bruised and swollen face. After a few moments, and fully aware of a two sets of eyes upon him, he turned and left the room and headed for Treville's office.

When Athos returned an hour later, fuming and ready to tear someone apart, d'Artagnan was laid out in the bed, the bedsheet pulled up over his torso. A bandage was wrapped around the boy's head and more covered his chest and disappeared beneath the sheet. Athos' eyes traveled down and he had to swallow back the sudden lump in his throat when he saw each bandaged finger. He glanced at Aramis, who was seated beside the bed in a chair, his chin resting on his chest as he lightly slumbered. Porthos was at the end of the bed, his back leant up against the frame. He was fast asleep. The doctor was nowhere in the room. Athos tamped down the anger that filled him and crossed the room. He quietly pulled a chair to the side of the bed opposite Aramis and sat down. His mind went back to the talk he'd had with Treville and his stomach twisted in knots. How was he to tell his friends that the man who had ordered their brother be tortured, who had caused him an unfathomable amount of pain, would never be punished for his crime?

So, yeah, that all happened. At least in my musketeer world. Hopefully d'Artagnan will be awake, at least a little bit, in the next chapter. We'll see if Athos changes his mind about being there when that happens...stubborn musketeer that he is. Thank you for reading!

Cindy