Hey guys! Just wanted to thank you all for having so much patience in waiting for Chapter 8. Last week was crazy and I wasn't able to do as much writing as I wanted. This piece took me awhile to write but I wanted to finish it and give you all a special treat. This feels like the turning point in the story for me. Please send me your reviews, I always respond.

Also, I feel like I should put up a warning here. The following scenes aren't too graphic but animal attack/death is just mentioned briefly. More like a memory and it's quick too. Just thought I'd let you know if it's something that turns you off.

Enjoy Chapter 9! :)

Dr. Lemay had returned with Porthos and had immediately begun examining Aramis again.

Athos and Porthos waited by his side, eager to know if there was anything they could do to help their comrade. He was still tossing and turning in pain, and Athos was sure that if they were not there to calm him, Aramis would've torn his stitches out already.

It seemed like an eternity, but Lemay finally steps back from his patient and looked at both men.

"It's not so good and it's not so bad," He voice was steady, "I don't think the infection has set in. I won't be able to confirm anything until he's awake. But, his fever's high. I think it might be his body's way of fighting off the infection. We'll have to keep a close eye on him and hope that it doesn't get any worse."

"Is there still a possibility that he could get an infection?" Athos asked.

Lemay sighed, "Unfortunately with wounds, infection is always a chance. Let's just hope Aramis stays strong enough to fight it."

"I gave him some water when he woke up," The swordsman informed, "He was alert enough to take a few sips."

"That is a good sign," Lemay praised, "He'll need to remain hydrated. If he wakes again, perhaps we can get some broth into him. And I'll be able to examine him better that way and hopefully rule out infection."

"So what do we do?" Porthos asked sitting in the chair next to his friend's bed.

"Exactly what you have been," The doctor replied, "Stay with him, keep working to bring his fever down. I'm going to make an herbal tea that will hopefully keep it at bay. By any chance, do you have any herbs in your Garrison?"

Porthos and Athos both gave each other a look. The doctor frowned, not sure what the look meant.

Porthos smirked, "Aramis uses them all the time. He swears that it's the only cure when he gets sick."

"He's used them on us many times," Athos added.

"That's good to know," Lemay smiled, "Many people don't believe in the practice of herbal medicine, but I've used them many times and always have a positive outcome."

"I'll show you where he keeps it." Porthos offered and walked out of the room down the hall to his brother's room. Lemay was close at his side.

When they entered, the bigger man pointed to a shelf where jars full of greenery were placed.

"He keeps them all in here," He pulled a few sprigs out of the jar and took a tentative sniff, "Never quite know what he does with them all."

Porthos had seen his brother many times sorting out the herbs into different jars. He had often seen Aramis riding out into the woods to collect them, though he had never paid much attention to what they did. Aramis had tried to show him, but he always shrugged it off good-naturedly, telling Aramis that he would never need to know since he was the medic.

He now felt a stab of guilt blossom in his chest. He truly was ignorant when it came to Aramis' medicine and now his brother was the one who was sick. Sighing, Porthos silently promised to listen to every word the marksman said in the future. Especially if he would be needing it.

"Ginger," Lemay grabbed one jar and pull out the root, "This common root can be used for so many ailments. From the common cold to arthritis."

Porthos raised his eyebrows, "Didn't know that. Aramis uses it for upset stomach, sometimes when we have colds too."

"This is a great treatment for fever," The doctor's eyes wandered over to another jar, "Where did he get this?"

"What is it?" Porthos frowned.

"Elderberry," Lemay looked at the man, "Do you know that this is used to treat sinus? Many of my patients could do with a healthy dose of this."

Porthos smiled, "I think once Aramis is better, you might have to sign yourself up as his apprentice."

Lemay smiled back, "I believe you're right."

"He's always been the one who takes care of us when we're sick or hurt," The Musketeer looked at the jar in his hands, "We don't always do such a good job at helping him though."

Lemay glanced at the man with a sympathetic gaze.

"On the contrary Porthos, I believe you and your friend are the only ones who can help Aramis."

Porthos must've had a confused look on his face because the doctor went on.

"As a medic, I find myself always working to help others. I often don't have time to give myself proper rest. Your brother is not only a man of medicine, but he is also a Musketeer. I'm positive that if not for you two, he would be worn out. You both are the source he needs to get well."

Porthos could not think of the response to the compliment, so he settled for nodding humbly.

"I couldn't agree more." Treville's voice was heard.

Porthos turned and saw their Captain leaning against the doorframe with a content smile on his face.

"How's Aramis?" He asked.

"He's developed fever, but I see no signs of infection. Porthos was just allowing me to snoop through Aramis' herbs to see if we can't make some herbal tea to help bring it down."

Treville turned his gaze to Porthos, "Will that really work?"

"See what I mean?" Lemay smirked, "I can assure you, herbal remedies have always proven to be a successful treatment. The sooner we get that fever under control, the better."

The older man nodded, "You're the doctor."

"Yes and I believe it's time to see the patient."

All three men made it back to the other room. Porthos wasn't the least bit surprised to see Athos next to Aramis rubbing his arm and whispering something to him.

"He woke up,," Was all the Lieutenant said and stepped aside to make room for Lemay.

Porthos watched as the doctor came by Aramis' side.

"It's good to see you awake, Aramis," Lemay smiled, "Your friends have been worried about you. How are you feeling?"

Aramis blinked back drowsily. He seemed to be having a difficult time focusing,

"Tired." He whispered.

"Yes, we'll let you go back to sleep as soon as I check the stitching," And Lemay lifted the sheet to observe Aramis' bare torso.

The stitches were neat but looked a bit red around the edges. Lemay laid the back of his hand over the wound and was concerned at the heat he felt radiating from it. He eased back when he heard a groan from the man.

"Are you in pain?" He asked.

"Feels like...stomach's on fire." Came the raspy reply.

He then grabbed the man's wrist and wasn't surprised at the quick pulse he felt through the skin.

"I'll make you something for the pain," Lemay promised before getting up and heading over to the fire to start boiling the water.

Athos walked over to him, "Is it worse?"

The doctor looked over at his patient to make sure that he couldn't overhear what was being said, He then turned back to Athos.

"There is a slight infection beginning," He admitted. He sighed as Athos looked up at the ceiling, clearly trying to keep himself together, "Now it's not severe. The wound looks to have telltale signs of infection starting. So if we get this tea into quickly, he still has a chance of beating it."

"I thought you said you knew what you were doing?" Icy blues eyes stared back him filled with anger.

"Infection is always a possibility," The doctor defended, "I'm no more capable of stopping it than catching the wind."

Athos clenched his jaw, "We knew the risks when he allowed you to perform the surgery. If you know something, now is not the time to hold back."

Lemay looked once again behind to make sure Aramis was not hearing anything.

"What aren't you telling us?" Athos ordered. The anger was evident in his voice, though it was tightly concealed. Yet, that didn't mean he couldn't let it erupt any moment.

"He's lost a considerable amount of blood. While it's not enough to lead to shock, if we don't get this fever under control the infection will grow stronger. Even though it's been such a short time, the fever is growing and his chances are become slimmer by the hour."

"So what do you do?" Porthos asked.

"I'm going to try the tea first," The doctor explained, "And if that does not work we will have to try and come up with another treatment."

Athos nodded. He slipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He then began to stoke up the fire hoping the water would boil soon.

Porthos went back to their brother and once again began bathing his face, neck, and chest, in hopes that the fever would dimish soon.

Aramis winced when the cold made contact with his skin and tried to push away from the burning touch.

"Hey Aramis," Porthos whispered, "Just stay still brother, we gotta get this fever down."

Aramis, however, was fighting his own battle and paid little attention to Porthos' words. The bigger man wasn't even sure if the Spaniard knew where he was.

"Ath..." Aramis moaned out, "Please, whe-where are you?"

Athos dropped what he was doing by the fire and came by Aramis' side.

"I'm here, Aramis, I'm here." He held the man's shoulder's trying in vain to stop him from moving.

"Come on Mis, you don't wanna pull those stitches." Porthos pushed his hair out of his face.

Aramis groaned and rolled away from the hands. Everything was so hot. He couldn't breathe. He tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like something heavy was on his chest. His stomach was burning with white hot pain.

He heard whispers around him. He didn't know where he was, but he knew he had to get out. He had to get home

"Aramis," Athos' firm voice was heard, "You need to calm down, you're going to pull your stitches."

That sounded more like the authoritative command that his brother often used when speaking.

"Athos?" Aramis called, "Please, I'm sorry...I didn't mean it. I didn't."

Athos looked over to Porthos who kept his gaze on their brother. Now was not the time to let guilt bury him. Aramis needed them both now. Need them to remain strong and steady.

"Look at me," Athos turned his jaw so that their eyes met, "You have nothing to be sorry for. Everything's going to be alright. You're going to get well."

But Aramis' eyes were glassy and unfocused. He reached out and touched Athos cheek in a mix of sadness and confusion.

"Marsac?" He whispered.

"Bloody hell," Porthos growled, "He think's he's in Savoy."

Athos nodded. Though he was concerned by the turn of events, he was not surprised that Savoy had been brought up. Whenever Aramis was injured, sick, and unaware his mind went back to that damned massacre. His mind would often summon up cruel visions and torture him. Athos hated the fact that those demons were always lurking about, waiting to hurt the poor man.

"Please don't leave me," He begged, "I won't slow you down, please?"

Porthos, who was obviously upset by the marksman's words, shook his head in sorrow. He knew where Aramis was talking about. Because there was only one forest that tortured them all. The mission of Savoy had been cursed from the start and while Aramis had healed a great deal from the traumatic event, it still haunted him.

"No one's leaving brother," He laid a hand on his chest feeling concerned at the heartbeat that was pumping rapidly. Porthos couldn't tell if it was from the fever or the fear which Aramis felt, "We're here with you. We've gotcha."

"Porthos," Aramis had his eyes closed but was still writhing in the bed, "Thos' get it off me. Please help me!"

Athos closed his eyes. Aramis was remembering the wolf that had attacked him. It was a horrible thing to witness. When Porthos and Athos had made their way through the camp, they had found Aramis propped up against a tree, with a dead wolf near his feet. The animal had obviously come through looking for food, and Aramis had had no other choice but to attack it.

"Please, Athos!" He screamed, "Get it off!"

"Aramis, it's alright," Athos leaned forward, "Calm down, we're here."

Aramis opened his eyes again. He stared at Athos and then looked around the room trying to take in his surroundings. Athos gave him a moment to get his bearings and then grabbed his hand.

"Athos?" He asked clearly confused.

"I'm here, brother," Athos smiled warmly, "You're safe here. Porthos is here too."

Aramis blinked and looked over to where Porthos stood on his other side.

"Porthos," He breathed as if it was his lifeline.

"Shhh," Porthos leaned his head against Aramis', "We're here brother. Right here. Just rest now. You've got a fever and you need to rest so you can get better."

Aramis looked up at the ceiling.

"Where am I?"

"In my room, at the Garrison," Athos answered running a hand through the unruly curly hair.

"Hurts..."

"I know, just rest."

For a few moments, Aramis seemed to be struggling to sleep. His would close his eyes and then open them again.

"Sleep brother, you need it," Athos instructed, "Porthos and I will be here."

"Tell the doctor..." He swallowed, "Yarrow...works." He then fell back to sleep to weak to fight anymore.

Both men stared in fascination amazed that Aramis had remembered that in his current state.

"Always the medic," Porthos mused.

Lemay nodded, "I'll need another jar."

Athos on the other hand just stayed silent. He kept holding Aramis' hand but said nothing.

"Don't you go blaming yourself again," Porthos said, "We've already been through this."

"I know," He spoke softly gaze fixed on Aramis, "But, if he dies," He looked back to Porthos, "I'll never forgive myself."

"Don't go thinking like that!" The dark skinned man snapped, "He's not gonna die, I won't allow it!"

Athos huffed, "What are planning to do. Magically give him enough blood so that he can get stronger and fight the infection?"

"I'll do whatever the hell is necessary!" Porthos growled, "Even if that includes making sure you don't give up!"

"I'm not giving up!" Athos stood up feeling rage brewing inside, "I want you to see the truth!"

"What? That you're responsible for every bloody thing because you're the leader?" The man scoffed, "Keep trying because I don't believe that."

"I am responsible for the lives of brothers!" Athos shouted, "If I could save him, don't you think would?"

"Of course I do," Porthos waved a hand toward the bed, "But you can't fix this, Ath."

Athos stood silently trying to calm his racing heart. He felt like breaking down and crying, but he was hiding in behind his anger and frustration.

His brother didn't deserve such agony. Athos felt like it should be him in the bed, dying from infection. He knew he couldn't save Aramis, but he selfishly wanted to cry out, "Why not?" to the Heavens.

And then a thought hit him.

"Why not?" He asked out loud.

"What?" Porthos frowned at him.

"Why can't I save him?" He looked into the brown eyes with a spark of hope.

"Let me think, because you're not God," Came the annoyed reply.

"Porthos listen," Athos came over by his brother, "Lemay said Aramis is losing the fight with the infection because his blood loss has made him weak."

"So?" Porthos frowned.

"So why don't we just give him blood?" Athos dared to hope that this could be the answer.

"Can he do that?" Porthos asked obviously realizing what his brother was saying.

Both men looked at each and over to their sick brother. As if thinking with one mind, they both rushed out of the room to find Dr. Lemay.

I know! I'm so terrible to leave you all with this cliffhanger! ;) Well, you wanted some Athos whump right? Feel free to write your ideas of what might happen in the reviews. I always read them! I know some of you may be thinking, wait this is the 17th century, but I have a plan. I researched a bit too. More to come soon!