Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

Warning: Un-betaed. I apologise in advance for the bad grammar and spelling mistakes.

The silence in the garrison was deafening. No one moved, or breathed. It wasn't until Aramis remember why they were doing this that spurred him into action. He released his hold on the man and laid D'Artagnan on the ground. He pulled open the uniform fully, before ripping open the shirt underneath. What greeted them was horrifying. There was not a part of D'Artagnan's chest that wasn't marred by burns, cuts or bruises.

"They tortured him." Porthos breathed. It was just more guilt heaved on their shoulders. Then his expression turned icy. "Son of a bitch tortured him!" Porthos clenched his fist and was about to storm into the cells when he was stopped by a hand on his chest.

"Killing the Cardinal will not help D'Artagnan." Treville told him.

"No, but I'll feel a whole lot better." Porthos growled, about the push the Captain aside when Aramis called out to him.

"Porthos! There is no time for this! We need to get D'Artagnan to the infirmary!" Aramis ordered. Porthos looked down at the man with blood all over his chest. He nodded and knelt down, picking the boy up in his arms. Aramis supported D'Artagnan's head as they made their way up the steps. Mira followed closely behind them. She knew D'Artagnan was injured, but not to this extent. They laid him down on the table in the middle of the room. "Help me take his clothes off." Aramis ordered. "Captain, I need bandages, hot water and needles and thread!"

Treville turned to retrieve the items when he found himself facing a very distressed maiden. "Mira, please come help me." He turned her around and led her out the door. It was for her own as well as D'Artagnan's benefit that she left. He was sure D'Artagnan would not want her to see him naked and battered. He had already lost so much, the least his captain could do was preserve his dignity.

Athos cursed at what was revealed when all of D'Artagnan's clothes were removed. There were long, deliberate cuts down his chest, arms, lower legs and back, his back had over a dozen lashes, and his chest was just as bad. "How did he last this long?" Athos voice was barely above a whisper.

"The wonders of the human mind." Aramis said as he examined the cuts. "They're not deep, but deep enough for him to lose a substantial amount of blood."

"How about his arm?" Porthos asked. Aramis looked up at him, seeing the guilt there and gently lifted the man's broken arm. It was at a wrong angle.

Aramis sighed, "I'll have to set it." He looked back at Porthos, "Hold him down." Porthos nodded and placed his hands on D'Artagnan's bruised shoulders. He nodded for Athos to do the same with his legs. Athos leaned his weight on D'Artagnan's upper legs. Aramis took a deep breath before he pulled and twisted the arm until he felt the bone slip back into place. D'Artagnan screamed and bucked against the pain but remained unconscious. Aramis gently laid his arm back down on the table. "It'll heal." He told Porthos, simply.

Treville and Mira arrived back with the items Aramis had asked for. Mira was careful not to look at D'Artagnan's naked body. "I should be leaving now. Her Majesty will be wanting to know of D'Artagnan's condition. Please send word." She turned to leave, but hesitated. She turned back to them, "One night during our scheduled meetings I could see the weight of the mission on his shoulders. He almost believed he would not survive. He asked me to pass on a message if anything should happen to him. He wanted you all to know, you are his family and the garrison is his home. Home is where the heart and his heart will always lie here." Then more firmly, "Convince him it was not all a lie." With that she left the men to take care of their own.

"How?" Athos whispered, the guilt eating at his soul.

"One problem at a time. Let us take care of the easier one first." Aramis worked tirelessly throughout the night. He gently wiped away the dry blood with the hot water to get a clear look at all the injuries. He used the needle and thread to stitch up the cuts and deep lashes. He used alcohol on all the open wounds to stave away infection and he bandaged the broken arm and placed it in a sling. It was all he could do for the boy. He could mend the physical injuries but he could do nothing for the emotional ones. Treville returned to his office once all the injuries were attended to, leaving the three friends to take care of the fourth.

Once Athos was done he decided that D'Artagnan would be more comfortable on a cot rather than on the hard table. "I'll carry him." Porthos told them. "He's not heavy." Aramis knew what the man was doing. It was his way of doing something for D'Artagnan.

"Be careful." Athos cautioned when he noticed D'Artagnan's brow furrowing.

Porthos looked at him with a sad expression, "I'm not going to hurt him. I think I've done enough of that." They fell silent as Porthos gently laid his friend down in the corner cot, furthest away from the door to minimise any disturbances. Athos sat in a chair to D'Artagnan's right, while Aramis and Porthos sat on the cot on the left. They stayed and kept vigil over their friend. Aramis adjusted the sheet covering D'Artagnan's lower body. It was a warm night and the sheet was really only used for D'Artagnan's dignity more than anything else. "What are we going to do when he wakes up?" Porthos asked the question they were all worried about. "I mean, we all saw how he reacted to us. He hates us."

Aramis nodded, "We'll have to cross that bridge when it happens. I don't know how he'll react to us when he wakes up, but we can't let him move too much otherwise he will tear the stitches. I'll keep him sedated if that is what is required."

Athos looked down at the young man in the cot, "I'm sorry." Aramis looked across at the man. He knew this would be affecting Athos the most. "I did this."

"It wasn't just you, Athos."

Athos shook his head, without taking his eyes off D'Artagnan. "Did you see his eyes when we told the Cardinal he could take him? Did you see them when he burned the paper? All the fight in him was gone. Everything that made him the man he is, was gone in that instance. I did that to him."

"He's not all gone, Athos." Porthos told him, "You saw the fight he had. I admit it was fuelled by anger but at least there is an emotion there. We can still get him back."

"How?" Athos asked shaking his head, "We betrayed his trust. We broke his faith in the Musketeers. We broke his faith in us." He reached out and picked up D'Artagnan's hand in his. "There is nothing we can do to make this right again."

Aramis shook his head, "We owe it to him to try and make it right. We broke him, so it's up to us to fix him."

"We threw him to the wolves!" Athos seethed through his clenched teeth, his grip on D'Artagnan's hand tightened, "We wouldn't hand over the worse criminals over to the Cardinal, yet we were willing to hand D'Artagnan over!"

"We didn't know." Porthos said weakly.

"But we should've." Aramis said, he remembered back to the first day he met D'Artagnan, he was young and inexperienced, yet he was able to give Athos a run for his money. What he wouldn't do right now to see that boy again. But he knew, it's not possible because going through everything D'Artagnan has been through in the past week changes everyone. Even if D'Artagnan could forgive them, he still would not be the same because trusting someone unconditionally was rare, but for it to happen a second time was impossible.

Athos reached over and brushed aside D'Artagnan's hair. It was damp from the sweat coming off D'Artagnan. "He has a fever."

"Unavoidable considering his condition." Aramis rubbed his eyes. He's been working for hours on his friend, detaching himself from the fact that it was D'Artagnan on the cot. Aramis knew the injuries were not life threatening but that was not where the problem laid. There is a reason why there is a saying 'death by a thousand cuts'. The human mind was not made to handle so much pain over a long period of time.

Porthos stood up from the cot. "I'll go get some cold water to cool him down."

Athos eyed Aramis. "What aren't you telling us?"

Aramis closed his eyes, running his hands through this hair. "You saw how he reacted to us. It's not D'Artagnan."

"Considering the way we treated him, I couldn't say it was unwarranted."

Aramis shook his head, "Of course his anger is warranted, but it wasn't just anger. There was madness in his eyes. He was tortured for hours and when he escaped he came to the people he expected to protect him." Aramis recalled Mira's words, "His family. But he was greeted with treatment not even fit for the enemy."

"I already know this, Aramis." Athos didn't need to be reminded of what he had done to his friend.

"He was only just holding onto reality, Athos. He was teetering on the edge. We gave him the shove that sent him over." Aramis looked at him with so much anguish, "His family broke his mind."

"So we fix him." Athos said adamantly, "Isn't that what you said? We broke him so we fix him."

Aramis nodded, that is what he said, but it wasn't until he was finally able to sit down and take in all the injuries he had tended to that he could see the extent of the damage done. He knew the damage to D'Artagnan's soul was far worse than that of his body. Mira's words haunted him. He wanted you all to know, you are his family and the garrison is his home. There was so much faith in those words, faith that burned out with the parchment in the courtyard. He was going to tell Athos that, when he realised his friend was also on the edge. Out of all of them, Athos will be taking this the hardest. He had taken D'Artagnan under his wings, training him in survival and sword skills. D'Artagnan, in turn, saw him as a mentor, a man he respected as much as his own father. Their bond was strong but it was also very new. Aramis wasn't sure it would survive this test. "You're right," Aramis nodded, "We'll fix this." Because Athos needed to believe that this could be fixed.

Porthos returned with a bowl of water and a hand towel. Athos took it off him and placed it on the small table beside the cot. Aramis and Porthos watched in silence as Athos focus his full attention on keeping D'Artagnan's fever at bay. Porthos turned to Aramis, "You should take one of the other cots. You're exhausted." Aramis buried his face in his hands, frustration at the situation was driving him mad. Porthos put a hand on his shoulder and gave a squeeze. Aramis looked up at him, then nodded at his suggestion. Porthos was right. He needed sleep.

Porthos watched as Athos gently wiped D'Artagnan's brow, cheeks and neck with the cool cloth. He merged the towel in the water and laid it across his brow. "I spoke to the Captain when I went to get the water." Porthos told him, "He's sent out men to search for Milady. There are wanted posters all over the city with her face. If she's in Paris, she can't hide, but if she's gone, well then, good riddance to her."

Athos drew his gaze from D'Artagnan for a moment. He had forgotten about Milady. He should be livid at the mention of her name but no feelings of anger even registered. He should've blamed her for all of this. It all started with her, but he knew she wasn't to blame. If he hadn't let his anger at her blind him, if he had had more faith in D'Artagnan, she would not have been able to drive a wedge between them. Yes, he wanted her dead, but he needed D'Artagnan's forgiveness. "D'Artagnan needs us. The Musketeers and the Red Guards can deal with her. I have no desire to go after that woman."

Porthos smiled in relief. He didn't want to tell Athos of the news but he never could keep important information from his friends. He's glad to see Athos was able to prioritise the situation. "Glad to hear it."

Athos smiled at him sadly, "I've learned my lesson. D'Artagnan's in this bed because of my hatred for her. I won't…"

"NO!" Porthos and Athos swung their heads to the cot, forgetting about their conversation. D'Artagnan was tossing from side to side, trying to escape from a fevered dream. "No!" The small towel fell off his brow as the tossing got more violent. Porthos picked it up and held it to his forehead, hoping the cool towel would help ease the nightmare.

"D'Artagnan…" Athos called, his hand cupping his cheek, as his thumb gently stroked it. He was hoping it would give D'Artagnan some comfort. "D'Artagnan, it's alright. You're safe." D'Artagnan opened his eyes. Athos smiled, "Hey." He said softly, but it was clear that D'Artagnan wasn't focusing on anything or anyone.

Suddenly, his eyes widened in anger, "Get away from me!" His arm swung weakly at Athos who caught it easily in his hands. "Leave me alone!" His struggles grew more violent as he tried to get away from them. Even though he was weak, the movements were still irritating his injuries. Porthos kept his hands on his left shoulder and upper leg to minimise the struggles.

"D'Artagnan!" Athos voiced boomed through the room, shocking Aramis awake. He shot up from his cot on the opposite side of the room, looking around for what had woken him. When he saw Athos and Porthos holding down D'Artagnan he got up from his bed and was over there in two strides.

"What…" Porthos put up a hand to stop him. D'Artagnan had stopped struggling and was looking at Athos. Aramis looked over at Athos and saw that he was speaking softly to the boy.

"You're safe. We'll protect you." Athos assured the boy, "We won't let anyone hurt you again."

Tears filled D'Artagnan's eyes, "Lies…it was all lies." He said as his eyes closed, a tear running down the side of his head. Athos wiped it away, then leaned back into his seat. Aramis turned away, his head hanging. Porthos buried his head in his hands. They were defeated.