They rode in silence, no daring to speak. Porthos could occasionally hear Aramis hissing in pain as he tried desperately to keep the ride steady but it didn't seem to help. Athos led them onto a more well-worn path when Porthos' horse stumbled on a rock, electing a cry of pain from Aramis. "Sorry." Porthos said as Aramis stiffened in front of him. D'artagnan jumped from his own horse, ready to draw his sword at Aramis' cry but a glance back told him it wasn't because someone was following them.

Athos helped Aramis down from the horse as D'artagnan took the reins so Porthos could swing off of it. If not for Athos, Aramis might have collapsed onto the forest ground. She was pale, shivering in Porthos' large cloak and Athos slowly realised they should have waited longer before leaving.

"We should have stayed." Athos murmured into Aramis' hair, ignoring Porthos and D'artagnan's worried stares.

"No, we had to leave." Aramis said, still trying to make sure Athos was alright before herself. "I couldn't stay there." She didn't think if she could handle the memories that place held.

"Then maybe we should find a camp and see to your wounds." D'artagnan suggested as Athos and Porthos nodded. Aramis didn't speak, knowing her own opinions were not on the matter and she knew they were only trying to do what was for the best for her.

A mile further along, they found a decent enough place to camp and if their decision to stop was influenced by Aramis, who was now sat in front of Athos, who cringed at every step the horse took no one mentioned it.

"Now let's have a look at your injuries." Athos stated once the horses had been seen to and a fire going.

"I'm fine." Porthos gave her a disbelieving look which only made Aramis smile ever so slightly. "So, how are we going to do this?" She asked, hoping her voice was as even as she hoped, though judging by Porthos, Athos and D'artagnan's shared look it hadn't worked.

Athos hesitated, unsure how to look at Aramis' injuries without embarrassing her further. "We could start by taking off the cloak?" D'artagnan said, a little hesitantly. Aramis slowly nodded, pulling it off and handing it back to Porthos. She shivered slightly, unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself.

Frowning, Porthos gently touched Aramis' back, causing her to flinch. "There's blood." He stated, motioning to the small spots of blood staining the fabric where Aramis' shirt had touched skin. "Can we see?" Porthos asked, knowing the best way to deal with an injured Aramis was to ask direct questions.

Aramis hesitated, not wanting to let herself be exposed any further but she knew they would have to look at her injuries eventually. Nodding, Aramis went to peal the shirt off but Athos stopped her. "We'll just look at the back." Porthos handed Aramis his cloak again so she cover her front, earning a grateful look from Aramis.

D'artagnan had grabbed a bottle of water and the medical supplies while this was happening and came back when Aramis' back was exposed. He gasped a little upon seeing the extent of her injuries. Angry red criss-cross marks danced around her whole back where the skin had been whipped raw from the whip. "Who did this?"

"Who do you think?" Aramis replied, bitterly to D'artagnan's furious question.

"They're dead so it doesn't matter." Athos replied, pushing down the anger at seeing how Aramis had been treated.

"I just wish I could have done it." Aramis muttered, glaring ahead of her, causing Porthos to laugh.

"Some need stitching." Athos said, picking out the needle and thread.

"Then don't make a mess." Aramis countered and Porthos was glad to see she was reverting to her old self, for a change.

"Wouldn't dare." Athos said but Porthos saw his hand was shaking.

"I can do it." D'artagnan said. "I'm better than you." He countered and Athos nodded, a sigh of relief coming from him. He'd always hated stitching people up and the thought of causing Aramis more pain killed him.

"You'll need to wash it out." Aramis said as Porthos grabbed the wine skin. Before they could use it all, however, Aramis grabbed it and took a long gulp, sighing a little at the way it loosened her tensed muscles, if only slightly.

"You're turning into Athos." D'artagnan laughed and Aramis grinned a little before tensing as the wine hit her skin. Once they were done cleaning the wound, Athos handed her the bottle once more and Aramis drained it dry as D'artagnan threaded the needle.

"You okay?" Porthos asked, kneeling in front of her. Aramis nodded, even as she leaned into his shoulder.

"I can do this if you want?" Athos said, seeing D'artagnan's hesitation as he held the needle close to Aramis' skin.

"No, I can do it." He said, threading the needle into one of the worse cuts in Aramis' back. Aramis stayed silent throughout the process, the only indication she was in any pain coming from the way her body tensed each time the needle passed through skin.

"A better patient than Porthos." Athos joked, acutely aware of the way Aramis was burying her head in Porthos' shoulder. It would almost be better if she made a sound to show her discomfort, rather than stay silent.

When D'artagnan was finished, Athos gave Aramis only a minute to recover before asking her if there were any other injuries they should know about. "Except for the obvious, my ribs are a bit bruised." She stated, cheeks taking on a slight red colouring.

"We'll bind your ribs and you're still looking a little peaky." Athos said, resting his bare hand on Aramis' forehead. "And you're a little warm." He said frowning.

"You'll be fine with proper rest and a food." Porthos said, smiling his old smile at Aramis but his eyes told a different story. Aramis might want to pretend otherwise but she couldn't make her friends forget. Couldn't make them forget what they had so clearly seen with their own eyes. And she couldn't either.

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