Author's note: Another Thank you to Ceticgal!
To all who reviewed: Thank you for your awesome words! Glad you enjoyed it!
I know this is very short, but I promise the next part will be longer!
It was a week and a half later when they finally rode into Paris. They were all bone weary exhausted and sore, especially D'artagnan. Having a gunshot wound to the abdomen, even though it was healing, while riding a horse on a 2- week ride...needless to say it wasn't fun.
When they started to near the garrison, relief flowed through the trio. They were finally back "home". D'artagnan however, felt no such relief. All he felt was anxiety. He was so anxious in fact that he didn't notice his breathing becoming shallower and Aramis sidling up beside him, asking if he was okay. It wasn't until Aramis grabbed his arm that D'artagnan realized what was happening and started to calm down. When he'd calmed down enough to hear over the white noise echoing in his ears, he grabbed Aramis' hand and held on tight. Aramis didn't say anything, just let him take comfort in the contact. Athos and Porthos watched the scene with worry. They knew the reasons behind the young man's panic but what were they to do? There wasn't anything they could say to make it better, even a little bit. All they could do was be there to support him. At this thought the two sidled closer, letting D'artagnan know they were there. Once he calmed down some more they continued on their way.
Just outside the gates to the garrison D'artagnan pulled his horse to a stop. The others looked at him in confusion. He shook his head at them, pulling his horse back a step.
"I can't go in there, I can't stay here. I'll just find an inn or something for tonight." He stated emphatically, still pulling his horse back. Athos rode up to him, stopping him from pulling back even more.
"Okay, D'artagnan. We'll find somewhere to stay for the night. Don't worry, it's okay. Just calm down." Athos hoped he had kept the hurt out of his voice. He knew D'artagnan didn't feel safe here, but it hurt all the same. This was their home. Well, all they knew of home.
"Come on, this way." Porthos said before riding off in another direction. The others looked at each other curiously but followed, trusting Porthos' judgment. He lead them away from the garrison, and into the heart of the city. When they finally reached their destination, an inn not far from the garrison, D'artagnan was ready to collapse into bed.
The trio dismantled the tack while D'artagnan watched in silence, refusing to be drawn into their lively banter, as much as he wanted to comment. They made their way inside slowly, taking their time while walking with D'artagnan. Porthos rented them rooms, as he apparently knew the owners. Once that was finalized, they made their way up a staircase to the left, D'artagnan leaning heavily on Athos. God, was he tired.
Porthos directed them to the rooms, leading the way, while Aramis brought up the rear. Once inside, Athos helped D'artagnan to the bed. It was a good thing too, as D'artagnan's knees chose that moment to give out underneath him. Once settled, Aramis set about making a pain draught, while Porthos and Athos set out his other supplies before heading to get something for them to eat. Once Aramis finished he helped D'artagnan drink the draught. The Gascon screwed his nose up in disgust but drank it anyway. This showed Aramis how much his young friend was hurting. He set the cup aside then helped D'artagnan out of his shirt. D'artagnan hissed at the pull to his wound.
"Hold as still as possible, D'artagnan, for this will hurt." Aramis instructed, before gently as possible, pulling the wrapping away from the wound. It stuck, causing D'artagnan to whimper. Aramis finished pulling it off before soothingly rubbing his hand up and down D'artagnan's arm.
Athos and Porthos stepped into the room, seeing D'artagnan's shallow breaths and Aramis' concerned gaze on him before it turned to them. They quickly put the food onto the small table off tot he side and made their way over to the bed. They each took a spot around the other two, giving comfort silently.
Aramis was able to eventually get a new wrapping on the wound before D'artagnan laid down and promptly slipped into unconsciousness, not caring that he was missing dinner. The others watched over him silently, guardian angels to the young man.