Thank you once again for your kind comments and reviews. The more I write about this story, the more I find I am enjoying the show. And of course I have discovered some wonderful Musketeer stories on this site.

Chapter Eleven

Aramis paced across the small yard, his head waging war with his heart. He knew Athos was right. He also knew that Athos was fighting the very same war within himself. He was just better at hiding it. Where Aramis wore his heart on his sleeve, Athos often made a good pretense of not having one. Those closest to him knew what a lie that was, but for various good reasons, Athos had chosen to protect himself and carefully shielded his heart. It was a measure of how much the man cared about their young friend that his facade had cracked so badly over the last few days.

Porthos leaned against the wall, arms folded and watched his friend pace. He had already had the benefit of the ride back from the village to argue the same questions, but Aramis had the added weight of knowing all the medical possibilities as well.

"We almost … we were nearly ... " The words caught in his throat as he choked back the memory of his first sight of d'Artagnan, only a few days earlier. Porthos knew exactly what he was trying to say and nodded.

Aramis finally stood still and stared at his friend. How many times had they all been expected to place duty over their own needs or wants? It came with the territory of being one of the King's men, but that didn't always make it any easier to do.

Athos sat straddled over a chair turned backwards and watched as d'Artagnan tried to regain his composure. He felt like he had a knife twisting in his own chest as he knew he was the cause of the young man's turmoil. There had been times when he had had to leave an injured man behind before, but none of them had ever felt quite like this. It had been nearly a week since they rode out of the garrison and the King was expecting results.

"When will you go?" To his credit, d'Artagnan managed to look him in the eye while asking.

"This afternoon. We can't risk them moving camp again. We've found a local who tracked them recently and he has offered to show us." He took a moment to allow that to sink in and noted that d'Artagnan was struggling to stay sitting upright. His face was ashen and he obviously needed to lie down.

"I'm leaving Aramis here."

D'Artagnan felt a surge of relief, quickly followed by a flash of guilt. Athos and Porthos would need all the help they could get and he didn't need a nursemaid. The fact he could not even stand up without assistance was irrelevant. He began to object when Athos cut him off.

"Those three men you killed will have been missed. Who knows if anyone will come looking for them? We buried the bodies, but somebody could have seen them coming this way." He didn't mention that it was a secondary reason, just as he had used the same argument with Aramis himself. He would barely admit it to himself, but he had come too close to losing another brother and would not leave him in the state he was in without Aramis to tend to him.

D'Artagnan felt his stomach clench as he had not even considered that point. He could well have placed Armand's family in further danger and he was of no current use in helping to defend them. As much as he wanted to tell Aramis to go too, he felt relieved that the man would be staying. His see-sawing emotions showed in his eyes and he looked away in shame. He had never felt so utterly helpless in his life. Except perhaps for the night his father died. The painful memory surfaced again and he tried to push it under.

Athos mistook the look of pain that flitted across d'Artagnan's face and stretched out a hand towards him. "Do I need to fetch Aramis? Are you in pain?"

"No!" The response was harsher than intended and d'Artagnan looked up to apologise. "I'm sorry, but no. I'm fine."

He twisted the blanket in his hands and struggled to explain. Conflicting emotions competed for his attention. He looked intently at his hands and tried to find the words. Before he knew it, Athos had clamped a firm hand on his shoulder.

"None of us likes this. I have sent word to Treville with one of the traveling merchants. He will send men and once we know the whereabouts of their camp we will decide what to do. In the meantime, you need to rest. I need you back on your feet." The concern in his tone was clear and d'Artagnan simply nodded at him. Athos needed him to be fighting fit, not lying in a bed feeling sorry for himself.

By the time Alain arrived to collect his two friends, d'Artagnan had almost made peace with the idea. As a musketeer, he knew Athos was right. People were dead, simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He knew the agony of that first hand and would not wish anybody else to experience it. If Athos and Porthos could put a stop to the raiders, then being left behind was worth it. He lay back on the pallet and stared at the roof, determined to keep himself together. He would not add to Athos' worries as he left.

Aramis had already made a thorough check of the tiny farmhouse and surrounds, but for some reason he felt compelled to do it again. It was nearing sundown and he felt the need to secure the place before he headed in for supper. He had sent his friends off with a promise to protect those left in his care. They, in turn, had promised to return safely. None of them had actually spoken any such thing, but they all knew anyway. Some things simply did not need words to be understood.

After checking and changing d'Artagnan's dressings he had left him to sleep for a while. The fever had almost subsided, but he knew it would be a long haul back. He smiled to himself as he knew how frustrating it was going to be for the normally vital young man. It was going to take some serious efforts from all of them to keep him down, long enough for him to fully heal. He raised a glance to the sky as he pulled his rosary out and kissed it. He sent a silent prayer of thanks that they would actually get the chance to do so.

It hadn't taken long for Aramis to scout out the best defense points along with obvious weaknesses. As a soldier it was second nature to be on the defensive, especially with others to protect. He had deliberately pretended not to notice that Philippe had been trailing along behind him for the last ten minutes or so. The child was rather good at hiding. Unfortunately for him, Aramis was a rather good scout. Of course, the fact that Philippe was back to wearing Aramis' hat did nothing to conceal his presence and Aramis had to stifle a laugh. Finally he turned and headed back towards the barn. He waited around the side of the wall and when he saw the shadow of his hat coming around the corner he swooped on his prey.

Philippe screamed before collapsing into a fit of giggles as Aramis hoisted him over his shoulder. Armand bolted out the door at the sound of his son's scream and skidded to a halt as he saw Aramis striding towards him with Philippe sitting atop his shoulders. It took a moment to rein in the fear and when Aramis saw his face, he stopped in his tracks.

"I'm sorry …. I didn't think that … I am truly sorry." Arrmand nodded and looked away for a moment. When he looked back he had a smile on his face and was looking towards his son. As if sensing his father's need, Philippe reached out for him and Armand pulled him into his arms. Aramis felt a wave of shame wash over him at the distress he had unintentionally caused. Before he could say anything further they both heard Henri shouting from inside.

Both men rushed for the door and followed the shouting to where d'Artagnan was supposed to be sleeping. Aramis shoved his way through when he saw his friend lying on the floor, trying desperately to breathe through a wave of pain.

"Henri, what happened?" He was already running a hand over his friend to check on his injuries and was dismayed to see blood seeping from his bandage again. D'Artagnan groaned as he tried to sit up.

"Lay still! Just what did you think you were doing?" Aramis shook his head as he wondered how they were possibly going to manage weeks of recuperation if they couldn't manage a few days.

"I heard Philippe and … " The rest of the answer was cut short as he grit his teeth against another wave of pain. The room was spinning wildly and he closed his eyes to try to steady himself. Aramis stared at him as he realised d'Artagnan had responded without thinking of himself. He was in no condition to be out of bed, let alone taking on a perceived threat to a child.

"Stupid! So stupid," he muttered to himself.

"'m sorry," d'Artagnan managed to get out between strained breaths.

"Not you! Me! I'm so sorry."

D'Artagnan looked at him, clearly confused as to why Aramis was apologising. He wasn't the one who fell out of bed!

It took some concerted effort between Aramis and Armand before they had d'Artagnan settled back on the pallet and Aramis was dismayed to see how much pain he was in. By the time he had removed the bloodied bandage, checked the wound and redressed it, d'Artagnan looked like he was ready to pass out. Aramis wanted to kick himself for his stupidity.

Having finished what needed to be done he slid down against the nearest wall and pulled his knees up to his chest. He rested his arms across his knees and watched as d'Artagnan finally lost the battle to keep his eyes open. He had no idea of how long he sat there before Armand came back into the room, carrying a tray of food. Henri and Philippe were right behind him and Aramis noted the look of concern on Henri's face.

"He's just sleeping."

"Is he going to be all right?"

Aramis chewed on his lip as he watched the boy. He clearly had the instincts of a healer.

"He's too stubborn not to be," he grinned. "Unfortunately he's also too stubborn to do what he's told."

By the time they had finished supper, Philippe was yawning and Armand stood up to carry his youngest to bed. Without being asked, Henri moved to clear away plates and mugs and Aramis soon found himself alone with d'Artagnan. He moved to sit beside him on the pallet and noted the restlessness in his face. It wasn't as distressed as it had been when he was dreaming, but it wasn't peaceful either. They all teased d'Artagnan about how young he looked, but at that moment he looked far younger than he was. Aramis wondered again at how an innocent Gascon farmboy had come to be a King's Musketeer. Not for the first time, he thought about what would have become of the boy if he had not sought out Athos when he first arrived in Paris.

"You'd be dead!" he whispered to himself.

He didn't notice when Henri had slipped back into the room and was startled when he spoke.

"I'm glad he isn't."

Aramis looked up and nodded.

"I'm sorry he got hurt because of us."

Armand came back through the doorway in time to hear his son. He reached over and pulled his son into his arms. "This was not your fault!"

"Absolutely not!" Aramis agreed. "In fact, d'Artagnan has a knack for finding trouble, without any effort at all. He is far too impetuous for his own health."

He smiled at Henri, but something nagged at him. Athos had tried determinedly to get d'Artagnan to take someone with him to Gascony and he had refused. He knew Treville had tried too, to no avail. He knew it ate at Athos that it seemed d'Artagnan had closed them out. He was determined that somehow he was going to get to the bottom of that one and do something to ensure it never happened again.

Armand pulled over a chair and Henri sat down on the floor, leaning against his father's leg.

"Will you tell me about him?"

Aramis didn't answer immediately and Armand tried again. "He is clearly not from around here and yet you refer to him as your brother. He strikes me as very young to be a musketeer, but I know only the best are taken into the regiment. Please, I would like to know about the man who saved my sons."

Aramis nodded and considered his words carefully. It was not his story to tell.

"D'Artagnan is from Gascony. That's where he was returning from when he came across your boys."

"You should not have been alone, you foolish boy!" Aramis had lost count of how many times that thought had gone through his head. Without thinking, he reached out and laid a hand on his friend's chest, as if reassuring himself that he was still breathing.

Armand watched the gesture and wondered again at how close each of the men seemed to be. It was clear that none of them were family and yet he had seen them work as a team to pull the boy back from the brink of death. He recalled Athos' desperate response to pretend to be the boy's father and it made him wonder just where his real father was.

"He had been visiting family there?"

Aramis' stomach clenched into a knot. "No. He has no family any more."

"Except for us."

Aramis felt d'Artagnan stirring under his hand. He smiled as he met dark eyes looking around in confusion.

"It's all right. You've just been asleep again. Are you hungry? You have hardly eaten all day."

"Thirsty."

Before he could move, Henri had already left to bring water and Aramis simply helped d'Artagnan into a more upright position. He held the cup to his lips and watched closely as he swallowed.

"Easy there, take it easy. Too much and you will be sick."

"Yes, Mother," d'Artagnan tried to smile at his friend as he slumped back against the wall.

Aramis smiled to himself as it was the first hint he had seen of his friend returning. He raised an eyebrow as he tried not to laugh.

"Mother?"

"Well Father Aramis just doesn't work for me." D'Artagnan grinned at him as he had heard enough about how Aramis' father wanted him to join the priesthood. The idea was so funny that he felt a laugh welling up inside him. He managed to clamp it down as he knew it would hurt too much to laugh.

Armand watched the exchange and knew he was missing something pertinent.

"From what I've seen, I think he'd make an excellent father."

"He probably already is," d'Artagnan muttered. He missed the flicker of emotion that crossed Aramis' face before he plastered on a grin.

"You're lucky you're a wounded man, or I may be forced to make you retract that!"

"I thought you said something about food."

"Nag, nag, nag! Now you sound like my mother!"

Armand watched as the two men bickered between themselves. He smiled as he watched the tension of the last few days finally beginning to evaporate.