Special thanks to Riversidewren who gently beta this chapter.
And thank you all for the kind reviews.
Athos
Hours of searching had been in vain. Obviously he could not be sure that the blood he had found belonged to d'Artagnan. With the approaching evening, he reluctantly agreed with Pierre that they needed to go back to the village. Once more he left behind his wounded brother. He was not skilled enough to find him or to save him.
They arrived at Louise's house. Athos dismounted Vent and needed to lean into him. The solid and warm shape of the animal brought him not only the badly needed physical support but also a little comfort. He was dead on his feet. Athos could not longer lie to himself – his body really needed rest. He braced himself and stepped aside, leaving his horse in Pierre's care. He opened the door to their shelter. There was not much light there but enough for the musketeer to discern the shapes. Athos in a few hasty steps made his way to the bed and froze.
Porthos was cradling Aramis, rocking him softly. Pain lines were clearly visible on big man's face and Athos suddenly could not breathe. Had Aramis passed away?! It would explain why neither of the women were here. The healer and her apprentice had decided to give them privacy to bid the final goodbye to their brother. Athos felt that he had reached the edge of his resistance. He choked out his friend's name and watched mesmerized as Porthos slowly opened his eyes, foggy with pain. And then the pain somehow receded, awareness taking its place.
His friend's reassuring words and the relief following them made Athos' knees buckle. He slumped heavily near his brothers. The rest of the evening was a blur – he knew that he provided Porthos with a detailed report about the happenings since their fight. He hated how many gaps were still in his account. He ate what Louise gave him and then he fell asleep. It was wrong to leave Aramis once more in Louise's care. It was wrong that Porthos, who should rest, was left to fight the pain in order to calm down their ailing brother. He was not aware enough to understand what Louise was trying to say to him about Aramis' condition. He remembered only that she said she was confused. The fever was worsening, but the infection from the wound was clearing.
Blackness. Someone was calling his name from a distance but Athos could not reply. All he felt was the blood slipping through his fingers, desperately clamped on his brother's wound. His brother who was bleeding out in his arms. He could feel under his fingers the fluttering beats of the heart in Porthos' broad chest. But he was also sure that he had pushed away the cross Aramis was wearing. How could he confuse Porthos with d'Artagnan lean shape?! He had lost them all. This was the only answer.
Suddenly a woman's voice reached him.
'Louise! There is a horse with a dead body bound to it. I... I think it's one of those soldiers staying at yours place.' – there was panic, sadness, and fear in that voice.
Athos suddenly found himself running. He could not say that he was awake. It was like a part of a nightmare, like running in quicksand. He saw Nuit and knew that the mare recognized him, as she broke into a gentle run towards him. He lunged for d'Artagnan, gripping the horse's reins and pulling Nuit to a stop. He caught the boy, who was tied to the horseback. Athos' brain supplied him with the information that a rope tied this way meant that the boy must have done it by himself.
The musketeer nearly withdrew his hand when he felt the hotness of boy's skin. He was burning with fever.
'D'Artagnan'- he whispered.
The boy leaned into his touch.
'T's? bury me…' – Athos could hear a broken plea.
'No!' – all his fear- all his anger was put in this single word. The boy tried to recoil but Athos did not let him. D'Artagnan did not fight him.
'You're right. Not safe… Aramis… church…' – he mumbled.
'Aramis is here. He is safe. You are safe. I've got you.' Now Athos knew what needed to be said. The boy went totally limp. However, his mentor still could hear his labored breathing.
Suddenly, the older musketeer acknowledged the presence of Porthos. His friend's face was ashen green, but his voice sounded steady. 'Hold him. I'll cut the ropes.'
Athos obeyed. He gently carried his youngest brother to their shelter at Louise's home. The healer already had cleared her kitchen table and gestured to Athos to lay d'Artagnan there. Athos realized that he was now the only one from their group who had not been manhandled on that piece of furniture.
'I'll need your help' Louise told Athos. ' But first make your friend sit somewhere.' She glanced at Porthos, who was kneeling on the floor, obviously fighting the wave of nausea.
Claire gave Athos a cup of tea. 'Make him drink this.' The girl seemed to be used to taking over when a patient needed help. A common trait in herbwomen.
After settling Porthos down, Athos helped Louise cut d'Artagnan's shirt. He tried to remain calm when the makeshift bandage was gone and they saw the wound. It was oozing blood and pus. After Louise washed away some blood, they could also see how angrily red the edges of the wound were. There were also two reddish welts surrounding it that were visible on the undamaged skin.
'Is there an exit wound?' asked Athos , remembering the first thing Aramis always checked.
Louise put her hands under the boy's back.
'No. I suppose it is a gunshot wound?' She sounded uncertain. Probably it was the first gunshot she had seen in her life. The injury of Porthos she had tended to was not a typical gunshot. 'And the bullet is still inside?' she inquired.
'Yes,' replied Athos.
Louise took in a sharp breath. The musketeer was watching her hands ghost over d'Artagnan's body. The boy had also his forearm cut. but that injury was only slightly infected. Fortunately the head wound which matted his hair with blood was superficial.
Athos stared at Louise, who finished checking the boy. Her fingers gently laid on his chest at the level of his heart. Slowly, the healer lifted her eyes to find the musketeer's gaze.
'He is dying, Monsieur. I can try to retrieve the bullet and clean his wounds. It would be very painful for him and I do not think it would save his life.' She bit her lip, never lowering her eyes . 'I can make him as comfortable as possible to ease his last hours.'
Athos could not think. The healer was still saying something, but he could only heard her first sentence – 'He is dying'. Athos knew that she was asking for his advice. He had to decide if they would torture their little brother, hoping against hope to save him. He watched d'Artagnan's ashen face, seeing the slightly blue tinge of his lips. He felt betrayed by Louise's question. Aramis would never hesitate.
'Do whatever you need to save him. I won't blame you if he dies, as long as you do EVERYTHING to save him!' Porthos voice sounded clear in the silence, interrupted only by d'Artagnan's struggled breathing.
'There is nothing I can do.' The physician's words killed all hope. Athos came near to Porthos, who was staring at Aramis laying on the surgeon's table. He wanted to offer some kind of comfort to his brother, but Porthos drew his pistol and aimed at the medic. 'Don't try to give up on my brother.'
The strength of the memory made Athos to glance at Porthos, hoping that he was not threatening Louise with any weapon. He was not. There was no need, as the woman nodded in understanding.
'I will need your help,' she said. She ordered Claire to bring several herbs. Athos positioned himself near boy's head, gently stroking his hair, being careful not to touch the lump. He whispered meaningless platitudes, wanting his protégé to know that he was not alone. Maybe he should have helped Louise in washing down the blood and dirt from d'Artagnan's body but she did not ask for help. Athos realized that he was so focused on boy wanting him to live, that only a direct order might have made him to do something else. That came sometime later.
Hold him down!" Louise ordered. She made a hasty sign of cross over her patient, and poured wine on the wound in boy's side. There was no reaction. It scared Athos, but he was also grateful for it. His reprieve was short-lived. When Louise started to dig into the wound, the boy whimpered. He tried to move away from the pain, but his musketeer brothers did not allow him to. Athos did not exactly see what Louise had done, but it drew a pained scream from his youngest brother. His eyes flew open, full of fear.
'T's… it hurts!' he managed to pant and then he screamed. Athos felt as his if soul was piercing, his heart shattering.
'P'l's At's f'rgive…' d'Artagnan whined as Louise reduced the pressure on the wound.
'There is nothing to forgive, d'Artagnan. I know it hurts. Hang in-please! Don't leave me! Please fight for me!' Athos pleaded.
Foggy hazel eyes met his own. A silent plea.
'No! You will survive!' ordered the older musketeer, unaware that unchecked tears were flowing down his face.
'Listen to him lad- he is in command.' Porthos' voice was shaking a little.
Athos wanted to give him a glance of gratitude but he could not break away from his protégé's eyes. What if he was seeing them open for the last time?
The boy shuddered and screamed one more time when Louise struggled to dig out the bullet. His scream ended with a wet cough and Athos was devastated when he saw a few drops of blood on d'Artagnan's lips. He knew he should show it to Louise. Their fight was over. The boy was beyond help. His eyes met with Porthos' tearful gaze. The big man slightly shook his head.
'L't me go…' -a barely audible whisper.
'No!' – both musketeers reacted together. They were trained to fight till the end,even without any hope.
D'Artagnan screamed once more and then went silent. His eyes closed, tears on his lashes and cheeks.
Before any of musketeers could check, they heard Claire's voice. 'He only passed out. It's better for him.'
Claire was standing near Louise. In one hand she was holding a candle. The other hand was wrapped around the boy's wrist.
Louise finished draining the wound. She put some leaves inside it and bandaged it. 'I won't sew it now. It is too infected,' she explained. Then she moved to take care of boy's other injuries. Athos was sure she saw the blood on boy's lips, but she did not comment on it. Maybe because it was too obvious, or maybe she was too exhausted. Athos did not know. The only thing he knew was that he was pleading with d'Artagnan to live- begging him as he had never begged anyone in his whole life.