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And as always special thanks to my awesome Beta - Riversidewren :)

The night which starts will be a long one, please forgive me (sheepish smile).

Louise

'Athos!' A scream shocked her awake from a deep sleep. The bandits had finally attacked the village in order to take her patients from her. She felt anger. She watched as Athos handed a pistol to d'Artagnan and ran outside.

The wounded boy was hardly able to hold the weapon. His hands was trembling so badly! Louise saw how he steadied the barrel somewhat by supporting it on pillows. She admired the determination in the boy's eyes. However, she knew that even if he managed to stop the first attacker, the next would kill him. She could not allow that to happen. She took a heavy breadboard and positioned herself near the door. She was scared.

D'Artagnan glanced at her. She could see a ghostly smile on the young musketeer's lips. There was appreciation in his eyes, and she discovered that amazingly, it meant a lot to her.

'It's us!' called Athos before opening the door. Louise saw the relief on d'Artagnan's face. The gun slipped from his grip, and then his eyes widened with horror.

She looked in the direction of Athos and froze. Porthos stood close to his leader, with Aramis in his arms. Louise cast a glance towards the bed. Aramis was supposed to be sleeping there and not…

She wanted so badly to wake up from this weird dream. Then she shook her head, and decided that she had to act in case it was not a dream.

'What happened?' she asked, gesturing roughly towards the table. She would never be able to get the bloodstains off it.

'He wanted keep us safe.' Porthos could barely speak, his voice thick with anger and anguish. 'The bandits aren't the problem anymore,' he added bleakly. 'He was shot! Save 'im, Madame, please!' There was no anger in his movements as he gently positioned Aramis on the table. The musketeer already looked dead.

'Fetch Claire! She lives in the second house on the left!' Louise ordered. She was not surprised that it was Athos who obeyed her. Porthos looked as if he could not avert his gaze from his wounded friend, for fear that he would slip away.

Louise took a deep breath. She cut the makeshift bandages, and did her best not to lose her composure. She bit her lips, aware that she had to perform another surgery to dig out the bullets. There were two entrance wounds in the man's side, each bleeding profusely. There were no exit wounds. And a very bad… gash on his arm. The bullet had cut deeply into muscle.

Athos returned with Claire. Louise ordered them to prepare some boiling water and herbs. 'I have to take out the bullets,' she said slowly. 'I also must cauterize these wounds. I will need you to hold him down when I'm working on him.' She was praying that they wouldn't ask any questions.

'Aramis…' Porthos' voice trembled. He positioned himself so that he kept his hands on the wounded man's arms, being careful to avoid the deep cut on his friend's arm. He was whispering something, but she did not pay attention to the words.

Aramis was completely still. He did not react at all when Louise started to search for the bullet in his body. Luckily, it had not gone deep. After getting it out, she took the red-hot knife from Claire's hand. The girl was scared, but Louise knew that she had get used to that kind of treatment.

The herbwoman met Porthos' eyes, and nodded to him. Then she put the blade to the wound. Aramis only flinched a bit, shivering slightly. She could feel the despair of the dark skinned musketeer, who had been ready for a hard fight to keep his brother still. She knew Claire was struggling against the urge to vomit. The smell of burned flesh was reminding the girl of the fire that had scarred her. However, Louise could not spare the child-not if she was to be a village healer.

Louise focused on the second wound, her worry growing when the wounded soldier did not react to the incision into his flesh. She tried to be quick. Aramis had not much time left if… She was afraid that he was already beyond her help.

But she stubbornly refused to give up. She had not thought that d'Artagnan had a chance, but the boy was still alive. So maybe these musketeers were just tougher then people who she usually tended to. But this soldier was guilt ridden. Furthermore, he had not had time to recover from his previous injuries and infection. That was never a good combination. However, she really had no experience with people who first were ill, and then severely injured.

Finally she dug out the second bullet. She was quite scared by the amount of blood which started to trickle down to the floor. She forced her hands not to shake as she methodically cauterized the wound. She watched the deadly pale complexion of her patient for a moment. A thin sheen of sweat was on his face. She laid her hand on his chest to check and see if his heart was still beating. It took her a few minutes to be sure that he was still alive. She could feel the musketeers' gaze on her hands. Her hands were red with their brother's blood. Only then she did she realize that she had smeared that crimson on his chest and face.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then she cleaned the last wound. There was no way she could stitch it closed. She just put on a salve and a bandage. Then she checked his previous injury. Somehow, there had been no further damage.

She heard a gasp of pain from the other side of the room. She looked over to see d'Artagnan struggling to get up.

'Lie down!' she shouted. Both musketeers reacted to her voice. They eyed each other, and then Athos went to the boy.

'Aramis?' d'Artagnan was terrified for his brother.

'That is a good question. How is he?' Porthos asked Louise. And for the first time, the herbwoman felt frightened by him.

'Bad. He has lost too much blood,' Louise answered

'What exactly do you mean, Madame?'

'I mean that if he regains consciousness, there will be some hope.' Watching the musketeer's face, it took all her composure to say it.

He nodded shakily, and then hit the wall with his fist. 'Idiot!' he growled

'Monsieur, I would prefer that you refrain from destroying my house,' she said coldly.

'Porthos… It's my fault, I shouldn't have…,' Athos did not get a chance to finish. Porthos grabbed his shirt and nearly threw him on the wall, not loosening his grip.

'I don't want to hear that you feel guilty! Look, wh're guilt's driven 'Mis?! No guilt, Athos, do you understand me?!'

Louise glanced in that direction and winced. 'It would be helpful, Monsieur, if you would put your friend back in bed.'

The musketeers followed her gaze. Athos jumped at d'Artagnan, who was kneeling near the bed. He tried to lift his head, but the only thing he was able to do was to collapse in Athos' arms.

Louise watched as Athos cradled the boy in his arms and whispered something in his ear. Then he gently put him on the bed. Louise approached them. The boy still was feverish, and Louise was afraid that his condition might worsen because of his worry for his friend. But there was nothing she could do to comfort him.

Nothing?

'Monsieur?' she leaned towards Athos. 'Take good care of him. He needs you.' There was a note of warning in her voice. And when he saw the fear in the man's eyes, she knew that her words had hit home.

Porthos carefully positioned Aramis near d'Artagnan. He took a bowl of water and started to clean his brother's face. 'He's hot,' he murmured fearfully.

'He still has a fever,' she answered. 'We must keep him warm.' She adjusted the wool blanket on the wounded man.

'Why his hands are so cold?' Again, she heard the same anguish in his voice.

'He has lost too much blood,' she replied softly. She could feel that the big man was fighting back tears. It was so unjust that they were suffering. She wanted so badly to protect them from pain, but she was not able to. Not with their suicidal tendencies.

Aramis had wanted to protect his friend, to protect her village. It was so totally wrong. She knew that this would be another hellish night. And she was not certain who would live until the next dawn.

'I'll be back,' she promised, and left quickly after giving a few instructions to Claire. She went to her sister's home. It was already late at night, and the children were asleep. Her husband was repairing a harness for the horses. He put aside his work when she approached him.

'They made us safe,' she murmured, searching for shelter in his arms.

'You're worried.'

'One of them… is badly wounded… I am afraid for him-and for them all.'

'You'll save them,' he whispered into her hair.

'He doesn't want to be saved,' she replied.

'Then it's up to his brothers to make him change his mind.'

'I don't know if his will really has any significance now… I am scared, Jean! I had started to have hope… but now… I am so scared that this night will mean their end.'