A/N was going to leave it another day before posting but decided couldn't keep you all waiting much longer :) and I figured spending 5 years surrounded by musketeers Marie is was going to learn something about the weapons ;)

Chapter 26

It only took a few seconds for Athos to realize the blood on him was not his own. He caught Anne in his arms as he dropped to the floor with her, taking a shaky breath as he looked down at her. It had been a clean shot; she was dead.

"I couldn't let her kill you." A weak voice made him look to the corner, stopping him from trying to decide how he felt about his wife dying in his arms. His sister was slumped against the wall, D'Artagnan's gun by her side.

"Marie. Oh thank god," he breathed, laying Anne's body on the ground and going to his sister. He scooped her up in his arms and held her close. He watched as her eyes started to close again and panicked, knowing he had to keep her awake.

"Where did you learn to shot like that?" he asked her, glancing to his side as he heard a groan as the youngest Musketeer began to come around. He willed him to hurry up.

"Aramis," she replied, flickering her eyes back open. She smiled weakly at the look on Athos's face.

"You can't be angry at him. You taught me how to use a sword," she reminded him, her eyes getting heavy again.

"That's true...hey, no; you've got to stay with me, Marie. You can't shut your eyes," Athos told her firmly even as she fell limp against him.

"Athos? What happened?" D'Artagnan asked faintly, pulling himself up.

"Take her up to her room. Aramis will look after her. And then go for the physician like I told you to before," Athos ordered, ignoring the questions. D'Artagnan went to say something else but he stopped when his eyes fell on the body by the door.

"Athos I..."

"Go, D'Artagnan! She needs help. Go!" Athos barked, stopping him. D'Artagnan nodded, understanding. He got up, ignoring the slight dizziness that washed over him. He gently took Marie in his arms and left Athos to deal with his emotions alone.

Porthos sighed deeply, leaning his head against the wall. They were back in Marie's room and luckily neither of them had come off too badly after the fight. Though, Porthos was aware, he in fact hadn't really had much of chance to get hurt due to Aramis's murderous rage.

He looked over at where his friend was sitting completely still and silent on the windowsill. Aramis hadn't even acknowledged Porthos since they had entered the room. Instead he had closed up again and Porthos knew there was no point trying to talk to him. So instead he took a seat on the bed in silence.

"Aramis!" D'Artagnan's voice broke through the silence. The desperation in his voice had the two Musketeers on their feet just as he came through the door with Marie in his arms. He laid her down on the bed. Aramis was by her side in seconds.

"My darling. Oh god, what have they done to you," he whispered, his hands gently moving over her body. He paled as he examined each of her wounds.

"I'm going to go and get the physician," D'Artagnan muttered. Porthos just nodded. He realized after the youngster had left that he hadn't asked him where Athos was.

"I need to get some of these injuries stitched up. I think some of them are already infected. She's running a fever," Aramis was saying, more to himself then Porthos. Porthos watched as he made several attempts to try and thread a needle. He sighed, taking the needle from him.

"Don't do this, Aramis. You're shaking too much. D'Artagnan has gone to get help," Porthos told him gently. For once Aramis didn't put up a fight, probably recognizing that stitching with shaking hands would cause more harm than good. He simply sank onto the chair next to the bed and took one of her hands in his.

"She is going to be okay, isn't she?" he asked quietly, looking up at Porthos with pleading eyes, searching for reassurance. Porthos didn't know what to say.

"She will now," Athos answered as he entered the room, walking over to place a hand gently on Aramis's shoulder. Porthos looked at Athos closely; he didn't look good.

"I need to thank you, Aramis," he said, causing Aramis to look up at him with confusion in his eyes.

"Anne is dead. Marie shot her," Athos said, answering his unspoken question.

"You're a good teacher. She saved my life," he added, smiling weakly at him.

"Athos, I'm sorry," Porthos spoke up gently. Athos shook his head and turned away from them just as the physician came in. He would bury his wife tomorrow; right now he needed to focus on Marie. He knew that she was extremely sick and hadn't escaped death yet. He watched Aramis as he stood slightly away from the bed, his sharp eyes watching the physician closely. He sighed, running a hand over his face. He didn't even want to contemplate what would happen to the Musketeer should Marie not pull through.