Thank you so much for reading and leaving a comment!

Here is the next chapter, I hope I can post ch 36 on Saturday.

Enjoy!

xx Kira

To Beeblegirl:

"Thanks for this new chapter Kira, I don't know how you find the time to keep your fics going but so glad you do. Interesting information about Milady's involvement in this, I hope she doesn't end up in trouble before Treville gets to talk with her."

Thank you so much. To be honest I sometimes don't know when and where to find the time. For this story I try to have already several chapters ready in advance and posting only on a weekly basis, does help. But some scenes are still missing in these chapters regarding the plot and so I put them in, when I find the time or instead of watching TV in the evening.

It had to come at one point that I had to put in how Milady is involved in all of this. I could have wrote it earlier or I could have written a whole chapter only about her backstory, but I decided to put it in in several chapters. Let's see if she will be able to talk to Tréville or flee if she sees him … and what will she find out about Don Fernando?

Allow me to say thank you here for the review to my ch 12 of "Facing the Storm" – I see no other way to do it.

"Thank you for writing this fic. It was an excellent take on how things started for our inseparables, enjoyable, easy to read and just the right amount of angst, drama and brotherhood. Thank you again and I look forward to the next chapter in your series of pre-series, when you have the time."

I am really happy that you enjoyed this story. Looking forward to write the other two parts, if I find enough time ;-), but I have still some ideas and I want to do it. Thank you so much for your words. xx Kira

To Debbie:

"They need to bottle d'Art up as medicinal medicine since his influence is so good on Athos. LOL! But, alas, Porthos is now upset. But he cheered up at the end when Henri said Athos would become their captain one day."

Ha ha … poor d'Artagnan he would never be able to come out of this bottle again.

Porthos has to deal with a very stubborn patient and I fear it will even get worse between the two of them. Oh yes, he needed Henri to calm down again. Thank you so much. xx Kira

To Barbara:

"Excellent chapter. I just want to cuddle Porthos to comfort him. Looking forward to next chapter. I want to find out what happens next."

Thank you. Oh I think he would need your cuddle right now. Next chapter is on its way. xx Kira

Chapter 35

Captain Tréville's mood was none the better after he left the King. It was something between a thunderstorm followed by big hailstones and a winter blizzard. He was in a furious state. Angrily he paused in front of the throne hall, drew his hands over his face and closed his eyes for several seconds, before moving on to the quarters of the Cardinal, hoping to find him either there or somewhere else in Le Louvre.

His elaborate meeting with the King hadn't helped to calm himself or to find any answers about the letter and who could have been behind the attack at one of his Musketeers. On the contrary the discussion with the King had left him with more questions and in an even angrier state. One thing he knew: He had to find the Cardinal, sooner rather than later and he hoped someone would hold him back from using his sword, main gauche, pistol or simply his fist!

King Louis had wanted a detailed report about the attack on Athos' life and when he had heard about the second attack he had shouted angrily at Tréville that these people had to be stopped. Of course Louis had no idea who he meant with "these people" and thinking that Spain had something to do with this whole plot against one French soldier was something that suddenly started to confuse the King even more. He had mused aloud if his wife, Queen Anne, had written in secret to her brother, the King of Spain, to ask him for something, but at the same time that he asked this question he shook his head and told Tréville that Anne would never betray him like that.

"Why should she do such a thing? If she has a question to ask her brother she would tell me about it first and then write an official letter, which would be sent to the Court of Spain, not to a … what is this Don Fernando doing … here …" Louis had asked.

"All I know is that he is on his way to Italy with his niece."

Tréville had answered agreeing with Louis that the Queen would have no reason to write in private to her brother. Probably she would very soon be the mother of the new King of France, which would secure her position at the Court of France.

Both men stayed silent for a while and then agreed that they didn't believe the story about the training mission which Richelieu had come up with. There had to be more about this letter … but they couldn't work out what it was. Louis became angrier each minute about his Cardinal and Tréville wondered what he would actually do, if the Cardinal were with them in this room.

Not that Tréville wasn't feeling the same anger. But he couldn't show it in front of the King. He hoped to finally be able to confront the Cardinal to question him, to confront him, to find out more about this "secret mission" he somehow was sure Richelieu knew what was going on, but the Cardinal didn't appear. Tréville knew that he had to find him.

Louis had wondered if the Cardinal had already spoken to him as he had ordered but Tréville told him that there hadn't been sufficient time yet. One thing the King was suddenly sure of:

"Come on Tréville." He had shouted agitatedly. "I doubt that this was only about an invitation, I think the Cardinal has sent a second letter with my wife's letter, that's why he needed one of your Musketeers to deliver it."

"I already thought about that possibility, your Majesty, but wouldn't he have informed you about it? And furthermore he could have sent a Red Guard instead." Tréville had asked in cautious reply, sensing the wrath of the King would hit him the very next minute.

Louis who had paced back and forth in front of his throne deep in thought, paused his head turned towards the Captain of the Musketeers and as he looked at the worried and exhausted face of the Captain, he suddenly realised that Tréville was tired and concerned for Athos' life.

"I gave up a long time ago trying to understand the Cardinal's motives sometimes." Louis had sighed. "He's a good adviser and he does all he can for the best of France." He shook his head. "He will have to answer me that question, too, Tréville."

"So why sending one single Musketeer on an obvious dangerous mission?" Tréville asked once again more to himself, while shaking frustratedly his head.

"I don't know, Tréville. Go and talk to the Cardinal. I have a headache now." Louis complained and dropped frustratedly at his throne, giving the Captain of the Musketeers a sign with his hands that he was dismissed.

XXXXX

Porthos had listened to Henri. After he had eaten he had returned into the infirmary. The sad look in d'Artagnan's eyes told him everything. The young man - for him sometimes still a boy - felt sorry. With a glance on Athos and Aramis who were both sleeping, he crossed the room, where d'Artagnan was sitting, dragged him on his feet and embraced him in a long hug without saying a word. Standing there in the spot between the two beds where their brothers were sleeping.

"I'm sorry." D'Artagnan stuttered.

"I know." Porthos whispered in his brother's ear. "Forget about it." Then he showed him away from him in arm's lengths and looked at him from his top to his feet. What he saw startled him. D'Artagnan looked pale, tired, and in pain.

"You need a bed and some good rests sleep d'Artagnan, how is your ankle and your hands? Don't lie to me."

"It still hurts, when I walk and use them from time to time it is pulsing painfully."

"I will give you a pain potion and then you will be a brave boy and sleep. You should have told me earlier." He softly chided his younger brother.

"It's not that bad." D'Artagnan tried to protest, but Porthos didn't listen to him, albeit led him over to another free bed, next to Aramis. He helped d'Artagnan out of his left boot, the other he had not put on again after the bath. Then he lifted his legs on the mattress. D'Artagnan's head sunk exhausted on the pillow and before Porthos could give him a pain potion the young man had fallen asleep.

Now with all of his three friends deep asleep Pothos seated himself next to Athos' bed, checked on Athos' breathing and wiped a new layer of sweat away. Then he started his watch.

Athos wasn't moaning which was a good sign. The next three hours Porthos simply was busy with sitting next to him. He wondered when the doctor would come and hoped that Athos would then be much better. Aramis had woken twice, but he convinced him to drink a pain potion as well and Aramis accepted his caring help, not without teasing him as a nurse.

His thoughts drifted back to the time when they first met and how long it had taken him to finally see in Athos a Musketeer and furthermore a true friend. A soft noise next to him drove him out of his thoughts. Athos right foot moved over the mattress and with his left hand he tried to reach his right hand under the blanket.

"Athos?" Porthos softly asked. "Are you awake?"

"Hmm …" Was the only answer he received, while Athos anxiously tried to pull on his right arm.

"Stop that." Porthos chided him, while he tried to reach for his left hand under the blanket which wasn't that easy without hurting his friend.

"I can't ... move ... my arm." Athos slurred and opened sluggishly his eyes. The pain potion had left him confused.

"We have put a scarf around it. That's why. Stop it or it will only hurt you." Porthos chided him gently.

"Porthos?" Athos asked confused, blinking several times.

"Yes? How do you feel? Are you in any pain?"

"No, the pain is more dull … but I am still cold."

"I will give you some warm broth and tea. It should warm you."

"No." Athos protested and looked exhausted at his friend. "I can't …"

Porthos sighed and thought how he could convince his brother to drink more, when Athos mumbled.

"It's not that … I need to …"

"Oh …" Porthos widened his eyes.

Of course we have feed him with too much liquid.

"Can you help me up … I could go to the other room …" Athos tried with a pleading look towards his friend.

"Walking is no option for now. Your thigh … remember … last time …" Porthos sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't want remind you of that."

"It's alright." Athos mumbled. "But I really need to …"

"Wait I will bring the chamberpot to you and then I will help you."

Aramis and d'Artagnan were still sleeping, when Porthos returned next to Athos with the chamberpot. In silence he helped him out of his thick blanket and the other sheets.

Athos looked at him astonished.

"Even with these many blankets around me I am still cold?" He sad barely audible.

"I will put on a fire." Porthos mumbled.

"No." Athos tried to protest. "It will not warm me."

"Somehow we have to get you warm again." Porthos looked in his friend's bloodshed and tired eyes after he had removed the last sheet and busied himself with freeing Athos from his braries.

Athos stayed stoic and closed his eyes. He felt a dull pain in his thigh, when Porthos freed him from his undergown, but he suppressed the moan.

"How shall we do it?" Porthos mumbled.

"Are the others asleep." Athos whispered back.

"Deep, Aramis is even snoring from time to time. The pain potion I gave him knocked him out." He grinned and on Athos' mouth appeared a small smile, which vanished after several seconds again.

"Aramis helped me over the corner of the bed and left then."

"Then I will do the same, but I'm afraid I have to stay. Your arm. It's better when I help you sitting."

Athos nodded tiredly.

"Let's do it. I really need …"

Porthos gently lifted Athos legs over the corner of the bed, then he helped Athos with the chamberpot, which he put on the floor. He sat next to him on the mattress and hold him in a firm grip around his left shoulder.

Athos tried, he felt the pressing bladder, but nothing. Frustrated he angrily growled.

"I can't."

"We wait." Porthos laid his palm at the back of his friend and gently stroked over it. "I have filled you with so much broth, it will come." He chuckled.

Exhausted Athos felt his eyes drooping and he sunk more in himself.

"You can do it." Porthos encouraged him.

"Perhaps it's better when I lie down again." Athos mumbled. The pressing bladder hurt him, but sitting in this position made his thigh and arm throbbing again.

"Let's wait several minutes." Porthos encouraged him. "I will give you the needed privacy and look away.

"It's not that." Athos mumbled, he closed his eyes and let his head drop on Porthos' shoulder, while strands of his hair covered his face, but he didn't fall asleep.

"Have I ever told you about …"

Porthos started to tell Athos some anecdotes of his childhood. Athos felt the strong grip around his shoulder, Porthos' warm body helped him at least to stop shivering and finally his bladder decided to let go. When Porthos heard the sound, he looked discreetly away. Not saying a word.

When Athos sighed after several seconds he helped him back in his bed. Gently he put his braies back on and then layer over layer of sheets and the warm blanket. When he wanted to lift Athos' feet again the swordsman mumbled not do it. Then he turned his head towards Porthos:

"I'm still cold. I don't know why?"

"Where?" Porthos asked.

"My left hand, don't know about the right one, I can feel it only numb," he gulped "my feet and my whole body are trembling slightly."

Porthos looked into his friend's face.

"Nevertheless you are much better, your lips aren't bluish anymore and there is no cold sweat covering your face." He whispered gently. He sat next to his friend on the chair. "I will try it with hot stones and I will make a fire. We will get you warm again."

"It's warm outside. You all will sweat because of me ..." Athos tried to protest.

"A fire, and then warm tea." Porthos smiled at him. Then he stood up and started the fire in the oven and prepared several stones he could use to lie later next to Athos' feet.

Athos' eyes followed him and he watched his brother, who now returned and prepared a cup of tea.

"Here, drink." Porthos sat down on the wooden chair next to Athos' and helped him gently to drink the warm tea.

"No broth this time? What have you put in the tea?" Athos furrowed his brows.

"Honey?" Porthos chuckled. "No, I thought some change in the taste would do you good." He grinned.

Exhausted Athos let his head drop down on the pillow. Porthos put the cup away from him. Then he stroked gently some strands of hair from his friend's forehead. He felt the still too clammy and cool skin under his fingertips. Athos' eyes still followed each of his friend's movement.

"I'm sorry that I'm not better." Athos mumbled.

"What makes you think that?" Porthos frowned and stopped with what he was doing.

"I …" Athos paused. "I ... my arm, my hand … will I ever be able to use it again?"

"Don't worry about that now. It's heavy bandaged and we have put your arm in a sling around your neck. That's why it's impossible for you to move it right now."

"I appreciate your words … but please … don't lie to me … will I lose my arm …"

Porthos sat shocked back, while some tears were running down over Athos' face, searching their way in his beard.

"Hey my friend, who says that you will lose your arm?" Porthos asked irritatedly.

"No one, it's … it's just a feeling." Athos huffed, while Porthos put up a washcloth to remove the tears from his friend's face. Then he had an idea and looked into Athos' eyes.

"Look at me. Do you see that I can't move my hand and arm this way?" Porthos pressed with his own left hand his right hand and arm in a firm grip on his chest.

"No, because it's secured through your other hand." Athos mumbled.

"That's what the scarf is doing right now with your hand and arm. We had put it on your chest, so that it will hurt you less and had to bind it tight. Do you understand what I am saying?" Porthos asked softly.

Athos nodded silently.

"Come let's make you a little warmer." Porthos stood up and walked over to the fireplace where he prepared the hot stones, which he put in several linens. Then he put them towards Athos feet and another to his right side.

Athos could feel the warmth from them. He waited until Porthos had sat next to him again.

"Sleep now, your body will be stronger again. You will feel better, promise." He smiled at his friend.

"I'm sorry, I should have listened earlier to you." Athos said barely audible.

"Stop apologising. The pain and the blood loss is clouding your judgement." He quietly explained.

"I really thought I would die … that's it. If it hadn't been for you … with your pistol …" Athos sobbed.

"You would have done the same."

"I want to thank you. You saved me, Aramis … I …" Athos whispered.

"Thank me with staying alive."

Porthos said in a firm voice. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a lonely tear running down over Athos' cheek dropping in his beard. He gently wiped it away with his thumb away.

"Hey, Athos. We are all here for you. You know that."

"Yes I do." Porthos could feel some slight tremors running through Athos' body.

"Perhaps I should give you more broth." He tried.

"Not now. Later. I'm tired." Athos mumbled.

"Then sleep!" Porthos ordered in a gentle tone.

"Thank you." Athos mumbled and drifted then off in another more peaceful sleep.

Porthos hold his breath. He wanted to cry as well, but he found it somehow not the right place. Henri had been right. Athos needed him at his side. That Athos couldn't move his right hand scared him. Even if he had pretended to show Athos the reason why, he assumed that he must feel his hand nevertheless. Maybe the heavy bandage around his upper arm was causing it or the swelling the wound now certainly had developed. He already wanted to stand up and sort the medicine, cups and teas, when he heard a slow whisper and turned his head around.

"You did good." Aramis barely audible said to him. "He needed that."

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Porthos answered quietly and walked over to him.

"He needed that explanation. He needed your calm presence." Aramis whispered not daring to move his head.

"My calm presence." Porthos huffed. "I'm anything but calm, Aramis."

"And yet you managed to calm our ailing friend. How is he?" Aramis asked.

"His limbs are still cold and he's worried about his right arm, but the pain potion still seems to work. I needed to help him with the chamberpot, but he had difficulties."

"That's to be expected." Aramis murmured.

"How?" Porthos frowned.

"The shock." Aramis answered quietly.

"Oh, I didn't know that."

"Perhaps it's good when you elevate his feet again. Just to be sure." Aramis mumbled.

"I think he can stay now in the position he's chosen for himself." Porthos answered Aramis, while moving back towards a table to prepare another cup of tea. Then he walked back over to Aramis' side and sat on the small stool. "Here drink that."

"I don't need your help."

"Oh, yes you do!" Porthos snorted. "You have a concussion. Remember."

"How could I forget. My head is still hurting, but less than before. Thanks to the pain potion." Aramis admitted. Then he felt the cup being pressed in his hands and Porthos gently put his palm behind his head and helped him to lift it.

"Now, drink." Porthos ordered.

Aramis followed Porthos words.

"Why do you think we don't need to put his feet back on the pillows?" Aramis asked, after he had finished drinking.

"His lips aren't bluish anymore, there is no cold sweat on his face and his breathing has changed in a more regular way." He told him.

"The pain potion …" Aramis mumbled. "We should have given it him earlier."

"We did, Aramis. He drank it backwards." Porthos sighed.

"You are right, my bloody head is doing that right now. Where's d'Artagnan?" Aramis asked.

"Sleeping next to you like a hedgehog. I wanted to give him a pain potion too, but after I helped him to lay down, he fall asleep at once."

"Oh, how is he?"

"He will life! He waited as a brave soldier next to Athos and you, while I was outside and ate something. His ankle still hurts him and his palms are a bloody mess." Porthos snorted. "I have no idea how he managed to give Athos the broth earlier."

"He's indeed a brave boy." Aramis smirked.

"The doctor shall examine him too." Porthos snorted.

Aramis laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes trying to ignore his spinning head. Worry was plastered all over his face and Porthos wished he could do something to wipe it all away.

"I know you are concerned, Aramis, but you know what. Athos will survive. I'm sure of it." Porthos stated firmly.

"When he stops worrying about his right arm. You know it's not a good sign, when he doesn't feel his right hand." Aramis sighed.

"He says it's numb. It will be the swelling." Porthos answered shortly and looked over to Athos, who had his eyes still closed and were breathing now more even, a clear sign that he was asleep.

"And if it's not …" Aramis asked with closed eyes fearing that thought.

Porthos sighed.

"Then we will deal with it as well, as we always do. But I'm certain it's the swelling. Sleep now Aramis." He ordered and was astonished when Aramis obeyed.

I know what you fear the most Aramis, I fear it too. Athos' reaction …

To be continued ...