Everyone froze at the sight of Beaufort standing in the open doorway, a pistol leveled at Aramis.
"So your other friends finally found you, Monsieur le Comte. They can take you back to Paris after I finish the memories you will bring back with you me in your mind . I will be merciful and just shoot him in the head to put him out of his misery, the misery you caused, de la Fere," raising his pistol to take aim.
D'Artagnan realized he was out of the man's eyesight where he was. Hastily looking for any way to remove the danger to his brothers, he spied the table with the knives nearby.
Inching closer as the obviously-crazed man talked, his hand curled around the handle of one of them.
When the man stepped forward into d'Artagnan line of vision, he raised and let fly the dagger in the same fluid motion.
Beaufort's expression changed from a snarl to one of utter pain and shock as the knife's blade caught him in the throat.
His pistol went off in reaction to his finger's spasm as he was hit, but the bullet flew harmlessly to his left, hitting the far wall.
Beaufort sank slowly to his knees, then to the ground, his eyes never leaving Athos, as they finally dimmed and closed.
Seeing his two men behind where he had been standing, d'Artagnan drew his pistol, while Athos swiftly removed Porthos' weapon to use.
The men, probably figuring they would spend the rest of their lives in prison if they gave up, lifted their guns to fire. But the Musketeers ended their attempt simultaneously, leaving three dead men on the floor now.
As d'Artagnan moved swiftly over to release Athos from the shackles, Aramis shuddered as his eyes fluttered open.
His eyes darted around, but they were not lucid. Porthos held him close as he whimpered from his pain, and his eyes closed once more. Athos' gaze never left his brother's face, worry and anguish written on his features.
Finally ready to leave the scene of torment, Porthos as gently as possible lifted Aramis into his arms. It still caused him to cry out, however.
They all wondered how bad he was, and if he had any damage inside that they couldn't see. Athos, from where he had been, sometimes couldn't see the exact locations of where he had been hit, or how deeply.
It is my fault, Athos told himself again. It will break my heart permanently if my best friend di..., stopping himself from saying the word even in his thoughts.
Getting to his feet he swayed, feeling d'Artagnan's support almost immediately. He had been chained so long without being able to reach his feet that they wouldn't yet support him.
They made their way slowly through the building, stepping over the bodies of Beaufort and his men, and then out the door.
Athos took a long, deep breath of the fresh air outside, so glad to be free again. Then, his gaze returned to his brother from which it had seldom strayed, and his heart plummeted yet again.
I'm responsible for this, he thought. He has to pull through. He has to.
They made slow progress, as Athos was still walking on wobbly legs, and Porthos was doing everything possible not to jar his brother's abused body.
When the gates of the garrison finally came into view, there was silent rejoicing in the hearts of all of them.
Walking through the gates, they heard the cadet at his post shout, "Captain!"
Almost as soon as his name had been called, Treville came rapidly through his door and down the steps, striding across the courtyard towards them.
Taking one look at Athos and a much longer scrutiny of Aramis, he demanded, "What the blazes happened?"
Athos answered succinctly, "Someone took his perverted vengeance against me out on Aramis," his eyes belying his angry tone as they filled with tears.
Treville was surprised at the depth of emotion voiced by the usually taciturn Musketeer. Hecould see the tension in his lieutenant's body, and resolved to wait for a full description.
"How bad?" he asked in a softer voice.
"Very," Athos responded, causing the Captain to call over his shoulder to the cadet, "Go to the palace and bring Lemay back-now!" his tone sending the man racing out of the gates as if he were being pursued by a pack of wild dogs.
Kicking open the infirmary door, Porthos moved rapidly across the room to the far corner, away from any possible traffic in or out of the room.
Laying Aramis down gently, he began to divest him of his clothing, his brothers assisting him.
Once they were all off, their faces registered shock.
They had been rushing at the time to temporarily bandage what they could of his wounds. But they could see that it was even worse now that everything was visible.
The wound in his side was bordering on infection, and had bled through the makeshift bandage and down his leg on the inside of his pants, which was why they had failed to notice.
There was a deep nasty cut on his thigh, and another across his collarbone. Hurriedly washing them clean and bandaging them, they checked the myriad other wounds. The ones they had bandaged had not bled again, for which they were thankful. They found several others they hadn't seen before, and carefully took care of them, cleaning and bandaging all that they found.
Grateful that he hadn't awakened or been disturbed by their activity, they covered him with blankets. Porthos insisted on first watch, hunkering down in the chair beside the bed with his brother's hand clasped in his own.
Athos, his eyes almost haunted with grief, still riveted on the still form of his brother, seeming not to notice anyone else in the room.
D'Artagnan finally asked the question he and Porthos had nagging at their minds.
"What happened, Athos?" concern lacing every word.
Athos was silent for so long, d'Artagnan thought maybe he had not been heard.
Just as he was about to repeat his question, Athos responded.