Authors note: Thanks for all the great comments on this one. We're not quite finished with it yet…

'Where are … the others?' asked d'Artagnan, his words slow and slurred.

'They are behind us. They are coming,' replied Athos, hating the lie, but knowing d'Artagnan needed to be focused on himself and not worrying about his friends.

Worrying about Aramis who was badly injured and might not even make it back to the camp. Worrying about Porthos who was potentially returning to a firing squad.

No. D'Artagnan did not need to be worrying about Aramis and Porthos. Athos was worrying for both of them. Athos was also worried about d'Artagnan who was barely able to support his weight but was trying his best.

They reached the fringes of the fighting. The camp was ahead of them, but Athos knew he could not relax. He would not relax until all his brothers were safe and not suffering from the threat of imminent death either from wounds received in battle or from a squad of men forced to fire on one of their own.

Du Froid was ahead of them glaring. No doubt annoyed at how long it had taken Athos and d'Artagnan to get there. No doubt fuming that Porthos was not with them. Athos contemplated lying and saying that Porthos had also been injured and left behind. But when the lie was found out they would be in further trouble.

Athos began to steer d'Artagnan towards the medical tent. Du Froid blocked their path.

'Where are you going? Get him to the Marshal,' said the General.

'He needs his injury seen to,' replied Athos as he tried to get around the objectionable man.

'No. We need that intelligence. Now.'

Roughly Du Froid grabbed d'Artagnan from the other side and propelled him towards the tent where the Marshall and the other generals were strategizing. Athos did not relinquish his hold on d'Artagnan, he was not going to let the young Musketeer out of his sight until he was safely ensconced in the medical tent.

'Where is the other one? Porthos?'

Athos did not reply.

'I will have him shot if he manages to get back here. If he does not return, he will be branded a deserter and shot when he is found.'

D'Artagnan mumbled something about Porthos being behind them. Du Froid did not hear or chose not to hear.

The tent where the Marshal and his senior generals were holding court was the largest in the camp. It was sectioned off to provide sleeping quarters for the senior men. Two soldiers from an infantry regiment were standing by the entrance. As Du Froid approached he indicated for them to open the flaps that formed the entrance. They did as they were instructed without hesitation. Athos suspected they had both been on the receiving end of the General's ire at some point during their tour of duty.

Du Froid let go of d'Artagnan without warning, leaving Athos to support his friend alone. D'Artagnan was not making any attempt to stand, his head was bowed, and he was limp. Barely conscious. Athos knew the bandage that Aramis had applied was soaked through with d'Artagnan's blood. He wondered how long the young man had before there would be no point in taking him to the medical tent. Before there was nothing the surgeon could do.

'Talk,' said Du Froid.

The Marshal, an equally unreasonable general, was watching them with disinterest.

'He has the intelligence from the spy,' Du Froid informed the assembled men.

Athos glanced around. The men, all in their fifties and sixties were clean. Their clothing was pristine. They had probably not left their tent. They probably had no idea what it was like on the battlefield. They probably found the distant noise of cannon fire a mere irritant to their day drinking fine wine and fine spirits. The generals were not the men who were going to win the battle. But they might be the men that lost it.

'Come on then, man. We don't have all day,' said the Marshal, his tone hostile.

D'Artagnan managed to raise his head and look at the generals. The Marshal looked at Du Froid who tutted and looked around for a few seconds. He grabbed a hard-backed chair and placed it behind d'Artagnan before forcing him to sit. The move caused d'Artagnan to cry out in pain as his injury was aggravated. Athos glared at Du Froid. But Du Froid was not finished, he reached for a bucket of water. Athos barely had time to move as the contents were poured over the injured man. D'Artagnan gasped in shock as the cold water soaked into his already damp and muddy clothes. Athos swore at Du Froid and stepped closer to d'Artagnan.

'Get out,' said the Marshal. 'This is not for your ears.'

'He needs to be seen by the surgeon-'

'One more, insubordinate word from you, and I will shoot you myself. You can join your friend if he makes an appearance,' said Du Froid, who pushed Athos back, towards the tent flaps.

'Leave us,' commanded the Marshal.

Athos saw no choice. He looked at d'Artagnan who was still panting before doing as he was told and leaving the tent. Du Froid followed him.

'If this man tries to re-enter this tent you are to shoot him,' said the general to the two soldiers standing guard.

The men nodded and turned their attention to Athos who took up a position opposite the tent flaps.

All he could do was wait. And continue to worry about all his brothers.

To be continued…

Whumpee: D'Artagnan. Featuring: Athos.