Evening My Lovelies

I LOVE this chapter, it wasn't supposed to take up the entire chapter but I got a little carried away lol :D

Notes On Reviews:

pallysd'Artagnan: Thanks for the review - We'll be checking back with Athos fairly soon but yeah, Aramis and the other definitely got their hands full :) Enjoy the new chapter! x

Debbie (Guest): Thanks for the review - Yay, I'm glad :) I like Marin too :D He was going to be a baddie originally but the damn boy grew on me and I had to make him a goodie. Oh yeah, :) Athos won't be walking away without some form of injury. Enjoy the new chapter! x

beeblegirl: Thanks for the review - Yeah Liam's REALLY going to regret being so cocky :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

WelshEssex: Thanks for the review - Nope not wrong :) Our Athos has excellent instincts, plus I was feeling devilish so what's another baddie :D Tristan's really coming into himself here, he's the one in charge when it comes to health so he's not going to take any of them doing anything that could worsen their injuries. Glad you like Marin I like him too :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

As always much love any many thanks for following/favouriting/reviewing/reading

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter Twenty-Eight: In The Dark

Waking up to being unable to move would be terrifying for anyone but it was probably the worst realization D'Artagnan could have come to as his mind slowly struggled to return to consciousness. Memories of his time trapped inside the box played on a loop in his mind sending wave after wave of panic flooding through the young musketeer's veins as he tried desperately to move any of his limbs, even just a little. In fact, it was only the hazy memory of waking up in Porthos's arms that kept him from having a full-on panic attack.

With the grievous condition, Glenn had been brought to them in the room was near silent as Tristan worked almost frantically to save the man's life, the others doing what they could to ensure the trainee physician had the environment he needed to focus on the task at hand.

It was because of this lack of chatter that Aramis's keen ears were able to pick up the exact moment a small but clearly terrified whimper of fear left the lips of his brother lying unconscious next to him.

Slowly so as to not startle anyone the marksman shifted in his seat so the Gascon had his full attention. "D'Artagnan?" he called softly, hope filling him briefly that the boy may be waking up, only for that hope to be crushed and a frown to grow on his face as he noticed the expression on the still sleeping boy's face.

More than a little versed with the signs of nightmares Aramis realized what was going on immediately and moved to gently place his hand on D'Artagnan's head, his fingers slowly running through the boy's hair. "You're safe D'Artagnan," he promised, keeping his voice soft as his fingers continued their ministrations. He longed to hold his brother's hand, to offer him whatever comfort he could but given the condition of the boy's fingers, he feared he might do more harm than good. "You're safe."

Shifting slightly he could feel a light pressure against his head which might have offered him some sense of comfort had it not reminded him of the side of the box he had spent who knows how long in, a reminder he definitely did not wish to relive.

Memories of the box and taunting voices which sounded a lot like Rochefort played in his head causing his ever-growing fear to overwhelm the small amount of hope he had mustered from the hazy memory of his brother rescuing him.

Fearing he would open his eyes to find out the memory had been something his air-deprived mind had conjured in an attempt to comfort him it took D'Artagnan a lot longer than he would ever like to admit to summon the courage to open his eyes, immediately regretting the action and letting out a sharp cry of fear at the pitch darkness that greeted him causing tears to quickly flow from his eyes as his breathing started coming in short fast bursts as his panic threatened to overwhelm him.

Being so close to his brother meant that Aramis was able to feel the moment D'Artagnan's heart rate spiked and his breathing increased, growing the marksman's own fear for the younger man as memories of his own night horrors slowly crept back to the forefront of his mind, something he struggled to push back down, aided, much to his ever-growing concern, by a louder cry of fear leaving the Gascons lips.

"Aramis?" asked Tristan with no small amount of concern in his voice. The cry had grabbed his attention, prompting him to pause his work of cleaning Glenn's wound, a task his was finally almost finished with when D'Artagnan cried out. He desperately wanted to go to his friend side but forced his eyes to never leave his patient's wound, knowing that would stop him from diverting his attention fully away from who needed it most.

Knowing Tristan would not be able to focus fully on his task until he was reassured D'Artagnan was okay Aramis was quick to reply. "Nightmare," he explained before doubling his seemingly futile efforts to calm his terrified brother down while simultaneously trying to wake him up, knowing all to well what prolonged nightmares could do to a man's mind and so being unwilling to leave his baby brother to the horrors of his mind for any longer than he had to.

"Can I help?" asked Marin worriedly, speaking up for the first time since Talbot had left. The young red guard had been surprisingly helpful in the interim, working without question or complaint to help the two medics treat their injured whilst also keeping a cautious eye on their prisoner, even going as far as to knock to the man out again when he appeared to be waking, not wanting to add further stress to the situation by letting him wake up.

"Stay with Tristan," ordered Aramis gently, his soft facial expression showing his appreciation for the man's offer. "He's going to need your help with Glenn."

Noticing the torn expression on the red guard's face Tristan nodded in agreement, a small grimace crossing his face as he moved to explain. "I'm almost done here, then I'll need to close the wound… It's going to be incredibly painful for him so he likely to fight me."

Voices! He could hear voices! That was the one thing that managed to cut through the panic-induced fog of D'Artagnan's mind as his earlier hope began to grow ever so slightly once more. He wanted nothing more than to call out to the voices, to grab their attention and hopefully their help but he could barely get his voice to come out as anything more than a hoarse whisper, prompting more tears to prickle his eyes, although these were from frustration, not fear.

It was then that memories of Porthos's rescue returned to his mind and he remembered how he had managed to alert the man to his presence. While D'Artagnan wasn't entirely convinced that actually happened he couldn't stop himself from fighting to get his arms moving, the fear flooding his veins making his desperate and willing to try anything to get the attention of the voices.

Aramis almost wanted to smack himself when he realised his brother's thrashing was actually the boy trying to escape from the blanket covering him and that putting anything on the boy that restricted his movements, even a tiny bit, after all, he had been through was likely not the smartest move any of them could have made.

Without wasting a moment to care about how the movement would cause his own injuries to flare up Aramis grabbed the blanket, pulling it off of his brother's trembling frame, his years of training being the only reason he saw the sudden swing of his brother's arm coming in time to avoid getting punched in the face.

Before he could respond to the act in any way another cry flew from D'Artagnan's lips but this was different from his earlier ones of fear and it shattered his heart into tiny pieces.

"PORTHOS!" cried D'Artagnan as he tried to smack the lid of his cage. Memories and fear were mingling together now and making it hard for the boy to think. The one thing he was sure of though was that Porthos was trying to get to him and so calling the man's name in a desperate attempt to get his attention was all he could think to do. "PORTHOS!"

Hearing his baby brother call out for Porthos with pure utter terror in his voice was the last straw for Aramis as the man fought through his own tears to act before he could talk himself out of it.

Without care to his own injury's the marksman pulled his arm back and, to the immense surprise of the room's other occupants, slapped the now thrashing Gascon hard enough that the boy's eyes shot open and a loud gasp flew from his lips.