Evening My Lovelies

EDIT: Opps sorry I realised (thanks to a very helpful review) that I had written Athos at the end of this chapter instead of Porthos, I've changed that now :D

Look I managed to upload on time, AGAIN! *throws confetti* though I have to say I'm not too sure about this chapter but figured it was necessary so hopefully you don't all hate it...

Notes On Reviews:

pallysd'Artagnan: Thanks for the review - Athos and D'Art will be having a moment when things are safer and they are alone but yes, for now, he's just excited to see him alive and breathing. D'Art's fears and stuff are going to come out in the coming chapters, I'm definitely looking forward to writing the repercussions of the box :) Enjoy the new chapter! x

beeblegirl: Thanks for the review - Oh yeah, definitely. Athos has other things going on at the moment but when they have a moment he and D'Art will definitely be having an emotional moment. Enjoy the new chapter! x

Debbie (Guest): Thanks for the review - I'll admit I had planned for it to be a simple fever, nothing too serious but then you made a comment about pneumonia and my evil side just couldn't resist :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

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

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Next Move

Over the next few hours, the inseparables worry for their youngest continued to grow as the boy's fever continued to grow, leaving the Gascon to lose his appetite, though they had managed to get the boy to stomach a small bowl of porridge courtesy of some quiet words and stern looks from Athos, who remained steadily by the boy's side, unwilling to let the boy out of his hold or watch for more than a moment.

Aramis, on the other hand, had his own concerns regarding his baby brother's worsening condition. He had begun to suspect there was more than a simple fever going on, especially when the boy would cough and shiver in Athos's hold but he did his best to keep those suspicions to himself and to keep the concern from showing on his face as they didn't have the supplies necessary to treat it should his fears be based in truth.

Thankfully both of his brothers were too wrapped up in tending D'Artagnan and his slowly worsening condition that they didn't notice the marksman's mask, nor question him when he was vague in his answers to their questions over the boy's condition. That didn't stop Tristan however who had noticed the look in Aramis's eyes and whose medical training had allowed him to come to the same worrying conclusion as to the boy's diagnosis.

To Aramis's great relief, however, the physician's assistant kept it silent, only offering the marksman a sympathetic smile and faint nod to let the man know he too would keep an eye on the young Gascon's condition.

"Tristan… Aramis," called Athos sometime later when most of the other occupants in the overcrowded room had recovered slightly from the last few frantic hours. The swordsman kept his voice low as D'Artagnan's body had finally given in and the boy had fallen into a somewhat restless fevered sleep against his shoulder a few minutes earlier.

Glancing over his shoulder to where their most injured, Glenn and Fredrick lay resting under the careful watch of Talbot, Athos voiced the question that had been brewing in his mind for several hours.

"If they were in a wagon would it be safe for them to travel?"

This caught the attention of the room's other occupants, Talbot in particular who rose from his perch in between his friends to step closer to Athos. "What are you planning Athos?" he asked his voice firm, the tone speaking volumes about the distaste he felt for the man even voicing the idea of moving his seriously injured brethren.

Refusing to flinch in light of the man's glare Athos remained impassive as he answered. "It isn't safe for us here. There are two red guards in the wind along with who knows how many more of their crew," he stated as he nodded towards the two unconscious prisoners in the corner of the room, Marin had been particularly helpful in ensuring both men remained asleep over the last several hours.

Athos could see Talbot was about to protest so he quickly continued. "I know it will be a risk to move them and will likely cause them pain on the road but we are almost out of supplies and more than half of us are in no condition or don't have the training to wield a weapon in an attack scenario. The longer we wait the greater the chance is that one of our enemies will move against us again."

Silence fell over the room as the men took in Athos's words but it was broken mere minutes later when Talbot let out a resigned sigh before a glimmer of determination grew in his eyes. "I would like very much to get them away from this accursed place," he stated as a way of agreement to Athos's plans for the group to move on. Being on the road with present its own risks but also more opportunities to find aid or supplies, both of which they were in short supply.

"We would need to find another wagon," answered Tristan after a few moments of contemplation, bringing all eyes back to him as he addressed Athos's initial question. "If we tried to fit the four of them in the same one they're likely to injure each other accidentally on the road."

"I can ride," protested Aramis before a shared look from both of his brothers and Tristan quelled any further arguments, leaving the man to pout childishly while the others continued to plan their trip home, although there was part of him, a traitorous part of him that was all too happy to remind him of the pain and effort it had taken to get up and walk not too long ago and the thought of having to deal with whatever pain would occur should he try to ride had is injuries throbbing in protest.

"What of Rochefort?" asked Porthos once a tentative plan was in place for their imminent departure. "I don't like the idea of him pursuing us on the road."

To his and the other inseparables surprise this one comment brought a dark chuckle bursting from Talbot's chest as he glanced proudly at the injured friend by his side. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

With an eyebrow raised at the man, Athos asked for clarification.

Talbot shrugged, "Fred gave as good as he got, the man was barely breathing when I saw him, probably bleed out by now."

"You just left him there?" snapped Athos, his earlier anger for the former red guard returning with such force in caused a small whimper of fear to escape D'Artagnan's lips, although thankfully the boy remained asleep. The whimper was enough to quell some of the swordsman's anger but he couldn't help but glare daggers at the man in front of him who looked unrepentant.

"It was him or Fredrick," stated the former musketeer with no hint of remorse or guilt in his voice, "I tied him up but there was no way I was going to waste time bringing him in when Fredrick was bleeding out.

"ENOUGH!" snapped Aramis when he saw that Athos was fully prepared and ready to get into it with the man as his desire for revenge was running things up in his mind. The musketeer's shout once more caused their sleeping companions to shift or groan in sleep but thankfully all remained otherwise unaware of the growing tensions amongst the group.

Looking at his brother Aramis decided that the only way he was going to get through the rage and desire for vengeance he could see burning in his brother's eyes was to use something he wished he didn't have to. "D'Artagnan and the others need supplies we simply don't have here so you can either waste time focusing on getting revenge or you can do what they need you to do and help get them far from here!"

The not so subtle reminder of how he had chosen revenge over his brother before was not lost on Athos who looked like he had been slapped even as he subconsciously tightened his hold on the slumbering Gascon at his side.

"Talbot can take me to Rochefort," stated Porthos, speaking up for the first time since tensions had begun to grow, the decisiveness in his voice was practically daring the men to argue with his plan. "If he's alive we'll bring him with us if he's dead… then at least that's one less thing to worry about."

Smiling at this brother Aramis nodded before chiming in, "'Thos and Marin can find and prepare the wagons while Tristan and I do what we can to prepare the others for travel."

"You're one of those who need preparing Aramis," reminded Tristan with a small smirk that only grew at the affronted look on the musketeer's face before he added, "Though I would appreciate the help with the others."

Neither Athos nor Talbot looked pleased to be leaving their respective brother's sides but understood that the sooner their task was done the sooner they could get said brother somewhere safer than the church had turned out to be.

"He was right here," stated Talbot as he stared at the ground in disbelief, he knew Rochefort couldn't have simply gotten up and walked out, Fredrick had left him in too dire a condition to have that happen but the absence of said former red guard in the bloodstained room told a different story.

Unease flooded Porthos's system as his hand slowly moved to grip the pommel of his blade. "There's a trail," he noted, nodding to the drops of blood leaving the room but not heading to where Talbot had frozen and stated he had found Fredrick.

"There!" he exclaimed when, after following the trail for several minutes they were greeted by the sight of a robed figure slumped on the ground, covered in blood.

Ignoring the part of him fearing this was part of Rochefort's plan Porthos moved quickly to the figures side, rolling him over and not so subtly wincing at the amount of blood coating the elder man's form.

"He's still alive," breathed Talbot as he knelt down by their side, though the look he shared with Porthos spoke what he could not say aloud, but he won't be for much longer. There was nothing they could do for the man, even with the minimal supplies they still had, he had lost far too much blood it was honestly a surprise to the two men that he was even able to still cling on, though it was obvious he was losing that fight fast.

"What happened?" asked Porthos softly as he sought to make the older man as comfortable as he could given their location, he could see just how much it was taking from the man to even think of his response so the musketeer lowered his head, allowing the man to whisper the answer with one of his last breathes in a voice barely audible to the man holding him as he passed.

"What… What did he say?" asked Talbot a minute or two after the man had breathed his last in Porthos's arms, still shocked by the brutality of the wounds inflicted on the old man and the fight he had to live long enough to talk to them whilst baring them.

With a gentleness that surprised him given his growing anger the swordsman placed the old man back on the ground before standing and narrowing his eyes at the trail of blood obviously having been left by the now-dead priest at his feet.

Glancing back at his companion he said two words before following the trail, "Red Guards."