Evening My Lovelies

I've decided I'm going to leave you all waiting with regards to Etienne's fate as we're sticking with our inseparables tonight.

Notes On Reviews:

pallysd'Artagnan: Thanks for the review - D'Art's condition isn't great right now but Aramis and the others are suffering too so I think Athos will let him off... plus our lovely swordsman is likely to blame himself for D'Art's condition as well. Enjoy the new chapter! x

beeblegirl: Thanks for the review - That they are and Treville is their proud papa lol :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

Debbie (Guest): Thanks for the review - I'm so torn with Etienne so it's definitely going to be a surprise for all of us what I decide to do with him lol :D With D'Art... I'm evil enough that he's likely to get worse before getting better :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

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

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter Forty-Five: The Way Home I

Good news was in short supply for Athos's team come the next morning. The swordsman himself was feeling the after-effects of staying awake the entire night, his fear of waking to find D'Artagnan's condition had deteriorated or worse during the night kept his eyes open as his ears focused on the boy's breathing which continued to sound both painful and laboured.

In fact, the only relatively good news the group found that morning was that D'Artagnan condition hadn't worsened during the night, something Aramis was quick to reassure them all after checking on the boy as soon as he woke up, Tristan having already left with Marin to search for herbs and plants to help treat their wounded.

Bad but stable had been the phrase Aramis had used but they could all see, by the look on his face, that the marksman didn't expect the Gascon's condition to stay that way without help, something the inseparables struggled to deal with as they, with the help of Talbot, began to prepare themselves for the ride ahead.

The mood of the group soured further when true to expectations, Marin and Tristan returned empty-handed just under an hour later, although the physician's assistant was quick to remind them that they would be reaching a village at some point today and would likely be able to get at least some of the supplies they needed there.

"You sure you're up for this?" asked Porthos quietly as he and Aramis worked to saddle up Porthos's mount, the larger man keeping a keen eye on his brother at all time to ensure he wasn't trying to lift or doing anything that would aggravate his numerous wounds.

With an almost silent sigh, Aramis glanced down at his hands, noticing the faint trembling in his limbs already as his body still hadn't recovered from the ordeal of riding it endure the day previous.

"No," he admitted quietly, so quietly, in fact, that had Porthos not moved closer to him when he noticed the expression on his face after asking his question he was sure he would never have heard it.

The pain underlining that one truthful admission broke Porthos's heart and he longed to be able to offer some form of comfort to his brother but before he could even open his mouth Athos had approached the pair, his worried expression focused solely on Aramis's weakened frame.

"Can you handle this?" he asked softly, his heart torn between wanting to race off and get D'Artagnan and the others the help they needed and wanting to find an alternative which wouldn't put his other brother through torturous pain.

Mustering on his best mask Aramis smiled at his brother and nodded once, knowing full well what the situation was doing to the man who took every ounce of pain they felt as a failure on his part to protect them. "I'll be fine Athos," he stated in what he hoped was a reassuring tone as he forced his aching body to stand straighter and his hands went behind his back, hiding the trembling from his brother's gaze.

Athos looked clearly torn but took the man at his word and nodded before moving back to D'Artagnan to help the still unconscious boy up onto his horse.

"Should I feel honoured that you lied to 'Thos but were honest with me?" queried Porthos a moment or so later as he stared his brother down.

Letting out another sigh Aramis let his tired body lean against Porthos's horse, the beast more than willing to allow it when the marksman began to slowly pet her.

"He's stressed enough as it is," answered Aramis as he glanced over at Athos before continuing. "I can't add to that any more than I already am."

Frowning Porthos crossed his arms in front of his chest. "He would understand."

Aramis shook his head, "We don't have a choice Porthos," he said, his voice firm and unwavering despite the pain he was already feeling. "Without aid, D'Artagnan's condition will worsen… Without aid, Glenn and Fredrick's chances of being able to survive if their wounds become infected are almost non-existent… Without aid, they could all die. I can't and won't be selfish in this, now help me up."

Knowing there was nothing he could say to that Porthos did what was asked, mounting up behind his brother a moment later, leaning forward to grab the reins.

"Lean on me," he whispered into Aramis's ear, having noticed the ridged posture his brother was sporting in an effort to appear fine. "We all know you're not fine, don't make it worse for yourself. Lean on me."

Despite the firmness of his brother's order, Aramis could hear the kindness and concern lining his words and so said nothing, offering the man a weak smile as he allowed his body to relax as he leaned against Porthos's chest.

The faint indication of a village in the distance was a very welcome sight to the group when they spotted it several long hours later, more so for Porthos who had been getting progressively more worried about Aramis as the pain of his injuries seemed to continue to grow with every step the horse took.

He had tried to get them to stop for a break an hour or so ago but Aramis had protested so vehemently that he had been overruled and the group had continued onwards.

"Nearly there 'Mis," he whispered reassuringly into Aramis's ear, the marksman's eyes having closed some time ago as he focused on trying to breathe through the pain, knowing full well his brother wouldn't let him fall.

The group's arrival to the village did not go unnoticed with many of its occupants stopping their work to watch with clear curiosity as the group approached.

"We don't want any trouble," spoke one man, an older gentleman who Athos assumed was some sort of leader to the village. "We have nothing you want."

"At ease Monsieur," spoke Athos calmly as he raised a hand. Part of him desperately wanted to simply demand what they needed and force these people to help them as hours of listening to D'Artagnan's harsh breathing, feeling his fever even through their clothes and hearing the reassuring whispers Porthos spoke in an attempt to comfort a clearly pained Aramis had worn greatly on his patience. It wouldn't do them any good however he realized, coming to his senses quickly when he saw the honest fear flickering in the faces of those they passed. These people were far from the reach of Paris and the protection a large town or city would provide. They had likely suffered the pain and fear of a bandit attack more than once and he had no intention of ever being considered alongside men like that, no matter how desperate they were.

"My men and I are musketeers," he announced, not missing the flurry of whispers his words caused, though he hid his amusement from his face as he looked to the man. "We have come in search of aid, not to harm you have my word."

"The word of a stranger means little to us Monsieur," stated the elder harshly before his eyes drifted to the unconscious form of D'Artagnan cradled still in Athos's arms. "What aid is it you seek musketeer," he asked cautiously but with a significantly warmer tone than before. "I fear you'll find your options here lacking."

"We have several wounded and nowhere near enough supplies to treat them," explained Tristan, having jumped from the wagon to stand next to Athos's horse, knowing that only he and Aramis knew what exactly what they needed. "Whatever supplies you have to trade along with somewhere our wounded can rest for at least the night, maybe more would be greatly appreciated."

For what felt like an eternity the village elder stared at the group, the silence making the inseparables even more anxious as they prayed the man would be able and willing to help.

"We don't have anywhere big enough for all of you," stated the elder, making Athos relax as he realized, by the man's tone, that they weren't turning them away. "Our tavern has a few rooms available for rent. They're small so it'll be tight and you'll have to share but it'll be better than camping."

Gratitude flooded Athos's face as he nodded, "We can make that work, thank you."

The elder's face softened at the earnest gratitude he saw in Athos's eyes and he nodded to a man next to him. "Ben here can take you to the tavern. Your medic friend can come with me, we don't have a lot of supplies but he's welcome to look at our stores."