Chapter 6 - Day 5 Part 2

They had gotten lucky when finding Vadim.

Porthos didn't really remember what had really happened. There had been a lot of frantic shouting down the radio about whether anyone had seen him or not. Someone - Athos he thinks - suggested heading to the museum's back entrance where d'Artagnan and Vadim were supposed to have been and work from there.

Hearts pounding, they ran through the cobbled streets, heads turning at every corner they passed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the two men.

Aramis had been the one to spot Vadim as he almost reached the festival's overflowing crowd. The relief at finding him did not overshadow the worry that d'Artagnan was nowhere to be seen.

Once Vadim had been apprehended, Porthos had radioed for backup, requesting officers to come to their location to take him into custody. Athos had tried to get d'Artagnan's location from Vadim, but the man was stubbornly saying nothing whilst they waited.

As they watched a few fellow officers handcuff Vadim, Porthos' phone started vibrating in his pocket.

Elodie didn't even give him a chance to greet her before talking. "Porthos listen, before you gave d'Artagnan his earpiece Treville had me fit it with a GPS device just in case we need it, but when Vadim broke it it went offline and stopped transmitting it's location-"

"Where are you going with this?" Porthos said, shaking his head, not understanding how this information was supposed to be helping them.

"Well, luckily for us I know how to access and read the backup data and the device's last known location is only a few streets away from where you are now! I'll send the details to your phones."

"Oh Elodie, you're a star, thank you!" he replied before hanging up.

Mere seconds later his phone pinged and, as promised, Elodie had sent d'Artagnan's location.

They left immediately, trusting that Vadim would be taken back to the station right away.

Reaching the alley, Athos was the first to see d'Artagnan. He was sitting, unmoving, with his back against the wall, his body leaning slightly to the right, chin resting against his chest. Even from this distance the blood covering d'Artagnan's front was visible. His hands were resting on his lap, also covered in blood from where he had been pressing them against his side. Seeing the state of his friend spurred Athos forward.

Dropping to his knees beside him, a choked "d'Artagnan?" was all he could manage, tears already filling his vision. A second later and Aramis had joined him.

Then Porthos reached d'Artagnan, shocked by what he saw, but he stayed standing guard behind the men, facing the end of the alley way should any of Vadim's men unexpectedly come and attack them from behind.

Aramis lifted d'Artagnan's shirt slightly to see how bad the wound was. "Shit" he gasped, his hands quickly clasping at the boy's side to try to stop the blood.

Looking over his shoulder, he called to his friend, "Porthos! I need you to call an ambulance while I try and stop the bleeding."

Turning back to his right, Aramis could see that Athos was staring at the blood that was flowing out of d'Artagnan, pooling around where he was sat.

"Athos." he said forcefully, drawing the man out of his daze "I need you to give me your hands."

Athos looked at Aramis, slightly confused, but proceeded to lift his hands in front of the man.

Aramis gently directed Athos' hands to the wound at d'Artagnan's side. "Keep them here, and press as hard as you can."

Athos nodded in response and pressed down hard at the boy's side, noting absentmindedly that d'Artagnan hadn't even flinched.

Now that his hands were free, Aramis proceeded to check d'Artagnan's pulse and breathing.

Letting out a breath of relief he started listing things off in head. Right, he's got a pulse, it's slow but it's there. He's breathing. It's quite fast and shallow, that'll be from the blood loss, but he is breathing. Blood loss. That's what's going to kill him. He's bleeding out. Deal with the blood loss.

D'Artagnan was slipping away right in front of them and there was nothing he could do to stop it. As he joined Athos' hands pressing against the wound, he knew he had no choice but to wait for help to arrive.

. . . . . .

By the time the ambulance had arrived, d'Artagnan's skin was so pale compared to his usual olive colour, his breathing was slower and the blood was still fighting to leave him. Athos hadn't let go of d'Artagnan's side, terrified that if he took his hands away for even a second the boy's heart would stop beating altogether. Aramis had remained crouching by d'Artagnan, occasionally checking his pulse to reassure himself, whilst Porthos had given up standing guard after the first minute. He was pacing the small alley way, still keeping a look out for any potential threats, trying to control the anger surging through him, unable to hide the fear in his eyes every time he looked over at d'Artagnan.

At the sight of the vehicle turning into the alley way, Porthos called over to Aramis to let him know. The ambulance came to an abrupt halt and the paramedics jumped out and made their way over.

Athos was vaguely aware of their presence, of the fact that Aramis was explaining what had happened, but all of his focus was still on his friend in front of him. His hands were aching from how hard he had been holding d'Artagnan's wound, the warm blood still dripping through his fingers, the strong coppery smell invading his nostrils.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"It's okay Athos. You can let go now, they're going to help him." Aramis gently prised Athos' fingers from d'Artagnan's side, not missing the way his hands shook slightly. He helped his friend to stand up and gently directed him out of the way of the paramedics.

They watched as d'Artagnan was loaded into the ambulance and when asked if any of them would be riding with them, they only needed to share a look to confirm that it would be Athos.

"We'll be right behind you," Porthos had promised, gripping Athos' shoulder tightly in support, before watching as they closed the doors and drove off.

Aramis and Porthos headed straight to the station, still feeling shaky from adrenaline, grateful that it was only a short walk away. Both of their cars were parked there and this way they could also inform Treville in person of what had happened and where they were heading.

. . . . . .

Treville had been sitting at his desk waiting for one of his men to call and update the situation. He had just been informed that Vadim had been caught and that he was being brought in to the station, however, the fact that it hadn't been either Athos, Porthos, Aramis or d'Artagnan on the other end of the phone had worried him greatly. He thought that they would've been the first to tell him, barely containing their excitement at finally having caught the criminal.

His worry dispersed when he heard Aramis' voice echoing from the hallway into his office, but it wasn't long until it returned again in full force. He wasn't sure whether to be more concerned that it was only Aramis and Porthos standing in front of him or the fact that one of them was covered in blood.

"What happened?" Treville demanded, as the men entered his office.

Porthos did most of the talking as he explained how Vadim had known that it was a setup, how d'Artagnan's mic had gone offline and they hadn't known what was happening, how they had found Vadim by some miracle, and how, when they had eventually reached d'Artagnan, it was almost too late.

"Sir, we hate that we'd be leaving you four men down, but we really need to get to the hospital. Athos is there on his own, and-"

"Of course Aramis, go, we've got everything covered here. Just make sure to keep me updated." Treville insisted.

They nodded, grateful at how understanding Treville was and headed to the car park, deciding to take Aramis' vehicle due to it being the first of the two that they saw.

Not much was said during the journey, both of them deep in thought, but halfway there, Porthos stopped drumming his fingers on his knee and spoke up, "Do you think Athos is okay? The way he was, earlier…I've never seen him like that before."

"He'll be fine," Aramis remarked, "it was just the shock of it all. You know how protective he's become of d'Artagnan. But he'll be fine. He might be this close to falling apart right now, but he'll be strong because d'Artagnan needs him to be."

"I really hope you're right."

Once they arrived, they hastily walked up to the reception desk where Aramis took the lead. "Our friend, Charles d'Artagnan, he was brought in not too long ago." The pretty blond receptionist quickly started typing information into the computer. Any other day and Aramis would've gotten distracted by her big blue eyes and good looks, would've made some flirty comment, or tried to show off. But not today.

"Ahh yes," the receptionist replied, "he's been taken into theatre, won't be out for another couple of hours at least. You're free to wait in the relatives room and I'll get the doctor to come and speak to you once they're finished." She directed their attention to a room down the corridor on their right.

They found Athos waiting inside, looking up expectantly as the door opened.

"Just us I'm afraid," Aramis smiled sadly at his friend, "you okay?"

"Yeah," Athos replied, unconvincingly, as Aramis and Porthos joined him on either side. "They haven't told me anything yet. Just took him straight into theatre and told me to wait."

For Athos, the waiting was always the worst part. Each second passed like rocks had replaced the sand in an hourglass, making the minutes last forever. Sitting there waiting had reminded him of when his brother died all those years ago. Their house had been broken into and Thomas had ended up being stabbed right in front of him. As he lay there, dying in Athos' arms, the older man had known that there was nothing he could do and even though it had taken mere minutes, it felt like hours had passed before the light faded from his brother's eyes.

But that was years ago, they had both been so young. But not this time. This time, he was not going to lose another brother.

. . . . . .

An hour later saw the three men still in the room. Athos was pacing, unable to sit still, perfectly aware that Aramis' eyes were following him. Porthos was in the corner sleeping lightly, an attempt to catch up on sleep that he was probably going to be too busy to get that night. It had been a long week for them and they were all aware that today was no longer going to be as short as they had previously anticipated.

Aramis couldn't take his friend worrying anymore. "Athos, why don't you follow Porthos' example and get some rest while you wait, knowing us lot, even if d'Artagnan ends up perfectly fine we're not going to want to leave the boy's side for even a second."

"But d'Artagnan-"

"If I hear anything I'll wake you. You'll be no good to him if you're dead on your feet and sick from worrying."

Athos could see the logic in Aramis' suggestion but he did not believe that he would be able to sleep whilst he was feeling like this and if he did, he feared that it wouldn't be a nightmare-free slumber.

As Athos settled himself on a seat, Aramis watched to ensure that the older man would at least try to get some rest. The situation was hard on all of them, but he knew that it affected Athos the most. If d'Artagnan did not get through this, he was unsure of whether Athos would either. They'd all grown attached to the boy, his liveliness and vigour was hard not to love, but everyone knew that his bond with Athos was the strongest. The boy had looked up to him since he had started working with the Musketeers and despite originally protesting the idea, Athos had enjoyed having someone as close to him as his brother had once been.

. . . . . .

When the doctor finally graced them with his appearance they had been in the waiting room for just over three hours. Athos hadn't stayed asleep for long, not that Aramis had actually expected him too, but he was thankful for the short time he had away from his worries of the real world. It had also now become Aramis' turn to pace, unable to keep his worry contained. Porthos was still sitting in his seat, understanding that one of them needed to remain somewhat calm, knowing that his best friend and the boy's mentor would be worrying enough for all three of them.

The sound of the door opening had all three men looking up eagerly as a middle-aged man walked through.

"Are you here for Charles d'Artagnan?" he asked the men.

Athos was up and at the doctor's side in an instant. "Is he okay?" he questioned almost desperately.

The doctor shut the door behind him and led the men to sit back down.

"When he was brought in, he was in a bad way. He had lost a lot of blood and the knife just missed any major organs" Athos' face paled dramatically at the thought of how bad it all could have been but forced himself to listen as the doctor continued, "It was close, but we were able to stabilise him. He's now being moved to a side room."

"Can we see him?" Porthos asked.

"Of course, I'll ask one of the nurses to show you. He hasn't woken up from the anaesthetic yet and when he does he's going to be very weak for a while, but we're hoping that with time he should make a full recovery."

The three men thanked the doctor and allowed the door to close behind him.

Aramis let out a long breath as he sank back into his seat. "I really thought he was going to tell us he was dead."

Athos nodded his agreement but couldn't put his relief into words. All he needed now was to see d'Artagnan.

. . . . . .

It wasn't long before a nurse led the men to d'Artagnan's room, taking them back past the entrance of the hospital where they witnessed the many sick and injured people still waiting to be looked at.

A quiet elevator ride up and an eager walk down the corridor and they were outside the door. Taking a deep breath, Athos turned the handle and entered the room.

Seeing d'Artagnan for the first time since they'd found him bleeding out in an alleyway, he wasn't sure if the boy looked better or worse than he had expected.

D'Artagnan was laying very still on his hospital bed, his complexion clearly paler than normal thanks to the blood loss. The bruises on his face very prominent. There were wires snaking from under his hospital gown leading to the nearby monitors that were displaying his heart rate and blood pressure. Other tubes were attached to his inner elbows and the back of one of his hands and a nasal cannula sat under his nose.

Athos knew that there was probably more bruises covering parts of his friend's body that he couldn't see, as well as the all important bandages covering the hole that shouldn't be there, but he chose not to think about it.

All in all it looked bad. But it could have been worse. Athos knew how he could have ended up. The knife could have hit any number of vital organs and d'Artagnan could have been lying at death's door right now - or not even have made it to the hospital at all. And that would have been too much for Athos to handle.

The three men each pulled up a chair and positioned themselves around the bed, Aramis and Porthos on one side, Athos on the other, fully prepared to stay right there in that room until their fourth woke up.

"Is he really gonna be okay?" Porthos asked no one in particular, still in shock from seeing the current state of d'Artagnan.

"Yeah. Yeah I think he actually will be. His heart rate and breathing's normal and his colour is coming back. Considering he was stabbed he's in pretty good condition. I actually think we might have been really lucky this time," Aramis replied, gently taking hold of d'Artagnan's hand. "You hear that you lucky little idiot, you're gonna be okay, and we're all gonna be here to help you get back on your feet after you get out of this place."

"Yeah and then we're gonna get you some more combat training because clearly your skills are getting rusty there mate," Porthos added, him and Aramis laughing softly at this comment.

Athos had yet to say a word. Or take his eyes off d'Artagnan's lax face for that matter. The consequence of this mission was something he never wanted repeated and though he knew deep down that his friend would be fine, he was desperate for his friend to wake up and confirm it himself.

"Athos stop." Aramis said, pulling Athos from his thoughts.

He looked up from d'Artagnan and made eye contact with Aramis. He didn't say anything, but then again he didn't need to.

"I can see exactly what you're thinking, so stop it right now." Aramis continued.

"I should have stopped him." Athos whispered after a moments pause, looking back at d'Artagnan. "I knew something was going to go wrong and I should have put an end to this stupid plan right from the start."

"You couldn't have known Athos, so stop blaming yourself. When d'Artagnan wakes up I guarantee he'll be telling you exactly the same thing. It was his choice to go through with the mission. Besides he's old enough to make his own decisions."

"He's twenty-two! He's-…Aramis, he's only twenty-two. He's barely even an adult."

Aramis wanted to reply, wanted to convince his friend that the blame didn't fall on him despite knowing full well that he wouldn't change Athos' mind anytime soon, but one look at d'Artagnan stopped him. Lying on the bed, the boy did look so young and yes maybe it was his decision, but they still should have protected him better.

"The only person who's to blame is Vadim." Porthos stated firmly with a tightness in his voice. "And he'll get what's coming to him. Soon enough."

. . . . . .

D'Artagnan's awareness came back slowly.

Firstly, in the form of a somewhat dull ache. It was as if his entire body wanted to alert him immediately of the fact that something had happened, but at the same time he was vaguely aware that he should be feeling worse than he was. As if there was a syrupy substance within his body forming a kind of floodgate, keeping back the agony that would surely consume him were the gates to open.

Next, once his brain had accepted this irregularity, it allowed his other senses to return. He felt the scratchy sheets under his fingertips and something cool tickling his nose.

Quiet voices and a repetitive beeping then started creeping through, pulling him closer towards the surface. He couldn't quite make out what the voices were saying but they made him think of someone. A face that was clear in his mind, with a name that was on the tip of his tongue.

His eyes blinked open and slowly adjusted to the overhead lights, his vision was slightly fuzzy as he took in his surroundings.

"Athos," he whispered, not actually expecting an answer.

Athos leaned forward and brushed an errant strand of hair from d'Artagnan forehead, ignoring the fond looks from his friends. "We're here d'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan rolled his head to the side slightly, finally seeing his friend properly for the first time in a while, "Hey."

Athos couldn't help but smile as he watched the boy blink slowly, the remnants of sleep still clearly visible. Being mindful of the IV, he gripped d'Artagnan's wrist in an attempt to ground him. "How are you feeling?"

D'Artagnan took a moment to answer, willing the fuzziness to leave for long enough for him to string together a coherent thought. The more he thought about it, the more he realised how much he was hurting and whatever was on his face was getting annoying and causing his nose to itch.

"Everything's sore," he groaned quietly.

"Yeah you're not gonna want to move too much any time soon- and don't touch that." Athos instantly reached for d'Artagnan's hand as he gently pawed at the cannula.

A stubborn frown crossed d'Artagnan's features as he tried to recall what had happened to cause him to end up where he was. Slowly little snippets came back to him as well as a whole load of guilt over suddenly realising that he had let his friends down.

"I'm sorry." d'Artagnan couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Athos, afraid to see the disappointment that he was sure would be there.

Athos' eyebrows raised at this unexpected admission, "Sorry for what?"

"Vadim…I let Vadim get away."

D'Artagnan looked like he was on the edge of bursting into tears all of a sudden. Athos knew he couldn't help it and it was probably because of the pain medication so he kept his voice gentle. "That's okay, we found him."

Aramis spoke up, "d'Artagnan you did so well, we're so proud of you."

D'Artagnan rolled his head to the other side, finding Aramis' gentle eyes, and gave him a little awkward smile, the movement causing a tear to roll down his temple and disappear into his hairline.

"Really?" d'Artagnan asked, the remaining unshed tears making his eyes shine bright. Ordinarily he would have been filled with embarrassment at the innocent, child-like behaviour he was currently displaying, but in that moment his emotions seemed to be all over the place and his head was still too fuzzy for him to have even noticed.

"Really." Aramis replied, squeezing the hand that he had yet to let go off.

D'Artagnan's voice was soft as he spoke again. "Did you find out what he was actually planning?"

"So there was something else?" Athos asked, not wanting to put pressure him, but knowing that if something else was going to happen they needed to be ready for it. "We haven't spoken to him yet, but I had a feeling there might be."

"Yeah, I think the whole painting thing with us was just a distraction for what he was really planning."

"And what was that?" Porthos asked gently, noting how sleepy d'Artagnan still looked.

D'Artagnan blinked slowly, trying to recall exactly what Vadim had said to him. "Umm…He didn't tell me what, but said something about how his actual plan had started a few weeks ago. Oh and that whatever it was, it was happening in an hour."

"An hour? Well, that time's come and gone. I can call Treville, see if he's heard anything…What time would that have been anyway? About midday?" Aramis inquired.

"Yeah," Athos replied, "besides, we've got Vadim so maybe we already stopped it?"

"He uhh…he didn't…um…" d'Artagnan faltered, struggling to concentrate as his eyes dipped out of focus all of a sudden.

Aramis' eyebrows furrowed as he asked d'Artagnan if he was okay.

"D'Artagnan?" Athos tried to get his attention, gently covering the boy's hand with his own, but d'Artagnan was finding it hard to hear what was going on around him, let alone answer the question.

Without warning, his breathing sped up as a sudden tightness gripped his chest. His head felt like someone was trying to squeeze it until it burst and his insides felt like they were on fire.

Through the unexpected pain, he briefly noticed the worried looks of his friends. Then nothing.

D'Artagnan's eyes closed.

They closed and all the machines around him started beeping and Athos' world slowed down.