D'Artagnan honestly couldn't remember a time when he was colder or more wet as his horse plodded forward. He was in the middle of the band of bandits, presumably so they were confident he couldn't escape them. He kept his eyes focused on the road ahead of him, trying to negotiate around the river-like puddles without falling out of his saddle. He had to brace his knees against his horse's flank to give himself some stability before he fell to the ground.

He felt a definite fever coursing through his body. He sighed inwardly as he reached up to wipe away the sweat building under his bangs. His wound was infected, there was no doubt about that. He knew the stitches had pulled before he had left the inn but had not been given any time or means to restitch them. That was around an hour ago by his reckoning, but he couldn't be positive. He was so focused on trying to stay upright and notice anything that might help him escape to focus on the time.

He just hoped his brothers were okay. Victor had promised to look after them, but it was different; Victor wasn't family and he only trusted family to look after them.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when his horse stopped. He looked up in surprise to see the gang had stopped beside an outcrop of trees and they were descending from their horses.

'What's going on?' D'Artagnan croaked out, coughing to clear his throat. His voice felt weak from lack of use since they set of on his imaginary hunt for a letter he knew was tucked up safely in Athos' doublet.

'Can't see anything through the rain,' one of the men ground out, tethering his horse to a nearby branch. 'Might as well wait it out.'

D'Artagnan began to nod in agreement when he was unceremoniously pulled from his horse's back and dumped in the mud. He struggled to suck in a breath when his lungs were winded and he looked around him in a panic.

Felix was standing above him, smirking. He turned and went under the shelter of the trees, motioning to Pierre to get D'Artagnan.

Pierre smiled apologetically as D'Artagnan as he grabbed him by his elbow and helped him to his feet.

'Are you okay?' He asked softly, looking to see if anyone else noticed that he was speaking with their prisoner.

'I've been better,' D'Artagnan admitted with a huff of laughter, wriggling his wrists in the ropes to ease the burn. Pierre started leading him underneath the shelter of the trees when a shout startled him.

'No, he stays out there,' Felix sneered, 'Teach him a lesson.'

Pierre hesitated for a moment too long and Felix glared at him. With a resigned sigh, Pierre brought D'Artagnan to a tree completely unsheltered. He attached another rope to his already bound hands and tied it tightly around the trunk of the tree.

'Sorry,' Pierre apologised, and as far as D'Artagnan could see he was sincere. From his seated position the rain stabbed at his face and he could feel the slick mixture of mud and blood congealing against his wound.

Resting his head against the trunk of the tree and knowing he would not get any rest from the elements, his mind jumped between trying to find a way out of this mess and praying someone would help him.

By the time the 3 soldiers had gotten themselves dressed and ready to leave the inn, a thin sheen of sweat had formed on Athos' forehead and upper lip. He heaved a breath as he started limping out of the room, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

'I really don't think you should be going,' Aramis sighed, fixing his cape over his shoulder and wincing at the pull of the muscle. He wasn't 100% himself but he was still in much better shape than his comrade.

'We have to find him,' Athos ordered. Aramis shook his head and started heading for the door.

'Wait,' Porthos stopped them before they could leave, his eyes trained on Victor who had remained quiet in the corner of the room.

'Where are D'Artagnan's things? Surely he didn't take them with him?' Porthos questioned, stepping towards the innkeeper. Victor shook his head in response.

'No,' he started, heading out of the room and down the hallway, 'He asked if he could use this room,' He finished, pointing at the closed door in front of them.

Aramis turned the handle and stepped in, taking a look around the sparse room. His footsteps froze as he seen the bloodied bandages on the bed along with his needle.

'Oh God, he was hurt,' Aramis hissed as he picked up the bandages to examine them. 'And by the looks of these it wasn't a small wound.'

If possible, Athos' face darkened more.

'How did we not know?' He queried, all the more determined to find his youngest brother and, providing he wasn't in too much danger, knock some sense into him.

'He's good at hiding things he doesn't want us to know about,' Porthos shrugged, plonking his hat on his head and heading down the stairs towards the door.

'You will keep our things safe, monsieur?' Aramis asked Victor as he grabbed the man's arm. 'We will return as soon as we can.'

Victor could only nod in response. He barely knew these men and yet he was feeling terrified for them and for the fate of the young man that had accompanied them.

'We will bring him back,' Aramis nodded, a reassuring smile offered in the innkeeper's direction.

Without further hesitation the three men headed out into the dark and cold night to find their brother.

D'Artagnan was trying his hardest to suppress the shivers that were coursing through his body but the harder he braced his muscles and clenched his teeth the more his body ached, and his jaw threatened to snap. He sucked in a shaky breath and exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes focused on the trees in front of him. He needed a plan. He wasn't as good as Aramis at thinking on his feet but if he was ever going to better his skills, now was the time.

He briefly considered leading the bandits in a circle back towards the inn, hoping that his brothers had had enough time to rest and nurse their wounds that they would ready for battle. But as quickly as the thought was in his head he pushed it back out. He would not risk them. He could fix this himself.

He was thinking about the merits of making a run for it as soon as he was unbound from the tree when Pierre suddenly appeared in front of him, a dark hood over his head and shadowing his face from the rain. He was proud of the fact that he hadn't physically started but his heart betrayed his anxiety.

'Here,' Pierre spoke softly, holding a cup out in front of him. D'Artagnan looked at it dubiously, frowning at the man in front of him

'Just water, I swear it. You're no good to us if you're dead, and you don't look the best.'

D'Artagnan gripped the cup with trembling fingers and downed the liquid so quickly he barely tasted it.

'Thank you,' D'Artagnan said honestly, handing the cup back to his captor.

'Are you alright? You don't look well,' Pierre all but whispered, glancing over his shoulder to see if the other bandits were aware he was speaking with their hostage. When no one was looking back at him he turned back to D'Artagnan.

'Nothing to concern yourself with. I will deal with it when I am free,' D'Artagnan jutted his chin out. Despite how utterly terrible he may feel he was still a Musketeer and had a reputation to live up to.

'You're very sure of yourself,' Pierre huffed with laughter, standing up from his crouched position and folding his arms across his chest against the wind.

'I'm a Musketeer,' D'Artagnan shrugged, pushing his soaking hair back from his face and glaring at the man before him.

Pierre was about to respond when a hard hand smacked the back of his head and he fell forward almost on top of D'Artagnan. D'Artagnan pulled his legs up to his chest to brace himself for the impact and moaned at the pull of his wounded side. He felt nauseous and altogether too warm however he opened his eyes from where they had shut on instinct when nothing hit him.

Pierre had stopped himself from falling by using the tree D'Artagnan was currently tied to and was frowning at the man standing behind him.

'What are you doing?' Felix all but shouted, 'I told you to give him water, not to make friends.'

'I-I was hoping he might tell me where the letter was hidden if I was kind to him,' Pierre stuttered an explanation. He yelped despite himself when Felix's fist flew towards his face and slammed into his cheek.

'Don't lie to me. I knew you were always too soft for this,' Felix spat with a shake of his head as he stalked away from the pair.

D'Artagnan watched in confusion as Pierre rubbed the tears that had gathered in his eyes and clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

'Why do you stay with him?' D'Artagnan asked, adjusting himself against the tree and hissing at the burn in his side. Pierre shrugged with a sad smile.

'He's my brother.'

Aramis found himself riding closer and closer to Athos' mount as they hunted for their brother. He watched from under his soaked hat as Athos' shoulders drooped and he struggled to maintain focus.

'You should be in bad,' he shouted over the rain, returning the scowl that Athos threw in his direction.

'I will return to bed when D'Artagnan has been found so the sooner he is back with us the sooner we can return to the inn. Happy?'

'Not by a long shot my friend but it will have to do,' Aramis sighed from beside him, rolling his shoulders and wincing at the residual pain in his muscles.

'Have you seen any more tracks, Porthos?' Athos called over to his other brother whose head was ducked down as he watched the ground in front of them.

'We're following them the best we can, but the rain is washing them away,' Porthos growled in frustration in return. He wanted nothing more than to find his wayward little brother and both hug and throttle him. Especially now that he knew D'Artagnan was injured he was struggling to keep his protectiveness down. And it was hard enough for him to control when Athos was physically wilting beside him.

'We should stop for rest, Athos. I want to take a look at that leg and check for infection,' Aramis all but pleaded but a sharp 'No' from the other Musketeers had him sighing.

'We stop when we find D'Artagnan,' Athos explained, adjusting himself in his saddle and trying desperately not to move his injured leg. He could feel a fever coursing through his body and his thigh throbbed with every move of his horse, but he couldn't rest. He had been injured worse and would grin and bear it until they were reunited and back at the inn.

'This way!' Porthos shouted excitedly beside them, leading his horse and his brothers off the pathway and towards an outcrop of trees. 'The tracks go this way. I think we're close.'

Aramis grinned and nudged Athos' horse in the correct direction earning himself a glare as Athos pushed himself further upright.

'Let's go get our brother back!'