Treville had decided to head towards the nearest village they could find, realizing that their enemies far outnumbered them, and would regroup to come back and finish what they had been hired for. They needed to at least have four walls surrounding them to give them enough protection to hold them off.

Porthos reached under Aramis' body as carefully as he could, then lifted him up into his arms to carry him over to his horse. D'Artagnan took their brother long enough for Porthos to get mounted, then lifted him up for Porthos to take him back. The big man settled Aramis in front of him, one strong arm weaving itself around his waist to anchor him in the saddle. He eased Aramis' head back to rest against his own shoulder, then took up the reins again. Through it all, the marksman never moved, his body limp and still.

When everyone had mounted, they took off at an easy trot in deference to their injured members. Athos had stubbornly tried to insist that he could handle a horse on his own, even though he was bent over nearly double from the pain he was in. Treville, being the authoritative leader that he was, had simply put a stop to his protests with an 'Enough!', and told him to ride with d'Artagnan. Porthos almost smiled at the whole episode, remembering the times that Athos had, in the past, had to deal with an injured Aramis who would also insist that he could handle things.

They rode for the better part of an hour before becoming relieved at the fairly large village they finally came upon. Treville himself dismounted and went into the tavern to inquire if there was a building near the edge of the village that they could pay to use for a day, or possibly several, depending upon how long it took to get a message to the garrison in Paris for reinforcements.

The owner told him he himself had just recently purchased a somewhat large house just outside of the village boundaries. Treville named a sum, and the man's eyes positively lit up at the prospect of extra income. He asked them if they needed food or other supplies for their stay, but a shake of Treville's head deflated his visions of even more coins coming to him. Treville didn't need any extra provisions, as he had the foresight before they had left Paris of bringing supplies.

After escorting them to the house they would be staying in the man, whose name was LeGrange, bowed his way out, reflecting that even though they had turned down more purchases from him, he had still earned himself a tidy sum using property he had not intended to put to use for several months yet.

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Treville sent off one of his men with a note to the Musketeer he had left in charge, stating their situation tersely, and ordering most of the garrison to report to him as speedily as possible, giving the name of the village they were situated in. He sincerely hoped they would arrive as soon as possible, with no unforeseen delays.

Aramis and Athos were soon settled on the beds they had discovered in a back bedroom. Neither was conscious. Porthos took charge of Aramis with Treville. They removed the cloths wrapped around his torso, as they were soaked with sweat. The wound still looked red around the edges, and this caused their worry level to increase, it usually being a sign of infection setting in.

One of the men who had come with Treville had retrieved the medical bag Treville had ordered brought along-just in case, he had said. Now, they were so grateful to have it.

Aramis' bag, lost when his horse had bolted, was always filled with any supplies he thought they could need when they went out on missions. He had recently been restocking and labeling the other Musketeers supplies, too. There were no other trained medics in the garrison, but a few of the men could do simple survival things in an emergency to help their injured comrades, and the labels on the supplies greatly helped.

Treville was rummaging around through the contents, looking at the bottles' labels, when he heard a weak, thready voice say, "The dark gr..green bottle, Captain."

His head spun around. "Aramis, you're awake!" Lowering his voice a little, he continued. "How do you feel?" Then, he added, "The truth, Aramis. We all know how you always say 'Fine'."

Aramis closed his eyes as a tremor of pain ran through him, causing him to take a shaky breath before responding.

"Gunshot wound. Ribs b..broken. I c..could b..be better." Always sharing the bare minimum regarding his condition, Treville suspected Aramis had a few more spots on his body from the fall that could also be 'better'. He didn't push him more, though. He could tell Aramis was trying to hold himself together as well as he could. He would just keep an extra close eye on his marksman for now.

Aramis' eyes had been shifting around the room, and then suddenly they sharpenedwhen he discovered Athos' still form lying on a bed on the other side of the bedroom, d'Artagnan bent over him taking care of him.

His heartrate now speeding up, Aramis' frantic eyes turned back to Treville. "W..what's w..wrong with Athos?"

Treville, thinking to spare Aramis bad news for the moment, said, "He's asleep, Aramis. Exhausted from searching for you." Even to his own ears, it sounded rather lame as an excuse, but he hadn't time to think of anything else to say.

"C..Captain, he d..doesn't look good. P..please, tell me?"

Treville sighed, sincerely wishing he didn't have to tell Aramis, not when he was in such bad shape. But he had known Aramis since he was a young lad in his late teens, and he knew his marksman would persist in wanting an answer, an answer he didn't want to give.

"Athos was injured before he and Porthos found you and d'Artagnan, Aramis. D'Artagnan is taking good care of him, thanks to the medical information you have been imparting to him recently."

"W..what are h..his injuries? W..why is h..he unconscious?" his whole face reflecting his growing panic for his brother.

"Calm yourself, Aramis. We are taking good care of him. You can see that for yourself."

"W..what happened to him? Please?"

Aramis was like a dog with a bone when he sensed the truth being kept from him, especially if it concerned one of his brothers. Like now.

With another sigh, Treville spoke again, realizing he had to tell him before he got even more emotionally upset than he already was. Laying a hand softly on his Musketeer's shoulder, he said, "Very well, Aramis, I will tell you. But I need you to calm down first. You are seriously injured, and your duty is to follow your commanding officer's orders. Take a few deep breaths and lie still. Agreed?"

Aramis, even n the shape he was in, looked as if he were going t protest. He wanted, needed to know what had happened and to take care of his brother. But the look Treville leveled at him, equal parts grave concern and 'do not try me', finally had him nod his head reluctantly. At the moment, Treville didn't care if the nod was given reluctantly or with fervor, he just wanted Aramis to take care of himself.

Aramis kept his eyes on Treville's face, waiting.

"Aramis, he and and Porthos had been looking high and low for you and d'Artagnan, worried about what had happened to you both. They had searched the whole area, and nothing. A band of these hooded men took them leader asked them where you two were, and received silence." Pausing for a moment, he knew his next words were going to tear at Aramis' heart. He loved his brothers so much, every bit as much as they loved him. What caused pain to one of them tore at the others, too.

"They wanted to know where you were, and were very insistent. Aside from the fact that Athos and Porthos really didn't know where you might be, they wouldn't ever have told them if they had known. The leader of this group decided to force the issue."

"W..what happened, Captain?" Aramis asked yet again.

"The man tortured Athos while Porthos watched, trying to get information out of him that he did not have to give. He used Athos' own main gauche on his back." He decided against telling Aramis about the dagger having been white-hot when he used it.

The news he had just given him had already caused his stricken Musketeer's face to turn an even whiter shade in shock, as he turned his eyes back to Athos. Then, he tried to use his arms to leverage himself up, his only intent right now being to go to his brother and take care of him. Pain shot up his side as he struggled to get his body to obey his mind.

"Aramis!" Treville was now holding him down, with Aramis still trying to rise. D'Artagnan, who was on the other side of the room in the midst of rewrapping Athos' back, was about to drop everything and come to help. But at that moment, the door opened and Porthos came in to witness the struggle.

"Aramis!" he shouted, reaching the bed in several rapid strides. Wrapping his arms securely around his brother' shoulders, he just held him there for a few moments, shushing him when he made a brief attempt at moving again. Finally, all of his unexpected burst of energy seemed to leave him, and he sagged against Porthos' arms. After a few moments his eyes closed, and he looked peaceful now as he had drifted off, exhausted by his brief struggle.

Treville and Porthos checked to make sure he hadn't caused any damage to his injuries, then pulled the blanket over him as he slept. Treville belatedly had remembered the dark green bottle, assuming it was a pain med of some sort. But at least Aramis was resting again. He would take that as a small victory of sorts.

D'Artagnan exchanged a glance with Treville and Porthos as if to say," That was close."

Treville looked at Porthos, saying, "That was a mighty long moment refilling the pitcher."

Porthos responded, saying, "No water to retrieve. Had to go out to the well and reload the bucket." Never having taken his eyes off Aramis, he asked Treville, "I assume he woke up, saw Athos, and asked what happened?" and received a sad nod in response.

They would have to keep an eye on him from now on.

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Treville went next to Athos' bedside, his stomach churning as he looked down again at the damage inflicted on his back. It was one thing to see battlefield wounds, horrendous though they could be. But for someone to slowly and maliciously do this to a helpless man went beyond the bounds of his understanding. It was brutal and sick.

Everything this group of men did seemed vicious, and deliberately so. Forcing an injured man to climb down a steep, rock-filled hill was in the same nasty vein. Who had taken the time to hunt down this many men with minds bent like this? And why?

Telling Porthos and d'Artagnan to keep up their care of their brothers and try to get a nap one at a time while the other kept watch on their brothers, he left the room. Taking a couple of the men with him, they mounted to reconnoitre their surroundings. The other men he ordered to keep constantly patrolling the outside of the house, and to be very vigilant.

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On d'Artagnan's turn to watch, Aramis and Athos continued to peacefully slumber, whle Porthos' head was leaning against the chair back asleep. Hearing a noise in the other room, he glanced once more to make sure his brothers were yet sleeping, and slipped out of the room to look around for what had made the noise.

It took only a brief time, discovering that a plate had been too close to the edge of the table and had teetered off to the floor. Returning after having cleaned up the broken pieces, he found one bed empty, and Aramis slumped motionless over Athos on the other side of the room.

I am not medically trained, so if I got anything wrong about Aramis and Athos' wounds and treatment so far in the story, I'm sorry. I couldn't resist the cliffhanger on this, but it's sooo Aramis!