„'Thos" The swordsman turned away from the unmoving body of their youngest, as Porthos called for him. His legs arched as he stood up to walk over to the tall musketeer, who seemed more alert now than the last time he had woken up.

„I'm here." Athos assured as he placed a comforting hand on the big mans shoulder. Porthos smiled slightly, before a frown took over his face. „How are the others?" He tried to look past his friend and Athos steppedd aside to not block his view. „Bruised and exhausted, but they will heal." Porthos nodded, believing the words of his friend without question. Athos wouldn't lie to him.

„When can I get out of this bed?" He then asked as he tried to sit up. Wrapping his arms around Porthos' torso, Athos helped him lean against the wall. „Your soles are quiete bad, needed a few stitches." Porthos nod as he remembered the last time he had woken up and the pain in his feet. „I fear you will have to stay in this bed till they're properly healed."

The big man sighed, knowing that Athos probably was right but he felt good according tot he circumstances.

„Do you think you can stomach some broth?" The swordsman then asked and, without waiting for an answer, walked over to a table by the door where four bowls stood. „I can try. Did you eat something yet?" Athos shook is head as he palced the still hot bowl in his brothers hands and handed him a spoon.

„You need to." Porthos scolded before he started eating. „I'm fine." Athos sat down on a chair by his friends bed and watched him eat. His stomach twisted at the scent and alone the thought of eating made him want to vomit, but he tried to not show his discomfort to his already worried brother.

„You're not, don't lie to me. None of us is fine after all of this." Porthos stared into the blue eyes of his friend with an intesity that the man feared that Porthos could see right into his soul. „I wasn't tortured." And this simple fact, mixed with the guilt that lingered in his eyes, the way he looked away, was enough for Porthos to finally understand.

„You're feeling guilty, because he didn't torture you but us? Athos don't you see that this was the worst kind of torture Lamage could have thought of for a musketeer. We're finally free, don't let him win now, not after we made it out of this hell."

„I know what his intentions were. Still, I watched you suffer and didn't help. You all will be bound to the bed for several days, maybe weeks and I came out of all of this unscathed."

„You COULDN'T help Athos! There was no way you could have stopped any of this, you were just aas helpless as we were! Stop feeling guilty for something you're not responsible for. Don't let him win, not now, not after all of this."

The swordsman sighed but then nodded in agreement. Porthos was right. He couldn't let Lamage win, not after he was dead and they still lived. Not after his three friends had suffered so much.

„You're right mon ami." „Ain't I'm always?" Porthos laughed as he put the empty bowl aside and then laid back down with a grown.

„Not even half of the time." Both pairs of eyes landed on d'Artagnan in surprise, who had managed to open one of his swollen eyes.

„You're awake." Athos said, relief filled him as he walked over to the next bed. Dry lips formed a weak attempt of a smile, which caused half-healed wounds to open and blood flow from the Gascon's lips. The swordsman winced in sympathy as he carefully wiped the blood away and then held a glass of water to the man's lips. D'Artangan gulped down the content thankfully.

„Constance?" He then asked and tried to turn his head to look out for her, but the pain this caused in his head made him feel dizzy. „She's fine, at home. She doesn't know what had happened, not yet. We wanted you to wake up first."

D'Artagnan nodded, he didn't want her to worry. The movement caused him once again to wince in agony and close his eye again. „That's right, rest a little bit longer." He felt a cold cloth being laid onto his brow that eases his pain and let him realx immediatly. He was asleep only a few moments later.

„What are his injuries?" Porthos then asked quietly, careful to not disturb the sleep his brother needed so much.

Athos sighed at the long list that came to his min das he once again turned to his brother. „Broken ribs, a lot of bruises and swellings, sprained jaw…" „Nothing that doesn't heal." But in Porthos voice felt the confidence his statement would have needed, as he was just as worried as Athos fort he young man.

A moan from the other side oft he room disturbed their conversation, as Aramis trashed around in his restless sleep. „Nightmares?" Porthos asked and Athos nodded as he hurried over to the last bed. „Lemay said it could be a consequence of the poison he took, his body could already long for more." He placed a hand on the marksman shoulders, which was pushed away immediatly. Aramis whimpered as he turned his head from one side to the other.

„What can we do for him?" Porthos asked and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The strict gaze of Athos made him stop in his movements jsut ebfore his feet touched the ground. „Don't you dare to leave this bed. There's not much we can do to help him but to be there for him." He carefully swiped some sweat from the marksman's brow, this time the contact wasn't denied. Instead Aramis seemed to search for some kind of comfort as he leaned into the gentle touch. Athos let the cloth lay on the brow as his hand took the one of his friend. He squeezed it slightly as the man in the bed seemed to calm down slowly.

„He's so thin." Porthos noticed in shock, as he stretched to see his friend. Athos nod, worry shining in his eyes, which were fixed on the irritated body in front of him. „I'm trying to get him to eat and drink but he didn't obey yet. I think he still is confused and believes there is some more of the poison in there." He let out a joyless laugh. „Now he doesn't want to drink because he fears the poison but if Lemay was right, he will crave it in some time and beg us to give it to him. Isn't that ironic?"

Porthos didn't answer as he stared at his distressed brother.

„I wish Treville hadn't killed Lamage. I would love to do it myself."

Athos nod, knowing too well how Porthos felt.