As he woke up, he first felt nothing but numbness until a throbbing pain started to form in his head. He wanted to escape it as it clouded his senses, but he felt as he had slept for ages and his body was no longer longing for rest. A low moan escaped his bloodied lips as the pounding got harder and he started to feel more and more of his body. He wished for the numbness to return as his ribs screamed with each breath he took, his jaw arched as he opened his lips just to close them again as he noticed how dry his throat was. It seemed as every muscle was on fire and his limbs were far too heavy for him to lift them. His eyelids didn't feel any lighter, but as he knew that sleep wouldn't return as long as he was in so much pain, he at least wanted to see.

As he gathered his strength and let his eyes flutter open, he was glad to not be blinded by the sun but greeted with the dull light of a lonely candle standing by his bed. He hadn't noticed it yet as his heavy eyes tried to focus on something.

The first thing he saw was the celining, made out wood and mud. His breath hitched as he suddenly felt unsafe, but not quite remembering why. In his still muddled thoughts he also couldn't make out why everything hurt so much.

D'Artagnan frowned and carefully turned his head to the side, just to be punished with a sharp pain rushing through his head. He winced but forced himself to focus on his surroundings once again. The room seemed familiar and as he saw Porthos sleeping in a bed beside him, he recognized it at the infirmary. He was home.

As the feeling of safety slowly came back to him, he suddenly remembered why he was in so much pain. The cellar, Lamage, Porthos being drowned, Aramis desperate cries. And Athos… Athos watching, Athos being helpless, feeling guilty.

He didn't quite remember how they got out of it, but he decided as long as all where alive the answer to this question could wait. But… where all alive?

Slowly, he turned his head again and he found Aramis lying in another bed to his other side. The man seemed distressed as sweat ran down his face. D'Artagnan wanted to help him, soothe him, but not only missed he the strength to stand up but the concern for Athos rose as he couldn't see him at first try.

Despite the headache that seemed to get worse with each minute, the Gascon forced himself to sit up. But as strength left him he leaned against the wall behind him in an odd angle, not really laying but not really sitting either. This action had been enough to leave him breathless, but it was worth the effort as he finally found the swordsman slumped in a chair by the door. He had his eyes closed and seemed to be asleep, and for a short moment d'Artagnan thought about leaving him be – but as he once again felt his dry mouth and didn't find any water close enough to him, he decided that there was no other way than to wake the man.

His voice was rough as he spoke and didn't sound as his own, it burned in his throat and blood started to trickle down his bruised lips.

"Athos."

"Athos, you really should rethink this!"'

"What is there to rethink? It's the shortest way back to Paris and Treville mentioned how important it was to not be delayed. Moreover there will be a village on our way and we won't have to sleep outside."

"It's too dangerous, 'Thos. You know the rumors that go around – a group of soldiers went missing here, traders never came back out of it." Porthos shuddered at the thought as he looked at the trees in front of them.

"You can't be serious, Athos! In there are a hundred possibilities to attack us without us noticing! Let's just ride around it, just to be safe." Aramis never liked forest after Savoy, but this time was different. He was used to feeling unsafe in forests, but this one was truly unsafe and not in his mind but in reality. Already from where they stood on the open fields, he was able to see the slopes that formed a narrow path on the bottom. They would have to ride behind each other and possible bandits could wait up on the hills.

"Avoiding the forest would mean a delay of at least two days. And since when are we scared of bandits?" He pushed the map back inside his bag, as he had already made up his mind and kicked his horse slightly.

"And since when are you the one of us, making stupid decisions? Thought that was Aramis." D'Artagnan grinned at the marksman who pouted joking, but Athos didn't turn around.

The rode after him nevertheless.

It may have been one hour as Aramis tenseness got worse. He heard rustling as birds flew out of their nests. He felt eyes staring at his back, but as he turned around there was only Porthos smiling at him gently. The tall man knew about the uneasiness Aramis felt when they were in forests and tried to sooth him.

"Only birds, 'Mis. Nothing special."

The marksman nod and turned around once again, but the feeling of being watched didn't leave him.

"Athos."

"Athos. Something's wrong." Aramis had his hand already on the butt of his pistol as he hissed the words and looked up the slopes.

There was some more rustling, some more birds and then the sound of metal.

The Musketeers drew their weapons just in time as at least seven men ran down the slopes, swords and muskets raised.

Athos, who had brought down one of the attackers, turned around to block a otherwise deathly stroke, just to see d'Artagnan being struck down by the hilt of a sword. Nearly in the same moment Porthos was disarmed and found two blades at his throat that forced him to stay leaned against a tree.

Aramis looked at his two brothers, ready to kill his opponent, but as he a pistol was aimed at Athos, he laid down his sword in surrender. The marksman was roughly pushed to his knees, a gun now pressed painfully hard against his temple as the bandits bound his wrists together.

Not able to do anything other than to surrender, if he didn't want to risk the lifes of his brothers, Athos also kneeled down on the muddy ground.

"ATHOS!"

The man was pulled out of his sleep roughly, gasping for air as the memories floated his mind. It hadn't been exactly like this, there hadn't been any dangerous rumors about the forest and his brothers never had argued with him. They all had decided to take this path, but in his muddled and tired mind, the dream felt so much like a real memory. Athos needed a few moments to calm down, before a familiar voice called his name once again.

"Athos." D'Artagnan looked at the swordsman with concern, as the man was clearly still shocked from his nightmare. "It was only a dream." The Gascon assured tiredly as Athos walked over to him, the tenseness leaving his face. "How are you feeling, whelp?"

"As if a horse had run me over." D'Artagnan laughed but it ended more in a painful moan as his broken ribs were startled. "No laughing, no moving." Athos poured some water into a glass and held it to the bloody lips of his brother.