A moan from one of the others bed, caused Athos to jump up and d'Artagnan to glance over to Aramis, who finally had stopped tossing and opened his eyes.

"Hey 'Mis," Athos greeted him gently as he kneeled beside the bed to look his brother in the eyes. They were glassy as sweat dripped down his forehead. Aramis moaned again and blinked as he tried to focus his view. "Th'rsty." He then mumbled, just to find a glass full of water against his lips barely a second later.

To Athos relief he gulped down the contents completely, before he closed his eyes again for a moment. "We're not in the cellar anymore." He noticed and Athos was thankful that the man seemed conscious enough to know where they were. "Yes, we're safe now." He assured and filled the glass again with water. "Do you think you can drink somemore?"

Aramis frowned but nodded and took a few more sips. "Do you want to eat something?" The hope lingered in his voice, even d'Artagnan who watched the scenen intensely heard it. But Aramis seemed oblivious to it as he shook his head. "Not hungry." He murmured and squeezed his eyes shut as a sharp pain shot through his head. Athos sighed, the man needed to finally eat something.

"At least a little bit of broth?" The swordsman already had the bowl in his hands, the smell made his own stomach grumble. As Aramis smelled the scent of chicken and salt he turned his head away. "No." He winced as vomit rised in his throat and tried not to lose control over his body. Athos put the bowl aside fastly. "Okay. It's okay." He assured and pulled the blanket over his brother's chest.

"Is there anything else you need? How are ou even feeling?" He asked concerned as Aramis had regained his senses and turned his back towards his friend. "Cold…. No… hot." Athos hadn't missed the sweat on his brothers brow and as his hand met his skin he hissed at the hotness of it.

"Try to rest, I will get Lemay." What worried the swordsman most was how easy Aramis agreed and closed his eyes. All the usual stubbornness was gone as his weakened body and mind longed for rest.

"Can I leave you with him for a moment?" Athos turned to d'Artagnan who smiled at him slighty. A glance towards Aramis told him that the marksman was already back at sleep, so he nod. "We will be just fine." Athos didn't really believe his brother's words, but he needed to get Lemay, so he hurried out of the infirmary.

MMMM

Minutes after Athos leave, d'Artagnan decided to close is eyes for a moment too. Eventhough he had slept for quite some time he already felt exhausted again. He knew that this was a normal reaction to such injuries, but he was annoyed at the weakness of his body.

However, sleep was him denied as Aramis started to whimper and toss in his sleep. Incohrent words left his lips, not fully reaching the Gascon's ears as he tried to make out what he was saying.

D'Artagnan watched his brother with concern for a few more minutes until the tossing got worse and he feared that the marksman would hurt himself, as his head got dangerous close to the nightstand. With a hiss of pain he sat up, a burning sensation spread through his ribs and to his lungs as he was finally upright. The Gascon needed a few moments to regain his senses and to stop the dizziness that overcame him. His naked feet touched the ground and he slowly put weight on his trembling legs, causing his head to pound even hard. Somehow, he had managed to stand up completely. His headache was now the only thing he seemed to notice, over the pounding in his head he didn't even hear Aramis whimerps.

Concentration, d'Artagnan. He held his breath as he took a trembling step forward, his hand searching for support on the wall.

"What are you think you're doing?!" The voice reached him even through the throbbing pain in his head, but d'Artagnan felt the strength to turn around. He only stopped in his tracks and leaned heavier against the wall, his breath as fast as if he had run a marathon.

"Aramis." Was everything he managed and enough to make Porthos to understand. "You're a fool, you should stay in bed." The tall man muttered and looked around the room helplessly. The whelp seemed as he would break down any moment and Aramis clearly needed help too. He sighed as his eyes fell on his cutted soles.

"Wait a moment."

"U-huh" The Gascon muttered and closed his eyes against the pain, but it didn't bring any comfort.

Porthos cursed under his breath as he put his feet onto the ground, feeling the stitches on their edge as he put weight on them. Trying to avoid the worst of the wounds, he walked strangely on the sides of his feet and tried to support his weight on the wall and beds as much as possible. Each step spread a burning pain through his feet and up into his trembling legs, but somehow he made it to the other side of the room.

"Come here, whelp." He carefully grabbed d'Artagnan's arm and lead him towards Aramis' bed, where the lad sat down on the edge with a sigh. "Thank you." He murmured.

Porthos smiled weakly, before he turned his attention towards Aramis. "Hey 'mis, do you hear me? It's me, Porthos. You're safe." He repeated the words, as the marksman didn't react and carefully put a pillow beside the nightstand and the head of the marksman. "Don't want you to get hurt." He murmured and sat down beside d'Artagnan, who had taken one of his brothers hands in his own.

"Do you hear me, Aramis? You're safe, in the Garrison. Everything's just fine." Porthos stroke through his friends hair, but was only answered with another whimper and a weak attempt of the sleeping man to be pushed away.

"Stop…. Leave them… Para!... Déjalos en paz." (Stop! Leave them alone.)

„Aramis." D'Artagan squeezed the hand a little bit tighter to make himself known, but in his state, Aramis didn't recognize the familiar voice and comforting gesture. He ripped his hand free of the grasp and hit the closest object he could reach. Porthos cursed at the stroke in his stomach. "Since when are you so strong?" He muttered before he tried again to calm the tossing man.

"Aramis!" Porthos grabbed the mans shoulders and shook him, causing his eyes to fly open. Glassy eyes stared at the tall man for a moment, before thin arms pushed him from the edge of the bed and onto the ground. As Porthos hit the ground with a thud and Aramis didn't seem to wake from his uncoherent state, but only reached forward to now attack the Gascon, d'Artagan had no other choice than to catch the arms of his brother and push them against the bed.

"Aramis!" He shouted as the man struggled against his grip, sweat made his hot skin wet. Porthos had stood up again, ignoring the pain in his feet, as he helped the Gascon to hold down their brother. "He won't calm down." D'Artagnan frowned and tightened his grip. He felt his strength leave him with every second he had to hold down his own brother, and it bruned in his chest as he saw Aramis struggle against his grip.

"Where the hell is Athos?" Porthos cursed as he put more of his weight on Aramis' legs to keep them from kicking him. "He's getting Lemay, he left only minutes ago and will need some more time until he's back." Porthos noticed the exhaustion in the boy's voice and saw the sweat in his red face. "You need to rest." He said between gritted teeth after Aramis had managed to kick him in the gut. "We can't hold him forever."

"Get some…rope." D'Artagnan said between ragged breaths as his muscles started to tremble. Porthos shot him an uncertain look before he let go of the kicking legs and hurried over to the closet. After searching for a few seconds he found what he had searched for and came back to the bed.

He first bound Aramis' legs together before he took one of the arms and bound them to the bed before he did the same with the other one. As d'Artagnan could finally let go, he almost collapsed weren't it for Porthos who put an arm around his shoulder. "Easy." He murmured and guided – half carried – the lad back to his bed.

Before his eyes fell closed in exhaustion and pain, d'Artagnan looked over to his still struggling brother one more time and it shattered his heart to see him like this. He wished they never had to do this, and he felt as if he had betrayed his brother by tieing him up.

"He will be fine." Porthos assured him, before the Gascon lost his fight with unconsciousness. The tall man put some fabric between the ropes and Aramis' skin so he wouldn't hurt himself with all the trashing. "You're safe." He repeated as he sat down with his tied up brother and waited for Athos to return.