They all jumped when a shot rang loud through the garrison and Porthos couldn't stop himself from shouting Aramis' name.
Everything slowed, time coming to a holt as Aramis locked eyes with Athos for a split second. He could see the pain build quickly within Athos' eyes before the man went down, the musket ball hitting just under his ribs and sending him stumbling backwards.
Porthos span around to look up at the balcony to see Treville holding a smoking pistol, face pinched in pain from having to shoot one of his boys.
D'artagnan acted the fastest and in two steps was grabbing Athos to pull the man back. Considering that Athos was clearly unstable and drugged out of his mind as well as just having been shot, the man had strength. He managed to twist himself around D'artagnan to come up behind him, grunting from the pain of doing so before his finger twitched and another shot ran through the garrison.
D'artagnan cried out, his grip on Athos slipping suddenly as his head exploded from how close the pistol had gone off to his ear.
Athos slumped to the ground with the pain from his ribs being too much, the pistol falling from his grip to land in the mud next to him.
D'artagnan was on his knees next to him, blinking a few times to try and push back his blurring vision. His ears were ringing and his balance was off, sending him to fall onto his side with a grunt next to Athos.
He heard shouting come from Porthos, calling a name. A name that wasn't his and it wasn't Athos'. He blinked again, forcing himself up on shaking arms to see Aramis on the ground, Porthos next to him with his hands pressing down on the bleeding wound on Aramis' shoulder.
"Aramis..." D'artagnan mumbled, his mind still unfocused and foggy as the ringing continued to grow. He drew one hand up to press against his left ear, meeting blood and wincing from the pain.
Suddenly, everything came rushing back as time flew forward; the ability to hear again washing over him like a wave.
"Stay with me, Aramis," Porthos said and the medic's hands came up to try and push Porthos away.
.I'm fine… Athos..." Aramis simply mumbled, lifting his head up from the ground and trying to get to his fallen brother.
"Treville's got him," Porthos said before moving to help get Aramis up.
D'artagnan's vision was suddenly blocked by Treville who came skidding to his knees on the other side of Athos, hands coming down to press on the slowly bleeding wound.
"D'artagnan!" Treville snapped and the young Gascon realised then that the Captain had been calling for him a few times now.
"Humm?" He responded, his mind swimming and the ringing in his ears still making it hard to hear properly.
"Help me get him to the treatment room," Treville said and it took D'artagnan awhile to register what Treville was asking.
He began to move, his brain finally getting his arms and legs to work. He pushed down the wave of dizziness he felt as he stood, supporting a half conscious Athos by his side. The two struggled to the treatment room, Porthos trailing behind with a groaning Aramis.
"I'm fine," Aramis said, pushing away from Porthos and instantly regretting it. The pain that flared up from his right shoulder caused a small groan to escape his lips.
"Of course you are," Porthos growled in frustration as D'artagnan and Treville got Athos onto the table, laying him down and both grimacing as Athos cried out in pain.
Aramis came to stand next to the table, hands gripping the edge and taking a steadying breath. D'artagnan faced him on the other side, hands hovering over Athos as if he wanted to help but didn't know how.
"He'll be alright?" D'artagnan asked Aramis. His words seemed to snap the medic out of his daze and quickly move closer, hands coming down to press against Athos' bleeding wound and ignoring his own throbbing injury.
"I need fresh water, clean bandages and a stitching kit," Aramis listed off as he got to work ripping Athos' shirt off, wincing from the pull on his own injury.
"On it," D'artagnan said, quickly moving around the room to carry out Aramis' orders.
"Stay with me Athos," Aramis said as he moved round to Athos' right shoulder. He lifted Athos up with the help of Porthos to be able to feel for an exit wound. "You're lucky," Aramis said, glancing up at Treville who stood hovering at the end of the table. "There's an exit wound," he told them and they all let out a collect breath that they had been holding.
"I had to do it," Treville began and Aramis sent a glare towards him.
"We'll talk about it after I've saved his life," Aramis said, his voice low and in a warning to Treville, who knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.
D'artagnan came rushing over, a bowl of water in hands and a medical kit held under his right arm. He was breathing heavier than normal and caused Aramis to look up at him, noticing the blood running down the side of D'artagnan's face.
"You're hurt," Aramis stated and D'artagnan shook his comment off as Athos began to stir. "Hold him still," Aramis ordered as Athos tried to sit up, mumbling something inaudible and eyes frantically scanning the room. Porthos leaned down on Athos' shoulders, holding him down as Treville grabbed his legs.
"Stop..." Athos mumbled, his eyes flickering closed and trying to rid himself of the plaguing nightmare that he was currently in. "Please... No more!" He suddenly cried, lashing out to have Porthos hold him back down to the table.
Athos couldn't think straight, the pain was too much and his head was swarming with images of his brothers who were too far away and of a woman who was even further away. All he knew was his captures were yet again coming down on him, taking his mind in play and tormenting him until he broke.
"Athos," a distance voice called and he found himself drawn to it. It felt familiar; it felt safe in some way. He titled his head slightly, moaning as a response to this voice.
"It's me, Porthos. I need you to stay with us, alright," the voice said and Athos blinked his eyes open, meeting the face of Tomás. He flinched violently which sent a flare of pain come shooting up from his shoulder and swearing in Spanish to echo around the room.
It was Aramis.
He was safe, of course he was. His brothers would never abandon him, not when he needed them the most.
"Hold. Him. Still," Aramis snapped again as his fingers fumbled slightly while stitching, Athos pulling against him and making the task even more difficult.
The laughter began ringing in Athos' ears again, suffocating him and making his chest tighten. He tried to draw in air but found himself gasping at nothing.
"He can't breathe," D'artagnan cried, shaking with worry and fear for his mentor and brother.
"He's having nightmare, probably the drugs," Aramis informed them as he tried his best to clean and stitch up the entrance wound.
"Do something," D'artagnan pleaded and Porthos felt his heart break at the sight of the poor lad.
"Hold," Aramis said to D'artagnan, holding out the needle for him to take. Aramis then moved closer to Athos, seeing how his face was pinched in pain. Aramis suddenly slapped the man across the cheek. Athos flinched, his eyes snapping open and breathing becoming laboured. He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth before his eyes frantically glancing around the room, landing on Porthos.
A small frown appear on his face before Athos shook his head from side to side, shaking out what he thought was drug induced images of his brother.
"I had to shock him," Aramis said is response to D'artagnan's confused look of how a slap causes Athos to breathe again.
D'artagnan passed the needle back to Aramis who finished stitching before beginning to work on the exit wound. It proved a more difficult task than thought. Athos wouldn't stop thrashing, trying desperately to get away from who he thought where his captures hold on him.
Porthos swallowed thickly as he pinned Athos down, particularly laying his upper body on Athos to restrict the swordsman's movements. His heart ached for his brother, hating himself for not having found Athos earlier. What this whole ordeal was going to do to Athos was another question.
The clank of the needle dropping into the water bowl brought them all back to reality, Aramis finally having patched Athos up.
"What now?" D'artagnan asked helplessly, stood by Athos' head and staring down at the now awfully silent man. His hand came up to gently stroke the few strands of hair that had fallen to cover Athos' face and tuck them behind the swordsman's ear.
"We wait," Aramis said, cleaning his blood covered hands with a rag and finally becoming aware of the flaring pain in his shoulder.
"What about when the drugs wear off?" Porthos asked and Aramis' gave them both a saddening look.
"It's going to be a long night," Aramis said before turning to look at Treville who had shut the door to give them privacy, ushering the other musketeers who had been stood watch back to work.
"We could have lost him," Aramis began.
"Would you rather him have shot you in the chest?" Treville asked and Aramis raised his head as a challenge, unable to stop his anger from taking over… Screw the fact that he was talking to his Captain, he was going to give the man a piece of his mind.
Thank you so much for the reviews and the ideas, they helped me a lot in writing this chapter. I hope you all liked it and it lived up to expectation. Next chapter won't be for another week though. Please review and tell me what you thought or if you have any ideas for what could happen next.