Porthos woke up early in the morning, back aching from sleeping in cramped over in the chair next to Aramis' bed. He looked over at said man to see Aramis pushing himself up from the bed, arms shaking from the weight and breathing slightly laboured.
"Aramis," Porthos warned, quickly moving over and wrapping an arm around Aramis' waist to steady him.
"I need to check on Athos," he mumbled out and Porthos shook his head slightly.
"He's fine, D'artagnan's with him. If he needs us he'll shout," Porthos said and it took a little more persuading but he eventually got Aramis back into bed.
"You can't hold me here forever you know," Aramis said in a matter of fact tone which only caused Porthos to give him a raised eyebrow in response.
"Until you've healed," Porthos then said and Aramis rolled his eyes.
"I'm fine, Athos is in worse shape than me," Aramis said, slumping against the headboard of his bed and giving Porthos his best unimpressed Athos look.
"You're no good passing out on us now are you," Porthos questioned and Aramis had to admit his brother was right.
"Fine, but only for a few more hours," Aramis finally gave in. "Could you get me some water?" Aramis asked and Porthos stood, moving from the chair and over to the table.
Suddenly, Aramis was up and at the door before Porthos even had a chance to register what had just happened.
"Aramis!" He shouted and followed after the marksman, concerned for Aramis after seeing him stumble out the room.
D'artagnan looked up suddenly when the door swung open and Aramis came striding in. His face was paler than usual and was covered in sweat. However, he had determination in his eyes and his shoulders pulled back.
"You should be in bed," D'artagnan simply stated and Aramis didn't even spare him a look as he made his way over to Athos, who D'artagnan had just managed to get back into bed.
"How is he?" Aramis asked, leaning over a sleeping Athos with his hand coming to rest on Athos' forehead to check his temperature.
"He's been worse," D'artagnan said and Aramis glanced up at the Gascon.
"His temperature is still slightly high," the medic stated, looking back down at Athos as Porthos moved over. "At least his wound isn't suffering from infection," Aramis said once he had checked Athos' injury.
"Has he said anything?" Porthos asked and he noticed how D'artagnan's shoulders slumped slightly.
"Only a few words," D'artagnan said, the guilt slowly eating away at him. "He... he said they wanted me," D'artagnan struggled to get out, feeling both Aramis and Porthos glance up to look at him.
"What do you mean?" Porthos asked and D'artagnan turned, beginning to pace up and down the side of Athos' bed.
"The men that took him wanted me. They must have got it wrong, taken Athos instead or... Or taken him to get to me," D'artagnan explained and Porthos moved around the bed, grabbing D'artagnan by the shoulders and holding him still.
"Look at me," Porthos ordered and D'artagnan took his time to lift his eyes up from the floor. "This is not your fault," Porthos told him and D'artagnan turned away, causing Porthos' grip on his shoulders to drop.
"They wanted me," he stressed. "Athos went through all this because of me," he said, his voice cracking slightly towards the end. He slumped into the chair next to Athos' bed with a sigh, eyes fixed on the sleeping musketeer with an elbow propped on the armrest, fingers at his mouth as he fought back tears.
"D'artagnan," Aramis finally spoke, causing the Gascon to look up at him. "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop blaming yourself," Aramis began, giving D'artagnan a knowing look. "Athos wouldn't want you to. You can't think that this is your fault, I won't allow you to. Those men... They did this to get to you, to get to all of us," he said and D'artagnan took a steadying breath, allowing his eyes to briefly close and his head to rest back against the chair.
"I need some air," D'artagnan suddenly said, jumping to a stand and walking out the room in five quick strides.
Porthos watched him go before his eyes flickered over to Aramis. The medic nodded once, a sign to tell Porthos to go. The larger musketeer hesitated for a second, eyes glancing down the Aramis' injury before locking eyes with the marksman. The look of determination Aramis gave him told Porthos that D'artagnan needed him more than Aramis did, so he turned and allowed Aramis to look after Athos.
Aramis went and took up rest in the chair D'artagnan had just left, eyes falling to look down at Athos' vulnerable form.
"Wake up," Aramis mumbled, leaning forward and gripping the cross around his neck. "We need you."
I'm so sorry for the wait, it's taken me longer than expected to get this chapter up. Thank you all for the reviews, follows and favourites. The next chapter will be the big reveal on why they want D'artagnan, I hope you guys like it. Anyway, leave a review if you want. Until next time :)