Athos stumbled out of his room, having finally pulled himself up from off the ground and practically crawled his way to the door. He grabbed hold of the balcony railing to steady himself on his feet before glancing down into the courtyard.
He moved over to the stairs once he saw nothing out of place within the garrison.
"Athos?" Treville asked as he made his way up the stairs, having just got in from a morning meeting with the King. "What are you doing out of bed?" He asked, concern lanced in his voice.
"D'artagnan," Athos simply said and that one word caused a hard look to cross over Treville's face.
"He's gone," Treville more stated than asked and Athos could see the swirl of emotions in his Captain's eyes.
"Aramis and Porthos went after him," Athos said, pausing slightly as his world began to spin. This was the furthest he had walked from his bed since he had gotten back to the garrison and it was taking its toll on him.
"I'll organise some men and we'll head out after them," Treville said and Athos nodded, closing his eyes briefly to steady himself. "I'm not going to tell you to get back to bed but... You know you're not strong enough to come," Treville said and Athos just grunted, waving for Treville to go.
The Captain placed a hand on Athos' shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before heading back down the stairs, shouting for his men.
Under different circumstances Aramis would have spoken up but with a sword currently held against his neck and a pistol pressing against the back of his head, he thought better.
So instead, he allowed this Nicolás person to continue his speech while trying to not sigh with
boredom.
He could see ideas ticking over in Porthos' brain and the slight change in the man's hard expression whenever he came to a dead end.
How were they supposed to get out of this?
"You musketeers," Nicolás growled, drawing Aramis' attention away from Porthos.
The blonde's grip on his knife tightened and pressed down further on D'artagnan's neck, making D'artagnan shift slightly.
"Always causing trouble," he continued, glaring at Porthos and Aramis. "You could still be alive if you had just left your friend here and not come trailing after him," he said, giving D'artagnan a tug and causing him to whimper slightly.
"You don't know what loyalty is," D'artagnan growled out and Nicolás just gripped him tighter and pressed the knife harder against D'artagnan's neck.
It caused blood to drip down the side of D'artagnan's neck while also running onto the silver blade. If it caused D'artagnan pain he didn't show it, eyes set in determination.
Aramis saw the subtle shift in Porthos' weight and the larger musketeer's eyes dart towards the injured man pointing his pistol at him.
Porthos then locked eyes with D'artagnan who read the cue and took a breath, steadying himself for what was about to come.
Aramis set his jaw, knowing if they survived this he was going to kill D'artagnan for leaving the garrison and coming out here alone that was if he could get to the boy before Athos.
It happened in a flash, Porthos twisting ever so slightly to be able to grab the man behind him and pull him forward.
The injured man fired without a second thought, hitting his own comrade who Porthos then grabbed the small knife from and threw it at the injured man, taking him out as well.
Meanwhile, Aramis landed a harsh kick backwards which ended with a loud grunt in reply and the sword moving from his neck. He twisted and grabbed the sword, for only a second later a shot to ring right next to his ear.
Dizziness over took him and the next thing he knew he had a face full of dirt.
He could vaguely make out Porthos and D'artagnan shouting his name, making him want to get up and help fight.
An unfamiliar figure leant over him and Aramis could feel deaths grip tugging on him.
Before he could begin his pray to God the figure fell from view, Porthos having taken the man out. Aramis felt relief wash over him, the feeling mixing with the sense of wanting to throw up.
He had to help his brothers fight.
However, no matter how hard he tried, his legs and arms wouldn't respond to what his mind was telling them to do.
He blinked, pushing back the blurred vision before coughing. He managed to finally move his arms, pushing up to shake his head slightly to try and rid himself of the ringing.
It failed dramatically and Aramis was falling to lay on his back, staring up at the mill ceiling. He took in a steadying breath, the shouts and struggles of the fight around him barely making itself heard over the ringing in his ears and pounding of his head.
Eventually it died down, a dull and annoying ringing in the background with everything else suddenly rushing back to him.
"-mis!" A shout made its way through to him, snapping him from his daze and managing to register in his head. "Aramis!" The voice repeated, sounding a lot like Porthos.
Suddenly, his view of the ceiling was blocked by said man leaning over him with a concerned look. Before he knew it, a slight stinging pain flared up from his cheek as Porthos slap him into reality.
"Aramis! Focus yourself, god damn it," Porthos snapped, grabbing fists of Aramis' jacket and hauling him up to sit.
"D'artagnan?" Aramis questioned, blinking again to focus his blurry vision.
"Injured and needs your help," Porthos said before pulling Aramis up to stand, allowing the medic to lean most of his weight on him.
Aramis' eyes landed on D'artagnan who laid by Nicolás' side, the blonde man dead with a giant whole in his chest from where Porthos had shot him.
The two made their way over to D'artagnan, dropping ungracefully to their knees next to him. Aramis pressed his index and middle finger against D'artagnan's neck, feeling for a heartbeat.
Aramis let out a shaky breath before a smile appeared on his lips.
"He's alive," he said before he leant sideways and allowed Porthos to hold him up.
"Thank god," Porthos mumbled to himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them at the sound of D'artagnan groaning.
"What did I miss?" D'artagnan asked, blinking up at them both. Aramis let out a shaky breath, a faint smile on his lips as he pushed back the ringing in his ears.
"Not much," Aramis said before leaning forward slightly to inspect D'artagnan's shoulder wound.
"We need medical supplies," Aramis said, not having brought any within the rush to come after his brother.
"I can make it back to the garrison," D'artagnan said and Porthos gave Aramis a weary look. The medic simply let out a tired sigh.
"Come on, let's get this idiot home," Porthos finally said, shifting slightly and glancing down at Aramis.
"You alright?" He asked and Aramis gave him a thumbs up, moving to stand, using Porthos' shoulder to steady himself.
Porthos then helped D'artagnan stand who bit his lip to stop himself from crying out in pain. Porthos steadied both his brothers before they made their way back to the Garrison.
"Can you ride?" Porthos asked D'artagnan who was leaning into him were they stop by their horses.
"The garrison isn't far away, I can make it," he said and Porthos glanced towards Aramis for his education opinion.
The man was leaning against the tree their horses were tied up against, trying to catch his breath and stop himself from throwing up.
"He'll make it," Aramis simply said. He had put a poorly fixed bandaged around D'artagnan's shoulder wound to help stop the bleeding but he really needed the medical supplies back at the garrison to treat it properly.
D'artagnan rode with Porthos, Aramis pulling along D'artagnan's horse as they made their way back into Paris, D'artagnan depending awfully on Porthos to keep him upright on the horse.
It worried both Aramis and Porthos deeply. They needed to get back to the garrison quickly before D'artagnan bled out on them.
Wow, so I'm so sorry for the very very very long wait, like I am so ashamed of myself. I'm terribly sorry. Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter and the next one will be up very soon. I don't even know if you guys are still interested in this story, if you are then review please :)