Treville rode in front with Athos and Porthos riding alongside each other just behind him discussing the oddities of family and what money does to the minds of men. No one seemed to take notice to the fact that D'artagnan had begun to lag behind, none except Aramis.
Aramis had chosen to take up the rear and could see that the Gascon was struggling to remain upright in his saddle. He spurred his mount to ride alongside the larger Gascon charger. It was then that Aramis took notice of D'artagnan's abnormally pale face. Athin sheen of sweat coated his brow, plastering strands of the younger man's brown hair to his skin.
Carefull to avoid startling both horse and rider, Aramis reached over and gently placed a hand on D'artagnan's forehead. His skin too warm for the cool Autumn air. D'artagnan shrugged away from the contact and seemed to regret the motion instantly. Concern filled Aramis's expression as he reached out again. This time he pulled the front of the leather jacket aside.
His eyes widened as he caught sight of the large red stain that had spread across D'artagnan's right side, saturating the Gascon's shirt and undoubtedly the bandages beneath. His expression shifted to one of near panic as he met the pleading eyes of his young friend.
D'artagnan pulled the leather back disguising the wound beneath the darkened hide. He watched as Aramis looked towards the men ahead of them as if he were about to call out to them. When his gaze returned to D'artagnan, all the Gascon could do was shake his head. There was no way that he was going to burden his friends with this, especially when they had just gotten Porthos back. His pride would not allow him to weak in front of them.
The silent argument continued for a few moments until Aramis seemed to settle on the idea that there was very little telling the others would do at the moment. It was not like they were in a place where they could treat a wound such aas D'artagnan's. The best thing he could do is get him back to the garrison as quickly as possible without causing anymore damage to the younger man. So he resigned himself to riding alongside the injured man.
To Aramis's surprise D'artagnan managed to remain in his saddle all the way back to the garrison, although his vision was beginning to fade and his hands had become clumsy with handling the reins.
As the group rode up to the gates Constance stood waiting in a pale blue dress with a girlish smile on her face. Treville, Athos, and Porthos nodded to her as they passed. She smiled back while still looking passed them. Her eyes settled on D'artagnan and for a second she was filled with pure elation at the sight of him, but it was short lived as he returned a pained half smile. His eyes barely seemed to focus on her as he was guided passed her into the garrison.
Panic filled Aramis as soon as he saw Constance's expression change to one of confusion, then worry, then fear. He kicked himself for thinking that she would not notice D'artagnan's condition immediately.
He quickly dismounted and made a point to block Constance's advance with his mount as he rushed to D'artagnan's side. By then Treville and Athos had noticed something was wrong and both leapt down and were on the injured man in seconds.
Constance tried to get to the men, but was blocked by the horses. She watched as Porthos joined the men gathered around D'artagnan.
"What's wrong with him?" asked Porthos, quickly following the other's lead and keeping his voice low so that only those close to him could hear.
"Took a sword to the side last night and I fear he may have reopened it during today's events." Aramis explained helping a weakened D'artagnan down from his saddle.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Constance's panic stricken face, "get her out of here, he's not going to want her to see him like this."
"What do I tell her?" Porthos asked.
"Send her to fetch that doctor that helped with the Captain. We can at least have him a little more presentable by then and I could use his expertice." Aramis instructed as Athos positioned himself on D'artagnan's other side to help hold him up.
Without another word Porthos turned to intercept Constance.
"What's happened? What's wrong?" She asked, her voice full of worry as she made an attempt to see around Porthos. The large Musketeer kept himself between the frantic woman and the others,
"Constance, Constance D'artagnan has been injured."
"Injured? What do you mean injured? How bad is it? Why won't you let me see him?" she questioned. Her expression shifted to one of sheer terror as she assumed the worst.
"It's pretty bad, he will be needin a surgeon. Could you go fetch your doctor friend? Aramis says it's important." Porthos said as he gently placed his hands on the woman's shoulders.
Constance made another attempt to force her way by Porthos's bulk, but he held her in place with a gentle, but firm grip.
"Please Constance, a doctor. That is the best thing you could do for him right now."
Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she spun on her heel and ran in the direction of the Louvre.
"Where's Constance?" D'artagnan asked his voice barely a whisper and his words slurring together slightly. He was leaning heavily on Athos. It was clear that he was fighting just to stay conscious.
"She went to fetch her doctor friend." Aramis replied solemnly as he helped Athos quide the younger man in the direction of his quarters. A moan escaped D'artagnan's mouth as they started to make their way across the training yard.