I'm back! It has been such a hectic, busy week...omigosh! After I work at my second job tomorrow (which I don't normally work on Saturdays) I will have put in almost 80 hours between both jobs this week. I really wanted to get the next chapter up because next week promises to be the same. So, once again I will thank all of you who are still reading this story, and a big hug to those who send me comments. Thank you all so very much. Now, on with the story!

Chapter 10

Porthos turned back to d'Artagnan the second the door slammed behind Aramis and swallowed back a sob. His eyes moved to the hand he held in his, taking in the bandages that covered the damage done to his fingertips. His grip on the Gascon's hand eased a bit when he realized that he could be causing his brother pain. When he once again looked at the young man's face, however, it was apparent that d'Artagnan wasn't really there so may not be feeling the pain from his many injuries. He continued to call to his father, his voice so weak that it was barely audible, but there was no mistaking who the young man was seeing. Porthos was at a loss as to what he should do. He knew he should be bathing his brother with the cool cloth, but was loathe to break the connection he had with him by letting his hand go. Finally, he reluctantly eased the hand to the bed and went for the bowl of cool water. He was back beside the boy in seconds, his deep voice rumbling as he spoke while he ran the cloth over d'Artagnan's face and neck. After several minutes, he rewet the cloth and draped it over the Gascon's neck. He once again took up the bandaged hand, ever careful to not cause any pain, then leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the white wrapped fingers. He chuckled to himself when he thought about what his other brothers would say if they caught him in this tender moment. He didn't care, however, if they did. This young man before him brought out parts of his personality that he normally kept tucked deep down inside and he would never be ashamed or embarrassed of the way he acted toward their Gascon. So lost in his thoughts was he that he didn't even realize it when d'Artagnan stopped calling for his father and turned his fever dulled eyes upon him.

"P'thos," a weak voice called, causing the big man to whip his head around until he found himself staring down into his little brother's eyes.

"d'Artagnan? What is it, brother? What do you need?" Porthos asked softly, his lips curling up into a fond smile.

d'Artagnan stayed silent for several moments, his breaths coming in soft pants, as he seemed to be working up enough energy to speak. When he finally did, Porthos was sure his heart skipped several beats.

"Y' need…let me go," the Gascon whispered, dark eyes staring up at his brother, beseeching him to grant his request.

"No! You cannot ask that of me, whelp!" Porthos cried as he squeezed his brother's hand a little too tightly, pulling a soft cry of pain from the young man. Porthos immediately eased his grip as he whispered apologies for causing the Gascon more pain.

"Father needs me…pl's P'thos…let me go."

"We need you, d'Artagnan! You cannot leave us! What would we do without you?"

"'thos sent me away…"

"'e was upset, and drunk. 'e did not mean the things 'e said, d'Artagnan. 'e regretted it the minute you ran out the door," Porthos said, his dark eyes pleading with his young friend to believe him.

"'m sorry, P'thos…did not know who she was. 'thos hates me…"

"No, brother, 'e loves you, just as Aramis loves you…just as I love you," Porthos said, a tear slipping from his eye and dripping down to soak into the bandaged hand that Porthos held. "You are our brother and our comrade…"

"Not a musketeer anymore…"

"I will decide who is or is not a musketeer," a new voice called from behind Porthos and the big man swore under his breath at himself for not noticing that someone had entered the room.

"Captain, 'ow long 'ave you been standing there?" Porthos asked without turning around.

Captain Treville swiftly walked to the end of the bed and glanced down at the big man. "Long enough," he answered before turning his attention to his newest musketeer. When the young man didn't look at him he moved to Porthos' side and knelt down beside the bed. "d'Artagnan," he said to draw the young man's attention. Slowly, dark eyes turned and met his.

"Captain," d'Artagnan whispered. "Father calls…"

"Your father will have to wait. I have not accepted your resignation from my regimen and your brothers are not quite ready to see you off," Captain Treville said in a firm voice.

"They sent me away…"

"Well, they are idiots who do not always think before they speak or act, but this I know…they did not truly want you to leave." Porthos looked up sheepishly at his captain and nodded, accepting fully the man's observation.

"Slept with 'thos' wife…hates me…"

"Athos hurries here to see you as we speak and if you are not here when he arrives, he will be very upset," Treville explained, shrugging his shoulders when Porthos gave him a questioning look.

"Does not want me."

Porthos drew d'Artagnan's attention and smiled when they met each other's eyes. "Athos risked 'is life to save you. 'e left when 'e thought you were no longer in danger because 'e did not feel worthy of you any longer," he said. When d'Artagnan only looked at him with confusion, he continued. "'e deeply regretted how 'e acted that night. 'e did not want to hurt you any further by being here when you awoke. 'e could not bear it if you turned him away and so 'e left, but d'Artagnan, Athos cares very deeply for you and would be lost if you went away, as would we all."

Porthos and Treville waited for the Gascon's reply, but the young man instead cried out in pain, his back arching off the bed as he squeezed his eyes shut. Both older men began to panic when nothing they did seemed to help the young man. After several long, agonizing minutes, d'Artagnan finally dropped back onto the mattress, exhausted beyond belief and breathing so shallow, the two men had to listen closely to hear it. Their hearts sank when he once again began to call weakly to his father, but when his words stopped and he went completely still, their hearts shattered. Porthos took the Gascon's face in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cried out for his brother to not leave.

"d'Artagnan! Please, do not leave us! Please!" Porthos wailed. He lifted the young man and pulled him to his chest. He buried his face in the crook of d'Artagnan's neck and sobbed as his captain stood helplessly by. Twenty minutes later still saw d'Artagnan gripped tenderly in Porthos' arms. The big man was no longer weeping, but tremors rippled through him as he gently rocked his brother back and forth, Captain Treville standing at his side, his hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. This was the scene that met Aramis and Athos as they burst into the room. A scene that nearly brought both men to their knees.

MMMMMMMMMM

Athos and Aramis were breathless as they ran through the garrison gates and up the stairs to the landing that would lead them to the infirmary. They burst through the door and stopped dead in their tracks. Porthos sat next to d'Artagnan's bed where Aramis had left him, Treville at his side, and wrapped in Porthos' arms was their little brother, limp and unmoving. By the way Porthos' shoulders shook, they could immediately tell that he was either crying, or had been very recently. Their entire world crumbled as reality hit them…their little brother was dead. They had been too late. Athos stumbled back as Treville turned to him, his eyes filled with deep sadness.

"No," Athos whispered, his eyes moving back to the bed. He couldn't move, could hardly breathe. He had abandoned his brother in his greatest time of need and now d'Artagnan was dead. He had died believing that Athos hated him and the enormity of it all had Athos dropping to his knees. He barely noticed as Aramis rushed to the bed, so deep was his grief. He watched with detachment as Aramis gently took d'Artagnan from Porthos' arms and laid him on the bed. He didn't comprehend what was happening when Aramis cried out and both Porthos and Treville jumped into action. It was only when Porthos ran to him and pulled him from the floor that he realized that Aramis was shaking their Gascon and calling out his name. He rushed to the bed, anger building at what he perceived as ill treatment of his beloved little brother.

"Aramis, why do you shake him?! He is our brother and he is dead…"

"No, Athos…d'Artagnan lives!" Aramis cried, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"But…"

"He is deeply unconscious, but he does breathe! Athos, he needs to hear your voice! Only you can bring him back!"

Athos looked from Aramis to d'Artagnan, uncertain as to what he should do. Suddenly, two strong hands gripped his arms and led him to the chair where he was gently pushed down to sit. He glanced up and met Porthos' gaze, the large man nodding toward their youngest member. He smiled appreciatively then turned back to the bed. Taking one limp hand in his he leaned down and began to speak.

"d'Artagnan, I am here. I am sorry that have not been here before, but you see, I am a fool. Our brothers have made me see the errors of my ways and I am here now," he softly said. "You need to fight this infection, my brother, for we…I…cannot bear to lose you. Please, d'Artagnan, fight with everything you have and I promise that I will make everything up to you when you are well."

Aramis watched as Athos continued to speak to their youngest brother. He flinched slightly when Porthos brought him a fresh bowl of cool water, but he accepted it with a smile and started the task of trying to cool their brother down. Treville watched his men for a few minutes, then sensing their need for privacy, he silently slipped from the room, heading straight to the kitchens to have Serge have food prepared for the men whom he knew would not be leaving the room for quite some time. Porthos pulled two chairs over from the table, one for Aramis and one for himself. When Serge and one other musketeer entered the room several minutes later, all three musketeers sat huddled around the bed, each one in contact with some part of d'Artagnan's body. They left the food on the table and quietly left the three men to their quiet vigil.

MMMMMMMMMM

For three days the Inseparables kept vigil at d'Artagnan's bedside while the young Gascon languished in unconsciousness. His fever was still quite high, though it had not risen any higher since Aramis and Athos had returned. The men took turns sleeping so that there was always someone at their brother's side, holding his hand and talking, just so that he knew he was not alone. At least they hoped that he knew. There had been no more calls to his father to which the men were extremely grateful. Now, they desperately needed him to wake up. They had been forced to administer water and broth to their brother by lifting him and carefully dribbling it into his mouth where he would instinctively swallow it down. They had not been able to get nearly enough into him, but some was better than none. All three men had gone hoarse from talking, but they kept up the litany because they needed d'Artagnan to hear them. They needed him to know that he was wanted and needed. Each hour that passed that the Gascon remained quiet and still upped the musketeer's anxiety and they were beginning to think that they were just prolonging the inevitable. It came to the point where they began questioning whether they were doing more harm than good to their brother.

It was late into the third night, Aramis was stretched out on the floor near the table, Porthos was asleep sitting in one chair next to the bed and Athos, who had barely slept over the three days was telling d'Artagnan for the millionth time how sorry he was, his head down, eyes on the hand that he held, that it happened. Athos looked up at d'Artagnan's face and gasped when two dark, dull eyes stared back at him. The Gascon's face was drenched in sweat, his hair already clinging to his forhead and though he said not a word, his eyes watched as Athos moved forward and cupped his cheek.

"d'Artagnan, you have come back to us," Athos breathed out, his voice immediately drawing Porthos from his slumber. The big man took one look at d'Artagnan, jumped from the chair and rushed to awaken Aramis. The medic was at the young man's bedside in a flash, his hand immediately going to check his forehead. Aramis let out a sigh and turned to meet the anxious faces of his brothers.

"His fever has broken," Aramis said, a bright smile spreading over his face. "Today is a joyous day!"

Well, things look to be turning around for our musketeers! I'm just glad to have gotten Athos back where he belongs...the big stubborn oaf! So, let me know what you think and I'll get the next chapter posted as soon as I can!

Cindy