Authors note: This is a follow on from yesterday but can be read independently.
Athos grabbed d'Artagnan under the arms and pulled him up a little. He watched Porthos disappear before dragging d'Artagnan in the other direction. He knew they were disobeying orders, but equally knew d'Artagnan and Aramis would do the same if it was them being confronted with injured and missing friends.
He and Porthos could face the consequences later. Once their friends were safe. Pushing his worry for Aramis and Porthos aside, Athos concentrated on pulling d'Artagnan out of sight. It was not far to their camp and Athos was confident he could get d'Artagnan there. The man would probably acquire a few more bruises in the process but he would be safer.
It was difficult to assess d'Artagnan's injuries. All Athos knew was that his friend looked dishevelled and was unconscious. He could only hope that by moving d'Artagnan he was not making any injuries worse.
Athos was panting by the time he reached their camp. He was lucky the terrain was relatively flat, if it had been rocky, he would have had to carry d'Artagnan. Carrying a full-grown man any distance was difficult, Porthos could do it for a little way, but even he struggled and needed help. At least d'Artagnan had been compliant, one benefit of being unconscious was that he could not complain or make any noises to draw attention to the two of them.
He eased d'Artagnan to the ground, roughly over one of their bed rolls. D'Artagnan did not stir. Athos returned to the edge of their camp and listened for a few seconds, staring intently back the way they had come. The light would return quickly when the sun fully rose. He hoped Porthos would return with Aramis before then.
Once he was sure they had not been followed Athos returned his attention to d'Artagnan. He knelt by his friend and methodically searched for injuries, making a mental note of all that he found.
D'Artagnan did not appear to have been struck on the head, at least not hard enough to leave a bump or any bleeding. There were bruises and grazes on his face. Neither arm seemed injured. There were marks on his knuckles, wounds caused by fighting back. Athos hoped whoever had been on the receiving end of d'Artagnan's punches was suffering.
Athos decided to chance, pulling d'Artagnan's doublet off him. He did not think their hiding place would be discovered, and if they were attacked there was little Athos would be able to do to protect his friend whilst he defended himself.
The unconscious man was easy to manipulate as Athos eased the doublet off. There was no sign of bleeding, much to Athos' relief. He did not like the idea of having to deal with a penetrating injury. It was not until he had pushed d'Artagnan's shirt up to check his ribs that he realised why his friend had passed out. D'Artagnan was covered in bruises. The right side of his chest was almost black with marks. Athos eased d'Artagnan over to his left. The bruises continued onto his back with an obvious mark across his shoulders which would leave d'Artagnan stiff and in pain for some time. It was no wonder he had passed out once he had completed his part of the mission. Athos was impressed that the Musketeer had managed to stay awake as long as he had.
But that was what they did, thought Athos. They thought nothing of their well-being. Only the mission mattered. That and looking out for each other. The secondary part of any mission was probably more important to each of them than the primary goal. They would carry out their work of course, but it would take a lot for any of them to knowingly leave another in danger. They had all done so in the past. They often had no choice, but when there was a possibility to prevent losing one of their own, they would take it.
Athos knew that he and Porthos would be in trouble for disobeying orders. He knew they were likely to be punished for the insubordination. But he also knew that their Captain, at least, would appreciate their self-sacrifice.
Leaving d'Artagnan for a few moments, Athos sought out Aramis' medical bag. He knew his friend would not mind. He pulled out a few of the bottles and pots and after pulling the lid off one of them smiled, he had found what he was looking for. A balm that Aramis made using a method passed to him a few years before. The balm contained an assortment of herbs and oil that created a soothing aroma and somehow eased the pain of bruising. Athos pulled d'Artagnan's shirt away from the nasty bruising to his side and back. He was careful to only apply the balm to unbroken skin. He could only hope it would ease the pain the Musketeer would be in when he came around.
Athos grabbed some cloths and water; he could make use of his time cleaning the grazes d'Artagnan had picked up.
He felt a little useless, waiting. Waiting for Porthos and Aramis. Waiting for d'Artagnan to come around.
Waiting for something to happen.
But he knew something would happen, good or bad. They were not finished yet.
The End.
Whumpee: d'Artagnan. Featuring: Athos.