Merde, D'Artagnan grumbled to himself as the first Musketeer who caught a view of him was Aramis. Good luck now with his eagle eyes missing my new facial bruises…but perhaps, if I'm lucky…
"How are you faring? What's this?" Aramis asked, grabbing D'Artagnan's cheek, eliciting a hiss from the boy.
"I do not recall seeing this bruise on this side of your face the other day. What did you do? What happened?"
D'Artagnan slapped Aramis' hand away while saying, "I'm fine. I don't need your help." The simple action had him listing a bit, as he was still dizzy.
Porthos saw the exchange and walked over. "'AY! Stop that! What's goin' on?"
"Am I wrong? Did I miss this over your eye yesterday? If I did, I apologize," Aramis said.
"No no no, you didn't, Aramis," D'Artagnan quickly stated, suddenly feeling like a heel.
More embarrassed than anything, D'Artagnan admitted, "I was just feet away from the Bonacieux home when I was- jumped by three Red Guard. They- hit me and punched me as retribution for the illegal duel."
Porthos frowned. "I suppose word didn't get to all of 'em," he said.
Athos had wandered over at that point. Before it could register that the boy's bruises had some additions to the last time he saw him, Porthos pointed to the Gascon and said, "Three Red Guard beat 'em last night. Apparently not every Red Guard was filled in."
Athos looked at the boy. "Did you recognize any of them?"
"Just one. But honestly I don't even know his name. it's the one I kicked in the groin."
"Philip," Aramis said.
"When I saw him at the duel, I recognized him from a time recently when we both stood sentry at the Palace at an event. The small talk I shared with him, unfortunately, ratified my opinion of him as a Red Guard cliché- one full of himself with no justification for it. He went on and on about how his family employed a large number of couturieres, and were extremely wealthy. D'Artagnan's move, I'm certain, would not have sat well with him."
"Perhaps he got word to back off, but did not care," Athos mused.
"It would not surprise me, mon ami," Aramis said wryly.
"You. Infirmary now," Aramis then commanded the boy.
D'Artagnan was too weary to argue. However his first step forward was his last, as he fell forward right onto the Garrison dirt.
"D'ARTAGNAN!" Aramis yelled.
But the boy was out cold. By some miracle he had avoided hitting his head on the ground, his arm bearing the brunt of his collapse.
Porthos snatched him up and they all hurried back to the Infirmary.
"We should start charging him rent for how often he has made the Infirmary his residence lately," Aramis said as he quickly made his way there.
As soon as they divested the young man of his shirt, Aramis started touching various bruises and began saying "New…new…new…" with each colorful abrasion he was certain was not there but twenty-four hours earlier.
Aramis' ministrations roused D'Artagnan from his unconscious state.
"Where were you beaten?" Aramis asked him.
"I told you! A few steps from the Bonacieux-"
"I mean on your body, silly!" Aramis admonished.
"Oh. Um, Once they grabbed me and punched me, I went down. Then it was mostly- kicking. My head and body…"
"Bastards. Three against one. Cowards…" Porthos spat.
"Can you tell me where it hurst the most?"
"I- c-could, but now this room is spinning while I'm just trying to fill in the gaps…"
Athos' fury at what his newly proclaimed younger brother had to endure surprised him- suddenly he wished for these Red Guards' heads on a platter.
"Did they say anything to you? Anything incriminating?" he asked the boy.
"What do you mean? Owwww…" D'Artagnan protested at one of Aramis' pokes.
"Apologies," Aramis said.
"I mean did they say why they attacked you? Did they give away whether or not they knew of the news that you were to be given a pass at retribution? Or did they simply not care?"
"When I tried to explain it to them, they called me a liar. I-suppose they had not been informed…"
Porthos said, "One Red Guard out of the loop is one thing. But for three 'a them to not know? Somethin's fishy."
"Now that we have a name, we will investigate," Athos said.
"ARAMIS! I'm going to be sick…" D'Artagnan suddenly yelled. Before anyone could act, he was vomiting on the floor just beside of the bed.
"S-sorry…," he said, embarrassed.
"It's alright. You're concussed, on top of everything else. You're not going anywhere for now."
"They'll pay for this, pup- be assured 'a that. We'll get you satisfaction," Porthos reassured the boy.
"I got a little s-satisfaction of my own," D'Artagnan replied.
"What do you mean?" Athos asked.
"The one I kicked in the duel- the one Aramis said he knows as Philip- I commented on how small he was down there where I kicked him…" D'artagnan said, smiling.
"And how wise was that? I'm sure they all shared your mirth good-naturedly! Tell me, D'Artagnan, how that went over, three against one?" Athos yelled, suddenly furious with the boy's dangerous brashness.
D'Artagnan just gulped, recalling how in truth, the beating ensued worse than ever after his taunting words.
Porthos broke the tension by addressing Athos. 'Let's you and me fill in Treville while Aramis tends to the pup."
"Not a pup…" D'Artagnan said.
Athos hesitated, then said, "Fine- let us go. And in the meantime, perhaps he can lay there thinking about how much trouble he invites on a good day, and how he brings more than he needs to upon himself with that ill-behaved mouth of his."
Athos then walked away with Porthos before he further admonished this reckless, infuriating boy.
Aramis threw D'Artagnan a warm, sympathetic look.
"He's just worried about you, you know."
But Athos' scolding only made a miserable-feeling D'Artagnan feel worse.
"He has a funny way of showing it," D'Artagnan said, forlornly.
Aramis smiled. "Let me tell you something about the night we left you in the Infirmary after I treated you from the injuries sustained by Vadim and his men, D'Artagnan.
"The three of us all went to the Wren. While Porthos and I were very angry and shocked at what they had done to you, it was clear that Athos took it worst. He was silent and sullen, and brewing with rage at what you were made to endure."
D'Artagnan managed a small smirk. "More silent and sullen than usual?"
"Yes, my fine brother, more than usual. He gets out of sorts when it's beyond his control to protect someone that he cares about. And may I say that typically he shows no emotional connection with any other recruit, since you have arrived that has certainly not been the case with you.
"So when you boasted about your taunting words to the Red Guard, Athos saw that as you inviting trouble that could have clearly been avoided had you just kept your mouth shut. It's just another example of brash, foolhardy recruit Charles D'Artagnan being reckless and needlessly foolish, habits outside of his control that drive him insane."
"I'm sorry," D'Artagnan said.
"It's alright. But for this to occur so quickly after the coronary you almost gave him over Vadim, well, it was just too much for him, and it came out as anger against you."
"I didn't realize- I was foolish."
"Yes, you were. Especially with the odds stacked against you so. Just make sure you see Athos' anger for what it really is- confused love."