Athos sat vigilantly beside D'Artagnan's hospital bed, still as a palace sentry, watchful as a wolf on the hunt, and just heartsick. Porthos had left some time ago to inform Aramis on D'Artagnan's precarious condition, and also ask after Felice. D'Artagnan lay still in the bed, gravely pale and listless. The older, wiser musketeer shuddered miserably. The image of the boy's blood-bathed uniform swam constantly before his eyes. So much blood! It was a miracle D'Artagnan was still breathing!
"How did we come to this, boy?" Athos asked miserably. D'Artagnan didn't respond, save for the small rising and falling of his chest. The young, fiery scamp had literally stumbled into the lives of Athos and his companions. The scamp and his slip of a shrinking violet sister. Opinionated they were, reckless, but above all, honorable. They had stout, noble hearts. D'Artagnan was impetuous, but clever. Quick-witted, but ultimately resourceful. He reminded Athos greatly of Maurice D'Artagnan. The same upstart attitude, lined with a heart of gold, and a true knight's hand at arms.
Athos still would not verbally admit it. He still did not fully grasp the acute reality of his feelings for young D'Artagnan, and his sister. He loved the boy. He loved the boy as his own, and though he'd displayed otherwise with his crotchety exterior, he was honored to be mentoring the offspring of his old friend in Gascony. The lad could drive one to madness at times, picking unnecessary fights and trying to win himself in the ladies' good graces. The little whippersnapper had been hanging around Porthos too long, Athos had decided. But D'Artagnan was kind-hearted at best, diligent to a fault, and had uncanny instincts that would greatly serve him in his glorious future as a musketeer! If...he lived that long.
To imagine their recently dull lives of monotony without D'Artagnan and Felice, Athos found his chest aching. Those kids belonged with him, and Porthos, and Aramis! They were brethren thrown and sworn together for a great cause. That band of camaraderie was inseparable.
And young Felice. Timid yet outspoken, pretty, sheltered Felice was part of that band too, even though she insisted otherwise. She had a heart for the less fortunate, as demonstrated in her unorthodox rescue of Kitty from Milady. She wanted to serve her country, her queen, from the meager simplicity she'd been brought up in. She was a refreshing asset to the musketeers, even Captain Treville had seen that. Felice and D'Artagnan were like two parts of the same heart, each worthless without the other as they both pumped blood into the line of arteries.
The doctor was certain that Felice would surpass her injuries, but what of her brother? If he did not make it, she would be shattered, like a wilting rose just beginning to bloom.
"You will come out the other end of this the victor, do you hear me, boy?" Athos demanded, his voice quaking. "That's an order! What am I to tell your father if you don't fulfill your agreement? If...if you think the entire musketeer army is going...to do your fighting for you while...you choose to have a lazy Sunday afternoon, then you are sorely mistaken, damn you!" Athos scolded in a thick voice, standing over the boy. "I'll not have it!"
Porthos found Planchet on his cot, lying on his back and snoring loudly. He found Kitty in his own bed chamber! But the little girl looked like such a sweet babe dozing away that the frivolous giant didn't have the heart to move her. He made his way to Athos's old room. There, he found Aramis sitting beside Felice, holding her hand. She was sleeping. Aramis looked up.
"Porthos!" Aramis gasped. "What word?"
"How is the lass?" Porthos asked grimly. Aramis stiffened. His friend was dodging the question, hence he had come with very bad news.
D G-, no! He thought with dread. "She is running a bit of a fever, but it is not high. She's holding her own. What of D'Artagnan, Porthos?"
Porthos looked down at the floor before answering. "Not as well as the girl, my good friend. Not at all. The boy struggles for every breath. My dear Aramis, if there was ever a time you were to plead to high heaven with the most urgent prayers in the book, it is tonight! The lad is not in a favorable state at all. The doctors are not even sure if he will last the night!"
"Dear G-." Aramis winced. Felice moaned in her sleep, squirming. Aramis stroked her face with a wet cloth and shushed her, hoping she would go back to sleep. If she had been conscious enough to hear their conversation...if she knew the true danger her brother was in, her own condition could deteriorate quickly!
"Char-" Felice mumbled unhappily. Aramis brought a cup of water to her lips.
"Felice? Here, drink this darling." He whispered. She groggily sipped the water, then whimpered in pain. "Shh. You'll be alright, love. Go to sleep." Aramis told her quietly, patting her hand.
"Char-"
"Sleep." Aramis insisted. Felice's fluttering eyes dropped closed and her breathing evened out. Aramis rubbed her small fingers between his. "That's it. Sleep, darling." He whispered.
"You should see Athos, Mon ami." Porthos said in a sadly fond voice. "You could tell him the entire hospital was ablaze, and you still wouldn't be able to pry him from the boy's side! He won't leave him for any reason, not even to use the privy!"
"He's grown very attached to D'Artagnan, as have we all." Aramis agreed. "I pray to God he pulls he survives the night! It were only his other wounds, I would not be half as worried! But that gash to the thigh-"
"Shh!" Porthos puffed loudly. His eyes tilted down toward Felice. "Do you require assistance, my friend? Anything I can do to help?"
"No, thank you, Porthos. Planchet is here to run errands, and I have Kitty on hand to help with the nursing." Aramis smiled. "You'd best get back to our companions. Athos needs an extra shoulder to lean on, even though he'll never admit it. I would feel more at ease knowing he is not alone. Ever since these two arrived, it is the first I have seen dear old Athos truly happy and ready to thrive again, since-"
"Wi. The stuffy reprobate has been more of his old self. I will return in the morning."
"Godspeed, Porthos. I pray you will come back bearing good news!"
"I pray so." Porthos nodded solemnly. Aramis would've laughed, if D'Artagnan's condition wasn't so grave, as everyone knew that Porthos was not a praying man. "Take care of the girl." He patted Felice's hand, then took his leave.
There was a light knock on the hospital door of D'Artagnan's room. "Come in." Athos muttered, barely audible. "How is he?" A small, genteel voice asked. Athos whirled around and saw Constance standing in the doorway, removing her cloak hood. Captain de Treville was standing behind her.
"My lady!" Athos stood. "What are you doing out at this late hour?"
"I came to be with D'Artagnan." Constance said. "The queen granted me her blessing to see him."
"You shouldn't travel alone at night, in case the after effects of the last time you did so have escaped your mind!" Athos scolded.
"I remember it very well, good sir." Constance said calmly. "And I was not alone. Her majesty sent for Captain de Treville himself to escort me. She said after the unpleasant dealings with Rochefort, she wouldn't trust me with anyone else."
Athos sighed, nodding. "I am sorry, my lady." He bowed his head. With D'Artagnan and Felice both bedridden from recklessness, his urge to protect was coming out more as frustration. "Please sit down." He offered her his chair.
"Thank you." Constance smiled. She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge beside D'Artagnan. She squeezed his left hand. He looked thinner than before, not the robust hard-head he'd been this week! She reached out and stroked his cheek. "Merci, Captain, for seeing me safely here." She said sweetly.
"My honor, lass." Captain Treville gave a small smile. He gave Athos a quizzical look. Athos shook his head wearily.
"He is so weak." Constance gulped. "He's as pale as a ghost."
"He lost a considerable amount of blood, my lady." Athos said grimly. Captain de Treville stood at the foot of the bed as Athos resumed his spot in the chair on D'Artagnan's right. Constance continued to caress his face.
"What do the doctors say?" She asked. Athos grimaced sadly. He met her eyes, and a lump climbed up his throat.
"Pray, my lady." Athos said grimly. "If you wish him to see the morning."
"Ohh," Constance's lips quivered, and tears filled her eyes. She looked back at D'Artagnan, wishing he'd open his blue eyes. "I'm here, D'Artagnan." She whispered. "I know you can fight this and win! You're so brave. You can be stupid at times, but...I don't know how you pull it off, but you always manage to sway that absent-mindedness to your advantage!" She laughed in a quaky voice. "Come now, D'Artagnan. Are you going to just let an over-sized vermin like Rochefort keep you down like this? I can't imagine so! Prove me wrong...please."
"I've posted men at every doorway." Captain Treville said. "And four each around this section of the place, and six outside the window."
"Very good, sir." Athos nodded, though the heightened security was only a small comfort.
Aramis was lousily arching his head back. Craning his neck, dozing. A shriek from the bed shook him instantly awake. Felice jolted upwards only to yelp in pain from her injured ribs. "Felice!" Aramis exclaimed, on his feet. "Lie down. You must lie down!" He urged her firmly, and gripped her arms down so she wouldn't squirm around. "Shh."
"Where's Charles?" Felice panted.
"He's under proper care."
"Wha-why? What happened?" She tried to sit up to look around the room for her brother.
"Shh. Felice, you're hurt. You must lie still." Aramis said firmly. "I will not have you increasing your injuries."
"Aramis, where are we?"
"We're home, darling."
"Where's Charles? Rochefort is going to kill him! He needs help!" Felice cried.
"He's getting help, love. Now please calm down." Aramis told her soothingly.
"I have to help him! You have to tell Athos!" Felice tried again to sit up.
"Felice, listen to me!" Aramis exclaimed sharply, pressing her down in the bed. "Listen. Just listen. Athos is at D'Artagnan's side right now, love. He's safe. He's in good hands, I promise you." He said more quietly. Kitty burst into the room, tripping in an over sized nightshirt of Porthos's.
"Sir! What has happened? Miss Felice, are you alright?" Kitty asked.
"Calm yourself, Kitty." Aramis said. "Felice just had a fright, that's all."
"Oh. Is there anything I can do?"
"Wake Planchet to put on some tea, then go back to bed, child." Aramis said.
"Yes, sir." Kitty curtsied, but her legs gave under her with Porthos's gigantic shirt and she dropped to the floor. Felice glanced over, still panting. She would've laughed if she wasn't so disoriented, or felt like boulders had been thrust inside her torso.
"Oh, Kitty." Aramis chuckled. He stooped next to her and pulled underneath her arms. "Up you go." He heaved her to her feet. "Come, I will help you." Kitty's jaw dropped when the priest scooped her up in his arms.
"Sir! Wh-wha-" She sputtered.
"Helping you to bed, my lady." Aramis chuckled. "I will be right back." He told Felice. "Stay calm, Felice." With that, he whisked Kitty through the door.
Felice stared longingly at the open door, wishing Aramis hadn't left her. She felt alone and scared. Why wasn't D'Artagnan here with her? Rochefort had been after him! He'd shot her, then...then...Aramis and Porthos had found her. Then...then...D'Artagnan had been hurt, badly hurt! Where was he now? Why couldn't she remember?
"Rochefort shot me," she told herself, trying to bring her breathing to a bearable level. "Then...then...Aramis and Porthos were there…and then? Then...Kitty tried to help me. Aramis and Constance were helping me, I think. Then...Charles. Aramis and Porthos were yelling at each other, why? Something about Charles. He...he...he IS hurt! He was hurt on the ship!"
"Charles," Felice bit her lip. "What if he dies?"
She realized she was very thirsty. She glanced around and saw a jar of water on the nightstand. She extended her arm out, trying to reach the jar but she wasn't close enough. Trying to sit up, she sucked in a breath. Her ribs flared at her. She tried leaning slightly to the side to reach, but that was a mistake. She fell forward on her side in the bed and tried to catch her breath.
Aramis returned quickly to her side. "I'm here, love. I'm sorry, but I didn't want Kitty to tumble all the way back to her bed chamber." He said.
"Mph." Felice nodded. She chewed her lip hard.
"What are you doing?! You shouldn't be moving around, darling!" Aramis scolded her. He gently helped her lie back again. "Don't do that again!" He exclaimed harshly. "Felice, are you trying to get yourself killed?!"
"No," Felice winced in a small voice. "Stop...yelling at me!" She hollered back through clenched teeth. "You're not...making things any...ahh...better by raising your voice."
The priest braced himself, closing his eyes to shove down the anger running through him. How could she be so stupid? But, she's right. Losing my temper isn't helping matters, he thought. "I'm sorry, dear." He grunted. "But you cannot go moving around like that at a time like this. I just don't want you to get worse."
Felice looked up at him sadly. "Aramis? Wh-where is Charles?"
"He's in the hospital, Felice. Rochefort hurt him pretty badly, do you recall?"
"The hospital? I have to...be with him." Felice pleaded, breathing heavily.
"Not tonight, love. Stay still. Sleep." Aramis shook his head, pushing down on her shoulders.
"Aramis, please-"
"No. Go to sleep." Aramis instructed her, feeling his hand against her face. She was warm, a little sweaty, but not burning up, he realized with relief. Felice was wincing. "Are you in pain, dear?"
"Y-yes." Felice bit her lip, hard. Aramis leaned closer to the edge of the bed.
"Let me take a look." He said, reaching down. But then he halted.
How would she feel, being bedridden, completely alone with him, at his mercy where he may have to touch her? They were completely alone! She was such a lovely young woman. He longed to run his hand through her long auburn hair, and to brush his fingers against her skin. But...would she be afraid if he did? Would she cower, frightened that he might force himself on her while she was so vulnerable? What if she withdrew from him, fearing he would treat her as Buckingham had?
"Dear, I only wish to insure that you haven't broken more ribs, that's all." Aramis explained quietly. "If you have, I'll have to send Planchet quickly for the physician. It will only take a moment."
"Alright." Felice nodded grimly. Aramis carefully pressed his hands to her torso, and she grimaced hard, moaning. She gasped as he prodded along her extremely tender ribs. "Please...stop." She begged.
"I'm sorry, love." Aramis quickly withdrew his hands. "You may have caused another minor fracture. But I cannot be sure. That's why you must lie as still as possible."
"Mmm-hmm." Felice nodded with her eyes closed.
"I want to make sure you didn't pull out your stitches." He said firmly.
"If I did...I think I'd be the first to know." Felice mumbled flatly.
"True. But you have gone more pale since I came back in here." Aramis said. "That's a worrisome sign."
Felice shuddered at the idea. The thought of Aramis undoing her skimpy hospital shift to see and touch her exposed skin! Surely Aramis wouldn't hurt her! That wasn't his way. He'd always been careful to respect her modesty, always. She wanted to believe that he would still be discreet now, but…
Every other time men have tried to remove my clothes, it was to have their 'fun' with me! Even Buckingham! She thought anxiously. Albeit, he didn't follow through with it, his intention had been clear! Can I trust Aramis? REALLY trust him, with this? This is different! Will he just act as a doctor would, all business and diagnosing the problem at hand? Of course he will! Won't he? Felice swallowed, wrestling back and forth with her mind. He will! He won't! He's going to keep me in his clutches, just like the others! No, he wouldn't! He might, though! No, Aramis would never do that! He's still a new acquaintance, you don't know him THAT good.
I can't let him touch me! But...he has to. What if I have pulled my stitches? I certainly hurt like heck! What If I don't let him and I die, or something goes wrong? He'll blame himself. He shouldn't do that! Imagining Aramis living the rest of his life tormenting himself with false guilt nearly brought tears to her eyes. And an unexpected, weird feeling washed over her.
It's as if part of me actually wants him to? NO, I don't! I don't want any man to touch me again with my naked skin! But, Aramis has always been so kind to me, firm but kind. He wouldn't dishonor me! Would he? Her mind said that yes, she wanted Aramis to touch her, just to confirm that he would do it in a chivalrous manner, and then she'd be able to relax. But her emotions were screaming, 'No, no. He'll become aroused and hurt me like the others tried to!' "
"Felice?" Aramis waited, one arm folded across his chest, and the other sticking his finger into his mustache.
Felice forced herself to breathe. "Just...make it quick, Aramis." She sighed defeatedly. The priest stared at her, surprised at her compliancy.
"Felice, do you trust me?" Aramis asked somberly.
"Yes. I trust you." Felice murmured, briefly meeting his eyes. She started shivering, and not from the fever!
"Alright." Aramis said. He slightly lifted the covers and the lower bodice of her shift. The bandage was more red than before. That worried him. He barely pinched the edge of the bandage and squinted. Felice tensed up when she felt his large fingers so close to her bare skin. But, surprisingly, his fingertips felt warm. Very warm, and so gentle. She breathed and waited. Aramis pulled the candle from the nightstand to his side and looked closer. Then he set it back. "Alright. You don't appear to have disturbed your stitches, thank God." He said with relief as he covered her back up.
"Good." Felice answered quietly. "I'm...thirsty! Can I have some water, please?"
"Of course." Aramis poured her a cup then held it as closely to her lips as possible. She drank her fill then lay her head back down.
"Thank you." She whispered.
"You need to sleep, love." Aramis said, kneeling at the bedside and giving her hand a squeeze.
"Charles-"
"He's safe, Felice." Aramis smiled kindly. "Trust me, he is safe." Felice gazed at him pensively.
"I...believe you." She forced herself to say. The cathedral clock struck three.