Athos glanced out the window. Dawn was on the verge of rising, and he looked at Constance. She was sitting against the wall on the hospital bed, D'Artagnan's head lolled to the side of her lap. She was rubbing his hand with her thumb. Her normally fair features looked taut.
Athos envied the young lovers and their beautiful innocence. The last time that he'd been as weak and off his feet as D'Artagnan, he'd been on his back, alongside his friends, drugged, swindled, and humiliated. Milady had snickered alongside the English preener. She certainly hadn't remained at his side, comforting him, supporting him! Not as Constance was at this moment, and D'Artagnan didn't even know she was there.
Athos eyed the wounded boy and how barely his chest rose and fell. Well, he'd made it through the night! That had to count for something. But that was no assurance that he'd make it to the next day. He hoped the doctor would come in soon to check on D'Artagnan, and inform them of his actual progress.
"Has his fever receded, do you think?" Athos asked Constance. She gently felt D'Artagnan's forehead.
"A little." She said whispered. There was no joy in her voice, or despair. Only weariness.
She's wise for her age, that one. Athos thought. She knows he may not come through this, even with little shreds of hopeful signs. Clever girl. Most would be ecstatic for this small change. Where did she become so wise? It's marvelous.
A nurse stepped inside. They all gazed up at her. "Too many visitors. I'll have to ask you to leave." She said sternly.
"No. His family is not here. We are filling in for them." Athos replied gruffly.
"I will have to ask you, sir, to leave." The nurse repeated. Athos briskly rose to his feet.
"Do you realize, Madame, who you are talking to?" He growled.
"Athos." Captain de Treville said calmly, gripping his arm. "Easy, soldier." He whispered. "We'll step out, Mademoiselle." He said politely. "Come, Athos." He gently tugged the seasoned musketeer along.
"I'm not leaving this establishment." Athos warned the nurse.
"Out." The nurse pursed her lips. Captain de Treville pulled Athos out into the hallway, and closed the door.
Constance stood up from the bed. "Give me some room." The nurse ordered her. Constance stepped back.
"I would like to stay, if it's alright." She said quietly. The nurse sighed.
"Just don't get in the way." She grumbled. She bent over D'Artagnan and felt his face. "Fever's down a little." She checked his pulse, and pulled the covers down to see if his bandages were stained with bleeding. The one wrapped around his thigh was, a little. "I have to inform the doctor. Don't disturb him." She gave Constance a warning look.
"Of course not." Constance said sweetly.
"You're very worried for the lad." Captain Treville remarked.
"He's the son of one of our old, dear friends, sir." Athos admitted. "Of course he would be stupid enough to get himself laid up in the hospital on his very first mission! Most likely did it for empathetic attention from the opposite sex. The d- little upstart! He's been nothing but trouble to us." Athos said gruffly.
"You merely say that, to cover up your truer feelings. The boy is more than just another scroungy comrade to you." Captain Treville said softly. "You've looked out for him as a son."
"I wouldn't go so far as to say that." Athos protested stubbornly.
"A protégé, at least. You fancy yourself as guardian over him while he is away from home."
"To what end?" Athos grumbled. "I'm only detaching myself from a brother in arms, should the worst come to be."