Chapter Text
The four inseparables rode into the garrison after a long mission, feeling grateful to finally be back in Paris. Their two week mission had been grueling and exhausting and they all wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a comfortable bed. They dismounted as they arrived at the stables. D'Artagnan reached over to Athos' hands to take the reins of his horse. "I'll take Roger so you can report to Treville. "
Athos nodded his thanks. "I'll meet you for dinner." The others agreed and made their way into the stables.
They were surprised to find Jacques the stable boy was not on hand to take their horses as usual. "Where is Jacques this evening?" D'Artagnan asked with surprise.
"He's ill," the boy answered.
D'Artagnan frowned," I hope it's nothing serious." They handed their horses over to the boy and took their bags back to the garrison. They were surprised at how deserted the place seemed.
The three made their way to the dining room to wait for Athos, it was also nearly empty with just a few men having dinner. "Where is everyone?" Porthos asked Serge as they filled their plates.
"Sick," the older man replied, "Half the regiment's down."
"What do you mean?" Aramis asked with concern, "What kind of sickness?"
The older man shrugged, "Not sure, seems to start with a cough, then there's high fevers, some of 'em even fainting. Started more than a week ago."
The three were sitting with their uneaten meals in front of them when Athos entered the room a short time later. "You've heard of the sickness?" He asked seeing their worried expressions.
"A bit," Aramis answered, "What does Treville say?"
"Nearly half the men are sick. The infirmary is full. Recovery is slow, but so far the men seem to be starting to get better. " He paused, letting the news sink in. "He's asked us to help cover tonight's patrols. I know we've had a long day, but there just aren't enough men. "
"Of course," Aramis answered and the others agreed. "We should try to get a little sleep at least after we eat. " They ate mainly in silence, worrying about the fate of the others. Aramis especially wanted more information on the illness itself and planned to speak to the physician in the morning and see how he might help.
After eating they made their way back to their rooms to get a few hours sleep before their midnight patrols. The inseparables were split up in their duties as Treville was using them to fill in for his absent Musketeers.
D'Artagnan was sent off on patrol with an older Musketeer named Dubois. He was grateful when he saw who he would be assigned with. Some of the other men seemed to have some resentment that he was sent on so many important missions despite his youth and limited time with the regiment. Dubois was a kind, likable man who saw the talent and potential within the younger man.
Dubois greeted him warmly, "Thought I'd be on my own for the night. Glad to have some company. You've been away?"
D'Artagnan nodded, "Two weeks."
"You've missed out on all of the sickness then, that's good. " D'Artagnan noticed the man's voice seemed a bit hoarse.
"Are you well Dubois? You sound..." D'Artagnan paused, not wanting to overstep.
The older man smiled, "I'm fine, I think. Bit of a cold, but I don't think it's what the other lads have. At least I hope not..."
D'Artagnan smiled in response,"Let's assume it's not then. "
After only a couple hours of sleep the night was a long one for the Gascon. After a few hours though, he noticed the night seemed even longer for Dubois. The older man seemed to be fading fast. What had started as an occasional cough seemed to be getting rapidly worse and the younger man was fairly sure he was developing a fever.
Several times he asked if he was alright and Dubois insisted he was. By the predawn hours his shivering was uncontrollable and he could not deny his illness any longer. He adamantly refused D'Artagnan's suggestions to go to the infirmary, refusing to abandon his post while on duty.
As much as D'Artagnan was worried, he knew he would do the same. He insisted that Dubois at least take his cloak to put over his own and sit and rest for a few moments. He also ensured the man's promise that he would allow himself to be taken to the infirmary at first light when their patrol was over.
By the time the sun rose Dubois was clearly struggling. It was all D'Artagnan could do to keep him upright as they slowly made their way to the infirmary. He was weak and feverish, and he was frequently doubled over by bouts of violent coughing. D'Artagnan was immensely grateful to see Aramis approach as they neared the garrison.
"D'Artagnan what's happened?" He rushed over to assist.
"He's ill, he seemed fine last night, said he just had a cold, but he got sicker and sicker. I tried to get him to go to the infirmary sooner but he refused." The regret and guilt were obvious in his voice.
"S'not your fault lad. I wasn't about to leave my post...." The response came through chattering teeth.
"No need for any blame," Aramis came around to Dubois' other side taking some of the burden of his weight from his friend. "Let's just get to the infirmary now. "
Even with two men the trip to the infirmary was slow and difficult. Dubois needed to stop every few minutes as the coughs wracked his weakened body. They did their best to support him.
"D'Artagnan," Aramis spoke softly over the head of the ill man, quiet enough so that he would not hear, "Please move your head away more when he's coughing. I don't want you to get ill. "
The younger man nodded his thanks and tried to shift his position.
Once they arrived at the infirmary Aramis sent D'Artagnan on his way to breakfast and stayed to help the physician with Dubois. "I'll be along soon, let the others know where I am. " D'Artagnan nodded and set off for the dining room.
He found Athos and Porthos eating their breakfast. He told them of the events of the morning, and Aramis staying behind in the infirmary. Porthos frowned at that news,"I wish he wouldn't do that. He's going to get himself sick one of these days taking care of everyone else."
"Fortunately, that rarely happens, fortunately for all of us," Athos added with a faint smile and the others laughed. Even D'Artagnan had seen how difficult Aramis was to manage when ill.
They had all been finished for some time when Aramis arrived. He gave the others an update on what he had learned about the sickness and told them he planned to return to the infirmary that afternoon after a few hours rest to help the physician care for the men there.
"Aramis..." Porthos began but his friend interrupted.
"Porthos, I know you're worried, but help is needed."
"You will be careful Aramis," Athos chimed in. "None of want to see you fall ill."
"I will. I appreciate your concern my brothers, but there is only one physician and so many men are ill." The others grudgingly agreed and then Aramis turned to their youngest, "D'Artagnan, you will of course let me know if you start to feel ill?"
"I'll be fine Aramis." He noted the glare from the other man, " But of course I will. Please take care of yourself too."
The four friends parted ways and made their way back to their rooms for a few hours sleep. The afternoon found Aramis in the infirmary and the others filling in duties for some of the many sick Musketeers.
Over the next few days the four men rarely saw each other. Normally their duties frequently took them away from Paris and the palace together, unless there was official business for the king and queen. Those activities were on hold due to the sickness so the inseparables continued to fill in as needed for their ill comrades often covering several patrols each day.
D'Artagnan found himself somewhat grateful for the absence of his friends when he started to feel under the weather a couple of days later. He was sure that he was just coming down with a cold, but knew that the others would certainly be over protective. Serving his duties with numerous other soldiers made it easy to conceal his symptoms and not arouse any unnecessary concern.
On the third day of his illness he had woken with a pounding headache and pressure behind his eyes. His throat was raw and painful and before long his voice grew hoarse. He spoke as little as possible and kept to himself when off duty. Instead of meeting up with the others for supper he slipped off to his room for a nap. He hoped they would think he was still on patrol. He was starting to develop a cough, a very slight one, he reminded himself, and he didn't want to cause the others, especially Aramis any undue worry.
His presence was missed at dinner and the others did stop by his room to look for him. He was so deeply asleep by then that he did not even hear their knocking. Aramis was very concerned though the others felt sure he had most likely been pulled into other duties.
D'Artagnan woke several hours later shivering violently, he knew that a fever would most likely be coming next. He finally fell back into a restless sleep, waking several hours later, his sheets drenched with sweat. By the next morning he could not deny his illness. His cough was hacking and painful, and his headache was impossibly even worse than the previous day. He knew that he was well past the point of just a cold.
He slowly dragged himself out of bed and dressed for duty. He was startled by a loud knocking on his door, "Are you in there lad?" Porthos called
D'Artagnan cleared his throat forcefully before responding,"I am Porthos, just getting dressed."
"Good, we were worried about you last night! The king's holding court this morning. Treville wants the four of us there. You've got half an hour."
"I'll meet you there." The younger man managed, hoping the hoarseness if his voice was harder to detect through the door.
"All right then lad. We'll see you then. I'm off to wake Athos. "
D'Artagnan realized as Porthos walked away that the smart thing to do would have been to admit he wasn't feeling well right then. But they were wanted in the court. His duty was to Treville and the king and he would perform his duties as expected. By the time he was ready to leave he had managed to convince himself that once he made it through the morning the rest of the day would be easier.
He found the short trip to the palace surprisingly difficult. He was surprised at how weak he felt. He had to stop several times to catch his breath after violent coughing fits and wait for waves of dizziness to pass. By the time he arrived he had only moments to spare. He slipped into position next to his friends. Their relief at his timely arrival, quickly turned to concern once they got a good look at him.
His color was unnaturally pale and there was a fine sheen of sweat across his forehead. He was breathing rapidly and he seemed somewhat shaky. Aramis started to lean over to question him but was thwarted by the arrival of the king and queen. He shot a meaningful look at the Gascon who didn't seem to even notice.
D'Artagnan was barely aware of his surroundings, all of his energy was focused on trying to remain upright. Athos, who was beside him was acutely aware of his distress but unable to do anything to help his friend.
They had hoped the king would be brief, but after weeks without holding court he was taking full advantage of having an audience. The longer he went on the more obvious D'Artagnan's distress, in addition to struggling to control the unrelenting urge to cough, he was shivering fiercely, fighting chills as his fever climbed. The queen, following Aramis' worried gaze became aware of the his state and tried to discreetly hurry her husband along.
Treville also had noted the boys struggle and was about to risk interrupting the king when a sudden gasp and violent fit of coughing erupted from the Gascon. He tried to excuse himself and step away but he found himself struggling to get his breath. Within moments he was overcome with dizziness and lost consciousness.