Thank you to all the lovely comments on my fic One Day, this is just a little continuation of that as promised, so you might wanna give that a read before checking this out! :)

Enjoy, and if you do, please review!

Thanks

Athos sat at the table, barely registering the mumblings of his two companions by his side. They were all agitated by the empty space their friend left, not just at the table. Tréville had barely given them anything at all, apart from the knowledge that Marsac was dead. He had ordered them to say nothing more unless Aramis wished to speak of it, and they were not to chase him for answers right now.

Porthos had immediately grumbled in resistance, wanting nothing more to ignore such ridiculous orders and find his missing brother. "Leave him be for the moment, if he doesn't return by morning muster then you can find him." Not expecting an argument, Tréville turned and stormed up the stairs leading to his office, ignoring the group's stares.

Athos placed a pacifying hand on his friend's tense shoulder before taking his seat at the table, grabbing at the drink he had left there a few minutes before. The larger Musketeer stayed stood, fuming at the situation, aching to leave. His eyes flew from Tréville's door towards the entrance, back and forth, and Athos could hear his pained thoughts.

"Tréville is right, mon ami, perhaps Aramis needs some space."

"Yeah?" Porthos spoke gruffly as he threw himself beside Athos, watching his friend calmly sip at his drink. "Like we 'ave done all day?" Athos paused, realising exactly what Porthos was getting at. "Look where it's got us. Got 'im." The bigger man shook his head, aiming his gaze now at d'Artagnan, who had managed to stay quiet until this point. "We should go after 'im."

d'Artagnan shifted nervously, subjected to the intense gaze of Porthos, as well as the curious eye of his mentor. Athos watched him wriggle slightly, itching to have the attention redirected, he almost felt sorry for the boy. Porthos was only using him, hoping his impressionable youth would force him to agree, making it two against one.

"Porthos, what is the use? He'll evade us, he always does when he wishes." Athos sighed, sliding his drink away from him for the moment. "Besides, he's probably found comfort elsewhere." Even as he said it he cringed, wondering if that were really the case. He felt two pairs of eyes on him in an instant, knowing the owners both refused to believe his words.

"All we can do is wait, he may even return sooner than we hope." Athos said, trying to sound reassuring.

Porthos' scoff assured him it hadn't worked, but he refused to say more. Porthos would stay, he knew that, but he would do so on the condition that he could complain about it constantly. It would be a long night; Athos reached for his drink.

Daylight finally dawned, and Athos could not be more grateful. He had listened to Porthos' aggravated arguments all night. d'Artagnan had joined in a few times, although thankfully stayed mostly silent, once excusing himself to inform Constance of what had happened. Porthos had offered to accompany the lad, though both he and Athos had seen right through it. d'Artagnan was gaining his strength, but even Athos would find it difficult forcing Porthos back into the garrison whilst he went on the search for his friend.

Now, as the sun beamed in the sky, all eyes were glued to the garrison entrance. The tension was palpable, and even Athos sat anxiously, curious as to whether his friend would turn up. He would, he always did after a wander. Still, there was always that nervous energy around, the question of his whereabouts driving them crazy. There would eventually be a time when Aramis would wander too far, and his companions would be waiting for a very long time. Hopefully not this time, Athos silently prayed.

He sensed Tréville's presence on the balcony, and he glanced up. The Captain nodded, his eyes searching Athos' for some reassurance, although he already knew the answer. Athos shook his head minutely, noticing no change in the older man's posture. It was eating him up, though, and Athos knew because he felt the same. Porthos and d'Artagnan must he think he doesn't care, but he does. There are questions ready and waiting on his lips, his eyes blink only when necessary, lest he miss something. Someone.

The events of the previous day ran like a loop through his mind, and he wondered what the atmosphere would be like when Aramis did return. If he did. Athos had no idea what had happened once he, Porthos and d'Artagnan left the garrison once Aramis had questioned Tréville. All he knew for sure was that there had been a commotion in the armoury, gunshots were heard, and Marsac was dead. What led up to that, and the events following remained a mystery to everyone except Aramis and Tréville.

How could they have followed Aramis though, when he trusted someone such as Marsac? The man was a deserter and assassin, who challenged the integrity of their Captain. His source was a nobody, somebody only riling him to get a good fight from him. Even that episode made Marsac's disposition quite clear, he could hardly be trusted. Aramis was blinded by his old friendship with the man, who he used to be, and refused to see differently.

Athos felt weary, and rubbed a hand over his face, eager to see his friend walk through the garrison now, smiling. Athos had warned him about turning down the wrong path, would Aramis have been able to handle it if the deserter was right? Of course, he wasn't, Tréville had answered his questions. Although, as Athos ran that particular event over and over, he became more and more doubtful. He had seen that mark on the Duke's back, somewhat attesting Marsac's bold claim. Still, did that necessarily confirm their captain's involvement? Perhaps not. However, Tréville's anger when questioned spoke volumes. Nobody wants to be accused of such an awful crime, but Tréville's reaction seemed… odd.

The swordsman shook his head, not yet ready to give way to those thoughts yet. He had warned Aramis off, but truly he had been hoping to protect himself. What would any of them do if the accusation had been true? Would Aramis still be traipsing around alone, wherever he was, mourning the loss of his once close friend? Athos could only wonder as he waited impatiently, aching to get the answers he desperately sought for.

It was a huge relief then, when their marksman and friend stumbled into the garrison just before morning muster was to begin.