"Athos…" D'artagnan warned, hands coming up slowly in surrender to show he had no weapon and meant no harm to his brother. His eyes were fixed on the weapon in Athos' hand, his chest feeling tight in fear of what could happen.
"Don't," Athos particularly growled at the youngest member of their group, eye burning with fire. D'artagnan took a calming breath; eyes glancing towards Aramis who was slowly walking up behind the Captain, his dagger held between his teeth and hands readying to grab Athos.
Porthos watched from the table, shoulders tense and preparing to act in an instant. He saw Athos' grip on his pistol tighten, finger twitching to pull the trigger without knowing the consequences of doing so.
"Athos…" D'artagnan began again, his concern growing as he stared down the barrel of the pistol that used to be his brother's; the soldier now holding said pistol was a shell of a man, no longer knowing what was real and what wasn't.
Athos was a stable man on his good days, apparently this was one of his bad, possibly worst, days. His hand holding the pistol was shaking, which was a site his brothers had never seen before, he was normally so controlled. They had last seen him stumbling towards his house two weeks ago as they had all walked home after a few too many at their regular tavern. All three of his friends had turned in the opposite direction to head for their own homes and had been oblivious to the men waiting for Athos at the end of the street.
"You don't want to do this," D'artagnan said as Aramis took another silent step towards Athos, who had his eyes and attention purely focused on the Gascon stood in front of him.
"What do you know about what I want," Athos snapped and D'artagnan got a warning look from Porthos who had pushed up from the table and following after Aramis, both tense and readying themselves for Athos to pull the trigger.
"Athos please, it's me… D'artagnan," he said and Athos blinked at the man before shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the dizziness and confusion that was currently taking over him. It wasn't them, he thought to himself, the men are still playing tricks on you.
D'artagnan's words seem to work if only for a second, Athos' hand falling slightly to lower the barrel so it was pointing now at D'artagnan's stomach instead of his chest.
D'artagnan didn't know if he preferred being shot in the stomach or the chest. What was the likelihood of Athos missing a vital organ if he was to hit for the chest? That vital organ was D'artagnan's heart after all… Dead in an instant. However, if he was shot in the stomach there was a higher chance of Athos hitting a vital organ but it gave his brothers more time to try and save his life. It was a difficult decision, a decision that D'artagnan didn't get to make though.
Suddenly, Athos turned, whipping around to face Aramis who had been inches away from taking him down. The barrel of the pistol came to press up against Aramis' chest and the marksman opened his mouth slightly, letting the dagger fall to the ground as he froze to the spot. His hands had been out ready to grab Athos around the chest and hit his aim off if he was to shoot. However now, he swore at himself for not being quicker in his actions.
"Athos, stop this. You're not thinking straight," D'artagnan said from behind, glancing at Porthos who had his eyes fixed on Aramis, holding his breath and not daring to move in case Athos fired at his brother.
"Shut up!" Athos growled, his head snapping to the side to aim his shout back at D'artagnan.
He turned back to look at the man who had claimed to be Aramis only moments ago when Athos had stumbled into the garrison, pistol aimed at D'artagnan who had been sparring to build his strength back up with a few of the other musketeers who now stood, all watching and waiting.
"Just… All of you shut up," Athos said, his voice cracking slightly.
Porthos looked at Athos, finally acknowledging the state he was in. He wore the same shirt from two weeks ago; however it was now ripped and stained with wine… Or was it blood, Porthos couldn't tell. He had bruises covering his face and he was favouring his right side over his left. His eyes were bloodshot and pupils dilated, which could suggest the use of drugs. Porthos knew Athos too well to know the man didn't touch drugs on his own accord.
So something terrible had happened to Athos over the last two weeks. It wasn't like him to just disappear for two weeks and not tell anyone. His brothers had searched for him every day since that night, Treville having stressed this morning that they needed a days rest to get back to full strength.
Someone had drugged him, beaten him to no ends before sending him back out into the streets, confused and dazed out of his mind to know what he was doing.
They all stood, waiting for Athos' next move while holding their breaths.
They all jumped when a shot rang loud through the garrison and Porthos couldn't stop himself from shouting Aramis' name.
I don't know if I could continue with this story, do you guys want more?