A/N: Here is mu story. It's my first time to write Aramis as the main character, I hope I got him in character.
My thanks goes to lilgenious for betaing. If there are any mistakes, their all mine.
But now read and enjoy
It was a beautiful day, the sky was empty of clouds and he was in Reims, a beautiful city and one that he had always wished to visit but never found the time to do so. Now he was here, in one of the oldest cities in France and was free to walk around. When he heard that they had a mission here he had hoped that he could show his friends the places that had fascinated him since he was a child. He had wanted to tell them the history of this city. Let Porthos complain about how much he didn't care about history, how he would rather be in some tavern with some wine and a wench. Let Athos interrupt him and correct him time and again. And d'Artagnan would laugh and joke with them.
But it was not happening. Yes, he was in Reims, yes, his friends were here. But he was in the city wandering all alone. And that was because of some petty argument. Alright the argument had been enormous; it had been cruel and hurtful. The words that had been said had sliced his heart open.
He didn't remember how the argument had started and he did not remember the words that were said; the only thing he remembered was that they were said in hate and anger. How had it all reached to this point, he didn't understand. In just few hours his world had turned upside down.
He stopped and took a breath as he tried to find some order in his mind, he closed his eyes at the memory that his friends had said words that caused him pain and found that he had a decision to make. At this thought, his eyes flew open and he found his gaze drawn to the most spectacular sight that he ever set his eyes on. Before him stood Notre-Dame de Reims, standing proud and magnificent in all her glory; nothing could compare to the sight of the old Cathedral that bore witness to countless wars, coronations of French kings, and France's history as a whole. Even Notre-Dame de Paris dimmed in comparison to the glory that this ancient Church seemed to emit from her walls and Aramis was entranced to see the fortress like place of worship.
Aramis had always wanted to visit this fortress like place of the Lord. He had never thought he would come here when he was in this mood and found that he was in desperate need of peace and what better place than the one that made him feel like he was more at home, the church.
He stepped into the church took his hat off and dipped his fingers into the holy water, he crossed himself and paid respect to the Lord he once had served.
He was so deep in his thoughts, that he couldn't even comprehend the beauty and magnificence of the Cathedral. The tall ceiling, the beautiful ornamented pillars and the old stained glass windows were unseen by him as his mind was elsewhere and not focused on the enthralling beauty that the ancient Cathedral provided. He found himself a seat in the second row before alter and closed his eyes to pray.
He didn't know how long he had been there when a voice startled him out his prayer. "My son, are you alright?"
Aramis opened his eyes and saw an elderly priest before him, "Quite, father."
"There is something troubling you, something rests heavily upon your heart." The priest continued.
"Father, everyone has something troubling them." Aramis countered, he couldn't stop himself.
"But everyone is not here, you are, I can help you." the priest sat beside him, "I'm father Maurice."
"Its pleasure, father, I'm Aramis." Even though he wanted to be left alone, the friendliness and kindness what shone from the priest face made him change his mind.
"You are a king's musketeer?" Priest asked.
"You have heard stories?" Aramis knew that most of France had heard stories about the four inseparables, but sometimes he felt embarrassment for the things he had done. This was one of those times
"Stories? No, you are wearing the uniform." Aramis almost laughed right out, it was so logical, how could he have missed that.
Then there was silence, Aramis fell into his thoughts about his friends and the fight they had.
"What are you discussing with the Lord, monsieur Aramis?" the priest finally asked.
"Shouldn't it be between me and the Lord, father?"
"Yes, usually it is, but it seems like the Lord wants me to hear it too," the old priest said, "Otherwise he wouldn't have sent me to find you."
"Yes, you could interpret it that way," Aramis found himself smirking.
"Do you wish to tell me?"
"I don't know where to start." He really didn't know. He had lost the beginning and the end somewhere. Everything seemed so unreal to him, like all of it had happened to someone else.
"From the beginning would be the best place." Father Maurice smiled.
"I don't know exactly where the beginning is, but I'll try. A week ago Captain de Tréville sent me and three of my companions to a mission here in Reims and told us that when we have completed the mission we have two full days off. Yesterday we did what we were sent here to do. Today is the first day of our holyday." Aramis need to gather his thoughts, how could he explain everything that happened to the priest, "In the morning we ate and discussed what we should do. We decided to go and walk around the town and to see Reims in its full glory, me and d'Artagnan, my youngest friend, have never been here." He stopped again, remembering what happened right after the discussion.
"You talked about it, then why are you here alone now?" Father Maurice frowned in confusion; Aramis could understand the priest's bewilderment.
"It all started with a petty argument, we argue all the time, so I didn't even think any of it and suddenly it was large fight. It almost got so bad that one of us would have called one of the other three out. Thankfully it didn't happen because d'Artagnan walked out. He was angry; I don't remember the last time when he was so angry at us. So when he left, we started arguing about who was at fault, we needed to blame someone, but at that time all of us blamed the other."
Aramis took a breath, it was hard to continue. "If Athos hadn't walked out after Porthos called him a cold hearted drunk who didn't care for anyone there would have been a blood spill. He left Porthos and me and we went on in our argument, usually we would have stopped at that point, but we went on. And hurt each other more. I left when I felt that I couldn't talk any sense to him and that if I stayed I would have killed my best friend."
"So now you are here." Father Maurice concluded.
"Yes, I wandered around the town trying to understand where it all had come. We live together, we fight together; we are brothers. Yes, we fight, but we never have had this kind of a fight that it would go as far that we would call each other to duel." Aramis didn't understand anything.
"I see that you have calmed down and are trying to figure it all out. Do you think that your friends are to? Do you think they feel about you the same as you feel about them?" the old priest smiled kindly.
Aramis felt how his temper was rising, how could that priest insinuate something like that. Of course his friends felt as he did. They were family. He wanted to slash out, to say to the priest that "what did he know". Then he remembered that the priest didn't know them.
"Yes, they think, as I do. But calm by now, I don't know they are much more hot tempered than I am." He answered.
"You say, you know them well," the priest continued "what do you think. Are they feeling the same remorse right now as you are?"
Aramis had to think, "No, they are not yet calm or feeling remorse. Like I said they are much more hot tempered than I am. I'm afraid they would do something stupid before they calm down. They would forever, carry the burden of it with them."
"That means you have to find them first." Father Maurice concluded.
"Yes, but I don't know where to find them." Aramis had stopped pondering over the reason why. Now he knew he had much more persisting matters at hand.
"Think about where would they go, what would they do?"
"D'Artagnan would go somewhere quiet and live all his anger out in a practise. Worst case, he will find someone to pick a quarrel with and then call that person out. Athos would go find another tavern and he would try to drown his anger and misery into bottle. He would want to be alone and would live his anger out to the first person who bothers him. Porthos would stay in the tavern where over rooms are. He is the worst of the three of them. He will want both drink and fight." Aramis, knew his friends well, sometimes it felt that he knew them too well. He knew exactly what one of them would say, in a difficult situation. But the first time in many years, the fight had come suddenly and been so enormous that he couldn't stop it and was dragged kicking and screaming into it.
"Then, my son, you have your answer. First you must go find your friend Porthos and make peace with him, he is the easiest of all of them to find. After that you can go find your other two friends. Only peaceful and quiet places, where your young friend d'Artagnan can be, are all outside our fair town. And your third friend is also not hard to find. There are only three taverns in Reims. One of them you are staying and the other two are not hard to find." The Father smiled again.
"You are right, Father," Aramis said as he rose to his feet. "Thank you for listening and giving advice."
"That is what I'm here for, I hope you will find your friends, your family, and you all make peace." The priest rose, "God bless you, Aramis the Kings musketeer."
"And may he bless you to, Father Maurice." He turned and left his heart much lighter than it had been before.
First he made his way to their Tavern, to find Porthos and talk to him. But his large friend was not there. He was not in the main room or even in the bedroom they shared.
"Have you seen my friend monsieur Porthos?" he asked from the matron.
"No, monsieur Aramis, he left right after you did." The matron answered.
Aramis wanted to yell to curse, but he didn't, "Thank you," was only thing he said and left. He went to search for d'Artagnan.
He knew his young friend, d'Artagnan wouldn't go far to have his anger released, so the first place he headed was the closest city gate, Porte Mars. Triumphal arch from Roman times, once it had been the largest triumphal arch in the Roman Empire. But d'Artagnan was not there. He started to walk to the other city gate that was near enough, he knew that the boy wouldn't go to the two farthest. On the way he stepped in to one of the two other taverns. But he didn't find Athos there. And d'Artagnan was not outside the city behind the next gate. It couldn't be, he headed to the third tavern hoping to find Athos there, but he was out of luck, his oldest friend wasn't in the corner of the tavern, all moody and angry.
How could it be, Aramis didn't understand. He knew them well, even better than they themselves. He didn't know anymore where to look, they were gone, they had disappeared. Maybe they had left, leaving him here alone. He was in those dark thoughts when he entered the tavern. Then he heard a laugh, it came from the second floor and he knew who it was, Porthos, only he could laugh like that.
He almost ran to upstairs and stepped in to the room, all his three friends sat around the table talking.
"My friends," he said.
"Aramis!" Porthos boomed, "We have been looking for you everywhere."
"And I you. I wanted to apologise and beg your forgiveness; I shouldn't have said what I did." Aramis neared the table.
"There is nothing to all said things that we regret..." Athos rose and put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "We all beg for your forgiveness."
"Yes." Porthos and d'Artagnan stepped next to Athos.
"But there is nothing to forgive, it is already forgotten," Aramis smiled, "You are my friends, my brothers. We all said things, but I don't even remember what the words were anymore."
"Neither do we." d'Artagnan pulled Aramis into a hug.
"Well, if that's settled, let's go sightseeing." Porthos always knew how to ruin a moment.
Aramis laughed, "I think, I need a drink first."
"You're not the only one." Athos grabbed Aramis under the arm and dragged him towards the stairs. Porthos and d'Artagnan looked each other, shrugged and followed their friends.