The right thing to do

by elbcw

'The attacker pushed Aramis down harder preventing any further attempts to reach the surface merely inches above him. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to take a breath, only this time it would not be air that entered his lungs.'

Authors note: My second go at this Fanfiction lark (already a bit addicted). Thanks to GoGirl212 for pointing out my first attempt at uploading this story had some issues. Hopefully it has worked this time...just think, this kind of technical wizardry would probably have us all burnt at the stake before breakfast back then!

The right thing to do.

Crouching down Aramis dipped the water skin into the stream. The water was deep enough that the skin filled quickly.

'D'Artagnan, I told you to stay put. You're in no state to be walking around,' he said as he heard the gravelly bank of the stream crunch underfoot.

Sighing at his patient's inability to do as he was told, he stood and turned. It was not d'Artagnan who had approached, a young man stood on the bank of the stream with an expression of nothing but anger. Without warning he pushed Aramis backwards towards the stream. Aramis stumbled on the rocks and fell backwards into the water. The stranger continuing to push him down by the shoulders, forcing his head under the water. The man managed to straddle Aramis to prevent him from getting up. He was heavier than Aramis, and determined in his murderous task.

Aramis struggled. He tried to prize the man's hands off his shoulders, when that did not work he tried to push at the man's face. Nothing seemed to work. He managed to push up enough to take a gasp of air before again being pushed into the chilly water with renewed vigour.

The attacker pushed Aramis down harder preventing any further attempts to reach the surface merely inches above him. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to take a breath, only this time it would not be air that entered his lungs.

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A little earlier…

Porthos and Aramis were sniggering. Something had set them off. D'Artagnan had no idea what, he had learnt over the past year that there was no point asking, it would be some juvenile private joke and he was probably better off letting them get on with it.

They had been riding steadily for several hours. They were due a break and needed to water the horses and allow them to rest. D'Artagnan had been keeping an eye out for a stream for the last couple of miles. He noticed a stream to his right which would do the job. He twisted round in his saddle to face his companions.

He just had time to register two shocked expressions as his horse reared so suddenly he had no time to react. He fell heavily on to his back, the air in his lungs being pushed out by the impact leaving him gasping for air and confused. His horse was still moving erratically above him. The mare's hooves were pounding down around him, he instinctively curled up and tried to protect his head. A hoof knocked him painfully in the back.

He became aware that he was being moved away from the still hysterical horse. Porthos had grabbed his arms and was dragging him to safety whilst Aramis was doing his best to calm the frantic beast. D'Artagnan watched as Aramis had to move aside several times before he was able to grab the reins and talk calmingly to the beast which continued to be jumpy but appeared to be under control.

'What happened?' he asked glancing up at Porthos who was watching Aramis with concern.

'Don't know, horse just went mad, couldn't see any reason for it…' Porthos replied.

Aramis had finally got the horse under control, he had dismounted from his own calm horse and was looking around for the possible cause of the upset. He obviously spotted something on the ground and jabbed at it with his foot before kicking it away. Satisfied that the horse was no longer a danger to them or itself he walked over to his friends.

'A dead adder lying on the path,' he said as he knelt beside d'Artagnan and began feeling his head for bumps or cuts.

D'Artagnan allowed him to check his head, he had learnt it was useless to argue with Aramis when he was in medic mode.

'Did you get kicked?' Aramis asked.

'My back…I don't think anything is broken…' he winced as he took a deep breath.

He saw Aramis and Porthos look worriedly at each other. Porthos helped him to sit up.

'That jacket needs to come off, I want a look before we carry on.'

D'Artagnan allowed himself to be helped out of his doublet and for Aramis to lift his shirt up. He felt Aramis' fingers gently probing his back. He winced again when Aramis hit the spot where the horse had kicked him.

'You're right, nothing seems broken, but you're going to have an impressive bruise. I have a salve that should help a little,' Aramis paused and looked around, spotting the stream that d'Artagnan had seen earlier, 'let's get you over there, we can water the horses and have something to eat.'

D'Artagnan allowed himself to be helped up. Aramis carefully steadied the young man and kept a reassuring hand on his arm as they made their way towards the stream.

Porthos went about collecting the horses which had started to wander off after the drama of the snake incident.

'Sit there whilst I refill the water skins.'

D'Artagnan did not argue and allowed himself to be lowed back to the ground. He leant against a tree, at an angle to avoid leaning on the part of his back where he had been hit by the horse. He watched Aramis walk over to the stream.

A noise to his left caused him to look round only to be met with a well-aimed punch to the face which left him stunned and reeling.

He was not aware of being unconscious just very confused. He blinked and tried to shake his head to clear the fog. He heard Aramis saying something to him, but Aramis was by the stream, why would he be talking. He tried to focus on the direction of the stream, where he could hear splashing, but his eyes and brain remained foggy. He could see someone hunched over by the stream but it did not look like Aramis, the figure wore a darker doublet and was of a bigger and broader build. The splashing continued as d'Artagnan finally managed to bring his sight into focus.

He scrambled to his feet as fast as his complaining back would allow. The stranger was trying to drown Aramis who was desperately fighting him off. D'Artagnan could see that Aramis was already losing the battle.

A yell to his right and the unmistakable sound of a gunshot brought d'Artagnan fully to his senses. He looked round to see Porthos running towards the stream.

The gunshot had distracted the stranger long enough for Aramis to push the man off him. The stranger took the chance and scrambled to his feet and tore off away from the bedraggled, gasping musketeer and into the woods.

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Porthos took stock of the situation as he ran towards the stream. Aramis was conscious and breathing, albeit in between coughing and spluttering. He did not seem in immediate danger. D'Artagnan seemed dazed, Porthos had no idea why, but he was standing which was a good thing.

The attacker was running away. The attacker was the one that interested Porthos most at that moment in time.

Whilst he had been gathering up the horses he had noticed the dead snake that Aramis had kicked a couple of feet off the path. Porthos had bent down and looked at it closely and noticed that the snake had a clean straight wound just behind its head. The snake had met its end via a dagger not some natural cause. Porthos was quick to concluded that the snake had been deliberately placed on the path to cause an accident. It was at that point Porthos became aware of something happening down by the stream and hastened towards it.

Porthos lost the stranger in the dense woods and decided it would be safer to return to his comrades. If the attacker was determined he might double back around. Porthos was not convinced either of his friends could put up much resistance at the moment.

As he approached the stream he found that Aramis was now out of the water and sat further up the bank. D'Artagnan was knelt beside him with an arm across his shoulders as Aramis continued to cough spasmodically.

'How is he?'

'Fine, thanks,' replied Aramis before d'Artagnan could speak. Porthos noted that Aramis was still breathing heavily in between coughs.

'What happened to you?' asked Porthos looking at d'Artagnan, 'you were just standin' there watching.'

'I'm sorry… I think he hit me before he attacked Aramis, I couldn't focus properly.'

At these words, Aramis looked up at the young man and noticed the bruise blossoming on his forehead.

'He's right, look at his head,' said Aramis still drawing in gasping breathes, 'how is your vision now? Are you dizzy or nauseous?'

Porthos inwardly sighed as Aramis switched to worrying about d'Artagnan rather than himself. It was a quality that Porthos loved but one that also frequently concerned him.

Porthos knelt down on the other side of d'Artagnan, 'right, I am not happy staying here for too long in case he comes back. You,' he looked at Aramis, 'are you OK to carry on?' Aramis nodded. 'Good, if you have dry clothes change into them, I don't want you getting ill with the cold. I will deal with d'Artagnan.'

With a bow of his head Aramis rose to his feet and slowly made his way over to his horse. Porthos watched him go, concerned that his friend had been shaking slightly, but unable to tell if it was the cold or shock or possibly both. Aramis seemed steady enough on his feet and able to busy himself stripping off his wet clothes without keeling over.

Porthos turned his attention back to d'Artagnan who seemed distracted. 'Sorry I snapped at you.'

'It's OK you didn't know what had happened. I'm glad you came when you did. I knew I should do something to help him but I couldn't seem to work out what.'

'Bangs on the head do that. Hangovers do it too,' Porthos replied with a smile as he helped d'Artagnan to his feet.

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Aramis shivered, the stream had been cold and the continued coughing had made him feel weak. He did not want to worry his companions, not whilst d'Artagnan was in greater need. The young man had now been injured twice in quick succession. He glanced over at Porthos and d'Artagnan. Porthos was talking quietly to the younger man, probably trying to assess the extent of any concussion.

'Did you get a good look at him?' called Porthos as he and d'Artagnan walked over.

Aramis paused and thought, his left boot pulled half way up. It had all happened so quickly. He pulled the boot the rest of the way up. He stood up and tucked his dry shirt into his trousers.

'I was a bit busy at the time Porthos,' he said sarcastically, but with a hint of a smile. Then a thought popped into his head and he looked off into the distance trying to grasp what it was that had occurred to him.

'I was only asking,' retorted Porthos who then noticed his friends far away stare. 'What?'

'You know, I think I might have recognised him, he was about d'Artagnan's age but bigger in stature, more your size Porthos. He was strong…definitely strong…' he tailed off thinking again.

There was something somewhere in his mind. But it just would not come to him. His thoughts were interrupted by another unexpected coughing fit that forced him to double over.

Almost instantly he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Porthos had crossed the few meters between them quickly. As the coughing fit subsided he felt Porthos gently pushing him back down to the ground to sit.

'I'm fine, it will pass,' Aramis said trying to bat Porthos' hands away.

'You aren't fine, you're shaking and still breathing hard, if that man comes back I don't want to be having to look out for both of you,' said Porthos with a commanding tone.

D'Artagnan had wandered over to the pair, Aramis noted that he looked pale.

'Well if I am to sit here in disgrace I think it only fair that our young friend join me…before he falls down.'

D'Artagnan gave Aramis a tired smile and sat down heavily beside him. 'I'm not that bad,' he said sullenly.

Porthos could only snort in a mixture of annoyance and amusement at his injured comrades. He wandered off to prepare the horses for their departure.

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Porthos managed to round up the horses and checked the tack and saddlebags were secure. He bought the horses closer to his friends and turned to assist in getting them up and mounted so that they could depart. He had noticed that Aramis had a faraway look again, there was clearly something bothering him.

'What is it?' he asked as he pulled the musketeer to his feet.

'I'm still convinced I've seen him before…just can't put my finger on it…'

A twig snapping behind them and a sharp intake of breath caused them both to turn. Porthos took a step forward only to be stopped by Aramis' hand on his arm.

The man who had tried to drown Aramis was standing behind d'Artagnan with a gun to his head and a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving.

'Do you remember me now?' the stranger asked sneering at Aramis.

Aramis did not reply. Porthos took a quick glance at his friend and realised that yes Aramis did recognise the man. Aramis had paled and looked quite shocked. He returned his attention to the stranger and d'Artagnan. D'Artagnan was staring at Aramis and then Porthos looking for a sign of what he should do. Porthos shook his head slightly, d'Artagnan understood, he would remain still for now.

'It was you who told Treville that I was not suitable to become a musketeer, you who prevented me from getting my commission, you who turned me out on the street like a common beggar.' The man spoke with such anger, all of it directed at Aramis. Porthos noted that the stranger had tightened his grip on their young friend causing d'Artagnan to hiss in pain.

'Dupont,' Aramis said in as calm a voice as he could muster, 'I did not prevent you getting your commission I merely suggested that you were not ready for it, that you needed more time. I said that you should come back to us in a few months. Let my friend go and we can talk.'

Porthos noted that Aramis was trying to charm the man into releasing his captive so that they could regain the upper hand, although his shock at seeing Dupont again was making this difficult.

As soon as Aramis had said the man's name Porthos remembered the stranger. Dupont had been a cocky cadet, always thinking he was a cut above the other young men at the garrison. When Aramis had told the young upstart that they would not be continuing with his training he had not taken it well. Dupont had punched Aramis causing him to fall to the floor having been totally unprepared for the attack. Porthos remembered having to manhandle the failed cadet out of the garrison.

Now the man was standing before them threatening their young friend with a gun and glaring at them both with such venom Porthos believed they could be stung from just the look.

'I don't want to talk I want my commission,' yelled Dupont.

'Well this is 'ardly the way to go about it, is it, attacking a musketeer is a serious offence,' said Porthos. 'You tried to kill Aramis, not a good move.'

Porthos made eye contact with d'Artagnan who nodded slightly, he was ready to react. As Porthos took a step forward Dupont's stare moved from Aramis to him which was just the distraction d'Artagnan needed, he pushed himself backwards and reached up quickly moving the guns aim away from his head. Dupont fired the gun, the ball burying itself harmlessly into the earth. The noise of the shot did cause d'Artagnan to grimace and pull away disorientated. But Porthos was there bodily throwing Dupont to the ground.

Dupont fought back managing to get a couple punches to Porthos' face before receiving a more forceful punch to his own face, knocking him senseless. Porthos glanced over to d'Artagnan satisfied to see Aramis pulling him back into a sitting position and helping him orientate himself. Porthos made short work of turning the failed cadet over and binding his hands. After checking the man was still unconscious he moved over to his comrades.

'Are you ok?' he asked looking at d'Artagnan who still seemed a bit dazed. The young man nodded and managed a smile before glancing over at Dupont.

'What about him?' he asked.

'We'll have to take 'im back to Paris for trial. He attacked you, nearly killed Aramis, I doubt his future will be a long one,' Porthos looked at Aramis who had been quiet, 'It's not your fault, you know that don't you? You did the right thing letting him go, he would never have made a musketeer, too much of liability.'

Aramis nodded, but did not reply, his gaze firmly fixed on the unconscious man. Porthos sighed, he knew his friend would blame himself even though it had been the correct decision. He remembered how shocked Aramis had been after the brief altercation when Dupont had hit him back in the garrison. He had remained on the ground until Porthos had hauled him back to his feet after throwing the youth out.

Porthos realised he had to take control of the situation. It was getting dark and although he had wanted to be well on the way back to Paris by now he had to accept that they would have to camp for the night and continue in the morning. He rose to his feet.

'We'll camp here. Aramis,' he paused, waiting for the marksman to look up and focus his attention, 'sort us out a fire.'

Aramis nodded and got to his feet and wandered off, still looking preoccupied. Porthos thought about stopping him and trying to talk him round, but decided to wait for now. They needed to secure their surroundings and get settled.

'Is he alright?' asked d'Artagnan watching Aramis as he started collecting dry wood for a fire.

'He will be, he was upset at having to let Dupont go, felt that he had failed in training the man,' Porthos paused as he helped d'Artagnan to his feet, 'but none of us would have let Dupont continue, he was no good, Aramis tried to soften the blow by suggesting the man come back when he had matured a bit, unfortunately it seems the man has not grown over the last couple of years.'

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After an uneventful night, they broke camp. D'Artagnan felt stiff after a night camping, his back hurt from the fall and his head still hurt from being hit by Dupont but he was alert enough to assist with packing their things.

Aramis was still quiet and preoccupied, he kept glancing over at Dupont who was sat tied to a tree. The failed cadet was staring at Aramis following his every move. Porthos had been keeping an eye on them both. D'Artagnan walked over to Porthos unsure how to handle the situation.

'Are you sure he's ok?'

'Not really, he does annoy me sometimes takin' things like this to heart,' said Porthos quietly as he continued to check his tack and buckle up his saddle bag. 'We'll let him be for now, but I won't let him become maudlin over this.'

'Will he hang?' asked d'Artagnan looking over at Dupont, the prisoner's expression was difficult to read, it could either have been one of anger or remorse.

'Most likely, after the three of us give evidence I doubt the judge will be lenient,' replied Porthos as he prepared a rope.

D'Artagnan watched as Porthos walked over to Dupont stopped in front of him.

'I'm gonna give you two choices. You can walk, tied to my horse, or you can be carried, unconscious on my horse after I knock you out again. Which would you prefer?'

'I'll walk,' came the surly reply. Dupont lifted his hands towards Porthos who made quick work of securing them with the rope. He tied the other end to his saddle then untied the rope that secured their prisoner to the tree.

'Get up.'

Porthos pulled the man up, and pushed him towards the horse before grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to turn to face d'Artagnan and Aramis who were both now mounted.

'If you try anything they will shoot you, do you understand?'

D'Artagnan wondered if Aramis would be able to carry out the threat should the need arise. The marksman had now broken eye contact with their captive and was looking away along the road they were to travel.

Porthos mounted and began leading them, at a walk, along the road, Dupont being pulled along behind him. Aramis and d'Artagnan followed behind.

D'Artagnan wanted to talk to Aramis, but knew that Dupont would hear and as he did not want to make the situation worse, he kept quiet merely stealing the occasional glance at his friend.

Aramis sighed and turned to him saying quietly, 'I'm ok d'Artagnan. I'm sorry I have been quiet but I really did feel that I had failed that young man and now, I must admit, I feel partly responsible for his current situation,' he held up a hand to stop d'Artagnan who was clearly about to speak, 'I know I shouldn't blame myself, but it's difficult not to.'

Aramis smiled sadly then resumed his watch of the road ahead, and the area around them. D'Artagnan went back to watching out as well. In their current situation, they were an easy target for robbers, they could not easily outrun any attackers with their walking prisoner tied to Porthos' horse.

Exactly what they had feared happened as they rounded the next bend. A group of eight bandits swarmed down a bank to their left. D'Artagnan who was closest to the approaching robbers was pulled from his horse before he could react. Aramis managed to shoot one of the men who had manhandled the young musketeer to the ground. This gave d'Artagnan the opportunity he needed to pull his own gun and despatch another of the attackers with a shot to the heart.

He pulled his sword and began to fight with the third man who had initially attacked him. The man was good with the sword and proved quite a match especially as d'Artagnan was stiff due to his injuries the previous day. As he fought he managed to glance around him.

Porthos was off his horse and fiercely fighting two men at once, he appeared to have the situation in his control as he drove the men back with his sword. Aramis was also now off his horse and fighting with two more of the robbers, although, much as d'Artagnan, he too was not as efficient as usual, the effect of his own misadventure the day before slowing him somewhat. The last of the robbers had run at Dupont who despite having his hands tied was putting up a valiant effort to fight the man off.

The man fighting d'Artagnan let his guard drop for a fraction of a second, this was all d'Artagnan needed, he thrust his sword into the man's chest. As he pulled his sword free he turned, he knew that Aramis was most likely to need his help so ran over to him and managed to engage one of the robbers in fighting. Although by now his head was pounding, he knew that if he could keep the robber occupied long enough for Aramis to finish off the other one they could both overpower the second man easily.

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Aramis found himself feeling very weak, it was annoying, he did not think that his near drowning the day before had affected him quite so much. He had been cold overnight and had not slept well, he now found that he was fading and really struggling to keep up the fight with the two men before him. Something which normally would have been easy. He had been grateful when d'Artagnan had joined him fighting the two robbers, although he knew that his young friend was struggling as well.

He glanced over at Dupont who despite the odds had despatched his own attacker and was now busy untying himself from Porthos' horse. Aramis wondered what Dupont would do if he was successful in escaping before any of the musketeers could reach him. Would he run, would he join the robbers or would he help his captors. Aramis could not worry about that now, the man fighting him managed to get a lucky slice with his sword and caught Aramis' arm. It was barely a scratch but it reminded Aramis how badly he was coping with the fight.

A cry to Aramis' right caught his attention for a fraction of a second, one of the two men that Porthos was fighting had been unlucky in a manner similar to Aramis. The robber staggered back away from Porthos clutching his left arm as Porthos merely continued to fight with his other opponent.

With a renewed effort Aramis managed to get the upper hand on his opponent, slicing his sword across the man's chest before bringing it back down and into his throat, it was not pretty but had the desired effect. Before the dying man had collapsed to the floor Aramis was helping d'Artagnan finish off the other robber.

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The attacker who Porthos had injured staggered back and looked around him. Porthos was expecting him to take a moment and then start to attack him again. The man was looking over towards Aramis and d'Artagnan, perhaps he was considering attacking them instead, Aramis had just finished off his opponent and he and d'Artagnan were making quick work of the other man.

Too late Porthos realised what the man was really contemplating. He watched from the corner of his eye as he desperately tried to finish of the man he was still fighting. The injured man pulled a gun from his belt and aimed it. Porthos did not know if the gun was aimed at Aramis or d'Artagnan, it did not matter, he had to stop the man from firing. With a thrust, he pushed his sword deep into the man in front of him, quickly followed by his dagger into the man gut. Abandoning both sword and dagger he reached for his own gun, simultaneously yelling a warning to his comrades.

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The yell from Porthos came at the same moment that d'Artagnan finished off the attacker in front of him. Confused he looked up in time to see the last robber aiming his gun in their direction. Before he could react and in the same instant that the gun was fired he found himself thrown bodily against Aramis who in turn fell hard to the ground as a second shot rang out.

An odd moment of silence. D'Artagnan was confused, he was lying over Aramis back and became aware that his friend was trying to get up. He managed to push himself off Aramis and twist himself round into a sitting position. He mentally checked himself, he had seen the gun pointed at him, heard the shot and was convinced he would have been hit. He was uninjured. He looked at Aramis who looked shaken but other than his bleeding arm was also unharmed.

Porthos was at their side in seconds looking them over, obviously convinced that one of them would have been wounded.

Aramis stood and walked around d'Artagnan. He knelt next to the man lying there. D'Artagnan realised it was not one of the robbers but Dupont. D'Artagnan filled in the gaps, Dupont must have been the one who pushed him and Aramis out of the way of the gun shot. He too moved over to the prone man.

Aramis had peeled back Dupont's doublet; the wound was near the man's heart the ball most likely embedded in his lung. D'Artagnan glanced at Aramis who shook his head sadly, Dupont would not survive.

D'Artagnan sat back and watched as Aramis crossed himself and then clutching the cross he always wore began to pray over the dying man.

Dupont was mumbling, he appeared to be trying to say something. Aramis leaned forward and listened to him before replying quietly. A few moments later the man was dead.

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It felt like he had been kneeling by Dupont's body for hours but it was only a couple of minutes when he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Aramis looked up, Porthos was standing by him a look of concern on his face.

'We need to get these bodies moved,' Porthos stated simply before moving off.

Aramis nodded to himself before standing slowly and going to join his friends clearing the area. They worked silently moving the bodies out of sight of the road. They would report the incident at the next village and arrange for the corpses to be collected and dealt with. When they returned to Dupont they stood for a moment not quite knowing how to deal with him.

'What did he say before he died?' asked d'Artagnan.

Aramis paused then replied quietly, 'He asked if I still thought he was not ready to be a musketeer…I told him after what he had done he was a musketeer.'

They picked up Dupont's body and with reverence carried him over to the other bodies and laid him gently down, his was the only body to be covered with a blanket.

Aramis allowed himself to be guided over to the other side of the road and when Porthos indicated for him to sit he did so. Porthos made quick work of cleaning and binding the cut to Aramis' arm.

'Perhaps this was for the best. He died in battle defending his fellow soldiers. He may not have had his commission but that was a selfless act…and that makes him a brother soldier in my eyes,' said Porthos as he helped Aramis back to his feet.

Aramis nodded and smiled at Porthos, 'I agree,' he said sadly.

They mounted up and with a last glance in the direction of Dupont's resting place they trotted off back towards Paris.