A Promise Kept

Greenlips24

He had been their youngest.

They said they would wait for him.

He had stood on the battlefield as a man and remembered their promise, as he faced the enemy onslaught;

Alone now.

Alone for so many years; the penalty for being the youngest.

The enemy was ferocious, and he fell to the earth with their promise on his dying lips.

His comrades had carried him from the battlefield on their shoulders.

He had watched them. Saw how carefully they bore him; some of them dying in their effort to bear his body back behind their lines.

Too much to bear, he closed his eyes.

When next they opened, it was to dim light and shadow, and far away memories of a favourite tavern, the smell of wine strong in his nostrils; an ache that would surely shatter him.

Bewildered at the change in scene, he peered into the shadows.

A wooden bench in the corner creaked, taking his attention in earnest.

Dust motes sparkled like diamonds, swirling patterns in the dim light.

Another creak, this time; well-worn leather.

The smell of gunpowder and wine floating in the air; achingly familiar.

He found his voice then; at last.

"Athos?" he whispered; "Is it you?!"

He held out his hand toward the sound, and saw his own hand was now that of a young man, slim and unblemished, fingers smooth and uncalloused.

"Where are you?" he said, his voice betraying fear and wonder in equal measures.

"I am everywhere."

The spell unbroken; he took a step toward the voice that he had held captive in his heart for so long.

"You died with honour, brother."

"As did you," he answered; his voice breaking; his heart free once more.

"Where are the others?" he whispered then, still peering into shadows.

"They are everywhere."

"Is it my time, Athos? Have you come for me?" he asked the shadows, his heart now so full of hope and love.

Gently, the shadows parted, and d'Artagnan saw once more the face he loved, leaning forward. The familiar quirk of his lips, the clear green eyes sparkling, holding his in a loving gaze. He too, just as he was then; all those years ago.

"If you wish it."

He thought of his brothers, Aramis and Porthos.

He heard whispers and laughter and he knew what he wanted.

"I wish it with all my heart," he said simply.

Athos smiled and reached out his elegant swordsman's hand, inviting touch.

One hand placed over the other in gentle remembrance.

"You kept your promise," he breathed, laying his hand over the one outstretched.

"Always."

"Where are we going?" the young man asked his mentor.

In answer, another elegant hand reached out and settled on their two.

"Oh, Aramis ..." he said in wonder.

And then, the sound of rumbling laughter he had so missed over the years, as a large dark-skinned hand completed the hold.

"Where are we going?" the laughing young man again asked the three.

"Everywhere," they replied in unison.

The diamonds continued to swirl, filling the space around them. The whispers of laughter grew until it was ...

Everywhere.

End