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Heaven Sent
A Musketeers story by Deana
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"He shouldn't've gone alone!"
"We weren't here to go with him, Porthos."
"Then he should've taken someone else."
Athos watched Porthos pace while they waited for Aramis in the stable. He couldn't blame him for being worried; Aramis had been hit on the head the previous week during a fight with thieves, and had given them quite a scare when he hadn't regained consciousness for nearly ten hours. He'd been off-duty ever since, and had been expressing his boredom. Apparently, Treville had given him something easy to do while Athos and Porthos had been on guard duty at the palace for most of the day, for they'd returned to find Aramis gone. Treville wasn't there either and they assumed that he and Aramis had gone somewhere together, but some of the other musketeers had told them that Aramis had left first and they'd gone in different directions.
"The captain should've just let him come with us today, then," Porthos complained. "At least Aramis would've stayed dry!"
Athos sighed. Porthos had a point...it'd been raining for the past few hours, and riding in the rain was never enjoyable, even when not recovering from injury. "He's been off-duty for eight days, Porthos...standing guard duty for so many hours would've been difficult for him, especially since he's still in pain."
Porthos stopped pacing and leaned against a beam, arms crossed as he stared at the garrison gate. "All the more reason why Aramis should still be resting in his room right now! We should go look for him," he said.
Athos had no chance to answer, for the sound of an approaching horse suddenly met their ears, and they watched as Aramis slowly rode through the gate.
Porthos quickly ran past Athos, and they both hurried to their friend as he approached the stable.
Aramis' wet and drooping hat covered most of his face, and they were surprised to see him begin to dismount using only one arm.
Porthos made a sound of dismay and reached up to help him, holding onto him tightly. "What happened?!" he exclaimed.
Aramis pushed his wet hat up so they could see his face. He looked pale and they could tell that he had a headache, but what struck them was his expression...
Aramis was smiling.
Athos frowned, watching as Aramis uncurled his arm from where it was clutched to his chest under his cloak, and his mouth nearly dropped open at what he saw.
Aramis was holding a baby.
"Where did you—?!" Athos cut himself off, realizing that their questions could wait until they were out of the rain. He put a hand on Aramis' back, guiding him out of the stable and towards the stairs, where they climbed them as quickly as Aramis' headache would allow. A moment later, they were inside his room and Athos reached out to unbutton Aramis' cloak, pulling it and his hat off him and sparing the baby another glance. "Before I come to the wrong conclusion," he said. "Whom does that belong to?"
"Yeah, is it yours?" Porthos asked as he lit a fire.
Aramis shot him a look. "I wish I could say 'yes'," he answered, smiling down at the sleeping infant. "But no."
"Well, put it down so you can get out of those wet things," said Athos, gesturing towards the bed.
Aramis wordlessly obeyed, knowing that his friends were justifiably concerned for his health. A few minutes later, he was changed and wrapped in a blanket that Porthos had warmed by the fire. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he stared down at the tiny baby that lay before him.
Dressed in white, the baby blinked bright blue eyes up at him. Dark wispy hair stuck out from under the little hat that was tied in a bow under its chin.
Athos and Porthos likewise stared, pulling chairs over to the bed. "Was that where Treville sent you? To fetch this infant?" Athos asked.
Aramis shook his head, wincing when it hurt. "No…I found it on my way back."
Athos blinked. "You found it?"
Aramis nodded. "As I rode, I suddenly heard crying. I dismounted and looked around, and there it was, in a basket up a tree." He suddenly sighed as he realized something. "I left the basket on my horse."
"Up a tree?!" Porthos exclaimed.
Aramis nodded again. "I looked around for its mother but there was no one nearby. Someone hid this baby for a reason."
"And left it there!" Porthos said. "I can't believe it! Any idea how old it is?"
"Very young," said Aramis. "No more than a month, I'd say."
"What do you plan to do?" Athos asked.
Aramis sighed. "I don't know." He reached up a hand to rub his forehead.
"Well, one thing you need to do is go to sleep," said Porthos. "You're still not recovered."
Aramis lowered his hand, but before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in, Captain," Porthos called, recognizing the knock.
Treville opened the door and stepped inside. "I'm sorry, Aramis," he said. "If I'd known that it was going to rain—" He stopped short at the sight before him. "What…is…that?" he asked.
Aramis smiled. "A baby."
"Obviously," Treville said, coming closer. "Whose is it?" He shifted his gaze from the baby to Aramis. "Don't tell me—!"
Aramis closed his eyes. "It's not mine!" he said sounding exasperated.
"Then whose?"
Aramis sighed and rubbed his forehead again.
Porthos explained the story to Treville before Aramis had a chance.
Treville was shocked. "You can't keep it here, Aramis!"
Aramis looked at him. "What else can I do? I need to find out whom it belongs to. I can't just give it away!"
The other three men stared at him, before realizing that he wasn't on duty anyway.
"Have you forgotten that you aren't healthy at the moment, Aramis?" Athos asked.
Porthos saw the crestfallen expression on Aramis' face, and cut in before Treville had a chance to order Aramis to give it up. "We'll help him."
Athos shot him a look as if to say 'we?'
Treville blinked. "Have you ever cared for a baby before? Any of you?"
They were all silent.
"I have," said Aramis. "I had twin cousins that were born when I was fourteen. Their mother died and their father was...overwhelmed. The babies ended up in my house until they were six months old, and I handled much of their care."
The others were surprised at that.
Treville shook his head, even as he found himself saying, "Fine, but not for long; the family must be located soon or it will have to go to an orphanage."
Aramis couldn't argue that, and nodded.
Everyone was quiet for a moment, watching the baby until it suddenly made a feeble sound and began to squirm and cry.
Aramis reached down and picked it up, holding it against his shoulder and making soothing noises while he rubbed its back.
Everyone stared.
Instinctively, Aramis lowered the side of his face against the baby's head. "Shhh," he whispered. "It's all right, little one, you're safe."
The baby fisted a tiny hand in Aramis' shirt, and its crying quieted down into snuffles.
Everyone continued to stare.
"Are you sure it's not yours?" Porthos asked, only half joking.
Aramis looked at him as he continued to rub the baby's back. "Unless you think that a woman from my past happened to know that I would be riding by that particular tree at that exact time, and knew that the baby would be crying at that very moment and I would—luckily—hear it..."
"All right, all right," Porthos said. "I get it."
"Is it a boy or a girl?" Treville suddenly asked.
Aramis shook his head, before wincing when it increased his headache. "I don't know, but it's wet." He closed his eyes and winced again.
Treville saw and stepped over, reaching his hands out to take the baby. "Let me have it."
Aramis opened his eyes and looked at him with surprise.
"I have two younger sisters," said Treville. "I know how to hold a baby."
Aramis wordlessly handed the baby over to him, before rubbing his aching forehead with a soft groan.
Porthos grabbed the pitcher of water on the bedside table and poured some into a cup. "You should be lying down," he scolded his friend as he handed it to him.
Athos suddenly stood. "I will fetch us some supper."
Porthos' stomach growled at the mention of food. "Good idea!"
Treville had carried the baby to Aramis' dresser and laid it down. "While you're down there, get some cloth napkins and pins," he told Athos as he passed him on his way out the door. A few seconds later, Treville said, "It's a girl, and there's a 'J' stitched onto her hat."
Aramis smiled at that as he handed the cup back to Porthos. "A 'J'? Then I hearby christen her 'Juliette'."
Treville turned to look at him, one hand on top of the baby to prevent her from possibly falling off the dresser. "Don't name her, Aramis! You'll only make it harder for yourself to let her go."
Aramis smiled slightly. "Too late."
Treville looked at the baby as it lay half-asleep on the dresser. "We'll need to find her a wet nurse."
Aramis shook his aching head. "We don't need one."
Treville looked at him with a frown. "We don't?"
"No, I can feed her," Aramis told him.
Porthos reached over and grabbed Aramis' head, looking into his eyes. "Are you all right? Have you lost your mind?!" he exclaimed. "Captain, fetch a doctor; his head injury is worse than we thought!"
It took a second for Aramis to figure out what Porthos meant. "I didn't mean...I didn't mean that!" He painfully pulled away before dropping his face into one hand and laughing. "Porthos, you dolt!"
"Well what was I supposed to think?!" Porthos exclaimed. "You have a head injury and you said something that didn't make sense!"
Aramis tried to stop laughing when it increased his headache. He painfully raised his head and looked at his friend. "We didn't always have a wet nurse for my twin cousins, so my father would put a piece of rubber with a hole in it on the top of a glass bottle and they would drink milk that way."
"And it worked?" Porthos asked.
"Yes, easily," said Aramis. "Juliette's mother obviously hid her from someone. No one can be trusted, not even a wet nurse; we could literally place her into the wrong hands."
The others saw his point, and Treville sighed...it looked like the musketeer garrison had just temporarily inherited a baby.
TBC
