A/N: This is set just before 1x03 begins.
Observations, Decisions, and Eavesdropped Conversations
Treville watched his Musketeers from the balcony. Some had left the garrison already to fulfil the duties they had been given, while the remaining Musketeers were involved with something or the other. Who should he give the next mission to? Michel and Nicolas were sparring. Pierre was having his usual argument with Serge about how much potatoes the cook used. Laurent and Gabriel were helping Jacques the stable boy, with the horses. Victor and Henri were standing near the entrance with the former narrating a hilarious anecdote causing the latter to laugh like there was no tomorrow. And his three best (should that be worst?) troublemakers were sitting around their table with the young stray they had apparently adopted.
D'Artagnan had potential, but Treville sincerely hoped the lad didn't pick up any of the headache-inducing qualities of his chosen mentors. Treville knew of enough trouble caused by the drinking, the gambling, and the seducing – he didn't need d'Artagnan to imitate those three in such matters.
The Captain of the King's Musketeers didn't make it a habit to eavesdrop on his men's conversations. It just happened that his favourite spot on the balcony was the ideal place to hear things. Besides, the conversation from the table below him was growing louder and louder. Naturally, Treville couldn't help it if he could hear what was being said.
"Aramis, enough." If Athos' words weren't sufficient, then his glare should be. Treville had never seen anyone with such an intense glare – it could make grown men quiver with fear. But of course, self-preservation was something that Aramis didn't believe in (in fact, Treville was sure most of his Musketeers were unaware of the definition of the word, or at least, pretended to be unaware). Even so, the effect of the fixed stare was somewhat lessened due to the slight upwards twitching of Athos' lips.
"Athos, mon ami, you're supposed to be on my side," Aramis gracefully whined (Treville never thought it possible to whine with grace, but Aramis has the skill perfected).
"I am on the side of sanity. Something of which you have none," Athos deadpanned, drawing a chuckle from Porthos.
Aramis gasped and placed his right hand over his heart. "Oh, you wound me, Athos!"
"Keep talking and you'll receive a real wound in a minute," Porthos pointed a warning finger at his friend as Athos smirked.
The threat would of course not be acted upon, - it was said in jest, but it didn't stop Aramis from turning his accusing eyes towards the big Musketeer.
"Not you too, Porthos? Ah, my friends are against me. How unfortunate." Aramis lamented.
Porthos laughed again - it made Treville want to laugh too since Porthos' laughter had always been infectious.
D'Artagnan, meanwhile, had been watching the scene with an amused expression. The expression was almost endearing. It gave Treville a glimpse of the boy d'Artagnan had been – a much better look than that of a young man who had almost been blown to pieces by gunpowder. Treville shuddered slightly. That was too close. Thankfully, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis had been good for d'Artagnan. And he had been good for them.
While the 'conversation' below continued, Treville's thought about how well d'Artagnan fit in with his Musketeers. It's not easy to lose your family, but Treville believed it showed strength of character to be able to live on and start something new. D'Artagnan had strength, he had courage, and he had heart. Soon, the young man would gain his Musketeer's commission. Treville was sure of it. All d'Artagnan needed was a chance to prove himself in front of the King. Just one chance. The Captain knew d'Artagnan would perform admirably. He had the guidance of three of the very best (albeit, the most troublesome) Musketeers, so how could d'Artagnan not flourish as a Musketeer?
Treville's musings were cut short as he remembered the original reason for his balcony break. He still needed to send some Musketeers to Le Havre.
The Captain looked around the yard once more. Currently, Henri appeared to be the funny one, and Pierre was arguing about the lack of carrots in Serge's stews now. The table was, of course, still as noisy as ever.
Decision made.
"You three-" Treville stopped. It wasn't three anymore now, was it? "You four! My office. Now." After all, where the three go, the fourth was bound to follow, if not dragged along anyway, because even by himself, d'Artagnan attracted enough trouble.
Four faces looked up from the table – the youngest displaying undisguised excitement, while the older ones varied from a raise of an eyebrow, a curious smile, and an enquiring, if challenging smirk. Nothing new there then, thought Treville.
The Captain waited until the four had started to walk up the stairs before heading into his office. This should be a fairly simple mission, and maybe this once, the troublemakers won't draw any trouble?
Treville sighed. One could always hope.