A/N: Welcome to my new story, Dear Readers. It's all written and is twenty six chapters long, which should take us up to February. It's a tale of the African savannah, to warm the cold wintery UK days. All places mentioned are real, unless otherwise indicated in the notes. It's a completely new AU – not related to my others. I will post a chapter every other day, as is my normal practise.
With thanks to Mountain Cat.
I hope you enjoy it.
oOo
Profiles:
Jean Treville is the former CO to Athos and Porthos;
Athos de la Fere is an ex Army Captain, now a Senior Fellow in Anthropology;
Porthos du Vallon is a career Army Lt;
Aramis d'Herblay is a Trauma Surgeon, with Plastics as his speciality;
d'Artagnan is a Veterinary Surgeon.
oOo
CHAPTER ONE: A Door Opens
Athos:
Faculty of Social Anthropology, University of Bordeaux; Nouvelle-Aquitaine, South West France.
It was the not knowing that had eaten into him; little by little.
Athos de la Fere had looked up one day and realised that this life was over.
He made a promise to himself then, that if he ever had children, he would teach them how to manage their emotions. How he would do that, he did not know, as he didn't have a clue how to manage his. Perhaps, by then, he may have opened up a little. Back into the person he used to be, before he met her.
How he could achieve that, he did not know either.
Up until now, emotions were something to be pushed down; helped by copious amounts of alcohol.
Not anymore.
He held the letter from his former Commanding Officer, Jean Treville, tightly in his hand.
It was, literally, a lifeline that could not have come sooner. He wondered, not for the first time, at Treville's uncanny ability to reach out when he was most needed.
Because Athos knew there had been an anger in him that he needed to control.
This may be the way to achieve that; perhaps the only way.
Treville understood that, because he understood him. At least, he understood the person he was when he was under Treville's command in the Army. He had left that life to return to his first love of anthropology; sliding comfortably into a life as a senior lecturer, and then fellow, at Bordeaux University.
It was a prestigious university, originally founded in 1441. In 2014, it had merged with two others and was now the third largest university in France. Athos was on his way to becoming a full time professor, a long held dream. His published research papers were gaining recognition, and he was working on a definitive work that would see him achieve his ambition within the next two years.
Then, everything changed.
Anne had murdered Thomas, and it broke him.
He shattered into tiny pieces.
He had stayed shattered.
Until today, when Treville threw him a lifeline.
The anger was still in him, but buried now, amid sadness and regret.
How deep, he did not know.
The anger was aimed entirely at himself.
oOo
"Are you sure?" his Principal, Sabastien Bouchard asked, not unreasonably, whilst reading his resignation that same week.
Athos had wasted no time. Lifelines did not come often in his experience.
"One hundred percent, Sabastien," he had replied, as he sat opposite Bouchard in the man's large, bright office. "I am giving you three months notice; I know it is sometimes difficult to fill these roles."
"What will you do?" Bouchard asked, with a concern in his voice that touched Athos. He had always been supportive; even at the worst of times.
"I am returning to the Army; I have received a letter from my former CO, Jean Treville. He is heading up a UN peacekeeping corp. in Africa." Athos had answered quietly. "It will be a complete change, although I will not be totally abandoning my academic skills. My knowledge of anthropology was useful to the military before."
A different focus now; peace after violence.
Three years in the Army after graduating and his subsequent role as a research fellow had seen him settled and married to a woman he adored. He had kept in touch with Treville; who he had liked and respected enormously; perhaps more than the often-absent father of his childhood. He had taken solace from the thoughtful letter Treville had written him after Anne's trial, but had not taken up his offer to visit him, as it would have reminded him of happier times that he could not bear to relive.
"Indeed, the Army needs Anthropologists," Bouchard smiled. "A little socio-cultural knowledge never goes amiss. You will be missed, Athos," he said, genuinely. And then, his voice low, "It was a terrible thing."
Principal Bouchard had known Athos's younger brother, Thomas, and he was shocked by the manner of his death.
"I did hope you would become one of our more progressive Professors," he murmured, sadly.
"In another time, in another place," Athos had replied softly.
Bouchard sighed, and placed the letter of resignation on top of the pile of paperwork in front of him.
"Time to move on then," he said, smiling then. "I wish you well, my friend."
They shook hands, Athos a little too choked to speak; but no words were needed.
His students were sad. He had been an unusual lecturer, to say the least; but his love of his subject had always shone through, no matter how many demons sat on his shoulder. He had never been late for class, and had sat well into the night on many occasions, marking and grading essays. His young charges were the future; a future that he had not been able to see for himself.
Until now, perhaps.
oOo
Two Years Later:
Athos and Porthos; Liberia.
"Today's multidimensional peacekeeping operations are called upon not only to maintain peace and security, but also to facilitate the political process, protect civilians, assist in the disarmament, demobilization of former combatants; support the organisation of elections, protect and promote human rights and assist in restoring the rule of law." United Nations
For a peacekeeper, the man loved to brawl, Athos thought to himself as he stood watching the large dark-skinned man barrel through a group of new recruits. Fortunately, he was training them. It did not do to fight with the local population; though the opportunity was certainly there. Putting all that raw energy to good use had been one of Treville's first tasks.
"But we're peace-keepers!" one recruit had whined after being slammed into the ground once too often for his liking that morning.
"We're targets," the large dark-skinned man replied loudly. "You gotta learn to look after yerselves. Get over it."
Athos had been watching quietly from the doorway across the compound.
Porthos was becoming disillusioned and, as his Captain, Athos found he did not know what to do about it. It was true, the blue helmets did attract negative as well as positive attention, and it appeared to be getting under his skin. Porthos had a simple philosophy in life. Respect had to be earned, and that worked both ways. The three principles of peacekeeping; Consent of the parties; Impartiality; and Non-use of force except in self-defence and defence of the mandate, did not always hold.
Porthos du Vallon understood poverty and he fitted in well in the regions they were assigned to. Brought up in the outer Paris suburbs where unemployment was high, poverty and violence had been the norm.
Porthos had moved from infantry to peacekeeping as the result of an injury to his shoulder that would never fully heal. He had never thought he would be accepted into the blue helmeted elite group under the respected Jean Treville, but the man himself had sought him out. Porthos had thought it was because of the colour of his skin, for once perhaps a positive thing, but Treville had seen more in him; a young man who had struggled to move himself out of the poverty of his young life in the outer suburbs of Paris.
Athos was Porthos's Captain. Porthos didn't even know what "anthropology" was, but soon found out this man was no university bookworm. Word was, he had been a soldier. Porthos didn't know what to make of that.
After a few clashes, they had settled into an actual friendship, which had surprised both of them. It had surprised Porthos, because this man was a world away from him. He was articulate and smart and obviously came from money. It had surprised Athos, because Porthos was self-made and driven by purpose. He had been like that once. Porthos had a sense of humour that Athos actually understood, which surprised him further, as he thought he had no humour of his own to be able to recognise it in others. Porthos had corrected that assumption, by laughing loudly and frequently at his brief dry comments.
Athos had really been in no fit state when he had arrived in Africa. Porthos had watched as he lost himself in thought and drink. He also saw that he could be cautious and reckless; fearless and fearsome in equal measure. He had been difficult to figure out, but he apparently held duty above all else, so Porthos had watched and gradually gravitated toward him.
Athos had finally given in one night, after Porthos had pulled him from a self-inflicted fight in a bar. Athos had explained, through a haze of anger and sadness, that he had found "anniversaries" the worst to endure, as the two people who had shattered his life so efficiently had many between them. This particular night, apparently, was his wife's birthday and also his wedding anniversary. A "double whammy," he had slurred. He said no more, but Porthos realised these two people were no longer in his life. One day, Athos may tell him more, but that particular night, he had dragged him out of the bar, thrown him in their truck, broken someone's jaw when they returned for another go, and put his foot on the accelerator. Back at their base, he had somehow got Athos past the guard and poured him into bed.
Athos had stared at him the next morning when he had come quietly into his room with breakfast, and realised that he had gained a friend. Later, when it happened again, he would realise he had gained a brother.
From then on, Porthos could recognise the onset of an anniversary, or a particular trigger, and he could be prepared. His friendship with Athos would be reciprocated many times, quietly and unassumingly, as they learned to trust each other. Soon, their friendship was like an old warm favourite sweater; an analogy Porthos had exclaimed one night when he realised they could understand each other without words. It was an analogy that Athos could not argue with.
The bulk of their tours of duty had been in Africa. Peace keeping was an immense challenge. For every pro there was a con. They had experienced sickness, hostility, and seen some terrible things; frequently suffering the realisation that sometimes, there was nothing that could be done. They were often seen as outsiders; to be scrutinized and often held up to ridicule. All the while, never fully trusted.
It was a two week vacation in France that changed Porthos's life and his perspective and would pave the way to a new beginning for them both.
To be continued ...
Anthropology - the study of various aspects of humans within past and present societies