AN: Here is the second story, actually I had another story in mind, but Athos didn't leave me alone and I had to write the previous chapter in Athos POV. The next chapter is already in writing, it's not in the same story line as this one and the previous. But I have a feeling that this storylines muse will return to me. I myself want to know what will happen next.
And in this chapter there are quotes from the book said by Athos, Porthos and Aramis to Planchet when they send him to England. But now read, enjoy and review.
The apartment was empty and dark; there was only little warmth in the air, so there had been a fire in the fireplace at some point of the day. Athos was in a bad mood even before he got home, when he had reported to Louis Richelieu had been there trying to find holes and mistakes in everything Athos had done on the mission. And now returning home, he found it empty and cold. Where were Planchet and d'Artagnan, the boy should have been back already from his patrol.
Athos shook his head, the boy was young, maybe had found something amusing in the town or maybe he was with Constance. He shouldn't worry d'Artagnan could look after himself.
He made fire up, put away his hat, clock and sword belt and poured himself some wine. He just had sat in front of the fire to enjoy his drink, when he heard something from the hall. Just like something or someone had fallen. Athos didn't like it, he had a bad feeling and it grew even more when he stepped closer to the door. He grabbed his sword, it was always better to be safe than sorry. When he opened the door shock rushed through his body, there laid his charge.
"D'Artagnan!" he heard someone cry, but could it have possible be he himself, the voice was scared.
The boy laid on the stairs, pale as a sheet and not moving. The first thought what Athos had was that the lad was dead. He stepped from the door and kneeled beside the body placing his hand on d'Artagnan's chest, he could feel it rise and fall. He thanked the God.
Then Athos' eyes landed d'Artagnan's leg and found the sword wound, "Oh, you foolish boy, what have you gotten yourself in to this time?" There was only one thing to do. He picked the lad up, Athos shook his head, "Boy, are you eating anything, it seems like you don't have any meat on your bones."
They reached to d'Artagnan's room; Athos placed his patient on the bed and removed the handkerchief from the wound.
"I hope you are as unconscious as you seem, because this will hurt." Saying that Athos ripped d'Artagnan's trousers where the wound was. Infection had settled in and the looks of it the fever had risen. Athos took deep breath, "Can't you ever do things the easy way?" He stood up and got some clean rags, whisky and some ointment for disinfecting wounds that was a left over from when Aramis last had a wound.
The Musketeer poured some of the whisky onto the rags and pushed them onto both sides of the wound. D'Artagnan jerked from the pain, but thankfully didn't wake. That was the moment when Athos regretted that he didn't have some of that whisky before, seeing d'Artagnan in pain, physically hurt. He speared the ointment on the wound and dressed it. "Now I warn you, if this fever hasn't gone in a day I will bring a physician. Now I have told you and when you find out, you can't take my head later."
He rolled his eyes; he was talking to an unconscious boy. Then his eyes fell on the handkerchief what he had removed from the wound, he expected to see a elegant D on the corner, but the same time he wasn't surprised that it was A embroidered with red yarn, one of Aramis', they were going around like warm bread, everyone of his three friends had at least one. The religious musketeer seemed to hope that at one point he will get them back. Athos took it, went to the first floor and threw it into the fireplace, there was nothing to do with it anymore, it was soaked in blood; even more it was d'Artagnan's blood, Athos didn't want to see it ever again.
He took bowl of clean water what he had placed there before and his wine cup and returned to d'Artagnan's room. Boy hadn't moved an inch. Athos sighed it was going to be a long night. He placed the wet cloth on d'Artagnan's forehead. He drank the wine with a one breath and refilled the cup with whisky – he needed something stronger to pass the time.
The fever finally broke at lunch time the next day, d'Artagnan slept peacefully, the worst was over. Finally, Athos found himself thinking. It had been hell of a night and strangely it had taken only one bottle of whisky.
He had just started to nod off, when d'Artagnan stirred. Athos was right back up again, yes the boy was waking. He pushed damp hair from the lad's eyes, moments later they opened, "Athos." D'Artagnan's voice was harsh, Athos gave him some water. Then it was time for explanations.
Older man felt how he grew angrier with every word the boy said, he wanted to destroy, smash, throw something. But his training kept him from it. He was angry at himself, at d'Artagnan, Planchet for leaving, Cardinal and his guards. But he kept his real anger at bay right now most important thing was his friends recovery, after that all hell could break loose.
When the boy fell to sleep again, Athos knew that he had been too harsh with him, but the boy needed to know what could have happen so he wouldn't do anything that foolish again. Athos ran his fingers through d'Artagnan's hair. The boy couldn't throw away his young life like that there was so much to see, so much to gain, a future to fulfil. A future the boy almost lost that night.
D'Artagnan was well Athos didn't need to keep up his vigil anymore. He went and made the fire up, grabbed a good book and bottle of wine, he didn't have any place to be so he returned to d'Artagnan's room and took the chair under the window.
But he couldn't get past the first sentence. He lowered the book and watched his friend. The boy who had dropped into their lives like lighting from the clear sky and turned their lives upside down actually it was the other way around, he turned their lives back to the right path. His appearance had given them back their job and peoples respect to them as the musketeers. This stubborn, impatient, cocky and naive to annoyance boy had made them live again. Otherwise they all would be still drinking and brawling and quarrelling with the cardinal's guards. Athos himself would have already drunk himself to death if d'Artagnan wouldn't have shown up. The lad had saved them all.
Few hours later apartment door opened and closed, "Athos, d'Artagnan!" Aramis' voice carried to the upper floor.
"We're home!" Porthos boomed.
"Up here," Athos put the book aside.
Porthos appeared to the door way, "You look like shit, Athos."
"Thank you, that really is the first thing a man wants to hear from his friend," Athos took sip from his wine and nodded towards the bed, "at least I look a lot better than him." Porthos and Aramis who had just entered the room, looked to the bed.
"What happened?" Aramis asked who had gone to check on d'Artagnan's wound. Athos told them what had happened. He could feel anger radiating from Pothos and Aramis. When he finished his own anger was back, "I will find the man who attacked him from behind wherever he may be, for the purpose of ripping up his belly." Saying that he was so calm and cold, the other two knew that he meant it.
"And I," said Porthos, rolling his large eyes, "I will skin him alive."
"And I," said Aramis, with his soft, melodious voice, "I will roast him at a slow fire, like a savage."
"So we have a plan?" Athos smiled, "Maybe d'Artagnan will have some suggestion when he wakes." He and Porthos looked at the boy whose wound Aramis was re-dressing, "He will be alright" the religious musketeer said.
They couldn't continue their conversation when there was a knock on the door, "I will get it, I have sit here for hours, movement will do good." Athos rose and went to open the door.
"Monsieur de Treville!" He stepped from the door to let the Capitan in.
„Athos, I came to see how the young fellow is doing."
„He is sleeping and recovering." Athos offered a chair to the older man.
Monsieur de Treville declined, „I'm not staying for long, I just came to tell you that I am just coming from seeing the king and it is decided that when d'Artagnan recovers he will officially be part of the musketeers, Louis has already signed the document and his Eminent can't do anything about it."
"Really," there was huge smile on Athos' face, "he will be overjoyed."
"That I'm hoping, but now I take my leave, I have few things left to do in the city."
Athos returned to the youngest musketeer's room, "It was Monsieur de Treville, d'Artagnan's probation is over."
"Good for him." Aramis smiled.
"He is now officially one of us!" Porthos boomed, none of them had seen how the youngest of them had started stirring.
"I still don't understand how anyone could do that to him?" Aramis shook his head.
"As I told you before, this is Cardinals ploy. He wanted us away and targeted the one he thought to be weakest of us all, but he plan backfired at him, when I came home early." Athos felt once again tired, the long night was catching up.
"The boy was lucky; he would be dead if you hadn't been here." Athos could see deep worry Aramis eyes.
"I told him as much, there was infection and because of that a mild fever. That's why he has been sleeping for a half a day." He apologizes to the lad later for the harsh words.
"He must have been a sight when you found him." There was worry in Porthos' voice.
"Yes, I thought he was dead, he scared ten years of off me and I'm already old." He pinched the bridge of his nose a headache was starting to settle in.
"You're not old Athos." Athos looked at the bed, d'Artagnan was smiling at them. Yes, everything was going to be alright, everything.