I'm planning on at least one more chapter after this one, the grand finale of D'Artagnan's worst sleepwalking spell. I hope you all like this chapter as much as you liked the first!
Disclaimer: I don't own the three musketeers.
Athos suddenly startled awake. No noise had sounded and there was no alarm to be heard. Nothing jostled him awake, and he didn't have a nightmare. Normally when he woke up like this when one of his companions was in danger. And now that D'Artagnan had begun to sleepwalk…
Athos stepped out of bed and strapped on his belt. He went across the hall and checked D'Artagnan's room. Sure enough, the door was ajar and D'Artagnan was not in his bed.
Athos flew down the stairs, expecting to see D'Artagnan wandering aimlessly as he usually did when he sleepwalked. But he also found the dining room to be empty, and the door leading to the street wide open. Athos had always felt safe under the fact that D'Artagnan couldn't get that door to open while unconscious, but he realized that the boy had finally figured it out.
Cursing harshly, Athos flew back up the stairs and pushed his companions out of bed. The two other musketeers needed to only see the panicked expression on Athos' face to know what was going on, and they both strapped on their swords and followed Athos down the stairs.
"He got out?" Aramis asked, looking at the open door.
"Must have," answered Porthos.
The three musketeers filed out of the apartment, looking up and down the street but finding no sign of D'Artagnan.
"He couldn't have gotten far," said Aramis, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"This way," Athos said, spotting a tipped over wheelbarrow to his right. The musketeers jogged down the street, and when it split out into a T, they heard a pained yell.
"D'Artagnan!" they all cried, sprinting at the sound of his voice.
A little further down the road and they spotted him again, in his usual sleepwalking uniform of a backwards shirt and single boot. The musketeers did not find the sight of D'Artagnan amusing, however. The young boy was pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath with his eyes trained at the ground.
"D'Artagnan!" called Athos, rushing up to the boy. Porthos and Aramis stayed back; it had been set as an unsaid law that Athos was the best one to try to bring the boy back to his senses.
When Athos grew close enough he could hear what D'Artagnan was chanting.
"Athos Porthos Aramis Athos Porthos Aramis Athos Porthos Aramis Athos Porthos Aramis…"
"I'm right here, D'Artagnan," said Athos, trying to keep D'Artagnan from pacing by sticking his arm out. When he touched the boy, though, the latter yelled out and thrashed his arms.
"Stay away from me!" D'Artagnan shouted, pacing again. He abruptly stopped short, turned to Athos, and walked up to him so that he was an inch away from the older man's face. "You did this, didn't you?" he hissed, jabbing Athos in the chest with his finger. "You did this! It isn't my fault! This is all your fault!"
D'Artagnan took an uncoordinated swing at Athos' head, and the older man easily ducked and grabbed the boy's fist with his hand.
D'Artagnan struggled against him, and Athos could see that the boy was starting to weep.
"Who am I kidding?" he muttered. "It's my fault. Mine…"
"It's okay," said Athos. "You're okay…"
"Throw me in jail. Please. I don't deserve to live."
"Dammit, D'Artagnan! Wake up!"
Athos shook D'Artagnan, causing his eyes to focus on Athos'. D'Artagnan startled, jerking away and looking around him.
"How did I…?" he gasped, looking around in fright.
"It's okay, D'Artagnan," said Athos. "You were sleepwalking again."
D'Artagnan was still freaking out. The buildings around him seemed familiar, but in the night, he couldn't recognize where he was. Waking up from a nightmare in the middle of the street was frightening.
D'Artagnan looked behind Athos and saw Porthos and Aramis, keeping their distance. Athos was close to him, however, and his face was marked with concern. D'Artagnan was so frightened and confused, he didn't even think twice as he stumbled forward, casting himself into Athos' arms.
"D'Artagnan, are you alright?" Athos asked, stiff as a board at D'Artagnan's sudden embrace. That's when he felt something wet on his shoulder where D'Artagnan's head was. He felt D'Artagnan's body shake against his and realized that the boy was crying. "D'Artagnan…"
Athos wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him tight to him. In a moment D'Artagnan was alright again, and drew away from Athos. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and sniffed.
"Sorry, Athos," he muttered. "That was just a really bad one…"
"Shh," said Athos, patting the boy's shoulder. "I probably wouldn't fare much better than you if I tried."
"But… I just cried on you… I just cried in front of all of you…"
"D'Artagnan, do you think we care?" asked Athos.
"Because we don't," said Porthos.
"D'Artagnan, we're family now," said Aramis. "We try to act tough around each other, sure, but when it comes to the rough patches, we've all seen the worst of each other. You weeping being scared out of your wits and seeing your best friend dead," Aramis shrugged. "We've seen worse than a few tears on a fellow musketeer's shoulder."
D'Artagnan looked at the cobblestone ground. "Thanks, Aramis."
"Come on," said Athos, wrapping his arms around D'Artagnan's shoulder. "Let's get you home."