Good Advice
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: This chapter takes place during the season one episode, Sleight of Hand. After the mission in the tunnels under the Louvre; and the demise of Vadim, Aramis gives d'Artagnan some good advice.
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Chapter 2: Advice from Aramis
d'Artagnan woke gradually from a horrible dream. He dreamed he had been tied to one hundred barrels of gunpowder, tied up, and blown to bits; his body shattered into a million pieces.
As he slowly opened his eyes, a bright whiteness spread across his vision, and he quickly shut them again tightly. The light ruthlessly bombarded his senses and caused a spike of pain, right behind his eye sockets.
He groaned and tried to turn away from the unrelenting brightness that now pierced through his closed eye lids. But when he turned his ribs and back pulled and exploded into an agony that stole his breath. Perhaps it was not a dream after all. Was this what a million pieces felt like?
When he attempted to put air into his lungs; that only caused his stomach to roll and churn; and before he knew it he could feel whatever lay in his stomach crawl up into his throat.
He gagged and then suddenly felt hands pushing him to roll over and turn onto his side; holding his head over the edge of the pallet he lay on.
"Hold him steady", he heard, but could not identify who was speaking.
And then it all came up into a well-placed bucket – rushing from his throat, causing him to sputter and gasp. He squeezed his eyes tighter still, and felt someone pull his hair from his face and wipe his mouth with a wet cloth.
Before he could think about what was happening, it all came up again, and then again, until his abdomen hurt so bad, he could not hold himself on his side any longer. He was spent; trying to retrieve as much air as he could before it started all over again.
When he leaned back, he could feel a body there next to him, holding him in place, keeping all the pieces together; and then he descended down into quiet.
Athos held tight to d'Artagnan's shoulders, and looked across his body to Porthos, who continued to clean the bile from his face. "Why didn't he say something?" he asked sternly; angry at himself for not noticing the extent of d'Artagnan's injuries; angry for putting him in this sick bed; angry with d'Artagnan for trying too hard; and angry with himself for letting him.
Porthos shrugged his shoulders, and thought to himself that was an interesting question coming from a man who hid everything; and shared almost nothing. Aloud he said, "Maybe the draught Aramis has gone to get will help him."
Athos looked down at d'Artagnan, his brow creased in consternation, and then he thought back to the aftermath of the whole Vadim fiasco.
They had all been covered in dirt, exhausted, and moving slowly; but by some miracle they were on their feet.
When they had come upon d'Artagnan in the tunnels; he had felt such relief. He had thought d'Artagnan lost, and had begun to prepare himself for death; and wondered at the pain of it. His usual mechanism of shutting down in order to dampen his emotions was proving ineffective.
But as they walked side by side, d'Artagnan had seemed fine. He had just been speaking to them; his anger rising step after step over being used and tricked by Vadim. He, himself was admittedly testy and out of sorts; expressing concern that this could have all gone wrong if not for luck. Aramis was barely listening; kissing his newly gifted good luck piece; and Porthos could not stop himself from smiling over how fortunate they were to be alive.
He had walked with them away from the ruins of the tunnels; the wharf; and Vadim. Everything would work out now that they were reunited. But halfway to the garrison, d'Artagnan had collapsed without warning.
Surprised, Porthos had moved quickly; gathered him up into his arms; and carried him the rest of the way to the garrison; and into the infirmary.
They had all been at a loss. The suddenness of it was so unexpected. Going from loss to relief to this uncertainty was unsettling. Just that quickly their good fortune had seemed to evaporate.
But once they got a good look at him, they understood why he had collapsed.
Aramis examined him quickly and pointed out the bump on his head; the chafing on his wrists and the bruises on his back and ribs. Evidently he had been on the receiving end of a beating; and had been near the heart of the explosion and had neglected to say anything.
Athos now sat at his back, holding him to his side, to keep his bile from choking him; and felt his own temper rising and threatening to choke him as well.
He gripped d'Artagnan's shoulders tightly. Did this boy not listen? This was not a one man operation. If things were precarious, he was to say so. Athos shook his head in annoyance. He should have pulled d'Artagnan out when he had the chance. His initial instincts had been correct. It had been too dangerous.
What had he been thinking to have agreed to this plan? Though it had worked; it had done so at a price. d'Artagnan could have been killed. Then what? The Captain had thought the risk acceptable. Athos was not so sure. He had thought he had only enough space to hold worry for his brothers; now it seemed that d'Artagnan had found room there with them.
When Aramis returned with the draught, Athos stood from the pallet, "Will he be alright?" he questioned. Aramis looked at him curiously, "I believe with rest, yes. He is most likely concussed and will be sore for some time. But there seems to be nothing here that sleep won't cure."
Athos nodded. He needed to excuse himself. He needed to be alone and think. He took one last look down at d'Artagnan, frowned and left the room.
Aramis and Porthos shared a silent communication of worry; cleaned d'Artagnan up and sat to wait for him to waken enough to drink the draught for pain.
When d'Artagnan woke next, he didn't understand what was happening. He felt pain so strong, he gasped, and went to sit up; but couldn't get far. When he opened his eyes fully, Porthos sat next to him on the pallet, holding his shoulders to keep him still.
What was happening? Where was he? Why couldn't he think? He then felt a coolness on his face; and saw that Porthos was wiping his brow with a damp cloth. He relaxed then; saw that Porthos was smiling down at him; and felt comforted.
"Do you remember what happened d'Artagnan? Do you know where you are?"
He shook his head no, but creased his brow and tried to concentrate. Suddenly Aramis was there handing Porthos a cup, "Get him to drink this so he can rest."
Porthos lifted the cup to his lips, and d'Artagnan drank obediently. It did not taste well, but he could feel the effects almost immediately; and before he closed his eyes asked, "What has happened? Where is Athos?"
The two musketeers watched as d'Artagnan's eyes grew heavy; and his body relaxed into sleep.
"He should be fine, with rest." Aramis predicted, taking a seat nearby.
Porthos took a deep and cleansing breath, "Where is Athos", he demanded.
"He has most likely walked off his anger and guilt; and by now, is probably taking it all out on poor Treville", Aramis answered.
Porthos shook his head, exasperation written all over his body. He stood and made his way to the door, "I will go and set him straight."
Aramis nodded, and pulled his chair closer to the pallet to keep watch.
Over the next few hours Athos, Porthos, and even Treville wandered in and out of the infirmary to check on d'Artagnan. Athos seemed less and less tense, but more and more introspective at each visit – giving Aramis some cause to worry about his state of mind. But Porthos was ever at his side; so he gave the man space.
He could guess at the introspection. Athos had taken to d'Artagnan quickly. So quickly, it had alarmed him at first. It had taken him and Porths almost a year to gain the man's trust; and even now he knew they did not have all of it. His love and loyalty, he had given unconditionally over time; and brothers now they were. But Athos had hidden depths, and kept his emotions close and guarded.
But there had been something almost immediate with d'Artagnan, and Aramis knew it perplexed Athos. It made him protective; and uneasy around d'Artagnan at the same time. He could tell the man felt uncertain of his role. Was he d'Artagnan's teacher; mentor; or friend? The boundaries were blurred and he stepped lightly unsure where and when to be firm or encouraging. That they were so much alike didn't help.
Suddenly, a groan came from the pallet and Aramis moved into d'Artagnan's line of sight, waiting for him to open his eyes. When he had them fully open, d'Artagnan took a deep breath; and found that he was staring straight into Aramis' eyes.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
d'Artagnan broke eye contact; looked around the room and instinctively stretched his limbs. He nodded his head; and when he tried to speak – no sound came out.
"Here have some water." Aramis lifted his head to help him drink. After taking a few sips of water, and clearing his throat d'Artagnan answered, "I hurt, but I get the feeling that I'm lucky to be alive." The trepidation on his face told Aramis that his memories of the day were all intact.
Taking the cup, Aramis chuckled at the assessment, "Indeed" he agreed.
He sat down again, next to the pallet and addressed d'Artagnan seriously, "Tell me d'Artagnan, why didn't you tell us you were hurt; or that you were almost killed in that explosion? Or that you needed our help?"
d'Artagnan wasn't sure how to answer all those questions. It wasn't really clear to him, why he hadn't said anything. He sat quietly for some moments trying to gather his thoughts. Aramis waited patiently, and did not rush him.
"I think I was so angry, that I really didn't feel anything. I just kept thinking that I wanted you all to trust me so badly; to know that I could get the job done. I wanted to show you that I could be a musketeer and not just be about musketeer business. And I wanted you to know that I could handle anything Vadim threw at me. But Vadim played me for a fool and he was right."
After such a long speech, d'Artagnan felt his ribs pull; and his headache spiked. He had to close his eyes to gain control over his body. He was such an idiot. The musketeers had put their faith in him, and if not for pure luck, would have failed them miserably. He could still hear Vadim mocking him, even as he lay dying.
Aramis squeezed his shoulder and waited with him for the wave of pain to dissipate.
When he had settled again, and was breathing easier, Aramis shook his shoulder gently to gain his attention, "I want to give you some advice d'Artagnan, and hope you will hear it. There is no need for you to win our trust. You already have it. Getting yourself killed is not necessary, will prove nothing; and will only cause us pain."
d'Artagnan turned his head away, his cheeks flushed red.
Aramis raised an eyebrow and understood, "So, you think it is Athos who does not trust you. Believe me d'Artagnan, Athos trusts you as much as he trusts anyone, and there are only a few people he counts as those he can rely on."
d'Artagnan thought back to Athos' remarks regarding the mission, "I remember how angry he was; and that he didn't really didn't think I was the man for the job. "
"Yes – you match tempers well. But what he is feeling is not anger or mistrust. He is feeling guilt that he allowed us all to talk him into something that your inexperience was not ready for. You were able to sway his better judgement; and you are quite good at that by the way."
He paused to smile with d'Artagnan over that bit of truth.
"He thinks he almost got you killed", he continued gravely.
d'Artagnan pushed his head back into the pillow; and let out a loud groan of embarrassment, "I almost got myself killed. He had nothing to do with that."
Aramis looked down at him fondly, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another."
d'Artagnan frowned up at him and looked to Aramis without understanding.
"That is from Proverbs", he explained.
d'Artagnan frowned the more. "I believe I give you too much counsel in one day", he laughed.
"Just do me a favor", he continued," and slow down. Don't be in such a hurry. I have no doubt you will become a musketeer. In the meantime, learn from us what we can teach you. Pick our brains. We have a lot to offer. And also – trust goes both ways. Tell us if you need help. We would have come up with a solution, yes?"
d'Artagnan nodded. Yes, he should have let them know the moment he felt uncertain; but gaining their trust, and respect had overruled his common sense. Now that he was thinking about it, hadn't Athos tried to tell him something like this before?
And just as that thought hit him, Porthos entered the room and seeing d'Artagnan awake, descended on him good naturedly and wanted to hear all that had happened in the tunnels.
d'Artagnan then looked to the door, hoping to see Athos enter also; but he did not.
A little disappointed, he sat up slowly to lean his back on the headboard, and began to tell Aramis and Porthos of Vadim's plan of misdirection and illusion; how easily he had been fooled; and how sorry he was for passing on misinformation.
Just as he was about to explain about being tied to barrels of explosive gun powder – Athos walked in the room and took a seat at the far wall. His expression was neutral and he inclined his head for d'Artagnan to continue with his story.
d'Artagnan swallowed hard, and just before continuing, remembered Aramis' advice; so added, "And this is where I could have really used your help….."
Athos leaned forward to listen.
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To be continued.
Thank you for reading. I also want to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed after reading chapter one. Please review and let me know what you think of chapter two! There is just something really great about receiving your positive comments.