Constance
When she awoke the next morning, the first thing she noticed was d'Artagnan. Or rather, the absence of him. Constance knew, in her heart, that he was still gone. But if she kept her eyes closed, she could almost imagine him snuggled up next to her, his long hair tickling the back of her neck. She could almost feel his breath there, too, warm and light with sleep.
But then the illusion was shattered by two familiar voices.
"Should we wake her?" one whispered.
"You know she will smack us into next week if we leave her out of this," the other whispered back.
Constance opened her eyes, blinking against the intruding light. When they focused, she saw Porthos and Athos arguing quietly at the foot of d'Artagnan's bed, debating of whether or not to wake her. Constance sat up, drawing the attention of the two men.
"Leave me out of what?" she asked.
Athos cleared his throat. "We still have one final search party to send out to try and find d'Artagnan, and not a lot of time left. We also need to tell Aramis that he is missing, as he has not yet been informed."
Constance quickly got out of bed. "Are you saying that no one has told him yet?!"
Athos backed up slightly, out of her arm's reach. "I thought that I did, madame. However, it was pointed out to me last night by Porthos that I had not."
Constance took two steps forward and slapped him. "How could you?! Aramis does not even know that one of his best friends is missing?"
Athos suddenly felt sympathy for Aramis. He wasn't exaggerating when he was telling them of the strength of Constance's slaps. "No, but this is where you come in."
Constance raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms across her chest. "Me?"
Porthos spoke this time. "Yes. See, we need to let Aramis know without him blowing up on us, so just sending a letter to him wouldn't really be the best idea. Not to mention we don't have enough time to spare to wait for the reply. And one of us showing up to tell him would probably resort in him getting kicked out of the monastery."
Curiosity got the better of her. "Why?"
"Murder is frowned upon in church." Athos said, the side of the mouth twitching.
Constance glared. "You think this is funny, do you?"
"You know we don't," Porthos said. "But we need to come up with a plan of attack, and get everything in order for the acting Captain while we are away."
"So you want me to be the messenger?" Constance pressed her lips into a hard line.
"Please." Athos said, though it didn't sound like a request. "However, if you do not want to, we could always send a recruit."
"So you think if you send me he won't kill me?" She questioned.
"Right." Porthos tried to give her a reassuring grin.
She gave in. "All right. When do I leave?"
Athos glanced out of the window. "Well, can you manage to be out of here within the hour?"
Constance nodded, "Yes. What about my duties at the palace? Will the Queen excuse me for a couple of days?"
Athos said, "I'm sure that we can work something out. I will have someone deliver a message asking if you can have a few more days off."
"But I also need to get my traveling cloak."
Athos nodded. "Consider it done. I can send for it along with the letter. Do you need any sort of riding clothes?"
She looked past him, to a small trunk at the foot of the bed. "I think I'm covered."
Porthos frowned. "Impersonating a musketeer could get you hanged."
Constance scoffed. "I know. Which is why I've got my own riding clothes in there."
He inclined his head. "I apologize Madame, and if you'll excuse me for asking... but why do you have riding clothes in there?"
"When one's husband is a Musketeer, and they work in the service of her majesty, said person should be prepared for anything and everything." She grinned, and pointed to the door. "Out, the pair of ya. Athos, just leave the cloak hanging on the railing out there." With a mock bow from each of them, they left the room.
Once they were out, she stripped down to her undergarments. Constance looked down at her stomach, a barely there bump had started to protrude. She sighed. How much longer was she going to be able to keep this a secret? All was well so far, but Constance didn't want to tell anyone about this just yet. Worse comes to worse, she loses it, no harm no foul because they weren't aware. However, she was hoping for the best.
With careful determination, she got redressed, making sure that her corset wasn't as tight as it would normally be. As she was walking out, she grabbed one of her husband's traveling bags and slung it over her shoulder.
When she came down, she noticed she was getting stared at as she came down the stairs into the courtyard by quite a few recruits as who were not yet used to seeing a lady in the Garrison.
"What are you looking at?" Porthos snapped at them, who was waiting for her down there. "Madame d'Artagnan," he emphasized, "is off limits to all of ya. She's married to-"
"The missing one?" one of the recruits hollered.
Constance fixed a glare at him, finally reaching the bottom. She walked over and stood beside Porthos, crossing her arms across her chest. "Yes, I am. Do you have anything else to say? No? Good. Leave."
Another recruit scoffed. "We don't take orders from a woman!"
"Then maybe you will take them from me." Athos had arrived with a horse from the Garrison stables. "Constance is a personal friend of Porthos, d'Artagnan, Aramis, and I and can put all of you to your knees in a sword fight. You are to obey her every command. Treat her like you would treat her husband – with respect. Now get out of my sight. Go spar, drink, I don't care, but leave, and be back to report for duty in an hour. Dismissed." At his glare, they all scampered off in different directions. "Like rats running from a light source," Constance thought.
Constance let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, "Thank you, Athos. Is he for my journey?" She motioned towards the horse.
Athos tipped his hat. "She is. Her name is Buttercup."
Constance moved forward to stroke Buttercup's nose. Horse noses were softer than she remembered.
"So female horses can be used by the Musketeers but not female humans? That hardly seems fair." Constance half-teased.
"If I had my way, Madame, you would have been commissioned right alongside d'Artagnan. If any woman deserves it, it's you."
She snorted. "Don't make me get all high headed about my non-existent sword abilities."
Porthos stood next to her, and was making the final adjustments to Buttercup's saddle. "You haven't seen what the recruits call talent, Constance. And your forms are fine."
She looked mortified. "You've seen me practice?!"
Athos gave her 'the stare'. "Who do you think told d'Artagnan about that alleyway where you two used to practice?"
She opened her mouth... then closed it again, blushing. "I suppose I thought he found it by himself?"
Porthos grinned. "What, when he was all new to Paris? Nah." Then he gestured towards Buttercup. "Time to head out. Are you sure you are okay with doing this?"
"I'm tempted to smack you right now, Porthos. Athos obviously cannot send out any musketeers for fear they might not come back. I can do this." She gave both of them a small smile before hoisting herself onto the horse.
Athos grabbed the reins before she could leave. "All right, just as a precaution, we are going to go through a checklist. You have food?"
"Yes. Cheese, bread, and dried berries. More than enough to get me to the monastery."
"Water skin filled to the brim?" Porthos injected.
"Yes. And d'Artagnan taught me how to look for nearby streams and rivers when I am in the woods."
"Medical supplies?" they said at the same time.
Constance rolled her eyes. "Aramis will be glad to know he rubbed off on you two. Yes, I do. He also rubbed off on d'Artagnan."
"Well actually, he rubbed off on d'Artagnan, and d'Artagnan rubbed off on us. Money?"
Constance patted a hidden pocket near her breast. "More than enough. The Queen is too kind to me."
"Concealed weapons?" Porthos teased.
Constance gave him a look. "I'm married to a musketeer. Yes, I have concealed weapons."
"Spare clothes in case it gets cold or rains?" Athos let go of her reigns, and she slowly started inching towards the gates.
"Yes, mum. Now may I go piss off Aramis?" She politely asked.
"Tell him we leave as soon as you return, with or without him. But we presume he will want to come. One last thing." Athos added. "Do you need anything for the hangover?"
"Nope. Believe it or not, I can hold my liquor. Who do you think taught d'Artagnan?" And with that, she kicked the horses' side, sending them galloping down the road, leaving two musketeers to stare after her in wonder.
Porthos looked at Athos. "I thought that was us?"
Athos shrugged. "Me too."
Rene
Another boring start to another boring day. Rene was getting restless, and he knew it. He was even called out by the head abbot for not staying still during prayers. Usually, he had to be the one to reprimand, this time, he was the reprimanded. It was not a promising start to another day.
"Brother Rene!" the head Abbot called out. "I wish to speak with you after the sermon. Do not be tardy."
Aramis bowed his head it what he hoped was submission, but mentally, he was saying every curse word that he could think of in Spanish.
After the sermon, when everyone else had left, he had went up to talk to the Abbot.
"What troubles you, Brother Rene?" he asked, not unkindly.
Rene sighed. "I used to be a soldier, a musketeer."
"Yes. We all know of your dark and sinful past," he said solemnly.
"I am just worried about my brothers. I do not know if they are alive and well, or if they are hurt or dead. I was a medic, for my team. I do not know how they are faring without me there," he confessed. "It feels like..."
"It feels like?" the Abbot prompted.
"It feels like torture. Like it is tearing its way through my soul, slowly but surely. I just feel so... empty without them. They were my brothers, my family... my life. I do not think I am cut out to be a monk," he whispered, his final confession now out in the open.
"Father!" One of the monks approached. "There is a woman here, badly injured, asking to see an Aramis." Rene and the Abbot looked at each other. "I have told her there is no Aramis here," the monk continued, "but she is very insistent."
"If she was injured, then the least we can do is treat her," Rene injected. "I have some skills that I may be able to use," he glanced at the Abbot. "With permission, of course."
The Abbot nodded. "Go. We will resume this conversation later, Brother."
Rene bowed his thanks, and nearly ran after the other Monk. Who was it? It couldn't be Anne. Perhaps Milady? Or Constance?
The sight that greeted him was almost funny. He saw three monks trying to move a stubborn Constance into what they called the infirmary.
"Aramis is here! I know he is! I need to speak with him right now, it's important," she was insisting, refusing to budge, despite her hand pressed against her arm, already soaked with blood. "No one is treating me but him. So if I bleed out and die, and he hears about it, on your own heads be it," she warned.
"Constance, why do you trouble my brothers so much?" Rene asked, finally arriving on the scene, very gleeful to see his friend. "But what on Earth happened to you?"
When she saw him, she all but knocked him off his feet with the impact of her hug. He hugged her back on instinct, and not really caring at the moment if it got him in trouble later.
"Hey, it's okay. I've got you." He held her at arm's length, and glanced at her arm. "Now that I am here, will you go to the sick bay?"
She nodded, and he noticed with alarm that she was shaking like a leaf, "Yes. But there are a couple of things we need to discuss." She didn't meet his eyes after that.
So the duo walked to the sick bay in silence. Constance was refusing to say anything, and actually seemed a little scared. Now that he was getting a better look at her, he realized just how bad off she was.
When they arrived in the sick bay, he sat her down on a sofa, and went to fetch what meager healing supplies the Monks kept.
"What happened to you?" he asked finally.
Constance took off her traveling cloak, but stayed sitting up to give Aramis better access to her wound. "Robbers. They took almost everything that I had." She blinked, trying to keep a hold of consciousness. "My bag, my food, even my wedding ring." She was on the brink of losing it. "That was the last thing I had of him too."
Aramis froze with the needle a centimeter above her skin. "What do you mean, the last thing you had of him?"
"Can I tell you when you aren't about to sew me up?" Constance requested. With her disheveled look, her hair a mess, dirt-streaked face, and clothes almost in tatters, he couldn't say no.
Aramis nodded curtly. "If you insist. This will hurt, do you want something to bite down on?"
She shook her head. "Just get it over with. The sooner the better."
He almost chuckled. "All right."
When he was through, and she had one of Aramis' personal outfits on, he finally got to ask, "What did you mean? When you said that was the last thing you have of him? I assume you meant d'Artagnan?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
She didn't, but stared off into a far corner of the room, hands clenched into fists.
"Constance." He snapped his fingers, hoping to bring her back to reality. When that didn't work, he lightly shook her shoulder, trying to be mindful of her wound.
"Sorry, I'm just thinking about how on Earth to explain this to you without you getting mad at me." She laughed, but there was no humor in it. When it was obvious she had his attention, Constance sighed.
Aramis had all sorts of theories running through his head again. Kidnapped? Dead? Missing?
"He's-he's missing," she explained.
Aramis raised an eyebrow, still waiting for her to proceed. "But when you say missing, how long are you talking about? Three, four days?"
The blood drained out of Constance's face. He assumed Porthos and Athos would tell him immediately. And under normal circumstances, they would have. She hesitated, knowing it was about to get really bad. Maybe she should have let Porthos and Athos send a recruit after all. "No. More like almost three weeks."
His face clouded up with anger, and his vision turned red. Aramis stood up, swearing like a sailor at the top of his lungs and kicking down anything that was currently standing up, like the stool he was sitting on moments ago.
Constance tried to calm him down. "Aramis please, they've both had a lot on their minds. They-they didn't mean to keep it from you!" At his glare, however, she shut up. Angry Aramis was no one's friend, and she could see why Athos and Porthos didn't want to be the one to let him know. After what seemed like an hour, he calmed down enough to listen to her explanations, but he still wore an ugly glare that didn't compliment his features.
"Why didn't they tell me sooner?!" he demanded, still seething. "Why didn't you tell me, for that matter?"
Constance tried her best to not look terrified at the ex-musketeer's rage. "They've been really busy, with the war and their own demons. And I have been working with the Queen on how to-" She shut up when she realized she wasn't helping. "I'm sorry. We all are."
Aramis sighed, anger receding slightly. "I'm the one that should be apologizing, Madame. I am not in the best mood right now." After a few seconds of silence, he was as calm as he was going to get. "Why did you really come?"
"D'Artagnan does not have much more time for us to find him, because he has been gone for almost a month, due to the system that they operate, which only gives him a month to be found."
Aramis nodded, "I am familiar with the system. Is that why you came? To recruit me to go find him?"
Constance looked down. "You don't want to go."
"On the contrary Madame, I am more than ready to leave this life behind me." He gave a wide smile when her head snapped up and hope filled her eyes. "I've found that being a monk is not the life for me."
She gave him one of the biggest smiles he'd ever seen her wear. The she looked thoughtful. "So am I still in trouble?"
"Oh yes."
"And Porthos and Athos?" She questioned hesitantly.
"Oh yes."
"Even more than me?" She asked.
He gave her a look that quite clearly said, "Duh."
Aramis escorted her gently up to his room. Forget the guest quarters, when she was wounded, there was no way he was letting other Monks look after her.
After a few minutes of semi-comfortable silence, she asked, "So when are we leaving? I think the Queen gave me the week off, so if I need to, I can wait a little bit."
Rene glanced outside at the setting sun. "If you are able to, we leave at first light. I shall inform the Abbot of our plan to leave. You may stay in my room tonight, I am going to look after you." He gave her look that didn't leave any room to argue.
As he was headed out of the door, she said, "Aramis?"
He turned.
"It's good to have you back."
Aramis smiled. He wasn't Brother Rene anymore. "Constance, it's good to be back." He shut the door, leaving to find the Abbot one last time.
Aramis was finding out that all of the hallways were empty. He had been wandering around for about ten minutes, trying to find the Abbot, when it turns out he didn't have to.
"Brother Rene!" The Abbot exclaimed, looking mad. "I hear that you have taken the woman into your room?! What is going on?!"
Aramis laughed. "Well, I'm sorry about that. I really am. But we aren't like that. We were never like that. She's married to one of my brothers."
The Abbot was taken back, and mad, "No one here has ever gotten married, it is against our beliefs and-"
"No no no no no, I don't mean brothers at the Monastery, I mean my brothers in Paris. Where my family is. My real, actual family, where my brothers in arms are." Aramis took a deep breath, trying to push his excitement down. "About our conversation earlier today, when I said I wasn't cut out to be a monk...I meant it. I'm a musketeer. One of my brothers, d'Artagnan, is missing. The lady that just came in here, the injured one, her name is Constance. She's his wife, and someone I hold very dear to me. I have to help find d'Artagnan. I have to. So this is me. Leaving." Aramis beamed, happier than he had been in a long time. He was going home.
The Abbot shook his head with a rueful smile. "I never, ever thought that you would be happy here. I knew, from the moment I saw you, that you were a restless one." This wasn't the way Aramis had expected this conversation to go. "I knew that you would leave us, and our earlier conversation today has proved that." He looked at Aramis solemnly. "I wish you the best, Brother Rene. If you are ever in need to shelter, or are in the area, we shall welcome you back with open arms."
Aramis nodded mutely, almost choking up on the sudden emotion that had struck him. "Thank you. For everything." Unable to say any more, he turned and left the Abbot standing there in the middle of the hallway.
A/N- I cannot believe that I wrote that much! There was a little Constance/Aramis friendship in there, so I hope you enjoyed that. Thank you to Calgarry for beta'ing, as always. And thank you to all of you who have reviewed and followed this story!
- Updated A/N- If some of you are re-reading this, you might have noticed I changed a few things. More noticeably, the wound that was on her side is now on her arm, for obvious reasons. As always, if there are any noticeable inconsistencies, please leave a review and let me know!