A/N: Thank you all for the great reviews! I take off tomorrow, so I'll try to post one more chapter before I leave. Then it'll likely about a two week hiatus. Sorry! Any recos for Scotland and Ireland? ;-)
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Aramis and Athos continued winding their way across the camp. Men called greetings to the marksman as they passed. Aramis' popularity was evident as Athos stayed in his wake.
"How long have you been a soldier?" Athos asked, surprising himself with the question.
Aramis grinned and looked over his shoulder at the man trailing him. "I joined when I was about 16," he said. "Ran into to Treville a few years in and have been serving under him nearly since. When he was given the assignment to form the Musketeers, he kind of brought me along with him," he said nonchalantly.
Athos was stunned. The man was still so young – at least four or five years younger than he was – and yet it seemed as though he had been in and out of battles for most of his life. A soldier at sixteen!
Aramis may have been cavalier about Treville including him when the Musketeers were formed, but Athos had known of the King's elite protectors – their reputation had spread quickly – and he knew that for Aramis to be included among the original members meant that he was the prime example of what serving in this elite regiment should be. That was why Athos had been assigned to him, he realized. Treville had wanted Athos to receive hands on training – an audition maybe – with one of his best.
Athos' silence clouded over him as he ruminated on this discovery.
The men strode on. The camp had thinned out. Aramis darted between grassy knolls and sparse groups of men with Athos close on his heels. The warm greetings and cheery banter they left back at the camp. They approached the final watch-post, a solitary man with a musket ready standing behind a boulder. He was staring through the scope of the weapon across the broad field pockmarked by bullet holes and cannon fire. The thick mud squelched under Athos' boots.
"All quiet Pierre?" Aramis asked the sentinel.
"Like a tomb," he replied. Aramis raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry," said Pierre, without looking away from his scope. "Bad choice of words."
"As long as it's their tomb and not ours," replied Aramis.
"There hasn't been any movement for a while now. This mist will help you this morning, not sure the sun'll break through. Don't dodder though," Pierre said. Aramis gave him a pat on the shoulder, jostling him slightly. Pierre glared for a moment with one eye before returning his focus to his weapon.
Aramis stepped away from the man and looked at Athos. "On my mark, be ready to run."
Athos looked around the boulder and across the muddy expanse to where a dense cluster of trees marked the beginnings of the larger forest beyond.
Athos was just about to say something when a cloud shifted slightly and the morning got even greyer, if possible.
"Now!" shouted Aramis and he took off across the field.
Startled, Athos stumbled but recovered instantly. He could see the marksman darting and weaving to avoid the potholes in front of him. Athos struggled to catch up, muskets jangling behind him. They were only a quarter way across when the first shots were heard. Clouds of dirt erupted behind Athos as the bullets hit the ground. Return fire was heard behind him, but Athos ignored it.
"Just keep running," he thought. The marksman in front of him kept his pace, leaping over some debris in his path. Half way now and Athos was panting. He heard a whiz as a bullet streaked passed him missing him by inches. Aramis stumbled slightly in front of him, but he kept his footing and kept driving towards the shelter of the trees.
Athos felt his chest was fit to explode as they drew within 100 yards of the tree line. Another burst of dirt. 80 yards. Athos' foot skittered slightly as a rock gave way under it.
"Just keep moving!" he shouted at himself internally.
50 yards. He couldn't breathe.
20 yards. This would be his end.
!0 yards and Aramis was at the trees now, Athos a second behind but they kept running as two tree trunks splintered around them.
Finally Aramis pulled to a halt, head bowed and leaning heavily against a tree. Athos came up next to him and bent over, his hands on his knees, desperately trying to control his breathing. After a few moments when both men were breathing regularly again Aramis righted himself to look at Athos.
"Well the first part's over," he said with a grin, which quickly faded from his face. "You're bleeding," he said looking at Athos.
Athos looked down at his arm. The sleeve was torn across the top of his bicep and the wound beneath it was bleeding steadily.
"Take off your doublet," said Aramis. "Let me see the wound."
Athos said nothing. Settling on a fallen tree he removed his doublet as instructed. His eyes were focused on the furrow mark on his arm that a passing musket ball had left.
"So this is what being shot feels like," he thought. "Grazed," he corrected himself. He was entranced with the wound and barely noticed what Aramis was doing until his arm suddenly erupted into fire as Aramis poured some kind of clear liquid into the wound.
Athos shouted in surprise and pain. Aramis immediately began wiping at the wound with a clean cloth.
"Hold still," he instructed. "I need to ensure the wound is clean," he said, grasping Athos by the elbow and holding him steady. "Damn," he whispered to himself. "That'll need stitches." Aramis began to search through some pockets from the inside of his doublet, emerging triumphantly with a needle and thread.
"Are you a seamstress as well?" Athos asked wryly. The pain of the gunshot finally registering.
Aramis grinned as he threaded the needle. "Fine enough for the Queen's chemise," he said. "The wound isn't too deep," he explained to Athos, "but if we don't stitch it closed, it's likely to keep bleeding which could lead to blood loss and infection."
Athos nodded soberly. Aramis looked at the man, needle poised.
"Have you ever been shot before?" he asked. Athos shook his head.
"Ah, well, congratulations. Remind me, and we'll celebrate when we get back to camp," he said and without further preamble, he began to stitch his companion's arm.
Athos moaned as the needle pierced his flesh. Aramis didn't stop.
"God, that hurts!" he said.
"Yes," agreed Aramis. "I probably should have warned you…but it hurts a lot less than amputation," he said, his lip turning up slightly. "Besides, this is only a graze. You're lucky the ball didn't embed itself in your arm or shatter any bones in its path."
"Yes, lucky me," said Athos glibly.
"One thing you'll learn quickly out here is to never run in a straight line," he said tying off his last stitch. "It'll lessen your odds of being shot," he said and poured more of the clear liquid onto the now closed wound. Athos glared at the now inflamed wound stretching across his bicep as Aramis began to dress it with a clean bandage.
"That lesson may have been more useful before we began this mission," said Athos, raising an eyebrow to the marksman.
Aramis shrugged. "I knew you'd be a quick learner. Come on," he said. "Let's find us a nest."
The men made their way through the dense trees, Aramis examining a few of the trunks as they passed.
"Here," he said, tapping a slight abrasion on the bark. "We go right here," he said.
"Is that a clue?" Athos asked.
"A sign post," replied Aramis. "From one of our spies or scouts, or another marksman. You'll find that after a while, all trees tend to look the same, so where possible, we try to hide an indicator should you get lost. The notches indicate which direction to head out in. Returning, just follow the directions in reverse and it'll lead you back to camp."
As they continued, Athos began to take notice of the notched trees and was astounded by the intricacies of the markings. You had to know what to look for in order to see, he surmised.
Eventually Aramis brought them to a halt. "We can rest here," he said. "There's a series of boulders just a bit further. The sightlines are good there and the rocks and treeline should provide us with ample cover. It's not a usual spot too, so hopefully we can catch them a bit off guard," he said and threw himself down on the ground leaning against a large oak. Athos took a seat against the tree next to Aramis.
"This is your first battle," Aramis stated, rather than asked. "When the time comes, and the shooting starts, I need you to keep these muskets coming. I need you to be watching my back too. We're all alone out here, and from my position, I won't be able to defend us if any of the enemy figures out where we are and tries to flank us."
Athos nodded. "It's alright to be nervous," said Aramis after a moment. "It's normal to be afraid of dying."
"I'm not afraid to die," Athos said bluntly. Aramis raised his eyebrows at that remark.
"No, perhaps not," he said thoughtfully. "I guess the more important question is how badly do you want to live?" he stated. "Tell me, Athos, why are you here?"
Athos raised an eyebrow at the man but said nothing.
"Don't give me that," said Aramis. "It's clear that you're from a noble lineage," he said, causing Athos to tense slightly. "So my next question is, what are you running from? His Majesty can't be so desperate for soldiers that he's conscripting his courtiers. So tell me, what are you running from? I know Treville sees something in you, and I trust his judgement in all things –"
"Then maybe you should leave it at that," stated Athos stonily, his cold blue eyes burning into the marksman.
"I like you Athos, and I trust Treville with my life. I just need to make sure that I can trust you with it," responded Aramis bluntly, brown eyes locked with blue.
The two men lapsed into a broody silence, both tangled in their own thoughts. If they could only know that the same order kept repeating in both their minds, "Keep him alive."
After about an hour, Aramis rose to his feet. "Come on," he said. ""It's time."
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A/N: Big shout out to elbcw who let me know that I probably shouldn't post without coffee as I originally accidentally posted a chapter from a previously story! THANKS!
