This is all for Rita Marx who wanted JJ to rescue a hurt Aramis. It's not exactly as she asked for , but I hope close?
The net that bested a Musketeer
It was a miracle that in its travels, no one bothered the small, white kitten dragging a large, gray hat down the street ways. It would struggle and brace its petite back legs and tug as hard as its tiny body could. Every few feet it would pause to shake its paws of all the muck and grime that littered the streets. But it seemed - to the people brave enough to be out in this weather - that the kitten was on a mission and left it be.
The Parisian evening was dull, cold and filled with pouring rain. The rain had begun the day before and showed no signs of letting up. The chill in the air of the coming winter left most of the inhabitants of Paris huddled in their homes, warmed by the fires.
And so on the kitten went, intent on her destination, determined to deliver the hat to wherever that may be.
The leg had come out of nowhere in the darkness of the rainy Paris night. Aramis tripped over it and fell face first into a muddy puddle of water. A cruel laugh rang out in the alleyway, and as Aramis focused on trying to stand, he could hear several booted feet stomping into the small narrow area.
There was no rhyme or reason Aramis could think of on why the men surrounded him in the alley, pushing him back down to the ground the second he got up. He was a trained soldier and his main gauche and a single pistol would suffice for protection. Aramis also carried a small amount of coin in his purse, so he was surprised when they did not touch it. Only his prized fleur-de-lis shoulder guard was taken off his person and tossed somewhere off to the side.
A thin net was cast over his body and he struggled to remove it before he was completely tangled. They pummeled him with their boots, smashed their fists into his body and laughed the entire time. There were so many men that Aramis couldn't pick out a single conversation and he had no clue what they were trying to say to him. He curled into a ball and wrapped one arm around his head to protect himself. He tried to shout for help, but with the violent blows to his chest, it was hard to take a deep enough breath. When the beating stopped an interminable time later, he was dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Aramis tried to look up to see the faces of his attackers but the net had wound itself around his body in a tight grip.
"Tell your Captain to keep his nose out of Court business. You filthy musketeers aren't welcome there." They laughed at him and kicked his head once more for good measure before stomping back out of the alley.
Aramis groaned in pain and attempted to adjust his position. The net tangled around his body, holding him tight in its grip. His arm was sticking out of the gaps in the net, bent at an odd angle and throbbing in time with his heartbeat. His chin lay against his chest pinned by his other arm that was still protecting his head. One of his legs was bent at the knee, wrapped tight against his backside and his ankle was twisted in a way that was uncomfortable. The other leg was free of the net, but of no use to him in his current position. He was sure there were several things wrong with his rib cage. Some of the ribs didn't quite feel as though they were in the places they were supposed to be.
He tried to move again and groaned as his stomach protested the jarring of his head. He added a concussion to the growing list of things wrong with him. He didn't want to be sick, tangled up in the net and unable to move, stuck in his own filth until some poor soul came to rescue him. His heart plummeted at that thought. No one knew where he was and Aramis couldn't even take a deep enough breath to expand his lungs and yell for help.
Aramis whimpered in exhaustion and closed his eyes, allowing his body to relax as much as it could in its twisted form. He allowed his mind to wander over his current predicament. They had said his captain, Treville, had been following someone in the Court of Miracles. His attack had been a warning for Treville to stop immediately and Aramis was to be the messenger. Yet, for him to be the bearer of this news he'd have to get himself out of this mess.
What a miserable situation.
Treville, sheltered from the pouring onslaught, tossed another log towards the back of the fireplace and placed the grate back in front of the opening. He smiled at the large pile of wood sitting to the side of the hearth, confident that it would be enough to get him part way through the coming winter. He would have to go back out and gather more, but he was pleased that he wouldn't run out anytime soon. He undid the buttons on his doublet and sat back on his bed sighing in contentment.
Things had been going well for his regiment as of late. All the new recruits were proving themselves quite capable and Treville was certain that the King was pleased with the skill of his men. Even Aramis and Marsac had calmed down recently. Treville wasn't actually holding any hope that it would last long but was content to savor the moments while they lasted. The Musketeer regiment was on its way to becoming more powerful than the Cardinal's Red Guards. However, he knew his Musketeer's skills and fierce loyalty were no match for the sheer size of Richelieu's guardsmen. Treville knew he would need find a way to overcome that particular hurdle soon enough.
Treville sank a little further into his bed, relishing the warmth the fire emitted. The heat chased out the last remnants of the chill from the torrential downpour outside. His thoughts wandered to the man he'd seen earlier sneaking back into the Court of Miracles. Many years ago he had known of a woman and a little boy. Before she had died she had begged Treville to watch over her son, but she'd entered the Court of Miracles looking for aid and he'd lost both her and the boy shortly after. Treville hoped Isaac had lasted this long, and if he had, he desperately hoped to bring the boy into the Musketeers. He had made a promise long ago to help provide some semblance of a life for that child.
Treville had almost drifted off when there was a rapid pounding on the stairs leading to his office. He was alert in seconds and heaved his aging body off the bed, doing up the buttons on his doublet before wrenching the door open.
"Marsac, it's the middle of the night son, what has you so excited?" Treville asked.
Marsac, one of his younger soldiers, was standing with his fist paused mid-air, ready to knock on the door. The man was soaked through and looked like he was woken from sleep. Marsac was still wearing his sleep clothes, covered by a knee length doublet. Treville suspected the doublet was one of Aramis' spares as it looked far too small on Marsac.
"Sir," the man said. "You must come see this." Marsac turned and raced back down the stairs, pulling the captain along by his arm.
There, in the middle of the courtyard, was a kitten sitting on top of a hat. The kitten was shivering and howling as loud as it could. Several of Treville's musketeers had gathered around the cat, trying to figure out how to help the small animal.
"Is that JJ?" Treville asked.
"She won't let anyone near her; we hoped you'd be able to get her off that hat. It looks like Aramis'."
Treville nodded and moved towards JJ unsure of exactly what he was going to do. Other than the odd time with Serge, it wasn't as though JJ had ever shown much love towards anyone but Aramis, so he wasn't expecting any miracles now.
"Where is my wayward soldier, Marsac?" Treville asked as he knelt down in front of JJ and extended his hand towards her. He was surprised when she sniffed his palm and stuck her tongue out to lick his pinky finger.
"None of us have seen him since dinner Sir, and as far as I knew, he was staying in the garrison tonight to avoid the rain," Marsac said.
"What do you think he was doing wandering around in this downpour?" Treville asked. He looked at his men for any ideas and when there was no answer, Treville turned back to the kitten asked her, "JJ, where is your human?"
JJ looked up at Treville and hopped off the hat, meowing loudly. She bit into the brim of the hat and began dragging it back towards the entrance of the garrison. Treville stood and watched, curious about what JJ was doing.
"Do we follow her?" Marsac asked. He moved to stand beside Treville.
"It certainly looks like she wants us to."
JJ had paused at the entrance and was glaring at the men impatiently. Treville waved for Marsac and a couple of his men to join him and they followed the kitten out into Paris streets.
Aramis startled awake and immediately tried to cry out. Something had touched his hair and without being able to move his head, he couldn't see what it was. Thoughts raced through his head as he tried to figure out what could be crawling around him. He started again a moment later when there was another tentative touch on the back of his exposed neck.
"Don't be afraid, I'm just trying to loosen your bonds."
For the third time in as many minutes, Aramis jumped. Of all the things he had imagined it to be, venomous snakes, vicious rats, crows or wild dogs, he had not considered it would be a person. Aramis tried to say something, but the net hadn't loosened any while he was unconscious and all that he managed was a muffled groan.
"I saw what they did to you…" the mysterious person said. "It was unfair of them to gang up on you like that."
Aramis felt the net loosen around his broken arm and lurched when searing pain raced up the limb.
"Sorry, I didn't know it was broken." The man's hands moved down towards Aramis's back, using a small knife to slice through the strands wrapped around his chest. When they broke apart Aramis took a deep breath and coughed, the man behind him chuckled. "I'll undo your leg in a moment, but you have to promise not to kick me. I am only trying to help."
The net fell away from Aramis' upper body; he raised his head from his chest and gasped, "I won't do that. Kick you I mean. Thank you for helping. I hadn't had much hope of being found."
"Like I said, that was unfair of them." The man moved around to the front and sliced the net from Aramis's legs. He backed off as Aramis stretched them with a groan. "Will you be alright to make your way home?"
Aramis stared at the man; it was still too dark to see anything but his vague outline. He braced himself to stand up, "I'm sure I will manage." He reached out and braced his good arm on the wall and tucked his broken one into his body, cradling it. It was at that moment that the rain let up and the clouds parted, revealing the full-moon. Its light cast shadows all over the alleyway and Aramis got his first real look at his rescuer. The darker skinned man was tall, broad-shouldered and a bit underweight, which was common in the Court of Miracles. He had a long scar running across one eye and wore a pendant with a face on it that Aramis recognized as St. Jude.
"You look like a street rat," Aramis commented. He cringed immediately when it came out sounding unkind.
The man smirked before Aramis could apologize, "You're not entirely wrong…"
His voice trailed off as he looked around the alleyway, gaze stopping on the discarded pauldron laying a puddle of water.
"You are a musketeer?!" The man asked incredulously. "You captain has been following me lately - why?"
"I've been a musketeer for a couple of years now, and Treville doesn't need to inform me of his whereabouts. I also prefer not to be a messenger in these sorts of things. If you would be so kind, please explain that to your court mates." Aramis responded indignantly. He paused, glaring at his rescuer a moment longer before pushing off the wall and extending his good arm out to the man. "They call me Aramis."
The man stared at Aramis for a long moment before extending his own hand, "I'm Porthos. How old are you? You barely look like you're out of your teenage years."
"I'm quite old enough to be a soldier - thank you," Aramis returned.
Porthos grunted; his disbelief of Aramis' words written all over his face. "I'll be leaving now. I have risked enough by saving you, and it's that much riskier knowing you are a musketeer."
Porthos walked over to Aramis' pauldron, picked it up out of the mud and tucked it under his arm, grinning. "A reward for my rescuing services; this will bring me a pretty penny."
Aramis frowned at Porthos' words, "Take this then," he said. He handed his coin purse to Porthos. "The King is unfairly cruel to the court folk, but there is no reason they should suffer needlessly. Please keep the pauldron and don't sell it. If you ever want to become a soldier and do more for your people, seek out Treville."
Porthos' jaw dropped open as he stared at the coin purse in his large palm, "I can't…"
"I insist." Aramis backed off and glanced towards the entrance to the alley. He could hear several people moving through the muddy lanes of the main street. "Go, before they find you and arrest you, my friend. When we next meet I will want my shoulder guard back."
"I doubt you will ever lay eyes on me again."
"I will - trust me."
Aramis watched as Porthos grinned and melted into the shadows just as Treville and Marsac rounded the corner into the alley.
"Aramis, are you alright?" Treville asked. He raced forward and grabbed for his wounded musketeer. "Who was that?"
Aramis put up no fight and accepted the embrace with ease, "I am going to live," Aramis stated. Anticipating the question his captain was about to ask.
"You sound, and look quite pathetic."
At Marsac's words, Aramis stiffened and pushed out of Treville's arms. "I was attacked by a group from the Court of Miracles, I'd like to see how you'd feel being in my boots!"
Treville sighed and grabbed Aramis by the arm steadying the man as he swayed. This had been a long night and he had no wish to get into the details of what happened until they were all ensconced in the garrison. Marsac was right, though, Aramis did look like he'd been roughed up and Treville wanted to have him looked at by a doctor.
"Let's get back to the garrison and then we can deal with the details." Aramis almost heard a hint of a question in his captain's last remark but no one else took it that way and they marched on.
It was well into the night by the time the group had reached the garrison. They settled Aramis in the healing rooms and then saw the doctor out after he finished dealing with the young man's injuries.
"Where is your pauldron Aramis?" Treville asked. He sat down in a chair beside the bed where his soldier was propped on a couple of pillows. Aramis now sported a binding, wrapped tight around his arm, and secured to his chest to keep the bones immobile. Treville was annoyed at losing his best marksman for several weeks until it healed. The broken arm was the worst of the injuries Aramis endured in the alley though. The rest, a broken rib, concussion and various scrapes and rope burns from the net, would heal far quicker.
"My street rat, Porthos, took it. I told him to look for you should he want to join our ranks."
"Aramis, we can't just take any stray off the streets and accommodate them. JJ was the first and last of those." Treville admonished. "Who was this Porthos?"
Aramis smiled. "You would like him Captain; you'll see, he'll show up… HEY!" He shouted a half second later. Aramis twisted on the bed looking around the room. "Where is JJ? She was with me in that alley. She's just a kitten!"
"She's right here!" Marsac said. He entered the room holding an angry white kitten. JJ was swatting at Marsac with all her might, furious at being touched by the human she despised more than anything. "JJ dragged your hat all the way to the garrison and back."
Marsac walked over and deposited the cat, dropping her in Aramis' lap none too gently. Once she was safely snuggled up in his good arm Aramis grinned and whispered, "My precious hero, you saved me! Serge is going to make you the most delicious meal as a reward."
Treville rolled his eyes and motioned for Marsac to leave the room. There were a few more things he wanted to know about Aramis' ordeal and if he allowed Marsac to stay the two would only end up fighting by the end. Marsac and Aramis were the best of friends, but both had tempers and were stubborn to a fault. It wasn't a good thing to leave the two together for long periods of time.
When Marsac left, Treville turned back to Aramis and asked, "You said a group from the Court of Miracles attacked you?"
"With a net, I was so twisted and tangled in it I couldn't move as they hit and kicked me... Did JJ really come all this way to the garrison?"
Treville ran his hand down his face and sighed, he didn't understand what could have provoked an attack on his musketeers. It was usually the red guards that picked on the court inhabitants inciting their wrath, "Why did they attack you, did they say?"
Aramis was scratching JJ under her chin, the kitten purring so loud that Treville almost missed the whispered response. "They warned me to tell you to stop following their people… Porthos said he was the one you were following. Sir, why are you so interested in him?"
Treville frowned, he had never heard of anyone named Porthos. He decided that Aramis should, at least, know why he'd been so brutally attacked tonight.
"I lost a friend's child to the court when he was five. I promised to watch over him and I failed..."
It was silent in the healing room for a good long time, both Treville's and Aramis' breathing and JJ's purring the only sounds.
"Well," began Aramis. He lay back in his bed a little further, yawning as he spoke. "If Porthos is that little boy, he's obviously survived and he looks well. Something tells me he is going to return my beloved pauldron someday… maybe not soon, but someday. You will have your chance then."
Treville watched as Aramis yawned and shuddered at the fatigue running through his limbs.
"Thank you Aramis, and yes, JJ did help us find you. You should have seen her crying on your hat in the middle of the courtyard. She was a pitiful sight, soaked down to the skin and growling at anyone who came near her."
Aramis closed his eyes and chuckled, "She's feisty, my kitten."
"She is going to get you into a world of trouble, kid." Treville smiled fondly at his soldier. Despite outward appearances, he hoped and prayed that the boy from the court would show up at his garrison one day.
"Aramis, why were you out of the garrison tonight?"
There was no response from the bed's occupants but a snore and a faint purring.
