Author's note: Again guys, I'm really sorry about the delay, but I'm a senior in high school and stuff gets really crazy around this time! :/ I will try to start writing the next chapter right now, but no promises about it being published in the next week. :( But hey, they do say that absence makes the heart grow fonder...no? Okay. Anyway! Here is a flashback to put things into perspective! I apologize for any mistakes both historically and grammatically because hey, I'm not perfect. Reviews/criticism are greatly appreciated! :D
Four days earlier
"How do you always manage to do that?!" Porthos growled. Aramis just holstered his pistol and smiled coyly at him. The targets far in front of them belied the reason for Porthos' annoyance; one had been hit in multiple places a few inches left of the center while the other had a neat hole in the dead middle of the target. They had both fired 4 shots, and as always Aramis had managed to get all 4 in the exact same spot.
Aramis chuckled as Porthos stormed off then busted into laughter as the bigger musketeer tried and failed to dramatically holster his own gun, which fell to the ground after some fumbling. Grumbling at his wounded pride, Porthos just sat heavily at a table, taking a swig of wine and glaring at a smirking Athos.
"Oh my dear Porthos, don't look so wounded," Aramis teased, "with plenty of practice maybe next time you will finally best me. Or if not that time then the following. Or maybe even never." He winked at Porthos, lips curled in a challenging smile.
"That's it!" Porthos, quick as a leopard, leapt from his seat and tackled Aramis at the waist, the smaller man giving a surprised OOF! as his back hit the dirt. "I know for a fact that this is something that I'm better than you at!" Porthos proceeded to hold down the squirming Aramis with only one arm to his chest as he burst into laughter along with the ever observing Athos.
Finally managing to wriggle free, Aramis tried to grapple with Porthos but only succeeded in making him stumble back a bit then get himself thrown quite mercilessly to the ground yet again.
"Oi! Oi! Watch the hat! Careful with my hat!" Aramis whined as his beloved hat tumbled off, leaving his head feeling terribly naked and his hair unruly. Finally taking pity on his brother, Porthos rolled bodily off of him and helped him up, unnecessarily assisting Aramis in brushing off his back rather roughly and messing up his hair.
Both chuckling, they joined Athos sitting at the table, who was trying and failing to be the mature one and hold back his laughter. As soon as they all three had calmed themselves and were happily downing cups of wine, Treville emerged from his office and called for Aramis. They all shot each other curious glances before the soldier in question abandoned his drink and ascended the stairs to the Captain's office.
As soon as the door closed behind Treville, Athos turned back to Porthos, a concerned look in his eyes. "How has Aramis been lately?"
Porthos shrugged, "He has been acting more like himself, which is a definite improvement, and he swears he has been actually getting sleep, but I'm not too sure if he is just staying that to get us of his back. It's not even been three months since the massacre and he seems perfectly back to normal, far too normal for my liking. I think he is still seriously hurting." The larger musketeer just cast a worried look at the closed door of the Captain's quarters. "Athos, I know that you want him to recover and make peace with himself, and I know that when we both talked to Treville about letting him go on a mission alone I agreed with you, but I'm not too sure anymore. Wounds as deep as the ones inflicted upon our dear Aramis in Savoy take years to heal and still leave painful scars. Are you sure you want to do this to him? Is he ready to go out alone again?"
Athos sighed, "Honestly Porthos, I'm not sure myself. Speaking as Aramis' friend, I'd rather keep him within our sights for a while longer, but speaking as Aramis' superior I need him back in fighting order soon and feel that as long as he agrees to the mission, he needs to be out there alone to work out his thoughts and his future in the regiment. You very well know that when it comes to carrying out our missions, my judgement must not be impaired by emotion, and I believe that this is the best call for Aramis. Besides, it is a simple enough task. Delivering a letter from the king is hardly musketeer work, and he should be safe."
Aramis was slightly irritated as he walked up the steps to the Captain's office, unaccompanied by his brothers. He swore if this was yet another mental health check up he would simply walk out. He was tired of the constant supervision over the past months. He did not need mothering even though every single time he closed his eyes he saw bloodied snow and the field of dead muskeā¦...STOP! Don't think about it! Ignore it! He quiteted his thoughts with an internal shout as he eased himself into the chair in front of Treville's desk, knowing that the older man did not miss the small stumble in his step when his mind decided to assault him with memories. Aramis simply pretended to ignore the fatherly look of concern in his Captain's eyes and put on a smile, easing back into the charming musketeer he used to be, leaning back in the chair, arms charismatically flopped over the sides, legs stretched languidly out in front of him. "Sir?"
Treville internally winced as he saw the curtain of false happiness fall across his musketeer's face. He had seen this happen before, men who lived through a horrific trauma losing themselves completely then living behind a mask of false pretenses. It hardly ever ended well. He hesitated before speaking, perhaps Athos was wrong, perhaps Aramis was not yet ready to go back into the field. But he had given his word, and as a Captain, although troop welfare was one of the top priorities, he could understand where Athos was coming from. Some time alone, away from the need to pretend, might do Aramis some good. "I have a mission I want you to complete, Aramis. It is simple, yet of great import. The king has drafted a trade agreement and needs it delivered to a nearby duke for a signature before sending it off to Spain. The duke resides less than two days ride from Paris; I will provide you with a map tomorrow morning before you embark. All you must do is have the duke sign the document, then return it to me so I can return it to His Majesty. Any questions?"
Treville watched as the color drained from Aramis' face and moved to the edge of his seat as the younger man whispered, "Alone?" The Captain felt his heart tug as the musketeer in front of him nearly crumpled in on himself, his eyes suddenly large and fearful, boring holes of question into his superior's face. Treville always hated seeing any of his men hurting as he thought of all of them as his sons and brothers, and Aramis's fear was painful. He stood up from behind his desk and knelt in front of the trembling musketeer whose eyes were staring into the distance.
Aramis had felt something snap inside of him as he listened to his Captain's orders; alone meant no one and no one meant everyone was gone. He wasn't ready for everyone to be gone, not again, not this soon. He couldn't bear the thought of everyone sprawled in the woods, throats slashed open, limbs akimbo, blood everywhere it wasn't supposed to be. He couldn't do alone. He could never be alone because alone was worse than dead. The only thing that brought him out of his daze was a tentative hand on his shoulder.
Treville hesitated, hand hovering over the young man's shivering shoulder. They were both soldiers, gentle touches were quite the opposite of what they were used to and it simply felt awkward. But looking into those vacant eyes he felt the need for both of them to be grounded, and he placed his hand on Aramis, as gently as he could. He watched as the musketeer slowly stopped shaking and gasped quietly, their eyes meeting, one pair filled with uncertain fear and the other uncertain concern.
"Aramis, everything is fine. I'm right here with you, Porthos and Athos are right outside. We are here for you and if you feel that you aren't quite ready to go on a mission, that's perfectly acceptable. Athos just felt as if it was a good idea for you to get some time away to figure things out on your own. We are all worried about you but we don't want to smother you."
The musketeer nodded slowly as he listened, ears pricking up when he heard the name "Athos." Taking a few seconds to think, he opened his mouth and spoke quietly. "I think you are right. I do need some time away to get things sorted. If Athos believes this is the best way then I will gladly oblige." A small smile crept onto his face, "And I do believe Porthos is getting irritated with the shooting matches he arranges to keep an eye on me. I should give him a break from losing so badly."
Treville chuckled and smiled back, "Very well then. You shall depart in the morning." As they both stood up and walked to the door, the Captain reached out again, his hand falling on Aramis' arm, "And Aramis, please be careful. Everything is going to be okay. I promise, as your captain, and as your friend."
Smiling, Aramis walked slowly backwards down the steps, "Of course, sir! It's just a simple signature retrieval, what could possibly go wrong?"
