A wagon approached the garrison gate and rode inside, where it came to a stop near the stairs. Treville and a man climbed out and approached the table. "Here they are," Treville said to the stranger, gesturing to the four musketeers.
When the others realize that they were being addressed, they all stood from the table.
"This is Monsieur Lemieux," Treville told them. "The clothier whom King Louis employed to create the new musketeer uniforms."
Lemieux gave them a humble bow. "I am honored to meet the brave men who risked their lives to defend the honor of France. The king told me so much about you that I'm sure that I can guess exactly which of you is who."
All four of them looked at each other with surprise at that.
"I hope all of you will be pleased with the new uniforms," Lemieux said. "I'm here to do a fitting, if you're all up to it." He eyed Aramis' sling.
D'Artagnan flashed a smile. He was eager to see what they looked like. "Now works for me."
The other three all nodded.
"Do you want to go first?" Treville asked Aramis. "So you can rest afterwards without having to wait your turn?"
Aramis doubted that he would go back to bed after, but he nodded anyway and waited as the clothier took out the boxes that he saw had his name on them.
"Am I right?" Lemieux asked.
Aramis nodded with a smile. "Indeed you are."
The clothier nodded and followed Aramis towards his room.
"Need help?" Porthos asked his friend.
Treville put out his hand. "I'll help him if he needs it." He followed Aramis and the clothier.
"I don't think he wants us to see each other in the new uniforms until they're finished," d'Artagnan commented.
Porthos eyed the clothier's cart where the other boxes remained. "What's stoppin' us from havin' a look?"
Athos looked at him. "Porthos."
Porthos held up both hands. "All right, all right, I can wait!"
They were lucky that Treville and the clothier didn't hear them as they climbed the stairs. Once inside Aramis' room, Lemieux started opening the boxes while Treville helped Aramis with his sling and jacket.
"Sizes were a problem," Treville told him. "I know what it's like to spend time away at war, so I knew that you'd all likely come back thinner."
Aramis nodded; it made perfect sense, and it was true.
Lemieux finished getting the tops off the boxes, and Aramis was glad to see that the king had kept him in his usual brown, with the pants dark enough to match the new doublet, which he could see peeking out of its box.
The pants ended up needing to be taken in a little, but the length was perfect. The boots had much less of a top fold, which suited Aramis just fine, as the bigger flaps often got in his way and he was considering replacing them anyway.
Finally, Lemieux took out the doublet, and looked at it before eyeing Aramis' splinted wrist. "This is going to need a temporary alteration," he said, before sitting in a chair with it on his lap.
Aramis sat on his bed and waited, and the softness of the mattress suddenly made him want to take a nap.
"Tired?" Treville asked.
Aramis opened his eyes, not realizing that he'd closed them. "Yes," he admitted. He certainly couldn't say 'no' after being caught with his eyes closed.
Treville gave him a sympathetic smile.
The tailor finished a moment later and brought the doublet over to Aramis, holding it out for him to put his arms through.
Aramis was surprised at its length. "It's shorter," he said, as he stood.
Treville nodded as he helped him get his splinted wrist inside the sleeve, which managed to fit thanks to Lemieux taking out the hem in the forearm. "Louis made all of them short, so the musketeer troupe would look uniform."
Aramis understood. He let Treville fasten the latches for him, which he realize was going to be a challenge with his wrist in the splint, especially since they were individual buckles rather than clasps.
Once Treville was finished, he stepped back. "Do you like it?"
Aramis looked down at it, running his hand along the soft leather. "Yes, I do...even with it short."
Treville smiled. "That's a relief. I know how much you like your long jacket."
Aramis nodded. With the war behind them and the surprising reveal about the dauphin, everything was different now. "New life, new uniform."
Treville understood exactly what he meant, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
Lemieux fussed around Aramis, checking all the seams and the length. He mumbled softly to himself about the changes that needed to be made, including taking it in as it was a little too big.
Treville had to hold out Aramis' bad arm for him so Lemieux could check the length of the sleeve, and Aramis had to hold his breath, as moving his arm so much was increasing the pain.
"I'm sorry," Treville said, as he gently folded Aramis' arm in so Aramis could take hold of it after.
Aramis shook his head. "I'm fine." The way he held his arm contradicted his words.
"I still have the sling that I used after LeBarge dislocated my shoulder," Treville told him. "It would give you more support and likely be more comfortable than the fabric you're using."
Aramis hadn't even thought of that. "That would be very welcome," he said.
Treville nodded. "Rest. I'll be back."
Aramis sat down on his bed again as Treville saw Lemieux to the door and they both left, taking the boxes with them. Aramis shifted to recline upright against his pillow, in an effort to keep himself awake. He dozed off anyway, and woke again when he heard his door open.
Treville came over to the bed and sat down, helping Aramis get his arm into the sling and looping the strap around his neck for him. "It's adjustable," he said. "Like a belt buckle." Since Aramis was taller than he was, Treville took hold of the strap and lengthened it to level Aramis' arm straighter. "How's that?"
"Better," Aramis said. There was less tension in his muscles now that his arm was stable. He sighed with relief. "Thank you."
Treville smiled with a nod.
Aramis suddenly yawned and reached up to cover his mouth. "Excuse me. I can't believe I'm still tired."
"I'm not surprised," Treville said. "Rest. You'll be fighting-fit again soon." He reached over to help Aramis lie flat.
Aramis endured Treville's fussing, knowing how relieved he was to have them home again. He sighed and closed his eyes, and felt Treville squeeze his shoulder before he left.
Sleep didn't come quickly to Aramis this time...his thoughts immediately strayed to the dauphin, and the news that he wasn't his son. He was still so shocked that he didn't know how to handle it...though he was glad to have found out now, after four years of being separated. If he'd had to watch him grow and actually been able to form some kind of relationship with him, and then found out...he would've been devastated.
The more pressing thing that weighed on Aramis' mind was everything that had happened as a result of thinking that the child was his. Marguerite might still be alive, Athos would never have had to carry the dangerous secret, and Porthos, d'Artagnan, and Treville would never have been endangered by the knowledge later...
Aramis sighed and put a hand over his face. Why why why? he asked himself.
A sudden sound got his attention, and Aramis opened his eyes. He realized that he'd fallen asleep after all, and felt groggy as he looked towards the door. It was darker in his room, and Aramis was surprised to find that he'd slept until sunset.
"Hey," said the disembodied head of Porthos that had poked into the room. "We're going to the tavern. Wanna come, or would you rather rest?"
A tavern was exactly where Aramis wanted to go; just like before the war, before Rochefort, before the convent…before all the trouble had began. "I'm coming," he said, throwing the covers back.
Porthos came inside and spotted his sling. "Hey, that was Treville's. Does it help?"
Aramis nodded as he stood. "Yes, much."
Porthos was glad. He helped Aramis with his jacket and they left his room and headed outside.
The four musketeers decided to walk, not feeling like riding after their recent long journey home. Porthos stuck to Aramis' side, and Aramis could see that he was in 'protection mode'. He wasn't surprised at all; trouble had befallen them many times on the same walk, and Aramis wouldn't be much help with an arm in a sling.
Stepping into the tavern, a feeling of contentment swept over each of them at the familiarity. It almost seemed as if no time had passed at all as they headed towards the tables. The noise and bustle had a calming effect on each musketeer, as it represented normalcy. They could almost forget everything that had happened as they sat down and looked around.
A barmaid spotted them and brought them each a goblet of wine. When she saw Aramis' sling, she made a sympathetic face. "Oh, you poor darling! Did you just come back from the war?"
Aramis smiled gallantly. "Alas, I have, my lady...some wine would help me much."
She handed him the first goblet. "I'll bring you a bottle!" She started to walk away before remembering that Aramis wasn't the only one at the table, and handing out their goblets too.
Aramis immediately drank his, before putting the goblet down with a sigh of delight. There hadn't been much wine to drink during the war. When he looked up, he was startled at his friends' expressions.
They were all staring at him…and they were smiling.
"What?" Aramis asked.
"It's nice to see you back in action," Porthos said, with a chuckle. "Now I know we're home!"
"I'll drink to that!" d'Artagnan said, raising his goblet.
Porthos laughed and raised his own, clicking them together.
Athos said nothing, simply looking at Aramis with his trademark slight smile. Aramis realized that Athos looked different; lighter, able to relax. A sudden memory from the war filled his mind…hearing Athos' voice telling him that he was sorry, that he should've left him safely at the monastery rather than drag him off to war. Aramis remembered trying to reply, but not having the strength to even open his eyes after being shot and collapsing from blood loss.
Aramis knew that he'd changed since the situation with Rochefort, and realized that his short flirtation with the barmaid had been a sight for sore eyes to his friends. He returned Athos' smile and held up his goblet. "To a new future, and a closed door to the past."
Athos raised his goblet too. "Hear, hear."
TBC