7. THIS MAN

Treville and Athos:

This is an expansion on a scene from "A Marriage of Convenience," in Series 2. We all saw that terrible scene where Treville was shot and only Lemay's expertise saved him ...

oOo

Athos had stood rigid at the end of the table as Treville roared in pain.

Aramis was calm, doing what he could as Lemay and Constance arrived.

"I have some practice with musket wounds," Aramis had offered, when they discovered there was no exit wound.

"I bow to your experience," Lemay had replied.

Still Athos stood, waiting for orders.

He could not tear his eyes away, the only support he could give to Treville as he continued to writhe and gasp.

Porthos was beside him, equally rooted to the spot but free, Athos suspected, of the emotions currently warring within him.

"Hold him!"

An order given and he could now move. He could do what was required of him.

He and Porthos moved in sync.

Porthos was deeply concerned; finding it difficult to watch. But he was not riven with guilt.

For that is what he felt when he recalled those final words Treville had spoken to him in the yard, before the Captain had headed off to the Rue Jacob to collect the King's present for the Princess;

"The Regiment will need a new Captain soon. I could recommend you."

Athos had not replied. He could not contemplate it; for Treville had been stripped of that honour. He had seen his whole life slip away from him on the whim of a king whose petulance at being denied his wish for a new First Minister had sought the cruellest form of revenge; to take away that which was held so dear.

Treville had been saddened. His other emotions - for Athos knew there were many - held tightly within him. He had been worn down by his monarch.

Sadness was what remained.

Then, the last words Treville had spoken to him;

"I'm finished here. It's time you all accepted it."

And now this. Gunned down in the street by an unknown assailant.

In the end, Lemay had brought his skill to bear.

Once the bullet was removed by Aramis, all was not right. Treville began to gasp for air as his lungs seemed to refuse to work.

This was beyond Aramis's skill, freely admitted, and Lemay took charge.

"I need him on his back!"

And so they turned him and held his legs.

Always one for acquiring new knowledge, Lemay had produced a tube and had drained the fluid that had accumulated in his lung. Treville had at last pulled in air.

Only then, could Athos move his feet and lead Porthos in search of the would-be assassin.

They had found evidence that Princess Louise was not who she purported to be, if evidence of her portrait - the gift Treville was to collect - was anything to go by.

Francesco and the woman-imposter were now dead, and the Council Members were safe.

The rest could wait.

oOo

Now, Athos sat in the corner of the room in the infirmary watching Treville breathe.

"Athos, get some rest."

"I am fine."

"He wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself.

"Once he wakes."

"After he wakes, we will move him to his own bed and you can then clutter up his office, my friend."

The attempt at humour failed.

Athos was closed down.

Impenetrable.

"You've been here all night," Aramis persisted.

Silence.

Aramis did not want to consider having two patients to care for.

oOo

Athos could not order his thoughts.

Treville was a constant. Treville was his driving force.

Treville was a hardened soldier. When he raised his voice, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Athos knew subservience only under this man, and his king.

No-one else.

This man; who had once held his future in his hands when he himself could see no future.

This man; who could have rubbed those hands together and condemned him to dust; flinging that dust away on a wind of ambivalence.

This man; who had honour and lived and breathed duty. Who loved France and who loved his men.

This man; who they strove to emulate and to please.

This man; who now unknowingly held his future in his hands once more; lying twixt this world and the next.

It was a metaphorical toss of a coin now that would decide Treville's fate. The same turn of events that would decide his own.

Perhaps, at some point in the future, Athos could accept Treville's death.

But not now.

Not now.

Athos could not order his thoughts.

And so, he withdrew.

He became a fortress that only Treville's survival could breech.

oOo

"Want me to slug 'im?" Porthos had offered during the second day.

"No!" cried Aramis, as they both stood on the balcony watching their friend through the window.

He looked at Porthos and smiled sadly.

"Not yet."

oOo

Athos sat looking at the floor now; the sight of his Captain, immobile and as white as the sheets that covered him, unnerved him.

The stone flagstones at his feet were becoming familiar to him. Each crack studied intensely.

"If you have stopped willing him to wake with your stare, you might like to turn your eyes to that," Aramis said, passing him a book he had retrieved from Athos's room.

Athos recognised it, running his fingers over the cover. He had owned it for several months but had not yet started to read it.

"Better than a slug, I guess," Porthos had grunted, when Aramis had proposed the distraction.

oOo

The book became a lifeline.

He appeared to lose himself in the pages, afraid to look at the man in the bed and unable to engage with his friends.

He raised his head only when Aramis stood in front of him, demanding answers to his enquiries, expecting and receiving only monosyllabic answers; mostly in the negative.

Athos would leave the room occasionally, striding unspeaking out through the door.

The first time, Aramis found him in Treville's office, working through the papers and documents requiring attention. Orders were issued and once the Garrison was running smoothly, he would return and take his place wordlessly next to their Captain's bed.

The second time, Porthos found him in the stable, brushing Roger with a vigour that may not have been entirely appreciated by the horse.

Later, a bowl of stew found itself thrust into his hands. He grunted his thanks, but then sat looking at it until it congealed and became inedible.

A glass of wine fared better.

Aramis made him help, changing sheets and bandages. At first Athos had baulked at the idea of such care, but an unspoken conversation between them ensured his co-operation and he then continued, when required, unbidden.

All the time, he returned to the pages of the book.

Occasionally his eyes flicked to ensure his Captain still lived.

oOo

When night fell, he closed the shutters and lit candles.

When dawn broke, he opened the shutters and cleared the guttered candles away.

The touch of a well-meaning hand on his shoulder made him flinch.

Food was not welcomed, nor conversation.

Company was tolerated, as others sought to also keep a vigil.

His face was only visible when he stood and left the room; otherwise it was turned to the pages of his book.

Gradually, they let him be.

oOo

The Third Evening:

All was quiet; the only sound was the steady turn of pages.

"Is it a good book?" a familiar voice whispered.

Startled, Athos looked up, and was met with a weary steel blue gaze.

"I cannot say, Captain," Athos replied quietly, closing the book and putting it aside;

"I have only read the first sentence."

oOo

Thanks for reading! More Infirmary Talks soon.