Aramis and Porthos descended the ladder quietly after they awoke; smirking as they spotted the tangled bundle that was Athos and D'Artagnan near the far wall of the barn. A groan behind them reminded the two musketeers that they had work to do and they snapped out of their brief trance.
"I'll go and check on our patient, if you want to deal with our guest?"
Porthos' reply was a grin, before he went to the man firmly trussed up in the corner, still groaning in pain.
Aramis approached the other two, loathe to wake them, but needing to check his patient as soon as he could. He was relieved to find D'Artagnan breathing, and showing no sign of fever.
"Athos?" Aramis crouched by his friend, gently shaking his shoulder. His eyes immediately opened. "I need to check D'Artagnan's wound, please."
Athos tried to fight the blush that was trying to spread across his face at being found in such a...well, cuddly way. He nodded, extracted his arms from a sleeping D'Artagnan and stood. "I'll go and see if there's some water outside. We'll need it for, uh, various things. I'll get you some."
Aramis laughed softly as Athos walked out of the barn, clearly flustered. He shook his head, then pulled the blanket from D'Artagnan, trying to move the padding from his wound without waking him. He jumped a little when a voice spoke.
"Morning Aramis."
"D'Artagnan, you're awake! Good, that will make this easier. How do you feel?" He began to gently inspect the wound, smiling at D'Artagnan as the boy's eyes fluttered open.
"Fine."
Aramis raised an eyebrow.
"Ok, ok. It hurts like hell, ok?" D'Artagnan rolled his eyes at Aramis, who simply raised his second eyebrow, clearly looking for more. "And if you must know, I'm rather tired. And a bit cold since you sent my human blanket away." D'Artagnan looked squarely at Aramis, daring him to react, but the older men just kept calmly inspecting the wound that graced his shoulder.
"Good good. All is as it should be then. Hungry?" D'Artagnan nodded eagerly. The pain in his shoulder was immense, but he was absolutely starving. Aramis replaced the dressing and stood. "I'll get you some breakfast. Ah ah!" He waggled his finger as D'Artagnan tried to sit up and groaned in pain. "You don't move till I move you, got it?"
Reluctantly, he nodded in agreement. He hated being helpless. It was only a minute before Aramis returned, however, and helped him slowly to sit up against the wall of the barn, a musketeer cloak folded carefully behind his back to support him. He nodded in agreement when Aramis insisted he would be lain back down when he got sore, and took the bread he was offered and chewed eagerly.
He nearly choked on it a few minutes later when Athos came into the barn, carrying two buckets of water, his hair soaked and plastered to his face, with rivulets running down his face and dripping down his neck into the loose shirt he wore.
"There's a stream behind the barn." Athos announced triumphantly, after he had glanced over to D'Artagnan and seen that all was well. "Perfect for bathing."
"So we see." Aramis' reply was dry, but he looked over at D'Artagnan and smirked knowingly. Athos clearly had no idea what he was doing to him at that moment. "I'll take some of that though." He took one of the pails Athos was brandishing, after finding them God knows where, and moved back to D'Artagan. The Gascon didn't even bother offering an argument when Aramis removed the dressings once more and began cleaning the wound gently.
"Gentlemen? It's time to work out what to do with our friend here." Porthos had untied the tight bindings that were causing their captive pain, and had fed and watered him before tying him once more to a post in the centre of the barn. Now the other three soldiers in the room turned to face him, glaring at him in a way that made the man's bowels feel very loose all of a sudden.
Athos kept his distance, not trusting himself near the man, but watched in satisfaction as Porthos prowled around the man like a hunting cat, soon joined by Aramis when he finished with D'Artagnan. He let the two of them scare the life out of their prisoner for a few minutes, watching as any remaining colour drained from his face, before he spoke.
"Where were you going?" His voice was calm, but authoritative. There was no mistaking the power or the class in his voice. D'Artagnan in his position against the wall was behind him. The Gascon rolled his eyes. Between the voice and the new wet-look appearance the man was surely trying to kill him.
"Giverny." The man spoke without hesitation, figuring out quite quickly that the best chance he had of staying alive was giving them every answer they asked for.
"To see whom?"
"I, I don't know." He panicked as the two pacing around him stopped, at the same time as their leader stood. "Honestly, we never knew. We were just told what the job was."
Porthos couldn't help himself. He grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to his feet, ignoring the groans that said moving was still not comfortable for the scumbag. "Told by who?"
"I never met him before, I swear. He just offered us money, lots of it, to find someone matching a particular description and take them to Giverny. I swear. We were at it for a week, all over Paris before we saw your friend there." The man was shaking all over.
"Did you see the man who employed you?" Athos stalked towards him, his voice urgent. The man nodded desperately, and was dropped unceremoniously by Porthos.
"If he's shown himself then he's getting desperate Athos." Aramis spoke quietly, and the others nodded.
"You're right. This client must be important." Athos glanced over his shoulder at D'Artagnan, who looked back at him blankly. The pain was beginning to impress on him, but he wasn't going to tell Aramis that, so he was happy to stay quiet and let them deal with it. He was enjoying watching Athos take charge anyway, if truth be told.
Porthos shrugged. "Then we need to get back to Paris today, and take this arsehole with us to find his boss."
D'Artagnan shook himself out of his reverie and spoke quietly. "No." The others turned to look at him. "We need to keep going."
"You've been injured boy, nearly died. Don't you think we'd best get you out of it and deal with this quickly?" Porthos threw up his hands in exasperation at the boy's stubbornness.
To everyone's surprise it was Athos who spoke up in agreement with D'Artagnan. "No, he's right."
"Sorry Athos, do you have water in your ears from your morning bathe? He said he wants to keep going." Aramis looked at Porthos, who just shrugged back.
"I know. It's the only way. We need to get Marchal, and we need to get this client too. If we go back it could take days to find him. What's to stop someone else being taken?"
"Someone we don't know needs rescued." D'Artagnan piped up.
"This way we can go to Giverny, get the client, and through him get Marchal. It's our only option."
Aramis and Porthos stared at Athos for a few moments, before mumbling their agreement.
"One small issue," Athos turned his attention back to the prisoner who had remained slumped on the floor. "Does the client know when to expect you?"
"No. We didn't have time to send word that we had him. We sent a note yesterday saying that we intended to take him last night, but we were going to send a message on ahead today, to say when we'd arrive."
"Good. Then we will do that." The man looked up at Athos, who now stood over him. "You are going to tell us where to send it, then we are going to go as you and your now deceased friends, and take D'Artagnan to his new owner. You are going to be taken to the nearest village and handed over to the authorities present. You will wait for us, chained up and thanking God every minute that we left you alive, and that I let you keep your limbs and your manhood intact, despite touching him. Understand?"
The man on the ground nodded miserably, riddled with fear.
"Porthos?"
"Right then." Porthos grinned as he came back to the man and hauled him up by the collar. "Onto the cart with you."
Aramis followed him as he made his way outside. "I'll go with him Athos, once we send a message we'll try and get some clothes. We can't turn up like this if we're going as those three, and some of their stuff seems to be suffering from the effects of extra holes and blood."
"Um Athos?" D'Artagnan spoke up after they left. "Couldn't you just wear your own clothes without the musketeer insignia?"
Athos turned to look at him and snorted. "Of course. I believe Aramis was trying to give us a moment alone." D'Artagnan grinned back.
"In that case, could you come here please?"
Athos looked at him doubtfully.
D'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to try and coerce you into sleeping with me, I'm well aware that I'm not quite fit. I would like you to help me to my feet though."
Athos walked over to him and took hold of him under his good arm. Gently he pulled him to his feet, pausing every time he grimaced or groaned. When he was standing D'Artagnan leaned himself into Athos, tucking his head into the other man's chest and wrapping one arm around him, the other hanging fairly uselessly at his side.
"Aright?" Athos gently wrapped his two arms around him.
"Mm hmm. Nice." D'Artagnan snuggled further into the embrace, grinning into Athos' chest. It had been too long since they'd had a quiet moment like this.
"I'm sorry D'Artagnan. I should've been there." Guilt dripped from Athos' voice when he spoke a few minutes later.
D'Artagnan lifted his head and glared at him. "I'm not listening to that. It's no one's fault, it is what it is, and now we have a plan, ok?"
Athos nodded and rested his forehead against D'Artagnan's; one his favourite ways to stand. "I've never been so scared in my whole life. Don't ever do that again, ever." He whispered.
"I'll do my best never to get shot again, I promise." D'Artagnan chuckled, but stopped when Athos lifted his head and he saw the emotions shining in his eyes. "I promise." He leaned forward again, kissing him softly. "I meant to tell you earlier. I love you too."
xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx
It was late in the afternoon before Aramis was satisfied that D'Artagnan was completely out of danger of infection and would let him make the journey. They had sent a message saying they would be there within the next two days, giving them time to travel fairly slowly, getting plenty of rest. They stabled their horses in the village they had left their prisoner in, deciding that keeping the cart would be the best idea. The time was spent laughing and joking, a symptom of their relief to be reunited safely. Aramis, as usual, took the brunt of the humour, but by the second day he had managed to turn it round to jokes at D'Artagnan and Athos' expense.
The older man just smirked at Aramis, and Porthos, as they good naturedly ribbed them from their perch on the driver's seat of the cart. D'Artagnan gave as good as he got, sitting between Athos' legs in the back of the cart, snuggled against his chest. The young soldier was comfortable in his relationship and saw no reason to hide it from their friends. It seemed that Aramis and Porthos were not too bothered anyway.
By lunch time on the second day they were outside the town of Giverny.
"He said we were to go to the church on the main square, and a servant would take us to the client." Porthos pulled the horse to a halt as he spoke.
"We'd better get into character then." Aramis grinned and jumped down from beside Porthos, going round the back of the cart to climb in beside the other two. "We better tie you up D'Aartagnan. Would you prefer Athos did it?"
D'Artagnan said nothing but rolled his eyes at Aramis' waggling eyebrows. Sat up and leaned forward, bringing his hands round behind his back.
"Does it hurt?" Athos tied his hands with the rope Aramis handed to him.
"It's fine. A lot better than it was. At least I can move it now." It was more painful than he claimed, but it was necessary so there was no point in complaining. He knew Athos saw right through him anyway.
Athos climbed out from behind him and took his place on the other side of the cart, he and Aramis sitting side by side, pistols in their laps as they faced D'Artagnan. Guarding their prisoner.
"Ready? Let's get this over and done with." Porthos guided the horse through the town, heading for the large spire he could see in the centre. Arriving there, they spotted a little boy sitting miserably on the steps outside, obviously having been there all day.
"You waiting for a cart from Paris lad?" The boy nodded eagerly. "We need directions to your master. Up you come." He patted the seat next to him and the boy scrambled up onto the bench.
"What's your master's name boy?" Athos spoke from the back of the cart. The boy just shook his head and didn't speak. In fact he didn't speak for the whole journey to the large estate that he directed them too by pointing, a mile and a half outside the town.
"Definitely a rich bastard then." Aramis poke wryly to Athos as the house came into view. The mansion seemed to stretch on forever, a huge grand staircase leading up to the main house, which sat a good height above the extraordinary gardens that surrounded it. The boy pointed Porthos through an arch to the side of the steps, taking them into a vast courtyard in the centre of the building.
A man came out to meet them, going straight to the back of the cart, but soon stopped when faced with the swords of the two musketeers that sat there.
"We take him. We will need his confirmation so that we get paid." There was no room for argument in Athos' command.
The man nodded and beckoned them to bring D'Artagnan and follow them.
Aramis whispered to Porthos as they led D'Artagnan between them, Athos ahead of them stalking behind the servant. "Do none of this man's servants speak?"
"It's creeping the hell out of me." Porthos whispered back, shuddering.
They were led through the house, as grand inside as it was out, until eventually they arrived at a pair of ornately decorated doors. The servant opened them and stood aside, not entering the room. Athos glanced behind him at the others, silently asking if they were ready. Two nods were his answer.
With confidence, Athos swept into the room, approaching the desk at the far end where a man stood with his back to them, gazing out of the window.
"We have your order here sir. Now if you'll give us your seal as proof we will be on our way collect our payment."
The man didn't move for several seconds, before turning very slowly on the spot, eventually facing Athos and the others with a much calmer expression that he should have.
The three musketeers' mouths all dropped open at the same moment. In the silence D'Artagnan dared to lift his head from where it had been drooped between Aramis and Porthos. He immediately spluttered in shock.
"Oh my God, it's you!"
A/N This one kind of got away from me a little! There was a few things needing done before I took them back on the road though.
Thanks for reading. Reviews are helpful, so please leave one.
Just two or three chapters to go!
