Thanks for the lovely comments about the troubles between Athos and d'Artagnan. More of the boys coming up as well as a look at present day events.
Aramis had forced Porthos to sit on his bed as soon as they'd made it to the larger man's room. While Porthos had been a bit unsteady earlier from a blow to the jaw, he felt fine now and wished Aramis would stop his fussing, but the medic was adamant in his need to examine his friend. Resigned, Porthos allowed Aramis to help him remove his doublet and shirt, the contortions needed to accomplish the task still somewhat awkward with his healing shoulder.
Aramis expertly undressed the wound and prodded at it, satisfied that no additional damage had occurred. As he replaced the bandages he asked, "What were you thinking, Porthos, getting into a fistfight while injured? Are you really that determined to undo all my fine work?"
Although Porthos was a little annoyed with his friend's questioning, he knew that the man's words stemmed from concern and he could not fault the medic for that. With a sigh he said, "It couldn't be helped, Aramis. Those three were beatin' on d'Artagnan. I had to step in before he got hurt."
"What?" Aramis looked at him sharply as he leaned back from what he'd been doing. "Surely that can't be true."
The medic helped Porthos slip back into his shirt and then the larger man continued, "One of them had him in a headlock while the other was beatin' on his ribs. From the looks of things, they'd been takin' turns at 'im."
"Then I wouldn't want to be in their boots when Athos gets finished with them," Aramis stated, his words trailing off as the older man walked through the door.
Athos walked directly toward them, throwing a questioning glance at the medic and Aramis replied to the unspoken question, "He's fine, although he'll have a nice bruise come morning."
As he spoke, Porthos touched his jaw, wincing a bit at the soreness he encountered there. Grinning he said, "Couldn't be helped. It was either this or let the punch hit my shoulder. I decided my hard head was the better choice."
Aramis rolled his eyes at his friend's antics while Athos' shoulders eased perceptively, but it was clear that the older man wasn't satisfied yet, "Why were you fighting, Porthos?"
Glancing up at Aramis first, Porthos returned his gaze to Athos as he explained, "It was three against one, Athos. Those ain't fair odds for anyone. I was just evenin' things out."
Athos' brow furrowed, knowing that there had been four men involved, but not having registered the men's identities. "While I appreciate your strong sense of honor, surely it would have been better for the four to work things out amongst themselves."
Comprehension dawned at the older man's words and Aramis spoke softly as he said, "Athos, they were beating d'Artagnan."
Athos' eyebrows rose as he looked to Porthos for confirmation, the large man nodding in agreement, "They said they were trainin' him to fight more than one man at a time."
Athos' hands and jaw were clenched once more, the feelings of embarrassment and anger he'd held earlier replaced by guilt and a need to know that the young man was alright. Aramis' voice pulled him from his thoughts as the man questioned, "Did he seem alright, Athos?" At the older man's vacant look, Aramis clarified, "d'Artagnan, did he seem alright to you when you left?"
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Athos admitted, "I didn't even realize he was there, and Treville took over right away and dismissed me to see how Porthos was."
The admission had Porthos rising and snagging his doublet while Aramis held the door open for them and they followed Athos out, the three intent on returning to the courtyard to check on the Gascon. When they arrived, the area was empty and it was obvious that the Captain had already dealt with the men. "Treville's office?" Porthos offered, asking whether the other two thought they should go ask the man about d'Artagnan's whereabouts.
Athos gave a short nod in reply and led the way up the stairs, pausing briefly to knock before receiving permission to enter. Treville looked up at the three from his desk, a small smile gracing his face when he saw Porthos. "Porthos, I'm glad to see you looking well. No further damage, I presume?" Both Aramis and Porthos shook their heads and the Captain's smile grew. "I'm pleased to hear that. Now, what can I do for you?"
Athos seemed incredibly uncomfortable so Aramis stepped forward to pose their question, "It's d'Artagnan, sir. We were wondering if you might know his whereabouts." Trying to offer a reasonable explanation for their request, the medic went on, "I thought it might be prudent to check him over and ensure he's not hurt."
Privately, Treville had wondered how long it would take for the three men to show up, having observed the affinity they seemed to have for the young man, and he for them, and it was part of the reason he'd been surprised by d'Artagnan's request to train with someone else. Leaning back in his chair he observed the three, Porthos wearing a somewhat eager expression on his face as he waited for an answer, Aramis with a need to care for their possibly injured friend and Athos – the older man's expression puzzled him as he'd expected anger but what he saw instead was remorse. Giving a tilt of his head, he said, "He's returned to his rooms, likely to get some rest before he begins his punishment."
"Err, Captain, what is his punishment, if I may ask?" Porthos piped up.
"He'll be mucking out the stables every morning for the next week," Treville answered, waiting for a reaction from the three.
Smiling charmingly, Aramis interjected, "Captain, it's come to our attention that d'Artagnan may have been innocent in all this and that the others were taking undue advantage of him."
"Really," Treville drawled, waiting for them to say more, confirming his earlier suspicions, something which the Gascon had been unwilling to do.
"Yes, sir," Porthos added, "that's why I got involved. Ain't fair for any man to have to take on more than one man at a time, at least not in training."
The Captain nodded thoughtfully as he replied, "Please have d'Artagnan report to me in the morning, and let him know that it's never a good idea to withhold information from his Captain."
The three ducked their heads as Treville waved a hand at them in dismissal. Stopping outside the man's office, Aramis asked, "Do you think he'll still make d'Artagnan work in the stables?"
Athos gave a slow shake of his head, "No, not as long as d'Artagnan is honest with him tomorrow."
"Guess it's up to us to convince him, then," Porthos grinned as the three descended the stairs and crossed the courtyard, heading in unspoken agreement toward the Bonacieux house.
If Constance was surprised at their appearance at the door, she showed no indication of it, simply pursing her lips and standing aside to let them in, giving them a look of disapproval once they'd reached the kitchen. Noting the expression with some trepidation, Aramis plastered a charming grin on his face as he held his hat in his hands and asked, "Is there something we've done to offend you, Madame?"
"Humph, come to see the results of today's training, have you?" she questioned pointedly, steaming ahead without awaiting a reply. "I don't understand why you would allow someone to get hurt like this when it's supposed to be just practice. Isn't it enough that you're in harm's way every time you're out on a mission?"
The stream of words made the men's concerns flare and it was Athos who stepped forward to interrupt, "Madame, we were not the ones who inflicted d'Artagnan's injuries. How is he?"
Her eyes widened at the revelation but she composed herself quickly, offering a small shrug in reply. "Says he's fine," the men rolled their eyes at the standard response, "but his arm was bleeding and he's got quite the bruise on his face."
Aramis gave a polite nod, "Then our arrival is fortuitous. With your permission, we'll just go check on him?" Constance bit her lower lip for a moment and then nodded in agreement. The three quickly made their way back to the Gascon's room, Aramis knocking perfunctorily before barging in, unwilling to wait for permission to enter.
They found d'Artagnan in bed, staring at their appearance in confusion. "What's going on?" he questioned, already pushing himself up and preparing to rise and gather his things. "Are we needed at the garrison?"
"No," Aramis smiled reassuringly, crossing the room to push the boy back onto the side of the bed.
"Then why are you here?" the Gascon asked in confusion.
"Just wanted to make sure you're alright after today's training," Porthos offered and d'Artagnan winced before dropping his head, uncomfortable with the topic.
Drawing a breath he looked back at them and said, "I'm fine, thank you for coming." He waited expectantly for them to leave as quiet fell over the group, Athos looking unusually uncertain and d'Artagnan growing anxious at their continued presence.
"Why don't I confirm that for myself," Aramis suggested, noting the tensing of the Gascon's shoulders and the way in which he guarded his side with his left arm. "Athos and Porthos can go keep Madame Bonacieux company." He sent both men a pointed look that begged them to leave and they reluctantly turned and exited the room.
"Now," Aramis spoke easily, keeping his tone light, "Constance mentioned that your arm was bleeding." He pulled the limb toward him, d'Artagnan resisting for a moment before he saw the pleading in the medic's eyes and allowed him access.
As Aramis unwrapped the wound, he talked in an effort to distract the young man, "You know, this is remarkably reminiscent of the day you defeated Vadim. On that day, too, you returned here without having your wounds tended."
d'Artagnan flinched but remained silent, knowing that he could not share his real reason for not seeking Aramis' aid without also admitting that he'd been eavesdropping on their conversation. "You've torn a couple of stitches," Aramis pointed out, the Gascon grunting noncommittally. "I'm going to assume you'd prefer that we just bind the wound instead of redoing these?" d'Artagnan nodded.
With a sigh, the medic agreed, replacing the bandage. "Alright, we'll try it your way, but that will change if it's not healing well." When he'd finished, he motioned to the young man's chest. "Porthos said you took some blows to the ribs."
Knowing it would speed things along if he complied, d'Artagnan gritted his teeth and moved his arm aside, revealing the bruising that had begun to darken along his left flank. Aramis winced in sympathy as he gently pressed on the Gascon's ribcage, the young man stating, "They're just bruised, Aramis; I can tell the difference."
The medic hummed in reply but continued until he was satisfied that d'Artagnan was correct. "I've some salve that will help with those."
"That's not necessary, Aramis," d'Artagnan replied, struggling against the ache in his side as he rose and walked over to a chest that contained his things. It was a simple choice to select a clean shirt to wear, only having two more in addition to the one that was currently lying in the corner, stained with his blood. Knowing that it was not the Spaniard's fault that he couldn't be around the men, he said, "Thank you for coming by to check on me."
"Mmm," Aramis hummed again, worrying his lower lip.
"Is there something more?" d'Artagnan pressed, wondering why the man was still sitting there.
"No," the medic responded uncertainly before rising and striding to the door, pausing once it was open to loudly call Athos' name. Turning to face the Gascon, he said "forgive me," as he passed through the doorway, giving way to the older man who came hurriedly at the medic's call and now found himself inside d'Artagnan's room with the door firmly closed behind him.
"Athos, I'm sorry," d'Artagnan stammered. "I have no idea why Aramis called for you." The older man stood stock still just a few steps inside the room, staring at the livid bruises that darkened the young man's eye and cheekbone. Misunderstanding Athos' silence, the Gascon tried to fill the quiet, "I know you don't want to be here and it's fine, you can go. I've already asked the Captain to let me work with some of the others."
"What?" the older man breathed out. "Is that what happened today?"
d'Artagnan gave a humourless smile as he answered, "No, today was Rioux's way of reinforcing the lesson you tried to teach me."
"He did this?" Athos asked lowly, the Gascon not understanding yet the danger of the man's quiet tone.
d'Artagnan shrugged, "Not all of it. Barteau and Girardot helped."
Athos felt his anger building again, not at the Gascon but at the Musketeers who had dared harm the young man. Quelling his rage as best he could, he asked, "Why did you ask to train with someone else?"
The Gascon gave another shrug as he searched for a viable explanation, "I thought it would round out my skills." The hard stare that Athos gave him left little doubt that the man didn't believe him and d'Artagnan began to fidget as the silence between them stretched. Sighing, the young man admitted, "I thought you might have felt uncomfortable after telling me about your brother and wife after the fire, and that it might be easier for you if I was not around as a constant reminder."
"You thought it would be easier?" Athos repeated, stunned at how accurately the boy had read him. The Gascon gave a dip of his head in confirmation. Keeping his voice low and level through sheer force of will, the older Musketeer quietly exploded. "What makes you think you know what's best for me? Furthermore, what gives you the right to decide how I am to feel about the things I shared with you? Am I to understand that you believe me too fragile to handle the consequences of my actions?" Athos was striding stiffly forward now, holding onto the last of his control as he prodded at d'Artagnan's chest with two fingers. "If you were so concerned about my feelings, then you shouldn't have come back in the first place. I was prepared to face my ghosts alone and would have happily accepted whatever outcome God has in mind for me."
"I…I'm sorry," d'Artagnan stuttered, "that's not what I meant. I only came back because you seemed upset at being back in your home."
"And you believe that to be an unusual response?" Athos spat, his words heavy with sarcasm.
"No," d'Artagnan cried, trying to make the man understand. "You had…have every right to feel that way. I returned out of concern for a friend, nothing more." The word friend cut through the haze of anger that clouded Athos' mind and he looked at the boy sharply as he processed its meaning. At the same time, the Gascon's brain was catching up with the Musketeer's words and now it was his turn to be upset. "What do you mean you would have accepted the outcome?" His eyes narrowed and he saw the truth reflected in Athos' eyes as he breathed out, "You were ready to die."
Athos turned and took a step away, unable to hold the young man's accusing gaze, his anger at the situation quickly replaced with shame at having been found out. His voice was strangled as he spoke softly, "You can never tell the others."
d'Artagnan's fury rose and his body followed, propelling him to his feet to close the short distance between the two of them, spinning the other man around with a hand on one arm. "Not tell them that you want to die?" he asked, incredulously.
"You promised," Athos reminded him, still looking away.
"No" d'Artagnan shook his head. "I promised not to tell them about your brother and wife, but this…" he trailed off, swallowing thickly with the enormity of the man's admission. "Athos, not this. If you won't tell them, I will," he finished quietly. As he said the words, he realized that this could be the end of things between them, but he knew he could never live with himself if the older man somehow found a way to achieve his objective, seeking death rather than fighting to live.
They stood in silence for several long moments, d'Artagnan letting his hand drop from Athos' arm. Finally, Athos gave a tired nod as he said, "I will tell them, but you will let me do it in my own time."
d'Artagnan gave a shaky nod in return, grateful that he would not have to break his promise and divulge the man's secrets. "However," Athos' voice hardened once more, "you will endeavor not to make such foolhardy decisions in the future. Whatever possessed you to think that I would ask you to distance yourself?"
The Gascon offered a one-sided shrug as he said, "Well, there was the other day when you refused to practice with me and your very enthusiastic lesson afterwards." Athos had the grace to wince at the words, noting that d'Artagnan's hand unconsciously moved to hold his injured arm. d'Artagnan continued, his expression sheepish, figuring that it would be best to be completely honest, "And I heard Aramis and Porthos talking afterwards, in your rooms."
Athos' brow furrowed in confusion, "What are you talking about?"
"They said it would be for the best if they kept us apart for a while," the Gascon explained.
"I see," Athos replied, making a note to speak with the two men next. In an uncharacteristic fashion, the older man clasped the young man's shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. "Perhaps we should see what they're up to. I'm quite certain that if we stay in here much longer, we'll have both of them breaking down the door to make sure we're both still alive."
As they moved toward the doorway, Athos added, "The Captain sends his regards and would like to remind you that's it's never a good idea to withhold the truth from him." d'Artagnan blanched as the older man continued, "You are report to him first thing in the morning and I recommend you provide the full details of today's training accident so your punishment may be properly assessed." A genuine smile flashed across the Gascon's face and Athos nodded in satisfaction, confident that the boy had understood.
Present day:
"Isn't it enough that you're in harm's way every time you're out on a mission?" Constance's words echoed through Athos' head as he recalled the events of that day. His choices had led to the Gascon's unnecessary injuries and it was the first time the man had felt a surprising surge of protectiveness towards the boy. The strong emotion had driven him to first berate Aramis and Porthos, a smirking d'Artagnan at his side, until the tables turned and it was revealed that the men had decided against the idea of keeping the two apart, something unknown to the Gascon because of the timing of his departure.
While the Captain had already punished the three men responsible for the young man's condition, the three friends also doled their own retribution, until the word silently spread throughout the garrison that d'Artagnan was not to be toyed with again. The Gascon had been unaware of what the men had done, but the act had been immensely satisfying for Athos and he felt some of his guilt at what had transpired slowly falling away. Now, as he rode frantically toward Paris, having no recourse other than to finish their mission before returning to search for the young man, Athos chafed at the knowledge that he could not protect the boy.
After the attack, they had ridden swiftly to secure their charge, a second cousin to the Queen, in a remote spot where the lady would be safe. He'd ordered Aramis and Porthos to stay behind and protect the woman, while he'd embarked on the journey back to the garrison in order to secure more troops and ensure the lady's safety. His friends had vehemently opposed his decision to further divide their numbers, but ultimately realized there was little choice. Unfortunately, the solitary ride he now undertook allowed far too much time for introspection, his mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios, all of which culminated in the Gascon's mistreatment and suffering.
Athos pushed himself and his horse beyond their limits, his mind ticking off each minute on an imaginary clock, understanding that time was of the essence since the bandits who'd attacked them would eventually kill the boy when he couldn't tell them the location of their target. Feeling the trembling animal beneath him, he placed a hand on the quivering flesh of its neck as he whispered, "Just a little bit further and then you can rest." He prayed that it would be enough.