By the time the sun was settling into the sky the next morning, more than half the garrison were already in place in their designated areas, waiting for their signal. Several others were waiting to accompany Porthos and Aramis into their place as the first wave of attack once Marchal had been identified. There was an air of anticipation amongst all the musketeers, as there was every time they had a mission that they could be certain would end in some sort of confrontation. It was part of the reason they had signed up, after all.
Porthos and Aramis were with Athos and D'Artagnan, going over the final details one last time at their usual breakfast table in the yard, and Porthos was having a final go at persuading them to let him and Aramis go in their place.
"You know I'm talking sense, you've both been injured recently." With both hands on the table, he leaned across, imploringly.
"We're both fine Porthos." Athos' arms were folded. He was not budging.
"Aramis, help me here."
Aramis shrugged. "If they're fit for duty they're fit for duty."
Porthos growled at him.
"Besides, you like the bit when you get to charge in, yelling yourself hoarse, pistols waving." Aramis met Athos' eyes, who grinned back.
"Well don't blame me if one of you gets hurt..."
D'Artagnan felt Athos tense up instantly at his side. Thanks for that Porthos, he thought. "We won't. You'll be there to protect us. Now go, I don't think your group can handle the wait much longer." D'Artagnan nodded towards the gate, where the men who were waiting for them were starting to scuffle a bit, with more than a few of them being held in tight headlocks.
With a sigh of defeat Porthos moved away from the table. "Fine. We'll see you on the other side then?" He looked at Athos and D'Artagnan, who both nodded back confidently, then glared at Aramis before gesturing sharply with his head that he should follow. Athos and D'Artagnan watched as Aramis caught up with the big musketeer, slinging an arm round him briefly and saying something that made him laugh, before they caught up with their men and headed out.
"Go on then."
Athos turned his head to look quizzically at D'Artagnan.
"Tell me it's not too late, that I could catch up with them and send one of them back to go instead of me. You know you want to."
Athos just lifted one eyebrow and shook his head, before turning his head back towards the gate and muttering something under his breath.
"What was that?" D'Artagnan grinned at him, knowing perfectly well what he had said.
"I said I promised, didn't I!" Athos spoke through gritted teeth, but D'Artagnan just laughed beside him.
"That's right, you did. I told you, if you're going, I'm going."
"There's no way I am not going to be there to teach that son of a bitch as lesson, so I guess you better come with me then. One sign of that sore shoulder though and I'll have someone pull you out, understand?" Athos stood and looked down at him.
"Absolutely. I promised too, didn't I?" D'Artagnan smiled up at him, pleased to get a smile in return, before reaching for the breakfast he had yet to finish. Athos walked away and headed up to Treville's office to give him the final details of the situation, shaking his head as he went.
Life with that boy was going to be difficult, but it was going to be damned interesting.
Half an hour later, with their prisoner in tow, Athos and D'Artgnan approached the meeting point; a large building in a very salubrious part of the city.
"You're sure this is exactly where you were to go?" Athos stopped the man and grabbed him tightly by the collar.
"Yes." The man was not entirely convinced that helping them bring in Marchal was going to earn him his freedom, or his life, but he was willing to try.
"And he doesn't know you?"
The man shook his head. "He doesn't meet his employees until they become regulars. A successful job is required first."
"Good, then you can wait here for us." Athos roughly shoved the man down a narrow alley, gagged him quickly and tied him up tightly, leaving him at the far end, where the sunlight wouldn't touch him and tell anyone he was there. "Much safer than trying to keep you out of the way of everyone's swords, don't you think? Now, we better keep you quiet too." And with a punch that would have felled Porthos, he knocked the man out cold.
D'Artagnan was lounging against the wall when he exited the alley, grinning to himself. "Feel better?"
"Much. Now just one last thing." Athos grabbed hold of D'Artagnan's collar and hauled him back into the alley, pulling him far enough to be in the darkness before pressing the younger man against the wall, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss.
D'Artagnan instantly threaded a hand into Athos' hair, pulling their faces tighter together, and one behind his back as he tried to pull their bodies even closer. They stayed like this for several moments, in a heated kiss that drew memories of the night before, and promised of the many nights to come. Eventually, when he couldn't stand it anymore, Athos released him and stepped back, panting. With his hands falling onto his knees to steady himself, D'Artagnan tried to desperately to get his breath back, before looking up at Athos.
"What was that for?"
Athos grinned as he looked down at him, pleased at the state he had left him in. "Just reminding you why you need to make it home tonight." His words were teasing, but D'Artagnan could detect the serious tone behind them. He stood upright, stepped in towards Athos and took his face in his hands, leaning their foreheads together to calm Athos down.
"I will always make it home to you Athos, always." He watched Athos close his eyes before nodding. "I love you."
Athos opened his eyes and grinned. "Let's go and get this done then shall we? I have a strange need to get you home as soon as possible."
D'Artagnan followed with a grin as Athos practically leapt out of the alley, heading up the street to the doors of the house they were expected at. He reached his side.
"Ready?" Athos smiled softly at him as he raised a hand to the ornate door knocker.
D'Artagnan straightened the hat he was wearing, a small effort to hide how well he fit the description Marchal had been searching for. "Always."
The noise echoed down the street as the heavy metal banged off the wood of the door. It was not long before footsteps made their way to the door and it was pulled open. A servant stood, looking at them expectantly.
"We're here for our payment." Athos instantly fell into character, adopting a rougher voice and less genteel accent. D'Artagnan managed to stop himself from gaping at Athos in amazement, but he did feel his knees wobble slightly as he heard it. Wow. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming desire to get Athos on his own.
"You have the paperwork?" The servant at the door was eyeing them cautiously. D'Artagnan realised he was being appraised and settled his face into an expression he thought befitting of his new status as a kidnapper.
Athos nodded and handed over the letter Aramis had forged while they were still in Giverny, being their master of fakery, and waxed shut with the official seal used by 'Bonacieux' when he was being his true self. The servant looked carefully at the seal, glancing up at the two men in front of him once more before handing it back and nodding them inside.
Stepping across the threshold, Athos looked around him carefully as he followed the servant through an entrance hall and up the stairs. Three doors off the hall, not including the door they had entered by. All closed. Four doors at the on the first floor.
D'Artagnan trailed behind him, making his own observations. No other servants to be seen, and no one left behind to guard the front door, which had been carefully locked by the one who let them in. Marchal was obviously very confident that he was secure here. D'Artagnan smirked in satisfaction, the idiot wasn't going to know what hit him.
They were shown into the furthest room on the first floor, entering through a simple looking single door into what appeared to be a large office. Two men stood in front of the windows facing the door, arms folded and looking unmistakably like they were there as the 'muscle'. Neither of these men were Marchal.
As the door closed behind them Athos turned to see that the servant had stayed in the room. So they were to be outnumbered. Marvellous.
Another door was on the wall to the left of them and after a few moments of silence it opened abruptly, a man entering and moving to sit at the desk in the room, in front of his bodyguards. He didn't even glance at the two men who were there to see him, but sat at his desk and began sorting through some papers that sat on it.
D'Artagnan turned to Athos and raised an eyebrow. Athos shrugged back and stepped forward, clearing his throat. He supposed he should address the man as sir, but he couldn't bring himself to, so he stood and waited in the silence, his anger growing as the silence stretched further.
Since he had entered the room, D'Artagnan had been eyeing up the man who was behind his ordeal, and everything that had happened after. He didn't look particularly threatening; he was fairly small and not very strong looking, he didn't carry himself with an air of menace. Just this maddening sense of his own importance, that D'Artagnan could see was causing Athos to bristle into a state of complete tension. He decided to play the role of the stupid sidekick and stepped forward also.
"We're here for our payment." He let his voice sound bored, and annoyed, making it clear he had no idea this man was as dangerous as he was.
Finally, Marchal looked up, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. He held out a hand, beckoning with his fingers for the rolled parchment Athos till held. The musketeer stepped forward and handed it over without a word. Marchal ripped open the seal, looking over the contents and threw it onto the desk.
D'Artagnan held his breath as he read it. Aramis was a seasoned forger, but they needed this to pass muster or they'd be dead in a second. He heard Athos take a sharp intake of breath beside him that matched his own when the letter was discarded. Marchal eyed them for a few moments, before he finally spoke.
"He seems pleased with his purchase. Any trouble?"
D'Artagnan couldn't help the smile that took over his face, fighting it back an instant later. That was his voice?! That high-pitched squeaky voice belonged to the man who was one of the greatest criminal minds they had come against. Oh, this was fantastic. Porthos and Aramis were going to love this.
Athos, however, did a better job of not reacting. "None. Our money?"
"You shall have it, don't worry." Marchal stood from behind his desk and walked slowly round to stand in front of them. He looked D'Artagnan up and down for a second, but dismissed him quickly. When his eyes reached Athos he stood for longer, letting his eyes roam up and down the man in front of him in obvious appreciation for long to make D'Artagnan clench his fists at his side. He really, really wanted to punch the smug bastard. "I think I'm going to enjoy having you work for me." The man practically purred as he spoke.
Athos shuddered a little inside, but held himself in check. When Marchal got no reaction from him he sighed and moved back to his desk, opening a drawer and removing a bag of coins. He headed back round the table and handed it to Athos. "Report back in two days and I'll have another job for you, ok?"
'Did he just wink at me?' Athos thought. He managed not to snort in the man's face, but this time he smirked a little before nodding and turning back towards the door, D'Artagnan following. The servant pulled the door open and they were just about to step through it when the squeaky voice called them back.
"Wait." They stopped, breath held. "I thought I was told there was three of you?"
Athos turned slowly, and shrugged at Marchal. "He got in the way."
Marchal just grinned back, and dismissed them with a hand.
Back in the hall Athos and D'Artagnan headed quickly towards the stairs. It took Athos only a few second to realise that his companion was shaking with laughter. He allowed himself a quiet chuckle, but shook it off as they reached the door into the street. He turned quickly to D'Artagnan, who quickly shook off his laughter.
"Ready?"
D'Artagnan nodded, giving Athos a wink, that he was actually glad to receive. Athos smiled then turned to the servant who had followed them back to the door. They stepped aside, letting the man approach the door. He pulled the key from his pocket, inserting it into the door and unlocking it. D'Artagnan put his hand on the servant's, pausing him as he moved to pull the door open.
"If you don't mind, we'll do that."
The ma barely had time to look at him in confusion before Athos wrenched open the door, grabbing the man by the neck and throwing him into the street. D'Artagnan looked out from behind Athos to where the man lay sprawled in the street in confusion.
"As good a signal as any."
"Indeed." Athos turned back into the house, letting his noble voice carry through the whole building at once. "King's Musketeers! Come quietly." At D'Artagnan's raised eyebrows he shrugged. "What? I want to take the bastard fighting!" With a grin he ran back towards the stairs, just as the three doors on the ground floor burst open, and dozens of Marchal's men ran to attack. That explains the man's feeling of security in this building. But they were ready.
At the same time, the doors upstairs opened and feet thundered towards the stairs, but men piled in through the open door behind them, and glass could be heard breaking all around as the musketeers arrived, and took the quickest route into the building.
Yells were heard from upstairs, causing some of the men running towards the stairs to turn back, leaving only a handful for Athos and D'Artagnan to get through to make their way towards their target.
On cue, they heard Porthos' roar of battle, pistols began firing as Marchal's operation began falling down. Quickly, Athos dispatched three men with his sword, another falling down the stairs towards him as he was shot by a musketeer on the ground floor below them. D'Artagnan had his back to Athos, keeping at bay those that tried to come up the stairs towards them, while Athos took care of those coming down. It wasn't long before they had reached the top of the stairs. The hallway at the top of stairs was full of musketeers scuffling with various members of Marchal's extensive entourage. Athos could see that the door at the end was still unopened. Not a good sign, if any musketeers had come in through the windows in his office.
An ugly giant with two swords broke through the melee and lurched towards D'Artagnan. The Gascon spun out of the way with ease, slipping behind the man and knocking one of his swords away. Athos quickly took care of the other, then stooped in front of him on D'Artagnan's nod, then waited for D'Artagnan to push, sending their assailant rolling down the stairs and taking several other idiots out on the way down.
Athos grinned as he stood. He loved watching D'Artagnan use the manoeuvres they had taught him.
"Athos, look!" D'Artagnan was pointing down the hallway, through the groups of scuffling men. Athos instantly saw what he was pointing at – the bodyguards from Marchal's office were in the hallway, fighting with two musketeers.
Athos breathed a sigh of relief. "If the door's shut he's still in there."
"Avoiding the fight? A coward as we expected then."
"They always are. Let's go." Swords out, the two of them made their way along the corridor, offering help to any outnumbered musketeers, but quickly realising that they were definitely on the winning side. Several of Marchal's men were dead, and several more unconscious or restrained and guarded over by grinning musketeers. By the time they reached the end of the corridor only one of the bodyguards were left standing, and the other was about to be beaten. They sidestepped the fight and threw open Marchal's door.
He wasn't sitting at his desk, and a quick glance to the left showed them that the other door in the room was closed. The office was empty. Silently, Athos pointed to the door, D'Artagnan nodded quickly and they crept into the room, D'Artagnan staying on guard at the door while Athos headed towards the door.
"I'm so disappointed. I was going to have fun with you." The high voice came eerily through the door as Athos reached it. "I should've known."
D'Artagnan moved further into the room, as Athos reached for the door. He pulled it open, sword held aloft, and took a step back.
"Come out Marchal, it's over."
Marchal stepped quietly into the room, sword drawn. "Musketeers you say? Well at least I shall be going out in style."
"D'Artagnan? Don't move." With that instruction Athos lunged at Marchal, using all of the anger he had been bottling up against this man, since Jacqueline, through D'Artagnan's kidnapping.
D'Artagnan stood and watched the fight in wonder. He had never seen Athos like this before. He loved to watch him engaged in a sword fight, but this was something else. It was brutal, and forceful, but quite beautiful at the same time. He had no desire to step in, this was Athos' fight, and he wasn't sure he could match Marchal's obvious skill with his shoulder.
He just hoped he got to punch the bastard before he died.
He spun round as footsteps arrived at the door, but was relieved to see Porthos and Aramis arriving, swords and pistols drawn.
"All done?" His voice was casual, as if there wasn't a fight to the death going on behind him.
His friends glanced at the clashing swords and moved just as casually into the room, stopping to stand comfortably and watch.
"All done. " Porthos confirmed. "So this is Marchal? Hmm. Not quite what I pictured."
"He's pretty good with that sword though," Aramis pointed out.
D'Artagnan snorted. "He'd need to be. Wait till you hear him."
Athos was vaguely aware of the others standing watching, but he didn't let his concentration waver for a second. Marchal was good, but he was much, much better, and he was done playing with him. With what seemed to the audience to be a simple flick of his sword, he sliced into Marchal's hand, disarming him, and quickly had his sword pressed against the man's throat.
"Please don't kill me!" he squeaked.
"Blimey, he sounds like he's about to shit himself!"
"You'd think so wouldn't you?" D'Artagnan grinned at Porthos.
"You mean that's just his voice? He sounds like a two-year-old girl!" Porthos' body shook with mirth.
Marchal's face was growing read with anger as he glared at them around Athos' unmoving body. This was obviously a bone of contention with him.
"You will die anyway, by my hand or by execution."
Marchal looked back at Athos, fear spoiling his attempt to glare as he realised he was truly facing his death.
"Aramis? His sword please." The musketeer in question stepped forward and picked up the fallen weapon, smirking at the criminal before stepping back.
Athos slowly lowered his sword, stepping in to take hold of Marchal by the throat. "I would absolutely love to kill you right now, but I won't. I wouldn't waste the energy, either to run my sword through you, or to clean your blood from the blade afterwards. The blood of better men has been spilled at my hand, and you are not worth a place in my body count." Athos squeezed his throat and moved his face closer. "But that is not to say that I won't see you punished, before I take you to be hung." In swift succession, Athos slammed his knee between Marchal's legs and crashed a fist into his face. Marchal dropped to the floor, groaning piteously as Athos turned away and walked to his friends.
"Anyone else?"
"Ooh, me first!" Aramis advanced on him, with a grinning Porthos quickly following.
Athos moved to D'Artagnan. "And you?"
"I'll let them finish first. Are you ok?" D'Artagnan looked him over with concern, knowing he wasn't physically hurt, but not trusting the man's emotions to leave him alone. He was relieved to receive a smile in return.
"I'm great." To both their surprise, Athos pulled D'Artagnan to him and kissed him briefly, for a moment not caring that the others were in the room. Until, of course, they heard Aramis' sarcastic 'aw' behind them.
Athos tried to glare at his old friend, but couldn't as he was met with a genuine smile. Glancing down at Aramis' feet he saw that a few more punches, and knowing Porthos a couple of kicks, had been levelled at their prisoner. With a nod, Athos told Aramis to lift him – it was time to go. They dragged him to his feet, Porthos and Aramis holding him tightly between them.
"D'Artagnan?" Athos turned to the man beside him.
With a grin, the youngest member of their group approached Marchal, lifting his dropping head and making sure he was paying attention.
"Do you know something, you twisted, miserable bastard? People don't appreciate being sold. But I think you're going to appreciate your death even less. I'm sure we can arrange for something a little more drawn out than hanging, don't you gentlemen?" There were murmurs of agreement all around him. "Excellent. But, in the meantime..."
D'Artagnan crashed his fist into Marchal's face, breaking his nose and knocking him out cold.
He turned and grinned at Athos. "That's better. Let's go home."
xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx
Later that afternoon Aramis, Porthos and Athos sat in the yard, a bottle of wine in front of them. Marchal was in a cell, hopefully panicking about the death that was coming his way, and Treville was on his way to tell the King what had happened. It was truly over.
"How long's he been gone?"
"Athos, that's the third time you've asked. He'll be fine." Porthos sighed.
"Are we going to have to go through this every time the boy goes somewhere on his own?" Aramis chuckled, but stopped when Athos glared at him from the seat beside him.
"Have you forgotten recent events already?"
"I was just teasing." Aramis held his hands up in peace, and Athos looked a little ashamed of himself.
"I know. Sorry."
Aramis grinned at Porthos. "An apology from Athos? Now if this is a change our young friend is going to bring about then I for one am more than happy he turned up!"
This time Athos just shoved Aramis on the shoulder with one hand, sending him tumbling from the bench they shared.
"Hey!"
Porthos shook his head at his friends, laughing. Things were getting back to normal.
"Hey guys."
They looked over to the gates to see an exhausted looking D'Artagnan coming into the yard. He made his way over to them, taking the seat next to Athos that was now empty, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched.
"How did it go?" Athos desperately wanted to take D'Artagnan's hand and offer him comfort, but this was a close as they could get in the public yard.
D'Artagnan sighed. "As you would expect. And yet not, I suppose." He reached for Athos' wine, draining the cup before he elaborated. "She's not sorry to lose him, she wasn't happy you know. She was upset that he was dead though, then horrified when I told her the truth about him. I think she's embarrassed, to be honest. I mean, she married a man who never really existed, you know? She was sick when she realised what he was up to. It wasn't pleasant."
Aramis took a seat beside Porthos and spoke quietly. "What will she do?"
"She'll hold her head up high and carry on, won't she? She's Constance." D'Artagnan couldn't keep the pride from his voice as he thought about his friend. She would be fine, helped a little by the knowledge that very few people knew the truth.
They sat for a few minutes in silence, before Porthos stood.
"A night out I think. You ready?"
Aramis stood instantly, while D'Artagnan glanced at Athos.
"You go ahead." Athos said. The others nodded and walked away, Porthos looking trying to hide his disappointment.
"I take it we're going with them?" D'Artagnan spoke before Athos had time to pass on his thoughts.
"They need it. We need it. I know I said I just wanted to get you home, but I think the four of us need some time together."
"I agree. We'll be at home later anyway, won't we?" D'Artagnan stood, waiting while Athos did the same. They turned to walk to the gates of the garrison. "Porthos! Aramis! Wait up!" D'Artagnan shouted on the others before they walked out of sight. They stopped instantly, waiting patiently.
D'Artagnan continued. "I am glad that I get to go home with you though."
"Me too. When I think it might never have happened, it makes me feel quite ill." Athos spoke quietly, still a little embarrassed at speaking about his feelings.
"You do realise that you won't be getting rid of me any time soon?" D'Artagnan nudged Athos with his hip.
Athos grinned. "I'm counting on it. Forever do you?" With that he walked away, leaving D'Artagnan staring after him, mouth agape. He shook off his shock and ran to catch up, arriving in time for Athos meeting Aramis and Porthos.
The four friends wandered off a nearby tavern, a celebratory drink well earned, and much needed.
A/N And that's it! Sorry it took so long to write, but hopefully it was worth it. Please let me know. I also haven't checked it for errors, so point out any biggies you see!
Thank you all for sticking with me and following this through to the end! For all the likes and the kind comments, I humbly thank you! You have kept me going.
I'm trying to think of ideas of what to do next, so please let me know if you have any you want written.
Banana xx :)