Disclaimer – 3 Musketeers and the characters belong to Alexander Dumas pere.

Athos finds out about Aramis' past misdeed. Explosion imminent.

Chapter 13

Brother Martin had taken away his soiled garments and left his patient dressed only in a shirt. D'Artagnan winced as he pulled on the pair of old breeches he had found under his bed. It smelled mouldy but would have to do until he could get back to his rooms. D'Artagnan was not going to go out in the streets wearing only a shirt.

His wounds were still raw and there was a high chance of infection. However, he would risk it. He had neglected his mission for too long already. More importantly, he had been away from his daughter for far too long. If Toni was in Paris, he must make sure she was safe. The monks had left their patients unattended when they left for their prayers, except for the lay brother who was nodding off beside the bed of an elderly man. Most of the patients were napping or drugged against their pain. The former musketeer tiptoed out into the kitchen corridor, narrowly avoiding discovery by a scullion. Finally, he slipped out of the monastery hospital.

Once safely in his rooms, he changed into a clean shirt and breeches. He had lost his sword and there was no time to get another. Regretfully, D'Artagnan wished he had had the foresight to keep a spare sword in his rooms. A dagger would have to serve him for now. He tucked the weapon into his belt and almost dropped it in his fumbling. His bandaged hand would hamper him in a fight. He had to be careful to avoid any more encounters with the Archangels.

"Thanks, Marie…" Toni sighed with relief as she scrubbed the grime from her limbs. Marie had provided her with a tub to wash in. There was a kettle on the nearby heath for hot water. She felt a twinge of guilt that the men were outside washing with cold well water while she enjoyed a warm bath.

"No problem, Toni…" Marie replied. "I would advise you not to go out of the kitchen yet, until the men get dressed…" The other helpers have been rewarded with delicious game and squab pies. Splashes and yells from outside the shuttered window reminded the women of the men bathing by the well. Young Henri and M. de Treville had been sent to their beds. Henri needed his nap or he would be cranky later and the invalid de Treville needed his rest.

"I better go give them their clothes," Marie smiled and left the kitchen in a swish of skirts. Alone now, Toni allowed herself to sink into the warm water as much as the tub would allow. The warmth was starting lull her into a state of relaxation. Toni chided herself back to wakefulness. She must be dressed before the men finished their bath. Then she recalled her pony. Cher Ami deserved an apple or two for saving her. The shirt was too large but she could tie up the collar so that the chest-bindings did not show. The breeches were too wide at the waist but a length of rope served as a belt.

"This is just like old times," Porthos wheezed as he emptied a bucket over his head. Marie had provided them with towels which they wore over their hips. Nearby, their soiled clothes soaked in a washtub.

Aramis nodded in agreement. "Well, I seem to recall you had a smaller belly then." He was promptly elbowed by Porthos. Athos chuckled. They were all out of shape. Cher Ami reached over the fence and nipped hold of a corner of Athos' towel. The pony jerked his head and the inevitable happened.

"Hey, give me back my towel!" Athos yelled as the grey pony trotted off with his towel. Butt-naked, a furious Athos raced after the pony who teased him by slowing just so that he could catch up, then galloping off. Porthos chuckled.

"Hey, some help here!" Athos growled. "What's going on?" Toni stepped out into the yard and-

"Oh!" Poor Toni's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when she saw a naked Athos chasing Cher Ami. The grey pony wickedly taunted Athos by flapping the towel in his mouth about.

"Cher Ami! Stop!" Toni cried out. "Apologies…" she yanked the towel away from her wayward steed and handed it to Athos, carefully averting her eyes.

"Thanks…" Athos took the towel and covered himself, painfully aware that even if Toni was not looking, his other two friends probably were and who knows if his former captain saw anything from his bedroom window. He stole a glance upwards. M. de Treville was standing at his window, stoically studying the clouds in the sky.

Young Henri was at his window, staring wide-eyed at the scene below. He looked like he was bursting to say something and Athos silently dared him to. The youngster did not disappoint. "Maman! The man with no clothes was chasing the horsie!" Henri blurted aloud. At the boy's innocent words, both Porthos and Aramis roared with laughter.

"Are you gentlemen done yet? I have some clothes which might fit in the parlour…" Marie called out of a downstairs window. Toni took hold of Cher Ami's reins in time to stop him from nipping Athos' towel again. Athos retreated inside the building.

"Toni, by any chance is Cher Ami related to your father's old horse, Buttercup?" Porthos jested as he and Aramis emerged from behind the fence. Toni hastily averted her eyes when she saw that Porthos' towel barely covered his hips. She shook her head. Her father had purchased Cher Ami as a colt from a passing gypsy.

"Get in and dressed before you catch a cold," Marie called out. The two men went in, much to Toni's relief.

"As expected, that boy did not even show up. Well, I'm going back to the inn," Athos huffed and stood up after wearing the clothes Marie had provided. He was of a built similar to de Treville and the clothes were a good fit.

"Will you be joining us later for a drink or two?" Porthos called out cheerfully. Athos shook his head. "No, I will be returning home."

"Porthos, I have a confession to make," Aramis whispered when Athos had closed the door and the footsteps died away.

"A confession? Were you the one who ate the last meat pie this morning?" Porthos jested as he struggled with the breeches. They were far too tight. Perhaps he would have to send Toni or Aramis back to fetch a pair of his own breeches, or walk home in a shirt.

"I gave it to Planchet… no, that is not what I'm going to tell you…" Aramis admitted. "Porthos, could you keep this from Athos, please…"

"What's your deep, dark secret now? You got into bed with his wife?" Porthos teased. To his horror, Aramis shamefully nodded in reply.

"Aramis, you're kidding, right?" Porthos gasped. Aramis shook his head in silence. "You slept with Athos' wife? How could you!"

"Mea culpa, mea culpa… It happened while I was on pilgrimage when I met Josephine… I didn't know she was his wife… I thought she was married to some boring old count…" Aramis started. Once he started, he could not stop. "He hasn't treated Josephine with the love she deserves and Raoul… that boy might be my son… Yet he treats him like dirt all because of his fear of blood. Look, he may be a good leader and musketeer but he's one hell of a poor husband and father…"

The abbe had his back facing the door. He did not see the door behind him swing open and a glowering Athos standing behind him. Porthos did and the giant blanched when he saw the simmering rage in Athos' eyes.

"ARAMIS!" Aramis turned at the shout and promptly felt a punch connect with his jaw with enough force to knock out one of his teeth.

Raoul knew he was late. It had taken longer than expected at the tailor's and later the theatre convincing the troupe to help. Jacques and Guy finally agreed to come with him for the promise of a generous fee for their labour. "Uncle Porthos?" the young man called out.

"Raoul! Here for your fencing lesson?" Toni called out a greeting as she brushed her pony's coat.

"No, I'm here for…" Raoul scowled at her.

"Aramis! Run!" Aramis bolted out the door, bleeding from the face. A livid Athos was hot on his heels while Porthos panted and wheezed behind the pair. Aramis did not get far before Athos pounced on him, slamming him bodily into the stone wall. Porthos tried to pry his friends apart.

"Come on, Athos! Calm down! You were so furious even when you caught her with that dancing teacher…" The late countess' reputation and the endless stream of her admirers calling on her was no secret to most.

"This is different, Porthos! He was my friend and he slept with my wife!"

Athos had his hands around Aramis' throat and the abbe was turning an alarming shade of blue. Raoul and his friends gaped in horror at the sight. Raoul had never seen his father in such a fearsome temper, even when he caught their clerk kissing his late mother. Marie was screaming from somewhere in the house. Her uncle was yelling something from his bedroom window. Not wanting to linger longer for fear of being embroiled in a murder, Jacques and Guy muttered their hasty apologies before abandoning Raoul and going back to the theatre.

"Father! You'll kill him!" Raoul cried out. He clung onto his father's arm but Athos shook his hand off roughly. The youth was sent crashing into Porthos.

"I'm not your father, you bastard! He is!" Athos bellowed and shook Aramis like a rag doll. A stunned silence settled over the yard as soon as the words were out of Athos' mouth. Athos suddenly relinquished his grip on Aramis and allowed the gasping man to sink to his knees. Slowly Athos turned to face Raoul. The hurt in his stricken eyes was obvious. Athos regretted his hasty words but the damage was done. The young man stepped back. Then he fled out of the gate.

"Raoul!" Toni shouted. A whinny and a dust-cloud announced that Raoul was spurring his mare at a dangerous speed through the streets. Toni whistled. Cher Ami came galloping to her side, pausing only to allow Toni to swing herself onto the pony's bare back, having removed the saddle earlier to brush Cher Ami. "Raoul, wait!" She galloped after the young man.

"Nice going, Athos, simply great…" Porthos growled as he helped Aramis to his feet. "Raoul thinks the world of you. He's your son, and has been for the past twenty years for crying out loud… You can't just disown him like this."

D'Artagnan was limping along the street when he was narrowly mowed down by a finely-dressed youth on a chestnut mare. He had to step knee-deep into the gutter to avoid injury. "You little rascal, watch where you're going!" D'Artagnan could feel something slimy entering his boot. Angry yells, curses and shaking fists all along the road announced that he was not the only pedestrian the rider had nearly trampled.

"Raoul, wait!"

D'Artagnan threw himself into the gutter for a second time as a blond youth on a grey pony came galloping by. The grey pony looked very familiar, as did his rider… This time, D'Artagnan landed face-first in the filth. Glumly, he wiped his face with a hand. He was going to Monsieur de Treville stinking like a pig sty. That would really bring back memories about the time he and his fellow musketeers landed in a pile of manure after fleeing from the cardinal's guards.

He plodded through the gate of the fencing school and was greeted by the sight of Athos sitting glumly on a pile of firewood. Aramis was on his knees, coughing and spitting blood. Porthos stood over them looking more sombre than D'Artagnan had ever seen him. Wearing a dressing-gown, de Treville hovered nearby. Before D'Artagnan could greet them or make sense of the scene…

"Be off with you! We don't have anything for beggars!" a small woman came running and waving a broom menacingly at him.

"Wait! It's me- OW!" The broom landed on his wounded arm with all the force the housekeeper could muster. "D'Artagnan!"

"D'Artagnan?" Four pairs of eyes were riveted on him.

"Thank God, you're alive," the former captain cried out. "You look like you fell into a manure-pile, again. Marie! Draw him some water and get some clothes!" The housekeeper need not be told a second time. She vanished into the house to prepare a bath.

"Your son, he told us you were dead!" Porthos gasped. He rushed forward and enveloped the younger man in a hug. Athos and Aramis held back.

"I don't have a son…" a bewildered D'Artagnan declared. "Has Toni been here?"

"Wait, isn't Antoine your boy?" Athos questioned. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

"I only have one daughter and her name's Antoinette…" D'Artagnan replied.

"WHAT? Toni's a girl!" Four jaws dropped and four pairs of eyes bugged out in unison.

"You mean that Athos was running naked after that crazy pony while a woman was watching?" Porthos blurted in stunned disbelief. "D'Artagnan! If you were alive all this while where on earth have you been?"

Author's Notes:

Cat's out of the bag now.