Title: A Restlessness in Common
Author: JenF
Chapters: 25 of ?
Disclaimer: I do not own the The Three Musketeers, D'Artagnan, their friends or their enemies. If you recognise something, it's probably not mine. I'm just having fun.
Guilt, recrimination, humiliation and not a little embarrassment vie for top position within d'Artagnan's head as he kneels on the hard, dusty ground, a parody of how they found Aramis in the first place. He can't believe he's been so stupid as to allow himself to be captured by Descarte and jeopardise the whole operation. They set out to rescue their sniper and have ended up herded into a dusty courtyard, battered, bruised, and he's not sure what ails Porthos but he doesn't think it's good, at Descarte's mercy because he read the situation wrong.
He looks up at Athos and a wave of misery sweeps through him. His mentor's face is blank. They're all waiting for his answer, his solution to their current predicament but as far as d'Artagnan can see, there's nothing forthcoming. Athos is glaring at their nemesis and d'Artagnan wills him to look at him instead, just a glance to let him know he does not share the blame d'Artagnan has placed upon himself. Maybe, he thinks, if Athos looks at him, he will know what to do.
The trail of blood down the back of his neck is becoming an irritation and he can't help shrugging his shoulders to ease the sensation. He feels Descarte move even nearer to him, feels the heat of the man radiating over his back and shoulders and he wonders if that slight movement was a mistake.
But he doesn't have to think about it for long as Athos takes a deep breath and d'Artagnan thinks he's addressing Descarte but in reality it could be any and all of them.
"You and I can settle this like gentlemen," he rumbles.
"Gentlemen?" Descarte replies and d'Artagnan can feel the words vibrate round the courtyard. It seems to him that he's seriously considering what Athos is saying. "Are you proposing a duel?"
Duelling is illegal – d'Artagnan knows that but quite honestly, at this point it doesn't seem the worst thing any of them would ever do. The Gascon glances at Aramis and Porthos, standing taut and poised behind their leader. Aramis looks as though he's standing through sheer will power and nothing else whilst Porthos is the very picture of resentful constraint. d'Artagnan wonders how much effort it's taking Porthos to not launch himself forward and snap Descarte's neck this very instance.
His attention is drawn back to Athos as the older man shifts his balance from one foot to the other. He watches as the older musketeer nods once, decisive and determined.
"I am," he replies and finally breaks eye contact with Descarte. He turns his attention instead to d'Artagnan. "I believe this is the best way."
d'Artagnan isn't sure who that last statement was aimed at. Descarte seems to be waging an internal argument with himself. If he were in Descarte's position, d'Artagnan would run for the hills right now but then their opponent has shown himself to be remarkably lacking in common sense, either through some misguided desire for revenge or simply through an abundance of self belief. d'Artagnan isn't sure which.
"What are your terms?" Descarte asks.
"Simple," Athos replies. "If you win, and I sincerely doubt that will happen, I will surrender to your will but you guarantee to let my comrades leave. They, in their turn," and here Athos turns briefly to Porthos and Aramis, no doubt directing a silent command that d'Artagnan can't see, "will return to Paris and you will never hear from them again."
"And if you win?" Descarte continues.
"Then you return to Paris with us and face the courts."
"Hmm," Descarte drops a hand on top of d'Artagnan's head and the younger man barely refrains from a start of surprise. He represses a shudder as the hand gently twists in his hair, tangling fingers around strands desperately in need of a wash. "It seems to me that your terms, while acceptable to you, leave me wanting still. If I accept, your comrades are free to go whatever the outcome. That doesn't strike me as fair."
He steps round to the side of the musketeer at his feet and d'Artagnan can't help but twist his head as the grip on him refuses to relent. He finds himself looking to the side of the courtyard, no longer able to see his brothers. He hears shuffling of feet and suspects Porthos and Aramis are moving to their natural positions by Athos' side.
Descarte hasn't finished though and as d'Artagnan concentrates on his words he fixes his gaze on the abandoned gateway to the old manor house.
"I offer a counter proposal," he states.
There is a pause and d'Artagnan wishes he could see the silent exchange he just knows is taking place between the three musketeers.
"Go on." Athos sounds as though he might seriously accept a counter offer and anyone other than those closest to him would easily believe his sincerity. d'Artagnan knows better though. Athos will not willing accept anything that brings any of them into danger.
"I don't believe that your men will return never to be seen again," Descarte starts and d'Artagnan has to admit the man has seen straight through that first lie. Athos may have meant it, given that assurance in good faith, but Aramis and Porthos would be no more content to let the matter rest than d'Artagnan would himself.
"Therefore, I propose this. When I win," and d'Artagnan is amazed by the man's arrogance, "two may return to Paris. I will keep this one," and he jiggles d'Artagnan's head a little for emphasis, "as a guarantee of my continued liberty and freedom from your poison. I give you my word as a gentleman that he will keep his life and that I will seek no more vengeance against the other two. However," and here Descarte tightens his grip on d'Artagnan's hair, "if I ever hear of any scheme or campaign against me, this one will suffer beyond anything you can imagine."
The silence that follows is thick and impenetrable. d'Artagnan can almost hear Athos thinking. He knows what he would do if their roles were reversed but he also knows how intense Athos' desire to protect all of his brothers is. He wonders if Athos is aware of the bloodstain on Porthos' shirt and the way in which he winces when he thinks nobody is looking. He wishes he could see what was going on but, despite Descarte's increasingly unsteady hold on him, he can only see the periphery of the courtyard and the open countryside beyond the open gateway.
Which is when he catches a glimpse of movement. Very slight, hardly there, and he wonders if anyone else has seen it. He can't be sure, but he thinks he's seen the glint of a sword, maybe a pistol catching the sunlight. d'Artagnan frowns, wondering who could possibly be out there. He squints, drawing his eyebrows down, trying to sharpen his view of whatever – whoever – is out there.
"I accept your proposal, with one amendment," Athos says, breaking d'Artagnan's concentration. He can hear the reluctance in his mentor's voice but in his heart, he feels only relief. Athos will win, of that he has no doubt, but if things don't go well, he will give his life before admitting Descarte has won.
"I don't believe there are any amendments to be made," their adversary is countering.
"You're wrong. There is always room for amendments." Athos' voice is hard now, determined, and d'Artagnan wonders if Aramis and Porthos are taking as much strength from it as he is. "I will agree to your terms but these two return to Paris now. d'Artagnan and I will remain here until the matter in hand is resolved, one way or another."
d'Artagnan hears Aramis and Porthos begin to protest and he doesn't blame them. If their positions were different and he was about to be sent away, he would protest for all his worth too.
Descarte laughs and releases d'Artagnan with a hard shove. As he throws his hands out in front of him to break the fall, the young Gascon throws a look up at his comrades. It's as he thought. Athos has an arm out to stop the advance both Aramis and Porthos have attempted to make and Descarte has stepped forward, stopping only inches from Athos.
"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" he demands of the musketeer. "Do you really think I don't know they'll make for the first town and send down an army upon us?"
"You have my word they will not do that," Athos reassures the man and d'Artagnan finds himself almost believing him. It only takes one look at Porthos to know that's exactly what he was planning on doing and wherever Porthos goes, Aramis will follow.
"Your word means nothing to me," Descarte spits.
"Then take mine," Aramis whispers, voice so quiet d'Artagnan wonders if he's hearing things. "We will not bring an army upon you." He huffs out a laugh and leans on Porthos. "Look at us. We can hardly stand let alone fight."
There is, d'Artagnan muses, a great deal of truth in what Aramis says. Both men have suffered and the stain on Porthos' shirt seems to him to be growing again. No doubt the fight has ripped open whatever wound he is hiding beneath his clothing. And Aramis? d'Artagnan prefers not to think about what ails him.
But he also knows that neither musketeer would willing walk away and leave Athos and himself to the mercies of the madman before them. Descarte, however, has not yet worked out Aramis' character – his loyalty and devotion to his brothers.
"Very well," Descarte eventually concedes, waving a careless hand toward the gateway. "Go now and never return." He pulls his pistol and points it directly at d'Artagnan. "Remember your actions will have consequences."
Aramis nods and Porthos grunts, wrapping an arm around Aramis' waist before propelling him slowly towards the gateway, pausing to glance at Athos before turning his gaze to d'Artagnan. The younger man nods at him, hoping to offer reassurance as to the course of action they are now committed to. He wants to warn them of the movement he saw but knows any such warning would be seen. Besides, Porthos and Aramis have a lifetime of experience between them.
"You be alright?" Porthos mutters and d'Artagnan can't help the smile creep on to his face.
"We'll be fine," he says. "Just watch yourselves out there."
He settles back on his haunches, gun still pointing at him, and watches as Porthos and Aramis shuffle out of the courtyard and disappear out of view behind the wall.