A/N: Sorry this isn't the next part of "Rescue" but I've been working on this fill for the kinkmeme and this will also have a second part. No fear, though I will have the next part up soon enough :) If I haven't been killed by tonight's episode. Also have a Constagnan drabble of cuteness that I'm going to upload after this one. As always, reviews are welcome :)
AU for Commodities where d'Artagnan arrives a bit earlier and ends up getting stabbed by Milady.
Maybe he should have yelled for Athos when he saw the mansion up in flames, maybe he should have called out a warning, in the desperate hope of an answer, despite the growing dread in his heart - then he never would have seen her. As it was, he froze at the sight of that woman, who he knew to be a killer, kneeling over Athos with a dagger to his exposed throat. He'd heard Athos beg her to kill him - why would he want such a thing?
"Hello d'Artagnan - I was not expecting you to come back for your precious leader, not when he has been so terribly short with you of late. You could do so much better than the Musketeers - you have so much potential." Her smile was seductive, and he might have fallen for it if she didn't at that moment have a knife at Athos' throat. "Remember what you promised me, on that night we spent together?" She asked, and he was forced to meet her cold gaze, and he could remember those red, red lips, and the way, even when he had known her to be a monster, that her siren song called to him - forbidden and dangerous, but still ever so tempting.
"That was before I knew what you were" His glare was sharp, and he was determined not to fall for anything she might say. If she wished to murder Athos, she was going to have to get through him first, because there was no way he would allow that to happen as long as he was standing. She paused to stare at him in a way he couldn't quite decipher, before moving away from Athos and towards him, circling him like an enraged tiger, slow, deliberate, calculating, choosing the perfect moment to strike.
"I can't quite tell if it's funny or tragic, really, that you're so much alike" she paused "So trusting, so easily manipulated - and look at you, drawn to me despite the fact you should know better. All I would have had to do, before you met him, would have been to point in his direction and say - oh! There's the man who tried to kill me, and you'd have run him through to avenge me, no questions asked. Such a noble little Gascon dog" she snarled the last word as she dug her knife into his flesh, just below the ribs, before pulling it out roughly, not caring that she caused him more pain.
He fell to his knees with a pained cry at Athos' side, and she watched them with a cruel smile as the pair glared defiantly back at her.
"I shall take my leave of you, gentlemen. Much as I'd love to stay and watch," she looked to Athos as she said that, "I would really rather not burn to death myself." She curtsied mockingly and swept out of the room, with neither of them in any fit state to give chase, breathing erratic and painful because of the smoke, and in d'Artagnan's case, near impossible.
Athos had, up until d'Artagnan had been stabbed in the gut, watched in a stunned kind of daze - in part due to the blow from Anne's crude torch, but mostly at the fact that she spoke to d'Artagnan as if she knew him - as if they had met before - and apparently, they had. That had really floored him. For a moment he had even wondered whether the Gascon had betrayed him as well, but it soon became apparent that he was as much a victim of her deceptions as Athos had ever been.
Seeing the boy clutching at his stomach, blood dripping even from between his fingers had brought sobriety suddenly crashing down on him - and as the boy bit back his cries of pain, Athos lifted him and rose unsteadily to his feet.
"Easy lad, I've got you - I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" he murmured softly once he had him gathered up to his chest, keeping one of the boy's own hands pressed down on the wound. It was a comfort to feel those breaths against his skin - no matter how desperate his gulps were, he was still breathing - which meant not dead, and Athos planned to keep him that way. It wrenched at his heart to see him in this condition - and all because of her. Would those he cared about never cease to be her victims?
Athos looked for the best route of escape, despite d'Artagnan not being in any fit state to be moved. They couldn't stay in a burning building, not if they wanted to live. He had to make sure, at the very least, that d'Artagnan survived - if he didn't, Athos would never forgive himself. He wished, not for the first time, that this mission hadn't taken them anywhere near this cursed place. He refused to add the Gascon to those who took their final breath here. Not this boy who has wormed his way so adamantly through every wall he has built up and into his heart. If he were to lose d'Artagnan, then he might as well stop living; God help him, but he was in love with this boy.
He might not have Aramis' talent for stitching, but he is a soldier, and as such, can make a passable go of it, if no other possible aid is available. As it is, both Aramis and the village healer are too far away to be of any use to d'Artagnan at present, and there is a needle and thread in the boy's saddlebag, so he was prepared to make do. He propped the boy up against the nearest tree, and cleaned his hands on the grass and on his shirt - it wouldn't do for his fingers to slip. He rummaged in the saddlebag of d'Artagnan's mare for the supplies he needed, the needle, thread, and the brandy. Noticing when he returned that the Gascon's eyes had already begun to flutter shut, though he refused to let himself panic, he felt his heart lurch as he knelt next to him.
"D'Artagnan, God damn you, stay awake." He growled, and they boy's eyes snapped open and searched for his.
"Athos?" He asked, sounding for all the world like a lost child. The older man gulped and nodded, glad that he was at least conscious. He wasted no further time and knelt by his side, tearing open his shirt and jacket to get a better view of the wound. It was bad, and it was bleeding heavily, but it hadn't been meant to be fatal. He breathed a sigh of relief - if she'd meant to kill him with that blow, she would have done so. For once, he blessed her cruelty, for it had saved d'Artagnan's life. Her wish for them to suffocate and burn as the house turned to charcoal around them - but he had no time to dwell on such thoughts when there was a life which needed saving. "Athos- hurts". Such a frank admission from the proud and brash Gascon was chilling, but Athos merely nodded and shushed him soothingly.
"I know it does, but just be strong a little longer for me, alright?" At d'Artagnan's nod, he wiped the blood away so he could see what he was working with, and then ripped a clean piece of shirt and soaked it in the brandy to clean it out, tuning out the whimpers that the action earned him. "d'Artagnan - can you look at me - can you do that?" The boy's gaze flickered up to him, and he fought not to flinch at the unwavering trust he found there - trust which he did not deserve. "I'm going to have to stitch it shut - it will be painful." D'Artagnan nodded in understanding, though his eyes were dazed. Sighing, Athos put the flask of brandy to his mouth, and the boy drank it automatically. "If you need to cry out, or scream, that's fine. I could never think any less of you for it." He assured him, though he saw that d'Artagnan was aware enough at least to sound indignant at the idea. "Trust me, d'Artagnan. There is no shame in tears shed in pain."
He bit his lip, before committing himself to pulling the needle through the Gascon's skin. It was not overly neat, but hopefully wouldn't leave too unsightly a scar. D'Artagnan, true to form, refused to so much as whimper, but his face was ashen and he was biting his lip so hard he was drawing blood. Athos worked steadily, focusing on nothing other than the task at hand until he finished and tied off his needlework. He looked down at it with some satisfaction - it was more tidy than it had any right to be, considering how much alcohol he'd consumed and how unstable his emotions were right now. He gripped d'Artagnan's shoulder.
"It's over now, lad." The effect of his words were immediate - the Gascon went completely limp and let out a long sigh as his head fell back against the trunk of the tree. Athos stood and made to be rid of the bloodied needle, before collecting what spare bandages that remained in d'Artagnan's saddlebags - Athos thanked God that the boy had seemingly prepared for every eventuality, and absently wondered if perhaps he was any good at the mending of wounds himself - if not, he would have to teach him.
With the bandages now secure, he tucked one arm underneath d'Artagnan's knees, and the other around his shoulders, and hefted him up into his arms. He wasn't quite as heavy as Athos expected, but it was still quite the task to manage. He lifted him onto the horse and then mounted up behind him, having already tied d'Artagnan's mare to his own horse so she would not run away. The village was not far, and d'Artagnan needed rest. With those two thoughts in mind, he left behind his burning home, and the memories of Anne.