A/N: Just a little humorous tale in these trying times, as we all need a little colour in our lives ...

oOo

93. JUST A NORMAL DAY

The Infirmary:

"What happened?" Athos groaned as he opened his eyes.

"We fell through a roof," Aramis replied from his nearby cot, as he stared at the ceiling.

"Did we?"

"We had a soft landing," Aramis added, with a sigh.

"That's good."

"Onto a rotten floor."

"Oh?"

"And then the floor gave way."

"Ah."

That explained the aches and pains travelling around his body.

"And we fell into some water tanks," Aramis finished.

"Water tanks?"

"Don't you remember?" Aramis said, turning his head to look at him.

"I would hardly be asking if I did," Athos huffed impatiently, suddenly wrinkling his nose.

"What's that smell?" he enquired.

"The water tanks were in the Wool Dyers building," Aramis replied, flatly.

Memory stirred for Athos.

"That would account for it," he replied.

"Lucky that the upper floor was rotten," Aramis continued.

"How is that lucky?" Athos enquired, turning to look aghast at Aramis.

"Because it did not impede our descent," Aramis replied, patiently. "And the water broke our fall."

"Hmm," Athos said, tentatively sitting up.

"And it could have been worse," Aramis sighed, pushing himself up too.

"How so?"

"There could have been dye in those particular tanks."

Athos's eyes widened. Images of their blue cloaks floated through his mind; followed by an array of green, red and, God forbid, purple.

"Quite," he murmured. That didn't bear thinking about. "We should be grateful for small mercies," he conceded.

It was slowly beginning to come back to him, though it was all still damnably fuzzy. The day had started off well, until they had both become embroiled in the pursuit of a felon, who it seemed, had a head for heights.

"Why were we on the roof?"

"I always follow your orders," Aramis responded, realising he was dressed only in his damp braies.

Athos almost laughed out loud at his friend's words.

"When do you do that?" he said, before looking down and coming to the same realisation.

"When those orders are sensible," Aramis responded, tartly.

"Is that a complaint?" Athos snapped, raising an imperious eyebrow. Even that hurt.

"Just an observation," Aramis muttered.

"A pity you did not observe where you placed your foot."

"How was I to know!" Aramis protested.

"You are the one with experience of traversing the rooftops of Paris," Athos grumbled.

"I am usually on my own," Aramis said, looking away peevishly.

"I would hope so," Athos countered.

"Anyway," Aramis suddenly said, "How do you know our escapee did not lead us into a trap?"

Athos conceded that point with pursed lips and a slight nod of his head. Which sent a sharp pain through his skull and made him wince.

"At least no one saw us," Aramis sighed. "Or heard us."

"That is a consolation, of sorts," Athos replied.

"Except Porthos and d'Artagnan."

Athos groaned, sitting on the edge of his cot and leaning forward.

"The fact we were injured in the line of duty should temper their ridicule," he said, dropping his aching head into his hands.

"I think we'd have to have broken our necks in order to achieve that," Aramis mumbled.

Later:

"Oh, good, you're awake!" Porthos said, rather loudly, as he and d'Artagnan swept into the room.

"Exhaustin' work, coverin' that distance in such a short amount of time," he added, winking at d'Artagnan.

"Thought we'd let you sleep it off," d'Artagnan said. "You were both a bit dazed."

"And wet," Porthos added, smiling.

d'Artagnan matched his smile;

"Definitely wet," he added, nodding toward the corner of the room, where their wet clothes had been dumped. "Rather lucky it was just water," he added.

"Yes, we have already established that, thank you," Athos grunted, rising unsteadily to his feet and holding a hand out to Aramis.

Aramis grabbed it and allowed himself to be hauled up. Running a hand through his hair, he winced as a sharp piece of wood embedded itself in his finger.

"Ooo," Porthos said, "Careful."

"Anyway," he added, in light of Aramis's scowl. "It's very pleasant outside. Serge is bringing us some food. Coming?"

Aramis sucked on his finger, before he bent over and shook his hair. Debris cascaded from his curls onto the floor.

"Why wasn't that damn building condemned anyway?" he snarled, ignoring Porthos's invitation as he straightened and glared at his large friend.

"Bottom floor was alright," Porthos grunted, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh, that's alright then!" Aramis replied, reaching for one of the dry shirts that d'Artagnan was holding.

Athos took the other one and shucked it over his head. As he did so, a further cascade of wooden splinters fell to the floor.

"Well, it's condemned now!" Athos snarled. "Shut the damn building down."

"Already roped the upper floors off," Porthos replied. "But we can't put the men out of work. People want some colour in their lives," he added.

"Not everyone," Athos growled.

"Oh, I don't know," d'Artagnan replied. "I can quite see you with yellow hair."

Luckily, youth was on his side and he managed to easily evade the bowl that was thrown at his head.

"Out!" Athos yelled - never the most patient of men.

Porthos grabbed d'Artagnan and pulled him from the room, their laughter ringing down the corridor as they went.

Athos strode across the room and gloomily kicked at the wet clothes in the corner.

"Just a normal kind of day," he muttered, before turning to Aramis.

"I need a drink," he said.

"I'm with you," Aramis agreed. "And I'm hungry."

As they walked out, Aramis clapped Athos on the shoulder;

"I think we got away lightly, there," he said, brightening at the prospect of sustenance.

When they emerged into sunlight, they shielded their eyes and didn't see the larger than usual gathering of fellow musketeers in the yard. They limped their way to their table to join Porthos and d'Artagnan, already seated and awaiting them.

As Porthos poured wine, Treville appeared above them on his balcony.

"Welcome back, Gentlemen, it's good to see you well," he called down to his two dishevelled men. "And," he added, "Untainted."

Athos and Aramis stiffened and looked at each other, the first feeling of unease rippling through them.

They heard their Captain's boots overhead as he walked purposefully to his stairs and began a slow descent, putting his gloves on, equally slowly.

"Untainted and untarnished," he was saying as he came to a halt, half-way down.

"And," he added, turning to the gathering of his men below him, before looking down at Athos and Aramis with a knowing look, "You know what they say ..."

Athos and Aramis glanced at each other warily, noticing the rather attentive gathering of Musketeers for the first time.

"Enlighten us," Athos murmured under his breath.

Trevlle smirked and turned to the assembled regiment below him.

"Musketeers Don't Dye Easily!" they shouted as one, before they all burst into raucous laughter.

Aramis pulled his hat low and sunk down into the bench.

Athos gave Porthos and d'Artagnan a thunderous look as they both held each other up laughing.

"Give me strength," he growled as he reached for the wine.

Treville stepped off his stairs and walked past them with a glint in his eye and a rather satisfied smile.

"As you were, Gentlemen," he said.

oOo

Thanks for reading! More soon.