Treville had been directing traffic as the men of the garrison made sure the fire was completely out, and then began to clean up. But he had been casting worried glances towards Aramis' room, where he, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan had yet to come out of.
He had a really bad feeling, and as soon as he was able, strode rapidly towards the obviously badly burned building Aramis' room was in.
He came to a halt at the door, what was left of it wide open, staring in shock.
A badly-burned body lay on the floor. Around him were his Musketeers. Not one of them even seemed aware when he called, "Is he….," trailing off, not being able to voice his fear after looking at them.
Porthos was standing nearest the door, arms folded at his waist. His face was awash in tears unashamedly rolling down his cheeks. He didn't seem to even notice that his captain stood there.
D'Artagnan's eyes were downcast, as he crouched down in the middle of the rom. His hands hung down between his knes clasped together. And like Porthos, his cheeks were wet, as well.
Athos, on the other side of the body, stood, staring at nothing, looking as if he had lost the most precious thing in the world to him, as they all did. The tears kept trickling down, with no attempt to to wipe them away. Athos rarely displayed any emotion, and seeing him like this, indeed all of them, he had no doubt that the body was that of their beloved brother, the man who had also been like a son to Treville.
He was shaken to the core, becoming the fourth Musketeer in the burned-out shell of a room to mourn the loss of someone close to each one's hearts.
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The funeral, with the entire garrison, as well as two representatives of His Majesty, was conducted with solemnity, and after the priest had conducted the ceremony, Aramis was remembered by each of his brothers. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, still overcome with grief, were deeply moving in the words they spoke, but afterwards couldn't have told anyone what they had said through their tears.
Afterwards, he was laid to rest, and the men soberly returned to the garrison.
Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan didn't want to leave him alone yet, so they remained behind, standing quietly around the grave, each broken-hearted and feeling empty.
Porthos had only had family for a short time growing up. His mother had died when he was five, leaving him to fend for himself in the Court of Miracles. Aramis had befriended him, taught him to read, and introduced him to Athos. Then, all of them had welcomed d'Artagnan into their fold. After years of being a very solitary man, he finally the past few years had family again. And now, the one closest to him had been taken away.
D'Artagnan, when he was new to the Musketeers, had learned a great deal of it from his new brothers. He remembered now how Aramis would take the time to sit and casually teach him much about guns, soldiers and relationships. His new comrade had now been laid to rest, and he hadn't had even a couple of years to enjoy their developing friendship.
Athos had been a wreck when Aramis had decided to change things, even though they had barely known each other. He would follow his new brother to the taverns, and bring him back to the garrison early in the morning, the swordsman barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Athos, looking back, wondered how he had made it through that phase of his life, without either drowning in the alcohol, or being robbed or shanghaied coming back to his room afterwards. Aramis had remained close to him through it all, and gradually, he had emerged from the fog he had been living in, and had found brothers to love and cherish. And now, the one who had helped to begin the long road back was gone.
The pain of their loss was too much for them.
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The Musketeer garrison seemed like a tomb in the days that followed.
There was barely any sound. No one felt like sparring with either swords or fists. Everyone stayed to themselves, including the remaining Inseparables.
Treville, after nearly a week of this, finally called a muster one otherwise bright and cheery morning.
Men dragged their feet as they exited their rooms and joined the others already assembled.
Treville waited until everyone present in the garrison was assembled, then spoke.
"Men, I know we are all grieving, and rightly so. We have lost one of our own, and it is very difficult to just pick up and going on. I am not asking that of you. I am asking you to pick up your ordinary lives and go on, carrying Aramis' memory with you.
You all knew him. You know he would be the last person to want all of you to behave as if you are giving up. That wasn't our Aramis. He would have carried the pain and grief in his heart, but would also remember how much the people need us to keep them safe. So go out there and do your work for him-and with him!"
He could see that his words were slowly taking hold. Men were looking each other in the eye after a moment, and nodding their heads. Slowly, they dispersed to their various areas, walking just a bit more energetically.
All except the Inseparables. They stood as one, solemn-faced, watching him return to them.
Stopping when he reached them, the silence continued.
Finally, he broke it, saying a gruff, "What?"
Athos looked over at Porthos and d'Artagnan, then turned back to Treville, and said, "What about Aramis?"
Treville's face showed confusion.
"What about him, Athos?" the Captain said 9thin a soft voice.
"His death needs to be avenged. We need to investigate, to root out whoever did this and take care of him," this last said in a tone of voice that told Treville exactly what 'take care of' meant.
"Athos, have I ever said that we would not? You know we will. But, at the moment, I think you three might need a little more time to grieve. It has only been a week, and I, of all people, know how close you four were. Give it a little more time to heal."
Porthos spoke up, saying, "Captain, begging your pardon, but you're wrong. We need to avenge our brother. Someone the same as ambushed him with that bomb. He needs us to set it right, and find them. And we won't be doing it alone. Aramis' spirit will be with us."
D'Artagnan remained silent, but his vigorous nods as Athos and Porthos spoke volumes.
Treville met each one of them's eyes, seeing the determination, but also seeing that they were almost pleading to do this.
"Let me think about it. I will have an answer for you tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, show me you are able to live normally to some extent, by sitting at that table of yours, and letting Serge finally get some adequate food into you three. That's an order, by the way." He spoke in such a stern voice, but his eyes gave away his deep concern for all three if his men.
Giving slow nods, they turned and followed orders, even if the food still didn't want to settle.
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An eyelid gradually forced itself open, but everything was blurry. Even that small effort, however, was too much, and the eye slowly shut again.