Athos watched from where he lay on the floor, covered in blankets, against the back of the packsaddle, as Treville stoked the fire and added another log. He knelt on the stone floor, rested his right forearm across his raised knee, and used the poker to force the coals closer to the wood.
Treville sighed, turned, looked over his shoulder and met Athos' eyes. Treville pushed himself to his feet with a grunt as his back protested at the movement and poured water into a cup. He grunted again as he knelt next to Athos, slipped a hand beneath his neck, and helped him drink. "How do you feel?"
Athos sighed, blinked slowly, and met Treville's eyes. "Tired."
Treville nodded, rested back on his haunches, and felt his thighs start to burn. He looked toward Porthos who had abandoned the chair and now slept on the floor, his right arm draped over his belly, the blanket tucked beneath his head as a pillow, and his left knee propped against the chair leg. He snored lightly. Treville rubbed the stubble on his right jowl, and listed to the rough scratching of short stubble against fingernails. He sighed as he sat back, kicked his feet from beneath him, and took a deep breath.
"We'll leave for Paris when you're strong enough," Treville said, grabbed his wrist and rested his left elbow on his knee. "What happened with Auch?"
Athos' hand trembled as he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. "He made a mistake — if he hadn't," he paused, "the outcome would have been much different."
Treville nodded and watched as d'Artagnan shifted into a comfortable position onto his back and returned to sleep. "I worry about your perception of the world, Athos." He cocked his right eyebrow and took a deep breath. "Your expectations —"
"Five musketeers are dead, many more red guard — Lorange and his men are still being victimized by predators—"
"Lorange and his men will be seen to. They died in service to their king, and they will be recognized for their commitment." Treville adjusted his grip on his wrist and looked out the window as the light from the moon caused the edges of the clouds to glow. "You remind me of myself when I was younger." He sighed and glanced toward Athos who turned his head to meet his eyes. "Pushed myself when I should have abstained." He rubbed his left arm near his shoulder, felt along the scar that ran from his armpit and circled around his bicep. The threat of losing his arm had loomed for days. Had it not been for his brothers-in-arms he would be living a much different life… if living at all. He returned his gaze out the window. "Your reputation within the ranks… the men respect you, you have brothers who would lay down their lives for you," he looked toward Athos who had turned away, "and they know you would do the same for them."
Treville shifted again and looked toward Aramis who met his eyes. Treville nodded.
"We might be alike in some ways," Athos said, and turned to look at him, "but I'm much more direct."
Treville fought his smile and nodded in agreement. "Fair enough," he said, "your burden of guilt —" he met Athos eyes, "surrender it… or it will destroy you."