They had cut it close, oh so close, that now that Gaudet's men had all been dispatched by Porthos, Aramis, and this young new firebrand named Charles D'artagnan, there was no time to waste.
It had taken longer than expected in the planning, and now having ambushed the men, Athos' life now hung in the balance; his impending execution was now just hours away.
Aramis and Porthos barely had time to register the young Gascon's performance, but had they done so they would have realized how much they marveled at him disabling three of Gaudet's crew, with only a sword, when the rest of them were armed with swords as well as muskets.
There was time enough to yell at Constance to get the hell out of there, to safety, after she shot one of them, about to send D'artagnan to his death. She reluctantly did so; surprisingly, her residual fear was more for D'Artagnan's continued safety, than for her own, as the brutal scene played itself out in front of her.
Once D'artagnan had thrust Gaudet off of his feet, ready to deliver a deadly strike with his sword, Aramis screamed, "NO, D'artagnan! We need him alive to exonerate Athos!"
Aramis doubted that the angry, grief-stricken young man would heed his words. He watched as Athos' life hung in the balance, as the reckless boy was about to seal his friend's fate.
To his surprise, Aramis witnessed this livid young man obey his command.
"I'd rather see you hang," the young man spat out.
The next few moments were spent collecting themselves, and confirming there were no more of Gaudet's men lurking about, when suddenly Porthos and Aramis came upon the purloined Musketeer uniforms. They furiously began collecting them, now intent to rescue their friend from the muskets of his jailers.
Concentrating on collecting the uniforms, Aramis' heart caught in its throat when he glanced over to where Gaudet had been on the ground.
Had been.
It was too late. All he could manage was yelling out 'D'art-' before Gaudet had regained his footing, and lunged at an unsuspecting D'artagnan, whose back was to the Athos impersonator.
Gaudet plunged his sword, retrieved from the ground in front of him, directly into D'Artagnan's back.
Porthos was there a moment later, promptly killing Gaudet with one swift blow of his sword. Now that they had the Musketeers uniforms as proof of their involvement, Gaudet's miserable life need not be spared in order to save Athos.
Aramis ran to D'artagnan, who had collapsed almost immediately.
"Hold on, D'artagnan, hold on…"
"It's- bad, i-isn't it?", D'artagnan spit out.
Aramis, too honorable a man to lie to the boy, simply smiled and said, "We'll get help."
However, as D'artagnan was as keyed into the timing of Athos' rescue as well as they were, he croaked out, "Go rescue Athos. Please. D-don't let me have died in…vain…"
Porthos whispered to Aramis, "We gotta go now, Aramis."
Aramis winced at the truth of it. Sadly, the boy's own keen assessment of his fate, combined with Athos', made Aramis aware that both Porthos and the dying boy were right.
And it was bad- D'artagnan would bleed out in minutes- minutes they did not have, less their older brother Athos, was to be killed in a hail of musket shells.
They needed to divide and conquer; even before the ambush, the plan was for Porthos to head directly to the Chatelet where Athos was being held, in order to delay the execution. Now, he could even bring with him one of the stolen Musketeer uniforms, along with the news that Aramis was on his way to the Palace as we speak, to receive the formal pardon that was sure to come.
Aramis was the better candidate to do the necessary talking to the King, so it made sense for each Musketeer to be the ones to be dispatched to each location, each with their own crucial chore; however, both would be impeded were they to drag D'artagnan, who could not ride, with them.
It would not even be an issue if Aramis hadn't already diagnosed D'Artagnan's wound as a mortal one; there was no doubt to him that it was.
"We'll come back for you," Aramis said to D'artagnan, a true enough statement. Left unsaid was that it would be to retrieve his body.
D'artagnan managed a smile before he slipped away.
Aramis and Porthos exchanged glances. There was no time for grief. Not unless they wanted to also mourn Athos on this day. They were both off, each one to accomplish their part in saving their friend. Yet why did it feel as if it was one of the most ignoble acts of their lives?
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