A/N: Thank you Laureleaf for your review!
Summary: A catastrophe on the Luciole leaves the crew stranded with only hours of oxygen.
"A Sinking Ship"
Athos crashed heavily to the grate floor of the cargo bay, rattling the hinges. His body trembled as hot life blood pumped out over the gaps beneath him to trickle into the bowels of the ship. He shivered. A bright light hit his face with blinding intensity and he squinted against it. The beat of his pulse in his eardrums began to fade, replaced with a muffled voice from far away.
"I'm starting a company and I'd like you to captain one of my ships…"
o.0.o
Athos walked through the dingy halls to answer the chime of the front door. He didn't know what this visit from his former commanding officer was about; he'd formally discharged from the military a few months ago and had nothing more to do with them.
The large white door opened with a telltale creak of the house's disrepair. "Commodore," Athos greeted mildly.
"I'm not a commodore anymore," Treville replied. Indeed, he wasn't even dressed in his uniform, but a stitched brown leather coat and tan trousers.
"You retired," Athos said, surprised.
"It was time."
Athos stepped back to invite him in, and led him through the hallway to the kitchen, one of the few rooms in the house that actually looked lived in. "Coffee?"
"Thank you."
Athos picked up the pot and poured some of the brown brew into one of the last clean mugs. The sink was full of dirty dishes. They tended to pile up without servants around to wash them after every meal, but Athos would never hire any on.
Treville took the cup and cast an appraising eye over things as he sipped. "How's Aramis?"
Athos glanced out the kitchen window to the gardens where Aramis was sitting in the sun under the watchful eye of Porthos. "Healing."
Aramis was the only reason Athos had even returned to his family estate on Persephone. After the massacre at Savoy, the military had discharged the marksman and left him adrift to deal with the trauma on his own. Athos and Porthos had put in for discharge soon after, and Athos had brought them to his estate so they could help their wounded friend recover. It'd been a long and difficult process, for mental wounds healed more slowly than the physical, but Aramis was making progress.
"What can I do for you, Commodore?" Athos asked, keeping the title. Treville would always be his commander.
"I'm starting a company and I'd like you to captain one of my ships."
Athos furrowed his brow slightly, taken aback. "What kind of company?"
"Transport mostly. Some other assignments as I choose to accept. What do you say?"
"I'm not a captain."
"You're a leader and a skilled soldier, and a man of integrity. Exactly the kind of person I want."
Athos hesitated as his gaze drifted out the window again.
"I'm sure Porthos and Aramis would be willing to serve under you," Treville added.
Athos snapped his attention back to the man.
Treville smirked. "I know you three are a package deal. And I can't think of a better crew for my flagship."
Athos honestly didn't know what to say. He hadn't given much thought to their futures, intending to give Aramis as much time as he needed to heal. But Athos did not want to stay in this place or even on this planet forever. The estate had served its purpose, but now perhaps it was time to venture out into the world again. All three of them were men of action after all.
"I'll discuss it with them," Athos replied.
o.0.o
Athos hooked his fingers through the floor grating as shaky breaths sent spasms of fire through his torso. With a grunt, he leveraged himself up onto his hands and knees and clutched at his bleeding stomach. He tried to keep his breathing shallow, knowing that the oxygen levels were dropping rapidly. The fire in his gut seemed to help banish some of the chill trying to pervade his bones.
He wrapped cold fingers around a bulky machine part on the floor next to him and heaved himself to his feet. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he staggered up to the catwalks and onto the main deck, past the empty dining room…
o.0.o
Laughter reverberated through the dining room as everyone sat around the table with plates scraped clean of the well-cooked meal they'd put together as a special treat. Aramis caught Porthos's eye and nodded over the man's shoulder as Constance brought out a cake from the kitchen and set it in front of him.
"Happy birthday!" they proclaimed.
Porthos grinned widely and took a hearty breath to blow out the candles.
As Constance began cutting out slices, the others started presenting Porthos with their gifts. D'Artagnan gave him a new bandana, which he promptly tied back over his dark curls. Aramis presented him with a fifty-caliber Magnum revolver that could take down a bear, should they ever find themselves encountering one.
Porthos ran his hand over the silver barrel in appreciation. "I wanna see it in action."
He got up from the table and went into the kitchen to rustle around, then popped back up with a melon, which he tossed to Aramis.
Aramis merely returned the eager grin and went to stand at one end of the dining room. Porthos moved to the opposite end, and Aramis placed the melon on top of his head.
"He can't possibly make that shot drunk," d'Artagnan said, eyes wide and incredulous as he moved out of the way.
"He's never made it sober," Athos replied blandly.
"You're all fools," Constance chastised. "And I'm not cleanin' up after you."
Aramis beamed confidently as he balanced the melon on his head and then moved his hands away slowly. Porthos raised the revolver and aimed. But before he could shoot, the lights flickered with the groan of a power failure. The ship rumbled, followed by a strange sound reminiscent of a muffled roar.
"I'll go see what's the matter," Constance said and started toward the engine room.
From the other side of the dining space, Aramis caught sight of a bright orange glow down the corridor. It took his brain a second too long to process that a giant fireball was rushing toward them.
Porthos pushed Constance out of the way right before the preceding pressure wave slammed into him, flinging him clear across the room. Everyone else got clipped as well and thrown down. The melon smashed as it hit the floor.
Athos scrambled to his feet and threw himself at the rear door, slamming it closed before the fireball could reach them. The door juddered under the impact and the flames split down the corridors.
Aramis lurched upright and ran to Porthos, dropping beside him and reaching to search for a pulse. The ship groaned under the increasing pressure and Athos yelled to d'Artagnan to seal the rest of the compartments and vent the atmosphere.
o.0.o
Aramis looked around the empty and dusty interior of the Firefly's cargo bay. She didn't look like much, a piece of rusted metal in a scrap yard. But Treville had chosen it for a reason. Maybe she was run-down and busted in places, but Aramis thought that gave her character.
"This is a death trap," Porthos declared.
"It needs some fixing up," Athos conceded. "But it'll run, get us where we need to go and back again."
Porthos huffed. "If you really wanna do this, I'm wit' ya."
"Aramis?"
The query was gentle and tentative, as though his opinion was the deciding factor here. Athos and Porthos had given up their careers and lives for him, and he didn't want to hold them back any longer.
He turned to Athos. "I appreciate everything you've done for me these past few months. I know it hasn't been easy, especially being back in that house."
Athos's mouth turned down.
Aramis held up a hand. "I'm not so absorbed in my own demons I can't recognize when someone else is plagued by them." Athos hadn't volunteered anything, nor would Aramis or Porthos press.
Aramis roved his gaze around the cargo hold. "It is time to move on." He gave his friends a small smile. "And I think this could be home."
Athos's rare smile looked pleased, while Porthos exhaled in apparent relief. It was time to rebuild. And what better place to do it than a broken down ship getting a second chance? Much like Aramis himself.
o.0.o
Constance wrung her hands in the hems of her jacket as the alarms on the infirmary's monitor blared shrilly over the patient on the table.
"Don't do this, Porthos," Aramis uttered, slapping the monitor and then the unresponsive man's face. He spun toward the counter and yanked a drawer open, pulling out a prepackaged syringe. Tearing it open, he turned back to Porthos and ripped the man's shirt, then stabbed the huge needle straight into his chest.
Constance winced and almost turned away but couldn't. Porthos arched off the table and the alarms shrieked. She couldn't believe that only a few moments ago they'd all been celebrating his birthday.
A presence stepped close to her. "Constance."
She looked up at Athos.
"I need you to check the damage."
Right. Of course. She nodded shakily and tore herself away from the infirmary. Tears welled in her eyes as the frantic sounds faded behind her but she swallowed them back and quickened her pace to the engine room.
There were fragments everywhere from an explosion and the walls were scorched from the resulting fire. She stepped over the shrapnel and examined the engine. It wasn't hard to find what had gone wrong—the catalyzer had blown. Which meant they were dead in space.
She went to the control console and ran a few diagnostics with what power was left, then quickly shut it off as her chest constricted further at what she'd found. She went back to the infirmary.
Athos was standing in the doorway, watching Aramis mutter between the monitor's erratic vital signs readings and Porthos still unconscious on the table.
"Captain," she said softly, a spiky lump threatening to prevent her from saying what she had to. "The catalyzer blew."
"Can you repair it?"
She shook her head. "It's not something that can be repaired, only replaced." She swallowed thickly. "Life support has been disabled. And after venting the fire…we only have a few hours of oxygen left."
Athos remained silent as he absorbed the pronouncement.
Constance bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Captain. This is a problem I can't fix."
o.0.o
Constance stood in the shipyard, admiring the Firefly class ship illuminated in the sun. The model had been discontinued, but the ships that had been manufactured were good quality, a bit shabby after years of disuse, but capable of functioning with the right care.
Movement within the open cargo hold drew her attention, and she took a few moments to muster her courage, then marched straight up to the ramp and asked for the captain.
Three men were lugging crates around and stopped at her intrusion. One of them stepped forward.
"I'm Captain Athos."
"I'm here about the mechanic job."
The other two men exchanged a look, and Constance drew her shoulders back. Maybe she should've worn her greasy coveralls instead of her best dress, but too late now.
"I've grown up around ships," she said. "Could wield a wrench before I could ride a bike."
The captain regarded her for a long moment, then said, "Come with me."
Constance was relieved just to have gotten in the door, and she followed the man through the ship to the engine room.
"We've been unable to get it to start," he said.
She surveyed the engine, then knelt down to get a look at the underside and immediately spotted the problem. "Your reg couple is bad."
"Is the part hard to come by?"
"Oh, you don't need it anyway. It doesn't really serve a purpose." She reached under the engine and yanked the part off, then shoved it into the captain's hands and ducked under to tinker with the loose connections. "It jus' tends to gum up the works when it gets tacked," she explained. "Do you have a wrench?"
One was placed in her outstretched hand and she made a few adjustments.
"If you plug your g-line straight into the port-pin-lock, it should…"
A whirring sound started up as the turbine began to turn.
Constance pulled out. "Work jus' fine," she finished.
The captain flicked a neutral gaze over the now working engine, then back to her. "You're hired."
o.0.o
Athos staggered into the infirmary and crashed into the counter, smearing blood over the top as he fumbled to open one of the drawers. His vision was darkening around the edges and his limbs turning to mush. He managed to grasp one of those prepackaged syringes Aramis had used on Porthos—a shot of pure adrenaline.
Gritting his teeth, Athos stabbed the needle through his shirt into his chest and depressed the plunger. A guttural scream tore from his throat as liquid fire coursed through him, igniting nerve endings with a vicious snap. His heart jack-hammered against his rib cage, fit to explode its way out. And maybe it would, but not yet. Not until he was finished.
He hastily applied a pressure bandage to the gunshot wound in his stomach and wrapped his torso with bandages as tightly as he could manage, choking on pained gurgles as he knotted it.
Then he picked up the machine part again and continued making his way toward the engine room…
o.0.o
D'Artagnan stood on the bridge with Athos as they took stock of their situation.
"We're too far out from the regular travel routes for anyone to pick up our distress beacon," he reported. He hung his head, wracked with guilt. "I'm sorry, I should have planned our route better, been more attentive, instead of getting caught up helping Constance with Porthos's birthday celebration."
"It wasn't anyone's fault," Athos said.
D'Artagnan looked away. He was their pilot; it was his responsibility. And now they were stranded with waning oxygen levels and unable to get Porthos to a medical center.
Athos stood with arms folded across his chest and a ruminative expression pinching his brow. "Can you divert the nav sats to the transmitter to give the beacon a boost?"
D'Artagnan quirked a confused look at him. "Sure, but all that would do would be to disable the navigation of anyone who did happen to pass by this neck of space…" He trailed off and could smack himself for once again failing to see the whole picture. "They'd be forced to stop and dig out our signal before they could go anywhere." He quickly turned to the console to do that. "It's still a long shot," he pointed out.
"I know." Athos picked up the radio and switched on the intercom. "Aramis, if you can spare a few minutes, I need you on the bridge. You too, Constance."
D'Artagnan had finished diverting the sats when they arrived. "How's Porthos?" he asked urgently.
Aramis ran a hand through his hair. "Stable for now." He let out a soft snort. "He'll actually last longer than the rest of us, using less oxygen while unconscious."
"Actually, we'll freeze to death before we run out of air," Constance put in, then ducked her gaze.
"That's why you three are going to take Porthos in the shuttle and go," Athos said. "You won't get very far, but maybe just enough to find help."
D'Artagnan shot his captain an alarmed look. "What about you?"
"I'm staying. We sent out a beacon, and if by chance a ship out there comes to investigate, someone needs to be here to answer."
"Absolutely not," Aramis said. "We all stay or we all go."
"We have limited oxygen left," Athos argued calmly. "The shuttle's life support system can sustain you longer than the Luciole can right now. Splitting up will increase our odds of survival on both ends. Not by much, but I'll take it."
"Then one of us can stay with you," d'Artagnan interjected.
"You're needed to pilot the shuttle. The ship is already dead in space, so, Constance, there's nothing left for you to do here, so you need to go with them in case the shuttle experiences any problems. And, Aramis, Porthos needs you."
Aramis grabbed Athos by the lapels of his coat and shook him. "Do not make me choose between you," he hissed. "I will not leave you to die alone in the cold."
Athos reached up to clasp the sides of his head, capturing that seething gaze. "This is not the same," he said firmly.
Aramis glared back at him. "What about all for one?"
"This time, it must be one for all," Athos replied somberly. "This is the best chance we all have. And it's an order."
D'Artagnan watched as something in Aramis's eyes seemed to crumble and Athos extricated himself from the marksman's slackening grip.
"Get Porthos ready," Athos said.
Aramis turned mutely and left the bridge. Constance shot a worried look at them before hurrying to follow.
"D'Artagnan, go."
"I will," he said. He may not have liked it, but he would follow his captain's orders. "But if someone does answer the beacon, then you're gonna need a way to call us back. It won't take long to set up."
Athos nodded, and d'Artagnan turned to quickly rig up a recall device for the shuttle. Because this wasn't a final farewell and their captain was not going down with his ship. They would find help and they would come back.
D'Artagnan refused to give up hope.
o.0.o
D'Artagnan stormed onto the docks and up onto the ramp of the Luciole's cargo bay where the crew was busy loading up some goods for transport.
"I'm looking for Captain Athos!" he declared loudly.
The men stopped, and one of them spoke,
"You found him."
D'Artagnan pulled his gun and pointed it at the man. "You sabotaged my ship and stole my job. I'm here for satisfaction." He set the pistol down on one of the crates and drew his sword.
Captain Athos regarded him with mild disinterest. "I don't know what you're talking about. I did not sabotage your ship or any ship."
D'Artagnan gestured sharply at the boxes they were in the middle of loading. "Goods bound for New Kasmir? This was my job. Only now I've got no money and no working ship to make a living. Now draw your sword and fight me!"
Athos shook his head as though bored. "I am not the man you're looking for."
D'Artagnan let out a raging cry and charged. Athos drew his rapier quicker than expected and sidestepped, bringing his blade up to deftly block d'Artagnan's strike. D'Artagnan threw every ounce of strength into each blow, but Athos parried them like he was little more than an annoying gnat.
Athos slid his blade along d'Artagnan's and artfully twisted, pinning his arm as he was shoved against the wall. "Enough!"
D'Artagnan's chest heaved with labored breaths, but this man didn't even look winded.
Athos's mistake, however, was releasing him.
"Get off my ship," he said, stepping away.
D'Artagnan swung his sword up and down at the man's back, but a second blade intercepted him, twirling his around and slamming it down on top of one of the crates.
"He said that's enough."
D'Artagnan took a second to catch his breath, muscles coiling with mounting fire. "Fine. I'll fight the two of you."
He tried to wrench his blade up, but another whacked down on top of the two.
"Will you fight all three of us?" the third, larger man said.
Athos's sword joined the pile, and d'Artagnan looked down in exhaustion. But he refused to give up. With a raging roar, he heaved all their swords up, forcing the men to stagger backward a step.
"If I have to," he declared, raising his rapier again.
Movement to his right distracted him and he flicked a guarded glance at the ramp where a woman with reddish hair was jogging up. She pulled up short at the sight of them, eyes widening.
"What the hell is goin' on?" she demanded.
"This young upstart has impugned our honor," one of the other men said glibly, as though this were all a game. It fueled d'Artagnan's ire further.
The woman put her hands on her hips. "Well, if you can pull your egos out of your arses for a moment, we have bigger problems. I found an explosive device in one of the turbines."
The men faltered, their swords lowering a fraction. D'Artagnan glanced between them uncertainly.
"Did you disable it?" Athos asked.
"Of course I did. But that's not the worst news. I just saw on the broadband that Cornet was found murdered outside a bar."
Athos exchanged looks with his other men.
"Who's that?" d'Artagnan found himself asking.
"Who are you?" the woman rejoined sharply.
"Um, d'Artagnan."
"Cornet was supposed to be our pilot," the second crewman said. "This was to be our first assignment."
Captain Athos turned to d'Artagnan. "It seems your saboteur has a vested interest in not letting anyone take this job."
D'Artagnan wavered. He'd been so sure Athos was to blame for his ship being destroyed; the man had gotten the job when d'Artagnan could no longer follow through, after all. But could he have been wrong?
He warily lowered his sword and the others did the same.
"We need to find the ones responsible," Athos said.
As he and his men began to plot, d'Artagnan found himself somehow being included. Not that he had anywhere else to be and he wanted to find the true guilty party as well.
It turned out it wasn't Athos at all. D'Artagnan was glad to see the man responsible arrested, but it didn't fix things, didn't change the fact that d'Artagnan was now broke and bereft.
Athos came to stand beside him as the authorities departed. "So, you're a pilot."
D'Artagnan huffed morosely. "What's a pilot without a ship?"
"I have a ship."
D'Artagnan slid a sidelong glance at him.
"And I'm willing to give you a trial run."
He didn't know what to say. It was a weird offer, especially since he'd come bursting into the man's ship trying to kill him. And now Athos was offering him a job? But he didn't exactly have any prospects at the moment.
D'Artagnan shrugged. "Yeah, alright."
o.0.o
Athos watched the shuttle fly off into the black of space. The ensuing silence and profound sense of emptiness of the ship weighed heavily on his heart but he knew he'd made the right decision. If he'd given his crew, his family, even a one-percent increased chance of being rescued, then it was worth it. And as captain, it was his responsibility to go down with his ship.
It was freezing, so he grabbed a blanket and a bottle of wine and settled in the pilot's seat to wait for the inevitable. It wasn't as though he hadn't faced death before; as a soldier he knew very well the possibility of falling in battle. It was an honorable end he could accept. This…he hadn't felt this adrift and alone since his wife had murdered his brother. Aramis and Porthos had changed that, had latched onto him like wayward comets that refused to leave his orbit. They'd dragged him out of the empty shell he'd become and helped him find some semblance of life again.
He closed his eyes, trying not to imagine them dying slowly on that shuttle.
And then there was d'Artagnan and Constance, too young and innocent to know real horrors but brave and unyielding in anything they had faced thus far. Their burgeoning relationship had added a new facet to the crew's dynamic, had incorporated them into the family Athos, Aramis, and Porthos already had. Aramis had walked Constance down the catwalk and Athos had performed the marriage ceremony. And surprisingly, he had not begrudged the happily married couple.
"Till death do us part." Athos leaned his head back in the seat. Death would not separate those two.
The wine warmed his belly and dulled his senses so that he drifted off peacefully.
But then something woke him, a crackling static.
"This is…S.S. Wal…distress…you read?"
Athos pried his eyelids open heavily, his limbs numb and half frozen. His mind was muddled as he looked around trying to figure out what was going on.
"Firefly Luciole…read?"
Athos swiveled toward the vid monitor and the distorted image on the screen.
"This is Firefly Luciole, I read you." He frantically clicked a few keys and switches, trying to clean up the signal. The ship's power reserves were already so low and he had to divert more from the waning life support. But help had arrived, against all odds.
Once he got the signal stronger, Athos explained his situation to the captain of the private salvage ship, the S.S. Walden.
"I'm sorry for your troubles, Captain. But you do understand I can't invite you on board my vessel. I don't know you."
Athos bit back a huff of annoyance. There were places in the verse where the name musketeer meant something. But not everywhere.
"I'm not looking for a ride," he said. "Just a little push to get going again."
"Right," the other captain replied. "Your mechanical trouble. Compression coil, you said?"
"It was the catalyzer."
"It's possible we might have somethin' that would do ya. Just came from a big salvage job off Ita Moon." The captain pursed his mouth. "I suppos' we could dock, take a look around, see if there ain't some way we might come to terms."
"I would appreciate it," Athos said, holding himself still against the shiver that wanted to wrack his body.
The salvage captain leaned to the side for a moment. "I'm told we do have the part. Trouble is, how can I know for certain your story's truth? Ambush could be waitin' for me and my people when we come aboard."
Athos suppressed another eye roll. "You can see the shuttle has been launched, as I said. And I'm sure you've scanned the ship by now and know I have no life support."
The salvage captain seemed to consider it for a moment. "I don't expect to see any weapons when we board."
"And I expect to see that engine part before I open the door."
The other captain grinned. "Then it sounds like we can do business."
The vid screen went dark and Athos pushed himself out of the chair stiffly. His chest was tight as he slowly made his way down to the cargo bay, each breath strained and shallow. He made it to the control panel and waited while the other ship lined up to dock with the Luciole. Through the small window, he could see a group of men preparing to board. Athos didn't open the airlocks until the captain held up the catalyzer.
The puff of fresh air felt hot against his face and he sucked in the blessed oxygen deeply. So occupied with being able to breathe, it took him a second too long to notice the salvage crew pointing five guns at him. Athos slowly raised his arms.
"This what you meant by ambush?" he said dryly as one of the lackeys frisked him for weapons and the others went off to search the ship.
"Can't be too careful," the captain replied.
They waited until the men returned, declaring the ship clear and the catalyzer blown as was reported.
"Shall we discuss terms?" Athos said.
The other captain shrugged. "I already decided what I want." He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
Athos staggered, molten fire searing his stomach. His body was still recovering from deprived oxygen, and his knees buckled and he fell backward. His senses warped, though he vaguely heard the salvage captain giving orders to take the ship. He lolled his head to the side, the edges of his vision darkening, but he saw the outline of a gun duct taped to the underside of the workout bench. Porthos.
Athos heard his friend's voice in his head urging him to get up. Rallying the last bit of his strength, he lurched upward and snatched the gun free. He rounded on the salvage captain and cocked the hammer as he lined up the barrel with the man's head. "Stop. Leave the catalyzer, and get off my ship."
The captain wavered, less cocky staring down the barrel of a gun. "Do as he says."
The men started edging back toward their ship and the captain slowly set the catalyzer down.
"You would've done the same," the man said.
Athos's gaze was as cold as steel. "No, I wouldn't have."
Once the men were on the other side of the airlock, Athos hit the button to close them. Pain rocketed through his abdomen and he crashed to the floor, the lights from the departing salvage ship blazing through the window.
o.0.o
Athos lumbered into the engine room. The shot of adrenaline was keeping him on his feet but his lungs were on fire. The ship's alarms blared, alternating between the warning horn and the computer's droning voice saying, "Life support failure, check oxygen levels."
Athos's hands were slick with blood and his coordination was already hindered. He dropped the catalyzer three times before finally getting it installed. Throwing himself against the switch, he clung to the panel to hold himself up as the engine finally started to rotate. The ship thrummed with the power starting up as well, and oxygen began to faintly waft into the compartment.
But the captain's task wasn't done yet. Athos dragged himself back to the bridge, stumbling to reach the recall device to bring his crew home. But he tripped and collapsed on the floor underneath it, the last of his strength bleeding away into an abyss of cold.
o.0.o
Porthos sat in the small alcove along the right wall of the infirmary, one leg drawn up and an arm draped across his knee, watching tensely as Aramis oversaw a blood transfusion from d'Artagnan to Athos. When Porthos had awoken on the shuttle and learned what happened, that they'd left Athos, he'd been furious. He would have yanked d'Artagnan out of the cockpit and flown them back himself had he been able to sit up at all. Apparently he'd nearly died, but that was no excuse for them abandoning Athos like that.
Aramis had promptly said he agreed and given the others an expectant look. D'Artagnan and Constance needed no convincing, and they'd turned the shuttle around.
They had not expected to find Athos bleeding out on the bridge from a gunshot. Obviously he'd somehow gotten the replacement part, as the ship was running when they arrived, but it apparently hadn't gone well. Aramis had dug out the bullet and done his best with an impromptu surgery, but Athos had lost too much blood, thus d'Artagnan getting to be a donor.
Porthos leaned forward as Athos finally started to stir. The captain's eyelids fluttered sluggishly before he seemed able to focus on those around him.
"You're back," he whispered.
Aramis smiled. "And so are you." He loaded a dose of medication into a syringe and injected it into Athos's arm.
Athos tracked the room until his gaze found Porthos, and for a moment there was a rare glimmer of sheer relief before Athos composed himself again and gave a small nod. Porthos returned it.
Athos then looked at d'Artagnan and the blood filled cannula attached to the crook of his elbow and frowned. "Are you okay?"
D'Artagnan smiled. "I'm fine."
"Get some rest," Aramis said. "You saved the ship and everyone's okay."
Athos hummed and closed his eyes, but then jerked them open again. "You'll still be here when…"
Aramis placed a hand on his shoulder. "Of course."
"Wouldn't be anywhere else," Porthos promised.
o.0.o
"Musketeers, huh?" Porthos said.
Athos nodded as they watched the fleur-de-lis being painted on the side of the Firefly class ship that would be their home from here on out.
"The Commodore has a thing for Earth-that-was ancient history," the newly minted captain replied.
"Has a nice ring to it."
"I'm glad you decided to join me," Athos said sincerely.
Porthos grinned. "Where else would I be?"
He glanced into the cargo hold where Aramis and their two newest additions to the crew were getting acquainted. Constance was a firecracker. She'd already slapped Aramis once over an offhanded comment, which the man had found more amusing than anything. D'Artagnan was impetuous and equally fiery, but there was something about him, and Athos hadn't had any qualms about offering him a job. The lad was also quite taken with Constance, and Porthos didn't know how that was going to turn out. But it had been a while since he'd seen Aramis smile so much in a single day, and that made flying this death trap into space worth the risks and potential for trouble.
"One for all?" he said to Athos, who quirked a small smile at that.
"And all for one."