No.3 My Way Or The Highway

prompts: held at gunpoint, ringing ears

Fandom: The Musketeers

"On your knees!"

Athos didn't have any choice. His eyes on Aramis', who was staring at him and Athos' captor from ten feet apart, he complied. The rocky ground dug into his knees, and, his hands tied behind his back, he almost lost his balance kneeling down. The pressure of the pistol against the back of his head intensified.

"You don't have to do this," Aramis implored, hands raised appeasingly at the man holding Athos at gunpoint. "You can let him go and walk away from this!"

Behind Athos, Furet chuckled madly.

"D'you think I'm stupid? You're Musketeers. You can't let me go. And tell him to stay where he is! Not one single step further!"

A few feet behind Aramis, d'Artagnan froze. He, too, had dropped all of his weapons and had been moving with the caution of one approaching a rabid animal.

"Alright, I'm not moving," he reassured Furet. "Just… don't shoot him. We can talk."

"We're DONE talking!" Furet screeched, and Athos tensed, waiting for the pistol to go off and the ball to enter the back of his skull. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, firmly set on his brothers. If he was going to die, the last thing he wanted to see was them.

"We're not, we're not!" Aramis shouted, voice barely wavering. "No one knows we found you. No one but us. If you let him go, we won't tell anyone! You can take our horses! We won't be able to follow you. There's money in the saddle bags. Take it!"

It wasn't like Aramis to plead. And not like d'Artagnan to simply stand there and watch. They were buying time. Heart in his throat, Athos hoped it was enough for-

"ATHOS!"

Several things happened at once. At d'Artagnan's shout, Athos ducked sideways and heard someone slamming into Furet. Porthos? Furet's pistol went off, and pain exploded in Athos' right ear. He fell on his side, clutching his head with his hands. His ear was ringing, and, through a fog of noise and pain, he saw Aramis and d'Artagnan come running. D'Artagnan disappeared from his wavering sight, somewhere behind him, while Aramis dropped to his knees next to him. Athos squinted at his friend through a curtain of involuntary tears. Something wet was trickling through his fingers.

In front of him, Aramis' lips moved, his face tense with worry, but Athos couldn't hear a thing. Bells were tolling in his head, screeching, in fact, and his ear felt as if someone had driven a hot poker into it. Athos was sure he moaned - he felt the vibration in his throat - but even that was inaudible above the din.

Aramis was cradling his head now, turning it and triggering a spell of vertigo. The ground seemed to dip underneath Athos.

"...!"

He heard something now. The ringing, while breaking up into discordant, overlapping sounds, was less deafening now, and Aramis' voice seemed to come through, at least in his left ear. Not distinct words, but a muffled underwater version of someone speaking very loudly with him.

Squinting tears from his eyes, unable to to get up, Athos rolled his head in Aramis' cradling hands and waved his hand at his friend's rapidly moving mouth.

"I can't hear you," he said, his own voice a faint murmur beneath the racket now. "I can't-" He swallowed a surge of nausea.

The underwater voice again, becoming a little clearer as Aramis, nodding, coaxed him into a sitting position. Someone's arms were pushing him up from behind, and then he found himself leaning against a broad chest. A deep, rumbling burr confirmed that it was Porthos, but what he said was a mystery.

"... alright?!"

It was the first word that reached him, the first word he understood, issued by d'Artagnan who'd appeared in his line of vision now, consisting mostly of big, fearful eyes.

"..ou… right… thos?!"

Athos shook his head, very quickly realizing it was a bad idea. D'Artagnan seemed to bob in front of him, and was the ground tilting sideways? He gasped, groping for d'Artagnan's arm as an anchor but missing it by an inch. Someone's hands caught him around the shoulders to steady him.

"Whoa, ...ful! Best n… move."

Aramis.

His instructions still seemed to come from a distance, but they were finding loopholes in the ringing that was still ricocheting in Athos' skull. Athos took his hand from his ear and looked at it.

His glove was smeared with blood, and he could feel a wet trail running down his neck.

"Rupture… drum."

The information took much longer to process than it should have but finally made sense: He'd not been shot in the head - he'd merely ruptured his eardrum. That wasn't so bad, was it?

"...me?"

Athos squinted at Aramis who seemed to expect an answer.

"What?" It was entirely uncomfortable: He heard himself speak, but only on his left side. His right ear felt as if stuffed with cotton, and the clamouring in his head drowned out half of the sounds that did reach him.

"I asked if you… hear me?"

Aramis over-enunciated his words, accompanying them with exaggerated gestures, and it looked almost comical. Athos pondered laughing, but it would split his head, and the urge was likely born from hysteria, so he refrained from it. It was curious and a bit frightening how the right side of his head and face felt as if they were missing.

"Yes. I can hear you," he replied, wincing at the stuffy sensation of his voice in his head. "But it's dull and… spotty."

He tried to poke at his ear, but Aramis immediately swatted his hand away.

"Leave it," he warned. "You'll make it worse."

Next to Aramis, still staring at him, d'Artagnan exhaled.

"I thought you'd been shot in the head." He, too, sounded distorted, his baritone split into several layers, but at least all of his words were coming through now.

"Nah," rumbled Porthos behind him, and his deep bass voice was less grating on Athos' overwrought senses than the others'. "Got a skull made o' steel. Balls bounce right off."

Laughing in relief, he slapped Athos' shoulder from behind and almost brought him off-kilter.

Athos rubbed at his ear, sceptically monitored by Aramis. The ringing was still there, but it was fading into the background, and his head had cleared a little.

"Is Furet dead?" He wanted to look, but didn't dare turn around yet. The ground was only just beginning to steady underneath him. He didn't want to risk another spell of vertigo.

"Dead as a doornail," Porthos reported. "An' no loss."

D'Artagnan wiped one hand across his forehead, an incredulous expression on his still-spooked face. "He was barking mad! I really thought he'd…" He trailed off.

Athos, adjusting to his one-sided hearing, gave their youngest an uplifting half-smirk. Then he turned to Aramis who'd begun dabbing at his neck with a handkerchief.

"Is this…" Athos circled his ear with his finger. "...it's not permanent, is it?"

"Can't hear on that side?" Aramis didn't sound surprised.

"No. Ringing. Nothing else."

Aramis clucked his tongue in commiseration.

"It'll come back when your eardrum's healed," he said, sounding certain. "The pistol went off right next to your head. Popped it. Happened to me before, and I can hear perfectly fine. No reason to think it would be any different for you." He rose and offered his hand. "Can you stand?"

Athos nodded. With Aramis' help and a boost from Porthos, he got back to his feet. The dizziness hadn't entirely dissipated, and he accepted Aramis' steadying arm around his back without protest. Carefully, he turned his head to look back at Furet's body. By the crooked angle of the man's head, he could tell that Porthos had broken his neck, either by slamming into him or by using his bare hands. It was a good thing the streetfighter was on the side of the angels.

"Let's get you home," Aramis urged him forward. "I want to clean that ear and make sure it can heal properly. And you should get some rest. Spend a night in the infirmary. You possibly have a concussion as well."

"What did you say?" Athos asked loudly.

"I said: YOU NEED TO REST!" Aramis nearly shouted at him, but when he looked at Athos, he was met by an amused smirk.

"Oh, you...! You heard me!" Aramis said, mildly appalled.

Athos lifted one dramatic eyebrow and painted his face with ignorance.

"What? I can't understand a single word you're saying!"

On Athos' other side, d'Artagnan chuckled, and Porthos bit back a laugh.

"YOU- … never mind," Aramis sighed, but his face showed how the tension fell off him - off all of them, as they once more walked away from a scene that almost cost one of them his life.

"Pretend all you want. But wait until Tréville hears about this." It was Aramis' who smirked now. "He'll bite your ear off."

The ringing in Athos' ears was no match for Porthos' roar of laughter.