Hi all! Ive got a new offering for you! Its an Old Guard AU- if you havent seen the film yet I highly recommend it, but to be honest its not really necessary for this fic as its all explained.

Please give it a go, I'd love to know what you think!

Onwards...

Athos was tired. No, he was more than tired at this precise moment in time. He was annoyed- he was annoyed at being stabbed, of being bludgeoned, of being beaten, of being wantonly shot at. He was annoyed at finding himself on the wrong side of what he thought was a good deal, a good job. Above all, though, he was annoyed at being thrust back into existence like being hurtled through time- he was tired of it. He was too old for this shit, and so were the others.

He groaned as quietly as he could as he felt his body pushing out the numerous musket balls that had embedded in his bones, splitting muscle and tearing cartilage.

He lay still as his body papered over the gashes and slash marks in his skin, the blood congealing and falling to the dusty forest floor.

He smelt fire, and the heavy scent of musky earth, of autumn, cloying in his nose as he slowly moved his head on the dirt, his neck muscles fixing themselves as they knitted the skin back together.

Porthos was awake, his bright eyes only on Aramis, who was still dead- he would wake soon enough, and then the shit-show would begin. They finally caught each other's eyes; Athos could see the barely suppressed panic as Aramis still didn't stir.

Porthos knew better than to reach for his lover, to keep up the appearance of death as the group of thieves and mercenaries gathered toward the fire, confident their job was done.

Another small gasp beside him, almost impossible to make out unless you had been fine-tuned over millennia to hear the small intake of life as it returned to the body; Marsac's eyes fluttered open, his broken hands, mending quickly, reaching for his weapon already.

Their eyes met, a silent understanding between them- they both looked back as Aramis finally took in a breath, his bloodshot eyes turning from a deathly cloudiness to bright and alive.

The relief in Porthos' face was touching as the two men looked across to each other, Aramis giving him a small smile as his body worked to repel the wounds and musket balls in his body. A ball fell from Aramis' mouth as he spat it onto the ground with a small groan.

A few seconds passed, in which no one paid them any heed- why would they, after all? The men ahead of them thought their job was done. How wrong they were.

Athos got up first, steely eyes fixed on the men as he rose to his feet, his sword already balanced perfectly in his palm.

The others followed, grasping their weapons with vigour anew.

What followed next could only be described as a bloodbath. Athos felt truly alive during these moments, as if shedding blood and tossing away bodies was the only thing that kept him going now. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was vengeance. They had come here thinking they were saving a vast fortune, the entire resources of a poor village that was resettling due to an imminent flood.

There was no money. Athos knew that now- the ambush had been swift, steady. They barely had time to raise their weapons before they had been peppered with musket-balls, had been run through with swords and daggers and knives.

He looked across to Porthos and Aramis- the two worked in sync, ducking and diving, delivering each other a man to dispatch. It was like a dance, one that had been played and perfected throughout their years together. It was a good system, and it suited them.

Marsac, however, had a different system entirely- as Athos deftly kicked a body away from him he turned as the younger man yelled out in anger, his own blade wildly slashing. Efficient, but it lacked finesse. As if that mattered any more... Athos thought as he grappled with a screaming man, almost taking them both to the floor. He was just so tired...

Soon enough all but one man had been dispatched- he struggled backwards, his face pale and eyes wide as he saw what once had been dead men advance, eyes like fury. Marsac fired a warning shot at him- the tree next to the man exploded, showering him with splintered wood. Throwing his weapon to the ground he fled, not casting a look back.

'You should have just shot him!' Porthos admonished the other man, shaking his head. 'Do you think we should have got him?' He asked as they watched him run. flexing his blood-flecked hand as more and more feeling entered his blood stream.

He reached for Aramis now, his bloodstained fingers seeking his hand where he squeezed gently, grateful for the pulse beating under his fingers. Aramis smiled and stepped back a pace so they were stood together, and dropped his head onto Porthos' shoulder, closing his eyes briefly as Porthos pressed a tender, yet urgent, kiss to the side of his head.

'He can tell the others what happened here, as a warning.' Marsac shrugged, before turning to Athos, who was staring ahead, at the man's retreating back. They should have got him- now they could tell others about what happened here. He could tell others about them.

'Athos?' Aramis said, voice quizzical. 'Shall I get him?'

'He's disappeared into the forest by now.' Athos said tersely, fighting back the uneasy feeling in his chest. He had been injured, he had seen the blood peppering the man's neck; he probably wouldn't live out the night.

He sighed angrily as he stooped and picked up his gun, the metal hot beneath his fingers. 'Let's go.' he said. Two syllables, harsh against the relative calm of the scene.

He walked off without waiting for an answer, his muscles still tight as his body worked to heal. It was taking longer and longer each time now. It worried him, but not enough to voice his concerns.

'Where are we going?' Porthos asked, reaching forwards and taking the gun from Athos. It was from the wrong century entirely and would need to be disposed of.

'Paris.'

'Paris?'Aramis echoed, frowning. 'Why?'

'I just have a feeling about Paris- we need to lay low now we let one get away-' Marsac withered a little under Athos' intense glare.

'Paris, the city of romance!' Aramis grinned, nudging Porthos' shoulder. 'You'll fit in right away there!'

Porthos smiled at the gentle tease, shaking his head as Aramis grinned, his face shining in the early evening light in the way Porthos had always loved., despite the blood on his cheeks and down his neck. They laced their hands together as they walked, periodically squeezing as if to make sure the other was still at their side.

'It should take a week to walk there, unless we can come upon some horses along the way.' Athos told them.

'A week?' Aramis pretended to look shocked. 'My poor feet...'

'I'll go and look for some horses tomorrow.' Porthos assured him, grinning as Aramis chuckled at his side.

'We'll walk for a few hours and then camp, it'll be too dark to walk after nightfall.' Athos muttered. The men walked in silence, the forest swallowing them up entirely as they melted into the environment, silent as ghosts in the scant evening light...

Thanks for reading- please let me know what you think!
Next chapter up soon!