In Another Life
Aramis had insisted on taking the most inconvenient watch shift once they made camp, the one where he would be woken in the small hours of the night so that the war-weary soldiers could get more uninterrupted sleep.
He took over from Athos early, having slept light, his mind too restless from the day's events to fall into a deep sleep. He had intended to let d'Artagnan sleep longer as well, but the young man woke early too, eager, Aramis suspected, to be reunited with his wife.
After listening to d'Artagnan's protestations that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now, Aramis gave in and laid down on the ground, resting his head against his rolled up cassock before closing his eyes.
MMMMMM
The edges of his vision were blurred. He was walking down a hallway, moving towards the sound of humming emanating from the nearest room. He vaguely recognized the tune, and his suspicions were confirmed when a verse was sung:
My little tiny child
Pushing the door open, he set his arquebus against the wall, and he hung up his ammunition and sword belts on a nearby hook.
He turned and looked across the room then, and saw a woman sitting in front of the window with a baby in her arms, the morning rays shining down on the pair. The long hair that obscured the woman's face like a curtain was not red though, but a warm golden colour.
"Anne," he breathed.
She turned around, and a smile spread across her face at the sight of him. He dimly recalled that she was wearing the same outfit she had worn at Emilie's camp, but the pared down version for when she had gone to bed; no bodice and stiff sleeves, just the corset and skirts over her soft white chemise.
"Look! Papa's home!" she excitedly said, bouncing their son on her hip. She started walking over to him, and before Aramis knew it, he had them in his arms, with one hand partially covering Anne's on their son's back, the other on her waist. Rising up on her toes, she kissed him lightly on the lips in greeting, and when she started to pull away, he moved his hand from her waist to her back, pressing her closer as he recaptured her lips.
Once they did finally break apart, she raised her eyebrows slightly in question.
"I missed you," he answered, running his hand along her arm.
Anne smiled warmly. "We missed you too." She looked at their son. "Didn't we? We cried and cried for Papa and refused to go to sleep."
"Oh no," Aramis cooed, taking his son from Anne's arms and nestling him against the crook of his shoulder. "Don't worry, Papa's got you."
A tiny hand reached out and grasped the collar of Aramis' shirt as if to confirm he knew who was holding him now.
"Mmm, but you'll be crying for Mama once your little tummy starts rumbling, won't you?" said Anne as she rubbed a comforting hand down their son's back.
"He's wise, like his mother, as well as kind, and splits his needs between the two of us."
Anne laughed softly and leaned against Aramis' arm as they both watched their son's mouth form a small "o" when he yawned.
"You know, I was very much including myself in the 'we refused to go to sleep while you were gone' bit," said Anne.
"Oh?"
He watched as her eyes fell to his chest. "It can be very hard to sleep without my favourite pillow."
Grinning, Aramis shifted their son in his arms so that he could cup her cheek, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Don't worry, my love, I've got you too."
"Oh I'm not worried," she replied, and he felt a tug at his waist. Looking down, he saw that she had undone the knot of his sash and had an end in each hand. Wrapping the fabric around and around her fingers, she shortened the length of the sash, bringing herself closer and closer to him until she was pressed up against him with their son between them, and the remaining fabric was taught against his back. "You're not going anywhere."
He started to lean down to kiss her then, but stopped short when he heard a noise coming from the hallway. "Wait," he whispered sharply. Standing still, he only had to wait a few seconds until hearing it again: the clinking and jangling of metal, from keys or spurs or weapons. Whatever it was, there was someone outside the room, and his mind jumped to the worst possibility.
"Take him," he quietly urged, passing their son over to a wide-eyed Anne once she hastily pulled the sash off her hands.
With them behind him, he carefully went over to his weapons belt hanging on the wall and unsheathed his main gauche. Motioning for Anne to stay back, he prepared to open the door. If there was an assassin on the other side, he couldn't have been a very good one to have been heard so easily.
He waited until he heard movement and then swung the door open, hoping to catch the interloper by surprise. To both his relief and disappointment, he was met by no one.
Main gauche raised, he stepped out into the hallway. There, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, was Athos, looking down at Porthos, who was sitting on the floor and strapping on his big metal pauldrons to his shoulders. Both of them seemed unaware of his presence.
"Let him sleep a few more minutes. Yesterday probably took a lot out of him," said Athos.
"Yeah, he's probably gone soft, all that sittin' around and praying. We'll need to break him back in, get him back into fighting shape." Porthos picked up his gauntlet-like gloves, the metal clinkling and scraping as he pulled them over his hands.
Aramis bristled at the comment. Life at Douai had not been easy, and looking after those children required stamina. But now that he knew who was out there causing the noise though, he stepped back into the room to tell Anne that there was nothing to fear, but she wasn't there, the room was empty.
He opened his eyes.
A/N: Hi there! Hope you enjoyed! Those of you who like/follow my Fortunate To Be Loved By You series, I'm making progress with the next installment, and nearing 30,000 words! I've taken a few breaks here and there, and wrote/started a few little fics like this to keep the juices flowing and so I could post something since it's been almost a year already since my last fic.
Hope you're all doing well!