Epilogue Nothing Breaks
The wind coming off the sea was strong, billowing sails atop miniature ships in the distance, mere specks on the horizon, having long set sail upon the evening tide. The sun appeared overly large in the summer sky, suspended for one rapturous encore before taking her final bow. Though the day had been warm, clouds now gathered, holding in the humidity; golds and reds flickered upon the rippling expanse of ocean, creating the impression that it was ablaze.
The Musketeers had galloped into La Havre later than planned. They had ridden hard, but a broken cart – amongst other things – had delayed their arrival. Having embarked upon the mission with reluctance, there was no frustration or angst evident in their demeanours due to the lateness of the hour.
'It would appear we are too late.' Aramis quietly stated the obvious, as he stood upon the breakwater next to Athos.
The swordsman remained quiet, squinting to make out the tiny dots, as one by one they were consumed within the fire suffusing the horizon. Aramis waited patiently; they had come to take Milady de Winter back to Paris to explain the events that had occurred at Versailles. Treville had made his distaste with the King's orders quite clear, sending his men off with the secret hope they would fail.
The wind whipped the two men's hair across their faces, Aramis surreptitiously watching his friend to gauge his mood. Still they stood, though now there was nothing to see apart from the gulls swooping and crying high above the waves.
'We should go. Porthos has gone to seek lodgings for the night – the horses are not the only ones that are tired.' Aramis tried to keep his intonation light and placed his arm around Athos' shoulder, feeling the man stiffen beneath the gesture as he did so.
Aramis withdrew his hand and shook his head, 'This is for the best, for you and for her, you know that. If we had found her, what then?' He knew his friend was battling his feelings; Athos' relationship with his wife was far too complex to attempt to define his turmoil with one singular emotion.
'I am sorry it hurts, mon ami, I truly am.' Aramis' tone was genuine, his concern evident.
Eventually Athos turned, though he did so with reluctance, and the expression upon his handsome features was bleak, pain clear in his eyes. 'Something inside me is broken Aramis. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, it never changes, never diminishes, the darkness haunts my every moment. Why can I not move on?'
It was the closest Athos had ever come to sharing his feelings with the marksman, and hearing the words spoken aloud now, so desperate, so hopeless, was almost impossible to bear.
'It is understandable, mon ami. You have suffered much, endured terrible pain. You may have been beaten and brought low by men, but a woman is different. The pain women unleash is beyond any physical injury, beyond any damage that can be delivered by a sword or a bullet – for nothing breaks like a heart.'
Athos stared out across the glittering expanse once more then, with a final sigh, he withdrew from the ocean, leaving the gulls to mourn her passing alone.