By Any Other Name

Chapter 12

They halted as the blaze lit up the night, the silhouette of the servants and remaining guards could be seen fleeing through the woods on foot or on horseback on one of the liberated horses.

The fire went up and burnt out quickly, taking the hundreds year old mansion's east wing with it. The gunpowder had burned hot and bright pulling down brick and stone before settling in a smoking heap. Much of the west wing seemed to be undamaged.

"We should ride," said Athos, wiping blood from his own brow, but whether his own or an enemy's Christine didn't know. She felt Aramis' arm tremble at her waist and looked down to see the blood that had soaked through his doublet. Taking the reins from him in her uninjured arm she turned the horse.

"We can't," she said. "Not until I've fixed his arm and had a look at that blood on your head," she insisted. Her eyes flashed at him in the darkness. She was done being the Duchess and would no longer follow meekly along with the will of men.

"She's right," said Porthos, eyeing the way she too held her injured arm.

"We can take shelter in the stables," said D'Artagnan. "The remaining staff and guards will have all fled with the horses at this point."

Christine nodded. "We can stay until the morning."

Athos looked at her, and seeing the pale form of his brother behind her, clearly not protesting, he agreed.

D'Artgnan had been correct in his assessment, and the stables were empty when they returned save for signs of the stable hands' hasty retreat.

Aramis lowered himself out of the saddle, but his knees buckled as his feet hit the ground. Bella stomped in panic and Christine fought to control the mare with her one arm. D'Artagnan soothed the horse as Christine dismounted and flocked to Aramis' side. Porthos had helped him to D'Artagnan's bunk and out of his doublet. Christine gasped when she saw the bloodied mess of a wound. He was pale and he had his non-bloodied arm pressed to his forehead.

"Aramis," she whispered, placing her hand lightly on his chest.

"I'm fine my love," he muttered, opening his eyes to look at her. "I just have a slight headache from the blood loss," he said. She frowned at him knowing full well what kind of pain and danger he must be in, but she only kissed him lightly and instructed Porthos to help her roll up his sleeve.

Athos had searched the stable master's quarters and managed to find the makings of a medical kit. He locked eyes on Christine who stood frowning at her husband's side. She looked to Athos and he could easily read the worry in her face.

"My arm," she said, by way of an explanation. "I can't use it. The elbow is hyper-extended."

Athos' eyes grew wide and Aramis grimaced, but she simply shook her head at their concern. "It will be fine in a few days, but I will not be able to stitch this wound…"

D'Artagnan stepped forward. "I can do it…though it won't be as neat as you or Aramis would do it."

She smiled at him, flushed with relief. "Thank you," she whispered, touching his forearm, her grey eyes wide and full of a grateful love. D'Artagnan covered her hand in his and returning a smile, he set about repairing their marksman.

As D'Artagnan and Porthos worked on Aramis, Athos led Christine to a seat. Carefully he unrolled some bandages and began to fashion a sling for her arm. She groaned in pain as Athos examined her arm, but her eyes never left Aramis' face. She knew he was in pain but she could hear him softly talking D'Artagnan through the process, Porthos' large hand for support on his shoulder.

Athos looked into her face and she finally pulled her eyes away from her husband.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her as he washed the blood from her arm. "Aramis was right. This was too dangerous. It was too close. I never should have gotten you involved."

She frowned slightly and tried not to cry out as Athos' fingers gently prodded her arm.

"Athos, it's fine. We completed the mission," she soothed, "And you didn't force me to do any of this. I was glad to help."

"But at what cost?" he asked her, his hands stilling where they held hers. "You were in danger far too many times. I never should have encouraged you to bait those men, to put yourself in the middle of their violent relationship…When the fighting began, and I heard you cry out, I felt fear as I haven't known in ages," he admitted. She squeezed his hand tightly and his bright eyes met hers.

"You saved my life Christine, and I don't just mean tonight when you pushed Gardeau's shot off," he said quietly. "When we were children, I was only happy when I was with you at your home. I felt love for the first time. Those weeks in the summer were the only bright spot in my year, and when and your father left, I was devastated, but I was never angry. Not at you. Never at you."

A single tear fell from Athos' eyes and Christine gently brushed it away staring into the face of the brother she loved.

"I am glad that both Gardeaus are dead. Their brotherhood was poison and it killed them both in the end. There is nothing I wouldn't give to have Thomas back, and I will forever be grateful to have gotten you, my sister, returned to me."

Soft tears trailed down her cheeks at these words and she laughed lightly and brushed them away too.

"I love you Olivier. I'm so glad I found you," she whispered.

He smiled softly then frowned a bit. "I'm glad to hear you say that, for this is going to hurt," he said, lifting the sling and quirking an eyebrow at her. She laughed out loud, and then nodding, she allowed Athos to place her arm within the support.

Try as she might, she couldn't surpress the moan of pain as Athos guided her arm into the sling. His eyes widened in concern, but she shook her head and after a second to compose herself, she gave him a weary smile.

At her outcry Aramis had tried to force himself upright, but Porthos' strong arm kept him in place.

"Stop struggling or you'll ruin my needlework," D'Artagnan admonished.

Christine rose and moved to sit next to him on the bed.

"What a couple of sights we are," she laughed as she examined D'Artagnan's stitching. "This is well done," she told him and he grinned thankfully before he began to wrap the wound.

"Your dress is ruined," Aramis said softly as the others moved about setting up sleeping positions for the night. There were a few stalls with bunks in them, so at least they would all get a bed.

Christine sighed, "A willing sacrifice. I'm so glad you're alright," she whispered as she kissed his lips.

He closed his eyes and smiled at her. "We're all alright," he said, and pulling her to him so she lay next to him on the bed, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

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