Finally the electrical storms are over, and I could finish this chapter. Please bear with me if there are any grammatical errors in this one. The longest chapter of the fic so far. Enjoy!
They kept their brothers in bed for a couple more days. The third day saw them just well enough for them to be able to start their journey back to Paris.
Aramis and Athos slowly walked out of the inn and were helped onto horses, Porthos mounting up behind Aramis, while d'Artagnan partnered with Athos. Naturally, the two injured parties protested and then complained vehemently that they were well enough to ride on their own. But their pleas seemed to fall on suddenly deaf ears. Porthos, d'Artagnan and Treville weren't going to chance their having setbacks if they could help it.
Treville felt easier about travelling after yet again having had the surrounding countryside reconnoitred by his men, who had found no trace of the hooded band. Even so, he had several of his men positioned as outriders, eyes peeled for any signs of trouble.
It was normally a two-day ride, but they took a slower pace which would make their journey three days to accomodate Athos and Aramis, who once again protested that they were just fine. Their comments were again ignored, and Porthos and d'Artagnan enjoyed immensely the disgruntled looks, almost sulks, that overtook their brothers' faces.
The took several breaks during the days, always choosing a spot with a stand of trees to shade their injured brothers. They made camp each night far earlier than they normally would have done also.
They finally reached Paris itself, then after weaving their way through crowds of people out to purchase food and other supplies, it being a busy market day, they finally passed through the gates of the garrison. Porthos, d'Artagnan and Treville all sighed in relief at having had such an uneventful journey, unmarred by any signs of trouble.
Athos and Aramis were bundled off to their own rooms, much to their delight at avoiding being installed in the infirmary. But theri smiles disappeared when they found out Porthos would be staying in Aramis' rooms, and d'Artagnan with Athos. Treville was still being cautious.
As much as they had said how well they were doing, Aramis and Athos both were out like lights as soon as their heads hit their pillows, confirming their brothers' thoughts that they weren't as well as they were letting on.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Next day when Treville came to see how his men were faring, Athos asked why he needed d'Artagnan to stay with him.
"I am not a child, or at death's door, and I do not have a raging fever. I am able to take care of myself," he stated. "I do not need anyone to watch over me, with apologies to d'Artagnan," he said, knowing it had been Treville's decision and looking over at his youngest brother in confidence that he would support him in this argument.
Before Treville could respond, d'Artagnan said quietly, "Athos, do you know how close you and Aramis came to death's door? Infection is not a pretty sight, and it's deadly. The yarrow has been doing it job so far. All we are asking is that you rest for another couple of days to ensure that your wounds have healed further."
Athos answered, "I am perfectly capable of putting yarrow on my wounds. I am also well able to sleep and eat when needed. I wish to be left alone while I recover."
It was at this point that Treville put the full force of his captaincy in his response. "This is not open for discussion. You will allow d'Artagnan, and whoever else I may send in to assist you, and you will accept their help. I already had much this same discussion with Aramis earlier this morning. You are, both of you, excellent when taking care of others, but you do not wish to allow yourselves the same assistance when you need it yourselves." Pausing, he said, "We came too close this time, Athos. We are just being cautious because we do not wish to lose you." He stood up as he finished speaking, the tough captain doing what he rarely did, showing his love for his Inseparables. Giving his lieutenant a rare stern look, he left, closing the door silently behind him. D'Artagnan just hoped the words had been taken to heart, and glancing over at his mentor, could see by the look on his face that it had indeed.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Aramis had been a model patient for Porthos since his earlier visit from Treville. This was a new side of his friend for Porthos. In all the time he had known him and been by his side when he was injured or ill, Aramis had always, without fail, insisted that he was fine.
But after a visit from Treville, Aramis ceased his grumbling. His captain's words had touched him deeply, it seemed.
True, he had behaved well when he had been allowed to sit with Athos earlier, but that was because he was so focused on being medic to his brother. The visit from Treville had shown him just how worried they had all been for he and Athos, and how badly they had responded to that worry. Now, Aramis did anything he was told. He took his meds, lay without grumbling if Porthos changed a dressing, and ate his meals. Porthos could hardly believe the cooperation he was getting for the second time.
While he was asleep later in the afternoon, d'Artagnan came in. He had asked one of the off-duty men to stay with Athos for a few minutes while he spoke with his brother. He used his hand to beckon Porthos over to the other side of the room from where Aramis was sleeping.
Sitting down, he looked intently at Porthos. "We need to make sure that Aramis is never alone. We don't know who is behind these attacks, or why. Has Aramis ever mentioned anyone to you who has made threats against him?" knowing how close Aramis and Porthos were.
"In the past, he has had an angry husband or two. But they weren't the types who would plan something like this," Porthos said thoughtfully. "And as far as anyone we have tangled with officially as Musketeers, they would have wanted to terminate all of us, not just Aramis."
Reviewing the incidents that had happened on their mission, they felt even more strongly that it was their brother who had been the hooded men's focus.
This had seemed well thought out, planned. Someone with quite a bit of monehy at his disposal to use. Someone who could very well be a person of great power, and probably in a position of authority that he wasn't hesitant to use.
It was undoubtedly someome who had also taken his time to seek out a certain type of evil-minded, brutal men to carry out his wishes, possibly culled from the taverns and other low-life places of back street Paris. Men who had now had time to slip back into those places and could be keeping an eye on the garrison, and who would know when they came and went, and where.
Whoever it was, he was not going to give up very easily. He knew where they were, and could just wait for the best opportunity to finish what he had started, all without getting his own hands dirty.
They also knew that there were many powerful men in Paris, men with power and stature, who could do what they pleased and no one but the king or cardinal had any control over them. But it could just as easily be a nobleman on his estates who had orchestrated the plan, and he would be even harder to investigate by being on his own lands and in a more remote location.
They couldn't go to the king or to the cardinal with their suspicions, not without hard evidence. The king had a long history of standing behind the aristocracy of his court. He wouldn't even listen to the Musketeers with the little they could present to him at present. Richelieu knew which side his bread was buttered on, and would side competely with his sovereign. The only times he didn't were when he stood to gain either power or gold, which at the present moment didn't seem to be a possibility in this case.
They were just flying blind right now, conjecturing who and why. At the moment, whoever was behind this knew about them and their movements, and they basically knew nothing of him It made for a very dangerous sitution, especially if d'Artagnan was right and it was indeed Aramis who had been targetted.
They made a silent pact between them to never let their brother out of their sight, also not to let him find out what they knew.
But the second part went right out the window almost as soon as they had decided it.
D'Artagnan rose and followed Porthos back over to Aramis to see how he was doing. They had no sooner sat down next to the bed, than they heard, "It's me they want?" in a barely audible voice.
Startled, their eyes flew to Aramis' face, to find weary brown eyes looking questioningly at them from under a head of sleep-tousled curls, still not quite fully awake, ut obviously having been awakened and having heard some of their conversation.
They looked at each other, wondering how much he had heard and how much they should tell h im.
But he knew them, and even having just awakened, figured out exactly what they were thinking. "Please," he said, "be honest with me?"
D'Artagnan took a deep slow breath and exhaled. "Aramis, I saw them keeping an eye on you while we fought them the first time."
"Coincidence perhaps?"
"They wanted you to come down from the cave. Their whole focus was you. I think I was just used to force you to come to them."
This time, Aramis was silent. It did indeed look to him then that he could very well be their focus.
"Why?" he asked, his face just as puzzled as their conversation had been at a reason to come after him so viciously.
This question told them he hadn't heard all of their he had already heard the worst, so it wasn't worth holding back now.
"Aramis, do you know of anyone who wishes you this kind of harm?" Porthos asked. Someone who is wealthy and powerful?"
Aramis was still digesting the fact that this whole series they had just gone through was because someone wanted to kill him. But now, his tired mind was filling with guilt that his brothers could have been killed because of him. Just thinking of what Athos had gone through tore him apart, and of d'Artagnan's injury, not even considering for a moment what he himself had suffered at their hands.
"They nearly tortured Athos to death because of me. It was my fault!" he cried out, his eyes beyond sad, sick at the realization of causing one of his brothers so much trauma and pain.
"Aramis!" Porthos said, But Aramis didn't hear him, lost in his guilt. He tried again, sharply and louder in volume. "Aramis!"
When he still didn't get through to him Porthos reached down and gently gathered his hurting brother up against his chest, saying softly, "It's not your fault, Aramis. Not your fault. It' someone with a very sick mind who did this."
Aramis was shaking his head as his brother spoke. He had always had a very vivid imagination, and at the moment was seeing once again the damage being inflicted upon Athos in his mind, much as he had in his sleeping dreams. His face reflected the feelings of being somehow responsible. Porthos just held him securely and rubbed gentle circles on his back, trying to soothe him.
Gradually, after a few minutes it must have begun to work, as a now-weary Aramis began to nod, his head slowly sinking down to his chest and his breathing evening out in sleep. Porthos eased his brother back down on his bed, glad that he was once again at peace.
He and d'Artagnan once again moved a distance away from the bed as Porthos spoke in a whisper, "We always seem to forget just how keen both his eyes and ears are-better than anyone I've ever known. Those ears of his can hear a footfall or a twig snap that will confirm his eerie sense of danger before the rest of us. How many times has he saved our lives because of it? We should have been more careful where we discussed this," not thinking that they were once again speaking in the same room as the brother he had just desribed. It went to show just how agitated all of them were ove this whole mess.
"He's not responsible for what happened to Athos, who would be the first to tell him so," d'Artagnan said.
"I know that and you know that. But try telling him that just now. And any one of us might feel the same way if our positions were reversed. We just need to keep a very watchful eye on him as we agreed earlier. This probably isn't over yet, " Porthos wearily said.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Above stairs in a ramshackle old house that looked for all the world as if it had been abandoned for years, the leader of the hooded men and several of his companions had met to go over their mission.
Without their hoods the men looked fairly respectable, hair and beards neatly trimmed, and dressed in tradesmen's sober clothes. But the hard eyes, grim sets to their lips and the sheer number of scars riddling their faces and arms told a different story. As did the sheer amount and variety of weapons strewn around the room. These were hardened men, for whom violence and lawlessness was their way of life.
"We need to lay low for a while. Our target is in just a little bad shape right at the moment," here he smirked at his own words. "So is the arrogant one I cut up. He's a nobleman, unless I totally miss my guess. I can spot them a mile away. He's not too important to us, though, just if he or the others get in the way. But our source of gold won't be going anywhere that we can nab him for a while yet."
Looking around at the other two, of whom he seemed to be the superior, he added, "Just keep an eye on anyone leaving that garriso and what they do. I don't think they have any way of knowing who we are or who hired us, but if they do begin to figure it out, we may know from their movements. Stay alert and hidden. We can afford to move slowly on this to get it just right this time, and be rewarded with all the gold promised to us."