CHAPTER 5

Treville left Athos at the river and headed back to the camp with the intention to seek out Aramis and Porthos and tell them to keep an eye out for Athos. However, as he entered the perimeter of the camp, Lieutenant Allade caught his attention by waving in a rather insistent manner and Treville found himself wrapped up in an urgent matter that kept him occupied for more than an hour. By the time he was free to look for Aramis and Porthos, he fully expected that Athos had returned from the river and was by their side. The Captain had to tamp down his irritation when he discovered he had assumed wrongly. Apparently, Athos was still brooding up by the river, alone, in the coming darkness.

"Athos is not with you?" Treville asked as he approached Aramis and Porthos just to be sure the swordsman hadn't come and gone for some reason.

"With us?" Porthos echoed, puzzled. "Roudon said he was with you being disciplined. Captain, Athos didn't…"

"Then, where is he?" Aramis queried as he rose from his seat talking over Porthos. Concern colored his voice and his features. Porthos climbed to his feet, too, and both musketeers faced their Captain awaiting his reply.

"I was with him, over an hour ago, by the river. We were talking. He is...," Treville paused for a moment searching for the right words.

Treville wasn't one to share the inner thoughts of someone with others, but Porthos and Aramis weren't 'others'. They and Athos were becoming a band of brothers, even though they were not related by blood. Whatever scrapes they got into he'd been right when he'd thought form them into a team. They had become each other's confidante, confessor, savior and rock and because of that growing bond, he offered up the truth.

"Though it may seem hard to believe, since he has taken to the life of a musketeer with more ease than some professional soldiers, Athos was, until recently, a civilian. What occurred here today, this battle, Athos has never experienced that, not in real life," Treville finished.

A look passed between Porthos and Aramis, one of those silent communications that seemed the norm between the three musketeers, but made the hair on the back of a stranger's neck standup because of its eerie accuracy.

Nodding his head slowly, Porthos was the first to speak. "Never thought of that. Sometimes it's easy to forget he hasn't always been part of the regiment." His companions nodded in agreement. "Athos and I went through a lot together...at Dieppe. But your first real battle," Porthos shook his head knowingly, "Oi, that's different."

Silence settled over the trio as each man thought back upon their own experiences. Treville wasn't even sure he remembered his first battle, it was so long ago. Growing up in a military family, he had actually seen conflicts before he was sent off to boarding school in Paris to further his formal military education. His father had put a sword in his hand almost from the day he could walk, he mused as he thought on his unusual childhood. And yet, Treville knew for all his years of experience, Athos, who was many years his junior, was the superior swordsman. The young man had a God-given innate talent. But just because Athos was an outstanding swordsman, didn't mean he was a seasoned soldier; the young man still had much to learn, like how to deal with battle trauma.

Aramis was thinking of a battle too, but not his first, rather it was Savoy that came to mind and the trauma he had undergone because of it. His eyes went flat brown and his breathing became somewhat ragged as a rush of images of blood, bodies and snow overcame his mind. The marksman's muscles tensed, which did not go unnoticed by Porthos, who placed a comforting hand on Aramis' shoulder.

"Don't go there, Aramis," Porthos gently admonished his friend, fully aware of how Savoy had nearly broken his brother.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Aramis smiled slightly. "Mon ami, that is actually where I need to go. Athos helped me through that dark period by unintentionally giving me something else to focus on. I'm not sure if he realized it..."

"He did," Porthos interjected swiftly.

"...or appreciated my efforts..."

"He didn't," Porthos confirmed.

"...but I can use that horrible experience for good. To help Athos get past his own battle shock."

"He isn't gonna like it," Porthos predicted with deadly precision, which caused Treville to snort. Porthos had hit the nail right on the head. Athos didn't accept any sort of help towards his health or well-being with good graces.

"He'll concede to my natural charm as always," Aramis declared airily with a slight toss of his dark, wavy hair. "Everyone does."

Now it was Porthos' turn to snort. "No one concedes, not willingly. You just wear them down to the point that doing what you want is just easier."

"Yes. Charm." Aramis gave Porthos one of his charismatic smiles. Porthos shook his head in mock disgust even though he was grinning too. That is what he loved about his brother. His natural optimism.

"Captain, if it is alright with you, I think we'll camp by the river tonight. Away from the main encampment," Aramis said as he turned to look at the Captain.

Treville considered Aramis' request for a few moments. The enemy had been routed, they were on French soil, and the three of them could easily handle any issues that might arise. "Granted. Consider yourself the rear guard. Ensure no one crosses the river and sneaks up on the camp."

"Thank you. This will be better for Athos," Aramis declared appreciatively.

That was exactly why the Captain had agreed to the medic-musketeer's request, because Athos was an extremely private person. The swordsman took tremendous measures always to appear calm, dispassionate and in-control; outsiders often took his demeanor as aloof and uncaring. Only a very few people actually understood it was simply window dressing for someone who often felt too much. Aramis and Porthos, and to some degree Treville, had made inroads into the mystery that was Athos. Treville knew if Athos was dragged back to the camp, around the rest of the musketeers, he would do everything to appear normal, to the detriment of his own well-being. The Captain was hoping the private time he was granting the three of them would aid in Athos getting grounded again.

With a satisfied nod, more to himself than anyone else, Treville turned to leave, instructing, "I expect you at muster in the morning."

"Of course, Captain," Aramis replied with his easy charm. "We'll be there."