The next few days were kind of a haze for the three musketeers. Each day, when Aramis prayed, he asked for Athos to recover, in all senses of the word, for Porthos to safely come home, and for all four of them to stay sane until both of those happened. It seemed like himself and d'Artagnan were trapped in the never-ending cycle of heartbreaking screams from Athos' nightmares, soothing words and gestures, depressing revelations coming either from their friend or the world around them, and responsibilities and expectations that sometimes snatched them away from the one thing they could put their minds and hearts to. Making sure that Athos was well taken care of.
Aramis didn't pressure his older friend into telling him what happened. Whenever the latter was awake and in the mood to talk, he tried to make him forget about what was obviously haunting him most of the time anyway. Three days after Athos returned, when pretending to eat breakfast, he casually told d'Artagnan that Aramis tiptoeing around him was strange and that he should know everything.
The Gascon approached the minister on the garrison's courtyard, sat him down at one of the long wooden tables, and told him as much as he found out so far. Aramis stood up abruptly, then sat down, and stood up again. Consumed by anger and frustrated at their helplessness, he kicked the leg of the table so hard, it broke. If he were anywhere near his regular self, he would apologize and fix it. Instead, he continued booting, until two other planks broke. D'Artagnan didn't say a word.
Further three days later, Athos slipped. Since coming back, he tried to fight his demons, to at least keep his head above dark waters. But he got tired. He hated going to sleep because of the nightmares, he felt like eating did nothing for his well-being and plenty for upsetting his stomach, he was sure that more than anything, he was a burden to everyone. And so, for a moment, in his mind and heart, he gave up.
In a cruel miracle, his body reacted immediately, the fever raising dangerously and his breathing transforming into shallow wheezing. Before he knew it, he lost all touch with reality, trapped in a gallop through his nightmares. For those who watched, it was hard to find a tangible cause. They could just try to minimize the damage as his body convulsed, his face grimaced in pain, and the blankets got soaked with sweat. All while he murmured the litanies of his grief, remorse and despair.
Sometimes, he would sense his friends, as if from very far away. He would hear them shushing and comforting him, or merely speaking. Or, he would feel their touch, as they gently caressed him, or, other times, firmly pinned him down to stop him from hurting himself. But it was as if he was far beneath the surface, miles from them, and drifting even further each minute.
After three days and nights of watching his friend fading away, d'Artagnan cracked. When the doctor and Aramis explained there was little either of them could do but wait, even though he seemed to only get worse with time, he yelled at them both.
The minister shot him a sad but understanding look. He too barely left Athos's side in the last few days. At the moment, though, he decided to give d'Artagnan some space and go to collect the herbs that the doctor recommended.
The Gascon sank to the floor next to the bed and grabbed Athos' clammy hand with both of his. He let his head rest on top of them and allowed tears to fall. Was that really it?
Constance found him like that and sat behind him for a moment, leaning against his back. When she got up, she wiped the sick man's face and cupped his cheek. "You may feel like you lost everything, Athos. And no one could blame you. But there are still people who can't live with the thought of losing you."
Both d'Artagnan's silent tears and Constance's words pierced through the abyss that separated Athos from them. But even if he wanted to, the former captain forgot how to fight.
Half an hour later, when Aramis came back, he heard a desperate whisper, which made him stop in the doorway.
"I can't be here and watch you give up, Athos. I can't. I refuse to believe this is how it ends."
The minister slowly approached his friend and put a hand on his back. "You have to get some rest, d'Artagnan. You don't need to go, as I know you don't want to regardless of what you said. Just close your eyes here for a moment. I will wake you if anything changes."
The captain turned to him, guilt plastered on his face. "I'm sorry, Aramis."
"I know you are. Don't worry about it. Just do as I say," the older man said, rubbing circles on d'Artagnan's back.
As soon as Aramis managed to make his young brother nap, he got back to tending to Athos. He forced a nasty-tasting tincture down the sick man's throat, along with some water.
"I won't tell you whether to live or not, Athos. But d'Artagnan was wrong, as he himself noticed. Even if there is little I can do, I'm not giving up on you. You once told me the same, after Savoy," Aramis declared, still holding the back of his friend's neck and massaging it gently. "Also, when making your decision, please keep in mind that Porthos will have our heads if he comes back to your funeral."
Soon, Aramis and d'Artagnan swapped places. The former went to sleep on the mattress in the corner of the room, which they put there a few days back. The captain sat on the bed with a bowl of water and a cloth, carefully washing the sweat off his mentor's body. It seemed that Athos didn't have the energy left to trash or mumble anymore. However, he looked far from calm, with small tremors still running through his body, his pupils moving restlessly behind his eyelids, and occasional moans escaping his clenched jaw.
He was almost half-seated to facilitate his breathing, supported by a pile of pillows. The Gascon moved next to him and put one arm around his trembling shoulders, cradling his head with another.
"I wish there were a way to help you sleep peacefully," d'Artagnan started softly. After taking a deep breath, he added, "I was selfish before, Athos. I pray that you will recover, that you still have some will to live. But if all you can do is let go, of course, I will stay by your side as long as I can. Just remember, we love you, brother, no matter what."
Aramis, who, against his own advice, had trouble falling asleep, buried his head deeper in the pillow to muffle the sniffle. He was proud of the man d'Artagnan became. At the same time, he feared what would become of his younger brother, of any of them, if the worst were to happen. And more than anything, he was scared that his friend would die consumed by grief and pain, deprived of all hope.
What he didn't know was that somehow, d'Artagnan's words brought a spark into Athos' darkness. For the first time since his condition worsened, he felt as if something, or someone, was pulling him to the surface; that someone considered him so worthy of saving, they were willing to drown for it themselves. Even when he was weak, broken, and not too interested in being saved. It gave him the strength to try to push to go back toward the living.
Only a few moments passed, though for Athos they felt like an eternity, as in his mind he was fighting against the current. Finally, he stirred against his friend's chest and arms. At first, he was only able to get out another moan, but eventually, he managed to croak, "d.. d'Artagnan?"
The younger man jumped a little. Then, he pulled back slightly, just to be able to look at his mentor's face, still holding the back of his head. "Athos? Are you back with us?" he asked, his eyes hopeful.
After receiving a wordless confirmation, he grinned and brought his friend's head back to his chest. "Thank God. We thought… nevermind, it's good that you are."
D'Artagnan helped Athos settle back on the pillows and put a cup to his lips. "I will give you about three minutes of peace until I wake up Aramis to bug you with the medic stuff."
"What happened?" the patient inquired hoarsely.
"Your fever went up. Really high. You were out for three days," the captain explained. As Athos nodded and closed his eyes, d'Artagnan added, "How are you feeling now?"
Choosing the least concerning of all the thing that bothered him, the older man replied, "C-cold."
"Right. I will go look for some dry blankets," the Gascon started rising from the bed, only to be stopped by a trembling hand on his forearm.
"Wait for a bit, please," Athos' voice betrayed his embarrassment. Still, he couldn't stop himself, feeling like he could lose his anchor with reality and fall into the hellish waters again.
D'Artagnan smiled at him and sat back on the bed. Simultaneously, Aramis decided to finally let them know that he was awake and approached them carrying blankets he was covered with.
"Hey, Athos. I am glad to see you awake," he said warmly, squeezing his friend's hand. Not bothering to explain that he didn't say anything earlier to give them a moment, the minister started taking off the soaked blankets and gradually replaced them with dry ones. "I will bring more."
"I'm sorry. To both of you," Athos whispered suddenly, earning wide-eyed looks from his friends.
"What on earth are you apologizing for?" Aramis asked, subconsciously straightening the sheets.
The former captain took a long, shaky breath and attempted to raise himself even further on the pillows, only to wince as his body refused it and a sharp pain shot through his ribs. D'Artagnan put a hand on his shoulder, wordlessly signaling him to stay down.
"It… it felt… feels good to be around you again, better than I felt in months. And I wanted to get better. B-but one day, I didn't anymore. I… I felt tired, s-so tired of my head, of being a miserable burden and keeping you from your lives," as Athos went on, stuttering slightly, his friends resisted the urge to protest immediately, sensing that he needed to get it out, even if they were sure he would never say it all out loud if not for his fever.
"So I g-gave up. I think… I think that's why I g-got worse. B-but I heard you, some of it, I k-know I made it even hard-der for you. I really d-didn't mean to come and d-drop it all on you. And n-now I c-can't even stay alone in the r-room, fearing I… I'll go b-back there," as soon as he finished, he looked down, feeling ashamed.
D'Artagnan silently observed Athos for a few moments, taking account of his sickly pale, glistening skin, dark bags under his eyes, bruises, small shivers that were running through his body and the occasional sound of chattering teeth. Then, he went back to his position against the head of the bed and once again, with some maneuvering, pulled him closer.
A year or two ago he would be more reluctant to make such gesture, knowing that with his former captain's pride, it could well make the situation worse. But in the last few days, he noticed that not only Athos was, in many regards, farther from being himself than he thought possible, but also that after months in pain and solitude, his mind and body reacted well to such forms of comfort.
"Am I hurting you like this?" the younger man inquired quietly. After seeing his friend shake his head and subconsciously lean into the embrace, he continued, supporting his mentor's curled form with one hand and rubbing his neck with another, "You have nothing to be sorry or embarrassed about, Athos. I am so proud of you, and grateful, that after everything you went through you are still here with us. It is a blessing, not a burden, and there is nowhere we would rather be than here."
"I wouldn't say it better myself. Surprisingly," Aramis joked, putting a hand on Athos' leg. "You are allowed to do whatever you need, we will take care of the rest. Now, I'll be right back, I will go for those blankets."
The sick man's body visibly relaxed after their words of acceptance and support. After he was tucked under a fresh set of covers and informed that the medic stuff could wait that time, both the captain and the minister waited for his breathing pattern to change and tell them he fell asleep. As it didn't, d'Artagnan asked, "Are you in more pain than before? Can we do anything to help you sleep?"
"…'s not that. Just… it was as if I was underwater, not dead but not alive. And those I loved, dead, were floating all around me, with open eyes, blaming me… Sylvie's belly…" Athos murmured in a desperate and tired voice.
"Shhh. You are not to blame, brother. And your fever broke, you won't go back there. You are safe, we are here. We will watch over you and wake you up if we need to," d'Artagnan assured soothingly, moving his hand to the top of his friend's head.
Aramis took a sit on the other side of the bed, as if trying to protect Athos, and grasped his knee.
When d'Artagnan was sure that his mentor fell asleep, he whispered, "I'd never imagined I'd see him like that."
The younger man kept running his fingers through Athos' hair, hoping to keep the nightmares away.
"It is almost impossible to break Athos. But one thing that can do it is… well, exactly what they did, hurt the people he cares about. On his eyes," the minister commented grimly.
The Gascon sighed. "I wonder if he will ever stop feeling responsible."
"It will be hard. And he probably won't even start forgiving himself until we know who is behind this," Aramis replied, stretching his legs, careful not to brush them against Athos'. "Anyway, all we can do is hold him together for as long as he can't do it himself. And we will."
After a long pause, he added, "You know, I was more or less like that after Savoy. My wounds weren't healing properly. I felt like I didn't deserve to get better. Porthos and Athos were afraid to leave me alone for five minutes. And I was so grateful they were there, holding me when I refused to sleep or woke up screaming, sitting with me, forcing me to eat.
"But I felt like I didn't deserve their friendship either. And I kept falling back into darkness. There were moments, many of them, when it seemed hopeless, for them and for me. But we pulled through. And we will this time, too," Aramis concluded comfortingly.
D'Artagnan freed one of his arms for a moment and stretched it toward the marksman, who squeezed it. "I'm glad you are here, Aramis."
The following morning, Constance came in with breakfast, some herbs that Aramis asked for, and, seemingly, a breeze of fresh air and normalcy. After leaving everything on the table, she approached the bed and without thinking twice, gave her sick friend a quick but warm hug.
"It's good to see you awake, Athos. You scared us," she said as she pulled away and a few tears dropped from her eyes.
"Don't cry over me, Constance," Athos pleaded. He wanted to make a gesture to comfort her, but after the events of the past three days, his body wasn't very cooperative.
She reflexively tidied her thick hair and put her hands on her hips, her fingers sinking into the green fabric of her dress. "You really were gone for too long, weren't you?"
There was a playful harshness in her voice, and everyone in the room raised their eyebrows.
"Well, if you think that you can tell me what to do," she explained innocently.
It might have been the first time since Athos came back when all of them shared a laugh.
Only a few hours passed. Constance was busy cleaning the rooms when the door burst open, and the queen marched in, looking annoyed, to put it mildly.
"Hello, Constance," she greeted her old friend, a thought crossing her mind that they didn't see each other nearly enough in the last few months. "Are you here, minister? Taking all your work into the garrison for no apparent reason is hardly appropriate."
Unfortunately, she didn't notice Constance giving her signals to leave the discussion for later. Soon, Aramis showed himself in the door of the guest room.
"I apologize, Your Majesty. However, I have not been neglecting any of my responsibilities," he replied, instantly feeling that it was only almost true, as he was a little unfocused since Athos got worse.
The queen gave him a look that said more than words could, reminding him that not all of his responsibilities in the palace were official. With equally stern eyes, he somehow managed to communicate just as much, telling her that it was him who could never be a father to his son and who suffered every day because of it.
"That is not what I said, Aramis. Now, what is so important that you cannot… that you are hardly ever in the palace these days?" Queen Anne asked, her voice calmer.
He bit his lip, not sure how Athos felt about revealing the truth to her. After all, the older man was clear about preferring as few people as possible to know. "Nothing that you should be concerned about, Your Majesty. There is just something I'm working on with d'Artagnan."
The queen knew him well enough to recognize that he was lying, which made all her anger come back instantly. Of course, the fact that Aramis was not around as much in the last few days wasn't a big deal, since he was still doing his job and coming for important meetings and audiences. Even so, it triggered her frustration at the situation they found themselves in.
"For God's sake, Aramis. I'm the queen, how can it not concern me? And it's not like I've never been here, I can hardly see the reason for the two of you to work in d'Artagnans' guest room," she retorted and took a few steps toward him, forcing him to move aside.
As soon as she was in, she froze at the sight before her, feeling waves of sadness and embarrassment at her childish behavior. She should have figured it out, there weren't many things that could keep Aramis from her and their son. She nodded at d'Artagnan, who jumped to his feet and bowed his head.
Then, she moved her attention to Athos again. Of course, their relationship was always official, but she had a lot of respect and gratitude for the former Musketeer captain. And seeing him like that, she felt a pang in her chest. Not because he was pale and injured, looking at her apologetically for being too weak to get up to greet her properly. Obviously, that also bothered her. But she saw enough wounded Musketeers to know that as long as they were breathing, talking and in no danger of dying, which seemed to be the case here, it was the reason to celebrate. The moment she came in, she knew that the atmosphere in the room was the opposite of joyous. And the haunted look she saw in Athos' eyes only confirmed it.
"I apologize, Your Majesty. It is me who is keeping the minister away from the palace," the former captain explained.
"No, it is me who should apologize. I had no idea that you came back, Athos. But I had no reason to jump to conclusions, I should have assumed it was serious enough," the queen argued.
There was a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence. Finally, the queen gathered most of the fabric of her dress's skirt between her hands and sat down on a chair. She considered inquiring about what happened, but she felt like it would be wrong to pressure them since they would be kind of obliged to answer. "How can I help?"
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I have everything I need," Athos replied, moving his gaze to d'Artagnan and Aramis to express his gratitude.
"Very well, but please let me know if any of you needs anything. And, of course, you can keep spending time here, Aramis," the queen stated. Then, she surprised everyone by taking Athos' hand and saying, "Heal soon, Athos. Remember that you have many friends here."
Some days went by. Aramis was cautiously optimistic, with Athos feeling a little better as time passed. The nightmares still plagued him, but seemingly less relentlessly, he was eating more, cracking jokes every once in a while, and getting up from bed for a few steps around the room. At the moment, d'Artagnan and Athos were probably having a late breakfast, while the minister just finished a meeting in the palace. He stopped in the gardens for a moment to watch his son playing. To tell the truth, a part of him did miss being around him. However, not only he knew that Athos needed him more, but also it was somewhat relieving to get away from the charade for a bit.
He smiled at the sight of the boy running madly on the grass, watched by two nannies. Suddenly, he saw a group of horses emerging from behind the trees on his left. He squinted his eyes in the bright sun and bolted up from his bench upon recognizing the rider at the front.
Now, he was the one running like crazy, almost tripping several times and utterly oblivious to the fact that his minister clothes definitely weren't made for anything but gracious walking. Soon, the person also noticed him and shouted something, likely a command, to those around him. Then, he kicked his horse's sides and sped toward Aramis.
"Porthos! Oh God, it is really you!" the minister yelled.
As they were finally right in front of each other, the bigger man jumped off his horse and encircled his best friend in a bone-crushing hug. "You have no idea how good it is to see you, Aramis."
In the meantime, someone took care of Porthos's horse. The two friends pulled apart but kept their arms around each other.
"Not that I am not happy about it but how come you are early?" Aramis asked cheerfully, feeling relieved beyond words that Porthos made it home safe.
"The conditions were good. We pushed our limits a little, we all wanted to be here as soon as possible," the dark-skinned man explained, squeezing his friend's shoulders.
"Let's get the official stuff over with, then, so you can rest."
And so, they walked together toward the palace, almost like in the old days.
Around two hours later, Porthos was free to enjoy the rest of his day, before having to deal with more of the official stuff the next morning. Of course, Aramis was still by his side.
"I will walk you home, unless… well, there is something I need to tell you," the minister said, his smile faltering for the first time since he saw his friend.
"To be honest, I was planning to go see d'Artagnan first. When I get home, it may be hard to go out until tomorrow," the large man admitted with a grin, though he quickly got serious upon seeing his friend's solemn expression. "What is it, Aramis?"
The marksman stopped for a moment and sighed loudly. "There is someone else at d'Artagnans'…"
"You didn't hide the fact that they had a baby, did you?" Porthos asked, jokingly pursing his lips.
Aramis shook his head. "Athos is back."
"You make it sound like it's a bad thing," the dark-skinned man shot him a puzzled look.
"Of course it's not. But there is more to it…" the minister began his story as they started moving again, going to the garrison.
By the time he finished, Porthos was clenching his big fists so hard, his knuckles were white. He didn't say anything, picking up his pace.
Athos was sleeping, with d'Artagnan sitting at the table and catching up with the paperwork. He had only just got back to the room, after taking care of a few urgent matters in his office. As the door opened, revealing the other two of the Inseparables, the Gascon had to use all of his willpower not to scream with joy, which would probably result in a rather unpleasant waking up for Athos. Porthos quickly gathered his younger brother in his arms, and neither of them let go for a long time.
Then, the general approached the bed, bent down, put one hand on the top of his sleeping friend's head and kissed his forehead.
"How is he?" Aramis asked in a hushed voice, his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder.
"Alright. I had to go to the office today but Constance was checking on him, she said he's been sleeping a lot. He probably overdid it a little yesterday," d'Artagnan reported, organizing his papers into one pile. "Porthos, did you come here straight from the palace?"
When the large man nodded, the captain excused himself to bring some food and wine. Soon, they were all sitting around the table, eating and drinking in silence, simply enjoying each others' company. Pothos, however, having less time than others to come to terms with what happened to Athos (if that was even possible), couldn't stop grim images from floating in his mind. As he was processing, a realization suddenly hit him, and he almost yelled, restraining himself with a hand on his mouth in the last possible moment.
"What is it?" Aramis asked, concern sipping through his voice.
The general gestured for them to follow him to the other room.
"Well, I told you there are two small groups of traitors. One was easy enough to link to the Spanish, but the other… Remember when, after Rocroi, you sent reinforcements, which were ambushed?" Porthos inquired, pacing around the room. Aramis nodded quickly, encouraging his friend to continue.
"Only four men reached my camp, three I didn't recognize and one I knew from Paris. The familiar one was threatened into cooperating, the rest were the attackers who posed as our soldiers. I didn't get them to talk and I couldn't make any sense of their reasons, surely the Spanish wouldn't send two independent groups to my unit."
"I'm still not following. Why did you almost choke on your food?" d'Artagnan used one of the pauses to interrupt.
"You haven't learned to be more patient when I was gone, have you?" Porthos smirked. "The thing is, today, just before I left the prisoners with my guys upon seeing Aramis, one man from the second group yelled, say hello to your friend, we are not done yet. I assumed he meant Aramis and made nothing of it, but now I'm almost sure it was about Athos."
The minister ran a hand through his hair. "You wrote me that one group was spying, the other were assassins. Did they target you specifically?"
"Yes. I didn't think much of it, assuming it was because of my successes on the front, but I guess they had nothing to do with it," the dark-skinned man speculated, playing with the grip of the sword that was in his belt.
"If you are right, that's just insane. I can hardly imagine someone going through that much trouble to get revenge on Grimaud, let alone on Athos," d'Artagnan remarked sadly.
Aramis looked through the window, his hands resting on the windowsill. "Right. Anyway, let's not tell him today so he can enjoy seeing Porthos."
The two other men nodded in agreement.
"But we should get someone to watch Constance and Elodie. Shouldn't be too hard since they both live in or near the garrison," the minister suggested, again earning approval from his friends.
They continued their discussion for a while, trying to come up with reasonable theories and failing miserably. Soon, they heard a soft groan and a sound of Athos clumsily pulling himself up on the bed. Aramis and d'Artagnan both signaled Porthos to go in first. As he did, he saw his former captain's eyes grow wide and his face breaking into a huge grin.
"Porthos!" Athos exclaimed with more life in his voice than they heard for quite some time.
The large man beamed at him and was by the bed in two steps. First, he touched his forehead to Athos'. Then, he gingerly grabbed the back of his friend's head and brought him closer, putting another hand on his back.
"It's good to see you, Athos. I'm here, whatever you need," he mumbled into the older man's hair.
After they pulled away, Athos nodded to express his gratitude, his eyes clouded with emotion. "Are you alright, Porthos?"
"In one piece," the general replied with a sad smile. Everyone in the room understood the meaning behind those words, knowing that it was impossible to come back from the front feeling truly alright.
"I don't think it was our finest idea to split up," d'Artagnan muttered suddenly. As he realized he said it out loud, his face turned slightly red, "Uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. It was supposed to stay in my mind."
Athos and Aramis chuckled, while Porthos laughed jovially.
"I hear ya," the large man seconded his younger brother. "But what's done is done. Let's try to enjoy what we have now."
"Speaking of which, have I been asleep for days? Not that I'm complaining, but you seem to be early," the former captain observed, taking a cup from d'Artagnan.
"I am early. We were all so eager to come home, we kind of went crazy on the road," Porthos admitted, plopping down on the floor by the bed.
"Again, not that I am not pleased by your company but shouldn't you go be with your family? I have three nannies already," Athos joked, and d'Artagnan almost sighed with relief, as it seemed like his mentor was slowly coming back to himself.
"I am with my family. And I will go to see Elodie and our girl soon, but not yet. As long as you haven't run out of wine."
And so, the four of them shared the first bottle since they parted ways, feeling like things were slowly falling into place.
A/N: A huge thank you for reading and for all the reactions to the first chapter!
beeblegirl, it will take them some time to figure the mystery behind it but at least they have a lead now. And they are together, which makes it easier to face the threat. Thank you :)
Ula, it won't be all dark, I promise. Thanks for reviewing!
pallysd'Artagnan, thank you. It seems like they are planning to come back but it won't be easy anymore.
Helensg, I'm glad you liked it, thank you!