Chapter Fifteen

Athos glanced towards the door of the tavern. Aramis was taking his time, he thought wondering if he had perhaps bumped into one of the serving girls and was charming more wine from her. He turned back to Porthos and d'Artagnan who were still enjoying teasing him about his different persona over the last weeks.

When the memories had all come crashing back to him, he had been so overwhelmed he had nearly passed out, it had felt like the worst morning after a heavy night drinking he had ever experienced. The memories took a few minutes to order themselves. Although he would be forever grateful that the memories of his brothers fell into place when they did. The image of Aramis' shocked expression would probably haunt him for some time. Although he had no intention of punishing Aramis for his misguided method of helping him, he did intend to remind him about it frequently.

'When you first became a soldier,' asked d'Artagnan with a barely disguised grin, 'did you struggle with the sword then?'

Athos rolled his eyes again, 'I think I was reasonable. I am not sure why my swordsmanship was so poor.'

'You're shootin' weren't that good either,' said Porthos with a laugh.

'But it improved rapidly,' remarked Athos, 'and I am armed now.'

Athos gave Porthos a pointed look causing the Musketeer to laugh loudly.

'If you will excuse me, gentlemen,' said Athos as he rose from the table.

Athos was a little concerned with the length of time Aramis was taking. But he did not want to appear foolish by mentioning it to Porthos and d'Artagnan. There was probably a simple explanation, but something made Athos want to be sure.

He reached the door and stepped out. The street was not busy, it was late into the evening. He glanced along the side of the building where most of the patrons went to relieve themselves. One of the shop owners that Athos was acquainted with was walking back, tucking his shirt in as he walked.

'I seem to have lost one of my men,' said Athos, trying to keep any worry from his voice, 'he's not still down there is he?'

'Ain't nobody down there, I passed a soldier on me way out. He was on 'is way back when I saw 'im,' said the man as he opened the door to the tavern.

Deciding that being concerned for his friend was reasonable now, Athos stepped further into the road. He could see a couple of whores a few yards away tempting a man into their room and a few men walking away in the distance. There was no sign of Aramis.

A dull thud followed by the sound of metal on stone drew his attention across the road to a dimly lit alleyway opposite him. He cautiously walked forward, hoping he was not going to find anything untoward, but suspecting he would.

Two men were stood with their backs to him, one was big and broad, built like a brawler. The second was a little younger, both looked as though they had lived on the edges of society for some time.

The burly man was leaning forward with his hands pressed against the wall in front of him, he was kicking at someone on the ground. The second man had one foot out pressing down, holding their victim in place.

Athos realised he recognised the men. They were the ones that had tried to attack him when his brothers were walking him around the city in the hope that he would recognise something.

Athos knew it was Aramis who was being held down and kicked. He did not need to see the shape on the floor clearly to know. He remembered seeing the bigger of the men glare at Aramis after the marksman had given him a couple of slight injuries during the earlier affray. The men must have seen the marksman alone outside the tavern and grabbed him.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself Athos walked up behind the man who had his foot on the back of Aramis' shoulders, holding him down. The marksman must have been pushed into the wall and fallen, Athos guessed that as he tried to push himself up onto his hands and knees the younger of the two attackers and stamped down on his shoulders forcing him back to the ground, giving the bigger man an easy target for their revenge.

Athos grabbed the man around the arms and twisted him away, throwing him forcefully to the floor. The man sprawled on the ground, smacking his head into the cobbles.

The other man turned to Athos and pulled a sword from his belt. Athos did not hesitate in drawing his own weapon in kind.

Athos glanced across to Aramis who was still by the wall, he had managed to push himself over and was watching with slightly unfocused eyes. At least he was still conscious, thought Athos, although he did not look capable of joining him in dealing with the two attackers.

They were fighting in close quarters, but not so close that Athos would have to resort to fighting hand to hand. They clashed swords, Athos managed to move the burly man away from Aramis who was trying to push himself up to sit, he was clutching at his arm and had blood trickling down his face from a wound on his forehead.

The younger man was getting back to his feet. After a few seconds, he turned to Athos and drew his own sword ready to join the fight. Athos had no problem dealing with the two men. They were ill-trained, lacking discipline in their movements. But they were wily. Rather than standing and fighting side by side, they split up. Athos knew it was a tactic to return the threat to the injured man on the ground, an attempt to distract Athos. But Athos was not going to fall for it, he twisted around and put himself back into a good position to fight the two men together. It did leave Aramis vulnerable, but Athos could keep the two men focused on himself until they made a mistake that he could take advantage of.

MMMM

Aramis knew that when the fight was over, he was going to have to put up with some teasing of his own. To be grabbed so easily was embarrassing. He had been distracted with his feelings of relief that they had Athos back. The two men, who he had recognised as the ones he had seen off in the market had dragged him across the road and into the alleyway. The big man had thrown him with force into the wall, causing him to bang his head into the stone. Disorientated he had fallen to the floor. He could hear the men laughing at him. He had tried to get up but was stamped on. His shoulders pushed back to the ground.

The way he had landed meant that his left arm had taken the brunt of the first few kicks. He did not think any bones were broken, but he knew he was in no state to retaliate. He had been relieved when Athos had shown up, dragging the man who was pinning him down away before taking on the big man.

Slowly, painfully, Aramis had managed to push himself up to sit, leaning against the wall holding his left arm protectively. He wanted to help Athos but knew he could not. He was fairly sure he would be lucky to even stand at that particular moment.

Athos was most definitely back to his usual self. He kept the two men at bay, he moved around with ease, he could see their tactics and anticipated them. If he was not in pain Aramis would have found the spectacle a joy to watch.

A shout from the direction of the tavern distracted the two men. Porthos and d'Artagnan appeared at a run. Both men had their guns drawn.

The two attackers looked back at the unwelcome reinforcements before turning back to Athos. Athos took a step forward, the two men ran, disappearing along the alleyway, their hasty retreat echoing along the quiet streets.

MMMM

Athos paid the men no further attention. He decided that if they wanted another go he would be happy to finish the fight. He crouched down in front of Aramis who had managed to sit up, although he was pale, blinking and shaking.

'I think,' he said as he reached out his hand to help the marksman up, 'that we have both made some new enemies.'

Aramis managed a pained smile as he got to his feet. Porthos was by his side, an arm already around the marksman's waist supporting him. D'Artagnan was watching along the alleyway for any sign of the attackers returning.

'Sorry to have spoiled your first evening back,' Aramis said.

'It was good to get back to normality, even if it has come at a cost to you,' replied Athos with a slight smile.

'I'm fine,' replied the marksman before obviously wavering, causing Porthos to tighten his grip on his friend.

D'Artagnan who had returned to them looked Aramis up and down for a second and said with a sigh, 'you have a cut to your head and you're holding your arm...I don't think you're fine Aramis.'

Aramis tried to push away from Porthos to stand on his own but failed miserably. Athos had to hide his amusement as Aramis gave up the pretence and allowed Porthos to pull his uninjured arm over his shoulder. Aramis already had bruises forming on his face and was holding his left arm protective across his chest. His breathing was a little shallow, Athos wondered if the man might have received some kicks to the ribs during the assault.

'Back to the garrison with you,' said Athos, he wanted to be sure Aramis was not hiding any more serious injuries.

'Really it's nothing…'

Athos glared at Aramis. D'Artagnan laughed. Both men looked at him.

'It didn't take you two long to revert to normality, Athos is in charge, and Aramis is trying to convince us all that nothing is wrong.'

Aramis had the good sense to not reply again. Porthos was having to hold the still slightly unfocused man up. D'Artagnan felt along Aramis arm earning him a few hissed expletives and several insistent assurances that he was merely bruised. Athos handed d'Artagnan his scarf which the Musketeer used as a makeshift bandage for the cut to the marksman's head.

Athos shook his head, Aramis was a sorry sight, his doublet was dirty and dishevelled, his weapons belts had become twisted, and he could not walk unaided.

After collecting Aramis' hat, Athos led the way back along the streets towards the garrison. He could not help a smile, when he knew that none of his brothers were watching him. He had lost a few days, but he had not lost their care and love. The three men walking behind him had been there for him throughout his time injured. They had worked to get him back to normal, and they had succeeded.

He listened to them as he walked. Aramis was complaining that he was now bruised and battered and that none of the ladies would want him. D'Artagnan was worried that he was going to be late for his liaison with Constance that night. Porthos wanted to get to a card game he knew was happening across the city.

Athos was pleased that their lives, which never failed to bring surprises and trouble could also, on occasion, have some semblance of normality to them.

The End

Authors note: Thank you all for your fabulous reviews. This is the longest piece I've ever written so your comments were greatly appreciated. Em. x