In the Pursuit of

By: MusketeerAdventure

Summary: This chapter takes place during the season 2 episode, Keep Your Friends Closer. Milady and Richelieu are no longer a threat; and Rochefort has been introduced. Aramis finds his emotions riding high with joy and low with deep regrets; and must search for a way to keep revelations concealed.

Chapter 3: The Search for Revelation

The garrison was falling into night; the sky painted simply gray in that in between time of light and dark, leaving an unsettled mark for the end of the day. They had only returned from their audience with the King, just hours ago; and around them – the garrison yard activity was coming to a close; the evening meal completed; musketeers headed to quarters – out on the town – or to posted duties.

All was back to normal; and it felt good.

Aramis looked to the dusky sky, and could see it clouding over; and could smell the gathering precipitation overhead in the dark, fluffy clouds. He could hear the clapping of thunder in the distance and knew that soon the heavens would open and pour down much needed rain.

Right now, the air was heavy with humidity – causing him to sweat as he began the jobs of unsaddling his horse; and preparing him for grooming – cleaning his saddle and putting away his supplies. He looked around at his brothers nearby – going about their end of day tasks, and was glad to be in their good company.

It had been a difficult mission – fraught with the real danger of losing their lives; but they had all made it back – none the worse for wear. Aramis sent up a prayer of thankfulness and watched his brothers fondly.

d'Artagnan seemed pleased with himself for having broken free of recent constraints; yet he also seemed to be holding something sad close to his vest. He knew the earlier conversation with Constance must have been painful for him; he would investigate later – and provide words of solace if need be.

He observed with a light heart as Porthos, vociferously let everyone and anyone, know how happy he was to be back on French soil among his family, the musketeers – smiling widely and giving over the top accounts of their daring do. He understood this was Porthos' way of coming down from the high of mission adrenaline; and would likely join him later tonight and share in his contentment.

Athos worked alone; quietly and made relieved glances in his protégé's direction – glad he had survived the freedom given him; and the harrowing events of the rescue. He knew how much Athos loved d'Artagnan and would drive home the need to let him continue to grow; and that the boy they all cared for now, was turning into a fine young man.

So it was with great happiness that Aramis could smile at how luck and God's good grace had seen them through – once again.

But what mattered most was that General de Foix and Lucie were safe; along with France's military secrets. The mission had been a success. But that General de Foix would survive his wound was still unknown. Sadly, things did not look hopeful for him. His wound infected and his body weakening from blood loss, Aramis was unsure the man would survive the night. He would ready himself, if he were called upon.

One other major downfall of the mission was Rochefort taking credit for the rescue; his duplicitous nature unnoticed by his Majesty – who could not wait it seemed to hear of the man's heroic exploits.

Aramis sniffed with displeasure – hero indeed – the man had almost gotten them killed on several occasions during this mission. The King's instant liking to him did not bode well. Deep down inside, he could sense something menacing when it came to Rochefort; a foreshadowing of dark times to come; almost like d'Artagnan's premonitions when it came to Athos – only this ominous feeling claimed him only.

Aramis shook his head to dislodge such negative thoughts and resolved to put this mission out of his mind for the moment; and to instead think of his son. His chance encounter with the dauphin earlier in the week had been a marvel. Even since before his birth – he had dreamed of meeting the child; a glimpse he told himself would be satisfactory – for in his heart, he knew him already.

But in the halls of the palace, not only did he get a glimpse; he also received a formal introduction to his son, the Royal Prince – by non-other than his governess; and in that brief encounter the beginnings of a plan to be near him began to take shape.

He frowned – ashamed of his thoughts. To manipulate a woman to gain access to his son was devious and disgraceful. He loved women; and had great respect for them – to think his mind had fallen on such an act…. He let it go for now. He was not even sure he was capable of such a thing.

During the mission – he had put the child from his mind – but now, as the breeze hit his face and thunder continued to roll toward Paris – he felt free to recall him.

When the governess had allowed him audience to view the child, he looked down on his countenance; and felt pride swell through his chest. Yes, the lord had blessed him with a fine looking boy- healthy, hardy and whole. The Queen must be pleased.

As he looked closer he saw that he recognized that face – the nose – his eyes; there was no doubt, this boy was his son. Looking back at him was his father's jaw; his brother's fairness; and his sister's lips. There was no mistake to be had; this likeness to the d'Herblay clan was strong. His family blood line ran through the veins of the next King of France.

Aramis placed his saddle aside and breathed deeply – yes, he was a father and felt the connection keenly. And though he would not be able to teach his son the navigation to manhood; he could protect him at all costs. He would keep this secret; and with Athos' help, hopefully for the rest of his life.

Smiling slightly as he worked – he brought his boy's image to the forefront. How strong he looked. He had been pleased to see the plumpness of his cheeks and the weight he carried. He could have sworn, even in their brief encounter – that the child had smiled at him and knew him instantly. Perhaps that was wishful thinking – but he thought it all the same.

Did not children have a sense of their parents – and knew instantly the bond of father and son?

After his impromptu meeting – Athos had stood with him, and though his words had meant to be practical, they had hurt him deeply. To deny his son – was like denying his own life. But he agreed with his friend; he knew he could never be the child's father – and accepted it. But in his heart, he would never deny him.

He would be the dauphin's most loyal of subjects for the rest of his life; would die to keep him safe; and would gladly spout untruths in the face of God to protect him from his sins.

Aramis finished wiping down his saddle and putting away his supplies; and in that very moment he thought of how his son gave him much joy and was now intent to carry this joy over into celebration with his brothers – under the guise of a successfully completed mission. Yes – he would toast secretly to the safe delivery of his newborn son; the well-being of his mother; and his lasting good health.

Thunder clapped closer and the breeze picked up minutely – causing the horses to step lightly with nervous energy within their stalls; and just as he was to propose the Wren – there hiding in the stable shadows was one of Richelieu's trusted Bishops staring out at him.

Suddenly his good humor turned into anxiety. Who was this Bishop lurking about; watching him; and asking for him by name? His face looked familiar; but his name escaped him – as he was one of many men of cloth who walked the halls of the palace.

The man then ominously crooked his finger; beckoning him to follow – as he had a message from the Cardinal directly from the grave. Aramis was confounded. What could this possibly mean?

With trepidation, he gathered his coat and hat – and with Athos at his side followed this mysterious man across the garrison yard – and out into the streets of Paris.

"Where is he leading us?" Athos asked him, with wariness in his voice – as they stepped around sleeping vagrants; ignored imploring soft arms; and passed by raucous noise emanating from tavern doors.

The Paris night life was fully awake now – ignoring the coming storm overhead. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders with uncertainty.

Where ever they were headed was making him nervous. The dark path before him – along with the intermittent moans of thunder - reminded him of a passage in Psalms - not understanding; walking about in darkness and the foundations of the earth shaken – as he was shaken now.

But as they continued to walk, Aramis got a sense of their destination. Up ahead he could see the small parish church that sat within a large field – totally foreign and apart from the city. He had visited here before – good people worshiped here; a small congregation – the priest a pleasant man. What were they doing here?

As they approached, the Bishop opened the church doors and led them through. As they advanced to the altar; each bending to their right knee and showed their deep respect.

Moving away from the altar and following the Bishop – Aramis continued to wonder where they were being herded. Surely the Bishop meant them no harm, here in this place of God?

He then led them to the back of the church; and down a winding staircase to the burial tombs. Here below ground, it was cool and dark – except for the hanging flames that chased deathly shadows into the corners. This is where he wanted to reveal his message from Richelieu?

He looked toward Athos frowning; unclear of the purpose of this nocturnal journey – then to the Bishop for understanding. The Bishop gestured toward the stone markers set upon the walls. At first Aramis did not understand – what was the message from the other side? Was it that death would find them? Surely that was not enough of a message to bring them all the way out here?

But then Athos understood first, "I did not know Adele was dead", he voiced as he moved toward the marker; and then looked to him in confusion.

Aramis felt as if he had been punched. Before him stood the marker for Adele Bessette –her remembrance - she died for love – screaming at him - like a spirit who could not rest. He covered his mouth to keep himself from groaning – the pain of this revelation causing his stomach to churn. Adele was dead? It could not be.

He turned to the Bishop and Athos in disbelief, "The last I heard, she'd gone to the Cardinal's country estate. I thought she'd made her choice", his voice felt small; as if swallowed up by the tepid air here below ground. His heart beat began to race; and he could feel the flush of heat encase his body. What had the Cardinal done?

The Bishop smiled serenely at him and suddenly took on Richelieu's shape and form – no longer the Bishop, but now a specter. Aramis squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again – but still Richelieu stood before him.

The Cardinal's voice then began speaking through him – as if a medium, "She did Monsieur, and she chose you. He killed her, because she loved you."

Something took hold of him then; and Aramis reached out to kill the man before him with his bare hands. Rage he had not felt since Savoy surged through his body – taking control of his actions. Only Athos screaming and pushing the Bishop away – saved his life in that moment; perhaps saved him as well; for surely he would have choked the life out of him without any remorse.

God forgive him – he was going mad. He reached for his hair and pulled hard – desperate to feel anything but this hopelessness and despair.

The Bishop, cool and non-pulsed, slinked away with a parting verbal blow which rocked Aramis to his core. "The Cardinal knew all your secrets. He will expose your sins, even from beyond the grave", and then he was gone – absorbed as all ghosts were by the waiting darkness.

Aramis was stunned. He let lose his hair and stared down into the palms of his hands – seeing red splashed there – between his fingers; in his nails. He looked to Athos unable to speak – my God he had killed Adele. Suddenly he understood the significance of his musket – returned to him by Adele's servant. Returned to him as a message then – he did not understand. But he understood now. The Cardinal may have committed the act – but her death was on his hands.

He rubbed at his hands and found Athos staring at him unable to articulate; beyond speech himself over what had just transpired.

Aramis turned to face Adele's marker – moved toward it and touched it solemnly. He pivoted then and railed to Athos; unable to control his emotions – "Every woman I truly love dies."

Athos calmly advised – "All the more reason to stay away from the Queen, and the dauphin." But deep down, Athos knew, they were on a dangerous course that sooner or later would lead to revelations that may destroy not only Aramis, but France.

Aramis slid to the floor under Adele's marker – she died for love – accusing him of abandonment; anguish and murder. How would he live with himself? Adele – Isabelle – would the Queen be next?

He drew his knees up and covered his face with his hands, breathing hard – trying to block out the image of Adele being murdered with his musket. His sins were great; and now God was punishing him.

He thought back on his last meeting with Adele. How lovely she was – her skin soft – her laugh contagious. A tear slipped from beneath his hands – she had such passion.

He lifted his head and leaned back against the wall behind him and sought out Athos, who stood awkwardly before him – unsure how to provide comfort. "I did love her you know. But I did know – her love for me was stronger. We courted danger Athos, but I swear we did not know it would lead to death."

He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes causing sparks to erupt behind his eye lids, "Isabelle; now Adele – what of my boy Athos?"

Athos slid down next to his friend and wasn't sure what to say now, that he hadn't already said – to stay away – give up the fantasy of being the child's father; and to go to his death with his secret; keeping his head down and his emotions in check – to not draw suspicion.

What else was there to say? He was complicit in this secret as well; treason and death a real possibility for them both.

Instead, he placed his arm around Aramis' shoulder; drew him close and vowed with conviction, "I will keep this secret; no one will drag it from me unless you allow it. I love you brother; and will help you through this."

Aramis nodded with gratitude, and voiced what was between them, "What of d'Artagnan and Porthos?"

"For now we continue to keep this between us. Treason is the worry. Keeping them safe from the noose is the priority."

Aramis shuddered – a foreboding chill tingling down his spine. He hated keeping things from Porthos; but saw the wisdom in this. He sent up a brief prayer for guidance, and nodded in agreement with Athos' assessment. Their brothers would be better off not knowing.

For a time, they continued to sit side by side beneath Adele's marker- each man thinking on the night's revelation. Aramis' heart ached with regrets. Richelieu had reached through the grave to terrorize him; endanger his Queen; and jeopardize his son's livelihood. He placed his head on his friend's shoulder; and stared out into nothing.

After a while, Aramis and Athos stood from the ground and faced each other- Athos facing Aramis with assurance and Aramis facing him with the guilt of his actions. When he could stand the scrutiny no longer, he attempted to retreat, but Athos reached for his shoulders and pulled him in close; kissing his temple and softly declared, "All will be well."

Aramis lowered his head, and let out a shuddering breath, "Then I will believe you."

When they left the dark space of the burial tombs; and eventually stood at the door of the small parish church, Aramis could see that the rain had come with a vengeance – pelting the ground, pooling together; causing puddles to form.

He took in a long, deep breath and could smell the dampening earth. Rain held a cleansing symbolism; perhaps this was a good sign. He reached his hands out from the door way into the rain and hoped Adele would forgive him.

Athos looked through the sheets of water, pouring down from the sky; and felt the thunder continue to rumble beneath their feet. He clapped Aramis on the back – a gesture that they should get going; and leave this place – their brothers waited for them back at the garrison.

Aramis nodded; they left the shelter of the church and sprinted together through the driving rain toward home.

Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated. I wasn't so sure about the church scene, but hope that I described the respect for the altar correctly.