The Challenge, part 2

Some interminable length of time later, Athos lifted his head. "Aramis. He's stopped talking."

Aramis scooted across to sit on the edge of the pallet, cupping d'Artagnan's cheek in one hand. "Oh, my boy," he murmured. "We have to get you trained."

"Is he better?" Porthos asked.

"He's getting there. I'm going to send him to sleep for a time; he'll never get there on his own, not with LaBarge shouting in his head like that. Sleep will help him."

"Will it?" Athos asked.

Aramis let go of d'Artagnan as he relaxed against Athos. "Sleep rarely harms anyone. It won't heal him the way it does you, he'll still have to work his shields back up when he wakes. But at least he'll be pain free for a while. Lay him down, and make sure he doesn't drop that rosary."

Athos obeyed, watching d'Artagnan for a moment. "Perhaps Porthos and I should go to see Treville, let him know what's happened."

"What?" Porthos protested.

"The fewer of us here when he wakes up, the better. Aramis should stay."

Aramis nodded wearily. "It's a good idea. He may be very sensitive when he wakes, I don't know."

"Can we bring you anything first? You should eat."

"I should eat," Aramis agreed. "And see if they have anything I can have ready for d'Artagnan. I don't know if he needs food the way I do, but it certainly won't hurt."

"Consider it done," Athos agreed, slipping out of the room.

Porthos crouched beside the pallet for a moment, studying d'Artagnan. "Poor kid. He gonna be right now?"

"I hope so. I honestly don't know. He's not like anyone else I've known."

"You've known empaths before. Must've. There've been empaths in the Musketeers."

"Yes," Aramis agreed. "And all could read people or objects, with effort. Never both. d'Artagnan reads both with such ease and doesn't seem to realise it's unusual."

Porthos leaned forward, pointing without touching. "He's bruising, look. All along his neck. LaBarge must've got a hand on him."

Aramis leaned forward, brushing his fingers over the bruises; they faded under his touch. "Must have," he agreed.

"Surely the boy was shielding. He shields against you, you told us so."

"Shields can be overcome," Aramis said bleakly. "And a man like LaBarge..."

Athos slipped back in, carrying stew and bread and a waterskin. "Only water, I'm afraid, but the priest offered mead if you want it."

"Water's better. Thank you." Aramis accepted the armload, tearing a small amount of bread off for himself and leaving the rest to one side.

"Do you want us to come back later?" Athos asked.

Aramis shook his head. "If we're not with you by lunchtime tomorrow, then come back. Not before that."

"Very well. Your priest knows that we're leaving, he's ready to help you if you need it."

"Thank you."

He ate the stew and drank a little water and then settled himself down as comfortably as he could. His and d'Artagnan's cloaks made a comfortable enough pallet. He'd spent worse nights.

He drifted for a while, never really asleep, listening for movement. Inducing sleep was tricky and he was never sure how long anyone would stay asleep, and he didn't want to miss it if d'Artagnan woke and needed him.

It was almost dawn before he heard any movement, and when he peered through the gloom it seemed that d'Artagnan had only rolled over. Frowning, he leaned closer. d'Artagnan's shoulders were shaking.

"d'Artagnan?" he murmured. d'Artagnan drew in more tightly on himself, ignoring him. Aramis settled carefully on the edge of the pallet; d'Artagnan's back was to him, but he didn't need to see his face right now. "d'Artagnan, may I touch you?"

" 'M not hurt," d'Artagnan mumbled.

"Not physically, maybe," Aramis agreed. "If I touch you, will it hurt you?"

"No." d'Artagnan drew in a deep breath. "Just don't Look at me."

Aramis let his hand rest on d'Artagnan's ribs, keeping his tunic firmly between them. "Cloth doesn't always block you, does it?" he asked softly.

"Never for people. Sometimes for things."

"For me, cloth is a very effective barrier. Of course, so is anything else. For my Ability to work in any measure, I have to have skin contact." He pressed lightly against the tunic beneath his palm. "I can See nothing now."

d'Artagnan shuddered, reaching up to catch Aramis' hand. He had it caught under a fold of the thin blanket, keeping a layer between them.

"Is this something LaBarge has done?" Aramis asked gently. "Or something you have done?"

"Not LaBarge." He shuddered again. "Not – me, not on purpose. It's so…" He curled himself up more tightly, dragging Aramis' hand with him. "I can't get out of his head," he whispered. "He killed my friends, my people, and he enjoyed it. He's making me enjoy it, Aramis, I can hear them screaming and I like it…"

"No, you don't," Aramis told him. "That's all him, d'Artagnan. It's just him. Let it go. Here." He reached for d'Artagnan's other hand, pressing his fingers against the beads. "These. Tell me. Who owned them before your mother?"

d'Artagnan pressed the beads against his forehead, trembling. "Her father."

"Before that?"

"It's too far…"

"It's not. Not for these beads, d'Artagnan. You know them, you've always known them. Let them drown LaBarge out. He's nothing. Tell me about the beads."

d'Artagnan shook his head. "Aramis…"

"Pray," Aramis suggested desperately. "You pray on these?"

"Gascon."

"Pray in Gascon, then. d'Artagnan, teach me the prayers in Gascon."

d'Artagnan jerked out of his grip, scrabbling upright until he could press his back against the wall. "I burned them alive and I laughed!"

Aramis leaned forward, pressing a hand to each side of d'Artagnan's face. "No," he said firmly. "That was all LaBarge. Listen to me; focus on me. On me," he repeated firmly when d'Artagnan's eyes started to wander. "Listen to me. Can you sense me? Can you feel what I'm feeling? Tell me."

d'Artagnan forced his eyes back into focus. "Aramis…"

"What am I feeling?"

"Worried. You're worried about me."

"Good. Do I think you've hurt anyone?"

d'Artagnan studied him. "No."

"Good," Aramis repeated more softly. "Listen to me. I can't quiet him for long. I'm not that kind of healer. You have to clear him out. Do it now, while I can still hold him here. Remember who you are. Get rid of everything else."

"Everything else," d'Artagnan murmured, eyes falling closed.

Aramis held him in balance as long as he could, far longer than he should; he wouldn't be able to do much for the next couple of days, but he could feel d'Artagnan easing under his touch and that made it worth anything he suffered.

Eventually he felt himself starting to slip. "d'Artagnan," he murmured. "I have to let go. Do you have it?"

"Mmm." d'Artagnan nodded. "Don't leave me alone."

"No. I'm not going anywhere. I just have to let go."

He did it as gently as he could. d'Artagnan stiffened when he withdrew; Aramis gripped his arms, over his tunic, and he relaxed again.

"Talk to me," he said after a while.

"About?"

"Anything. Pray. Sing. Noise."

Aramis smiled faintly. "Well, I won't inflict my singing on you, I don't believe that would help. Has anyone told you about the first time Porthos shot anything off my head?"

He talked for a long time, feeling d'Artagnan skirt in and out of sleep. Every time he woke up he was clearer, more himself, and eventually Aramis retrieved the bread and water and made him take it.

"How do you feel?" he asked when d'Artagnan was finished.

"More like me." d'Artagnan looked away, eyes dark. "I can hear them. I don't think I'll ever stop. But I know who I am, now."

Aramis squeezed his shoulder lightly. "I'm glad."

"How did you stop him?"

Aramis shrugged. "He was poison. Didn't belong in you. But he was in your mind, and I'm not a mind healer. I couldn't stop him. Only slow him."

"It was enough." d'Artagnan smiled faintly. "It was everything. Thank you." Glancing up, he added, "The others are coming."

"Huh. It doesn't feel like lunch time."

"They're impatient," d'Artagnan added. A moment later, "They're not coming in."

"Naturally. Wait around outside the empath's room, that won't disturb him at all…d'Artagnan, breathe. Yes, they know about you, but you're safe. If you'd let me tell you months ago, you'd know this. Listen to me. Let me call them in."

d'Artagnan nodded, visibly holding onto his calm. Aramis stood, crossing to the door and leaning out into the corridor.

"You can come in," he told the others. "Be careful. He's still a little jumpy."

"But better, yeah?" Porthos asked.

"Much. You'll see."

He stepped aside for them, closing the door. d'Artagnan was sitting cross legged on the bed when he looked back over, back straight and tense and eyes down.

"d'Artagnan," he said quietly, and when d'Artagnan looked up, he said, "I will make sure no one hurts you. True?"

d'Artagnan swallowed, looking away. "You believe that."

"You still haven't let him tell you, have you," Athos said, sounding amused. "d'Artagnan, the Musketeers all have Abilities."

d'Artagnan stared at him for a long time. "What?" he said finally.

Porthos slid down the wall to sit. "It suits the King to have access to Abilities when he needs 'em. Every country has something like us, some group hidden away in plain sight. We keep it hidden by never talking about it, even among ourselves, and by never using our Abilities when anyone can see us."

"The requirement," d'Artagnan said slowly. "No man is told about it until he passes."

"Yes," Athos agreed. "I suspected you after Bonnaire. I believe Aramis learned about you a little after that. Porthos was a little slower, but then you hide it well."

"Had to," d'Artagnan muttered. "Gascony's not a good place to have an Ability."

"Aramis tells me you know about him. And I think you suspect me."

d'Artagnan nodded, but he was pulled in tightly on himself; Athos caught Aramis' eye, silently agreeing to leave it for now.

Porthos studied him critically. "You look better."

"I feel better."

"What happened?" Athos asked, crouching beside him.

"Careful," Aramis added warningly. d'Artagnan had a propensity for getting lost in his own thoughts when talking about his Ability; it was a habit he shared with most of the empaths Aramis had known, but he thought they should avoid it in this case.

"I'm all right," d'Artagnan assured him. To Athos, he added, "I was shielding. I was. But LaBarge – he's evil. Bonnaire didn't care, the Cardinal's more or less amoral. LaBarge enjoyed everything he did. He'd do it all again if he could. I've never – felt anything like it before. He got inside me, I couldn't get him out."

"Careful," Aramis said again. d'Artagnan's breathing was speeding up.

"I'm all right," d'Artagnan repeated.

"You're ok now?" Porthos asked.

"Yes. Aramis helped me. I'm fine. I could face him again, even."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Athos shifted to sit. "Now, d'Artagnan. Tell us what we need to know about your Ability."

d'Artagnan stepped out of the Bonacieux house, heading towards the garrison. The competition for the Musketeer champion was starting, and even if he couldn't compete, he wanted to watch the others. He might not be able to soon, after all; if he couldn't pay his rent he'd be forced home to try and repair the farm.

Milady stepped out from behind a tree, and d'Artagnan paused. "What are you doing here?"

"I have something I think you need." She held up a small purse, tossing it to him.

He wasn't wearing his gloves, and the rush of feelings from the purse made him hesitate. She didn't mean him any harm, though – she wanted him to succeed, for some reason – so he opened it to look inside.

"Thirty livre," she said off handedly. "That's right, isn't it?"

"What's the catch?" There was something; she wanted something very badly.

"I just want you to compete."

Lie. d'Artagnan considered for a moment. Athos wanted him to play along; Milady was the Cardinal's creature now, and it could be useful.

"I'll accept it. As a loan," he added, in case he needed an out later. "I'll pay you back when I win."

Milady smiled, turning away. d'Artagnan glanced down as his fingers touched a chain, hesitating. "What's this?"

"It's just a good luck charm," she said airily. "And a token of my friendship."

Lying again, but he couldn't see what she really meant. He nodded vaguely, and she turned away again.

Something flared in the house, some strange satisfaction on M Bonacieux's part. d'Artagnan ignored it, heading for the garrison.

Athos was sitting at the table, picking at a bowl. d'Artagnan dropped the purse between them and sat opposite him.

"How are you feeling?" Athos asked, eyeing the purse.

"I'm fine; I told you yesterday I was fine."

"Yesterday you were not quite yourself. You should really talk to Treville, you know."

d'Artagnan waved it away. "I saw your wife."

Athos stiffened. "Did you."

"She paid my entry fee for the contest. She wants me to compete." He picked up the purse, digging out the chain and tossing it between them.

Athos reached out, reluctance in every movement, and turned the little pendant so he could see the flower on it. "Why does she want you to compete?"

"She wants me to be a Musketeer. She has some kind of long term plan. I just – I can't see what."

"What did you say?" Athos nudged the chain back towards him, and d'Artagnan slid it back into the purse.

"Told her I would take it as a loan. You told me to play along."

"I did," Athos agreed. "I should not have. Anne is dangerous, d'Artagnan."

"I can deal with it." d'Artagnan caught his look and rolled his eyes. "If I think it's getting too much, I will back away and let you know. She needs me willing for whatever it is."

"Good. I will hold you to that."

d'Artagnan tied the purse back onto his belt. "Where is the captain?"

"In his office. Do you want me to come?"

"Please," he said, relieved. This would be difficult to talk about, and Athos' support would be welcome. "Does he know anything?"

Athos considered. "He knows that we suspected you. But Porthos and I did not tell him what happened yesterday; we only said that LaBarge had injured you. Since we knew few details of your Ability, we thought it best you explained yourself."

"Thank you."

"Not that we know much more now," Athos added.

d'Artagnan shrugged, rising to his feet and heading for the stairs. He'd been too tired and worn down to talk much yesterday, though he'd promised to tell them more when they had time. They knew the basics; what he could and couldn't Read, what happened when he overstretched himself, how he recovered himself and how they could help when necessary. They'd learn the rest in time.

Treville waved them in when they knocked. "d'Artagnan. Are you recovered? Athos told me LaBarge injured you."

"I'm quite well, Captain."

"And do you plan to compete?"

"I do, sir."

"Good." Treville shot a look at Athos. "Something I can help you with?"

"Yes, sir." d'Artagnan squared his shoulders. "Captain Treville, if I'm to have any chance of serving as a Musketeer, you should know that I have an Ability. It's nothing dangerous and I would never use it against a Musketeer or against France."

Treville leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers. "Indeed. What Ability might that be?"

"I'm an empath, sir."

"An empath," he repeated.

"Aramis tells me I'm unusual; I can read people and things, both."

"That is unusual," he agreed. Glancing around, he gestured to an inkwell on the sideboard. "Tell me something about that."

d'Artagnan crossed to look at it, studying it without touching for a moment before picking it up. "Your wife has good taste, sir." Frowning, he added, "Did you knock someone out with it?"

Treville laughed softly. "He deserved it."

"I don't doubt it." d'Artagnan put it back exactly where he'd taken it from, looking back at Treville. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Treville repeated.

"He has a habit of doing that," Athos murmured.

d'Artagnan glared at him. "Something about the challenge?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," Treville said briskly. "Go on back to the yard. I'll be out shortly to begin the contest."

d'Artagnan started to protest; Athos caught his eye, shaking his head, and he subsided. "May I ask what your Ability is, sir?"

"You may ask," Treville said without looking up. "Back to the yard, gentlemen."

Athos caught d'Artagnan's arm, tugging him out of the office. "Even we do not ask each other," he murmured. "If someone tells you, or they use it where you can see; then you may ask. Not before that."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just remember it."

Porthos was down in the yard, and Aramis arrived a few minutes later, and Captain Treville came behind him to gather up the entry fees.

"Where did you get the money?" Aramis asked when d'Artagnan threw his in. He'd retrieved the chain; he didn't want Treville seeing it.

"I have found a patron of my own," d'Artagnan said, catching Athos' eye.

"A wealthy widow?" Aramis asked, already losing interest.

"Not to my knowledge."

Treville shouted for them to begin the competition, and the subject was dropped.

He knew his decision would be unpopular. He was watching the Inseparables as he made the announcement; d'Artagnan turned and stormed out, Aramis and Porthos looked confused, and Athos – Athos was angry.

Treville retreated to his office, but Athos wasn't far behind him. "This is wrong," he announced. "And dangerous."

"This challenge is my doing," Treville said wearily. "It's my responsibility to see it through."

"Instead of giving yourself one last moment of glory, you should be giving d'Artagnan the chance to win his commission from the King."

"You think this is about glory," Treville murmured. That stung; he'd thought Athos had more faith in him than that.

"All I know is that d'Artagnan has it in him to be a fine Musketeer. Perhaps the greatest of us all. But now we'll never know, because you have stolen his best chance to prove himself."

"d'Artagnan's young; he'll have other chances. This isn't the fight for him."

Athos hesitated, studying him. "You've Seen something."

Treville shrugged, not bothering to correct him. His Ability, to See things happening in other places, was rarely useful in and of itself, but it did help him explain away certain decisions. "This is not the right fight for him. I thought it before I learned of his Ability, and I'm certain of it now. We'll get him his commission."

"He has no time."

"My decision is final. I'm sorry, Athos. You'll have to find another way." Athos scowled, and Treville sighed. "Athos, you know that I always try and do my best for the men of the regiment."

"As you so kindly keep pointing out, Captain, d'Artagnan has not yet received his commission."

"That makes him no less one of my men. I am trying to protect him. You can argue my methods all you like, Athos, but I've made my decision and it's final. I'm sorry."

Athos turned away, heading downstairs, and Treville allowed himself a moment before going back to his work.