Interlude, part 4

"Again."

"No, it's enough."

"I want to go again."

"No. It's enough."

d'Artagnan blew out an angry breath. "Flora…"

"No, d'Artagnan," she said gently. "You'll have a splitting headache tonight as it is."

Porthos stirred from where he was leaning against the wall. "I might know someone can do something about that."

"If you mean a Healer, best not," Flora told him. "Not with the work we've been doing."

"He's skilled at herbs, too."

"Herbs are fine."

"Flora, I'm fine," d'Artagnan protested.

"You are now, yes. That's not going to last. Who's done this before?" she added over his objections. "If you're going to trust me, d'Artagnan, trust me. It's enough work for today. Go back to your Healer friend, get whatever remedy he has, and get some sleep." She considered him for a moment. "You might find you dream very vividly for the next few nights. If it troubles you, have someone stay with you to wake you."

"I can handle a few dreams, Flora," d'Artagnan assured her.

"Yes, of course." She smiled, patting his cheek gently. "Come and see me when you can."

"It's the highlight of my days," d'Artagnan assured her solemnly.

"Oi, thanks," Porthos protested. "C'mon. We need to catch Aramis before he goes off with his current mistress."

"No more practicing, d'Artagnan," Flora said warningly. d'Artagnan nodded without answering; she considered for a moment before shaking her head. "Porthos, go wait outside, please."

"Why?" Porthos asked warily.

"Empath's secret." He didn't move, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm about to prove a point, and he doesn't want you to see it."

"Oh?"

"Don't worry, I won't break him." Eyeing d'Artagnan, she added, "Not seriously, anyway."

"d'Artagnan?" Porthos asked.

"I'm fine," d'Artagnan assured him without looking away from Flora.

"I'm right outside," he promised.

"Don't come in until you're called," Flora shouted after him.

Porthos waited outside. He could hear them talking for a couple of minutes, then a shout from d'Artagnan, then only Flora's voice, soothing and gentle. d'Artagnan was silent.

Eventually Flora called for Porthos, and he slipped back in. d'Artagnan was sitting at the table, pulled in tightly on himself, and he didn't look up at Porthos' entrance. "d'Artagnan?"

He twitched. "Fine."

"Sure?"

He didn't answer that time, and he looked at Flora. "He'll be all right," she assured him. "Take him home, let him sleep. Don't question him. He'll tell you." d'Artagnan twitched again, and she glanced over fondly. "And bring him back in a day or two."

"Course," Porthos agreed. "Thank you, Flora."

She nodded and he turned to d'Artagnan, eyeing the way he was sitting. "I going to hurt you if I touch you, d'Artagnan?"

d'Artagnan shook his head slowly. "No."

"Sure?" Porthos had a hand on his shoulder before he could answer again, urging him to his feet. He didn't like the lack of colour in his face.

"Porthos?" Flora said, as though she'd forgotten until now. "Your Healer friend? Don't go to him tonight."

"No herbs?"

"No herbs."

d'Artagnan's eyes were closed when Porthos looked back at him. "d'Artagnan," he murmured.

"I'm fine," d'Artagnan said.

"Liar. Come on, then. Let's get you lying down, at least."

"Enjoy your work tomorrow, d'Artagnan," Flora said politely.

"Thank you, madame," d'Artagnan said evenly, turning away and forcing Porthos to turn with him.

"What's she done, d'Artagnan?" Porthos murmured as they left the Court behind.

"Nothing, just – showed me – later, Porthos."

"Later?"

"My head's bursting," he whispered. "I'll tell you later."

It wasn't much, but Porthos let it drop. He'd make sure d'Artagnan kept his promise.

d'Artagnan stopped suddenly outside the garrison. "Wait."

"What?" Porthos asked patiently.

"If Aramis…go in, and make sure he's not there, you can't let…"

Porthos scowled, but d'Artagnan was right; Aramis wouldn't take a second hand warning from someone he didn't know, not if he laid eyes on d'Artagnan at the moment. "Can you stand?"

"Yes."

Porthos made sure he was within reach of the wall before letting go, just to be sure, but d'Artagnan looked steady enough now. "If I see Athos, I'll send him out," he murmured.

"Thank you."

He met Aramis first, though, and managed to occupy him for long enough for d'Artagnan to slip inside. By the time Porthos got away from Aramis, d'Artagnan was sleeping fitfully, and Porthos didn't dare to wake him.

He wasn't sure what he expected the next morning, but d'Artagnan was up as normal, joining them at the table. He was pale and quiet, but that wasn't uncommon after he'd been with Flora, and neither Aramis nor Athos drew attention to it.

Porthos and d'Artagnan were on duty together, as they usually were on the day after his lessons, and Porthos drew him aside before they left. "How are you feeling?"

d'Artagnan smiled humourlessly. "Like I'll burst if I move wrong, but that was the point."

"The point of what?"

He hesitated. "You remember LaBarge?"

"Course I do, yeah."

"He overwhelmed my shields without ever knowing what he was doing. Drowned me in everything he was."

"I remember."

He smiled again, just as humourless. "Flora knew what she was doing."

Porthos blinked. "She did that on purpose?"

"A lesson. A painful lesson, but a lesson."

"How is that a lesson?"

d'Artagnan grinned briefly. "She doesn't actually mean me harm. Lot less painful from her than from someone else if I've overstrained. And she helped me, afterwards, soothed the worst of it away." Catching Porthos' look, he added, "You beat the apprentices in training. It's only the same thing."

"Overstrained," Porthos said carefully.

"That's what we were arguing about earlier. The things Flora's showing me, if I push too hard, do too much, I can strain my shields past holding. Like…the first day, I said exercise after injury, remember? Push too hard, you do more damage. Flora thinks I'm pushing too hard."

"Are you?" Porthos asked. d'Artagnan flushed, looking away, and Porthos grinned. "See she's got to know you pretty quick."

"Different for empaths," d'Artagnan muttered.

" 'Spose it is. You should listen to her."

"I do listen to her. It just –" He shook his head. "Paris is loud and getting louder, Porthos. It's hard not to push to make it quiet."

"She knows what she's doing."

"I'm listening," d'Artagnan promised.

"Good. Come on. Parade at the palace. You up for it?"

d'Artagnan smiled grimly. "It's all part of the lesson."

"Far be it from me to interfere with your teacher." Flora clearly meant him to remember this lesson. He caught d'Artagnan's shoulder, meeting his gaze. "Long as it's helping, d'Artagnan. I brought you to her to help."

He smiled tightly. "Exercise after injury. It's bad now. It'll be worth it in the end."

"I hope so," Porthos said grimly. "Come on."

d'Artagnan had barely made it to the table the next morning when Treville leaned over the railing. "d'Artagnan! Come on, I've got a meeting at the palace."

d'Artagnan looked at his plate with a sigh, snatching a hunk of bread. "Escorting the captain, wonderful."

"It's tough being the favourite," Porthos said mock sympathetically, tugging d'Artagnan's plate towards himself. "No point letting it go to waste," he said when d'Artagnan raised an eyebrow. "You'll hurt Serge's feelings."

"You're a very considerate man, Porthos," Aramis said approvingly.

"I've often been told."

"Gentlemen," Athos said patiently. "The meeting shouldn't take long, d'Artagnan. We'll wait for you."

d'Artagnan nodded, heading for the stables to collect two horses. At least he hadn't actually done any training yet; he was as clean and tidy as he ever was.

The ride to the palace was silent. Treville didn't bother giving d'Artagnan any specific instructions, and he fell back on his normal habits, standing just behind Treville's shoulder and paying just barely enough attention to be able to answer if his opinion was asked. The Cardinal sometimes asked in an attempt to show him up; so far, Louis' fondness for the Musketeers had outweighed any mistakes d'Artagnan had made.

When the Cardinal left d'Artagnan retreated to the door; Treville cleared his throat, gesturing him forward, and he rejoined him with a frown. "d'Artagnan," Treville said carefully, "his majesty makes it a habit to meet privately with every Musketeer at least once. I should have brought you before, but you were preparing for that mission."

"I understand you were injured," Louis agreed. "Not too serious, I hope?"

"Not too serious, your majesty. I'm mostly healed, now."

"Good, good. Now." He leaned forward, hands clasped in his lap. "I'm very interested in Abilities, you know."

"I – didn't know that, your majesty."

"Of course, this is all academic, because if I knew that anyone had any Ability I'd be obliged to hand them over to the Church," Louis continued.

"Of course," d'Artagnan agreed warily.

"But I feel I should know as much about this menace as possible, and I've heard that you know – in theory, of course – about empathy."

d'Artagnan glanced at Treville, who held his gaze calmly. "I – do, your majesty," he agreed, managing with an effort not to make it a question.

"Excellent. It's some time since I spoke with anyone who had any knowledge of empathy. Please, teach me."

d'Artagnan looked at Treville again, completely baffled. This wasn't the king he was used to; he didn't even feel the same. "Captain…"

"The king asked you a question, d'Artagnan," Treville pointed out.

d'Artagnan's eyes narrowed. Treville was enjoying this. "Yes, of course," he muttered, turning back to Louis.

"I believe I've heard the name d'Artagnan," Louis mused. "Apart from you. Is your family well known?"

"In Gascony, your majesty, in Lupiac. Not enough to carry here."

Treville shifted. "d'Artagnan's father was killed in the plot to frame Athos, your majesty. Gaudet."

"Ah, I remember," Louis agreed. "Alexandre, yes?"

"Yes," d'Artagnan said evenly. "My father's name was Alexandre."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Louis murmured, and the truth behind it hit d'Artagnan harder than he was expecting. "Your name is?"

d'Artagnan had to think for a moment; he hadn't used his first name since he'd left Gascony. "My mother called me Charles," he offered finally.

Louis nodded, but he'd obviously caught the phrasing. "Well, d'Artagnan. Tell me about empathy."

d'Artagnan started the way he usually did with Athos, who had trouble grasping the concepts; extremely simple analogies. Louis was following easily, though, and d'Artagnan moved to more complicated, more accurate ideas, and Louis still kept up with every bit of it. d'Artagnan did his best to keep the focus on how helpful and useful his Ability could be, rather than the price he occasionally paid, and Louis seemed content to let him direct the conversation.

"It seems a most useful talent," Louis mused when d'Artagnan finished. "To know where your enemies are before you can see them, to know what your opponent will do in a fight. To know someone's innocence or guilt – most useful indeed."

"It would be, your majesty," d'Artagnan agreed.

"And most tiring, I'd imagine," Louis mused, almost to himself. "Always knowing what those around you feel, never any peace, never any solitude – most tiring."

"I'd imagine so," d'Artagnan said carefully. Treville was staring intently at the window, refusing to look at either of them.

"Well," Louis said with a faint smile. "All Abilities have their downsides, don't they."

"That's what Aramis says," d'Artagnan agreed. "There are no Abilities in your line, your majesty?"

"Certainly not," Louis said mildly. "Why would the Lord our God allow heathen Abilities in the line of His kings? The House of Bourbon has no Abilities and never will. To suggest otherwise is treason of the highest order."

"Of course; my apologies. I wasn't thinking."

"Your majesty, we have duties to attend to," Treville said politely.

"Of course, don't let me detain you. d'Artagnan, I hope to speak with you again at another time."

d'Artagnan bowed quickly. "I'm at your service, sire, always."

"Thank you. Now, I'm told this is rather disorienting for empaths – not that you'd care, anyway." And as he stood there, the sense of him altered, fading back to the normal distracted, almost childish king he was used to. It was startling, almost sending him staggering before he caught himself; it might not have been so bad if Flora hadn't overstretched him two days before, but as it was he had to take a moment.

He remembered to frown politely. "I'm sorry, your majesty, what's disorienting for empaths?"

"Nothing," Louis said absently. "Didn't you say you had duties, Treville?"

"Your majesty," Treville murmured, steering d'Artagnan out with a hand on his shoulder. "You all right?" he asked as soon as the door closed.

"He wasn't wrong, it is disorienting. How does he – he doesn't have an Ability."

"It's not an Ability; it's training, as I understand it. He's able to hold a false impression in his mind, keep it there so strongly that it's all you see." Treville glanced at him. "Have you ever tried to Read him?"

"Not deliberately, no."

"You'd probably have got past it if you'd tried. You'll be able to now, now that you know."

d'Artagnan glanced back towards the door. "Why does he do it?"

"He was a child when he came to power. Being underestimated becomes a habit, after a while. It makes things easier, in a way."

"If a little lonelier," d'Artagnan murmured.

Treville didn't answer, and d'Artagnan let the wave of protectiveness flood over him and dissipate again. "Do we actually have duties to get back to?" he asked lightly.

"We are King's Musketeers, d'Artagnan," Treville said firmly. "We always have duties to get back to. Come along."

Guard duty at the palace was either very calm or very dangerous. Today had been calm, and d'Artagnan was glad of it. The new shields Flora were helping him learn to build made things easier, but Paris was still loud and heavy.

They were getting ready to leave, Athos already mounted and waiting for them, when a servant approached. "Cardinal Richelieu requires the Musketeer Aramis."

"What for?" Athos demanded. The servant shrugged and Athos sighed, dismounting. "Very well, lead on."

"My apologies, monsieur, my instructions are clear. Aramis will attend the Cardinal alone."

"It won't happen."

"Athos, I can't refuse the Cardinal," Aramis murmured.

"The Cardinal thought you might be unwilling to face him alone, so he has allowed that the boy d'Artagnan may accompany you."

d'Artagnan couldn't figure out which part of that to object to first. Aramis caught his eye, shaking his head. "Wait here."

"I'm coming with you."

"d'Artagnan…"

"I'm coming with you."

Aramis grimaced, but he couldn't argue it in front of the Cardinal's man. Lowering his voice, he muttered, "You stay silent." d'Artagnan nodded without meaning it, and Aramis turned to the patiently waiting servant. "Lead the way, please."

"Athos is angry," d'Artagnan murmured as they followed the man through the palace. "And worried." Nothing Aramis didn't know, but he thought it needed to be said anyway.

"Silent," Aramis reminded him. d'Artagnan made a face at him, but he didn't speak, wary of being banished from this meeting. Aramis was worried enough right now.

The man bowed them into the Cardinal's office and closed the door without following them. Aramis gestured d'Artagnan to wait at the door; both had noticed the complete lack of guards in the room. Aramis took one careful step forward, looking around.

"How long do we wait?" d'Artagnan murmured. Aramis glared at him, and he lifted his hands in surrender.

Richelieu came from a side door, gaze sweeping dismissively over d'Artagnan. "Didn't want to come alone, Aramis?"

"Athos was most insistent. How can I help you, Cardinal?"

Richelieu lowered himself heavily into his seat. d'Artagnan frowned; something was wrong about that movement, and Aramis had caught it too, judging by his sudden tenseness. "I find myself in need of medical help."

"You have surgeons on your staff, your Eminence."

"Butchers, all of them." Richelieu waved vaguely. His hand trembled. Aramis was tense with the need to either help him or leave. "Normally, I'd be delighted to dance our usual dance, but I have little energy these days. Shall we move straight to the part where you realise you have no choice but to help me?"

Aramis glanced at d'Artagnan, who shrugged helplessly. He didn't think the Cardinal had any particular interest in hurting them, but that meant less than nothing when dealing with Richelieu.

"Very well," Aramis said, still watching him. "d'Artagnan, wait outside. Let's give the Cardinal some privacy."

"Aramis…"

"Privacy," he repeated, holding d'Artagnan's gaze.

d'Artagnan nodded slowly. "I'll be right outside, Aramis. Raise your voice if you need me. To fetch anything for you."

Aramis nodded, and d'Artagnan left, leaning against the doors from the outside and concentrating everything he had on the room.