A/N: This is in response to a prompt at the bbcmusketeerkink. If you haven't been there yet, please go. There are so many delicious prompts that aren't getting all the love that they deserve.
"How many men went with you?"
"Twenty six, sir."
Treville nodded. "And how many came back?"
Athos tilted his head slightly, before answering. "Twenty six, sir."
"How many were wounded?"
"None, sir."
"How many got so much as a scratch to show for a mission which took twenty six people to complete?"
Athos must have understood where this was going for despite his obvious injuries, he stood a little straighter. "None, sir."
Treville glared at the man in front of him. He had seen Athos off duty, when he wasn't wearing his uniform, on several occasions. He had seen the man stare dejectedly at a wine bottle, shoulders slumped and head bowed in defeat.
This was not that man.
This was his first lieutenant, back ram rod straight, shoulders thrown back and head lifted in pertinacious pride bordering on defiance as he stood, his gaze fixed on some point besides Treville's head.
His bearing and posture would never betray it, but he was hurt. There was a nasty looking gash on his brow, just above his left eye and his uniform was dirty enough to indicate that he had been thrown about while fighting and was probably bruised. There was a tear on the left sleeve and the fabric looked darker than the rest of the coat, the blood having seeped through.
He had waved away Aramis though, on returning from his mission, opting to get the report over with first.
Treville bit back a curse at the man's stubbornness. "So do you care to elaborate how you killed several known criminals and brought down an entire illegal fighting den that they were running on the outskirts of Paris without any of your men having taken part in any fight?"
Athos could have been a statue for how perfectly at attention he remained. "I entered as one of the challengers, defeated their main champions, without whom the remaining thugs surrendered when they saw that they were surrounded by the king's musketeers."
"You entered as a challenger?" Treville asked, his voice low, barely holding his anger in check. "There have been reports of some seventy odd people being killed in those fights and the best way you could find was to enter as a challenger?"
Athos dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. "I was aware of the risks. I was also aware that out of the twenty six men who were under my command, I was the only one who was most likely to come out of it alive. A full frontal assault would have caused a lot of deaths and injuries, and this way no one got hurt."
Treville got up from where he was sitting behind his desk, walked around it and came to stand right in front of Athos. "You were most likely to come out alive? No one got hurt?"
For the first time since entering Treville's office, Athos shifted a little. "Well, not seriously sir."
"And when will it become serious enough for you? When you get shot? Maimed? When you lose one of your limbs? Or is it going to be on your deathbed that you are going to realize that you should stop being such a goddamn hero and have a little self-preservation?!" Treville's voice had raised steadily until he was shouting by the end.
Athos blinked. "I was just doing what I thought was the best option sir."
"What kind of wine do you drink that it has killed all common sense in you? The best option is not the one which almost gets you killed!"
"What do you want me to say?" Athos met Treville's gaze for the first time. "I did what I did because it was the best way which assured no one under my command got hurt in a brutal showdown. I was only doing my duty sir, and you cannot ask me to apologize for that."
"Your duty is to not get yourself killed."
"Had I not done exactly what I did, one or more of the men under my command would have lost their lives. I don't value my life above anyone else's sir."
"But I do!"
Treville grit his teeth and turned away, gripping the edge of his desk to keep him on his feet. Didn't the idiot understand?
Athos watched his captain as the older man seemed to deflate, the sharp lines of his back suddenly softening, making it painfully obvious how worn out he was. With a jolt he realized he had never seen the man look so old before. He took a step forward, suddenly unsure.
"Sir?"
Treville stayed still and silent for a long time, enough to make Athos start to grow uncomfortable. A large part of him wanted to leave, allow the man his moment of weakness while keeping the image of the infallible mentor in his head alive.
But he stayed put.
He had not been dismissed and if he knew how to do anything, it was to follow orders. Besides, some part of him wanted to know why the captain was so disturbed, so worried.
After what seemed like an eternity, when Athos had almost given up, Treville sighed. He turned around, leaning back to rest against the desk. "I never had a family, you know? Never got married. The life of a soldier leaves no place for a domestic one." He smile was almost bitter as his gaze searched for something on the floor. "My brother in arms, when I was a musketeer and then my men when I became a captain, were everything to me. I never knew what I was missing, what it was to be a father, to have a son.
"Not until I met you." Treville lifted his gaze and looked directly at Athos. Athos forgot how to breathe. The man's gaze was so full of unbridled pride and affection that, Athos felt a sharp pang in his chest.
For the first time in years, he knew he wasn't an orphan anymore.
"Sir, I…" His voice was barely above a whisper, as he tried to form the words to express his gratitude to the older man, but the words died on his tongue. Athos found himself blinking rapidly, unable to meet Treville's gaze.
Treville smiled. "You're the finest man I know Athos, the only one whose judgment I would trust after my own. You are all I have to show for my time on God's earth, my legacy. God help me, but your life means more to me than all of the others' combined. And yet you insist on throwing it away with such reckless abandon that sometimes I wonder if I'm going to have to start training for someone else to succeed me because you would be..."
Once Athos wouldn't have understood the look that came over the captain's face as his words trailed away. But now, having watched a certain young Gascon risk his neck far too many times, with his heart in his throat as fervent words of prayer beseeched a God he had no faith in to look out for him and keep him safe left his lips, he understood.
He understood all too well.
His shoulders sagged a little as he relaxed, the emotional hit of the realization that the man he looked up to and respected as much as he hadn't even his own father, thought of him as a son in return and wanted to pass on the mantle to him; as well as his numerous injuries and bruises finally caught up to him and his knees buckled. He would have crashed to the ground had two strong arms not caught him.
Treville shook his head exasperatedly, throwing Athos' uninjured arm over his shoulders and half carrying, half dragging the man to his own chair. He lowered him down slowly, taking care to not jostle him a lot. From the barely perceptible wince which graced Athos' features, his ribs were probably cracked.
"You're quite the stubborn ass, aren't you?" The quiet admonishment had no heat in it, as Treville knelt in front of the injured man.
Athos smiled. "Learned it from the best." Treville shook his head and got up intending to go outside and call for Aramis to look the idiot over when a grip on his wrist stopped him.
He looked down to find Athos' eyes shining brightly in the dim light of the room. "Sir, I'm sorry for worrying you and I can't tell you how deeply honored I am but…" He sighed, trying to find the right words to get his point across.
"I will follow you into any battle that you send me into, even of it led to the mouth of hell itself. I would do so because you've proven that you will never give an order that you wouldn't carry out yourself. If I am to be captain, how can I expect the men to show me that respect and demand their obedience and loyalty if I shy away from the front lines?"
Treville shook his head. "I'm not asking you to shy away from battle, son. That, even I wouldn't ask of you. All I want is that you be careful. The men love you and already look up to you as their leader. You have nothing more to prove to them. There is no question about your loyalty or skill or bravery. But you have to learn that sometimes it's best for a leader to step back and trust his men to handle the situation. It would help no one if you lost your life trying to prove something the whole world is already aware of."
"It wasn't about proving myself. I…" Athos leaned back, closing his eyes against the wave of exhaustion and pain. "I just didn't want anybody to get hurt on my watch."
Treville smiled, leaning down to brush away a strand of dark hair which had fallen on the pale forehead. "And I don't want you getting hurt on mine."
He had thought Athos had lost consciousness but a soft smile tugged at the younger man's lips and he leaned into the touch. "You're getting soft," he mumbled.
Treville grinned. "Blood loss is making you hallucinate. I just came in and found you here, barely conscious." He grew somber immediately. "You do something like this again though, and I will run you through myself, is that clear?"
Athos hummed agreeably. "Crystal clear, sir."
Treville nodded and straightened. He looked down at the musketeer who had finally given in to unconsciousness, his features relaxed in sleep in a way he never allowed while awake. "No man should have to bury his son," he whispered, turning away.
He knew Athos would not stay away from a fight when his brothers needed him. It wasn't in his nature to falter or back away when faced with danger. But perhaps, the next time some part of the young fool would remember his words and he would fight to live, rather than to die.
Treville sighed. A man could hope.
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