Chapter 6

Athos POV

Athos nodded to the woman standing on the other side of the kitchen table, a grim expression tightening his features. "I need you to keep him as still as you possibly can. His transition into consciousness will not be pleasant by any means."

"I understand." – Constance readjusted her hold on the motionless man before her; one hand had a tight grip on Aramis's left shoulder while the other was firmly pressed against his chest. – "I am ready."

Athos admired the strength of the woman across from him and not for the first time he understood exactly why d'Artagnan was drawn to her. Her courage was inspiring. And even though her eyes betrayed the true extent of her concern; Athos knew he could count on Constance to do what was necessary.

Especially if one of their own was at stake.

Focusing his attention back on Aramis, he felt his own anxiety at his friend's condition take hold once more.

The man had remained stubbornly unresponsive since his battered body had given into the effects of blood loss and exhaustion after his duel with Valois.

Carrying Aramis's unconscious form from the alley to Constance's house had been no easy feat and must have jarred his injuries considerably and yet, his friend had never even stirred.

He had placed Aramis on the kitchen table in the small dining area and immediately started to maneuver him out of his doublet and shirt.

When he was finally able to study the extent of the damage underneath the layers, he was suddenly grateful his friend hadn't woken thus far.

Seizing the blood slick arm with one hand, he now rested his gaze on the angry entry wound where the ball of the pistol had tunneled its way through Aramis's muscle. Because the weapon had been fired from such short distance, the ball had had enough force to exit and leave a ragged and heavily bleeding mess of a hole on the other side.

The white hot blade he had pulled from the coals of the fireplace not a minute before rested heavily in Athos's hand, the instrument seemingly carrying the weight of responsibility for his friend's wellbeing.

With one last look at Aramis's deathly pale features and a feeling of deep regret, Athos pressed the flat of the blade against the torn opening in his friend's bicep.

When the smell of burnt flesh reached his nostrils, Athos's stomach coiled into a tight knot, and he had to force himself to hold the hissing metal in place long enough for the broken skin to fuse back together.

A ragged scream tore from Aramis's throat at the same time and signaled his cruel arrival in the land of the living.

Disoriented and obviously confused he struggled violently against the hands restraining him; a desperate effort to escape the pain.

Athos lost his hold on Aramis's arm.

"We need to keep him still; the exit wound is yet to be closed," Athos's voice sounded rough to his ears as he tried to regain purchase on the injured limb.

Constance's reply held a trace of rising panic, "Trust me, I am trying. He is surprisingly strong for a man who lost this much blood." Turning to the struggling Musketeer, she kept her voice soft when she spoke next, "Aramis? Aramis, please stop. You are going to hurt yourself."

When Aramis's efforts of resistance did not abate, Athos changed his approach.

Resting one hand on the center of his friend's chest, he pushed down just hard enough to keep the man on his back.

Leaning in close to make sure he was within Aramis's line of sight, he kept his voice steady, "Easy, brother. It's me. Focus on me." After a moment, wild eyes finally locked onto his. "Now, I just need you to settle down, because I must still close the exit wound. You are losing too much blood."

He lifted the blade for Aramis to see, his tone carrying a note of remorse when he asked, "do you understand my friend?"

The chest beneath the steady pressure of Athos's hand still heaved in a mad rhythm, but Aramis's cloudy and pain filled expression cleared as he slowly nodded his understanding and seized his struggles.

"Do you feel this?" Readjusting his hand on his friend's chest, Athos kept his touch gentle in an effort to comfort rather than restrain. "I am not going anywhere and you will be alright. As far as I am concerned, there is no other outcome."

His honest declaration earned him another stilted nod from the man before him.

Reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Aramis, Athos looked to Constance, who had just pulled a second blade out of the coals in her fireplace and handed it to him with an apologetic look in her eyes.

He exchanged the cooling weapon in his hand with the one now offered to him.

Without further hesitation, he seized his friend's arm yet again and pressed the white hot instrument to the bloody mess that was the exit wound.

As soon as the metal came into contact with the raw skin, another blood-curdling scream echoed through the room and Aramis's back arched involuntarily.

When Athos was finally able to lift the blade after seemingly endless seconds, Aramis sagged in exhaustion; his hammering breath coming in shallow bursts and his pain riddled expression was a testament to the agony he had to be feeling.

Cringing tiredly, Athos wiped the sweat beading on his brow with his forearm, his strength having evidently escaped together with Aramis's last ragged scream.

The knife slipped out of his hand, clattering to the floor. Athos paid it no heed.

Leaning over his friend once more, he rested his hand on the side of Aramis's neck in a firm hold and said, "It is done."

After a moment, pain filled eyes opened slowly and searched for his.

Aramis steadfastly locked on to Athos's gaze but remained silent as he apparently didn't yet trust his voice.

Realizing that his friend used his presence and touch to ground himself, to slowly steady his breathing and regain a semblance of control, Athos didn't dare to break eye contact.

He didn't dare move at all while he waited for his friend to recover slowly.

When another, decidedly more delicate hand came to rest on Aramis's shoulder, the man looked to his left and for the first time seemed to register Constance's presence.

She seemed to have paled slightly in the face of Aramis's pain, though her voice remained steady when she said, "It is good to have you back." – A relieved smile graced her features – "And considering what you just went through, I promise I will refrain from slapping you today."

Aramis's tired smile was considerably less charming than his normal radiant grin, but he did finally find his voice. And even though his words sounded raspy and hoarse he had a trace of his usual humor about him when he formed his reply. "You are most kind Madame."

With another squeeze to Aramis's shoulder, Constance turned to Athos, "I will fetch herbs and cloth to bind the wound."

At Athos's nod, she left the room.

"Would you be so kind to help me sit up?"

Turning towards the rasping sound of Aramis's voice, Athos assessed the pale man before him with a scrutinizing gaze.

In a morbid show of color, the dark red blood covering most of the injured arm seemed to complete the vivid array of purple and blue bruising wrapping around Aramis's exposed ribs.

Raising a questioning eyebrow, Athos asked, "Are you certain that is wise?"

A humorless and extremely tired chuckle escaped Aramis's throat, "That my friend remains to be seen. But regardless; I refuse to discuss battle strategy while lying flat on my back."

Tilting his head in reluctant agreement Athos reached out to tightly grasp Aramis's left arm, pulling him up slowly.

His friend hissed in pain as the movement jarred his wounds and, once seated, immediately cradled his injured limb to his bare chest, his eyes screwed shut tightly.

Athos held on to the other man, watching his desperate fight for control. "Steady now. Deep breaths." After a long moment, Aramis finally opened his eyes slowly and gave a shaky nod.

Athos hesitantly released his hold.

Barely recovered enough to find his voice, Aramis bit out breathlessly, "We need to go after Porthos and d'Artagnan."

"And we will. When we left the alley, I paid a boy at the market to deliver word to Treville. I expect him shortly. We will discuss our next course of action as soon as the captain arrives."

Aramis nodded tiredly in agreement, bringing up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and bowing his head in obvious discomfort.

Evidently remembering something important, his head shot up again suddenly, and he grimaced at the movement. "How is your head? I saw blood after I tackled you."

Athos scoffed involuntarily, "Says the man who spilled most of his blood onto cobblestone." Seeing the honest concern in Aramis's eyes though he softened his tone, "My head is fine my friend. Hard as ever."

"You were out for a while," Aramis pressed. "No double vision, dizziness, nausea?"

Truthfully, his head had been throbbing relentlessly since he woke in a panic, realizing Aramis was not with him. Considering the tender knot and crusted blood where it impacted, he assumed his discomfort was to be expected.

In the face of Aramis's scrutinizing gaze, he opted to answer as closely to the truth as he felt comfortable, "No double vision or nausea. There may have been a bout of dizziness when I first woke, but it since abated. Now it only aches."

Aramis narrowed his eyes skeptically.

Not willing to waste any more time on the subject, Athos attempted to deflect the other man's concern.

"Besides, we have other things to worry about. We have two missing brothers and your condition is less than favorable, my friend."

Two dark eyes narrowed at him. "You are not going to ask me to stay behind, are you?"

Aramis's voice was quiet and subdued, yet the challenge behind his words was quite clear.

There was nothing Athos would be able to say, no reason at all on god's green earth that would discourage his friend from going after Porthos and d'Artagnan.

He realized Aramis was in no shape to fight another battle at the moment, but he also knew that attempting to leave the man out of it would be a pointless undertaking.

And he understood. He truly did. Because Athos alone was qualified to understand the guilt he recognized in his friend's eyes. Had felt it himself when Thomas had died and more recently, when his wife had resurfaced to haunt him yet again.

Aramis felt responsible for their current situation and blamed himself for Porthos's and d'Artagnan's absence.

Athos was aware that there was no absolution he could offer that would make the slightest bit of difference in his friend's mind. There were no words of comfort that would hold any meaning at the moment. There was only one acceptable outcome.

"We will get them back, I promise you."

And with every fiber of his being Athos prayed that he would be able to keep this promise; knowing without doubt that if he failed, they would all be lost.

When Aramis remained stubbornly quiet, Athos sighed audibly and continued in a low voice, "I understand the burden you carry; more than you realize. And I even understand the impulse to protect us from your past.

"That being said, I need you to understand that you are not to blame for any of this and that this is not a battle you can fight alone. Nor do you have to." Athos made sure his eyes were locked to Aramis's at his next words. "Not this time."

He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, imploring him to understand.

"If we are all to survive this day, it can only be done together. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes." – Aramis nodded slowly, his voice holding a surprisingly sheepish undertone – "You are telling me not to be 'my reckless self.' This is the second time today that someone feels the need to issue that warning."

Athos scoffed, "I believe you could probably stand to hear it a few more times, considering you just jumped in front of a firing pistol."

"I'd say that was for a good cause, was it not?"

Athos couldn't deny that he would most likely be dead if Aramis hadn't reacted the way he did. Of course, it wouldn't do any good to admit that right now.

"Obviously I am grateful for your quick reflexes; however, my point remains the same. Nobody wants you to sacrifice yourself over some misplaced feeling of guilt. And if Porthos and d'Artagnan were here, they would tell you the same."

Exhaling audibly, Aramis conceded in a quiet voice. "Trust me Athos; no matter how I might feel about this situation or the demons that came with it, I do understand my current limitations, both physical and otherwise."

After pausing briefly, Aramis's eyes shone bright with honesty at his next words "And I am honored to have you standing by my side for whatever might lie ahead. As you said, we will get them back. The rest can be sorted out later."

Athos nodded in agreement, relief coursing through him at Aramis's words.

Any reply he may have given was cut off however by a sharp intake of breath from the doorway.

Turning towards the noise, he saw Constance rooted to the spot, her face stricken and pale.

Before Athos could recover his voice, Aramis asked quietly, "How much did you hear?"

"Enough." Her voice took on a biting edge. "Where are they?"

As Athos watched his friend briefly falter in the face of Constance's rising panic, he answered in Aramis's stead.

"We believe they are being held for leverage."

"Leverage for what?"

Thus far Constance knew nothing of the situation they found themselves in. When he had carried Aramis's unconscious and bleeding body from the alley, she had not wasted any time with trivial questions.

Now however Athos could tell that her worry for d'Artagnan's life would trump all else.

With a sidelong glance at Aramis, he started his attempt at an explanation while being extremely careful not to let his own concern for his brothers bleed through in his voice.

"It seems that we find ourselves in the middle of a scheme for revenge. The identity of the last player has yet to be revealed; but since neither d'Artagnan nor Porthos are the main targets of this plot, I believe them safe for now."

When Constance remained silent and unmoving, her eyes downcast, Aramis slowly let himself slip over the edge of the table. When his feet touched the ground, he briefly closed his eyes to steady himself before carefully walking across the room, coming to stand in front of her.

In an attempt to comfort, Aramis rested his hand on Constance's shoulder and quietly said, "I swear to you that we will stop at nothing to get them back safely." – He put a finger underneath her chin and gently lifted her head until her eyes met his – "I will bring him home."

After a long moment, Athos was able to watch the fear in Constance's eyes slowly abate under his friend's steady gaze.

"I believe you." Her voice was but a whisper.

Quickly clearing her throat and straightening her back in an obvious attempt to reign in her emotions, Constance's voice sounded much stronger when she added, "Of course you would be even more convincing if you didn't look like a light breeze might blow you over."

Aramis's lips curved into a small smile. "To be fair, it has been a rather challenging day."

"I am sure it has." Constance gestured at the supplies she carried. "Let's get you cleaned up and that wound dressed."

Athos watched as Aramis slowly shuffled back to the table, noting with concern how even the short time on his feet had left his body trembling slightly and his bare chest glistening with sweat.

Considering the blood loss his friend had suffered and the pain that was clearly edged on his tired features, Athos wondered if perhaps this time Aramis's stubbornness and determination might not be enough to sustain him for the remainder of this day and the trials that still lay ahead.

With Aramis seated on the table once more, Constance set about to carefully wash his arm around the burn sites with a wet cloth. Her fingers worked diligently and scrubbed gently at the sticky and dried substance coating most of his limb.

"I very much appreciate all you have done for us today." Aramis's words were quiet and strained. "All you have done for me."

"Well, it is hard to refuse a man who is unconscious and bleeding like a stuck pig." Her eyes found his for a moment, and all sarcasm drained from her voice. "But you are very welcome."

When a knock sounded at the front door, Athos made to cross the room only to see Treville stride through the doorway a moment later; obviously not interested in wasting any time on formalities.

Lifting his hat briefly he said, "I apologize for the intrusion, Madame Bonacieux."

Before she could form a reply, however, the Captain's eyes found Aramis. "What the hell happened now?"

Aramis opened his mouth to respond, but Athos beat him to it. "He took a ball to the arm in his effort to save my life."

When Treville's eyes narrowed darkly, Aramis added, "It seems that Nicolas Valois had two brothers; one of them having been part of the group who ambushed us in the forest; the man with the ring. The other one was waiting for us at the old Valois family home."

Athos lowered himself into one of the kitchen chairs, bracing his arms on his knees. "It seems that we have a spy in our midst. There is no other explanation. The plans to visit Valois' home were only made yesterday evening and yet somehow they knew about it."

Treville crossed his arms over his chest, a thunderous expression on his face when he spoke, "Its Ballard."

"Say again?" Aramis's outburst was interrupted when Constance placed the herbs she had prepared onto his wound and tied a strip of cloth firmly around it.

All color suddenly drained from Aramis's face and he tightly gripped the edge of the table in a desperate struggle for balance as his body was wracked with a visible shudder of pain.

"Sorry." Constance's quiet apology sounded through the room. "I'm so sorry, but it needs to be tight."

"It's alright." The words were forced through gritted teeth and his eyes remained shut.

Watching as his friend yet again struggled for control, Athos fought his impulse to cross the short distance between them, knowing his gesture would not be appreciated with the captain present.

Instead, he remained seated and quietly inquired, "Aramis?"

"It's fine." Taking a few steadying breaths, he seemed finally able to right his equilibrium and opened his eyes. "I'm fine."

Athos sighed deeply while Treville had an extremely skeptical look on his face; however, neither one of them voiced their concern out loud.

Aramis's pain filled eyes settled on his captain, his voice having a razor sharp edge to it, "Did you say Ballard?"

"I did." Treville's head briefly bowed, the burden of delivering this news obviously weighing heavily on him. "He never arrived for morning muster, and no one had seen him since last night. Because of yesterday's ambush and the obvious breach in mission details, I considered everything out of the ordinary as suspicious and had his quarters searched."

Reaching into his pocket, Treville retrieved a small circular object. "We found this."

The item was gently tossed in his direction and Athos caught it easily. Studying the ring closely, he felt one of his eyebrows rise in surprise. "It is identical to the one we recovered from the assassin in the forest." – He held it out for Aramis to see – "A silver ring braided in wire. And a V on the inside."

"This means he's our missing link," Athos concluded. "He's-"

"He's Valois' son."Aramis finished the sentence for him, disbelief warring with the anger in his voice. "How is this possible?"

"After we found the ring, I dug a little deeper," Treville replied. "Ballard changed his name before he joined the regiment. He was born as Bernard Valois."

"Christ." As the truth stared him in the face, Athos instinctively looked to Aramis. "That means he's the one holding them."

When Treville frowned at them both, Aramis took it upon himself to explain, "We have reason to believe that Porthos and d'Artagnan are being held at Duval's farm."

Sighing audibly, Aramis's voice took on a bitter edge. "It seems they may have become leverage in Ballard's scheme to get to me."

Nodding in understanding, Treville said, "then we have no time to waste. We will fetch the horses and ride for the farm."

"The three of us?" Athos clarified.

"Yes." Glancing in Aramis's direction, Treville explained, "This is a personal matter on many levels, and I will not stand for another traitor in our midst."

At Aramis's nod of understanding, Treville settled his eyes on Athos and continued, "Also, the delicacy of the situation requires us to keep this contained as best we can. I do not want to involve anyone else unless absolutely necessary.

"We will survey the property first to assess how many men Ballard has with him and to determine where he is holding Porthos and d'Artagnan."

Athos and Aramis both nodded their agreement.

Just then Constance returned, carrying a clean shirt and Aramis's belongings. Placing his doublet, weapon's belt and hat on the table next to him, she said, "Your shirt was ruined, so I brought you one of my husband's. He won't miss it."

At Aramis's grateful nod, she pulled the material over his head. Carefully maneuvering his arms into the sleeves by himself, he only grimaced slightly at the movement.

Closing the distance in a few strides, Treville came to stand in front of his battered soldier. "I am fairly certain I know the answer before I even ask the question, but seeing the sorry state you're in I need to ask anyway." The captain rested one hand on Aramis's shoulder, and his voice softened considerably when he continued, "Are you sure you'll be able to handle this, son?"

"I will not let you down," Aramis vowed.

Treville nodded, accepting the answer. "That possibility never crossed my mind." He held his soldiers gaze for another moment and gave the shoulder beneath his fingers a gentle squeeze.

As Athos had done before, their captain obviously came to terms with the fact that no matter his condition, Aramis was going to be part of this fight.

Treville stepped back just as Aramis voiced a thought. "You know; we do have one advantage here."

When Athos and Treville both looked at him expectantly, he continued, "I am certain Ballard believes that Athos is dead, and he probably expects me to arrive alone in a desperate attempt to retrieve my remaining brothers." – He looked from Treville to Athos – "We should give him what he wants. If Ballard is distracted by my presence, it will give you the opportunity to free Porthos and d'Artagnan undetected."

Athos exhaled sharply in annoyance, his voice infused with the sudden anger that surged his system. "Do you not remember what we discussed only minutes ago? Your memory can't possibly be that flawed. You cannot win this battle on your own."

Aramis was not easily intimidated, however, and he matched Athos's tone in volume and ferocity. "I have no intention of fighting this battle on my own, Athos. As I told you before, I am quite aware of my current limitations, and I would never risk their lives this carelessly."

"Yet you would risk your own?"

The fight seemed to leave the injured man with an audible sigh, and he softened his voice as he continued, "I am merely suggesting that we use Ballard's obsession with me as a distraction. If he sees me approaching alone from the front, he hopefully won't think to cover his back. Unless you have a better idea?"

Aramis's unyielding gaze bore into his.

And the truth was that he didn't have a better idea. If Aramis could keep Ballard talking long enough for them to reach Porthos and d'Artagnan, it would ensure that their friends would not be used as leverage against them.

And yet, he still hated the mere thought. It would leave Aramis largely uncovered and at the whim of a man whose mental state had been drawn into serious question.

Athos was grateful that in the end he was not the one who had to make this call. "Captain?"

Eying Aramis's weary form, Treville spoke his next words with obvious reluctance. "I hate to say it, but it might be our best chance; especially considering that we will most likely be outnumbered at least two to one."

Rising from his chair, Athos exhaled slowly, accepting defeat. "So be it." Closing the distance between him and Aramis, he picked up the leather doublet that still lay on the table next to his friend.

Holding the coat at an angle, the other man was able to easily slip his arms inside.

Not wanting his friend to see the apprehension on his face, Athos focused his attention on the task of fastening Aramis's leathers.

As his fingers started to latch the leather buttons one by one, he spoke slowly and quietly, "Be cautious in your approach. Keep him talking, yet refrain from antagonizing him unnecessarily. One of us will have you in their sight at all times to intervene if needed. And as soon as Porthos and d'Artagnan are in the clear, Ballard will suffer the consequences of betraying his own. I promise you that."

When the final button latched into place, Athos looked up. He was slightly startled by the level of emotion he recognized in the dark depths that greeted him; Aramis's eyes shining bright and earnest with unspoken gratitude.

Resting his hand on his friend's shoulder, Athos nodded his head slowly and said, "Let's bring them home."

TBC

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