Author's note: This one links in with Chapters 17, 18 and 19.
Chapter Twenty Two - Friendly Fire
Athos (with Aramis)
The ball from the gun grazed across the side of his arm. The injury was slight, not enough to slow his fight. The shot from one of the men in the cellar had not been accurate enough to stop him. The injury stung but did not impede his movement, did not stop him from continuing to fight the two men in front of him. All the shot had done was to remind him that the two men in front of him were not the only ones in the room.
Athos had been aware of other shots ringing out as the fight had started, aware that his brothers were following the plan to the letter. Porthos had surged forward pushing a couple of men back, taking one out as he made his way towards the still form of d'Artagnan. Aramis had hung back, shooting men from the top of the cellar steps. When the marksman ran out of guns he was to join the affray using his sword.
Porthos had scooped up the unfortunate d'Artagnan, slung the unconscious man over his shoulder and made his way out of the cellar. The men who had taken their brother captive all too busy with Aramis and himself to even try to stop Porthos.
There had been a yell from Aramis earlier, but Athos had not been able to tell what he had shouted.
The two men in front of him were tiring, they were untrained. It did not take much more of an effort to take them both out. As they fell to the floor Athos turned, ready to take on any more men. As he turned he saw a body lying behind him, a gunshot wound to the chest, his white shirt stained red as the wound had bled profusely. The man was still clutching a sharp knife in his right hand held in such a way that when the man was alive the blade could have been thrust into a man in order to maim or kill. Athos realised the blade had been meant for him. Aramis must have seen the man, which caused him to shout out and had obviously shot the man before he could stab Athos in the back.
Grateful, Athos turned to find Aramis staring at him, sword in one hand, gun in the other. Aramis looked shocked. Athos would have expected to see his brother going from body to body, ensuring the men were dead, perhaps making the sign of the cross and praying for their souls. But Aramis continued to stare at Athos.
Athos realised what had happened. Aramis had seen the knifeman about to stab him. The shot from Aramis was what had grazed Athos' arm.
'I...I didn't…' Aramis was struggling to speak.
Athos looked back at the man lying at his feet. He guessed that the shout from Aramis was to warn him about the man, but Athos had been busy fighting, he must have taken a step back at the moment Aramis fired. His brother had accidentally hit him.
'You were aiming at him. I stepped back. Aramis, it was an accident.'
'But I shot you…'
Aramis had paled significantly.
'I could have killed you…'
Athos rolled his eyes, annoyed that Aramis was blaming himself for causing the slight injury.
'Aramis, if you had not fired I would have been killed by him.'
Aramis glanced at the man on the floor for a few seconds before looking back up at Athos.
'I know, but…'
Athos almost laughed, his friend was struggling to accept what he had done, what he had nearly done.
'I'd managed to push one of them away from me when I saw him about to stab you...I yelled but you didn't hear,' said Aramis, 'I had no choice. I had to be quick.'
Athos had walked up to Aramis, he rested his hands on Aramis' shoulders and looked the man firmly in the eyes.
'It was an accident, the ball barely touched me, it did not stop me fighting.'
Aramis nodded slowly, although he still looked a little shocked.
'You are the best marksman I know, Aramis, you still managed to hit your mark. You still saved me.'
'But…'
Athos rolled his eyes again as he pulled his scarf from his neck and handed it to Aramis.
'Since you feel so guilty for shooting me, your punishment is to deal with the injury,' he said as he began to undo his weapons belt and doublet.
'But I would have dealt with it anyway…'
'I know.'
The End.