Porthos clapped together his hands with glee as four pints of ale were placed in front of each of the Musketeers. The ale was soon followed by four large bowls of stew and a large platter of bread and cheese to accompany the stew. "You migh' need to order more, Athos," the large Musketeer laughed. "I could eat all by myself!"
The boys each greedily dug in to their bowls of stew; their hands bumped into each other as they simultaneously reached for the bread. "Mmm, dis isso g'd," d'Artagnan announced with his mouth full of food.
"It sure is, brother." Porthos agreed as he washed his food down with a long swallow of ale. "Ahh, 'at's good ale!" he let out a loud belch as he slammed down the mug.
Athos and Aramis shook their heads and rolled their eyes at their friend's boorish and shameless table manners. "I sure missed this," Aramis smiled.
"What, Porthos' bad table manners or the brandied beef stew?" Athos stirred his stew around in the bowl before taking a small bite.
"What's the matter?" Aramis asked as he noticed Athos' stew had barely been touched. "Aren't you hungry? I thought you wanted to get away from the garrison for a meal."
"It's going to take a while for my appetite to return to normal, Aramis." Athos forced a smile. "The stew is quite good but I have to eat slowly; my stomach is still not used to solid food."
"Are ya feel'n sick, 'Th's?" Porthos mumbled with his mouth full of bread. "Do you want to go home?"
"No," Athos shook his head defiantly. "No, I'm fine. I want you all to enjoy your supper and your ales; I'll just take a little longer enjoying mine." Athos lied as he felt his stomach do flip-flops at the thought of eating much more.
Suddenly a loud crash startled the four, making them all jump. They turned to the yelling and watched with surprise as an angry woman poured a full mug of ale over the head of a man who had just been kissing a young lady seated at his small table.
"Uh oh," Aramis laughed at the sight. "Looks like the wife caught her man having more than just a drink with the boys after work."
The entire tavern seemed to erupt in laughter as the two-timing husband was drenched with a pint of ale. The young lady at his table ran out of the tavern screaming, causing another roar of laughter.
"Why, you old nag!" The man yelled to his wife as he attempted to slap the mug from her hand, but the sturdy woman kept her hold on the weapon-of-choice and used it to bang him over the head, stunning him.
"Ooh," Aramis drew in a sharp breath through his teeth.
"Damn, 'at had to hurt," Porthos grimaced.
"You wench!" The angry husband cursed as he stood then drew back his fist to hit his wife.
D'Artagnan was on his feet in a flash to intervene, but Aramis quickly pulled him back down into his chair. "You haven't learned your lesson, have you?" the medic teasingly scolded.
"What are you talking about?" D'Artagnan snapped in bewilderment.
"Never get involved in domestic disputes," Aramis advised drily. "Especially, never get between an enraged wife and a flirting husband. I thought you would have learned your lesson after the last time you got between a quarreling husband and wife! Remember, after she bit you on the hand as you tried to restrain her?"
"This isn't like when the Bonnaire's were fighting," d'Artagnan countered angrily. "Are we just going to sit here and let him hurt her?"
"Oh, I think she can take care of herself," Porthos chimed in. He motioned with his head in the direction of the fighting couple. "Look a' her, she's almost as burly as 'e is!"
The group of Musketeers winced, simultaneously grimacing, as the wife caught her husband's arm then chomped her snaggled teeth down on his flesh, causing him to scream out in pain. She then grabbed the man by his ear to drag him from the table and out the tavern door, cursing at him the entire way.
"See, told ya." Porthos turned around in his chair with a satisfied huff. "I knew 'at woman could take care of herself jus' fine. If you had got'n between those two, she woulda hurt ya, pup."
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Aramis quipped. "I think Maria Bonnaire and that woman just proved the point perfectly."
~§~
The men continued talking and laughing as they savored their supper and delighted in another round of ales, although Athos had only taken a few sips of his first. The Musketeer lieutenant sat quietly listening to his brothers enjoying themselves with merry conversation until he began to feel increasingly tired.
Athos found it difficult to keep his eyes open as his heavy lids began to droop. He leaned his head back against the wooden beam behind him and closed his eyes.
"No, Athos, don't go to sleep in here." Aramis gently shook his friend awake. "We need to go and get him to bed; he's exhausted. He has packed too much into this evening and has worn himself out," the medic informed his two companions.
"Mmm," Athos moaned softly as Aramis shook him again. The lieutenant continued to rest against the beam with his eyes closed.
"Come on, let's go." Aramis grabbed one arm and Porthos the other, together they pulled Athos to his feet. They stumbled their way out of the tavern, much to the snickers and taunts of everyone; as they thought the exhausted man was so intoxicated he couldn't walk on his own.
A particularly troublesome group followed the Musketeers out of the tavern into the street; they jeered at the men as they stumbled with their uncooperative load between them.
Porthos raised his head to look at the troublemakers and gave a throaty growl.
"Ignore them," Aramis snapped indignantly. "They're not worth our time."
The Musketeers continued down the street; they turned a corner where the troublemakers were waiting in the shadows to ambush. The ringleader kicked a foot out from under Athos, causing him to stumble into Porthos. The kick knocked them both backward, dragging Aramis along with them to the ground.
"Alright, dammit, that's it!" Porthos growled with fury. The large Musketeer jumped up and swung his fist; it landed hard on the agitator's jaw, sending him sprawling backward into a brick wall.
Aramis was pulled to his feet by one of the drunkards, only to be knocked back down with a punch to the jaw by another. D'Artagnan kicked one of the men to the ground then grabbed him by the shirt collar; the Gascon knocked the man out cold with a swift punch to the cheekbone.
In the meantime, Athos continued to lie in the dusty road while his brothers were all engaged in the unsolicited brawl. He sleepily looked up at the stars, tracing with his eyes along Ursa Major to find Polaris, the North Star. "It's been a while since I've fallen asleep under the stars." Athos smiled as he allowed his eyes to slide closed.
"D'Artagnan, watch out. . ." Aramis tried to warn as a man jumped the Gascon from behind, knocking him off his feet. The man attempted to punch the young Musketeer, but d'Artagnan used his weight to roll himself and his opponent; the Gascon now had the advantage. He pressed his hands into the man's throat and began to choke the air out of him.
"Enough, d'Artagnan!" Aramis yelled as he pulled the Gascon from the man who was gasping, and pleading for his life. "These losers are not worth us getting into trouble over." The choked man ran away, along with the remaining still-conscious losers. "Let them go," Aramis yelled. The medic frantically looked around and found Athos lying motionless on the ground where he fell earlier.
"No!" Aramis dropped to his knees beside the older Musketeer to check on his pulse and breathing. "Come on, Athos, wake up! You can sleep, but not here in the road, my friend." Aramis chuckled with relief, finding that Athos was merely sleeping and was not harmed. "Now is not the time to sleep, you can do that once we get you home."
Athos moaned softly, trying to bat away Aramis' annoying hands as they tapped on his cheeks.
"Athos, open your eyes now!" Aramis ordered. The medic was pleasantly surprised as Athos obeyed and peeled his tired eyes open.
"We need to get you home; do you think you can walk?"
Athos nodded a tired yes.
Aramis helped Athos to sit up and, once again, Porthos took one arm and Aramis the other as they pulled the tired man to his feet. They waited patiently as the lieutenant steadied himself on his feet and the wave of dizziness passed.
Slowly, the group of Musketeers made their way back to the garrison. Athos barely managed to stay upright between his supporters as he stumbled and dragged his feet behind him, growing more weary with each step.
"This was a terrible idea, going out tonight" D'Artagnan muttered as he watched his friends struggle with their semi-conscious friend. "We should have waited until Aramis got back from Chamarande."
"I shouldn't have suggested we go out for drinks," Porthos brooded. "I shoulda known it was too early for Athos to venture out so far."
"Well, I should have known better than to let him walk this far. I'm the damn medic, for heaven's sake; I should have known better!" Aramis bellowed. "Doctor Molyneux was counting on me to look after Athos and I've let them both down."
"If you three don't stop your incessant 'I should have' lamenting, I will find another way home." Athos somehow found his footing and stopped the trio mid-stride. "It wasn't up to you whether we went out for drinks tonight. It was my choice and it was worth every minute; I wouldn't trade tonight for anything." Athos smiled wearily at his friends as he swayed in place.
"Yeah, well, you're not the hapless one havin' to carry your weight back home," Porthos muttered, hiding his grin.
"Athos, I know you were mistaken when you said Porthos had a sunnier disposition," d'Artagnan teased. "I don't know which Porthos you were referring to but it wasn't our Porthos."
"It seems he is pretty grouchy tonight." Aramis observed with a laugh.
"You want to trade places, little brother?" Porthos glared at d'Artagnan.
"No, you're doing just fine, Porthos." D'Artagnan moved to the other side of the trio. "I'll just keep an eye out for possible hooligans over here."
"Smart pup," Aramis cracked under his breath.
~§~
The group approached the gates of the garrison when Athos stopped, refusing to go on. "Stop," he rasped. The weary Musketeer tested his own weight on his legs, wobbling and tilting until his friends took his weight upon themselves again.
"Let me steady myself, please; give me a minute," Athos pleaded. The Musketeer leaned over slightly before slowly standing up. He leaned his forehead on Aramis' shoulder, trying to catch his breath. Beads of sweat began rolling down his face like tiny droplets of rain on panes of glass.
"I don't think you're going to fool anyone looking like this, Athos." D'Artagnan gently wiped away the sweat from his mentor's face with a handkerchief. "There, now you are a little more presentable," he smiled.
"Thanks," Athos nodded with appreciation. "Let me walk up to my room on my own now. I will not have anyone thinking I am drunk."
"Are you ready?" Aramis asked.
Athos nodded as Porthos and Aramis eased their grip on his arms. He stood tall and forced himself to walk into the courtyard as though nothing was wrong. It took all his willpower to put one foot in front of the other; the very real fear of falling in front of curious eyes gave him the strength to continue.
The Musketeer lieutenant walked forward at a slow pace through the yard, with Aramis and Porthos staying right beside him, walking shoulder-to-shoulder in case he faltered. D'Artagnan walked right behind the trio, ready to catch Athos if he stumbled.
Athos arrived at the stairs, panting and sweating profusely. He grabbed hold of the railing, as if mustering the strength to climb a towering mountain. He couldn't move. "I don't think I can make it."
"Come on, Athos, let us help you up the stairs." Porthos wrapped an arm around Athos' waist then took a step up, pulling the tired Musketeer with him. Aramis did the same on the other side to keep Athos from falling backward, stepping in time with the struggling duo. D'Artagnan stayed right behind the trio, his hands on Athos' waist as support; preventing the trio from tilting backward.
With the trio stepping and climbing in unison, they were able to ascend the stairs without creating too much of a scene. They continued walking down the balcony hallway to Athos' room with two now almost completely supporting the weight of the one in the middle.
By the time they reached Athos' door, the tired man was exhausted and unable to move his feet. The lieutenant's boots dragged along the floor as the two Musketeers sat the ailing man on the bed inside the room. Porthos gently laid Athos back onto the pillow, while Aramis swung his legs up on the bed until he was lying flat.
The medic proceeded to pull off Athos' boots, while Porthos and d'Artagnan worked on removing the leather doublet. After the row of tiny buttons were undone, Athos felt his upper body being lifted so the men could pull his arms free from the sleeves of his doublet. Once the left side was free, the doublet was easily pulled off then set aside.
Athos' face was slick with a sheen of sweat; his hair formed in wet clumps and matted to his flushed face. His linen shirt was soaked through with sweat, so the men pulled it off over his head and waited while Aramis fetched a dry shirt.
Once changed, Athos was laid back on the bed and settled on his pillow. Aramis sat on the edge of the bed with a cool, damp cloth and began wiping away the sweat from Athos' face and neck. The exhausted Musketeer couldn't hold his heavy eyelids open any longer; he allowed them to slide closed and fell asleep almost immediately.
"I shouldn't go to Chamarande tomorrow." Aramis shook his head and looked up at his two friends. "I can't leave him like this."
"Aramis, you have to go; Cécile is counting on you to accompany her," d'Artagnan reminded.
"You can't back out on Cécile, 'Mis, it's too late for 'at. You need to get some rest before your trip in the morning, so get to bed. It's our turn to take care of Athos now." Porthos pulled up a chair for himself and d'Artagnan and they both sat down; they readied themselves to watch over their friend in the long hours ahead.
Morning of Trip to Chamarande:
"I shouldn't be going anywhere," Aramis protested. "Athos needs me."
"Cécile needs you," Porthos countered. "Have you forgotten about her?"
"No, I haven't forgotten about her, dammit!"
"Well then, you go on to Chamarande and have a good time with Cécile." D'Artagnan soothed the rising tempers in the room. "Porthos and I are perfectly capable of taking care of Athos. There is no need for you to stay here, sitting beside his bed and worrying about him; he'll be fine, Aramis."
"Besides," Porthos chimed in. "We have a new doctor coming to the garrison tomorrow and Captain Tréville has sent notice to M. Molyneux- if Athos needs help- to be ready at a moment's notice. So, go and have a good time; don't even think about cutting your trip short. We'll be fine here!"
"I don't like this." Aramis shook his head while watching Athos sleep. Resigned to his duty to escort the nurse back home again, the medic sat down on the bed and took a limp hand in his own. "You take care of yourself, Athos. Do you hear me? I'll take Cécile home and hurry back as soon as I can."
"You will do. . . no such thing, Aramis," Athos whispered lethargically. "I already have two mother hens. . . I don't need a third. You go. . . and have a good time with Cécile. You deserve some rest and. . . happiness for a change. While you're gone, don't you dare even think about this place. . . or me."
"How can you say that after everything we've been through these last few weeks?" Aramis bristled. "We almost lost you and now you ask me to not even think of you while I'm gone? Are you serious?"
"Aramis, please." Athos firmly squeezed his friend's hand. "I'll be alright; I promise you, nothing is going to happen to me. You can't glue yourself to my side every minute of the day because of a bad dream. There has to be a time when you let go of that fear in the back of your mind; you can't live like this anymore. It's time to let go of that nightmare and start living and enjoying your own life."
"You're right," Aramis' voice cracked as he blinked back the wetness in his eyes. "Why do you always have to be right, huh?"
"No tears, remember?" Athos smiled as his tired eyes drooped closed. A stray tear slid out from underneath the closed eyelids and ran down the tired man's cheek.
"No tears, sure." Aramis wiped away the rolling tear with his thumb. "I expect you to be healthy and thoroughly bored when I get back. You'll probably be going stir-crazy," he paused"I'm sure you'll be grumpy for having nothing to do, but you can't argue with the doctor's orders."
"Aramis, I'm already looking forward to not having you hovering over me like a mother bird." Athos peeled his eyes open to watch his friend's reaction.
"Athos, I'm hurt." Aramis put his hand over his heart and bowed his head, hiding his smile.
"Go. . . or you'll make Cécile worry that you're not coming. Please, have a good time and don't ruin your trip with your beautiful lady by worrying about me; I'll be fine. I have Porthos and d'Artagnan to hover over me." Athos smiled then closed his eyes once again.
"Alright, I promise to have a good time if you promise to rest and concentrate on getting better," Aramis waited.
Athos gave an almost imperceptible nod. The nod was enough for Aramis to notice.
Standing, Aramis leaned over the bed and kissed Athos on the forehead; he paused to stroke his friend's hair as worry etched deep on his face. With his thumb, the medic rubbed his friend on the cheek before turning on his heel to leave.
Stopping by Porthos and d'Artagnan, Aramis paused with his head down. "You two take good care of him while I'm gone. I'm trusting both of you to make sure he gets plenty of rest. Watch for signs of illness; if you notice anything wrong, send for Doctor Molyneux immediately. Do not rely on this new doctor, since we don't even know who he is yet. Am I clear?" Aramis raised his head to look his friends in the eye.
"You know we will, 'Mis." Porthos answered, placing his hand reassuringly on Aramis' shoulder. "Don't worry about us, we'll be fine. Athos will be fine too. . . you'll see." The large Musketeer pulled his worried friend into his arms for a long hug, clapping him on the back for good measure.
"Have an enjoyable trip and try not to worry; we'll take very good care of Athos." D'Artagnan was the next to hug Aramis, followed with a firm squeeze to his shoulder.
Aramis turned around for one last look at his sleeping friend. "You keep your promise to me, brother, and get better. Despite what you asked, I will be thinking about you and worrying about you, Athos. For you, my friend, I'll try to have a good time. . . I promise."
Fin
A/N:
So, it appears that I have opened the door for another (new) story as I left this one with somewhat of a cliffhanger... sorry, that was not intended. I did not plan to do any further stories in this series but had planned to leave it as a trilogy. My other story, Nightmares and Champagne, takes place well after Breathing because Athos is back on a mission with the boys and is perfectly healthy. I now realize how odd of an ending this story would be without a follow up… so I have forced myself into continuing on with this saga.
Read the last installment in the Double Trouble sage, called Promises to Keep.