A/N: I had a few requests from lovely people who wanted to see more of this and found that I simply couldn't resist the temptation. So here I present to you Chapter 2. I hope it meets expectations.
Forty-five minutes later, d'Artagnan was swaying in the saddle as exhaustion finally began to exact its toll. Athos edged closer, his knee nearly brushing d'Artagnan's mount, and laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Time to stop, lad."
Rousing from his near stupor, d'Artagnan blinked languidly at the older musketeer. "What? Why?"
"Because you're asleep on your feet…"
"…or in this case asleep on your horse," Aramis more accurately pointed out.
"But I'm…"
"I hear a good solid punch is an excellent sleep aid," growled Porthos from the other side of d'Artagnan's horse.
"There, you see, d'Artagnan," Athos dipped his chin, "we are only concerned with your welfare."
"Well, when you put it like that, I guess stopping for the night sounds like a good idea," d'Artagnan acquiesced. "Where?"
Aramis pointed to a small grassy area between some trees. "Over there looks as good a place as any."
The four men dismounted and led their horses to the designated area. After securing the mounts, they set about making camp.
"I'll grab some branches for a fire," Porthos announced, moving away.
Athos pushed d'Artagnan down onto a blanket while simultaneously handing him a skin of wine.
The Gascon sipped and handed it back. "I don't know why I am so tired."
"When was the last time you slept—really slept?" Athos took a pull of the wine.
D'Artagan shrugged. "I was asleep when Berlioz and Dupuy decided to make their move."
"That was three days ago. You've barely closed your eyes since then." Aramis commented, handing d'Artagnan a small portion of bread and salted pork.
Porthos returned and quickly set about getting a small fire going. He settled down between d'Artagnan and Aramis, helping himself to his own portion of the repast.
"I guess you're right," muttered d'Artagnan as he finished the last of his meal. "I hadn't realized." He offered a small smile. "I bid you all goodnight then." He stretched out on his blanket and was out like a light moments later.
It wasn't long before the three musketeers followed his example.
A light snoring echoed amongst the trees.
"Does he always make this much noise?" grumbled Porthos, rolling over.
"You call that noise?" Aramis questioned in amazement. "Have you ever heard your own snoring?"
"'Course not. I'm asleep, ain't I?"
"Loud enough to wake the dead…in England yet."
"Aramis, switch with me. I can't take it."
After a little huffing and puffing, traded places with his friend. "Better?"
"Aye."
Aramis wiggled around for a few moments to get comfortable and let his eyes drift closed. But minutes later a loud roar coming from the space to his left had his eyes popping open again. He groaned but did his best to ignore the growing cacophony.
Finally he pleaded, "Athos, switch places with me!"
"Do you seriously think it is any quieter over here?"
Aramis sighed dramatically. "No." He waited a beat. "You know, if you and I left now, we could be in Paris before first light."
FIN