Thank you for the wonderful comments about d'Artagnan's return in the last chapter. A few answers about what happened in this next one. Enjoy!
The men had valiantly done their best to remain awake, but the combination of fatigue, stress and too much wine pulled Aramis and Porthos into a light slumber, Aramis eventually leaning forward to rest his head and arms on the bed while Porthos had slumped over onto the foot of the bed, curled around d'Artagnan's feet. Athos didn't mind and was content to watch over his friends as they slept, sending a hopeful prayer that the Gascon's sleep was a healing one that would bring the boy back to them once he woke. He had never been an overly devout man, even less so following the death of his brother and his wife's treachery, but he had to admit that the young man's return was nothing short of a miracle. None of them had wanted to give up on the boy, but there had been no more clues to his whereabouts and they'd returned to the garrison empty-handed, grudgingly reporting their failure to Treville. They knew what his decision would be even before the man spoke the words, and the Captain had reluctantly declared d'Artagnan missing and presumed dead, the search for him officially over. It did not mean that his friends could no longer look for him, but their activities would be relegated behind their other duties, the focus once more on their service to the King.
When they'd departed Treville's office, they'd somehow found their way to d'Artagnan's empty room, and none of them had been willing to be apart from the others. When Athos had sat down on the Gascon's bed, one hand idly playing with a loose thread on the blanket, Aramis and Porthos had turned and left, returning shortly with food and several bottles of wine. Their meal had been a silent affair and for once, their drinking was just as sombre, none of them in the mood for conversation and lost in their sorrow for the young man who'd been taken from them too soon. Athos had little recollection of when he'd passed out, but knew that he'd managed to outlast both of his friends, Aramis succumbing first, followed quite some time later by Porthos. He remembered vaguely thinking that their positions were uncomfortable and that he should rearrange their loose limbs, but by then he'd lacked both the motivation and coordination necessary to accomplish the task. So he continued to drink, relishing the way the world around him grew softer, dulling the harsh edges of a reality that he sought so desperately to escape. But no matter how much wine he'd consumed the hollowness in his chest had remained, making him grateful when his body finally fell unconscious, offering him a short reprieve from facing life without d'Artagnan by his side.
He'd been shocked when Treville appeared with the Gascon, certain that he was trapped in a horrible hallucination brought on by the wine. Even now, one hand remained on the boy's forearm, holding on to him lest he disappear again. Athos found himself drawing a shaky breath as the fears from before returned, muted in their intensity, but still sharp enough to make him want to wrap the boy in his arms and ensure that he never came to harm again. He looked away from the young man for a moment to compose himself, surprised to find Porthos' eyes on him as the man slowly pushed himself upright.
Porthos' face wore a knowing grin as he spoke softly, "Has a way of gettin' under your skin, doesn't he?"
Athos couldn't help but offer a small smile in return as he nodded. "Has he been awake at all?"
"No," Athos replied, eyes darting to lightening sky outside the window. "I was thinking we should try to wake him soon."
Porthos nodded in agreement, rising to take care of his morning needs. "Let Aramis sleep a bit longer and I'll go find something for breakfast. If d'Artagnan's still asleep then, we'll try to wake him."
Athos remained at the young man's side as he idly listened to Porthos moving around the room, followed by his retreating footfalls outside as he departed for the kitchen. He was grateful for the quiet time he'd had at the Gascon's side and hoped that the peace he'd found there wouldn't be dashed when they tried to wake the young man. Several minutes later Porthos returned with a covered tray, which he placed on the table before moving to Aramis' side to wake him. With a warm hand on the nape of the medic's neck, he exerted gentle pressure to keep the man from jumping upright, knowing his friend would be stiff and sore from his awkward position. "Aramis, it's morning. Time to see if we can wake d'Artagnan." Porthos could feel the body beneath his hand tense momentarily and then relax once more as Aramis realized where he was and who had spoken. Opening his eyes, he gave a small nod, the larger man repositioning his hand to his friend's shoulder to slowly guide him upright. Aramis gave him a smile of gratitude which shifted to a wince moments later as his back and neck muscles protested and his head joined in to remind him of the alcohol he'd consumed. As he raised a hand to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, Porthos' hand returned to the nape of his neck accompanied by a soft chuckle, "You really should know better by now, Aramis."
The medic's hand dropped to his lap as he glared up at his friend, the effect ruined by the fact that he had to squint as his headache spiked, "Are you referring to how much I drank or my sleeping position?"
Porthos simply grinned back and shrugged, his hand squeezing gently at the tense muscles beneath his hand. "I brought breakfast and we want to try waking the lad. Do you want to eat first?"
Aramis' face took on a decidedly green cast as he struggled to his feet, extending a hand for Porthos to help pull him upwards. "Let me take care of my needs and then we'll wake the boy."
Athos had watched the exchange between the two with fondness, the carefree ribbing a welcome return to the normalcy that had eluded them while the Gascon had been missing. Aramis finished quickly, splashing some of the cool water from the basin over his face and pulling his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame the wild curls. When he returned to his seat, the other two were waiting impatiently, all of them anxious to see the young man awake so they could confirm that he was alright and finally get some answers about his disappearance. Aramis met Athos' gaze and gave him a nod of encouragement, the older man leaning forward with a hand on the young man's shoulder as he spoke, "d'Artagnan, it's morning. Time for you to wake up." The men waited with bated breath for any sign of movement. When nothing happened, Athos shifted his hand to cup the young man's cheek and tried again, "d'Artagnan, you've been asleep long enough. Please, open your eyes."
Once more, the men watched and Aramis pointed to the twitch of the young man's fingers, followed by his furrowed brow. He reached for a cloth and rewet it in the basin that still sat next to the bed, wiping it slowing across the young man's forehead to bring him closer to awareness. d'Artagnan tried to move away but Athos' hand on his face stopped him, and he let out a low moan of discomfort. "Come on, lad, you can do it," Porthos encouraged. He was rewarded as d'Artagnan's eyelids lifted, treating them to a momentary view of his dark eyes before they began to close again.
"Uh, uh," Aramis cajoled, "you need to stay awake for a bit."
d'Artagnan complied as he propped his eyes open again, this time scanning his surroundings to identify the source of the voice he'd heard. Athos moved closer, positioning himself over the boy's head, waiting for recognition to dawn. "'thos?" he slurred.
Athos couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him as he smiled down at the young man and nodded, "Yes, welcome back, d'Artagnan."
The Gascon's brow furrowed as he asked, "Was I away?"
Porthos huffed at the boy's comment and Aramis smiled as Athos answered, "You were, but the important thing is that you're back now."
Aramis pulled d'Artagnan's attention away from Athos, his healer's instincts coming to the fore, "d'Artagnan, how are you feeling?"
The Gascon rolled his head to the side, blinking to focus on the medic, a small smile gracing his face. "'Mis," he breathed out.
Aramis couldn't help but smile at the boy's somewhat goofy expression, clearly still not fully aware but obviously pleased to be surrounded by his friends. "d'Artagnan," he tried again, "can you tell me what hurts?"
The young man looked confused for another moment before he pulled in a deep breath, "Did I hit my head?" His right hand was beginning to reach for his head, and Athos captured it in his own, keeping hold of it as Aramis explained.
"Yes, it looks like someone hit you. Does it hurt much?"
"Mmm," d'Artagnan hummed, tongue darting out to lick dry lips as his eyes drifted closed. Porthos saw the movement and was up before anyone could ask, pouring a cup of water for the young man.
Aramis tapped at the Gascon's cheek, prompting him to open his eyes once more. Taking the cup from Porthos' hands, he eased his other hand beneath the boy's head and lifted it slightly off the pillow, bringing the water forward so d'Artagnan could drink. He swallowed gratefully until Aramis pulled the cup away, replacing his head on the pillow. "Better?"
d'Artagnan gave an abbreviated nod, stopping when the motion intensified the ache in his head. "Best not to do that for now. You have a concussion," Aramis explained. "Do you hurt anywhere else?"
"Just my chest, but it's not bad," the Gascon replied, eyes moving lazily to Porthos, giving his friend a small grin, and then landing on Athos.
"d'Artagnan, what do you remember of what happened to you?" Athos asked, seeing that he had the young man's attention.
d'Artagnan was quiet and then bit his lip, a familiar sign to his friends that the boy was collecting his thoughts. "Someone came to the garrison," he paused as he struggled to remember. "It was supposed to be a message from Constance but wasn't, it was a trap," he broke off again, blinking slowly. "They drugged the water."
Aramis frowned at the boy's comment, "What do you mean, they drugged the water?"
d'Artagnan's gaze moved to the medic's as he replied, "Gave me water but it was drugged. Didn't drink anymore after that."
The three men exchanged confused looks at the Gascon's disjointed comments, "So when did you get hit in the head?" Porthos asked.
"In the alley," the young man answered, "and the shack." He gave a little shudder as he recalled the stench of the building he'd been kept in. "Smelled really bad."
Athos took a breath as he reminded himself that the boy was still disoriented from how he'd been treated and was not intentionally trying to confuse them. "d'Artagnan, are you saying that you suffered two strikes to the head?' The young man gave a careful nod. "And, the shack where they held you," another nod, "smelled?"
"Yeah, that's what I said," the boy breathed out, eyelids beginning to droop again.
"Can you tell us anything about the men who took you?" Athos prompted, hoping to get some usable information before the Gascon fell asleep again.
d'Artagnan's brow furrowed as he recalled the man's words, "Paid to keep me alive."
"Who?" Porthos questioned, "Who paid them to keep you alive?"
d'Artagnan shook his head wearily, "Never said."
Aramis gave Athos a meaningful look, indicating that they needed to stop soon. Athos gave a dip of his head in understanding as he asked, "d'Artagnan, I know you're tired and we'll let you rest soon. Just tell us, how did you escape?"
"Didn't," the Gascon answered softly, "didn't think I'd make it back."
Porthos squeezed d'Artagnan's ankle, trying to keep him aware for a few moments longer, "You made it back and you're safe, lad. But how did you get away?"
"Didn't," he answered again, eyes slipping closed once more.
Aramis intervened before either of his friends could push further, standing and giving both of them a warning look to let the boy rest. Athos and Porthos followed Aramis the few steps to the small table so they could speak without disturbing the young man. Athos threw the medic an inquiring look. "He seems fine. Confused, but that's normal given his numerous head wounds in such a short amount of time. The most important thing is that he recognized us and was able to recall most of what happened to him. Now he just needs some proper rest and good food."
"What do you think he meant when he said he didn't escape?" Porthos questioned, puzzlement coloring his words. "How else would he get back here unless they let him go and delivered him to the garrison themselves?" He'd meant the comment to be sarcastic but the looks on both men's faces indicated that they were considering the possibility that he was correct. "Nah, you don't really think they brought him back after kidnappin' him?"
Aramis gave a half shrug as Athos offered a curt nod, "If they did, then one can assume that they did so for a reason, and one of which were are not yet aware." As his two friends processed the implication of his words, he said, "Treville will want to know what we've learned." He turned to leave, sharing a last look with the two men.
Porthos nodded, "Don't worry, we ain't going nowhere. He's safe with us." They watched the older man leave, Porthos turning to the medic whose gaze had returned to the Gascon. "You really think someone kidnapped him just to get him out of the way for a few days?"
"It's certainly possible, although I admit that the potential motive for such an act completely eludes me," Aramis confessed.
"If that is what happened, the boy could still be at risk. We'll need to keep a close eye on him, especially once he starts feelin' better," Porthos stated, recalling well the young man's low tolerance for inactivity and boredom when he was recovering from injury.
Aramis gave a small smile at his friend's words, Porthos clapping him gently on the back. "Come on, I brought food and you need to eat something to sop up what's left of that wine in your belly." He made the medic sit down at the table before taking the seat across from him, and the two men ate as they waited for Athos to return.
The Captain was working his way through the seemingly never-ending paperwork that accompanied his position, the task taking considerably longer than normal due to the lack of sleep he'd gotten the previous night and the distraction of his thoughts which stubbornly turned back to the Gascon's mysterious appearance every time his focus slipped. Putting down the piece of parchment in his hand, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he allowed his mind to roam freely, invariably conjuring images of d'Artagnan's bedraggled form. While he knew that the young man needed some time to recuperate, he was getting impatient for some news about the events surrounding the boy's disappearance. Was this part of something larger? If so, who was at risk? Instead of wading through administrative affairs, should he instead be preparing for some unknown enemy? The questions he had far outweighed the information available and he chafed, frustrated at having to wait for the Gascon to awake, his soldier's instincts tugging at him insistently, telling him that there was more going on than met the eye.
His ruminations were interrupted by a knock at his door and he sighed before calling out permission to enter. When he saw who it was, he straightened in his chair, hoping that he might finally get some of the information he was seeking.
"Good morning, Captain," Athos greeted politely. "d'Artagnan was awake briefly, and while his thoughts are still muddied, he was able to share some of what transpired." Treville gave a tilt of his head in acknowledgement and waited for his lieutenant to proceed. "It appears that he was lured from the garrison under the guise of receiving a message from Madame Bonacieux. When they had him alone in an alley, they rendered him unconscious and took him to a building of some sort." Athos paused as he considered the Gascon's words about the smell, and decided to omit them since they added little value to his report. "From what d'Artagnan shared, we surmise that he's suffered at least two head wounds and was drugged at some point. The combination has left him confused."
Athos stopped again, considering his next words and the Captain waited patiently, sensing that the man had more to say. Drawing a deep breath, he continued, "The most disturbing fact is that he seems convinced that he didn't escape his captors. If that's true, then I'm at a loss to explain why he was taken in the first place."
As he processed Athos' words, Treville knew intuitively this was the exactly the type of news he'd been waiting for, uneasy that something strange was going on, but with no idea what to expect until his lieutenant had spoken. "Do you believe d'Artagnan will be able to add anything more once his mind clears?"
Athos hesitated a moment before shaking his head, "I truly do not believe he knows anything else that will help."
The Captain could see the regret in the Musketeer's eyes, but had expected the reply he'd received. "Do not worry yourself, Athos. How is d'Artagnan doing otherwise?"
"Well," Athos answered, "Aramis believes that, with some rest and food, he'll be just fine."
Treville nodded, "Good. Why don't you return to him and let me know if you find out anything more later. I'll keep you all off duty for now."
Athos gave a grateful tilt of his head and exited the office, the Captain watching his back as he left. Treville let a soft sigh escape as he let himself slump into the chair once more, the news Athos' had shared weighing on him. There was still nothing to indicate the presence of a threat and no real information upon which to base a plan of action and he found himself with the unhappy realization that his gut was still churning as he waited for the other shoe to drop.