Chapter 4

Everyone, thank you so much for your reviews, they make for a good incentive to write J

Author's Note: Okay. So this chapter is angsty and pretty much plotless. Some characters may seem slightly OOC.

The infirmary has an anxious feel to it. Blood, sweat and tears have been spilt in this room, and the putrid smell they leave is barely masked by the too heavy scent of herbs. Men come here to die. You can feel it in your bones when you enter. Right now, though, the anxiety in the room has little to do with the sad history of the room. It is the two musketeers who stand facing each other, separated only by a bed, that notches up the tension.

d'Artagnan has yet to speak to Athos. In stubborn denial of the need to have this conversation, he presses his lips together. He has never been one to give in easily.

"d'Artagnan." Athos speaks, sacrificing his own dignity to start the conversation. "I said something, or did something some weeks ago to hurt you. I would like to know what it is."

"You honestly don't remember?" d'Artagnan can't help it. The very thought that the words that have been on his mind constantly are not even important enough to remember for his mentor is terrifying.

"No. I did tell you so before." There is a strange sort of desperation in the Comte's voice. d'Artagnan sniffs haughtily, ignoring mentor's silent plea for an answer.

"I'm sure it will come back to you." He says. There's an irrational anger in the Gascon's bones, and it is proving difficult to squash. Now, for the first time, Athos seems to lose his patience.

"Do you think I haven't tried?" He rants, "I've been trying to remember for the past fortnight, but there is just… nothing."

"I just… I think it might be better if you remember on your own." d'Artagnan voices hesitantly.

"I doubt that will happen very soon." Athos replies.

Right now they have reached an impasse. An important one, too. It gets on Athos' nerves and he's speaking before he can stop himself. Impatience is clear in his voice. He is tired, hung over and he wants to get this over with. So, he doesn't wait for d'Artagnan like he should have.

"So what exactly did I say that is so important?" Athos drawls, instead.

Something shifts in d'Artagnan. His entire stance changes, leaning over the empty bed. His eyes shoot fire as his voice goes low. Somehow in the few days that they were apart Athos has managed to forget how hot-headed the Gascon is. But there's a storm coming from him now, Athos can sense it.

"You want to know what you said? Well then, let me tell you what you said." d'Artagnan's voice is absolutely toxic, "You said that I'm not ready to be a Musketeer, that I am 'too emotional', too vulnerable and too young. Apparently I am not capable of seeing this terrible world for what it is, and therefore not mature enough for this regiment. You said that if I do not start looking at the world in a rational manner it will lead to not just my own death, but also that of those around me. You said - "

"That you are too reliant on us…" Athos whispers. Floaty memories come to the surface, a drunken haze filtering away all the light and the soft edges. A feeling of fear, terrible debilitating fear of losing this boy (no – man) that he has unwillingly let into his heart.

"I remember that I said that to you. That you are too reliant on us." Athos looks up at d'Artagnan questioningly, "Is that why you wanted to go on that mission alone? To prove you could do it on your own."

There is no answer from d'Artagnan, but that in itself is answer enough. Athos rubs his hand over his face, a headache is coming up, on top of the one he already had from his night of drinking.

"d'Artagnan…" he murmurs. "I am sorry if my words offended you. You must understand, however, that I was drunk at the time of this conversation. I meant nothing by it."

"Being drunk is not an excuse." d'Artagnan replies heatedly, "In my experience alcohol tends to make people more honest."

"While that may be true, nothing that I said is so extreme that I would not have uttered it sober." Athos states, still infuriatingly calm. He's trying to reason with the Gascon, to get their friendship back under control.

It is not strictly speaking true though, that everything Athos said would also have been said had the man been sober. d'Artagnan remembers with complete clarity the words after those questioning his skills as a musketeer. But those words, carved into his heart and echoing in his head, are not ones he is about to repeat. Still, that does not mean he does not remember them.

"You've not changed much since you got your father killed," d'Artagnan flinches, but Athos doesn't seem to notice, "You're too hot headed, and one day it will get us all killed."

"You don't mean that." d'Artagnan whispers, voice cracking. He can't bring himself to look into his mentor's eyes.

Athos leans closer then, his breath full of wine, and mumbles, "It all ends bloody d'Artagnan. We'll all die." At this point, the man grabs d'Artagnan's shoulders, pulling him so close that their noses almost touch. The younger musketeer wants to pull back and leave, but Athos' grip is surprisingly strong. d'Artagnan can no longer avoid looking into his mentor's eyes. "Remember that there is no dignity in that. There is no dignity in death…"

Finally, Athos' grip loosens, and d'Artagnan coils back like he's been burnt. He feels like he has. There is a great fiery hole where his heart used to be, and its smoke is making it difficult to breathe. He needs air. Now. Stumbling past a surprised Porthos, d'Artagnan flees.

Clearing his throat slightly, d'Artagnan asks, "Up until which moment do you remember, Athos?"

Athos' left eyebrow rises questioningly. "I remember telling you that you rely on us too much. Which, I admit, may have been a bit harsh. I do not recall you leaving." Now his left eyebrow falls along with his right one, plummeting into a worried frown, "Was there more that I said to you?"

If d'Artagnan shakes his head too quickly, Athos doesn't notice, too busy trying to recall the rest of his evening. The Gascon spends about half a second wondering why exactly he is not rubbing what his mentor said into his face, pointing out exactly how much the words 'since you got your father killed' echo in his mind and haunt his dreams.

When the chairs behind the door scrape, and Aramis murmurs something along the lines of 'they won't really kill us, Porthos, don't be silly', d'Artagnan remembers why.

Some things are unforgivable. Blaming d'Artagnan for his father's death, is one of those things.

On a subconscious level, he knows this. He knows Athos would never have said it, but the fact that he did, in such an offhand comment in his most vulnerable state, means that he does believe it. It's worse because d'Artagnan knows it's true.

Some things are unforgivable. Aramis and Porthos would never forgive Athos' words. Athos would never forgive Athos' words. The knowledge of those words would cause irreparable damage to the Inseparables' relationship, to Athos' self-esteem, and to d'Artagnan's dignity. Because, honestly, d'Artagnan is not sure he can repeat that conversation without a few tears.

And he does not want to cry, damn it. That would only further compromise his position as a musketeer.

So he leaves the words unsaid, and the conversation unremembered.

Instead, he feels his anger subsiding, leaving behind a cold emptiness as he looks up at his friend. "It is not about what is true and what is not. It's about you not trusting my abilities. Not trusting me."

Athos, feeling less guilty by the second, can't help his frustration at d'Artagnan. The boy is overreacting. Yes, he said a few things he wasn't proud of, but that is no reason for d'Artagnan to run off into danger because he feels somehow mistreated. Athos says as much.

"You're being childish, d'Artagnan. You know very well that we trust you, and you will not 'prove yourself' or whatever you are trying to do by running off alone and getting hurt. The only thing you've proven now is that you get hurt on your own." Athos had meant that to come out as something proving their brotherhood, proving that the four of them need each other to survive. Still he can't help thinking it comes out sounding more like he's scolding a child.

Full of indignation, d'Artagnan wants to deny his words. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises that this is not so much about the pain in his heart (it wasn't like it was news that he'd gotten his father killed) and more about proving himself.

Before he can get a word out, however, Aramis and Porthos casually walk through the infirmary door.

CBB SREETEKSUM EHT

d'Artagnan decides that if everyone is going to call him hot headed, he might as well act it. He punches Aramis in the face before he's even fully in the room. Just the Spaniard's luck that he is the first through the door. Or, more likely, Porthos' tactical approach.

To his credit, Aramis lets it happen with a shrug. Then he smirks.

"So have we got all the hurt feelings and angst out of the way?" he asks, way too cheerfully in Porthos' opinion. The larger man is watching d'Artagnan's hands. The Gascon may fit in him twice, but he packs a mean punch.

Athos and d'Artagnan reply simultaneously.

"Yes." The older man says.

"No!" the Gascon yells.

All three older musketeers turn to d'Artagnan, like three parents appraising a stubborn child.

"No?" Athos asks dimly.

"No!" d'Artagnan hadn't even felt his anger before he answered. "No, you're all treating this like it's nothing, like this can be talked away, but this isn't about just one evening!"

"It's not?" Porthos' question sounds like he's questioning whether his words are a statement or a query.

"Athos didn't mean what he said." Aramis asks, in what is probably supposed to be a helpful manner. It's not. "I'm sure he wasn't trying to hurt you."

And d'Artagnan knows that. He does.

He's struck with a sudden clarity when he realises the others do not understand what this is about. None of this is about his hurt feelings. Well, not completely anyway. This is not about whether Athos meant what he said. It's not about drunken truths or angry mentors at all. It's not about whether he got his father killed or not.

No, this is about that part in d'Artagnan that believes what the others tell him. That insecure part of him that takes their every word to heart.

It is about proving everyone wrong.

D'Artagnan is ready. He is capable of putting his mind over his emotions. And yes, he is going to prove to everyone that he is worth being called a musketeer.

"It's about how you all look at me, how you see me and act around me." d'Artagnan tries to explain, "The sheer fact that you feel it is necessary to give me constant advice, to accompany me everywhere… It's like you don't trust me."

He is met with incomprehension. The three musketeers share one of those infuriating looks that encompasses an entire conversation and makes everyone else in the room feel left out. Apparently they have come to a conclusion, because they all turn back to their youngest brother.

"We trust you d'Artagnan. You know that. You know more about us than most others would ever find out. We've laid our lives in your hands more than once. How can you doubt our trust in you?" Athos replies, there is some kind of frustration in his voice.

"It's still different than it is with the others though, isn't it?" d'Artagnan's voice is calmer now.

"It is because of rash things like this that we find it sometimes difficult to place our full confidence in you d'Artagnan. You will grow out of it."

"This is exactly what I mean." d'Artagnan growls with an irritated swing of this arms, "You treat me like I'm a child, but you expect me to be independent. You tell me I need to grow out of my ways, but you stop me from any attempt at changing myself… It..." He breaks off with an huff.

Aramis' words have more bite now, he is clearly being affected by the tense atmosphere in the room as he speaks, "It might help if you actually listened to our advice once in a while d'Artagnan. Sticking with us is still the best way to learn."

The Gascon has never really had many problems with criticism. His father was an honest man, and being the down-to-earth farmer that he was, he was not sparse with his critical responses. The Inseparables, too, usually do not mince their words, be they good or bad. But even for a stubborn mule like d'Artagnan, there is a only a certain amount of disapproval he can take.

Even as Aramis bites out his words, d'Artagnan feels his temper slipping from is grasp.

"I can't keep following you three around like a wounded puppy!" he spits the last part out.

The disapproval on the faces of the three musketeers almost make him take back his words. Then, realising full well that he's saying it with the intention to hurt he growls.

"Why don't you all realise that I don't need you anymore. Just because you feel the need to constantly belittle and dote on someone doesn't mean you should clutch me close and keep me from my full potential!"

The look of devastation and hurt on his brothers' faces make him flinch internally. That was harsh. But he can't help it, he needs some space, some air, some room to breathe. Because he's suffocating under their watchful eyes. His guilt is crushing him – 'since you killed your father', Athos' slurred words reverberate in his head with a constant stream of rainy skies and bleeding fathers… - and his brothers' compassion is smothering him.

Aramis' hurt quickly turns to anger, and his mouth opens to deliver a tongue-lashing when DuPont comes walking through the door. A look of surprise crosses his face when he sees the four musketeers crowding the small chamber and glaring death at each other.

With a surprised cough he turns to d'Artagnan, "Treville says we're to leave for the South of France in an hour."

It takes a moment for the words to mean something to the Gascon, but as soon as they've made their way through his hot anger, he nods. Right. The mission. Marie-Claire. A two-week journey without his brothers.

It's like a breath of air in a smoke-filled room.

Then DuPont turns to the three inseparables, "Treville wants you three to join us, to ensure Madame de Boirgeaux's safety."

Just like that, the air is gone.

Hahaha. So…. Nothing is resolved, and now everyone is angry. I'm sorry (not really). You have permission to hate me *waves awkwardly*.