Penultimate chapter! How did that happen!?

Chapter 18

Athos had come down with a fever that had scared the daylight out of the other three, but after a long day and equally long night containing of mumbles about his wife, thrashing and sweating in bed while his body tried to bake his brain, his fever had finally dropped, and Aramis felt himself exhale as Athos had finally opened his eyes. Aramis wasn't sure what had caused the fever to blossom – injury or mental illness, but he assumed that the wound reopening along with head injury coming back would cause concern, and then the grief and guilt Athos felt about losing Simone was not really helpful.

For the entire day, the three of them had watched over him as he restlessly trembled in bed, crying for his wife, mumbling his forgiveness. It was heartbreaking to listen to, and the three Musketeers had spent the day in silence, all of them deep in thought as they listened to Athos reliving his nightmare for a life, over and over again. They had tried to wake him, but it had been an impossible task. Instead they had settled at his side, cooling cloths and wiping the sweat off him, holding him down to keep him from hurting himself, and talking silently in an effort to ease his pain.

But it finally stopped during the night, Athos waking to meet their worried eyes and drink some of Aramis' potion, before falling asleep again from pure exhaustion. Athos slept on an off for two more days after that, before waking on the third day to declare he was good enough to ride home. He was ready to leave this place, the place where the roots to all his nightmares laid hidden underneath frozen ground. And they all felt the intense desire of returning to Paris, so on that third day, Porthos and d'Artagnan got their horses ready, leading them out. Athos and Aramis were both still weak, but stubborn minds decided that they would ride anyway.

And they were just about to leave for Paris when they all felt it. The presence of a person, and the sensation of being observed.

Athos felt it as a cold chill down his spine, and he knew what usually caused that exact feeling. Twirling his head around, it didn't take long before he saw her. Standing far off in the distance, up the short hill, just below the crooked tree. The very same tree from where she had been hanging from a noose. She was wearing a beautifully draped blue dress, the same light blue colour as her signature flower, and she was standing there so stoic, so radiant that Athos thought for sure he was just dreaming the whole scene.

He looked back over his shoulder towards his brothers.

"I have to talk her. Would you excuse me for a minute?"

"Do you need us?" Aramis asked carefully, already seated on top of Belle, Porthos still standing on the ground next to them. "For support, I mean?"

"No. I need time alone with her." Athos said quietly as he mounted Roger in a careful manner, not to injure himself further.

"Then we will grant you privacy. Shout if you change your mind." Porthos said, and Athos gave him a nod before he rode off, up the hill to his wife. He dismounted carefully, but his foot connecting to the ground still jarred his side. Sleeping had certainly helped with the nausea, even if Aramis had been angry with him for sleeping with a concussion. But he didn't show any pain outwards, instead he let Roger be as he walked up to Anne, staring down her eyes. She waited him out, allowing him the first words.

"I told you, if you ever showed your face again in Paris…" Athos began, not wanting to, but determined to go along with his threats. He was a man of his words, and he could not break a promise. The fact that he did not want to didn't have a say in the battle with his honour as a gentleman.

Anne looked him in the eye, and then she smiled softly.

"Well good thing then… We are not in Paris."

Athos was at a loss of words. She was right. He had said Paris in specific, and he, if anyone, knew what is was like to follow an order to the word but not the intent. Dammit, he had climbed out through a window not to break Treville's orders. Loophole. He didn't have to kill her. He probably should, but he could not, and he knew he would not unless he was absolutely forced to. He sighed, before words found him again.

"Why are you here? Last time you were in La Fére you burned down the house to erase the past. Then why return to the same land that you are trying to forget?"

Anne seemed to be musing on her answer before she too let out a sigh. "I miss what we had. I've tried, believe me, I've tried, but I cannot erase the past, because I don't want to. Those years we had together were the only time in my life when I was truthfully happy. And I know you were too."

"You tricked your way into my life."

"You sprung yourself at me the moment I stepped into town, I wouldn't even have had the time to trick you. I was no one, a pickpocket, a thief, a commoner, and you were a wealthy, gallant Comte. You know I resisted at first, but you would not let go of my hand. Maybe you were too drunk at the time to remember, but I remember every moment of our first meeting."

Athos felt himself take a deep breath. Of course he remembered it, like it had been yesterday. The sight of her had caused one of the biggest turning points in his life.

"You told me you were of noble birth. You deceived me."

"I was infatuated, emotions and my heart racing so fast that I could not keep up with them. I told you I was born from nobility because I did not want to lose you. I wasn't ready to let go of you. That was the only purpose of that lie."

"You never shared the truth. Then how can you expect me to believe anything else? To trust your word?"

"I was trying to protect our happiness! I did it for love! I lied about my past to keep you in my life, but everything else I ever said has been words spoken as true as your own." She took a breath before continuing. "My life before I met you was miserable, and my life without you has been even worse. If I could go back to that day, that awful evening, there are so many things I would change, only to still have you near me."

"For instance, you could've not killed my brother."

"It was self defence, and you know that. It was his very own dagger I used. I didn't carry one back then. Now I have two."

"You got a taste of it back then, and enjoyed it."

Anne's eyes narrowed in anger. "I do not enjoy killing, but I do what I have to do to get by. After Remy saved me I fled the country, moving to wherever the roads would take me. I met some very unfriendly people, but it was Sarazin who brought me in and helped me up on my feet when I was crawling in the dirt. He brought me to the Cardinal. I might've picked some pockets and stolen food from stands before I met you, never more than I needed to get by the days, but when you condemned me to the noose you broke my heart. I felt betrayed and most of all abandoned. I hated you, hated that your pride was higher in course than our love. Hated that you listened to the people of the town, hated that you still, still, after everything, defended Thomas. I hated you, for killing me. Maybe you didn't take my breath, but you crushed my life and shattered my soul."

Anne wasn't as much speaking anymore as she was spitting the words out into Athos' face, as he stood still, their eyes locked together, Athos not daring to move a muscle. As she finished, she focused on his eyes, and realized tears were welling up in them. He didn't cry, but his eyes were wet, just on the edge of breaking. None of them spoke for a long time before Athos managed to control his trembling heart, and hoping that his voice would keep steady.

"I hated myself too. For the same reasons. Every day since then I have wondered what would've happened if I had acted differently. If I had stopped Thomas when I had the chance. If I had saved you. There are so many things I wish I could've done differently. I miss you and I miss what we had. Not a single day has gone by where I haven't pictured you next to me. Things happen and I want to tell you about it. I find beautiful flowers along the road and I want to pick them for you to press. I still love you. But you did kill part of my family-"

"We could've been a family of our own, Athos. Our children could've grown up in the house, learning how to play with swords and ride their ponies."

Athos didn't say anything. Instead he lowered his head to take her hands into his. They had talked back then about starting their family, and for years they had tried, but that future was stolen from them before they even had a time to begin it. Anne squeezed his hands, and it made him look her in the eyes again. This time she spoke, it was not of anger, it was of hurt, and grief.

"I was pregnant, Athos. I found out just a few days earlier but didn't want to tell you until I was certain." She paused as Athos mouth fell open with surprise, and once again she squeezed his hands. "It didn't survive, I don't think I carried it all months necessary. The babe lived for a few minutes though before it went quiet in my arms. The midwife told me the stress I had been through killed him."

"Him?" Athos exhaled, barely daring to talk.

"It was a boy. A very small baby boy. Too small. Just… too small."

Athos had no words. He had been a father, even if just for a little moment, and even if he had been unaware. He had been a father. He had not only killed his wife, but he had also killed his son. Of course a pregnant woman would not have a normal pregnancy after a trauma such as hers.

Athos felt his world tumble around him, every damned lie he'd been telling himself to stay somewhat sane came rushing back to him in a fast speed, and he had to sit. He let go of her hands, and walked over to the tree, and sat down with his back leaned against it. She soon joined him, sitting down by his side, a gentle hand on his knee. He was breathing heavily, really having to focus to keep his control. Closing his eyes for a moment, he was cursing and instantly swatting with his hands at the tears coming down his cheeks.

When he finally felt like he was somewhat in control, he opened his eyes and once again focused on his wife. There were tears in her eyes as well, and she looked lost. They stared at each other for a moment before Athos opened his mouth to whisper.

"I'm sorry."

Anne swallowed hard. "So am I."

"Does this change anything?"

"I doubt it. We are still who we are, and nothing can change that now. I was on my way away from France when I heard that Isaac was causing mischief here. I wanted to meet him, you spoke of him so much, and we both found something mutual in the fact that you shattered both our futures. I did help him plot his plan, but I was angered when I found out he shot you. That was never part of my plan. I used to think I wanted you dead… But then when you played that little act on me… I realized I hate having you near me, but it's even worse not having you at all."

"Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair." *

Anne couldn't help but to smile. "You read that somewhere."

Athos nodded. "Yes. I can't remember from where."

"Athos…" Anne whispered his name as she squeezed his knee. "I've been at the end of your sword, yet you did not kill me. Why did you not do it?"

"Because you were right. I made you into what you are. I created the black hole where your heart once was, the same black hole where the devil now resides. I should be kneeling in front of you. I will not kill you unless I have to. But I gave my word. So please do not show yourself in Paris."

"Trust me Athos. You will not see me in Paris."

Anne rose to her feet by using Athos' knee as leverage. She ran her hands over her skirts, evening out the wrinkles before she flashed him a small smile. Athos heard her words and realized exactly what she meant. She'd be back one day, back into Paris, but he would not know of it. Probably not until it was too late.

Athos and Anne both looked down the hill to where his brothers still were; looking worried his direction, as people seemed to be arriving to see him off. Now they could see he was talking to her, and Anne knew that was her cue for leaving.

"I must bid farewell."

He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing onto her wrist, pulling her close against him and moving his hands to her cheeks as he pressed his lips against hers. It was a moment of complete passion, of emotions long lost in history rising up to stir at the surface. Everything around them was blurred out as they melted into each other, just for a moment, before Athos let her go. God, he missed her. Anne brought her thumb up to his lips to wipe off some lipstick from his lips, before she gave him a small smile, and disappeared out of sight.

Athos could hear the townsmen down by his brothers shouting, screaming of betrayal and dishonesty. Porthos was doing his best of keeping the townsmen under control, keeping them from running up the hill in chase of Milady. Athos came roaring down the hill, forcing them all back with the help of Roger before he dismounted. Letting go of Roger's reins, he could immediately see how the stallion pricked his ears and walked over to one of the older, raggedy men, and the man seemed to have completely forgotten why he was angry when he saw the horse he had bred many years earlier. Roger put his nose into the man's hands to cuddle with him.

Athos didn't have time for that though, the 40 or so men and women were all shouting from their top of their lungs, and about half of them seemed to be angry with Athos, and the other half seemed to be taking his side. The arguments and voices were loud and didn't seem to have an end to it – and Athos knew they would never settle this. The discussion about Thomas and Anne de Breuil had been going on for 10 years. It was not likely to stop anywhere soon. Then her killing him had not really put an end to the talk of the town. If anything, it had ten-folded.

Athos' head was spinning, and he was too tired to listen to them all. Every part of his body was hurting, both with emotional and physical pain. He was tired of listening to the same arguments that had forced him to have his wife killed, and he was tired of defending Thomas. That was something he would never say out loud though. Thomas was his brother by blood. That was the only reason to why Athos had never told anyone. He could not ruin the family name. He could not.

The voices were growing louder, screams echoing through Athos' skull. Murderess... Uphold the law… Criminal… Thomas… He never hurt a fly…

He couldn't take it anymore. He was done. He just wanted to leave. He wanted to grab Roger, get up and just gallop off the lands. But he could not do that. He had to stay here, and listen to the angry voices. Because listening to the fools of his town was his damned duty. Athos was just contemplating weather to stop the conversation and try to talk his way out of it, when someone jumped into the conversation for him.

"Thomas was not the saint you all think!"

Heads turned at the sound of d'Artagnan's voice echoing through the masses. The youngster was fed up with everyone speaking ill of his brother, and he had heard enough. He could see how Athos shrunk underneath their angry glares and their degrading words. He couldn't stand listening to it anymore.

"He was a rapist and murderer, and a disgrace to his family!"

It had an instant effect as several people shouted angrily about slander at the same time, but every voice was silenced by Athos' voice, roaming loudly through the open area.

"D'Artagnan!" Athos spat. Every word might be true, but Thomas had still been his brother, and he had sworn to protect him. He had already failed with protecting his life, but so far he had been able to protect the honour of his name.

D'Artagnan's head whipped around at the sound of his name, and by the bewildered look he received from Athos, he knew he had gone too far. It was not his place to disgrace Thomas' name in front of every person living in La Fére, and he had definitely stepped out of line. He instantly backed up a step, and lowered his head in recoil.

No words were spoken for several intense moments, Athos staring at d'Artagnan who would not meet his eyes, both of them breathing heavily, not having a clue of what to say. The lands of la Fére seemed to be holding its breath, until one of the men from the group stepped out, his back straight and head held high.

"My name is Antonie Victor. My daughter, Nicole, was abused before silenced by the hand of Thomas."

Another man stepped up to join his side, standing just as proud. "My name is Philippe Bonnett and my daughter was Pénélope. She too was slayed by his hands after attacked."

After that, there was no stopping the voices of fathers, brothers and even women who had all been touched by Thomas' ill manners. By the time the confessions came to a halt, twelve men and women stood by Athos' side, tall and stern, ready to defend Athos in every way possible. The other townsmen, who had spoken so ill of Athos beforehand, stood silenced in shock. One of them stepped forward, stopping only a few feet away from Athos and looked at him with stern eyes.

"Maybe I've never stood by your side, but if there is one thing I know, it's that you are a gentleman, and will not lie to me no matter the circumstances. So tell me, on your honour as Comte Olivier d'Athos de la Fére, and upon your honour as one of the King's Musketeers… Are these words spoken about Thomas true?"

Athos swallowed hard before a small nod escaped. "They are legitimate, yes. I paid for the silence of these men and women not to have Thomas' name dishonoured. It appears that I have failed in this concern."

There was an eerie silence where no one dared to speak. Athos had always disliked the loud noises, the shouts of anger and upset, high-pitched notes. But this… This completely, ear-deafening silence was even worse. He had no idea what to make of it, he had no idea what to say to change it, and basically he just had no idea what to do about it.

Porthos broke the stillness by putting a foot into his stirrup and heaving himself up on Flip. His movement made d'Artagnan flinch, and the youngster got up on Buttercup. Roger walked up to Athos, who mounted carefully as well, and the four men gathered their horses closely to each other. The support of his brothers by his side seemed to give him the support he needed to relieve the trance he'd been in.

"Thomas was a spoiled, ungrateful urchin who never did what he was told. He flaunted the family's riches, was constantly up to no good, and he was at the most untrustworthy. I covered for him, because he was my brother, and as an older brother it was my duty to protect him. But I could not, he was too much for me to handle, and I could not keep constant sight of him, especially not after my father died. He murdered 9 women. He attacked a great deal more. I couldn't stop them all. I did my best to cover up Thomas' tracks, mainly because I know how much you all loved him, and how devastated you would be upon having his name dragged through the dirt. Therefore I cleaned up. Until the day came where I could not do it – the day he attacked the wrong woman. The day he attacked my wife."

The conjoined sound of an entire group of people inhaling at the same time had Athos pause for a second before finding his words. This was news to them. They had no idea that he had attacked her, because Athos had never been allowed to explain anything before.

"Mon Comtesse, Anne de la Fére, killed Thomas, in self-defence, with his own knife, in her own bedroom. I tried then to tell you the true story, but none of you would hear of it. Instead you deceived me, found proof of her once being a pickpocket, a small time thief, and instantly associated that with her being a cold blooded murderess. The pressure from you was so great, that I never had time to be an honest judge of the situation. Instead I condemned my wife – my pregnant wife – to the noose. You all convinced me it was the right decision; you altered my brain to make me believe I did the right thing. And for almost six years, I held on to that belief, as the only way to keep me sane through the nightmare that has been my life. I know better now. And so do you."

Athos' people backed down, their heads bent low in shock and surprise. Athos sat straighter into his saddle.

"Be well. Until next time. Send word if you require my assistance."

And with those last words, Athos urged Roger into a walk, the other three horses following swiftly behind him, as the four of them left the grounds of La Fére.

*"Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair."

I'm not sure where Athos read it, but I know it from William Cowper, an English poet and hymnodist. He was born 100 years after this show takes place so I guess Athos can travel in time. Please just go with it because, darn, I love that quote.

And yeah, so this is kinda wrapping up how I always interpreted the Milathos relationship. I have a feeling I will be proved wrong in Season 2 but until then… I will imagine it like this. Cause I love Athos and Milady (aka Anne) and I think they would be absolutely epic together… :)