Thanks to everyone who is reading and leaving me comments, always appreciated. A bit of a longer chapter today. Porthos is thinking about his friends, and the good Doctor has a small breakthrough.
/
CHAPTER NINE
Musketeer Headquarters, Rue du Vieux Colombier, Paris
Porthos knocked lightly on Treville's door, waiting for the enter command. When it came, he stepped into the room, a mug of coffee in each hand, and a file tucked tightly under his arm.
"Mornin' Cap," Porthos said, placing one of the mugs gently on a coaster, and nursing the other one.
"Good morning, Porthos," Treville replied, genially. "How is it going out there?"
"It's quiet," Porthos chuckled.
"I imagine it is," Treville replied, picking up the mug and sitting back in his chair, waving Porthos to a chair. "But, busy?"
"Always," Porthos sighed, dropping the file on Treville's desk and proceeding to update his Captain on the progress of some of the cases they were dealing with. "Nothing on the ambush," he grunted, frustrated that their investigations had not borne fruit. "The warehouse was rented the month before, it was filled with what we now know was empty crates and boxes, some filled with polystyrene, hence the speed of the fire and the fumes. The trap was set and we've got nothing."
Treville grunted. He hated loose ends. "Well, don't give up."
Porthos huffed. Someone had tried to kill his friends. No way would he give up, but right now Treville was passing him another case.
"Sorry to add to your workload, but our criminal fraternity don't rest."
Porthos took a sip of his coffee, and then asked Treville what he had wanted to ask for the past four days.
"Do you think they'll be alright?"
It was the question Treville had expected him to ask much sooner. Porthos had the heart of a lion and this whole business had had him pacing the hospital corridors. He had only relaxed when they were both discharged but he had then seen what effect the whole business had had on his friend's relationship. It had left him a little lost.
Treville looked up. "Porthos, they are not children," he said, gently. "Despite appearances," he added.
Porthos grinned and rubbed the back of his head. "I know," he said. "It's just, well, I'd be champin' at the bit if I wasn't here for that long."
"They are well into their first week, they have two weeks left," Treville said. "And they need to heal, without distractions."
"Distractions like murder, mayhem and robberies," Porthos huffed.
"Exactly," Treville said. "Anyway, the decorators will be arriving soon, and they will have the place to themselves."
"Athos will be ok then, but Aramis will be climbin' the walls after a couple of hours, lookin' for someone to chat to," Porthos chuckled.
"He'll have Athos and Dr Kramer," Treville smiled.
"Yeah, as I was sayin', he'll be climbin' the walls," Porthos laughed. "Oh well, better get back to work. It won't do itself."
"Thank you, Porthos," Treville said, as he reached the door. "I appreciate you stepping up."
"That's alright. Can't have Athos complainin' the place has gone to pot when he comes back."
"Hopefully, they won't be thinking about work," Treville said, though they both knew that would be a hard task for both of their colleagues.
"Yeah, hopefully they'll be relaxing and enjoyin' all that mountain air," Porthos laughed, as he left, closing the door behind him and leaving Treville to hope the same.
/
Porthos need not have worried about his friends.
While Athos had completed a physio session to ease the damaged muscles around his knee and then taken his book to a quiet space in a secluded, shaded spot under the trees, resting his aching leg on a fallen tree trunk, Aramis was in his element, luxuriating in one of the hot tubs.
Athos had seen him heading that way, a towel around his shoulders and had rolled his eyes when Aramis had gesticulated for him to join him. He shook his head before pointedly returning to his book. Aramis had shrugged good-naturedly and proceeded to drop the towel from his shoulders and onto a bench, turn on the jets and climb in. Before dropping his head back and closing his eyes, he had given Athos a bright smile and a thumbs up. "Incorrigible," Athos had muttered. He was not impressed.
Not too long after, two women climbed happily into the tub next to his. They had a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Athos wondered idly if glasses were allowed, before one of the women called an attendant over and asked for another glass. It was not long before the three were in happy conversation, and Aramis was clinking a glass with them. He seemed to be entertaining them as only he could. Athos shook his head. The man was a magnet. His love of women was well known in the office but it may now have interfered with his duty, to which Athos was still trying to come to terms. Aramis's attitude had implications for their future in the field and was the reason for their current aloofness, certainly on his part.
After a while, Athos closed his book, distracted by the women's laughter. Aramis was entitled to his fun, but he didn't have to listen to it. Tucking the book under his arm, he made his way back into the building and to the peace of his room.
/
The days were quickly merging into each other, delineated by their mental health appointments. They had fallen into a quiet routine of eating, light gym exercise, walking and sleeping, interspaced with tests and medication reviews. For all that, there was an awkwardness between them that had not been there before their failed mission. At some point, Kramer would probably see them together but for the moment, he saw them on an individual basis.
Clientele had thinned to almost nothing, but despite that, Athos was looking forward to their seventh day, when they would be relatively alone. He would be able to wander anywhere without having to return answers to such questions as, 'How long are you here for?' 'How are you enjoying it?' and his favourite, 'Would you come again?' Hewas sure Aramis's answers would all be very positive, but his own (truthful) answers would be 'Too long,' 'Tolerably,' and'No.'
He was still counting the days to release. The trouble was, the days here went by very slowly.
/
Athos found himself once more in Dr Kramer' office, looking out of his window, back to the office, hands in his pockets. The doctor was certainly not wasting time. Athos had kept his appointments, albeit, reluctantly, though he rarely sat still for long, preferring to look out of the window at the magnificent view. He and Aramis did not compare notes, both having to digest their sessions with the good doctor. Having someone rummage around your thoughts could be a little disconcerting.
Kramer sat back in his chair and quietly observed him.
"Do you run this place yourself?" Athos asked, quietly, without turning around.
"No, not usually," the doctor replied. "We had a General Manager, Maria (Athos almost laughed), but she left us to work in Geneva. I'll appoint a replacement after the renovations, when we are back to normal function. I'd prefer to show applicants around a clinic in full operation. Martina is extremely useful though, and there is a small admin team."
"I understand,"Athos murmured.
"To tell you the truth," Kramer continued, thoughtfully, "I am looking forward to the contractors coming. It will give me an opportunity to sort out my office, with no appointments, Aramis and yourself excepted, of course. Your captain thought you would prefer us running on half speed," he added.
Non committal, Athos wandered across to look at the certificates on the wall, in German, Kramer's native language.
"I have French versions if you need a translation," Kramer said, very aware of Athos's scepticism with regard to the Doctor's profession and no doubt seeking to reassure him.
"Dafur liegt kein bedurfnis vor," (There is no need)," Athos said, before turning and going to sit in the chair at the other side of Kramer's desk, adrenalin expended.
"Ich verstehe schon." (I understand.") Kramer smiled. "You speak German," he added.
Athos tilted his head in acknowledgement.
"Is it a requirement of your work?" Kramer asked.
"No, but it is useful. We all speak another language. Aramis; Spanish, Porthos; English, and we all speak French, of course."
"And you, Athos?"
Athos sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as if contemplating what he would reply.
"French, German, English and a little Mandarin."
"Impressive," Kramer nodded slowly.
"Not really, Aramis has Spanish heritage, Porthos spent some of his military service in London."
"And you?" Kramer asked again.
Athos levelled his gaze at him. "Restaurant menus," he said.
Kramer gave a small laugh. "They must have been extensive," he replied.
"The Chinese ones certainly were," Athos replied, dusting some imaginary lint from his jacket. "The English ones, not so much," he shrugged.
"I can imagine," Kramer smiled, glancing at his watch, their latest sparring session ended.
Today, Kramer had asked for permission to record their sessions, and as Athos did not intend to divulge anything of a too personal nature, he had agreed. Kramer leaned forward and picked up the small voice-activated dictaphone and stated the date and session number before setting it on the desk top between them. Athos eyed it with distaste, but equally, he understood that it was an easier method, in view of Kramer's eye condition, for him to use instead of having to write copious notes.
"Why did you join The Musketeers, Athos?" Kramer began. "I am curious, you do not seem the type," he added softly, with a tilt of his head.
"What type were you expecting?" Athos replied, crossing his legs, and steepling his fingers, his elbows resting comfortably on the arms of the chair.
"Don't misunderstand," Kramer said. "I think the same about Aramis."
"Well, he is his own man," Athos replied, cryptically, not in the mood for throwing the doctor too many bones.
"And you?"
Athos merely offered him a glacial stare in response.
"You both have very different backgrounds?" Kramer continued.
"Doesn't everyone?"
"How are you both getting along?" Kramer diverted, aware of Athos's propensity to shut down any conversation he found intrusive.
"Well," Athos murmured. "We have complied with your tests, used the gym and pool, the sauna and steam room, but the latter did not help our breathing, as we thought it might."
"No, dry or hot air is not the best for your lung condition," Kramer replied.
"Just mountain air," Athos replied.
"Clean mountain air," Kramer emphasised with a smile.
There was a pause in the "conversation" and Athos's eyes drifted off back toward the window.
"Your tests results are improving," Kramer said. "Even after a week. You should both make full recoveries, if you continue to follow our advice and take advantage of our facilities."
"And the psycho-babble?" Athos said, turning to stare at Kramer.
When Kramer merely held his gaze, Athos sighed. "I am sorry, that was rude of me. I did not intend to denigrate your profession."
Kramer smiled and picked up a pen.
"You intrigue me," he finally said, tossing the pen back on the desk.
Athos raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. After a few moments silence, he rubbed his forehead impatiently;
"You wish to know why a man such as I, with a cultured voice and obvious good educational background, possibly with aristocratic ancestry, would follow a career path that involves danger, destruction and death?"
"Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, Athos, but it seems to me," he said, flipping open Athos's file, "that your superior knows very little about your background too, and yet you are in a highly sensitive and respected position within his organisation."
Athos rested his elbow on the chair arm and dropped his chin onto his hand, turning his head once more to stare out of the window.
"I see I will have to be more careful in what I say," he said, softly.
"I think you say exactly what you mean Athos," Kramer smiled, reaching forward and clicking the dictaphone off.
"Your profession necessitates split second decisions which can result in life or death, and that has been brought home to you recently in a very vivid way. You expect every man to do his duty, but that is different to trust. I think you are a man who does not trust easily, quickly or lightly. Aramis has shaken the trust you had placed in him. But, I believe you will both find your way through this."
Athos frowned and ran his hand over his beard.
"How?" he said, his confusion evident.
"When you can call Aramis your friend once more. Trust goes much deeper than association, Athos."
Kramer smiled. "You look tired. Let us both put down our weapons and retreat for the day."
Athos was quiet for a long moment, before he slowly stood, and then he did something that surprised Kramer, almost catching him off guard;
He held out his hand.
Kramer reached out and took it.
And then, Athos reached over and quietly closed the file on Kramer's desk, turned and left.
Kramer knew he had learned all he would about the man's background. Athos had thrown him a crumb, and that would be all he would ever say on it. It seemed that Athos de la Fere had a background that had been shaped by French aristocracy and to unravel that from the man's psyche would take more time than he could ever commit to, although he would love to have that time with this fascinating man. Athos was driven by duty, not entitlement. He believed that at some point, his trust had been betrayed in some way and when Aramis, who he had come to think of as a friend as well as a comrade, had disobeyed his order, with catastrophic results, he had been blind-sided to a degree that he found difficult to circumvent. However, he was confident that these two men, both very different in background and temperament, each had the strength of character to find their way through this.
Sometimes, it took a stranger to see the light that shone unbidden.
/
Thanks for reading!
I don't speak German, please forgive any errors in translation.