Chapter 4

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"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship."
- Louisa May Alcott -

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The night was cold; the first frost of the approaching winter covered everything, making it shimmer in the full moon. Athos stood outside the tavern, deep in thought, tired to the bone but restless. The last twenty-four hours were eventful, more than he would have liked, but among all the tragedy, scare and pain, there was at least one good news brightening the heavy, gloomy atmosphere.
His eyes were transfixed by the glow created by the Earth's cool, pale companion, illuminating the dark sky. It seemed that the large face of the Moon was smiling at him tonight, telling him Fortune was smiling at him too. He felt as if he was seeing it for the first time…

"For love is a celestial harmony, of likely hearts compos'd of stars' concent, which join together in sweet sympathy, to work each other's joy and true content, which they have harbour'd since their first descent out of their heavenly bowers, where they did see and know each other here belov'd to be," (1) Aramis's soft, melodic voice interrupted the silence.

Athos grinned, without looking away from the object of his admiration.
"You still have it, brother," he stated. "Even your years in the monastery couldn't have rid you of your romantic disposition."
Aramis closed the tavern door behind him and joined his friend, smiling.
"One cannot rid oneself of something that is a part of his soul," he remarked.
"True," Athos agreed, finally glancing at him. "And you would be boring without it," he added with a smirk, making the musketeer chuckle.

"There must be a lot going on in your head right now," Aramis remarked, putting away the light-hearted tone.
Athos's bright eyes twinkled like diamonds, hypnotised by the Moon again.
"I feel like a ship on a sea in the middle of a storm," he replied, "battered by waves from all sides… and yet anchored safely to one spot… The movement awakens fear in me but at the same time, it fills me with a thrill I have never known."
Aramis smiled. "Parenthood is always frightening and exciting at the same time. And still, you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world," he said, his smile fading as he averted his eyes from his friend to the spectacle above them.

The Captain finally tore his eyes from the night sky and looked at his dear friend. Aramis's face was pale in the reflection of the moonlight and his eyes were sad.
"I'm sorry…" Athos said quietly.
Aramis turned his head, confused. "What for?" he asked.
"All the years I gave you a hard time for… " Athos paused, sighing, haunted by remorse. "I know you have suffered greatly for having to keep quiet about it."

About it… Athos wished he could have spoken directly, saying about your son, but he knew the street had ears even when deserted, and his friend's safety was more important to him.
A sad smile appeared on Aramis's face. "I know you've always had my best in mind," he acknowledged. "You had your own, inimitable way of expressing it, but I understood."
The Captain agreed, with a nod. In truth, there was something he had never told his friend and felt he needed to say.

"I think you are the strongest man I have ever known," he said quietly.
Aramis averted his eyes from the sky, genuinely surprised.
"It takes courage to dare enter a dangerous territory," Athos continued, "but a real strength having to deny what your heart desires the most and wear a brave smile despite it."
Aramis took his time to reply to the compliment. "Trust me, sometimes it's more difficult than facing your worst enemy," he said, with a sad smile. "But I'll never regret it."

Athos put a hand on his friend's shoulder; the simple gesture of support bringing comfort into Aramis's heart.
"I just came to lock up for the night," the Captain said then, shutting the door to the melancholy that settled over them. "I just…" His eyes wandered up to the Moon.
"Love does strange things to us all," Aramis remarked knowingly, sparks returning into his eyes, chasing away the sadness.

Athos chuckled, then subconsciously looked up at one of the tavern windows upstairs.
"Go." Aramis understood the meaning of the glance; he smiled. "I'll lock up."
The Captain smiled as well, patted him once more on his shoulder and then turned on his heel, but Aramis's voice stopped him.
"Athos…"
The Captain looked back, patiently waiting.
"I have no doubts that you will be a good father."

He didn't ask the question and yet was given the answer to it. The fear, worry and emotional turmoil… They all had one main reason, and Aramis managed to see through the haze in Athos's head and rationalise it for him, giving him an answer to the question he was subconsciously asking himself all day.
Before he could change his mind, Athos pulled his friend into a brotherly hug, relief and gratitude running in his veins in spades.

As the Captain disappeared inside the tavern, Aramis chuckled, then a sad sigh tore from his throat, transformed into a cloud of steam in the chilly air. He glanced at the night sky once more, then walked into the tavern and locked the door behind himself and another day.

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Athos was on his way to his temporary sleeping space. The tavern had gone quiet, the wounded cadets and musketeers healing in their sleep downstairs, and most of the rest of its temporary occupiers were resting in their rooms upstairs. The Captain's memory transported him briefly months back when he stepped into this place for the first time. It was a memory tainted by tragedy, but also of a new beginning of his life...

"Get some sleep, Brujon," Athos said quietly to the cadet, who was sitting in what was turned into a recovery room, at a solitary candle, watching over his injured comrades. He was accompanied by a musketeer and Rochelle from the refugee camp, keeping watch over the patients. "It's been a long two days."
"There's only Henri on guard here. I can't leave him alone in case…" The young man's words faded into the silence, disturbed only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
Athos smiled. "He won't be alone. Aramis will be here with him for a few hours. D'Artagnan and I will come to relieve them later, as will Madam D'Artagnan to relieve Rochelle."

Brujon still hesitated, casting a worried glance into the recovery room. At last, he nodded.
"Good night, Captain." He stood up from his chair before hearing his commander speak again.
"You've done very well last night…The world was falling apart around you, but your bravery and quick thinking saved lives where so many have been lost."

Since Clairmont's passing, Brujon managed to keep a straight face, helping and providing support wherever he could. However, Captain's words marked a new breaking point for him and his eyes filled with tears, against his will.
Athos saw the struggle in the young man's face. The boy who had started his training in the garrison not long before the musketeers returned from the war grew up into a man meanwhile. Still, the events of the last twenty-four hours tested him to his limit. Athos's hand reached for the back of the cadet's skull, cradling it like a father would when comforting his son.

"Clairmont is at peace now," he said quietly, his eyes showing compassion and understanding, knowing how close the two friends were. "He was a good cadet, a good and honest man who would have made a great musketeer… You will never forget him or any of those who fell last night. None of us ever will."
Brujon's resolve finally crumbled as his chest started heaving, in an attempt to keep composure. Athos kept his hand in its place, steadying the cadet as much as he could.
"You're not alone, Brujon," he whispered, smiling, although his heart was aching, too.
The cadet raised his teary eyes to his commander.

"A musketeer is never alone, Brujon. Remember that…"
A grateful smile returned to his face, chasing away the tears, as Aramis's voice emerged in his memory from his early garrison days. He nodded, holding the Captain's encouraging gaze.

Athos patted his head once more before dropping his hand and watching the cadet leave, his burden lightened by a fraction. He sighed and just before going upstairs as well, he noticed Aramis standing nearby, leaning against the wall. Both friends smiled at each other before Athos started ascending the staircase, following the call of his fatigue – and his heart.

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"It's so quiet," Sylvie pondered, looking out of the window into the night. "It's almost as if nothing ever happened."
"Things happen but life has to go on. Even in Paris," Athos replied, with a tired voice.

She turned around to see his face, illuminated by the warm candle flame, and watched him take off his leather jacket, which then joined the sword, dagger and pistol already lying on the table next to him. As Athos's smile slowly faded, Sylvie noticed the sadness and melancholy reappear in his eyes, adding a few more fine lines around them. He still hadn't had the time to process the immense loss he had suffered within the past week. Danger was breathing on their necks every day, leaving them no time for recovery.
She walked over to stand by his side and reached for his hand, locking it securely with hers.

Athos smiled and lifted his eyes to her. So much had happened to them in the past couple of weeks, much more than some other people would experience in their lifetime. The range of emotions he had gone through was extensive and exhausting. And yet, when his eyes found that warm, loving gaze again, his weary soul ignited with new life. He couldn't keep his hand from diving into her long hair, slowly gliding toward her face, and his thumb from tracing her cheek. He did it countless times before and still, it felt new and miraculous each time. The joyful spark got covered by a shadow a moment later, though.

"You should rest," he said, his eyes glancing at her tummy, with care.
"What is it?" Sylvie asked, ignoring his remark. The way she looked at him left no room for excuses.
Athos sighed, then pulled both her hands to his mouth and kissed them, studying her wrists for a beat – they were still marked by the rope ties from earlier that day. He winced, then slowly dropped them and sat down on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees as if needing some support with the imaginary load on his shoulders.

"You asked me once what life do I want," he started, his eyes fixed ahead.
Sylvie nodded, their conversation embedded in her memory like all others they had in the past. She sat down next to him and watched him intently.
"I didn't reply back then, but the truth is, I knew the answer already," Athos continued. Lifting his eyes, he met her curious but calm gaze. It seemed as if she wasn't even surprised by his revelation. "The problem was that I wasn't sure if I was ready for it. I wasn't sure if it wasn't… too soon." He exhaled loudly, and shook his head, searching for the right words.

"Being a musketeer gave my life a real purpose. It filled the hole in my soul, gave me great friends, a family that I never truly felt I had. Defending my King and country was all I thought I was good at, and never questioned if it was also how I wanted to spend my whole life."
"But?" Sylvie inquired after he paused, her mouth half-opened now as she was engrossed in his words.
"But for a while now, I have been questioning it and started thinking it is not. In fact, after today, I know it for sure."
She still wasn't surprised about it, only curious about what it was hat Athos really wanted. However, mentioning today gave a hint to the possible answer.

"What life do you want then?" she encouraged him calmly, the same way she did back then. Once again, the Captain admired her honest and patient curiosity. He turned his head to look into her eyes.
"A simpler life," he answered. "Calmer, less restricted by duties I can never question. More open to making my own decisions and living a life that is purposeful and fulfilling but away from constant danger. A life somewhere away from Paris, in the countryside, not too far away but somewhere more peaceful…"
His eyes spoke of the yearning he had been secretly hiding for a while.
"With the woman I love by my side."

Sylvie felt it coming but when it came, a jolt of happiness ran through her anyway. She smiled, fascinated by the eloquent look in his deep, blue eyes. They were bright, calm and determined, leaving no questions about any doubts or uncertainty about his intention and the identity of the woman. For some time, she had had the feeling that Athos needed a proper rest for a while, but she never thought he would wish to give up being a musketeer. True, he could defend justice and help people in other ways, but still… It had been a significant part of his life for so long…

"Would you ever want to come back?" she asked, momentarily putting aside her thrill and genuinely interested. "To be a musketeer again?"
"I don't know." Athos shook his head. "Perhaps, one day…" He straightened himself up and took hold of her hands again. "What I want now is to wake up every day next to you without having to rush off somewhere, to watch our child grow day by day and teach it about life and love… Damnit, I could even dig up some earth and grow vegetables!" That last prospect made Sylvie laugh.
"And we could give it to the poor then!" she added, still amused but getting swept up by the fantasy.
Athos snorted and leaned his forehead against hers. His eyes regarded incredulously her tummy again; then his wide smile slowly faded and the joyful sparks in his eyes vanished.

Sylvie pulled back slightly and tilted her head, uncomprehending his sudden change of mood.
"Athos?" she asked. Their looks met again.
"I can't ask you to leave Paris only because I wish to do so," he said. "You have friends here; you do work that is important for you, for everyone…"
"So do you," Sylvie smiled, her hand lifting their joined hands to her chest.
"My place… our place is with you, wherever that may be," she stated the truth clear to both of them. "I have been driven away from my home by war. For years, I was an outcast until you became my home. Now we can create a home together. It doesn't matter where it is. As long as we are together; that's all that matters." Something glistened in Athos's eyes.
"Rochelle and some others can continue in what I've started. And I'm sure there are as many people in need or wanting to learn to read and write in the country as they are in Paris. Besides…" She raised her eyebrows, a sparkle of cheer returning into her gaze. "I am a country girl, remember?"

Athos chuckled again, a wondrous expression not leaving his face.
"Do you never doubt me?" he wanted to know, still amazed at her absolute trust in him, whichever path he led them on.
Sylvie's hand gently traced his stubbly cheek. "Not for a second," she replied earnestly. "From the first moment we met, you never gave me a reason to. You may have confused me once or twice, but I never doubted there was an explanation to clear it."
"I can't guarantee it will be easy," Athos continued, his heart swelling.
"When is life easy?" She shrugged and smiled. "That's why it's scary but beautiful."

Words deserted the Captain yet again. He was mentally and physically exhausted but the unwavering devotion and courage of the woman in front of him was a constant source of strength for him. He pulled Sylvie in his arms and breathed a sigh of relief. Her gentle hand stroked his head, softly and unhurried.

"When will you tell them?" she asked while her fingers played with the waves of his hair.
"Not before we are done with Grimaud," Athos replied, his relaxed features momentarily hardening at the mention of his Nemesis. "But first, I'll need to speak to someone else."

He went quiet, softly breathing into her long hair and finally letting all the emotions from the day sink in. There was a lot to think about and do still, but not that night. He needed a few hours of sleep before relieving Aramis on watch duty.

The dream would have to wait for a bit longer.

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(1) ―Edmund Spenser: Fowre Hymnes