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“D’Artagnan, I swear to God, I’m telling you Treville’s decision is final. You’re staying behind.”
“But I am not as injured as he thinks! I can-“
“D’Artagnan. You’re limping. You are still recuperating from your injury. You are too weak and would hold us back.”
Athos’ words stung. But they were true their last mission had not gone easily on the young Gascon, getting shot in the leg and circumstances preventing its immediate care resulting in an alarming amount of blood loss. Not only was he limping, but he still needed more rest, drink and food to continue to replenish his blood supply, as he was still sluggish and tired easily.
Aramis intervened, as only Aramis could.
“What Athos means to say is, when a Musketeer is recuperating, his job is to take care of himself so that as soon as he can, he can be one hundred percent capable of having his brother’s backs. I once thought as you did, but then realized I would feel horribly guilty if it was left to me to protect one of my brothers, and I fell short because I was physically not up to the task.”
That shut D’Artagnan up. Now that he was a Musketeer, he would rather die than put any of his brothers in danger.
“Well, then please manage to not get yourselves killed without me being there to protect you,” he smiled.
Athos smiled back. “No promises of course, but we will do our best. Now take care of yourself and although I know it’s unlikely, try your best not to drive Treville crazy in the interim. And while I also know that it’s against nature itself, try to stay out of harm’s way, as you are, after all, staying here to continue to mend.”
D’Artagnan smiled himself. “No promises of course, but I will do my best.”
“Good boy!” Porthos yelled out.
And they were on their way.
It was a task with middling risk at best, more of a diplomatic mission than anything, but all three Inséparables were sent just in case. The support of a local Viscount was at risk; Viscount Michel was occasionally vocal against King Louis, and this mission was, in one way or another, a manner in which to ameliorate Michel’s temper so as to repair any ill will between the Palace and Michel.
The biggest mistake that Treville had done was to inform D’Artagnan, who continually hounded Treville on the particulars of the mission (the Inséparables had no time to do so), of how long it should take. When could Porthos, Aramis, and Athos be expected back?
An hour after Treville’s estimate passed, D’Artagnan was at Treville’s office door.
Treville knew immediately the cause of the young Gascon’s visit.
“It was an estimate, at best, D’Artagnan. A week or so was what I had said. It’s now been a week and an hour.”
“I- I know, Captain; apologies. Just know that I am now fit and it needed I can go search for them.”
Treville resisted the urge to roll his eyes in front of the boy. “That will hardly be necessary. As the weather has been dreadful lately, any delays may simply be a result of them needing to take another course home, what with the roads probably in abominable shape.”
Another two days had passed. No returning Musketeers.
While Treville was just a bit concerned, he didn’t let it show. However D’Artagnan was beginning to aggravate him, as he insisted on asking Treville every few hours if he heard anything- was a missive sent, any messages at all?
And as it was gradually getting more difficult for Treville to hide his own personal worry for his men, D’Artagnan’s open concern grated on him all the more.
The boy had paid another visit.
“D’Artagnan, enough of this. If I hear of anything, I will inform you. But now you will cease to think of my office as one where you can just wander into without permission. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Captain,” D’Artagnan offered, crestfallen.
Another day and a half had passed. D’Artagnan found it the hardest thing to do not to march into Treville’s office and go after his brothers.
At around the same time, a messenger delivered a note from the Palace. Treville read it in his office and immediately went into a silent rage.
This is Rochefort’s doing, he thought to himself. As his stature amongst Louis was at an all-time low, Rochefort was no doubt watering the King’s ear, suggesting all sorts of menial tasks beneath someone of Treville’s stature, and here was another command that made him furious.
Treville was to personally deliver a letter to a local Marquess, something that should be relegated to a Musketeer at least. But the note stated that Louis insisted it be Treville.
What was worse was that Treville knew if he protested to the King with Rochefort present, he would simply twist his words to seem a petty complaint. And even if Rochefort was absent, he knew that for a while at least, he needed to grovel and do anything the King asked, in order to begin to get back into Louis’ good graces.
Dammit! He couldn’t recall when he had been angrier-
-until D’Artagnan came storming into his office.
“Captain! I cannot wait any longer. Please if I could just-“
“Oh, for God SAKES D’Artagnan- HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU? YOU WILL DO AS YOU ARE TOLD AND GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! IF I HAVE TO TELL YOU AGAIN THERE WILL BE SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES!”
D’Artagnan’s big brown eyes almost bulged out of their sockets.
“Did you collect the supplies from the market yet!?” Treville asked, pointedly.
“N-no, sir, I-“
“Then I suggest you do so immediately. Then report to the stables and STAY THERE until I say you can depart. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Captain.”
D’Artagnan, still looking terrified at Treville’s outburst, took off like a bandit.
Returning with the Garrison supplies from the market, D’Artagnan was still a wreck, worried about his brothers, humiliated for riling up Treville, and fuming over his own helplessness to help Porthos, Athos, and Aramis, who he was now convinced were in serious trouble. He couldn’t recall a time when he was so emotionally wound up.
Just then, seven Red Guard appeared in front of him.
“So- it’s the pup always running behind the Musketeers,” one of them said.
“I heard tell they are late in returning from their latest mission. How sad.”
D’Artagnan suddenly saw red. “What do you know of it?” he demanded.
The Red Guard exchanged looks at each other.
One of them, thinking himself clever, said, “Well, of course, we know why they are delayed. And you’re probably not going to like it,” he said with a self-satisfied smile.
“What happened? Tell me if you value your lives,” D’Artagnan growled.
Is this kid kidding?, one of them thought.
Might as well raise the stakes, the clever one mused. Looks as if this kid would believe anything- time to wind him up a bit more.
“Well, we know of it because we caused their delay. And they’re worse for wear as a result, I assure you.”
D’Artagnan, already an emotional maelstrom, suddenly lost control. “You- YOU- what did you-!” he shouted, suddenly throwing himself in the midst of the men, throwing wild punches at anything that moved.
The abrupt attack startled the Red Guard, but their temporary shock was soon overcome by the superiority of their numbers. Seven to one was, after all, pretty good odds.
Between D’Artagnan’s blinding anger, and the ratio of him-to Red Guard, D’Artagnan got in only a few shots before being overwhelmed by the men. Punches rained down on the boy, landing everywhere, until he was on the ground, defending himself by the blows and kicks to the head and body that relentlessly continued.
Just before he thought he would lose consciousness, he heard “that’s enough!” from one of them. What had started as a laugh of a battle was quickly becoming a serious beating of an outnumbered man.
Soon they marched off, laughing at the fool of a Musketeer who was naïve enough to get into a scramble for nothing.
D’Artagnan had the presence of mind to collect his supplies, return them to the Garrison, and make his way directly to the stables, as ordered. While bruised, he didn’t think anything was broken; just his pride hurt once again, being an idiot. Athos would be so proud.
Serge saw the boy in the stables. When he saw D’Artagnan’s condition, he asked what had occurred. After D’Artagnan briefed him, Serge looked him over and determined he looked worse than he was probably actually injured. Serge then went to tell Treville what had transpired.
Treville could only shake his head in astonishment at how much trouble a single man could get himself into on his own.
About an hour later, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were standing in Treville’s office, fit as a fiddle.
“So it was as I anticipated. The roads were impassable,” Treville said.
“And twice when we meant to send you a missive to that effect, we were certain that the situation turned favorable to continue back, only it wasn’t. Otherwise we would have informed you,” Aramis said.
“No matter. And by your recounting of the dealings with the Viscount, it seems all went well.”
“Yes, Captain. That, also, took a bit longer than expected, but it all worked out in the end.”
“Alright. Now I have to tell you about D’Artagnan.”
“Oh no,” Athos could not help but blurt out.
“First of all, I should order additional hazard pay for having to put up with him. I didn’t realize how grateful I should be for you to normally provide the buffer you do between him and me.”
The three Inséparables said nothing, but the knowing smiles on their faces said it all.
“Suffice to say, he was beside himself with worry after the first week you left. He drove me insane with his relentless harassment of me, asking to follow you to help, and in general driving me crazy. I was on my last nerve when he came storming into my office for the thousandth time asking on you three.
“I lost my temper and ordered him to the stables, where if he knows what’s good for him, is where you will find him now. I know it’s been a long journey but once you get cleaned up and eat something, I would take it as a personal favor to inform him you’re back and let him know that I said he can leave the stables now.”
Athos spoke up. “Actually, we have been local for almost a day, having stopped at an Inn late last night once we were too tired to continue. We managed to have baths, a good meal, and a rest at the Inn, so we are good.”
“Fine. Just- I feel bad about my losing my temper at the boy. As it was, my anger was not only fueled by D’Artagnan, but he bore the weight of my scorn.”
“We’ll see ‘im right now, Captain,” Porthos promised.
“One last thing. D’Artagnan got into a scrape with about half a dozen Red Guard earlier. According to what he told Serge, they were taunting him, pretending to not only know what had occurred to the three of you, but that they were responsible for your demise. For reasons beyond understanding, D’Artagnan believed them, and attempted to take them on. He’s apparently a little worse for wear as a result. Aramis, a quick inspection of the boy would probably be a good idea.”
“He has yet to learn head over heart, it is obvious,” Athos said.
“But let’s not take that out on him today,” Treville replied. “Athos, you know I am loathe to instruct you on how to train or reprimand your men, but I would take it as a personal favor to me to go easy on the boy. Just for today,” Treville said.
Athos nodded. As they got ready to take their leave, Treville called out to all three of them, “Gentlemen.”
All three turned to their Captain.
“He loves the three of you very much.” Treville was wearing a tired smile as he said it.
“As do we,” Aramis replied.
As expected, they found him tending the horses in the stables.
“Look at this, boys- we leave him alone to mend for less than two weeks, an’ ‘e looks worse than when we left ‘im!” Porthos announced.
The look on D’Artagnan’s face when he turned to see his older brothers was priceless.
“You-you’re BACK!”, he yelped, rushing into Aramis’ arms, then Porthos’. Both hugs caused a hiss of pain to emit from the boy’s mouth.
“Yes, we had a burning suspicion that you may have razed the Garrison to the ground left to your own devices,” Aramis said.
Since he had indeed made a mess of things while they were away, inspiring Treville’s wrath, D’Artagnan could only manage an uncomfortable smile at that.
He also had his bad behavior in mind to know not to expect any warm greeting from Athos, who would be entirely justified in chiding him about how poorly he had acted in their absence. However, Athos was smiling, so perhaps…
But needs must in terms of first ensuring his brothers were alright. “So- all is well? The mission was a success?” He asked.
“One hundred percent success. Went off without a hitch,” Athos responded.
“Then why are you so late in returning?!?!?” D’Artagnan demanded, suddenly angry at them. He punched Aramis in the arm, hard.
The switch to happy relief, to indignant rage, was initially shocking, but eventually too adorable for any of the Inséparables to prevent smiles from breaking out all around.
However they did not wish to minimize their younger brother’s very real concern over them. Athos replied, “We do apologize for any worry that we may have caused. The –negotiations went on longer than anticipated, and then the roads were impassable and therefore caused unforeseen delays.”
During this explanation, Aramis was manhandling D’Artagnan, turning his face to and fro to determine the extent of his injuries. He asked D’Artagnan to give him some deep breaths while he held his hands to his chest. He did so.
“Really, I’m fine, Aramis.”
“Alright for now. Another day we will discuss how to tune out any Red Guard taunts; in any case, Treville told us to inform you that your stable duty banishment is over.”
“Um- are you sure?”
“What do ya mean?” Porthos asked.
“Well, um, he- he was really, really angry with me,” D’Artagnan admitted.
“All is forgiven. You can trust us. However…that is not what Treville is mad at you for now, anyway.” Aramis shot a wordless glance at Porthos and Athos that read, just go along.
“Wait! What do you mean? What did I do now?”
Porthos picked up the ball.
“Oh, it ain’t what you did, pup, it’s what you forgot to do. Isn’t that right, Athos?”
While Athos was not of the mind to mercilessly torture the boy at the moment, he also knew enough to play along with his brothers once they got into this mischievous mood. Really, they could not ever seem to help themselves, especially when it concerned the young Gascon.
The pleading look of terror that D’Artagnan threw Athos almost made him choke up laughing.
So Athos replied, “Oh, of course. D’Artagnan, think. What was it that Treville told you that you need to do, and haven’t?”
The boy struggling to recall a task that did not exist was enough to have the three men very amused.
“I- I don’t remember! Oh no! What did I forget now? Treville will have my hide!”
“C’mon, pup- what are you forgetting?” Porthos asked.
“If I forgot it, how am I supposed to remember it!??!?,” D’Artagnan spat back, now furious as well as terrified.
Athos said, “Alright, alright, enough- I cannot allow this poor boy to suffer any more. D’Artagnan, we are kidding. There was no order from Treville.”
D’Artagnan launched himself at Porthos and punched him in the shoulder. “I’m going to kill you!” But the trace of a smirk had already started to appear on his face, and all Porthos did was pull him into a bear hug, prompting a slight whimper of pain from the boy.
“Sorry, pup.”
D’Artagnan just paused and said, “I really am gullible, aren’t I?”
“We’ll work on that,” Athos promised.