Epilogue

The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.

-
J. M. Barrie - Peter Pan

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The whetstone steadily sliced along the dagger. Motion and sound an almost meditative combination and Aramis was undecided whether he was being annoyed or soothed by it. He endured his mixed feelings for another five minutes before he suddenly spat. "Please, Athos. If you sharpen it any longer there won't be any more blade left."

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Athos continued, unimpressed. He threw him an indifferent glance, one eyebrow raised in a questioning manner, which Aramis answered with a bored shrug. "It's annoying."

"Why don't you train with Porthos?"

"He's busy."

Looking ahead they watched the spectacle of Porthos trying to teach Gaëtan how to fell an opponent by using low balance points. Tilting his head to the side, Aramis grinned and even Athos couldn't hide his amusement. It was like watching a sparrow trying to take on a bear.

Athos concentration turned to the entrance of the infirmary where the door opened and d'Artagnan appeared, leaning heavily against the doorframe, waving at something Constance said to him. Even from the distance, Aramis could see him roll his eyes, resulting in another rant of the cloth merchant's wife.

"I believed him lost even while he was breathing," Aramis uttered, his unexpected revelation finally causing Athos to stop his movements. "One would think that a man of faith should be able to practice that streak not just on a higher being but on his fellow men as well."

"Faith does not necessarily equal hope," Athos pointed out, resuming his sharpening. "An unswerving belief in God and in your fellow human is a wonderful trait but also an idealism we can't afford to nurture. Not excludingly so."

"That's because you always see the worst in your counterpart," Aramis snorted even though he knew Athos was right. Having faith didn't mean to believe that bad things would never happen. Faith was the ability to carry any burden of physical or emotional scarring with

"No, it's because we are able to choose the person we want to have faith in."

The drama in front of them got more tempered as d'Artagnan started to disagree with Constance's mother-henning, arms flying and bodies swaying until d'Artagnan faltered, falling against Constance, their noses almost touching. Quickly, they returned to a proper distance, not looking at each other, until d'Artagnan moved back into the infirmary, defeated. Constance following quickly.

Athos growled "He shouldn't be walking around yet, anyhow. Especially not without proper footwear."

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"It's not his fault his boots have been ruined. You should do something about that, you know?"

Aramis detected the almost imperceptible increase of strength in Athos' movement but there was no other sign of understanding. "Why do you think I should be the one doing something?"

"Because," Aramis grinned, "I know about the new pair of boots you've ordered at Madame Pince, which – probably by accident – have the same size as d'Artagnan's old ones. Strange coincidence, ai? Especially since they've been delivered at you two days ago."

"The boy shouldn't be walking around yet." Athos merely repeated gruffly.

"That's one way to keep him grounded." Aramis shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, almost missing Athos's smirk.

"Without boots to ground you, it's easier to fly."

Famous last words: *ponders* No I feel empty now. Need some time to recharge before the next story, which will probably very Aramis and d'Artagnan heavy (because I can't help it).