The Resulting Passion

By Tidia

Disclaimed that I in no way profit from the BBC show, Musketeers.

Notes: Many thanks and much appreciation to all that you like this story and want to discuss this story/characterizations. Warm greetings to Gaelicspirit and That Girl Six from SPN! Enjoy :)

Part 3

They reconvened in the evening, checking in on d'Artagnan. Aramis rechecked the wounds, cleaning them and changing the bandages. The young musketeer seemed better and ate some food as plans were discussed.

Aramis proposed the initial idea of a love triangle, which Athos was loath to use, but accepted setting up a scenario in the town square.

When he shared the idea, Aramis shrugged. "It's a good plan."

"But?" Athos prompted.

Aramis stroked the edge of his beard before answering. "I don't believe it, so your clever wife won't believe it either."

d'Artagnan had participated in the planning, accepting his role, but only after the others convinced him it was the best plan available. His hand went towards his clavicle and its soreness. "I guess the only way is for you to shoot me."

"Not amused," Athos stated with a quick dismissal.

"He's right," Porthos glanced between Athos and d'Artagnan.

d'Artagnan sat up, wincing as he held his hand firm to his wound. "I am? What?"

"If you shot him then I would believe it," Aramis agreed, focusing on Athos's reaction.

Athos shook his head. He drank from the bottle he brought with him. "I can't."

"A flesh wound in the arm." Porthos gestured to his own arm. "It's nothing. d'Artagnan?"

Aramis moved to sit next to the younger man. "You would have to heal first."

d'Artagnan nodded, letting his hand drop from his wound. "I'll agree to it."

"No, we'll find another way. I can't." Athos stood up and began to pace. "It's too much to ask."

Aramis joined Athos, a hand on his arm. He would broker this plan. This was how they worked together so well for so long. "There's a lot at stake. It's not just about your wife, but the Cardinal and his plans against the Queen."

"I know," Athos said quietly as he closed his eyes.

The moment remained suspended with all of them thinking it through, the ways it could all go wrong. It was d'Artagnan who realized he had to break the impasse. "I'll be fine. A shot in the arm, a graze."

"That's the spirit!" Porthos rubbed his hands together.

Aramis gave Athos a half grin along with squeezing his arm before letting it go. "Athos?"

It was barely a nod, but enough that they had a plan whose execution will be painful physically and spiritually.

((()))

It was a month later and no amount of preparation and practice had readied Athos for the exact moment when he pulled the trigger against his friend. d'Artagnan's arm was raised so Athos changed the shot, or believed he willfully changed the shot. He didn't know, seeing only red with Porthos and Aramis covering the wound on d'Artagnan's side.

When the street was cleared Athos allowed the shaking to overcome him.

Aramis and Porthos buffered him, coming to his side to walk with him toward the garrison as an escort. Treville had already gone to his office. "What happened?" Aramis asked.

"I thought it was supposed to be a graze to the arm." Porthos kept his voice low.

Athos did not have any answers that would satisfy himself or his friends. He had excuses. "Will he be all right?"

"Yes, she called a physician." Aramis hid his hands with d'Artagnan's blood clinging to them.

"What happened?" Porthos repeated the same question.

Athos waited until they are in the garrison, heading up the stairs to Treville's office. "Authenticity." At the top of the stairs, he backed up so he was against the wall. His friends crowded around him. "I had three bottles of wine. It took three bottles for me to be able to shoot him."

"Athos. . ." It was the pity in Aramis's voice that bothered him most.

He did not deserve pity with what he set in motion from the first day he was beguiled by Anne. He searched his soul finding his intentions in the plan did not get swayed. "I know. You don't think I know what that boy must be thinking. On top of what I did with the sword."

"We have to wait." Porthos manhandled Athos towards the door. "Come on, the Captain has to do his part now."

((()))

Porthos had gained patience as a musketeer while Athos needed to be distracted. Treville had brought the news that d'Artagnan was well and in Milady's care. The next step would be the young musketeer's entrance.

He enjoyed acting like a peacock, preening with his friends about their might until Treville called them inside. They all studied d'Artagnan's movements to see if the injury was troublesome.

"The wound? Are you well?" Aramis ghosted over the Gascon when they were away from prying eyes.

d'Artagan batted the sharpshooter away, while keeping a hand on the gash on his side.

Athos though would not be deterred. "I apologize. My aim was off."

"It's been tended to." The young musketeer huffed. He raked a hand through his hair. "You didn't mean it. It was different this time."

"The fact that you can tell the difference is disturbing." Athos ground out with a determination to keep making amends.

"If it makes you feel better, your wife wishes you dead. I get to shoot you." d'Artagnan smiled, clapping Athos on the back.

"He seems to be relishing the idea," Porthos said to Aramis. "But with my idea he won't get to break the skin."

(())

When it was done there was more than the fall of the Cardinal and the protection of the Queen. There was the kidnapping of Constance, her return to the dolt of her husband and the news of the Queen with child.

They sat at their table, d'Artagnan's hand went absently to his side, however the others saw the motion.

"Has that bandaged been changed?" Aramis asked, gesturing to the wound.

d'Artagnan dropped his hand. "It's fine."

"You didn't answer the question." Athos's voice was low.

Porthos intervened, pulling d'Artagnan to standing. "Let Aramis see it and be done with it. We will get our way."

"Fine." d'Artagnan playfully shrugged off Porthos's grip.

Aramis gestured to his room, and d'Artagnan took a seat pulling off his shirt. There was dried blood on the bandage and some new blood in a spot that seemed to have recently stopped growing.

"I'll soak it a bit first, but my guess is that some stiches have opened." Aramis placed a wet compress on the bandage until it was saturated. Aramis untied it, and pulled it away.

"That doesn't look good," Porthos commented. Quite a few of the stitches had opened. The mark was also pink and puffy. "I think you should take Athos up on his offer to get a slice in."

"Maybe your next match you could lose?" d'Artagnan laughed, then winced as Aramis cleaned the wound.

"I have to re-stitch this, and I have a salve that should stave of the infection so any sword fighting will have to wait." Aramis grinned. "Athos's pride will not allow him to lose to you anyway. You will have to win fairly."

Athos frowned. He expected and wanted them to be angry with him. "How can you joke about this?"

d'Artagnan looked away as Aramis placed a stitch. "Because we survived, and I will always carry the scars with me. You may even see them again.

"You're not a real musketeer unless you have bled a few times," Porthos added, then pulled up his sleeve. "I remember the time…" he trailed off when he noticed no one was paying attention.

Athos stood firm, his stance one of impending battle. "Just accept I did you harm?"

The young musketeer gestured to the wound on his side grimacing when the last stitch was tied off. "For the sake of France."

Athos's eyes bore onto the recent scar on d'Artagnan's clavicle. "And the other time?"

d'Artagnan was thoughtful. "For the sake of brotherhood."

The former Comte had told these men his deepest, darkest secret and they did not push him away. Athos had felt lighter, clearer since he released the rage he tried so hard to control for so long with spirits. Perhaps he was liberated by it, which allowed him to let his wife go instead of killing her. He was humbled by the sacrifice d'Artagnan had made for him with blood. Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan had unconditionally accepted him as one who was worthy. "Brotherhood."

The end