The Scarf

By: Musketeer Adventure

Summary: This story takes place during the season 2 episode, An Ordinary Man. The scarf felt like a shield. It made him feel invincible.

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Chapter 2

When d'Artagnan rolled over the next morning, Lemaitre was sitting across from him, gaging him intently. His stare was of a man trying to understand a puzzle.

d'Artagnan sat up slowly, feeling every bruise, contusion and stripe on his back. He winced and tried to loosen his muscles. He had gone from feeling nothing – to feeling everything.

He lifted his head and Lemaitre had moved off toward the stream, to have his meal.

The sun was so bright, d'Artagnan thought to himself. They must see every fault in him clearly. He lowered his head for his hair to shield his eyes from the sun's glare, and his brothers' scrutiny.

Looking down he began to flex his fingers and rotate his hand in circles. The scarf was still wrapped tightly around his palm. Athos had placed it there last night. It had brought him comfort then, as it did now.

His thoughts then fell on the events of yesterday, and what he had done; and how Pipen had died. He put his head in his hands with the memory. He had left Pipen; left him to be shot in the back. He should have gone back.

He closed his hand into a fist, and struck his leg once, twice, three times.

He was so angry.

He was angry at his King for the predicament they were in. He was angry for being a fool and getting them captured in the first place. He was angry for having to put his trust in Milady – a woman who could hurt his friend, just by being in close proximity.

He shook his head. Most of all he was angry for getting Pipen killed and for killing his murderer in cold blood.

His hands shook, so he clasped them tightly together, unable to stop the litany of recriminations in his head. They bombarded him one after another, causing his head to ache.

Then Aramis stepped to him and touched his shoulder, "Eat", he implored, holding a tin in front of him with bread, and a cup with water.

d'Artagnan reached for it, but his hands shook so hard, he aborted the thought, "I'm not very hungry" he covered.

Aramis placed them down in front of him on the ground. "You should try."

He paused, and then asked, "How do you feel this morning?"

"Better", he nodded, "I feel better."

Aramis did not like this. d'Artagnan would not lift his head to speak with him.

"Before we head out, I want to take a look at you."

d'Artagnan nodded, gripping his hands tighter, unable to look Aramis in the eye. He was so angry and ashamed. He had fallen apart. Lost his senses and held onto Athos like a child. What kind of Musketeer was he? How could he face them?

He stood quickly then, and pointed toward the trees.

"I'll give you some privacy then", Aramis conceded.

From the perimeter of the camp, Athos watched as d'Artagnan refused the morning meal Aramis offered. Lemaitre sat breaking his bread and chewing as if ravished, by the stream.

Athos clamped down on his disgust for the man and concentrated on d'Artagnan.

It had been a rough night. After regaining his senses d'Artagnan would not look at him. He had turned his back and closed in on himself – begging fatigue.

So, he had let him be. He was too overcome with the joy of his return that he did not stop to think anything of it. He would deny d'Artagnan nothing, not even solitude.

Aramis made it clear he thought this was a mistake. They should talk to him; find out what was eating at him, to prevent what happened yesterday so that it never happened again.

Aramis had tried speaking softly to his back as the fire crackled. He praised his loyalty to the King, his bravery, and his resilience. He could see that he had been through much. He begged him to share. "You will feel the better for it", he had said.

d'Artagnan only repeated that he was tired and wished to sleep.

Athos had sat quietly and listened. Aramis had looked to him and almost begged him to speak, but he didn't know what to say. This was not his gift. If Aramis could not get through to him, then Porthos would, but Porthos was not here.

He had a feeling he knew some of the source of this self-imposed silence. d'Artagnan was much like him; he could see this clearly. He wore guilt like a cloak.

He was young and full of pride. Loosing himself must have been painful in many ways. He could see that perhaps d'Artagnan did not want to seem weak to his brothers. He had mentioned a Pipen. Something had happened while imprisoned with the King. He seemed angry. Sooner or later, he would find out the details.

Now, however, they must move on. He walked toward the camp and Aramis met him halfway. "He is skittish."

Athos nodded in agreement.

"We must not let this go on too long" he insisted. "He needs our help."

"We will help him Aramis. First let us break camp and meet up with Porthos and the King."

Aramis stood still as if to argue, but he knew Athos well. Duty was always in the mix.

He nodded and began to put out the fire.

d'Artagnan came from the trees and Lemaitre from the stream to join them at the camp.

Athos looked to them all. "We break camp within the hour. Eat; take care of your needs; get looked after", he pointed to d'Artagnan, "and be ready to ride."

Everyone gave an affirmation and began to break camp, pack up, and see to the horses.

Before hopping into the saddle, Aramis called d'Artagnan over to sit on a downed tree to look at his injuries.

Athos stood nearby as his horse drank, and Lemaitre sat atop his horse ready to ride.

As Aramis lifted d'Artagnan's shirt to minister to his stripes, Athos felt heat rise up from his belly. The urge to strike out at someone was strong. He looked over to Lemaitre on his horse and his hand, on its own accord felt for the hilt of his sword. His vision was red with fury.

Then he heard Aramis say, "These look good. I see no infection. You will be sore, but able to ride, I think." He pulled down d'Artagnan's shirt, and handed him his coat.

His vision returning, Athos began to breathe again, "Then let us ride."

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Some hours later, Athos noticed the remains of a camp and called a halt.

He leapt from his horse, walked to the extinguished fire, knelt down and touched the ashes. He pointed to the pit, "These are Porthos' markings. They have broken camp but two hours ahead of us. We can eat, rest our horses and be able to catch up, if we ride hard."

The others began to dismount.

d'Artagnan was slow to leave his saddle, pain etched his features.

Athos took his reins from him, and help up his hand, "Let me help you."

d'Artagnan bowed his head, and Athos could hear a hitch in his breath. He continued to hold out his hand, "If you do not let me help you. I will help you anyway." His voice held a determined edge.

d'Artagnan looked at him for the first time that day, and took his hand, allowing Athos to pull him down from the saddle and then escort him to a nearby boulder to sit on – his hand never leaving his shoulder.

Athos could feel the slight tremors beneath his hand. Words would not come to him, but he grabbed d'Artagnan about the neck and squeezed, hoping to convey his pride.

d'Artagnan seemed to relax, and peered at him through the hair falling in his face. Athos brushed it aside, lifting his chin and searching his eyes.

As they ate in silence, d'Artagnan noticed Lemaitre studying him. He put down his plate and confronted the man, "What is it you want from me Lemaitre?"

"I cannot figure you out," he admitted.

"I watched you take down Gus. Never saw anything like that in my life. Yet you pine over it."

d'Artagnan tilted his head to listen, as did Aramis and Athos, who put his hand to his sword just in case Lemaitre did or said anything to hurt his brother.

"My brother was a hard sod; a taker of men. He and Gus thought nothing of taking a man's liberty and selling it to the highest bidder. If not to Spain, then to whoever would pay the price."

d'Artagnan was curious, "Why were you a part of it?"

Lemaitre continued, "I've been thinking on that. I was afraid of my brother. If I had stood in his way, he would just as soon kill me. Fear of my brother young man. Fear is what kept me silent. Perhaps now, my life can begin as new, now that the King has granted me clemency."

Internal rage switched on inside of Athos. This man was part of clandestine ring that had almost cost d'Artagnan his life, and in turn his own. He went to stand and move toward the admitted criminal, not sure what he was going to do, when he heard d'Artagnan's reply.

"You did help us, and I thank you for it. You helped to save my brother's lives and that of your King. I hope you make good on your freedom."

Athos turned away then and strode from them, only stopping when he heard d'Artagnan calling his name.

Gathering his wits, he turned to his friend, "You are better than I d'Artagnan, I would have killed that vermin twice over if not for you, be damned clemency."

d'Artagnan stood still, and looked down at the scarf on his hand, and began to speak, "I thought you were ashamed or angry with me. I have been afraid to speak of it."

Athos looked to him confused.

"I killed Gus in a rage. I was not in control of myself. Your lesson went unheeded and I lost my senses because of it." He pulled on the scarf.

"He had murdered Pipen, and I thought I will kill him for it!" he yelled out. "But it was me I was in a rage over. I should have saved him. I should have gone back. Pipen was a good man, who fought bravely. He had a wife; and a daughter." d'Artagnan's voice cracked with emotion.

Silence stood between them as d'Artagnan poured out his sorrows. Athos did not understand all of this, but he understood d'Artagnan.

"Athos" he asked, "When I killed Gus, what did I become? Am I a murderer also?" His eyes pleaded with him for an answer.

Athos moved swiftly to him, and grabbed his shoulders, and looked him directly in the eyes.

"You are a good man d'Artagnan; a Musketeer; loyal and steadfast. You are a better man than I could ever hope to be. Remove this guilt from your mind. You murdered no one. Repeat this after me. I am a Musketeer, not an executioner."

d'Artagnan stood in his grasp rubbing the scarf wrapped around his hand.

"Say it", he ordered shaking him for emphasis.

d'Artagnan took a deep breath, "I am a Musketeer, not an executioner."

At that moment, d'Artagnan removed the scarf from his hand, and presented it back to his friend, "Thank you Athos, for this; and for everything." Athos retrieved his scarf and placed it back around his neck.

He hugged d'Artagnan quickly and spoke in his ear, "You are my brother, always." Pulling away he began to guide them back toward the others.

Aramis walked to them and bowed his head in deference to his friend's wisdom and clapped him on the back, smiling fondly at d'Artagnan.

They then mounted their horses and with Lemaitre on their heels, headed toward Porthos and Paris.

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A few hours hard ride, and just outside of Paris, found them at the backs of their King, with Porthos leading the way.

Hearing them advance, Prothos reined in, the King and Milady following suit.

"You are well", called d'Artagnan, as he pulled up next to Porthos, smiling widely, and slapping him on the shoulder. Aramis then gripped his arm, and shook his head with relief.

Porthos laughed, reaching to rub d'Artagnan's head, who deftly dodged out of the way and laughed with him.

Porthos recognized a shadow there in his eyes, but ignored it, glad to see his family. Aramis narrowed his eyes at him, speaking to him silently of troubles on the road. They would talk later.

Athos stopped in front of the King and bowed his head respectfully, "Your Majesty."

"I am well Lieutenant, thanks to you all," the King announced, including Milady into his circle of gratitude. He looked tired and a bit harried, but truly appreciative of his Musketeers. He glared at Lemaitre with eyes of steel, and then called out to d'Artagnan, "I have a reward waiting for you back at the palace for services well done. Thank you for saving my life."

d'Artagnan bowed his head with respect and acknowledgment.

At that moment, they heard the peeling of bells in the distance.

"They announce the parade heading toward the Cathedral for the christening" explained the King.

Porthos heeled his horse and surged forward, "Then let us not waste any time." The others followed behind in haste.

The End

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Thank you for reading. I added this second chapter for Sarah. I hope it does the first chapter justice. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited and followed chapter one! This was quite a departure for me. Please review, and tell me what you think.