CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The connection was broken. Aramis was gone.

Without leaving Athos's side, Ninon looked around frantically for his phone to call Aramis. Scanning the top of his desk, it was there, but when she leaned over and grabbed it, to her dismay, when she turned it over the battery was dead.

Stifling a frustrated scream, she leaned over Athos once more and tapped his face. There was no response and his lips were definitely tinged with a blue hue. Remembering Aramis's last words before their connection was lost, she began once more to follow Aramis's instructions, his voice in her head. It was working, but it was exhausting and Aramis's last words were that he wasn't getting enough air. She did not know what more she could do. She could feel tears of sheer frustration welling in her eyes, which only served to make her angry. She had never felt so alone. She longed to try raising Aramis on the laptop, needing his calm reassurance, but she dare not stop what she was doing.

She laboured on, pushing her weight through her hands into Athos's abdomen and sharing her air with him.

Then, just when she felt as if she had reached the end of her tether, there was a noise outside.

An engine.

It stopped outside. She had a sudden fear that it was Anne, somehow returned to finish what she had started. She looked frantically around for a weapon, before berating herself and taking a deep breath;

The ambulance! They were here, at last!

"Athos!" she cried, "The ambulance is here."

She gently touched his dishevelled hair, willing him to hear her. He did not respond though and she cautiously pushed herself to her feet to make room for, hopefully, the medics. Footsteps crossed the outside deck and a shadow appeared at the frosted glass window in the outer door before it was pushed open.

A black-clad figure quickly entered, wearing a motorcycle helmet. The figure stood for a moment, looking at her before she saw his head tilt to Athos on the floor beside her.

The man flipped the visor on his helmet and pulled off his gloves.

"Paramedic," he said firmly, dropping a backpack from his shoulder in one swift movement and walking quickly toward her.

"Oh, thank God!" Ninon cried. "Is the ambulance here?"

"Just me," the man said apologetically. "There's been a massive smash on the motorway and all ambulances have been diverted.

"What?" she whispered, hardly believing what he was saying.

"The caller was informed," the man continued, as he pulled his helmet off, his long dark hair spilling almost to his shoulders. He tucked it behind his ears, an action he had obviously done a hundred times.

"d'Artagnan," he said, as he placed the helmet on Athos's desk. "You are? ..."

"Ninon," she whispered. "That must be what Aramis was trying to tell me, before we were cut off," she said, her voice low as she watched him unpack his bag.

"Aramis?" he murmured, as he quickly pulled various pieces of equipment out and placed them neatly on the floor.

"He was here," she said, "but we lost the signal."

She knew she wasn't making sense but she was running on adrenaline now, and bitterly disappointed that the ordeal wasn't over. They would still have to keep Athos breathing until the drug wore off.

d'Artagnan gave her a confused look.

"Skype," she said, by way of explanation, nodding her head to the open laptop, the black screen mocking her. "He's a friend. A surgeon and he knows about Curare."

"That's fortunate," the young man murmured. He almost added, "Because I know nothing about it," but he kept that nugget to himself. The woman looked beyond exhausted, her eyes wide with fear.

She quickly explained what she had been doing, and that Aramis had said the Curare would wear off but he may asphyxiate if his diaphragm stopped working. Then she explained about the sedative that had done the job of relaxing him. All the time, she continued her task of pressing, and breathing, while d'Artagnan pulled a bag valve mask from his pack and quickly began to assemble it.

"This will help," he said, not looking up from his task, his hair escaping from behind his ear and shielding the side of his face.

There had been no time to take the patient's blood pressure, and whatever checks he would have liked to do had been shelved in favour of keeping him breathing. He gently fitted the clear mask over Athos's face and began to squeeze the bag. She watched intently as regulated air began to flow into Athos's lungs and after a few moments, she sat back.

The world stopped as her eyes filled.

She caught sight of the plants around the room, the abandoned champagne; watching d'Artagnan concentrating on counting breaths as he squeezed the bag. It should be more, but it all came down to that bag now, forcing air into paralysed lungs. She became mesmerized by the long, dark hair tucked behind his ear, as he concentrated on keeping a steady pace, a frown on his brow.

"Tell me about him," he murmured, glancing up at her.

"What?"

"Tell me about him," he repeated, the steady hiss of the air being squeezed through the bag a constant background now.

She knew that he was trying to distract her, but she seized on it.

"His name is Athos," she said, quietly.

"Your husband?"

"No," she whispered. Partner, lover, friend.

He looked up again and read the range of emotions that flitted across her face.

"He's my life," she said, softly.

She told him then how Athos had saved her life. How he had found the strength to rise from his desk and pull his wife away from her, effectively saving her life. How Anne had then plunged the syringe into his leg and left them both to face the consequences. d'Artagnan listened intently.

"We have him," he said quietly. So confident, she believed him.

d'Artagnan did not feel quite as confident as he sounded though. He had no idea what Curare was when he was given the job, but despatch had briefed him quickly and told him there was someone at the site who had experience, so when he stepped onboard and saw only the exhausted woman, his heart sank. All he could do was what he was doing, in the hope that an ambulance would come, but he doubted it very much. It was the worst motorway accident for many years. Eight people had been reported dead by the time he had set off and many injured.

He and the woman, Ninon, were on their own. Time ground on.

He was invested in saving this man, but he was beginning to think this may not play out well, when there was a shout from outside and a police office entered.

Introducing himself as Officer Bram Daalman, he quickly took in the scene and came forward, kneeling next to d'Artagnan. d'Artagnan showed him what to do and then sat up. Ninon frowned at him but he explained he was just going back to his bike for something. He returned a few minutes later with an adrenaline kit. If Athos's heart stopped, he would need it.

The police officer and the paramedic settled into a rhythm, taking turns, before d'Artagnan moved to the desk. Sitting in front of the laptop he logged on. To his utter relief, the screen came to life and he searched quickly, with Ninon's help, for Aramis's Skype details. After what felt like an age, but was probably only a few minutes, Aramis was suddenly there, nose almost pressed to the screen.

"Oh, thank God!" he said, running his hands through his hair. "I don't know what happened, I have been trying to reconnect – what's going on? Who are you?" he said, words spilling out as he looked at the stranger, recognising a paramedic.

"d'Artagnan," the young man said, moving the screen around to let Aramis see what was happening on the floor of the houseboat. "This is Officer Daalman," he added, as Aramis took in the blonde policeman helping his friend.

Ninon heard Aramis's voice, firm and strong, now relating information to d'Artagnan and she was swept along, giving Athos into their care, far beyond her knowledge, her role now to hold his hand and tether him to her.

"It will eventually wear off," Aramis was saying, "but the risk is asphyxiation. And he has also been given a dose of Diazepam."

"He's had quite a night," d'Artagnan muttered, though he was listening intently and keeping an eye on the policeman, who continued to squeeze air through the bag.

For her part, Ninon had felt so helpless and now she had three skilled men doing their best to help.

Light-headed, she watched the policeman. She had not registered his name, but he was here, and Aramis was in the room with them and she was so glad Aramis was sharing this, because she wouldn't have to tell him his best friend was dead and how would she tell Porthos if that happened? A sob escaped her as her thoughts tumbled around her head. She felt Athos's limp hand in hers and she tore her eyes from the policeman, back to his green eyes, open now above the mask and she took an unsteady breath of her own as another sob caught in her throat. She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his fingers. She held his gaze as the minutes ticked by.

"Stay with me, darling," Ninon was whispering to Athos as d'Artagnan returned to his post next to Athos and gave her a shy relieved smile. His talk with Aramis had given him strength and he worked now to check his signs, as he took over, calling out his findings to Aramis, who continued to guide them through the path the Curare was taking. d'Artagnan knew what signs to look for now, to show the drug was wearing off. He hoped it would happen soon.

Ninon swept Athos' hair from his forehead and held her hand there, smiling through her tears.

"We have a date, remember? I don't want to lose you. I love you, so very much."

Athos gave her an anguished look, and then, he took a breath.

His head fell back and he struggled against the mask.

d'Artagnan tentatively lifted the mask as Athos pulled in air.

"He's breathing!" he called out to Aramis.

"Thank God," Aramis breathed. "Cheri, are you alright?" he called out to Ninon.

"He's breathing, Aramis!" Ninon said, not taking her eyes from Athos.

Athos frowned at her, but she suspected his thoughts were with her, not himself.

"History ..." he began;

"Repeating itself," she finished. "I know. Hush now. There's nothing for you to do but breathe."

She leant forward and kissed him, his lips no longer blue. As she pulled back, his eyes fluttered shut and Ninon shot d'Artagnan a look of panic.

"It's ok," he said, reassuringly, "He's just exhausted. Where's the bedroom, we should move him off the floor."

She waved to the doors at the end of the room and d'Artagnan and Officer Daalman gently moved Athos to his bed, following behind Ninon. She quickly pulled back the covers on the bed, thinking as she watched them lower him onto it that Athos would be none too pleased that she had left his shirt on to get creased, but she didn't care as he looked peaceful and she would not disturb him further.

She ran her fingers through his hair, gently arranging it on his forehead until he looked more like himself. Running her fingers down the side of his face, she traced his parted lips with her thumb. She loved his slightly uneven lips. Leaning forward, she dropped a soft lingering kiss on each of his closed eyelids before resting a hand on his chest and feeling the glorious rise and fall as he breathed for himself.

Pulling in a breath, she covered him over and turned, finding herself alone. The two men had given her privacy to reassure herself that Athos was alright. With a gentle smile, she straightened her unruly hair as best she could and went to join the men who had quietly and efficiently not only saved the man she loved but had given her the strength to endure the ordeal.

She said a few heartfelt words to Aramis, putting her hand to her lips and pressing it gently to the screen before logging out. Next, a hug for Bram, who promised to return to speak to them both in a few days.

That left d'Artagnan, who had packed up his bag and was now standing in front of her, rocking slightly on his heels and giving her a weary grin.

"Quite a night," he said, tilting his head and giving her an assessing look.

She sighed. "I could say I've had worse, but I haven't."

d'Artagnan nodded. "You should get some rest," he advised, softly.

"I should watch him," she replied, turning to look at the open bedroom door at the end of the living area.

"I'll do that," he said. "If you can tell me where the coffee is?"

"You're staying?" she responded, eyes wide.

"I'm off duty, may as well."

"He got to you," she smiled.

"Little bit," d'Artagnan laughed.

She showed him were the coffee was and went to sit in the nook. Too wired to sleep, she declined his offer of sleeping tablets and nursed the coffee he put in front of her until it went cold.

d'Artagnan disappeared into the bedroom to watch over Athos and left her to her thoughts. She would relieve him in a little while, but right now, she needed to be alone.

oOo

Ninon was sitting at the foot of the bed when Athos woke.

He blinked himself slowly awake, before looking at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

He was looking at her with such an open expression she felt a warmth spreading through her.

She nodded, and he seemed satisfied.

He turned his head. There was a young man with long dark hair sitting on his right, twisted around. He looked vaguely familiar. Then he saw the stethoscope around his neck and it came back to him with a sickening thud.

"Athos, this is d'Artagnan," Ninon said. "He stayed all night."

"To be fair, I was off duty at 1.00 am," d'Artagan explained. "Not back for a few days."

"No hospital?" Athos managed.

"Long story," d'Artagnan replied, with a sigh. Apparently, the death toll for the motorway smash had risen to ten.

"A policeman came," Ninon interjected. "He's coming back when you can speak to him. He was a great help too."

Athos nodded absently and held up his arm and flexed his fingers. Then he reached his hand up to his head and grimaced.

"That's dehydrated brain pain," d'Artagnan said, watching him.

Athos raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

"Is that a medical diagnosis?" he asked.

d'Artagnan returned the look and laughed. "It should be, shouldn't it?"

"It's about right," Athos replied, turning to look at Ninon;

"Anne?" he asked.

"Long gone, I hope," Ninon grimaced. "But she emptied your safe."

"Only stones," he whispered.

Ninon looked at d'Artagnan, but he was busy pulling out a blood pressure monitor.

"Athos, she must have taken a small fortune! Your business ..."

"No," Athos interrupted. "I mean they are only stones. Fake. That safe in the bookcase is a decoy."

"Smart," d'Artagnan muttered, before looking up in embarrassment.

"Sorry," he said.

"Let's get you up a little," he added. "You need to take some fluids on board."

They each helped Athos slide up the bed a little and d'Artagnan poured water from a carafe they had found in a cupboard into a glass.

"Thank you," Athos grimaced.

"You're welcome," d'Artagnan said, as he handed the glass over to Ninon.

"No, I mean, thank you," Athos said. "For everything. You were thrown into the deep end, it seems."

d'Artagnan smiled a bright smile. "That's alright. I can write it up as a case study. Naming no names, of course," he added, quickly.

He slipped the cuff onto Athos's arm and both were silent while d'Artagnan took the reading, before giving Athos the thumbs-up.

"You're still studying?" Athos asked, eyebrows raised.

"No. Fully qualified paramedic. I'd just like to go further."

"You'll go a long way, I'm certain," Ninon said, nursing the glass of water.

"Maybe," d'Artagnan replied. "It's not easy to get into med school."

"Well, if there's anything we can do," Ninon smiled. "You and Aramis were wonderful last night."

"Aramis?" Athos asked, looking from one to the other. He really had little recollection of what had happened.

"Skype-Aramis," Ninon smiled. "You must have put a call into him, before it all happened.

"Yes, to surprise you," he remembered.

"Well, it worked," Ninon laughed. "He saw everything Anne did. He played his part wonderfully, keeping undercover but witnessing everything. It was Aramis who called the police and ambulance, from the States!"

"I was very grateful to him," d'Artagnan said, stowing his equipment in his backpack. "We had a chat earlier, before he logged off. He gave me his number. Said he'd see you both soon," he added, shyly.

"He's already planning a visit," Athos said. "Porthos too, probably."

Ninon could see Athos returning now, and knowing how independent he was, she curled his fingers around the glass of water.

"Drink," she said. "Don't worry if you make a mess," she added, mischievously.

He shot her a withering look.

"I never spill my drink," he growled.

He was definitely on the mend.

"I don't know how to thank you," Ninon suddenly said to d'Artagnan.

She shared a look with Athos.

"We can take him to dinner," Athos said, turning to d'Artagnan, "Inadequate, I know."

d'Artagnan looked at Ninon, who smiled and nodded her encouragement.

"It's perfect," d'Artagnan said. "You have no idea when I was last in a restaurant. I'm beginning to look like a pizza," he babbled.

Athos raised an eyebrow and looked amused.

"We can't have that," he murmured.

"Dress code?" d'Artagnan asked, looking a little doubtful now. These people obviously had money. Wherever they took him, he would be out of place.

"Smart casual," Athos replied. "I'll lend you a tie if you don't have one. Hell, I'll give you all of them," he said, waving his hand haphazardly toward his wardrobe.

"Thank you," d'Artagnan grinned. "But one will be sufficient."

"Good," Athos said. "Then it's a date," he added, wearily.

Ninon gently rubbed his forearm;

"Rest now, Athos," she said.

"I should go," d'Artagnan said, pulling his bag onto his shoulder.

As he rose, Ninon felt a little bereft after such an intense night, charged as it was by masculine energy. A night that had seemed so long, though now, on reflection, it seemed as though everything had contracted into a sharply focused bubble of fear; the outside world suspended while they awaited the outcome. While the universe conspired to set either her free, or grind her to dust; compelled to live without Athos, whose life was now so entwined with hers that that would be impossible of course.

As Ninon walked through the living area toward the outer door with d'Artagnan, he paused;

"It's a beautiful place to live," he said, casting a last look around.

"I thought so," she replied. "But I'm not so sure now."

They stepped outside and she watched as d'Artagnan pulled on his helmet and swung a long leg over his bike, settling himself. He gave her a last grin before dropping the visor and then he turned on the engine, saluted her and was gone in a blast of exhaust fumes.

She stood watching him disappear, arms wrapped around herself.

Walking slowly back on board, she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of sparkling water, taking it to the nook in the corner.

Looking out of the small window, she watched a group of ducks for a few moments as the canal came to life.

This had been the worst night of her life.

Tears welled in her eyes and she wiped her hands over her face in frustration, before holding her wet palms up in front of her.

"Get a grip," she murmured to herself, taking a sip of water.

After a few minutes, she rose. She needed to lie next to Athos. To feel his warmth and watch him breathe.

She could not imagine how he would react to his ordeal. Later, they would talk and exorcise their demons.

And if last night was her worst, this new day would be her best.

oOo

Later, after Athos had slept most of the day away, they sat together on the upper deck, sipping coffee and watching the canal wind down. She couldn't stop looking at him, as he finished a call to Porthos, who had started ringing as soon as Aramis had told him what had happened. Luckily, Aramis had given them a few hours grace before their friend's onslaught began and she had gently fielded him until Athos was awake and settled.

"I have assured him that everything is working as it should be," Athos said.

"Everything?" Ninon smiled into her coffee cup.

"Well, we will find out tonight," he replied, his eyes on a sleek white boat passing by.

"That long?" she said.

He rolled his eyes and languidly stretched out his arm toward her. She took his hand and they sat in companionable silent for a while.

"So, where is your safe?" Ninon asked, with a twinkle in her blue eyes.

Athos laughed. It was good to hear, and it made her smile.

"It's under my desk, built into the floor," he said. "The one in the bookcase is a distraction. Everything in it is fake. I told you when you first came here, I've taken every precaution."

"A very wise precaution," she agreed.

"You were very determined, for a man shot full of sedative," she added, quietly, blowing the steam away.

Athos huffed; they would have to talk about it, and now was as good a time as any.

"I made a mess of it," he replied, softly.

"No," Ninon replied, instantly. "That was a hell of a feat, dragging her off me. You saved my life. Aramis said Curare in the bloodstream is deadly. I really believe she was going to kill me."

"I did not recognise her," Athos said, his voice barely audible, eyes on distant memories.

"People aren't always what they seem. You and I both now that," she replied, squeezing his fingers.

He was silent for a long moment, before he turned to her;

"Now you know my dark secret."

"I'm glad. It's sad in a way."

"Don't pity her," Athos said, harshly, releasing her hand.

After a few moments of tense silence, Ninon spoke again.

"Anne must have burst a blood vessel when she saw those photographs of us, living such splendid lives," Ninon said quietly.

Rather than laugh, Athos grimaced.

"Time to let go, Athos," she said, gently laying her hand over his.

"Easier said than done," he murmured.

"She underestimated you," Ninon said.

Athos stared straight ahead.

"She always did," he said quietly, before shaking his head;

"I was terrified," he murmured, breathing out and shaking his head.

"It's understandable," she replied, looking at him worriedly.

"Not for me," he replied, turning in his chair to look at her. "For you. "I thought I may lose you," he added, his eyes shining.

"You know," she replied, "If we are to be together, I should know the story. She said she murdered your brother."

"Thomas's death is still an open case. Anne is wanted for questioning," Athos replied. "Porthos said that Aramis called the police last night but he also called Interpol.

"I'm aware you've stepped into my personal minefield," he added, with a heartfelt sigh.

"You stepped into mine," Ninon replied, taking a sip of her coffee. "We're even."

"You deserve better," he grunted.

"Oh, piffle," she laughed, lightly.

"Piffle?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"One of my grandmother's favourite words," she smiled. "Very sobering."

"I can imagine," he returned.

"I love you," she said, firmly.

He looked into her blue eyes.

"You've certainly seen the worst of me," he sighed.

"And the best," she insisted. "If we are to be together, you need to tell me about Anne."

Athos remained quiet, swirling the remaining coffee in his cup.

And then, quietly, he told her what he could.

He would never fully know what had happened between Anne and Thomas, nor why she had become the creature they saw the previous night.

"We can't stay here," she said, when he had finished. "Once she finds out that the stones are fake, she'll come back, won't she?"

"Probably," he muttered.

He reached for his phone and began to scroll through his photo files.

She thought he was avoiding further conversation, until he leant over and showed her his phone.

"How does Milan sound to you?" he asked quietly.

Surprised at the turn around, she took the phone and looked at the screen. There was an image of a beautiful villa, surrounded by tall Italian cypress trees.

"Molto Bello," she breathed.

"Family heirloom," he smiled. "Or, Geneva, if you prefer?"

"Italian food is wonderful," she said by way of reply.

"As is their wine," he nodded sagely.

"What about Epiphany?" she asked.

"I'll sign her over to Porthos," Athos replied. "He'll need a new base while he gets the Amsterdam arm of his business empire organised. Did you know Aramis has invited d'Artagnan to New York?" he added. "Apparently he was impressed by his "quiet efficiency." There are internships available that Aramis thinks would suit him."

"That's wonderful news. Aramis will be a good mentor," she said.

"Yes, he will. I've no doubt about it," Athos replied. "We haven't seen the last of that young man."

She leaned over and chinked coffee cups with him.

"To new beginnings," she said.

"To new beginnings," he agreed, holding her gaze.

"And," he added, "Anne be damned."

"Assolutamente," Ninon replied.

"Cosi sia," (Amen), Athos countered, as he leaned in to kiss her.

This really was, the best day.

oOo

The End