TITLE: Just Another Day
CHALLENGE: This month I want you to hit the books for your ideas. You can put the Seven into your favorite story, or bring the characters out into whatever universe of M7 you think fits the best. Or the book itself can be a central plot device, much like NotTasha's "Down the Amazon" Series.
UNIVERSE: The Three Musketeers
MAJOR CHARACTERS: The seven and the four
RATING: PG
ARCHIVE: Yes
SPOILERS: None
NOTES:  I am huge Dumas fan, I warn you.  So I simply had to use his stuff and his lovely characters.  Enjoy!  (If  you haven't read it I highly recommend you do ASAP!) I have to thank my dear beta Pascale.  She was allot of help with the small aspects of French culture and the little details of the book.  She's the one who came up with the idea of making Ezra from Province.  Thanks Pascale!  Mon Ange de bêta.  (I hope that's right) I started writing this in November, but got stuck.  I just watched Three Musketeers last night, and have been restarted.
AUTHOR: Lady Catherine Dunbar (Kelly)
EMAIL: kellyg49@hotmail.com

Athos rolled over in his bed, groggily reaching for his pocket watch, which he thought he had left on his nightstand.  Finding the object of his search, the musketeer held it up to his eyes, squinting to make sense of the numbers.  Finally a nine came into focus.  Athos groaned, dropped it back onto the nightstand, and rolled back onto his face. 

"Athos?" came a gruff call from outside his door.  Athos simply groaned in reply.  None the less the door to his rented room opened and a tall imposing figure dressed in the grab of a musketeer entered, closing the door behind him.

"Mornin'," the man said as he moved quietly about the room.  Of all people Christoph Larabee understood the effects of a hangover and the havoc it could cause on the head.  "Brought yeah some coffee," he said as he walked over to his friend's bed. 

Athos, with great effort, lifted himself out of bed and stretched, wincing at the pain that went through his head at the movement.  "Thank you," he said as Chris handed him a cup of extremely strong coffee.

Chris simply nodded and took a seat in one of the rickety chairs, legs stretched out in front him, and watched Athos take slow even sips of his drink. 

He was not quite sure what had set off this particular round of drinking in his friend, and had no plan to ask.  It was none of his business.  He knew that Athos, like himself, hated it when people  delved into his past, so he left it alone.  It was a silent pact between two men who each had their own demons.

After a few minutes, Athos stood up and, still sipping his coffee, moved to his wardrobe closet.  He pulled out a clean shirt and dark purple doublet.  Placing his empty cup on his nightstand he pulled off the shirt that he still wore from the day before, and changed into his clean clothes, leaving on his breaches and stockings.  After buttoning up his doublet, he grabbed his musketeer baldric  from its place on the back of the only other chair in the room.  That done he went about putting on his boots.

Through all of this, they both remained silent, felt no reason to speak.  Athos did not bother asking how Chris knew to bring him coffee, or how he had gotten home from the tavern.  He had gotten drunk, for what reason he could not recall, of that much he was sure.  After that, Athos knew well enough what had probably occurred.  His friends had most likely sat apart from him, watching him drink off in a corner alone.  Once he had passed out, one of them, most likely D'Artagnan or Chris, had asked either Josiah or Porthos to help get him home.  They had carried him to his apartment, opening the door with the key Athos kept in his pocket. 

As to the coffee, it was a courtesy he and Chris paid to one another, somewhat of a tradition.  It had started when they had first met and Athos had gone into one of his binges.  He had awoken to find the imposing man at his door with a cup of dark brew he had never seen before.  The blond had simply sat down, put the cup on the table and said, "From Nathan, coffee."  Even through his hangover Athos had seen the understanding in the man's eyes and had accepted the strange brew, which had since become his favorite, and only, alternative to liquor. 

Ever since that morning whenever one of them went on one of his guilt driven binges the other would visit Nathan that morning and arrive with coffee.  However, since the eleven men had come together, their late nights had become fewer and further apart. 

After pulling on his boots, Athos grabbed his sword belt and fastened it beneath his musketeer baldric.  That done he tucked his pistol into his belt, and picked up his musket. 

"Shall we?" 

Chris nodded and stood up, picking up the cup as he headed toward the door.  Athos opened the door and exited after his friend.  In a comfortable silence the two friends walked through the streets of Paris. 

They did not have to walk far before they arrived at the Musketeers' headquarters, the home of Monsieur de Treville, Captain of the Musketeers. 

The area outside the building was bustling with activity, with musketeers either rushing about or talking in groups.  Athos and Chris walked up the large staircase, Musketeers parting like the red sea as they passed.  No one wanted to be caught in the path of the two imposing men. 

Yet the courtyard of the building was simply a sampling of what lay within.  As the two entered the large front hall they were accosted with an amazing amount of noise.  Everywhere in the marbled great room were musketeers: fencing, reading, discussing, gambling, and eating.   

The two friends moved easily through the chaos, making their way towards a round table in a corner of the hall, where nine other men were already gathered.  Athos could not help but smile at the odd assortment of men who had become his family.

"Morning Chris, Athos!" JD hailed from his place besides Buck.  Athos winced at the noise, putting his hand to his forehead as he took a seat next to D'Artagnan. 

"Good one JD," Buck chided, knocking off the boy's plumed hat. 

"Hey!" he shouted as he grabbed it off the table and righted it on his head.  The young man saw Athos wince again and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, Athos." 

The older man waved away his concern.  "Think nothing of it JD." 

The young man grinned and went back to his animated conversation with Buck and Porthos. 

Athos smiled slightly at the man's youth and then looked about the table at the rest of his friends. 

On his right side sat Chris, sipping from his own coffee cup, watching the action of the hall and talking quietly to the man on his right, Vin.  Beside the sharpshooter sat Ezra and Aramis, who were deeply engrossed in a game of chess.  Between Aramis and Porthos sat Josiah and Nathan who were deep in discussion.

He was broken from his thoughts by a touch on his arm and turned to see a pair of dark eyes watching him carefully. 

"I am quite all right D'Artagnan," he said quietly. 

His young friend eyed him with a maturity beyond his years for a moment before the usual youthful grin returned. 

"Good.  I was worried I would have to send Porthos to throw you out of bed."

"Knowing Porthos's strength, the fall would probably have killed you," Ezra added as he moved one of his pawns, his rich Provincial accent making it sound as if he sang every word.

"And then Josiah and I would be forced to take time to write your epitaph.  Absolutely inconvenient," Aramis commented, not taking his eyes off the game.

"I would never want to do anything to inconvenience you my dear Aramis," Athos said with a smile.

"God forbid," Nathan muttered good-naturedly.  As much as he had originally been annoyed by the apparent indifferent attitudes of Aramis and Ezra, over the past year he had come to understand the two men a bit better.  Though they did not seem the least bit concerned, he knew they would both have been as devastated as any of the others if anything had happened to Athos.

"That is because you are a gentleman, Athos," Aramis said. 

Athos nodded in appreciation, raising his glass to Aramis. 

"How's the head, Athos?" Nathan asked.  He had been watching the Musketeer carefully since he had arrived.  Though he was looking better, his eyes were still bloodshot and he still kept his hand to his head.

"I am fine Nathan.  Thank you for the coffee." 

The healer waved away Athos's thanks.  "Don't mention it."  Nathan stood up, picking up his own coffee cup.  "Excuse me, but I should be getting back to my shop."

A chorus of goodbyes met Nathan's ears as he left the table.  He smiled at them and gently pushed through the crowd. 

Suddenly a Cardinal's guard, who had been working his way through the hall to deliver a message, bumped into Nathan's shoulder, sending him stumbling back a foot or two.

"Watch where you are going Darkie," the guard spat. 

All the men at the table looked up sharply at the insult, their eyes narrowing on the offensive guard. 

Athos, despite his still lingering hangover, was the first one out of his seat and quickly strode over to the two men, one hand resting casually on his sword.

"Apologize," Athos commanded.

The man laughed in his face, not believing what he was hearing.  "Apologize to a Darkie?!  Never."

"Then perhaps I can convince you to apologize," he said, his voice thick with his true meaning.

The guard eyed the musketeer for a moment before a smile curve his lips.  "And perhaps I can convince you to mind your own business."

"Not likely," Buck said under his breath, the others nodding in agreement.

"Perhaps," Athos mused.  "The ruins, twelve o'clock?" he suggested.

"Twelve o'clock, then."  He nodded coolly to Athos and continued on his way.

"That was not necessary Athos," Nathan said once the guard was gone.

"Of course it was Nathan," Athos said.  "The man insulted you, and as you can not, or will not, duel, I simply did what was necessary.  Besides, I can not abide rudeness."  He smiled and laid a hand on Nathan's shoulder.  "You would have done the same for me."

"Any day Athos," Nathan said, meaning every word. 

Athos bowed his head gracefully and turned back to the table, reclaiming his seat.  Although he felt nine pairs of eyes on him, he simply continued to sip slowly from his coffee cup. 

"Athos," D'Artagnan began.

Athos held up his hand to forestall any argument.

"It had to be done, D'Artagnan."

"I am not questioning it's necessity at all Athos.  I completely agree with you and would have done so myself is I had been able to stand up fast enough.  It is simply that. . .," he paused, not knowing how to continue the sentence without getting himself into a duel.

"Do you think you are well enough to fight him Athos?" JD broke in. 

Everyone stared at him and then shifted their gaze to Athos, waiting to see how the fiercely private and silent man would react.

Though he appreciated his friend's concern, Athos hated when his judgment was called into question.  But, JD meant well, and his head hurt too badly to say anything.

"I am quite capable of defending myself against one over confident guard, JD."

"Hell, you should know that JD," Buck chided.  "Athos is one of the best swordsmen in the city, hangover or no."

"I must agree with Buck," Aramis said as he moved a knight.  "I have all the faith in the world that he will triumph.  And if he does not, he will have me to answer to," he said, looking up at his friend, a sly smile on his lips.

"I am afraid you will have to wait in line," Athos commented as he took another sip of coffee.

"Quite a long wait, Aramis," Vin said, causing them all to chuckle.

JD even found himself laughing.  What was he so worried about?  Duels were nothing to worry about.  They were all great swordsmen, and duels were actually often entertaining.  He was just being silly.



Athos sat on a low stone at the ruin, sharpening his sword.  Near him sat Chris and D'Artagnan, his seconds as well as Nathan, Aramis and Ezra.  The others had had prior appointments that Athos insisted they meet.  A duel was no reason to be rude, nor was it a major occasion.  Nathan was there not only as a healer, but still felt guilty at having caused the whole thing.  Aramis attended in case last rights was needed, most likely for the other man, and Ezra, well, Ezra simply had no plans for the afternoon and a dual always provided some entertainment.

At exactly noon the offending guard rode up, along with twenty of his fellow guards.  The six friends were immediately on their guard, though they seemed as relaxed as usual.

"I hope you do not mind me bringing a few friends," the guard mentioned with a grin as he dismounted.

"Not at all."

"Too bad Porthos isn't here," Ezra commented.  "He loves an audience."

As soon as the offending guard dismounted, the twenty others did the same. 

"I would personally prefer it if they stayed on their horses," Chris said to D'Artagnan. 

"So would I."  D'Artagnan could feel a growing alarm in his gut.  For all of his youth and exuberance, the Gascon was quite capable of reading a situation, especially one that dealt with swords.

"Of course, weren't you complaining the other day that things were becoming a bit dull?" he said to Larabee, a mischievous smile on his face.

Chris eyed the youngster in mock irritation before smiling and shaking his head.  "I need to pay more attention to what I say."

"According to Aramis God hears all."

"Well, hopefully for Aramis, God doesn't see all, as well."

D'Artagnan could not help but chuckle at Chris's allusion to Aramis's latest mistress as he turned his attention back to Athos and the guard.

"Shall we?" the guard asked, making a mocking bow. 

Athos, a small smile on his face, nodded seriously, holding out his sword easily in one hand.

Chris could not help but smile as he watched his friend.  Only Athos could look so regal without being pompous.

The two men began to duel, slowly at first, the men testing each other's skills.  Athos was obviously the superior swordsmen, his moves controlled and purposeful.

This should be over quickly, D'Artagnan thought.  JD and I were silly to worry.  Athos is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.  The man is ten years my senior, for God's sake.  He should be looking out for me.  And Athos did look for out him, much like a father or older brother.  But D'Artagnan could not help but feel protective of the noble musketeer.  He supposed it went back to their own duel, when Athos had fought against a Cardinal's guard with a wounded arm and D'Artagnan had hurried to his aide.  They had been friends ever since.  A small smile came to D'Artagnan's lips.  I should be kinder to the Cardinal's guards.  He did not want to think about what would have happened if they had not interrupted Athos and his duel that day. 

Athos soon found an opening and wounded his opponent in the shoulder.  The men groaned through his teeth and fell to his knees. 

Before any of them knew what was happening another guard jumped forward and, with a cry of "Arrest the Musketeers!", pierced his sword into Athos's arm.  

Athos let out a sharp cry, gripping his arm and quickly switching hands.  With the blood still flowing down his arm he began fighting fiercely with his attack.

With a mighty war cry, the five remaining men charged the guards.  The guards, spurred on by their sheer number, eagerly went after the musketeers.

Grinding his teeth against the pain in his arm, Athos fought using his left hand, which he was eagerly adept at. 

One look at the six friends and someone would think they were having fun, and to a point they were.  Yes, they were focusing on the task at hand and they all took death seriously, but they still took joy out of fencing.  Completely embarrassing the Cardinal's guards always made them smile.

Nathan easily wounded the two guards who faced him and went to go help Aramis and Ezra who, together, were struggling to fight off eight guards.  They were both talented with the sword, but with eight guards they were endangered of being surrounded. 

Meanwhile, Athos faced three of his own guards while Chris and D'Artagnan both fought four men each, a sword in each hand.  Chris managed to kill and wound three of them, but the last of the guards twirled behind him and tripped him.  Falling to the ground he expected a sword point through his chest when the man fell on top of him.  Chris looked up to see Aramis standing there with a bloody sword.

Chris smiled as he rolled the dead men off of him and pulled himself up.  He tipped his sword to Aramis.  "Much obliged Aramis."

"Wasn't you're time yet, Chris," Aramis said with a smile as more guards launched themselves at the musketeers. The fight continued until only two guards were left standing, the one who attacked Athos facing Ezra and the original offender
fighting Athos.

Seeing that their friends had everything under control, the four men left stood about and watched.

Ezra advanced on his opponent, slashing and thrusting with every word he spoke.  "Gentlemen---don't---attack---the---unprepared."  He lunged forward and plunged his sword into the man's chest.

"That should teach you some manners," he said as the man slid to the ground.  He wiped his sword on the ground and walked to join the others, while the wounded guards around them gathered together to lick their wounds.

Athos and the offender fought fiercely, both tiring.  D'Artagnan could see that Athos and been hit again, a graze across his side.  He could tell that they were both beginning to cause him trouble, but then again his opponent was also losing blood.

D'Artagnan was about to step in help his friends, when Athos sliced the guard across the stomach, sending him to his knees.  The man raised his right hand in surrender, while his other clutched his middle.

"Apologize," Athos order for the second time that day.

His breath ragged, the man looked over at Nathan and said through clenched teeth.  "I apologize for my rudeness."

Nathan nodded and watched as his friends helped him and over to his horse.  Nathan knew he should have offered his assistance, but the man would not want his help even if it were offered.

Instead he hurried over to Athos's side to take a look at his wounds. 

"I enjoy how they just left their dead," Aramis commented as his gaze fell over the fallen guards.  Their so called friends could be heard trotting away.

"Suppose they could not wait to escape," Chris said.

"Or to explain what happened to the Cardinal," D'Artagnan said.

"In extremely exaggerated terms I am most certain," Ezra added, his tone that of an annoyed man.  The guards would most certainly make it sound like an unprovoked attack and portray the duel as Athos's idea only, not the something agreed upon by both men.

"I personally don't give a dam what the Cardinal thinks," Chris said.

"It is not like we are his favorites any way," D'Artagnan said, moving over to Athos and Nathan.

They all had to agree with D'Artagnan on that point.  Besides, Treville would know the truth and they were too skilled and popular to be dismissed.

"How is he Nathan?" D'Artagnan asked.

"I'll be fine," Athos said, taking in a sharp breath as Nathan wrapped his arm.

"He will be if he holds still," Nathan chided.  "Now as soon as I wrap this you are going to sit down and let me see to your side.  When we get back you are going to let me bandage these wounds properly."

"Yes, Captain," Athos said, a small smile on his face. 

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and looked over the grounds, saw Aramis performing last rights on the bodies.  He could not help but shake his head.  Aramis, at times, was one of the most selfish cold people he had ever met, besides Ezra.  Then at others, he would illustrate his loyalty and compassion, just like the man Province.  D'Artagnan smiled to himself as he looked at his friends, thinking back over the day.  Just another day in the life of a Musketeer.

THE END