Chapter Text
Athos: Oblivion
The problem with resurrections was that you could actually remember your death. The pain, the fear, the feeling of helplessness… It all came back as soon as your brain started to wake up. Athos remembered it as if it were yesterday.
It was only a routine patrol that completely went to hell. Aramis, Porthos, D’Artagnan and himself were passing through an abandoned village when they were ambushed. A mine exploded somewhere on his right that propelled D’Artagnan against a wall, then they were assaulted by more than a dozen of renegades. He and Porthos immediately took a defensive stance to cover Aramis as he carried their fallen comrade to safety. There were too many of them. For each he managed to take down, two more would attack, his strength was rapidly weakening and he could see even Porthos struggling to keep up. He had just disposed of a man who had latched itself on his back when it happened. Another man managed to slip under his guard as he was occupied and come straight up to him. A long knife was stabbed right under his navel, cutting the air out of him. Stunned and weakened by the physical effort of the fight, he didn’t manage to pull away and his opponent grabbed him by the belt to drag him closer, shoving the knife deeper. Then he yanked it up and pain erupted like a thousand of fires all over his body. He vaguely felt himself be pushed backwards and a loud crack resonated between his temples as his head met the ground. He felt the warm puddle of his own blood soaking his clothes and the sand underneath him as the pain was gradually replaced by a numbness even more terrifying and the last thing he saw before the dark veil covered his eyes completely was Porthos’ horrified face.
)0(
Athos wasn’t immediately aware that he remembered his death, no, at first, his newly resurrected brain only registered… confusion. He was in a box, he needed out, he needed to dig and scratch and pull and get out. He didn’t feel the cold rain hit his face, he didn’t take a lungful of air, and he didn’t notice any pain coming from ruined finger tips caused by digging his way up. He only saw darkness and felt the need to eat, but first… He grabbed Aramis by the arm, pulled him out and then nudged Porthos to a standing position. Only they weren’t Porthos and Aramis, just like he wasn’t Athos. They were just things that needed to eat and needed to stick together. They left the cemetery, and started hunting.
Athos doesn’t remember all the details of their time as… zombies, but their last kill and subsequent capture was one of his most recurrent nightmares along with his own death. He and ‘hunting partners’ (as his almost-dead brain had come to think of not-Porthos and not-Aramis) had managed to break in a store of the gas station and take the unfortunate souls hiding there by surprise. They had managed to grab two men and a woman as they tried to run away and smashed their heads open on the stone of the floor. He was fingers deep in brain matter (not enough, never enough), mouth leaking from blood and other substances when four FVH, that had now been following them for a few days, managed to trap them in a net.
He didn’t realize where they were taking him, instinct just kept him struggling and attempting to claw at their throats, but when the blinding hunger subsided, he was in a room of the treatment center, strapped to a table, stiches on his stomach fixed and a man in white lab coat was smiling down at him.
“Athos De LaFrère, is it? Welcome back young man.”
)0(
Domesticated. He had been domesticated, realized Athos upon waking up that morning. His night had once again been plagued by memories of pain, death and killings, but as he opened his eyes to snowflakes lazily descending from the sky through the window, and to the warmth of Aramis’ body plastered against his side, all the tension left him. A hand was gently caressing the stitches on his stomach, chasing away the ghosts of pain and replacing it with a strange serenity. Aramis had redone both his and Porthos’, claiming the previous stiches were an offense to the art of stitching, so now, the thread carefully but solidly holding shut a wound that would never heal was more than just the painful memory of his demise. It was a testament of love and ties that even death couldn’t break. Somehow, the trio had never been afraid of being separated by death, it was as if they instinctively knew they would all meet their end together… or due to a naïve, love-induced hope. But it didn’t matter anymore. Athos had been comfortable in his life as a soldier and had always expected to live and die as one. Well technically, he had died as one, but he was back now and comfortably living as a civilian, in a house, doing not-soldier things. And he liked it. He had been domesticated without even realizing it.
“You’ve barely woken up, Athos, don’t start thinking so hard already” complained a voice against the skin of his neck.
Athos smiled and gently grabbed the hand on his stomach to squeeze it, leaning his head some more against the dark curls resting on his shoulders. On the other side of the bed, Porthos shuffled closer, still deep in sleep, his long arms encircling both his lovers in a protective embrace.
“What can I say… someone has to do the thinking around here.”
Aramis was still too sleepy to fake being offended and merely hummed in acquisition.
“Still… morning. Too early.”
The Spaniard punctuated his complaint by a yawn which made Athos chuckle. He leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose, giving Aramis the opportunity to drag him closer with an arm around the back of his neck. They kissed languidly, Athos rolling on top of him to deepen it properly and were only interrupted by a deep, rumbling voice coming from the side of the bed.
“How can a man sleep, when the two of you are moving around so much?” muttered Porthos, opening two bleary eyes at them.
Aramis broke the kiss whipping his head back with a delighted laugh, exposing a long white throat which Athos immediately leaned in to kiss and bite.
“Don’t act as if this isn’t your favourite way to wake up.” The Spaniards hand trailed up from Athos’ neck to his hair and tangled his fingers in the dark curls whilst stretching his other arm to trail a finger down Porthos cheekbone and chin.
“Now, are you going to join or are you content to watch?” he asked provokingly with a broad smile.
Porthos growled low in his throat and nipped at the fingers tickling his face. He caught the hand and dragged himself forward to trap it between the mattress and his body.
“You.” He rumbled, “Are a little piece of shit.”
He grabbed a chunk of Aramis’ hair as the other started laughing again and started peppering his face with kisses in a half-hearted attempt to make him stop. Athos lifted his head from where it was resting on Aramis chest to watch them squabble.
“Gentlemen.” He murmured, amused.
Twin grins turned to him, and he was dragged down again.
Sweet, sweet, new life.
)0(
“There was yet, another terrorist attack at the Gare du Nord of Paris. Three PDS sufferers went rabid in the train during rush-hour effectively murdering 10 people and severely wounding 20 more-”
“For Fuck’s sakes, Athos! Turn this thing off on your way over please!”
The captain’s grumbling every morning was one of Porthos’ and Aramis’ greatest source of amusements. It had always been, but now that it was no longer about his four best soldiers’ incompetence at taking precautions but on mundane every life events, the two took an even greater pleasure in listening to him complain under his breath. Athos found it comforting. That, at least, hadn’t changed.
After descending the stairs, the ex-soldier made a detour for the living room where he shut the TV before heading in the kitchen and taking the seat in front of his captain. He grabbed a piece of the newspaper laying on the table and started reading as Tréville started his breakfast. Whilst he no longer needed to eat or drink, Athos liked spending his mornings in the kitchen simply to uphold a comforting routine and to keep company to his old friend.
“Slept well?” Asked Tréville.
“As well as possible” answered Athos.
Tréville nodded. No, their nights were no longer peaceful but some were less horrifying than others. This particular night had been a good one, considering.
The two men stayed in a comfortable silence only punctuated by the two overgrown children breaking a ruckus upstairs until there was three sharp knocks at the door. With a sigh, Tréville put down his piece of the newspaper and made his way to his front entrance, with a scowl of irritation. Athos smiled over the economics sections of newspaper, amused by what he knew was a fake show of annoyance.
The person behind the door knocked three more times and then quickly another five before the Captain made it to the door.
“I’m coming, I’m coming” he called.
Tréville barely turned the knob that a weeping Madame Lafontaine sprang inside like a devil from his box.
“Ah! Monsieur de Tréville! It’s terrible, terrible!”
She threw herself in his arms and the Captain’s distraught air would have been hilarious were it not for the woman’s obvious distress.
“There, there, Madame” he murmured, gently tapping her back and leading her to the couch.
“Here, sit down, would you like some water? It will make you feel slightly better. There, take a deep breath, calm yourself and tell me what is troubling you so much.”
It was no wonder, mussed Athos, that so many came to him for comfort. The man was an excellent advisor and had a talent in helping people get their wits back together. He had used it quite efficiently with Aramis after Savoy and had now another way to put his talents to good use. Tréville hadn’t really invited people to cry over his shoulder- it had sort of happened. He was too polite to refuse distressed people his help when it was so needed however and it had the added advantage of telling him a lot of the village news. He was aware of all the gossip.
“My- my son, he- he— I haven’t seen him in three days now! And the police say they’re searching and doing their best, but- but, they just don’t seem to put in the necessary effort! And- and they keep telling me I’m worrying too much and- and I just don’t know what to do! My son is gone! Again! I don’t want to lose him again! So soon after he…”
Madame Lafontaine broke down into sobs once again and Tréville started rubbing her back to help her breathe.
“There, there… Madame, forgive me for asking but… was- is your son a PDS sufferer?”
The poor woman nodded, reflexively straightening her back defensively.
“It’s why I don’t think the police is doing as much as they could… or would for another person.” She managed to say after calming down a little bit.
“What is happening here?”
Athos turned to see that Porthos and Aramis had finally joined them. The two were cautiously looking to the couch where the Captain was now discussing in a low voice with Madame Lafontaine.
“Her child” he replied nodding in the woman’s direction “has disappeared three days ago and she fears the police is not making enough effort to find him.”
“ ’s he, like us?” asked Porthos.
Athos nodded and the other sighed in understanding. They sat down and calmly waited for the discussion to end, trying to catch a few words here and there. 20 minutes later, Tréville and Madame Lafontaine finally got up from the couch and the captain gently escorted her to the door, murmuring words of comfort.
“I’ll keep an eye out and ask a good friend working at the station to see if he can do anything to speed up the process. Stay strong, Madame, your son will be brought back to you.”
Once the door closed behind her, the captain turned to see his three men looking expectantly at him.
“Nasty business.” He sighed.
)0(
It was nearing 8 pm that same day when another visitor came carrying bad news. Constance came barreling through the door, having opened it with hers spare key, making everyone jump of fright. The trio was in the process of putting coats on (out of habit - they no longer felt the cold) to go out and meet D’Artagnan at the pub. Athos was inches away from having the door slammed in his face. Porthos shuffled forward worriedly.
“Constance? What is-”
“Aramis!” She turned to the man a slightly wild look on her face.
“Aramis! Athos, Porthos, thank god you’re all here!” She closed the door and somehow managed to grab them all by the arm to pull them back more towards the inside of the house.
“Constance, what in God’s name is happening?” Asked Aramis.
“Listen, I saw someone, someone you know and you’re not going to like it.” She said seriously. Before any of them could ask for any specifications, she turned to Aramis, took one of his hands in her own and stared at him right in the eyes.
“It’s Marsac, he’s back in town and I think Jacques may have something to do with it.”
Athos tensed instantly and saw Aramis freeze as if a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over his head. If he had any colour left on his face, it would certainly have drained away to leave him as pale as he currently was. Also sensing his distress, Porthos gently took him by the arm and led him to the couch. The bigger man’s shoulder were stiff and a low growl underlined his voice when he spoke again.
“Are you sure it was him?”
“Yes, I saw him in a car on the streets just a few minutes ago. I could recognize him anywhere after everything he did…”
Marsac actually reminded Athos of Jacques only he was much more cunning and detestable. He remembered how initially he and Aramis had become easy friends until it quickly escalated into trouble. The man became obsessed and wouldn’t take no as an answer despite the Spaniard being clearly uninterested and already in a relationship. He had done everything in his power to play with Aramis’ head from gas-lighting to threats, faking his death and exhorting him money. A tiny part of Athos was glad he was back; Porthos and himself had been wanting to have a… conversation with him.
“Why is he back now?” spat Tréville “He’s always hated this town and always believed he deserved better.”
Everyone turned towards Aramis again but the man only shook his head and got up from the couch.
“It doesn’t matter why he’s here. As far as I’m concerned, he’s been crossed out of my life. Now… Athos, Porthos, I believe D’Artagnan will be waiting for us.”
He walked out followed by Porthos then Athos who stopped near Constance:
“Thank you for the warning… If you don’t mind, can you interrogate Jacques discreetly? If Marsac is indeed back because of Aramis, then Jacques is probably the one that told him, if not then he’s got to know what he’s doing here.”
The petite woman straightened up and nodded firmly, a protective glint in her eyes.
“I’ll do what I can” she replied
Athos smiled gratefully and leaned down to kiss her on both cheeks before following his lovers outside. Hopefully, they wouldn’t see a lot of Marsac around.
)0(
“This is completely useless, not to say ridiculous!”
“Ninon, my dear, these rotters cannot be allowed to roam freely in our town, they need to be monitored and this is the best way to do so.”
Ninon had a lot of difficulty holding back a sneer at the derogatory terms towards both herself and her patients. She had worked with idiots like Marsac before and he was not going to lose her legendary wit in front of this one. Unfortunately, the papers she was holding in her hands held the signatures of almost all the important people of this town.
We hereby declare that all responsibility towards St Émilion’s PDS sufferers is accorded to Marsac François de Lesbournes. Permission is granted for all initiatives he deems necessary to the supervision of said inhabitants.
She didn’t know how Marsac had managed to get such permission but the implications made her skin crawl.
“I have given you my reports, like you asked, in which it was clearly indicated that all PDS sufferers were perfectly sane and taking their dosage properly. Their integration back into society has been going smoothly, there is no need for any sort of… of therapy sessions!”
“These are not therapy sessions, merely meetings where everyone will be accounted for and given tasks… they have destroyed this town during the uprising and now they have to give back. It is merely justice.”
Marsac raised a hand, interrupting Ninon as she opened her mouth to reply and held out three of the filed she had given him.
“Athos, Porthos and Aramis all live with a certain Jean de Tréville, correct?”
“Yes, as is clearly written down.”
“No address?”
“That is confidential.”
“I need that address”
“And I’m telling you, you won’t have it. As a doctor, I’m bound by a confidentiality oath that allows me not to provide you with it.”
Marsac’s face twitched briefly in annoyance and Ninon knew that even if she didn’t give it to him, he would use other means to have it.
“These three men were soldiers.”
“I’m aware.”
“Their experience makes them particularly more dangerous, I need to keep a close eye on them.”
“As you will, in your weekly meetings. They will suffice I assure you; these three are not a danger. ”
Marsac closed the folders with a snap and met her eyes with a barely contained glare.
“That will be all, Doctor DeLarocque.”
The rude dismissal increased her desire to slap him in the face, but she held herself back and picked up her things to leave. The last thing she saw was Marsac sitting at his new desk and re-opening the file labelled ‘René Aramis d’Herblay”
Creep.
)0(
“I can’t believe we have to do this” groaned Porthos.
Athos was of the exact same opinion but failure to attend these ‘PDS sufferer meetings’ was punished by a trip back to the treatment center which none of them were willing to do. The trio sat at the far back of the room, Aramis towards the center, Porthos on the alley and Athos between the two of them. Slowly, all the PDS sufferers of town had filtered in, all looking just as unhappy as the three inseparables. Whilst everyone was settling in, the front doors opened and the man that walked in had Athos, Porthos and Aramis straighten up in their chairs.
Bloody Marsac was responsible for this?
It took and enormous strength of will and all the dread returning to the treatment center created to be able to stay put in their seats as the man stepped up to the podium and tested the microphone.
“Hello? Hellooo? Great, it works.” He shuffled some papers and straightened up, overlooking the grumbling assembly in front of him. Athos noticed Aramis making his best not to make himself as small as possible at his side.
“Silence everyone!”
The mumbling died down reluctantly.
“Good afternoon, PDS sufferers of St Émilion! It is great to have you all here, I’m glad you could make it!”
Someone in the audience coughed sarcastically. Athos liked that person immediately.
“It has been decided by the Mayor of this town that PDS suffers should help rebuild the society they have destroyed, hence the reason for these meetings! We will be supervising your conduct and assigning you community work.”
The announcement had everyone cry out in complaint and Marsac had to tap the microphone against the table to drag everyone’s attention back on him.
“Anyone who does not conform to the code of PDS sufferer good conduct will be given a warning! After 10 warnings, it’s back to the treatment center with you!”
The threat worked and everyone settled down again, yet a tense anger remained floating in the room. Marsac nodded satisfied and continued.
“Allow me to present you my partner who will help supervising you in your tasks. Everyone please welcome Émile Bonnaire!”
Halfhearted claps filled the room as the man himself sauntered him and took the microphone.
“Thank you everyone! It is such a pleasure to be here! Now before we start allow me to remind you of all the ruled you, as a PDS sufferer need to follow. For this session and this session only no warnings will be given but there will be no more exceptions!”
Athos tuned him out as he babbled on about the mandatory injections and makeup. As per usual, he and the other two had come out without their makeup and lenses along with a few others who had followed their lead. The idea of having to put all these layers of makeup again disgusted him as it looked fake despite their best efforts and did no justice to the original tone of skin they had when alive. Some mornings, it even took them twice as long to apply it because they would accidently confuse their bottles with one another whilst half asleep which would end up with mismatched tones of skin.
“But enough talking! We will move on with taking the attendance. Please raise your hand when I call your name.”
Bonnaire started reciting the names one by one and Athos had to hold back a laugh at how childishly they were treated.
“Olivier Athos de la Frère?”
He rose a hand making sure to put his middle finger more in evidence, pulling a laugh from the two men at his side.
“René Aramis d’Herblay?”
Aramis’ good mood, induced by Athos’ stunt, fell again as his raised hand attracted Marsac’s gaze on him. Really, Athos was surprised the man had held back this long.
“Porthos DuVallon?”
“Present” drawled his lover, mockingly raising a finger. That had more people giggling silently and Athos smirked slightly whilst Aramis didn’t hold back the full grin blooming on his face. Marsac’s traits darkened once more but Bonnaire smiled, amused like one is amused by a pet. This man was decidedly making Athos more and more very wary of him.
“What about little François? How come he doesn’t need to be here?” Asked an elderly woman when everyone’s name was called out.
Marsac came forward once more to take the microphone from his accomplice.
“Young François is unavailable but worry not, the council has taken him into consideration.”
“Isn’t that the name of the son of Madame Lafontaine?”
Porthos whispered in his ear. Athos nodded.
“It seems they already know he’s disappeared… I wonder why they don’t look any more concerned with it.”
“It is rather odd considering all the precautions they took to make sure everyone would be here…” Replied Aramis. “They seem to have been around for longer than we originally thought. Especially is Marsac got a permission from the Mayor… they must have been preparing this for some time now.”
If that were the case, mused Athos, then there was a lot more brewing under the surface than what it seemed. The three friends had to stop talking however as Bonnaire spoke again.
“Great! Now that this is all settled, we will start with our first exercise. I will need a volunteer…” Bonnaire looked down at the list he held in his hands. “DuVallon!” Porthos tensed up again. “Yes, you will do, please come up!”
Athos tapped the bigger man encouragingly on the arm and Aramis gently rubbed a thumb over his knee as Porthos rose to his feet with an angry sigh.
)0(
“How was it?”
Athos was silently pleased to see D’Artagnan waiting for them outside despite the cold when they were finally allowed to leave. They had been to the blasted thing for the entire afternoon.
“Horrid” Grunted Porthos. He dropped an arm around the younger’s shoulders and started walking away whilst gesturing wildly with the other hand. Athos and Aramis followed side by side behind them.
“We’re treated like we have no feelings and need a complete re-education. Hello D’Artagnan.” The big man started miming the ridiculous routine Bonnaire had them repeat time and time again. “I’m sorry if my cold skin shocked you! I am a PDS sufferer, and giving back to my society! Look I am wearing makeup and contact lenses to make you as comfortable as possible!” Porthos shuddered in disgust. “We don’t need supervision or education! Everything’s been going perfectly fine until now…”
“I wrote to the mayor, I’m sure he’ll do something about this; it was a private initiative after all.” Tried to comfort the Gascon.
“I’m afraid not” Sighed Athos. “According to Marsac he got permission and even encouragements from the Mayor for this.”
“What I don’t understand” Interrupted Aramis, “Is, why now? I’ve heard of similar initiatives taking place in England but they never held! And now, Marsac just comes along with a new minion and sets this whole thing up? If there’s anything I know for sure about him is that he never does anything unless he’ll get personal benefits from it.”
The four men paused in their step as Porthos turned around to trade a quick glance with Athos.
“Maybe… maybe it’s a way to get to you?”
D’Artagnan shook his head.
“There are many simpler ways to do that. Unfortunately, this town is not exactly progressive in the defense of its resurrected inhabitants…”
The young man was interrupted by a shout.
“Please sir! Something needs to be done for my son!”
The four inseparables turned towards the building they were walking away from to see Madame Lafontaine accosting Marsac as he was walking towards his car. She caught him by the arm before he managed to enter. Even from this distance, the four could clearly see the annoyed and sinister smile he quickly morphed into a seemingly more pleasant one before turning to face the distraught mother.
“I assure you, Madame that I will send more people to investigate about your son’s disappearance. There really is no need for worry.”
His voice sent an unpleasant shiver down Athos’ spine and he watched as the man grasped the woman’s hand, kissed it in mock comfort before patting it patronizingly.
“Now go home and let the professionals do the work.”
Marsac did not wait for a reply, entered his car and drove away, honking as he passed the foursome on the sidewalk. Madame Lafontaine watched him drive away before heaving a sigh and dejectedly walking away.
“What a despicable piece of shit.” Hissed Aramis. He suddenly turned on his heels and started walking away towards the bar they usually hung out in, the others following close behind. They entered silently, each lost in their own angered thoughts until they found a table and sat down, Athos and Porthos closely bracketing their third. D’Artagnan raised his hand and ordered four drink which were deposited in front of them a few seconds later.
“I don’t trust him with this.” Said Aramis, staring to calm down.
“Me neither” stated D’Artagnan. “He doesn’t look at all like he’s going to put any effort into it.”
Athos sighed to hide the excitement starting to bubble in his chest but was betrayed by the grin that graced his lips as he lifted his cup to them.
“I do believe, gentlemen, that an investigation is in order”
“Like the good ol’ times, eh?” beamed Porthos.
The four cheered and raised their glasses to that. In one synchronized gulp, they emptied their contents and smashed them back on the table with roaring laughter. Athos smiled at his friends’ delight, gently releasing his own glass and hiding his trembling hand under the table.
It had been shaking irregularly throughout the day; little tremors that felt like his own body was betraying him.