(no subject)

When Athos awakens and finds himself returned to his usual state, his realizes a number of things in quick succession: he must apologize to Porthos, he must thank Aramis for his patience, and he must speak to d’Artagnan. In the case of the latter, it is not only the last week that concerns him, but the last month or more, and all he has been keeping from his protege. If the exhausting and maddening week returned to the awkwardness of boyhood has taught him anything, it is that he should not take advantage of those he cares about most, not by lying to them, or forcing them to lie for him. He might prefer to hide away his heart forever, but at a certain point, that does more harm than good.

His nerves are afire when he knocks on d’Artagnan’s door. He may no longer be a boy, but for the moment, his heart is racing like he still is. Please God, he thinks, let Constance be absent this morning. He can barely contain his shame as it is, and cannot imagine being forced to spill his news to both of them at once. She should know as well, but that will take a whole different sort of courage.

Athos knocks, and with all the calm he can muster, he waits.