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It Was The Coffee

Summary:

A fairly normal day for the agents of SITRU takes a turn for the worse and the Musketeers must find out who is attacking the Garrison.

 

By the time Athos leapt over the table and out the door, the reception area was full of people. Treville was crouched over a supine Aramis. Porthos was holding onto D’Artagnan who was doubled over clutching his stomach. Constance was racing towards them all from behind her desk. Athos paused to look around for the source of the chaos.

Notes:

I started this fic exactly one year ago today based on the scene in the summary. Everything else was written to explain what happened before that scene and what happened next.

This is, of course, another fic in the awesome SITRU universe. I did not create this universe, but I do love playing in it.

Chapter 1: That First Cup of the Day

Chapter Text

Constance was just signing the service order for the coffee machine maintenance when Athos sauntered in with a Tim Hortons coffee cup in each hand. The coffee maintenance guy ducked his head as she smiled at him and handed over the service order. Grabbing the sheet, he thrust it into his trolley of tools and coffee supplies and hurried past Athos towards the elevator.

Athos stared after him briefly before shrugging.

“Was it something I said?” he asked with a smirk.

Constance laughed “I don’t think it was just you! He must be new because I haven’t seen him before.”

“If he bothers you, just say the word, and I’ll break his legs,” he said with a dead pan voice, but Constance could see the brief twitch of his lips and the crinkle beside his eyes that reassured her that he was just joking.

Clearing his throat, he handed her one of the cups in his hand, “Tims had a special on this morning so I brought you one.”

Constance was touched that he had thought of her, “Oh, Athos, that’s so sweet! It’s too bad that I’m not drinking coffee for a few days.”

Athos raised an eyebrow. She smiled and made a dismissive wave before leaning closer conspiratorially.

“It’s the Captain. His doctor ordered some medical tests so he’s trying to avoid coffee until the tests are done. I said that I would avoid coffee, too, so he wouldn’t have to do it alone.”

“Ah!” responded Athos tilting his head to one side, “I guess I will offer this to Porthos.” He looked around, “where is Porthos?”

“I’m not sure. He hasn’t come in, yet. Nor has Aramis.”

Athos frowned slightly but nodded and started towards Team One’s seconded conference room. Before he could reach it, Treville popped his head outside his office.

“Where’s Aramis?” he asked.

At Athos’ shrug. Treville turned to Constance. She also shrugged. Quirking his mouth in irritation, he retreated back into his office. Constance and Athos exchanged looks. What had Aramis done now?

Just then, the elevator dinged and the man in question appeared around the corner. He nodded briefly to Athos, gave a quick smile that didn’t reach his eyes to Constance and disappeared down the hall towards the break room before anyone could say a word. Porthos, who had been a few paces behind Aramis, stopped by Athos and gave him a look.

“He’s not sleeping again. I can’t wait until he finishes with Team Nine. I don’t know what’s going on with their mission, but it must be serious.”

Athos handed Porthos his extra coffee before saying, “Treville is looking for him. Perhaps he is going to take him off the mission.”

Porthos eagerly accepted the coffee and took a deep draught sighing in satisfaction. He then looked in the direction of the break room. Aramis reappeared with a large mug in hand emblazoned with “Hands off the Captain’s Coffee.”

Constance said, “The Captain is looking for you, Aramis.” Just as Treville’ door opened again.

Aramis, my office, please,” he said in French.

This surprised Constance since he usually used English first in the office unless he was upset. He didn’t sound upset, but clearly something was up. Aramis paused mid-stride, took an enormous swig out of his cup and turned back towards the break room.

“Need more caffeine, Captain,” he called over his shoulder.

Treville merely raised his eyebrows, shook his head and disappeared into his office. Porthos and Athos watched as if it was a show put on for their private amusement. This was further supported by the sudden appearance of D’Artagnan from the Team One room.

“Hey, Athos, Porthos. Have you seen Aramis? Rob, the new guy from Team Nine is looking for him.”

D’Artagnan, who had been looking at his team mates while heading towards the breakroom, nearly collided with Aramis who was returning from it. Aramis managed to swerve just in time, grabbing D’Artagnan with his free hand and spinning them both around in an almost waltz turn without missing a beat or spilling his coffee. He continued to Treville’s office, entering it after a brief knock.

Athos sipped his coffee and remarked, “Clearly the waltzing classes are paying off.”

Porthos shrugged, “For him, maybe. As for me?” he put his hand out and waggled it from side to side indicating “not so much.”

D’Artagnan shook his head and then continued on his way to the break room.

Constance turned to the remaining members of Team One and cleared her throat pointedly, “Show’s over, boys.”

As one, the two men exchanged looks and then sauntered over to their conference room.

Taking a deep breath, Constance looked at her In Box and considered where she would start her day’s work.

“Constance,” D’Artagnan reappeared by her desk, “did they change the coffee again?”

Exasperated by the new interruption, she retorted, “Honestly, how am I supposed to get anything done with you lot hanging around all the time?”

Grimacing, D’Artagnan retreated, “okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

He swiftly retreated, following Porthos and Athos into their conference room.

She rolled her eyes and then she noticed most of Team Nine was hovering by the elevators. At her glare, they all hastily scurried down the hall towards the break room.

“At last,” she said as she spread her hands over her paperwork and settled in to get some work done.

*****

Athos took another sip of his now lukewarm coffee and compared two files. There was something bothering him about them, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He glanced over at the door, wondering when Aramis would return. Although their marksman was still supposed to be working with Team Nine, he still tried to look in on his own team whenever he was in the office. Aside from missing his friend, Athos knew that he was particularly good at spotting the gaps or the oddities in files that others might miss. His eyes swept around the room, passing over Porthos who was frowning at something in another file, before halting at D’Artagnan. The youngest of their quartet was grimacing, but not over the laptop. He was rubbing his stomach.

Concerned, Athos said, “What’s the matter, D’Art?”

His friend gave his stomach another rub before saying, “I think this new coffee is disagreeing with me.”

Porthos looked over at him, “You sure it wasn’t something you ate?”

D’Artagnan shook his head, “I was feeling fine until a few moments ago. And the coffee tasted a bit weird."

Athos considered his young friend, “You are looking a little pale. Perhaps a stomach bug? Perhaps you should go home and rest before you pass it along to the rest of us.”

D’Artagnan winced, and this time, he rubbed his head, “Yeah, maybe I should. I am feeling kinda dizzy, now.”

“C’mon, pup, I’ll drive you,” said Porthos, standing up.

Athos nodded and waved them towards the door. “Go, go. I’ll let Treville know.”

As Porthos opened the door for D’Artagnan, the sound of commotion came out of the lobby.

Treville, sounding alarmed, shouted, “Aramis!”

Porthos abruptly disappeared as he raced out the door, quickly followed by D’Artagnan. By the time Athos leapt over the table and out the door, the reception area was full of people. Treville was crouched over a supine Aramis. Porthos was holding onto D’Artagnan who was doubled over clutching his stomach. Constance was racing towards them all from behind her desk. Athos paused to look around for the source of the chaos.

Then, Team Nine came racing down the hall from the break room. Lily, the team lead, was the first to reach the reception area, but she seemed to wobble just as she passed Constance’ desk, and then she just crumpled into a heap. Hard on her heels, the other three members of her team, managed to prevent her from cracking her head on the desk. But then, they, too, seemed to struggle to stay upright. Within minutes, all four were on the ground. Lily and Rob were out cold, while the other two were groaning and curled up.

Constance changed direction and raced towards Team Nine. Porthos had already lowered D’Artagnan to the ground and was checking his pulse. Treville had his fingers on Aramis’ pulse point at his throat.

Six down, four standing, Athos noted to himself. He pulled out his weapon and checked all the entrances and exits.

“What happened?” he asked Treville. He crouched down and grabbed Aramis’ wrist for himself. To his relief, the pulse was there. Faster than it should be, but there all the same. He looked over at Porthos, who glanced up and nodded his reassurance.

“I have no idea,” said Treville looked around the chaos of the reception. Athos noticed that he had not taken his hand off Aramis, instead transferring his hand from the other man’s throat to his hair. He looked at Athos, sharply and firmly added, “But this feels like we’re being attacked. Athos, hit the alarm then you and Porthos go check the other floors. I’ll recall Teams Six and Five.”