Special Investigations and Tactical Response Unit AU
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They weren't beat cops and they weren't Mounties. They were somewhere in the middle, this Special Investigations and Tactical Response Unit.
They were, also, aptly nicknamed The Musketeers.
Getting a gun runner off the street was business as usual, even if it meant Athos wondered again why he'd been saddled with Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan, and Treville had the look of a man who made a living herding cats and knew it.
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“You two,” Athos said the next afternoon after a painkiller-induced nap on the couch, “are the biggest mother hens I’ve ever had the misfortune to know in my life.”
Giving the four of them personalized Kevlar vests and asking the universe to ignore it is a little too much to ask.
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The first times, failed attempts, second tries, and general life and times of Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d'Artagnan, Team One of the Special Investigations and Tactical Response Unit based in Quebec City.
(Stories are in no particular order and probably won't be connected to each other unless specified.)
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Aramis, who couldn’t help but be listening in, nearly fell over in shock at Athos’s next words.
“I promise, on my honor as a Musketeer, that we will make sure you get safely to your Auntie Fleur’s. All four of you.”
“Athos doesn’t make promises he can’t keep,” Aramis added softly as Philippe still remained unconvinced. “Every promise he’s made to me he’s kept.”
Or: A bust goes bad and it's up to Athos, stuck in the middle of a wintery Canadian forest, to get four children and himself back to Quebec City despite the weather and the small matter of a gunshot wound to his side.Series
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Athos gave him the finger and drank in the sight of Aramis laughing, head kicked back and hair in total disarray. The tightness in his chest returned twofold as the vans were shut and finally pulled from the Garrison parking lot.
It was just a week. Seven days. Not long at all.
But if that was the case then why did Athos feel like he’d never see Aramis again?
A training exercise codenamed SAVOY goes horribly wrong. Aramis tumbles down the rabbit hole, and Athos and Porthos do their best to get him back up into the sunshine.
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“The hell do you think you’re doing?” He squirmed. “I am a paramedic. That man is injured. I am going to render aid, and you, my behemoth friend, are going to get off of me.”
“Behemoth.” There was a snort. “That’s a new one.”
“I’m not kidding,” John said. “Let me up. Or, you know, at least buy me dinner first,” he added, as someone pulled his wallet from his back pocket, along with his badge.
“I’ll think about it,” the voice said dryly, “but you’re not really my type.”
“American?” A second voice, one that sounded older, spoke for the first time. “What’s an American doing in Quebec City?”
He rested his forehead on the backs of his hands and slowly counted to five. “Well, it starts with a funeral, has a frisky middle, and ends with a violation of the Hippocratic Oath.”
Or: The first times, failed attempts, second tries, and general life and times of Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d'Artagnan, Team One of Quebec City's Special Investigations and Tactical Response Unit as narrated by paramedic John Friedline, who always somehow seems to be along for the ride.
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What he didn’t account for, however, was the possibility of a third man in the car behind him.
There was a click; someone grabbed the strap on his backpack and yanked, pulling him off balance. He struggled, and more hands grabbed him. Something twisted and cracked with a pop; he yelped again even as someone gripped him by the hair to pull his head around.
“Easy, doc. Easy,” someone crooned in his ear as a sickly sweet smell invaded his nostrils and clogged his mind. “Take a breath. Go to sleep.”
He fought it as everything swirled together. The last thing he heard before his head shut down was someone swearing from where he’d kicked them in the knee.
Or: Elliott's abduction leads Team One (and John) to the Big Apple to find him. Also involving the Italian Mob, a case of PTSD, inter-departmental politics, and a race to see who can find one Canadian psychologist in a city of over eight million.
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