Spoiler alert for the last episode! Do not read if you have not watched it.

This story is my version of the last episode of season 1. If you haven't watched the episode than this will be very confusing because it jumps between scenes. Most of what happened in the last episode happened, just with some changes to parts of it to fit my story. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

It was supposed to be an act. Athos was not supposed to be so drunk. The bullet was supposed to enter his arm. It didn't. The bullet snapped a rib, but nobody knew that at the time. The doctor, Milady De Winter used, wasn't the most...reliable. He had told her it only scraped his rib. "A few more inches over and you'd be dead."

"It was an accident." D'Artagnan had told her. It was all planned out. They knew they had to move slowly otherwise Milady and the Cardinal would suspect. It was a good plan but, of course, with D'Artagnan, nothing really goes the way they should.

Aramis knew there was something wrong as soon as D'Artagnan walked into the garrison three days after Athos had shot him and the Musketeers had supposedly left him in the streets for dead. He was pale. "So you're not dead."

"And you're not drunk." They exchanged, before laughing and hugging in the privacy of Treville's office. It had worked.

"Careful! I'm a wounded man." D'Artagnan stepped away from the group and wrapped his arm around ribs. He didn't show much pain, not in comparable to what he was really feeling.

"Sorry about that." Athos said casually, not seeing the signs Aramis was seeing. "Is it bad?"

"Bad enough." It was the closest he would come to admitting he was in pain. "You were supposed to shoot me in the arm, Athos."

Athos shrugged, "A shot to the side is so much more authentic."

"You're not claiming you aimed there deliberately?" Aramis scoffed at Athos cockiness.

"Accuracy isn't easy after three bottles of wine." Athos admitted.

"Hmmm." Porthos raised his eyebrows, nodding, "That part was genuine, at least."

Aramis eyed D'Artagnan carefully, throughout the friendly banter. He wasn't pleased with what he was seeing. It didn't go unnoticed though, both Treville and D'Artagnan could, see and feel, respectively, the intense gaze of the priest.

"Is there a problem, Aramis?" Treville asked of him.

D'Artagnan glared at him, "Yes, Aramis, is there a problem?"

Aramis caught the 'don't even try!' look from D'Artagnan, but just ignored him. "Actually, I wouldn't mind if I could take a look." He nodded to the left of D'Artagnan's abdomen. It was only a slight change in Athos's stance and expression, and it wasn't noticeable, but it did show his concern in the young man. Did he do more damage than he had thought?

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes, "Actually, I do mind." He took a step back, warning off the approaching Aramis, "It was a just a graze across my ribs. Milady had a doctor take care of it."

Athos's expression turned deadly, "She's not to be trusted."

"She doesn't want me dead, Athos." D'Artagnon reasoned with the man he respected as much as he respected his own father, "I'm of no use to her dead."

"Still..." Porthos's protective instincts over his friends kicked in as well.

"Guys!" D'Artagnan's voice raised in frustration. How could he prove himself as a musketeer when his three over-protective brothers wouldn't stop coddling him? "The plan was to shoot me in front of Milady to get her and to get the Cardinal to incriminate himself. How am I supposed to do that if I go back there looking better than I did when I left?!" Aramis stopped his advancement on his friend. He was about to jump the boy until he was forced to see reason. Porthos sighed as well. Athos, on the other hand was harder to convince. "Athos, are you really going to give up the chance of getting De Winter? This is your chance to face your past." D'Artagnan may not have known this man long, but he knew of his past, a past the others had not known of. He knew how Athos's past has tortured him. It was time for it to stop.

Athos finally gave in, "You get yourself killed and I will shoot you again."

D'Artagnan laughed, though he shouldn't have because it reignited the pain in his ribs and almost reignited his friends' concerns, as well as his captain's. "I'm fine, it's just still a bit raw." He waited to see if that appeased them before continuing, "I should head back now before she starts getting suspicious."

The Musketeers nodded, "Be careful."

D'Artagnan was heading to the door when something very important came to mind. He stopped and started walking backwards slowly, turning around and giving them an embarrassing smile, "I forget to tell you." He looked at Athos, "If you don't mind, I have to kill you."

The plan to 'kill' Athos, went off without a hitch and very convincingly, but it wasn't enough to convince the Cardinal. They knew that though. The Cardinal trusts no one. Their plan wasn't to gain the Cardinal's trust it was to use what he has done against him. He convinced the Cardinal of the letter the assassin kept that can incriminate him. It worked. Their plan was going well. He was oblivious to the fact that Milady had kidnapped the woman he loved. Constance Bonacieux.

The mission was almost over. The Cardinal, the two thirds of the Three Musketeers and the Queen were all in place. They just needed one ingredient. The confession. "The Queen is barren. If the King dies without an heir, France will be plunged back into civil war. Is one woman's life worth sacrificing to avoid such a catastrophe? I think it is. I ordered her death because I alone will face the truths that no-one else can stomach." And there it was. Now for the fun part. The Cardinal is not going to like the fun part. Enter the queen. D'Artagnan had never felt such satisfaction in his life.

"It is only because I believe you are sincere in your devotion to the country that I have decided to spare your life. France needs you and the King loves you. Your treachery would break his heart. If you ever fail in your duty again I will not be so lenient. My influence with the King is stronger than you can possibly imagine. You have been warned Cardinal." Aramis smiled with admiration. There was a reason why he was so attracted to the Queen of France. She is smart and beautiful.

D'Artagnan would've jumped in elation, after the Queen and the Cardinal left, had it not been for the trouble he was having with breathing. He stumbled to the side, his hand came up to support himself against the wall, his other hand moving to his chest, trying to force his lungs to work. Aramis and Porthos had finished congratulating each other and turned to their young friend to include him when they saw the bad condition he was in. "D'Artagnan!" "You stupid boy!" were the reactions they gave.

Porthos and Aramis gently lowered the boy to sit on the floor, against the wall. D'Artagnan had his eyes closed, struggling for each breath. Aramis placed an ear against D'Artagnan's chest. "Stay awake." Porthos pleaded, just as he had pleaded when Athos had shot him in the streets. But that was an act, this wasn't. He tapped D'Artagnan's face about to repeat the order when something of more concern came up. "He's burning up, Aramis!" He exclaimed as his hand moving to his forehead. D'Artagnan opened his eyes. It was so hard to breath and it was making him weak.

Aramis's head came back up and he sighed in relief, "One problem at a time, Porthos. There's no liquid in his lungs, which tells me his lungs have not been punctured as I had first feared."

"But he clearly has trouble breathing." Porthos argued, "And he has a fever!"

"Yes, Porthos, I heard you the first time." Aramis growled through his teeth as he glared at the injured young man. "Athos's bullet didn't just graze his rib, it fractured it. Stupid fool's lucky to be alive!" He was close to losing his temper, before his expression softened at the pain his young friend was going through. "We need to get him back to the garrison. I need to tend to the broken bone, but otherwise there is nothing I can do but wait for his lungs to heal on its own." Aramis spoke to D'Artagnan, "I know it's going to hurt but you have to try and take deep breaths. When we get back to the garrison I will make up a remedy that will help you." D'Artagnan tried to follow what Aramis was saying but he couldn't get his brain to function, not to mention, his breathing was making it hard to concentrate on anything else. Aramis sighed, "Deep breaths." He took a deep breath himself, demonstrating. He looked at Porthos to tell him to do the same. Porthos did, nodding and taking deep breaths as well. If not for the seriousness of the situation, the scene might have been comedic. D'Artagnan thought his friends were going insane but he joined in anyway. He barely took a breath before he was engulfed in pain. He was about to curl up around the pain when someone stopped him, "Don't do that. If you move too much your rib could make a hole in your lung, and you'll be beyond any doctor's help. Understand?" D'Artagnan groaned in pain and he broke out into a cold sweat. "Okay, fine, the deep breathing lessons can wait." He turned to Porthos, "Go get four men and a stretcher. We need to get him back to the garrison..." He thought about that, "Better yet, let's get him back to my place. It's closer and more comfortable." Porthos nodded and went for help while Aramis stayed to keep their friend calm.

Aramis placed a hand on D'Artagnan's forehead, "Well, Porthos is right. You are burning up." He sighed, "I knew I should've checked on your wound that day. I could see it was bothering you more than you were saying."

D'Artagnan wasn't quite aware of what was going on, but the guilt in Aramis's voice broke through the haze. "My fault."

"Yes, indeed it's your fault. Your loyalty to your captain and your mission is faultless and can only be rivalled by your stupidity." His voice softened with the next part, "However, I understand your loyalty also lies with Athos and your commitment to his cause can only be described as admirable. He is lucky to have a friend in you."

D'Artagnan's eyes grew heavier as they waited for Porthos to return. He could tell Aramis was angry with him but he could also hear the slight pride and gratitude in it as well, when he spoke about his and Athos friendship. D'Artagnan frowned at the last part, "Are we not…friends…also?" He didn't get to hear Aramis's reply as he lost his hold on consciousness.

Aramis smiled, not too worried about his friend's unconscious state. Right now, he needed rest and his breathing eased a little as well. "Yes," Aramis whispered, "I'm honored to have you amongst my friends, no matter how foolish you are. You are no more foolish than myself, Porthos or Athos." Finally, Porthos arrived with four other Musketeers. It was time to take their friend home.

An hour later…

D'Artagnan's eyes opened, or else he tried to open them, but his eyelids felt so heavy. In fact, it was not just his eyes, his chest felt like a weight was pressing on it, preventing him from taking satisfying breaths. He gave up on trying to open his eyes and felt around instead. He was on a bed. One more comfortable than his own at the Bonacieaux residence. He was inclined in the bed, very soft cushions at his back. D'Artagnan would've believed he was in heaven, had he not been in pain. Now that he had an idea where he was he turned his focus to the voices around him.

"We have to tell him." Aramis. Tell me what?

"No, we don't. He is of no help right now anyway. We can handle this." Athos.

"Aramis is right, Athos. He has the right to now." Porthos. What are you talking about?

"He will end up getting himself killed, if he finds out!" Athos started sounding desperate.

"Athos, you know we will be walking into an ambush. What are our chances of survival? How will he find the will the live if he wakes up only to find his best friends and the woman he loves, dead!"

Woman...love…dead? "Constance!" D'Artagnan's body reacted of its only accord at the name. "Constance!" He felt hands on him as he tried to get out of bed. He ignored them all as his need to rescue Constance from Athos's psychotic ex-wife took over his entire being. "Let me go! Let me go!" He fought the hands, but there was too many of them. "I have to save her!" He screamed before his bruised lungs finally protested at its abuse. D'Artagnan started coughing, which would have been good, if he could stop coughing long enough to take a breath. He started panicking.

"D'Artagnan…"Athos held D'Artagnan's head between his hands and spoke in a calm, soothing voice. "Listen to me, D'Artagnan. You have to breathe. Breathe with me." He grabbed D'Artagnan's hand and placed it on his own chest, "Breathe with me." D'Artagnan felt Athos's chest expand as he took a deep breath, then retract as he let it go slowly. He looked into the calming eyes of his friend and mentor. Finally, he took control of his lungs and took one shaking breath, in time with Athos. It took all of his concentrated to not cough it back out. As he felt Athos chest retract, he let go of the breath, slowly. "That's it." Athos nodded, proudly, "Again." D'Artagnan gave a small nod and took another breath. It took five minutes of the breathing lesson, before Athos felt it safe to let his friend go.

"Well done, Athos." Aramis breathed a sigh of relief. "None of my remedies would have been as effective as your coaching." Porthos was bent over, breathing as if he had just come back from a morning run. The episode has taken a lot out of everyone.

Athos just looked at them both, exhausted. He didn't know the simple act of breathing, they have been taking for granted their entire life, could be so difficult. He turned back to D'Artagnan who was still out of breath but at least breathing more steadily, and saw the plea his the young musketeers eyes. "Where is Constance?" Athos closed his eyes, worried that telling him the truth would set of another episode. He looked at the others, who nodded to him to tell their friend.

"Before I tell you, you must promise to stay calm." D'Artagnan nodded, desperate to know what has happened. Athos sighed before he continued, "The Cardinal gave Milady up, but she had an ace up her sleeve. She has the Lady Bonacieaux." He stopped D'Artagnan from rising, "We will get her back." He quickly promised his friend, "She will return to you."

D'Artagnan closed his eyes in defeat. This was his fault. Milady took Constance because she knew she was his weakness. The beautiful, psychotic woman was holding his love hostage and there was nothing he could do about it. "I love her." He finally managed to get out, opening his eyes again.

"And she loves you." Aramis told him, "You just have to look in her eyes to know it's true."

"And so be it from us to tear apart two people who were meant to be." Porthos added, "We'll get her back for you."

D'Artagnan was touched by the gesture, but he could not accept it. As much as he loved Constance, he friends were just as important to him. "It's an ambush."

Aramis raised his eyebrows at him, "You were awake longer than first thought."

"I can't let you risk your lives for me." D'Artagnan was not sure if he could continue his dream of being a Musketeer if he were to lose these three men.

Porthos laughed, "You must have more faith in your friends. We have been around long enough to know how to handle an ambush. They think they will have us at a disadvantage, but they will soon learn how wrong they are."

The confidence in Porthos almost swayed him but he remembered what Aramis had said, "but Aramis said…"

"Forget what you heard me say. Before you met us, you have heard what we can do. After, you have seen it for yourself." Aramis leaned over and stared at D'Artagnan. "Look into my eyes and tell me you do not believe in our abilities." D'Artagnan did and all he could find was confidence. Finally, he conceded, nodding. Aramis smiled and then returned to what he was doing before D'Artagnan had awoken.

"Wait for us. We will return with your lady." Athos placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze.

"That's right and you better be ready to buy us three rounds at the pub." Porthos boasted from behind Athos. D'Artagnan grinned at him, although the concern in his eyes was still evident.

Aramis returned with a bowl of clear liquid with herbs floating inside it. He placed in on the tripod standing over a candle at the beside-table. "The aromas will help you breathe easier while we are gone." He told him. "Remember, take as deep a breath as the pain will allow you. Don't over-do it and rest. We will be back the next time you awaken."

D'Artagnan nodded, "Please be careful."

Porthos laughed, "Careful is our middle name." Athos stood and nodded at his friend, before leaving without a word.

"Treville will be here shortly to ensure you behave yourself." Aramis tipped his hat and left with Porthos behind him. D'Artagnan watched them leave. He prayed they will return with Constance, safe.

Three hours later…

The Musketeers returned to Aramis's home, a little worse for wear, but alive. Porthos was right. Milady's thugs had no chance against the Three Musketeers. The only problem was they did not return with Constance. They were on their way back to D'Artagnan with Constance when a servant from the Bonacieaux residence came running up to her, something about her husband trying to commit suicide. Immediately they knew they could not take her with them to see D'Artagnan. "Tell him, I'm sorry and that I love him."

"You will need to come and visit him at least once and soon. His injury is not grave but his recovery will be hindered if he is constantly worried about you." Constance looked confused, "As much as our word is often more than enough for D'Artagnan, seeing you alive and well will be more beneficial than a thousand words from the three of us." Constance finally understood and nodded.

Despite their exhaustion, they took off their gear and went straight to Aramis's room. He was about to open the door when his maid opened it and held in her arms, bed sheets stained with blood. "What…" He didn't get the chance to ask, Athos had taken one look at the sheets and pushed past him almost knocking over the maid. Aramis nodded, dismissing her, before he and Porthos entered the room.

Treville had just placed a cool cloth on D'Artagnan's forehead when Athos barged in, followed by Aramis and Porthos. Treville stood up from the bed and put his hands out in an attempt to calm the irate musketeer down. "He's okay." Was the first words he said, hoping it was enough to quench to fear of the worst. "A doctor from the palace has only just left." Another bit of information with the purpose of placating his men.

Finally, Athos was calm enough to ask, but he didn't take his eyes off his young friend as he did, "What happened to him? He looks ten times worse than he did when we left him only hours ago."

"Not long after you left, his fever started to rise to a level beyond dangerous." Treville began, when D'Artagnan started tossing in his fevered state. Athos automatically moved to his side and placed a cool hand against his cheek, hoping the gesture would calm him. It was an action that surprised the other three men in the room. Aramis smiled, the boy had managed to find a place in Athos's heart. Something not easy to do. Treville continued as Athos started tending to the boy's fever. "D'Artagnan became unresponsive so I sent word to the Queen, asking of her assistance. Of course she graciously sent the palace doctor. His wound was not treated well. Infection took hold of it. He is lucky to be alive. The doctor had to reopen the wound to drain the infection."

"That explains all the blood." Porthos shivered at the amount of blood his friend had lost.

"The infection has been treated. The doctor has assured me of his recovery. Now, what of Milady De Winter and Lady Bonacieaux?" Treville asked of their rescue mission.

"De Winter will never be seen in Paris again, if she knows what is good for her and Constance is home with her weak and imbecilic husband." Aramis's voice was acidic at best.

Treville wanted a full report, but it was clear his men were exhausted and would not be getting any rest tonight, as they worried over the young musketeer. The report could wait a few days. "I will return to the garrison. I don't want to see any of you for two days at least. With Milady and the Cardinal taken care of, the rest of us can handle everything else." He took one last look at D'Artagnan, who seemed to have relaxed under Athos ministrations, then left.

Aramis took a look at the pot he had left on the table and noticed there was minimal liquid left and the candle was almost finished. He blew out the candle and picked up the small bowl. "I will return with some more and get Mary to bring up a fresh bowl of water." Athos didn't even register his friend was talking to him. Porthos nodded, to tell him he will watch over them both. Aramis sighed and left the room.

It was the middle of the night when D'Artagnan arose from unconsciousness. Athos was resting in a chair next to the bed, when he sense movement from it. "D'Artagnan?" Athos moved to the side of the bed, as D'Artagnan opened his eyes, it was clear by his fevered eyes that the boy was not fully awake.

"Give him some water, Athos." Athos jumped slightly at the voice. He was so engrossed in his friend waking up that he had not noticed Aramis had been awaken as well. He looked over his shoulder to see Aramis holding a small bowl of water. "Give it to him." He repeated.

Athos nodded and took the water. He supported D'Artagnan's head and he slowly tipped the bowl so that the water just touch his lips. The allure of water had the effect Athos wanted and D'Artagnan opened his mouth more to take in the precious liquid. "Slowly, D'Artagnan. Last thing we need is for you to choke and start another coughing fit. The first one scared ten years off my life, another one might be the death of me." Aramis smiled as he watched the effect Athos's calming voice had on D'Artagnan. Athos took the bowl away and handed it back to Aramis as he slowly eased the young man's head back onto the pillow. Aramis put the bowl on the table and then reach past Athos to place a hand on the sick man's forehead. "He's getting better, though the fever is still a concern." Aramis frowned, when D'Artagnan looked up at him with fear in his eyes. "What is it, D'Artagnan?"

"Constance." He asked, too weak to say anymore.

"Rest assured, Constance is home safe. She will come visit you when she has the chance." Aramis knew he didn't need to say anymore. One, D'Artagnan's fever would not allow him to comprehend much and two, the words Constance and safe were the only words needed for now. It was enough to placate the man. Aramis smiled when D'Artagnan closed his eyes, a small smile coming to his lip. "As he gets his strength back, our word on Constance's safety will not be enough."

Athos nodded, "I know, but it is for now and that is all that is important."

The next morning Porthos awoke to find Aramis asleep at the table and Athos fast asleep in the chair. It was clear these two men had very little sleep last night and had allowed him his rest. This meant it would be his job to watch over their sick friend today. He looked over at D'Artagnan to find him, surprisingly awake and alert. "Hey..." Porthos started but D'Artagnan put a finger to his lips, gesturing that he didn't want to wake his friends. Porthos nodded and picked up the pitcher of water, filling the small bowl before moving to the other side of the bed. He sat down on the bed and offered the water to his friend. D'Artagnan took it gratefully with his shaky hands. Porthos kept a hand under the bowl to keep it steady as D'Artagnan drank. "Thank you." His whispered. Porthos nodded as he put down the bowl on the side table.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he reached over, placing a hand over D'Artagnan's forehead. He chuckled as he received a glare from the sick man. "Your fever is down. How's the breathing?" D'Artagnan took a deep breath and groaned as the pain in his chest and ribs made flared. Porthos winced in sympathy, "Guess that answers the question." He took in his friend's colour and decided it didn't look much better than last night. "You gave us all a big scare yesterday, the Captain included."

D'Artagnan looked at him confused. "Why? What happened?"

Porthos figured it was normal that D'artagnan wouldn't remember considering the state he was in. "Your fever rose dangerously high. You lost a lot of blood and you were barely able to breathe. When we got back here after saving your lady..."

"Constance!" D'Artagnan pushed himself up before the pain could stop him. "Ahhh..." He dropped back to the pillow as the pain weakened him even further.

Athos's head, which had fallen against his chest, shot up at D'Artagnan's call of pain, while Aramis shot up from the table and pulled his sword out to face the threat he was sure had woken him. Porthos chuckled softly at his friend's reaction as he kept a hand on D'Artagnan's shoulder. Athos stood and sat opposite Porthos, "What happened?" He asked softly, looking at the young man in the bed. His eyes were shut tight, and his breathing was too shallow. Athos placed a hand against the man's cheek to coax him to open his eyes. He smiled when D'Artagnan did open them. "Are you trying to worry us to death?"

"I must concur with Athos," Aramis appeared beside Athos, sheathing his sword, "Being shocked awake is not good for my old age."

"Did you save her?" D'Artagnan asked of Constance now that he had the pain and breathing back under control.

Athos sighed, "How many times have I answered this question Aramis?"

Aramis started counting on his fingers until he reached ten, "Hmmm…I may need to borrow a few more fingers." Porthos laughed at the joke, though he could see D'Artagnan could not see the amusement.

"Constance is home…with her husband." Porthos emphasized the last word, receiving very unimpressed looks from the other two. "What? We have to tell him at some point!"

Athos rolled his eyes and shook his head. He knew Porthos was right, but his timing isn't the best. He wanted D'Artagnan to be stronger before telling him. He didn't need any emotional stress to hinder his recovery. "Listen to me, D'Artagnan." He waited for the young man to look at him and continued when he knew he had his full attention, "Constance loves you and if it were any other circumstance, she would be right here with you." D'Artagnan started turning his head away, believing these were just words to comfort him, but Athos didn't let him turn away, grabbing his jaw roughly. D'Artagnan glared at him, making Athos smile, "That's the D'Artagnan I met at the garrison. The one ready to take on a musketeer with ten years the experience he has!" D'Artagnan's eyes softened and he managed a small, sad smile. Athos removed his hand and sat back, "Her husband, the imbecile," D'Artagnan laughed at that, "tried to commit suicide."

The young musketeers eyes widened in horror. "What?...Why?"

"We do not know, but I'm sure if Constance were able to, she would be here right now." Aramis told him in the gentle voice that also demanded to be listened to. "She loves you."

D'Artagnan smirked, "So you all keep telling me and yet her words and absence contradicts all that you say." He shook his head, "It's okay though, because I only wish her to be safe and unharmed. That's all that matters."

"How's your breathing?" Aramis asked, changing the subject.

D'Artagnan glared at him, annoyed. "Anyone tell you, you have a one track mind?"

"Take a deep breath." Aramis grinned, though he was serious about the request. D'Artagnan continued glaring as he did as he was told. The breath threw him into a coughing fit.

"Now look what you did!" Athos growled at his friend as he put both hands on D'Artagnan's shoulders, holding him against the pillows so that he didn't curl over and do more damage to his ribs. The coughing hurt, it hurt a lot but it's different to last time. He was strong enough to control it, to take breaths. When he finally stopped, his breathing was short and rapid, a cause for concern to Aramis.

"D'Artagnan, as much as it hurts to breathe deep, it'll get worse if you don't." Aramis told him.

"You want him to go through that every time he takes a breath." Athos looked at him incredulously.

"Can't he just," Porthos shrugged, "I don't know...take short breaths for now?"

"NO!" Aramis called out in frustration at his friends, "I don't do this because I like seeing D'Artagnan suffer. He has to do it to keep away any lung sickness. He will get very sick if he does not breathe properly." There were times when he thought his friends were numb skulls.

They were quiet for a while before Athos finally said, "Apologies."

"Right, same." Porthos added.

Aramis just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I would call you all imbeciles if I have not dedicated that word to Mr Bonacieaux."

D'Artagnan chuckled at that before he groaned at the pain. "I don't suppose laughing is also good for me."

"Sadly not." Aramis told him regretfully.

"So just deep breaths and coughing." D'Artagnan didn't like the sound of his recovery. It sounded too painful and miserable. He looked at Athos. "You know this is your fault right?"

"Mine? How so?" Athos asked.

"You shot me." D'Artagnan answered, deadpanned.

Porthos laughed, then tried to mimic Athos, "A shot to the side was more authentic."

"Ow!" D'Artagnan complained, "Don't make me laugh."

"Yes, well, you're half to blame. Aramis ask to check your wound and you refused."

"That is true." Aramis agreed.

"Yes, right and where would we be right now if I had let you check it. You wouldn't have let me continue with the mission, the Cardinal would still be manipulating the king and Milady would still be killing innocent people to get to you." D'Artagnan shook his head, "Just admit it Athos. This is your fault. If you had just shot me in the arm like we had planned, I wouldn't be in this bed right now."

Athos and D'Artagnan got into a glaring match before Athos gave in, "Fine, it's my fault! Next time I'll just shoot you in the ass." D'Artagnan grinned at his mentor, then leaned back against his pillow. "You should rest."

D'Artagnan eyes started dropping, "Sounds good..."

"He's healing." Aramis told his two friends, "It may be a week or two but he will be fine."

Porthos raised his eyebrows, "You're willing to give up your room for two weeks?"

Aramis laughed, "Come on, Porthos. You speak as if we know nothing of each other. How often do I spend a night in bed alone?"

"Ah...right...you find a certain adrenaline in waking up with someone else's wife beside you and her husband coming up the stairs." Porthos grinned.

"It keeps me on my toes." Aramis replied, unashamedly. He placed another candle on the table and lit it under the bowl of herbs. He sighed, "These are not doing much for him, but it helps to relax him so he can breathe easier."

"How much pain is he really in?" Athos asked, "I mean, when you're not making him breathe."

"Yadda, yadda, yadda...you ever going to get over that?" Aramis complained, "And to answer your question, he is in a lot of pain. More than he is letting on. On top of that, his fever isn't letting up. It has gone down, but it's still there which makes him weak. The weaker he is the harder it is for him to control the coughing."

"So we need to make sure the fever stays down." Athos deducted. Aramis nodded. "Then we take turns tending to the fever."

Porthos put his hand up, "I'll take care of him today. You guys didn't get much rest last night."

Aramis rubbed his eyes, stood up and stretched, "I might take you up on that." He took one last look at D'Artagnan, sleeping in the bed, before leaving with Aramis.

6 hours later...

D'Artagnan woke up in Aramis's room to find Porthos asleep in the chair next to the bed. He was tempted to make a noise and scare the man. It would've been fun, but decided on something else. He winced as he pushed himself up and shuffled, quietly, to the other side of the bed. He swung his legs over the bed, huffing as he sat there a little while to catch his breath. Reaching over to the bed post, he lifted himself off the bed, suppressing the groan of pain. He leaned heavily against the post, rethinking his idea. It hurt like hell, but he just needed to see for himself. Quietly, he made his way to the door, grabbing his shoes and shirt on the way out. Aramis is going to be breathing fire when he comes back to find D'Artagnan gone.

D'Artagnan stumbled through the streets of Paris, bumping into irate people along the way. It was a busy time of the day and everyone in Paris had somewhere to be, including D'Artagnan. He stopped, leaning against a wall to catch his breath. His vision blurred in and out as he looked up at the building he was heading towards. It wasn't far, but in his condition it was too far. Sweat ran down the back of his neck, he felt like he was burning up from the inside and his lungs refused to work properly, but he needed to see her.

Porthos woke up and took his feet off the bed it was resting on, the same bed D'Artagnan was resting on. Porthos yawned and stretched, then stood up to get a drink. He froze as he turned for the door. Slowly, he turned back to look at the bed. The empty bed. "Athos and Aramis are going to kill me." He picked up his jacket and headed out the door, knowing full well where the boy was headed, "But not before I kill D'Artagnan!"

Porthos was half way to the Bonacieaux house when he ran into Athos and Aramis. "No time to talk! Gotta go!" He grinned nervously at his friends and pushed past them. Aramis looked confused, he pointed in the direction Porthos came from then turned to the direction he left. "My place..." Then he looked at Athos, eyes wide and horrified, "D'Artagnan!" They both exclaimed together before running after Porthos.

They caught up to him, flanking him on each side and started shooting questions and statements,

"What happened?"

"You were supposed to be watching him."

"Is he headed to Constance?"

Porthos looked at each of them as he answered, "He snuck off." He said to Aramis, "I fell asleep." He told Athos, then turned back to Aramis, "Of course he is."

"I will deal with you after we find that boy and chain him to his bed." Athos growled as he stormed ahead.

D'Artagnan looked up the flight of steps. Why can't they live on the ground floor? He took a breath. One as deep as the pain would allow him before taking the steps, one at a time. Each step got heavier, the pounding in his head got louder, his vision was getting dimmer and his ability to stay conscious waning. Finally, he was at the door. "Please, be home." He knocked.

Athos ran towards the building as it came into sight. The others were at his heels.

"I'll be right there." D'Artagnan smiled at the voice. Constance.

Athos ran into the building and took the steps two at a time.

The door opened, revealing the beautiful Constance Bonacieaux. Her eyes widened at the man at the door. Quickly she stepped out and closed the door behind her, forcing D'Artagnan to take a step back. The problem was it took all his strength to remain standing and taking a step was not a choice. The adrenaline from needing to see Constance drained as soon as she opened the door. "D'Artagnan, you shouldn't..."

D'Artagnan didn't hear any more. The truth was D'Artagnan didn't step back, he had stumbled back, because he could no longer remain standing.

Athos was half up the stairs when he saw D'Artagnan swaying at the top. He raced up the rest of the way, getting there just in time to catch the boy under the arms. "Fool!" Athos cursed.

"What's wrong with him?" Constance gasped, a hand to her mouth.

Athos glared at the woman, "Stupidity, foolhardiness...in love, take your pick."

"Constance, who is at the door?" Came a voice from inside the house.

Constance looked at the door in panic, "Um...no one, just a peddler, he is leaving now." She turned back to the four men at her door step, desperate to get them to leave before her husband came to the door. To her horror, D'Artagnan was conscious. Athos had lowered him to the floor, supporting him with his arm behind his shoulder. D'Artagnan was looking at her with hopelessness and despair. No matter, I only needed to see for myself she was alive. That is what he told himself and that is what he will believe. He closed his eyes. Tired.

Constance didn't want to say it, but her husband couldn't find them here. It'll mean danger for D'Artagnan. "You have to take him and leave. Please."

"Apologies, Constance. He only needed to see you safe. He won't bother you again." Aramis tried to calm the distressed woman.

D'Artagnan's head rested against Athos shoulder. Athos could feel the heat coming off the boy. "If you had taken one hour of your day to see him he would not be here." Athos seethed, "He's seen the lady, let's go!" Unlike Aramis who is more attuned to women's emotions, Athos only heard the words, and her words were only hurting D'Artagnan. "Porthos." Porthos walked up the rest of the steps and knelt down next to D'Artagnan. "Careful of his wound." Athos voice softened as he transferred the boy into Porthos arms, supporting his head until it was resting comfortably against Porthos shoulders.

Porthos nodded and threaded his other arm under D'Artagnan's knees. "I've got him." He stood up with his friend in his arms, as if he weighed nothing. "Lead the way." He nodded for Athos to walk first and to ensure he didn't miss a step. Athos gave Constance one last glare before moving past Porthos.

Aramis turned to Constance, "Don't mind him. He worries for D'Artagnan more than he cares to admit. I will send word of his progress."

"Thank you." Constance waited until the men were out of sight before breaking down in tears. "I'm sorry...I'm so...sorry." She sobbed and sobbed. She didn't know Aramis was only at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the sound of her love for D'Artagnan.

Porthos laid D'Artagnan, gently, on Aramis's bed. "This time, you better stay put." He said softly in his ear. D'Artagnon brow furrowed, tossing his head to the side, breathing heavily. "He's definitely worse."

"Of course he is…walking across the market when he can barely stand!" Athos placed a hand on D'Artagnan's brow, "Fever's back again." Athos shook his head, "I have never met one so foolish in my entire life."

Aramis entered the room with a bowl and a paste of some kind. "Really? I take it no one introduced you to yourself?" Porthos burst out laughing, earning a glare from Athos.

"What's all that for?" Athos asked, ignoring them.

Aramis handed the bowl to Athos, "Get him to drink this."

"What is it?" Athos asked again, sniffing it. It didn't smell pleasant.

"Athos," Aramis sighed, "It's not poison. Just something for the pain and to help him rest."

"And that?" Athos nodded at the clear paste he was holding.

"It's something to ease his breathing. He'll need something stronger than the vapours from the herbs, after that little adventure." Aramis nodded at the potion, "Get him to drink that first." He frowned at the paste, "I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to be awake when we rub this on his chest and frankly, I don't want him to wake up with my hands on his chest."

Porthos looked at Athos, frowning in disgust, "Is it possible to un-picture a picture in my mind?"

Athos shook his head and looked at Aramis, annoyingly, "You do understand there is such a thing as too much information."

Aramis just shrugged, "Just get him to drink it."

"Right." Athos gently tapped D'Artagnan cheeks, "Hey, wake up."

D'Artagnan groaned, his eyes opening slowly. He frowned at the man who woke him up, "What?"

Athos smirk, "Drink this." He lifted D'Artagnan's head.

D'Artagnan glared at the foul smelling liquid, "It smells bad."

"Hold your breath." Athos told him, deadpanned.

The young musketeer wrinkled his nose but drank it anyway. It didn't go unnoticed that the boy only complained of its smell, but did not hesitate to drink the concoction. He trusted his friends completely. Athos lowered his head back onto the pillow. D'Artagnan frowned, "I don't feel so well."

Porthos scoffed, "Really? I wonder why?" He pointed at the boy, "I'm in a lot of trouble because of you." The scolding fell on deaf ears as the herbs kicked in. "Don't think we're done here."

"Porthos," Aramis admonished, "Your words are doing very little for our unconscious friend." He offered the paste to Athos, "Do you want to do it?"

Athos shot off the bed with his hands in the air. "He's all yours."

Aramis laughed and shook his head. "I don't know what you're embarrassed about. I've done this to the two of..."

"La...la...la...la...la...la...la...la...la..." Porthos put his fingers in his ears.

"Aramis!" Athos yelled, "Too much information!"

"Okay, okay..." Aramis gestured for the two of them to quieten down, his hands gesturing at D'Artagnan who was frowning at the noise. "He has only just fallen asleep, so if you two children would shut up and let me work, that would be great!" Aramis pushed D'Artagnan's shirt up and rubbed the paste between his hands before rubbing it over his friend's chest. The aroma started spreading.

"That actually smells pleasant." Athos said of the ointment.

"The vapours will relax him and the ointment will help to open his lungs." Aramis finished spreading the ointment and pulled down D'Artagnan's shirt. "Done." He announced, picking up a towel from the table and wiping the ointment off his hands.

Athos immediately took the seat next to the bed as soon as Aramis was done, wanting to be close by in case D'Artagnan needed anything. Aramis eyed his friend as he wiped away the last of the paste, throwing it on the table. "You were too harsh."

Athos knew Aramis was talking about his treatment of Constance. "No more harsh than she deserved."

"She was in pain." Aramis pointed out, shrugging, "How could she not, seeing D'Artagnan the way he is?"

Athos smirked, "She has a funny way of showing it."

"Her husband was home."

"And the man she supposedly loved could've been dying at her feet!" Athos said, a little louder than he had intended, revealing more than he cared to. He turned down the volume a little, "She all but kicked him out herself."

"She was in shock. She…"

"Don't tell me she loves him!" Athos interrupted, "Whether it is true or not, the fact remains that she could not find time in her day for one visit. You," Athos pointed to Aramis, "told her the importance of her paying a visit! She chose to ignore it and look what happened?" He gestured to D'Artagnan, "She's probably set him back a week!"

Aramis was about to reply when Porthos stepped in between them with his hands out to either side, "Take it down a notch, boys. Whether she loves him or not does not matter. D'Artagnan only needed to see for himself that she was safe. And yes," he nodded to Athos, "you're right, she should've come to see him, but…" He lifted a finger and turned to Aramis, "she probably had a good reason. I have no doubt she loves him as well."

Aramis and Athos both rolled their eyes, "Your point." Athos growled.

"My point is, none of this is helping D'Artagnan now. He needs us to take of him, not bicker over him and Constance. They're old enough to sort out their own love life when he's recovered."

Athos shook his head and turned his attention back to his charge. Aramis chuckled, "There is definitely something wrong when Porthos is the voice reason." Athos laughed at that. Porthos thought about that, most people would've been offended, but not Porthos, he took it as a compliment. Big man, bigger heart.

In the middle of the night, Aramis, who had taken Athos place so that the man could rest at the table, sat up when he noticed small tremors in the boy. Aramis sat on the bed and placed a hand on D'Artagnan's shoulder, giving it a small shake, "D'Artagnan!" D'Artagnan opened his eyes, but they weren't focused. He turned to his right and hugged his arms around himself, "It's c.c..c..cccold." Aramis frowned as he placed the back of his hand against D'Artagnan's cheek. It was hot, yet D'Artagnan was cold. "Porthos! Athos!" The two men jumped from their places, swords in hand. It was a habit. "Athos, start the fireplace! Porthos, get more sheets from the cupboard by the door." Athos and Porthos knew that tone. Whenever Aramis had that tone it meant you obeyed, no questions, as much as Athos had a thousand questions.

Athos got the fire started while Porthos and Aramis placed additional sheets over D'Artagnan. "Pass me my medicine case." He ordered Porthos, "I need to control his temperature. It all over the place."

"You don't usually pull out your medicine case unless it's serious." Porthos pointed out, worried. Aramis grabbed it and placed it on the bedside table, rummaging through it to find what he needed. He pulled out a small bottle. "This will help with the fever."

Athos rubbed his hands together in front of the fire, before moving to the bed. "Why didn't you give that to him earlier?"

"Because it's potent and his fever wasn't coupled by him feeling cold. I need to control his core temperature while we keep him warm."

"What's wrong with him?"

Aramis shook his head, "I don't know. My guess is, his emotions are causing havoc to his physical state."

"So again…it's the woman's fault."

"Don't start." Aramis warned him, looking at the boy.

"What is it, Aramis? We've all been sick before but it has never warranted such concern from you."

Aramis shook his head, and gestured to D'Artagnan who was still shivering, "This is beyond my abilities. We need to call for a real physician."

Athos took the bottle from his friend, "We'll see." He sat on the bed and gently lift D'Artagnan, settling him against his chest. He uncorked the bottle and slowly tipped it against D'Artagnan's lips. D'Artagnan's brow furrowed at the liquid. He groaned, moving his head to avoid the bad taste. Athos sighed and pulled the bottle away. "D'Artagnan, you need to drink this. You're very ill." D'Artagnan only responded by pulling himself closer to Athos, drawn by the warmth there. Athos raised his eyebrows at Aramis and Porthos.

Porthos grinned, "He looks cosy."

"He's cold. You're warm. Do the math." Aramis told him.

Athos looked down at the boy, "I need you to drink, D'Artagnan." He touched D'Artagnan's lips again. This time the boy opened his mouth obediently. Once D'Artagnan emptied the small bottle, Athos gently lowered him to the bed, but as soon as he did, D'Artagnan's trembling seemed to increase.

"You know, body heat has always been the best way to keep warm." Aramis said to him, "Just a suggestion."

D'Artagnan groaned, shivering at the cold despite the warmth from the fire and the blankets. Athos sighed and turned to his friends, who were both looking at him. "Fine," he pulled out a dagger and pointed it at each of them, "But this does not leave this room. Do I make myself clear?"

The men both put their hands up to surrender, "We will not tell a soul." Aramis promised.

"Not a word." Porthos crossed his heart.

He knew he would regret this, but another groan from the boy told him he would have to bear the consequences. "Help me out." He said as he took off his jacket and boots. Porthos walked over to the other side of the bed and sat down, lifting the boy into a seated position. Aramis arranged the pillows behind him. Athos looked at the boy then at the pillow, scratching his beard and grimacing.

"You know he's trembling so badly right now, I feel like I'm vibrating." Porthos told him.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Athos got into the bed behind D'Artagnan, sitting against the pillow. Porthos lowered D'Artagnan so that his back was against Athos chest, his head pillowed by Athos shoulder. Aramis pulled the covers up to D'Artagnan's shoulders. Athos wrapped his arms around the boy and sighed, leaning his head back against the pillows. "I think your remedy is working. His fever is not so high."

"That's good." Aramis said, relieved, "and he's looking more comfortable."

"Let's hope this lasts the rest of the night." Porthos prayed, "I'm not sure how much more I can take."

The next morning D'Artagnan woke up feeling very warm and comfortable. He turned onto his side, snuggling into his pillow when…it move? D'Artagnan frowned. He brought his hand up and pushed against the 'pillow' to get a better look at what he was sleeping on. To his horror, it was a sleeping Athos, "What the hell is going on?" He yelled as he tried to get out of the bed.

That was what Athos woke up to, a horrified and panicking D'Artagnan. "Woah, be careful!" Athos complained as he narrowly dodged an elbow in the face. Porthos and Aramis found themselves rudely awaken by the racket.

"What's all the noise?" Porthos groaned, when he noticed a flurry of bed sheets on the bed. Only Aramis knew what D'Artagnan was doing was dangerous.

"D'Artagnan stop!" He was about to grab him and stop him from struggling when D'Artagnan moved too close to the edge slipped off, landing with a loud thump on the wood floor.

D'Artagnan felt the wind knocked out of his lungs, which was not good for him considering he needed all the air in his lungs he could get. On top of that, the landing reignited the pain in his ribs. "Aahhh…" He groaned on his back, his arm wrapping around his middle, each breath he took was hard earned.

Aramis looked like steam was about to come out of his ears. "For crying out loud. If I didn't know better I would think you enjoyed being in pain!" He knelt down, gently lifting D'Artagnan and turning him to sit against the bed.

D'Artagnan glared at him, then looked up at the bed at Athos, who was now sitting on the edge. "What the hell am I doing in the same bed as you?"

"Oh you shared more than just…" Porthos laughed when D'Artagnan's hand flew up to his ears.

"Forget it, I don't want to know."

"Wow…imagine what you he would do if he found out Aramis had his hands all over his chest." Porthos asked.

"Aramis WHAT?" D'Artagnan started coughing at the stress the yelling had on his lungs. "What have you guys been doing while I'm unconscious?" He asked between cough.

Porthos put his hands up, "I've been very civilized."

Athos and Aramis glared at him. "Help get him back on the bed." Aramis growled, "He's feeling better now, obviously, so you, Athos, can get off it.

"That's the thanks I get…" Athos got off the bed, then turned to help D'Artagnan sit against the pillows. "You know you would still be on your death bed if it wasn't for me."

"Yeah, well," D'Artagnan closed his eyes, "Considering you put me here, it's only fair." He smiled when he heard soft laughter in the room. He opened his eyes to find all three looking at him, grinning.

"You're obviously feeling better." Aramis said, feeling his brow, "Fever's broken."

"Yes, my wet shirt will attest to that." Athos pulled off his damp shirt and went through Aramis's cupboard for a clean one.

D'Artagnan groaned, "Can we not talk about that…" He shrugged, "Oh I don't know…ever?"

"Right, never again!" Athos called out, finally finding what he wanted and slipping it on.

"Well now that the fever is gone, your recovery should be faster. Just…"

"Breath deep!" D'Artagnan groaned, "Yeah, I know." He wasn't looking forward to the coughing and pain.

Three days later:

D'Artagnan sat up in Aramis's bed, drinking the broth his maid had brought in. This is the first time D'Artagnan's been left alone. The three friends didn't trust him to leave him alone until today. It didn't matter how many times he told them he would not leave the room. Aramis deemed him strong enough to walk around the room but they made it very clear that if D'Artagnan set foot outside of the room, they would tie him to the bed and D'Artagnan believed they would do it.

He set aside the bowl and pulled off his covers, slowly easing himself off the bed. D'Artagnan stretched his legs and arms before he stood, feeling the creaks and aches of not being off the bed for such a long time. He walked over to the window and opened them, taking in the air. It didn't hurt to take in a deep breath, but it did give him some discomfort. The first days were painful. Aramis made him do the exercises every hour or so. There were times he would utterly refuse, pushing them away, so bad was the pain and the pain of the coughing that came with it. At those times, Athos would talk to him, plead with him to try and he would do as Athos asked, because he couldn't disappoint his mentor. He was glad he did it though. Aramis's persistence had sped up his recovery.

D'Artagnan smiled when he heard his friends coming down the street. Porthos really did have a voice that matched his form and heart. "D'Artagnan, how did your first day of freedom taste like?" Porthos called up to him.

"Freedom?" D'Artagnan winced at the discomfort of calling out, "You and I define freedom very differently." They disappeared into the door and D'Artagnan waited for them to enter the room.

"So, what's new in France these days?" D'Artagnan asked, knowing the king had summoned them. It was the other reason why the three men were willing to leave him alone.

They looked at each other, giving a knowing smile. "Well..."

D'Artagnan raised his eyebrows, "Well...what?" He was curious now.

Aramis smiled, "France has an heir."

"France has an..." D'Artagnan thought about that one, "The Queen?"

"Well, yes, it does require the Queen for that to happen." Porthos laughed.

"That's great!"

"Well...it's great for France." Athos admitted, "But at the end of it all, what do we have? No glory."

"Puh! No money."

"No love." D'Artagnan added, sadly. He hadn't seen her since that day. He only remembered how much she wanted him out of her home.

"About that..." Aramis started, "She does love you."

D'Artagnan laughed, "You keep saying that! I don't see it."

"You didn't..." Aramis was about to tell him what he heard that day, but D'Artagnan looks to be accepting of everything that has happened. Telling him the truth will not allow them to be together. It'll only hurt more, to know that love isn't enough for two people to be together. "Never mind." Aramis smiled at him, "Love is over-rated anyway." D'Artagnan gave him a confused smile, not sure what his friend was trying to say, but he let it go. He didn't want to think about Constance anymore. Right now, being a musketeer was more important.

"So we have no glory, no money, no love..." Porthos reiterated, "None of the things that make life bearable."

"We have honour." Aramis said, always the optimist.

"Hm..." Athos non-committedly agreed.

"I can live with that." D'Artagnan nodded, it was the reason why he wanted so badly to join the Musketeers after all.

"For honour, then." Aramis announced.

"Still, a little money would be nice." Porthos sulked.

They laughed at that. D'Artagnan felt a certain satisfaction. No, he couldn't be with the woman he loved but he has three brothers that would have his back no matter what. He couldn't complain.

That night Athos stayed until D'Artagnan had fallen asleep. He smiled at the boy who had been through so much in the past week. Athos didn't show it but he was proud of D'Artagnan. He knew the boy will face many dangers and difficulties in his life time but he would overcome every one of them and the Three Musketeers will be there to face each one to them with him.

The End!

P.S I can't wait for Season 2!