A/N: Greetings all. This is a modern AU which has been going around in my head ever since I saw the first episode. d'Artagnan is 15, the three musketeers are lawyers and Aramis and Porthos are in a relationship. Updates will be fairly regular as I have a major part of the story written. Feedback is welcome.
Warnings: There is swearing, violence, mention of physical and sexual abuse (none of the main characters for the latter).
Disclaimer: I don't own the Musketeers.

It had been a shitty day.

One of Athos's prime witnesses had lost credibility when she had admitted to being in love with the serial rapist that Athos had been trying to put behind bars and a week's worth of solid work had gone down the drain. Then Athos had spent a whole hour in Treville's office getting chewed out about the fiasco which the court hearing had turned into. Thank god the presiding judge had been considerate and given him more time to prepare otherwise that filthy excuse of a man, Rooger, would have walked free.

He had no idea what to do next. He supposed he would be visiting the victim again, asking her about that night. That was not something he was looking forward to.

He had every intention of going home and drinking himself into oblivion. Or if that didn't work, he decided would consider shooting himself.

Athos was walking to his car parked down the street, lost in his thoughts and did not see the young man until he had walked right into him. His hands shot out to stop the other man from falling and he grabbed him by the arms.

"What do you think you are doing?" the man demanded. "Let go!"

Athos was about to let go, explain that it had been a mistake and that he was sorry but the other man pushed at him, hard. Athos was so surprised that a thin guy like him had had that kind of strength that he did not see the punch coming until it hit him right in the jaw.

His head snapped back from the impact and rubbing his jaw with one hand Athos tried to explain, "Stop, I didn't – "

But the man wasn't listening, another hand flailed out and Athos ducked out of the way, his instincts taking over. He crouched low, anticipating his assailant's next blow and jabbed him with a straight palm in the ribs when he raised his arm. The man doubled over and Athos followed it with a kick to the knee and an elbow to his face.

The man went down, and did not move. Athos stood over the fallen body of his attacker, breathing heavily.

It took some time for the frantic beating of his heart to stop and the adrenaline pumping in his system to settle down. Athos came to his senses gradually, noticing first that his jaw barely hurt from the punch and second, the body at his feet.

He gasped and crouched beside the man to check for a pulse, letting out a sigh of relief on finding one. He turned him over to check how badly he had hurt him and looked at the young face in horror.

His 'attacker' was barely a teenager, fourteen or fifteen at best. There was a faded bruise around his eye and his nose was completely covered in blood, which had dribbled over his cheek and was dripping on the asphalt.

Athos swore. What was wrong with him? He had attacked a kid as if he was some deranged murderer about to kill him. He did not know what other damage he had done and fumbling for his phone, he hit speed dial one.

Aramis had not been happy at being called on his way home and asked to turn back and drive to the office. But the frantic edge in Athos's tone had told him that it would be best if he kept his displeasure to himself.

He did not have any such qualms when on pulling up to where he had said he would be waiting, he saw Athos cradling a prone boy's head in his lap. A boy who looked like he had gone three rounds against a bulldozer and lost. He took in the pale color, the blood covering his face, the ragged breathing and Athos's guilt stricken look and could figure out of what had happened.

"Athos, what were you thinking?"

Athos looked up, equal parts relieved and guilty, at the approaching man. "Aramis, you have to help him. I don't know what came over me. He attacked and I just…"

"You just what? Thought it would be a good idea to beat up a kid?" Aramis couldn't soften the harsh edge in his voice as he knelt to take in the damage, not noticing the wince on the other man's face. There was bruising on the chest and ribs, though some of it looked too old for it to have been caused by Athos. Aramis checked his hands and legs and except for an angry red bruise on the knee he did not find anything else.

Aramis sighed. Judging from the battered clothes the boy was probably some homeless junkie who had come at Athos and it really wasn't the other man's fault his instincts were as finely tuned as they were. Several years in the army made overriding the instinct to fight or flee difficult for any man. And in all the years Aramis had fought alongside Athos on the battlefield, he had never known the man to flee.

Still, the kid needed caring for and Aramis knew his friend wouldn't leave him lying around in such a state on the street. He, himself wasn't a huge fan of the idea either.

"Come on, it looks worse than it actually is." Aramis said, nudging Athos who was staring at the boy's bloodied face with a horrified expression. "Let's get him home and get him cleaned up."

Athos nodded mutely, and stood up, tenderly lifting the boy with an arm under his shoulders and another under the knee, wincing at the moan which escaped the lad's lips when the bruised knee was jostled, and carrying him bridal fashion to Aramis's car. Aramis followed, getting into the driver's seat while Athos carefully settled in the back with the body of the unconscious boy for the short ride home.

Home was a two storey villa with too many rooms for them to use, in one of the more expensive areas of Paris that Athos shared with Aramis and his boyfriend Porthos. He could very well afford to live by himself and give the couple some much deserved privacy but they wouldn't hear of him getting his own place.

They were of the opinion that he would drown himself in alcohol or starve himself to death if left unchecked. Athos wasn't wholly convinced that they were wrong so he hadn't pressed the issue, though he did bring it up from time to time when he felt especially guilty of imposing on his friends. They did the same thing every time he did: smack him on the head and guilt him into ordering pizza.

Aramis left the task of carrying the boy who had remained unconscious for the duration of the trip, up the steps and into the house while he rushed in first to get things ready. By the time Athos arrived, with the lanky body in his arms – the boy barely weighed anything at all – Aramis had taken out his version of a first aid box which had everything from insulin injections – despite none of them being diabetic – to an intubation tube.

Aramis said he liked to be prepared, Porthos said he was paranoid. After that Athos tended to tune out the conversations because it usually turned to thinly veiled innuendos followed by intense snogging.

He loved his friends, but there were somethings a man did not need to know about his best mates.

"In there," Porthos told him, glancing at the young boy in Athos's arms and indicating towards the guest bedroom, without preamble. Aramis must have filled him in to what happened. Or not.

Athos had never met a man who could appear to be as unfazed with surprising things as Porthos. He remembered the memorable time when Porthos had not batted an eyelid when the helicopter which had been supposed to carry them out of the danger zone had been blown up to shards by rebels, as they had gotten near, and left them stranded in the middle of the most dangerous conflict zone in all of Afghanistan. Porthos had simply nodded and started taking down the rebels one by one. They had made it out themselves after several days of hiding, defending themselves against the rebels and living off the land.

Athos walked into the guest bedroom, the only one empty downstairs, and found Aramis taking out bandages from his kit. He lay the boy down gently on the bed, and stepped back letting the ex-army medic work his magic. Aramis did not say anything further and worked silently, cleaning off the blood from the man's face and bandaging his ribs. He glanced up to find Athos staring at the boy's face, which looked even younger in the light of the room, with a haunted look in his eye. "Athos."

Athos was wrenched out of his thoughts by his name being spoken.

"Go to the bathroom. Get cleaned up. And go eat something," Aramis sad, talking softly, making sure he understood. "I have things under control here, and this might take time."

Athos nodded mutely, glad for the distraction and went out to the main hall which served as a living area with a kitchen tucked in a corner. There was a dining table but the trio never used it for eating, most of their meals taking pace on the go, and it was covered with papers and files from their cases. They had, however opted for getting several large couches surrounding a large coffee table, and a flat screen and surround system which was, in Athos' opinion a little too big for the room.

Porthos was in the kitchen stirring something in a pot. He quietly filled a glass with water from the tap and handed it to Athos, who sat down at one of the stools with it.

"So," Porthos said. Athos looked at him, waiting for him to continue. When it became apparent that he wasn't actually going to ask anything, Athos shrugged and looked away.

"God, I'm sorry." Athos rubbed his eyes, his shoulders slumping, all the anxiety of the day catching up to him. "I just… reacted, I guess."

Porthos nodded and turned around to fill a bowl with the stew he was cooking and placing it in front of Athos. "Not me you have to apologize to," he said, taking bowl for himself and sitting on the stool beside Athos.

They sat quietly for some time. "I get it though," Porthos said finally, as if he had never stopped. "I believe I would have reacted in much a similar fashion if someone had come at me."

Athos looked at him, not believing him for a second. "Alright," Porthos conceded after a short staring match, scowling. "Maybe I wouldn't have. But that doesn't change the fact that the reaction was understandable."

"He's just a boy," Athos whispered, brokenly. He had unleashed all his anger at a poor defenseless kid who did not deserve it. There was nothing understandable about that.

Porthos nodded, acknowledging his point but was prevented from saying anything by Aramis who walked out of the room. Athos looked at him, the question evident.

"He's fine. There was some bruising, more from some previous incident than his run in with you I think." Aramis too took a seat and snagged Porthos's bowl. "I've bandaged him up and set him up with some glucose bags. Poor kid looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in ages, what with his bones jutting out and his paleness."

"He is going to be okay?" Athos asked visibly relaxing when Aramis nodded.

"Yes, he should be fine after a few days of resting his knee. It isn't fractured but the bruising suggests that it will hurt like a bitch." Aramis took in the contrite look on Athos's face and continued, "other than that, he'll be okay."

"That's good," Porthos said, nodding his head. "The lad will be fine, but you look like you are going to fall over any minute now. Go get a bath or something, and catch some sleep."

Aramis nodded. "Go ahead, we'll clean up and take first watch over the kid."

Athos shot his friends a grateful look and stumbled to his own room. He did not have the energy to do much other than peel off is clothes and stand under the shower for ten minutes before putting on some pajamas and getting into bed.

He thought about tomorrow, and the boy waking up. There was no way Treville was going to let him take the day off: the DA had enough on his plate without his best attorney calling in sick. Aramis too would have to go to work, the Rooger case was driving everyone up the wall, and after today's disaster they needed all hands on deck. Porthos however could be cut some slack. He had just won his own case after working it continuously for three months and deserved some downtime. He could be there to watch over the kid and be there when he woke up.

Athos thanked whoever was up there for giving him friends such as these two and drifted off to a restless sleep full of innocent eyes staring at him accusingly out of young bloody faces.

Feedback is always appreciated.