AN- An extra-long chapter to take us to the finish. More notes at the end. Don't want to distract you here!

"Why have we been summoned to the Palace at this time of night?" Aramis muttered as they stood in formation waiting for the King and his party to enter. "I had planned to spend the evening enjoying a fine dinner with an even finer lady."

"I had a card game lined up," Porthos grumbled. "The pot's more than a month's wages. It's taken me weeks to get a seat at that table."

"The King commanded our presence," Athos reminded them dryly. "Despite the somewhat inconvenient hour as musketeers we are rather obligated to attend."

"I don't know why I had to dress up," d'Artagnan tugged at his new blue and tan doublet. "The King sees us almost every day."

"It was either that or borrow you a cloak," Porthos reminded him. "And you're skinnier than most. Last time you wore Aramis' cloak you looked like you was dressed in your mum's curtains."

"Are you alright?" Aramis looked with concern at Athos.

"Standing is not my favourite occupation just now," Athos admitted in response to his friend's worry. His back was healing but he was still stiff and a little sore. "Hopefully, we will not have to wait long."

"DuBois told me the King once kept him waiting for four hours whilst he sat down to dinner." D'Artagnan pouted.

"Treville promised it would be swift," Aramis had faith in their Captain. "By rights you two should both still be resting."

Just then the doors were flung open. All four men fell silent and bowed low as the King and his party arrived. D'Artagnan felt slightly sick as he thought he caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the entourage. Even as he swallowed hard he heard Athos' reassuring murmur from his left.

"It's not what you think. He's been disgraced. He'll want to make amends before the King."

Athos' instincts proved correct. As soon as the King was seated, instead of commanding that they step forward the Comte de Lyon politely approached Athos.

"Monsieur Le Comte de la Fere I hope that you will accept my most sincere apologies, for the trouble that my son visited upon you and for my own ungracious behaviour towards you. I am ashamed that I did not instantly know you. Perhaps you will do me the honour of calling upon me some time?"

"My duties keep me busy." Athos notably did not apologise for that.

"But, you surely cannot intend to continue with this ridiculous charade." The Comte gestured at Athos' uniform. His words cutting all the sharper because he clearly saw no wrong in them. "It is your sworn duty to administer your estates and take your place at court. I'm sure your father would have expected nothing less?"

Accustomed as he was to seeing Athos look utterly impassive in the very worse of circumstances d'Artagnan was startled to see all the colour drain from his friend's face at the Comte's words. Beside him d'Artagnan felt Aramis and Porthos tense. Glancing across he saw Aramis was frowning in consternation whilst Porthos looked positively stricken.

"My Lord," Treville stepped forward solicitously, but with a tone that brooked no argument. "You also wished to speak to young d'Artagnan?"

"Yes, yes, of course," The Comte nodded politely. Taking an all too familiar gold signet ring off his gloved finger he turned and offered it to d'Artagnan. "Please accept this small token of my deepest regrets, for what you have suffered at my son's hands. In addition, I am sure that I can smooth your path regarding any training or expenses you might incur in your career as a musketeer."

In truth d'Artagnan wanted nothing from the Comte de Lyon expect to be left in peace. But to publically refuse the ring in front of the King would cause offence of the highest order. Already the Comte's smile was slipping slightly at the unexplained delay. Over his shoulder d'Artagnan could see Treville's frown deepening with every second that ticked past. Sweat started to collect on d'Artagnan's brow as he felt the pressure on him to act slowly build.

"Best take it," Porthos murmured sotto voice, from beside him. "I'll get you a good price for it."

D'Artagnan almost laughed out loud in relief as his friend provided the perfect solution, if the Comte had heard Portho's comment he was too well bred and too concerned with saving his own face to say anything. Bowing low the Gascon even managed a smile as he politely accepted the ring.

"You are too kind, my lord. You have my thanks for this generous gift, but I do not wish to put you under any further obligation," Protocol meant he could not look at Athos but he knew his friend would hear his meaning loud and clear. "I already have everything I need."

"As you wish," Now that his tarnished family honour had in some part been redressed in the eyes of the King the Comte was eager to withdraw. "Then simply know that if the Comte de Lyon may ever be of assistance to you than he is at your service."

"There is just one more thing, my lord." D'Artagnan realised. "There is a stallion in your stables which rightly belongs to the musketeer Aramis. I would be grateful for its return."

As swiftly as Treville had promised they found themselves dismissed and free to leave.

"So," Porthos nodded at the signet ring. No-one had missed the significance of the fact that d'Artagnan had kept it clenched in his fist rather than actually putting it on his finger. "Want me to sell that for you? Should fetch enough for a decent sword?"

"No," D'Artagnan could not stand the thought of profiting from something that had caused him and his friends such pain. He put the ring in Porthos' gloved hand and closed his fingers around it. "I want you to give it to Flea. Tell her to make good use of it."

Porthos' beaming smile was all the thanks he needed for his gracious act. The ring was wealth enough to feed the orphans of the Court of Miracles for a good long while. With eyes full of gratitude and respect Porthos pulled him into a bear hug. Aramis beamed like a proud uncle and wrapped an arm around him, as he mussed his hair fondly. For his part, Athos smiled solemnly and then formally offered his hand.

"This again?" d'Artagnan raised a brow. "Really?"

Athos' face split into as wide a smile as d'Artagnan had yet seen from him, his eyes positively sparkling with mischief as he pulled the younger man into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around him, so his feet actually lifted off the ground.

"Well, would you look at that." Porthos beamed.

"And neither of them even close to death," Aramis spoke loudly. "Remarkable."

"Very funny," d'Artagnan observed as the two men broke apart, his nonchalance somewhat at odds with the two pink spots of pleasure in his cheeks. "Your time would be better spent thinking about when I am ever going to find a new sword?"

"You liked the balance of that one in the rue de Saint Germain," Aramis reminded him. "With that exquisite engraving on the pommel?"

"It was almost perfect," d'Artagnan sighed. "But I would need to sell my horse, her saddle and bridle, and everything else I own in order to afford it."

"I have an idea," Aramis said brightly. "Since you have so graciously procured the return of my stallion perhaps we can prevail upon Treville to give you the money he was planning to spend at the auction towards a new sword?"

"A problem for another day, I think," Athos intervened. "You two might still have time to fulfil your engagements if you make haste?"

"Naw, I can gamble any time. How often do I get to spend time with you gents?" Porthos grinned.

"Only every day?" d'Artagnan offered.

"And the hour is much too late now to inconvenience any lady of quality by calling upon her," Aramis decided. "I will send an appropriately ostentatious gift in apology and my absence will make her heart feel all the fonder."

"Gentlemen," Athos fixed them with a knowing look. "It is a long time since I required a nursemaid, much less a brace of them."

Aramis and Porthos exchanged a positively guilty look and d'Artagnan was reminded of their joint consternation in the throne room when the Comte de Lyon had intimated Athos first duty was to his estates. He realised that due to Treville's intervention Athos had not actually responded. He blinked. Surely they did not really believe that Athos would return to his old life?

"Athos, my friend you have always been the noblest man I know," Aramis spoke gently. "Your career as a musketeer has saved countless lives and righted so many wrongs, the deeds you have done in the King's service have been for the safety of the entire realm. Any father would be proud to have such a son."

Oh. d'Artagnan realised.

"Well, since he is dead we can hardly inquire." Athos said stiffly, and it was obvious that The Comte de Lyon's words had pricked his sense of duty.

"Then listen to me," Treville approached the small group. "Athos you are the greatest soldier in the regiment, a brilliant swordsman, an excellent tacticition. Your father commanded respect because of his birth. Your men follow you not because of your status but because of the man you are. If you were to return to La Fere the King himself has remarked on the loss to the regiment and to France."

"You once told me good things can come out of hard choices," Porthos reminded him. "You being a musketeer, that's a good thing. It ain't right that a man like the Comte de Lyon thinks he can look down on you. For all his wealth and power, what good has he ever done?"

"I for one am grateful beyond words that you chose this path," d'Artagnan added his voice. "I don't know what I would have done if I had not found you here."

"Besides," Aramis smirked as he rocked backwards. "I really can't see you cooling your heels at court day after day. Forced to make polite conversation with octogenarian widows and wear ridiculous concoctions of brocade and lace."

"Yeah, we all know how much you like the leather." Porthos chortled.

"So, shall we retire to the tavern then?" Aramis suggested.

"I'd better not hear one report of behaviour unbecoming a musketeer," Treville warned. "The King's patience only extends so far."

"So, just as long as we don't get caught, eh?" Porthos chucked merrily, only to turn it into a cough under Treville's withering glare.

It took a few more days until Aramis decided that both d'Artagnan and Athos were fit to return to full duty. They knew from experience that Athos was no more patient as a patient than d'Artagnan had been. But the Gascon was determined to repay his friend's kindness by finding ways to keep Athos occupied without over exerting himself. He persuaded his friend to tutor him in Spanish, he convinced Athos to accompany him on a gentle hack into the countryside so they might both soothe and stretch sore muscles in an afternoon of swimming and relaxing in the sun. He even taught the nobleman the rudiments of cooking as Athos chopped and diced with impressive precision as the Gascon introduced all his friends to the gastronomic heritage of his region and their friendship grew stronger because of it.

On the day scheduled for his return to full duty d'Artagnan woke just before dawn feeling more than a little nervous. After a quick wash he dressed swiftly, taking a little more time as he shrugged into his jacket and buckled the pauldron to his arm. Making his way down into the courtyard he smiled at the sight of Athos leaning nonchalantly against a post waiting for him and his nerves instantly subsided.

"You do realise he's not a morning person?" Aramis put in cheerily from the side lines.

"Good," d'Artagnan felt his habitual confidence rise. "That means I might win."

"Not a chance," Porthos laughed. "But if you can knock him on his arse we'll buy you a decent breakfast."

"Never going to happen," Athos smirked.

D'Artagnan started off a little hesitantly. Although, his mind and body quickly remembered moves and counter moves, using a sword that was not his own simply did not feel right. Athos was patient and encouraging, gradually pushing his boundaries until they were fighting at full force and he could feel the blood sing in his veins at the familiar thrill of it.

"You did well." Athos praised, those three words meaning more to him than a thousand platitudes.

The four friends sat down to breakfast at their usual table in high spirits. D'Artagnan had such a hearty appetite that Aramis laughed and gave up half his plate in his favour. The young Gascon happily ignored their collective jibes as he dug in, in favour of filling his seemingly bottomless stomach, noting with satisfaction that Athos also ate considerably more than he had been of late.

"D'Artagnan," Treville came across to their table carrying a large, flat, package, tied up with string. "I do believe I heard you tell the Comte de Lyon that you had everything you needed, but I think you might have a use for this."

As he accepted the parcel d'Artagnan cast a startled look at his friends, whose smiles indicated they knew exactly what was going on. Slightly relieved, he tore open the paper to reveal the familiar blue of a musketeer cloak.

"Captain," He swallowed hard. "This is too generous. I can't accept this."

"A man who is so determined to uphold the honour of the regiment ought to be sure to look the part." Treville advised. "Garnon bought nothing but dishonour to the good name of the musketeers. You paid a high price so we could be well rid of him. Believe me this is well deserved."

"Thank you," d'Artagnan smoothed a hand over the material. "I'll be proud to wear it."

Only when Treville had left did d'Artagnan turn to look at Athos, who was continuing to eat his breakfast as if there was nothing amiss.

"You don't mind," He asked quietly. "That I could not save the one you gave me?"

"The damage was entirely Garnon's fault not yours," Athos absolved him. "And Treville wanted to do this for you. He carries his own guilt that you were hurt under his command."

"If he feels that guilty maybe this would be a good time to ask him about buying d'Artagnan a sword?" Aramis suggested.

"Or if you've finished eating," Athos fixed him with a predatory look. "The last time we sparred you still had a tendency to parry too wide when you got over confident."

Aramis groaned and hid his face in his hands.

Later that morning d'Artagnan was still grinning at the memory of Athos, in an almost poetic display of swordplay, beating Aramis three times in a row. As he bounded upstairs to the barrack room to put his new cloak away, he felt an intense sense of belonging and brotherhood and could not imagine having better friends.

Only to come to a dead halt.

A long wooden sword box sat waiting on his bed. D'Artagan approached it cautiously, the ornate carving and lovingly burnished wood clue enough that this was no ordinary blade from the armoury. Almost of their own volition his fingers reached out and opened the brass catch carefully lifting the heavy lid.

Inside, nestled in a bed of rich blue velvet was quite simply the most magnificent sword d'Artagnan had ever seen. It was clearly the work of a master craftsman. Unable to resist the temptation he lifted it out of the box. It fitted his hand as if made for him. Turning it into the light d'Artagnon marvelled at its perfection. Each detail had been meticulously finished. Yet it was a true soldier's weapon, the weight and balance judged to perfection.

"Will it serve?"

D'Artganon was somehow not surprised to hear Athos' measured tones behind him.

"Athos," d'Artagnan's pride reared its head. "After everything you've done for me, you don't owe me anything, much less a new sword."

"In truth, it's rather an old sword," Athos shrugged. "But if it doesn't suit, you are at liberty to refuse it."

D'Artagnan weighed the blade lightly in his hand, already feeling that mesh of man and metal that was so crucial in making a well-crafted sword feel like an extension of your own arm.

"It's utterly magnificent." He replied sincerely.

"Good."

Caught up in his admiration it took d'Artagnan a moment to realise that, apparently satisfied with their brief exchange, Athos had simply turned on his heel and left. Huffing a breath of exasperation at how impossible the man could be sometimes, d'Artagnan took a moment to reverently lay the blade back in its box and fasten it securely before taking off after the musketeer. He was right across the courtyard and under the arch before he caught up with him.

"Athos, wait!"

"Is there a problem?" Athos asked evenly.

"Is there a ..?" d'Artagnan closed his eyes and clenched his fists, willing himself to have patience. "Athos, that sword is the best I have ever seen. You cannot just give it to me."

"I believe I already have."

D'Artagnan scowled. Despite the deadpan tone he was certain Athos was teasing him. He rubbed a hand across his face and tried to regroup his thoughts. Athos seemed completely at ease with the fact that the sword must have cost more that d'Artagnan would have earned in a year working on the farm. If anything he was rather pleased with himself. The young Gascon could not deny that just that brief handling had been enough to spoil him for any other blade. And it would be ungrateful in the extreme to reject the gift when Athos so clearly meant for him to have it.

"I don't know how I can repay you." He settled for honesty.

Something that was definitely a smile tugged at the corner of Athos' mouth.

"If we are to continue in each other's company it would probably be best to dispense with such notions. We are already in each other's debt more than most men achieve in a lifetime."

"That is true," d'Artagnan acknowledged wryly. "Nonetheless, I am grateful. More than I can say."

"You can make me one promise." Athos allowed.

"I swear that I will never again be so foolhardy. If I find myself in over my head I will ask my friends for help."

Athos gave a quick, satisfied, nod. A hint of pride in his eyes that the younger man had understood exactly what he required and not been afraid to acknowledge his fault, such as it was, for by any man's reckoning d'Artagnon had been more than punished for his foolish pride. Athos waited just long enough to see the soft, affectionate smile spread across d'Artagnan's features at his response, before he made to walk away.

"Athos," d'Atrtagnan called after him. He was aware that he may be treading on dangerous ground. But some instinct forced him to ask. "Where did you get it?"

Athos stilled. His shoulders stiffened slightly and for a moment d'Artagnan thought he would not reply. But after a long moment he spoke without turning.

"It was my brother's sword."

In the time it took for d'Artagnan to process the implications of that he was gone. Suddenly feeling as if his legs could not hold him, d'Artagnan slid down the wall to sprawl on the ground. Part of him had suspected that the sword must be a legacy from Athos' past. But to hear from his own mouth that it had belonged to his beloved younger brother almost undid him.

"I wish I had known you," He murmured to the absent Thomas. "I know we would have been friends. I swear I will watch over for him for you. Always."

AN – So, here we are finally at the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, fav'd and followed me on this journey. I hope to write more and have a couple of things in the works but if you have any ideas as to how I can further torture Athos I would love to hear them.

BTW the comment about leather is indeed a nod to Tom Burke's discussions on the DVD extras about Athos' costume!