"I'm going to look for him." Porthos announced, leaving no room for argument.

D'Artagnan didn't even try to stop him as he grabbed his jacket and reached for the door. Only to find it opened from the other wide to reveal Aramis standing in the doorway.

For a long moment they just stared at each other, then Aramis gave Porthos a small nod. Porthos tilted his head to the side, questioning, then smiled, and drew Aramis into a hug.

D'Artagnan was left rather startled, gone was the sense of fragility Porthos had been treating Aramis with – they seemed just like they always had.

"Is there something I'm missing here?" He questioned, amused.

Porthos broke off the hug and looked back round at him.

"We've both been fools." Aramis explained simply. "Where's Athos?"

"Huh?"

Aramis sighed as if it should be obvious.

"I haven't really been myself since I saw him get shot in the head, I think a talk is a bit overdue."

D'Artagnan didn't immediately say anything. Which made the answer just as clear as if he had.

Aramis sighed again.

"Well, I suppose I should have guessed that."

The moment, whatever it had been, was broken. The awkwardness was back, though not as strong as it had been before.

"I'm sorry Aramis..." Porthos began.

Aramis held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't. How were you meant to treat me like a Musketeer when I barely acted like an adult? I think I just needed space to think, this hasn't been easy for any of us."

D'Artagnan and Porthos nodded their wholehearted agreement to this.

Suddenly Aramis stumbled, his hand going out to the wall to catch himself. It left a dirty red handprint.

Porthos took a cautious step forward.

"I'm fine." Aramis dismissed. "Just tired."

"Alright. But we should clean that hand before it gets infected."

"We all ready?"

Everyone was positioned atop their own horse – D'Artagnan and Porthos had arranged four horses for them from a village that was just about within walking distance. They'd managed to convince the owner that it was for the king's business, which wasn't far from the truth.

"Ready." Porthos replied, adjusting his hold on the girl tied in front of him. It was a kind of general consensus between the three of them that she wouldn't ride with Athos.

Aramis simply nodded. There were large bags under his eyes and he clutched the reigns a little tightly but he seemed in good enough shape.

Athos didn't reply, but he didn't say that he was not so D'Artagnan took that as a yes and they began what was bound to be a long journey home.

Much of the journey was heralded by birdsong, giving the procession a false air of tranquillity. Athos sat up a little straighter in his saddle, mistrusting of birds' carefree singing after recent events.

"D'Artagnan?" Athos asked simply. "Have I thanked you for saving my life?"

"Oh, uh, you don't need – "

"Thank you. It is admirable what you would do, what all of you would do, for a friend."

"That's because we're not just friends Athos." D'Artagnan explained. "We're brothers."

Things would be alright, Aramis thought. Tensions may still be running high, there may be issues left unresolved but D'Artagnan spoke the truth.

They were all alive, all together, and whatever the future brought they would face together. One for all, and all for one. As brothers.

Well, rushed and riddled with errors it may be - but that is the conclusion to this story. Unsatisfying? Maybe. But do not fear - answers will come.

So extra specially please, as this is the last chapter, leave a review telling me what you thought, telling me if you'd be interested in a sequel, requesting something you'd like me to write, or anything else at all.

Thanks so much for sticking with it even when it seemed I'd completely disappeared.

You are all super awesome. Thank you, and adios (for now).