Author's Note: This story is written for Fariedragon. Sorry it took so long. Turns out I was busier than I thought plus I had a lot of trouble with the story. Losing my muse! This story is a tag to the very first episode. There is a lot of the episode in the first third of the story. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters!

Warning: un-betaed. Apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

D'Artagnan strode determinedly towards the Musketeers' garrison despite the aching around his ribs. The pain didn't compare to the pain of the loss of his father and he'll do anything to get justice. His father was a good, honourable man who raised him to always do what's right. He didn't deserve to die with a sword through the heart without a chance to defend himself. Especially not by a musketeer. D'Artagnan has heard stories about the King's musketeers for as long as he remembered. His father would tell him these stories before bedtime. It broke D'Artagnan's heart that his father died believing the stories were wrong. D'Artagnan wipe away the tears before walking through the gate of the garrison.

"I'm looking for Athos!"

"You've found him." D'Artagnan's eyes burned with anger at the man who answered so casually after murdering his father.

"My name is d'Artagnan, of Lupiac in Gascony." He pulled out his sword and swung it, in preparation for his fight. "Prepare to fight. One of us dies here."

"Now, that's the way to make an entrance." Aramis, Athos's long-time friend and fellow musketeer, clapped to show his approval.

"Can I ask why?" Athos asked as he drew his sword.

"You murdered my father."

"You're mistaken." Athos stared into the young man's eyes, showing him he was telling the truth, but all he saw was uncontained anger from a boy who has lost a father. There was something about the boy that connected with him. Maybe it was the anger he is so familiar with. "I'm not the man you're looking for."

"Murderer!" D'Artagnan ran at him. Swords met. "Do you deny you shot Alexandre d'Artagnan two days ago in cold blood?" D'Artagnan growled as he attacked furiously. This man was good. His father would never have stood a chance. The thought made him even angrier if that were even possible.

"I usually remember the men I kill." Athos blocked the swipe at him and pushed the boy back. He was quite impressed by the boy's skill in swordsmanship. "That name means nothing to me."

"Then you're a liar as well!"

Aramis was impressed as well and he could tell by the way the boy favours his left side that he was in pain. "Remarkable. He's keeping up with Athos."

"Rubbish." Porthos, their big friend scoffed, "He just doesn't want to hurt the lunatic."

Aramis shook his head, "No, the boy is hurt. I would like to see what he is capable of at full health."

Porthos raised his eyebrows. If Aramis was right about the boy being injured than he was impressed as well. "It would be a good show if he makes it out of this one alive."

Athos pinned to boy to a wooden post and drove his dagger into it. "That's enough! That could have been your throat. Don't make me kill you over a mistake. I didn't kill your father and I don't want to kill you." He released d'Artagnan and turned his back on him.

"Athos!" Aramis warned as D'Artagnan pulled out the dagger and threw it at Athos. It hit the wooden post next to Aramis, shocking the man. Again. Impressive.

"And that could have been your back."

"Now, fight me or die on your knees! I don't care which." D'Artagnan puffed. He was getting tired and the pain in his ribs got worse, but didn't care. He was doing this for his father no matter the cost. "No? Argh!" He charged at Athos but his sword was stopped by another.

"He said, enough." Aramis was serious now. He wasn't just defending his friend, but for the young man's benefit as well. He could do more damage to his injury if he didn't cease."

"Very well." D'Artagnan huffed, "I'll fight both of you."

"Three of us?" Porthos's sword was added to the pile, "Now, for God's sake, put up your sword."

"You'll have to kill me for it." D'Artagnan never did know when to give up. His father often had to order him to stop when he was practicing sword fighting on their farm.

"Lively little bugger, aren't ya?" Porthos growled at him as they forced D'Artagnan onto his back on the steps.

A female voice sounded from the behind the Musketeers, "Stop fighting! All of you! Is three against one fair?"

"We weren't going to kill him." Athos sheathed his sword.

"Weren't we?" Aramis asked as if disappointed. The boy would not have lasted much longer, "Next time, let us know."

"Madame Bonacieux, what are you doing here?" Athos asked, almost bored.

"I followed him because I knew he was going to do something stupid."

D'Artagnan winced as he pushed himself to his feet. "I don't need a woman to protect me."

"Don't say another word." Constance told the thick-headed young man. "If only men would think instead of fight, there might be more good ones left."

"Him," Aramis pointed at d'Artagnan, "I'm not sure about. Her," He nodded at Constance, "I like."

Constance was about to give Aramis her own opinion of him when Captain Treville entered with a group of Red Guards. "What's going on?" Then thought better of the question. With these three any form of explanation come forth, "Never mind. Did you find Cornet?

Athos shook his head, "He never made it to the monastery. Give us 20 men and we'll search the road to Chartres."

Treville sighed, not happy with what he was about to say, "Athos, I'm sorry. These men have come to arrest you. You're to appear before the King immediately, charged with robbery and murder." He turned slightly, gesturing to the guards behind him, "I promised them there'd be no trouble."

Athos turned to the young man he had been fighting, "I'm not the man you're looking for."

D'Artagnan was confused. The man was sincere, he could see it in his eyes. "Why did my father name you before he died?!"

"I don't know." Athos told him as he was led away.

D'Artagnan stared after the men until they disappeared around the corner. He was breathing heavily. Constance took a good look at the pale face of the man that had fallen at her feet not so long ago. She took pity as she took in d'Artagnan's lost expression. She gently placed a hand on his arm and led him towards her home, "I don't know Athos well, but from the little I do know of him, he is an honourable man."

D'Artagnan held his shirt up as Constance Bonacieaux wrapped his ribs. It would've been nice, despite having broken ribs if not for her husband standing in the same room, asking questions.

"Jacques-Michel Bonacieux at your service." The pompus looking man introduced himself, "Merchant in fine quality cloths and linens to the nobility. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

"I'm afraid not." D'Artagnan answered, not quite paying attention to the man. He had more important matters on his mind. He can't help but think he had the wrong man, but he couldn't let go of the image of his dying father, uttering the name of his murderer.

"Hmm…" Monsieur Bonacieaux didn't like this young man. He looked like trouble, "So how did you come by these injuries?"

"My injuries don't matter." D'Artagnan sighed, "I've failed my father. I came to kill the man that murdered him, but all I've found are more questions. I can't rest until I know the truth."

"That's lucky, because rest is out of the question." D'Artagnan jumped out of his chair and drew his sword as two of the three men he had fought barged into the room. He grimaced as his ribs protested at the suddenly movement and pulling out of Constance's administrations. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." Aramis put his hand out to show he meant no harm, "We're not here to fight." Aramis could see the pain the young man was in, "Those Musketeers who attacked you, would you know any of them again?"

D'Artagnan shook his head, "They all wore masks." Aramis and Porthos looked at each other. There goes one of their best lead, "I shot one of them." They turned to d'Artagnan, a glimmer of hope returned, and "His body might still be there at the inn."

"All right, saddle up." Aramis ordered, "We're leaving."

D'Artagnan grabbed his belt and sword. This was his chance to find out the truth. "This morning, you try and kill them, and now you're best friends?" Constance would never understand the stupidity of men.

"Athos's life is at stake." Aramis told her, "He's to be executed in the morning for crimes he didn't commit." He was about to follow Porthos and D'Artagnan out the door when Constance called out to him.

"Monsieur Aramis," Aramis turned to her, sensing her concern, "He is injured." She said simple.

Aramis nodded as he put his hat on, telling her he understood. "Forgive the intrusion, Monsieur." He tipped his hat at Jacque and left.

D'Artagnan sighed as he readied his horse for the trip back to Paris. They've found the body of the missing troop of musketeers. They were finding more bodies but still no answers. D'Artagnan closed his eyes at the growing ache that seemed to have spread across his entire middle, making it hard for him to breathe. The riding was taking its toll on him. He wished he had taken a little time to let Constance finish wrapping his ribs, but the matter was too urgent. He rested his hand on his horse's saddle, exhausted and lost at what to do.

Aramis pulled out a handkerchief and packed some snow in it before walking over to d'Artagnan. He could see the pain the boy was in and shook his head at the boy's pride. Aramis handed the packed snow to d'Artagnan. "This will help with the pain." D'Artagnan looked down at it. He hesitated before taking it. He opened his jacket and gingerly placed the ice pack on his rib, closing his eyes at the burn of the cold, but also at the relief it provided. Aramis couldn't help but notice D'Artagnan only wore a thin leather jacket and a cloak. Not enough to fend off the cold in his opinion. "D'Artagnan, the men who did this killed your father as well. If you want justice, help us find them and clear Athos's name." D'Artagnan knew the man was right. He had accused the wrong man of murder and now that man was to face the firing squad in the morning.

"Was Cornet carrying Spanish gold?" Porthos asked them as he looked down at the coin in his hand. "You could go a year in Paris without seeing a new Spanish doubloon," He held the coin up for Aramis and d'Artagnan to see. "And that makes two in a week."

"Where did you get that?" D'Artagnan asked him.

"I won it, in a card game, with a Red Guard." Porthos answered in a low growl.

D'Artagnan glared down at the man who killed his father. He wanted nothing more than to run his sword through this man's heart but Aramis was right. They needed him to clear Athos's name. "Death in battle is too good for you!" D'Artagnan growled at Gaudet, "I'd rather see you hang!" He stood and threw aside the sword he had disarmed from Gaudet. He turned his back on the murderer and walked away.

"D'Artagnan!" Aramis called out in warning.

D'Artagnan turned around with his sword ready and ran his sword through the man to the hilt. Gaudet's eyes widened in shock as his life drained from them. D'Artagnan shoved the man back, pulling out his sword. At the same time he felt metal withdraw from own body. D'Artagnan looked down and frowned at the blood on his left side. There wasn't much there yet and the pain didn't register.

Aramis ran up to them and dropped to the ground, feeling Gaudet for a pulse. He sighed when he couldn't feel one. He looked at d'Artagnan and shook his head. He wasn't blaming d'Artagnan. The boy had no choice but it was hard to clear Athos's name without the man's confession. Aramis worried at the d'Artagnan's pale face. He stood to take a closer look at the young man "Are you okay?"

D'Artagnan folded his arm to cover the wound. "I'm fine." He looked down at Gaudet's dead body, "What do we do now?"

Aramis shook his head, stumped himself. There was no time to look for other evidence

Porthos whistle to get their attention, holding up a jacket in his hand. "The stolen uniforms.
They're all here."

Aramis smiled, "With Dujon's confession, that's all the proof we need."

D'Artagnan was relieved as well. He was glad he did not kill Athos's last chance of clearing his name. He looked over at Constance who was visibly shaking. "You should get the evidence to the King." Aramis looked in the direction he was looking and nodded, before heading over to Porthos.

D'Artagnan walked over to Constance and placed a jacket around the shell-shocked housewife, "I killed him."

"You saved my life." He wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and rubbed it, affectionately. It felt good. Too good. Constance gently shrugged the hand off.

"Take me home. My husband will be back soon." It was a quiet warning to herself and d'Artagnan that she is a married woman. D'Artagnan nodded and turned her around, heading back into the city.

They had reached the city centre when Constance started warming up and feeling better. She looked over at the man that brought so much…life…into her mundane existence. "How can one man bring so much trouble with him in such little time?"

D'Artagnan winced at each step he took, "I'm talented that way."

Constance shook her head, "Talented? Is that what you call it? There are many words I would use but talented…" She stopped, frowning when she noticed d'Artagnan wasn't beside her. "Where…" She turned around to find d'Artagnan on his knees in the middle of the street. "D'Artagnan!" Constance ran and knelt down next to him. "What's wrong?" D'Artagnan looked up at her. Constance gasped at how pale he looked. He drew his right hand away from his side. Constance's eyes widened in horror at the blood there. "How… when…"

D'Artagnan swallowed, "Sorry, it seems I keep falling at your feet..." His eyes rolled back and collapsed in the street.

"D'Artagnan!"

The Chatelet

Athos stood there with a cloth bag over his head, breathing heavily, waiting for death to come. It took too long! "Come on, shoot, damn you!" He screamed.

"Hold your fire!" Aramis called out with a scroll in his hand. "If I were you, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to die." He said as he pulled the bag off Athos's head. "Your release. Signed by the King. Get these chains off him."

"I thought I'd finally shaken you two off." Athos said as he looked between his two oldest friends.

Aramis laughed, "Believe me, there are easier ways."

They walked out of the Chatelet together. "You should thank d'Artagnan. He was instrumental in your release."

Athos scoffed, "He was also one of the people who put a nail in my coffin."

Porthos shrugged, then nodded, "That's true, but…"

"Athos! Aramis!" The turned at the frantic calling from Constance.

Aramis stepped up to her, concerned. He took her by the shoulder, hoping to calm her, "Madam, what is it?"

She huffed, heavily, "It's d'Artagnan…He's injured...I called…the…doctor…but there's…"

Athos got impatient as he listened to the lady tell them about the boy that both accused and saved him. He shoved Aramis aside and grabbed her by the shoulders, "Where is he?"

"At my home." Athos pushed her aside, not too gently, and ran towards the boarding house.

Aramis nodded at her as he passed, "Apologies, Madame."

Porthos tipped his hat at her and ran after his friends. Constance pulled her dress up and ran after the three men.

Athos barged into the house d'Artagnan was in and looked around. Aramis pushed passed, having a better idea than Athos at the layout of the house. He entered the guest room and found d'Artagnan lying in a bed with a bandage around his side, unconscious or sleeping. Aramis could see the fresh blood coming through the bandage. "What kind of doctor did she call?" Aramis grumbled under his breath as he sat on the side of the bed. By now the rest of them were standing at the door. "Madame Bonacieaux, I need a pair of scissor, needle and thread and water."

Constance was standing at the door, with tears running down her face. "The doctor said there was nothing he could do."

"That is because he is incompetent." Aramis answered, "Now if you would please." Constance nodded and went to get the items, "Porthos, help her." Porthos nodded.

"Are you so confident in your skills?" Athos asked, leaning against the wall casually. His concern over the boy was not showing at all, but Aramis knew the man well enough to know better.

"No, I am not, but I am sure the doctor was incompetent. These bandages are doing nothing for him." Aramis peered under the bandage, "and he didn't even bother with stitching." D'Artagnan groaned as he stirred. Athos stood straighter though he was still leaning against the wall. "D'Artagnan." Aramis waited for d'Artagnan to open his eyes.

D'Artagnan frowned, as he opened his eyes. When his sight finally cleared, he saw who it was that was sitting next to him. "Did you get there in time?" Aramis smiled and leaned to his left revealing Athos behind him. D'Artagnan smiled weakly, "So you're not dead."

"Can't say the same about you." Athos returned.

"I'm fine."

"Pff…that's what you said before." Aramis scoffed, "You should've told me you were injured."

"There was no time."

"I don't need you to trade your own life for mine." Athos told him sternly.

D'Artagnan glared at him. "I didn't trade anything. I was just doing what's right." He turned away from the man, "Just as my father has always taught…"

"You're awake!" Constance was surprised, thinking the man was on his death bed. He handed Aramis the items while Porthos put the water on the bedside table.

"Sorry for troubling you." He tried to push himself up but his side felt like another knife stabbed him. Athos watched as the boy closed his eyes and bit his lips to stop the scream.

"Keep still, you idiot!" The words did not reflect the concern in Constance's voice.

"Yes, that is good advice." Aramis said as he cut through the bandages, "By the way, Madame, did you call a doctor or a butcher?" He peeled away the bandage, wincing at the wound under it.

"I'm pretty sure he was a butcher." D'Artagnan grunted as Aramis wiped away the blood.

"Why do you say that?" Aramis frowned at the wound, "Did he dig into it?" He turned to Constance, annoyed.

Constance shrugged, guilty, "He might have thought it was a bullet wound?"

"You didn't think to tell him it wasn't?" Athos asked, a little too loudly.

"I wasn't sure how he got the wound." Constance was feeling guilty.

Athos looked over at d'Artagnan, "You didn't know how you got the wound either?"

"I punched him out." D'Artagnan said, deadpanned. Porthos burst out laughing at that.

Aramis frowned at the wound. "Porthos, help me roll him over."

Porthos walked over to the other side of the bed. He grimaced in sympathy at d'Artagnan's expression. "How bad is it, Aramis?"

Aramis shook his head, "Bad enough. Gaudet's dagger went straight through."

Athos looked at his two friends. Anger was building up and he didn't even know why. He barely knew this man, but seeing him injured made him mad. "How the hell did he get stabbed and no one noticed?" The room went silent at the volume of his voice. Aramis stopped tending to the wound and turned to him.

"We had other things on our minds. Namely our ungrateful friend!" He turned back to his patient. "I'm going to stitch this up now. It doesn't look like the dagger hit anything vital. You're lucky." He worried d'Artagnan didn't say anything.

"Oh, he's unconscious." Porthos told him when he noticed the worried look on Aramis's face.

"When?" Aramis asked, incredulously.

Porthos shrugged, "About the same we turned him over."

"What?" Aramis turned the boy onto his back and checked his pulse. "Too fast." He felt his brow with the back of his hand, "Too warm."

"This is my fault. I found Doctor Bordieu at the tavern…" Constance left the room, upset at the scene.

Aramis sighed. He hated seeing women upset, but he couldn't leave d'Artagnan to comfort her. "Athos, do you think…"

"No." Athos refused, more because he needed to stay and watch over d'Artagnan.

"Porthos?" Aramis queried.

"Eh…" Porthos looked at him uncomfortably.

"Forget it. You're both cowards." Aramis rolled his eyes. He started stitching the entry wound before rolling d'Artagnan over and stitching the exit wound. When Aramis was finally done with the tending, he covered him up with the blanket.

Athos nodded at the bruise around his ribs, "And how did he get that? I suppose you both didn't know about that one either."

"Oh that happened before we even met him." Porthos answered, happy to be able to answer one of Athos's questions.

Athos looked at him, disbelieving. "How much trouble can one boy bring to Paris?"

"If he's staying in Paris, then we should be prepared for some fun times." Aramis agreed.

Porthos was about to say something when d'Artagnan started tossing on the bed. "His fever's starting to cause trouble." Aramis sat forward to check it. "Definitely rising. Athos, can you get some water?"

Athos left without saying a word. He found Constance in her kitchen washing the dishes…or more precisely, washing a dish. "Madame Bonacieaux?" He pretended not to notice Constance wiping her tears before turning around.

"What can I do for you, Athos?" Constance asked, formally.

"I need a bowl of water. D'Artagnan's developed a fever." Athos told her.

"Of course, probably infected because the 'doctor' I found dug around his sword wound for an imaginary bullet!" Her actions as she grabbed the bowl and filled it, was short and sharp, showing her frustration at herself. She grabbed a couple of white towels out of a drawer and dropped it into the bowl of water before handing it to Athos. Athos took it and was about to leave when against his better judgement he spoke.

"It's not your fault. You did what you could for a man you barely even know. It's more than what anyone else would ever do. Besides, Aramis will make sure he recovers. He's actually the most useful one out of the three of us." He smiled when Constance gave a short giggle.

Athos returned to the room to find Athos and Porthos trying to talk down a delirious d'Artagnan. D'Artagnan was backed into the corner of the room by the window, pointing a dagger at them. "I need to find the man who killed my father!" He yelled at them.

"What the hell is going on?" Athos asked as he put the bowl of water down and approached them, slowly.

"Who are you?!" D'Artagnan turn the dagger onto him.

Athos put his hand up to show he was no threat, "I'm a…" He looked at Aramis and shrugged.

Aramis rolled his eyes, "He's a friend. Just like us." He pointed to Porthos.

D'Artagnan shook his head, "No, you're not...a Musketeer killed my father…you're all…you're all…musketeers." He was shaking uncontrollably.

"No, no, no. That was a misunderstanding." Porthos told him. "You killed the man who murdered your father." D'Artagnan frowned, not sure if he could believe these men.

"Porthos is right." Aramis confirmed, "His name was Gaudet. He killed your father, but he's dead now."

"Gaudet…" d'Artagnan was finding it harder and harder to stay standing. He pushed himself against the wall, to keep from falling, "Gaudet…"

"That's right."

Athos watched d'Artagnan's expression as he spoke to his friends. He was waiting for something, some kind of recognition. Suddenly d'Artagnan turned his attention on him. "You! I know you."

"You do."

"You're…" D'Artagnan frowned as he tried to place the face to a name. He felt himself getting weaker, "You're Athos." Aramis looked over at Porthos, worried at what d'Artagnan remembered of Athos.

"That's right. I'm Athos."

"You kill…" Everyone stopped breathing at those words, "You…no…Gaudet…killed my father." Porthos sighed in relief. The situation was getting stressful.

"That's right. Gaudet killed your father." Athos repeated just to make sure d'Artagnan's fevered mind remembered that little fact. "Now, look at me and tell me what else you know about me."

D'Artagnan did as he was asked. For some reason, he trusted this man. "You're…Athos…I…I…tried to…kill you?" d'Artagnan was confused, why does he trust a man he tried to kill?

Aramis took a step toward Athos and leaned in closer, "Maybe you should try to get him to remember something about us instead." He whispered loudly, "He doesn't know anything about you."

Athos wanted to tell the guy to shut up but he opted to ignore him instead, "Do you trust me?"

"How can he trust you? He doesn't know you!" Porthos whispered just as loudly as Aramis.

"I do."

Aramis and Porthos turned to d'Artagnan, "You do?" They said together.

"He does." Athos glared at them both before continuing, "You saved my life…"

"We did too." Porthos mumbled.

Athos ignored him. He'll kill him later. "You saved my life. Now, let me help you. If you really do trust me then believe me when I tell you, you don't need that," he nodded at the dagger in d'Artagnan's hand, "You're amongst friends."

"Says the guy who didn't even know how to introduce himself five minutes ago." Aramis complained.

"For heaven's sakes!" D'Artagnan jumped at Athos's booming voice. "Would the two of you shut up?" He turned back to d'Artagnan who was looking confused.

"You three are…crazy." He dropped the dagger and, with the little strength he had left, pushed himself off the wall. He took one step forward before his legs gave out.

Athos and Porthos caught him. "We have you." Athos soothed as they led him back to the bed. They lowered d'Artagnan onto it, "He's burning."

Aramis wrung out a towel and laid it on d'Artagnan's forehead. "I know." He took the other one wiped around his neck and cheeks. "We need to keep his fever down and hopefully avoid a similar situation."

"Why is it…so…hot?" D'Artagnan complain, breathing heavily. He turned his sight onto Athos, but his eyes were glazed over. "We should stop…"

"What?" Athos asked, not following.

"We should stop…you're tired…" D'Artagnan wasn't looking at Athos, he was looking over his shoulder at nothing. Athos realised he was in a dream again. "It's storming…father?" He shot up from the bed, trying to get out of the bed, reaching for something or someone, not there. "Father!" He tried to reach past Athos, but Athos wrapped his arms around the man, restraining him. D'Artagnan started fighting him to get to something on the floor. "Let me go! He's my father! He's…dying. He's…" Athos felt the fight drain out of D'Artagnan, but the boy started trembling. "He's dead…" Athos sighed. He loosened his arms around D'Artagnan but he didn't let go. "He's gone." The pain on d'Artagnan's face made Aramis and Porthos's heart ache. D'Artagnan has had revenge on his mind since his father's died. He wasn't given a chance to mourn this father's death. "I'm sorry." D'Artagnan sobbed, "I'm sorry. We shouldn't have…stopped. It's my…fault. It's my fault."

Athos knew about feeling guilty for someone's death. He knew how it felt to be eaten away by that guilt. It's dangerous. It destroys lives. D'Artagnan was too young and he had a fire in his heart. Athos saw it the moment he looked into those eyes at the garrison. Athos would not allow d'Artagnan's guilt put out that fire. "It's not your fault. Gaudet killed your father and you avenged his death. You did what a good son would do. And along with that, you cleared my name. Your father would be proud." Athos pushed d'Artagnan back and held him by the shoulders at arms-length. "It wasn't your fault." D'Artagnan's fevered eyes started closing, but Athos wouldn't let him rest yet. "Say it, D'Artagnan." Athos ordered, tapping his face to keep him away. "Say it."

D'Artagnan frowned and shook his head, "But I…"

"There is no 'but' about it." Athos started putting together D'Artagnan's broken up words, "You were on the road. It was raining. You saw a place to stay. You wanted your father to rest, so you suggested to stop. That's when Gaudet attacked. Is that what happened?" D'Artagnan nodded. "Nowhere does that tell me, you caused your father's death. It was unfortunate, but it was not your fault. You were doing what any dutiful son would've done. You are not to blame." Then he ordered again. "Say it."

D'Artagnan hesitated before finally allowing himself to speak the truth, "I am not to blame."

Athos nodded and smiled, "Good. Now rest." He gently lowered d'Artagnan onto the pillow.

"I don't feel too good." D'Artagnan complained.

Aramis scoffed as he sat down, opposite Athos on the bed. "That, my friend, is the biggest understatement of this century. Your ribs on your left side are all broken and the sword wound, though did not do any damage internally, went straight through. Not to mention, the doctor poked around inside." He reached over and felt d'Artagnan's forehead. "I can almost fry an egg on your head. You should be feeling like hell." As if to prove Aramis right, d'Artagnan turned onto his side groaning in pain.

"Can you do something for the pain?" Porthos asked, stepping over. Aramis looked back at him and pulled out a flask, grinning. Porthos returned the grin, "Best medicine in Paris."

Aramis gently rolled d'Artagnan onto his back. The young man groaned again. "I know it hurts. This will help." He lifted d'Artagnan's head and tipped the flask. He got d'Artagnan to drink most of the bottle before lowering his head onto the pillow. D'Artagnan's eyes were glazed over as he looked up at him. "Close your eyes and rest, d'Artagnan. It has been a long week for you. Go to sleep." Slowly, d'Artagnan's eyes closed and his breathing evened out. Aramis waited a few minutes before declaring, "He'll be fine in a week or so. For now, all we can do is keep him cool and comfortable until that fever goes down."

"I will watch over him." They all turned to Constance who was standing at the door to the room. She shrugged, "I've already done it once."

"Broken ribs are different, Madame." Aramis told her. "I need to be here in case his wound gets infected."

"I'm staying." Athos told her.

"Me too. I don't like being left out." Porthos smiled at her.

Constance was a little annoyed, "How am I going to explain three Musketeers and one idiot in the house to my husband?"

Aramis turned to her, "We can get Captain Treville to tell him something. Anyway, d'Artagnan's going to need a place to stay. Surely, you and your husband can accommodate him."

Constance rolled her eyes and sighed, "He can board here but," She pointed at the three of them, "keep your Musketeer business out of my home."

Aramis tipped his head, "Yes, Ma'am."

Constance eyed each man in the room, then the man in the bed. She sighed and turned around, walking away, "Why do I get the feeling I am going to regret this?"

8 hours later…

D'Artagnan tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were too heavy. He stopped trying for a minute and listen instead, but there were no sounds. He tried again, this time he managed to get his eyes open a little. He looked around and found Athos, Porthos and Aramis asleep around the bed. He recognised the room as the one he woke up in yesterday. His left side ached as well as burned when he breathed. "What happened to me?" He groaned as he tried to sit up. "Aaahhhh…"

The three Musketeers were shocked awake by the sound of pain from the bed. Aramis was the first on his feet and at d'Artagnan's side. D'Artagnan had his eyes closed tight and his hands were gripping the bed sheets. "D'Artagnan." Aramis called to him, but d'Artagnan didn't answer. "d'Artagnan look at me." Slowly, d'Artagnan regulated his breathing to bring the pain under control. "That's good." Aramis coaxed. Finally, d'Artagnan was able to open his eyes.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Porthos asked him, "What do you remember?"

"Um…" d'Artagnan swallowed, "I was walking with Madame…Bonacieaux…that's it. What happened to me?"

"Gaudet stabbed you." Aramis answered, a little annoyed, "You shouldn't have hidden that fact from us. You could have lost your life."

D'Artagnan frowned, remembering what had happened, "It didn't feel so bad then."

"You were stabbed straight through!" Athos exclaimed.

D'Artagnan glared at him, annoyed himself, "Why are you always yelling at me?"

Athos narrowed his eyes at him in disbelief while Aramis and Porthos burst out laughing. Finally, Athos gave up. "Just tell me you're not always this stupid and reckless and I will not yell at you again."

D'Artagnan thought about that, "Stupid I can do…reckless…depends."

Aramis grinned, "I think we'll get along just fine. Don't you think, Porthos?"

"I do, Aramis." Porthos's grin mirrored Aramis's.

Athos groaned, "Great!"

D'Artagnan looked around the room. It was clear he was looking for someone specific. "She's making broth for you." Aramis smiled knowingly.

"Who?" D'Artagnan feigned ignorance.

Porthos scoffed, "Madame Bonacieaux. She's already agreed to letting you board here."

D'Artagnan couldn't help but smile at that. "Only if you keep your trouble out of this house!" Constance walked in with a bowl of beef broth. She sat down on the side of the bed. D'Artagnan looked at her suspiciously. She looked like she was about to feed him. He looked around the others who were trying to hide their grins, even Athos. No way he was going to be fed in front of three Musketeers.

"I can do it myself." D'Artagnan took the bowl in his hands, but they were shaking.

"Let me help you." Constance took the bowl from him.

D'Artagnan looked at the others, pleading with them to help him. Finally, Aramis took pity on the boy. "Madame, allow us to take care of him. He is in this bed because he was helping us."

Constance rolled her eyes. She knew what was going on. "Men and their pride." She mumbled as she stood and handed the bowl to Aramis before walking out of the room.

Aramis smiled and sat down, offering a spoon of the broth to d'Artagnan. "I didn't let a beautiful woman feed me. I'm not letting you." He held out his hand, "Give it to me." Aramis shook his head and handed the bowl to d'Artagnan, but he kept hand under it to keep it steady. It felt so good to get some food into him. He drank up the rest of the broth and let Aramis take the bowl away. He laid back and closed his eyes when he felt fingers around this ribs. "What are you doing?" He winced at the pain.

"Just want to check your wound."

D'Artagnan sighed and closed his eyes again. "Fine…" He felt Aramis pull at his bandage. It was uncomfortable but he was too tired to complain. He could feel himself losing fight with sleep.

"He's over the worst of it. I'm going to head back to the garrison and report to Treville. I'll be back tonight to check on him again."

Porthos stood, "I'll head back with you."

Aramis nodded then turned to Athos, "Give him some water when he wakes up."

"I will." Athos assured him. The two men left him to take care of their new friend.

Athos smiled as he watched over the young man in the bed. D'Artagnan was definitely going to make life here in Paris more interesting. He was a stubborn boy but Athos saw his natural instinct for justice and that means he could be a great musketeer. Maybe the best of them all.

The End!