AN/ And here's the finale! Thank you to everyone who has stayed through to the end, who has reviewed, and followed, and faved. Thank you all for reading. You guys are awesome, and I hope you enjoy the last chapter. I know I enjoyed writing it.

(tw - suicidal thought)

Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC's The Musketeers

Aramis felt breathless by the time he cleared the woods. He wasn't sure how long he'd been riding, but he noticed that the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, and so he slowed down to a slow walk, finally taking in his surroundings.

He was in the open, passing through a series of fields, and very clearly in farmer's territory. He jumped off his horse and led it by the reins in search of some water. When he was finally successful in his search he settled down beside the stream, and leant back on the grass.

He hadn't let himself think as he'd rode, but now all he could hear was d'Artagnan's voice echoing inside his head.

"I'm sorry d'Artagnan…"

"For shooting me or for letting the guilt rule your life?"

"Both really," he said aloud. There was no one around to hear him.

He sighed and shoved his hands through his windswept hair in frustration. He hadn't wanted to let it get this far. After Porthos and Athos had filled in the last of the blanks, he'd promised himself he wouldn't let the guilt eat him up… told himself repeatedly that it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't get past the idea of it. Every time d'Artagnan winced, or wheezed or coughed, he was reminded of what his bullet, his shot had done. He'd nearly killed one of his closest friends.

He'd shot his brother.

"Arghh!" he yelled aimlessly out into the evening air. His horse dipped his head up from where it was bent over the stream, but didn't react in any other way.

Aramis stood up and pulled his pistol out of its holster and turned it over in his hands, feeling its weight and shape, and tracing his fingers over the engraving on the handle. He looked at it and then stopped short.

"You idiot," he chastised. He'd only thought it for a second… only a moment. Maybe the thought had been lingering in the back of his head for a while, but the moment it solidified he realised what a mistake it was.

He re-holstered his weapon, sat down on the grassy bank, and then cried.

His horse came up to him and nudged him gently.

"I'm such an idiot," he whispered to his mount. "I can't think this way. I can't… If I'd done it they'd have never… they'd have blamed themselves… and they shouldn't… because they didn't do it… they didn't know… just like I didn't."

He cried himself dry and then shook himself before standing, resting a hand on his horse.

"Alright," he sighed. "It's time to go home."

/\/\/\/\/\

Somehow, the night had gotten away with him, and he'd travelled further than he thought. Instead of slogging it all the way home, he found a farm and settled on the hay in the stables. In the morning a young boy, the farmer's son, came in with some boiled eggs for him,

"I have no money," Aramis tried to explain.

The boy didn't speak, but merely held the eggs out for him. Waiting.

"Thank you," Aramis smiled at the child and took the food. The shells were still warm, and he ate as he rode the rest of the way home.

As he negotiated the Paris roads he realised, a little belatedly, that he would have missed morning muster. Not that he was particularly worried about that. He trotted into the garrison, and quickly dismounted to see d'Artagnan's clearly relieved face watching him from the foot of the stairs to Treville's office. Again, belatedly, Aramis realised that the last time his brother had seen him he'd been running away, distraught.

"D'Artagnan," he greeted his friend hesitantly.

"Are you okay?" d'Artagnan interjected. "I crossed a line yesterday Aramis. I shouldn't have taken you there. I'm sor—"

"No," Aramis shook his head, catching Athos' and Porthos' eye. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shot you. I'm also sorry that all I've done these last few weeks is mope. I had your forgiveness, but I had to forgive myself."

"And have you?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Almost," Aramis replied, almost coyly.

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes, but accepted the answer.

"Aramis!" Treville shouted from upstairs. "My office!"

"Back to the usual course I think," Aramis said in a genuine, upbeat tone and he bounced up the stairs. D'Artagnan watched him go, and then nearly laughed out loud when he heard Aramis address Treville.

"Apologies for my lateness, Captain."