Much to Lebas' displeasure, d'Artagnan lead the charge through the now unguarded, main gate into the fort. With an annoyed roll of his eyes, the Musketeer followed quickly in the Gascon's wake, the others close on his heels. They'd managed only a dozen steps before encountering more of the Englishmen, and after the first pistol discharge by the enemy force, the French soldiers responded in kind before switching to blades as the fighting continued.

With no firearm of his own, d'Artagnan felt incredibly vulnerable, and he darted to his left before coming across a set of steps that led upwards to the walkway that ran along the top of the fortress' rampart. From his new vantage point, he had a clear view of the skirmish below. He moved slightly closer before pulling Lebas' gift from inside his doublet, slipping the pouch between his left arm and his body to hold it there, leaving his right hand free.

Reaching his fingers inside the supple leather, he pulled out a small, but lethal-looking blade. Pausing for only a moment, he identified a target and let the knife fly, unerringly embedding it in the back of one of the Englishmen. There were two more knives nestled inside the pouch and d'Artagnan threw each with a stunning degree of accuracy. The first knocked a reloaded pistol from one man's hand as the steel pierced his palm, and another attacker was brought to his knees when the second blade was buried in his thigh.

Despite d'Artagnan's assistance, a couple of his brothers-in-arms had been injured, and those remaining were still battling the remaining Englishmen. Out of weapons, he began to make his way back to the stairs leading down to the ground, only to be stopped by an aggressor coming up towards him. Unarmed, the Gascon had little choice but to turn and run in the opposite direction, moving as quickly as he could along the narrow walkway.

Each jarring step sent shocks through his dislocated shoulder, and he cupped his left elbow in his right hand in a vain attempt to reduce the pain. Despite his pace, a quick glance behind him revealed his attacker gaining ground, and d'Artagnan knew he had only seconds left before the man was upon him. He feverishly racked his brain for an idea, his eyes bouncing between the narrow walkway beneath him and the courtyard down below and to his left.

A displaced rush of air alerted him to the fact that his foe was now within striking range, and he instinctively ducked his head, even though his protective position was unlikely to be of much help if the Englishman chose to thrust instead of slash with his sword. The hairs on the back of his next warned that the next attack was imminent and d'Artagnan began to brace for the impact of a blow. A moment later, he spotted his possible salvation, and with his remaining strength, he put on an extra burst of speed before flinging himself off the walkway.

He had no idea what happened next, his momentum bringing down to land briefly on the spot he'd targeted, but his one working arm wasn't enough to catch himself. The energy of his dive had him slipping over and downwards, bringing him crashing to the ground on the other side of the elephant. The force of his fall had his nerves singing with intense agony, and d'Artagnan was certain that he'd blacked out for several seconds, leaving him at the mercy of their enemies. Despite that knowledge, the Gascon was too stunned and exhausted to move.

Instead, he laid absolutely still, waiting for the sound of blood rushing in his to abate so that he could make sense of what was happening around him. He could hear footsteps now and prayed that whoever was approaching was a friend. The sound ceased and d'Artagnan felt fairly certain that he was being observed. After several seconds, he heard someone say, "That was…"

"Astounding," Athos stated dryly, finishing Porthos' statement.

With the knowledge that it was his friends who surrounded him, any motivation that the Gascon might have dredged up to move swiftly rushed from his body.

"d'Artagnan, are you alright?" Aramis asked, the medic peering worriedly at the young man, his concern growing with every second that passed.

"Ow," d'Artagnan groaned as his body voiced its immense discomfort. He kept his eyes closed for several moments more, concerned about what he would see when he opened them, until someone pointedly clearing his throat caught his attention. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and focused on the three smiling faces above him, all of the expressions tinged with varying levels of concern and amusement. No one spoke and the Gascon felt the heat rising in his cheeks, embarrassment leaving his mind blank and his voice quiet.

Finally, Athos broke the silence, stating matter-of-factly, but with a smile on his face that softened his words. "It seems you got your wish to get on the elephant's back, although I think your dismount may need some work."

With a wry grin of his own, d'Artagnan gave a one-sided shrug as he answered, "It's not the fall that's the problem, but the landings that you have to watch out for."

The trio above him were silent for several heartbeats before Porthos' deep laugher broke out, Aramis and Athos following immediately after. From his place on the ground, d'Artagnan joined them as he wondered how he would spin the tale of his daring feat without including his embarrassing landing.

Lebas and his men had been successful in retaking the fortress, killing nearly all of the Englishmen and leaving only two alive to be brought back to Paris for questioning. Cavendish was discovered locked in one of the inner rooms along with his dog, and both were grateful to be released and eager to be on their way.

The merchant was cleared from any wrongdoing by the confession of one of the men who'd accompanied him, revealing that they'd been handsomely paid for their part in the plot to assassinate the King. As such, Cavendish completed the journey to Paris with a newly-expanded Musketeer guard, happily sharing his coach with the two wounded heroes, much to Athos' chagrin. By the time they'd reached the palace, the former Comte was willing to do anything to escape the merchant's attention. Even Porthos looked contrite about his part in bringing his friend to Cavendish's interest, and he privately hoped that Athos' retribution wouldn't be too severe.

Porthos had also had a companion for the journey home, the merchant's hound once again taking his spot next to the Musketeer's horse, yipping excitedly each time the large man accidently dropped some food. Cavendish seemed to be fine with the arrangement, no longer bothered by his dog's fickleness, likely due to the fact that he had a captive audience in the form of a French nobleman.

Upon their arrival at the palace, Athos and d'Artagnan had thanked the merchant for his generosity in allowing them to share his carriage, and with the help of their friends, had quickly limped away to their horses. Aramis had been unwilling to allow either of them to ride back to Paris, but was fine with it for their short trip back to the garrison. Partway there, they'd detoured, silently and unanimously coming to the decision to head to Athos' rooms instead. While Aramis accompanied to the injured men, Porthos took it upon himself to report to Treville, promising to bring food back with him once he'd finished.

That night, Aramis fussed and tutted over their injuries, and for once they let him, both men grateful to finally be warm and relatively free of pain. d'Artagnan's head was feeling better, even though his newly relocated shoulder more than made up for any relief he'd gained from his concussion. It was clear that Athos' ankle was bothering him a great deal as well, and he didn't protest being deposited on his bed, or the pain draught that Aramis offered him shortly afterwards.

When he arrived, Porthos shared with them Treville's congratulations on a job well done, and advised the injured men that they'd both be off duty for at least a week, possibly more, until Aramis was happy with their conditions. At that, the medic couldn't help but grin in satisfaction. Despite their forced inactivity, the days passed pleasantly, d'Artagnan and Athos enjoying each other's company, even if many of their hours together were spent in quiet as the latter man read and the Gascon tended his weapons.

Of course, there was a complete lack of silence on the evening that Porthos showed up for dinner carrying his boots in one hand, and complaining of the offensive smell that was emanating from them. After ordering him to leave his boots outside, Aramis and d'Artagnan laughed uncontrollably at the complete look of misery on their friend's face, while Athos smiled knowingly but refused to comment on what might have happened.

Almost two weeks after their arrival back in Paris, both men were returned to active duty, although Athos had been given a stern warning to take things easy on his still-healing ankle. Their first day back, they'd been ordered to the palace to face a grateful King. Their audience with Louis was scheduled for mid-day, but as was often the case, the royal made them wait for several hours before finally seeing them close to dinnertime.

Given the relative warmth of the autumn day, the King was holding court in one of the gardens, and the Inseparables made their way there together once they'd been summoned. As expected, Louis sat in a grand chair, the Queen sitting to one side of him, and several feet away, but still in a position of honor, sat Cavendish. According to the royal scuttlebutt, the man had charmed Louis with stories of his travels, and had become a welcomed and valued guest.

As though rehearsed, Aramis and Porthos stopped in tandem, allowing d'Artagnan and Athos to travel several more steps until they were bowing before the royal couple. Louis' face shone with delight as he stepped down from his throne. "Athos, d'Artagnan, it pleases us to see you looking so well," he gushed, with a quick sideways glance at the Queen. "I understand that you were injured while foiling the plot against me, and you have our gratitude for your heroic actions."

At that point, Louis paused, licking his lips momentarily as though considering what to say next. He looked over at Cavendish, who was beaming back at him and nodding eagerly in encouragement. Reaching a decision, the King began to speak once more. "Such acts of bravery deserve to be rewarded and I believe I have just the thing."

d'Artagnan and Athos traded wary looks as the royal raised a hand towards one of his servants. Seconds later, another man came into view, this one holding the end of a thick rope. As the beast attached to it came into view, the two friends could hear Porthos splutter and choke behind them. The elephant was led to within a dozen feet of them, Louis stepping back somewhat to increase the distance between himself and the massive animal.

"d'Artagnan, I understand you had a…" the King paused again, searching for the right word and his face lit up when he found it. "A somewhat unsuccessful first attempt at riding it. In truth, it was your experience that convinced me not to mount the beast. After all, if one of my finest Musketeers was bested by it, then perhaps it's better that I stick with the fine stallions in my stable." With a look of glee, he asked, "Would you like to try again?"

d'Artagnan was horrified at the suggestion and had to work hard to school his features into an expression that was a mix of gratitude and remorse. "Your Majesty, you honor me with your offer. Unfortunately, I've only just been returned to duty, and Aramis warns me that another fall may permanently injure my arm, preventing me from working in your service. Regretfully, I must decline."

Louis seemed unfazed that his offer had been rebuffed, already turning to Athos as he said, "And what about you, Athos. Care to show us how it's done?"

The older man was as composed as always when he replied. "Your Majesty, your offer is indeed generous, but I do not require any form recompense. That you and the Queen remain healthy and safe is its own reward."

The comment worked to put a pleased expression on Louis' face, and as quickly as the idea of rewarding the Musketeers had come, it was gone again, and the King returned to his seat. With a nod of dismissal from the Queen, the men bowed once more and withdrew.

As they walked along the meandering path leading from the gardens, Porthos asked thoughtfully, "Did you notice the smell from that elephant?" When his companions remained silent, he continued. "I swear that's what my boots stank of – like elephant, but ten times worse."

Several moments passed in silence before d'Artagnan said, "Actually, Porthos, I think you may be onto something, especially when you consider the smell when it was relieving itself."

The large man stopped in his tracks, missing the smirks on Athos' and d'Artagnan's faces as the men continued walking. As he hurried to catch up to them, the sound of his friends' laughter floated back to him, and Porthos groaned as he vowed to never get on Athos' bad side again.

End.

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and favorited this virtual gift for AZGirl's birthday. Many of you have commented on some of the unique elements in this story, and I have to pass credit along to AZGirl for her very creative list of prompts, which is included below. Till next time!

Story Prompts:

1. Main characters: d'Art and/or Athos.

2. No vomit scene.

3. A mention of last year's birthday story (Last Birthday), but not the mission or the ring.

4. Using a quote at the beginning of the story.

5. Knife throwing - the others didn't know that d'Artagnan is an expert at it.

6. A wacky/creative escape plan and/or a sting to get a baddie.

7. Time of year: Fall. A mention of fall leaves and their colors would be nice.

8. Porthos is basically a dog whisperer and can befriend any dog.

9. And the difficult one: an elephant.