Musketeers 1. Chapter 1

**I enjoyed writing the scenario in Forget Me Not and it got me thinking in a whole different direction. The two stories are not connected, but do use the same idea. Kind of.**

**As always, I love reader interaction and am happy to hear your thoughts and ideas. I may take the mickey out of them, but you all know that already.**

**Lost**

Treville sat at his desk and tried to complete the missive he had begun some time earlier. Since it was a legal document, he could not afford it to have any mistakes and he had been forced to restart it three times. Each time, his quill had stalled too long as his hand had hesitated and inkblots had dripped where they should not be. Finally he screwed up the piece of parchment and stowed the quill in its holder. It was clear his mind would not allow him to relax until he had word. It wasn't that he doubted his men's ability to complete their task, but he knew how much was riding on it. With a sigh, he pushed himself away from his desk and headed for the door. Nothing further was going to get done and he needed something to distract him. Or actually, something to focus on. He was already distracted enough. As he leaned over the railing of the balcony, he evaluated the recruit training below him. A flash of dark hair had him smiling as he watched a sword swing too wide. The musketeer made quick work of knocking his target to his knees and the dark hair dropped in defeat at his own stupidity. It seemed only yesterday that another dark-haired recruit had regularly made the same mistake and another musketeer had made him pay for it each and every time.

Treville closed his eyes briefly and wondered again where the two of them were. At least one of the teams should have been back already.

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><p>Aramis tugged at his hat as he turned his horse towards the garrison. It felt strange on his head since it was not his usual one. He looked across at Porthos and frowned. The ride to the palace had taken their full concentration as they escorted their charge, while scanning every alleyway and possible point of attack. The fact they had arrived without incident did not have either of them celebrating. It meant that their ruse had quite possibly failed and their friends were still in danger.<p>

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><p>Athos felt the hair on the back of his neck prickling and he absently pulled at his collar. It was nothing new; rather he had been on high alert since they left the tavern and began their trek for the palace. He had naturally taken point, with their charge sandwiched in between him and d'Artagnan. The man had barely spoken to them as they had ridden through the streets and he had been grateful for that. He did not need the distraction. Their meandering path had taken in several stops along the way and each time both men had taken the opportunity to check if they were being followed. All seemed well so far, but Athos had learned from bitter experience, not to get complacent.<p>

Treville had sent out three teams to act as decoys with a fourth escorting the actual nobleman. None of them except Treville knew which one was the real one. Not that it made any difference to any of them as the assignment was still the same. Get the man assigned to them to the palace in one piece. It was a matter of honour that each team would do their job as expected, regardless of the true value of their escort.

D'Artagnan took one last look over his shoulder as they climbed up onto their horses and set off again. The man riding between him and Athos had only given them the name of Thierry, but he had no idea if it was his real name or simply a label to be used for the day. He could have been a nobleman or he could have been a servant of said nobleman. Whatever the case, the man's safe delivery to the palace was their priority. Treville had made it crystal clear that vital information was being conveyed and it was too risky to be written down.

He looked ahead to where Athos was leading the way and noted how strange it looked to see the man out of uniform. D'Artagnan had only ever known him as a musketeer and rarely saw him without his pauldron firmly attached to his shoulder or within easy reach. He glanced down at his own arm and felt naked without the piece of leather he had strived so hard to obtain. The fact it was safely stored in Treville's office did not ease the strange feeling. It was odd how quickly it had become a part of who he was.

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><p>Aramis and Porthos rode into the garrison and began immediately scouting the yard for their friends. Porthos noted Treville first and nodded towards the Captain. It was clear that the man was waiting for them on his balcony and that could only mean one thing. They were the first team to return. As the two of them headed towards the stables, they saw Treville heading down the stairs towards them, worry clearly etched on his face.<p>

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><p>Athos slowed but did not stop as they approached the bridge. He quickly assessed it and frowned. It was narrow and would require them all to dismount in order to get across without making them all sitting targets. The end of the bridge curved into an alleyway and was a clear point for an ambush. They had passed many such vulnerable places in their trek across the city and his senses had amped up a notch at each one of them. Danger lurked in every shadow and it was exhausting trying to anticipate what may come at them. He looked over his shoulder and was pleased to see d'Artagnan was also observing keenly.<p>

He eventually pulled his horse to a stop and slid down onto the roadway. Thierry followed suit as d'Artagnan also began to dismount. Athos herded the man closer to his horse and nodded towards the bridge.

"Keep your eyes open and your wits about you."

Thierry followed Athos' example and grasped his horse's reins tightly and pulled in close to the animal's body as they stepped out onto the bridge. The early spring rains had brought on the snow melt and the swollen waterway beneath the bridge surged loudly as extra water flowed through the small space.

Athos was almost across the bridge when trouble found them. He heard it before he saw anything. Two musket shots rang out and he reacted on instinct. He turned to see Thierry leaning into his horse while wildly looking around for the source of the shots. The target could not see his attackers, but Athos had already determined the trajectory had come from above them.

He shouted to d'Artagnan, "Roof!"

D'Artagnan pushed forward to shield their charge and heard another musket shot ring out. He looked up just in time to feel something whistle past his ear, followed by a thunk against his saddle. A momentary flare of adrenaline had him pushing Thierry towards Athos before his feet seemed to tangle around themselves. He felt something warm trickle down his face and absently brushed at it. He was stunned to see his fingers come away covered in blood.

Athos looked back just in time to see d'Artagnan stumble into his horse. Given the lad's usual agility, he was momentarily surprised. Until he saw the blood. Years of conditioning took over and he pushed the emotion down to do what needed to be done. He reached for Thierry's arm and pulled him forward. Duty dictated this man was his priority, but that didn't mean he couldn't help his friend too.

"D'Artagnan!"

The sound of his name being called jolted him out of his stupor and d'Artagnan raised his head. He saw Athos lunging towards Thierry and knew they still needed to get the man to safety. Whoever had attacked them was not simply going to let them pass.

"Behind you!"

D'Artagnan reacted without having to think as Athos called out his warning. By the time he swung around he had his sword in his hand and was brandishing it towards the man advancing on him. His usual confident steps seemed to have deserted him and he felt himself stumble forward. The stranger in front of him laughed and he barely had time to wonder why before the man was upon him.

Thierry felt himself being pushed against his horse as Athos squeezed around him. The narrow bridge had become a deathtrap and he felt his concern rising. Treville had promised him protection and had formulated a plan to try to throw his enemies off his trail. Apparently they had failed.

Athos pushed the man forwards and looked up to see if the sharpshooter was still situated there as he had stopped firing at them. Either he had used all his ammunition or he was looking to reload muskets. Either way, they still needed to get past the men advancing on them on the ground. He kept a wary eye on Thierry while trying to see what d'Artagnan was doing. He had not heard any swordplay and as he pushed past Thierry's horse, he could see why.

D'Artagnan was slumped against the railing of the bridge. Blood flowed freely down the side of his face and he looked disorientated. He had his sword raised in defense, but it was so sloppy that Athos would have roared at him in the practice yard. Athos surged towards him as one of their attackers closed on the boy. D'Artagnan's horse blocked his path as it shuffled in the enclosed space and he nudged furiously at the animal.

"D'Artagnan!"

Athos finally got past the horse and raced forward, his sword drawn.

D'Artagnan flinched as a wild looking man charged towards him, sword aimed at his chest. A second man was barely a foot away from him when he felt hands on his shoulders. He looked up to see laughter on the face on the man who grasped at him. His mind was slow to register what was coming as he felt himself being shoved backwards. By the time he hit the icy water below, his mind had only just caught up. Somebody was trying to kill him.

Athos swung his sword wildly at the man, but was too slow to stop him. The tip of his blade slid into the man's side, but not before he had pushed d'Artagnan backwards off the bridge.

"Nooooo!"

He withdrew his sword and slammed the man to the ground, while barely registering as the gurgling sound stopped. As he leaned over the railing, he desperately scanned the water below. It surged wildly along its course and he very nearly climbed over the railing to jump in himself. Suddenly he remembered that their charge was still in danger and he still had a duty to fulfill.

He looked up to the rooftop and caught a glimpse of a musket. Their sharpshooter was still there and taking aim once more. As his heart went one way, his body went another. He moved with years of training and dragged Thierry onto his horse before climbing onto his own.

He didn't notice as d'Artagnan's horse followed the two of them off the bridge.

He didn't notice as his emotions shut down and duty took over.

The only thing he noticed was the sound of shots echoing off the walls as they escaped down the alleyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**I was going to bed, but this just kept bugging me until I finished it. Thank you so much for the overwhelming support for the first chapter with reviews, comments, favourites and followers. I got to see the start of series 2 today so I'm a very happy gal!  
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**Chapter Two**

The snows had melted, but the water still held a deep chill. As his body hit the raging torrent, d'Artagnan felt the very breath sucked out of his lungs. His mind tumbled in some kind of twisted dance with his body as the swollen river pulled him under. His head felt like it was on fire and the ice water was doing nothing to put it out. The weight of his travel cloak was pulling him further down and his fingers fumbled at the lacing at his neck. Somehow he managed to wrench the fabric free and felt his body lift a little. It wasn't enough and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was running out of air. The blackness closed in at the edges of his vision and he felt his body giving up.

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><p>Treville watched as Porthos and Aramis stood sentry duty below him. The fact the two of them were seated and nudging at bowls of stew made it appear they were off duty, but he knew. They were waiting for their friends to return and each minute they delayed was another minute closer to outright worry. The other two teams had already made it back and just like Aramis and Porthos, neither of them had faced any problems. While Treville had not told them up front who they were actually escorting, it had eventually become clear that Athos and d'Artagnan had drawn the short straw.<p>

Aramis adjusted his hat to the side and Porthos frowned at him.

"Oi! 'ow many more times are you goin' to play with that today?"

"What?"

Porthos pulled a face and Aramis smiled brightly back at him.

"The other one just felt too … too … not mine!"

"Well Treville did tell us to dress down. Blend in an' all that."

"Dress _down_! Not down and out! That's the last time I leave disguises in your hands."

Porthos grinned back at him before quickly sobering.

"You think they got spotted?"

Aramis looked towards the gate and hesitated to answer. It was exactly what he thought had happened. After all, why had everyone else returned and not Athos and d'Artagnan?

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><p>Athos spurred his horse forward, glancing sideways to confirm his charge was still with him. To his credit, Thierry was stretched low in the saddle and urging his own horse to keep pace. D'Artagnan's horse trailed behind them and Athos refused to look at it. Treville's plans for decoys had obviously been compromised somehow or else their teams had been attacked simultaneously. Athos squeezed his eyes shut as fear threatened to unseat him. Had Aramis or Porthos also fallen to men who sought their protected charge?<p>

His mind screamed inside his skull. He had left d'Artagnan to die! He glanced across at Thierry once more and wondered again what was so important that it had probably cost his friend's life to see it delivered. It was not often Athos questioned duty. This day was the exception to that rule.

As they galloped through the palace gates, he could see red guards scrambling towards them. They were expected. Athos reined his horse to an urgent stop and felt its hooves slide in the gravel beneath him. He dropped to the ground and turned to see Thierry following suit.

"Go, look for him."

Athos heard the words, but paid no attention. He still had a duty to fulfill and he would not allow his heart to overrule his head. Something he had drilled into d'Artagnan for months. He felt his stomach clench at the thought and squelched it back down before turning towards the other man. He would not hand the man over to red guards and instead pointed towards the grand stairway.

"That way."

Thierry tried again, as if he had not been heard. "I am safe here. I'm on palace grounds. Please, go and look for him."

Athos heard the urgency in the man's voice and he shook his head in response.

"I will not leave you until I hand you over to musketeers or the King himself." He climbed the stairs, two at a time and grasped Thierry's elbow to force him forward. The guards tried to intervene, but one look from Athos had them stepping back and begrudgingly trailing behind.

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><p>Porthos spotted them first. Two men came barreling through the garrison gate and dismounted almost before their horses had stopped moving. Aramis was on his feet before he even knew why as he saw the look of fear on Porthos' face. He turned behind him to see who had just arrived and quickly noted that both men were on the current palace rotation. Before anybody could ask anything, Treville came bounding down the stairs towards them.<p>

The two new arrivals headed straight for their captain although one of them glanced towards the two men hurrying towards them. The look on his face made Aramis swallow back a knot of fear and slap a hand on Porthos's shoulder as they neared the group.

"Captain, Athos sent us."

Treville visibly sighed, as that at least meant his lieutenant had made it to the palace. But something was clearly wrong and he prayed that the King's agent had not been injured, or worse, killed, before they got him there.

"He made it safely to the palace with the comte."

"What went wrong?" It was an obvious question and there was no condemnation in it.

"They were ambushed." The seasoned musketeer looked as if he was going to be sick before he continued. "D'Artagnan was lost."

Porthos felt Aramis grasp his shoulder as the words sunk in. "What do you mean, _lost_?"

"Athos said they were crossing a narrow bridge when they were fired on and the lad was shot. One of their attackers forced him off the bridge. Athos said he was still alive when he went over, but he didn't resurface."

Treville drew their attention back to him. "Where is Athos, now?"

"He went back to look for d'Artagnan. Said he'd start searching downstream."

Porthos and Aramis looked to their captain who seemed as stunned as they did. Treville knew it was a race against time if their youngest had any hope of surviving. There was no telling the extent of his injury and the water temperature was still extremely cold. He quickly began issuing orders and assembling search teams. He knew logically that they were probably already too late, but he could not contemplate not trying anyway.

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><p>Juliette tucked the warm loaf of bread under her arm and tried to resist the temptation to break off a piece. It was to be for their supper and she knew how cross her mama got each time she decided she just needed a taste before she got home from the market. The problem was, it smelled so very good! She trailed along the top of a stone wall and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other on the narrow ledge. She was almost to the end when something below her caught her eye and she screamed. Her foot slipped against the edge of the stone and before she could stop herself, she had slipped over the edge of the wall and was sliding down to the riverbank below.<p>

The bread loaf tumbled into the water, but she had no time to care before her foot snagged in a crevice and she felt her ankle twist sideways before her whole body hit the mud. The pain in her ankle combined with the fright and she soon had tears streaming down her face. The thing that had frightened her to start with was now only an arms length away and she frantically scrambled backwards from the dead body. Her ankle flared with the pressure and she was forced to stop. More tears turned into sobs until suddenly the body groaned.

Juliette clamped a hand over her mouth and tried to stifle her sobs before the body heard her. She tried to slowly crawl away, but her ankle simply would not let her. Before she could move any further, she looked over to see the body trying to move. Dirty hair lifted off the mud and she screamed again as a muddied face lurched towards her.

"Not … going … to … hurt … you." The words were laced with pain and even for a young child, Juliette knew they didn't sound right. The shaky hand that wavered towards her suddenly dropped to the mud again.

"Who are you?"

Juliette edged closer and waited for an answer. It seemed a ridiculous amount of time before the man pushed himself upright in the mud. He ignored her question as he looked up at the stone wall in front of him. Something about his eyes seemed strange. Finally he pulled himself up against the stone and leaned heavily against it, as if he could not stay upright without it.

Juliette tried to stand up too and quickly found that her ankle was swelling painfully. She began to sob again as the pain flared and she quickly leaned against the wall.

"What's wrong?" The dark eyes that looked at her seemed like they weren't really looking at her, but Juliette answered anyway. She could not get back up onto the wall alone.

"I fell off. From up there," she pointed to the top of the wall. "I thought … I thought you were dead and you frightened me and I fell off."

"Hurt?"

"My foot hurts." Tears welled in her eyes again as the stranger stepped towards her. He reached out for her without asking and Juliette reluctantly allowed herself to be hoisted up the wall. As she sat on the top of it, she watched as the stranger pulled himself up too. He made it to the top before laying back on the narrow ledge and closing his eyes.

"Are you all right?"

When she got no answer, she decided to try standing up and making her way home. Her cry of pain made the stranger jolt upright and he swayed wildly before clamping a hand over his face.

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><p>It had been over an hour since Juliette had been sent to the bakery and while Margaux knew her daughter was prone to wandering, she was well overdue. As she was beginning to worry there was a knock at the front door and she hurried to open it. The sight that greeted her, took her breath away.<p>

A strange man held her six-year-old daughter in his arms and both of them were covered in river mud. She reached to take hold of her daughter and was dismayed to find the stranger leaning heavily on the door frame before sagging to the floor.

"Mama! He's sick."


	3. Chapter 3

**It's a good thing I'm on holidays or I may not be getting much sleep. Every time I write a story it takes over my life and this one is no exception. Please don't expect daily updates, but since this one is done, I thought I'd put it up. Thank you so much for your continued support and comments.**

**Chapter Three**

Athos had long since abandoned his horse to a hitching post, somewhere miles behind him. It had proven too difficult to traverse the terrain alongside the river bank and the streets did not work in his favour if he was going to cover the ground properly. He had lost track of time and had no idea how long it had been since he'd fled the palace and retraced his path to the bridge. D'Artagnan's horse had no doubt been taken in by one of the royal equerries, but he really didn't care. If he did not retrieve the horse's rider then he had no reason to care for the welfare of the horse.

Except d'Artagnan loved his horse!

The strange thought caught him off guard and he almost stopped moving. The boy had confounded him when they had first met and still managed to surprise him some days.

"He's not a boy!" Athos angrily corrected himself. "He's a musketeer! And a resourceful one at that."

The words sounded hollow to his own ears. Resourcefulness may not be enough to combat drowning. Or a bullet wound. Or both combined!

Or a friend abandoning him to his fate.

The guilt bit into him and Athos found himself doubled over and vomiting onto the mud of the riverbank. Duty had sustained him when nothing else had given a damn. Duty had defined his life. Had duty now also taken another life?

He straightened up and continued his grim march along the river, scanning every piece of debris that floated past. The water was flowing swiftly and he knew that would also mean dangerous undercurrents. He prayed that if d'Artagnan had indeed drowned, that hopefully it had been quick.

It was some time later that he heard shouts from the far bank and looked up to see musketeers on the other side. Word had obviously reached Treville and he had sent reinforcements. Athos waved a hand in acknowledgment of their presence and continued his search along his side of the river.

Deniel looked at the two men beside him and frowned. Athos was a long way from the bridge they had started at and he wondered how much of that distance he had covered on foot. From what he could see across the river, the man was covered in mud and had obviously been in the water at some point. Whether that was deliberate or accidental, he did not know. He had no way of knowing that Athos had earlier spotted what he thought was a body and had been forced to wade into the water to investigate. He would never know the fear that had gripped his friend's heart as he nudged at the mass, only to discover it was a piece of sail that had been snagged by its rigging and caught on a submerged tree branch.

He watched as Porthos appeared on a bridge a short distance ahead of them. He knew that Aramis would not be far away. Athos had not noticed either of his friends and he scrambled over a rocky part of the embankment. It wasn't until he climbed free on the far side that he looked up and saw his friends coming towards him.

Deniel pushed his own search party forward, content in the knowledge the two other men would take care of Athos. He felt his boots squelching in the mud and frowned again at how fast the current was moving. A body could travel a long way, given the right course down the river. Alternatively, there were many submerged dangers and places that could conceal a body.

He shook his head to dislodge the thought he was looking for a body. He was looking for a friend! A friend who had proven himself well able to overcome the odds. Deniel looked up to see thunderclouds threatening overhead. D'Artagnan was going to need all he could muster to beat the odds today.

Aramis hurried behind Porthos as the two of them scrambled down the embankment towards Athos. He noted his friend was filthy and soaking wet. Porthos reached him first and stretched out both hands to grasp Athos by the shoulders. Aramis slid in beside them and gripped at Athos' elbow. There were no words needed to explain the anguish in Athos' eyes and neither man tried to ask. In silent agreement, they simply resumed the search.

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><p>Juliette sat on the stool in the kitchen with her feet propped onto a footstool. The fresh smell of her bedclothes felt comforting after she had been scrubbed clean and examined for injury. Her left ankle throbbed painfully and she tried to concentrate on the meal on her lap. Odette had brought her soup and a bagel before hurrying away to help her mother with the stranger. She had been gently warned to stay put, but her curiosity was chewing at her.<p>

After climbing up the wall, her strange man had almost fallen back off. When she tried to get up and go home herself, her ankle had been too painful and she began crying again. Juliette had lived in the same house since she was born there and was well known in the neighbourhood as the baker's daughter. It was a particularly good bakery and well patronized by the locals. Her father, Albert, had taken over from his own father and grown the business into a thriving concern. So much so, that they were considered quite well-off in their little quarter of Paris.

For all that, it was a stranger who carried her through the streets to her home and deposited her into her mother's arms.

Finally curiosity won out and Juliette placed her tray on the bench. She hobbled slowly as her ankle began to throb loudly, but fortunately the two ladies had only been able to get the stranger into the parlour. If he had been completely unconscious, he may still be laying in the front passageway. She made her way to the edge of the door and dared to take a peek around the corner. Both her mother and Odette had their hands full and neither of them noticed her.

The stranger lay stretched out across a settee with his boots hanging over the edge. Mud smeared the fabric and Juliette sucked in a breath. She was forbidden from bringing anything into the room and yet her mama had laid the man across her special furniture. She slowly edged closer and tried to stay hidden.

Margaux placed the bowl and cloth on the floor beside her and looked at the colour of the water. She had only been expecting to clean mud off the young man's face, not blood. A crease ran the length of his temple and she wondered what had caused it. Perhaps a submerged rock or log in the river. Either way, it would definitely explain his difficulty in standing up at her doorway.

Odette tugged at the filthy shirt and managed to maneuver it off over the stranger's shoulders. Both women were surprised at the scars that marked such a young man. They were not recent and had not been caused by his time in the water. One in particular had Margaux gasping in surprise. At some point the young man had clearly been shot! She reached out a tentative hand and wondered again who he was and where he had come from.

Since wiping the grime from his face and brushing back the long hair off his face, she had been surprised at his youth. Something about him had made her bring him inside and tend to him. At first it had been simple gratitude at returning her daughter safely, but something else tugged at her. Finally her hand flew to her lips as she realised what it was. Her mind had refused to listen to her heart until it was forced to. He reminded her of someone else. A young man who had once asked for her hand in marriage only to go off and die on a battlefield. He too had borne scars like this young man before her. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she knew that both of them were far too young for such a thing.

Odette looked at her mistress with concern before Margaux waved her hand away.

"He is chilled. We need to stoke that fire."

As Odette stood up to comply, she noted Juliette hiding behind a lamp. She frowned at the child before beckoning her forward. It was not surprising that she wanted to know the fate of her saviour.

Juliette hobbled closer and saw her mother wiping tears from her face. Was he dead?

"Mama?" She reached out a hand to make contact with her mother's arm and felt her warm hand close over her own.

"I thought Odette told you to stay in the kitchen." Margaux raised an eyebrow, but could not muster the energy to look cross.

"I wanted … is he … is …" The questions faded away as the stranger groaned softly. He was clearly trying to sit up and Margaux reached out a hand.

"Don't move, monsieur. My husband will be home shortly and he will help us get you to a more comfortable bed."

The stranger looked at Juliette and tried to focus on her. He had seen her before. He reached out a hand towards her and she stepped forward.

"Thank you for bringing my daughter home safely, monsieur. I am Madame Boulanger and this is my daughter, Juliette. Over there by the fire, is Odette."

The stranger looked at each of them in turn, as if trying to evaluate something. When he did not speak, Margaux prompted him.

"And you, monsieur?"

The young man's face screwed up as if he was in pain and she reached forward. His eyes blinked rapidly several times before his gaze came to rest on her.

Margaux smiled in an attempt to calm him. "It is local custom to return an introduction with one of your own. Perhaps there is family we can contact for you, but I cannot do that without your name."

It was intended to be kind, but it provoked fear instead. She could not understand why until he finally blurted it out.

"I would tell you, Madame … but I have no idea!"

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><p>Aramis felt the first drops of rain falling and knew they had run out of time. The thunderstorm was closing in and darkness was coming with it. It was becoming too dangerous to continue the search under such conditions. He looked across towards Porthos who was clearly thinking the same thing. Neither of them wanted to be the one to stop first and certainly not the first to ask Athos to stop.<p>

There had been no sign of d'Artagnan on either side of the river bank and hope was fading quickly. The water was flowing too fast and it was quite possible the body was well past them already.

Aramis wrapped his arms around himself as he found himself considering the probability that d'Artagnan really was lost to them. He felt sick to his stomach that while he and Porthos had been traipsing safely through the streets, their friend was dying.

In the end, it was Treville who bore the brunt of Athos' anger. The man knew his lieutenant would not abandon the search and his brothers would not leave him, so he decided he needed to make it an order. The search would resume at first light.

As the trio made their way through the streets back to the garrison, Athos was seething with anger.

"He is still out there, in this!" He pointed towards the blackened sky. "And we have left him to it for the night!"

When neither of his friends responded, he turned on them.

"He is injured! He needs our help, but what do we do? Return to our beds for safekeeping!"

Porthos shook his head in frustration and felt a wash of water run down his back from his hat. It was raining so hard that they could barely see three feet in front of them. Torches would not have stayed alight and if Treville had not pulled them back, they could well be searching for more musketeers come morning light. The river was simply too treacherous in the dark. His heart ached to head back out to the river, but his head knew better. The fact it was Athos, of all people, letting his heart overrule his head, made the ache all that much harder to ignore.

As the rain began to fall harder, the three of them were glad to see the lights of the garrison ahead, if not glad to be heading away from the search area. Treville greeted them in the yard where Athos stalked straight past him. Treville simply nodded, as if not surprised at all. Aramis and Porthos followed behind, each of them acknowledging their captain with a grim nod as they headed for warmth and food, acutely aware that they were missing one of their group.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi Issa, sorry I can't reply directly. Thank you for your reviews and I appreciate how hard it would be to write something when English is not your first language. I think you expressed yourself wonderfully and it's extra special for the effort involved. Speaking as somebody who only knows a handful of words in several other languages, I am in awe of anybody who is bi-lingual.**

**Hi Debbie, I'm not sure where to find your stories as you review without logging in. Are they on this site or somewhere else?**

**You've gotta love holidays - writing time :-)**

**Chapter Four**

Albert returned home and was expecting to find supper ready and a warm fire burning in his hearth. Instead he found his wife tending a stranger who was currently passed out in his parlour. Margaux gave him a quick outline of events and he smiled at his wife as he kissed her forehead. It was no surprise to him at all that she would bring in a lost stray and place him on her best furniture, mud and all!

He scooped Juliette into his arms and examined the swelling around her ankle. "You could not have walked home on this, mon chérie."

"I didn't have to, Papa. He carried me home." The child pointed towards the settee and Albert found himself warming to the stranger already. Most people did not care for children on the streets of Paris unless they knew them.

Margaux looked up towards her husband and smiled. "We could not get him to the guest room. He collapsed before he made it that far. He would rest more comfortably if we could settle him there."

Albert nodded as he slipped his daughter onto a small stool. He watched as Margaux leaned over and shook the stranger's shoulder gently. He had fallen into a troubled sleep since he realised he did not recall his own name and she hated to wake him, but it must be done.

"Monsieur, wake up. My husband is here and we want to make you more comfortable."

The stranger jolted awake with a start and stared at the faces before him. The pounding in his head was still there, clouded in a fear that he could not immediately explain. His eyes darted frantically around the room before settling on a face he knew.

"Can you stand?"

It was an awkward process for the two of them to get the stranger into their guest room as he swayed alarmingly on his feet. Albert took the bulk of his weight while his wife did her best to keep him upright. By the time they made it to the bed, the young man was coughing wildly and gasping for breath. Albert tugged at his boots while Margaux gently eased him back against the pillows. She would have liked to remove the muddy breeches but decided that well may be too much. Instead, she pulled the blanket up over him before checking the bandage around his head was still in place. It had seeped a little blood and it would need changing. Perhaps later when he had rested a little.

Once his breathing had returned to something more normal, Margaux tried speaking with him again.

"Are you in any pain?"

The young man began to shake his head before thinking better of it. His eyes betrayed him as he replied.

"Nothing I can't manage."

Margaux smelled it coming before Odette arrived in the room with a tray laden with soup, bagels and fresh butter.

"Perhaps you are hungry then?"

The smell of the soup quickly pervaded the room and before she could set it down, the young man began to gag at the smell. Odette looked horrified that she was the cause of his distress, but Margaux simply waved her away.

"It is your head injury. It may leave you nauseated for some time. Perhaps with some rest, you will feel better."

Albert slipped out of the room and soon returned with something in his hands. As he placed the small metal bell on the dresser beside the bed, he nodded towards it.

"Just ring that if you need anything. Do not try getting out of bed unassisted, just yet."

By the time the room emptied of people, he was quite overwhelmed with the situation. Complete strangers were taking care of him and he had no idea where he was. The truly terrifying part was that he still had idea _who_ he was. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to conjure up something that would give him a clue. It was then that he realised it was raining outside. For some unknown reason, a sense of dread swirled around in the pit of his stomach and once again he thought he may be sick.

* * *

><p>Athos sat by the window and stared into the darkness. Serge had pushed a plate of something at him earlier and the only reason he'd eaten any of it was because he needed the strength to continue searching in the morning. The rain pounded at the window and every so often the night sky was lit up brilliantly. Thunder rumbled in the distance and he felt as though the weather was alternating and reflecting his shifting mood.<p>

Anger.

Grief.

Brief flashes of hope that were quickly extinguished.

He did not hear as Aramis moved over to stand watch with him. He barely reacted as he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find him."

Athos stared as another spectacular lightning bolt split the sky.

"I should not have left him."

"You had no choice. We are soldiers, Athos. We follow our orders. D'Artagnan knew that too and would not condemn you."

The past tense reference made Athos flinch and he shook his head. He condemned himself!

There was nothing to be said that would change anything. Instead he took the glass of wine that Porthos pressed into his hand and downed it in one gulp.

* * *

><p>The storm raged on through most of the night. The young man found himself staring at shadows and a violent light show for the better part of that time as his mind desperately sought answers to his questions.<p>

He knew he had been in the water for some reason and he frantically searched the fragmented images that paraded through his head.

Swirling darkness and a sense of suffocating had him gasping for breath as he bolted upright in bed. His hands flailed in panic as he fought to keep his head above water.

Suddenly out of the darkness a face lunged at him and he pulled back. The point of a sword swung towards him and he tried to sidestep it. His head pounded with each movement and he felt something catch around his legs as he tried to run. Suddenly he felt himself being pushed backwards and falling into darkness.

"Monsieur, it's all right, it's just me. It's Albert! Please, I'm not going to hurt you!"

Albert reached out slowly towards the panic-stricken young man on the bed. The blanket was twisted around his legs and he fought wildly to escape its confines.

Behind her husband, Margaux held a candleholder aloft and tried to see what the commotion was about. They had both been woken when they heard the bell crash to the floor and tumble across the room, but they had come running when they heard what sounded like a scuffle in their guest bedroom. Fearing an intruder, Albert had grabbed the nearest weapon he could see; a tall candlestick and had thrust it into the room as he raced through the door.

It took a few moments for his words to register and it was clear the young man was doing his best to rein in his panic. His eyes still darted wildly around the room, taking in unfamiliar details, but he had stopped trying to crawl backwards off the bed.

Margaux set the candle on the dresser and slowly seated herself on the bed. She reached out a hand and gently wrapped her fingers around the hand that was desperately gripping the blanket. With soft words and soothing sounds she finally managed to get her patient to lie down and she pulled the blanket up over him again. Slowly, she reached out her palm and placed it across his forehead.

"I thought so. You are warm, monsieur. Your body has taken a chill from the river."

It came as no surprise to her that her husband had already put aside his candlestick and gone in search of water. He handed her a cup so she could give it to the young man. He eyed her warily as he lifted it to his lips, but said nothing. Finally, he seemed to have regained his composure and looked down at his hands in embarrassment.

"I apologise for waking you both."

"It is quite all right. I need to leave soon for the bakery anyway." Albert flashed a smile before pointing to the pillow. "But that doesn't mean you can't still get some sleep."

As the two of them headed for the door, Margaux turned back and noted the look of defeat on the young man's face.

"Sleep. Things always look brighter with the morning sun and this storm is passing over now."

It was true. The thunderclaps had long since passed further south and the flashes of lightning were becoming less frequent.

As he began to feel the pull of exhaustion, there was just one thing rolling through his mind.

"_Do I have a family waiting somewhere for me? Is anybody looking for me?"_

* * *

><p>The first rays of sunlight creeping over the roof of the garrison found multiple groups of men already assembled and planning their search grid.<p>

Athos had long since left with Aramis and Porthos beside him and Treville was not at all surprised when he discovered that. He watched as his men moved out, determined to have this day end with better news than the previous one. He sighed heavily as he did not want to face what would happen to Athos if he did not find d'Artagnan, alive and well. Well, he'd happily settle for alive. His friend had already faced far too much loss and grief in his life.

He waited until all of them were gone before he headed for the stable and had Jacques saddle his horse. He had a search of his own to conduct and he would not tell Athos about it until he absolutely had to. He pulled his hat low as he headed out into the street. It was not far to the nearest morgue, but it would take him the better part of the morning to cover all of the ones that dotted the area his men were searching in.

* * *

><p>Athos cursed the rain that had created an even more difficult search area from the day before. Mud squelched with every step he took and he felt his despair rising as each hour passed with no clues.<p>

His mind refused to listen to the arguments that kept trying to surface. The ones that told him to go back to the garrison and stop looking because it was hopeless. The ones that told him he was responsible for another young man's death. Another brother he had failed miserably.

* * *

><p>"How can you not know what your name is?"<p>

"Juliette! Leave him alone!" Margaux glared at her daughter, while acknowledging the question was a reasonable one to a child.

Their guest was seated at the kitchen table, suddenly pretending to be very interested in his eggs. The frown on his face slowly dissipated as he looked at the face of the child sitting across from him.

"But, Mama, I just …"

"Hush!"

"My head is a little fuzzy at the moment. I don't remember."

"Then maybe I can give you a new name. One you won't forget." Juliette beamed at the idea until she caught her mother's eye.

The young man felt torn between smiling at the child's simple idea and screaming at his own mind's lack of help on the matter.

"Maybe." He looked down at himself and realised he was wearing a stranger's clothes while sitting at a stranger's table. Why not bear a stranger's name while he was at it?

It was all the encouragement Juliette needed as she began to rattle off names of people she knew. Margaux only held her tongue as she could see the child was keeping the stranger calm, instead of distressed. For his part, the young man listened to her list and tried to see if any of them fit. Eventually her silly chatter faded out until one caught his attention.

" … or what about Louis? That's a grand name!"

"What?"

Margaux noted the reaction and looked closer. Had Juliette inadvertently found the lad's name?

"I like that name for you! Just like the King's." Juliette grinned at her own idea and when the stranger did not object, she pronounced her decision. "I'm going to call you Louis. At least until your head stops being fuzzy and you remember your real name.

Margaux leaned over and touched his arm. "I suppose we do need to call you something. Is that all right with you?"

The confusion behind the eyes that looked back at her made her draw in a sharp breath before she plastered on a smile.

"You need to finish your breakfast, Louis. It is getting cold."


	5. Chapter 5

**I think I'm going to adopt Juliette when this story is done. She's too cute! I laughed at the idea that she has a new pet , but like most children and pets, they are going to get into some trouble together. Thank you so much for all your feedback and encouragement on this story.**

**Alerts on FFNet went a bit spacko yesterday so I apologise if I've missed anybody.**

**Chapter Five**

The rain had finally eased off and Louis sat at the window, staring into the street outside. He watched as people came out to catch up with their day. An array of people passed by and he stared at each one, willing himself to remember something about who he really was. Anything! He touched at the thin strip of bandage wound around his head and tried once again to recall what had caused the injury in the first place. Margaux said it was healing well, but he desperately wished the inside of his head would catch up with the outside.

Since the day before, when Juliette had given him his new name, he had felt a little more comfortable with the thought that he had an identity of sorts. It was strange how something as simple as a name, or lack thereof, could cause such angst. It made him feel as if he didn't exist and even though he knew Louis was just something the child had labeled him with, it was all he had. He clung to it like a lifeline.

Another night had passed with little sleep and his body felt it taking its toll on him. The chills seemed to ebb and flow and he imagined he could still taste the foul taste of river water in his mouth. Each time he tried to close his eyes, his mind threw images at him that he didn't really want to see. He wasn't sure if the shivering was from the after effects of the icy river or his fears. He stared blindly into the street and considered what he did remember.

Swords.

Each time he looked, the same man was lunging at him with a sword. Something about the river was somehow connected to that man and his sword. He knew that face and wanted to scream as his identity lingered just out of his grasp. He felt that if he could just extend his fingertips a little farther then he could grab hold of it. He unconsciously flexed his hands as he wrestled with the images and sighed when nothing further came.

Pistols.

Once again, he saw that face drawing a pistol and pointing it in his direction. He heard a woman scream and he flinched at the image. A haze of smoke clouded his view and he could not draw anything further from it.

Blood.

Always, there was blood! He had no idea whose blood it was, but there seemed to be copious amounts of it. Everywhere he looked. Blood flowed out into a puddle of water and he could feel the despair as somebody died in his arms. In his mind, nobody else was there, so he wondered if it was somebody that he had killed.

But the one that had brought him totally undone and left him breathless each time he thought about it was an explosion. A bolt of terror shook him to his core and he squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed the palms of his hands into them. He slowly pulled his hands back and leaned on his knees with his palms clasped together. The simple action provoked a further terrified response as he saw blood dripping down his torn wrists over the thick rope that bound them together.

He flung his hands apart and stood up to pace the room, feeling trapped in the enclosed space.

"Who am I?" he demanded of the empty room. "Who am I?"

He stared at his hands and found them shaking. He had not yet given voice to his bigger question and it chewed at his insides. So many of the things he remembered were violent. His emotions were churning as he considered what he thought he knew of himself.

"_What_ am I?' he whispered.

The possibilities crowded inside his mind and competed to be heard.

"A mercenary? A criminal?"

Nothing he could come up with gave him any comfort and he almost wished he could forget forever, if remembering meant what he thought it did.

* * *

><p>Juliette stood outside the door and debated knocking. Her ankle was throbbing, although the swelling had gone down a little overnight. Instead of being out playing in the streets, she was confined to the house until her mother decided otherwise. Odette was busy cleaning the parlour and did not have time for her at present. Instead she decided to see what her friend was doing.<p>

She heard Louis talking to himself and almost laughed. Her papa teased her when she did that. Except her chats were usually less serious than what she could hear. If she had somebody else to talk to, she would have much preferred that. Her dolls were useful to a point, but a real person was so much better. Odette often took the brunt of her six-year-old wisdom and indulged her need to explain all the wonders of the world as she saw it. The fact Odette had three younger siblings that she missed terribly since coming to work in the baker's home, probably accounted for her patience.

Finally Juliette decided her new friend needed to do something more fun and she pushed the door open. What she saw on the other side almost had her running away. Except she remembered he didn't run away when she had cried the day before. She slowly crept forward.

Louis sat on the floor and leaned up against the wall below the window. His eyes were moist with tears of frustration and he quickly wiped a hand across his face when he saw her.

Juliette did the only thing she knew to do in such circumstances and held out her doll towards him.

"This is Marie. She makes me feel better when I'm sad."

Louis looked at the earnest little face in front of him and couldn't help but smile. He had no use of a doll, but he wiped at his face again and held out his other hand anyway.

"Hello, Marie."

Juliette smiled as she handed over her doll before sliding down next to her friend, against the wall.

Louis looked at the hand-crafted doll and admired the craftsmanship. Somebody had spent a considerable amount of time embroidering the doll's facial features and sewing the intricate lace dress. It had been repaired in one place where it had torn, but the stitching was well done. A vague thought about stitching flitted through his head, but he quickly dismissed it. The doll was obviously a labour of love and Louis guessed that Margaux had made it. Tufts of woolen hair were looking a little thin and he could see the doll was a well-loved friend. He handed Marie back to her owner and smiled at her.

"I told you Marie would make you feel better."

"That she did. Thank you for sharing her with me."

* * *

><p>Athos sank onto the floor of his room and dropped his head to his knees. The second day had drawn to its inevitable close and he found fear closing in around him. It had been too long. If they were going to find d'Artagnan along the river they should have found him by now. If he had made it out of the water somehow, there had been ample time for him to find his way back to them.<p>

Nobody had actually given voice to it directly, but he knew what they were all thinking. The looks he got as he walked back into the garrison said it all. They were looks of pity from men who knew how deeply affected he was.

Except he would not allow his heart to give out on him. He would not let his mind take hold and shake his heart into submission. Not this time. He let out a bitter laugh at the irony.

_Head over heart. Treville will be assessing you on your attitude as well as your skill._

The instructions he'd given to his protégé had served him well enough to secure a chance at Labarge and ultimately his commission.

"Head over heart, d'Artagnan."

He screwed his eyes closed and shook his head in anguish at the memory of the cheeky grin he often received at those same words. Right now he would give his sword arm to see that grin again.

"Keep your wits about you. I _will _find you!"

The mud had long since dried on his boots and he stared at. It stuck to everything and had sucked them each down as they tried to work their way along the riverbank. He dare not close his eyes lest he see the image that seemed intent on haunting him. Earlier in the day, he had found an animal carcass, half buried in the mud. That mud would be suffocating. It would swallow sound. And breath.

He had no idea how long he sat on the floor, but suddenly the door flung open and Porthos pushed his way through, followed closely by Aramis.

"I told you to leave me alone!" The anger flaring in his eyes had nothing to do with the two men in front of him, but they were the only thing he could direct it at.

"Not a chance." Aramis slid down the wall to sit on one side of him as Porthos did the same on the far side. "You said you were coming back."

Athos stared at the far wall and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. It seemed he was making a habit of not coming back in time.

The three men sat together in silence for some time, each trapped in their own thoughts and fears.

"Treville came to see me after you left." Aramis looked to see if his friend was listening and noted that Athos had his eyes closed. The man was exhausted, but a faint twitch of his cheek told Aramis he was not asleep.

* * *

><p>Treville stood at the window to his office and twirled the glass in his hand. He closed his eyes as he recalled the number of dead bodies he had examined in one day. Each time he entered one of the city morgues, he felt his heart in his mouth. Each time he walked out into the open air, he felt his heart start beating again. He had tried to tell Athos what he had discovered, but the man had walked past him, as if in a daze. He knew Athos was still angry at him for calling short the search the night before, but there had simply been no other choice. Instead, he'd pulled Aramis aside and given him the information. Each of the morgue attendants had been left explicit instructions. If a body turned up that matched his missing soldier, it was a matter of priority that he be notified.<p>

He scrubbed a tired hand across his face and took another drink from the glass. It seemed that no amount of alcohol would wash out the taste in his mouth. He wandered over to the drawer behind his desk and pulled out the sole remaining pauldron sitting there. All of the others had been returned to their owners already. He turned it over in his hands and noted the thin slice across it where the leather had been split by a sword stroke. It had irked d'Artagnan no end that it had been damaged and yet all of the other men saw it as yet another rite of passage for their newest musketeer. Porthos had laughed at the look on their young cub's face when he realised his most prized possession was now scarred.

"Better it than you!" he'd commented at the time and the others had agreed.

"You need to come back for this!"

Finally he opened the drawer again and slowly, almost reverently, placed the pauldron back in the drawer for safekeeping, waiting for its owner to return and claim it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for all your kind reviews and messages.**

**For those of you who were hoping I'd ease up on them, I'm sorry but you may not like this chapter. I'd love to jump to warm and fuzzy and leave our poor boys alone, but if you know anything about me, that ain't gonna happen just yet :-) **

**Well, thanks to ridiculously hot weather and being unable to sleep, you get another chapter quickly. Thank goodness for holidays or I'd be falling asleep at work.**

**Chapter Six**

There were many things Treville had been asked to do in his time as a soldier. Many orders he would have preferred to ignore. He knew his lieutenant was also the kind of man who had always placed duty over personal comfort and that was why his next move was so difficult.

A third day of futile searching and no further word from the morgues had meant he'd been forced into making a call he did not want to. He'd seen Athos crawl back into the garrison for the third miserable night in a row, supported by his two shadows. He wondered again at his own decision that he'd decided to leave it until the next morning to call off the search. Perhaps it was wanting to delay the inevitable. Or maybe it was hoping for a miracle. Maybe it was just cowardice, he mused. Whatever the case, it was time.

Muster had been called for sunrise and he stepped out onto the landing to see his men gathering in the courtyard below in the pre-dawn light. He knew what they were wondering and he just did not have the heart to give his orders to all of them before at least sharing it with Athos and his friends first. He caught sight of Aramis below and as the man looked upwards, he nodded towards his office door.

"Bring them," he pointed across the yard. Aramis nodded as the Captain turned and walked back into his office. He knew what was coming and had no idea how he was going to contain his friend.

By the time the three of them walked through the door, Treville was standing by the window, arms crossed against his chest.

"Gentlemen. It's been three days."

Athos stepped forward at his words, eyes flashing with sudden understanding of what was coming.

Treville walked towards him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, my friend. It's been three days with no sign of him."

Athos shrugged Treville's hand off his shoulder and glared furiously at him.

"Don't! Don't you give up on him!"

"Athos, I'm not giving up on him. But it's been three days. If he survived, he should have made it back here by now. Injured or not."

Athos felt his hands clench into fists as he struggled to contain the emotion welling up from his stomach. He knew what the Captain was saying was logical, but he refused to accept it. He wanted to shout back in his face. To run to the window and send the men below back out into the streets. He needed them to keep looking. _He_ needed to keep looking.

Finally he turned to the two men standing behind him. Aramis twisted his hat in his hand and struggled to voice his opinion. The look on Athos' face tore at his heart. But Treville was right. There had been ample time for d'Artagnan to return if he was going to. They all knew how treacherous rivers were in the spring melt, but combined with a potentially serious head wound, well, he knew enough as a medic to know they had moved well past hopeful.

Porthos refused to make eye contact with his friend. He felt like a traitor. He'd grown up in a place where pragmatism was a way of life and as much as he wanted to keep hope alive, he struggled to do so. It killed him to have to agree with Treville's assessment and face Athos' despair.

"Fine then. I'll keep looking myself!" He barely hissed the words at his friends and felt some level of satisfaction that both of them flinched at his words.

Treville stepped closer, half expecting Athos to back away. Instead, he was met with a look of pure defiance.

"Is there honestly anywhere else you can think to look that we haven't already covered?" Treville would have been more than happy to keep going if there was a reasonable place to keep looking.

The question was not cruel, but Athos felt as if he had been stabbed in the stomach. The truth was, he knew they were right. His head knew it. It was his heart he was having trouble with.

The three of them watched as Athos seemed to deflate right in front of their eyes.

"No."

Once again, Treville reached out a hand towards his lieutenant and this time he did not shrug it off. The look on Treville's face said all the things he could not force himself to say.

"Stay here."

He nodded towards Aramis and Porthos as he slowly made his way out the door and down to the courtyard below.

For the men gathered in the yard, they suddenly fell silent as Treville descended the stairs without the three men who had gone up to his office. While their captain was a seasoned soldier, he was also a man who was well known to value his men. Something those at court had sometimes used against him.

"I wanted to thank you for going above and beyond what was asked of you over the last few days." He paused as he looked out over the weary faces before him. "It is with great regret that I have decided to call off the search for d'Artagnan and declare him lost."

Even though it was expected by many of them, it did not ease the announcement in any way. The young man was liked and respected, especially since he had upheld the regiment's honour in the King's contest. While each of them knew that wearing the King's pauldron could mean an early death, this one was a little too early.

Treville spoke of initial plans for a funeral, which only cemented the reality of things. The men looked towards the stairs as Athos moved out of the office, followed by Aramis and Porthos. His face looked ashen as he descended the stairs.

* * *

><p>By the time Albert returned for supper he was pleased to see his guest seemed to be improving. His face had finally lost the faint flush of fever he had carried the past few days and his eyes seemed clearer. A short shake of the head from his wife told him what he most wanted to know. It seemed that Louis would remain Louis for a little while longer.<p>

Juliette appeared from the kitchen where she had been helping Odette with supper and skipped into her father's arms.

"Your foot seems much better," he noted with a smile. "Perhaps tomorrow you can bring Louis to get the bread if it is no longer painful for you."

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile and an enthusiastic nod.

"I have missed you, mon chérie."

It was a daily ritual for Juliette to visit her father and bring back the bread for that night's supper. He could have easily brought it home himself each night, but he enjoyed seeing his daughter each day since he was up and gone well before she awoke each morning. The fact it often took her half an hour or more to cover the short distance was the subject of many conversations. Her insatiable curiosity at the world around her greatly amused her father. He often wondered what kind of man his daughter would want to marry. She had already demonstrated a very independent streak since she had learned to talk at an early age. He knew it was up to him to arrange the match, but he already knew his daughter well enough to know she would want a say. God help the man she was married to if she did not want to be there!

"Of course, I will expect you will make sure he keeps his hands off it and does not take any nibbles on the way home." Albert looked sternly at the young man across from him while Juliette giggled. It was also not unusual that their bread often arrived home with small chunks missing from underneath. It had come as quite a surprise to Juliette that Odette always noticed the under side of the bread when she was very careful to place it upright on the kitchen bench.

By the time supper was done and Juliette had been taken off to prepare for bed, Louis found himself sitting at the table with just Albert. The man stood up and collected two glasses along with a bottle of brandy. As the young man stared across the room, he seemed once again lost somewhere. Albert waited a moment before nudging him.

"What is it that you see?"

"What?" The startled look soon turned into an embarrassed frown as he realised he was being rude. He had no idea how long he had been focused elsewhere or if Albert had spoken to him.

"I am sorry. Did you say something?"

Albert raised his glass to his lips and waited before asking again. "I wanted to know what it is that you see when you wander off like that?"

"You don't want to know." The response was almost a whisper and he frowned.

"I cannot help what I do not know."

"I don't think you can help me."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that? I have taken you into my home because my wife decided to help you."

"And I am most grateful for your generosity! I did not mean to offend you."

"I have taken no offense. I simply meant that while your thoughts are still a little hazy, perhaps it would help to share them."

Louis swallowed a gulp of his brandy and nodded. He needed to talk to _somebody!_ If Albert decided to remove him from his home he supposed he was physically well enough to deal with that possibility.

"I have remembered a few things."

"That's wonderful!" Albert grinned at him before realising that Louis was not smiling in agreement. "Is it not?"

"They are just fragments really. Faces. And some things that concern me." He scrubbed a hand through his hair as he thought about how to explain. "I am not sure that I am the kind of person you would normally invite to stay under your roof."

"What makes you say that?"

"Most of the things I remember are violent. There's weapons and blood and … and …"

"And what?"

Louis looked up with stricken eyes. "And death! I think … I think that I killed someone."

Albert took a slow drink from his glass as he watched the young man across from him. "Margaux said you bear scars that show you have not had a sheltered life."

Louis cringed as he thought about his own discoveries of the scarring that marked his body. He had no idea where any of them had come from, but he recognised the signs of stitching and wondered who had stitched him up and why he had needed it at all.

Finally Albert spread his hand out on the table in front of Louis and tapped at the wood to get his full attention. He watched the young man's face as he spoke.

"I am not going to turn you out into the street because of something you vaguely recall and do not know for sure is true. Each day your health improves and it seems your memory may yet return in full. When that time comes, we will know what to do."

* * *

><p>Aramis pulled his cloak around himself before settling back in the chair. It had been a long day since the meeting in Treville's office and he knew it would be a long night yet to come. He watched as Porthos settled himself on the floor, his cloak also tightly wrapped about himself.<p>

He stared at the fire that crackled in the hearth. It could not lift the chill that seemed to have settled around him.

Athos lay face down on his bed where he had collapsed some hours earlier. Despite Treville's announcement, he had ridden back to the bridge and tracked a path all over again.

"We missed something!"

The words rattled around Aramis' head as he remembered the look behind them. Sheer desperation had driven Athos all day and his friends had refused to leave him. After all, Treville knew where they were. It wasn't as if they would be anywhere else. When darkness had closed in again and they had dragged him to a tavern to eat, both men had been surprised that he had not had more than a single glass of wine.

"I need a clear head," was the only explanation he would give.

As Aramis looked across at his friend, sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion, he wondered how they would face the next day.

And the ones after that.


	7. Chapter 7

**It's a little cooler here today, but it's still writing time as this story will not get out of my head. I'm not sure if this is what any of you had in mind about hope, but I guess it's a start :-) Thank you once again for your amazing, ongoing support. **

**Chapter Seven**

Treville shook his head slowly in irritation as he read the dispatch. It was not one he could ignore or delay until later. The rider waited by the door, in case he needed to take a return missive, but the Captain waved him out instead.

"We will be there within the hour."

The man nodded and headed for the stairs as Treville tied on his cloak and followed him out the door. It was still early and he hoped he would not need to go any further than Athos' lodgings to retrieve him.

By the time he arrived there, with Athos' horse in tow, he briefly hesitated to knock on the door. If the man was still drunk it would be a major difficulty to follow the King's directive and present themselves at the palace. If he had already left to continue his futile search, then there was no telling where he would be.

It was with great relief that Treville saw the door swing open only moments after he knocked. Porthos blinked at him in the early morning sunshine and he looked surprised to see the Captain standing there. For a moment he feared the man had come to give them the news they had all dreaded and he swallowed hard.

As if sensing his fear, Treville pointed inside. "Is Athos here? We have been summonsed by the King."

"Ahh, yeah. He's still asleep." Porthos stepped back and allowed the Captain to walk past him, into the room.

"No, he's not, " a voice grumbled behind him.

Treville watched as Athos pulled himself from the bed and stood up, stretching sideways to ease out the kinks in his back. The man looked a mess, but at least he was sober. He looked across at Aramis and saw him watching Athos with concern. He wondered if he'd missed something before turning back towards Athos.

"The King wants to see us."

It was enough to shake the man into action and Treville would have smiled under other circumstances to see how quickly duty kicked in. By the time they were mounted and heading for the palace, he felt a swell of pride at how Athos had managed to pull himself together to follow orders. He wondered again at what had happened the night before, but resigned himself to accepting that Porthos and Aramis were both there and Athos would never be left to his own devices. He smiled grimly at the double-edged sword that such tight bonds brought. It cut all the more keenly when one of those bonds was broken.

* * *

><p>Louis lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He could hear the sounds of the city waking up outside his window. Faint light streamed through the curtains and he wondered what the day would bring. He felt himself rehashing his conversation with Albert the night before and wondered again at the man's generosity in allowing a complete stranger to stay in his home. His fear from the day before had not dissipated and he found himself once again going over every image he could remember. It seemed that his mind was deliberately tormenting him as he slept by bringing things almost to the surface, only to snatch them away again each time he awoke.<p>

One face appeared more than any other. At times it felt that the man was angry with him, almost as if he was trying to kill him and then he would recall images that suggested the complete opposite. Each time he tried to focus in on it, the face wavered and fragmented. Once again, confusion washed over him as he desperately tried to hold onto it. He clutched at the blanket on either side of him and screwed his eyes shut.

The thing that bothered him even more was a memory that kept flitting through his mind, just at the periphery. As he tried to will himself to relax and bring it back to the forefront of his mind, he felt his heart pounding harder. They were in a courtyard somewhere. A group of men were aiming pistols in his direction and that face was right there in the midst of it.

Suddenly a commotion outside the window drew his attention as he could hear something crash onto the cobblestones, presumably from a wagon tray. Shouting and cursing wafted through the air and he flinched as another chink of the memory fell into place. Men were shouting at him as he climbed aboard a horse and fled a prison courtyard. The smell of gunpowder burned in his nose and he found his eyes watering at the memory.

"I escaped from a prison?"

He felt his head pounding as he tried to make sense of the images. Try as he might, there was no other way he could explain what he was seeing. If he was escaping, that put the face on the other side of the law!

"My God! What did I do?"

He had been right to warn Albert that he may not be someone he should have under his roof. He swallowed hard and tried to think what to do. He needed to keep his newest revelation to himself. If he truly had escaped from a prison, there was no way he wanted to go back.

* * *

><p>Treville could see Athos using every last shred of self control he had to keep still. His hand clenched around the pommel of his sword, but nobody else would have seen the gesture as out of place. His captain knew him better though and could feel the anger emanating from him. He needed to get him out of the room before he exploded in front of the King. Or worse, took justice into his own hands.<p>

Across the room, a man stood with his wrists locked in irons. The royal dungeon was a place the King did not often grace with his presence and his nose wrinkled at the smell.

"You will hang at dawn."

With that simple proclamation, the King stalked from the room, expecting his Musketeers to follow suit. Treville snagged Athos by the elbow and nudged him away from the condemned man. The hatred burning in his eyes was unmistakable as he reluctantly allowed himself to move. He looked ahead as the man he had known only as Thierry followed behind the King.

As the group exited the tunnel and headed out into another room, the King looked back towards them.

"Treville, I want to thank you for ensuring the Comte arrived safely. It was of the utmost importance he reach me without incident and you ensured that."

Athos felt the bile rising up his throat at the comment. Without incident! Did the death of a musketeer not count as warranting the King's attention? He kept his eyes directed at the floor as he could not trust himself if he made eye contact with anyone. Somehow Treville managed to wrap up the audience and ushered him out of the King's presence as quickly as possible.

"So the Comte's own man betrayed him. Who was escorting him in the decoy run?"

Treville frowned as he wondered whether to answer truthfully or not. Finally he decided he could not lie. "Aramis and Porthos."

Athos shook his head in dismay. "Of course it was!"

"The King was serious when he said it was vital the Comte got through in one piece. I can't share the details, but you have to trust me on this, d'Artagnan's sacrifice was not in vain. He died serving France."

Athos walked across the courtyard to where his horse was tethered and refused to answer. The King did not even seem to know one of his men had apparently been lost in his service.

Treville watched as Athos faltered and leaned into his horse instead.

"He's not dead!" Athos whispered into the horse's neck, before pulling himself up into the saddle. It was a long and quiet ride back to the garrison.

* * *

><p>"Papa's waiting for us." The expectant look on Juliette's face would have made him laugh, if it didn't mean he would be forced to leave the house. He had no idea who was outside that door that would recognise him and he could not back out of the agreement without drawing questions he did not want to answer. Finally he came up with a solution that seemed plausible. He looked across at Margaux.<p>

"Does Albert have a hat I could borrow? My head still hurts and it's a little cold out there."

"Of course. Wait right there and I will fetch you one."

Within minutes she had returned with a fine hat, complete with a side feather. As Louis took it from her, he turned it in his hands and felt a spark of familiarity. Perhaps he had one like it. As he pulled it down low over his face, he revised that idea. It just felt wrong. Whatever the case, it certainly helped to cover him as he headed out into the street with Juliette tugging at his hand.

Margaux had already explained it was only a short walk to the bakery and had even given directions, knowing her daughter's penchant for exploration. She smiled as the two of them set off out the door with Juliette already chatting excitedly about whatever had taken her fancy.

It was not long after that they arrived in the market square and Louis could smell the bakery, along with several other food vendors. His stomach rumbled in response and Juliette giggled at him. By the time they arrived, Albert was already waiting for them and he smiled broadly as Juliette dragged Louis around behind the bench and proudly showed him the oven. She pointed at it and solemnly announced that he was not to go near it, as it was very, very dangerous. He nodded in agreement and watched as a young boy stoked wood into a charcoal burner and pumped at it with bellows. Something about it caught his attention and he stared at what the boy was doing. Albert noticed his rapt attention and waited to see if it provoked any kind of response.

"A smithy uses those too." The words were clearly not intended to be shared, but Albert agreed with him anyway.

"Yes. Does that mean anything to you?"

Louis shook his head and frowned. "I don't know. Maybe."

Eventually Albert decided it was time for them to head out and he wrapped a loaf of bread before handing two pastries to the two of them.

"Time for me to get back to work," he smiled as he kissed the top of Juliette's head before ushering them both back out to the street.

Less than ten minutes later, he was stunned to see his daughter rush back inside, tears streaking her face.

"Papa!"

He scooped her up and brushed at the tears on her face before noting she was alone.

"What happened? Where is Louis?"

The market square was not a place he would consider dangerous, but Juliette's heart was beating wildly and she appeared frightened. She simply pointed outside and he rushed outside to see what had caused her reaction. When he could see no sign of trouble, he frowned at her.

"Where? What is wrong?"

"Over there." She pointed once again and he followed her across the square. Suddenly he saw his guest, doubled over against a wall and breathing wildly. He looked as though he'd been attacked. Albert gently placed Juliette on the ground and hurried over.

"Louis. What happened?"

The look of horror on the young man's face caught him by surprise.

"Are you injured? Has someone hurt you?"

Louis straightened up and backed away from him. He was panting and gasping for breath, as if he had run a long race.

"Stay away from me!"

"Louis? It's me … Albert."

Louis stared at the man who had been nothing but kind to him. Kindness that he did not deserve. He knew that now.

"Louis?"

"I told you I killed somebody." The words sounded hollow and desperate, as if he wished he could bury the truth of them.

"What are you talking about?"

Louis sagged against the wall and tried to get his wild breathing under control. He was feeling light headed and almost ready to fall down where he stood. It didn't matter because he was going to hang anyway.

"I shot him." The face that looked back at him was filled with anguish. "I killed a musketeer. In a market square. Maybe even this one!"

Albert stepped forward slowly. "No musketeers have died here. I would know about it, I promise you."

"Then somewhere else then!" Louis scrubbed at his face and then suddenly seemed to register Juliette standing behind her father. Tears streamed down her face as her friend grew more distraught.

"Louis, let me take you home and we'll work out what to do." He reached a hand out and grasped at an elbow. He could feel the tremors under his hand and he simply gripped tighter.

Albert began walking across the square, without giving Louis any choice in the matter. It seemed an interminable walk to his home, but eventually they arrived. Margaux watched as her husband virtually manhandled their guest into his room. He seemed almost catatonic as he had not said a word since walking in the door.

"What is wrong with him? What happened?"

The look on her husband's face frightened her and she bit her lip, waiting for him to answer.

Louis sat on the bed and stared at the floor, trying to make sense of the images that flooded his mind. Three musketeers had come at him. He knew it now that this was what his mind had been trying to hide from him. He saw the pistol discharge, aimed in his direction. He felt the weight of a pistol in his hand as if he held one now.

Blood. There was so much blood.

_Murderer! _

The shout rang out across the square. He barely felt it as somebody pushed him backwards against the bed and a blanket draped over him. Urgent whispers across the room somehow caught his attention and drew his mind there.

Somebody was going to the musketeer garrison.

There was a dead musketeer.

Of course there was! He'd murdered one of them!

Was anybody looking for him? Would he be arrested? Surely they would come for him. Tomorrow the baker and his wife could be arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive.

There was only one thing to do to protect the innocent family that had been so kind to him. He needed to be gone before anyone came for him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry to keep you waiting, but I've been out playing with the family. Blame them for distracting me. Thank you as always for your incredible support of this story.**

**Chapter Eight**

Odette tried to coax Juliette away to the kitchen, but the child refused to move from the passageway outside the guest room. Her father had kept an eye on her as they made their way home, but once they arrived, she had been left to herself while her parents tried to tend to their distraught guest. Most of their conversation made no sense and she could barely see Louis through the doorway. Her mama had tried to explain that his head wasn't working properly and that was why he couldn't remember things. She squeezed her eyes shut as she recalled his strange reaction as they crossed the market square.

They had been walking home, both enjoying her father's pastries, when suddenly Louis stopped dead in his tracks. His face looked strange and when she asked him why, he didn't answer. Before she could make sense of it, he had darted across the square, into a side alley. He looked like somebody was chasing him, but there was nobody that she could see. When she followed him, he had yelled at her. The shock of his words, and the unexpected tone of his voice had frightened her.

"Get away from me!"

After the third time, she had turned and run for her father.

Finally Odette managed to get her to leave and she carried her small charge into the kitchen. Juliette was still shaking and Odette sat her on the bench top while she set a pot of milk to warm.

Tears dribbled down her face again and Odette hurried to wipe them away. As Juliette flung her arms around Odette's neck, she could feel the child trembling in her arms.

"Is Louis sick again?"

Odette slowly pulled away and wondered how to answer. Finally she nodded and tried to smile in reassurance. "Yes, I think he is. But your papa is going to get someone who can help."

It was some time later that Margaux made her way into the kitchen and she saw Juliette seated at the bench, helping Odette shell peas. She smiled in gratitude that Odette had managed to restore some sense of normality for her daughter in the midst of chaos.

As she walked over to sit down beside Juliette, she forced a smile for her child's benefit.

"Your papa said you were very brave."

Juliette smiled at the words, but still felt a chill or uncertainty. "Is Louis sick again?"

Margaux looked up at Odette and wondered what had already been discussed. "Yes, my darling. I think he is. But your papa has an idea of how to help him."

Juliette took the words at face value and smiled, while picking up the next pea pod. Margaux felt her insides twist as she wondered at her own words. If what Albert had said was true, the men from the garrison would not be coming to help, but to arrest their guest. For the life of her, she could not believe it to be true. Even without his memory, Louis had demonstrated a character that did not line up with the picture of a murderer. As much as she wanted answers for him, she was not certain she wanted this one at all.

* * *

><p>Albert stood outside the gate to the garrison and hesitated to enter. His heart stuck to his ribcage as he considered the possible consequences of his next step. He could not bring himself to believe that the young man who had cared for his daughter, could possibly be a murderer. And yet he had seen for himself, Louis' intense and terrified reaction. Something simply did not add up and he needed to find answers. He finally forced himself forward.<p>

The first couple of men he came across were clearly musketeers, based on their uniforms and he walked towards them.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but I need to speak with your captain."

The two of them looked towards him, but did not seem particularly interested. "He is busy at present. What do you need to see him for?"

"I … ahh …. I have some information … well possible information that he may be able to help me with."

"Possible information?" The barely concealed sarcasm made him bristle, but he supposed he hadn't been very clear. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"I have some possible information regarding the murder of a musketeer."

It seemed to Albert that suddenly he had the attention of the entire garrison. In truth, he did not, but the two musketeers in front of him were suddenly very interested. One of them headed for Treville's office while the first one stood guard with their visitor.

"Wait there!"

Treville almost growled as he heard the knock on his door. His head was thumping in time with his heartbeat and he had no energy left for dealing with yet another issue. The three men standing in front of him were providing enough of a problem for him already. Athos stood off to one side and glared at him each time he tried to present reason. Aramis and Porthos were both clearly torn in their devotion to their brother, while also trying to follow orders.

Another urgent knock jolted Treville out of his thoughts and he called out across the room.

"Enter!"

"Captain, there's somebody here I think you will want to talk to."

Treville scrubbed a tired hand across his face and sighed. "What do they want?"

Denier noted the lack of energy in his captain's voice and took a sharp breath before continuing.

"He says he has information about the murder of a musketeer."

He stepped back out of the door as all four men surged towards the doorway. Athos barely managed to stop himself and allowed Treville to go first down the stairs, but he was only seconds behind.

The man standing in the courtyard suddenly looked very alarmed as a group of men seemed to charge towards him. Treville looked him over as he descended the stairs and wondered who he was.

"You have information for me?" The question came out calmly enough, but Albert felt himself wanting to take a step back.

"I am not certain what I have, and I am sorry, but I must ask you, has any of your men died recently? Possibly even been murdered?"

He noted out of the corner of his eye as one of the men behind the captain had to be restrained by one of the others and he knew he had hit a nerve. His throat seemed to close over as he realised that Louis may well be right.

"We lost one of my men only this week." The coldness in the tone made Albert even more concerned. "But what does this have to do with you?"

"Have you caught his murderer yet?"

"No. The man responsible is still at large. Once again, what does this have to do with you?"

Albert felt his knees sagging beneath him and he forced himself to stay upright. "Because I fear that man may be staying in my home."

Athos felt Porthos' hand clench harder against his shoulder as he began to step forward. Treville blocked his way, but he wanted to grab the man and shake him to force him to take him there immediately. If another traitor to the crown were truly hiding in his home, Athos would hunt him down and see him hang.

Treville's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why would he be in your home? What is your part in this plot?"

Albert felt men close in behind him and he quickly shook his head. "No! You don't understand! I know nothing of a plot. Louis brought my daughter home from the river when she sprained her ankle. He was injured himself. My wife took him in, in gratitude! You must understand we had no idea who he was, since he did not know himself. My daughter named him Louis until he could remember his real name. Perhaps it was a ploy … but it seemed genuine."

Aramis forced himself around in front of Treville, his mind running madly. "You said he was injured. He did not know himself. Describe him for me."

"What?"

"Describe him for me!" The urgency in the demand caught Albert's attention and he hurried to comply.

"He had a head wound, presumably from the river. He's young. Tall. Dark hair. Clearly not from these parts." Albert rushed to get the words out as he could see the intense interest from all of the men.

Athos surged forward before anyone could stop him and grasped at Albert.

"Take me to him!"

Albert felt the man's hands on his upper arms and wondered what was going on. He had come to report a murder and this was not the response he expected. The men before him looked relieved, not angry, as he would have expected.

"Who is he? Who have I left with my wife and daughter?"

Athos looked at the fear in the man's eyes and could barely contain himself. "If God is merciful, you have just described somebody we thought we had lost."

"He's no murderer. He's a musketeer. And he's been missing for days." Aramis found himself smiling at the stranger who had just brought the news they had all been waiting for.

Albert nodded in clear relief. Louis had not seemed capable of what he had described.

"Go! Bring him home!" Treville waved at the gate. He felt a renewed spring in his step as he escorted the men to the garrison gate. Athos turned towards him as he departed and he nodded.

"Prove me wrong," he smiled as they hurried out into the street.

* * *

><p>Juliette held tightly to Marie and wondered if she should offer her comfort to Louis again. It made her sad to think he was sick, but at least it explained why he had been so mean to her in the market. When she felt sick, she got very grumpy. Marie definitely made her feel better at such times, so that made up her mind for her. Louis needed Marie.<p>

She was surprised to find Louis out of bed as her papa had clearly put him there. When she was sick, she was expected to stay put. The window to his room was open and as Juliette crossed the room, she could see Louis outside. He needed to be back in bed and her mama would tell him so. Since there was nobody else to tell him that, she decided she had better go and tell him herself, before her mama got to scolding him.

She hurried out the front door, quietly pulling it closed behind her. She fully intended to get Louis to come back before her mother had even noticed.

* * *

><p>As the group raced through the streets, Albert found his curiosity was overwhelming. The young man he had sheltered had been a source of many questions. How he came to be in the river and his head injury only came second to his identity.<p>

"So who is he?"

"His name is Charles d'Artagnan."

"And he's really a musketeer?"

The tone of Albert's question would have made them smile on any other day. Many people had considered their young friend to be too young for the commission.

"He is, although only recently commissioned."

"So, what on earth was he doing in the river?"

Albert saw Athos flinch as he asked the question and he wondered if he would get an answer.

"That was my fault."

Porthos frowned at the response and Aramis shook his head. "It was nothing of the sort! You were attacked!"

"It was my fault I did not see the ambush in time. I was on point, not him."

Albert could feel the sense of protectiveness in the words and he found himself smiling. It felt good to finally know that somebody cared about his guest.

"A rooftop sniper is hardly something you are meant to see. It is part of what makes us effective." Aramis looked to see if his words were having any affect and he frowned again.

Albert suddenly realised what had not been said. "He was shot?"

Athos nodded miserably. "I could not reach him in time. He was bleeding and unstable on his feet. One of our attackers pushed him into the river."

Albert sucked in his breath in shock. Louis had been incredibly lucky to survive.

Athos felt the trek to Albert's house would never end. It was only the hope the man held out to him, that kept him going without complaint. By the time they arrived in the market square, the torches were already burning in their sconces as daylight was fading. As they climbed the stairs to Albert's front door, they were shocked to see the door fling open and a woman rush into his arms.

She was clearly distressed and Athos felt his stomach drop. Albert had said their guest was sick. Had he been worse than they knew?

"He's gone! And so is Juliette!"

Albert gripped his wife's arms as her words sunk in. "What?"

Margaux could see the musketeers behind her husband and assumed they had come to arrest the man. Right now, that was the least of her concerns.


	9. Chapter 9

**Well after seeing episode 2, it seems that the show's writers agree with me that d'Artagnan is good with kids:-) Thank you so much for the messages and reviews and more messages this week. You have no idea how much they have been appreciated.  
><strong>

**Chapter Nine**

The street outside Albert's house still had far too many people milling about and Louis pulled the hat down low to avoid being seen by anyone who may recognise him. He wanted to run, but figured that would only draw unwanted attention. His heart was in his mouth as he tried to appear as though he belonged there. The more he concentrated on escaping into the early evening, the more he lost focus on anything else. His vision narrowed to plotting his escape route and his ears could only pick up the steady pounding of his own blood. An unrelenting and overwhelming fear pushed him forwards as he knew he could not go back to prison. He would die there.

Juliette trailed behind by quite some distance. Her legs were not long enough and it seemed that each time she called out to Louis, he was too far away to hear her. She was determined to catch up with him and did not notice just how far they had traveled until she looked up and did not recognise anything. A faint flicker of fear made her wonder if she would be in trouble for wandering. She gripped Marie a little tighter and decided that Louis could take her back home.

Up ahead, she could see that Louis had finally come to a stop. He was standing behind a vendor's cart and looking around when he finally spotted her. The look on his face caused her to pause as he didn't seem happy to see her. It took a moment for her to start towards him again and he reached out for her and dragged her behind the cart.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed at her.

Tears welled in her eyes at his response and she wondered if she should have just gotten Odette instead of following him.

Louis' eyes darted around the area, as if he was expecting somebody. His face softened a little at her distress, but he still frowned at her.

"Why did you follow me? You can't be here!"

"Mama said you were sick. You shouldn't be out of bed and she would be mad at you." It had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time and she wondered why he didn't think so also.

Louis dropped down to one knee in front of her and chewed at his bottom lip.

"You have to go home. I can't take you with me." He pointed back down the street and Juliette shook her head at him.

"I don't know the way back."

"What do you mean, you don't know the way back? You live here!"

Once again Juliette shook her head vehemently. "I haven't been all the way _here_ before."

She clutched tighter to Marie as a sense of unease took hold of her. He wouldn't leave her alone, would he? Really?

Louis felt his insides warring as he knew he had to get away and quickly, but he simply couldn't leave a defenseless child alone.

* * *

><p>Albert nudged his wife inside the house, rather than create a scene on his doorstep. He had no idea how the musketeers with him would react to such news and he did not wish the entire area to witness it. As the men followed him inside, he could see the mounting distress on his wife's face.<p>

"We'll find them. They can't have gone far. Don't worry, we'll find them."

Albert hugged his wife and tried to calm her.

"Why would he have left?" Athos stared at the woman who was clearly Albert's wife.

Margaux looked askance at her husband. Surely he had told them. Otherwise, why would they be there?

"Because he thinks you are coming to arrest him!"

"Arrest him! Why?" Athos looked at Albert, trying quickly to put the pieces together from what they had been told. The woman's answer made no sense to him at all.

Albert shook his head in dismay at how quickly things had gotten out of control.

"Louis believes that … I'm sorry, Charles, believes that … " Albert faltered as he tried to find the words to explain the mess.

"He believes what?" Athos prodded impatiently.

"His memory is not right. He does not remember much. Today he was in great distress when he recalled something."

The men watched intently as Albert searched for the words to explain. "He told me that he had killed a man. A musketeer."

Albert looked at the faces surrounding him, desperately hoping they would tell him otherwise. The confused looks he received back, gave rise to hope.

"Tell me … this cannot be true, is it? If he truly did murder a musketeer, I do not believe you would be so concerned for him."

Athos frowned at the question, while shaking his head. "He has murdered no-one! What did he say that makes him think that he did?"

Albert felt relief wash over him and Margaux squeezed his hand in silent support.

"He said he remembered shooting a musketeer in a market square, like ours. He seemed quite certain of it!"

"My God! Of all the things he could have remembered it had to be that!" Athos felt his stomach constrict as he realised what was happening.

"I am confused! You said he did not do it, but now you … "

"No!" Athos exclaimed. "It was a ruse. A way to capture a traitor. He pretended to shoot me, but as you can see, I am not dead."

"But 'e believes that you are." All eyes turned to Porthos as he shook his head. "'e thinks that 'e murdered a musketeer and 'e doesn't know who 'e really is!"

"If he knew we were coming, he would assume we are here to arrest him. No wonder he ran." Aramis looked across at Athos as he spoke. "Which also means, if we go after him, he won't see us as friends."

Athos felt sick as the implication of that thought sunk in. "He knows how to hide. To blend in. Any sign of musketeers, or red guards for that matter, and he'll go to ground."

"So what do we do? We can't just frighten him off?" Aramis stared at Athos, hoping he would have any kind of idea on what to do next.

Margaux nudged her husband as the conversation flowed around them. He looked at her and read his own fear in her eyes.

"What about Juliette? Our daughter. She is only six!"

Even though she had been mentioned at the beginning, Athos had put it aside as he took in the more pressing details. "Why would d'Artagnan have taken a child with him?"

Albert cleared his throat as he shook his head. "I doubt that he did. She is an inquisitive and oftentimes impulsive child. She has taken a liking to him and it is quite possible he did not even know she had left the house."

Margaux looked as though she were about to say something when Albert shook his head at her. "You know it's true. She goes off exploring and has no fear. And he has given no reason for us to think he would cause her any harm."

Athos looked towards the window and noted how dark it was getting outside. "We need a plan to start searching. Porthos, return and let Treville know what has happened. We need men out here looking before he gets too far."

As Porthos nodded in agreement, Athos turned to Margaux. "Madame, I know this may not seem like much, but we will not stop looking until we find both of them."

Margaux found herself unable to speak and she simply nodded as tears welled in her eyes.

* * *

><p>It was getting dark and Louis watched as lamp lighters went about their business, lighting wall sconces along the street. He pulled his hat lower over his face and struggled to think what to do. Before he could decide, he noted two red guards heading towards them. He quickly grabbed Juliette's hand and tugged her further down the street until they came to a small side alley. He turned into the alley and was quickly aware of a sickly smell of rotting fish. They were behind the fishmongers. As he gagged on the smell, he hurried the child past it and turned another alley and then another as he tried to put as much distance between him and the guards. He could not afford to be seen!<p>

Juliette began to protest as he pulled at her arm and he finally slowed down enough to listen to her. She had tears brimming in her eyes as he eventually stopped.

"My foot hurts." She clutched at Marie and tried to stifle the sob rising up from her insides. She had walked far further than she should have and her ankle was beginning to puff up again.

Louis looked at her in frustration and tried to decide what he was going to do with her. She swallowed a gulp and pulled Marie a little closer, all the while watching his face.

He paced across the small space and she could hear the clack of his boots on the cobblestones. It seemed very quiet otherwise and she glanced around to see there was nobody else nearby. Finally he knelt down in front of her again and tried to smile. "I'm taking you home."

Juliette flung her arms around his neck and tried not to cry again. When she felt herself being lifted up, she simply clung on tightly and allowed Louis to start for home.

His thoughts raged against his actions as he started back down the alley. It was an insane decision to be placing himself at the mercy of the very men who would surely be hunting him down. Instead, he reminded himself that all he needed to do was get Juliette within sight of her home and he could leave her there safely, while escaping before anybody saw him. At least that was the best plan he could pull together in such a short time. If only he could work out which way would take him back to the baker's home.

* * *

><p>Athos turned down another alleyway and found himself in a blind corner. It had long since grown dark and despite the lamps that dotted the streets, he knew there were far too many dark holes his friend could have disappeared into, since he clearly did not want to be found. The elation of the discovery that d'Artagnan was alive was the only thing keeping him focused as the despair once again threatened to take over.<p>

"Why can you not make anything simple?" he muttered the question into the darkness.

* * *

><p>The darkness had enveloped the streets hours earlier and Louis was beginning to despair that he would ever recognise any kind of landmark or feature in his trek back to Albert's home. He had taken so many turns as he fled that he had not really been paying any attention. His direction had not mattered. He simply needed to get away.<p>

Juliette had fallen asleep in his arms and he noted how tightly she clutched onto her doll, even while asleep. He could not contain a smile at the memory of the child's efforts to cheer him up, using the thing she knew best.

As he rounded yet another unfamiliar corner, he realised he had found one of Paris' seedier taverns. The coarse language flowing out from inside made him hurry past with the small child tucked safely into his chest. Suddenly a door flung open and he had to sidestep quickly in order to avoid the two drunken patrons being thrown out of it. He stumbled on the uneven cobblestones and Juliette jolted awake in his arms, losing her grip on Marie. Before he knew why, she was tugging at his collar and pointing back over his shoulder.

"Marie! I lost Marie!"

Louis looked behind him and was dismayed to see that one of the men had picked up the doll and was laughing at it. He looked to see the man's companion was stumbling away along the wall and had not noticed what his friend was doing.

Louis would have preferred to just keep going, but he found himself unable to leave Juliette's best friend behind. He turned and walked back towards the man, holding out a hand.

"Thank you for finding my friend's doll. I truly appreciate it." The placatory tone to his comment seemed to have the opposite effect as the man drew himself up to his full height.

"Whadidyousay?" The slur to the words showed how inebriated the man was, which made him unpredictable. Louis slowly lowered Juliette to the ground and pushed her behind him.

"I said, I appreciate you finding my friend's doll. She would be very sad to lose her."

The man began swinging Marie by the arm as he laughed at his own actions. Louis felt Juliette's hand gripping the back of his leg and he reached behind to reassure her.

"It is just a child's toy. It's of no use to you."

The man looked up and threw the doll across at the wall behind Louis. Juliette scrambled to grab her while Louis found himself on the receiving end of a wild swing. He dodged the meaty fist coming his way and stepped in front of Juliette again. The drunk lurched towards him and he kept nudging the child back while trying to keep an eye on where the man was. He suddenly heard Juliette scream as the second drunk lumbered back towards them.

Louis swung around in time to see another fist coming his way and he was a fraction too slow to duck. The knuckles connected with his head and he felt the impact jolt through like a bolt of lightning. Brilliant spots of light flashed across his field of vision and he stumbled forward.

"Juliette! Run!" He could see what was coming and had no other way to protect her.


	10. Chapter 10

**See, I don't generally leave you hanging for too long. Thank you so much to wonderful readers and reviewers. This is an amazingly generous fandom to write in.**

**Chapter Ten**

"Run!"

She heard the word and saw the men turning on her friend, but her feet stayed rooted to the spot. Louis stumbled away from her and it seemed that he would fall to his knees. Somehow he kept his feet under him and he staggered a little further, drawing them away from the child behind him.

She shrank against the wall, unable to look away. One of the men seemed to have fallen over his own feet as Louis sidestepped him, but the other one looked intent on killing him. The second blow he landed was just as vicious as the first. Louis reeled from the force of it and sprawled onto the ground.

He looked up at the behemoth that was lumbering towards him and managed to pull himself together enough to roll sideways before he was pounded again. In the process, he rolled into the other drunk and felt his fingers brush against metal. It was enough to spur him into action as he grasped at the dagger in the man's belt and slid it free.

The weight in his hands felt familiar and he pushed himself to his knees. As he waved the dagger in front of him, the drunk kept moving in his direction. Whether it was alcohol-delayed reflexes or adrenaline-induced anger that kept the man coming, he really didn't care. His head was spinning wildly and he tried to focus on the man's face. He finally made eye contact as he yelled a word of warning.

"Stop! I will defend myself!"

As if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of him, the drunk seemed to deflate in front of him. Louis waved the dagger closer as he forced himself to get back up on his feet. He hoped the man would not notice how unsteady he really was, but the drunk suddenly seemed to realise his friend hadn't gotten back up. Assuming their prey had stabbed him, he began to back away, hands in the air.

Juliette watched as the man almost tripped over in his haste to get back from Louis. He backed up to the wall and lurched along it to the end of the alley. She shrank back from her friend as he slowly approached her. The look on his face frightened her and the dagger was still clutched tightly in his hand. It wasn't until he sagged to his knees in front of her that she saw the blood on the side of his face. It oozed out from under the strip of bandage that had once covered his first injury. She could not take her eyes off it. He seemed to be moving very slowly, as if unsure of his own movements. Finally, he shoved the dagger into the back of his belt and slowly reached out a hand towards her. She stared at him, as if in shock and he gently touched the side of her face.

"Are you all right?"

Juliette jolted out of whatever had taken hold of her and she burst into tears. She felt hands on her shoulders and somebody was shaking her.

"Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?" The words were urgent and seemed to penetrate the fog of her fear.

She shook her head and felt herself being gathered up off the ground. She buried her face in Louis' shirt and sobbed. Suddenly she felt something being shoved into her hand and her fingers instinctively curled tightly around Marie's arm. She had no idea where they were going and she was past caring.

It was some time later that Louis stopped and set her down on the ground again. They were in some kind of stable or barn, based on the smell. The light was almost non-existent and she could hear animals moving around. Before she could complain or ask questions, Louis pulled her down into the hay and wrapped his arms back around her as he piled hay behind her. It was chilly and she snuggled into his side, trying to find a comfortable position. Finally exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep, clutching Marie in one hand and a fistful of Louis' shirt with the other.

For his part, he had stumbled upon the stable, and knowing he could not go any further, it seemed like his best option. His head throbbed painfully and he felt his vision beginning to blur over again. In the absence of any kind of better plan, it was a relatively safe place to wait out the night. He lay in the darkness, listening to Juliette's breathing and wondered what he would do, come dawn. Erratic thoughts floated through his head. Faces mostly, accompanied by a sense of warmth. He closed his eyes and tried to relax enough to allow them to become clearer, but nothing more came.

* * *

><p>By the time daylight began to filter into the alleyways, Athos felt like he had walked the length and breadth of Paris. His body ached with weariness, but he dared not stop. If d'Artagnan managed to get past their search net, there was no telling how they would ever find him or if he would ever return to them.<p>

He wondered if his brothers had been more successful and how many men Porthos had brought back with him. He wanted vigilant and motivated searchers on the ground, but he felt fearful at how d'Artagnan may react if he saw a musketeer first and panicked. He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to think. There was no real methodology to his plan, other than to follow his instincts.

* * *

><p>Albert had walked the streets all night and his feet ached. He pulled his cloak a little tighter against the early morning chill and wondered for the thousandth time where his daughter was. He did not blame the stranger he had welcomed into his home, but a part of him wished Margaux had simply given him a token for his trouble and sent him on his way. If they had just thanked the young man for bringing Juliette home and not gotten involved, his daughter would not be missing. He shook his head in frustration as he knew in his heart that was not how his wife did things. It was one of the things he loved most about her and he would not wish her to change.<p>

He turned another corner and saw a musketeer ahead of him. The man had no idea who Albert was and walked across the alleyway without acknowledging him. Albert felt a slight comfort at knowing there were many men searching the streets for both Louis and Juiette. Athos' words from the night before rung in his ear. They would not stop until they found them. He knew musketeers to be men of honour and the look on the man's face had confirmed that for him. They would not stop. And neither would he.

* * *

><p>Juliette awoke to the unfamiliar sounds and smells of a stable and for a moment she felt disoriented and fearful. She tried to sit up, but she felt something holding her down. It took a moment to realise it was simply Louis' arm across her shoulders. It took a minute longer for her to remember where she was and why he was there.<p>

She eased his arm off her shoulder and watched as it slid down into the hay. Louis didn't stir as she tried to sit up and for some reason that struck her as wrong. Before she could do anything about it, she realised she had a more pressing need. There were no chamber pots in sight, but she could see two horses across the room from her. She gently disentangled herself from Louis and went in search of something she could use. The horses didn't seem bothered by her presence, although she gave both of them a wide berth. The animals were huge and she was not used to them. She searched the area and finally found something she could make use of. Louis had not stirred, but that did not mean she could take care of matters where he could see her. She carried the container to a far recess instead and hoped he stayed asleep a little longer.

After a fitful sleep, filled with images and emotions that bubbled just below the surface, Louis awoke with a start. The initial disorientation made his heart pound wildly and he sat upright too quickly. The sudden movement made his head feel as though it were going to fall off and he clutched at the sides of his head and moaned. By the time the spinning dissipated, he was feeling quite nauseated and he thought he may be sick in the hay. Except he suddenly realised there was nothing in his stomach to come up. He looked around his immediate surroundings and noted Marie lying next to him in the hay. He picked up the doll and turned it in his hands. Fear gripped his throat as he frantically searched for her owner.

"Juliette!"

He stumbled to his feet and almost pitched forward into a railing. He grabbed at the nearest length of timber and pulled himself upright.

"Juliette! Where are you?"

The child came running from the far end of the stable, but before she could answer, a man walked through the outer door.

"Oi! What are you doing in here?"

Louis turned at the voice and felt his legs sag beneath him. Silhouetted against the door was a man with something in his hands. The stranger held his hands aloft as he approached and all Louis could see was yet another attacker coming his way. Instinct took over, where his mind was too fuzzy to think and he slipped the dagger from his belt.

"No need for that! Just get outta here!"

He still had Marie clutched in his fist and Louis reached backwards for Juliette. She scurried forward to grasp his arm. The look on his face frightened her, but she was even more frightened of the man advancing on them. Louis tugged at her arm as he tried to circle around the man. The dagger point wavered between them as Louis tried to work his way closer to the door. As he finally backed out into the early morning sunshine, he squinted at the brightness of the light. The man took advantage of his momentary lapse and lunged towards him.

Juliette screamed as Louis was tackled from behind by another man and the dagger was forced from his grip. She watched as Marie dropped from his fingers and fell into the mud.

"Guards! Get the guards!"

She had no idea who they were calling for, but knew it could not be good. Louis looked as if he was about to fall over and she tried to step closer. One of the men pushed her back and she watched in fear as they forced Louis to his knees.

"Horse thieves hang, don't you know?" The man spat on the ground beside him and Louis stared at the mud in front of him.

_Horse thief? _

"I'm no thief," he muttered to the ground.

The man hooked a hand under his jaw and forced him to look up. The brightness of the light behind his head made Louis blink wildly as his head began to sway again.

"What did you say?"

"I'm not a thief!"

"Well what else was you doing in my stable with my best 'orse?"

The man looked across at his son. "Where's those guards?"

It was only moments later that two red guards appeared, along with a woman and Louis felt himself being dragged to his feet. His mind was beginning to shut down as the jumble of information became too much to process. Hands grabbed at his wrists and bound them together. He felt himself being pushed forward and his feet followed, while his head seemed to stay behind somewhere.

He looked over his shoulder to see a child standing in the street, tears streaming down her face. The early morning sunshine bathed her in a soft glow and he wondered if she were real.

He felt another shove behind him as one of the guards pushed him forward.

"Get movin'! I ain't got all day."

Juliette finally recovered her wits enough to drag Marie out of the mud and follow along behind. She had no other option, but to see where they took Louis. He was the only one who knew how to get her home.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm beginning to think I may rename this story The Adventures of Marie! I can't believe a doll has become a central character in my story :-) **

**That certainly wasn't in the memo when I started.**

**Chapter Eleven**

Aramis leaned against a wall and took a long drink from the dipper. The morning crowd was beginning to find it's way into the streets and he watched them from the side of the well. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and he dipped his fingers in the water before wiping it across his face. It did little to refresh him, but once more he dipped his whole hand in and swiped at the back of his neck. He slowly replaced his hat before putting the bucket and dipper back in its place.

He looked upwards and noted the sun was well over the edge of the rooftops. It had been a long night with many miles of cobblestones under his feet. Something drew him out of his reverie and he noticed a couple of red guards dragging some poor soul between them. A third guard appeared from a side alley and joined the group after a short discussion. While he generally despised their dealings with people, they served a necessary purpose and he normally tried to ignore them. Something about this particular group caught his attention.

He meandered closer as the trio crossed the square. Suddenly his feet took off of their own accord and he found his hand on his sword hilt.

"It can't be!"

As he drew closer, he felt his heart in his mouth. The unruly mop of long dark hair hung in dank ribbons down either side of its owners face. Bits of straw and mud stuck to his clothing and hair. The unfortunate wretch was being dragged and prodded across the space and was clearly having trouble keeping his feet. One of the guards pushed at him every so often, which only caused him to stumble more.

Aramis planted himself firmly in their path. "Stop! Who is this man?"

"None o' your business, musketeer!"

The first guard eyed him with pure contempt, but Aramis slowly moved forward. "It is my business if it's who I think it is."

He began to step forward again when one of the guards pulled his sword. Aramis had his own sword in his hand before the man could speak again.

"I have no wish to fight with you. I simply need to see his face."

"What's it to you? He's gonna hang anyway."

Aramis felt the seconds slipping by as he stared at the lanky frame of their prisoner.

_Lift your head, please!_

If he could just get a look at the face.

"Hang? For what crime?"

"Stealin' 'orses! Now get out of our way before we run you through!"

"His face! Show me his face!"

The steel in his voice was echoed in the movement of his sword. The guards looked at each other in annoyance and realised the musketeer wasn't going to leave them alone until they complied. Finally one of them tugged at a handful of hair and yanked Louis' head upright.

Aramis sucked in a sharp breath as he saw the bruised and bloodied face of his friend. Without thinking, he stepped forward again.

"'old it right there!" The guard waved his sword menacingly towards him and Aramis finally dragged his eyes away from d'Artagnan. ""e's goin' to the Chatelet. You can visit 'im there if you wish."

The other two laughed at the joke as nobody got to just visit a prisoner in the notorious prison.

"He's no horse thief! He's a musketeer. And he's injured!"

"I don't care if 'e's the Queen o' Sheba! 'e's a horse thief and 'e's going to pay for it. Now get … out … of my ... way!" The guard dropped his prisoner's head and began to move forward.

"D'artagnan! Can you hear me?" Aramis tried frantically to get his friend to lift his head again. He'd seen no sign of recognition in his eyes and no sign of resistance to the guards. That scared him more than anything. The idea that his hot-headed young friend was beyond resisting was terrifying. "D'Artagnan! Answer me!"

The guards pushed past him and Aramis considered challenging them further, but knew he was outnumbered and would not help his friend by getting killed himself. He watched helplessly as the trio of guards dragged the young man away down the street. At least he knew where they were taking him and he needed to get the news to Treville.

As he turned towards the garrison he was stunned to see a small child stumbling towards him. He had momentarily forgotten they were searching for two people. The child looked terrified. Straw and mud splattered across her clothing and in that moment he knew. She was the child they'd been searching for.

"Juliette?"

His heart broke as the child began to sob at her own name. He knelt down on one knee before her and tugged at the wisps of straw around her face.

"Your parents are looking for you. I'm his friend," Aramis pointed across to where the men had dragged d'Artagnan away. "I need to help him first and then we'll get you home. Is that all right?"

The child nodded and took another tentative step towards him. "They hurt Louis."

"I know. But we are going to make him better." Aramis felt tears pricking at his eyes as he watched the child chew at her lip. It reminded him of somebody else. He reached out for her and was surprised at how fiercely she grasped hold of him.

* * *

><p>It was mid morning and Treville was itching to begin walking the streets himself. The idea his youngest musketeer was out in the city somewhere, hiding from his own brothers grated on him. He had assigned the duties the day the escorts and decoys had been sent out. He'd considered long and hard how he was going to do it. He'd been in command for long enough to know that sometimes the best laid plans went awry, but it did not stop him bearing the burden of guilt when it did.<p>

He paced across the almost empty yard. A large enough group had been kept back in case of a need from the palace, but the bulk of his men were out scouring the city. Those who had been asked to stay were not happy about it. It was not like the musketeers to leave one of their own behind and it did not sit well to have to wait for news.

It was well into the morning when he caught sight of it. A blue cape and hat was unmistakable and judging by the gait of the man, he picked it as Aramis. He was clearly carrying something and Treville stood watching for some time before he realised it was a child. Part of him was pleased to see the child had been found, but his soldier's instincts were on high alert. Why would Aramis be returning with the child and not d'Artagnan? He hurried into the street towards him and soon saw the bedraggled bundle he was holding, wrapped beneath his cloak. Dark hair burrowed into his shoulder and from what little he could see of her, the child was splattered in mud.

He made eye contact as Aramis hurried towards him. "This is Juliette. The little one everyone has been looking for."

Treville nodded in relief, but could see there was more. He saw the urgency on Aramis' face and he waited impatiently for the rest of it.

"Captain, I found him, but red guards took him! They are on their way to the Chatelet. They think he's a horse thief."

"What?"

Juliette lifted her head from where she was resting and took in the new man beside them. He looked angry.

"We were just sleeping there. He wasn't going to take it!"

Aramis almost smiled at the defiant tilt of her chin.

"I know that. Those men just got things a little mixed up."

"They hurt him!" Fresh tears welled in the child's eyes and he felt her trembling in his arms. Treville frowned at her words as they passed through the entry into the garrison. Somebody was going to be held accountable, but for now he needed to get to the Chatelet. There was no telling what could happen to a prisoner in there, especially if anybody knew he was a musketeer.

Aramis looked around and wondered what he was going to do with the child, before he spotted Serge. In the absence of a better idea, the old man would have to do. He called out to him and watched as Serge shuffled towards them.

"This is Juliette and I'm pretty sure she's hungry." He eased her down onto the bench, but kept a hand on her back as she clung to his arm. The child looked exhausted and he wished he could do something more to calm her before running off. There was no time to delay and little time to explain. He pointed towards the man beside him. "This is Serge. He's going to watch out for you until your mother comes."

He watched as uncertainty flittered across her face and he plastered on a smile. "I'm going to go and get Louis."

Serge frowned at his answer before Aramis nodded at him. "D'Artagnan. He's been taken to the Chatelet."

He gently disentangled his arm and watched as the child clutched at something in her hand. He smiled as he realised it was a small doll. The sound of hooves on the cobblestones made him look up and he nodded with approval to see Treville had already brought out two horses. The Captain was still issuing orders as he mounted his horse and Aramis doffed his hat towards Juliette as he turned for his own horse.

Juliette watched as the two men disappeared out the same gate they had just come in and she hugged Marie closer. Serge nudged at her elbow and pointed to a doorway.

"How's about some food?"

The grubby little wretch in front of him felt her stomach growl in response and he laughed.

"I'd say that's a yes!"

* * *

><p>Athos felt like his legs had turned to lead as he turned yet another corner. His mind was beginning to remind him that Paris was an awfully big city and there were literally millions of places to go to ground. He looked up to see a rider approaching and knew something had happened before they even got to him. A musketeer on horseback was clearly searching for him and that could only mean one thing. Treville had news.<p>

He looked up as the rider closed on him and saw a strange look on the man's face. It wasn't a smile, but it wasn't a frown either.

"You have news?"

Dufour swung down out of the saddle and handed the reins to Athos. "They've found him. Red guards took him to the Chatelet. Treville and Aramis are already on their way there."

Athos frowned at the answer. "The Chatelet? For what?"

"Claimed he's a horse thief."

Athos was already in the saddle before the man had finished his answer. They hung horse thieves! He nodded in thanks and turned the horse towards the prison before kicking it into action.

* * *

><p>Porthos was beginning to think their young friend had somehow acquired some kind of unnatural ability to hide when one of the pack of boys he'd spoken with earlier came scurrying towards him. If the people of the Court could not give him answers, then d'Artagnan truly had disappeared into thin air.<p>

"They took 'im! Red guards! They took 'im for stealin' a 'orse." The boy was puffing as he spoke, but Porthos got the idea quickly enough. He pulled out a couple of coins and dropped them in the boy's hand before turning and running up a street to his left.

* * *

><p>Athos draped his horse's reins across the hitching rail before racing through the entryway to the most feared place in Paris. Many who were dragged through those doors did not leave alive. He searched the immediate courtyard for any sign of his friends and was relieved to see Aramis striding towards him. He grasped at his friend's arm.<p>

"It's true? He's here?"

Aramis nodded at him. "Treville has gone to the King and I'm waiting to see if our capricious friend will allow me entry."

Athos glared at him in frustration. The warden was notorious for being amenable to bribes one moment and then being a man of "honour" in the next breath. Athos shifted his hand to the hilt of his sword.

"He _will_ allow us entry."

As it turned out, they did not need to put that to the test before a guard wandered over towards them. He thumbed towards the doorway. "Second level."

Athos nodded and moved past him before the man had any chance to change his mind. Aramis was right beside him and the two of them descended down the internal stairs towards the second level. The dank smell of the place assaulted them as they entered. The smell seemed to reflect the hopelessness of the place. It was another ten minutes of searching the cells before they found what they were looking for.

He was huddled against the far wall, a mop of dirty, dark hair hanging down over his face. Athos grabbed the nearest guard and demanded he open the door. The man looked like he was going to object until Athos pointed out the prisoner was securely chained to the wall. The hand resting on his sword added weight to the argument and the guard reluctantly unlocked the door.

Athos surged forward and grasped at d'Artagnan's arm. When he got no response, he cupped a hand under his chin and lifted his head back. The dried blood encrusted to his face told its own story and the fresh bruising only added to it. The total lack of response in d'Artagnan's eyes terrified him.


	12. Chapter 12

**It's always a buzz to wake up to a box full or emails. Thank you so much for your ongoing support.I just noticed something really weird on the story stats and it may be because I posted two chapters close together, but if you feel like you are missing some info, you might want to go and see if you read chapter ten.  
><strong>

**Chapter Twelve**

Athos rocked back on his heels and allowed Aramis to move closer. D'Artagnan stared blankly at both of them. The usual spark that defined him was totally missing. Aramis ran light fingers over his head and pulled away the filthy bandage that had been wrapped around him at some point. Dried blood that had encrusted to his scalp pulled away as well and the wound began oozing again. He could see the crease line of a musket ball that had partially healed over and he sucked in a breath. A fraction more to the left and he knew they would not be sitting here now. D'Artagnan's body would have turned up in the morgue, days ago. He examined the wound and could see fresh bruising overlaid it. Somebody had hit him! He felt the fury rising up from the pit of his stomach and he had to force it down. Retribution could wait, but if he found it was one of the guards from earlier, he would not be accountable for what he did when he saw them again.

"He needs treating. Get the guard to get me some clean water and bandages."

The guard had pulled the door shut behind them as they entered the cell, but neither of them cared. Treville knew where they were and they were both still armed. Athos stood up and walked back towards the bars and called out to the jailor. "You there, I need water and bandages."

A laugh echoed back down the corridor. "And I need a bottle of wine and a whore, but it ain't gonna happen!" The man sauntered into view and pulled up close enough to the bars to see what Aramis was doing.

Athos reached a hand towards the man's throat and had him in a tight grip against the bars before he even knew what was coming.

"I need water! And bandages! If he suffers any further ill-effects because of your delay, I will make you suffer in equal measure. Do you understand me?"

The guard felt the hand squeeze tighter around his throat and he nodded as best he could.

As the hand dropped away, he hurried off to find what was being demanded. Athos moved back into the cell and crouched back down beside Aramis. He had clearly made no progress in getting any kind of response.

By the time the jailor came back, carrying an armful of supplies, Aramis was looking even more concerned. He'd seen head wounds before and dealt with enough of them to know they were unpredictable at best. He was thoroughly alarmed by the stupor surrounding his usually vibrant friend. His eyes were reacting to what little light they had in the place, but he was not tracking Aramis' hand movements or even responding when spoken to. His skin was chilled and he seemed completely unaware of anything around him.

* * *

><p>Treville clutched at his hat and tried to force himself to stand still. He wanted to pace and walk off his frustration, but would not allow himself the release. Instead he watched as courtiers wandered about the corridors, going about whatever tasks they had been sent about. It had been half an hour already and each minute dragged on interminably. Finally he looked up to see one of the King's courtier's coming towards him. As expected, the man's face was expressionless, giving away nothing until he arrived at his destination.<p>

"Well?"

"His Majesty is unavailable for the remainder of the day. He will see you in the morning."

Treville wanted to reach out and throttle the man. "Did you explain the urgency of my request to see him?"

"Of course."

"An innocent man's life hangs in the balance! He may not have until tomorrow."

Justice, such as it was, was not always predictable. While a horse thief was entitled to a trial, the fact d'Artagnan was already imprisoned in the Chatelet left him vulnerable to guards who sometimes took "justice" into their own hands.

The servant was used to nobles and lesser creatures demanding things from him, but he served the King and would not be swayed. "His Majesty will see you tomorrow."

The man may be the Captain of the Musketeers, but that did not mean the King was at his beck and call.

Treville glared at the man and walked away before he said something unsuitable to the environment. By the time he reached his horse, his anger had not dissipated at all. He pulled himself up into the saddle and headed back the way he had come. The least he could do was ensure he issued enough threats to mean his man was protected overnight, while he waited for the King to deign to see him.

* * *

><p>Porthos pushed his way past the guard who tried to block his way. People generally tried to get out of the place, not force their way in. He glared at the man and pointed to his shoulder.<p>

"You're dealing with a musketeer, not a prisoner, now get out of my way!"

He had already seen Treville across the yard and called out to him to flag his presence. The guard shrugged his shoulders in disgust, muttering something about too many musketeers throwing their weight around in one day and stalked off to the far side of the courtyard.

Treville waited for him to catch up before Porthos asked the question he'd had on his lips for the past hour.

"He's alive?"

"As far as I know. Aramis and Athos should be in there, since they aren't out here. I've been at the palace trying to get a release issued."

The fact he looked so furious made it obvious that he had not succeeded. The reason mystified Porthos.

"'e's the reason the King got 'is information safely. Surely 'e'd want to see 'im rewarded, not locked up in 'ere!"

"I would assume so too, but I could not get an audience until tomorrow." Treville headed through the doorway and down the stairs into the second level, but Porthos could see the anger in his whole frame as he moved. Sometimes the King's schedule was infuriating, but they had no say in it. It was not their place to argue with many things that caused frustration along the way. Usually they did their best to work around those things or at least put them aside. This was different.

Athos looked up as he heard footsteps approaching and assumed it was more guards. He stood up and shifted his hand to his sword, preparing to challenge any kind of argument that came at them. He kept an eye on Aramis as he continued his ministrations and was greatly relieved to see his captain striding through the corridor, followed closely by Porthos. The two men hurried up to the small cell, staying quiet to allow Aramis to keep working.

"How is he?"

Athos turned to look at Treville and struggled to contain the emotion that played across his face.

"I fear we may be too late to help him."

Treville frowned at the words before looking back to see what Aramis was doing. He had clearly cleaned and bandaged d'Artagnan's head wound and from where Treville was, all he could see was that the young man seemed to be asleep against the wall with Athos' cloak wrapped around him. He watched as Aramis kept up a running dialogue although he was clearly getting no response.

* * *

><p><em>The smell permeated his senses where nothing else did. It was the smell of death. Death had been stalking him and now it seemed it had found him. Alone. And beyond caring. Death would take away the spike of pain in his head that was now his constant companion. Death would stop the ache in the pit of his stomach that told him he did not matter. Death would bring peace.<em>

_He felt the weight of the chains that bound him and knew he did not have the strength left to fight them. The hands that had placed them there had enjoyed it. They had muttered something about how the mighty had fallen. Thieving musketeer scum would find justice before they ever got to a magistrate. His mind tried to argue. Tried to tell that voice that he was no thief. He wasn't a musketeer either. They had the wrong person. Maybe he was being punished for what he had done. He couldn't recall, but he knew it was bad. They hated him for it. But it didn't matter anymore because the voice went away and left him alone in the darkness. _

_He had never been afraid of the dark. Except the dark was terribly cold._

_Death would stop the chill that enveloped him. He almost laughed at the irony in that. His body would soon be stone cold. _

_Cold._

_The child was cold. _

_His thoughts chased after an image of dark curls, framed by a halo of light. _

_She wasn't real and that meant she couldn't be cold. It wasn't his problem if she was cold or not._

_It was just his mind playing yet more tricks. He knew he could no longer trust anything his mind told him._

_It was better to close down and stop. Better to let Death come._

_New hands pulled at him. Did they not see he was no longer a threat? That he had no more to fight with?_

_Something floated past him in the darkness. A name, maybe? It kept coming at him. _

_His mind tried to grasp hold of it, but it floated away. The voice behind it kept talking, but the words jumbled together and just became a stream of noise._

_Death would stop the noise. _

_Death would bring silence. _

_And cold._

_He was so very cold already. _

_Death would bring relief._

* * *

><p>"The Gov'nor says you lot need to leave!" The guard eyed the men in front of him nervously as there was only one other man on his side and four of them. The fact two of them were currently locked in the cell, evened the numbers slightly, but not enough for his liking. He'd seen musketeers throw their weight around before and there was no love lost between them. The fact the Governor had even allowed them entry in the first place was not right, to his way of thinking. And obviously the man had had time to think it through and changed his mind.<p>

Treville stepped forward and stood toe to toe with the guard, who at least had the sense to quaver a little. He was in his own prison though and backed up by the man with the power over it. The Captain of the Musketeers held no authority there and the guard knew it.

"That man in there is innocent of all charges and he needs medical aid."

"Every man in 'ere is innocent," the guard chuckled at his own joke as the man beside him nodded in agreement. It was an old joke, but one they never grew tired of.

"Be that as it may, _that _man is innocent," Treville pointed behind the bars, "and tomorrow the King will issue a release order for him. If he is not well enough to be released, I will be sure to let the King know why!"

The guard let out a breath and the bravado dropped a notch. Treville may not have authority in the prison, but he did have the ear of the King. Sometimes.

"Then you can all come back tomorrow to get 'im. With those release papers, of course."

Athos was already on his feet and standing on the far side of the bars, gripping them tightly. "Captain, we can't leave him here overnight, alone."

Treville nodded at his lieutenant, knowing what he said was true. The fact d'Artagnan had not so much as stirred the entire time he had been there, confirmed it for him. The guards could not be trusted to not have some kind of "accident" and he would not willingly leave any of his men at their mercy and unable to defend themselves.

"Gov'nor says you need to leave." The guard eyed them suspiciously with his hand resting around the hilt of his sword. Porthos took a step closer, but the guard managed to hold his ground.

"Captain, let me stay." Athos half expected an argument from Treville and was surprised to see him considering the idea.

"Against the rules! Can't 'ave nobody 'ere that could help a prisoner escape!"

"Escape! He's unable to stand up, let alone escape!" Athos growled at the guard before putting his hand into the inside of his doublet.

"Perhaps this might smooth things over." He held out a coin purse towards the guard and jangled it, just out of reach on the wrong side of the bars. Treville held his tongue as he watched Athos attempt to bribe his way past the two guards. He had nothing else available to him, and what was a little coin if it kept d'Artagnan safe until he could get him released?

"Perhaps it might." The two guards eyed the pouch as Athos slipped it through the bars. The first one pulled it open and could not contain his astonishment at what he saw. Suddenly a thought occurred to him that he could lose it if anybody suspected the second man in the cell was out of order. "But you'll need to be chained too! Can't 'ave anybody thinkin' you aren't a prisoner too."

Porthos growled at the idea, but one look at Athos soon silenced him. "Agreed, so long as it's on the same wall as him."

By the time Treville walked out of the Chatelet, he felt thoroughly filthy. Money had actually just changed hands to lock up yet another innocent man and he had said nothing to stop it.

Aramis had unwrapped his cloak and handed it to Athos before reluctantly leaving him with the only instructions he could, under the circumstances.

Keep him warm.


	13. Chapter 13

**In case you missed the memo in the last chapter, chapter ten seems to have gone walkabout along the way and a lot of readers missed it. So if you think you've missed some info, maybe go and check that you've read it, as it makes the story flow better. I only realised well after I posted the last chapter and came back to edit it.**

**If you have not seen _Sleight of Hand_, this chapter may not make much sense. But given how slightly obsessive this fandom is, I'm assuming you have. :-)  
><strong>

**Chapter Thirteen**

Serge pulled down a small bowl and looked around to see what he could put in it. The men of the garrison generally ate a hearty breakfast each morning and there was always food on hand. The child sitting at the bench looked like she was going to fall asleep and her eyes kept filling with tears, which she would wipe away with her sleeve. Her other hand held tightly to a small doll that looked like it had seen better days. There was almost as much mud on the doll as there was on the child and he wondered where they had both been.

He placed a bowl of warm oats and a large chunk of bread in front of her before plonking a spoon in the bowl.

"Eat up. I'm guessing you might have missed supper last night." Serge slid into the seat across from her and smiled warmly at her.

Juliette stared at the bread and seemed about to speak before thinking better of it. As she pulled at a piece of it and stuffed it in her mouth, her body reminded her just how very hungry she was. Before long the whole meal was gone and Serge stood up to see if she wanted any more.

Juliette shook her head. The words seemed stuck in her throat. As Serge moved around clearing dishes and getting to work with his next job, she watched him closely. He was pulling out flour and various things that she recognised. A shy smile spread across her face as she realised he was going to make bread.

Serge kept his thoughts to himself, but kept an eye on the child sitting at the bench. Despite her lack of response, she was clearly interested in what he was doing. By the time he had finished mixing dough, she was sitting up and watching intently. He turned the dough out onto the bench and began kneading at it. Finally he pulled a lump off and handed it to her.

"That's your loaf."

Juliette smiled at him as she began to echo his movements and kneaded the lump of dough.

"My papa makes bread."

It was the first words he had heard her speak and Serge was relieved to see that something had finally gotten her attention.

"Well then, you must be the expert at this. Maybe I should just give it all to you and I'll do something else."

Juliette looked at the huge lump of dough in front of him and frowned before looking up to see the old man wink at her.

"Or maybe not."

* * *

><p>Athos watched as Treville walked out of the prison with his weapons belt in one hand and his pauldron in the other. It was unnecessary to say that they would be returned first thing in the morning, but he suddenly felt very exposed without them. His friends had been forced to watch as he was chained to the wall as they reluctantly left the cell. Desperate circumstances called for desperate measures and it was a measure of just how desperate they were that Treville agreed to leave him behind. It seemed that money talked where position did not and Athos was sure he saw Porthos offering something more to the guard on his way out. Athos would not have been surprised to find it was perhaps more money, if they made it safely to the next day.<p>

They all knew that d'Artagnan was too vulnerable and unable to protect himself if left alone overnight. The fact he'd been pegged already as a musketeer made him fair game, especially when it was clear the guards were open to bribery.

Athos moved over to where they had left him and noted he still had not opened his eyes. The blue cloak wrapped around him made it appear he was just resting, but Athos wasn't so sure of that. He'd still had no sense that d'Artaganan even knew he was there, let alone recognised him. He dropped down to his knees in front of his friend and tentatively reached out a hand to push the hair back off his face. The ugly bruising made him frown in anger, but he quickly schooled his face. He didn't want to be looking angry when the lad opened his eyes.

_Warmth rested against his head. _

_Words floated past him, but they made no sense. The voice from before was gone and a new one had come. It didn't make any difference because his mind would not grasp hold of the words._

_The only thing he knew for sure was that the cold had retreated. Maybe the words and the warmth were connected, but he was too tired to care._

"D'Artagnan, can you hear me? I know you are in there somewhere.

_Hands grasped at his arms. Was he being taken somewhere else? _

_They were going to hang him! Just as they'd promised. _

"Please. I know you can hear me!" He reached out both hands and grasped at his friend's arms. He wanted to shake him until he woke up. He found himself having to fight down the urge to shout.

"Please. Wake up. You need to know who you are. You are not a horse thief. You are a musketeer! You need to remember that."

_Not a thief. They hang thieves. Not a musketeer. They betrayed him and left him to rot. Hate them._

Athos watched in astonishment as his words finally seemed to have penetrated.

"Hate them."

The words were barely audible and he wasn't sure if he'd caught them correctly.

"You hate who?"

It seemed like hours before he got a response to his question and when he did, Athos wished he hadn't.

"Musketeers. Betrayed me."

Athos felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach and he pulled back. He felt the sadness behind the words and even though he knew his friend's mind was addled, the emotion was raw and real. He finally recovered enough to lean forward again.

"I'm sorry. I never should have left you."

_The words made no sense. The warmth withdrew and he felt a chill sweep through him again._

Athos watched as d'Artagnan shivered and he remembered Aramis' words. Keep him warm. There was nothing further to be done if they could not get him out of the cell and there was only one way for him to do as he was asked. He tested the length of the chain that held him in place and realised he could not move as far as he wished to. At present, d'Artagnan was huddled sideways against the wall. In order to make the most of body heat, he needed to move him. The problem was, he wasn't sure if he would understand what he wanted.

_Hands grasped at him again and he felt the chafe of metal against raw skin. They were coming to take him to the gallows as promised. He was almost beyond caring. _

_Almost._

_Something rose up within him and told him to fight back._

"Not a thief!"

"I know that. You haven't stolen anything and this is all some terrible mistake. We will get you out of here. I promise."

_Get out of here. The trick is to make them look the other way. _

"Take me with you."

Athos felt his heart thundering in his chest. "I will never leave you again. Of course I'm taking you with me. I'm not leaving here without you."

_The words penetrated through the fog. It was a good trick. _

_Was he being tricked again?_

D'Artagnan forced his eyes open and stared at the floor of the cell before looking up to the manacles holding his wrists. Terror swept through him as he recalled being bound and waiting to die. It was a trick! He wasn't leaving at all.

"Vadim!"

Athos pushed closer as he saw the look of fear spread across his friend's face.

"He's dead. He isn't here."

_The face in front of him wavered as he stared at it. It was the face that had stood across the courtyard. The one who fired at them when they fled!_

D'Artagnan shrank back from the hand that reached out to him.

"You killed him!"

Athos shook his head in frustration. "No,_ you_ did. You fought him in the tunnels. Remember?"

_Darkness closed in. The tunnels weren't safe. Vadim was gone. Dead. And so was he if he didn't run._

"Run."

"What?"

"Run … or die." The whispered words made Athos' blood run cold. How close had d'Artagnan really come to dying that day?

He watched as his friend's burst of energy seemed to have run its course and he wilted back against the wall.

"You did run. And you didn't die." He slowly edged closer until he was finally sitting next to his friend. When d'Artagnan made no move to pull away, he slowly reached out again and touched his shoulder.

"It was a good trick." Vadim's dying words bubbled out of his friend.

Athos leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. How was he supposed to bring reality back to a young man's mind that seemed trapped?

Was it even possible?

* * *

><p>The trio had barely returned from the Chatelet when they were surrounded by men. Riders had been dispatched to recall search teams and men were slowly trickling back into the garrison. All any of them knew was that d'Artagnan was alive and currently imprisoned in the Chatelet.<p>

Treville stood in the courtyard and looked around at exhausted faces. Nobody had slept the night before.

"We found him. He's been arrested by red guards and was taken to the Chatelet. I went to the palace to get a release for him and the King is otherwise detained at present. I will return first thing in the morning. In the meantime, Athos is still with him. We _will_ bring d'Artagnan home in the morning."

Aramis scanned the crowd of men and saw the mixture of relief and anger on their faces. As he looked towards the scullery, he spotted Juliette standing in the doorway with Serge. He made his way around the group and headed towards her. As he got closer, she ran towards him.

"We found him. He's safe."

Juliette flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around his legs. Aramis reached down and lifted her into his arms as he smiled at her. "Have you had breakfast?"

He knew that Serge would have ensured it, but he wanted to shift the conversation before he had to explain the whereabouts of Louis any further. The child still had mud clinging to her clothing, but he was pleased to see Serge had wiped her face clean. A faint smattering of freckles dotted her nose. She nodded at his question.

"We made bread for you."

"For me?" Aramis raised an eyebrow and looked across at Serge.

"Seems her father is a baker. Right useful she was too at kneading the bread."

Juliette smiled at the praise, but quickly frowned again at the mention of her father. "I want to go home."

"I know. We've sent someone to get your parents. In fact, they should be here soon I think. While we wait, can I try my bread?"

Juliette nodded enthusiastically and pointed towards the door. "It's in there."

* * *

><p>Albert held his wife's elbow as the musketeer sent to find them escorted them through the entry to the garrison. He headed straight for the Captain's office to announce their arrival, but was cut off by a squeal from behind him.<p>

"Mama!"

Margaux turned and saw her daughter in the arms of one of the musketeers. He put her down and watched as she ran across the space between them. She flung herself towards the child and scooped her into her arms before raining kisses over her face. Tears flowed freely down both faces as they were reunited. Aramis watched as Albert reached around both his wife and daughter and refused to let them go.

Porthos looked across at Aramis and elbowed him in the side. The tears that shone in his eyes were reflected back at him.

"At least one thing is now right with the world today."

"'e'll be back 'ere tomorrow, safe and sound. Athos won't let anybody lay a finger on 'im."

"I know. He just shouldn't have to wait until tomorrow."

He managed to pull himself together as he noticed the family heading his way. Juliette was grinning and pointing towards him.

"Is there no limit to your ability to charm the ladies?"

"It's a gift, my friend."

Porthos simply snorted in response as he watched Aramis step forward.


	14. Chapter 14

**For all those who wanted more of Athos and d'Artagnan in the last chapter, I'm sorry, but I felt I needed to cover all bases for the story flow. Hopefully this makes up for it. Thank you as always for your kind support.  
><strong>

**Chapter Fourteen**

With no way to keep track of time, Athos could not be sure how long they had sat together in silence. D'Artagnan had made a few more incoherent or non-sensical comments about Vadim until he finally closed his eyes again and appeared to be asleep once again.

Vadim.

Athos vividly recalled the day, Vadim and his men had staged a breakout from the very same prison they now sat locked up in. As someone who was not yet even a musketeer, Athos had felt uncertain at risking d'Artagnan in the mission, but he had ultimately been overruled by Treville. They needed somebody he would not pick straight away as a musketeer. Except they had underestimated the man and d'Artagnan had almost paid for their mistakes with his life.

He looked across to see that d'Artagnan's face seemed calm as he slept and he wondered again at how the boy had made it through that mission intact. The same calm face had looked across a crowd of prisoners and guards as Vadim had held the Queen herself hostage. A slight nod was all it took for Treville to agree to Vadim's demand to open the gate. The Queen's safety was in the balance and somehow, d'Artagnan had gotten her free, completely uninjured. The rest of his plan left something to be desired, but it eventually almost worked out. Somehow.

_Musketeers betrayed me._

The words had been like a dagger through his heart when they had come out of the young man's mouth earlier, but suddenly they made sense. It was what he told Vadim in his ruse to gain the man's confidence, while sharing a cell. Athos stared at him as he wondered why the words were coming out again.

He looked around their surroundings and slapped his forehead as he suddenly understood. They were right back where he had been, alongside Vadim. His confused state of mind was clutching at straws. The guards' accusation of horse theft was driving his muddled thinking and the cell had taken him back in time to that night.

"I'm sorry that you could ever believe that." The words sounded hollow and empty, even to his own ears. After all, he was the one who had deserted him when he needed him most.

He sat for a long time before he heard footsteps coming down the corridor. The guards had obviously changed shifts as a man he didn't recognise opened the cell door, strode in and shoved plates of food at them. Not that it actually resembled food, but Athos reached out for both plates anyway.

"Enjoy your last supper … musketeers!" The words came out backed by a sneer as the man turned and pulled the cell door shut once more. It took a moment for Athos to realise he had not heard the distinctive click of a lock falling into place. His heart rate stepped up a notch at the implication. It was not like a jailor to accidentally leave a cell door unlocked. It just confirmed their fear that d'Artagnan would have been left at the mercy of who knew what, if he had not stayed. The fact they were both now unarmed and chained concerned him, but he knew he would simply need to keep his wits about him until Treville returned. Hopefully Porthos' offer could avert whatever was being planned, but he felt uncomfortable at being so out of control of the situation.

He placed the plates on the floor in front of him and decided to take charge of what he could control. D'Artagnan had not reacted to the smell of the sloppy stew that had been brought in and Athos nudged at his arm.

"Supper is served."

When he got no response he nudged harder. He was rewarded by a grunt, followed by a scowl as d'Artagnan took in the meal before them.

"No mouse."

"Not that I can see." Athos wasn't sure if his friend was referring to the food or the cell, but either way there were no rodents in sight. He slowly moved the plate forward and watched as d'Artagnan gagged at the sight of it.

"I know it's not ideal, but you need something to keep up your strength." He tried again with the plate, but d'Artagnan simply closed his eyes again and sagged back against the wall.

"Maybe later." He stared at the slop and knew it would taste even worse if left until later. He hesitantly poked at his own plate before deciding that he could wait for tomorrow as well. He shoved the two plates aside and looked back at his friend. He wasn't sure if trying to provoke a conversation was a good idea or not. It could bring up more confusion or help clarify some things. Either way, it was going to be a long night and he needed some way to keep himself awake and alert.

"Do you know who I am yet?" He knew that it was the extreme end of all the questions he could ask, based on his fear of the answer, but he had to know. It was killing him to think that d'Artagnan may never look at him again and see the truth.

"A musketeer."

It seemed like progress, until Athos recalled the guard had already given him that piece of information.

"Yes. And so are you."

Athos willed himself to stay still as he waited for a response. Finally d'Artagnan opened his eyes and turned slowly towards him. Confusion clouded his face as he struggled to reconcile what he thought he knew with the man's words. He chewed at his bottom lip and Athos wanted to smile at the familiarity of the action. He always did it when thinking something over. When he got no response, he tried again.

"You serve under Captain Treville. You are a King's Musketeer."

_Musketeers betrayed me. Betrayed me!_

He tried desperately to squash the thought that kept circling around in his mind. A spike of pain surged through his head and he grasped at it to make it stop. Before he knew it, somebody gripped at his wrists and tried to pull his hands away. The sound of the chains jolted in his mind and he cringed away into the wall.

_They left when the Red Guards came. The guards came and dragged him away to prison. To Vadim. Left him to die._

"The guards came."

Athos held d'Artagnan's wrists and tried to follow the connection. All they knew was that somebody had called the guards and d'Artagnan had been arrested as a horse thief.

"It was a mistake. Treville will fix it."

_Treville didn't want him back. _

_Resign your commission. I'm sorry, but I choose him._

"'m sorry."

"For what?"

"He's sorry. He doesn't want me."

Athos rubbed a hand over his face at the despair in his friend's voice. The conversation was completely disjointed and he had no idea what he was responding to.

"Treville? Of course he wants you! He came here to get you out."

"Told me to resign."

_Resign your commission. _

_Only musketeers were commissioned._

Athos was struggling to keep up with the connections, but that one was obvious and he shook his head. Why did he have to remember that part?

"No! It was all just part of a ruse. You were helping to lay a trap."

_A trap. It's a trap._

"They trapped me?"

"No. Well … at the beginning … in a manner of speaking … but that isn't how it was. The trap wasn't for you!"

D'Artagnan stared at the face in front of him and frowned.

"It was for you!" A look of sheer horror spread across his face as he finally understood. "It was a trap to kill you!"

_Murderer! He'd dead! You killed him! _

_The voices screamed at him from across the square._

"You're dead!" He barely breathed out the words as he inched away from the man in front of him.

The apparition in front of him frowned at his words before shaking its head.

"No! No! I'm right here!"

Pain spiked through his head again as he shook it vehemently to make the angry face go away. His stomach rebelled at the movement and he felt himself shaking from trying to control it. He tried to stop himself sliding sideways as the nausea overwhelmed him.

"If that's true … why am I waiting to hang?"

Athos sucked in a breath as he wondered how to answer. "That's a long story. Fortunately, we have a rather long night before us. But you need to stay with me so I can explain."

He watched in alarm as d'Artagnan sagged against the wall and he reached out to grab hold of him before his head hit the floor. Fear gripped at him as he watched d'Artagnan's eyes close once again. It seemed that very little was actually getting through.

The length of his chain did not allow him to move any closer so he tugged at d'Artagnan's shoulders and pulled him as close as he could. By the time he had the boy's head resting against his thigh, he regretted allowing himself to be chained. He wanted to pull him closer and drag him back from wherever his mind had run away to. Instead, he had to settle for resting a hand on top of his head and praying that the night would pass quickly.

* * *

><p>It was some hours later that Athos first heard it. The lights burned low in their sconces, but not so low that he could not see a shadow coming closer. He had been expecting it since the jailor had left the door unlocked. The fact it came in the small hours of the morning was no surprise. It was the hour he would have chosen for such an attack, when defenses were lowest.<p>

He watched as d'Artagnan still lay sleeping against his leg and he debated waking him. He knew that to do so may alert their stalker, but to leave him sleeping left him defenseless. He clamped a hand against the lad's head and waited. With his eyes almost closed and his head tilted sideways, he appeared to be sleeping as well.

The sound of metal grating against dirty hinges told him the door was swinging open and he barely resisted the urge to move. He watched through hooded lids as two feet drew closer.

"Well, ain't that a pretty sight. Holding hands while they die."

The voice carried across the cell as the intruder smirked at them. As he took another few steps closer, he was not expecting one of his victims to sweep a foot out at him and catch him off guard. The dagger in his hand clattered to the floor and Athos lunged for it. In the process, he shoved d'Artagnan sideways and only just registered the grunt of pain his actions caused.

D'Artagnan jolted awake in time to see somebody grappling for something in front of him. He rolled from the floor, into an upright position and watched the man stalking his prey. The fog in his mind was barely lifting as he watched the man and he felt his hands clench in anger.

_Rage welled up inside him. The man deserved to die! He had stolen so much and killed so many. He was being given special treatment in the Bastille. Without a confession there would be no justice. I need your confession!_

The blade of the dagger was just within reach of Athos' fingertips and he almost had it when a foot stomped on his hand. He cried out as his hand was crushed under a boot and he grasped for the dagger with the other hand.

"I need your confession!"

Athos heard a voice beside him, but had no idea what had been said. He was too busy trying to extricate his hand before the bones broke. Suddenly he felt the weigh shift off his hand and he reached for the dagger. As his fingers grabbed hold of it, he forced himself to his feet. He glanced across to see d'Artagnan had also climbed to his feet and was circling behind their attacker. The man smirked at them both as he felt confident he was still out of their reach.

"They chain animals to the wall. Look at the pair of you! Animals that deserve to die. You left Labarge to kill my friends! Today, it's your turn."

Athos waved the dagger at the man and slowly shook his head. "Not today."

"You think that's all I've got? Like I'm stupid? That's what you musketeers always think. That you're better than everybody else!"

Athos tried to keep the man focused on him as he watched him draw a pistol from behind him. He slowly stepped back and felt the chain slacken against his side, giving him a little more space to move. If he could just draw the man closer.

"This was supposed to be quiet, but if this is what it takes, so be it!"

_Labarge! _

_The name brought a fresh surge of fury rising from the pit of his stomach. Fire swirled in front of his face and he watched as a hulking brute of a man charged towards him._

Athos tossed the blade between his hands, hoping his movement would stop the man from noticing that d'Artagnan had pulled his cloak off and was twisting it in his hands.

As the heavy fabric flicked towards him and wrapped around his neck, the man was pushed forward. He stumbled, but barely managed to keep his feet. Athos grasped at his shoulder as he fell, pulling him closer and expertly slid the blade between his ribs. He felt the barest resistance of bone against the blade and he twisted it before putting his full weight behind it. The pistol slipped to the floor and he stepped on it to keep it from skittering away from him.

The man blinked at him in surprise before blood began to bubble from between his lips. Athos pulled the blade clear and shoved the man backwards while wrenching the cloak free of his body. Blood dripped across the cloak as a stain quickly spread down their attacker's torso. The adrenaline of the moment was still running through his veins and Athos felt his breath heaving in his chest.

He watched as the man staggered backwards, before sagging sideways onto the floor. A few spasms eventually subsided and it was clear their attacker was dead. He caught movement in his peripheral vision and he looked across to where d'Artagnan had dropped to his knees. Suddenly alarmed that his friend had been injured, he moved towards him, only to be pulled up short by the chain that held him to the wall. He cursed under his breath before turning to look at d'Artagnan. He was breathing wildly and looked as though he was about to topple over.

_Let him go! _

_The voice roared across the cell and he felt the weight lift off him before he climbed to his feet. The man who had come close to snapping his neck, glared back at him._

He stared at the man who reached out a hand to steady him, before standing up and slowly stepping closer.

_I'm not like you!_

_You are. More than you know._

"You!" His breath was still coming in heaving gulps and he struggled to control it. "You were there. You came for me."

Athos wondered what he was talking about, but he nodded anyway as it seemed that d'Artagnan had hooked onto a memory. He just had no idea which one.

"Why?" The word was merely a whisper, but in the silence of the cell, he caught it.

Athos smiled as he laid his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder. Even without knowing the details, he could still answer that one. "Because you're my brother. I will always come for you."


	15. Chapter 15

**So glad you liked the last chapter as I've been waiting myself to get these guys back together. It seems they had a lot to talk about. Thank you for your amazing support and wonderful comments and messages.**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Athos felt the weight of the blade in his hand while the pistol rested on the floor against his leg. He had already checked to see that it was loaded and ready for use. It was only one shot and he prayed he would not need to use it, but it helped a little if anybody else decided to come after them. The blood had dried already on the blade and he noted again the bloodstains on the cloak lying beside him. The chill in the air made him consider pulling it back across him. The only reason he hadn't was that he wanted to be free of any kind of hindrance if he needed to defend them again. He had no idea if the man who had attacked them was a guard or not. There was no way to know who was in on letting him have access where he should not have been. It may have been just the one guard who left the door unlocked, or there may be more of them, waiting for their own chance.

He looked across the floor at the body that lay sprawled there. Blood oozed out from underneath him and pooled on the cold floor beneath him. He wondered what would come at them when the body was discovered and he absently fingered the blade in his hand, hoping it would be enough to keep them alive until Treville returned.

He leaned back against the wall and looked across to where d'Artagnan had slipped into an uneasy sleep again with his head lolling against the wall. His neck was tilted at an angle that would surely bring stiffness come morning, but d'Artagnan had been reluctant to take Athos up on his offer of a spare shoulder. Even after he suggested the need to keep warm and share body heat, he had gotten a sense he was causing too much discomfort and he let it drop.

His cloak lay wrapped around the lad, as he had managed to switch it for the bloodied one, preferring not to give d'Artagnan anything else to fixate on. He reached out a hand to pull it back up where it had slipped down. He found himself unconsciously brushing hair back from the young man's face and he noted again just how very young that face looked. He frowned at the bruising and bandage that graced his forehead and tried once again to squash the guilt that rose in his throat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You should never have been here again."

Athos looked across the cell and recalled the last time he had been in this very same place. A priest had come to offer him absolution and he had rejected it, believing he was not worthy of the man's time or concern. He had not expected to see the outside world again. As he sat through the longest night, he had been forced to examine himself. Needless to say, there were regrets. There was also a sense of relief. The blackness of his life was about to be washed away and his sins would be removed.

A lot had happened in only a few months and he knew that if he was faced with the same night again, he would fight a hell of a lot harder to live. Something significant had changed and he knew exactly what that was. Somehow, the young man sleeping beside him had brought him back to life. The shell that had been walking around before, putting up the facade of life, had been refilled with something he had not known in a long time. Hope.

The last week had been the longest week of his life. After Anne and all that had transpired at la Fére, he had spent the next week in drunken oblivion. When the world crashed on his head, he generally chose to retreat into a bottle. And yet something about the last week had been so different that even during his worst moments of doubt, he had resisted that bittersweet call of oblivion. He had kept himself afloat on hope, rather than wine.

"You did that to me," he commented to the sleeping form beside him. "That's all your fault!" He smiled as he spoke and he felt a lump forming in his throat. He had not really considered how much the newest member of their brotherhood had changed him. "You need to come back to us!"

He had thought he was speaking to deaf ears and was surprised when d'Artagnan groaned beside him.

"My fault," he muttered.

Athos leaned over and checked to see if he was fully awake. "You did not know what I was referring to. That was a compliment, not a judgement."

The eyes that watched him were cloudy and he was not sure if it was from sleep or the confusion that seemed to persist.

"At some point, while I was not paying attention, you have wrought a change in me that I had not believed possible. Some would say that is a good thing." A ghost of a smile played at his lips as he spoke. "Of course, the tavern owners may not agree if they lose their coin."

D'Artagnan listened to the strange conversation, but was not sure what it meant. The man sitting beside him spoke with a familiarity that seemed to mean they knew each other well. He had called him brother and willingly chose to stay in a prison cell with him. Then why did he not even know his name? Finally he turned his head and stared at the face in front of him, trying to will himself to remember.

"Who are you?"

Athos felt as if he had been struck across the face. He had known that d'Artagnan did not recognise him, and yet until it was put so bluntly, he had tried to hope that it was not really true. Any facade he'd been hiding behind, crumbled away and he rubbed a hand across his face.

"My name is Athos."

"And you're a musketeer?"

"Yes, you remembered that from before."

D'Artagnan nodded slowly. "They called me Louis … but … that doesn't feel like it fits." He looked up with barely disguised fear in his eyes, hoping the man in front of him could fill in some blanks for him. Starting with his name.

"They didn't know who you were, and from what I understand, Juliette chose that name for you because she liked it. Your real name is Charles. You are Charles d'Artagnan."

He waited a moment to see if that meant anything and was disappointed to see it apparently did not. He had no idea how the mind worked, but it seemed incredibly strange that anybody could not remember their own name. It scared him that his friend may never find his way back from wherever he had gotten lost.

"Does that fit any better?"

It took a moment, but when d'Artagnan looked up at him, he could see the answer in his eyes. "Not really."

Athos decided it was time to change tack and try to draw on some positives. "Then I guess you'll just have to trust me on that for now. In the meantime, what _do _you remember? It can't just be a blank slate. I know you've got some things floating around up there." He pointed towards d'Artagnan's head and tried to draw a smile from him. It backfired miserably.

"Death! I remember death."

The tone of his voice made Athos' blood run cold as he considered the reactions he had been inadvertently provoking thus far.

"_Your_ death!" He shrank back into the wall and scrubbed at his face. "How is that even possible? You are here, but I saw you die!"

Athos shifted closer and felt the chain bite into his wrists once again. "It was an act! A set up! You didn't really shoot me and I didn't really die. I'm still here!"

He watched helplessly as his friend struggled against the confusion washing over him. "Of all the things you could remember, why are you so stuck on that one?"

D'Artagnan stared at him, while trying to choke back the dread in his chest. "You said you are my brother. Wouldn't your death cause me distress? Especially if I was the one who killed you?"

"I suppose it would. But it wasn't real. I'm not dead. And you did nothing wrong! You have to trust me on that. You have done _nothing _wrong!"

"Then why are so many of my memories so violent? There's blood … and explosions … and …. "

"And what?"

The eyes that looked back at him were pooling with tears. "This isn't the first time I have been imprisoned is it? I escaped. Is that why those guards chased me down? Because I'm an escaped criminal?"

"God, no! Those things … they … they're real … but not in the way you think." Athos shook his head in frustration as he finally understood. If d'Artagnan was only remembering fragments, then those fragments made for a truly ugly picture. It was no wonder he ran from the baker's home.

"If you believe nothing else I say to you, believe this. You are an honorable man. You are a musketeer … and … you are one of the finest men I have ever had the privilege to know. You are no criminal!"

He didn't know if it was the conviction in his voice or the look on his face, but Athos' words seemed to hit the mark and d'Artagnan felt himself relaxing a little. The confused jumble of half understood images did not just fall into place, but the fear telling him to run, was slowly dissipating.

"Tell me what you remember and I will try to fill in the blanks." He looked as his friend chewed at his lip and he smiled. "Please, trust me to help you."

"I escaped from here. You were in the outer yard, with others. There was a lot of shooting."

D'Artagnan closed his eyes as he recalled Athos staring at him from across the yard. On the opposite side of the law.

"Explain that one to me."

"We needed to find some explosives and the man who stole them was in here. He would have recognised a musketeer and never fallen for it. We sent you in instead after you were caught dueling. It was a set up."

"Wait! I thought you said I was a musketeer." The idea he'd been lied to already made him sit bolt upright, but Athos reached out a hand.

"Easy there! You _were_ a potential recruit at that point. You_ are_ a musketeer now! Anyway Vadim saw through our ploy and he tried to kill you. You escaped and killed him."

Without realising it, d'Artagnan was rubbing at his wrists as a chunk of memory dropped into place. "Gunpowder. He tied me to the gunpowder!"

"Yes." It didn't seem to matter how many days went past, Athos could not shake the horror of knowing what had transpired that day. D'Artagnan leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes again. Maybe remembering wasn't such a good thing after all.

"What happened to me? Why can't I remember it all?'

"That was my fault." The anguish in the reply made him open his eyes.

"How?"

When he got no response, d'Artagnan tried again. "What did you do?"

Athos licked his lips as he tried to decide how to answer. "You were injured and I left you."

For some reason he could not define, the explanation did not sit well with him. The man had stayed overnight in a prison cell to watch his back and yet he had just confessed to leaving an injured brother. If it were the truth, there had to be a good reason.

"Why?"

Athos turned to look at him. There was no condemnation in the question, just curiosity.

'Duty!" He spat the word as if it were dirt in his mouth. "I had a duty to the King to get someone else safely to the palace."

"And you left me, to do that?"

Athos swallowed hard as he nodded.

"As a King's musketeer, is not your first duty to the King?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then, by your own admission, you had no choice, it seems."

The ease of forgiveness in the answer made Athos feel ill. He did not deserve forgiveness after all that he had caused his friend to suffer. The two of them sat in silence for some time; each chewing over their own thoughts.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor made them both look up and Athos tightened his grip on the dagger, while simultaneously checking the pistol at his side.

"What have you done?"

The shout rang out across the cell as the guard walked in and saw a body sprawled across the floor. He crouched down and nudged at the body, before catching sight of the large pool of blood underneath him.

"You'll both hang for this! I was comin' to get you for the hearin', but this! When the Gov'nor sees this, 'e'll hang you 'imself!"

"Wait! It was self-defense!" Athos was on his feet and belatedly realised he still held the murder weapon in his hands. "We are chained to the wall! Somebody left the cell door open and _he_ attacked _us. _We defended ourselves!"

The guard stormed out of the cell before locking it behind him.

"You'll both hang!" He spat through the bars before he stalked off out of sight.


	16. Chapter 16

**I can't believe this story has cracked 200 reviews! I had the silliest grin on my face this morning. Thank you SO much!**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Aramis and Porthos were pacing the courtyard of the Chatelet when Treville rode though the gate. The twin faces of fury told him something was seriously wrong. He quickly slid from his horse and rushed over to discover the cause, while his stomach tied itself in knots at the multiple possibilities.

Porthos scowled at him while Aramis quickly filled him in. "They've both been charged with the murder of a guard! The Governor has them apparently and nobody will allow us in to see them."

"Murder of a guard! How the hell does anybody murder a guard when chained _inside_ a locked cell?"

He had baulked at the idea of leaving Athos behind the night before, but it was concern over d'Artagnan's welfare that had overruled his thoughts. Part of him was glad he had done so, or they would probably be facing news of the young man's suicide instead. Another part of him wondered just what lengths Athos had gone to in his plan to protect his friend. He knew that he would not have stopped until he was forced to or he had succeeded.

Neither man answered him as they fell in behind him. The Governor's office was not far from the front gate and Treville held paperwork that at least guaranteed him a meeting. He knew it was going to require something more though to achieve his goal of having both men released and he clenched his fist around the royal decree as he marched.

Two guards attempted to block his path at the Governor's door, until he held up the parchment with the Royal seal attached. They stepped back as he rapped on the door and pushed his way in without waiting for an answer.

He was shocked to see Athos and d'Artagnan kneeling on the floor, hands chained behind their backs and more guards standing over them. Athos looked up as he entered and he saw a trail of blood down the side of his face and more oozing from his lip. Clearly he had put up resistance to something and he could only guess what that had been. D'Artagnan did not respond to his presence and that concerned him even more. The young man's head was bowed and his hair hung across his face. Treville wanted to reach over and pull his face upright so he could check his welfare, but the two guards moved across in front of their prisoners, almost as if daring him to move.

Instead he stalked across to the desk and thrust the parchment towards the portly man sitting behind it.

"Release papers, signed by the King himself!"

The Governor slowly reached out for the paperwork and deliberately inspected the wax seal before breaking it open. Porthos wanted to punch the man for his slight against Treville's honour, but he held his ground with Aramis. Instead he looked towards Athos, trying to ascertain their wellbeing. Athos looked furious, which, in a way, was a good sign, Porthos concluded, but the slump of d'Artagnan's shoulders worried him.

"These are for the release of only one of them. And it is for a crime he committed before last night. There are new charges against both of these men that need to be dealt with."

The smug look on the man's face made Treville's blood boil. He knew full well his men had been attacked sometime during the night, as they had anticipated may happen.

"What new charges?" He pulled himself up to his full height and stared at the man sitting before him.

"Murder charges. One of my guards is dead. Inside their cell. And that one," he pointed towards Athos, "had the murder weapon in his hand when my guard discovered this heinous act this morning."

"Inside their cell, you say. Were they still chained when your man found them or had somebody forgotten to do their job properly?"

The Governor glared at him as the same thought had already occurred to him. He just didn't want the Captain of the Musketeers telling him how to run his own prison or undermining his authority in front of his men.

"They were chained. But the two of them obviously tricked and overpowered my man."

Treville raised an eyebrow at the answer. "Overpowered? If they were chained, they could not have reached the man, unless he came at them first. That makes it self-defense." He placed his hands on his hips as he stared at the man. "And how did they get hold of a weapon? Or didn't your guards search them before placing them in the cell? And come to think of it, why was the guard even in their cell?"

The attack on his guards' ability to do their duty was beginning to annoy him, but the alternative answer displeased him even more. He tried to shift the focus off his men and onto Treville's instead.

"That one should not have even been in there! There is no record of charges against him." He glared at Athos, who simply stared back at him.

"Exactly my point." Treville leaned forward on the desk. "It seems to me that your men have failed on several fronts to do their job. Now, do I really have to return to the King and tell him your refused to release his men? They are both King's Musketeers."

Knowing that he was clearly missing details that would only embarrass him further, the man finally conceded he was fighting a losing battle.

"Don't think this is the end of this matter, Treville." The finger pointed towards him held the promise of retribution at some point in the future, but for the moment, Treville was content with knowing he would be taking his men home. He nodded curtly and stepped over towards where the two men were kneeling.

"Remove those irons from them." The guards on either side were reluctant to comply, but slowly unlocked and removed the heavy chains. Athos reached out to grasp at d'Artagnan's elbow before helping him rise to his feet. Treville got his first look at the young man's face and he forced himself to keep a neutral expression. Cloudy eyes looked back at him as he helped steer him towards the door.

Treville ushered his men out into the courtyard and watched as Porthos went to collect their horses.

"Are you all right?" He turned to Athos while still keeping an eye on d'Artagnan.

"Yes, but we'll be better once we are out of this place." He noted d'Artagnan looking warily around the courtyard and could only guess what memories were floating before his eyes.

"This is not an escape. You are free to leave."

The others looked askance at the comment, but nobody said anything. There would be time for questions later. As Porthos pulled their horses closer, Treville stepped alongside Athos.

"Is he fit to ride?"

Before Athos could answer, d'Artagnan was reaching for his horse's bridle, while simultaneously scratching at the animal's neck. The familiarity brought a ghost of a smile to his lips and Athos simply nodded at his captain.

As they turned for the streets outside the prison, Athos pulled alongside his friend and noted the look that crossed his face as they rode underneath the archway.

"You are going home."

It was a slow and steady trek back towards the garrison, with all of them intently, but covertly, watching for any sign of distress. The skies were threatening rain and Treville hoped to have them back at the garrison before it came down. Without discussion, their youngest found himself in the middle of an escort with Athos firmly at his side. He stared at the blue cloak draped across his captain's back and wondered again at the memories from the night before. This man had told him to resign his commission. He was sure of that. And yet, here he was demanding they be released from custody. Perhaps what Athos had said during the night was true after all. Perhaps he really was a musketeer. For the first time in days, hope began to surge in his chest and he allowed himself a small smile.

"You remember something more?" Athos had seen the response and took it to be a positive sign.

D'Artagnan turned towards him, before looking back at the two men trailing behind them.

"Maybe. You were both there. At the prison."

Aramis and Porthos looked at each other before looking towards Athos. Of course they were both there. It had only been a short time since they had left and it appeared d'Artagnan had forgotten. Before either could voice their concern, Athos cut in.

"Yes, they were both there. They were also part of the plan to catch Vadim."

D'Artagnan looked intently at Aramis. "You saved the Queen."

Aramis frowned at the memory of the Queen being shoved towards him, amid a hail of musket balls and haze of smoke. "I rather think _you_ saved the Queen. You got Vadim to release her."

"So you remember them both then?" Athos felt hope rising as they continued on their trek home.

"Faces … not names." The sorrow behind the comment caused Aramis to push his horse forward.

"I have been told I have a rather unforgettable face, so I will forgive the loss of my name. I am Aramis. And that hulking lump over there is Porthos."

"Oi!"

D'Artagnan smiled at the look on the man's face. His feigned offense was obvious and clearly part of their camaraderie. He felt himself relax a little in the saddle and tried to focus on pulling anything more out of the pit his memories were buried in.

Treville was listening to the comments and knew that somehow, his men would get through. It may take some time, but they would not quit until they had restored all that d'Artagnan had lost.

It was some time before they reached the garrison and as they approached the entry, d'Artagnan fell silent. Something about the place sent his pulse racing. Athos had told him several times that he lived there and he was content to believe what the man said. Then why was he so ill at ease as he approached? He did not notice that he had pulled his horse to a stop and the others had pulled up around him.

"What is it?" The hand on his forearm did not register and Athos tried again. "D'Artagnan? What's wrong?"

He could not explain the ache spreading through his chest as he looked across at the worried faces surrounding him. "I live here?"

"Yes. I told you, this is the Musketeer garrison. You are a musketeer and you have lived here for months."

"Perhaps if we show him to his room … you know … some familiar surroundings … it will help put him at ease." Aramis looked to Athos for confirmation.

"Perhaps. Are you all right to go on? I would prefer to be inside before this rain starts."

The sick feeling welling up from his stomach would not stop, but he had no choice but to continue. They could not stay standing in the street indefinitely and Athos was right. The clouds were looking ominous. He nodded and nudged his horse forward, flanked by four more.

A stable boy hurried to greet them and several men came forward to reach out for their horses. Smiles and murmurs of greeting were lost on him as d'Artagnan struggled to control himself.

_Fight me or die on your knees! I don't care which!_

The angry words surged through him as he dismounted and he sagged against his horse. Athos grasped at his shoulder and felt tremors underneath his fingers.

The lump in his chest threatened to stop him breathing. As he turned towards Athos, he sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled backwards.

_Don't make me kill you over a mistake._

Images flooded his mind of the three men advancing on him, swords drawn. He felt himself being shoved against a post with Athos' face bearing down on him and a blade at his throat.

_Don't make me kill you. _

_It was a mistake._

"It was a mistake."

"What was?" Athos reached towards him and d'Artagnan flinched away.

"You! Me! It was all a mistake."

Athos stood still and pulled his hand away. He had no idea what this new memory was and therefore no idea how to combat it. He waited until he could pick up something that might give him a further clue. He could see his friends spread out around them and he waved them back with a slight hand movement.

"It was me! I attacked you!" The whispered words made his hands clench. Another fragmented memory, out of context, could undo the fragile trust he had already built.

"Why? Why would I attack you?" The fear behind the question was making him feel sick, but d'Artagnan knew he needed an answer before he would go one step further.

Athos sucked in a breath, knowing the inevitable outcome to the line of questioning.

"You don't need to worry about that for now. It was a mistake that you remedied."

_Don't make me kill you over a mistake._

Small drips of rain began to spit down on them and d'Artagnan looked into the sky. He almost screamed as a wave of memory surged towards him. Another time when he had looked into the sky and felt the rain on his face.

Athos grabbed at him as he watched d'Artagnan sway on his feet. Aramis was behind him and between the two of them, they soon had him propped up on either side.

"My father … he's dead … isn't he?"

The look of raw grief on his face said it all. Athos nodded at him before urging Aramis to move forward. D'Artagnan felt his feet dragging him somewhere as his mind screamed in agony.


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you for the ongoing encouragement and comments. I think I'm going to quit my day job and become a scriptwriter for the BBC. With the internet, I don't need to live in the UK. Well, one can dream :-)**

**Lots of people have asked why only bad memories are coming up and Sarah nailed it. The most intense memories will often surface first. For our boy, those aren't good ones.**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Athos felt the wave of tremors running through d'Artagnan's body as he helped Aramis get him to his quarters. The instant the newest memory became clear to him, he knew what was coming. He could see the grief clearly etched across his friend's face and wondered at the cruelty that meant he would have to relive the most traumatic experience of his life as if it had just happened.

Porthos pushed ahead of them in his rush to reach the door and fling it open. Between them, they virtually dragged d'Artagnan into his quarters and laid him out on his bed. Treville paused in the doorway and looked at Athos for an explanation as to what had just happened.

Athos sat on the bed and rested a firm hand on d'Artagnan's chest, as if expecting him to try and stand up again. D'Artagnan clutched at it as if it was a lifeline that would stop him from drowning. His eyes were screwed closed, but his breathing was too ragged for him to be asleep. Athos could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he had no clue how to settle things. He looked around at the collection of worried faces and shook his head.

"His memory is still fragmented. Last night he began to recall some more details, while missing many others." He swallowed down his frustration and continued. "He has been trying to put the pieces together with a distorted idea of the truth. I told him to tell me what he remembered so I could help fill in the blanks and correct any inaccurate assumptions."

"He just remembered his father, didn't he?" Aramis looked at him, his own distress clear on his face.

Athos nodded at him. "The first day he came to the garrison. Our … duel." The comment trailed away as they all knew what he was referring to. Their young friend's mistaken belief that Athos was responsible for his father's death had led to an unforgettable first meeting. They had almost reached the point of being able to jest about it, but it seemed that it would never be cause for a joke again.

"What can we do for him?" Treville was looking at Aramis as he spoke.

"I have no idea!" He raked a hand through his hair as he began to pace. "These kind of things can work themselves out, given enough time, or they can …"

"They can what?"

Aramis shrugged his shoulders before looking away. "Sometimes the damage is permanent."

"No!" Athos' response was louder than he intended and he looked apologetically towards his friend. "Sorry. But he was beginning to come back to me last night. With a little more time, and rest, we can bring him all the way back. I know we can."

Porthos crossed his arms across his chest, as though defying anybody to disagree. "Course we can!"

The object of their conversation had begun to settle and Athos could feel the tension dissipating beneath his hand. He watched to see what was happening and noted d'Artagnan seemed to have fallen asleep, his fingers still entwined around Athos' wrist. He was loath to remove his hand and he simply sat and watched.

Treville moved across the room and pulled the single chair over in front of him. As he sat down, he could see the lines of tiredness in Athos' face.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Not really. I was waiting for trouble after the guard left the cell door unlocked. It finally came in the early hours and after that, I didn't know if anything more would come after us."

The Captain nodded at him. It was what he had already surmised. "He needs rest, and so do you. It goes without saying, he cannot be left unattended until his mind is functioning more clearly. Let me know if you need anything." He looked around at the faces before him. "I will be back shortly."

Aramis had already moved towards the door to collect things he needed and nodded in gratitude. It took a while for him to retrieve hot water and medical supplies, but when he returned, Athos had not moved and Porthos was sitting in the seat Treville had vacated. Porthos quickly stood up and allowed him clear access.

He began to gently remove the bandage around d'Artagnan's forehead and he frowned at the bruising that was coming out in strength. He did not speak as he worked, keeping his morbid thoughts to himself. The musket ball graze had almost ended his life. The beating he had taken could well have stolen parts of his mind and they had no guarantee any of it would return. Once he was done, he began tending to the raw skin around his friend's wrists.

He felt sick at the memory of seeing d'Artagnan being dragged through the streets by the guards and his own inability to stop it. By the time he was done, he was barely holding his anger in check. He looked up to see Athos watching him and he tried to smile.

"You next," he pointed to Athos' wrists. The skin was shredded and he knew without asking that Athos had pulled against them violently at some point during the night. Perhaps more than once. The dried blood on his face and lip was evidence he had put up resistance to someone. Aramis wanted to ask, but he kept his thoughts to himself as he worked on cleaning the wounds and only looked up when the door swung open again.

Treville walked in and stopped in front of them. "He's going to need this back. And I thought it may help jog his memory."

Aramis smiled as he watched the Captain hang d'Artagnan's pauldron across the back of the chair.

Athos reached out a hand and thumbed the workings on the leather. He nodded slowly as he did so, but could not bring himself to speak. Treville patted his shoulder as he turned and headed back for the door. "I'm having some food sent across shortly. I'm sorry, but I need to return to the palace and fill the King in on what has happened. I'll check back in later."

None of them needed to ask why. The Governor could cause them no end of trouble if Treville did not get his story in first. Aramis began packing away his things and wiped his hands on a scrap of cloth.

"What now?" Porthos moved closer and looked over his shoulder at their friend, sleeping fitfully on the bed.

"Now … we wait."

* * *

><p>It was early evening when d'Artagnan awoke. He noted the dull throb in his head and could not immediately bring himself to open his eyes. He felt the softness of a mattress underneath him and it took a moment to realise he was no longer in a prison cell. The fuzzy edges to his memory began to shift until he suddenly recalled riding into the garrison. The sharpness of that memory caused him to recoil and he felt hands on his shoulders as he tried to close it out.<p>

"It's all right. You are safe."

_Safe! Nothing about his world was safe!_

"D'Artagnan, you are safe. Open your eyes."

Something about the voice caught his attention and he did as he was told. Anxious faces loomed over him and he felt momentarily disorientated.

Athos kept his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder and watched closely as he came around. The confused look was back and he tried not to frown. It seemed that each time they made progress, they also took another step backwards.

"You are in the garrison, in your room."

His eyes roamed around the room that was supposed to be his and therefore should look familiar. It was a basic affair with little in the way of furniture and nothing that personalised it in any way. It was a soldier's room. Something about that brought comfort as he considered what Athos had told him of himself. Perhaps what they were telling him was true.

He felt as if a lead weight had settled on his chest and he struggled to sit up. Hands grasped at him as he tried to pull himself upright. The effort seemed far more than it should have been for such a simple task. His breath seemed stuck in his chest and he had to force himself to breathe.

"Slow down." The hand that cupped the side of his face brought a sense of calm and he leaned into it while trying to calm his wild breathing. Grief and rage welled up from inside him in equal measure and he clenched at the blanket underneath him.

Athos grasped at him in a vain attempt to syphon off some of the intensity of d'Artagnan's reaction. He would have given anything to spare the grief-stricken response, but he knew that in order to recover his memory, he needed to recover all of it. The first time around, they had barely known the young man who had landed in their midst and they had done their best to carry him through it. The second time, they knew him well, but he did not know them. Not being demonstrative under normal circumstances made Athos loath to try, but he felt infuriated at his helplessness. He would never be able to explain what prompted it, but he reached out with both hands and grasped the sides of d'Artagnan's face.

"Breathe. That's all you need to do."

Breathe.

He didn't want to breathe. He wanted to curl up onto the floor and die.

The eyes that watched him, pooled with moisture and he could not look away.

_You need to come back to us._

_I will always come for you._

"Why?"

"Because I need you to keep breathing." The watery smile behind the words did not answer his question.

"No. Yesterday, you said you would always come for me. Why?"

Athos sucked in a breath and dropped his hands to his lap. He thought they had covered this already.

"I told you last night. You are my brother. That's why."

He heard movement across the room and looked up to see Porthos approaching him. "That's how we work. If one of us bleeds, we all do."

Aramis chose that moment to return from outside and he halted as he walked in, aware he had interrupted something. He held something in his hands and Porthos smiled at him as he saw what it was. They had obviously had a visitor.

"Of course, I'd prefer that none of us bleed, so I don't have as much work to do."

The attempt to lighten the atmosphere drew a snort from Porthos and a wry smile from Athos. Aramis tentatively moved over towards his patient and sat down on the bed.

"Treville sent a message to tell Albert and his family that we had found you. Juliette was very determined to come to see you."

D'Artagnan looked up at the mention of the child and he shook his head. "Juliette? She's real?"

"Oh, she's very real. And very enamored of you apparently." Aramis smiled at the look that crossed d'Artagnan's face. "I told her you weren't quite up to visitors yet. She thought you may need this to help you get better." He smiled broadly as he held out a small doll towards him. "She was quite insistent about it actually."

"Marie."

"I see you've met," Aramis grinned at him.

D'Artagnan reached out a hand and took hold of the doll. He turned it over in his hands before closing his eyes.

"He threw her in the mud."

"Juliette?"

"Marie. Some drunk in a tavern."

"You took a child to a tavern?"

"No. It was outside … in the alley."

Athos watched as a memory seemed to flicker across his friend's face and he smiled. Perhaps there was hope yet that it would all come back.

"Why did you take her with you when you left Albert's home?" It was a question that had nagged at all of them and Athos thought it may jog further memories.

"I didn't. She followed me. I have no idea why."

"She thought you would get into trouble for being out of bed. I told you that she is sweet on you. A little out of your league perhaps, but …. well … in a few years … when you are not so wet behind the ears …. who knows?" Aramis smirked at the comment and waited to see if his friend took the bait.

"She's six!"

"Very good. Now, what else do you remember about her? Beside the fact she is far too young for you."

D'Artagnan rubbed a hand across his face as he thought about it. "I thought I had imagined her when she was gone."

"There is nothing imaginary about that beautiful little creature."

Porthos laughed as he heard Aramis' description. "Seems somebody else is smitten too."

"What can I say? I'm a born romantic. My heart melts in the presence of such a feisty little lady." Aramis theatrically held one hand to his chest, while appearing to swoon on his feet.

Athos finally felt the atmosphere in the room shifting and he stood up to go and see about some food for them. D'Artagnan looked across at the empty chair and frowned at what hung from the back of it. Athos noted the reaction and turned back towards him.

"That is yours. Treville was holding it in his office for you and he brought it in while you slept."

Athos slipped the pauldron off the back of the chair and held it in his hands. D'Artagnan stared at it, but made no move to reclaim it. Athos sat back down on the chair and held it out to him.

"You fought hard for this. You bled for it. Trust me when I tell you that you earned it. It's one measure of who you are."

D'Artagnan slowly laid the doll on his lap and reached out a hand to take hold of the pauldron. He ran his hands over the intricate detail and sucked in his lower lip. The reason the King had bestowed it was currently lost to him, but the manner in which he earned it was not.

"For Gascony," he whispered as he closed his eyes.

Each of them knew why d'Artagnan had gone after Labarge. The trail of devastation the man had left behind had been very personal to their recruit.

"Yes, for Gascony." Athos grasped his wrist. "And for you."


	18. Chapter 18

**My apologies to anybody who got a notice for this chapter yesterday. I meant to hit repost a chapter and hit post a new chapter instead. Sorry for the confusion.**

**This chapter seems really different in style to the rest of the story, but it's the way it rolled out with an introspective Athos. The poor guy doesn't go easy on himself.**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Athos stared at the candle flame as it flickered and sputtered out. He had no idea what time it was, but they had already consumed multiple candles throughout the night. He considered getting up and lighting another one, but finally decided they had enough light in the room as another one still burned on the windowsill. The sound of deep, regular breathing drifted up from the floor and he smiled at the thought that Porthos seemed to have the enviable knack of being able to sleep anywhere.

Aramis sat slumped over against the wall, in the same position he had been for the better part of an hour, so Athos assumed he was also asleep. His own eyes were heavy with the need for sleep, but he could not allow himself to relax. The previous night's need for vigilance had forced him to stay awake. There was no such need for him to stay watching this night, given the inherent security of the garrison, but he still could not turn off his thoughts.

Somehow they had managed to get a meal into d'Artagnan without issue. The lack of food in the day or so before had obviously caught up with him and Athos was pleased to see him relax a little as he ate. He had been unaware that Serge had prepared a favourite meal for him, but seemed to have enjoyed it and left nothing behind in the bowl. The ridiculous repartee bouncing between Aramis and Porthos had been deliberately distracting and he'd been pleased to see the odd smile as d'Artagnan caught the joke or understood their comments.

In between, the haunted look had returned several times and Athos watched as his young friend swallowed down the grief that seemed to be sitting just below the surface. He looked across to where d'Artagnan lay sleeping and wondered again at the cruelty of his position. To grieve a loss once was a part of every life. To be forced to grieve twice was beyond his understanding.

Athos tugged at the binding that Aramis had wrapped around his wrist and tried not to scratch at it. The wound underneath had stopped bleeding and now it just itched. He felt his fists clench as they had the night before. When men had dared to think they had the right to take from him and had paid the price for their folly. He felt sick to consider what would have happened if he had not stayed behind in the cell. It was small comfort for the fact he had already deserted his friend once. Never again!

He leaned forward in his seat as he heard a low moan in the dark. It was not the first time d'Artagnan's inner torment had risen to the surface and would, undoubtedly, not be the last. He reached a hand across and pressed it lightly against the side of his face.

"I'm sorry that you must endure this pain again."

He watched in silence as d'Artagnan's face twisted and relaxed as his dreams carried him to some other place that he could not go. It bothered him immensely that so far, most of his friend's memories that had surfaced had caused him distress. The confusion that had caused him to run was something that could have been avoided entirely if he had just been brought back to the garrison the day of the attack. Athos berated himself for the additional pain he had caused. Duty had been a driving force in his life for so long and he rarely questioned it.

He leaned back into the chair and felt the leather of d'Artagnan's pauldron press into his back. He had draped it there again as it was within easy reach and at eye-level when he was laying on the bed. Athos vowed he would take every opportunity to remind his protégé that he was a fully-fledged Musketeer. In fact, he decided, he needed to focus on reminding him of a whole lot more than that. Surely the positives outweighed his dark memories. He scratched at the back of his neck and dipped his head as he considered that. There was still one major memory that he knew would cause yet more grief. When d'Artagnan recalled the one he had loved and lost, would the combined grief of losing his father and his lover all at once, tip him back over the edge?

The idea of that terrified Athos. Even the strongest men broke when pushed too far, too fast. When Constance had made her decision, they had been there to pick up the pieces and hold him together. This time, when the memory inevitably surfaced, would d'Artagnan see them in the same way and allow them to help him? He glanced across the room at his two sleeping friends.

"Tomorrow, we have much to do." He turned back to d'Artagnan and nodded resolutely. "Tomorrow, we begin reminding you of all that you have to live for."

The light was burning lower and he felt his eyes growing heavier. Once again, the mumbled sounds of torment caught his attention and he sat up to see d'Artagnan shifting in his sleep. It may have been exhaustion that prompted it, but when Aramis awoke in the morning, he could not help smiling at the sight that greeted him.

Athos was stretched the length of the bed with his arm clasped firmly across d'Artagnan's chest. The fact his patient had apparently slept soundly through the night was not lost on him. He had always known the two of them were good for each other.

He barely contained a laugh as he stood up to stretch and caught sight of Marie. The little doll had been pushed aside when they had brought food in the night before and she had clearly been forgotten about when d'Artagnan fell asleep. The sight of her, half buried under a pillow, made him smile.

"Juliette will have words with you, my friend! That does not look comfortable," he muttered to himself.

"I dunno. They look pretty comfortable to me." Porthos stretched his arms over his head as he sat up and cracked his neck sideways.

Aramis turned towards him and simply smiled. "They do, don't they?"

* * *

><p>The rain from the night before had passed over and the courtyard smelled of the unique combination of straw and rain, being warmed by the sun. D'Artagnan sat at the bench with his eyes closed and savoured the smell. It reminded him of something. A sense of peace washed over him as he realised it smelled like home. The fields of Gascony always smelled like that after rain.<p>

He was completely unaware that Athos had sat down across from him and pushed a bowl of something towards him. The faint smile that graced his face made Athos hesitant to interrupt it. It wasn't long before Aramis and Porthos joined them and the moment was gone as the noisy duo arrived. D'Artagnan shook his head as he realised he had drifted off and noted Athos staring at him.

"What?"

A faint quirk of his lips was the only response he got as Athos considered his words carefully. "That seemed like a good memory at last."

D'Artagnan ducked his head and nodded, closing his eyes again as if to recapture the moment. "I was home. It smelled like this."

He blinked again and noted a strange look that momentarily crossed Athos' face before it was gone. "_This_ is your home too."

"I know!"

The answer was too quick, as if he was trying to reinforce the idea in his own mind. Athos pushed the bowl towards him again and nodded as d'Artagnan picked up the spoon.

"I cannot begin to imagine how strange this must be for you. For each of us, we know you and trust you and would do anything for you. In return, you have only our word to go by. I hope, that over the next days or weeks … however long it takes to retrieve all that you have lost …. we can restore that trust you once had in us."

Portos slapped him across the shoulder as he listened. "What 'e said! We're all 'ere."

"And we aren't going anywhere without you." Aramis nodded from across the table.

D'Artagnan looked around at the faces in front of him and felt his chest constrict. If it was an act, they were consummate professionals and should have been on the stage and not soldiering.

"So, what do you propose we do from here? I can't just follow you around!"

"Why not? It seems as good a plan as any to me." They each looked at Aramis as he nodded his head. He spread his hands and pointed around him. "Familiar surroundings, handsome faces, good food! Wine! I think we need wine!"

"It's barely past sunrise. Maybe a little later in the day," Athos muttered.

Porthos raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. That had not always been a valid argument in the past when they had used it.

"Good point. What I mean is, being back here in a place you know, has already prompted your memory. Perhaps we should take you to some more places that will help the rest of it return."

"It couldn't hurt." None of them had noticed Treville approaching as they sat working on a strategy.

"Captain," Athos nodded towards him.

"It's the best idea so far. Take the day and go to some places that you think might help. Get back in the saddle. And wear your uniform. You may not feel like it yet, d'Artagnan, but you are a part of this regiment."

Treville had noticed that d'Artagnan had not yet put his pauldron back in place and he frowned at the implication. He nodded at them as he headed for the stairs, confident that his men would take care of it.

* * *

><p>D'Artagnan stood as Athos shifted the thick leather further up his arm and tightened the strap. It felt strange and yet somehow felt very right too. He let out a breath as he clasped his hands into his belt to steady them. Athos rested a hand on his shoulder and watched his face intently.<p>

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." The firm nod belied the knot of doubt in his stomach.

"Do you need your bodyguard?"

"What?"

D'Artagnan spun around to see Aramis grinning at him as he waved Marie in the air.

He choked back a retort and Aramis stepped closer, before dropping the doll to his side.

"Say what you were going to say."

D'Artagnan looked at the man across from him, unsure of where the line was between them. His mind had supplied a quick response to the teasing, but something had made him pause. He did not yet know, how far was too far.

Aramis tried again. "You were about to respond. What was it?"

D'Artagnan felt the others watching him and he smiled, hoping to temper the comment. "I was just thinking that I have the three of you and yet I still need a doll to protect me. What does that say of all your skills?"

"And there you are!" Aramis burst out laughing. "That is exactly the kind of thing you would say before … well … that is your kind of wit. I have missed hearing it this past week."

D'Artagnan felt the weight of uncertainty lift as he watched the smiling faces around him.

"Do not hold back. Speak your mind and we will listen." Athos smiled at him as he gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"

* * *

><p>The cobblestone streets held a vague sense of familiarity, but he was unsure if that was because he had spent so much time wandering them recently, or if he actually knew them. The men had assured him that his memory of the layout would return and had allowed him to lead the way. He nudged his horse along and watched intently as they passed taverns and markets and wandered through small alleyways.<p>

He missed the look of concern that passed between the trio as they neared a certain house. Athos debated steering him away, but decided it had to come eventually and it seemed d'Artagnan was taking himself there anyway.

As they turned through an archway and headed out into an area of housing, d'Artagnan pulled his horse to a stop. The look that crossed his face was unreadable as he stared at the house.

"This was home too, wasn't it?"

Athos pulled alongside him and nodded. "For a time. You boarded there when you first came to Paris." He watched closely for any sign of recognition or distress and he felt his heart sink when it finally came. His friend's shoulders slumped and his head dropped to his chest. Athos looked back to see the others had noticed it too. He was unsure whether to push or wait, but it was d'Artagnan who made up his mind for him.

"Where next? I don't belong there anymore." The bitterness behind the comment was plain to hear and he knew they were not done yet. This particular thread of his life held so much joy and heartache wrapped up together that it surely had to come out further. Perhaps today was not the day for it all.

"Food. And wine. And maybe a deck of cards." Porthos slapped a hand across his shoulder as he nudged d'Artagnan back the way they had come. "Enough for one day."

The misery reflected in his friend's eyes told him that it was going to take much more than a bottle of wine to help heal this one again.


	19. Chapter 19

**It's funny, I keep getting asked why only the bad memories are surfacing and I think that under such circumstances, the deeper memories or more vivid ones would surface first. Having said that, if I go by canon, there aren't a whole lot of good ones that aren't tainted. D'Artagnan getting his commission came under trying circumstances and Constance – well we all know how well things turned out there. So, I guess I will be delving into the imagination a little from here on instead.**

**Chapter Nineteen **

The noises of the tavern had long since faded into the background. Athos twisted the glass in his hands as he watched d'Artagnan's face across the booth. On other nights, he would have chosen to sit alone and drink in peace, content in the knowledge that his friends were not far away and following their own choices. Of course, there were those times he had to step in as Porthos backed himself into a corner and had an opponent pull a blade or pistol on him. Most times he knew his friend could handle it on his own. Still, it never hurt to keep an eye out for him.

This night was different. They had arrived at the tavern and stayed together. A barmaid that always tried to catch Aramis' eye, had been particularly attentive. Perhaps the fact she could not gain his attention had been seen as some kind of challenge. Whatever the case, she had eventually turned her attention elsewhere.

Athos dropped his glass to the table and began to pour a refill. He noted that d'Artagnan had barely touched his, yet he could have passed as drunk by the glazed look on his face. By the time he realised Athos was watching him, d'Artagnan looked away, an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks.

"Do you remember that we told you to speak your mind?"

When he got a vague nod in response, Athos continued. "Well? What is on your mind?"

"Me." D'Artagnan ran a hand through his hair as he tried to decide how to continue. "I mean, everything that has come back to me so far, you have explained to me, but … it …"

"But what?" Athos leaned back into the booth and slowly waved a hand, encouraging d'Artagnan to continue.

"I feel like I am some kind of patched together piece of cloth. I do not know who I truly am. I have glimpses from what you have told me … but I do not know myself."

Athos leaned forward and pushed his glass aside. "Do you trust us yet?" His eyes did not waver from d'Artagnan's face as he awaited an answer. "Truthfully. I will take no offense at your answer."

"I don't truly know why … but yes."

"Then trust us to share what we have come to know about you since we met."

Athos waved over a barmaid and placed an order for more wine. It was going to take some time and he needed another drink.

"The first time we met, you have recalled already." D'Artagnan dropped his head as he nodded. Athos reached across and pushed his chin up.

"No, never be ashamed for being prepared to defend somebody you love. You believed I had murdered your father, with good reason. To avenge him is a son's right. You showed courage to turn up to the garrison and call me out. Your sense of honour does your father proud, because it is clear that he instilled it in his son."

"Once you knew the truth and you saw another injustice, you risked your own welfare to help us track down the real perpetrators." Aramis picked up the story from his end and he nodded towards Porthos. "We could not have found the truth of the matter without your help and Athos would have been shot."

D'Artagnan flinched as that part of the saga had not been completely clear to him. He closed his eyes as he suddenly recalled seeing Athos in chains, facing a firing squad.

"Breathe." The word floated through the air and he felt himself struggling to comply. Porthos laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it until he gulped in a breath.

"There you go! Don't be doin' that again or Aramis might bring out the leeches and suck somethin' out of you."

"I would never put those vile things on my worst enemy … well perhaps I would … but be assured I would not put them on you! On Porthos maybe, but not you."

Aramis smiled across the table and d'Artagnan felt Porthos' hand at his neck. "Do you always take care of things when someone is injured?"

Aramis held out his hand and splayed out his fingers. "Well, I have been told these are quite a marvel and have a very soothing touch."

"The answer is, yes. Aramis is our medic when any of us needs attention or needlework." Athos nodded in deference to Aramis while simultaneously glaring at him.

"Reckons 'is needlework is fine enough for the Queen's chemise, 'e does." Porthos laughed.

"The Queen's chemise …"

Another glare from Athos made d'Artagnan wonder what he had missed, but he had no time to consider it before Aramis spoke again.

"We keep doing all the talking. But what do you wish to know?"

"You seem like you have been friends forever. I am younger than you all. How do I even fit in here?"

"We keep you around to take care of the horses."

"And to run errands when we are otherwise engaged."

"And to clean our weapons."

"Or reload them."

The responses flowed thick and fast between Aramis and Porthos and d'Artagnan felt his lips itching into a smile. Somehow, he knew they were joking, but he still did not have an answer to his question.

"You bring many things to this group." The quiet tone that cut across the nonsense made both of them instantly stop.

Athos paused as he considered his next words. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought about the answer for himself.

"You remind us that honour is something worth living for. You see the world through less jaded eyes than some of us. You refuse to be cowered when faced with a challenge. You live life with passion. You freely offer a friendship that we would have been fools to reject."

D'Artagnan found himself speechless at the emotion behind Athos' response. He stared across the table, unable to formulate any kind of answer. Eventually he managed to pull his thoughts together.

"It seems to me that I am following you. Tell me more of the men I have pledged to walk alongside."

Porthos took another swallow of wine before nodding at Aramis. "Well, you know 'e's the one who patches us up. 'e's also the one most likely to be found hanging from a window in the early hours of the morning with some delightful damsel kissing his 'ead before 'e falls on it."

Aramis looked offended and pointed a finger across the table. "Don't go spilling all my secrets to the lad at once. He currently likes me. Besides, if anything ever happens to my head it will more than likely come about after you have mistaken it for a melon and shot it off my shoulders."

"What?"

Porthos laughed at the look on d'Artagnan's face and smiled broadly. "Don't worry, never missed yet. Although that does look an awful lot like a melon." He held his hands up and sized up Aramis' head in the frame between his thumbs and fingers.

"What about you?" D'Artagnan nodded toward Athos with a faint smile on his lips. "Any secret ladies hidden away or unusual fighting skills?"

He watched as Athos face twisted before he managed to pull down a blank mask. He knew he had inadvertently hit a nerve and he wished he could retract his question. The mood had subtly shifted and he had no idea why.

"Besides a wife who wants me dead?" It was unfair to bring her up, but she was a part of the tapestry that still had holes in it and she would no doubt surface at some point anyway. He needed d'Artagnan to remember her, as it was the only way to truly protect him from her machinations.

Porthos felt d'Artagnan stiffen beside him and he reached out a hand to steady him. "Easy there, lad."

"The trap!"

Athos was the only one who had been privy to that conversation and he nodded slowly.

"She was the target. I tried to kill you to trap her."

"You _pretended_ to shoot me. You did not actually do me any harm."

"It was just pig's blood. 'e's fine, really!"

D'Artagnan felt the blood pounding in his ears as the memory began to seep into his brain and squeeze out the voices around him. Athos watched as he slowly moved a hand up to his ribcage and he steeled himself for the moment of clarity. When it came, they all knew, because d'Artagnan had gone stock still.

"You … shot … me." It was barely a whisper. His mind was running so loudly he could barely focus on what he was seeing. The woman that Athos held at gunpoint was calling to him. He felt himself move towards her, only to recoil from her. The scent of her skin beneath his, made him want to retch. Her face contorted before his eyes and he saw her threatening to kill Constance. His heart was trying to break out of his chest and he looked up to see Athos reaching for him.

"Breathe!"

It was a simple command, but not simple to obey. The flood beating its way through his head brought a corresponding flood of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt himself tensing as if preparing to go into battle. Except there was no-one to do battle with. He was vaguely aware as Porthos slid out of the booth and Athos took his place. The hands that gripped his shoulders were insistent about something.

"Breathe!"

"I think we need to return him to the garrison." Aramis was already on his feet beside Porthos. "Can he stand?"

Athos tugged at d'Artagnan's arms and managed to get him to his feet. It took some effort to get him to head for the door and by the time they made it out the door, d'Artagnan still hadn't spoken a word. Athos felt sick at the thought his actions had finally come back to haunt him and he turned away in shame, fully intending to allow Porthos and Aramis to steer d'Artagnan home. He was surprised to feel a hand grasp hold of his arm and he turned back.

"Not … your … fault." D'Artagnan reached out a shaking hand to clumsily grasp at Athos' face. Tears shone in his eyes and he found his throat closing over. "She had to be stopped."

Athos reached up and grabbed hold of d'Artagnan's wrist. Once again, that easy forgiveness had been extended when he had no business asking for it, let alone expecting it to be granted. It was so much a part of their young friend's nature that he knew he should not be surprised.

By the time they returned to d'Artagnan's room, each of them had long since fallen silent.

"He is not well enough to be left alone yet. Perhaps you need to stay tonight." Athos nodded towards Aramis as they removed his weapons belt and deposited d'Artagnan on the bed. Aramis shook his head and Athos frowned at him.

"I believe he needs _you_ more than he needs me tonight."

"But he …"

"Athos, he is not unwell. He is just still a little confused. He simply needs watching. He needs you!"

As if to underscore his point, Aramis tugged at Porthos' arm and headed towards the door. "I'll check on him in the morning."

Athos grunted as he dropped down into the chair beside the bed. "I am the _last _thing he needs!" He sighed as he rubbed a hand through his hair.

As Porthos felt himself being pushed out the door, he turned to Aramis. "Is that a good idea?"

"Trust me. They need to stay together, not allow this to tear them apart."

Athos sat watching as d'Artagnan's body relaxed into the bed and his mind seemed to shut down. It seemed that every thing he tried to do to help, only brought distress. It was not the first time he had wondered at the way the jumble of memories seemed to be surfacing and he tugged at his beard in frustration.

He looked around the room, as if seeking answers that were just out of his grasp. By the time his eyes landed on the small doll sitting on the floor, he couldn't help but pick her up. The tufts of hair stood out at an angle and he found his thumb tracing over her face. Her dress was torn and he noted where mud stains still spattered the fabric.

It was just a child's play thing. There was an innocence in the offer to bring comfort that astounded him. He found himself looking at the young face sleeping in front of him.

"You really do draw people to you, don't you? Whether they wish to be drawn or not!"

He looked at the doll's face again. "So, do you have any words of wisdom to help sort out this mess?"


	20. Chapter 20

**I am sad to say this story has reached its conclusion and I need to sleep. I don't usually get two chapters out in one day, but this seemed insistent to be finished. Thank you seems to be so little for all the readers who have messaged, reviewed, favourited, laughed with me, laughed at me and generally encouraged this story to unfold. You are all a part of it, so thank you once again.**

**Chapter Twenty**

Treville noted the group entering the courtyard and he watched closely. He knew his men had things in hand and that all that could be done for d'Artagnan was being done. He was pleased to see they had managed to get him back into uniform before riding out earlier in the day. He leaned over the railing and watched as they almost carried d'Artagnan between them and he wondered at the wisdom of allowing him to get drunk on top of a still-healing head wound. He sighed as he thought perhaps it was the kind of release his youngest needed. It surprised him then when he saw Aramis and Porthos making their way out of his room, clearly heading for their own.

He was not sure what prompted it, perhaps years of reading battle strategy having honed his skills, but whatever it was, he felt the need to investigate for himself. He crossed the square and knocked on the door. Moments later Athos opened it, expecting Aramis to have changed his mind.

"I knew you would …" he pulled up short when he spotted Treville instead.

"I would, what?"

"Nothing, Captain. I thought you were Aramis coming back."

Treville looked at his friend and took in the slumped shoulders and defeated look on his face. Why would the other two have left him looking like that? He suddenly noted the doll in his hands and could barely contain a smile.

"Does he need tucking in too?"

Athos frowned at him, before realising what he was talking about. He shook his head as he looked at the doll. "I just wondered if she had any ideas. Apparently not."

"Is everything all right? He drank too much tonight?" Treville felt his concern rising and he gently pushed the door open to check for himself. D'Artagnan lay on his side on his bed and was clearly asleep. He looked at Athos as he slowly walked into the room, hesitant about waking its sleeping occupant.

"Athos?"

The man pushed the door shut behind and walked over to stand beside Treville.

"He barely drank anything. He is overwhelmed and struggling to find his place again. I am not sure that I can help him find his way back."

Treville looked around the room and pointed out the obvious. "Aramis and Porthos did not feel the need to stay? Perhaps they have greater faith in you than you do."

"Perhaps they are fools!" Athos muttered as he turned away.

"Not that I have noticed."

"Every memory he dredges up brings issues that I cannot shield him from. The more I think on it, the more I wonder if coming to Paris has been a blessing or a curse to him."

"He has never struck me as somebody who needs shielding. He _does_ need you. And Aramis and Porthos. He needs to be sure you are here for him when all else is still uncertain for him. You are the constant anchor he has held to since he came here. He could do far worse than the three of you."

When Athos did not answer he clamped a hand on his shoulder as he turned for the door. "Just for the record, I have faith in you too."

As Athos found himself once again alone, he pulled the chair across to the bed and propped his feet on the edge of it. For some unknown reason, he was still holding onto Marie and he frowned at the stitched face.

"Well … I'm still waiting! You aren't helping very much."

When d'Artagnan awoke early the next morning, he could not contain a smile at the sight next to his bed. Athos was slumped in the chair, his feet still propped up on the bed. His head had dropped to his chest and one hand was still wrapped tightly around a certain small doll.

"Good morning, Marie," he grinned at her. "I see you are making friends everywhere."

* * *

><p>"Over there." Athos pointed towards the open space. "There was a seating stand there and the King sat over there. Along with the Cardinal, of course."<p>

D'Artagnan felt the morning sun washing over him as he took in the empty field. It was not that long ago that it had been adorned for the King's Challenge, but now it stood completely bare. He felt his hand clenching around the hilt of his sword as he remembered the feeling of raw fury that drove him forward. The monster in front of him had just nearly killed Treville before crushing his shoulder into the dirt.

"Head over heart."

Athos watched and waited to see if there was anything more coming from that comment. His own words had bitten him in the preceding week and he had vowed never to use them again.

"I think my head got left behind somewhere. I wanted to kill him!" The words came out through gritted teeth.

"We all did," Porthos nodded in agreement. "The Cardinal played us and Treville tried to protect us."

"I went to the Bastille to kill him."

Athos simply nodded at the memory, confirming his stupidity.

"He nearly killed me that night. Except you stopped him."

_I'm not like you._

D'Artagnan flexed his hand in front of him. The energy of the crowd surged through him again as he recalled seeing Labarge swing at him. "I can feel it. The blade. He looked … shocked. Like he didn't believe it was happening. He considered me a poor opponent."

"He was a fool and his own arrogance left him open. Your skill finished him."

_You are. More than you know._

"Skill that you trained into me."

"Talent that I simply honed."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "No. You spent many hours working on me, pushing me to do better. You never lost patience with me during all those drills."

"One day, you might even land a blow on him," Porthos grinned at him.

"Do you remember what happened afterwards?" Athos ignored him and folded his arms as he waited to see what else was coming out.

D'Artagnan looked across the grass, as if looking to where the King was sitting.

"Loyalty. He said he admired loyalty."

"It ranks rather highly with us too," Aramis nodded towards him.

"You earned this," Athos patted at D'Artagnan's pauldron. "It always come at a price, but we each believed it was worth it."

"You _believed_?" Confusion crossed his face, as if he had misheard the comment. "What do you believe now?"

Athos turned to avoid his gaze and stepped away from him, before slowly turning back. "One day, each of us may pay the ultimate price for wearing that. I only pray that day is many years from now."

He could not bring himself to voice the doubt that had clawed at him for a week, thinking d'Artagnan had already paid the price for his service to the Crown.

* * *

><p>Their journey through the city took in several more stops before they headed for the garrison. It was clear that d'Artagnan's memories were slowly coming back, although he was still missing patches of time, or faces, or details of particular incidents.<p>

They were still some way from home when d'Artagnan asked Aramis if he could have a word with him. The other two men urged their horses forward without being asked and Aramis turned in the saddle.

"I have a favour to ask. I'm assuming you are the right person to ask."

"Are you feeling well? Is everything all right?" The immediate concern on his face made d'Artagnan shake his head quickly.

"I'm fine, honestly! I am just in need of something that I think you can help me with."

When Athos looked back over his shoulder he was relieved to see Aramis smiling at whatever d'Artagnan was saying.

* * *

><p>Athos noted the hesitation and he waited. The meeting had been arranged the day before, but he knew it would still possibly open up more memories. He was more prepared for them now, having spent the better part of three days taking in the places around the city that could prompt them. Some of them had been frustrating. Others provoked fear. Some caused fits of laughter as the best efforts of Aramis and Porthos came to the fore.<p>

He knew it would be some time before d'Artagnan was entirely sure he was no longer an "apprentice" musketeer and therefore not subject to special rules.

Whatever the case, he was incredibly grateful to see they finally had their friend back. He watched as d'Artagnan finally knocked on the door and stepped back to wait. It only took seconds before they heard somebody running for the door and Athos could not contain a smile as the door flew open.

"Louis!" Juliette launched herself at him and d'Artagnan was forced to grab her before she fell forwards off the step. Small arms wound around his neck and he felt her face burrow into his shoulder.

"I think she missed you," Athos smiled at him.

"She has talked non-stop since your message arrived yesterday." Margaux stood in the doorway, barely containing the tears in her eyes. "Please, come in." She gestured behind her and touched his arm as d'Artagnan carried Juliette inside. Albert watched as the group made its way into his wife's sitting room and he nodded at Odette as she went for refreshments.

D'Artagnan looked around awkwardly, aware that sitting down was going to be an interesting exercise. Athos barely managed to keep a straight face as he watched the young man's discomfort.

"Juliette, you need to let him go."

D'Artagnan felt her grip tighten around his neck and he looked at her mother, unsure of how to extricate himself. Finally an idea came to mind.

"Juliette, I have something for you, but I need to get it."

The child pulled her head back and looked up at his face. Debating whether or not she wanted to let go, he finally resolved the dilemma for her by crouching down and setting her on the floor. He knelt in front of her and slowly pulled a package from inside his doublet. Athos watched as he handed the cloth-wrapped package to the child and he wondered what it was. Based on the size, he had a fair idea.

Juliette tugged at the string that held it wrapped up and unwound the cloth to reveal Marie. Her face had been scrubbed clean and her torn dress had been replaced with a new blue lace one.

"My friend made her a new dress since her other one was ruined. I hope that one is all right. She is now wearing the colour of the Musketeers."

"Marie is a musketeer?" The awe in her voice made them all laugh.

"I suppose she is. She is loyal and brave and stood by my side. Just like you did." Tears shone in his eyes as Juliette threw her arms around his neck again.

Eventually she pulled back as Odette brought food and drinks in for their guests, but she would not let him move away from her. As he sat on the settee, she had pride of place on his lap.

"Your captain tells us that you have regained most of your memory." Albert smiled at him. "That is good news indeed after being so lost there for a few days."

D'Artagnan looked at the child snuggled against him and he found the words stuck in his throat. He had been responsible for endangering her life and yet her parents held no malice towards him.

"I'm sorry for the distress I caused you. It was never my intention."

"We know that." Margaux smiled at him while watching her daughter. "Your shadow could not have known what would come her way. And you are not responsible for her choices."

"Still … I placed her in danger … and I'm truly sorry."

"From what I understand, you kept her safe, despite your own injuries. When we spoke last, you did not know what kind of man you were and feared the worst. My daughter may be impulsive, but she would not have given you Marie if she did not think you were a good man. I can only agree with her assessment."

By the time they were ready to leave, Juliette reluctantly stood on the step and tried to keep control of her bottom lip. D'Artagnan knelt down in front of her before gathering her into his arms one last time. He planted a kiss on her cheek and he stepped back to see she was almost crying.

"Papa said I can't call you Louis anymore because it's not your name."

"You can call me anything you like," he grinned at her, before finally turning away.

As the two of them walked down the alleyway, back towards the garrison, Athos finally spoke up.

"I have just one question for you."

D'Artagnan turned to see the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"How did you get Aramis to make you a doll's dress?"

"Well, I did ask him. Since his needlework is apparently fit for a queen." He missed the faint reaction that comment caused and continued on. "But he told me it is apparently not good enough for dolls."

"Then how?"

"Constance. Aramis asked her and she agreed."

Athos kept looking ahead as they walked, knowing what wasn't being said.

"She's a good woman."

"Yes, she is." The sadness in his voice could not be disguised and Athos wished he could do something to erase it.

They continued to walk in silence for a time before d'Artagnan spoke again.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not giving up on me. For looking for me past when you should have stopped."

Athos felt his stomach twist as he recalled Treville calling off the search. He did not trust himself to speak, as he knew how close he had come to giving up.

"There is something I have come to see in the last few days. Every memory that has surfaced, whether good or bad, you are by my side."

"I was not by your side when all of this went wrong!"

"How long are you going to torture yourself over that?" D'Artagnan stopped walking and waited for Athos to turn back to him. "How long?"

Athos shook his head, trying to find the words to explain his guilt and fear that ate at him from the inside out.

"I am a musketeer, am I not?"

"Of course! You know that."

"Then risk goes with the territory. You cannot wrap me in cloth and stop me getting bruised."

"It was a little more than _bruising_!"

"You know what I mean. You … all of you … you have shown me the depth of your brotherhood. There will no doubt come other times when I am at risk. As will you be! Do you not realise that the feeling runs both ways?"

Athos stepped closer and grasped at dArtagnan's neck before pulling his face closer still. "I thought I had lost you."

"But you didn't."

Athos finally pulled away and scrubbed at his face.

"Just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Next time you find yourself in trouble, make sure you let your guardian angel bring you home again!"

"Done." He grinned as he wrapped his arm across Athos' shoulder and turned for the garrison once more.

**Author's Note:**

**I had a lot of questions about Marie along the way and she got a little big-headed with all the attention, which caused her hairline to recede a touch as the wool disappeared into the stuffing. It caused a few problems with her publicity stills, but we got in the Kardashians' hairdresser to sort it out. She thinks she should have her own story as someone suggested and then a mini-series or run of movies as well as a clothing line. Lace is high on the drawing board along with big sleeves. She is trying to negotiate her terms right now and has attempted to open her own Facebook page for fans. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't meet the age requirement or the physical requirement of being able to type on the keyboard. She does, however, have her own agent, who will be collecting 27% of all her future earnings. I cannot believe a doll (who was almost an afterthought) became a central character to my story, but I'm very glad she did. It added so much depth in a way I could not have achieved otherwise. Thank you for taking her to heart the way you did and enriching d'Artagnan's story. Juliette is very happy to have her home once again and last I saw her, she was dreaming of the day she is old enough to marry d'Artagnan.**

**As for me, I finally bought the book off ebay. It's been on my must-read list for years, but given how many other books are on there, it got bumped. Time to remedy that and find out what happens, now that my time is not consumed by writing. See you next time the muse gets an idea. Thank you once again for your time and interest.**


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