Athos and Aramis startled awake at the thud and crash that accompanied d'Artagnan's body falling to the ground, followed by the chair which he'd unbalanced and which fell behind him. Even Porthos in his fevered state jumped at the noise, although it wasn't enough for him to fully awake. At Porthos' movements, Aramis rolled over to check on him, concern rising that his friend's condition may have worsened yet again. Athos, in the meantime, was quickly in motion, rising to his feet when he saw the Gascon's body laying still and uncomfortably twisted on the floor.

The sound had apparently been loud enough for others to hear and, as Athos crouched at d'Artagnan's side, Treville and Fouquet appeared at the door to the small room. "What happened?" the Captain asked, even as Athos tried to rouse the young man.

"No idea," Athos replied, slowly rolling the boy onto his back, tapping a hand on his cheek. "We were asleep," he explained grimly, already chastising himself for allowing himself to rest.

Treville manoeuvered around the small space and positioned himself on the Gascon's other side, eyes narrowing when he saw the spots of red seeping through the bandages that covered his flank. "Let's get him back into bed so we can have a look at his wounds. I have a feeling he's torn some of his stitches."

Athos nodded, and between the two of them, they lifted the young man onto the bed, Aramis watching from his spot across the room, waiting to see if he'd be needed. Athos sat on the bed beside d'Artagnan while Treville righted the fallen chair and sat down to remove the bandages, which were becoming rapidly stained with crimson. When the Gascon's side was exposed, the Captain swore softly under his breath at the red and sore looking wounds which were both seeping blood where the thread he'd placed earlier had given way. "I'll need to pull these stitches and re-do them," he said, looking up at the older Musketeer. The man inclined his head slightly in understanding as he reached for a wet cloth and wiped it across d'Artagnan's face in an effort to bring the young man around.

Treville left to get his supplies and Aramis made motions to stand, Athos waving him back with a hand, "There's nothing to be done, Aramis. The Captain will close the wounds and, when he wakes, d'Artagnan will provide us with a reasonable explanation for why he was out of bed a day after nearly bleeding out." Aramis flinched at Athos' harsh tone, recognizing the concern that laced his words.

Within minutes, the Captain had returned and wiped the blood away from entry wound, pulling the remaining stitches in preparation for placing new ones. As the needle pierced d'Artagnan's skin, Athos noted the grimace on the young man's face and the sudden stiffness in the previously lax body, indicating the boy's readiness to awake. "Captain, a moment if you please. I believe our young Gascon is about to join us." Treville paused and watched d'Artagnan's face as Athos tapped on one cheek in an effort to wake him. Seconds later, the Gascon managed to pull open his eyelids, blinking several times before inhaling sharply, the pain from his injured side registering and momentarily overwhelming him. Athos moved a hand to the boy's chest, murmuring soft words of comfort as he coached the boy to slow his breathing and relax.

"Athos, wha'?" d'Artagnan mumbled, confused at why he felt so much worse than before.

"You fell and ripped your stitches. The Captain was just about to place new ones," Athos explained, watching as d'Artagnan's face turned red, deciding that an explanation could wait until later. Softening his tone, he asked, "Do you need something for the pain before we begin?" The Gascon was still horrified thinking about the fact that he'd have to explain at some point his reasons for being out of bed, and couldn't imagine explaining that he'd needed the chamber pot. He shook his head quickly, not wanting to draw further attention to his plight and needing the Captain to finish as quickly as possible. Athos gave a nod and reached for d'Artagnan's right hand, gripping it tightly in his own. Seeking the Captain's eyes, he said, "We're ready now." Treville wasted no time and efficiently closed first one wound and then the other, impressed at the young Gascon's ability to remain still as he'd worked although it had clearly cost the boy dearly as he was now breathing unsteadily and racked with mild tremors.

"Thank you, Captain," Athos said when Treville had finished and the officer stood and moved away, recognizing the two men's need for privacy. He checked quickly on Aramis and Porthos and then left the room, taking Fouquet with him, leaving a blanket silence that weighed heavily on the men and which no one seemed inclined to break. Sighing, Athos finally decided to take the lead, his hand still wrapped around d'Artagnan's as it seemed to be a comfort to them both. "What were you doing out of bed?" he asked, tone carefully neutral.

d'Artagnan looked away from his mentor as he replied in a small voice, "I needed the chamber pot."

Understanding dawned on Athos' face as he looked around the room for the desired item, "Can I assume that this need still exists?" The young man gave a short nod, still unable to meet Athos' eyes. "Aramis," he called to his friend, the other man rising slowly and bringing the chamber pot to rest at the side of the bed. Between the two of them, they raised d'Artagnan up so he could take care of his needs, settling him back on the bed when he'd finished. When they were done, Aramis settled on the chair while Athos re-took his position on the bed.

Looking between the two men, d'Artagnan advised, "There's no need to stay. I'm fine and I'm not planning on getting up again anytime soon."

With a glance at the older man, Aramis' lips quirked into a smile, "Need, no, but perhaps we want to sit with you."

The young man looked genuinely confused at the medic's words as he replied, "Why? Besides, Porthos seems so ill; I'm certain your time would be better spent caring for him."

Now it was the older men who looked confused as Athos explained, "Porthos is resting easily right now and it is you who are in pain. It is no less than you have done for us in the past."

d'Artagnan gave a one-sided shrug, favoring his tender left side as the ache from his freshly stitched wounds continued to war for his attention. Aramis leaned forward slightly, placing a hand on the Gascon's arm, "It is what friends do for each other, is it not?" Another shrug was the only reply as both men's brows furrowed at the young man's lack of response.

"d'Artagnan?" Athos prompted, unnerved by the quietness of the normally outspoken Gascon. "Do you doubt our friendship?"

The question startled him and d'Artagnan glanced up sharply, uncertain for several moments about how to reply. Licking his dry lips he said, "No, I trust that you will protect me when I'm unable and I willingly do the same for you. We're Musketeers after all."

"d'Artagnan, I was under the impression that our bond was more than that of Musketeers and stronger than friendship," Aramis countered, his voice conveying some of the hurt he felt at the Gascon's words.

"No," d'Artagnan hurried to correct. "I mean, yes, we are, it's just different," he stammered.

Neither man understood what the Gascon was trying to say but both sensed that the young man's words stemmed from their haste in dismissing the boy so many weeks ago in Paris. "How is it different, d'Artagnan?" Athos coaxed gently.

The Gascon dropped his eyes, unable to face either man, but completely unwilling to allow things to continue as they had for so long now. "The three of you, the inseparables. I'll never be as good a friend to you as the three of you are to one another." Even as he heard the words leave his lips, he was filled with shame, hearing the juvenile hope that seemed to imbue his statement and making him out to be an ungrateful child. "I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn. I'm grateful to be in your company and I apologize if I've made things uncomfortable between us."

Athos and Aramis were stunned at the depth of hurt and self-recrimination in their friend's words, but mostly at his belief that he was not one of them, somehow less important than any of their quartet in making the others complete. "d'Artagnan," Aramis breathed out, squeezing the arm that still lay under his hand. "It has recently come to my attention that I have not been as good a friend to you as you have been to me. I am sorry if my actions have made you doubt the bond that exists between us."

"d'Artagnan, I am not as eloquent as Aramis, but I assure you that you are our brother in every way and, as such, just as dear in our hearts as the others," Athos declared. Silence reigned once more and Aramis threw a helpless look at the older man as d'Artagnan's eyes stayed low, unwilling to meet either of their gazes. Clearing his throat, Athos tried a slightly different approach, "d'Artagnan, the Captain has been concerned that you have been wearing yourself out recently. Have you anything to say on this matter?"

Athos kept his face impassive but his eyes never left the Gascon's, waiting for the young man to become unnerved enough with the quiet that he would reply. It took several minutes, but finally d'Artagnan spoke, "Sometimes it's tiring keeping up with my duties and training, as well as the after-hours activities in which you engage."

"Ah," Aramis allowed a wistful smile to grace his face, "You refer to the errands I ask you to do…"

"And ensuring I end up in my bed after a long night of drinking," Athos added.

"And helping Porthos with his cheating," Aramis finished, glancing over at their friend and confirming that he was still resting quietly. "I imagine that our demands on your friendship leave little time for you to properly rest?" While a questioning tone accompanied the medic's words, the three men knew it to be a statement of fact.

"d'Artagnan," Athos' hand moved to the Gascon's chin, lifting it up so he could see the boy's eyes, "I am incredibly sorry that we have taken advantage of your friendship. Please know that there was no malice in our actions. Sometimes, we just…" he trailed off, unsure of exactly how to explain why they'd done what they'd done. It wasn't intentional, that much he knew, it had merely happened somehow and they'd fallen into a pattern, no longer asking for d'Artagnan's help but simply relying on the fact that it would always be available to them.

"Athos, there's no need to apologize for needing help. I…" d'Artagnan swallowed thickly before he could proceed, "I just assumed that when I needed help…"

"That we would return the favour," Aramis stated, dropping his head for a moment as he recalled once more how they'd failed their friend.

"Your assumption was correct and I," he glanced at Aramis to see the commitment in his own eyes reflected in the Spaniard's face, "we will do everything in our power to prove that to you. Things will be different from this point forward."

A lump of emotion was choking the young man as moisture pooled in his eyes and he looked from one man to the other and nodded, not trusting himself to be able to speak. Aramis' face split into a wide and genuine smile as he clasped d'Artagnan's hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the boy's knuckles, while on the other side of the bed, Athos squeezed the hand he still held in his own as he leaned forward, cupping the nape of the young man's neck with his other hand as he touched his forehead to the Gascon's. "Thank you," he whispered, blinking back tears of his own. They stayed that way for several moments until d'Artagnan gave a slight nod, and Athos pulled away to wipe the wetness in his eyes, even as the young man pulled his hand from Aramis' grasp to do the same.

"Well, I for one am glad we've finally dealt with the discord between us," Aramis announced, his grin still firmly in place until he turned his head to where Porthos was laying. "Now we just need Porthos to get better and all will be right with the world once more." Neither man could disagree as their gazes joined Aramis' in watching their ailing fourth member.

As if sensing the shift in atmosphere in the room, Porthos began to improve within hours of his friends' conversation. By the next day, his fever had broken and he'd even awoken long enough to drink both water and broth. Two days later, Porthos had spoken with d'Artagnan, their conversation similar in content to his friends' earlier talk and ending with a sincere promise that things would be different between them in the future. Now, all of them were up and about with the exception of the Gascon as his wound kept him largely confined to bed, a position he endured with ill grace.

Treville and the other Musketeers were busy packing up and preparing to depart, the other four planning to stay a few more days until d'Artagnan could manage the journey home. They all agreed, however, that as soon as the young man was able they would move out of the house they were currently in and find a welcoming inn instead where the Gascon could more comfortably recuperate. Earlier that day, the Captain had joined them in the room which the four continued to share, none of them apparently ready to be apart from each other for very long. As he'd entered the room, he nodded with satisfaction at the easy smiles and lack of tension that permeated the space, content that whatever had strained the men's relationship had been dealt with.

"Captain," Athos greeted the man as he noticed Treville standing in the doorway watching them.

Treville gave a nod of greeting in return as he moved inside, all of the men now looking in his direction expectantly. "I thought you might be interested to hear what we found out from Brunet's men." At the men's nods he continued, "It seems that Brunet was notified of the Baron's death almost immediately after it had happened. As the only remaining family member, Brunet inherited everything, providing him with the means to hire the men who had formerly worked for his cousin."

Athos frowned as he said, "But Gerard was a mere Baron, an almost inconsequential title as far as nobility is concerned and with very little wealth attached."

"True," the Captain conceded, "but the Baron's less legal activities had enhanced his coffers considerably, allowing him to hire and maintain a small army of mercenaries. Apparently he hated the four of you for killing his cousin and swore to get his vengeance in any way possible."

"That's why he ingratiated himself with d'Artagnan," Porthos concluded.

"And he was responsible for the poisoned wine, although Athos was his intended target," the Captain added with a grimace.

"How did you know to send Fouquet after us?" Aramis asked.

Treville pinched the bridge of his nose before he answered, "I went in search of Brunet's letter of recommendation. While I wasn't able to find it, I did recall that the man was from Gascony, as was his uncle who had recommended him. I couldn't be certain, but…" he trailed off with a shrug.

"We're grateful that you acted on your suspicions. I dread to think how things would have ended if you hadn't," Athos declared, his gaze shifting to d'Artagnan.

"Speaking of which, I trust that you've discussed d'Artagnan's decision to turn a pistol on himself?" The Gascon's face turned red even as Treville's eyes lit with amusement, able to finally view the incident with fond exasperation now that the boy was healing.

"I think it's safe to say he's learned his lesson," chimed Porthos' deep baritone as he reached a hand forward to muss the young man's hair.

d'Artagnan shifted away from Porthos' hand, bracing his side with the movement, but with a rueful grin on his face, "I've been told in no uncertain terms what will happen if I ever do anything so….now what was it again?" he asked in mock thoughtfulness. "Ah yes," his gaze moved from one man to the next as he repeated their words, "foolhardy, reckless, or self-sacrificing."

Treville had to bite his cheek to keep the smile off his face and met Athos' eyes with his own as his lieutenant slightly inclined his head, confirming that the Gascon would not be doing something so rash again in the future. Standing, he prepared to leave, "We'll be on the road within the hour. We've left provisions for you and your horses as well as some coin to make your journey more comfortable. I'll expect you back in two weeks."

Athos gave a faint smile, letting his Captain know how much he appreciated his thoughtfulness. When he'd left, the four were left sitting in what had become their usual spots, Aramis and Porthos on chairs and Athos sitting on the end of d'Artagnan's bed.

Clearing his throat, Porthos commented, "I think there's one more thing we need to take care of before we can put this affair behind us." d'Artagnan looked at him, confused by his words. "You had some mighty fine words to say to all of us right before you shot yourself and we figure it's only fair that we have a chance to tell you what you mean to us as well."

d'Artagnan looked almost panicked as he recalled the words he'd shared before turning the pistol on himself. He'd meant everything he'd said but to call attention to it now only embarrassed him. "No, please, that's unnecessary." He stopped at the glares he was now receiving from all three men, realizing that there would be no way of stopping his friends from having their say.

Aramis' features softened as he spoke, "d'Artagnan, you have been like a breath of fresh air, bringing with you an energy and excitement beyond what had previously existed for us and, given that we're Musketeers, that's quite an accomplishment. Your passion for life is matched by your passion for your friends and the stalwart manner in which your protect those who cannot protect themselves, bringing justice to those who have been wronged. It is my sincere pleasure to call you brother."

Porthos clapped Aramis on the back before turning his attention to the Gascon, "d'Artagnan, you're one of the most courageous men I know. You place yourself in harm's way without a second thought and always defend the lives of your brothers without consideration of the consequences to yourself. Brother, I can think of no greater privilege than to be called friend by you, because I know that any friend of yours will never want for anything."

d'Artagnan grinned at Porthos words, giving a nod of thanks as he turned his head to Athos. "d'Artagnan, I can never hope to adequately describe what it feels like to have a younger brother. Someone to teach, someone to be proud of, and someone to love so dearly that I would rather give my life for theirs before seeing theirs cruelly cut short. You have re-awoken these feelings, feelings I thought had died with Thomas, and I promise to match my actions to my words every day for as long as I'm able to call you brother."

When Athos finished speaking, d'Artagnan sat quietly, having no idea how to respond to the men's kind words. The other three sat quietly with him, comfortable now that the rift between them had been repaired and the doubts that had plagued them erased. "I don't know what to say," d'Artagnan spoke softly, his tone uncertain.

"There is no need to say anything," Athos assured him. "Just know in your heart that you will never be cast aside by your brothers." His words were oddly fitting and d'Artagnan nodded in satisfaction, knowing with certainty that Athos' words were true and he would never have reason to doubt them again.

The end.

A/N: Although I know I'm repeating myself, I think it's important enough to say again, so thank you to everyone who chose to spend their time reading this story and for those who felt compelled to follow, favorite and review. I cannot adequately express how much everyone's encouragement has meant to me. Thank you as well to those of you who have expressed sadness at having this story end and have asked whether I'll be writing another. The answer is yes, and I have nearly half of my next story written. As always, I'll be taking the next few weeks to finish it before I begin posting and I hope you'll give it a try. Until next time!