Disclaimer & Spoilers: See Chapter One.

A/N: The last chapter, and it's the second longest. I hope you enjoy it.

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Timeline: Epilogue/Follow-up to Chapter 25 of Family and Almost Family.

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"What happens if, too early, we lose a parent – that party on whom we rely for everything? What did these people do when their families shrank? They cried their tears, but then they did the vital thing. They built a new family person by person. They came to see that family need not be defined merely as those with whom they share blood, but as those for whom they would give their blood."

~~~~~~~ Crummles, Nicholas Nickelby (2002 film written/directed by Douglas McGrath; char. perf. by Nathan Lane; based on the book by Charles Dickens.).

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Chapter Twenty-five: Whole Again

"Despite his friends' concerns, he'd thwarted all of their attempts to get him to eat and sleep, certain that he deserved the penance he was inflicting upon himself, both for his past actions and for taking so long to find d'Artagnan after he'd been captured during their latest mission."

~~~~~~~ Chapter 25 of "Family" by Celticgal1041.

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Content now that he'd seen Athos was well, d'Artagnan allows himself to succumb to the pain draught Aramis had helped him to drink. Thoughts of safety, comfort, and his family fill his mind, keeping him calm and allowing him to sink deeper and deeper into sleep.

Minutes, seconds, or even hours later, he feels a weight suddenly press down upon him, dragging him from out of a dream about his brothers and back down to earth. He thinks he hears a voice – no, two voices – that sound alarmed, perhaps even frightened. The weight is crushing him, making it difficult for him to breathe, but the medicine Aramis gave him is too strong for him to truly wake let alone open his eyes.

The weight suddenly lifts from off of his chest and the relief from the constriction reminds his body of his cracked and broken ribs. None of his ribs were happy with the weight upon them, and it was pretty apparent from the stitch in his side that they were not all that happy now that the weight was gone either.

He wants to open his eyes, wants to know what is going on, but he can't rise above the medicine coursing through him. As he slips back down, down to where the world is quiet and peaceful, d'Artagnan thinks he hears the two voices again, and realizes that he knows them though their identities remain beyond his grasp. Belatedly, he remembers that there should be a third voice and can't fathom why it is absent when he is certain that it shouldn't be.

Once again he tries to stay in the present, but sleep will not give up its hold on him, and he retreats from the land of the living.

ooooooo

His dreamscape shifts to become something that is half-nightmare and half-reality. One minute he is seeing Athos whole and hale, though admittedly exhausted-looking, and the next his best friend is collapsing.

He is present but unable to help, discovering that every time he tries his hands pass right through anything solid, and no matter how loudly he yells, no sound issues forth from his mouth. It's as if he's been forgotten and is on the outside looking in. Thankfully, Aramis and Porthos are there to help Athos, because he is trapped being an observer in this nightmarish scenario.

Aramis laments that he didn't do more to prevent Athos's body from giving out even though he saw the signs. Porthos and Aramis briefly argue over how best to treat Athos and debate over where the best place would be for the older man to rest and recover.

Recover?! Was Athos…hurt?

No, no, no. How could this be? What could have happened?

His two friends decide that sleep is more important simply because Athos has yet to stir after several attempts by the two of them. They also decide that it would be easier if Athos stayed where he is. D'Artagnan is thankful for that, because he had been worried that Athos would be taken somewhere his bruised and beaten body could not follow.

Eventually, two Musketeers bring a cot in and make it up for Athos, which doesn't make any sense to d'Artagnan, because there is a perfectly good bed on the other side of his room. He would gladly give it up to his brother. He turns towards his bed to try and understand why Athos could not use it and discovers that it is already occupied. When he goes to investigate, he discovers that it is him in the bed.

The shock of seeing himself sends him into a black void.

ooooooo

Something is bothering him, but he doesn't exactly know what it is, though it invades every corner of his mind, causing disturbing dreams.

D'Artagnan surfaces from one such strange and terrifying dream and slowly opens his eyes. He aches but it is not the nearly overwhelming pain that he can recall after being rescued by his family from the bandits. It makes him think that the draught that Aramis had pushed on him is still working to some extent.

Blinking multiple times helps normalize his vision somewhat and he turns his head to see Aramis sitting in the chair next to his bed. From the candles burning on the table beside it, he surmises that it is now night, but he can't be sure and doesn't really care all too much.

Aramis is asleep in the chair, but he only has to try speaking once before the older man wakes and begins fussing over him, saying something about answered prayers. If he was honest with himself, he would have expected Athos to be the one in the chair and not Aramis. He has nothing against the man who had been the first of the three to truly befriend him, but in the months that he has known Athos they have somehow formed a strong bond as if they were meant to be brothers.

It hurts to even think of moving his head and overall it just seems to be a very bad idea at the moment. However, in his limited field of vision, he can't see either Athos or Porthos and wonders where they could be.

Letting the mystery go for the moment, he watches Aramis's face as the other man helps him drink some strange-tasting water and then some broth before checking his more severe injuries. It is about that time when he notices that Aramis looks worried even before he begins the light examination of his numerous wounds, making him wonder if his health was not the sole cause.

"You alright?" he asks, his voice sounding as if he has gargled sand despite the liquids he's had.

Aramis startles slightly then tries to hide the reaction with a wide grin.

"I'm fine."—Aramis shrugs and doesn't quite look him in the eye—"Just tired."

D'Artagnan senses that his friend is not being exactly forthright with him. He searches his memories for what he could recall of the past few days, and one particular thought is the most persistent.

Athos.

Something is wrong with Athos. His best friend had looked wrecked the last time he'd seen the older man. He is certain now that Aramis is keeping something from him, but before he can get the truth from the marksman, the pain draught combined with exhaustion and his injures sends him back to sleep.

ooooooo

When d'Artagnan next wakes, it is morning. At least he thinks it could be morning, but he won't actually know for sure until he opens his eyes.

However, he keeps them closed in hopes of avoiding Aramis checking his wounds, despite his obvious care, for a little longer. He's not tired enough to fall back asleep, so he makes a sort of game out of listening for sounds which would indicate which of his brothers was his current keeper. At first, he hears nothing and thinks that he has been left alone, which makes his heartrate speed up. He's had more than enough of being alone to last a lifetime.

Forcing his heart to calm, he eventually determines that someone is in the room with him, even if he can't hear them. Curious, he opens his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to what light there is in the room.

Turning his head slightly so he can better use his peripheral vision, he immediately sees an empty chair at his bedside, though by tradition someone should be there. Despite the evidence that no one else is in the room, he still feels a presence close by. He risks causing himself discomfort by moving his still aching head even more in order to search the room.

His heart leaps into his throat when he spies someone lying on a cot in the still dark corner of his room – Athos.

To his foggy, still concussed brain, Athos looks… He looks…

No.

Athos is not dead.

Athos was walking and talking the last time he'd seen his older brother, but now the man looks as still as…

He shakes his head, making his lingering headache flare up.

Athos was fine, wasn't he? He can't be…dead, could he?

His brain can't register anything else but the panic that arises from seeing the older man looking so still.

"Ath's," he says barely above a whisper and hardly coherent even to his own ears.

D'Artagnan tries again, but the man lying on the other side of the room does not move a muscle.

Where are Aramis and Porthos? Was he dreaming again? Was this not really Athos?

He has had more than one dream where one of his friends have died violent, bloody deaths, and this situation makes it seem as if fantasy had become reality. His foggy mind can't make sense out of any of it, and he decides that if he can't make himself be heard, then he would force his aching body to move closer.

His first attempts to get out of bed reawaken the rest of his injuries, his hurts flaring up in multiple locations throughout his body. He rolls to his relatively good side and tries once more to sit up, but there are fiery hot tendrils of pain shooting through his wrists, shoulder, and side. Curling up against the agony and letting out a pained gasp as he does so, he tries to get his breathing to calm before trying again.

This time, biting his bottom lip to keep from vocalizing his distress, he barely manages to stand upright before his legs buckle and he's heading towards the ground. His knees hit the hard ground, and at the sound of the loud thunk which results, he absurdly thinks that Aramis is going to be angry with him for adding more bruises to his overlong list of injuries.

His pain levels have increased enough to where he would be willing to beg for any relief but he gives it one, last shot. Reaching for the little table near his bed so that he can leverage himself up off the floor, he bites back more sounds of pain that are trying to escape. The table wobbles with the increased weight he's putting on it as he attempts to stand, and a ceramic cup is knocked over before it rolls to the ground and shatters, the noise painfully loud to his fragile head.

Given how he feels, d'Artagnan has no idea how he is going to stand let alone get up off the floor. He can't get over to other side of the room and he can't get back in bed. A whimper finally escapes his lips before he can stop it. His attempts to breathe through the aches are ineffective. It's like the pain is a thief, stealing his breath away so that he can't seem to get enough air.

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his forearm and he looks up to see that it's Athos.

Athos is alive and looking extremely worried about something. The hand on his arm is warm and he has all the proof he needs to know Athos is really there with him, when the man finally speaks.

"Breathe," he says as if that thought hadn't yet crossed d'Artagnan's mind.

The next moments or minutes are a blur to him and next thing he knows he is back in bed and Athos is fixing the bedclothes to cover him up.

Athos sits in the bedside chair and coaches him to slow down his breaths in order to get past the pain and calm down. After what seems like too long, it begins to work, and Athos continues to talk to him, the cultured tones managing to help further ease his mind.

"What were you doing?" Athos eventually asks in the same calm tones as before, though d'Artagnan can tell he wants to yell at him instead.

"Woke up alone, or so I thought. When I saw you lying on that cot, I thought…" D'Artagnan closes his eyes, squeezing them shut as hard as he can in an attempt to clear the horrible image of Athos dying from his mind. He opens them again and continues. "I thought…that… it had come true. You looked… I couldn't tell…"

Beginning to panic again, he lifts his hand and stretches it out towards Athos. When the older man grabs it between his two, calloused hands, he adds, "Athos, please. Please tell me that this is not a dream."

Athos moves one of the hands which are still clasping his own to the back of his neck before gently squeezing.

"You feel that?" Athos asks, looking as if the weight of the world is upon him.

D'Artagnan nods slightly as relief floods through his entire body.

"I am here. Alive. As are you, no thanks to me."

He swears he just heard Athos saying…

"What? What are you talking about?" he asks, not understanding where the older man's guilt is coming from. "You and the others found me. I am alive because of you."

Athos surges to his feet and stumbles slightly before starting to pace back and forth alongside his bed.

"If I had anticipated the attack on the Queen's cousin, you never would have had to sacrifice yourself to be captured and tortured! If I hadn't taken so long to get reinforcements… If we'd found you sooner…"

"Athos! Stop!" d'Artagnan says, the burning anger of his outburst causing him to lift his hand to wrap around his sore ribs and curl up slightly.

Athos is suddenly by his side gripping his shoulder, looking as if guilt was threatening to overwhelm him again. It also allows him to get a good look at his friend. The older man has dark circles under his eyes and seems to be a bit shaky, if his slightly uncoordinated movements are any indication. He has a feeling that Athos has been letting his guilt override his self-preservation instincts.

When the pain dies down again, he forces himself to be calm and full of conviction as he says, "It is not your fault, Athos."

His mentor begins to pull away, but d'Artagnan grabs his forearm, causing his injured wrist to ache; he ignores the sensation.

"If anyone is to be blamed, then blame whoever planned the attack, blame the men who captured me"—Athos flinches, but d'Artagnan tightens his grasp on the man's forearm—"We did our duty in protecting the Queen's cousin; it could've been any one of us in the position to have to stay behind and buy the others some time."

D'Artagnan paused to let his words sink in, loosening his grip a little now that he didn't think Athos would pull away again.

"If my eyes are not misleading me, then I'd wager that you went above and beyond in getting back to Paris in order to bring back reinforcements. You found me and you brought me home, that is all that matters."

Guilt quickly passes over Athos's face and his body tenses, making d'Artagnan wonder if there wasn't something else that happened, something he couldn't remember. Whatever it was must have really shaken the older man up. He waits, but Athos seemed content to keep his demons to himself.

Athos ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that is unusual for him but very reminiscent of Aramis. Either this is proof that they spend too much time together or his friend is thinking of Aramis. If he is thinking of Aramis, then the issue must involve someone's health, either his or Athos's – perhaps both.

His friend has a tendency to let his guilt, which is sometimes misplaced, to get the better of him and take over. Too many times he uses copious amounts of wine to drown the guilt out, but he'd seen Athos punish himself in other ways. Perhaps…?

"Athos?" he asks. When Athos does not look at him and seems lost in his thoughts, he squeezes the forearm he still has a hand on. "Athos?"

The older Musketeer startles slightly and blinks once before looking down at where d'Artagnan's hand was on his arm. Finally the other man meets his eyes.

"What happened to me? I remember escaping and running towards the trees, but everything after that is pretty much gone."

The muscles of Athos's forearm tense and d'Artagnan could feel that his friend has suppressed a flinch.

Athos shakes his head and offers, "The Queen's cousin is safe, Maurice, your captor, is dead, and you are home. As you said: that is all that matters."

Now he knows that he has missed something important. He ducks his head to catch and hold Athos's gaze, hoping the man will admit what is not being said. Athos stares back but ends up looking away first, heaving a great sigh.

Haltingly, Athos tells him what had happened from the time that they'd been ambushed. The events are told as mere facts, precise details with no emotions attached to anything that had happened. Relief, anger, worry are never once mentioned, it was as if they were not felt in the first place. This worries him; Athos is only really like this when something is greatly troubling him.

He closes his eyes for a moment, hoping some inspiration would come to him about how to help his best friend.

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Before he came to Paris and met the Musketeers, d'Artagnan had only ever been considered an older brother. He'd never experienced what it was like to be the youngest until God saw fit to bring him and Aramis, Porthos, and Athos together. Even after all these months, he is still trying to figure out his new role as a younger brother.

D'Artagnan loves all three of his brothers with every fiber of his being and knows that he will never again be alone as long as they are by his side, especially Athos. He is more than aware that it was irrational to have latched onto Athos as the one he most needed acceptance and approval from. At times, he considers it to be a weakness, but there is that special something about the older man that speaks to him, not to mention the respect he has for Athos.

D'Artagnan had been thrilled as Aramis and then Porthos changed their minds and accepted him, welcoming him as a friend. However, at the time, one nagging thought lingered. He assumes that unless Athos also accepts him, then he would ultimately lose all three of them. They would be his brothers-in-arms, fellow Musketeers and nothing else. Would it have been worth gaining his commission only to lose the men he thought might one day be as family to him?

He doesn't understand it, but he feels a kinship with the man he'd come to Paris to kill. Sometimes, he wonders if the reason he wanted the other man's acceptance is because of the older man's insistence on keeping him, for the most part, at arm's length. Since the night he'd pulled Athos out of the fire at the man's estate, he thought that the man's reluctance in getting to know him stemmed in part from the circumstances surrounding his brother and his wife. Athos had tolerated him but never really shown true interest in him or his training until after his mission involving baby Henri and his mother Agnes.

It was after that mission that Athos begins to have a more active – and voluntary – role in his training with a blade. The instruction is intense but he can tell that his skills are advancing at a steady rate, and the rare instances of praise from the older man fill him with satisfaction and inspire him to work even harder. They seem to finally be working towards a friendship when the incident with Ninon de Larroque. Athos had been determined to drink himself into oblivion, and he and the others had been equally determined to show the man that he was more than worth their friendship.

For him, the real turning point, the point where he really and truly feels that Athos has accepted him as a friend is when they had been sent to Gascony to retrieve Labarge. At first, he thought he wouldn't have a problem visiting his home region since he would not be in close proximity to Lupiac. However, as they ride closer and closer, his mood sinks lower and lower as his thoughts turn towards his father and his murder. Grief that he had managed to lock deep within tears loose and overcomes him.

Then one night after they'd captured Labarge, the nasty man had made some hateful comments, which in their inadvertent accuracy are like daggers to his heart. After he admits what is burdening him, Athos had comforted him and acted as his strength and shield as he broke down, sobbing into the man's chest like a young child. Yet, being in the older man's comforting embrace is not awkward or embarrassing, even hours later when he has awakened from an exhausted slumber. He finally senses that Athos has accepted him as a friend.

Since that night, their friendship has grown closer and a deeper bond begins to form. Gaining his commission to the Musketeer regiment from the King overwhelms his emotions, a few tears of joy unconsciously leaking from his eyes. He will never forget the anniversary of this event. However, it is Athos's declaration hours later that he was proud of him which convinced him that he was not just a brother-at-arms but a brother of choice.

From that day, their bond grows stronger, coming to eclipse the ones he has with Aramis and Porthos. Perhaps it is the shared losses of younger brothers and people ripped from their lives by violence which unites them as brothers of the heart. Sometimes, he even feels that the older Musketeer was more protective than his own father had once been.

Between his brothers of the heart, Mattias and Alric, and his father, he has lost three very important men in his life. While they are out on the road on a mission and once the chores are done, Aramis sometimes recites Bible stories to them in order to pass the time. One story which had given him hope for the future is about Job.

Job had lost everything, including all of his children and yet the man did not lose his faith in God even through all his suffering. At the end of the tale, God has blessed Job's faithfulness and restored him to more than he had in the first place, including the same number of children that had been taken from him.

Such is the same with him, though he would never claim to be as faithful as Job. He has lost three important men in his life and God has restored the same number back to him in Athos, Aramis, and Porthos. He once again has a family.

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He opens his eyes and is surprised to see Porthos and not Athos sitting by his bedside.

When the older man notices him and recognizes his confusion, Porthos grins and says, "You fell asleep while talking to him."

"Where—?" he begins to ask but his dry throat forces him to cough.

Porthos hands him a cup of broth to drink before tipping his head over his left shoulder.

"Sleeping. Aramis too. Sorry for not being here earlier, but we didn't think either of ya would be awake any time soon." D'Artagnan hands the cup back as Porthos adds, "Should'a known you two would be contrary."

He smiles and pats the other man's knee a couple of times. "S'alright. We were fine on our own."

His friend snorts. "Yeah, right. We know your definition of fine, little brother, and it ain't the same as ours"—Porthos scratches at the back of his head—"Well, not the same as me and Aramis's anyway. Athos's is too much like yours."

"What do you mean?" he asks, momentarily forgetting his broken ribs and injured shoulder as he tries to raise himself up off the bed. Pain rushes in, but he needs to know. "Is Athos alright?"

Porthos gently pushes him back flat. "Hey! I swear he's fine, or will be once he sleeps and eats."

"Porthos," he says, rapidly losing his patience at the lack of information. "What happened?"

"Didn't he tell ya?" the other man asks then mumbles, "Of course, 'e didn't."

"He told me some, but I know I'm missing something."

"What's probably missin' is him not telling you about the amnesia that your concussion caused."—Porthos points towards his broken ribs—"With your ribs hurting and your memories scrambled, you thought Athos was trying to kill you over Milady. You were very afraid of him, and he…didn't react well."

D'Artagnan lifts a hand towards his face intent on rubbing his eyes, but with the bruising he knows is there, thinks better of it and lowers it back to the bed.

He could quite easily imagine how badly Athos would've reacted to the situation. It also certainly explains his friend's appearance, the older man looking exhausted and a bit shaky.

"Did you make him eat?"

"You've got his number, don't ya?"—Porthos chuckles—"Aye. You missed it, when you fell asleep before."

He sighs. D'Artagnan knew none of this was his fault, but he still felt bad for causing so much trouble.

"Sorry."

The older Musketeer shrugged. "It's what brothers do."

"I know," he replies then smiles.

ooooooo

The next time he wakes it appears to be early night, Athos is back sitting beside his bed reading a book. Porthos and Aramis don't seem to be in the room with them.

Engrossed in his book, Athos hasn't yet noticed that he is awake. He decides to solve that problem by saying the first thing that comes to his mind.

"You are an idiot."

Athos startles and fumbles the book a bit as he closes it. "Beg pardon?"

"You heard me," he says. "Porthos told me what you wouldn't."

His friend sighs and lays his book on the small table beside his bed. Athos then leans over to rest his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together in front.

"I didn't want—"

D'Artagnan lays his hand on Athos's and shakes his head slightly. "You should've told me."

Athos frees one of his hands and lays it on top of the other two and sighs. "I know. I apologize."

"I'll forgive you if you stop blaming yourself for what happened on our mission."

The older man's eyebrow rises practically up to his hairline even as a slight smile emerges on his face.

"You drive a hard bargain," he says, a father-like pride coloring his voice.

Though the wide, and hopefully cheeky, grin makes the bruises on his face hurt a little, he thinks it more than worth it.

"I know."

"Then… You've got a deal," Athos says with a genuine smile on his face, gently shaking their still clasped hands a couple of times to seal the bargain before letting go.

Confident that his friend has finally gotten the message, d'Artagnan gestures towards the book. "Any good?"

Athos nods and replies, "I am enjoying it. It is a translation of a novel called Don Quixote."

"I'm bored. Read to me?"

"You can't be bored. You just woke up."

"Please."

Athos huffs then replies, "Fine."

As Athos reads from the book, the sound of his voice is calming to the point where any lingering aches are practically non-existent.

Despite the good story, d'Artagnan's mind wanders back to recent events.

What happened to him is part and parcel to what it means to be a Musketeer. At any time something could happen to any of them, and God forbid, one day one or more of his brothers might not make it back home. However, that time is not this time.

The Queen's cousin is safe, and his brothers found him in time. He is alive and they are together again.

What more could he want than to have his family be whole again?

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The end.

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A/N: The eagle-eyed among you may have noticed that I included (in some form) the titles of every single chapter of Almost Family into this one.

If you have the time, and would like to make my day, could you let me know which chapters were your favorites? Thanks!

Thank you to all those who followed, read, reviewed, and/or favorited this story (especially those people who reviewed every single chapter)! I am very thankful for your support, and appreciate you taking time out of your busy lives to take this journey with me and Celticgal.