Evening My Lovelies

I meant to publish this last weekend but wasn't sure on the ending. Thankfully the extra time worked for this story as the reworking I did to the end definitely improved it :D

Oh and you awesome people who read my longer stories you might be pleased to know that work has started on my next long one. It wont be up for a little bit but I have the first couple of chapters done :D

Right back to this one-shot! Inspiration really hit with this one and I think it's my favourite oneshot I've written so far so I really really hope you like it too!

This one was requested/suggested by Debbie so here's hoping you like it!

Many thanks and much love for reading/reviewing

Enjoy!

xxx

Pains Of The Past:

"NO!" roared Athos, his wrists bleeding as he furiously struggled against the ropes holding him. The musketeer's eyes were wide with both horror and anger as he watched one of the men he called brother crumple to the ground, blood pooling around him instantly.

"I am going to kill you for this!" spat the musketeer as he allowed his eyes to briefly leave the downed form of his brother to glare daggers at the now smirking man in front of him.

As he took in the smug smile on the man's face Athos felt his rage reach new heights and when the man snorted in amusement the musketeer felt his glare hardening.

"This is hardly my doing Athos," shrugged the man as he took a few steps forward, kneeling down in front of the now barely conscious musketeer, not missing the way Athos tensed as he drew close to his companion.

"After all," mused the man as he harshly pulled the injured musketeer's head back by the hair, again not missing the growl that escaped his other captive, "I did warn you what would happen if you failed to come here alone. I can't be held responsible for your own inability to follow orders."

Athos said nothing as he glared at the man, wanting nothing more than to rip him away from his injured friend and get the younger man into Aramis's expert care.

When the younger musketeer whimpered against the pain of his injury Athos screwed his eyes shut, mentally chastising himself for not having seen the man's actions coming, especially when he had done similar things like this before.

SEVERAL DAY'S EARLIER

"Everything alright there Athos?" enquired D'Artagnan hesitantly, concern heavily laced in his voice as he observed the obvious tension and stress in his mentor's frame as the older swordsman gripped a letter tightly in his fist.

It wasn't the first such letter the man had received and at first the other members of the inseparables had shrugged it off, content to believe their brother's assurances that it was nothing serious. But now, with Porthos and Aramis out on a mission D'Artagnan felt he had to say something. The letters were clearly troubling the man he loved dearly like a brother and it simply wasn't in the Gascon's nature to sit by and ignore the pain and guilt that that flooded into his brother's eyes with every new letter.

"Its fine D'Artagnan," stated Athos, his tone cold as he fought to keep the anger he felt out of his voice when speaking to the younger man. He knew D'Artagnan, like the others, was only speaking out of worry and concern for him, but the contents of the letters did little to help his control on his temper.

"Are you sure?" frowned D'Artagnan, not liking the obvious lie being sent his way, but also having to remind himself that Athos was stubborn when it came to his own wellbeing.

"I SAID ITS FINE!" snapped Athos before he grabbed the sword he had been cleaning before the letter's arrival and stormed off, leaving a stunned D'Artagnan behind at the table.

Having known the man for some time now D'Artagnan knew better than to chase after him and push the issue when his mood was so volatile. So, despite the guilt he felt for doing so, the Gascon pushed the encounter out of his mind for the rest of the day and focused on the duties given to him.

Come the following morning however, the Gascon was dearly regretting having done so as he stood in line for morning muster, Athos nowhere to be seen.

"D'Artagnan," called Captain Treville as soon as he dismissed the rest of the men. The Captain watched as the younger man, clearly both nervous and worried, shook his head sadly, his eyes flickering to the garrison gates. "My office," he said before turning on his heels and heading inside, trusting the Gascon to follow.

"Where is he D'Artagnan?" asked Treville, his own worry building. It was definitely not like Athos to miss a morning muster, even at his worst the swordsman had always insisted on showing. So for him to be missing now, something was definitely wrong.

"I have no idea sir," frowned D'Artagnan, guilt building within him as he explained the events of the day before to the Captain, the younger man hating himself for not having followed his friend.

Treville sighed, "Go to his apartments. With luck he simply drank to much and I can set him stable duty for a week but if not there might be a clue as to what's going on there. Report back to me as soon as you have anything."

D'Artagnan nodded, grateful at being given the chance to check on his friend, before turning on his heels and rushing to where Athos's lodgings were.

The younger musketeer wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved that Athos wasn't passed out drunk when he reached the man's apartment. Part of him had been hoping that his mentor had simply tried to drown his troubles in drink, but it seemed that had not been the case.

"Athos," sighed D'Artagnan quietly as he began searching through the man's things in the hopes of finding a clue as to what was going on. The Gascon hated that he was going through Athos's personal things, it felt very much like an invasion of privacy but he was able to push such thoughts away as the memory of Athos's tortured expression every time he read a letter came to the forefront of his mind.

Just when the younger musketeer was about to call it quits and return, empty handed, to Treville he caught sight of a very familiar piece of parchment, his eyes narrowing in anger as he read its contents.

"D'ARTAGNAN!" exclaimed Treville as the Gascon all but flew into his office without so much as a warning knock.

"Athos is in trouble," panted D'Artagnan, having ran as fast as his legs could carry him from his mentor's lodgings. "He's walking into a trap!"

"Easy D'Artagnan," said Treville, years of experience and practice being the only thing keeping his voice and expression under control. "Explain. What's going on?"

D'Artagnan let out a frustrated growl before slamming the letter onto Treville's desk. "He need's help!" he snapped before rushing out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

PRESENT DAY

"He has nothing to do with this!" snarled Athos as he was forced to watch his, still unconscious, brother being tied up in a similar fashion to himself. "He's innocent! Let him go!"

"He sides with you," spat their captor as he took a step back from the unconscious D'Artagnan, seemingly admiring his handiwork. "That makes him far from innocent."

"I already admitted my guilt!" spat the musketeer, his eyes never leaving the slumped Gascon. "He does not have to pay for my failings!"

Within a blink of an eye the man was in Athos's face, his fist colliding hard enough with the musketeer's stomach to knock the air out of his lungs and leave the man hunched over gasping for breath.

"Yet my brother did!" roared the man as he launched another punch at the musketeer, relishing in the grunt of pain that escaped the man. Despite struggling to breathe and being in pain the gleam in his captor's eye did not escape Athos's notice.

"…Who… your brother… fell for… is not my fault!" hissed the swordsman, his voice raspy as he fought to get air back into his lungs, only for that air to escape him when he was, once again, punched in the stomach.

"You brought her there!" spat the man before he collected himself, stepping a few steps back as he forced his anger down and back to the restrained fury it had been before.

"Hmm," mused the man as he walked back to D'Artagnan, who by that point was beginning to stir. Grabbing a fist full of the younger man's hair he pulled D'Artagnan's head back, smirking at the whimper of pain that escaped the younger musketeer's mouth as he did so.

"Maybe," sneered the man as he twisted D'Artagnan's head towards Athos, "Maybe I'll make you watch him die, just as I was forced to watch my own brother die."

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!"

"…'Thos?" groaned D'Artagnan weakly as he forced his eyes open, only to screw them shut in pain moments later as pain shot through his body when their captor landed a punch right on his still bleeding wound.

The scream that tore from D'Artagnan's throat both enraged the restrained swordsman and broke his heart. He had sworn, after everything that happened with his younger blood-brother Thomas, that he would never be powerless to protect again and yet here he was, tied up and unable to do anything but watch as a face from his semi-downed out past assaulted the boy he had come to love on the same level as Thomas.

"D'Artagnan!" exclaimed Athos, his attention now completely focused on his younger brother as his eyes desperately tried to determine the severity of the wound he had initially received and how badly the barrage of hits worsened it.

"One hour Athos," sneered the man, surprising the slightly dazed D'Artagnan who was struggling not to let on how badly he was hurting whilst also fighting to stay conscious. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on but Athos needed him that much he was sure of and that was enough for him to fight. "I'll give you one hour to say your goodbyes before you watch the life drain from your brother's eyes."

"…Cheery fellow," huffed D'Artagnan moments after their captor had left them alone. Pain was radiating throughout his body and whilst he lacked the training Aramis had, it was enough to warn him of the seriousness of his wound, let alone the potential damage the assault had done to his ribs.

Athos barked out a bitter laugh at D'Artagnan's response. Guilt filled his eyes as he watched his friend and protégé try to manage the pain his body was in whilst also doing his best not to press the swordsman for answers he undoubtedly deserved.

"You alright there D'Artagnan?" asked Athos worriedly, cursing the fact that all he could see was the dark red patch of blood on his brother's clothing and the mass of bruises already beginning to darken his already tanned skin.

Despite the pain D'Artagnan attempted to shrug, "Been better… been worse."

Athos's eyes narrowed, "That's not an answer."

"Best I can do," retorted D'Artagnan, his words slightly sharper then he had meant thanks to the pain he was in. Forcing himself to soften his tone he added, "who's our friend anyway?"

"His name is Léo," sighed Athos, his eyes closing at the memory. "His brother died because of my actions. He was little more than a child at the time and it seems he has held quite the grudge against me ever since."

D'Artagnan nodded weakly, trying to force himself to stay awake as he felt the effects of blood loss. "…'e sent the letters?"

"You read them?" asked Athos, worriedly looking over the younger man.

"…Just the last one…Treville sent… me to… find you… had to search your room."

Athos nodded, this explained how the Gascon knew where to find him. He had taken measures to destroy the other letters, not wanting to drag his brothers into this should they stumble across them, but his anger at the last one had him rushing to leave the city before he could even think about destroying it.

"Why did you come D'Artagnan," sighed Athos, worry clear in his eyes as he watched the younger man. He knew that, had the Gascon read the letter, then he would have understood the threat and what he was risking by leaving the safety of the garrison.

Léo's last letter had consisted of a string of highly descriptive and dark threats against those the swordsman cared about if he continued to ignore the man's summons to show up at a specified location to receive both judgment and punishment for the crimes he had committed.

The man clearly understood that the three other musketeers where who Athos cared about most in the world as he not only mentioned them by name but also appeared to know where to find them, even Aramis and Porthos who were away on a mission.

Normally Athos wouldn't have let the letters disturb him as much as they did, but the knowledge their captor had of Porthos and Aramis's location, despite them not being in Paris, had him worried and, if he was being honest, a little shaken. He had hoped to subdue Léo before the man could act on his threats but the man managed to get to him first thanks to the swordsman's distracted mind.

Athos knew, when he had come to restrained and staring straight into Léo's emotionless eyes, that it was only a matter of time before someone, most likely D'Artagnan came looking for him. It was one of the reasons he had gone along with every accusation and punch Léo had thrown at him, the swordsman had hoped he could calm and/or exhaust the man enough to give D'Artagnan the element of surprise when he arrived.

What he didn't count on however was D'Artagnan diving at the man when he saw the threat to his mentor. Given how after only a few months knowing each other the boy was running into a burning building to save him Athos really should have known better than to assume the headstrong Gascon wouldn't charge his armed captor. The two had fought for a few minutes but eventually Léo had gotten the upper hand thanks to a very dirty move. The man hadn't wasted a moment in pulling his pistol from its holder on his belt and firing at the recovering Gascon.

A small whimper of pain brought Athos out of his musing just in time to hear D'Artagnan's response to his question.

D'Artagnan blinked, seemingly confused with Athos's questions. "You're family 'Thos," breathed the younger musketeer as he fought against another wave of nausea. "…Couldn't let you… handle this alone."

The worry in Athos's eyes was overpowered by fondness and love at his brother's words and even though he had no idea how he was going to get them out of this, he was glad that D'Artagnan didn't seem to regret following him.

"…'Sides," said D'Artagnan with a slight smirk that instantly had Athos intrigued. "Its not a burning building this time," he added with a shrug, grinning weakly as Athos chuckled at his words.

Before Athos could comment Léo returned, a blade now visible at his hip.

"I trust you said your goodbyes," smirked Léo as he drew the blade from its sheathe, letting it dance across Athos's cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake.

"Hey!" yelled D'Artagnan, reacting without thinking at the sight of a blade pressing on his mentor's skin with much more vigor than he expected to have. "Leave him alone!"

"Oh don't worry," shrugged Léo as he pulled the blade away from Athos's skin. Walking over to D'Artagnan he repeated the action against D'Artagnan's cheek. "This is for you anyway."

Fortunately for D'Artagnan this was the sort of situation he had been waiting for since he realized that, unlike Athos, his feet weren't also tied down.

When Léo was close enough D'Artagnan braced himself against the pain and pulled himself up as high as he could, wrapping his legs around Léo's throat. Surprised by the move and stunned from the sudden lack of air, Léo dropped the blade and began trying to claw D'Artagnan's legs off from around his throat.

Athos watched equally stunned and impressed as D'Artagnan fought to contain Léo. The swordsman could see the immense strain his protégé was under, sweat was glistening on his face, which was scrunched up in pain and the dark patch on his shirt was growing with at worrying speeds.

It was while he was watching the younger man that Athos noticed just how pale his brother actually was. Fear bubbled up within him; D'Artagnan had natural tanned skin so it took something serious for him to pale like he had.

He had very little time to think on this alarming find however as, for the second time in as many hours, the sound of gunfire filled the air.

Both Athos and D'Artagnan watched with wide eyes as Léo crumpled in D'Artagnan's hold, a bullet wound now piercing his heart.

Unfortunately the lack of a fight meant that the adrenaline D'Artagnan had been largely running on was beginning to fade, bringing back the pain with it.

"ATHOS! D'ARTAGNAN!" cried a pair of heart-breakingly familiar voices, followed quickly by the sound of charged footsteps.

"Shit Athos," swore Aramis as he took in the battered form of his brother, now thanking his lucky stars that they had encountered the men Treville had sent out after D'Artagnan on their way back to the garrison, having completed the mission earlier than expected.

"I'm fine," dismissed Athos, his eyes flickering to D'Artagnan who had now gone alarmingly limp in his restraints.

"Aramis!" growled the swordsman when it became clear the medic had chosen to ignore his dismissal. "I'm fine, D'Artagnan's the one who needs help!"

Without needing to be told twice the medic, quickly followed by Porthos, rushed the short distance to their youngest brother's side.

"Porthos help me get him down!" exclaimed Aramis, his eyes wide with worry at the Gascon's condition.

Between the two of them they were able to free the now unconscious D'Artagnan and lay him on the ground fairly quickly.

"How is he?" asked Athos as he attempted to peer over the shoulder of one of the musketeers sent to find him. When Aramis, who was completely focused on the injured Gascon failed to respond Athos all but screamed his name. "ARAMIS! How is he? Is he still alive?"

"'e's alive 'Thos," stated Porthos after it became apparent that Aramis was too focused on D'Artagnan to have even noticed he was being spoken to. "Whelp's in bad shape though."

Breathing out a sigh of relief that the boy still lived, Athos returned his attention to the musketeer working on freeing him. "Get me out of these," he growled, hating that he was being kept from his brother's side.

After several long agonizing minutes the ropes holding him were gone and Athos was rushing to D'Artagnan's side, stumbling slightly as blood flow returned to his extremities.

The swordsman's eyes widened in horror when he saw the blood coating his youngest brother's skin. D'Artagnan had been hit in the side, not far from where Athos himself had shot him not too long ago. The wound was bleeding heavily and, judging by the trouble Aramis seemed to be having removing the shot, the bullet had lodged itself in one of the Gascon's ribs.

"How long ago did this happen?" grunted Aramis, breathing a small sigh of relief as he was finally able to remove the bullet. Thankfully the shot hadn't been a through and through but the injury itself still remained a serious one.

"A few hours ago," stated Athos, his eyes never leaving D'Artagnan's unconscious form as his hands found there way to various spots, one running its way through the boy's hair, whilst the other lightly gripped the Gascon's shoulder, his thumb drawing small circles on the exposed skin.

"He's lost a lot of blood," murmured the medic, almost more to himself then anyone else. "This wound needed wrapping at the very least ages ago."

"I was a little tied up and I don't think his shooter was in much of a merciful mood," said Athos, not bothering to even attempt to hide the hurt in his voice.

Aramis blinked, the hurt in Athos's words reaching him through his medic-driven focus. "Apologies mon ami," he said softly, guilt heavy in his eyes, "I did not mean for it to sound like I'm blaming you. I have no doubt you did everything you could to save him."

"It's my fault he was even hurt to begin with," shrugged Athos as his grip on the boy's shoulder tightened.

"…Not… your… fault," breathed a weak voice that instantly grabbed all of their attentions.

"D'ARTAGNAN!" exclaimed the three men, each voice thick with relief and concern.

"How you feelin' whelp?" asked Porthos softly, taking the Gascon's hand into his own as Aramis began stitching his wound.

"…F'ne," said the Gascon weakly, doing his best to disguise just how much pain he was in, though judging by the looks he was receiving he doubted he was all that effective.

"You were shot, beaten, are suffering from blood loss and have at least one broken rib," stated Aramis deadpan, an eyebrow raising in question as an unimpressed look settled on his face. "Want to try that again?"

"…H'rts" amended D'Artagnan with a pitiful whimper, his eyes screwing shut in pain as he tightened his hold on Porthos's hand.

"You were shot," reiterated Aramis, kindly this time despite not looking up from his work, "I'd be surprised if it didn't hurt. Now try to stay still I'm almost done and then we can figure out how we're going to get you home."

"My horse isn't far from here, he can ride with me," offered Athos, his eyes still not having moved from D'Artagnan's face.

Aramis nodded, "We'll have to go slow and it'll probably hurt like hell but I can't see any other option being available to us. We're too far away from any towns or homes to borrow a wagon.

"I'll… be fine," grunted D'Artagnan, a soft breath escaping him as Aramis finally finished stabbing him with a suturing needle.

"I'll need to have another look at that when we get back but it should hold until then," mused Aramis as he took in his now bandaged handiwork.

"And the rest of 'im?" asked Porthos, concern clear in his voice.

Aramis sighed, "There's not much more I can do here without the right herbs or supplies, we're lucky I had anything to stitch him with. Given how much blood he lost we're going to have to watch that wound for signs of infection, his body is too weak to be fighting off that right now as well. The rest of his other injuries are minor and can wait until we're back in Paris for treatment… Though I would suggest we let him rest for a bit before we try to move him, having a bullet pulled out of your ribs is not the most pleasant experience."

D'Artagnan let out a weak snort at that last comment, not noticing the small smiles that one response drew from his brothers.

"Good," grunted Porthos as he placed a firm hand on Athos's shoulder to prevent the man from moving. "Now you can tell us what this was all about." When Athos opened his mouth Porthos was quick to interrupt with, "D'Artagnan damn near bleed out and you're beaten to hell. We have a right to know what the hells going on 'Thos."

Athos sighed, glancing down at the slightly glassy eyes of his protégé before he nodded weakly, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position to begin his explanation.

"Thierry, Léo's brother," explained Athos; nodding weakly to the man Aramis had shot upon the musketeer's arrival. "He was the man in charge of my wife's execution."

Porthos whistled, "Well he's rubbish at his job."

"Shh!" hissed Aramis as he lightly smacked the larger man in the stomach before nodding at Athos to continue.

"I wasn't aware but she had managed to get her claws into him as well. She had seduced him into freeing her from the noose and saving her life as soon as I left."

"Can't see that relationship lasting long," mused Aramis, grunting when Porthos smacked him lightly in the stomach.

"Shh," mocked the larger man, eyes twinkling with mirth before turning serious as they waited for Athos to continue.

Shaking his head at his brother's antics he barely registered his hand still running through D'Artagnan's hair as he spoke.

"It did not. Anne had him believing they would run away together but when they were alone in the barn, preparing their horses for the trip, she… she slit his throat, letting him bleed out on the ground while she rode off a free woman."

"Damn," breathed Porthos as Athos finished speaking.

"Only they weren't as alone as they though I'm guessing?" mused Aramis, having figured out where Léo fitted into his brother's story.

Athos nodded, "Léo had been in his early teens at that point, he was apprenticed to the stable master and had returned to the barn to pick up something he had forgotten. He told me he hid when he heard voices and was forced to watch in silence as my wife killed his only family."

"He blamed you for her actions?"

Again Athos nodded, "If I had stayed… seen my duty through to the end. Then Thierry would still be alive and none of this would have happened."

"…Not… your… fault," breathed D'Artagnan as he reached up with a weak hand to grip the hand Athos hand on his shoulder.

"…You loved her," continued the Gascon as he gently squeezed Athos's hand. "You… didn't want to watch… her die… makes you human… not guilty."

The three men blinked at D'Artagnan's words, though Aramis recovered first.

"Damn D'Art," grinned the medic, "When did you get so wise?"

Athos smiled softly at the barely conscious Gascon, guilt was still heavy in his eyes and his brothers knew it would remain there for some time, no matter what they said or did.

"I'm going to get my horse," stated the swordsman as he detached himself from the Gascon. "Then we can go home."

As they watched their brother walk off the two senior members of the inseparables couldn't help but sigh sadly.

"If he's not back in ten minutes," said Aramis softly as he turned to Porthos, "go after him."

"Course," nodded the larger man as he turned to watch the direction Athos had disappeared down whilst Aramis returned his attention to D'Artagnan, the boy having finally passed out again. Both men were slightly relieved at this as neither wanted to answer the questions their slightly out of it brother would undoubtedly have as to their leader's disappearance.

Thankfully Athos returned before Porthos had to go out looking for him, gratitude in his eyes for his brothers' decision to let him have some time to gather himself after everything he had experienced and shared.

True to their expectations getting D'Artagnan on Athos's horse was not a pleasant experience for the boy, a whimper of pain escaping him despite being unconscious.

The trio took it slow on the way back to Paris; each sending worried glances D'Artagnan's way at every whimper or hitched breath. Athos in particular was having a hard time, every instinct in him was screaming at him to race to Paris as fast as his horse could carry them, but the obvious pain their brother was in at just a slow walk had him reigning those instincts in as he subconsciously tightened his hold on the unconscious boy nestled against his chest.

Needless to say Treville was not pleased when they returned but mercifully withheld his reprimanding of both Athos and D'Artagnan for their reckless actions until both men were healthy and recovering.

"You do know how you both could have avoided that right?" mused Aramis teasingly as he leant against the door frame, a slight smirk teasing his lips. Both he and Porthos had been eavesdropping in on most of the Captain's rant at their brothers' recklessness and had seen fit to jump in with their own input once the Captain was far enough away so as to not start on them as well.

"Aramis," sighed Athos, knowing exactly what was coming, having seen the slight anger that had been brewing in his friend for the last few days.

"Had you simply told us what was going on in the first place," elaborated Aramis, his voice and expression hardening slightly as he stepped into the room. "Then you wouldn't have had to face Léo on your own. We could have helped you, like we were supposed to!"

Athos blinked then, seeing the hurt that way lying underneath the anger. Guilt filled him once more as he realized what his actions had put all of his brothers and friends through.

"My apologies," said the swordsman sincerely as he placed a firm but gentle hand on Aramis's shoulder whilst sending an apologetic look Porthos's way.

"Arh enough of this," grinned Porthos as he lightly pushed Athos back towards the chair by D'Artagnan's bedside, the boy being placed on bed rest until his wound healed. "I took this outa your room," grinned the man as he lifted up a bottle of wine. "'Mis cleared the whelp for drinking and I've got some cards so enough heavy stuff and lets just celebrate that you only got one week stable duty."

Athos couldn't help but chuckle at his friend, nodding at the man to deal as he moved to pour the wine into some goblets that Aramis had somehow found.

Several hours later with the wine gone and his brothers sleeping contentedly around their youngest's bedside Athos couldn't help but smile, relishing in the fact that he was not the cause of the death of another little brother.