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New story time yay!

There's going to be some serious whumpage to little D'Art in later chapters so I hope you'll hang around for that

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Disclaimer: I don't own the musketeers.

Chapter One: Leaving

Taking a deep breath in a desperate attempt to steady himself, D'Artangan allowed himself one final glance into the tavern's window. From this spot the young Gascon could clearly make out the three men who had become family to him. They were drinking the evening away, enjoying the merriment that accompanied completing a difficult mission.

The Gascon longed, more than anything, to return to their sides, to rejoin his brothers and bask in the safety and love that he had come to sinuate with them. But he couldn't, he didn't deserve the brotherhood and family that they had extended to him.

For a time he had allowed himself to believe that he did, that he belonged, but then all it took was one simple letter to remind him just how false that belief was.

Clutching said letter tightly in his fist, D'Artangan whispered the men he was proud to call brothers a goodbye before disappearing into the dead of night.

Back in the warm, boisterous tavern the three remaining musketeer's turned their conversation focus to their recently departed little brother.

"The whelp's been right quiet the last couple of days" Porthos mentioned, his gaze flicking over to the tavern's door where the subject of their conversation had exited through only minutes previously having stated the need for an early night – not that his brothers believed him though.

"Has he said anything to you?" Aramis asked, looking to Athos with a concerned yet inquisitive stare. It was well known in their little group that the boy had a serious case of hero worship going on where Athos was involved. The Gascon had clearly chosen the typically drunk and extremely morose ex-noble as his role model and mentor in the regiment – much to said musketeer's fond annoyance and their brother's great amusement. If the kid were going to voice his problems or troubles to anyone, it would most definitely be Athos.

"He has not," Athos informed, shaking his head. D'Artangan's behavior the past few days had been concerning him greatly and whilst he didn't outwardly show it often, he was quite fond of the exuberant young man who had charged into the garrison with demands for a to-the-death duel with him, only to then end up being instrumental in saving him from the firing squad. That the boy was clearly troubled, yet insistent on not sharing it with them nor asking them for help, which they would give in an instant, was disconcerting and worried the senior musketeer seriously.

"Started with that letter 'e got the otha day" Porthos mumbled between mouthfuls of stew. This particular tavern served the best chicken stew and Porthos, never one to miss out on good food, had decided that he could not help his brothers determine what was troubling their youngest on an empty stomach so had ordered a large helpings for all three of them.

"Letter?" Athos questioned, he had been stuck on palace duty for most of the week before being sent out on the latest mission, something about being the only one out of the four of them that was the least likely to embarrass themselves and the regiment in front of the King and his important visiting guests. As such he had missed a lot and was feeling quite out of the loop.

"Came the day before we left" Aramis nodded, a small scowl forming as he remembered the incident, "the boy went really pale and looked like he was about to throw up… We asked if he was okay, he tried to assure us he was before going back to training as if nothing had happened"

"Not like his head was in it after that though" Porthos said with a frown. "Tried to get him to talk about it but 'e just kept brushing us off, and then with the mission we 'ardly had the time for chat"

"Should we go after him?" the medic asked worriedly

Athos pondered the question for a moment, half of him was desperate to go and demand answers from his brother, but the other – the more sensible and logical part of him informed him that the boy would likely shut down if they pushed him too much and that he would seek their help when he was ready, sighing he looked into the expectant faces of his brothers "No, he'll likely shut us out if we continue pushing… We let him have time to sort it out in his head but we'll watch over him carefully"

"Still don't make it feel right," Porthos grumbled acceptingly

"Maybe we can tell him that we know that whatever was in the letter is bothering him and that we wont push but that when he's ready or if he needs us, we'll be there" the Spaniard suggested, eager to reach a compromise between pushing the matter too far and not pushing it at all. Their little Gascon was barely out of his adolescence and while they would be happy to sit back and let him work out his problems on his own if that was truly what he wished for, it was clear to the medic that they needed to reiterate the fact that he didn't need to, that they were there for him if he needed it.

"Maybe Treville knows what the letter was about" Aramis added as an afterthought, "he was the one to give it to D'Artangan after all"

"If he can at least tell us who it's from then we may gain some insight as to how to handle the situation" Athos nods, feeling himself relax now that they had a firm action plan.

"Right" Porthos exclaimed happily, clapping his hands together, "now that that's sorted I think it's time I liberated those Red Guards of their coin purses"

"And I am going to go and speak to the lovely Sasha" Aramis said, a charming grin adorning his face as he stood from the table and made his way over to the young, attractive barmaid.

Lifting his wine bottle in mock salute to his brothers Athos made himself comfy, sending up a prayer to a God he wasn't sure he fully believed in anymore that they had made the right decision about D'Artangan.