Evening My Lovelies :)

Well this took longer to write then I expected. I went through several different versions of this before settling on this one. Hopefully you like it regardless.

This particular one shot was requested by several people but the first to do so was Issai so here's hoping you like it my friend :)

As always many thanks for reading!

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Trust Me

Trust me. Athos couldn't help but mentally scoff as the thought hit him. It had been one of the things D'Artagnan had said to him to try and persuade the senior musketeer to let him handle the solo mission and looking at the boy now Athos couldn't help but think it was a mistake.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the young Gascon, if anything it actually alarmed the swordsman just how much he did in fact trust him, especially as they had only known each other a few short months and their first meeting had been confrontational to put it mildly.

He had seen the young man fight, had even taken to teaching him a few things to help him improve and if his brothers were to be taken at their word, then he even owed his life to the headstrong young man.

The regret came from believing that Vadim wouldn't suspect the Gascon and it was a failed expectation that came dangerously close to ending the promising young man's life.

Athos knew that both of his brothers felt a similar sting of regret and anger for what had befallen and almost befallen their new friend, but he couldn't help but think he carried more of the weight of that decision.

It had been his approval that ultimately had D'Artagnan being assigned the mission and it had been his trust and belief the young man had sought before they started. So in Athos's mind this made the pain their youngest had endured his fault, at least in part.

"Stop it," grumbled a voice, slightly muffled as it was coming from underneath a hat the voice's owner was using to block out the morning light that was filtering into the room.

Staring at his friend with a raised eyebrow Athos knew he wouldn't have to wait long for an explanation and though he wouldn't admit it, he was slightly curious as to what had finally spurred his exhausted friend to speak up.

"You're doing it again," mumbled the man as he fidgeted on the uncomfortable wooden chair he was sitting on.

"And what would that be?" sighed Athos once he realized staying silent wasn't going to prompt a further explanation from his tired friend.

Lifting his hat gently off of his face Aramis's exhausted and drained eyes bored into him. "Blaming yourself," stated the medic, pausing only to yawn and stretch before turning his complete attention back to the musketeer. "The blame and fault of D'Artagnan's injuries lies solely on Vadim. Don't blame yourself for something out of your control mon ami, you needlessly carry enough guilt as it is."

Athos's expression hardened despite the softly spoken words of his brother, with a resigned sigh he turned his attention back to the unconscious boy lying in the bed between them. Raising a hand he was stroking the Gascon's hair before his mind even registered what he was doing.

"I sent him on that mission Aramis," stated Athos, his eyes never leaving D'Artagnan's bruised face as the self-loathing words left his mouth.

"The Captain sent him," retorted Porthos from his spot in the room, the sound of his brothers talking apparently being enough to wake him up.

"With my approval."

Aramis snorted, ignoring the glare the reaction received as he moved to check on the unconscious boy. "Had you not approved D'Artagnan would still have gone… Only this time he would have been more reckless as he tried to prove himself worthy of receiving your approval. You can not tell me you are blind to his desire to be accepted and to be seen as worthy by you my friend."

Athos was silent as he considered his friend's words. In truth he had not even considered what D'Artagnan would have done had he not given the boy his approval for the mission, but thinking on it, Aramis's words made sense. D'Artagnan was headstrong and borderline reckless at the best of times, his youth and passion often drove him to act without thinking and, now that he had a moment to think about it, Athos was sure those things would have pushed the young man into taking the mission just as a matter of pride.

"…I need to update Treville," stated the swordsman moments later, quickly exiting the room before either of his brothers could stop him.

With matching sad looks in their eyes both remaining musketeers watched their friend and brother leave before returning their attention to the unconscious boy in the bed.

"How's 'e doing this morning 'Mis?" asked Porthos, choosing to ignore Athos's departure as he moved to occupy the man's seat by the Gascon's bedside.

Aramis sighed, his hands coming up to rub away the sleep from his face before one move to run through his now ruffled hair. Anger warring with concern as he looked to his young friend, mentally cataloging his injuries as he finished the examination he had been working on before Athos left.

"The infection in his wrists seem to be reacting well to the poultice," he explained, anger clear in his voice as he tried to desperately ignore the many scenarios that were playing out in his mind as to how the Gascon, who had been largely uninjured the last time they had seen him, managed to completely shred the skin on his wrists. "They still have a ways to go but they're definitely looking clearer… I'll reapply the poultice in a little while but apart from that there isn't much we can do there."

Porthos nodded, his thumb rubbing soft circles in the skin just under the bandage on the boy's wrist while the other hand moved to gently run its way through the boy's hair, being mindful of the fairly large bump lying hidden underneath.

"And the rest of 'im?"

"His ribs thankfully haven't shifted position at all, though I'm fairly sure we have his unconscious state to thank for that. I want to wake him up in a bit to check on that concussion, I'll wrap them then."

With a soft sigh Aramis's eyes moved to D'Artagnan's legs, "We're going to have to keep a careful watch on those burns on his feet. He's not going to be able to walk for a little while but I can't see that stopping our stubborn young friend from trying," both musketeers huffed out a short laugh at that. "There's some burn damaged to the back of his legs as well, though they're not as bad as his feet. Overall he's doing as well as can be expected considering everything that happened."

For the next few minutes the pair were content to let their injured young friend rest while they each internally battled their own feelings of guilt for what occurred.

Overall the mission could be counted as a success as all stolen jewels had been recovered and Vadim and his conspirators were dead. This did little to alleviate the guilt they all felt when they looked upon their battered friend though, and although both musketeers had pushed Athos to abandon his guilt, they were having trouble doing it themselves.

Their musings were stopped by a soft groan of pain that cut through the silence of the room like a knife.

"D'Art?" called Aramis softly as he leant closer to the young man's face, gently tapping his slightly bruised cheek in an effort to wake the boy.

Another soft groan escaped D'Artagnan's lips as his eyelids fluttered open before quickly closing as a whimper of pain left him.

"Easy whelp," said Porthos softly, his hand gently returning to the young man's hair in an effort to offer some form of comfort. "You busted a few ribs in the explosion so moving's gonna hurt for a while."

"…Explosion?" murmured D'Artagnan sluggishly as he forced his tired eyes to once again open, his brows lightly furrowing in confusion as his concussed mind struggled to understand to worry he could clearly see on Aramis's face.

Aramis's worry only got more pronounced by the Gascon's apparent confusion and his hands instinctively flew to the fairly large sized bump on the back of the man's head, eyes shining in apology as another whimper escaped the concussed boy as he tried to weakly move away from the prodding fingers causing him pain.

"Vadim," stated Aramis as he tried to spark some form of recognition in D'Artagnan's mind. "Do you remember him?"

By this point the pain in both his body and head was calling him to return back to the abyss of sleep, but D'Artagnan focused the still coherent part of his mind to respond to the question.

"…There… was a mission," said D'Artagnan slowly as he pushed past the fog in his mind, trying his best to remove the worried look from his friend's face. "…A-Athos let me go alone… Vadim set off an explosion." At this point both musketeers were relaxing slight at the apparent return of D'Artagnan's memory.

"Yes," nodded Aramis with a soft smile, though it faded quickly when the medic in him rose to the forefront. "One you were apparently quite close to given your injuries." Despite phrasing it as a statement D'Artagnan could still here the underlying demand and request for answers.

Unfortunately for the Gascon his concussion made it difficult for him to think before speaking and to come up with ways to brush off his friend's concern, so before he could even register what was being said, words that he never wished to admit flew from his mouth.

"…Tied to it more like," he muttered, not realizing how loud he had in fact just said that until his still slightly dazed mind registered the looks of shock and anger on his friend's faces.

"What?" growled a voice from the doorway. During the time D'Artagnan had been awake, neither the Gascon nor the two musketeers had noticed the return of Athos, who had lingered by the entrance while Aramis worked to prompt D'Artagnan memory into returning.

Sadly this meant that he too had heard the Gascon's accidental admission of what had been done to him, and he was far from pleased.

"He… Tied you to the gunpowder?" snarled the swordsman as he stormed into the room, not noticing the effect his furious approached had had on the Gascon until Porthos subtly kicked his shin and sent him a look that told him to calm down or back off.

"I-I got out though," stated the slightly out of it Gascon, as if it wasn't already clearly obvious.

Understanding and anger flooded Aramis's eyes as his gazed dropped to the younger man's bandaged wrists.

"Did…" breathed Aramis as he struggled to control the anger he was feeling, "Did you pull yourself free?"

In too much pain to register much beyond the fact that no one was yelling at him anymore D'Artagnan nodded. "Had… Had to stop the fuse but… But there were more when I opened the door."

"Which you tried to stomp out," nodded Aramis as his eyes now flickered the boy's bandaged feet, the cause of the Gascon's injuries becoming clear.

D'Artagnan snorted, his voice turning slightly bitter and self-deprecating as he once again nodded. "Didn't work. Still went off, there were too many."

Porthos shrugged, his voice light as he spoke, "Yeah but Vadim's dead thanks to you, his plan failed and everything he stole has been returned. I'd say you did good kid."

"Plus," smirked Aramis, his medic mode fading as the older brother returned, "You can't truly be a musketeer until you've caused some property damage."

Athos leveled the now grinning medic with a completely deadpan look, "There was an explosion," stated the swordsman, internally sighing when Aramis merely grinned again and shrugged.

"Which D'Art here almost prevented, all on his own so I'm with Porthos," turning to the quickly flagging Gascon he added, "You did good mon ami."

Athos noticed the small smile that tugged at D'Artagnan's lips at Aramis words and with a soft shake of his head he pulled up a chair and sat beside Porthos, his movement instantly gaining the Gascon's attention.

"You are not to move from this bed until Aramis clears you to do so," he stated, raising his hand for silence when D'Artagnan, as exhausted as he was, tried to protest.

"When he has cleared you I'm increasing your training program." At this D'Artagnan couldn't help but blink in confusion, not sure if it meant that Athos was disappointed in how he handled himself.

Unwilling to let his protégé doubt himself the swordsman was quick to continue.

"You showed promise with how you handled yourself these last few days but I refuse to have you at risk from incomplete training."

Both Porthos and Aramis smirked at this, both knowing the extra training was Athos's way of not only reassuring himself that D'Artagnan was okay but also to prove to both himself and the Gascon that the younger man could handle the life and trials of being a musketeer.

D'Artagnan, despite his exhaustion and pain, seemed to register some of this as his tired eyes lit up with determination as he nodded to his mentor, "I can handle it."

"You sure whelp," teased Porthos lightheartedly, "Athos's training's brutal at the best of time, let alone when he gets like this."

"Porthos is correct," acknowledged Athos, his voice stern and serious. "I will not go easy on you, nor will I accept complaints."

Ignoring the pain radiating through his body D'Artagnan forced himself up into a somewhat slouched seated position, his eyes never leaving Athos's as he nodded once again.

"I can handle it. Trust me."