Our Brother

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Note: Okay, so I decided that I wanted to write a one-shot on The Musketeers (BBC). I didn't really know what to write at first, but I finally came up with an idea :) I have no clue how many of you will read this or review, but if you do, then I really hope you enjoy it! This is my first TM fic and so I'm quite nervous to post it, but here goes hopefully something...

D'Artagnan stepped back into the shadows as Athos, Aramis and Porthos walked past him, laughing and joking with each other. He sighed.

It had been just over a year since the day the young Gascon had barged into the Garrison, demanding to see and fight with Athos. He could hardly believe that had happened, seeing as he was so close to the man now; they saw each other as brothers, and he couldn't think of anyone else, besides Aramis and Porthos, that he'd rather share that title with.

However, it had also been just under a year – 364 days to be exact – since that day. The day his father died.

Seeing his friends walk into a tavern, d'Artagnan stepped out from the alley he'd hid in and walked the opposite direction, hoping to find something else to do on the way. His brothers had asked him to join them in the tavern earlier, but he just couldn't. He needed to be alone, without them suspecting something. If they did, they'd start asking him questions, and he really didn't want that. Aramis, Athos, Porthos and even Treville had their own matters, and they didn't need to tend to a young boy who was having difficulty coping without his father's guiding hand on his shoulder.

"D'Artagnan?"

The Gascon turned at the sound of his name, surprised to see Treville standing there behind him. The Captain had changed out of his Musketeer clothing and was dressed quite casually, and d'Artagnan suddenly remembered that Athos had asked him earlier if he had wanted to join them that evening for a drink, to which he had happily replied 'yes', looking very relieved to have a break from all the work he'd been doing recently.

"Treville," d'Artagnan nodded with a faint smile before turning, meaning to quickly walk away again before the older man started asking questions. He felt a strong hand wrap around his shoulder and pull him back.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know," the Gascon said truthfully.

Treville frowned. "You're not coming to the tavern with us?"

"No, I… have more important things to do."

"You just said you don't know where you're going."

"I don't."

The Captain frowned, and confused thoughts clouded his mind. The boy wasn't even making sense anymore! Something was definitely wrong. Had he had an argument with the others? Hurt himself somehow? Had something he wanted to tell them? He didn't know, but he knew who would.

"Come on, you're coming to the tavern."

"But-"

"No buts, you need a break d'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan sighed as he let himself be led to the tavern, his heart beating a little faster now. What if they suspected something? What if he was quieter than usual? What if-

Shut up d'Artagnan, the Gascon scolded himself, you're acting like a child.

Once they reached the door to the tavern, Treville pushed it open and walked inside, immediately catching sight of Athos, Aramis and Porthos who were sat on a table in the corner, laughing at a joke one of them had made. Aramis looked up, and d'Artagnan could see a huge grin on his face, which only grew as he saw his two friends walking towards them, one more reluctant than the other.

"Ah, d'Artagnan! We were wondering when you were going to turn up, my friend," he said, standing up and putting an arm around the younger man, who smiled slightly in response.

"He was waiting for me to finish up my work so that we could walk down together," Treville informed them with no hesitation, sinking down on a chair and stretching his legs.

Porthos nodded and stood up. "I'll get ya both a drink," he said before wrapping an arm around d'Artagnan, "you can come with me."

As the two left, Athos turned his head to his Captain. Treville's face was expressionless, obviously deep in thought, and he was resting his chin in his hands.

"What is it?"

The Captain looked at Athos. The Musketeer's face was serious, dark eyebrows raised and blue eyes fixed on his own.

"What do you mean?"

"Something's wrong Treville," Aramis spoke up, obviously also noticing that the older man's thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.

Treville looked up, a confused and surprised look on his face. What were they- ah, of course! He had been so deep in thought, thinking about what could possibly be wrong with their young friend, that he hadn't realised others had noticed it too.

"Something is bothering d'Artagnan."

Aramis frowned. "Bothering him how? Is he okay?"

"I'm not sure. He wasn't going to come to the tavern – said he had more important things to do – but I brought him here anyway. He wasn't very happy about that."

Athos adopted a very thoughtful expression as he took a long drink from his wine and leant back. Had they done something to upset him? Anger him, even? He didn't think so. Only yesterday they had been on a day off, riding in the forest and having lunch by the river. They had been fine – acting like they always did. Why was today any different?

"What's up with 'im?" asked Porthos with a gesture to Athos when he came back, two drinks in hand and d'Artagnan trailing behind him.

Athos looked up, catching d'Artagnan's eye. There was something odd about him. The usual happy, joking, bantering Gascon just wasn't there. The normal twinkle in his eye was gone, replaced by a dark… sadness.

"Athos?"

Porthos's voice was filled with concern for his friend, and the older Musketeer averted his gaze to him. He smiled and patted his arm. "Nothing, my friend. Just thinking."

Not even an hour had passed before d'Artagnan drained the last of his second drink and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Aramis asked.

"To bed. I'm tired," the Gascon replied, adding in a yawn. He did feel tired. He had spent so long dreading the next day – not getting any sleep, barely eating, and only smiling when his brothers were around.

Treville nodded and reached over to pat d'Artagnan's arm. "Goodnight d'Artagnan. Make sure you're up early tomorrow – the Queen wants you boys to deliver a letter to a close friend of hers nearby."

The Gascon nodded and, with a barely audible sigh, turned and walked quickly out of the tavern.

"Alright, what's going on 'ere?"

The three turned to Porthos, whose dark eyes were narrowed.

"Something's wrong with our young friend," Treville told him, taking a drink.

"D'Artagnan? What is it?" Porthos asked, protectiveness for the boy overcoming him.

"We don't know," Athos spoke up at last, now that d'Artagnan was gone and they could speak properly about this, "but I want to find out."

"How d'you know something's wrong?"

"You didn't notice how quiet he was today? He isn't himself. He's hiding something," Aramis said.

The four were silent for a while, each thinking about what could possibly be wrong.

"Treville, does the Queen really need us to give a letter to her friend?" Athos asked, turning to his Captain.

"No, but d'Artagnan doesn't need to know that."

"You want us to talk to him."

"Yes, but you want to talk to him too. He's your brother – find out what's wrong and help him. D'Artagnan's not a child, he's very capable of looking after himself, but sometimes he's just not very good at it."

Athos, Aramis and Porthos smiled at that. It was true. If ever d'Artagnan had something on his mind that was troubling him, he wouldn't tell anyone. He'd keep it to himself, before someone would notice and ask him what was wrong. He usually told them after that, probably because he'd been keeping whatever was disturbing him to himself for so long and just needed someone to vent to.

"So… what do we tell him when he finds out we don't actually have a letter to deliver?" Aramis asked.

Treville looked up and smiled. "I could write a letter to my old friend, who lives not far from here. Would you be able to deliver that?"

Athos nodded before draining the last of his drink and standing up. "Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"G'night Athos," Porthos said with a small smile, patting his friend's arm as he turned to walk out of the tavern.

D'Artagnan woke up and tiredly rubbed his eyes, blinking at the small ray of sunshine which had managed to sneak its way through a crack in the curtains. He lay in bed for a moment, before he remembered what day it was, and memories flooded back into his mind.

It had been this day, exactly one year ago, that Alexandre d'Artagnan had died at an inn, in his son's helpless arms. He still remembered the look on his father's face as he uttered his last word; the name of the man he believed had killed him. 'Athos'. One of the only men now that he held love for.

Hastily rubbing at the tear that had started making its way down his cheek, d'Artagnan drew in a deep breath and sighed, remembering that he would need to get up soon in order to be on time to meet his brothers and deliver the Queen's letter. He sighed. Couldn't he just pretend he was ill and needed to stay in bed, so he wasn't allowed to go with them? No. Aramis would want to check him over and see what was wrong with him himself, but obviously there'd be nothing to see, so… there was no use.

With a low growl, d'Artagnan sat up and slowly got out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he opened the curtains and the window, smiling only slightly as he heard birds singing and children playing and laughing on the streets below. At least some people were happy.

Turning around, he sighed and proceeded to get dressed, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead – it was going to be a long one.

Athos frowned as he looked at Aramis and Porthos. They had just finished tacking their horses, and d'Artagnan's, but their little brother still hadn't arrived. He glanced down at Treville's letter in his hand and put it in his jacket pocket. Just as Aramis opened his mouth to ask if he should go check on him, the Gascon rounded the corner and walked towards them.

"Morning," he yawned, turning his face slightly so they wouldn't see the still evident tear tracks running from his eyes, before taking his horse's reins out of the stable master's hands and mounting. He looked at the expressionless faces of his brothers' and raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Porthos's eyes narrowed slightly at the tone in his voice but nevertheless followed Aramis and Athos's lead in mounting their own horses.

"Nothing, d'Artagnan," Aramis said with his usual smile, "good morning to you also."

D'Artagnan nodded and turned his horse, following Athos as they trotted out of the Garrison.

They hadn't been riding for more than 2 hours when Athos decided they needed a break. They dismounted and let their horses wander off, knowing they were loyal enough that they'd return at their calls.

He sighed and looked at d'Artagnan, who was climbing up a small grassy hill and heading towards the river, completely oblivious to the fact that his three brothers were intending to have a serious conversation with him.

"You ready?" Aramis asked, walking with Athos and Porthos towards the Gascon.

"Oh come on, 'sjust d'Artagnan," Porthos said, before following the boy at Athos's side.

Aramis nodded with a smile but as soon as Porthos turned his head, he frowned. Sure, it was just d'Artagnan, but the Gascon didn't normally keep things to himself unless it was serious and he really didn't want anyone knowing. Placing his hat on his head, the Musketeer sighed before following after his friends.

D'Artagnan reached the river before the others, and sat down on a rock on the bank, looking down at the rushing water. Oh, how he just wanted to be alone right now. He wanted to think about his father; all their memories, both happy and sad. All their duels they used to have, pretending they were both Musketeers. All the picnics they would have with his mother…

The Gascon was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear his brothers come up behind him. Athos placed a hand on his shoulder and he jolted, turning around quickly. He watched as the older man frowned, concern clear on his features, and gave him a confused look.

"You are crying."

D'Artagnan's eyes widened and he stood up and turned, wiping his wet eyes. Well then. His plan for making sure Aramis, Athos and Porthos knew nothing about his troubles was definitely going well, wasn't it?

Porthos stood with Aramis behind Athos, curious with how this would turn out. D'Artagnan couldn't deny it now; something was definitely wrong, and when it came to problems like this, Athos was usually the one who sorted it out.

Sure enough, the older Musketeer's calm demeanour turned into one of protectiveness, and he grabbed the boy into a strong hug, rubbing his hand up and down d'Artagnan's back and letting him cry into his jacket.

If it had been anyone else, not including Treville, Aramis or Porthos, d'Artagnan probably would have pulled away, but this was Athos – one of his brothers – and it wasn't until he was taken into the hug that he realized how much he had wanted this… how much he had needed this.

Gently, Athos pulled away and looked at d'Artagnan, noticing how his eyes were shining with unshed tears and his cheeks were red. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head, smiling faintly at Porthos and Aramis, who had joined them.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" Aramis asked d'Artagnan, who was looking down at his feet. He nodded once and let his brothers lead him over to a small clearing in the forest where they sat down.

Athos, who was sat further away from his brothers, spoke up first. He looked at the Gascon and sighed.

"First," he said, "I think you should tell us what it is exactly that has you so upset."

D'Artagnan looked up and closed his eyes. He wanted to tell them, he really did, but it was just so… so… difficult.

"You do know that tomorrow, it will have been a year since we met?" he began.

Porthos chuckled. "'Course. How could we ever forget that day?"

D'Artagnan nodded. "Well, I don't know if you will have remembered this but…"

Aramis, realizing that his little brother was having trouble finding words, leant over and put his arm around the boy's shoulders. "You know we are all here for you d'Artagnan, whatever it is, right?"

D'Artagnan rubbed at his eyes and smiled slightly. "Yes, I know. Thank you."

Aramis nodded and looked at the Gascon expectantly.

D'Artagnan took a deep breath before carrying on. "This time last year my father was murdered on our way to Paris."

Everything was silent. Of course. How could they have been so stupid? Besides, Athos had been blamed for the murder! And they had just forgotten about it all.

"I haven't spoken about it much. Well, I haven't thought about it much really. I've thought about him, of course I have, but never about what actually happened on that night… how he died in my arms, murdered at an inn I suggested we stay at. You three have kept me busy I suppose, so I haven't had the time to think about it. But now, all the memories are coming back and I just… I realize that… I just miss him so much."

Porthos's heart shattered as his brother's voice broke, more tears beginning to flow from his hazel eyes. There was something in the way he had said it… some sort of guilt… and he realized that he was blaming himself for everything that had happened.

"D'Artagnan, s'not your fault, okay? You're not to blame for your father's death, you know that, right?"

"But if I hadn't suggested we-"

"Stop it," Athos interrupted from where he was sitting, sternness clear in his voice. "It is not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it is the red guard, Gaudet. He was the man who murdered your father. You have no part in the blame."

D'Artagnan sniffed and looked down.

Porthos sighed. Reaching over, he grasped the Gascon's hands in his and looked at him. "Why didn't you tell us about this?" he asked.

"You had more important things to worry about," was the simple question.

Athos's head snapped up at that, and he stood, immediately walking over to his brothers. He sat on the grass and gave d'Artagnan a stern, yet loving look.

"D'Artagnan," he said, "don't ever think that we will have more important things than you - you are our brother, and you are more important to us than anything. As Aramis has said, we will always be here for you, no matter what. Understand?"

D'Artagnan nodded, unconsciously picking up strands of grass and daisies. He did understand, but his grief for his father was just blocking out any other thoughts in his head.

"You should have told us what was going on so that we could have helped you sooner; you don't have to grieve by yourself, okay? We love you and are here to help you. Now we know about your father, God rest his soul, next year we will be prepared, should you feel like this again," Aramis told him.

D'Artagnan felt his heart swell with so much love for his brothers. What he ever did to deserve them, he would never know.

"Thank you," he said, smiling at the older Musketeers. "I've been dreading this day for so long, but I just hadn't told anyone because I didn't find it… important. I'm sorry."

Athos shook his head, before whistling for his horse and standing up. He reached out a hand for d'Artagnan. "Don't be. We understand why you kept it to yourself, but don't next time. We will always be here for you."

"So… the Queen doesn't actually have a letter for us to deliver?"

Aramis and Porthos laughed.

"No, but Treville did ask us to deliver a letter for an old friend. His name is… oh, her name is Arielle," Athos said, raising his eyebrows at the name on the front of the Captain's letter.

"A lady?" Aramis said jokingly.

"It would seem so," Athos said, tucking the letter safely back inside his jacket pocket.

"He's never mentioned an Arielle before," Porthos said. "Do you think they're...?"

Aramis laughed. "They live quite far away from each other to be lovers, my friend."

Porthos shrugged. "True. But that's never stopped you before," he said with a grin before kicking his horse on and ducking out of the way of Aramis's hand.

D'Artagnan smiled and looked at Athos, who was shaking his head at his brother's antics, but smiling nevertheless.

Treville looked up as the door to his office opened, and his four Musketeers walked in. Aramis immediately sank down on the Captain's bed, stretching his legs out and cracking his knuckles. "Being on a horse all afternoon is hard work," he said with a groan.

"Being Captain of you is hard work," Treville muttered under his breath, shoving his paperwork to one side and leaning back in his chair.

"Heard that."

Athos walked over to Treville's desk and nodded. "All sorted," he said, looking at d'Artagnan, who was stood next to him.

"Good," the Captain said as he got up from his chair and hugged the Gascon. "You can tell me about it later. Next time, don't keep your troubles to yourself, okay?"

D'Artagnan nodded with a smile, not bothering to mention that he'd already heard all of this from his brothers.

"Anyone up for the tavern?" Aramis asked, looking around the room.

Everyone nodded their heads, agreeing that a drink was needed after a long day such as this.

"So Treville," Porthos asked as the five made their way out of the office. "Who's Arielle?"

So, there's the end of my first TM fanfic! I really hope you liked this as it actually took me so long to write XD

I have an OC for TM. Her name is Annabelle, and she is Aramis's little sister by blood, and Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan's little sister by heart. I'd love to write something with her in it, but I have no idea what, so if you want me to, or if you have any ideas, please let me know!

Thanks for reading. Please review! ~ Gre3nleaf