Hello all! I am a long time reader but first time writer so I appreciate all constructive criticism. This takes place after Athos has shot D'artagnan and he is taken away by Milady de Winter. Enjoy!

Aramis wrung his hands and bounced his leg in nervousness as he glanced towards the door. This had been one of the most hellish nights of his life, dawn still a few hours off. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, pausing when he spotted the flecks of dry blood. Not his blood he thought as he scrubbed them against his pants. His eyes jerked to the door when he heard it being pulled open with a force that could only mean Porthos had arrived.

Aramis stood quickly and took a step towards his brother, a question forming on his lips, though he did not have the strength to voice it. Porthos read the question without needing to hear it "I don't know." he grumbled "Last I saw, he was still breathin', but then that filthy woman took him. God Aramis there was so much blood." They both sat heavily. No sooner had they hit their chairs when they were on their feet again, now being joined by a pale faced Athos. He somberly and silently walked to the last available chair, falling into it with his head in his hands.

"I have killed him." his whispered

Aramis quickly countered, "We do not know that yet. It was an easy mistake Athos and you cannot blame yourself. D'artagnan knew the risks and would not want you to punish yourself."

Athos tipped his face up to the ceiling with a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. The three brothers sat in silence, supporting each other by merely being in each other's presence. Aramis' leg soon resumed its bouncing personality but it was not long before it was stopped by a lazy look from Athos. It seemed as if ages had passed before the pink light of the rising sun began to rise through the solitary window.

Porthos broke the silence, "When this is done I'm not letting that boy out of my sight for nothin'. I feel as if I've aged ten years in a single night."

"You look it" Aramis teased with a lopsided grin "But I agree. My devilish good looks can't take this kind of stress."

The playful banter was an attempt to raise spirits and even Athos cracked a small smile in response, but the smiles did not reflect in their eyes. The tension mounted as pink hues slowly melted into orange. A rooster crowed in the distance as Treville burst into their impromptu waiting room. All three musketeers stood swiftly, silently demanding answers from their Captain.

"He lives," Treville began "Though if you had aimed a little more left I would be carrying more somber news. He seems strong however, I can tell that woman has been feeding him nothing but poisonous lies since he has awoken. You can all see him later today; He'll be coming by the Garrison I imagine."

"So you've removed his commission then?" Porthos asked sadly.

"Yes. Even though he knows this is all an act I still felt as though I was ripping his heart out of his chest."

Aramis ran a hand absently over his pauldron "The musketeers are his home now, and we his family. Even if he's not truly loosing us, the fear of that eventuality can be horrifying."

Treville nodded and hooked his hands on his belt "Do not stray from the garrison today. I do not know when he will be coming." and with a parting nod of his head he left the three to wait for their yougest.

When the door had shut they sat back in their chairs, able to relax a little more now that they knew D'artagnan would survive the night. Porthos took a small breath and started chuckling on the exhale. The chuckles soon grew to a full bodied laughter, laced with relief.

"I cannot decide if that boy has the best or worst luck in the world." He said after he took a few breaths.

Aramis too gave a small chuckle "Well he met us didn't he?"

"And would you count that as good luck or bad?" Athos questioned dryly and continued, "If he is to live through his first year as a musketeer he had better pray his good luck thrives."

"I'm sure some of mine'll rub off on the lad" Porthos replied, a grin plastered on his face.

"What luck? You cheat." Aramis uttered under his breath.

Porthos heard and the grin fell from his face "Like you're any luckier? How many husbands have challenged you to duels this year alone?"

"Gentlemen," Athos interrupted quietly "Let us just be thankful that our you D'artagnan has lived so far and vow to help him make his own luck. For now the best thing we can do for him is get some rest so that we may be ready when he has need of us."

The other two nodded somberly and got themselves as comfortable as they could in their chairs, placing their hats over their faces to block the morning sun. Not a one made an move to return to his own chambers for, although the news that D'artagnan lived had lifted their spirits, the strangling fear that his life almost made its' end was ever present, and to be alone after such a fright was not what any of them wanted.

END