Evening My Lovelies!

Guess who's back with a new story! :D

Really sorry it took so long for me to get this ready for publishing but writers' block hit me hard (plus I decided on a completely different plot direction several chapters in and so had to rewrite everything)

For those of you who are new to my work please check out my other musketeer fics, if you a fan of some good old whumpage then you'll enjoy them (I hope) I typically try to update daily, though if I can't then every other day and I adore getting reviews from you lovely people as well as hearing your thoughts and ideas.

To those of you who have been with me before... welcome back to you guys too :) hope you're excited about a new story and will continue to enjoy it as I hope you have my other works.

The first chapter isn't overly long but I will try to make the next ones longer if I can.

Enjoy! xxxx

Chapter One: The Morning After

"Move. Your. Feet," instructed Athos firmly, each of his words accentuated with another swing of his blade. The stoic musketeer keeping his face void of all emotion as he focused on training his youngest brother, the latter having only just returned to full duty after a nasty fall from his horse during a previous mission just over a month ago. D'Artagnan had been adamant about returning, at least to training, before now but all three of his brothers, along with his Captain, had vetoed that idea before he could even finish his practised speech, so he was more than happy to finally be returning to the training field, having finally been given the all clear to train from Aramis that very morning.

The medic was watching critically from a nearby table the quartet had, at some point, claimed, unknowingly, as their own. The protective mother-hen in him was watching the younger man for any sign that his healed leg was causing him trouble or pain, while the brother in him was more than a little proud with how well the Gascon was keeping up with Athos after weeks of no training.

After a particularly impressive flourish from the young man, Aramis was unable to stop himself from whistling in appreciation, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he shouted about the sound of clashing blades, "First rounds on me D'Artagnan if you knock him on his ass!"

The duelling pair paused briefly at the shout, D'Artagnan grinning brightly at the suggestion, determination and amusement entering his eyes briefly before he returned to the fight.

Athos, on the other hand, looked somewhat offended that Aramis thought the younger man capable of doing such a thing and his expression alone was enough to have the marksman bursting out laughing, not cowering under the glare that was then sent his way before the swordsman returned to the fight, He would be the first to admit that D'Artagnan was certainly handling the intense training impressively given his recent injury but Athos knew he had no intention of letting the Gascon knock him on his ass.

With mentor and protege completely focused on their duel, Aramis allowed his thoughts to return to their absent fourth, twisting in his seat slightly to look over at the garrison gates in hope of seeing the man he had fought with only the night before.

While it was pretty rare for the two inseparables to argue, it was never good when they did and the previous night's fight had been particularly bad and Aramis knew he had said some things he wished he could take back and was more than willing to put aside his pride and apologize to the man if only he would actually show up.

He must have been lost in his thoughts for longer than he thought as the next thing he knew an out of breath D'Artagnan was sinking into the seat next to him, lightly bumping their shoulders together as he settled himself, his hand absently moving to massage his recently healed leg.

"You okay?" asked the Gascon quietly as he watched his brother with thinly veiled concern, something that made the medic smile softly as he nodded once before dropping his gaze to the younger man's leg.

Not missing the look D'Artagnan shook his head, "It's fine, just aches a bit… You warned me of this, remember?"

Smirking at the younger man's words Aramis bit back the urge to insist to check over his brother. "So who's paying for the first round, me or you?"

D'Artagnan blinked, "I never agreed to pay," he protested loudly making Aramis chuckle as e answered the medic's query over who had won the duel.

"Still no sign of him?" asked Athos quietly as he moved to join the pair. He had not missed the longing looks his brother had been sending towards the gate all morning and he couldn't help but find himself mirroring them at times. It really wasn't like Porthos not to show up… but then the fight between the two men the night before had been one of the worst they'd ever had.

Letting out a long sigh Aramis shook his head, expression crumbling as he looked back at the gate. "I lost my head," he admitted quietly, feeling his heart clench and shame fill him for how he had acted the night before. "I really need to apologize for what I said but he's clearly avoiding me."

Athos was about to suggest they go and find their missing fourth when a shout of his name from above him caught his attention. Looking up he was greeted by the sight of a stern-faced Treville who then wasted no time in instructing the three men to go to his office.

Cursing internally the three men rose from the table and began to head up the stairs, each of them realizing the lecture that was no doubt coming their way, There was no reason, besides the previous nights fight, for the men to be summoned by such an angry Treville so the men quickly realized that their hopes that the explosive fight wouldn't reach their Captain's ears had been well and truly dashed.