A/N: I was convinced by the wonderful ThorneofAcre to post these here as well as on my AO3 so that they can recieve "all the love they are missing out on". Well, who am I to deny them that?

Warning: Major Character Death and all around feeeels

Athos, Porthos and Aramis were spending the evening in the pub, celebrating another mission successfully finished. d'Artagnan was going to join them after he had escorted Constance home to her husband - when he took longer than they'd expected, Porthos and Aramis assumed that he'd simply gotten caught up "talking" to Madame Bonacieux, but Athos couldn't help but feel that something was... off.

His suspicions were confirmed when Constance herself appeared in the doorway of the tavern, tears in her eyes, and looking like she was running from the hounds of hell.

"Come quickly" was what she said, "it's d'Artagnan."

All three men stood and followed her, ice in their hearts as they imagined what could have possibly happened to him. He was their responsibility now, and if anything happened to him... well, Athos in particular would be devastated - the lad showed promise, and all he wanted in life was to become a Musketeer. If whatever had happened deprived him of that chance, Athos did not think he could forgive himself.

He was laid on his bed in Constance's home. His young face was paler than any of them could remember seeing, and his bare chest was wrapped tightly in bandages which didn't quite stop the blood from leaking through. He was awake though, and reached out weakly to his friends.

"A...thos" He rasped, his voice hardly even a whisper, but his friend was there, kneeling by his side in an instant. He brushed the boy's long hair out of his face gently, watching his pained expression and laboured breathing with a heavy heart. The boy's survival was in his own hands, and who could say whether he had the strength of will left to live?

"I'm here, d'Artagnan, hush now, lad." He looked up at Constance, who was tearful and shaking. "What happened, Madame?"

Constance opened her mouth to speak, but it came out as sobs. "It... it was that awful woman. The one who frightened me, before. She'd seemed... jealous that d'Artagnan is, well, fond of me. She... she wanted to kill me, but the chivalrous idiot got in the way, and she shot him. Then she just walked away, cold as you like." Here she paused, collecting herself, and brought a sprig of forget-me-nots out of her dress pocket. "She dropped these on the ground as she left." She handed the delicate blue flowers to Athos, who stared at them in shock, as all the warmth fled from his body.

"No... no, it can't be her." He whispered, which caused d'Artagnan to open his eyes, he looked up at his friend with a frown.

"It was. 'M sorry, Athos" All was quiet, and both Aramis and Porthos came now to kneel next to their young friend. Aramis had tears in his eyes, and the look in Porthos' was dark. Athos gulped back sobs of his own, though he felt like his sorrow would drown him. The woman he loved had once again killed. Once again killed a brother.

"There is nothing you need be sorry for, lad. If... if only I'd seen my duty done, this would never have happened - you would have been safe. I... I will never forgive myself if you die, boy. So please, lad. Don't go. Stay, stay with us. You've made us young again, you've kept us together. Don't die." D'Artagnan gave him a weak smile, and he took the hand of the older man and squeezed it gently.

"I don't... I'm scared, Athos. Hurts." He admitted, tears shining in his eyes. This time Athos let out a sob, and kissed the boy's forehead.

"I know, lad, I know. But we're here, we're all here. We won't leave you alone."

"Aye." Porthos added. "You're one of us now, kid."

"Yes," Aramis agreed. "All for one and one for all."

Sighing, letting the last, difficult breath leave his body, d'Artagnan smiled at his friends, and knew that, now, at the end, he was a Musketeer.