Silence fell over the table for a few moments as all four men took in the magnitude of what had just been said. Athos' grip on the table did not lessen, while Aramis and Porthos both stared unhappily into their wine, ignoring the penetrating glare being aimed at them by their friend. They completely understood his anger, having gone through the same emotion when Treville had first broached the idea earlier that morning. That didn't make their feelings of sadness and guilt any easier when Athos spoke the idea aloud.

D'Artagnan honestly didn't know what to think. He was torn between concern and wonder at Athos' reaction, and descending into a mess of horror at what had been suggested. He realised the other three were waiting for him, waiting to hear his reaction. He refused to show his fears; he was going to be a musketeer after all.

"Fine." As he spoke he felt a wave of fear crash over him, just as Athos' fist crashed onto the table, making all three men jump. A group of musketeers who were passing paused for a moment to stare, but moved on quickly on seeing the expressions on all four faces.

"I said, no." Athos spoke quietly, but inside his head he was yelling. He had to maintain control, not least because the tension in his body was beginning to cause horrendous pain in his side.

"It's fine Athos, I'll do it. If it's the only plan we have, then..." D'Artagnan tried to keep the fear from his voice but he knew from the expression on Athos' face as he turned to look at him, and the way that Porthos and Aramis looked up at him instantaneously, that he had not hidden it well.

"You do not have to agree to this." Porthos' voice was serious. "It's just the latest in a series of plans all of which have come to nothing."

"D'Artagnan?" He turned to look at Aramis when he called on him. "The captain just asked us to inform you that we are thinking about it. But if you do not want to do it, you do not have to."

"Yes I do!" D'Artagnan let his voice betray his emotions as it burst out. "I do have to do it. If we still have nothing, no way of ending this, then how can I possibly say no?" It was his turn to bang a hand on the table before him.

Aramis reached across the table and rested his hand on top of D'Artagnan's. "No, you don't have to do anything. Like we said, it's just one possibility."

"It's probably nonsense anyway; I mean how could we even make sure they took you?" Porthos' voice was soothing, but D'Artagnan stared at him evenly.

"Because we know I fit the list, don't we? What are the chances he's found someone else to kidnap to order since last week? And found someone else who fits the order as 'perfectly' as I apparently did? None. I have to, and we all know it." He saw the resigned expressions on both faces and knew that he was right. Options were limited, and right now they were limited to one. He turned once more to the man beside him. "Athos, I have to."

Athos shook his head tightly. He didn't speak for fear of letting go of the pain that was now shooting through him. He knew he needed to relax his body, but he couldn't. He couldn't let this happen either.

"Athos? Are you alright?" Aramis was round the table instantly, a hand laid on his friend's back, the other on his chest. "I need you to breathe for me Athos, just breathe. Lean forward, I need to lift your shirt to check your injury."

At the pained look on the patient's face Porthos stood and came round the table to join the others, standing in place behind Athos to make sure that he was fully protected from prying eyes. No one needed to see any sign of weakness in him.

"Breathe Athos, now please." Aramis slapped him sharply on the back, causing him to let go of the breath he had held since the start of the pain and take a deep, shuddering breath, ending in a grunt of pain.

"Bastard." Athos glanced down at Aramis, who grinned back at him from his place crouched by Athos' side.

"Works every time. It would be much easier of course if you would just admit when you were in pain and breathe through it like a normal person, but oh no, big tough Athos would rather hold his breath till he passes out." Aramis pulled his shirt gently out and lifted it to look at the still red and raw looking wound that graced his friend's side. "Now hold still, this is going to hurt a bit. Porthos, your turn to hit him if he stops breathing."

Gently, Aramis prodded at the wound, checking that nothing had moved or torn inside. Athos hissed out a breath, bowing his head to his chest. D'Artagnan, now straddling the bench beside him, leaned forward and gripped his hand under the table before resting his chin on his shoulder and whispering quietly to him. He didn't think for a second what he was doing, it was second nature to offer comfort and he didn't stop to think what Athos or anyone else would think. Porthos noticed the gesture and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"There. No harm done." Aramis let Athos' shirt fall back down his side and stood up.

"Time to go home I think." D'Artagnan stood and looked expectantly at Athos. The musketeer raised his head and looked at the boy with a clear 'I don't bloody think so' expression on his face. "You promised, now it's time to go."

"You really should rest." Aramis agreed.

With a sigh, Athos rose slowly to his feet. "Fine. But we are not finished talking about this. I will rest today, but tomorrow I am back, properly, and we will come up with a proper plan. One that is not likely to kill one of us." He gave Porthos and Aramis each a glare before stepping out from the bench, tucking his shirt back in. He turned to D'Artagnan. "I suppose you will be accompanying me home?"

"Absolutely." The Gascon folded his arms firmly. Not a chance was he letting him out of his sight after that.

"Fine. Let's go."

D'Artagnan looked a little surprised at the lack of objection, but Porthos and Aramis smiled after them knowingly as they walked out of the yard.

"He's not going to let him go until he agrees to refuse the plan, is he?" Porthos said.

"Nope," Aramis sighed and slumped back down at the table. More wine. Now.

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx

Athos decided to stay quiet on the journey home, to give himself time to think about how he was going to do this. D'Artagnan assumed that he was quiet because he was still in pain, so he didn't push him to talk. Athos was never much of a talker to begin with, but this they needed to discuss. It was only fifteen minutes or so before they reached Athos' rooms, but by the time they reached them they were both far too aware of the silence and tension that ran between them.

D'Artagnan stepped ahead to open the door, stepping inside and holding it open. As Athos walked through and past him to head up to his first floor rooms D'Artagnan glanced at him, noting the serious expression on his face, and sighed. He had a feeling their conversation was not going to go well.

Athos pushed open the door to his rooms and headed for a chair next to his small table. He threw his hat on the table and sat glaring at the door, waiting for his young friend to come through it. He was taking his time. Eventually, his face appeared at the door.

"Um, you need your rest, so I'm just going to..."

"Sit down."

"Athos, you..."

"I'm fine. Come and sit down please." Athos gestured to the other chair that was next to his and waited while the boy took a deep breath, entering the room and closing the door before moving over to join him.

"Don't you think you should go to bed?"

"I said I'm fine." He rolled his eyes at the look he received. "Honestly, I'm alright. We need to talk about this, don't you think?"

"Why?" D'Artagnan felt himself tensing up.

Athos spoke quietly, but firmly. "You cannot accept this as an option D'Artagnan. We are not sure what Marchal is capable of, or what could happen to you before it was time to rescue you, again."

"Nothing would happen that hadn't before! They had instructions to keep me in one piece, remember?"

Ignoring the shudder that ran through him, Athos tried another tact. "I want you to be honest with me, will you do that?"

D'Artagnan looked deeply into the eyes of the man who brought out such a confusing level of admiration in him, and spoke from the heart. "Always."

Athos paused for a moment, taken aback slightly by the serious look on the younger man's face. "Do you want to do this?"

There was a brief pause before D'Artagnan fulfilled his promise with a whisper. "No."

Relief flooded through Athos, but it was quickly snuffed out when D'Artagnan rose to his feet and began pacing, his voice rising and betraying his apprehension.

"But that doesn't matter Athos! What matters is stopping Marchal, stopping anyone else getting taken, anyone else getting killed like Jacqueline!" He stopped when he saw Athos flinch and sat himself back down at the table. "I'm sorry. But I have to do this. If it's our only option, then it must be done."

"Have you forgotten what happened with Vadim?"

D'Artagnan reeled back as if Athos had slapped him. "Is that what it is? You think I can't do it? You think I have learned nothing since then! You still don't trust me!" His tone was accusing as he rose to his feet once more.

"No D'Art..."

"Yes Athos! You think I am still the naive boy who arrived here all those months ago!" He was shouting now, his heart laced with disappointment. "I cannot believe this. I thought I was proving myself to you all."

"No!" Athos shouted too as he rose to his feet and stood nose to nose with his angry friend. "That is not what I meant!"

D'Artagnan avoided his eyes, desperate that the musketeer should not see the depth of the hurt that laced his. He had no desire to answer any awkward questions. He was unprepared for the hand that grabbed his chin and lifted his head until they were looking each other in the eye once again. Athos was still angry.

"Have you forgotten that you almost died D'Artagnan?"

"Of course not! But I've learned Athos! I can do better. Why can't you trust me?"

"And why can't you see that I am trying to keep you alive because I cannot bear to lose you?"

This last was spoken softly, but honestly. D'Artagnan's eyes widened briefly as he took it in. After a moment, he grinned and shook off the hand that still held his chin, reaching instead with both of his own hands to touch the face before him; the face that was filled with disbelief at what it had just said, but also with an expression that gave D'Artagnan no reason to doubt the sentiment behind it. He pulled Athos' head forward and gently rested their foreheads together. He watched as Athos smiled a little, before sighing and closing his eyes. D'Artagnan let his own eyes drift shut.

"Now that I will see." He whispered.

They stayed like that for several minutes, neither wanting to break the peace. Eventually, Athos lifted his head, opening his eyes and waiting for D'Artagnan to open his. He placed his hands on the younger man's waist, pulling him gently closer. Neither of them blinked as their heads slowly moved towards each other, each making sure they were correct in the other's feelings, until at last their lips met in a chaste but warm kiss.

Athos pulled back. "D'Artagnan?" He grinned and spoke briefly before crushing their lips back together.

"You're still not doing this."