Hello all, and thanks so much for the lovely feedback! I hope I didn't miss anyone. If I did, I'm so sorry! I'm in the midst of final edits of a biography that will FINALLY be published in September, which is why I have been silent so long… but more to come… PLEASE let me know what you think—feedback is like OXYGEN!

* TM * TM * TM *

"You should have brought this to my attention yesterday, d'Artagnan," Aramis scolded, gently. He watched as the young Gascon carefully pulled his shirt sleeve over the freshly-applied balm meant to soothe the throbbing in his arm and shoulder that had not stopped since he and Louis had tumbled down the embankment in the woods.

D'Artagnan wished Aramis hadn't dragged him back here to the medically-minded soldier's own quarters, with both Athos and Porthos in tow to watch. His mind still in a whirl over the capture, the reprimand of the King, and the confrontation with Rochefort, he paused just long enough to look the musketeer in the eye. "The focus was on the King and the Dauphin yesterday." He looked back to his task.

Aramis exchanged a look with Athos and Porthos, uncertain of the meaning behind the words d'Artagnan spoke. Was he just stating fact? Or had Aramis detected anger? "True," he answered carefully. "But your shoulder has clearly been jarred quite harshly, your ribs are bruised nearly black, and your back…"

His let the words go unspoken. D'Artagnan knew what Aramis was seeing; there was no need to describe it. He had been beaten violently at some stage during the ordeal. For helping Pepin or to shield the King, he couldn't recall. It didn't matter, the younger musketeer realized, trying to push the memories away. It didn't matter at all.

"It's healing."

"D'Artagnan, why did you not tell us?" Athos asked.

"You didn't ask," d'Artagnan answered simply. He regretted the blunt response when his companions shifted uncomfortably. So he added, "Your job was to rescue the King."

"And you," Porthos amended, with a glance at the others.

"He had to come first," d'Artagnan told them without anger. It was true. "I was secondary,"

But the statement struck the others, and the room went uncomfortably quiet. Then Athos said softly, "Only in duty, d'Artagnan; not in heart."

D'Artagnan locked eyes with Athos at that moment, those few words from his mentor soothing him more than any of Aramis's concoctions.

"It is never acceptable to deal with this kind of discomfort when it isn't necessary," Athos advised him in a louder voice, drawing them all out of what had become an emotionally-charged situation. "If you have not ensured that you are fit to complete your duties when you are needed, you have not fulfilled your obligations as a musketeer."

"It's my fault as much as the boy's," Aramis said. "I should have asked."

"Me, too," chimed in Porthos. "I should've known he'd be too stubborn to tell us if anything was wrong."

"I barely noticed it myself at first," d'Artagnan defended himself. "But by the time I did, we were at the Dauphin's christening. I wasn't mortally wounded; it didn't seem worth mentioning."

Aramis frowned. "I suppose we were all a bit… distracted," he admitted. D'Artagnan missed the quick look of understanding that passed between Aramis and Athos. "But afterwards…"

"After our audience with the King and Rochefort, I wanted to be distracted myself," d'Artagnan said. He stood up quickly, intending to brush the issue aside. But it was too quick, and he felt himself swaying after the poking and prodding of Aramis had left him weaker than he expected.

"Easy." D'Artagnan felt Aramis's steadying hand guiding him back down onto the bed. He closed his eyes, tried to regain his equilibrium. "Perhaps you'd best stay here today," Aramis suggested.

"No," d'Artagnan answered, taking a breath in through his mouth and then swallowing to steady himself. He opened his eyes and looked at the others.

Porthos moved in and took hold of his arm as he stood again. "You don't 'ave to kill yourself to prove to the King that you're loyal," he said. He met Porthos's eyes, his own eyes serious, but said nothing. "We already know."

"Is that what this is about?" Athos asked. "The meeting with the King after the christening?"

D'Artagnan looked at his friend. "No." Yes. And with Rochefort this morning. "I'm fit to carry out my duties."

"Aramis?"

Aramis looked at the defiant, proud musketeer for a long moment, then nodded. "If he's careful, he can ride today. Let us hope Captain Tréville has in mind for us something that is not terribly taxing to the body."

"And if he does, we'll be watching you," Porthos warned their youngest.

D'Artagnan looked at his friend and nodded once. "I won't need watching. Let's go."

* TM * TM * TM *

"Antoine Baudin was the son of a royal servant," Tréville explained. "As a young boy, he once came to the palace with his mother and by chance met the King, who was also a child at the time. As children do, they became fast friends despite the social disparity, and Baudin became a trusted confidant. He remains so to this day.

"The King is sending him to Vassy to talk with the locals. There has been a rearing of heads there, and His Majesty wants to keep things calm. We need no more trouble, as there is already La Rochelle to deal with."

"That's quite a distance," Athos mused.

"With many chances for trouble along the way," Tréville agreed.

"And when we get there," Porthos added. "These hot heads—we're talking about Huguenots?"

Tréville nodded. "Yes."

"Then I suppose the King is making it our duty to look after Baudin and make sure there are no… disturbances," Aramis surmised.

"He is."

Aramis glanced at his companions. "Well, at least we're good for something," he said with a shrug.

Porthos nodded agreement. "Sure. What've a few hundred angry Protestants got that we haven't?"

"A few hundred more angry Protestants," Athos replied. He looked at their Captain. "But our honor will win out, of course. Captain de Tréville, we stand ready to follow orders. But I think d'Artagnan should stay behind."

"What? No!" d'Artagnan protested. He'd been quite content to listen to the banter of his friends with their Captain up to now. Although he certainly wasn't feeling the best after his ordeal, he wasn't going to bow out of this mission. Not only would it make him appear helpless in the sight of his friends, it would lower his standing even further—if that was possible—in the eyes of the King.

"D'Artagnan, it will take several days to reach Vassy, across what is not always pleasant terrain. And with your injuries, if we encounter any trouble—"

"Then I shall fight alongside you as I always have. I am fit to carry out my duties." He looked toward Tréville, his expression both determined and pleading at the same time. "I am fit to travel and do my duties as a musketeer."

Tréville met the young Gascon's eyes, knew what lay behind them, then looked to the other musketeers. "Let him go," Tréville said. "If he becomes a burden, you can leave him at an inn along the way. In the meantime, I want him among your numbers; there are too few of you going on this mission as it is. D'Artagnan knows country-bred people; he knows how they think, how they act. This can be a benefit to you. And I'm sure he'll stop if he needs to."

"More like if he has to," Porthos said.

"Like if he falls unconscious off his horse from the jarring of his wounds," Aramis added.

D'Artagnan saw doubt flicker across Tréville's face and shot Aramis a look.

"But knocking his head on the ground might actually improve his sense," Athos put in. "We'd better let him come along." D'Artagnan relaxed. "When do we leave?"

"You will prepare now and go to the palace to meet Baudin. The King himself wants to place him in your hands."