I'm back! No warnings needed for this one. Can't believe the wonderful response I've had for this so far. It's nice to know that people like to read this.

CandyCakes: Thank you very much for your kind words.

B: Thanks for the advice, I've taken on board your comments.

Summary: D'Artagnan steps up to defend a brother

Disclaimer: Trying my best but I don't own anything

Protective Instinct:

By Rosa241

I couldn't help but laugh slightly at the longing expression on young D'Artagnan's face as he gazed over to where Athos was 'training' some new recruits. The glare I received in return only made it worse, given that it was more of a pout than a glare.

"You'll be back on your feet soon enough lad." It had been almost a week since we'd been on what was supposed to be a simple mission to deliver some letters. Of course we should have known that it would be anything but simple. The whole thing had turned out to be a trap leading to a concussed Athos and D'Artagnan receiving a stab wound to the arm. Two days had passed before Athos was fit to travel back to Paris and just to really hammer in the bad luck we attract we'd been set upon by bandits on the road into Paris. Thankfully the bandits turned out to be totally stupid (honestly they really were useless) and hadn't taken too much effort to get rid of. Unfortunately D'Artagnan had been the recipient of a nasty fall, thanks to bandit number 2 who was quickly deposed off, which ended with the poor lad gaining a broken wrist to add to his list. The only saving grace was that his broken wrist wasn't his sword arm.

"Not soon enough." Aramis had quickly declared D'Artagnan on bed rest. For most people this would be rather extreme for a broken wrist but for D'Artagnan it really wasn't. Somehow he always managed to make his injuries worse. Every. Single. Time. Despite the boys rather loud and insistent protests on the matter Aramis was refusing to budge. After three days and a lot of begging he'd finally been aloud out of his room. D'Artagnan had quickly seen through Aramis' attempts at pleasing him and realised that he was simply trying to keep a closer eye on him.

"That boy isn't cut out for this." Jacques groaned as he sat down next to me. Following his gaze my eyes met with a rather tall lad who was failing miserably at his attempts to disarm Athos. Most new recruits were trained against Athos; very few of them (meaning basically none) could ever keep up with him. Some realised the talent of the musketeers and quickly decided they weren't up to it. Very few were able to impress Athos (and subsequently Treville) with most usually failing to understand his message. New recruits weren't placed against Athos to test their ability, things like that could be done through training, it was to test their resolve. Musketeers couldn't give up because their opponent was talented; you kept trying and giving it your all. Watching the young recruit it was obvious that he wasn't interested in the training.

"Who is he?" D'Artagnan questioned, his eyes never leaving his mentor as Athos easily disarmed the lad.

"Names Henri. His family's quite well off apparently, his uncles the Duke of somewhere..." The disdain in Jacques voice was quite obvious to hear.

"Can't say I've seen him in action." Although from looking at him now I don't think I'd want him anywhere near me in a fight. Idiot didn't seem to know one end of a sword from the other.

"Well I have and believe me you aren't missing anything. He's useless and his attitude stinks." On the surface it sounded as though Jacques was being harsh but in reality that's how it is. We have to trust these guys to have our back and know that they can take care of things. How can we trust someone who's not up to it? "Honestly the kids like a dog trying to walk across water on a windy day!"

The laugh that escaped me couldn't be stopped. Jacques was truly one of a kind alright.

Athos' POV:

Quite why this kid had ever been allowed to walk into the Garrison was beyond me. He's not a patch on D'Artagnan.

Shaking my head I stopped my train of thought. D'Artagnan is an exceptional young man; it isn't fair to hold others to his standards. It was obvious by now that Henri wasn't interested in training but that's the problem. He never was. In the entire three months he'd been here I don't think I've ever seen him put in anything close to a hundred percent.

"Honestly the kids like a dog trying to walk across water on a windy day." Jacques voice floated across the courtyard and caused Henri's face to flush. It was Porthos' laugh however that caused the furious sneer to cross his face. Turning to the table in a flurry of anger his voice called out.

"Was that supposed to be funny?" For his part Jacques gave a slightly guilty look, even if his words were true he hadn't meant for Henri to hear them. "You actually think you're better than me? Why don't you come over here and we'll find out who's better."

It took a moment before Porthos realised that the kid was talking to him at which point he laughed once again.

"You're having me on right?" What is wrong with this kid? "You can't actually believe that you'd be able to take me."

"You wouldn't last two seconds against Porthos." D'Artagnan said between laughs. This kids got some nerves.

"And you would?" Henri's angry voice wasn't wavering for a second as he turned his attention to D'Artagnan.

"Hey this lad's worth ten of you. He might not look it but he's pretty handy with his fists." D'Artagnan blushed at the praise and ducked his head.

"Oh yeah right. I bet you wouldn't last five minutes in a fight." Porthos was clearly wearing his I'm going to punch him expression and I can't say I blamed him. Who the hell does he think he is? After everything D'Artagnan's done, everything he's achieved this kid thinks he can just question him.

"Oh believe me he has. He's proved himself a dozen times over and let me tell you this right now." Porthos stood and leaned over the table towards Henri, his voice dropping almost into a growl. "You'll never find a more loyal, talented and brave man. He's a better Musketeer than you'll ever hope to be."

D'Artagnan seemed shocked at the praise. You could ask almost anyone in the regiment and pretty much all of them would agree with you. It was obvious that the Gascon was uncomfortable at Porthos' words, uncomfortable with the admiration and approval laced through them. There was also something else hidden underneath his embarrassment…doubt. It's a problem we've discussed time and time again but so far we've been unable to tackle it. You could praise D'Artagnan until there were no more words but he never seems to truly believe it. He would never doubt us, there may have been times in the past before we became close, but he wouldn't doubt us unless of course we're talking about him. For some strange reason he never fully believes the words of praise we give to him.

Turning my eyes back to the object of my thoughts I could see the tinge of red on his cheeks. It was something else however that truly captured my attention. Henri. If he was angry before Porthos' words, he was downright furious now.

"Why don't you just back off and go back to your master!" The Garrison came to a halt as Henri's angry words were heard. Angry and disappointed eyes bore holes into the trainee as the weight of his words hung in the air. In the past there would have been a time where most wouldn't have flinched at the insult launched at Porthos. That was before. That was before he proved himself, before the men got to know who he truly was, before they got to know the gentle giant underneath.

My eyes flicked over to Porthos who, to his credit, had somehow managed not to fly over the table and beat the man into next week. Don't get me wrong he wanted to, hell I want to; he's just managing to stop himself. Many insults passed Porthos by. They years he'd spent on the streets and in the court meant that he had heard most insults time and time again. He knew the things they said weren't true and so did we but when it came to slavery…that was a whole other matter.

Narrowing my eyes I sheathed my sword and marched to where a guilty looking Henri was standing. However I'd barely made a move before another stepped up to defend my friend.

"Appologise. Now." D'Artagnan ground out, anger and fury obvious in his words. Looking to Henri it was obvious that he hadn't meant the words. Frustration, anger and embarrassment had led to the insult. There was guilt in his eyes but that didn't excuse his words. "Apologise!"

"No!" I strongly suspect that if anyone but D'Artagnan had been stood before him, is anyone but the hot headed Gascon he was so jealous of, then he would have apologised in an instant. It was stubborn jealousy that kept him from righting his wrong. The second demand of an apology went unmet by Henri who stubbornly crossed his arms. For a moment D'Artagnan's eyes met my own before crossing to Porthos. Like myself I've no doubt that he could see the anger at Henri's words had caused our brother but more than that, before any of that there was the obvious hurt. No doubt the dark memories crossed our friend's mind, the shadows of his past coming out to haunt him.

All of a sudden my own anger left me, replaced with a sudden realisation, a sudden thought that overcame my desire to defend Porthos. D'Artagnan was angry, don't get me wrong I was angry as well, but D'Artagnan had a furious temper at the best of times. Over the last few months he'd worked on his temper but containing that could only come with time and experience. When it came to defending his friends that anger was wild and fierce. Realising the danger the situation now contained I changed my course, or at least this was my intention.

"You know I feel sorry for you." My little brother's words stunned me for a moment and stopped me in my path. "I feel sorry that you can't see the amazing person Porthos is. He's a kind, honest and generous man. He's strong and brave…and he's got more courage than you could ever hope to have. Men like him don't come around very often. You know…if I could come to be even half the man he is that'd be more than I could ever dream of. He's one of the best men I know."

My eyes met Porthos' who looked stunned by the words. I could tell even from this distance how touched he was, how much the words melted his heart. His words had touched our brother in ways he couldn't possibly begin to know. Porthos' early days in the Garrison weren't easy and it's not something he likes to think or talk about. In the years I've known him he's only ever spoke about it, spoken about the hurt and pain in caused, when he was too drunk to remember it.

My pride for D'Artagnan grew more each day; somehow that young lad seems to keep finding ways of surprising us. Just when we thought we'd seen all that there was he surprised us once again. I could see Porthos' respect grow for him yet again in response as had my own. Those feelings soared as the boy turned his back on Henri. Not only had he defended his friend he'd had enough sense and control to walk away before things got out of hand. Henri however wasn't having it. Spurred on by the humiliation and the disgusted looks from his comrades he followed.

"Don't turn your back on me." Reaching out an arm he attempted to grab hold of D'Artagnan who quickly shook out of his grip before turning to face him.

"Back off!" The way he was clenching his right fist, the fury in his eyes, clearly told me how hard he was working to contain himself. Henri however still didn't get the message and grabbed him once again.

"Leave it Henri!" Jacques finally exploded as he rose from the bench. "You've said enough now stop. Walk away before you make an even bigger fool of yourself."

I knew what would happen moments before it actually did. I could see it building. The fury in Henri's eyes, the challenging look on D'Artagnan's face…Henri snapped. Curling his right fist he threw a hard punch at an unsuspecting D'Artagnan. Not prepared for the hit he lost his footing and fell back onto the ground. Usually this would have been fine; usually he would have sprung back up and fought back with everything he had. It would have been fine, if it weren't for the fact that he landed heavily on his already injured wrist. He'd barely hit the floor before he cried out in agony, twisting his arm into his body to protect it.

"D'Artagnan!" The words had barely left my mouth before I flew forward, landing by his side mere seconds after Porthos. Jacques grabbed Henri and shoved him away where he was promptly taken hold of by two of our comrades. "Get Aramis." I yelled at Jacques who sprinted away a split second after the words left my mouth.

"Shhhh. Easy lad, you're alright." D'Artagnan whimpered in pain as Porthos sat him up. His eyes were squeezed shut as he clutched his arm close to his body.

Aramis' POV:

I couldn't help but wince as I saw the bruised and swollen wrist in all its glory. I'd been in Treville's office giving him my mission report when Jacques had come bursting through the door. He'd barely gotten the words out before I ran down the stairs towards my brothers.

"Just breathe." Athos' words were met with yet another gasp of pain as I checked his battered wrist. As much as it pained me to see him like this I had to persevere. The wrist needed checking. In response D'Artagnan buried his head further into Athos' chest to which our leader tightened his hold. Porthos continued his presence by his side with a comforting hand rubbing circles on the lads back. Another whimper and my anger intensified once again. A few minutes of prodding later and I finally let go of his wrist.

"There's no further damage. Some bruising and some swelling but it looks like he got lucky." Two of my brothers heaved a sigh of relief at my words whilst the other was just glad that I wasn't causing him pain anymore. "Don't go anywhere I'll need to rewrap that."

I couldn't blame D'Artagnan for his reluctance broken bones hurt like hell. My heart tightened at the sight of him in so much pain and my anger grew again. Rewrapping the wrist was as painful as anyone could imagine but eventually it was over.

"Here. Drink this." Handing him the small poultice he grimaced and made no move to take it. "Drink it."

"It's disgusting." He moaned, still making no attempt to take hold of the vial.

"Your poultice's really are awful though Aramis." Porthos said as he pulled a face at the mere thought of it.

"Be that as it may it'll help with the pain." Reluctantly he took the vial and drained the contents in one, groaning at the taste.

"Urgh!" He shivered slightly as he swallowed the liquid.

"What happened anyway?" Jacques had barely mentioned the words 'D'Artagnan's hurt' before I'd flown out of the room and rushed to his side. Athos filled me in as we got the lad settled comfortably on the bed; his attempts at protesting about going to his own room went unnoticed. As the tale finished my insides roared with fury.

How dare he?

My eyes gazed towards Porthos who was obviously hurting at the words spoken in anger. There was no excuse for it, no words to justify the way that he'd torn apart a good man. We settled in silence for a while before D'Artagnan's soft snores broke it.

"It's the Poultice, I gave him quite a strong one." We descended into silence once again for a moment before Porthos finally spoke.

"Still can't believe he said it." Henri was out of order; no amount of anger is an excuse for such pain.

"Neither can I. I know that your words can run with you sometimes when you're angry but there's a difference between words said in the heat of the moment and deliberately hurting someone." His eyes glazed over in confusion for a moment before he shook his head.

"Not Henri. Kids an idiot I ain't bothered about that." Sharing a look with Athos we both knew it wasn't true but said nothing. Porthos will talk when he's ready and not before. When it comes to slavery he needs time to drive away his past before he can truly think clearly. "I was talking about D'Art."

Athos had told me what the lad had said and I have to admit my heart clenched at it. The sheer pride I had for him seemed unreal given the little time I've known him. It's been less than a year since he entered our lives yet it feels like so much longer. He just seems to fit; he's the missing piece of the puzzle and completed our lives.

"It's true. Every word." As normal there were very few words said by our leader but there didn't need to be. D'Artagnan had said pretty much everything that needed to be. He'd done his job and defended the honour of his brother, there was nothing more to be said. Porthos would settle the demons of his past in his own time, this was something he liked to do before he talked to us. The man would settle the events in his mind before he shared how he'd felt with anyone. I was different altogether. When something bothered me, when something hurt me, I had to speak to someone. Getting it out helped, talking helped me to move past it. As for Athos…well that man was another story altogether. He very rarely spoke about anything, very rarely let his true feelings out. This was in part due to his upbringing – his parents had raised him to understand that he had to keep his feelings guarded at all times – but mostly this was due to Milady. He'd trusted her more than he ever had with anyone yet she'd betrayed that trust in the worst way. He blamed himself for the things she'd done. Since our defeat of the Cardinal and bringing down Milady he'd begun to move past it. No doubt he would probably never forgive himself (not that there was anything to forgive of course) for the events of his past but he was finally able to start to move on.

As we watched our protective little brother sleep I knew the same thought was running through our minds. He's our brother and we'll do anything to protect him.

Hope you enjoyed this little tale. I've seen many fics where Porthos' past and his colour have been brought up by others but so far not many where D'Artagnan is the one who defends his brother. Spoiler – next fic will called Little Blue Line.

WARNING: NEXT FIC WILL CONTAIN MPREG AND SLASH!