AN- Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited. Please keep the reviews coming, as with many writers on this site I really value your feedback and I love hearing what you think of the stories. One of my main targets is characterisation, I am trying to keep it as accurate to the show as possible so please let me know how I'm doing on that front, what you felt worked, and especially when I missed the mark and you felt the characterisation was inaccurate. Thank you

Tag to 1x02, Sleight of Hand, The aftermath of D'Artagnan's experience with Vadim and some of Athos's musings on D'Artagnan. I'm using some of the backstories from the book as a basis for the history between the D'Artagnan family and Treville, although the events are my own invention.

Vadim's body lay on the filthy ground, his skin the unpleasant grey colour you do not usually find in living men. D'Artagnan stayed crouched next to him. He didn't move, staring at the body and while Athos's doubts about D'Artagnan's ability to do this had been somewhat assuaged when they found him alive and having come off better in a fight against the seasoned criminal, suddenly they came rushing back. In truth D'Artagnan wasn't a boy, not really, he was twenty four, and in truth Aramis at least was closer in age to D'Artagnan than to himself, being only 28. But the difference was that when Athos had met Aramis five years previously, Aramis was already a seasoned soldier having joined the military at just sixteen (after an indiscretion with a young lady had led to him being thrown out of the Seminary). A veteran of several battles, and his talent having won him a place in the regiment eighteen months before Athos joined, despite Athos's thorough military education and expert swordsmanship, there were some things which a soldier could only learn thorough experience, and it was from working with Aramis that Athos had been able to hone these indefinable skills, that soldiers instinct that let him know when danger was near.

But when Athos considered D'Artagnan, he was skilled yes, and had eagerly taken to what little training he had experienced so far while they assessed his suitability to join the regiment. But he was so green, he was a great conversationalist with a quick tongue in his head and he was buoyed up with all the arrogance and pride of a youth who had never considered his own vulnerability. The boy wasn't a complete innocent; he could hold his drink, relatively speaking, and was no stranger to hard work.

According to Aramis, the boy also had some fledgling skill when it came to seducing the ladies, although Athos had banned Aramis, almost to the point of making it an order, from encouraging D'Artagnan, as far as Athos was concerned, regardless of how much the boy might enjoy it, he was able to find more than enough trouble on his own without joining Aramis in the 'those who make strategic retreats from angry husbands on an alarmingly regular basis' club.

From what Athos had gathered, more from Treville from the boy, as the captain seemed to have had some acquaintance, the D'Artagnan's had been some minor gentry in Gascony, although fallen on hard times to make them closer to Gentleman farmers in recent years. D'Artagnan had been given a gentleman's education but there had not been the money to send the boy to court to find a career there, or even to squire with some of the more important local nobility, as was the tradition. Instead the boy had been needed for labour on his family's farm, and from what Athos could tell from D'Artagnan's character he had probably been bored senseless.

Most of the time D'Artagnan seemed to fit in, he had managed to slot into their little group almost seamlessly, and Athos would definitely be giving Treville a positive recommendation after this, as would Aramis and Porthos, D'Artagnan may have been a touch too reckless for his liking on this little outing, and that was something he would have to address in training, but D'Artagnan had certainly surpassed expectation. And he had demonstrated the maturity and intelligence necessary to become a musketeer, it was even easy at times to forget how green D'Artagnan was, so effortlessly had he managed to join their little group. But it was those times when his youth barely showed that made the other times, the times when D'Artagnan came across as stubbornly, impossibly young, far more potent. And this was one of those times.

D'Artagnan was kneeling next to Vadim's body, a slightly shell-shocked expression on his face, and in the grey afternoon light the blood dried blood that plastered his hair to his head and stretched down his forehead was sickeningly obvious. Vadim was not the first man that D'Artagnan had killed, Athos knew this, but he was probably the first man that D'Artagnan had killed that he had ever had a conversation with, that he had ever really known on a level that was not a desperate struggle against the other for life. It was difficult to see how D'Artagnan was taking it, other than not well.

Aramis was there now, having said his quiet prayer for Vadim's soul as was his custom, he was kneeling in front of D'Artagnan, drawing the younger man's eyes away from the corpse in the mud. Athos felt the familiar poison of guilt swirling around his stomach and clenched his jaw. It was over, they were all alive, D'Artagnan, Porthos, himself, even Aramis after his foolish stunt where he threw himself over the bomb, and it was ok. What was left to do was to take care of D'Artagnan and learn what had actually happened in the night they lost track of him.

"D'Artagnan, are you alright?" Athos asked, the young man still hadn't risen from his crouch, and Aramis's expression, to those who knew him well at least, held hints of worry.

"I'm fine." The words sounded a little distant, and Athos felt a familiar fond exasperation sweep over him.

"If you want to be a Musketeer D'Artagnan, the first thing you need to learn is that one thing we do not do is lie about our injuries. The mission is over and we need to know how badly you are hurt so that you may get better and return to training. During a mission it is even more important as we need to be able to adapt for and cover any injury in a potential conflict. Injuries are common in our line of work D'Artagnan, they are not weaknesses, but hiding them, especially if it could lead to someone else being hurt, is beyond stupid. Just this once I will do you the curtesy of asking again, and think carefully before repeating that half-truth as it is perfectly clear that at the very least you have a concussion."

Athos inwardly winced, it hadn't been his intention to sound like he was scolding an errant child and yet that was exactly what he had done.

"My head hurts, and my back, a bit." D'Artagnan said, he had turned a funny grey colour and seemed to be trembling.

"Can you stand." Aramis's tone was more gentle. D'Artagnan nodded and rose to his feet, only to pale even further and sway. He would probably have fallen had Aramis not caught him, one arm wrapped snugly about the other man's waist to keep him upright. "It's okay, I've got you", he reassured the young man as D'Artagnan struggled to take some of his own weight. "Were you caught in the blast?" At D'Artagnan's nod he continued. "You're going into shock, chances are you didn't even realise you were injured until just now from the adrenaline. We're going to take you back to my lodgings, you're injured, and technically still a wanted man so you can lie low at my place for a day or so while we sort out your pardon." Athos watched D'Artagnan nod, a slightly dazed expression on his face as if he hadn't fully understood what Aramis was telling him. As a precautionary measure Athos took the young gascon's left arm and wrapped it around his shoulders so that he was taking some of the boy's weight.

"We should get him to the horses quickly, before he's spotted by a red guard." Athos murmured, and they moved as quickly as they were able through the Palace towards where their horses were tethered, Aramis and Athos more carrying D'Artagnan than D'Artagnan was supporting his own weight. Thankfully the trip was uneventful, and D'Artagnan had enough sense about him to mount the horse with little trouble, as the leg up from Athos and Porthos's steadying hands around his shoulders launched him into the saddle. Before they knew it they were hurrying through the streets of Paris at a gentle canter, Aramis riding behind D'Artagnan to steady him, it was when they got back to Aramis's lodging's that the trouble started. The plan was to get D'Artagnan upstairs, and then Athos would return to the garrison to stable the horses and give a report to Treville before re-joining the others.

It was not the first time one of them had been injured, and the manoeuvring a semi-conscious person out of the saddle was one they were familiar with, as was passing down an unconscious man into the waiting arms of his brothers. They were not however the same manoeuvre. So when Aramis dismounted behind a still semi-conscious Gascon and started to help the boy manoeuvre into Athos's waiting hold to support the lad upstairs, it was a complete surprise to all three of the elder musketeers when half way through the change in elevation D'Artagnan lost consciousness completely and tumbled into Athos's waiting arms.

Now D'Artagnan was not overweight, more he was very slim, almost bordering on too slim depending on who you asked, and his frame had not quite broadened into a man's just yet, but he was also just over six feet tall, male and most of his slight bulk was muscle. Whichever way you look at it, however light for their height they may be, six plus foot of adult man is not an insignificant weight, especially when it's a dead weight and almost completely unexpected. So it was that Athos ended up stumbling wildly, just managing to find a balance where he kept the Gascon from falling and jarring the injuries that were no doubt present, but holding him in such an awkward position, that it would be impossible for Athos to stand upright from without dropping the boy, whose feet were draped awkwardly across the floor, not taking any of his own weight. Aramis and Porthos burst out laughing.

"A little aid would be appreciated, gentleman." Athos said, his breath short from the effort of keeping the gascon from sliding to the floor in a graceless heap. Porthos stepped forward and lifted the gascon with an enviable ease onto his shoulder.

"I was taught to fight like a gentleman, he said." Porthos chuckled taking advantage of the comic moment to help alleviate some of the worry the three were feeling, "I wonder where he was taught to swoon like a maiden into his hero's arms."

"I am not his hero, don't be ridiculous." Athos's words were short, although he knew that D'Artagnan was most likely exhausted and his fainting nothing to worry about his heart had still jumped into his mouth when he moved to catch the boy. And anyway, he wasn't suitable for anyone to put on a pedestal.

"Athos my friend, it is plain as day that he idolises you, any advice that comes out of your mouth he treats as if it is more sacred than the bible." Aramis tossed back to Athos as he unlocked the door of the house.

"Don't worry the hero worship will wear off once he gets to know you a little better." Porthos added, "the whelp's to full of himself to suffer from hero worship for long."

The door closed behind the pair as they took D'Artagnan upstairs.

When Athos returned to Aramis's lodgings an hour later, with Treville in tow, it was a very different mood.

Aramis and Porthos were quiet, although they both stood to attention when the captain entered. But Athos's whole attention was taken by the unconscious gascon lying on his stomach on Aramis bed, shirt off and sound asleep.

"Has he not woken?" Athos demanded, nausea at the boys condition swirling inside him.

"He woke for long enough to fill in the gaps for us, then I gave him something to help him sleep." Aramis, ever the medic replied.

"But his back… what happened?" This was Treville, having been the gascon's advocate for the entire enterprise, pushing D'Artagnan to take the mission, now looked slightly nauseated at what he had done.

D'Artagnan's back was one huge, dark bruise, not a mottle of bruises, just the one. Aramis took a breath before replying.

"It's a blast injury. Turns out he was a lot closer to the gunpowder than any of us thought. Vadim had him tied to the barrels, it sounds like he only just managed to get out of there in time."

"What's the damage?" Treville had regained his business like composure as that little revelation sank in.

"It's hard to say for certain, he could move fine at the Palace so I don't think there will be any permanent damage, but it is likely that the swelling will put pressure on his spine which may restrict his movement some for the next week or so." Athos took a breath, it wasn't as bad as he had feared.

"And internal bleeding?" Athos was almost hesitant to ask, while the prognosis remained relatively good.

"Unlikely, or if there is it is a minor bleed that shouldn't prove to be life threatening. He's not showing any of the symptoms of a man whose bleeding out so he should be okay." Aramis smiled suddenly, "He's going to be fine Athos, he'll probably object to having to stay in bed for the next few days, but he'll pull through just as impetuous as he was before." Athos felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders as he found a seat. Treville sat himself at the foot of the bed and looked at the unconscious young man for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You never did tell me how you knew D'Artagnan the elder." Athos prompted, more curious than wanting to fill the silence.

"You knew D'Artagnan's father?" Aramis was surprised and intrigued and Porthos no less so.

"I did, I also met this one before, although if he remembers, he doesn't connect the man he knew then to me."

"Now this is a story I must hear." Aramis settled himself on the ground against the wall, long legs stretched out as an obstacle to any who might wish to pass.

"I served with Alexandre D'Artagnan in the army when we were both young recruits. We were as close as brothers. Then he retired from the military for family obligations, he married and, the evidence of his marriages prosperity is currently occupying the bed. We were as close as brothers when we served and kept in touch up until a few years ago, for no particular reason. We both just became too busy I suppose.

"Anyway, a time came when I was injured, and facing a long recovery of several months, my sister offered to take care of me, but she was heavily pregnant and I knew I would just be in the way, so I went to stay with Alexandre for a few months, and well D'Artagnan the younger was there, although to his family he was called Charles so that was how I knew him."

"What was D'Artagnan like, how did you first meet him?" Aramis had taken over the prompting for the story.

"Well my first meeting with D'Artagnan was actually remarkably similar to your own. I had just arrived, and Alexandre was just about to help me inside when that one came charging into the courtyard and challenged me to a duel."

"Ah, D'Artagnan, always so dramatic! What had you done to offend him so much?" Aramis asked, all three of the musketeers had burst out laughing at Treville's announcement.

"I don't think he had worked that out, he was more eager for the fight, but he was about seven years old and armed with a stick so it was more amusing than intimidating. His credibility was then further undermined by his mother rushing out of the house and giving him such a scolding. I think she was mortified. She had heard a good deal about me from her husband and my first impression of her was her disciplining her son for being rude to a guest. In the months I stayed there D'Artagnan and I became fast friends but I doubt that he remembers me now. He was excited to meet a real soldier, apparently Alexandre didn't count. Believe it or not, I was young D'Artagnan's first sword instructor."

The tension in the room had evaporated and there were now smiles all around, at hearing what D'Artagnan had been like as a child.

"Well you clearly gave him a very sound basis, the boy is remarkably skilled with a blade, although I would imagine raw talent has something to do with it."

"More than something, D'Artagnan took to sword fighting more easily than anyone else I have ever taught. I promised Alexandre, that if I taught him I would keep his son safe. Now D'Artagnan comes to Paris and the first thing I do is send him into danger." Treville's light mood had fallen again.

"As much as I was against sending D'Artagnan in, the boy has proved his merit. He has clearly proved himself resourceful and capable and a fine candidate for the musketeers." Athos assured Treville. "He has not come to any real harm and will be fine in a few days. Besides he will do better in the musketeers with men who care about him, and live a far more fulfilled life than he would have on a farm in Gascony. He will be happier here. You're taking care of your friends son by being a good captain to him, as you are a good captain to every man in this room."

"Well said, I have rarely heard Athos make such a long speech, and I agree with every word. I would like to think that Alexandre D'Artagnan would be proud of the man his son has become." Aramis added.

"If he isn't we are, we've only known the whelp a few weeks and look what he's doing already. There is no doubt that D'Artagnan will be a fine soldier one day soon. He just needs training up a little." Porthos added.

Treville smiled briefly at their words, his guilt lifting slightly at the belief in him from three of his finest men.

"I'd better go to the palace, he's still a wanted man, and I believe it would be a good thing if he was not by the time he woke up." Treville said standing, before nodding a farewell to each of the men and leaving the room, as its occupants settled in to keep a vigil over their newest member.