A/N: So this is it guys. I just wanted to say a big thanks to everyone who read this story and gave me their feedback. I love your enthusiasm. Lisa, this was all for you, mate. Hope you liked what came of that small innocent idea of throwing Athos off a cliff lol And thank you to my mother who is always a helping hand and good for laugh. Hope ya'll enjoy the last chapter :)

Chapter 6. Unwanted Visitors.

Athos sighed as his forehead was bathed in a cool wetness. He was hot but the burning, suffocating heat from before seemed to have abated, leaving him feeling sticky with sweat and uncomfortable. Lethargy weighed him down, allowing him to melt into the soft bed below him.

The cool compress stroked down his face, wiping sweat from his skin. It was refreshing and nice and he was almost content to just lay there and absorb it all. But stress and urgency niggled at the back of his mind. He couldn't afford to just lay there.

A quiet mumbling could be heard nearby. The words were just quiet enough that he couldn't make them out. He forced his sluggish eyelids open, only for them to fall closed almost immediately.

"Monsieur?"

"Mmmm…" Athos responded, not quite able to convince his mouth to cooperate.

"Open your eyes."

Athos frowned. The words were commanding. It was not a request that he open his eyes but an order. The wet material was pressed against his other cheek, wiping downward, washing away the remnants of fever.

"Come on now. I know you're awake. Open your eyes."

Athos forced his eyes open once more, blinking blearily at the wooden arched ceiling above him. Cobwebs hung in a corner and as his eyes shifted to the right he found a lantern hanging from a hook in the stone walls. It wasn't lit but the room was bright with light – natural light.

"There you are. Such a lovely shade of blue. It's a shame to have them closed for as long as you have. How are you feeling?"

Athos allowed his gaze to fall to the owner of the friendly voice seated to his left. An elderly woman sat perched on the side of the bed. She pulled her hand back from his face, holding the wet cloth in her hands. She looked familiar. He glanced quickly around the room, full wakefulness slowly coming back to him as he gained more information. To his left, Aramis sat slumped in a high-back chair. His head was resting awkwardly on his shoulder, his mouth slack, and hair astray. He looked incredibly uncomfortable and impossibly young.

"Your friend is okay."

Athos licked his lips, shifting on the bed slightly. "Ahh …" He wanted to sit up. He wanted to get a grasp on what had happened. But his body ached … horribly.

"Slow down, son. You'll do yourself no good moving too fast."

"What … happened?" Athos asked. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. He moved his hand to rest lightly over his injured stomach. He remembered bits and pieces. He remembered falling, Aramis' hat floating in the water. He remembered watching Porthos and d'Artagnan ride off with Juliana towards Paris. He remembered the old woman …

"You were gravelly injured. Your friend brought you to my farm."

The farm. He remembered the farm. He remembered the old woman holding a musket at them." Athos eyes snapped open and he eyed the old woman cautiously. "You … you threatened to shoot my friend."

The old woman chuckled. "You can never be too careful. You never know whose going to show up on your door step." She leaned forward and picked up a glass filled with water. "Do you think you can drink some?"

Athos eyed the glass and then glanced at his friend who was still oblivious to his surroundings. Aramis would have never fallen so deeply into sleep if this woman was a threat. Unless of course he was more severely injured than he had allowed them to see. It wouldn't have surprised him. Aramis was horrible at judging his own welfare …

"Like I said before, your friend is fine. More stubborn than my most obstinate mule but I doubt that will kill him."

Athos huffed. "Sometimes I wonder."

She moved the glass closer to his mouth. "You really should drink something. You need to replenish your fluids you lost during your fever."

Athos lifted a hand to grasp the cup. He was determined to not rely on an old woman to help him drink a simple glass of water. As soon as the water hit his parched throat, Athos groaned in pleasure. In that moment he realised just how thirsty he was. The cup was pulled away from him way too quickly, earning his caretaker a glare for her effort.

"You don't want to drink too much too quickly. All in moderation, my boy."

"How long have I been out?"

"Since you arrived yesterday afternoon."

Athos frowned. "What … uhh … what time is it?"

The old woman stood, picking up a basket that had been on the floor beside the bed. "Oh I don't know, late afternoon, I believe. I have some soup on. Do you feel up to eating something?"

Late afternoon. They'd been in the one place for a whole twenty four hours at least. That same urgency he'd woken up filtered back through him. He shook his head. "We should go." He gripped the blanket and started to pull it away.

"Stop right there, young man."

Athos ignored the threat in the woman's tone and continued his attempt at rising. With gritted teeth, Athos swung his legs to the side of the bed. He was sweating immediately, his stomach flip-flopping dangerously. "Shit …" he cursed. His hands gripped his leg just above his knee in some vain attempt to stop the agonizing throbbing. Hands were on his shoulders, keeping him steady as his world spun.

"Athos?"

That was Aramis' voice. He sounded confused and alarmed. Athos wanted to tell him that he was fine but it was an obvious lie. His stomach revolted without any real warning, bile rising in his throat and spewing from his mouth in a painful heave. The stitches in his side pulled painfully as his torso seized out of his control.

There was a warm familiar hand on his back, rubbing in small circles. At some point Aramis had risen from his chair and had taken a seat beside him on the bed. He was whispering words that Athos couldn't hear over the buzzing of his ears. The tone was soothing and Athos hated it. He hated this. No control over his own damn body.

When the heaving finally simmered, Athos swallowed thickly, cringing at the foul taste left in his mouth. Another cup was shoved in front of his face, a weathered hand holding it to his mouth. He accepted the help, taking a big sip. He sloshed the water around in his mouth before spitting it back out into the bedpan that materialised in front of him. "God …"

"Feel better now?" Aramis asked.

Athos didn't bother gracing that question with a glance. He breathed in and then let it out slowly before he took hold of the offered cup and downed the rest of the water. "Thank you." His gaze caught sight of the mess he'd made on the old woman's skirt. "My … apologies."

"Nonsense. This is not the first mess I've had to deal with over the years." The lady straightened and pushed on Athos' shoulders. "Lay back."

"But …"

"Listen to her. Trust me." Aramis moved off the bed and with one hand he gently lifted Athos injured leg back onto the bed.

"Aramis," Athos sighed, closing his eyes to try and keep the nausea at bay. He didn't need a repeat performance. "The Bandits. We've been here too long." He opened his eyes to find Aramis standing beside the bed. He actually looked much better than he had the last time he had seen him. His complexion was less pale and the tell-tale signs of a headache seemed to be gone as well. That was good. One of them needed to be mobile. "If they find us here…"

Aramis glanced towards the light from the window before looking back at the woman who had picked up her basket once more. "Rosa, what time is it?"

Rosa rolled her eyes. "As I told your friend. It is late afternoon."

"It can't be …"

"You fell asleep right after I tended to your arm. I didn't have the heart to wake you. You obviously needed the rest, son."

"No," Aramis said, moving over to the window. His movements were stiff but he was steady. "Has anyone else been by?" The marksman asked as he pulled the curtain aside.

"Just a couple of travellers while you slept. They were looking for shelter. I told them we had no room and sent them on their way. That was late last night. No-one has been by since then." Rosa told them, moving towards the door. "Now I am going to clean this mess and organise that soup. You two better be prepared to at least try to eat. Can't have you wasting away." With that Rosa walked out of the room.

Aramis walked back towards the bed. "I don't believe in coincidences."

"You believe those travellers were the bandits," Athos stated.

"It's possible. I'd really not like to take a chance. We should leave as soon as we can. We've brought enough trouble to Rosa's door. She is in danger as long as we stay here."

"I agree." The need to leave this place was stifling. He felt like a sitting duck.

"How are you feeling?" Aramis asked.

"Stupid question," Athos grumbled, pressing against his tightly wrapped mid-section.

Aramis sighed as he carefully lowered himself down to sit on the chair once more. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers momentarily getting caught in a tangled curl. He met Athos' stare, a look of contriteness on his face. There was a long pause before he finally spoke. "I'm sorry."

Athos fought the urge to roll his eyes. He had seen the apology building from the moment Rosa had left the room. "For what?" It was a genuine question because Athos couldn't for the life of him figure out how Aramis could be to blame for any of this.

"I should have been able to hold on tighter."

"You should have let me go when I told you too." Aramis chuckled causing Athos to raise a brow in question. "You think that amusing?"

"The fact that you think any one of us would have let you just fall to your death is very amusing to me."

"I didn't die."

Aramis sat forward. "Yes. How is that?"

The fall was a massive blur to him now. It had all happened so fast and each hit and bump on his way down had only served to knock the sense out of him. He remembered the weightlessness, then the air being punched from his lungs as he hit something hard again and again. Then suddenly he was waking up on that river bank putting all his concentration on a piece of headwear. "In truth," Athos sighed. "I have no idea."

"I'm glad you did and for the record? I will never let go," Aramis stated.

Athos met his friend's serious expression with the respect it deserved. He nodded. Aramis reached forward and patted Athos leg in response.

Aramis sighed again and then slumped back in the chair. "We still have a dilemma."

"We cannot stay here," Athos concluded.

"And you cannot be moved," Aramis reminded him. "If you go riding all over the countryside now you'll undo all of Madame Rosa's hard work."

"Even if Porthos and d'Artagnan have made it back to Paris and they might not have headed straight back out again. They might take a while to get here."

Aramis dragged a hand through his hair once more. "Maybe … maybe Rosa has a cart we could borrow?" Aramis stood with a wince that he schooled very quickly. "I'll go check."

As Aramis took a step there was an obvious knock at the door. He froze, glancing back at Athos with wide eyes. Athos pulled himself up onto his elbows and tracked Aramis as he moved quickly back over to the lone window in the room. He pressed himself against the wall and gazed out between the small crack in the curtains.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur but I'll have to ask you and your men to leave once more. As I told you last night, I have no time or space for strangers."

"Aramis?" Athos asked, hating that he could not see what was happening for himself. He felt out of sorts with the lack of control.

"But you have time for Musketeers we see." The voice was gravely and self-assured.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you are implying. Now it's time for you to leave."

"She's … giving her usual greeting, armed with her trusty Musket. It's as we feared. I recognise one of them."

"How many?"

Aramis shifted to try and get a better look. "Four … that I can see. But there could be more."

Four men between the two of them would normally not be a problem. But when he couldn't even stand by himself, Aramis being handicapped down to one working arm and a feisty elderly woman's safety to consider, Athos really didn't like their odds.

"We know they are here, woman. We tracked them bastards here. Their horses are in your stable. What? You didn't think we'd check when you attempted to be rid of us last night? Now if you don't let us in, we'll be forced to do something regretful."

The hairs on the back of Athos' neck stood on end as the threat to their care-giver filtered through the walls of the farmhouse. He silently cursed at himself for allowing them to fall into this predicament, endangering an innocent woman.

"I should go out there." Aramis moved from the window, purpose shining in his eyes.

Athos shook his head and pushed himself into a fully seated position, quickly moving his legs over the side of the bed. His body would have to deal with it. He was not going to be a liability. His side stung as his stitches pulled. "Help me up."

"I can't just leave her out there by herself. Stay here. If I can convince them I am the only one left they might leave Rosa and the farm alone."

"Are you mad?" Athos asked. "That's suicide," he hissed.

"I can't let …"

A loud blast shattered their quiet argument, causing both boys to jump. Aramis rushed to the window just as another blast crashed through the air. He gasped and jumped back from the window as if he'd been slapped.

"Rosa?" Athos asked.

"Dead," Aramis answered quickly.

He turned on his heal and without another word pulled Athos to his feet. Sharp pain sucked Athos' breath away as he clung to Aramis as if he were the only thing keeping him upright. In fact, he was the only thing keeping him upright.

Aramis dragged them both towards the door of the room, his jaw clenched and his gaze determined. Outside the room, Aramis turned left and away from the front door. Athos tried to help, his leg uncooperative as they stumbled down a narrow hall, beside a single flight of stairs. Shouts could be heard from outside. Different voices indicating many men, too many for them to handle on their own.

Aramis crashed them into the wall, leaning Athos against it as he fumbled one-handed for the door beside him. Where were their weapons? It occurred to Athos in that moment that he had no idea where their weapons were.

Aramis ripped open a small door and then with one arm manoeuvred Athos into the small storage space. He grunted with effort, his breathing panicked.

"What are you doing?" Athos demanded, falling against some wooden boxes. He folded over, not sure what needed more tending to, his leg or wounded side.

Aramis slipped in beside him and pulled the door shut. Darkness enveloped them completely and for a moment all Athos could hear was their harsh breathing. Aramis' slowed his breathing until Athos could barely hear it. Athos tried to follow suit.

Doors to the house slammed open from what sounded like more than one direction. He felt Aramis tense beside him as footsteps could be heard travelling down the hall beside them.

"Someone else was definitely here, Gerard. Look. Their weapons!"

"In the bedroom. Clothes. Pauldron. It was definitely them"

"We know you're here, Musketeers! Show yourselves and we'll make this easy on you!"

Athos glanced at Aramis, only seeing the silhouette of his friend's face. In their mad dash for a hiding spot they had left everything behind. "Do you have anything on you?" Athos whispered.

"No," Aramis' whisper was barely above a whisper.

So they were completely weapon-less. Athos squinted, attempting to force his eyes to become more accustomed to the darkness of the closet. There seemed to be nothing but an old work jacket, a broom, some buckets and the wooden boxes he was currently leaning against.

"I'll tell you what? I am a gentleman. I'll make you a deal. You show yourselves right now and I'll spare the old woman."

Athos glanced at Aramis, confusion easy to decipher on his face. Aramis had said they'd killed Rosa. It had to be a trick. Athos placed a hand on Aramis left arm, feeling the tension rolling off him.

"Tell your Musketeer friends how you'd really like them to come out now."

There was a shuffling and then a loud cry that was distinctly feminine. Aramis' eyes grew wider with the revelation that somehow the old woman was still in the land of the living.

"Tell them! Now, you old bitch!"

"No … don't listen. Don't you dare come out! You hear ... ahhh …" The loud slap sounded like it had come from inside their hiding spot.

Aramis flinched. Athos could feel his friend's heart pounding with their proximity, its panicked rhythm matched his own.

"She's alive. If you don't reveal yourselves by the time I count to five, she won't be. One. Two…"

Aramis met Athos gaze, the silent message loud and clear. He wasn't going to let Rosa die because of him. Athos nodded. They would eventually be found. How the bandits had not checked this closet yet was beyond him.

"Three. Four."

Aramis shoved open the door and held up his hand. "Wait!"

Men surrounded them almost immediately, dragging them into the main room. Athos tried to keep up, his swollen knee not making the job any easier. Crippling pain ripped up his leg with every step. He glanced around the room. Three men were situated in the living area and with the two that had currently forced him and Aramis into the room - that counted five. It was impossible to tell if there were more men outside. Rosa was on the floor nursing a bloody pistol blast wound to her shoulder. Blood trickled over her fingers. Her eyes were closed as she breathed carefully.

"Rosa?" Aramis asked as he was shoved none too gently forward.

"I'm …" Rosa's words were cut off by a vicious backhand to her face.

"You bastard!" Aramis growled. "She has nothing to do with this. Now let her go like you promised."

The man in front of them laughed, scratching his greasy beard. "I said I would spare her. I didn't say anything about letting the old woman go."

"I'm going to kill you," Aramis vowed, staring down the leader of this group with a deadly expression.

Gerard laughed again. "Really? Let me tell you how this is going to go, Musketeer. You're going to tell me exactly what I want to know and then I am going to put you both out of your misery. If you cooperate it will be nice and quick."

"And if we don't?" Athos asked.

Gerard laughed again. It was getting annoying.

"Take them outside," Gerard ordered.

Athos found himself being dragged out the front door and thrown down the two front steps. He landed hard on the ground. A cry of pain was forced from him and he automatically grabbed for his knee. Aramis was dumped beside him, his friend's hand automatically reaching for him. They were dragged apart and forced to kneel beside each other on the dirt. The position was nothing short of agony on his injury, forcing Athos to list to the side to keep his weight off the knee.

Gerard walked out from the house, his gait casual and flippant. He glanced over their heads to the men keeping them on the ground. "Bind their hands behind their backs."

Athos found his arms being wrenched behind him, rope binding his wrists together. Aramis struggled beside him, keening loudly as his broken arm was unbound and pulled behind him. "Hey!" Athos shouted as Aramis panted through the pain of his broken bones being mistreated. "His fucking arm!" he raged.

"I don't care. Where is the girl?"

Aramis remained quiet, tears of pain collecting in his eyes as he tried his best to breathe slowly. Athos tore his gaze away from his friend and glared at Gerard. If looks could kill, Gerard would have been dead where he stood. Unfortunately magic was not real and he could not kill the man with just a thought. Athos met the man's gaze head on and smiled. "She's gone."

"More than likely already in Paris right now," Aramis added through gritted teeth. His sentence ended with a groan and he closed his eyes and ducked his head.

Athos kept his eyes fixated on Gerard. "You failed."

Gerard snarled, kicking out at Athos and connecting with his wounded side. His stitches snapped apart as he folded forward with a gasp. A hand in his hair dragged him back up, forcing him to look Gerard in the eyes. "You failed." He repeated, his voice shakier than before, breaking out into a cold sweat.

Gerard lashed out with the butt of his pistol, connecting hard with Athos' temple. He crashed to his side, lights out before he hit the ground.

XXXALL4OneXXX

With his horse panting with dangerous exhaustion underneath him, Porthos pulled the beast to a stop, kicking up a flurry of dirt with its suddenness. d'Artagnan pulled up beside him, eyes wide as they took in the scene that greeted them.

Athos was on the ground, blood covered face in the dirt. Aramis was on his knees, the tremors in his body visible even from across the yard. There was a man standing in front of him with a pistol held point blank against his forehead.

Porthos was jumping from his horse and pulling his pistol out within seconds. He skidded to a stop, his heart failing in his chest as a shot rang out over the farm. Porthos couldn't breathe, expecting to see his best friend's brains blown all over the ground. Reality caught up with him quickly as the man in front of Aramis fell to his knees, a shocked expression on his face. An old woman stood on the front steps, a smoking musket still in her hands. The man collapsed to the ground.

Porthos pointed and fired at the man holding onto Aramis from behind, catching him in the head. Blood sprayed upward and outward, the momentum throwing the man backwards and away from his friend. "Aramis!" he shouted as he ran, pulling his sword from his scabbard.

Battle erupted all around him as Musketeers jumped into the fray quickly overpowering the minimal forces of the bandits. Aramis was on his side as Porthos dropped to his knees beside him. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his breathing erratic. For a second Porthos feared he had been hit by a stray ball but there was no blood. Taking a closer look, Porthos was dismayed to find Aramis' broken arm tied behind is back.

"Hold on. I've got ya." Porthos dropped his sword and reached for the bindings. Aramis tensed and whimpered but he didn't stop. The best way to help him was to set his arm free. Throwing the ropes to the ground, Porthos pulled his friend into a sitting position and gently brought his injured arm around to the front. The skin was bruised and puffy and seemed misshapen once again. Aramis pulled the arm towards his body on instinct.

"Easy, easy…" Porthos soothed.

He turned to his right, while keeping his hands on Aramis. Athos had still yet to move, eyes closed and blood dripping from the tip of his nose to the dirt on the ground. The gash on his forehead looked nasty but it wasn't as severe as a musket shot like he had feared.

"Athos?" Aramis asked, still trembling.

d'Artagnan rushed over and knelt by Athos' head. He glanced at both Aramis and Porthos before worried eyes looked back down at their leader. "Is he?" he asked. He reached out and pressed his fingers to Athos' throat. The relieved sigh was all the answer that Porthos needed. He was alive.

"Athos?" Aramis asked again, forcing his eyes open to find the answer himself when none was forthcoming.

"Hey … it's okay. He's okay." It wasn't exactly completely accurate but Athos was alive and that was really all that mattered.

Gasping as if he had suddenly remembered something, Aramis glanced around them. "Rosa? She okay?"

Porthos looked up to where the old woman had been sitting on the steps and found an empty space. Considering she hadn't just vanished into thin air, he was going to assume for now that she was still with them. "She's fine."

Aramis finally met Porthos gaze with a shaky smile. "Y-You … are a sight for sore eyes."

"And you look like shit," Porthos replied.

"Thanksssy'you too." Aramis slurred as he slumped towards Porthos, his eyes falling shut.

Porthos caught him in alarm. He quickly reached to check his friend's heartbeat. He sighed. It was there, a little fast but there. He threw a glance over his shoulder, looking for one of his fellow Musketeers. "We could use some help over 'ere!"

"Is he okay?" d'Artagnan asked.

"He will be," Porthos stated. They were together now, everything else would fall into place.

As soon as Aramis was lifted from the ground, his eyes snapped open, panicking for a second before he realised where he was and who he was with. "Can you make it into the house?" Porthos asked.

"Yeah," he stated. Once on his feet and steady enough to move more or less under his own steam, Aramis allowed Porthos to guide him up the stairs and into the house.

Inside, the old woman was seated at a chair. A fellow Musketeer, Christophe, attending to her wounded shoulder. She looked up when they stumbled in the door, concern written all over her face. "Aramis, are you okay?"

Aramis nodded. He glanced at Porthos. "The chair." He indicated to the other chair in the room. He allowed Porthos to gently sit him down. He winced. "Porthos, you need to set it again. I can feel the bones," he panted.

More bodies stumbled through the front door. Athos was being carried between d'Artagnan and another Musketeer.

"The room across there is where his bed is," the woman called, attempting to stand up. Christophe silently placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder, returning her to her seat.

Porthos watched as d'Artagnan helped to get Athos squared away and then turned, and knelt in front of Aramis. His friend was breathing slowly in and out of his nose, his face wrought with pain. "Madame, 'ave you got something I can splint 'is arm with?"

"Yes, yes … out by the firewood there should be some sturdy pieces."

Porthos patted Aramis on the leg and then stood. Outside the firewood was mostly kindling. Porthos chose the sturdiest pieces and mentally vowed to cut the woman some decent wood for her fire before they left this place. It was the least he could do.

Inside, he found Aramis in much the same condition that he had left him. He collected some bandages from Christophe's medical supplies. He knelt back down in front of Aramis and gently took hold of the marksman's arm. Aramis flinched but remained silent, the only tell-tale sign of distress was his breathing.

Christophe having finished with his ministrations, Rosa stood – against his wishes – and placed her hand on Aramis' shoulder.

Porthos took a calming breath and then steeled himself for causing more pain. "I'm goin' to count to three." He waited for Aramis to acknowledge him and then started. "One… two …" He snapped the bones back together before he hit three, cringing as Aramis growled. The worst was over.

XXXALL4ONEXXX

Athos smiled at Rosa puttering around the room as Porthos and d'Artagnan did her bidding. It was odd to see the two men jump to attention for a woman so small. He respected her. She commanded respect from everyone without only having to speak a few words. Not everyone could say that.

Athos rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. It was nice to be sitting up in a chair instead of laid back in a bed all day. He'd done as he was told of course - not even Athos wanted to expose himself to Rosa's wrath – but a man could only take so much inactivity.

It had been four days since the attack on Rosa's farm. Since then Porthos and d'Artagnan had been put to work while he and Aramis were ordered to recover. They had fixed a hole in the roof, repaired fencing and many other little odd jobs that were just too much for a little old woman to handle. In Athos' eyes it wasn't enough to repay her for almost losing her life. It wasn't enough to repay her for what she was continuing to do for them.

"Are you okay, my dear?" Rosa asked, stirring a pot that was hanging over the fireplace.

"I am perfectly fine," Athos responded, a smile gracing his face.

"I wouldn't listen to him," d'Artagnan commented as he walked back into the room. Athos glared at his young friend whose smile only seemed to grow.

Rosa raised her eyebrows at his assessment. She clearly didn't need d'Artagnan's opinion on his health to question his declaration. Her attention caused Athos to feel no older than a young boy who had been reprimanded by his father. He managed a sheepish smile. "I am feeling better."

"You needn't leave so soon. I don't know why you're in such a rush. It's been nice having four strong men around the house. It gets quite lonely out here all by myself."

The front door opened, Aramis walking through it with his usual swagger. His arm had been set and a sling had been made for him. He would be off duty for a few weeks while his arm healed but for the most part Aramis had bounced back with some rest and care. "That's about to change," the sharpshooter stated with an excited grin on his face. "She's here."

Athos pulled himself to his feet, earning a disapproving glare from his current mother-hen. Glancing towards the front window he could see a carriage pulling up in the yard. Its occupants filed out and stood before the house, taking in the setting. Captain Treville encouraged the new arrival forward.

As he entered the dwelling, Captain Treville removed his hat from his head and bowed his head slightly in respect to Rosa who smiled, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Afternoon, Captain," Aramis greeted, taking the man's hand in an awkward left hand shake.

"Where is the little dear?" Rosa asked, approaching the two men. She almost looked nervous.

Captain Treville stood aside to reveal Catalina. The young girl looked even more nervous than Rosa did. She was dressed in a fine dress, gloves and a hat more appropriate for her size than the massive floppy one they had first seen her wearing.

While in recovery, they had received word from Treville. With the mission finished, he had tried to make contact with the young girl's father only to find out that the man had moved from the town and was nowhere to be found. Catalina had nowhere to go. Rosa had overheard him discussing the girls fate with Aramis and wouldn't take no for an answer. She would take the young girl in.

Treville placed a hand on Catalina's back, again urging her forward. He plucked the hat from her head and held it in his hands as Rosa approached cautiously. "This must be young Catalina. What a pretty little thing you are."

"Hello, Senora," Catalina greeted in a small voice.

"No, no, no, you can call me Rosa. This is going to be your home now, after all. If you wish it to be?" Rosa asked.

"I have nowhere else to go," Catalina stated sadly.

"Well, my girl, you are welcome here. I hope we can be friends," Rosa offered with a hopeful expression.

"Si … I would like that. Very much."

"Good. It's settled then."

Catalina glanced around the room, her eyes landing on Athos. A smile spread across her face as if all insecurities had suddenly been forgotten. "Senor Athos! You are okay!"

She raced to him, wrapping her small arms around him in a hug that he had not been prepared for at all. His still tender side ached and he couldn't stop the grunt of discomfort that escaped him. He looked up startled at Aramis and Treville who were not even trying to hide their grins. He tentatively placed his arm around her shoulder and returned the hug. To be perfectly honest he wasn't used to such exuberant greetings, especially from someone so small.

The excitement started to take its toll and he could feel himself flagging. He needed to sit down. Rosa was suddenly at his side, placing a hand on Catalina's shoulder. "Careful, my girl."

Catalina moved back and stared up at Athos with wide eyes. "I am sorry. I have hurt you?"

Athos shook his head and eased himself down into his chair. "I'm okay." Aramis cleared his throat. "It's good to see you," Athos added.

Catalina smiled shyly. "I am glad you are okay. I was so very worried."

Rosa placed her hand on the girl's shoulder. "How about we let Athos get some rest. Could you maybe help me with the soup? I bet your hungry after your long ride."

Athos stood again as Rosa redirected Catalina's attention. He reached for his crutch and then hobbled past the Captain and Aramis.

"And where do you think you are going?" Aramis asked, frowning.

"I need some fresh air." It was the truth. He had been cooped up for days.

He ignored his friend's disapproving stare and hobbled very slowly down the steps. He made it to the bench that Porthos had made for Rosa and breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down. He immediately knew he wasn't alone and glanced over his shoulder to see Catalina on the porch, staring at him. It was disconcerting to say the least.

"What is it?" he asked.

Catalina moved as if that had been an invitation. She sat beside him on the bench and was silent for a good long moment.

"Are you not happy?" he asked. "Rosa is a good woman."

"She seems … nice. Truly."

"Then what is it?"

Catalina hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. She looked up at him, uncertainly in her eyes. "I … uhh … I wanted to make my apologies before you leave."

Athos shook his head, looking out to the fence. He could see Porthos in the distance working to fix the fence like he'd promised. "You didn't do anything wrong," he told her. There was no way the child had any fault in the events that transpired.

"I deceived you," Catalina stated simply.

Athos sighed. "At the behest of adults who did not have your best interests at heart. They are to blame. Not you."

"It matters not." Catalina's voice was rising with distress. Her hands made fists in her skirt. "I feel … bad. Guilt. You nearly died."

"But I didn't," Athos reminded her. He shifted slightly to look at her more directly. "Would it make you feel better if I said I forgave you?"

"I can make it up to you."

"You can make it up to be by believing when I say that I forgive you and that none of this was your fault. Can you do that for me?"

Catalina seemed to consider what he had told her. He watched her as she processed his words and then met his gaze. She nodded. "I can do that."

"Good." Athos relaxed more on the bench and turned back to watch Porthos just as the large man dropped his hammer with a cry and pulled his hand to his body. He cursed, kicking the fence in retaliation. Athos grinned. His grin grew into a smile as he heard Catalina giggle beside him.

They remained silent for a few moments, both just looking out into the field as Porthos continued his work on the fence.

"Senor Athos?" Catalina asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes?"

"May I make a confession to you?"

"What is it?" Athos asked, wondering what else this girl could be harbouring in her heart.

"I … I feel shame because … well, I liked being Juliana."

Athos frowned. Of all the things the girl had been about to say, he hadn't expected that confession. "Why?" he asked, confused as to where this conversation was heading. "Why would you want to be someone you're not?"

Catalina hesitated again for half a second before continuing. "For a few days I was really important to someone. My father. He does not care. I was only worth what someone would pay him for me. But for once I mattered. I am sorry."

"Catalina, I am going to tell you something and I want you to listen, okay. I don't remember a lot of what happened. But d'Artagan told me of your conduct under pressure. He told me that you saved his life. I owe you a debt for that. You are incredibly brave and you are definitely worth more than a pay check."

Athos watched as Catalina's chin quivered and her eyes filled with moisture. She sucked in a large breath and let it out slowly. It was amazing to see such strength of character in someone so young. "You'll be happy here. You'll be valued. You deserve that."

Catalina smiled up at him, sadness still around the edges. But Athos could see a shift in her, almost like relief had settled. After all, everyone needed to feel needed and loved didn't they? He himself was guilty of that. If it were not for his brothers Athos knew his world would have stayed very dark. Catalina was going to be okay. She was in a much better place now. "Rosa needs your help too," he added.

"She does?" Catalina asked, interest clear in her voice.

"I want you to promise me that you're going to do your best to look after her. She saved our lives and I want to make sure that I am leaving her in the right hands. Can you promise me that?"

"Si, Si … I am the right person. I promise you."

"Good."

Catalina jumped up from her seat on the bench and before Athos knew what was happening he found himself once again on the receiving end of an unexpected hug. "Thank you," Catalina whispered in his ear as she squeezed. Athos slowly brought hands up to rest on her back.

Catalina pulled back after a moment and smiled at him. "I'll go and help her right now."

Athos watched Catalina as she raced up the steps and back into the house. This was the best outcome. Somehow they had managed to turn the Cardinal's dangerous game of smoke and mirrors into a happy ending of sorts. He found himself smiling in the girls wake.

"Well wasn't that just adorable."

Porthos' deep chuckle had Athos rolling his eyes. He turned and watched as his friend approached, his jacket clutched in one hand and the wooden tool box held in the other. "Not a word," Athos warned. With one hand gripping his crutch tightly, Athos held his free hand out towards Porthos. "Help me up."

Porthos reached for him, using his upper body strength to pull Athos into a standing position. He kept a hold of his arm until Athos was sure he was stable and not about to drop to the ground in an undignified heap. "How's the thumb?" Athos asked.

Porthos groaned. "These hands were made for fight'in, not build'in."

Athos grinned. He allowed Porthos to help him towards the front door, keeping pressure of his injured leg. "We'll be home soon enough."

Porthos paused at the steps, using extra care as Athos maneuverer up the first step and then the second. His faced folded as he looked at Athos sceptically. "Are you sure you're ready to go home?"

There was no doubt in his mind that he was ready to return to Paris. He was well and truly ready to put all of this behind him. He wanted his own bed, his own dusty quarters and he was really looking forward to that bottle of wine he'd put aside.

Porthos stood to the side of the door hovering as Athos allowed his crutch to take his weight. Athos smiled at the big man. "My friend, I am more than ready."

"Home it is then," Porthos agreed, apparently satisfied with that answer. "I tell you one thing though. I sure am goin' to miss Rosa's cooking."

A strong smell wafted from inside the house, swirling under Athos' nose. He could almost taste the soup cooking from where he stood at the door. The old woman knew how to cook. Athos closed his eyes and let his senses take in the aroma, glad that for the first time in a couple of days he didn't feel too queasy to eat.

Athos opened his eyes and glanced at Porthos, raising an eyebrow. "I'll tell Serge that." He quickly turned back towards the door and hobbled forward, stepping through the entry way. "I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

"Athos … wait…"

Athos continued moving slowly as Porthos stuttered behind him about Serge and his wrath. Athos smiled.

He was more than ready to go home.

The End.

A/N: Thank you :)