Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.
Warning: Un-betaed. I apologise in advance for the bad grammar and spelling mistakes.
Three days later…
D'Artagnan winced as he pulled his shirt on. He was far from recovered. He could feel every stitch in his body with each movement he made, but ever since he had fully woken up he needed to leave this place. He couldn't stay here any longer. Athos, Aramis and Porthos were all there when he woke up and he knew he should be grateful for their vigilance, but only felt uncontained anger. He looked down at the pauldron on the cot. This was his dream, he tried to remember the pride he felt when the King asked him to kneel and commissioned him a Musketeer, but he couldn't bring back that feeling. He was hoping it could squash the anger, but the harder he tried the angrier he got. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The decision was made and he wasn't turning back now. D'Artagnan grabbed his bag and headed out the door.
Every Musketeer in the garrison turned and looked up at him as he descended the steps to the courtyard. Athos, Aramis and Porthos, who were sitting at the table at the bottom of the steps, stood as he reached the bottom. He didn't look at them as he passed. He didn't look at anyone. He didn't say a word. For the second time within two weeks, D'Artagnan left the Musketeers. The first time he was forced, this time it was his choice and this time…he didn't look back.
"We just going to let him leave?" Porthos asked.
"Do you think anything we say will make him change his mind?" Aramis asked him. He remembered the day D'Artagnan woke up and found the three of them asleep around his cot. His reaction was so violent, he pulled out most of his stitches. When his friends tried to stop him, he screamed and yelled like a man possessed. Aramis resorted to force-feeding him laudanum to make him sleep. He felt like the lowest of life-forms in Paris, as he held D'Artagnan's mouth closed, forcing him to swallow the liquid. "I'm sorry." He had said as he looked into the eyes of the man that hated them more than anyone or anything in the world. They didn't dare to be present when D'Artagnan was conscious since that day, fearing more harm than good would come to their friend if they remained. Aramis gave instructions for caring for D'Artagnan to other musketeers. D'Artagnan all but ignored anyone who came in the room, but at least he was not fighting them.
"We'll let him go for now." Athos told them, "He needs time to clear his mind and he can't do that here." Aramis got up and started heading out the gate. "Aramis, where are you going?"
"I'm following him." He said, as if his intentions should have been clear.
"I thought we just agreed…" Porthos looked confused.
"I didn't agree to anything. Yes, D'Artagnan needs time to think but his injuries are still raw. He's in no condition to be travelling." Aramis explained before continuing out the door. Porthos caught up to him on one side while Athos appeared on the other.
"He won't be happy if he finds us following him." Athos warned.
"He'll probably try to run us through with his sword." Porthos agreed.
"How about we don't get caught?" Aramis suggested.
They had followed D'Artagnon to Lupiac, Gascony, his home town. They saw how D'Artagnan had hitched a ride with a market tradesman, satisfying Aramis's concern over his injuries. They watched as he reached his farm. It seems the farm has been rebuilt since being burned. They watched as D'Artagnan stumbled into the arms of an old man. The man supported D'Artagnan as they entered the small farm house. Satisfied that D'Artagnan was safe, they left to return for Paris. They will be back another day.