Athos

He stared blankly at the piece of paper. He didn't want to sign it. Because if he did, d'Artagnan would officially be dead. No more games. No more pretending.

With a heavy sigh, Athos stood up and pushed himself away from his desk, lightheaded, and went to prop himself against the window. Had he eaten anything since they had found him? No. That had been a day ago, at least. Athos had spent the last few hours since they got back sitting at his desk, keeping the door locked to keep everyone else out, including Porthos, Aramis, and Milady. If they really wanted to, they knew where the spare key was, and they could get in. Or they could just break the lock.

Athos pushed off from the window. Apparently they really wanted to. The remaining Inseparables were hesitating in the doorway.

Porthos spoke first, "We need to tell Constance."

Athos tried to moisten his dry, cracked lips. It didn't work. "The King and Queen didn't tell her?"

"No," Aramis croaked. "They wanted one of us to tell her."

"Fine. I need water first. And food. We all do. Then we tell her."

"Let's ride in ten. I'd hate her to be left out of knowing crucial information for an extended period of time," Aramis growled.

Porthos started shaking, "Stop. Please. You're still upset, and I get that. You still have every right to be," He gently grabbed Aramis' shoulder and turned him so they were looking eye to eye, "but we are all hurting right now, 'Mis. We are all missing him, and we are all regretting not going sooner. We are all regretting not telling you sooner. So please, please stop. It's going to take years, decades, possibly the rest of our lives, for this to heal. It probably never will heal. But this is a point in time where we need to be drawn closer together, not torn farther apart."

Aramis shrugged off Porthos' hand, his demon taking hold of him. "You're telling me about loss?" He whispered. "Me? Are you serious? I MEANT WHEN I SAID I WOULD NOT FORGIVE YOU." He screamed, backing out of the room. "You guys tell Constance. I'm out. Come find me when you've come to your senses."

Athos watched him walk away, mouth agape. That couldn't have just happened.

Porthos eventually moved, turning towards the door. "Well, let's go tell Constance."

"Are we not going to talk about that? Aramis just went out and left us! We aren't-"

"No, we aren't going after him. He's rightfully angry. But you know Aramis. He'll come around eventually. I mean, he just got back. He'll come back to us," Porthos said, trying to sound confident and nonchalant, while trying to hide his quivering lips and worried brow. "Now c'mon, let's grab a quick bite and see Constance."

Athos nodded, regarding Porthos with curious eyes.

Aramis

'So Porthos thinks he is being so sweet and kind, telling me about loss?'Aramis' inner voice growled. 'He's too late for that. I've been dealing with loss longer than him. I've dealt with loss worse than him. He knows nothing.'

The rational part of Aramis' mind was trying to tell him he was overreacting. Porthos was only trying to help. The rest of his mind was filled with grotesque pictures of Savoy, Lady Marguerite, all the others he has failed to save. But now... now d'Artagnan was added to the list of dead broken bodies in front him.

He roughly shoved his way through the grumbling new recruits and out of the Garrison, feeling hurt and numb at the same time with no idea where he was going or a particular destination in mind.

Aramis wandered the same Parisian streets that he had longed to walk on for years. He had imagined a happier time when he finally returned, one where he wasn't planning a funeral for someone that he very much cared about. Just goes to show how much he really missed.

A raw, brutal sound was ripping its way through Aramis' throat; it took him a few moments to realize it was a laugh. It took him a few more moments to realize that he was being stared at like an absolute lunatic. He stopped suddenly, and turned into his favorite cavern. Perfect. Women and drinking his sorrows away. He's been dry for far too long.

Constance, (right after Athos leaves)

Constance didn't go back to sleep after Athos had woken her up. Instead, she laid in bed, worrying about what they might find. If her husband was dead, what would she do?

Remarry? (Again.)

Leave Paris, the Queen, and her whole life behind? (Probably not.)

Stay in Paris, stay single, and raise- (the child alone.)

She put a hand on her stomach again. There had been no monthly bleeding or uncomfortable pain. The bump (though still small) was still there. She still had morning sickness.

And she still hasn't told anyone. (Besides Aramis.)

She told Aramis before d'Artagnan. Her husband didn't even know she was pregnant, but his best friend (who was also the father of the Dauphin, next in line for the throne) knew.

And if he was alive?

She would announce it to her whole world. D'Artagnan deserved this, and Constance felt like she did, too.

But if he wasn't?

She still needed to tell someone. Anne was the obvious choice, as was the Physician that had been looking after her. She didn't want any of his medication to accidentally kill her baby.

Constance closed her eyes, waiting for the Musketeers to leave so she could get up and go to the Palace. After about ten minutes, they did. She hoped they would find her husband.

With a sigh, she sat up in bed.

Constance rubbed her throat, still sore and aching from when Henri had tried to kill her. She then unwrapped the bandage from her arm, and saw that the cut looked like it was healing nicely. Her head felt better as well. Still nowhere near one hundred percent, but much better than yesterday and the day before.

Forty five minutes later, Constance walked into the throne room, bowing at the King and Queen of France, who, judging by their faces, just got done with another argument.

"Constance!" Anne greeted, looking happy at her arrival. "How are you feeling today? Any better?"

"Any news?" Louis asked. "About d'Artagnan?"

"No, your Majesty," Constance addressed the King first. "They left about an hour ago, and still have a ways to travel, assuming their information is correct."

"Please keep us updated," Louis said, trying for a comforting smile, but still looking strained.

"Of course, your Majesty," Constance curtsied. "If I may please borrow the Queen for a moment, in private?"

Louis waved his hand, as if he was saying 'whatever.'

Once the pair was in Anne's private chambers, Anne asked again, "How are you feeling?"

"I need to tell you something," Constance confessed. "As a friend and confidante."

"Of course," Anne said, reaching for her friend's hands.

"I'm pregnant." Constance said, rushing to get it out. "I wasn't completely sure when d'Artagnan left, but now it's pretty obvious. I've… I've missed my periods, I've been throwing up, and getting dizzy at weird times, and, and I-I'm pregnant."

Anne's mouth had fallen open. "Oh my God, Constance." Then she broke out into a smile. "This is great news! I'm so happy for you!"

Constance tried for a smile, but ended up sobbing instead. "What if he's dead? What if I have to do this all on my own? I'm going to be homeless, and taking care of the child under bridges!"

Anne pulled her closer, and tucked Constance's head under her chin. "You aren't alone, my dear. You will never be alone. I promise. You can move back into the palace with me. I promise you won't end up out on the streets. Even if it wasn't allowed, you think Porthos, Aramis, and Athos would do that to you? Just let you live by yourself?" After Constance shook her head, Anne continued. "No, of course not. You are so, so loved. You will never be alone in this, I swear it. Matter of fact, let's get you set up for you and the baby, right now." She pulled away.

Constance protested."I've just been staying in d'Artagnan's room at the Garrison, and it's been fine, really."
"Constance," Anne said. "We're in a war. Enemy soldiers want to go for a devastating blow? They are going to head for the Royal Guard's Garrison. You'll be a target there. Besides," She begged. "It'll get loud, and hot, and sweaty. The Physician is here, and if something happens to you, he'll be easier to reach. Move here. Please."

"But if they find d'Artagnan-"

"When they find d'Artagnan," Anne corrected, "I'll have him moved onto my personal guard, so he'll be here with you whenever possible. The Garrison is no place to raise a child.'

Constance sighed, and nodded. "Fine. I'll move back here, on one condition."