Constance

All Constance could do was a short, painful gasp in, and a saccato breath out. All she could see was a mixture of dull colors throughout her vision. Somewhere far away, she felt some sort of pressure on her hands, and forehead; for some reason, her arm was absolutely on fire. Did she get injured somehow?

Distantly, she heard a familiar voice say, "We're losing her. Her condition has gotten drastically worse since last night."

Did she know that voice? And who was the "her" that it was referring to? From the sounds of it, the "her" the familiar voice was speaking of was hurt badly, perhaps even dying.

Now, why was breathing getting so hard?

"The noose injuries on her neck aren't helping her," Aramis said.

Aramis! She knew Aramis! That was Aramis' voice. So if that voice is his, then the first voice was Anne. Where was Porthos? And since they were back, where is d'Artagnan? Wasn't he supposed to come back with them?

"Can't you do something?!" A frantic voice screamed. Was that Athos? "She just lost her husband, you can't lose her too!"

But…

They were talking about her. She was the one who is dying. And d'Artagnan is dead? Well, that's not right. They had to be wrong. He's not dead, because she would KNOW if he was dead. She would feel it.

Constance had officially decided that they were wrong. They missed something, and needed to check again. Because if anyone was able to tell if he was dead, she could. And she could tell that he was not. They were wrong. Besides, they would have told her by now.

She had to open her eyes to let them know, but found that they were too heavy to open.

Porthos

'Faster', he thought. 'Must run faster.'

As soon as Aramis had asked about the wedding ring, Porthos and Athos knew something was off about the whole situation. He tried to rack his brain, was there ever a wedding band on the body they found? What about the gunshot wound in his side from where Athos shot him?

Did they even check?

No. They didn't eventry. D'Artagnan deserved better friends than that. But right now, Porthos had to get to the morgue to check. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He pushed himself harder. The fastest route to get there was through the marketplace.

But why didn't they try? Had they already given up hope?

"MOVE!" He yelled at a poor, unassuming Lady waiting to buy eggs. There are more important things in life than when your next meal is going to be. 'Later,' Porthos thinks, 'When d'Artagnan is safe and sound with us again, I am going to deny I ever thought that.'

Two more blocks to go.

One block.

Here.

Barging in, Porthos started yelling. "Hey! I need some assistance!"

The poor mortician came busting out. He wasn't used to hearing people speak. "Hello, may I help you?"

"My name is Porthos of the King's Musketeers. We brought in a body two days ago, you know, all burned, wearing leather? Do you still have it? Have you looked at it yet?"

"No Monsieur, I was gettin' to it next," he replied.

"Well look at it now. I'll even help, if you want," Porthos said, finally getting some of his breathing under control.

"Uh… I suppose?" the mortician replied, slightly confused. "Is there something wrong?"

"Possibly. I need to make sure it's not one of friends." Porthos said.

"Well, right this way," the man replied, leading the way back through the dungeon. "Here."

"Thanks," Porthos whispered.

"Did you not look at the face?" the man asked.

Tears lumped up in Porthos' throat. "We couldn't… there's no way... " Choking back tears, he finally answered clearly. "No. We didn't feel a need to. It was d'Artagnan's uniform."

The mortician back off after uncovering the body, "Take all of the time you need."

Porthos nodded, "Can I take off the clothes?"

"Oui Monsieur."

Porthos closed his eyes and steered himself for the inevitable. Once he opened them, he bent over the body, closely examining the face. From what he could tell from the black hair (that was mostly burned off), he found that it matched up to his friends. Well, that doesn't help.

Breathing through his mouth, he moved down to d'Artagnan's uniform. He would recognize it anywhere. Porthos closed his eyes again, and tried to not let the memories of his brother overwhelm him. Don't think about his laugh, smile, or his old jokes. Don't think about how how he smiled at Constance on their wedding day, or how excited he was when they could just ride their horses through open pastures all afternoon. Don't-

Stop it, Porthos!

He opened his eyes, and first checked down on the left hand. No wedding ring. There wasn't enough skin left on the hand to tell if there was any past indentation of the wedding ring, anyways. So, no help there.

He finally moved on to the Uniform. Carefully avoiding looking at d'Artagnan's fleur-de-lis, Porthos gently started undoing the jacket. It was burned, he noted. Leather doesn't usually burn easily, so whoever this was was burned in it. This was it. Was this d'Artagnan, or a decoy meant to distract them? Was his brother still alive?

After a few minutes of undoing it, Porthos finally got it open. Carefully peeling the cracking leather back, Porthos opened it up, and started looking at the chest. After several seconds, Porthos ran outside and threw up on the streets.

After he was done, he went back in to carefully collect d'Artagnan's fleur-de-lis off of his uniform, thanked the Mortician as he left, and said four words to him.

Once he was back in the same room where Constance lay, surrounded by his brothers, Porthos finally announced, "It's not him. The body. It's not him. The gunshot wound is missin', and so is the wedding ring. D'Artagnan is alive out there, somewhere, and 'e needs our help."

Athos went pale, not wanting to believe his ears. "You're sure? You are 100 percent sure, Porthos?"

Porthos looked him dead in the eye and responded, "Sure as I am standin' in front of ya. D'Artagnan is alive."

Aramis sat down in a nearby chair, feeling sick to his stomach. "You don't know that. The body isn't his, but he could still be dead."

"Even so," Treville said. "You owe it to Constance to bring his wedding ring back, at least. Your search is not over, men. Get off your asses, and bring him home this time."

Athos looked at the Queen, who said, "You heard the man. Get out of here."

A/N- Hope y'all like this one! I SHOULD be updating more frequently. Bugging me helps a lot!