A/N: Okay so not only is this an AU of an AU, it's an AU of someone else's AU. The Forgotten Nobody has some great fics where d'Artagnan had a little brother who died, and in this story, he's not dead. Set during The Challenge. Also it probably got a bit emotional because my brother just came home after a two week trip today and I really missed him.


D'Artagnan froze when Treville told him of his farm - completely destroyed. That didn't matter right now, because all that was going through his head right then was "Please let Mathieu be alive". The Captain noted his distress and smiled sadly. The Gascon's heart was in his throat - what did that even mean? Why was he smiling?

"There's a young lad here to see you. He's waiting outside". D'Artagnan sucked in and let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding at that news, and sagged back against the wall.

"Oh thank God. I-" Treville waved whatever rambling was about to begin dismissively

"You're dismissed, d'Artagnan. If you can find the money somehow, I would be more than happy to let you try out for the contest." He gave Treville little more than a swift nod before he was out the door and running back down to where Athos and a lanky fifteen year old are having a staring competition. Aramis and Porthos are watching and taking bets, but both Athos and the boy turn to d'Artagnan at the same time.

The boy runs towards him and lunges into a hug. Mathieu had always been an enthusiastic child, but now his brother welcomed it and closed the hug firmly, throat tight and eyes stinging. He held onto that boy for all he was worth because for a moment he thought he would never be able to hold him again.

"I'm so glad you're alright" he said into Mathieu's ear, his voice cracking with emotion and fear and relief. "When Treville said the farm was, that Labarge had- I was so scared." He blinked back the onslaught of tears. "I thought, I thought-" Mathieu shushed him and held him closer, and the only thing that was keeping him upright was his brother more or less holding him up. "I thought I'd lost you too, for one horrible, horrible second, and it was like that day with the bandits all over again."

"You're never letting that one go, are you, Charlie?" Mathieu teased, but his voice was soft, and d'Artagnan buried his head in his brother's shoulder, just glad to have him close.

Then he heard the soft clearing of a throat, and remembered that his friends were here and reluctantly untangled himself from his brother's arms.

"Oh. Sorry. Mathieu, these are my friends. This is Porthos-" He gestured to said man, who gave a small wave and a smile, "never play cards with him, he cheats"

"That's slander!" Porthos decreed, overplaying the insult just enough to make the boy laugh, which d'Artagnan was grateful for.

"It's only slander if it's not true, Porthos dear" Aramis teased, and held out his hand for Mathieu to shake, which he did so. "My name is Aramis, and it is a pleasure to meet you."

"You might think he's charming now, but just wait till you spend five minutes with him. He spends most of his free time fleeing jilted husbands." Aramis apparently took that as a compliment, because he beamed.

"And this is Athos" he said finally, gesturing to the man who was sitting frowning at them. Mathieu looked from Athos to Charles and then back again.

"The one you talk about so much in your letters?" d'Artagnan bit back an embarrassed groan even as he felt his cheeks flaring red.

"Why do I even let you open your mouth?" He lamented, and watched Mathieu grin in reply. Athos quirked an eyebrow at their antics.

"And what does he say of me in these letters?" He asked, faintly suspicious. But Mathieu beamed.

"Well, in the first letter he sent he explained about how he tried to kill you because he thought you killed Papa-"

"Wait- papa?" Aramis asked, suddenly thrown. Mathieu frowned.

"Why does no one ever guess that we're brothers? I'd have guessed, if I were you guys, but you're clearly all idiots." Mathieu huffed indignantly, folding his arms and pouting - ah, now there was the resemblance.

"Mathieu, please stop calling my friends idiots" d'Artagnan's tone was fond, but bordering on exasperated.

-"but after that he mainly just waxed lyrical about how amazing he thinks you are, what a great man, proud to be your friend, etc. Real boring mushy sort of stuff that I skim before he gets to the good parts about the adventures." Mathieu continued answering Athos' question as if he hadn't been interrupted. D'Artagnan despaired of ever being taken seriously by his friends again, if Mathieu kept going this way.

"And he looks familiar, anyway, this Athos fellow" he continued, frowning thoughtfully.

"You know, the one with the horse called Milady who nearly ran me over?" D'Artagnan paled. He knew he'd heard the name Milady before he had ever met that woman. "Don't you think he looks like Olivier? Just a little bit?"

Athos cleared his throat rather pointedly, and d'Artagnan took that as his cue to attempt to shut up the idiot.

"Maybe. I don't really remember that, asides from the fact mother nearly killed us all for being late for dinner."

"She misses you, by the way." Mathieu cut in, either not realising that his brother just purposely made him change the subject or going along with it before Porthos or Aramis could pick up on it.

"She's alright, then?" d'Artagnan asked as another wave of relief washed over him.

"Think she would have taken on Labarge with her walking stick if Uncle Remy had let her." d'Artagnan snorted.

"She would have won, too. Remember that time when-"

"She walloped the living daylights out of Aunt Rita's husband? How could I forget?" He shuddered. "Man never even threatened to raise a hand to her again, she said."

"Good. If he did Ma would have cut them off."

"Maybe not just his hands, either." Mathieu added with a wiggle of his eyebrows, startling Aramis into laughter from where he had been watching them interact.

D'Artagnan had always been lively and bright with them, but in his brother's presence he shone like the sun. His laughter was lighter, and it was only now that any of them realised just how much of an effect his father's death had had on him, if this was his more usual behaviour at home. Though now he did suddenly look stricken by some ill thought.

"She's going to kill me, isn't she?" he asked his brother, who shook his head fondly.

"Oh, now why would you think that?"

"Because I haven't visited once since- since-" his voice caught in his throat, unable to voice the words.

"Nah, she gets it. It's fine. Really, honest truth, she's okay with it. Oh and by the way we've moved to Paris, seeing as the farm's gone. Rita's a widow now, so we're staying with her."

"Right, right. That's- that's good. You're safe, you're both safe, you've got somewhere to stay."

"That's right, so stop worrying, okay? Big boy now, I can take care of myself, right?"

"You can't even hold a sword properly, let alone swing it - how is that being able to take care of yourself?"

"Dieu! Nothing ever changes, does it, you big mother hen, you. Always with the swords and the fighting. You never would have stayed at the farm at all, would you?" it was an old argument, and one that d'Artagnan helped d'Artagnan regain a sense of balance, of knowing his place in the world. No matter what else happened, he would always be Mathieu's big brother, and as long as he had that, even if everything burned to ashes around them, everything would be alright.

They made conversation for another five minutes or so before Treville called on them to stop slacking and get back to training, and Mathieu made his excuses and ran for home. Oh how absurdly glad he was that the idiot would be in Paris so that he could check in far more easily, and face to face rather than through letters. He watched until his shadow disappeared around a corner and sighed.

Then he turned to find that all three friends, who were all looking at him rather judgementally, with arms folded and stern frowns.

"So how come we never got to know about your kid brother?" Porthos questioned, and it felt more like an interrogation with

"What, and you all so readily volunteer information about your pasts?" d'Artagnan snapped back at him haughtily, glaring at each one of them in turn, Athos for longest. "It's not like I'm the only one here who's ever kept a secret." He told them pointedly. "And I distinctly remember having to keep them for some of you, so you lecture me about this, you get a black eye, alright?"

"A rather high opinion of your hand to hand there, squirt" Porthos interjected, "seeing as I taught you all I know". Aramis, however, sighed, waving his hand flippantly.

"very well, then, we shan't lecture you or hold a ridiculous grudge, as fun as that would be - how about we get some questions?" D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow and signalled to him to continue, "about your brother, that is."

After a long moment of debating internally, d'Artagnan sighed and nodded, seeing as this seemed the only way to get them all off of his back.

"Fine, one question each." He allowed them. "Porthos, you first."

"Why'd you never mention him?" it was the most obvious question, but he didn't quite know how to answer it.

"I... I don't really know. I suppose at first it was because I didn't know you all that well, and then, over time it just became easier not to say anything. And..." he paused, trying to find the right words to convey his meaning, "I guess since our lives are so dangerous, in my mind, I wanted to keep him separate from that - to keep him safe. I guess it sounds idiotic when I say it out loud, but it made sense in my head." The other three watched as he kept his eyes on the floor when answering the question, and they shared a look of understanding.

"I get it, kid, it makes sense, wanting to keep your family safe." there was a heavy silence which Aramis decided to break.

"Since you have so callously declined the offer of my teachings, may I-"

"No!" D'Artagnan cut him off before he could speak any further. "You are not teaching my brother your ways, the last thing he needs is to be chased around by jealous husbands or lovers. I won't let you corrupt him."

Now it was Athos' turn, and he looked to be slowly deliberating on his question, before deciding finally on one which pleased him.

"What was this incident with bandits that your brother mentioned?" d'Artagnan turned suddenly sheet white.

"Dieu, Athos. Don't- I. No." Athos was shocked by the adamant refusal which this request had gained him. He watched as d'Artagnan backed away from him on stumbling feet. He had asked perhaps in spite of the fact that d'Artagnan knew about Thomas, and yet had said nothing of his own brother, but if he had known that asking would reduce the boy to something trembling and wide eyed like this.

Aramis knew that look and decided immediately that it did not belong on d'Artagnan. He knelt down so that he was eye level with their young friend, who had ended up backing into the bench and falling down to sit on it in his panic.

"Wherever your mind is right now, you are not there. It's not real." He whispered, and when d'Artagnan's eyes started to clear, he risked putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Alright now?" Unable to speak, d'Artagnan nodded. He risked a glance up at Athos, who looked slightly horrified with himself. The Gascon shrugged off Aramis' arm, comforting as it was, and turned to leave. He couldn't stay there right now - so he would just have to find someone more deserving to take out his anger on - who better than the man who destroyed his childhood home?