Evening My Lovelies

Finally managed to get through writing this. Writer's block fully attacked me with this chapter but I got through it :D

Notes On Reviews:

Issai: Thanks for the review - Athos is definitely having to play mediator for our boys right now and we'll get to see tonight if it worked :) Enjoy the new chapter! x

beeblegirl: Thanks for the review - It's definitely a good thing Athos has a great deal of patience to be able to deal with all our boy's stubbornness :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

Jmp (Guest): Thanks for the review - Oh don't worry about that, Porthos will be taking care of it :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

Debbie (Guest): Thanks for the review - Well we'll be seeing if he does today :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

pallysd'Artagnan: Thanks for the review - Its made worse by the fact that most of the regiment already forgive him but he's determined to do it regardless. It's really really tempting to have it backfire but I figure our boys need something to work for them lol. Enjoy the new chapter! x

As always much love and many thanks for following/favouriting/reviewing/reading

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter Eighty-One: Moving Forward (D'Artagnan)

As he approached the door to Aramis's infirmary room D'Artagnan felt himself hesitate, he wasn't entirely sure what reaction his appearance would draw from his injured brother, although he did know what reaction he hoped it would.

"I can't do anything from out here D'Artagnan," teased Tristan lightly as he moved to stand next to the Gascon, making the younger musketeer huff before reaching out for the door handle.

Athos had been trying to engage Aramis in a conversation when the door opened, drawing their attention to the new arrivals but to everyone's surprise, it was the battered medic who first spoke up about their brother's appearance.

"What happened to you!?" exclaimed Aramis, grimacing as he tried to sit up straighter in his bed, his many injuries protesting the movement, though he paid them little attention as he stared, wide-eyed at his brother's bruised and bloodied face.

"It's okay Aramis," reassured D'Artagnan, a flood of warmth filling him at the concern he could hear in his brother's voice.

"Okay?" snapped the medic, "I saw you this morning and you were okay… This," he snapped, gesturing to the boy's face, "Is not okay. What happened?"

As Aramis continued to ramble and rant about D'Artagnan's condition and how he needed to tell him what happened he missed the looks that passed over both Athos and D'Artagnan's faces, the two musketeers feeling a mix of shock and hope at the man's attitude given that the marksman's mood had steadily declined over the last several days as his nightmares became increasingly darker and more violent. The man's mental health had gotten to the point where he barely spoke, even when spoken to and his brothers were honestly worried about what he might do if left alone for any significant length of time, so seeing such life in their beloved brother, if only for a moment filled both men with hope that he could and would return to himself eventually.

Unable to stop himself Athos let out a small chuckle at Aramis's rant before turning his attention to D'Artagnan, who was now being tended to by Tristan. "I trust the issue with Porthos and yourself is settled now?"

D'Artagnan blinked in surprise at his brother's words, not having guessed that Athos had known what their brother had planned when he had all but pulled the Gascon out of Aramis's room that morning.

"You knew?" he asked, a small amount of hurt lining his voice as Athos nodded his head.

"It was my idea," stated the swordsman, his expression softening into sympathy as he watched his protege flinch as Tristan set to work cleaning out the small cuts littering the boy's frame.

Part of D'Artagnan wanted to rage at his mentor but then he thought back to how he had Porthos had parted ways not too long ago and he found his anger at the situation rapidly fading.

Since returning to the garrison things had been tense between himself and the larger musketeer, to the point where they could hardly be in the same room as each other for too long and if they were then they didn't talk. However, they had had a long talk after their exercise that morning and whilst some of the awkwardness and tension remained it was only a fraction of what it had been before.

"We worked things out," stated the Gascon as he answered his brother's earlier question, letting out a small curse as Tristan pressed on a particularly tender wound.

"Porthos did this!?" gasped Aramis, the man looking very much like he was a single comment away from jumping out of his bed, injuries be dammed.

"Easy 'Mis," chuckled D'Artagnan as he noticed the look on his brother's face, feeling lighter than he had in days despite the numerous small injuries and bruises he now bore. He laughed again as the marksman glared at him but he did oblige the man once his laughter died down, launching into the tale of how he had come to be in the condition he was now in.

FLASHBACK

D'Artagnan had been torn between confusion and hope that morning as Porthos stopped him on his way to Aramis's infirmary room. Things had been tense between the pair since the younger man's return to the garrison several days prior and while D'Artagnan believed his brother was furious with him for running away he was determined to make things right between them if it was indeed possible to do so.

"What about Aramis?" he questioned as Porthos led them towards the sparring area of the garrison. It was unlike Porthos to leave Aramis's side at a time like this and the fact that he was only served to further spike the younger musketeer's curiosity.

"Athos is with him," stated Porthos as he paused at the table by their usual spot, taking a deep breath before turning to address his brother, praying that Athos's idea would work. "We need to address this tension between us," he stated, instantly noting how the Gascon unconsciously tensed at his words. "Our focus needs to be on Aramis right now."

Understanding flooded D'Artagnan's mind as he realized why they were where they were. Nerves flooded his system as he straightened, "Okay… How are we doing this?"

Blinking at the boy's instant acceptance Porthos couldn't help but chuckle for a moment before stepping closer to his brother.

"My anger at you isn't because you ran D'Artagnan," he stated firmly, his eyes locked with D'Artagnan's, silently imploring his brother to see the truth in his words.

"It's… It's not?"

Softening his expression just a fraction Porthos shook his head. "It was reckless but understandable given everything we've all been dealing with, you especially… What I have a problem with is the danger you placed not only yourself but also the others who raced out to find you in by leaving without a weapon."

D'Artagnan's eyes immediately flashed to the healing bruises still littering Porthos's skin, a testament to the words his brother was speaking. Seeing this Porthos nodded once, "It may be hypocritical of me but the reasoning stands. I only got away with my life because the red guards were drunk and because Alain and Blaise showed up at exactly the right moment… I had a gun to my head D'Artagnan," stated Porthos firmly, not missing the alarm that flooded D'Artagnan's features at that omission, nor the way he flinched at his words.

"No one knew where you were," continued the larger man, "If it had been the red guards that found you can you honestly say you would have left with your life?"

The prideful part of D'Artagnan wanted to defend himself and his skill but the logical part of him knew that if Porthos, who out of the four of them excelled the most in hand-to-hand struggled in the fight then he likely wouldn't have lasted half as long before being overwhelmed.

He had been about to admit that, knowing his brother would not appreciate him lying in an attempt to save face and pride when he felt cold steel being pressed lightly against his throat.

END FLASHBACK

"You were attacked with blades!" exclaimed Aramis in worry and D'Artagnan noticed that even Athos looked a little concerned about this so the younger man was quick to reassure them.

"Practice blades Aramis," he offered with a small shrug, "They're barely sharp… Porthos wanted to see how long I would manage in a fight where I was the only one without a weapon… Like he was when I ran off."

Aramis's expression softened at the look of guilt and remorse on his baby brother's face, opening his mouth to comfort the boy when Athos cut him off, curiosity lining his face.

"How long did you last?"

Letting out a sigh the Gascon slumped in his chair, "Not nearly as long as I would have liked," admitted the boy wearily before brightening as he added, "But Porthos promised to show me some moves to help me last longer when I've healed from all this."