The Paris streets were quiet as Athos made his way through the cobbles, eyes peeled for a certain house. He hadn't been in the best of health when he had been there last, so he hoped he could remember the route. He adjusted the hold of the basket in his hands, the muscles in his arms tremoring slightly as he did so.

It had been three days since their experience with Rochefort, and he was still recovering- he had received surgery from a physician Aramis and Porthos had sourced, and for now his wound was clean and he had been assured by the good doctor that he would be his old self in now time. Athos didn't have the heart to tell him how wrong he was.

As he crossed the road he spied a familiar row of houses, and knew he was on the right track. He had left the others in the safe house- he hated being cooped up; he had to do something in the long nights as they lay low, unwilling to break their cover now most of Paris were searching for them.

He sighed as he climbed a small row of steps to the house- he hoped he had found the right one. Rapping lightly on the door, he stepped back, enjoying the coolness of the night against his skin, something he had rather been taking for granted all these years.

The door opened and a figure stepped out, her eyes quizzical in the evening light. 'Constance,' he smiled, nodding at the woman as she pulled the door closed, a smile dawning on her features.

'Athos!' she smiled, looking over at him. 'How wonderful to see you again! How are you?'

'I'm…doing alright…' Athos nodded, swallowing.

'That's wonderful to hear- would you like to come in?'

'No, no, it's fine….' Athos shook his head and handed her the basket. 'For you. For your help the other night. You will never know how much you helped me.'

'Oh, Athos! You shouldn't have!' Constance berated him lightly, peering into the basket at the selection of wine, breads and pastries. 'This must have cost a fortune, I-'

'I brought it for you, so please take it and enjoy it. You deserve it all and more.'

Constance smiled bashfully over at him, eyes narrowed playfully as she accepted her gift. 'I'm glad you're on the mend.'

'Yes,' Athos nodded with a wry smile. 'I found I wasn't….quite so indestructible as I once thought I was.'

'Men always say that!' Constance laughed, the noise filling Athos' heart.

'I know we do, but- this time I need to face that I may not be as strong as I thought.' He swallowed again, faltering ling enough for Constance to look over at him with concerned eyes.

'Are you alright?'

He looked at her, at her beauty, her youthfulness, and felt a pang of envy. Covering his feelings with a smile he nodded, before stepping closer and closing the gap between them.

'I must go- thank you, Constance. For everything.' He said, before slowly moving forwards and placing a kiss on her cheek.

Without another word he withdrew and walked off, leaving Constance at her front door, staring after the stranger disappearing off into the night.

The brackish water of the Seine rose and ebbed its way along the riverbank; the early morning sunlight glinted in its surface, almost blinding Marsac as he stared into the water, awaiting his fate.

The others had been discussing his punishment for an hour now, and he was starting to worry- he swallowed hard as an icy wind brushed against his face. Guilt rose up in his chest like a springtide and his stomach roiled as he watched birds flock onto the wall to his left. He hadn't meant for it to be like this, to end like this.

He turned as he heard footsteps come closer. d'Artagnan nodded at him as he came to stand next to him. The two men stood in silence for a while, staring ahead at the river.

'Why?' Marsac almost startled at the sudden question, the words hitting him like a gunshot.

He let the question hang in the air, not knowing how to respond for a few moments. 'I…had three sons.' He started, staring resolutely ahead, unwilling to meet d'Artagnan's eye.

'The youngest one, JeanPierre…he was the last to die. He was forty two.' He sucked in a breath, feeling his eyes prick with tears. 'Cancer took him.'

Wiping his eyes, he continued, this time turning to look at the other man. 'You'll always and forever be the young man right here- but everyone around you, everything you love….they're going to grow old, they're going to suffer, and they're going to die.'

He shook his head, thumbing away a tear as d'Artagnan looked on, face laced with concern and pity. 'And if you try to…to touch their lives, to be present in their lives….well- they'll learn your secret eventually. They will beg you to share it with them, and you won't be able to-' he let out a wet, mirthless chuckle as he shook his head again.

'They won't believe you, of course. They'll think you want it all for yourself. They'll tell you…that you don't love them. That your love towards them is weak, or selfish. You'll never forget the…the hate, and despair in their eyes.'

Finally his eyes met d'Artagnan's, although he could hardly see him from the tears in his own. 'And you will know what it is to lose everyone you've ever loved.'

The two men stared at each other- d'Artagnan didn't know what to say. He nodded slowly, showing his understandings. Marsac didn't do what he did through hate. It was the opposite.

'You're a good man, d'Artagnan.' Marsac finally spoke, clearing his throat. 'You'll be great for the team.'

They all looked up as they heard footsteps approaching- he looked at Athos as he, flanked by Aramis and Porthos, stopped ahead of him. Aramis nodded across at him, yet Porthos regarded him with suspicion, almost hatred in his eyes. Marsac knew what had happened to Aramis back in the Bastille had scarred them both, and didn't blame Porthos for being so unforgiving.

They stopped and looked at each other, as Paris began to wake up around them. 'There's got to be a price.' Athos said, voice stark against the cold wind.

Marsac nodded, now resigned to his fate. Athos looked across the river to the other side, before turning back to Marsac. 'One hundred years from today, they'll meet you here. Till then, you're alone.'

Marsac swallowed, yet nodded his understanding- they stood for a few seconds, before Aramis put a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder and he and Porthos led him away, leaving just Athos and Marsac alone.

'I hoped for less, but I expected more…' he said, looking at the retreating backs of his teammates, of his family, and missing them already.

Athos nodded, before sighing. He turned back to Marsac, at the man he trusted with his life for so many years. 'I'm going to miss you.' He said, voice low. Marsac looked over at him, eyes stinging once more- he stepped forwards and the two men embraced, resting their chins on each other's shoulders as a silent understanding passed between them. This was it.

Stepping back, Athos palmed away his tears, sighing deeply. Marsac nodded, swallowing hard, before a crushing thought crossed his mind.

'I- I won't see you again.' His voice faltered. This would be the last time he saw Athos alive, now his immortality was gone.

Athos chuckled at his words, before shrugging. 'Have a little faith, Marsac.' He nodded, before turning and walking away, leaving Marsac to only watch as he joined the others at the bank.

He caught Porthos' eye as he did so- it took a few seconds, but as Porthos welcomed Athos back with a hand on his shoulder, he swore the other man inclined his head ever so slightly before turning away, leading the others up the stone steps and onto the streets, leaving Marsac alone for the next century.

Thank you for reading- one chapter left.

Please leave a review, I'd love to know your thoughts!