Disclaimer: I own nothing of BBC or the Musketeers, I just play with them!

A/N: Yes, I've played with time and characters a bit but that's the joy of fanfiction. And don't worry, our boys will redeem themselves, they just have to grovel for a while. I've made them a bit self-centered/oblivious and D'Artagnan a bit of a doormat but there's a reason for that which will be revealed. Just to be clear, this story takes place after episode 1x8 but D'Artagnan was still considered green by the trio, that's why all the angst. Please continue to review, it is my inspiration.

*Thoughts are in Italics

The silence was thick and long. Treville's gaze didn't falter, moving constantly between the members of the infamous trio. Porthos looked uneasy, Athos was stoic as ever. Aramis was actually fidgeting slightly, you wouldn't be able to tell if you didn't know him.

"I never thought you would push a man like that, Athos but clearly I was mistaken. Couldn't you tell that D'Artagnan could barely hold his stance even before you started? Everyone else could tell."

Athos remained silent but there was a slight annoyance in his eyes that was starting to turn to doubt. Treville frowned.

"And while we're on the subject, there have been rumors circulating around the garrison for months that you've been working D'Artagnan to the bone. Never mind the fact that he is a commissioned Musketeer now and is voluntarily on call for any and all missions the King might give. But I've heard that you've reduced to a mere messenger boy despite his rank; sending him with messages to Aramis's ladies, challenges for Porthos' games, constantly making him buy wine for you, Athos. None of the others are treated this way, why D'Artagnan?"

Now the three looked confused. Aramis answered, "We don't make him do anything, Captain. He volunteers. He's like a rabbit, constantly jumping up to do things the moment we mention it."

Treville nearly rolled his eyes. "That lad worships the three of you, or at least he did at the beginning, now it seems like it's force of habit to jump when you say jump, even with his change in rank! What I can't understand is why you've let it get to the point where he's willing to neglect his health rather than say no to you! Especially you, Athos! That poor boy was willing to face my supposed wrath rather than make you wait a mere minute! What does that tell you?"

Now Athos was looking slightly uncomfortable and Treville felt a zing of vindication in his chest. "It tells me that he's gone from worshiping... to fearing disappointing you three in any fashion. That not being at your beck and call makes him unworthy to be part of this regiment... when he earned it many times over in the last two years, least of all by saving my life from Labarge!" The trio all looked like they'd been punched in the stomach.

Treville took a deep breath to calm his temper, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "How did this happen? What did you do to make that boy feel like he doesn't have the right to say no to anything?"

Porthos looked like a fish, opening and closing his mouth but no sound coming out. Athos looked like a statue. Aramis was staring at his boots, clearly ashamed. Treville slammed his fist on the table again and yelled, "TALK! I want answers, not silence!" All three flinched but looked at him helplessly.

After another long moment, Treville shook his head. "Obviously you can't even tell me when it started. I wonder if you ever noticed when the boy began to falter. I'm to blame too, I didn't notice until nearly too late." He lifted his head and pinned the three with his eyes. "No more. You no longer have a servant to run your errands, take care of it on your own time. What's more, I'm removing D'Artagnan from your unit. He will be working with other Musketeers for the time being." Before Aramis could do more than open his mouth in protest, Treville shot him down. "He won't change his thinking if he stays around you. Besides, being around other Musketeers will show him that what you've been doing is wrong, that there are those here who will actually be his support. And perhaps losing the heart of your unit will wake the three of you up."

A second later, there came a loud pounding at the door and Treville yelled in annoyance, "What?!" Basset burst through the door, looking pale as a ghost. "It's D'Artagnan, sir. H-He collapsed right before we got to the infirmary... he's feverish and in a delirium. Dr. Lemay has been sent for but... he's out of his head and won't calm down. He's calling for you, sir."

All four men rushed from the office. D'Artagnan was on a cot, moaning and thrashing about. Julian was trying to cool him down with a wet cloth, murmuring to him constantly. Aramis grabbed the boy's wrist to take his pulse. "D'Artagnan, ssh. It's Aramis, we're here. Calm down."

To everyone's surprise, D'Artagnan tore away from him. "No! Captain!"

Treville shoved Aramis out of the way with a muttered, "Idiot! He wants me, not you!" He placed a gentle hand on D'Artagnan's hot head, wincing at the heat coming off of his newest Musketeer. "I'm here, son. It's Treville."

"Captain...?" D'Artagnan reached out and Treville clasped his clammy hand. The poor boy opened his eyes, hazy with fever. "I'm sorry... tell Athos... s-sorry..." Treville shot Athos a glare before whispering, "Sorry for what, son?"

"Not good enough... do better... want to stay... Musketeer...family..." D'Artagnan's feverish mumbling drifted off as he fell into a fitful sleep. Treville's jaw clenched and he growled, "Get them out of here." Somehow the other Musketeers knew what he meant. They grabbed Porthos, Athos and Aramis and practically threw them out of the infirmary. Then they stood in front of the door like a protective wall, glaring at the trio.

"Oi! 'e's ours, we need to be in 'ere!" When Porthos tried to push through, Basset reared back and punched him in the jaw before drawing a knife. "Where was this caring attitude months ago, eh? The three of you might as well have driven him to this state. He bent over backwards to please you and not even a single thanks does the poor lad ever get! Bad enough his lady left him but you three certainly didn't help!"

"Should've known that all that talk about the honorable Inseparables was fake!" That was from a recent recruit from Antoine.

"D'Artagnan isn't just yours, he's ours, the cornerstone of our regiment!" That was Brujon, a cadet that D'Artagnan had recently taken a liking to. Brujon looked up to D'Artagnan, especially since he had received his commission so early in his career. The cadet wanted to be just like his idol and seeing him brought so low made him feel very protective of the older man.

Aramis stepped forward, his expression troubled. "We understand that, so let us make up for our mistakes now by being at his side as we should have been!"

"Make up for it by letting him rest in peace with Treville to watch over him! Lemay will look after him." Basset growled. "You might be more experienced than we but you've become jaded. D'Artagnan was a breath of fresh air for us and you slowly drained that out of him until he was a mere shell. You'll have to fully understand what you've done and then crawl on your knees before we let you anywhere near him. I'll personally be asking to ride with him once he's better. The rest of us will show him what family truly means in this garrison."

"And if, Lord forbid, he shouldn't recover..." Julian hissed. "We'll make sure everyone in Paris knows what you've done. There are many in this city who care for our Gascon and speak well of him. I wouldn't be surprised if the Court came after you personally, Porthos, you know Mistress Flea likes the boy. I would've thought that at least you would've known better than to let it get this far but you've always been more focused toward the current mission, your games, or Athos and Aramis." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, the air ringing with it.

-Meanwhile-

Treville called himself ten kinds of fool as he bathed D'Artagnan's fevered brow, holding the boy's hand with his free one. 'Boy... he's no boy, not after everything he's been through. Nearly blown up, head trauma, dozens of other things I probably don't know about! He's helped those three so much, why couldn't they see it sooner? Why couldn't I, for that matter? Being busy is only an excuse, I just assumed that they would take care of him, that their vices wouldn't overshadow their common sense and that they'd treat him with more respect now. Full-fledged Musketeers don't have that kind of time to be wasting! They're going to be grounded for at least a month!'

Treville's inner rant was broken as D'Artagnan moaned and attempted to open his eyes. Treville began to make nonsensical noises of comfort as he continued to bathe his Musketeer's hot skin. "A-Aramis...?" He froze upon hearing the sharpshooter's name and whispered, "It's Treville, lad. Go back to sleep, the doctor is on his way."

"Captain...? S-Sorry to be so much trouble..." Treville immediately shushed him. "Nonsense. You just get well. That's all I want you to do right now, rest and get well." D'Artagnan barely smiled and whispered, "Aye, Papa." Treville froze as his patient slipped into sleep. Had that been the delirium or had D'Artagnan been serious? His heart skipped a beat regardless but Lemay's arrival forced him to put it aside for the moment.