Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing of the Musketeers, as much as I would wish to!
D'Artagnan bit back a tired moan as he attempted to get up from the bed and walk. He may have been newly recovered from the fever but who knows how long he'd been in bed?! Hang what Lemay had said about resting! Athos wouldn't accept the excuse that he'd been ill for long and the younger man didn't want to push what little leniency Lemay may have encouraged from the Musketeers for this occasion. He would show that he was strong and could push through inconveniences like this with no trouble; He would prove that he was worthy of his pauldron and the King's regard as his Champion. Not to mention that he was to live in the palace soon, he couldn't bring dishonor to the regiment or the King by being weak! A voice that sounded almost like Athos hounded him in his mind, urging him to move, to walk even though his body was screaming at him with it's shaking muscles and the overwhelming urge to sleep haunting the other part of his mind.
Unfortunately, D'Artagnan didn't realize that the voice of his mentor was brought on by his own fears as well as the long-term neglect and abuse the Inseparables had obliviously subjected him to for months. He'd been conditioned to think less of himself and his health nothing to worry about, the only thing that mattered to him was the approval and notice of the Inseparables. The words Athos would spit out when drunk, frustrated or angry with D'Artagnan had festered in the heart of a boy desperate for acceptance and family after the abrupt loss of his father and the teasing affection given in the light of day had reinforced this unhealthy way of thinking to the point that to disappoint Athos or the others was the absolute worst. To have their regard even for a moment, be it to complain or smile, was the height of his day.
It would take a while for the young man to realize the damage that he had suffered mentally and emotionally, then to recover from it. The first big step was for him to realize that how the Inseparables had treated him was wrong, that he deserved better and was constantly growing as a Musketeer. That he was truly valued by the Captain and King through his own efforts, not just that he went on missions with the Inseparables and got the glory through their presence alone. It would be a long and hurtful process.
For now, D'Artagnan was clinging to the bedside table, his legs shaking but his face determined. His goal was to walk out that door and see what was going on outside. But before he could do more than lift his foot to step forward, the door opened. Treville of all people stepped through and then froze upon seeing his boy out of bed and looking ready to collapse any second. "My boy, what are you doing out of that bed? I thought Lemay said that you were to rest a while longer!"
A blush colored D'Artagnan's pale cheeks at being caught but then he frowned, almost pouting. "I'm well enough to help out with some of the chores at least, Captain. I won't be a dead weight that needs to be waited on like a milksop noble. What would my brothers think if they knew I was staying in bed all day?"
Treville nearly rolled his eyes. "They would think that you were recovering and that is on doctor's orders, lad."
D'Artagnan made a helpless gesture with his hand, swaying on his feet. "Captain, I'm going crazy shut up in here! Can't I at least sit outside? I miss the sun!"
Treville could understand that; the boy was a former farmer from Gascony after all. "Very well, you will sit on one of the benches where Serge can watch you. Come, I will help you." He walked forward, hands already out to take the younger man's weight off his tired legs.
D'Artagnan tried to protest and move around his Captain but that sudden movement proved to be the end of his endurance, such as it was. As he made the first step, his leg gave out and there was the terrifying sensation of falling and knowing that it would hurt.
"Whoa there, son, easy!" Thankfully, Treville caught him before he could do a face-plant on the hard wood floor. D'Artagnan blushed even harder as his Captain placed one of his arms around his strong shoulders and kept his other hand firm around his hip. "I will not carry you but there is no shame in asking for assistance. You know that."
"I'm sorry, Captain. I'm not used to being weak like this." D'Artagnan wouldn't look at him and Treville's blood boiled as he muttered, "No, you're used to having to fend for yourself."
"Captain?" Treville shook his head. "'Tis nothing, my boy. Come, let's get you out in the sun. Serge will have your broth and bread ready once you're sitting down."
The blush refused to leave D'Artagnan's face as the Captain helped him outside. It felt like all eyes were on him, though that wasn't true. His body was tense; although he didn't know it, he was waiting for Athos to call out and ask what was going on, which would lead to a reprimand. If D'Artagnan was honest with himself, he probably wouldn't have been able to tolerate such a thing today.
As luck would have it, Aramis was mending a saddle just outside the stable when Treville brought D'Artagnan out, The Musketeers tending their horses around the medic voiced their pleasure at seeing 'the lad' out and about. Heart skipping a beat, Aramis looked in the general direction they were indicating and there was D'Artagnan, sitting on a bench and his head tipped up toward the sky. His eyes were closed and he was clearly enjoying the sun's rays. He looked pale and Treville was standing a few feet away, a concerned look focused on the younger man.
Aramis's instincts as a medic urged him to go over and make sure that D'Artagnan was truly on the mend but he didn't dare risk it. Treville had said that D'Artagnan would be the one to decide if he wanted to associate with the Inseparables from now on and no matter how much it rankled, Aramis didn't want to get into further trouble. He didn't know what else to do other than follow orders at this point in order to show his remorse and penance. At night, he'd begged God's forgiveness until his voice was hoarse and his throat hurt, his fingers constantly touching his rosary. He'd never felt such shame in all of his life, he truly didn't know how he would make up for everything or if he even could. His carefree, teasing outlook had finally come back to bite him, only it wasn't an angry husband that had brought him low; it had been the person he should've protected as the little brother he'd claimed him to be and those who had the lad's back. Now he was separated from said little brother and it hurt almost as badly as what had happened with his brothers at Savoy. Only this was partially his own doing, that made it even worse.
As Aramis stewed in his guilt and grief, Serge came out to bring D'Artagnan food and generally fussed over him. After the boy had eaten at least a little, a few other Musketeers came over to greet him and wish him well. They noticed how tense D'Artagnan was initially at their greeting and were confused for a moment. Then they recalled how Athos would sometimes stalk over to the boy and bark at him for 'slacking off' if he caught D'Artagnan sitting on a bench like this. Anger boiled in their veins yet again but they pushed it back so that they could speak to D'Artagnan and give him the latest gossip.
Of course, nothing was said about the Inseparables but D'Artagnan just assumed after a while that the trio had been sent off on a mission, which wasn't unusual. Without being obvious about it, his fellow Musketeers kept D'Artagnan's attention well away from the stable where they knew Aramis was 'working'. Once the medic was done with mending the tack, those near him didn't take any chances and quickly pulled him out of sight. Once they released him, Aramis glared at them. "I wasn't going to approach, there was no need for that!"
Damien and Leandre, younger sons of a lesser noble, glared right back. "From what Treville has said, D'Art won't even be able to tolerate hearing your voice, never mind seeing your sorry face. You saw how he reacted when the others called out to him, he was afraid that it was you or one of the others. That should tell you more than anything how bad it would be for him to even think that he's seen you right now. So, we are going to do our absolute best to make sure that D'Art can relax today. If that means pulling you around corners all day, so be it. Suck it up and deal with it, Aramis, you brought this on yourself!"
The two men then proceeded to pull the medic behind them, heading to the market for needed supplies. Aramis couldn't help but wonder to himself how things could get worse and then could've kicked himself. Things were bound to get worse now and he could only hope that he managed to one day apologize and make real amends.