Final chapter, dear readers! Many thanks for reading and reviewing. It's been fun.

oOo

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Aramis and d'Artagnan went in search of their Captain, while Porthos took Athos to the stables, where he sat his friend on a bale of hay as he got their horses ready.

In the courtyard, Aramis and d'Artagnan found Treville standing with Rochefort, who was glowering as they approached. He had thought them outnumbered, according to Milady de Winter, but they had triumphed nonetheless.

"Sorry about the mess," Aramis said brightly as two Red Guard carried one of the bodies past them. "Our brother Athos is deadly with a sword," he added, looking pointedly at Treville.

Treville's eyes went wide before Aramis gave him a slight nod of affirmation.

"The King?" Treville asked.

"Safe in his rooms. Though he had dismissed his guard."

"He did what!"

"Don't let me keep you, Musketeers," Rochefort interrupted, coldly. "His Majesty is safe. As is the Queen. I have been with her the whole time, so you can now go."

Treville rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. He was about to reply when he relaxed, looking at his men, who both looked better than they had in days.

"What would we do without you, Rochefort," he said instead, before they all swept past him.

oOo

The Infirmary

Athos had followed Aramis into the Infirmary without complaint. His limp had become more pronounced and together with his injured shoulder, which would need re-strapping, he had the demeanour of a man who realised any objection would be ignored.

They had handed their horses to the stable lads and all now crowded into the larger room. Athos had yet to claim the smaller room he had preferred during his tenancy of late, but no doubt he would, when Aramis was done with him.

Aramis settled Athos on one of the cots after divesting him of his outer clothing, while d'Artagnan left with Treville to give the captain a report of their activities.

Athos had hardly spoken, and watched as Aramis rooted around in his cupboard for a sewing kit and bandages. Next, he pulled out a cork from a bottle and poured liquid into a bowl. Then, placing the items on the table next to the bed, he retrieved the bottle and stood it on the floor, next to the chair that he placed there. Pulling a pillow from the next bed, he placed it beneath Athos's knee and sat, leaning forward to inspect the wound.

"A nasty gash, my friend," he murmured, as he took a cloth and began to dip it into the liquid.

Athos hissed when he began to dab at the cut.

"Sorry," Aramis said, as he continued.

"What's the damage?" Porthos said, from his place by the window.

"It will definitely need stitches," Aramis sighed, reaching for his sewing kit from the table.

A moment later, Athos reached down and retrieved the bottle from the floor, taking a deep pull.

"What in God's name is that!" Athos snarled, slamming it back on the floor.

"Disinfectant," Porthos chuckled.

"Apologies, Athos," Aramis said, "It's all there is in here. Cheap wine is as good as expensive here."

He went to clear it away but Athos grabbed his wrist

"Leave it," he ground out.

The Comte had rapidly receded, but Aramis found he was not sorry. Always there had been a poignancy to him. A tragedy waiting to happen. Their days in Pinon fighting the opportunist Renard was testament to the consequences of the fateful day his brother was brutally killed.

On the other hand, the Comte they now knew had been at peace. Would Athos be able to rekindle the peace he had so fought to achieve with the Musketeers? Aramis determined he would do his best to ensure he would.

"You can taste it?" Aramis suddenly aid, his eyebrows raised, casting a look at Porthos

"Of course I can," Athos growled. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"There he is," Porthos sighed happily. "In all 'is glory."

"Where have I been?" Athos said, testily. "Can one of you give me the courtesy of an explanation?"

"It's a long story," Porthos said, as d'Artagnan returned.

"There was an accident ..." Aramis began.

oOo

It was a difficult tale to tell and Athos was still not well enough to hear it all. He was exhausted and in pain. There would be time. So Aramis gave him an outline, as much as he thought he could bear.

And, as it turned out, he was hungry; eating a bowl of stew that Serge brought in unbidden, without comment. Stitched and bandaged, Aramis helped Athos to bed in the small room, the others giving him space, not wishing to overwhelm him with their contributions.

"I didn't ..." Athos murmured, his brow creased in worry, as Aramis pushed a clean pillow beneath his knee, and a second one under his elbow to support his shoulder.

"Didn't what?" Aramis replied, pulling up the sheet.

"I didn't disgrace myself … as the Comte?"

Aramis's mouth dropped open but then he leant forward.

"No brother," he replied, firmly. "You did not. It was an honour to spend time with you."

Athos's face softened, the lines around his eyes easing somewhat as he sank back into his pillows.

oOo

Later:

"Athos," Treville said, as he sat in the chair Aramis had vacated.

"Captain," Athos replied, wearily. "I understand it has been a difficult time."

Treville huffed.

"A most unusual experience," Treville said. "We walked on eggshells whilst wracking our brains for some way out of it."

"I am sorry," Athos said.

"There's only one apology needed, Athos." Treville replied. "The Dray-man has already apologised. Profusely, believe me." he added, giving Athos a knowing look.

"I can imagine why," Athos said, with a small smile.

No doubt he had suffered the same fate as they all had, when their Captain was displeased.

"I would not wish that on anyone," he murmured, eyeing his commanding officer cautiously.

"A stupid, unnecessary accident," Treville said, his voice hardening.

"Most accidents are," Athos replied. "And I have no memory of it, so I cannot comment further."

"How is your memory?" Treville said, tentatively.

"Sparse," Athos replied. "No doubt when the others have stopped tiptoeing around me, I will learn more."

No doubt the teasing would start at some point in the future, but today was not that day and they were all being careful with their words.

For that, though, he was grateful.

"You will take two days bed rest, Athos," Treville said. "No arguments," he added sternly, when Athos seemed about to.

"More, if Dr Lemay prescribes it."

"It feels such a long time since I was on duty," Athos sighed.

A moment later, he was asleep.

"A lifetime," Treville replied quietly, watching the sleeping man. "I enjoyed the time I spent with the Comte," he murmured, before rising and making his way out.

Although unheard, it was something he wanted to say.

oOo

Over the next few days, confined to bed, Athos began to recover physically, but he was still not himself. Withdrawn and short-tempered, Porthos finally decided to take his friend to The Wren for the first time since they had brought him back.

"Two days bed rest, Captain said. Time's up. I've come to spring you." Porthos announced on the fourth day, as Athos continued to keep himself to himself in the Infirmary.

Handing him his jacket, Porthos stood back and watched as Athos got himself into it. His arm was still in a sling, but he managed to drape if over his injured shoulder, and get his other arm in the sleeve.

"See," Porthos laughed. "Not entirely useless."

"Where am I going?" Athos grunted, as Porthos made him sit on the chair while he help him on with his boots.

"Just you and me," Porthos replied. "The Wren."

The walk was short, and Athos's limp had almost disappeared by the time they arrived. Porthos pointed out a table and went to the bar, returning to drop a bottle of wine in front of him.

"Thought you might need this," he said, as he sat down on the opposite bench.

"Did the Comte not drink?" Athos said, cold eyes on his friend.

Porthos gave him a steady look.

"No," he replied, carefully, "But then, I don't think he 'ad much reason to."

Athos sighed and looked away.

"How am I to manage this?" he said, quietly, staring across the room.

"Manage what exactly?" Porthos replied, pouring wine and placing a cup in front of each of them.

"What is it that's worryin' you?"

"How you see me," Athos replied after a few moments. "I feel like two different people, and you have been privy to one of them, but I was not."

"We were privy to you, in quieter times," Porthos said softly. "Nothin' more."

Athos did not respond, nor did he touch his wine.

"Look, Athos," Porthos continued. "We are all made up of different parts. I have a past I don't particularly want people to know. But it's a part of me, yeah? Made me what I am. And I'm not too bad, I think?"

Athos took a swallow then. A deep one.

"I buried him. There is a difference."

"Well, not too deep," Porthos huffed. "And I, for one, am glad of that. You put a lot behind you after we killed Sarazin," he continued, labouring the point.

The image of the necklace finally cast away in the dirt sat between them.

"She knew those men," Athos said.

"She did. We knew that. But they were as much a threat to her as to the King. And us." he said.

"You spoke to her?"

"Ran into her a couple of times," Porthos nodded. "Woman on a mission."

"To save herself," Athos said, tersely.

"Yeah," Porthos nodded. "But part of that was to save us," he said. "The first body was down to her. The second body in the corridor? That was her too. You just missed her. Reckon she saved your life."

"And," he continued. "The last one, just before we got to you? That was her too. Saved my life that time."

"She has been busy," Athos said, flatly.

Porthos hummed.

"She wanted to see you," he said. "Not to kill you, I reckon, but to see you. Perhaps the Comte wasn't so bad after all."

"Not then, perhaps," Athos finally conceded.

"Not ever," Porthos corrected. "You saved the Queen's women, Athos. You saved the King. And," he laughed, "You pissed off Rochefort."

Athos smiled.

"There is that," he said, raising his cup.

Porthos grinned and raised his.

"To the Comte," he said.

Athos lowered his cup and glowered.

"Even if just to say good-bye," Porthos said, gently.

Athos relented and they clinked cups.

"I believe I yearned for this life," Athos said, looking around.

"Drinkin' in a low life tavern?" Porthos said, tilting his head.

"The Musketeers," Athos replied, meeting his eyes.

"Well, that life is yours now," Porthos replied, holding his gaze. "And, for what it's worth, I think we all yearned for a life like this."

Athos hummed in agreement.

"Welcome back, Athos," Porthos said, then. "I've bloody missed you."

oOo

Later that night, as Athos sat alone at their table in the yard, watching the last few men still up moving around the yard, d'Artagnan walked over, tentatively. Still unsure of how to talk to Athos now, he sat down at the end of the table.

Neither spoke, until d'Artagnan seemed to pluck up courage.

"I'm glad you're back," he said.

"Me too," Athos smiled.

d'Artagnan watched him as he sat peacefully watching the men moving around the yard.

He thought that this perhaps, was the happiest moment of his life.

oOo

The next morning, when Aramis walked into the Infirmary, Athos was nowhere to be seen. He had slipped away. Disappointed at his brother's eagerness to escape them, Aramis searched the Garrison, until someone pointed him to the stables.

Aramis eased himself through the open doors, hoping against hope that the black stallion was still there.

Not only was the horse there, but so was Athos, standing close and carding his fingers through Roger's mane. Quiet words were being spoken and Aramis, not wishing to intrude on Athos's time, turned to go.

Sensing him, Athos turned around.

"I brought him an apple," he said, "To apologise for not recognising him. But he does not want it."

It seemed this memory had returned this morning.

"Perhaps the type of apple is not palatable to him," Aramis smiled, walking forward.

"Perhaps it is the smell in here that offends him," Athos replied. "It is particularly strong this morning."

Athos held up his hand to show the apple in question. A large bite had been taken from it.

"It is his loss," he murmured. "It tastes delicious."

"Maybe he hasn't quite forgiven you," Aramis laughed. Roger did look a little peeved. "Wait," Aramis suddenly said, taking a step forward; "You can taste and smell once more?"

Athos gave him a look.

"I can," he confirmed, before adding, "And my lands are now tended by my tenants, who have legal ownership. Valois passed away two years after I left Pinon, according to a letter I have in my drawer, sent by Bertrand. And the Garrison is my home, for I have no other," he added. "Well, nothing habitable."

"And what of Milady?"

Athos offered the apple to Roger once more, and smiled as it was accepted.

"We had promised to avoid each other," he replied. "She is the King's Mistress. Let her have that life, if that is what she wants."

"We will see her often," Aramis said.

"I know. I can do nothing about that," Athos replied.

"Then, you are content?"

Athos looked around the stables and through the door into the courtyard, where men had started to spar.

"I am," he replied, softly, locking eyes with Aramis. "I truly am."

Aramis slung his arm around his friend's shoulder as they walked out.

"You know, you were a very nice Comte," he said, feeling Athos tense as they walked.

"Aramis ..."

"Very … polite," Aramis continued.

"I may only have one arm but I can still use the other."

Aramis stepped out of reach.

"Oh, I know that, brother," he laughed. "d'Artagnan still has the bruises."

"Gentlemen," Treville called from his balcony, interrupting them.

"Your presence will be required tomorrow. The King goes to see Marmion in two days time. The whole court attends his demonstration on the constellations and arrangements have to be made."

Aramis sighed.

"Duty calls," he said.

"Indeed," Athos said, with a genuine smile.

oOo

EPILOGUE:

Milady de Winter threw herself on the bed, twisting the counterpane in angry fingers.

She was the King's Mistress. Athos be damned. The look he had given her! The step back. She had saved his life and he had flinched away as if she were a leper. Well, the line between them had deepened in the sand and from now on, she would flaunt her power in his face, revel in his discomfort and use her position and her body to influence Louis.

She may even persuade Louis to disband the Musketeers. She would make sure she was there when he told Treville.

They all underestimated her. Rising, she sauntered to the ornate mirror on her dressing table. Tonight, she dined with the King of France. The Musketeers would rue the day they dismissed Milady de Winter!

Turning to her wardrobe, she flung open the doors and smiled in satisfaction at the shimmering dress. In two days time she would accompany the King and his retinue to Marmion's demonstration of the eclipse. She reached out and took the headdress from the shelf and placed it carefully on her head, before turning back to the mirror.

She would be Venus. She would outshine them all!

Athos be damned.

It was her turn to shine!

She had the King's protection.

No one could touch her.

The End.

oOo

Thanks for reading!

I almost feel sorry for Milady, knowing what is to come!