Disclaimer: I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer , the original Three Musketeers works or any canon characters. They are the property of their respective owners. I do own Michel, Catharine, Beatrix and Aimee.

Notes: It has been a while, hasn't it? Well, I finally have a story to share. The idea for this one started as a dream I had, then it kept nagging at me some more while I had a bath. This is in four parts and while it is mostly sad, it does have a happy ending.

The excavators mentioned were one of Albert's inventions in the episode Her Majesty's Garden.

There are no pairings in this one, all relationships are platonic. There is mentioned cursing and minor OOC.

I hope you enjoy this!

(Linebreaks still hate me, so I will use APADA .)

APADA

"Ngh...owowow!" D'Artagnan hissed as he regained consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes and noticed pitch-black darkness surrounding him. "Either I've gone blind, or it's just really dark. I should see if I can move." He wriggled his fingers and toes first, then slowly flexed his wrists and ankles. He gradually allowed his arms and legs to test movement and, much to his relief, found they were mobile. He waited a minute before trying to sit up. He felt slightly dizzy, so he made sure to take his time.

Once he'd finally achieved sitting up, he glanced around the dark area, but there were no slivers of light. He wracked his brain to recall what happened. "The tavern fire! Albert and I were separated on our way out, so I had him keep going while I tried to find another way out. I fell, landed on my back and woke up here. Where am I anyway? Wait...that smells like raw meat...oh, I must be in the meat cellar."

A strong pang struck and he immediately clenched his fist over his chest. "That can't be related to the fall, it's a different sort of ache. It's somehow familiar, but how?" It dulled, though continued to linger. "In any case, I have to find a way out of here. Albert and the others must be worried sick by now. I have to let them know I'm alright." The pang sharpened again. "Now I remember! I really must return, Albert needs to see I'm alright! Just as I need to confirm he is."

He shakily rose to his feet and felt around for the steps he'd take out of the cellar. He found them and ascended. He found where the exit would've been, but noticed it was blocked off. He pushed against the barricade, but to no avail. He muttered a curse word. "The whole building must've come down. Now, how will I get out of here? I'm pretty much underground so nobody would hear me call for help. By the time they move everything, it'd be too late. The others must think me to have perished in the fire." Another sharp pang. "Albert...I'll find a way back to your side so you no longer have to mourn, my dear friend."

An idea-candle came alight above his head. "Of course! That's it! The excavators!"

"From now on, I believe it would be imperative if we all carried our excavators with us at all times. You never know when you'll need it, and it would be preferable to be prepared," Albert had advised.

"Good ol' Albert comes through even when he's not around!" D'Artagnan reached under the back of his tabbard, then brought out the handheld excavator. Thanks to it being stored in his personal hammerspace, it did not injure him, nor did he damage it upon his crash landing. "Perfect! I should dig through the wall until I reach the sewers. From there, I'll find a manhole I can climb out of to find where I wound up and then find my way home. Wait for me, friends, I'll be by your side once more!"

APADA

It was late afternoon by the time a dirty, bedraggled, bruised and slightly burnt D'Artagnan had arrived at the place he fondly called home. He entered the courtyard, just as he saw Andre and the Three Musketeers step outside. "Hello, chaps, I apologise for causing undue grief."

"D'Artagnan?" Porthos exclaimed in shock.

"But, we thought you were..." Aramis uttered.

"I'll explain everything later, I swear on my honour. But, where's Albert? Is he alright?" D'Artagnan asked.

"Not yet, but hopefully seeing you survived will help him. He's resting in his room."

"Right! I'll go to see him immediately!"

Before D'Artagnan could venture inside, Athos stated firmly, "D'Artagnan, we're going to have to ask you to not die again".

He nodded solemnly. "Understood, Athos." At that, he broke into a sprint.