Disclaimer: I do not own Albert the Fifth Musketeer or the characters

Chapter Three

He was in his workshop, trying to plan out some different devices his friends could use. He knew crutches would be required, a special comforter so Athos wouldn't have to lie on his back, some extended arms so those who'd hurt those wouldn't have to move too much...

"Oh good, you are here, Albert," Captain de Treville commented as he entered the workshop.

"Hello, Sir. Is everything alright?"

"That's what I've come to ask you. The doctor informed me about everyone's conditions. I'm about to go and check on them, but first, I want to see if you're alright."

"I wasn't injured."

"I know. Not physically anyway."

"I will recover. The Musketeers and I vowed to recover from all of our wounds together. I'm going to work on some devices they can use to get around during recovery."

"Well, just make sure you take care of yourself too. The doctor wanted me to let you know that your cot in the room is still available if you'd prefer to be close by them during this time."

"I'll be certain to keep that in mind."

Monsieur de Treville knew that while Albert was acting strong, the petit male was still pretty distressed and is trying to distract himself with as much work as he could. He knew that night, Albert would be joining the others in the infirmary. "See that you do." He left the workshop.

Albert continued to focus on what inventions he could create to help his friends. He knew if he stopped at that moment, he'd maybe have another breakdown, and he didn't want that.

"Yes, I thought so," the doctor commented as he heard the Captain's concerns. "Like I said, I'll leave his cot in the infirmary. He'll still be near his friends, and he won't have to worry about discomfort like last night."

"Discomfort?"

"He stayed by D'Artagnan's bedside all night, even fell asleep there."

"I see."

"And even after seeing the Musketeers had all awoken with little issue, he still appeared very upset."

"I've never seen him like this."

"It's best to keep an eye on him. I've seen this before, and it's not pretty."

"What will happen?"

"In order to distract himself from what had happened, he'll force himself into his work and will refuse to stop. Even mealtimes will be skipped. In his current state, if he ceases to work, he'll find everything coming back to him and experience a breakdown. At the moment, I fear it may be a bad one."

"I'll have to make sure he at least stops to eat though, right?"

"Have him come up here to do so. As long as he's reminded that his friends are still alive, then the breakdown won't happen...or won't be as serious."

"That will really help?"

"It will. D'Artagnan told me everything, and considering young Albert's fear of his friends being killed in combat, his mind might start taking that turn when the reminiscing begins."

"This is very serious indeed. I've never known Albert to become so depressed. He's usually the one always smiling and brightening everyone's day."

"He will return to that same person one day, but it will take time and lots of work, just as it will for the Musketeers to recover from their wounds."

Albert had decided to work on the crutches first, as those were considerably simple. He wasn't really in the mood for anything not wanting to work so easily. He found some thick planks of wood that he would be able to cut up, and proceeded to do exactly that. "Now to make sure these are comfortable for D'Artagnan and Aramis to use." He paused in his work. "Although they wouldn't even need these if I had arrived on time..." He shook his head. "No, Albert, stop thinking about that! The others have assured you that you're not to blame!"

But, they were just being nice. It is your fault and you know it, an unhelpful voice in his head stated.

"No. It's not my fault. I arrived when I could, D'Artagnan said so."

But, what if you arrived a minute later? They'd all be dead right now.

"But, I didn't arrive a minute later."

No, but you were still too late to prevent such injuries happening to them. It is your fault they are currently in the infirmary, bandaged and stitched up. It is your fault they need those devices for comfort and mobility. It is your fault that they could've died.

"No, I..." The voice was winning the argument. No matter how much he tried to reassure himself the same way his friends had, in the end, he found he couldn't believe himself. "It is my fault..." Try as he might to focus on his work, try as he might to keep tears out of his eyes, he couldn't fight it any longer. Pushing aside his tools and the half-finished crutches, he sat at the table, lay his crossed arms on the surface, buried his face in them, and allowed himself to cry.

Captain de Treville returned to the workshop at midday, the time everyone usually stopped what they were doing to have some lunch. "Albert?" He entered the place he'd usually find the petit male, and while he wasn't surprised, he was still shocked to find the younger male slumped over at his table, shaking. "Albert!" He hurried to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the tremors easier and due to being so close, he could hear the young man let out some very soft sobs. "What's the matter?" He knew, he just felt it was best to ask, allow Albert to talk about what was troubling him.

"No matter how you look at it..." The petit male looked up at his Captain, tears still slipping down his cheeks. "...I am really to blame for what happened yesterday. I wouldn't even have to be making these devices for the others to use if I had been there during the worst of it. They wouldn't have to be in the infirmary if I was there on time. I was too late..."

"No, you were not too late."

"How can you say that, Sir? How can you say I wasn't too late despite knowing that because I had arrived when I did, the Musketeers are laid up in the infirmary?"

"I can say it because I know it's true, and I'd rather avoid lying at all costs. Especially about this. Lying to you would only make things worse, so know that I'm telling you the truth when I say it's not your fault. You weren't too late, it's good you arrived when you did."

"How? Only D'Artagnan was still standing, while the Three Musketeers were bleeding to death...and he was barely able to stay upright as it was..."

"You were still able to offer assistance."

"But, I fainted following D'Artagnan's collapse. I couldn't even go and find someone who could help them. If that other person hadn't found us, then..." He shook his head. "I barely did a thing. D'Artagnan told me there were twenty Guards. I only helped fight off five, while the others had risked their lives to fight off the other fifteen..."

"You still helped out a lot. If D'Artagnan was barely able to stand at that point, he would've had difficulty fighting the Guards. You came at the right moment to offer assistance, right when he needed it."

"I was still too late..."

"You were not too late, Albert. If you were too late, then D'Artagnan would've already been overwhelmed and passed out. If you were too late, then everyone would be gone. But, they're not, are they? No, they're up in the infirmary."

"They still could've died, even though I showed up at that time...I was still too late..."

"Albert..." It seemed nothing was going to convince him otherwise, not at that moment. "Come on."

He blinked, a couple more tears falling after the push his eyelids gave them.

"It's lunchtime, and the doctor organised for you to eat in the infirmary with the others."

"I'm not very hungry though, Sir..."

"Don't make me order you to eat, I will do that if that's what it takes."

He sighed and wiped at his eyes. "Alright, Sir."

"Just eat what you can, but don't go starving yourself."

He quietly nodded and followed after the Captain with little complaint. Even if he wanted to, he had little strength to do so.