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

Chapter Seven

In the doctor's office, the conversation was beginning. "Now, Albert, why was it that you continued to return to D'Artagnan's side throughout the afternoon? You had your own cot, and yet, you continued to bring yourself discomfort by resting against D'Artagnan's."

The young Musketeer averted his gaze to the ground.

"I'm not angry or upset, just curious. This might help you find a way to rest well without having to put yourself through that discomfort."

"It was reassuring being by D'Artagnan's side. When I was on my own cot, I felt no better than if I was in my own room. Normally, I'd prefer the solitude, but in the current circumstances..."

The Captain nodded.

"The thoughts kept returning. I wasn't there, why wasn't I there to prevent this? If my arrival had been much sooner, I could've helped...I could've prevented such horrific injuries from being inflicted on them... Those were the thoughts that kept sounding through my head. As much as I try to tell myself I'm not at fault, those thoughts always win in the end... I found the only way to keep them away was to rest by D'Artagnan's side."

"Why D'Artagnan's though? Why not by the others?"

"I do care for all of them as well...but I've found I feel closer to D'Artagnan. Because he understood what it was like to be new, he helped me settle into being a Musketeer. And, surely you heard of what happened in our first mission with the five of us?"

"There was a lot of difficulty that day."

"Precisely. And I could've made things easier if I'd just suggested my ideas to everyone. But, I was worried about overshadowing heroes of France, and what if my ideas didn't work? I voiced those concerns to D'Artagnan when he asked what was troubling me so much upon our return, and he reassured me that it's fine to voice my ideas and to not worry about if they wouldn't work. I'd felt I let everyone down, and he assured me otherwise."

"I see, so that's why."

He nodded. "Also...my habit stems from childhood."

"Your habit? Of moving close to D'Artagnan's side to seek comfort at this time?"

"Yes. I did the same with my mother when she was inflicted with illness. But, one night, my father told me I was not to go to her side, I was to stay in my own bed. I didn't listen, and when I entered the room, I saw my father was crying. I climbed onto the bed, and felt my mother was cold, not warm like she always was. She'd passed away."

"Oh..."

"I've been going to D'Artagnan's side because I can. Because he's still here. And maybe there's that deep-seated fear, coming from the night my mother passed away, that if I wasn't to return to his side, he might die before I wake. I know he won't, but..."

"Like you said, it's deep-seated. That certainly doesn't help you find peace, and right now, that's what you need to finally begin recovery."

"The doctor suggested we discuss a way that I can be close to D'Artagnan, and still avoid having to put myself through discomfort."

"What do you think will happen?"

"I am not sure. But, D'Artagnan doesn't mind. He said that we all need to recover from our wounds, and that if any methods need to be taken, then that's what will happen."

"Good. Did you finish your lunch?"

"No. But, I did have my dinner. The doctor has me on broth for the time being, as I can't eat anything too heavy without feeling ill."

"It's because of your guilt and fear. Once those have eased, you should be able to eat something more substantial."

"Yes."

"Now then, I'll go and see if the doctor is finished. If he is, then you can come out of here. It would be best for you to not see the wounds."

"Yes. I'm certain if I did, my guilt and fear would increase."

"Leading to another breakdown, like the one you experienced before lunch." The Captain made his way out of the doctor's office and entered the infirmary. "Is it alright for him to come back now?"

"Yes, I've just finished," the doctor responded, disposing of the dirty bandages.

de Treville looked into the office. "It's alright, Albert, you can come in."

The petit blond entered the infirmary, immediately going to D'Artagnan's side.

"Their wounds are healing nicely. I think in less than a week, they'll be able to get out of here," the doctor reported. He then turned to Albert. "But, your wounds are a different story."

"Once the Musketeers have recovered, I'm certain I will as well," Albert responded, only to see the doctor shake his head slowly. "Doctor?"

"Not at the rate you're going. Not even having them recover completely will help your recovery speed up."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll still feel the guilt and fear, and may stay close by them at all times to ensure something like this does not happen again. But, Albert, they are soldiers, this sort of thing happens all the time. Everyone can do what they can to try to prevent it, but it won't always work out that way. You need to realise and remember that. As a Musketeer yourself, you know just how dangerous it can be. Even if they do not find themselves overwhelmed by Cardinal's Guards in the near future, something else could happen, and what would you do then? The guilt and fear from this experience will continue to bother you. Your anxieties might get the better of you in the long run. Your recovery will take much longer."

He averted his eyes to the ground. "I know..."

"You need to work much harder on facing those feelings of fear and guilt, and overcome them. Only then can you start your own recovery. Everyone can continue trying to tell you that you are not at fault for what happened, but in the end, what will make the difference is you telling yourself that and believing it. If you don't ever find you can...then I think you'll have to retire from being a Musketeer."

Albert lifted his gaze to the practitioner.

"You can't focus on your duty if the only thoughts that keep entering your mind are the what ifs. What if D'Artagnan was to be seriously injured? What if Aramis was? Those thoughts are sure to enter your mind. How can you focus on what you must do when you can only focus on what may not even happen?"

de Treville nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid the doctor is right in saying that, Albert. You said yourself that the reason you keep returning to D'Artagnan's bedside, despite it bringing you discomfort, is because you fear that if you don't, he might die before you wake. If you're like this while in the same room, what would you be like on the other side of town?"

"I..." Albert wanted to say once they've recovered, they could be over the other side of France and I would not worry, but he knew it would be a lie. They were both exactly right when pointing out what was expected to happen if he didn't focus on his recovery. Earlier, he couldn't even focus on making some assistance devices for his comrades because the guilt overwhelmed him.

D'Artagnan could see Albert was paling. "Hey, you're being a bit too harsh..."

"No, we're being honest," the doctor responded. "He needs to hear this. If we let him continue the way he is, then he will never recover, and will have to leave."

"Albert is the best Musketeer out of all of us! We'd never get by without him!" Porthos exclaimed.

"I know. That's why he needs to be at his best so then he can stay. Like the Captain and I both said, if we leave him be the way he is, he won't even be able to focus on his duty."

"What if he were to at least always stay with D'Artagnan?"

"That's not going to help. If he continues to stay by D'Artagnan's side, even after you've all recovered, it's as if we're saying it's fine for him to continue the way he is." The doctor turned to Albert. "I was at first considering having you stay close to D'Artagnan at the moment, but I think that's only hindering your progress. Tonight, you will have to stay in your own bedroom, and I will lock the door to keep you from getting in here. You need to see that even if you spend the night away from D'Artagnan, he's not going to die. None of your friends will. When you come in for a visit in the morning, then you'll see I was right. That might help you at least release the fear you're feeling. The guilt is another matter."

de Treville put his hand on Albert's side. "Come on, Albert, the Musketeers need their sleep."

The blond nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the infirmary.

Once the door had clicked shut, the doctor moved to lock it.

"Doctor, you know why he kept coming to my bedside throughout the afternoon! Doing this..." D'Artagnan started.

"Doing this will help him realise that what happened to his mother is not going to happen to you, which will help him confront that fear he has."

"He might have another breakdown throughout the night!"

"Maybe so."

"So, it's alright to just let him go like this?"

"It's the best way to help him. You said it yourself, that any methods that need to be taken will be."

"Not if it meant bringing more pain upon him..."

"He needs to recover, and having him in here all the time is not helping him to do so."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "You have no idea..."

He lay in his bed, eyes wide open. He'd found that every time he closed his eyes, it wasn't just the occuring guilt-ridden thoughts that plagued him. He also had to deal with flashbacks of the night his mother passed away, and then they'd even replace his mother with D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers.

He sat up in his bed. All he wanted to do was return to the infirmary, return to D'Artagnan's side...but he knew that the doctor had locked the door, like he said he would, so there was no chance of it happening.

Albert was a brave young man, there was no question about that. But, whenever he found himself in an uncomfortable situation, any fears he had would increase. This moment in time was no exception.

He lay back down and closed his eyes. He knew he had to at least try to get some sleep.

He entered the infirmary in the morning. "Good morning, Doctor."

The doctor turned to him, a serious look in his eyes. "Albert..."

"Have the Musketeers awoken yet?"

"No...and they never will..."

"What...?"

"Something went wrong. No matter how hard I'd checked for infection, I could never find any. But, last night, they all passed away. I finally managed to find there was an infected wound on each of them. I hadn't noticed it earlier, so I hadn't treated it."

"But...you said that they were all recovering nicely...that they'd be out of the infirmary within the week...that even if I went to my room, they wouldn't die..."

"I'm sorry..."

He bolted upright in his bed, and looked around his bedroom. The moonlight shining through the window was the only source of light, and it wasn't very strong, so he mostly saw silhouettes of his belongings. "I'm still in my bedroom...it was just a bad dream..."

Even so, the memories of the dream would not leave him alone. The thought of his friends dying brought tears to his eyes. He covered his eyes with his hands and shook with quiet sobs.