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

Final Chapter

After a week had passed, the doctor gave the Three Musketeers and D'Artagnan the all-clear to leave the infirmary. They weren't allowed to do anything too strenuous, so they had one more week off from their duties. However, it did give them a chance to move around so they wouldn't be too stiff when the time for missions was afoot.

Albert looked out from his workshop window and saw his four comrades having practice duels against each other. He couldn't help but smile, it looked like things were starting to return to the way they originally were. "Hmm, maybe I'll cook up a serving of ammunition with my special sauce to celebrate. Only, the Cardinal's Guards are not the ones who will ever get to taste this one." He moved away from the window and got to work.

The smell of spaghetti wafted through the air, causing the Three Musketeers (plus D'Artagnan) to stop what they were doing and take the time to sniff the familiar scent.

"It looks like he really has returned to his old self again,"Aramis commented.

The Musketeers had noticed whenever Albert visited them during their time in the infirmary that he was slowly starting to overcome that unwelcome fear he'd had, which in turn stopped him from feeling guilt over what had happened. The one moment it was most significant was when Albert refused to look away when the bandages were getting changed. It seemed that seeing the wounds was also an important step for him to take.

"Okay, it's time to change their bandages again. Albert, you can look away if you'd prefer," the doctor stated.

"It's alright, Doctor. I think I should see them," Albert responded.

"Are you sure?"

"I am. I need to see the seriousness of the wounds. They haven't completely healed yet, after all. If I can see just how serious those wounds were, then it will help me realise that nothing was going to bring my friends to their deaths, not like this."

"Alright, but feel free to look away if you have to." He allowed the petit blond to stand nearby as he started to unwrap D'Artagnan's bandages.

Albert couldn't suppress the gasp he'd released upon seeing the injuries that had been inflicted. "Those are horrible...it really is incredible that you survived that..."

"Like I was going to roll over and die. I wasn't about to let the Cardinal's Guards claim a victory, after all," D'Artagnan replied.

"His were the worst out of all of them, thanks to him continuing on in the battle," the doctor informed Albert. "Now do you see? If he was able to survive those wounds in the first night, then nothing will allow him to lose his life, not yet anyway."

"Yes, I'll be a wrinkly old man before that happens."

The blond nodded, unable to look away from the numerous scars that were beginning to heal. "I wish that this didn't have to happen..."

"You're not about to start blaming yourself, are you?"

"No. Not this time. I honestly wouldn't wish something like this on my worst enemy, let alone my closest friends." He looked up at the brunette's face. "I will have to remember this. For both of our sakes. If you ever find yourself questioning your strength, I will remind you that you survived this."

"Good. Now, just remember that yourself."

"I will. I don't think I ever will forget."

"Despite seeing all of our wounds that afternoon, when he returned to visit us the next day, he still appeared well-rested. He hadn't even started to say anything about how it's his fault for not being around at the time," Athos commented.

"And then, there's what he'd said to you two days ago..." Porthos added.

Athos huffed. "I swear I will pay that Guard back for leaving this scar on my face, right where it can be seen!"

Albert chuckled slightly. "Oh, I don't know, Athos. I've heard that women actually find scars on men rather appealing. You might find yourself someone special after you've retired from being a Musketeer."

"I'd be too old by then..."

"That wouldn't matter. There might be a certain someone right there waiting for you, even if you've aged significantly."

"Well, with the number of scars we all have, we might all be able to find ourselves our dear women before we lay down for eternal rest."

Albert just chuckled again, which relieved all of the Musketeers in the room. "You'll have quite the story to tell about them."

"I was almost expecting him to blame himself when I made that comment about the number of scars we all have," Athos stated, "but instead he just went with the joke."

Albert grabbed five plates and set them on the table. "Hmm, it seems a bit too quiet outside. Though, I think as soon as I call out that it's time to eat some spaghetti bolognaise, there will be chaos. Oh well, I can handle that." He scooped a large serving onto each plate, and then made his way out of the workshop. He inhaled deeply. "COME AND GET IT!"

The four Musketeers looked to where Albert was. "He didn't make it for ammunition?" Aramis asked.

"Then, that means we can eat some! Wonderful!" Porthos exclaimed.

The four men hurried towards Albert's workshop, ready to have some spaghetti bolognaise, cooked by the finest chef they knew.

The group sat at the table, talking, eating, drinking. There was a sense of peace in the air, as things had finally returned to the way they should. The Musketeers were out of the infirmary, Albert's own wounds had healed.

For all five of them to be together, making jokes and being merry, that was how things were meant to be.

Thank you very much for reading this all the way to the end. Now, even though Albert has returned to his old self, it doesn't necessarily mean he's completely recovered from the emotional scars, as those can be reopened by tragic events in the future. Even so, he knows he has his friends by his side to help him should it happen.

Again, thank you for reading.