Eighteen

They rode at first light. The paths were covered in water from last night's rainstorm, but the horses didn't mind as they set off early, everyone eager to get out of there as soon as possible. D'Artagnan was fighting his emotions, wanting to say something to his friends but wasn't able to find the proper words. The others seemed to sense this though, and it was Athos who rode up next to him, a hand on his knee.

"D'Artagnan. It's alright to grieve."

D'Artagnan looked up to meet the older man's eyes, which was difficult due to Athos' entire face being terribly swollen due to the broken nose. That fact that his hand had caused Athos to look the way he did made everything even worse, and d'Artagnan quickly looked into another direction. The hand on his knee gave a squeeze.

"Please d'Artagnan. It really is alright, you lost your father and there is no shame in grieving. We are all here to listen if you need to talk, or just keep you company with your thoughts even if you don't want to say them out loud. Grieving a loved one is a natural way of life."

D'Artagnan nodded quietly, taking in the words of his mentor.

"But would you promise me, that next time we put you into a situation like that, that you tell us you are not comfortable with it? I'd rather help you through it before you freeze to death."

D'Artagnan looks up to meet Athos' staring eyes, and he nods. "I'm sorry, I know I should've told you, I just thought I would be able to deal with it… But then I couldn't sleep and I couldn't stop thinking about it. And then I got nauseas and I didn't want to be sick in the bed, or even the room… It felt like everything came tumbling down and I just had to get out…"

"It's okay. We have all had panic attacks." Aramis said gently, coming up on his other side. "We are not angry, and we will never be."

"I knew we had to stop for rest and Porthos was right, there was no other inn nearby so I figured…"

"You could deal with it." Athos filled in the last of the sentence.

"Yes. Because you were there with me. I wasn't alone."

Aramis squeezed his knee. "You are never alone."

"Here here." Porthos nodded, as he was riding in front, but turned in the saddle to look at his friends. "It's hard to change one's reactions to certain things when one has been alone for long… But you will soon learn to cry with us instead of crying away from us."

"I don't want anyone to see me weak." D'Artagnan mumbled, knowing how idiotic it sounded the same moment it left his lips. This time Athos squeezed his knee.

"We know that. And none of us would cry in public, none of us would cry in front of the other Musketeers, let alone the Red Guards or strangers. But we do cry in front of each other, because none of us would judge each other due to tears. We all have them."

"It takes a lot to hold that pride in front of a crowd when all you want to do is curl up and cry, and that's why we find friends to whom we can let our emotions run wild with us, trusting our friends to control it for us when we can't do it ourselves." Aramis added.

D'Artagnan could feel the tears burn in his eyes as the men beside him talked, but this time the tears were of love and gratitude, not sorrow. It was a long time ago since he felt so incredibly loved. He was quiet for a long time, and the others let him take all time needed, before he gathered himself, looking up to meet all of their eyes, before whispering out a thank you.

They rode on for a couple of hours, accidentally taking a wrong turn and doing quite of a roundtrip due to letting Athos lead the way, but none of them were in a hurry. Instead they enjoyed the sun on their faces and the cool breeze going through the woods, just taking in the serenity and each others company. The calm peace of their minds suddenly changed though as Aramis could feel Belle beginning to squirm underneath him.

"Uh-uh!"

Before anyone even knew what had happened, Aramis had bolted from Belle's back, walking next to her, holding onto her reins in a loose grip. The mare flicked her head towards him, and he jumped back so she wouldn't knock him down. At least she never had time to throw him.

"Would you stop it?" Aramis scolded, raising a finger to point at her. "We are almost home!"

Belle wouldn't listen to reason though, and before they knew it, she was pulling him along with her, Aramis doing his best to stop her, but no man can stop a horse who decided to walk away. Belle pulled him along with her over to a glade close by, and she put her head down, beginning to graze. The other men steered their horses over, and made a halt as they sat laughing at the sight in front of them, where Aramis was pulling at her reins, her forelocks, wrapping her arms around her neck, even begging her to pull her head up. She would have none of it, apparently she was on a break.

"Well, I guess we'll stop here the for a while." Athos said, shrugging his shoulders before dismounting Roger, undoing the girth a bit and hanging up his reins. D'Artagnan and Porthos followed suit, and soon enough the four men laid sprawled out on their backs in the shade, arms under their heads as the horses grazed.

"Hey, Porthos?" D'Artagnan suddenly said, something springing to his mind.

"Mhm?"

"You never did tell me how you came to join the Musketeers?"

Porthos smiled as he closed his eyes, thinking through of where to start his storytelling. Aramis and Athos both listened in as well, they knew most parts of it, especially Aramis, but always loving a good story.

"You'll know I grew in the Court, and I never did like it. No bad mouthin' on the Court, there are some great people there, and they make the best of it. I just always wanted to do more than staying there. I wanted to explore the world, I wanted to feel like I was doing something important. Musketeers would often make their way into the Court, but they were usually chased out rather fast. But now and again, some of them would wander into it and not let themselves be spooked."

… … …

Porthos was sitting with his back leaned towards one of the cold stone walls, his eyes closed as he was recovering from last nights drinking. Charon had come across a big load of fine brandy, and never one to question anything, Porthos had helped him rid of the evidence before anyone came looking for it. He was slightly regretting it now, every sound and light hitting his head like the pommel of a sword.

And speaking of swords… The sounds of swords clashing together cut through his head like a knife, and he jerked his head up – a little bit too fast – only to see five men in black and red cloaks with those ugly shiny helmets on their heads. Red Guards, he knew them instantly. He had never liked outsiders inside the Court, they always thought of themselves better, higher ranked. And maybe they were, but did that give them the right to rule someone else's life? Porthos didn't think so. He was certain that you could have high authority and still be humble. He just hadn't met any men like that yet.

Normally he would've walked away upon seeing the Red Guards, knowing from experience that they were not worth the fight. They had been on his heels for weeks after the last time he sent one of them flying out of a window during a brawl. The Guard had nothing to do in that bar anyway, he was just making a mess as he had been searching for someone. Porthos just gave him a helping hand out of there. It wasn't his fault that the bar had been located on the second floor, and that stupid helmet had nearly broken the man's neck as he landed on his head. Stupid helmets were no good use at all.

This time was different though, because there was not only red cloaks coming down the alley in hurried speed, there was someone in front of them as well, running fast. That man was dressed in leather, with a leather hat and pretty feather on his head, and a blue cape following him like a shadow. A Musketeer. They seemed a lot better than the Red Guards, more humble, more honourable. They had been inside the walls a couple of times too, asking questions and demanding answers, but in difference from the Red Guards, the Musketeers always paid with coin to hear the truth, not with daggers. Coins were better received within the Court than the cuts would ever be.

This Musketeer though, did not seem to be looking for answers at this moment, he was running to get out of there. Behind him, the Red Guards were picking up the chase, laughing and hollering down the streets, threats of what they would do when they caught up with him. Porthos frowned, he had no idea why they were going after the Musketeer, but it didn't not seem fair as they were five to one. Where was the chivalry?

They caught up with him fast, by sending a dagger through the air which slammed into the Musketeer's shoulder, sending him flying face first into the muck ground of the Court's dirty streets, just a few feet away from where Porthos was sitting. The man in blue groaned painfully as he tried to get up on his feet, but he wasn't fast enough. The Guards came up to him fast, and they were already clenching their hands into fists, and their boots were ready to kick.

Porthos had seen enough, and he rose to his full height, emerging from the shadows, and only took a few steps before he was looming over the Musketeer still on the ground, crawling away with one hand.

"And what do we have here? Scum of the Court? Move, dog."

Porthos didn't move, he just stood there, one leg on each side of the injured man on the ground, his hands crossed over his wide chest. He knew he looked intimidating, and he could tell the Guards were hesitating.

"Five against one ain't fair. And stabbin' someone in the back ain't fair either. So I'm just evenin' out the fight here."

He could tell they didn't want to fight him, but their stupid honour wouldn't let a so called dog stand in their way. One of them was brave enough to draw his sword, but he didn't have time to do much more before Porthos grabbed onto the sword by the blade, and cracked it in half by slamming it across his knee. 'Ridiculous excuse for a sword.'

He put his foot back down, careful not to accidentally step on the Musketeer who seemed to have stopped moving, before throwing the two pieces of the sword into different directions. He finished off with a wide smile, showing all of his teeth.

This was enough for the men to back off, and run.

Porthos rolled his eyes before turning around to the man underneath him. He was lying on his elbow, on his unhurt side, and he was staring up at Porthos with a wide grin. Porthos shook his head slightly, the man must've hit his head he thought, before he leaned forward, grabbed the man by his waist and pulled him to his feet. The Musketeer swayed, but Porthos steadied him with an arm around his waist, as he begun guiding the Musketeer out of the Court. He would need medical help, and he would not find it here. The Musketeer never took his focus off Porthos though, still with that annoying grin on his face

"That was remarkable. I have never seen anything quite like it before." The Musketeer begun rambling, and Porthos sighed heavily. All he wanted to do was lie down somewhere dark and sleep for a day or three. "My name is Aramis. What is yours, if I may ask the name of my saviour?"

"I'm Porthos."

"Porthos. That is a name I will remember and speak highly of. My sincerest thanks to you, Porthos, for helping me escape those men. I am merely here in search of a girl missing from her parents, not to start a fight."

This made Porthos stop. A missing girl? The Court was full of runaways, but none who would have people looking for them, especially not Musketeers looking for them. And the Court might be full of criminals, but not the kind that would kidnap young girls and keep them prisoners.

"Her name is Paulette Lemaire, and her family is very worried. She is only thirteen years old you see, fair with golden locks and blue eyes."

Porthos narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly who she was, he had seen her just last night. But he couldn't bring this Musketeer to that place, this man had to have that dagger removed from his shoulder first and foremost.

"I might be able to help. But you won't. Y'need to get out of 'ere." Porthos mumbled, pushing the man while helping him upright, until they came to the outskirts of the court. A big black horse was looking their direction as they arrived.

"Belle!" Aramis exclaimed happily, and the mare immediately trotted up to them, sniffing suspiciously at Porthos before turning her attention on Aramis.

"Can you ride back?" Porthos asked, and Aramis nodded. He was looking paler for every minute, but Porthos was certain someone would help him as he came back into his own quarters. And on horseback, it wasn't far. Porthos gave the man a short bow, before literally lifting him up into the saddle as if he weighed not more than a bag of rice. Aramis yelped a bit, before he found his stirrups and reins, and turned Belle around to thank the man and ask him about the girl again, but as he turned, the alley laid empty and dark. Aramis sighed, and turned back towards the garrison.

… … …

The following morning, Aramis was sitting with Marsac and a couple of other Musketeers by the table in the garrison, Treville standing up on his balcony as breakfast was being served. Everyone turned their heads as a tall, darker man came walking into the garrison, shy, distrustful and feeling out of place, but holding hands with a young, blonde, blue eyed girl.

And after that, Porthos sort of became their liaison inside the Court, helping them out whenever they didn't want to enter themselves, and in turn Treville made sure he would get fair payment. Aramis visited regularly, but not often stepping into the Court, and the two of them somehow grew friends. And even more miraculously (they didn't call it Court of Miracles for nothing…) the two of them made good friends. Aramis invited Porthos to the garrison whenever he wanted to come, and happily taught him how to wield a sword and fire a musket, but he only ever challenged him to a brawl once, and regretted it for days as he had ended up hanging by his linens from a hook on the wall. Treville saw the talent in the man, and happily welcomed him to train with them, and it didn't take long before Porthos earned his commission after showing his loyalty to King Louis.

… … …

Porthos had a big smile on his face as he was remembering the first times he had walked into the garrison, and the smile was just as plastered on Aramis' face. It had been a good beginning, and Aramis had trusted Porthos from the start. A man that would step in front of five men with guns and sword to fight with nothing but his bare fists, to protect a man he had never seen before… This was a man who could be trusted in every aspect of life. Aramis had helped him form a new life, and they had both found a friendship worth holding onto in the process.

They stayed in the glade for hours, before Belle came over to snuggle with Aramis. They took that as a safe sign of her apologizing, and the four men could keep on riding. They talked about everything between heaven and earth as they rode, and by the time they finally arrived at the garrison, dusk was settling. Jacques, the stable boy, immediately took care of their horses, and the men sighed as they sunk down to their usual bench and table. Serge was there in a minute, coming with a pot of stew and bowls, and of course a bottle of wine.

"'Ere boys, welcome back. Captain told me you 'ad some trouble. Eat up now."

"Thank you." Athos immediately replied as the four of them sat down to eat and drink.

"Hey, Serge. We learned on our trip that d'Artagnan is a fine little chef. You should order him into your kitchen for help." Aramis smiled, immediately outing d'Artagnan as the first thing he did when coming back. Looking over at d'Artagnan, the lad was grinning though.

"Oh, I knew that. He's been helping me out since his first day here. Fine chef he is." Serge smiled at d'Artagnan before leaving, who just raised his glass in salute.

Aramis pouted as he looked over at d'Artagnan. Why were they the last ones to know anything about this great skill?

"Everyone alright?"

They all turned their heads upwards as they heard their Captain make his way down the stairs. He stopped at the last step, just taking them in with weary eyes. They all looked tired and raggedy, Athos had two nice black eyes and his nose was a lot bigger than he remembered it to be, but they all looked alive. He looked Aramis over an extra time, last he had heard the man had 'not been able to ride', but it looked like he had recovered.

"As well as could be." Porthos smiled, nodding to them all. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Did you run into more trouble?" Treville asked, getting eye contact with Athos.

"No." Athos just said, fixating on his glass of wine.

"Then… Did you run into a tree?" Treville asked, wondering what could've happened to give Athos that kind of purple face.

"Captain, we had a bet that d'Artagnan wouldn't be able to strike Athos. Apparently he could. No need to worry though, Athos will go back into looking like his old grumpy self within a few days." Aramis smiled looking from Treville, to Athos. Athos answered him with a sour look but kept quiet.

Treville on the other hand groaned loudly, before putting two fingers down into his money purse, pulling up a few coins, which he placed in d'Artagnan's outstretched hand. Everyone looked up in confusion, as d'Artagnan happily put the money in his purse.

"I never thought he would make it." Treville mumbled. "Athos, I'm disappointed. D'Artagnan… Bravo."

"With all this money I'm getting, I'm saving up to buy Athos a viol." D'Artagnan grinned, much to Aramis and Porthos excitement.

Treville raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it. Instead he changed topic. "So, Bastien is in the Chatelet, awaiting execution. We have been giving him a few days extra, so you could be here to… mourn the loss."

Aramis tipped his hat.

"Now, get some rest, all of you. I'll see you here tomorrow, no later than midday." Treville ordered, before making his exit back up the stairs. Stopping at the top of the stairs he looked back down at the foursome down by the table, and a smile spread across his face. He would never, ever admit it, but he had missed that gang and their mischief. It was nice to have them back, even if he knew he would regret that thought within a couple of days.

They stayed at that table until it had turned properly dark, and decided it was time to get some well-deserved sleep. Oh, and they would be able to sleep in their own beds, how they had longed for that.

Saying their good nights, they all parted different directions, off to their respective lodgings. Athos arrived at his small apartment, dropping his things in a corner, he eased out of his trousers, boots and doublet, and climbed into bed. There was silence in here, silence he hadn't heard in weeks, and all of a sudden he couldn't help but to feel completely and utterly alone. He missed his friends, their laughter, their jokes and their annoying habits. Damn. He wouldn't be able to sleep now, would he? It was too quiet. Seriously, he was even missing the sound of Porthos' snores.

He lay awake staring at the roof for a while before there was a soft knock on the door. Confused, he got up to open it, only to find Aramis outside, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a pillow under the other.

"Hi." He said, unsure of what else would be appropriate to say.

Athos smiled, and before Aramis could figure out his next sentence, Athos had ushered him inside. And Athos had a feeling, as one came, another one was short to follow…

Less than an hour later, both Porthos and d'Artagnan had joined them as well, all of them coming knocking not being able to sleep. Athos was pleased that they had all brought their own pillows so he could have his own, and even as he tried to act as if they were interfering with his rest, he knew they could tell he was happy they were here. They finished the bottle of wine as they laughed and shared memories, and as the bottle ran out, all four of them crawled down into Athos' bed, snuggling up close, just enjoying each others' comfort.

Athos smiled to himself. They had been at each other's throats for weeks, but the minute they separated, they just couldn't go on without the other. He loved their company and was happy that they enjoyed his. He never understood why, but that didn't matter. They were here. And they were his brothers. He called them his own. And they were all just such good company.

.fin.

That's it! Woah! Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorites and reviewed and helped me through this story. Without you I wouldn't have done it! Thank you!

This week has been the week IKEA sends out their catalogues to all members in Sweden.. Meaning every single person is getting a heavy catalogue. I work as a mailman and this week has been just mental.

That being said, I haven't really had time to write, and my weekends are fully booked - BUT there is a new story coming though, one called "Ask Me, and I Will Remain." There will be a lot of Whump!Athos and worried friends and lots of angst and flashbacks, angry people and swords clashing, just how I like it.

And then, as I love to obey a wish, there will also be a spin-off to this, backtracking what reeeeally happened when Aramis sent out to find Adele (read to chapter 15 of this story again). Hope to see more of you all!

One for all, and all for one.