Evening My Lovelies

I'M BAAAACCCCKKKK! Did you all miss me? I missed you all :D

So, brand new story for you all to read, I'm anticipating it to be around 30-40 chapters but don't hold me to that. I'll be updating daily, or every other day if something stops me from updating when I originally plan to. Any questions, comments, suggestions etc are all very much welcomed. I'm hoping none of my boys go out of character but if they begin to go that way let me know and I'll endeavor to fix it.

There's a bit of pressure on me here after my last story went down ridiculously well review and view wise so I'm hoping this story lives up to the standard all you returning readers are used to.

For new readers, Hi :) welcome to my story, if you like musketeer stories with lots of whumpage and cute brotherly moments please check out my other works.

Right enough rambling from me!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter One: Grieving

"D'Artagnan?" called a distinctly feminine voice that instantly brought the young Gascon from his daydream, though it was only when he saw who was accompanying the woman that he scrambled to his feet.

"Captain!" he exclaimed as he fought his desire to stare at the beautiful redhead that was Constance that accompanied him. If he were able to, he would give anything to spend the rest of his days ensuring that she knew just how beautiful she was. Unfortunately she was already taken so he was trying to distance himself from the temptation that was her presence.

"Why aren't you at the palace with Athos and Porthos?" Treville asked, surprised that the young man, who had made his intentions to be a musketeer perfectly clear, would miss out on any chance to prove himself to the one man who could grant him his dream and provide him with a commission.

"I…" hesitated the boy as he shuffled awkwardly, "I'm not technically a musketeer so I don't have to be there and I… I didn't…"

Treville felt his features soften as he listened to the young man's explanation and took in the helpless expression on the Gascon's face. "Didn't want him to be alone?" he offered, smiling softly at the young man when he nodded in confirmation.

"You're a good man D'Artagnan," smiled Treville, "though I'm guessing our resident Spaniard didn't approve of your action given the fact you were sitting on the ground outside his door and are sporting the beginnings of quite an impressive shiner," remarked the Captain with a knowing look as D'Artagnan quickly turned his face to try to hid the steadily darkening bruise.

"He hit you!" exclaimed Constance, her voice full of worry as she looked at her lodger, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch him but knowing it would be inappropriate on more than one level for a married woman such as herself to do so.

"I pushed," defended D'Artagnan, not wanting to see his dear friend punished further for something he held no anger over, "The others… they warned me not to but I… It's my own fault."

"At ease D'Artagnan," sighed Treville as he raised a hand to stop the boy's worried rambling, "I think, given the circumstances, I can forget about it if that's what you want."

D'Artagnan visibly sagged in relief, "Thank you sir."

"Don't give up on him D'Artagnan," Treville said softly, placing a hand firmly on the Gascon's shoulder, "He'll soon realize he needs help and he'll need you to be there when he does."

"Aint going anywhere sir," grinned the Gascon as he nodded over his shoulder to the water skin and book that were on the ground near where the boy had been sitting. "'Thos and Porthos can't be here all the time but I can. I'm not leaving."

Captain Treville smiled softly at the newest edition to his garrison. "I will leave him in your capable hands then. I had come up to check on him but I fear my presence might do more harm then good."

"I should get back as well," stated Constance, feeling like she was interrupting a moment for the two musketeers. Gently she placed the basket she was carrying on the ground near Aramis's door, sending a soft smile to the now ever so slightly blushing Gascon she nodded her goodbyes and moved passed the Captain who had spent the entire of their exchange staring at the door of Aramis's room with a guilty expression.

"He… He doesn't hate you sir," D'Artagnan said suddenly, startling the elder man out of his trance. Seemingly realizing what he had just said D'Artagnan shuffled nervously, "At least I don't think he does. He's hurt and grieving but… but he understands and just needs time."

Saying nothing Treville merely nodded gratefully at the young Gascon before turning on his heels and heading to his office.

When he was sure both Constance and the Captain were long gone D'Artagnan allowed his true worry show as he slid down the side of the wall until he was back sitting on the ground by Aramis's room like he had been before they had arrived.

Part of him felt like he had no right to be here, offering the man silent support. They had only known each other for a few months after all, but seeing the typically vibrant man break down in grief, as his oldest friend's body grew colder in his arms had ignited a protectiveness within him that he didn't know was even there before. Sure it had come out with the whole incident the previous month when their group was forced to deal with Bonaire and Athos had to handle returning to his childhood home, but this time it was at all new heights and he wasn't sure what to do to help his friend.

That morning was the first morning since it all happened that the 'inseparables' were being called back to duty and without being asked D'Artagnan informed his friends that he would be remaining behind.

He had seen the worry and guilt on their faces at the mere thought of leaving Aramis to deal with his grief over Marsac's death alone and wanted nothing more than to do something to help. The blatant relief and gratitude that lit up their faces was enough to tell the Gascon he had not overstepped his bounds, as he first feared.

They had warned him what Aramis could get like when dealing with overwhelming negative emotions and they had expressly told him not to push things with the grieving marksman and only it was only when he practically pushed them out of the garrison did they leave him to it.

Absently reaching up to graze his fingers over the deepening bruise on his eye, wincing slightly as he did so, D'Artagnan couldn't help but feel like a failure as he knew seeing it would only worsen the medic's mood when he was out of his grief enough to realize what he had done.

As he said to the Captain, D'Artagnan held no malic towards his friend for his action and actually felt like he had probably deserved it. He had seen how aggravated he was getting with his presence yet the Gascon continued to refuse to leave and trying to get the medic to talk to him. He could only hope that the bruise didn't look as painful as the punch had felt. Aramis had used a lot of strength to punch him, so much so that it sent the Gascon careering to the ground. The last thing he wanted was to add more to the guilt and grief his friend was suffering.

D'Artagnan was pulled from his musings by a raindrop landing right in his eye. Silently cursing the universe for bringing rain now he tightened his jacket around him and brought his knees to his chest in an attempt to protect himself from the rain as much as possible. He had no intention of leaving Aramis to be alone with his grief even in this downpour.

In the darkness of his room Aramis opened his red-rimmed eyes at the sound of rain hitting the glass of his windows and he had never been more thankful for rain then at that moment as it would provide a reason for D'Artagnan to leave him alone. He vaguely remembered hearing snippets of the boy's conversation with the Captain a little while earlier but drink and grief made his memory sketchy. He had been surprised that the boy had stayed after he had all but thrown him out of his room and now thanks to the rain he could finally be left alone to drink away his grief… or at least until he passed out, whichever happened first.

Marsac the voice in his head whispered and the sharpshooter couldn't contain the pained whimper, or the tears that escaped at the reminded of his deceased friend dead by his own hand.

That thought had Aramis retching into the bucket one of his friends had left near his bed before rushing to the small bowl of water on his table, where he furiously scrubbed his hands, tears blurring his vision as he desperately tried to clean his hands.

"ARAMIS!" cried a voice, though it sounded distant and muffled to the medic's ears.

"ARARMIS!" cried the voice again, only this time hands also grasped his own and forced them out of the water. Shaking the tears from his vision Aramis felt his eyes widen as he took in the drenched and shaking form of D'Artagnan as he stood before him, the sharpshooter's hands still tightly in his grasp.

"D-D'Artagnan" stuttered the medic as he felt his knees give out and it was only thanks to the Gascon's quick reflexes that stopped him from crashing straight to the ground.

"I've got you," whispered the Gascon soothingly as he slowly lowered both himself and the medic to the ground before pulling the crying man tight to his chest.

"W…W-Why are y-you wet?" Aramis asked in between his sobs, needing something, anything to distract him from his hands again.

D'Artagnan cocked his head to one side and sent Aramis a look that told him it should have been obvious. "It's raining," he stated, his words backed up by a rumble of thunder in the distance.

Aramis's shaking stopped abruptly as he realized what that meant, "W-Why?"

D'Artagnan sent his crying friend a soft, sad smile as his hand came to run his fingers gently through the medic's hair in a motion that always comforted him as a child. "Didn't want you to feel alone."

Aramis said nothing in response for several moments, choosing instead to tighten his grip on the young man.

"Aramis you're bleeding!" D'Artagnan exclaimed a few minutes later once the medic had calmed down enough to loosen his grip on the Gascon. Ignoring the older musketeer's protests D'Artagnan grabbed his wrists, bringing his hands up to his face so he could see the damage done to them by the medic's excessive scrubbing. The skin on his hands was red raw and the marksman had scrubbed so had with the brush at certain points that he had actually managed to draw blood.

"I-It's fine," shrugged Aramis weakly as he pulled his hands out of D'Artagnan's grasp, part of him hating missing the warmth against his skin as he did so.

"It's not. Where do you keep bandages?" snapped the Gascon as he moved to stand. The tone D'Artagnan used was one Aramis was not accustomed to hearing during their brief friendship and so he was too stunned to really take in what was being asked of him as he weakly nodded to the bedside table.

"What were you thinking?" muttered D'Artagnan under his breath as he wrapped both of Aramis's hands in bandages, hoping it would dissuade his friend from hurting himself further.

"N-Needed to get rid of it," mumbled the Spaniard, his words slightly slurred as drink and exhaustion caught up with him making him sway occasionally.

"Rid of what?" probed D'Artagnan gently as he helped his friend move to the bed, hoping that the exhaustion and the conversation would keep him from realizing that he was doing so.

"…B-Blood," whimpered Aramis as his eyes closed, a few tears escaping through his lashes, "Marsac's blood…"

D'Artagnan felt his own eyes prickle with tears at the sight of his brother's pain but pushed them aside to focus on the man before him. Thankfully the Spaniard was apparently tired enough to fall straight to sleep, though the expression on his face told the Gascon it was anything but peaceful.

Carefully D'Artagnan shifted his grip on his friend so he could better position himself by the medic's bedside. Once he was settled D'Artagnan allowed his hand to return to his friend's hair, smiling sadly as he watched Aramis lean into his touch.

ELSEWHERE

"P-Please," sobbed a voice tinged with equal parts fear and pain. "I-I don't know… I hadn't spoken to him in years!"

The voice's begging was interrupted by the harsh crack of a whip, followed immediately by a pained scream.

"A-ARAMIS!" cried the voice, wanting to do anything to make the pain stop, "K-King's musketeers… They're f-friends…"