Also posted on AO3- same novel title, same user account name.

CHAPITRE 1


d'Artagnan's world as a Musketeers collapsed without warning. An explosion set off without even seeing the fuse lit. Despite the rubble, dust, and ash; they rebuilt their brother's steps with every confidence knowing he could someday run again. One step at a time. Literally. Painfully slow steps, but they rejoiced at it nonetheless.

Yet every now and then the Inseparable Three could see a hint of the agonizing past. Sometimes it was the way d'Artagnan held his cup of wine, whilst other times it was the slightest quiver in holding his main gauche. On the roughest of nights when the missions were especially taxing to mind and body, they could hear an uneven tread on the hardened dirt roads back to the Garrison from a very familiar pair of boots. The tottering gait was gaping wound in their hearts destined to never heal. A reminder of their failure.

D'Artagnan's boot no less.

For who else's could they be?

Taa-tum. Taa-tum. Taa-tum.

This was one of those nights.

His tread bore an uneven gait swaying slightly to the left accompanied by his shoulder also sagging ever so slightly forward. D'Artagnan was too proud to show his weakness and his older brothers granted that dignity for the most part. Merely sharing an instinctive glance betwixt them, they slowed their walk to match up and formed a protective semi-circle; should anything befall their youngest one. The Garrison gates were still a fair distance away, it worried the Inseparable Three. It was many months ago now to this date, yet the pain of it was like an open wound repeatedly sliced open time and time again, never allowing a chance of healing.

Not even Time had a fighting chance of healing this wound. But perhaps Acceptance could try her hand at it, and if all was favourable, she just might succeed.

One could only hope and pray.

Athos never forgot how those harrowing events transpired. He made a silent pledge on that day to always stand left of his brother-in-arms.

D'Artagnan, for the most part, also shared a similar dreadful memory. There was just the minor detail of said injured one was unconscious for a better part of what ghastly events transpired. Most of what he remembered came from the stories recounted about him much later on. In either case, he shuddered to think of all the suffering his brothers endured just for him. As for Aramis and Porthos; one might ask how they fared, but no soldier or cadet dared. Their eyes simply were full of unvoiced questions that faded instantly when the musketeers shot a challenging glare as if daring them to ask. No man braved the questions.


"Friends!" Porthos called out suddenly amidst the fading lights of Paris' setting sun, startling the others out of their individual reveries. He knew the mission today was hard on them all, especially one in particular. He couldn't bear to have the poor youngster continue wearing his brave shell while his insides were crumbling away with each staggering step. "Let's have a drink, shall we?"

"What kind of nonsense question is that?" Aramis quipped back with good nature. "You know Athos would never refuse a request like that," earning himself a murderous glare from the one and only and a pat on the back from Porthos.

"Well, that settled it then! Athos, I thank you in advance for your delicious supply of wine and finer spirits awaiting us at your apartments." Athos shot Porthos an incredulous gasp at such a reply, but made no effort to deny any of it. He slowly began to understand what was planned.

It did not go unnoticed by the three that one failed to voice his opinions too.

-0-0-0-

Once settling in their respective places around fireplace in the decent lodgings Athos had procured for himself, Aramis passed a bottle of good quality wine to Athos, who in turn filled up d'Artagnan's cup to the brim. Porthos took a bottle of stronger spirits himself. It was companionable silence with only the crackling embers whispering softly in the room. After the second round of refills, Athos hazard to open his mouth. He wasn't graceful like Aramis when it came to charm and a way with words, or like Porthos with his cheerful and friendly personality. Nevertheless he tried his best to not send the whole evening south. He knew d'Artagnan was hurting, and it wasn't just his limbs in pain.

"D'Artagnan?"

"Eh...yes? Sorry. I missed your question." The poor soul looked pained and lost in his own reality, completely not understanding his name was not the question.

"Oh. Umm..." Athos coughed to fill the awkward silence as his brain racked for the appropriate words. Pull yourself together man! How hard can this be? You're asking about his health and well-being, not a dressing down scolding cadets. Why are you making this so difficult!

"How are you doing?" He amended lamely fumbling with the words. Aramis just shook his head pitifully. It was almost comical had it not been for the seriousness of the issue.

"Fine." Short. Direct. Nonchalant reply.

Porthos finally took pity on the whole situation and started to put it all in good light. "You know d'Artagnan ," he began kindly, "you can tell us things, important things, non-important things, random things. We won't think any less of you or what you tell us. We're just concerned. This recent mission took longer than expected and required a lot of racing back and forth across the whole of France. By golly! Even I'm exhausted from it all. Sometimes I think the King treats us like his personal errand boy instead of Musketeers."

D'Artagnan huffed a noise of disagreement.

"I beg to differ."

His temper and volume increasing with every word. "You know full well you already think differently of me. The whole lot of you do! You have ever since...since, well you know. Or did you think I wouldn't know the difference?" He waved his right hand in a grand sweep forgetting it also held a cup of wine. The precious liquid sloshed all about his trousers and stained the floorboards.

He loathed all of it; the cards he held, the cards he dealt out, the cards still left in the deck. None of it was fair. All the card tricks Porthos taught him when playing against Life were utterly useless. He hated what he had been reduced to, a figment of the character he once was. Young, brash, wild with fury. All of it gone, snuffed out ever sinceā€¦that time. Even for him, it was too bitter a taste to spit out in words.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He cowered in shame and tried to clean up the spills with his sleeves. "Sorry."

Aramis held out a rag like a peace offering, "No lad. It's alright. I understand. We all do."

D'Artagnan accepted it silently and focused his efforts on not staining Athos' floor with more wine stains than it already had. Given the man's affinity for said drink, the room itself seemed fairly decorated by the distinct shade of red splatters everywhere.

"It's just that we're concerned." Porthos repeated. "Really. We are."

At last Athos found his voice of reason again and tried to speak, hopefully with something more meaningful than previously. "What they said," with a gesture matching his words. What a lame response he chided himself.

Well done Athos. Good man. What a fool you are to keep speaking these senseless words!

The tottering gait and trembling hand was gaping wound in their hearts destined to never heal. A reminder of their failures. Athos took that personally. He failed his brother, his comrade. His position as lieutenant came with prestige, but along with all the glory came responsibility. He was to ensure the safety and protection all who stood under him.

D'Artagnan being no exception.

Tonight would last an eternity if that's what it would take for d'Artagnan to forsake his bravado and let his brother's share in the suffering. Aramis would take it as his penance. Porthos would take it as his honor to render help. As for Athos, it would be to lessen his guilt.


A-N: I shall see you in the next installment! Happy reading my friends! Xx

Out of pure curiosity. Does anyone actually read this story? Or should I finish posting this story on AO3 only? If anyone reads this, leave me a signal? I hope you've found something enjoyable in story.