Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Lost To Them

It was only meant to be a simple mission. A mission that was not meant to be life threatening or needed more than one person.

Oh, how wrong Captain Treville had been. If only he had listened to his gut feeling and the looks on his Inseparables faces when he said that the man they saw as a younger brother would be going on a solo mission.

It was only meant to be a short mission to deliver a message a week away and D'Artagnan was meant to be back between 2 and 2 and a half weeks.

But he never came back.

Athos, Aramis and Porthos were dispatched to look for their missing brother. Well, they insisted on going to search for him. They looked and talked to everyone in the area about D'Artagnan but nobody seemed to have seen him since after he dropped the message off. And his horse and gear were nowhere to be found.

They were persisted but there was nothing to be found. They looked high and they looked low.

When they were called back to the garrison, they protested not wanting to lose anytime in searching for him.

Captain Treville looked at his now four, he winced thinking that and corrected his internal mistake, his three best Musketeers and saw how rough they looked. It was obvious they hadn't been sleeping well or really taking care of themselves. He could plainly see the guilt, pain, fear and exhaustion in their faces and body language. And what was worse was the obvious defeat he could feel radiating off of them and he was sure they didn't know that or didn't want to admit it to themselves that, that was what they were feeling.

This made it harder for him to tell them that D'Artagnan's fate seemed to be. After being missing 6 weeks there was little hope of discovered D'Artagnan alive.

"Do you have anything to report?" Captain Treville asks even though he knew the answer.

"No Sir. There is no sign of him", Aramis replies quietly.

"It is like he has vanished into thin air", Porthos adds just as quietly.

Which everyone could tell you was unusual for him.

Athos doesn't comment but you could see on his face clearly that he was defeated.

"Do we know if he left the town?" Captain Treville asks them.

"He did", Athos replies quietly.

"But nothing after that", Aramis adds.

Captain Treville sighs and looks like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
"Why did you call us here?" Athos asks them.
"We should still be out there searching for him!" Porthos exclaims.

"How about a drink?" Captain Treville asks them opening up his liquid cabinet and pulling out his best bottle of wine.

These men were going to need it and so would he.

"Sir your stalling", Aramis states quietly with a feeling of dread stirring deep in his soul.

"Just get on with it", Athos growls from his place looking out the window no in the mood for whatever Treville was going to say.

"I am sorry men but the search for D'Artagnan is now being called off", Captain Treville tells them waiting for the explosion.

And an explosion is what he got. Aramis and Porthos jump out of their seats in fury, their seats flying backwards with a loud bang and Athos spinning around from the window his hand on his sword. Like he was going to draw it and challenge Treville right then and there.

"NO, WE ARE NOT GIVING UP ON HIM!" Porthos yells dark fury in his eyes.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Aramis yells his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"We can't give up on our brother", Athos growls his eyes flashing dangerously, not willing to give up on his protégée and surrogate little brother . . .

(Athos)

Athos didn't want to fail another brother. He already failed Thomas. He didn't protect Thomas. He didn't want to fail D'Artagnan. He didn't want to fail in protecting D'Artagnan. Who had filled the void he didn't know he had. He was one of his best friends besides being another brother to him. He didn't know what he would do if he gave up hope of finding him alive or if at all.

D'Artagnan had bought life back to him. He bought purpose, joy and fun back to him when he thought he was unable to feel any of those things. D'Artagnan never judged him for his past and had kept all his secrets. He had been there to drag him out of taverns and made sure he got home safely and, in the time, he had been with them Athos didn't drink nearly as much as he had done before.

And he had spent many nights talking with the Gascon. He found the joy of passing on his skills to someone that he had complete trust with those unique moves.

And he Athos didn't trust easy.

D'Artagnan had changed everyone in this garrison and D'Artagnan had made them a better team. Athos admits he didn't know where the Inseparables would be today without him. Could they really go back to a trio?

One thing was for certain that if he gave up hope there would be no other member of their team. He wouldn't allow it. That spot would always belong to him.

But Athos didn't want to think of that. He couldn't.

He couldn't fail him!

He wouldn't fail him!

He couldn't give up hope!

Not D'Artagnan. No, he couldn't stop looking. It would mean he believed that D'Artagnan wasn't alive. That he would never hear his jokes and laughter again. That the easy banter they had would die with D'Artagnan.

It would also mean that he had sent his brother off on his own to die. Even though he didn't give the order or had no way of knowing that this mission would turn out this way.

It would still be his fault…

It. Would. Break. Him…

(Aramis)

Aramis couldn't believe this was happening. No this couldn't be true. Treville couldn't be doing this. There HAD to be hope. There HAD to be.

He couldn't imagine want it would do to his brothers and him if D'Artagnan never came back. Aramis hated to admit it. But he believed it would be the end of the life they had fallen into. There would be no going back to being a trio for them.

D'Artagnan made them better and he had always been there ready to help him even when Aramis believed he didn't deserve help. Even when he led the Gascon into trouble he still helped Aramis out and didn't hold a grudge.

There HAD to be someone who had seen D'Artagnan and knew what happened to him. It was just impossible for him to imagine that D'Artagnan had just vanished without a trace. As he knew his little brother loved being a Musketeer and there would be no way he would descent the regiment. So, something bad must have befallen him. But that didn't mean he was dead!

Aramis had prayed and he had prayed to God to help them find their brother. He prayed for a sign that D'Artagnan was alive. But so far, his prays had gone unanswered.

Now Treville was basically telling them that there was no hope for D'Artagnan now. Aramis knew 6 weeks was a long time. But there still must be some change then he was alive.

Aramis was trying to tell himself that D'Artagnan had been through so much that he could get through anything until his brothers found/saved him.

But where was the evidence that would convince Treville of this?

Aramis looked at his brothers and had a sinking feeling. He could feel this was the beginning of the end for the Inseparables.

As their guilt for not accompany D'Artagnan on this mission, even though it was a safe and easy mission, the guilt would consume them…

And Aramis wasn't sure if their bonds of Brotherhood would survive . . .

(Porthos)

Porthos felt so much rage. This COULDN'T be how this ended. NO, he WASN'T going to accept this. The bright young man couldn't be gone from their lives.

He had been there for all their faults and accepted them and he had been so willing to learn anything from them that Porthos knew he would have gone onto have an amazing career as a Musketeer. Porthos had so much fun with D'Artagnan and somehow the Gascon had always been there to pull him out of trouble when he was caught cheating at cards.

The laughs they had COULDN'T be over!

The easy comradeship couldn't be over with just a simple mission of delivering a message. D'Artagnan had even joked with them about it. Saying to them for them to not get into trouble without him and he made them swear to be waiting for him for drinks at the Wren when he got back. But when Porthos had sat there with Athos and Aramis at their usual table and waiting for him he felt something was wrong. He knew his brothers felt it too. But they were unable to act unless D'Artagnan was actually late in coming back.

And now Porthos didn't know if that delay had cost them their brother. They would probably never know.

Their mischievous, fun, troublemaking brother couldn't be dead.

There HAD to be some hope.

But Porthos could feel everything already unravelling with every day that passed without any leads on D'Artagnan's whereabouts their bonds of brotherhood were tested. Tempers had become short and the atmosphere around them was tense.

He hated to admit it. But this news could be what finally unmade the famous Inseparables . . .

More protests and threats were made from the trio and Treville just let them vent. He knew they would need to get their emotions out if they were going to move on as a trio again.

"ENOUGH!" Treville shouts after letting them vent for several minutes.

They stop but look like they are going to start up again.

"It had been 6 weeks since he was last seen here and 5 weeks since anyone has seen him. I am sorry men but I have no choice but to sign the forms stating the D'Artagnan was killed in action", Treville tells them.

Silence greets his words.

He knew they didn't want to believe the worst. But he had no choice.

"This is policy. I am sorry. If you had some proof that he was alive or what happened to him I would be able to hold out on signing those forms. But since none of us/you can give me proof then I have to suspend the search for D'Artagnan and declare him legally dead", Treville tells them wearily.

"Please we just need more time…", Aramis starts.

"Just a little more…", Athos starts.

"There has to be places we haven't checked yet…", Porthos starts.

"I am sorry. I can no longer support this. Go home. Go have a drink. Even get drunk! Toast D'Artagnan's life. Give him your own private send off. I expect you back at the garrison bright and early in four days' time", Treville orders them.

He looks at the defeated Inseparables who were leaving his office and wondered if this was going to be the last straw that broke the camel's back…

As whether they wanted to admit it all not D'Artagnan was gone . . . he was lost to them . . .

That is what they all believed anyway . . .

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Months

As time moved on since the search for D'Artagnan was called off. The Inseparables were falling apart as more time went on. Treville was one of the ones having to watch as his best team fall apart. Only a few others had voiced their concerns for the Three Inseparables.

Everyone could see Athos was choosing to drown his sorrows in wine and he was talking a lot less, not like he talked much before, but you would be lucky to get a grunt out of him most days.

Porthos was gambling more and more and starting more fights. Especially with the Red Guards and sometimes with his own brother Athos and Aramis.

Aramis had taken his grief out shooting targets and trying to help his brothers. Which just started more fights. He also seemed to be sleeping his way through all the women in Paris when…or after he had been drinking with Athos and Porthos.

Treville also saw that the trio were being more reckless as time went on. It was like the three didn't have a care about their lives anymore. And that they believed they had a pence to earn for letting their 'little' brother down. Treville had found out that much when he had joined the men for some drinks. So, he could keep as eye on them.

As the sparring those three did in the fields was more vicious. especially with some of their brothers-in-arms mocking D'Artagnan. Just mocking D'Artagnan or implying in any way that his death meant the lad didn't deserve to be a Musketeer meant that the offending/foolish Musketeer or sometimes Red Guard would find themselves in a vicious duel with one of the Three Inseparables. And it would normally be Athos. There was no doubt in anyone's mind, even with his drinking, he was still the best swordsman in the regiment of the Musketeers and Red Guards. And that meant those facing him in a duel normally ended up injured in some way. The nastier the slur towards the Inseparables Fallen Brother the more vicious Athos and the others got in their duels. Treville just thanked God that nobody had been killed yet in those duels. As the patience of the Inseparables were wearing thin. And Treville and Serge had step in a number of times to stop things from getting too out of hand. But they couldn't be around every second of every day. And they wouldn't be everywhere. So Treville believed it was inevitable that something was going to go too far.

He prayed to God he was wrong. He prayed that somehow the Trio would realise this wouldn't be what D'Artagnan would want.

But the change in the Inseparables was noticeable too all and not matter what Treville did he believed that the King and Cardinal were starting to notice the behaviour of the Inseparables. And that didn't bode well for anyone if the King and Cardinal got involved.

And Treville didn't know how much longer he could keep the trio as they were. Their behaviour was going to get someone killed and more than likely it would be one of them and Treville was sure that was something D'Artagnan would never want.

But only if he could convince them of that…

And if only his gut wasn't churning trying to tell him something . . .

(Athos)

Athos knew what he was doing to his self wasn't healthy, but he could not help it. Getting drunk helped to bury the nightmares he had of both Thomas and D'Art . . . him accusing him of killing them. Of them accusing him of not protecting his younger brothers. Of them asking what they had done to have made him so mad that he wouldn't protect them to the best of his ability.

So many accusations filled his nights. And he barely got any sleep without getting stone cold drunk. To get the thoughts of him failing his brother out of his head for at least however long he passed out for.

And the more he drank seemed to dull the pain in his heart of losing another Little Brother. The constant pain of knowing he failed again at protecting those that were most precious to him. Those he KNEW he should have protected better.

Deep down he knew this wasn't want either of his Younger Brothers would have wanted. But at this stage he didn't care. Especially when it hit the 4-month mark of D'Artagnan being missing/killed.

There had been nothing they could really do to properly grieve for the boy.

But Athos and his two remaining brothers went to Gascony and planted a grave marker next to those of the young Gascons parents. But with no body it was just a marker. A mark to say that Charles D'Artagnan had lived and died in service of the crown.

It was all they could offer the lad.

They had picked up his things from Constance's and Athos had them at his place. Not exactly knowing why he kept them. But felt deep within himself that these precious few items belonged with him and Porthos and Aramis.

But even those things had not given Athos peace. Something in his gut was screaming at him. But he couldn't tell what it was. So, he drank and drank and drank. To escape many things including the nightmares of D'Artagnan's broken, bleeding body as he crawls through a forest trail. It seemed to be one of his main nightmares. So, to try and block that out he just drank and drank risking alcohol poisoning just to drown out the nightmares and the pain in his heart.

He ignored Aramis pleas to think about what D'Artagnan would want.

He ignored the comments of his fellow Musketeers about his drinking. He ignored them unless they were saying anything bad about his lost protégée/brother. Then he was nearly ready to kill them. Only barely restraining himself when he duelled them till, they learned just how good he was with a blade even with the state he was in. Soon they learned if they were not careful his restraint might crumble, and they might feel his blade run them through for disrespecting his Little Brother.

He ignored the help Serge and Treville were trying to offer him. As he believed he didn't deserve help. He didn't deserve friendship. As people around him just seemed to always get hurt.

He knew he was dangerously close to losing his position as a Musketeer. His fights with the Red Guards had gotten more vicious like he was blaming them for his brother's death when he briefly stopped blaming himself. He knew he was getting sloppy with his missions.

But at the moment he didn't care.

He. Didn't. Care.

The colour in his world was gone and all that was left was dark and grey and filled with pain, despair, and misery . . .

(Porthos)

Porthos had known that the Inseparables would suffer without their Little Brother. But in his moments, he stopped gambling, drinking, and fighting he saw what the famous Inseparables were becoming.

But like Athos he could not find it in his heart to care. He wasn't nearly as reckless as Athos. But he still was reckless, and he still couldn't stop gambling, drinking, and fighting to take his mind of the fact he believed he had failed his brother.

They. Had. Failed. Him.

He like Athos had turned away Aramis's pleas and even Flea had come out from the Court of Miracles to try and drive some sense into him. But it was all for naught. Porthos couldn't be swayed.

As he too like Athos did not believe he deserved help.

He also knew Treville wasn't going to be patient much longer and the questions on Porthos mind was did he still want to stay with the Musketeers and what would D'Artagnan want?

But he already knew what D'Artagnan would want.

But was he in a position to let D'Artagnan go? Especially when something deep inside him was yelling at him that something was up. That his nightmares showed a bleeding and broken D'Artagnan lying in the forest waiting for help.

But he shook that off, trying not to think of it and just tried to think if he was ready to let D'Artagnan go no matter what his gut was telling him.

He didn't think he was, and he did not think the others were either . . .

(Aramis)

Aramis fired and reloaded his pistol again and again. Taking out his grief on the targets. When he wasn't doing that, he was trying to pull Athos away from drinking or Porthos away from gambling. Also, he spent time fixing their injuries from fights with the Red Guards. That were getting more frequent.

Or he was going through his coping method of sleeping through a different woman a night. Barely caring if he got caught in a married woman's bed. After all any bruises from the husbands he rightfully deserved as penance for his crimes. But he just couldn't stop. Like Athos and Porthos he needed this vice to get through the pain of their Little Brothers death.

Besides from this vice he seemed to pray a lot more begging God and D'Artagnan for forgive for his crimes against them. He prayed for peace to come to him, Athos and Porthos.

He prayed for a miracle . . .

But he knew none would come.

But something deep inside he was telling him something was going on here. But with his vices like the others, it helped to ignore those things. His vices like the others helped to fight off the nightmares of his imagination showing him different painful ways that D'Artagnan could have died.

The truth was Aramis knew these vices he and his brothers had were not going to go away anytime soon. As they were the only things that were able to help them keep their sanity.

As on nights he pulled Athos and Porthos into Athos house he heard their nightmares. Them calling out for D'Artagnan and begging him for forgiveness.

And the truth was they heard him having the same nightmares too.

But when they were all together it seemed to also help them with their grief. But unfortunately, it also made it worse. As the fights between each other seemed to happen more often and Aramis was just tired. So tired.

He was sure the other two felt the same about a lot of things. But the thing with grief Aramis knew so well was that everyone handles grief differently but yet some points remained the same. And this seemed to be true in this situation.

But the question was would they be able to pull themselves out of the grief in time to save their own lives and their careers?

Or should he cut his losses and retreat to a Monastery somewhere and try to redeem himself of all the sins he had committed.

But what would happen to Athos and Porthos if he did that?

And that was another thing that was keeping him up at night. Could he really do it too them? He was sure it would feel like to them that they were losing another brother, or they could feel betrayed or even get themselves killed.

So, in the end he decided to stay.

But that did not mean those thoughts didn't keep popping up in his heard alone with the nightmares that like his brothers haunted him.

Like D'Artagnan's ghost was haunting them.

Like his ghost was trying to tell them something.

Like his dreams were sending him a message from D'Artagnan. A message of him bleeding and broken. Crawling across a forest track. Of him calling out for Aramis and the others for help. But it was just a nightmare. It could not be a message. Could it?

As it was impossible, wasn't it?

In a town far from Paris a battered and broken man stumbled into town. His clothes ripped and torn. They were also hanging from the man's frame. The man was basically crawling his way to the town. When a farm boy spotted him and called for help.

Man from the town carried the poor man till the town inn and called the towns physician and his healer wife that lived close by. Both were horrified at the young man's condition. It was obvious that the man had been tortured. For what they had no clue. There was nothing on the man to suggest who he was, and the people of the town had never seen him before.

His hair was mattered and brown with blood and dirt all the way through it.

His eyes when opened where brown and looked pained and feverish.

His skin covered in cuts, with his back showing the scars and fresh marks of being whipped. Burns also covered parts of the poor man's skin. Including a burn from a sharp object piecing his hip and going deep into the muscles, tendons and nerves and a knife stab wound to the same hip. The physician and the healer did not know what sort of damage that had down to the hip. But it was already dislocated, with a small crack they guessed.

The man also had 5 broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, dislocated elbow, a broken arm, wrist and three fingers on his right side. Besides from his right injured hip his leg, ankle and foot were broken on the same side in a worrying several places. And that knee and ankle had been dislocated on that side too.

His feet were cut up with a couple of toes broken. A broken nose and cheekbone with a cut diagonally across his face.

Whoever did this wanted the man to suffer on that particular side for a reason the couple would not be able to find out. Unless the man awoke and told them himself.

The man was also burning with fever.

No one expected the man to lie with so many injuries it seemed inevitable that the man would die. Without a name and without family by his bedside. They weren't even sure he would wake up again. As his head injury was pretty bad too.

So many people thought it was just a matter of time. But yet the physician and his healer wife still worked on the man to heal him as best they could. They decided until the man actually gave up, they would do all they could to save him. He was obviously a man of great importance to someone. And they hoped that one day if the man survived and remembered who he was that they could reunite him with his family.

The healer wife was taking her turn with the man after a week and a half nursing him with her husband through his fever. It pained her to hear the man raspy call out names that she assumed were his family members. He begged them to save him.

All she could do was try to comfort him as best she could. She knew she couldn't replace his family but she hoped her presence would give him some comfort.

"Athos . . .", the man moans deep in the throes of his fever.

"Shhh you're ok", the woman says wiping his sweaty forehead with a cool cloth.

"Save . . . me Athos . . . Porthos . . . Aramis . . .!", the man moans weakly thrashing in his sleep from a fever induced nightmare.

"It's ok. You're ok", the woman tells him over and over again.

"I'm . . . al . . . ive Brot . . . hers save me", he moans brokenly.

The woman wondered if the names he mentioned where also the brothers he begged for them to save him. And why would these men believe this tortured man was dead.

Well, it was kind of obvious after treating all of the man's injuries. But surely these men must still be looking for him. Shouldn't they?

As she and her husband helped the man, they heard all sorts of things in the young man's delirium. But they wondered if they were doing the right thing trying to save such a tortured soul and one so physically broken.

Would it have been kinder to have let him pass?

As week two came with the young man still barely clinging in there. But somehow, he was. And the married pair realised he was fighting. The man was fighting for someone or someone's.

If this man was going to fight, then they were determined to see him through this. As they realised this man seemed to have a fighting spirit even after everything he had been through.

Hopefully, he still wound when he found out the extent of his injuries.

They could only hope.

And on the 15th day that he had been found the man's eyes shot open with a shout of pain. The woman gentle coaxes him into drinking a pain draught and she was surprised as the draught took affect the man's eyes were not glazed with fever. They seemed to have some life and awareness in them now and when she and her husband checked his fever seemed to have dropped dramatically.

"Who . . .", the man rasps.

"Here drink this water", the woman says coaxing him into drinking some water.

The man drank it like a man who had been in a desert without water for God knows how long.

"Thank you", the man rasps wincing, "Ho…w lon…g have I be...en here?"
"15 days", the woman tells him, "I have Helena"
"And I am her husband Phillipe. I am the physician in this town and my wife is quite the skilled healer. But I have to say you're the most difficult patient we have ever had", Phillipe tells him with a kind smile.

"What is your name boy?" Helena asks him softly.

"D'Artagnan of the Kings Musketeers"

“Can we send a message to anyone?”

“Captain Treville . . . and my brothers . . . I want my . . . Brothers”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Captain Treville’s Frustrations

Treville runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. Ever since D’Artagnan went missing and then declared dead nothing had been the same. Even up at the palace it hadn’t been the same as King Louis had found a friend in the Gascon. With how close they had been in age it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Louis had bonded with the boy.

King Louis had been very upset about D’Artagnan’s death and had bought his temper out. Luckily Queen Anne had helped calm him down. But the young King was still upset and had brought out his more childish side the past few months because of the Gascon’s death.

But Treville’s biggest worry were the Three remaining Inseparables. They were the cause of his constant headaches.

Treville watched the last remaining members of the famous quartet fall apart and become shells of their former selves. He watched as Aramis slept his way through the Ladies of Paris. He watched as Porthos won as many cards games as he lost and picked a fight with any Red Guards that were in his vicinity. Athos was drinking his was to an early grave. And he picked as many fights with Red Guards as Porthos did.

They had lost their way as he saw them start to argue with each other. But still somehow managed to work together and they refused to try and work with anyone else. Not that Treville had the heart to force someone on them.

Treville could understand that in a way. To them it would seem like they were replacing D'Artagnan even thought that would be impossible to do no matter how long past.

ALL three also were taking their grief out on the other Musketeers and Recruits. With the Recruits it was normally the trio comparing them to D’Artagnan or holding each of the new recruits to the same standard as their Little Brother.

With the older Musketeers it was the trio taking their anger and pain out on them with sparring or hand to hand. Treville had lost count of the number of times Athos or Porthos had injured others in sparring. Especially Athos. Who held nearly everyone to D’Artagnan’s standard, and the truth was the nobody could ever be. D’Artagnan was a nature at a blade and with Athos’s training he had been getting to the stage where he was a serious challenge to Athos. And since nobody else could prove a challenge to Athos his Lieutenant was taking his frustrations out on anyone who sparred with him. Sometimes even Aramis and Porthos were on the end of his barbed tongue.

Treville has reaching his limit with the trio of them as he noticed that they had gotten reckless and irresponsible. He knew if the trio did not shape up soon, he would have to force them apart or even take their commissions.

And Treville believed that would do D’Artagnan’s memory a disservice.

He was broken out of his thoughts by a knock on the door.

“What now?” Treville groans quietly.

He was imaging the chaos that was coming. It was sure to involve those three or the King. Maybe he should take a well-deserved holiday?

Someone knocks again.

“Come in”, Treville sighs mentally preparing himself.

Sebastian comes in and before Treville sees the other person he asks.

“Which one of the three or is it all three, do I have to yell at now?” he asks in exasperation.

Sebastian tries not to chuckle. As he knew that nearly everyone coming into his Captain’s office lately had something to do with the Inseparables or the King. But mainly those three. And Sebastian couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Captain. Yes, he felt sympathy for the Inseparables loss. But it was starting to get ridiculous.

“Sorry sir not about them. You have a message. This gentleman apparently has an urgent message for you”, Sebastian informs him.

Treville looks up quickly and coughs to hide his embarrassment.

“Sorry Monsieur for that. Please come in”, Treville apologies.

The man chuckles but nods accepting the apologies.

“Sebastian, wait outside”, Treville orders.

The Musketeer nods and leaves closing the door behind him.

“Take a seat. How can I help you Monsieur?” Treville asks the man.

“I’m here to deliver an urgent message from my community. Our local Doctor and Healer actually. I believe anything else you will need will be in that message”, the man replies handing over the letter.

Treville rises an eyebrow but takes the letter.

“It is very urgent Captain. And I was told to get here as fast as I could and to make as few as stops as possible”, the man continues.

“Would you like something to eat or drink or I’ll pay for a room for you to rest, while I read this?” Treville asks him.

Treville was wondering what was so urgent that made this young man come here so quickly.

“No thanks. I’m expecting that you’ll need me after you read the letter”, he replies.

Treville opens the seal and pulls out the letter and his eyes widen at its contents. His heart leap in his chest as hope begins to fill him.

Could this really be true?

After all this time?

“Is this true?” he asks the man.

“As far as I know”

“SEBASTIAN!” Treville bellows.

Sebastian stumbles back in with his sword drawn expecting an attack.

“Capt . . .”

“Get me the Inseparables. NOW!”