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*Outskirts of Montrouge*
Riding on his way back to the garrison from the lone mission Captain Treville had given him, d’Artagnan bit into a juicy apple he had plucked from a tree.
It had been one of his easier assignments since becoming a Musketeer. Deliver a letter from the captain himself to one of his relatives that lived in Montrouge. Treville even had told him to take his time coming back to the garrison. That in itself was unusual reminding d’Artagnan of the impish light that shone in his captain’s eyes at the time.
Anyway, he relished in the easy cantor he and Zad were currently enjoying. The warmth of the sunshine on his back nearly lulled him to sleep in his saddle. That is until the bandits struck.
“Oh hell and damnation!” d’Artagnan muttered. “I can’t seem to catch a break!” He could see four riders barreling down on him and no place for him to escape too. They outflanked him on all sides. Well if he was going to go down he hoped he’d take a few of them with him.
Firing his pistol, d’Artagnan managed to unseat one bandit to his left and whipped around to pick off another from his right. Which left the two in front of him. He tried to head for a small outcropping of trees, but the one bandit was too quick for him. The last thing he remembered was hearing a shot, Zad rearing up and then he felt himself falling into darkness. His last conscious thoughts were how sad his friends would be if he died.
++++
*Musketeer Garrison, Treville’s office*
“Do you think d’Artagnan guessed anything was up?” Captain Treville studied the three men who were in his office talking amongst themselves.
“If the boy even got a whiff that we were planning him a surprise party, d’Artagnan would run a mile the other way,” Porthos grinned, exchanging amused looks with Athos and Aramis who laughed in turn. “That lad doesn’t like a bunch of attention on em’,” Porthos grunted with a roll of his brown eyes.
“D’Artagnan is the smartest of all of us,” Athos added. “He has to wonder about such an easy task you sent him on, Captain.”
Treville’s eyes sparkled in merriment. “Wouldn’t d’Artagnan have a fit if he realized that the letter he is delivering is really an invitation to his own surprise birthday party.
“Has anyone ever mentioned to you, sir, that you have a devious nature?” Athos smothered a laugh.
“Surely then the youngster will recognize who he delivered it too?” Porthos was confused.
“Non! He won’t because he will be giving it to an aunt of mine,” Treville noted that the large Musketeer still didn’t understand the ruse.
Giving everyone present an irritated look, Porthos huffed. “You invitin’ your aunt? But d’Artagnan doesn’t know her.”
Laughing, Treville took pity on Porthos. “Non, Porthos. I invited my young niece who is currently visiting my Aunt Penelope,” he grinned. “Celine is d’Artagnan’s age and I thought perhaps it would take the boy’s mind off other personal matters of the heart.”
“Like Constance,” Athos murmured quietly.
“Ah!” Porthos seemed satisfied with Treville’s explanation as well as agreeing with his captain about the boy’s affairs.”
Rene barged in just then having run all the way up the steps to his captain’s office. “Everything’s in order over at the inn,” he grinned. “D’Artagnan sure’s going to be surprised.”
“Thank you, Rene,” Treville nodded. “Gentlemen, this may be our toughest assignment to date.” Hearing his men snicker as they left, he grabbed his hat and cloak to follow them out.
++++
*Montrouge*
“Timothee,” Josephine tugged on her husband’s arm.
“What is it now, dear?” Timothee had the tone of a man that had been badgered with nonsensical ramblings from the time they had left the local village.
“There’s a body up ahead on the road,” she pointed in the direction where a lone figure laid.
“Mon dieu!” Reigning in his team of horses, Timothee stopped their wagon. “Josephine, stay here.” He heard her start to argue but ignored her rant and ran over to see how hurt the person was. When he came upon the body Timothee could see it was that of a young man with a serious head wound. No sign of a horse so he didn’t know if the youngster had been thrown or attacked by bandits who were numerous on these outlying roads.
Moaning softly, d’Artagnan’s eyes fluttered open briefly and then closed.
“Josephine! I need your help!”
Marching over to where her husband was, Josephine put her hands on her ample hips. “Oh now you need me!”
“This isn’t the right time to start another argument, woman!” Timothee sighed. “This boy’s hurt and I’ll be needing you to help me support him while we get him to our wagon.”
“Oui,” Josephine agreed, having the sense to keep quiet this time as she worked with her husband in harmony until they had the boy safely deposited in the back of their wagon. “I don’t recognize him,” she glanced behind her once more to check on the youngster. “Not one of our locals that’s for sure.”
Frowning, Timothee rubbed his chin. “Robbed I’d wager,” he offered. “No horse, no weapons, nothing on him to tell us who he is.”
“The child could do with a little more meat on his bones,” Josephine added. She was already thinking of roasting a nice fat chicken for dinner after treating the boy’s injuries first.
++++
*Fleur-de-lis Inn*
“D’Artagnan should have returned by now,” Athos’s worried tone was heard by everyone present in the inn. Which included a goodly portion of the Musketeer regiment along with d’Artagnan’s friends.
“I’m concerned enough to send some of my men to search for him,” Treville announced gruffly. “Just like d’Artagnan to miss his own party.”
“He didn’t know there was one,” Porthos growled then nearly punched Aramis out when his friend kicked him.
“I volunteer,” Athos stepped forward along with Aramis and Porthos one step behind.
“Figured as much,” Treville snorted and waved at them to proceed.
++++
*Outside the Garrison*
“It was only an hour’s ride both ways and we’ve covered the entire area,” Aramis groaned.
“The captain’s aunt said once d’Artagnan gave her the letter he quickly departed,” Athos’s lips thinned. “There’s been bandit activity on these roads before but nothing of late.”
“Sacre bleu! Is that why none of us protested the boy doing this alone?” Aramis moaned.
“We can’t keep babysittin’ him?” Porthos's patience snapped.
“Let’s report back. I think we’re going to have to dispatch several search parties.” With dread filling him, Athos was determined that they’d retrieve their young one. He only hoped d’Artagnan was in one piece.
++++
*Montrouge, the Ramsden farm*
“Finely with us, boy?” Timothee watched as the young man's brown eyes roamed around the room they gave him before coming to rest on him.
“Bonjour.”
“Welcome back.” Timothee brushed some of the child’s hair out of his eyes. “What are you called?”
Scrunching up his face and rubbing at the back of his throbbing head, d’Artagnan’s eyes widened in alarm. “I… don’t… know!” He started hyperventilating until Timothee managed to calm him down. “I can’t remember a thing!”
Josephine joined them and heard every unfortunate word. “Well, child, until such time as your memory returns we welcome you to our home,” she smiled pleasantly. “You took quite a blow to your head and you’re very lucky to have survived it.”
“Do not worry so,” Timothee tapped the boy on the chest lightly. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then Josephine will fatten you up with a good hot meal.”
D’Artagnan’s frightened eyes lightened at the acceptance from these total strangers who brought him into their home. He did wonder if he had any family out there worried about him.
++++
*A month later – Musketeer Garrison*
The atmosphere was gloomy in the courtyard ever since d’Artagnan’s disappearance. The presents for the boy sat unopened and were neatly stacked in the captain’s office.
“You would think someone had died,” the rest of Rochefort’s words were cut off as he suddenly faced what looked to him like nearly half the Musketeer regiment and they had blood in their eyes. Holding up a hand, he shook his head. “Very poor choice of words I’m afraid under the circumstances. Excuse my blunder,” he sighed and bowed his head slightly forward. “Until a body is produced we will work under the assumption that d’Artagnan is alive and just has not found his way home yet.”
“I agree,” Athos growled. “Though your sentiments amaze me.”
“Why? I like the boy.” Rochefort watched Athos accept his words at face value. “If I could I’d steal him away from you Musketeers in a flash.”
“You’d have a right bloody fight on your hands getting’ em’,” Porthos used his size to try and intimidate the man.
“I agree with my friend here,” Aramis clapped Porthos on the back. “The cardinal couldn’t do it.”
“I’m better looking,” Rochefort laughed at the expressions of confusion his words generated. “And I could offer d’Artagnan more.”
Clearing his throat loudly, Athos cocked his head and studied Rochefort shrewdly. “I assume you do not really mean what we think you do?” he asked cooly.
“I just love to keep people guessing,” Rochefort snickered.
As the group stood huddled in the middle of the courtyard, one of the Musketeers rode into the garrison spotting the inseparables instantly. “I found him!” Vincent shouted as he vaulted neatly off his horse.
“D’Artagnan! You’ve found him?” Athos had figured the boy had to have been hurt otherwise he’d be with them now.
“I actually had some personal business to attend to near Montrouge and stopped at the tavern there for a drink before heading back. I saw d’Artagnan walking out of a mercantile store with an older couple. Immediately I ran over and clapped both hands on the youngster’s shoulders in joy and that’s when everything fell apart.”
“What the deuce do you mean by that?” Aramis shouted, his hat waving in the air. He was near to tearing his healthy head of hair out by the roots.
“Blank eyes stared back at me,” Vincent said sorrowfully. “When I told him what his name was and that he was a Musketeer d’Artagnan didn’t believe me.”
“Memory loss,” Aramis offered, slapping one of his gloves against his hand. “No wonder he didn’t come home,” he glanced at his friends, including Rochefort and Treville who stood with them. “Our young one didn’t know where home was.”
“Probably ran afoul of some bandits,” Porthos guessed.
“What of the couple you mentioned,” Athos asked, clearly shocked by this piece of news but happy that d’Artagnan was indeed alive.”
“Surprised by my revelations and oddly protective of d’Artagnan. They didn’t want the boy to get overly agitated, especially once he started shouting at me calling me a liar and to get away from him,” Vincent appeared quite shaken as his voice died away.
“Vincent, our thanks. Can you give us directions to this village?” Athos asked. “From there we can find out where this couple live. Evidently d’Artagnan must be living with them.”
Treville waited until Vincent had given his men directions and then advised him to rest up. “Perhaps we’ll get to celebrate with the birthday boy after all.” Gazing at his three best soldiers Treville smiled. “Go bring our young Gascon back home where he belongs.”
“May I tag along,” Rochefort stood near the captain’s side.
“You!” Porthos nearly choked.
“If by chance seeing you three doesn’t jog d’Artagnan’s memory perhaps seeing me will.”
“By the sounds of things d’Artagnan’s suffered enough shocks,” Aramis stated, “we don’t need to make it worse.”
“Aramis!” Treville barked, giving his soldier a stern look of reprimand.
“I thank you, Comte, for your generous offer, but I believe we can handle this matter on our own,” Athos nodded at him.
“Very well but,” Rochefort held up a hand, “I expect to be invited to d'Artagnan's party.”
After Rochefort left them all stunned, the three Musketeers went to the stables to ready their horses.
Roger snorted softly under Athos’s ministrations while Belle neatly danced under Aramis’s hands. Porthos’s mount Roulette was impatient like its master.
“To Montrouge!” Athos lead them out of the garrison as they all galloped away.
++++
*A little over an hour after the Musketeers left the garrison*
*Montrouge, the Ramsden farm*
“Christopher, Timothee… come in and eat!” Josephine yelled out from the front porch of their old home.
As the men finished loading the barn with hay they headed for the house until they spotted riders in the distance.
“Bandits,” d’Artagnan whispered to Timothee. Anger set his features. He was determined to protect this nice couple who dared to take him in.
“They’ve never been known to torment poor working farmers before,” Timothee said. As the three riders drew closer Timothee was astonished. “King’s Musketeers… here of all places!”
His gaze slid over to the youngster. First the encounter with a lone man claiming to be a Musketeer the other day. Grant you the man they had talked with wasn’t dressed as a soldier so how were they supposed to know he wasn’t lying. But now three more came. Apparently the man had spoken true. A hard truth he and the Mrs. would not be content to hear.
Timothee noticed how Christopher moved nearer to his side the closer the three riders approached the farm. Placing a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder they waited to see what brought these men here.
Slowing their mounts down, the three friends rode onto the grounds. Seeing their cherished and much missed friend standing there nearly brought tears to all their eyes.
Dismounting first, Athos strode up to the older man and d’Artagnan. “My name is Athos and I and my companions represent his Majesty’s Musketeers.” Even though he stood in front of the farmer his blue eyes never left d’Artagnan’s features. He had been afraid to hope, despite Vincent’s claim. But to see that precious face staring back at him devoid of recognition nearly stopped his heart.
“The wife and I figured this was going to happen after our encounter in the village with one of yours,” Timothee offered. He held out his hand. “I am Timothee Ramsden,” pointing to the house where his wife hovered anxiously on the porch he added, “that there’s Josephine my wife.”
“I’m Christopher,” d’Artagnan stated. Daring anyone to argue that he wasn’t at least for the time being.
Aramis and Porthos glanced at each other curiously and then shrugged.
“My wife gave the boy that name. Since his injury Christopher can’t remember anything about his life,” Timothee explained.
“May I ask why the choice of *Christopher*?” Aramis watched the Mrs. smile at him.
“For the patron saint of travelers.” Josephine had noticed the cross he wore and figured he would understand.
“Ah! Yes! Good choice and I understand the reason now.” Aramis’s eyes twinkled.
“I don’t!” Porthos snapped.
“I’ll explain later,” Aramis said in exasperation, slapping his friend’s back gently.
Despite the conversation going on around them, Athos had eyes only for d’Artagnan. “Remember me? I’m Athos, one of your best friends.”
“Non.” D’Artagnan observed growing sadness on the older Musketeer’s face and that of his companions. He actually felt guilty for not admitting he didn’t recognize this Athos or the soldiers with him.
“You can’t beat the child’s luck though,” Aramis chuckled, earning a scowl from nearly everyone present.
“What luck?” Porthos snorted. “He can’t remember any of us!”
“I don’t mean that part,” Aramis snapped. “This place. I mean, what are the odds and you a betting man too should get it.”
“Ya mean cause it’s a farm?”
“May I ask what you gentlemen are talking about?” Timothee watched the two Musketeers curiously.
“D’Artagnan was born and raised on a farm similar to this one in Lupiac, Gascony.” Athos supplied, still keeping his eyes firmly on the youngster.
“That explains how he knows what to do before I even ask,” Timothee laughed.
“D’Artagnan,” Athos reached out to his friend, only to be saddened by the boy’s reaction as D’Artagnan pulled back away from his touch.
“I no not that name nor any of you so please forgive me if I appear churlish.” Glancing at Timothee, d’Artagnan motioned with his hand he was going inside the house.
“How did you find him, Monsieur?” Athos asked as he watched d’Artagnan walk away from them.
“Please, just call me Timothee.” He explained to all of them the circumstances he and his wife had found the young man in when they came upon him on the road.
“A month and d’Artagnan still doesn’t remember,” Porthos was furious.
“We weren't around to remind him of who he is,” Aramis stabbed his dark-skinned friend with an annoyed look.
“We are here now and by God,” Athos announced fiercely, “d’Artagnan will know who he belongs too!”
Hearing Athos’s words, Timothee knew that he and Josephine should prepare themselves to say goodbye to the child sooner than they thought.
++++
It was a most uncomfortable meal that Josephine served. Having invited all the men to eat with them had seemed an excellent idea at the time. But seeing the morose faces matching the boy’s who in turn kept sneaking furtive glances every now and then over at each of the Musketeers, Josephine was ready to think this hadn’t been one of her better ideas.
When everyone was done, D’Artagnan went into the kitchen to offer his help, but Josephine shooed him away. “Go be with your friends. They need you to remember who you are.”
Sighing, hanging his head, d’Artagnan did as she bid. When coming back out of the kitchen he discovered the dinner table empty he looked around to see where everyone went. That’s when he discovered that all the men had gone back outside. He silently joined them and unintentionally gravitated toward Athos.
His movements did not go unnoticed by Aramis and Porthos who nudged each other and grinned.
“We’re good friends then?” d’Artagnan murmured to Athos as they stood side by side.
“More than just *good*,” Athos retorted wryly. “Like brothers... all of us.” Looking into d’Artagnan’s young face he clasped the boy by the shoulder and shook it gently. “We’re family!”
“I’ve been trying to remember since your arrival but it’s no use,” d’Artagnan admitted sadly. “That man I met at the store said I was a Musketeer like him, but I didn’t believe him. I’m a little young for that I think.”
"Trust me on this... you earned that commission," Athos told him earnestly. “And you are one of us even though you can't recall it.”
“Hey! What if I slug em’?” Porthos suggested half in jest.
“Over my dead body!” Aramis hollered. “He's gone through enough hell!”
“Aw! I wasn’t gonna do anything,” Porthos complained with a gentle huff of annoyance.
“I assume you have orders to take me back with you if I’m really one of yours?” D’Artagnan directed the question to Athos but his gaze locked with Timothee’s sad one.
“Yes. I see no need to dally especially since it’s only an hours ride back to the garrison,” Athos was more than relieved to be heading back home.
“Can’t believe our youngest has been close at hand this entire time and we didn’t find him,” Aramis glanced at his friends.
“Not so amazing when you consider this farm’s location and that me and the wife don’t travel much into town except for when we need supplies,” Timothee said off-hand. "And even then that could be once a month."
“Well there’s a whole regiment waitin’ for you back home, d’Artagnan,” Porthos mounted his horse. Roulette stamping his feet also anxious to be off.
“I don’t even recognize my own name when it's said,” d’Artagnan frowned and then realized something else as Aramis and Porthos were mounting their horses. “Ummmm, who do I ride with?”
Sighing, Athos should have thought of bringing another mount with them. “All right, pup, you’ll ride with me.”
“Pup?” d’Artagnan stared at the man oddly.
“You’ve got a lot of nicknames, kid,” Porthos laughed roughly.
“Timothee and I assumed Chris-,” Josephine could have hit herself, “I mean d’Artagnan was accosted on the road and robbed.” She gazed at the child knowing this was the last time she would more than likely see him.
“He had nothing when you found him then?” Aramis asked.
“All he had on him was just his shirt and breeches,” Timothee replied.
“No uniform? Pauldron? Anything?” Porthos grunted in displeasure knowing those things would have to be replaced and soon.
“Those bandits probably sold all the boy’s things by now,” Josephine remarked simply.
Before d’Artagnan mounted Roger he hugged the older couple to him. “I thank you both for what you did for me,” he smiled and kissed Josephine on the cheek. “I can never repay you for your many kindnesses,” his eyes filled with unshed tears. “I will write you from time to time and perhaps surprise you with an unexpected visit too.”
Before mounting Roger, Athos made sure d’Artagnan was seated securely on the saddle and then settled behind him. “Be assured your help to the boy will not be forgotten by any of us for a very long time.”
Timothee and Josephine stood side by side as they waved goodbye to d’Artagnan. They both wondered if they would truly ever see the child again.
++++
*On the way back to the Garrison*
“What the deuce!” Porthos yelled as Roulette reared up.
“Shots!” Aramis shouted. “Athos, protect d’Artagnan!”
Too late for that as Roger reared up unseating not only his master but... d’Artagnan.
“D’Artagnan!” Athos struggled to get back on his feet and frantically reached out to the unconscious boy. “Mon dieu! D’Artagnan!” He was so angry he could spit nails. "Aramis! Porthos!, don’t go chasing after them. The child’s hurt!”
“Again?” Porthos groaned while Aramis quickly checked their youngest over.
“No blood that’s a relief. Nothing broken either." Glancing over at Athos, Aramis saw the man wince in pain. “You all right?”
“I’ll live,” Athos grumbled as he re-mounted Roger. “Aramis help Porthos lift d’Artagnan up to me.” Once the youngster was settled safely against Athos, he tightened his hold on the boy. “Let’s try to get back to the garrison before anything else happens,” he said dryly. "I'm sure d'Artagnan will awaken on the ride home complaining bitterly about bandits."
As they continued their journey d’Artagnan began to stir. Athos whispered in the boy’s ear. “Easy, son. You’re safe again.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Athos,” d’Artagnan snorted sounding more like his typical smart mouth self.
“D’Artagnan?”
“Athos?”
Cuffing the boy lightly behind the ear Athos smiled. “Remember me now?”
Rubbing his aching head again, d’Artagnan grimaced. “Well if you mean do I know who I am then yes,” he closed his eyes for a moment. “As for you three...” he was cuffed on the ear again. “Ow! Quit that!”
“He okay?” Porthos eyed the child rubbing his head and glaring at Athos. He wondered what he missed.
“*I* am all right,” d’Artagnan snapped, “if Athos can restrain himself.”
"Eh. The fall did you good then," Porthos grinned. "Brought your senses back."
"Did you say *senseless*?" Athos winked over the youngster's head, which earned him a smack on his leg from d'Artagnan.
“The party’s on again I see,” Aramis laughed gayly and rode ahead of them letting Belle have a nice run.
“What’s Aramis on about?” D’Artagnan couldn’t figure out what he meant by that.
“Never you mind, youngin’” Porthos grinned and followed after Aramis.
“I think they act like they’ve fallen on their heads.” D’Artagnan laid his head back against Athos’s shoulder feeling the older man shake with silent laughter.
“Almost home,” Athos murmured and tightened his grip again on d’Artagnan’s slim body.
“No parties... too tired,” d’Artagnan’s eyes closed as he went to sleep.
Grinning to himself, Athos thought of all those presents waiting to be opened, of the food Serge would prepare in their young ones honor, of friends old and new waiting to celebrate the boy’s natal day. What d’Artagnan would think when he saw Rochefort was anyone’s guess. He’d probably figure it a huge joke and laugh himself silly about it later. Yes, Athos told himself, there would be a party and if the boy tired easily well he was sure Captain Treville wouldn’t mind extending the youngster’s birthday to the next day. Patrols could wait until later, but having d’Artagnan back was like a present in itself to the regiment and to d’Artagnan’s three brothers of the heart.
The End