You'll be safe in my arms if I keep holding you tight.

The sun was starting to set on the third day of d'Artagnan's disappearance.

Three days since they had last seen their brother and Athos, Porthos and Aramis had officially run out of places to look for him.

At first, when he didn't show up for breakfast on the first day, they had simply assumed that he had accidentally slept in. Then by lunchtime Aramis was cracking jokes about d'Artagnan taking as much alone time with Constance as he could whilst her husband was out – which hadn't stopped Treville's anger at the boy deliberately missing the morning training session, but had quelled any suspicions of foul play before they even started.

But then when Constance had arrived shortly after with a basket filled with fresh bread she had spent the morning lovingly baking for the soldiers - claiming that d'Artagnan had left for the garrison hours ago - they had started to worry.

Now they were gathered in Treville's office to try and figure out what to do next.

"I finished checking the taverns, no-one's heard anything." Aramis took off his hat and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Same at the marketplace." Athos sighed.

"We checked the palace yesterday, didn't we?" Porthos was standing at the desk, leaning over the map that was open.

"Yeah that was me, there was nothing."

"I checked back with that innkeeper I was talking to, but he was thinking of someone else."

"Those washer women from the lower town said they would let me know if they heard anything, but so far nothing."

"Did anyone check those brothels by the Seine?"

"No, he wouldn't have gone there and I doubt they know anything."

"Has anyone checked the alleyways behind the dressmakers?"

"Has anyone checked the morgue?" Treville interrupted, only to be met with an abrupt silence.

"Captain-" Athos mumbled, not quite sure of what response he could give to that. They hadn't even entertained the idea that d'Artagnan could be dead.

"I know you don't want to accept the possibility-"

"He's not dead." Porthos stated, meeting Treville's eyes.

"But," Treville continued firmly, "Three days is a long time to be missing and we're nearing the fourth."

"He's not dead." Porthos repeated, sounding less sure of himself.

Treville lightly squeezed his shoulder, "Then there's no harm in checking. If he's not there, you can continue the search tomorrow."

This suggestion left the men feeling deflated, not wanting to leave the office all of a sudden. Because if they went to the morgue and they found their brother lying there, cold and pale and still, then that would be final. Staying where they were allowed them to continue clinging to that tiny sliver of hope that they would find him unharmed.

A timid knock at the door interrupted their thoughts as Treville gave the intruder permission to enter.

The door slowly opened to reveal Leon and Hugo, two of the young cadets who had recently joined the regiment.

Athos smiled encouragingly at the boys. He knew that it was unnerving enough as a newbie to have to come and interrupt the Captain but having three senior Musketeers standing there as well would make it all the more intimidating.

They had only been here a few months but had already shown a lot of promise in their abilities. Their only fault lay in their reserved, almost shy, natures, but Athos had no doubt that with time they would come out of their shells and flourish as their skills improved.