It had been raining off and on for much of the day as he removed his cloak and entered the tavern. Casting a wary eye around the room Athos was quick to locate Aramis seated at a corner table.

A pretty barmaid was leaning suggestively across from him as she held her tray against her hip. His playful eyes were bright as she leant even closer towards him so he could whisper something in her ear. Athos had no idea what Aramis may have said, but the girl giggled and blushed deeply, her eyes dreamy and a wide grin spread across her face as she turned from the man and practically tripped over her own feet as she walked away but continued to glance back his way. A sly wink from the musketeer elicited a little squeal and the girl retreated to the backroom to gather her wits.

Aramis chuckled as Athos stepped towards the table and helped himself to the bottle of wine that topped it.

Aramis grinned at him as he took his seat.

"And here I thought you'd never arrive," Aramis said wistfully as he lifted his glass to his lips, still smirking at Athos from across its contents.

"I apologize," Athos said, his lips and eyebrows quirking as he fought a grin. "I can tell that you were desolately alone without me. Tell me, what promises did you make that poor girl?"

"Promises? Never Athos. I simply complimented the beautiful Cossette on her choice in dress this evening. The colour brings out her eyes," said the marksman with a grin.

"The problem is, I believe you to be telling the truth," he replied with another quirk to his lips.

"It's a gift," Aramis said raising his glass. Athos raised his and the two men drank.

"Have you seen Porthos?" Athos asked as Aramis refilled their glasses.

Aramis raised his eyebrow at the swordsman across from him. "I was actually about to ask you the same thing," he said.

"Treville sent him on a mission earlier today. I had assumed he would be back by now," Athos mused.

Aramis' brow furrowed as his eyes grew darker with sudden concern. He distractedly swirled the remaining contents of his glass. "He should have been. He was only delivering a letter for the King across the city. You know it's not like Porthos to miss a meal…"

"Perhaps he was waylaid at the garrison," Athos suggested.

"He could be tending to a lame horse…or perhaps he was cornered by Serge and his endless recollections of past battles," Aramis said hopefully. Athos nodded and finished the wine.

Rising, he tossed a coin down on the table. "Shall we?" Athos asked. From the corner of his eye he saw the barmaid pout as Aramis rose to join him. Aramis nodded, worry for their third apparent on his handsome features as he led Athos out of the tavern.

oOo

Once at the garrison, Athos and Aramis made a beeline for the kitchens only to be disappointed by the absence of their tall and swarthy brother.

"Haven't seen him," Serge confirmed. "Tha's why there's leftovers fer once!" said the old cook with a grin that faded when he saw the concern on the two men's faces. "He can't be much longer. Who knows? Maybe Porthos met a lady tonight…The two of you ain't 'is mother, ya know?"

Aramis let out a slight chuckle, the tension easing slightly from his frame as he smiled at the old cook.

"I suggest the two of you find somethin' t'entertain yourselves. He'll be right in the mornin'. You'll see," Serge said. "Jus' stay outta trouble," he added as he realized to whom he was speaking.

As they vacated the refectory, Athos looked at Aramis. "Perhaps Serge is right," Athos said with a raised eyebrow. "It's not necessary that Porthos check in with us if he's…made other plans."

"No," said Aramis with a slight grin and a raised eyebrow of his own. "It's not necessary…it's just customary." He let out a soft chuckle as he threw an arm around Athos. "Well, mon ami, let's see how much trouble we can get in without getting into trouble."

Athos quirked his eyebrow again and as he let Aramis steer him from the garrison.

oOo

The next morning was rough.

Athos sat at their usual table, his head resting heavily in his hands, cursing the sunshine that, having been absent for the past few days, returned in all its splendour to mock his aching head.

Aramis bounded over to join him at their table, insufferably cheery.

"How are you feeling?" he asked brightly. Athos replied with a glower. Aramis beamed back at him, seemingly incensed by Athos' grumpy mood.

"Come now, it's a beautiful day," he said.

Athos stared at his companion. "How are you not tired? You were up as late as I was and were the one buying the wine last night."

"True, but I was not the one drinking it. You drink too much, mon ami," said Aramis with a grin as he ducked the punch Athos threw his way. Laughing, he handed Athos a glass of water and scanned the courtyard. "Have you seen Porthos yet this morning?"

Athos shook his head and straightened as he too surveyed those lingering in the courtyard of the garrison.

As they watched, the sound of horse hooves could be heard approaching. Athos surged to his feet immediately as the horse came into view. With an alarmed look that had Aramis' stomach dropping to his feet, Athos charged from the table, Aramis tight on his heels.

An aggravated snort greeted them. Porthos' horse, Flip, was tossing his head angrily in the garrison courtyard. He reared, pawing the air with his front legs as the stable boys drew back from the agitated horse.

"Flip," breathed Aramis as he rushed forward despite the obviously angry stallion. Athos was on his other side.

"Flip," said Athos sternly as he and Aramis approached the horse with their hands out. The horse steadied and swung his head towards Athos and glared, stamping his feet on the courtyard floor. Athos reached out his hand, palm flat. Flip snorted again and brought his nose forward to bump Athos' hand. The swordsman cautiously stroked the horse's nose as he reached forward to grasp the reins.

Porthos' saddle had slipped from the horse's back. Aramis quickly unfastened it and handed it to a waiting stable hand. Aramis hissed as he ran his hand gently along the horse's side.

"Athos, Flip's been hit," he said indicating the furrow mark on the horse's flank. The horse reared again as Aramis' hand lightly brushed the injury. Athos soothed the horse and Aramis gently wiped the blood from the animal. Handing the reins to the stable hand, Athos looked concernedly at Aramis.

"Something went wrong. We need to speak to Treville," Athos said and without another word he led Aramis up the stairs towards the Captain's office.

oOo

Athos knocked sharply before entering the office without waiting for a response. Treville looked up from his paperwork, slightly shocked at the boldness of his typically stoic lieutenant; this was an action he expected more from the more volatile Spaniard at his side.

"Something's happened to Porthos," Aramis blurted out without preamble.

"His horse returned rider-less. He seems to have been grazed by a bullet," Athos said, his eyes appraising the Captain. Treville stood at these words.

"You're certain? Porthos isn't just at a tavern somewhere?"

"Porthos wouldn't abandon his horse," Aramis said fervently.

Treville nodded, He frowned deeply, furrowing his brow as he raised his hand to stroke his chin – clearly something was troubling the Captain.

"Captain," said Athos, rousing Treville back to the present. With a sigh he looked at his men.

"Porthos was sent on a covert mission on behalf of the Crown. He was carrying a precious document to the Comte de Varone. He was to remain with the Comte until he had received a reply and then return promptly to the King."

"He was sent alone?" Athos asked, eyebrow raised.

Again, Treville frowned. "The Cardinal insisted that only one man be sent. It was to make the delivery as inconspicuous as possible."

Aramis shifted where he stood. The threat to Porthos was clearly aggravating him, and his eyes promised violence to anyone who may have threatened or injured his missing brother.

"What was in these letters?" Aramis asked.

Treville looked gravely at them. "The King has decided to reward the Comte by enlarging his estate. Porthos carried the deeds to the property of the Baron de Broule, whose lands were seized when he was hung for treason last year."

Aramis and Athos frowned. They remembered the execution of the Baron and the questionable circumstances that surrounded his arrest and sentencing. At the time, Athos, Aramis and Porthos were away on a mission, so the case and the façade of justice had fallen to the Red Guard to execute. In the end, the King was pleased thinking he had punished a traitor, further strengthening his reign under the praise (and control) of the Cardinal. That the Comte de Varone was an old friend of the Cardinal's did not escape the musketeers' notice.

"This deed," Aramis said, "It entitles the bearer to the lands?"

Treville nodded. "The King and Cardinal did not feel it necessary to stipulate the landowners name on the title…"

"Making that letter Porthos carried extremely valuable. Anyone can claim the land with that deed," said Athos.

"Making Porthos a perfect target for attack," Aramis finished.

Treville frowned even more deeply. "No one was to know what Porthos carried – not even he knew. Nor do we know if he was even able to complete the delivery. I shall need to report this to the King."

"It seems he may already be aware," said Athos as a messenger from the King arrived at the garrison gates.

oOo

The musketeers stood stunned before their King.

"The evidence does not lie, Treville," Louis said as he regarded his Captain. At his shoulder Cardinal Richelieu fought to suppress the smile that was curling his cruel lips. His intelligent eyes sparkled with malice as he glowered at the Captain and his musketeers.

"Where there is smoke, there is fire, Treville. Your musketeer stands accused of robbing from the crown. When he is caught he will be executed. I will have every man focussed on apprehending this criminal and bringing him to justice," said the King.

"Quite right, your Majesty," said the Cardinal. "An example must be set. Your justice will be fairly delivered to this treasonous musketeer."

"Sire," said Treville, casting a quick glance back at the men at his side, warning them to bottle their anger, "I know Porthos. There must be some sort of a mistake. His horse returned injured to the garrison this morning. Give us some time to investigate and retrieve what was taken."

Louis looked thoughtfully at his Captain. "Very well. You have two days Treville. After that, Porthos' life is forfeit," he said and he exited from the throne room. The Cardinal lingered only long enough to cast a smug grin at Treville and his men before sweeping after the King.

Treville turned on his heel and spun to face his men. With a warning glare he strode from the room with them on his heels. He marched down the hall and had just entered the courtyard when Athos and Aramis' patience came to an end.

"He can't be serious!"

"Porthos would never do something like this!"

"He can't do this!"

Treville turned to face his men. His hand moved immediately to console the bridge of his nose as he took in their aggravated protestations in defence of their brother.

"Unfortunately, he can do this and he can be serious," Treville said gravely as he lowered his hand from his face and locked eyes with the pair.

"Captain, you know Porthos!" cried Aramis. "You know he would die before betraying the crown! No man is more loyal or values his commission more!"

Treville's eyes flashed in warning at the dark-haired marksman. "I would trust Porthos with my life," Treville said. "The fact remains, the circumstances are not in his favour. The Comte claims that Porthos never arrived. By all accounts, it looks as though Porthos is guilty."

"You can't believe that, Captain!" Aramis protested throwing his arms out at his sides.

"Of course not!" snapped Treville, his blue eyes blazing. "That's why you two need to find him and get to the bottom of this."

Aramis lowered his hands to his hips where they rested by the handles of his pistols as he glared back at his Captain, his own dark eyes bristling with anger and determination.

"The evidence provided is purely circumstantial," Athos said, breaking the standoff between his brother and their Captain. "I sense there's something underhanded in all of this," he said.

"It reeks of the Cardinal," Aramis muttered angrily.

The Captain gave a curt nod. "I see no reason for Porthos to have run off with this missive from the King. Find him so we can prove his innocence." A stable boy approached the group leading Roger and Bella, the musketeers' horses. They mounted, still facing their Captain. "Porthos was to deliver the letters from the King to the Comte de Varone. Find him. We have two days. I will try to buy us more time."

oOo

Athos and Aramis rode from the palace gates towards the Comte de Varone's Paris home. As they approached the part of the city known as Marais, Aramis' eyes continuously swept the rich sprawling streets and doorways as they rode past.

He suddenly leapt from his horse and stooped before the mouth of an alleyway that was partially obscured from the main road. Pulling out his dagger, Aramis dug into a darkened part of the street.

"Blood," he muttered raising his blade to show Athos.

Athos frowned. "That alley is hidden from the main road. An attacker could easily lie in wait before launching their ambush."

"This is a good neighbourhood. It's unlikely Porthos was attacked without someone seeing something," Aramis said.

"True," said Athos. "The blood may not even be from Porthos. Come. The home is not much further. We shall need to confirm for ourselves whether Porthos reached his destination or not before we can assume the worst."

oOo

It was dark. Too dark. Dark and damp.

The cold stone floor and walls were hard against Porthos' back and left him chilled to the bone. There were no windows in the cellar, but there were manacles and Porthos growled in frustration once again as he pulled at the device that had him chained to the wall. He hissed slightly as the metal cut into his wrists.

It seemed he had been searched before being imprisoned, and so had none of the tools he often carried about his person that would have made picking the lock on his restraints a possibility. Without his tools he would need to use the key – or miraculously pull himself free somehow.

The lack of windows meant that keeping track of time was also impossible. Porthos was almost certain he had been imprisoned for an eternity, though realistically it may have only been a few hours – and even that was hard to confirm as his aching head reminded him. The lump on his forehead was one of the only clues as to how he had arrived in this cellar.

He had awoken to find himself chained to the wall; if he wanted to, Porthos could almost count time by the rhythm the lump was pulsating. His face was stiff where the blood had dried on it and there was an ache in his side making breathing difficult which hinted at some ribs being at least bruised or cracked if not broken.

Porthos closed his eyes and lay his head against the cool wall hoping to relieve some of the pain from the lump. "Think," he muttered. "How did I get into this mess?"

He had been returning to the garrison…

No, that wasn't right. He had only set out from the garrison in the late afternoon. Captain Treville had requested that he deliver something of great value to the King as covertly as possible. Something...a letter, Porthos remembered.

Did he deliver it? Did he make it that far?

He remembered riding through the stately neighbourhood. He remembered the eyes of the people – even the servants – who seemed to watch him warily. He shook his head and regretted the action instantly as the dark world swirled around him.

The letter…he wouldn't have surrendered the letter without a fight.

Feeling again the hot pulsing of his forehead and the pain that flared in his side every time he inhaled, it seemed likely that some kind of fight had taken place.

He remembered nearing the home.

The sun was setting.

He was intending to meet Athos and Aramis at the tavern later for dinner. His stomach grumbled, as it had then, thinking about the chicken stew that he knew was to be served that night. For a second Porthos wondered how long they would keep him imprisoned and if they would be feeding him. He would typically try to eat a good meal first if he was intending to be captured.

He remembered that Flip was antsy. The streets were emptying as people went home for the evening or set about preparing the meals for their masters and mistresses.

"Flip," breathed Porthos as he remembered the gunshot. It was unexpected and Porthos had no time to determine where it had come from when suddenly he was launched over the end of his horse when Flip reared. He had landed hard and had felt the boot to his side before he had been able to correctly determine which way was up. "So, there was a fight," he muttered, turning so his back was pressed against the wall again.

He remembered smashing two foes together and delivering a vicious blow to another as he tried to regain his feet. That was all he could remember of the fight though. After that was just excruciating pain and darkness as something made contact with his head and stars exploded before his eyes before fading to black.

And here he was, in this too dark darkness, cold, sore and chained to a wall.

He hoped that he was still in Paris. He hoped that Athos and Aramis would be able to find him soon. He hoped that Flip was alright. Mostly though, at that moment, as the ache in his stomach made itself known again, he hoped he could escape the confines of his cell…and he hoped his captors might consider feeding him.

oOo