A/N: Hi guys! Back with another piece of fun! This was inspired by the three wise monkeys (hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil) and wondering how our heroes would fare if each (temporarily) lost one of their senses and had to work together to get out of a sticky situation. Humor (and h/c) ensues.

Thanks Aini Nufire for being such an awesome beta!


Part 1: Athos

It was just as well that Athos couldn't speak; watching the Spanish soldiers dragging Porthos and Aramis in, he didn't know whether he would have laughed at the absurd inevitability that they would show up, or given them both a piece of his mind for getting caught in a foolish rescue attempt.

"Get your hands off 'im!" Porthos snarled as Aramis was torn away, which was comfortingly familiar.

Aramis had a hastily wrapped bandage over his eyes, which was neither comforting nor familiar.

"Alright, I'm going," Aramis huffed towards his captors, followed up by something in Spanish; the little of the language that Athos knew was a combination of the polite words he'd learned as a child and the rude words he'd learned from Aramis.

Aramis wasn't using the polite ones.

Watching with arched brow, Athos waited until his two friends had been secured to the wall by manacles attached to a length of chain before deciding that if this was a rescue, it was going very poorly indeed.

The soldiers left with a smirk and a few muttered words among themselves—also nothing polite—and then Athos immediately gestured towards Aramis's bandaged face and looked to Porthos.

"W-?" he managed to wheeze, but his throat was too bruised and damaged to form the actual words. Porthos wasn't looking at him, but watching Aramis anxiously instead. He didn't respond to Athos's attempt to find out what was going on, which the swordsman found to be rather rude.

Aramis, however, straightened and cocked his head. "Athos?" he called. "Is that you?"

Unable to answer, Athos knocked one of his own chains against the damp stone floor.

Aramis smirked. "Are we playing two for yes, one for no?"

With a roll of his eyes, Athos knocked the chains twice. Immediately, Aramis's face spread into a wide grin nearly hidden by the bandages. "You see, Porthos, I told you this would work. Look, we found him!"

It seemed almost laughably optimistic to call whatever their plan had been a "success", given the number of chained musketeers now occupying the cell had tripled in the last two moments. Athos's frown returned to Porthos, concerned by his friend's silence as much as the condition of Aramis's face, but the bigger Musketeer only yelled,

"Aramis, Athos is in here, too! We found 'im!"

Well, that seemed like a superfluous acknowledgement if ever Athos had heard one.

"Yes, my friend, this has been established," Aramis retorted with a sigh. "But why isn't he saying anything?"

"What?" Porthos shouted.

"I said, why isn't he saying any- oh, forget it, he can't hear a word I'm saying. Athos, get Porthos's attention, will you? He needs to tell me what condition you're in."

Athos waved his arms as much as the manacles would allow, finally resorting to plucking a button off his torn shirt and chucking it at Porthos's head. Though the swordsman half expected it to go unfelt through Porthos's hard skull, his friend turned towards him with a frown.

"Did you say somethin'?" Porthos shouted.

"He can't say anything, that's the point," Aramis groused. Porthos didn't hear him.

Athos shook his head and gestured towards his throat. Porthos's face darkened even more, which would have been terrifying if Athos had been a foe rather than a friend. Porthos's scowl was equally dangerous as Aramis's smile. Shifting over as close to Athos as he could get with the chains in the way, Porthos tipped Athos's chin to examine his neck.

He swore. "No wonder you can't talk, all bruised up like that. What did they do to you?"

Pointing towards the door to indicate the soldiers that had left, Athos then lifted his hands to his throat in a pantomime of being strangled. Porthos's fist tightened.

"Those bastards-"

"What? What happened?" Aramis called from the other wall. "Porthos, you have to use your words!"

Porthos didn't hear him.

"I'm gonna tear 'em limb from limb-"

"Why, what did they do?"

"-an' then I'm gonna burn what's left, for that."

"For what? Athos, por el amor de Dios, will you make him tell me what's happened?"

Athos rolled his eyes, tapping Porthos's shoulder to pause the tirade, then pointed back to Aramis. Porthos's brow creased.

"What?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh yeah, 'im. Well, we were tryin' to find you, but it's a big castle, y'know?"

"What? No, don't tell him the story yet, I want to know how he's doing!"

Athos nodded at Porthos to continue, wanting to know exactly how his friends had gotten to be in their own predicaments.

"Well, I guess they figured there'd be a rescue comin'. One of the doors was booby-trapped. Exploded in Aramis's face when he went to open it. You shoulda heard 'im carryin' on, you know how he is about his face, an' what are the ladies of Paris gonna say-"

"That's not what I said! If you're going to tell the story, at least tell it right! Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Porthos didn't hear him.

Athos nodded again, leaning around Porthos to wince in sympathy, not that Aramis would see it. He prayed the explosion hadn't done any lasting damage and that the sharpshooter's eyes would heal; all jocularity aside, he knew Aramis was much more concerned with his eyesight than the face that had instigated adultery from one side of France to the other.

Assessment of Aramis complete, Athos looked back to Porthos and pointed to his ears with a questioning expression.

"Oh, uh… yeah, I can't hear you," Porthos admitted, as though that had remotely been in question. "Guess even the Spaniards couldn't miss that explosion. I only had time to bandage 'im up before they came pourin' in. Not much of a fair fight, what with havin' to keep 'em away from Aramis. One of 'em boxed my ears pretty good."

"Eardrums are ruptured," Aramis supplied.

"I think it must have ruptured my eardrums or somethin'."

"His head's going to be ringing for a while."

"Got this sorta muted ringin', but can't hear anything else." Porthos offered Athos a toothy grin. "Reckon next time Treville tries to give me stable duty, I can just pretend I didn't hear 'im?"

Athos didn't need any words to answer that, just shot Porthos his driest look.

Aramis was even less impressed, which was saying quite a lot, as he yanked against the chains. "Damn it, how is he, Porthos? We came all this way to rescue him from the Spanish and now I can't even see him!"

Taking pity on the blinded musketeer, Athos grabbed Porthos's arm and pointed towards Aramis, then at his own throat, before extending a hand towards him as an invitation to speak. Porthos blinked and his expression cleared.

"Oh! Right, Aramis, it looks like they must've strangled 'im. His throat's all bruised up, but aside from that, I think he's okay?" He raised his eyebrows in question, to which Athos nodded.

Behind them, Aramis took up an impressive display of bilingualism in which he cursed their captors in both tongues. "Much as I've wanted to do the same thing myself at times, I'm rather peeved with them for actually doing it. Whatever did you do to make them so mad?"

Athos mimed buttoning his lips closed, then again gestured to Porthos to relay the message. Without having heard the question, Porthos was left to frown and hedge,

"Er… he says… he… can't speak?"

"I know that! Porthos, have I ever told you how infuriating you are?"

Crossing his arms, Athos leaned back into a position of ease and shook his head, buttoning his mouth shut again. Porthos grinned.

"Oh, no, I think he's sayin' he didn't speak. Wouldn't answer their questions, I guess. Yeah, that looks like Athos bein' all stubborn, guess they weren't amused."

Athos nodded, sitting back up. In any case, if this was going to become a rescue at any point, it needed to happen sooner rather than later. Though all three of them had been in worse positions, he didn't relish the thought of what those soldiers could do to his friends in their vulnerable state. Athos held out his chained hands towards Porthos with raised brow.

"Yeah, we got it covered. Aramis, I'm comin' back over to you. They didn't take your field medic bag, right?"

"No, I think it's still here."

More clanking of chains as Aramis felt around his waist until he found the leather pouch kept close at hand in case of emergencies. They tended to have a lot of emergencies. Setting the bag down on the grimy floor, Aramis undid the flaps with clumsy movements.

"I got it," Porthos said, back at Aramis's side and nudging him out of the way.

"It's the one that looks like a knife."

"Now which one is it?"

"Why am I even bothering?"

"This one?"

"Well, I suppose if I could see which one you were talking about, I could answer yes or no," Aramis drawled. He held out his hand, accepting the tool that Porthos had selected, and ran his fingers around the contours. "Yes, this one. Hold on." The marksman slid the scalpel blade away from its handle, revealing a slim pick that had been incased within. "Here, you'll be able to do it faster, being able to see."

Porthos took the extended pick, making quick work of Aramis's manacles and then slipping back over to Athos to free him as well. As soon as the chains fell at last from Athos's wrists, he took the pick from Porthos and swiftly set him loose. Movement came slowly when he tried to stand, as long as he'd been a prisoner. Fortunately, he was quite used to having to stumble around, though this time the usual ache in his head was replaced by the pain in his throat where he still felt the soldiers' hands nearly crushing his windpipe.

Athos shook this off, though; they needed to leave as quickly as possible. They could worry about healing up once they were safely away from this place.

"Alright," Aramis said, tucking his medic pouch away again and rising confidently to his feet. "Let's get out of here." He strode boldly forward, forcing Athos to lunge over to grab him and turn the musketeer in the direction of the door rather than the far wall, before he walked into solid stone. "Ah, yes. This is the way."

Athos was desperate to ask if there was actually a plan here, or if they were going with the other option of making it up as they went and hoping for the best. To be fair, that tactic had served them well on occasion. Releasing Aramis's arm, he spread his hands out to Porthos in a gesture of questioning.

"Don't worry, we got a plan!" Porthos yelled.

"Thank you, now we can all be deaf together," Aramis griped. "Athos, as soon as that door opens, Porthos will take out the sentry. I'll get his gun and you can have his sword, and we'll fight our way out of here. D'Artagnan is standing by with the horses out of sight. Got it?"

There was a pause as Athos stared at Aramis. That was the plan, in its entirety?

Weakened by over a week of captivity, their escape relied on his ability to even hold a sword, let alone wield it against an entire castle of enemies, side by side with a blind man aiming a gun?

Good, then. He'd been a little worried they'd come bursting in half-cocked without any ideas for getting back out again. Athos nodded.

Aramis huffed. "Porthos, is he saying yes or no?"

Porthos couldn't hear him.

Grabbing Porthos's shoulder, Athos gave him an exaggerated nod and pointed to Aramis.

"Oh, eh… he says yeah, Aramis. About whatever you said."

"Excellent. Get ready, Porthos- oh, right, Athos, make sure he's ready."

Athos gave Porthos's arm a squeeze, both of them falling back a pace to allow the door room to open. Aramis started yelling something in Spanish; Athos could just make out that it was some kind of plea for help from the nearest sentry. He nodded approval. An old classic. Excellent choice.

From somewhere outside, Athos heard loud footsteps and the rattle of keys.

Time to get out of there.