Darkness and silence enveloped the scene as seconds, then minutes, trickled past. After a few minutes shouts and screams permeated the air outside, but inside Clement's fishing warehouse, there was no noise- Athos' eyes flickered opened, before he blinked as dust entered them, making his eyes water.

He groaned out as he tried to move himself, so for now he settled for his awkward position leaning up against a piece of broken ceiling- closing his eyes again he coughed into the dust cloud, his ribs immediately firing with pain. Sucking in as much of a breath as his broken ribs would allow he opened his dust-encrusted eyes again and looked round.

The explosion had torn the building they were in completely asunder- lengths of broken floorboard and ceiling alike peppered the floor, haphazardly leaning against tables and the broken brick walls. Dust coated the entire floor, and a great cloud was still hovering in the air, making Athos' eyes sore as he looked around for his brothers in the wreckage.

'D'artagnan?' he called, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. 'Aramis? Porthos?' he groaned again, shaking his head as pain washed over him.

'Hnnnmm.' He heard a moan from somewhere close to him- he turned awkwardly, throwing out a hand to probe the darkness around him.

'Aramis?' he called out, noticing for the first time a figure, bathed in brown dust, lying trapped under a pile of broken floorboard and ceiling. 'Mis?'

'Mmmmnn...'Aramis groaned out again as he craned his neck to look for Athos. 'H-here...'

'Oh God- talk to me, are you alright?' Athos asked, moving as much as his ribs would allow. He hitched in a breath as pain flourished in his shoulder too; he looked across at it and almost balked as he saw his shoulder was now at a very peculiar angle, obviously dislocated.

'No...not al-alright...' Aramis groaned out again, a small whine of pain escaping as he tried to move his right leg. It answered with a thrill of agony, and Aramis looked round to find it, along with the rest of his body, pinioned under a heavy piece of ceiling that had fallen on top of him when he fell through the first floor.

'Quite sure my leg is broken, and I''m trapped under this blasted ceiling.' he reported, closing his eyes and laying his head against the dusty floor. 'How about you?' he asked, voice muffled as he tried to breathe through the pain.

'Broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder...' Athos replied,pain flourishing with each word and breath, 'Where's Porthos and D'artagnan?'

'I...' Aramis' voice trailed off as he lifted his head back up, eyes wide in horror and worry as he looked around for his friends. 'Porthos!' he called, before coughing as he inhaled the cloud of dust.

'D'artagnan!'

The two of them listened for a few seconds, panic rising as all they heard was silence. Athos looked round- the back of the building was still intact, although the glass had been smashed from their frames and the plaster was now exposed at some points. This meant that the explosion, or whatever it was, had happened by the docks at the front of the building.

'Porthos!' Aramis called out again. 'Talk to me!' his voice cracked as fear encircled his throat. He had to be alright, he just had to be...

'What the bloody hell happened?!' suddenly Porthos' voice boomed into the wreckage, loud, brash and the most beautiful sound Aramis had ever heard in his life.

He gave a high, breathy laugh and shook his head.'I have never been so glad to hear your voice, my friend!' he called. 'How are you?'

'A bit of wall hit me on the head, but apart from that I'm good,' Porthos called back, blinking blood from his eyes as he looked up at the afternoon sky, where once there had been ceiling.

'I'll be the judge of that!' Aramis replied, still trying to locate him in the cloud of dust as it slowly began to settle.

'Where's D'artagnan?' Athos asked, looking round. 'Where is he?'

'Come on, lad! Talk to us!' Porthos yelled, before dizziness enveloped him and he had to lay back and try not to be sick.

'There!' Athos called, nodding to a prone figure just ahead of him and Aramis. The Gascon was unconscious and bleeding from a cut to his head. 'D'artagnan wake up!' He called, to no avail- the youngest Musketeer was facing the two of them, yet his face was caked in dust and was flecked with blood; his eyes were closed, out for the count.

'What the hell happened out there?' Porthos repeated his question into the room as he tried to heave himself into a sitting position. His head span and he had to swallow hard to stop himself heaving his breakfast onto the broken floorboards next him. Maybe he wasn't alright after all, he mused.

'Don't know...' Aramis muttered, before he groaned in pain as he tried to edge himself from under the fallen ceiling. There was an ominous sounding creak for somewhere above him- he awkwardly looked up, blinking dust of his eyes as he saw a large beam was also pressed up against the fallen ceiling...if he moved even an inch it would fall, certainly crushing him and perhaps even Athos in the process.

'Some sort of explosion,' he added before resting his face on the floor, hoping he didn't get a splinter in his cheek.

'But from what?' Athos replied, frowning. 'What could cause this much damage?'

They both heard Porthos huff in confusion before silence fell once more. They could hear movement outside, could hear shouting and hollering from various people as they tried to look for loved ones and friends in the debris.

From Porthos' position, leant up against a broken wall, he could see outside and the pandemonium that was transpiring- he could count at least for other flattened buildings and warehouses in his eyeline, along with some upright buildings with the glass windows smashed in.

Aramis looked up as he heard a cough in front of him- he looked instantly to D'artagnan, but frowned as he saw the Gascon was still unconscious. He turned with a groan and saw Clement rising from the dust, rubbing his head.

'You alright?' he called over- no matter what their job was before, Clement and his men were still members of the public, and they needed to be looked after. 'Clement?'

'What...what the hell happened?' the older man asked, before he sneezed and brushed dust from his huge moustache.

'Explosion, down by the docks I'd guess,' Athos filled him in, before he levered himself into a semi-sitting position and looked round again.

'Explosion? From what?' Clement's voice was seriously jarring to Aramis, despite him knowing he had to be the authority figure in this situation.

'We don't know...' he muttered, before growling in frustration and pain as he leg throbbed in pain. Surely people should be here now, to help rescue them or at least try to help?

As he watched Athos crawl slowly and painfully across to D'artagnan he cast his mind back to earlier in the day, to any sort of clue as to how this happened.

It came back to him in a dizzying flash- it had to be the only reason, he figured. There was no other explanation.

'The gunpowder.' he muttered, before coughing into the floor; his back and ribs ached with each expulsion of breath, causing his breaths to hitch.

'Eh?' Porthos called back, a confused tone to his voice.

'Remember we saw those barrels of gunpowder being loaded into the dock? They must have exploded.'

'Gunpowder doesn't just explode.' Clement replied, his voice akin to that of talking to a small child.

'I know that!' Aramis growled, watching as the older man stood up, rubbing his head as he looked around. 'There must have been a fire, or a spark...'

'Thomas?' Clement called, trying to spot his son in the debris. 'Thomas?'

'Clement you need to go and get help- this building could fall at any minute, we ne-'

'I need to find my son!' Clement snapped, eyes flashing at the men.

'We'll all be dead if you don't go and raise the alarm!' Athos snarled, a hand on D'artagnan's neck as he checked his pulse.

'Is he alright?' Aramis muttered, a cold dread filling him. The seconds trickled by painfully; each musketeer held their breath as they watched the two men.

Finally Athos sat back, relief in his eyes as he looked across to Aramis. 'He's alive.'

'Thank God...' Aramis whispered, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them and turning back to Clement.

'If you go and find help we can all help to find your son!' he said, trying to keep his tone light but authoritative. 'Please.'

'I need to find him- he could be outside, he could have managed to get out...' Clement babbled, and Aramis could see the bubbling panic and fear setting in, surpassing any anger malevolence to the Musketeers.

'If you help us we can help you!' he called, shaking his head as Clement merely walked backwards, his eyes wide as he looked round the room. He stepped over broken bricks and snapped floorboards; the sound of crunching glass set Aramis' teeth on edge. 'I need to find my son first! He could be dead for all you know!'

'Clement!' The Medic shouted, his leg protesting as he tried to slowly edged forwards. 'Clement I know you're scared but we need your help!' his own eyes widened as he saw the older man stumble for the door, now slightly warped and bereft of glass. 'Clement you need to get help!' his voice hitched in panic as Clement did no more than disappear through the door, slamming it closed behind him.

Dust slowly fell from the ceiling as the force of the slamming door knocked it...silence descended once again.

'Well...' Athos groaned, leaning backwards, his eyes squeezed shut as his broken ribs moved agonisingly. His shoulder throbbed under his uniform, but, looking round at the creaking building, he knew that at the moment they had bigger things to worry about.

'…..What do we do now?'

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