Well here's the next one. Thank you to fariedragon, dg101 and INSOMNIAC for the reviews on the last chapter.

Musketeers not mine :-(

Porthos reined in his horse, pulling it to a halt; the others followed suit, looking at him.

"It's getting dark, we have to stop soon." He looked ahead to where there was a dense patch of woodland and the trees seemed to press in on the road. "Besides, I don't fancy trying that at night."

"You scared of the dark?" Aramis chuckled.

"Shut up." Porthos scowled at his friend and Aramis laughed as he swung down from his horse.

D'Artagnan leapt lightly to the ground and crouched down to look at the tracks in the last of the light. They had ridden hard that day, slowing their pace on occasion rather than stopping to rest the horses. It appeared to have worked; they had gained some ground and were now just over half a day behind. He looked up at the woodland ahead; it gave off an ill feeling and he felt that somehow they would find something there that they did not wish to.

Clara watched Athos as his fever raged; bathing his head and listening as he mumbled in his sleep. His dreams came and went and she soothed him through each one with gentle touches and soft words and as he dreamt she remembered.

"Keep your arm steady." He leant against the wall of the barn, watching as she aimed the pistol. Thomas stood beside her and reached out a hand to lift her arm a little. It had been ten years since Athos had rescued her from the river and he had taken it upon himself to keep her safe. Initially the solemn boy had seen it as a duty, but in time she had won him over and they had become firm friends. She had been watching the boys practice with their pistols when Athos had turned; offering her the one he had just loaded.

"Here." He had returned her smile as she scrambled forwards, her hand reaching out for the pistol.

Athos cried out, breaking her from her reverie and she reached a hand towards him. His fever seemed to be breaking but this dream seemed worse than the others and he cried out again, his head tossing from side to side.

"Shh, Athos, hush now." She froze as she heard the unmistakable sound of hoof beats on the road and loud voices. Athos moaned again and Clara looked around desperately as the voices stopped outside the barn. Quickly she placed a hand over his mouth, muffling his moans. With her other hand she picked up the pistol.

She watched as the door rattled and then opened. In the bright moonlight she could see men and the glint of weapons in their hands. One of them stepped forwards and she recognised the man behind him as one of those who had attacked them earlier.

"Well well what have we here?" The one in front smiled; he was young and might have been handsome if it wasn't for the vicious sneer on his face and the cold look in his eyes.

"Don't come any closer." Her hand was steady as she stood and aimed the pistol at him. His gaze dropped past her and his smile broadened.

"A musketeer if I'm not mistaken and his little wench to protect him." The men behind him laughed and he stepped forwards, halting when he saw the look in her eyes.

"Touch him and I'll kill you." She raised her head defiantly and the moonlight illuminated her face, clearly lighting the bruise across her cheek. He looked at her and realisation came into his eyes.

"You're the little bitch Bertrand marked. I think he wants to see you again, your musketeer too." He motioned and one of the other men moved forwards. Clara did not hesitate as she turned the gun towards the man and pulled the trigger. He fell to the floor, his lifeblood bubbling through the hole in his chest. Clara looked at the smirk on the boy's face and stepped back as he moved towards her. She swung the pistol at him and he caught her arm, knocking the pistol to the floor and twisting her arm up between her shoulders. She froze as his other hand closed about her throat.

"Clara." The boy's head turned as he heard the musketeer mumble the name. He felt the girl's head turn towards the sound. He thought for a moment and began to laugh as he realised who he had found. Roughly he pulled the girl around so that she was facing her friend.

"So you're Clara. Bertrand talks about you, the one that got away because you were the favourite. Tell me what his name is."

"No." Clara knew that if Bertrand talked about her then he had most likely mentioned Athos. What they might do if they found out who he was didn't bear thinking about.

The boy jerked his head towards the barely conscious musketeer and one of the men moved forwards, pulling a knife from his belt. He knelt down and pressed the blade against the soldier's throat.

"Tell me, the right name might save him." His hand tightened around Clara's throat.

She looked down; Athos had opened his eyes, pulled back to consciousness by the gunshot. She knew that even if he had been strong enough to struggle, the knife would have stopped him. His breath hitched as the blade broke the skin, leaving a crimson line.

"Athos." Her voice came out as a strangled cry and the boy laughed again.

"Put him on the cart, Bertrand will want him alive. She can walk behind." Some of the men moved towards Athos and the boy dragged Clara from the barn, twisting her wrist viciously. She struggled as he pushed her towards a small cart and pulled a rope from the back of it. He had just finished tying her wrists together and securing the rope to the back of the cart when the other men emerged from the barn. Two of them slung Athos onto the back of the cart and tied his hands, another led his horse, the noble animal tossing its' head as they pulled it along with them.

The sky was just turning to grey as the men made their way along the road, taking their two captives with them.

Well there we go, couldn't resist getting them into a spot more bother :-)