Chapter Eleven

They reached the clearing in time to see Aramis pushing Ruiz onto his back. Porthos wanted to rush forward but Athos stopped him.

'I think he needs to finish this himself.'

They watched as Aramis punched the man three times only walking forward as the marksman pulled himself up and moved to sit a few feet away. Porthos was the first to reach him, crouching down to check his friend. He gently reached out to take Aramis' hand and inspected the wounds.

D'Artagnan helped Athos to sit down beside Aramis, then went to deal with Ruiz. The man was still unconscious but they would not be taking any chances. Athos watched approvingly as d'Artagnan firmly bound Ruiz's wrists.

Athos found himself being examined by Aramis, who was trying to check the wound on his side.

'Will you take a moment to let Porthos see to your injuries?' he said rolling his eyes, 'I am covered in enough of my own blood, I do not need yours added to it.'

Porthos pulled Aramis off Athos and used his bandana to wrap around the cut to his palm. Athos pulled off his scarf and handed it to Porthos who then wrapped the cut on Aramis' forearm. Aramis glared at them both throughout.

Once the ministrations were complete Athos allowed Aramis to look at his side.

'It will need stitches,' Aramis concluded.

'I know that, which is why we needed to come and get you,' replied Athos.

They looked over as Ruiz moaned, d'Artagnan nudged him with his boot, eliciting another moan, 'I think he's awake, we can go.'

MMMM

Ruiz was shoved into a chair in the corner of the room, the younger man stood to his left leaning against the wall, a gun in his hand aimed roughly in his direction. Ruiz understood he was not to move. He watched as Aramis and the musketeer he thought had died lowered their friend onto one of the beds.

The big musketeer had taken great delight in hauling Ruiz to his feet back in the clearing saying, 'remember me?' as he did so.

Now his two former captives were working together on their injured comrade. They had stripped him of his shirt and were busy cleaning the gunshot wound. The injured man, Athos, he had heard them call him, had moaned in pain as water and alcohol were poured over his side. The big musketeer had firmly held him down.

Despite the injuries he had suffered, Aramis had insisted to the others that Athos' need was greater. After he had quickly wrapped a clean bandage around his palm he had threaded a needle and begun stitching the wound. Athos had involuntarily fought them, but his attempts to stop the continued pain of the stitching had been weak and the man had eventually passed out.

Aramis worked calmly and quickly to close the wound, his stitches neat and careful.

Ruiz realised that what he had been doing was wrong. He realised that Pottier was wrong. The man had told them that common people did not appreciate the Church and its teachings in the same way that they did. Ruiz now knew, simply by watching these four musketeers that, what he had been doing was against the Churches teaching. He realised that he had been about to murder an innocent, good man. Aramis' death would not have helped their cause in any way.

Aramis had finished stitching the wound. He and the big musketeer wrapped a fresh bandage around Athos' torso then covered him with a blanket.

'Can you watch them both whilst I deal with him,' asked the big musketeer looking at the young man with the gun.

The young man nodded. Satisfied, his comrade pulled Aramis up and steered him out of the room and along the corridor. The young musketeer moved to sit on the other bed, where he could watch both his captive and Athos at the same time in comfort.

MMMM

'This really isn't necessary, you could have done this in there,' said Aramis as Porthos pushed him into their room.

'I know, but you need to be away from that man,' said Porthos.

'No, I don't,' said Aramis.

Porthos paused as he was helping Aramis out of his doublet, looking at his friend quizzically.

'I remember now. I remember what happened to us when we were kidnapped. I think seeing Ruiz again brought it back.'

Aramis allowed Porthos to tend to the wounds on his arm and hand. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Porthos worked.

'I don't feel the weight of it anymore. I think catching Ruiz has…' Aramis paused, searching for the words, '…cleared my head. It was cathartic.'

Porthos smiled, he had thought Aramis would not want to be near Ruiz any longer, he had underestimated his friend.

MMMM

D'Artagnan moved across the room to check on Athos when he moaned. His friend did not stir further, d'Artagnan guessed he would remain unconscious for a while longer.

A small creak behind him made him turn. Ruiz was right behind him, he lashed out at the young musketeer knocking him hard on the temple. A flash of light splashed across his vision before he collapsed to the floor. He was aware of Ruiz rushing to the door, pulling it open, and disappearing.

D'Artagnan blinked to clear his vision, he pushed himself up with difficulty. For a moment, he thought he might pass out. He waited for a few seconds until the room stopped spinning. He stumbled out into the corridor and, using the wall for support, made his way to Porthos and Aramis' room. He crashed through the door.

Both men looked up, startled at his sudden appearance.

'Ruiz…hit me…gone…sorry,' he managed to say.

Aramis had grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him. He was steered back to his and Athos' room and forced to sit on his bed. Aramis quickly checked on Athos before turning to leave saying as he went, 'stay with Athos, we'll get Ruiz back.'

Before d'Artagnan could protest Aramis was gone, following the quickly disappearing Porthos down the stairs.

MMMM

Ruiz charged down the stairs and across the taverns bar, he ripped the door open and rushed out. He knew where he was going. He did not know if he would make it. The young musketeer had been trying to get up as he had left the room, he knew that Aramis and the big musketeer would be after him. He had to be quick.

As he rushed along the road he was aware of them coming after him. Where he was heading was not far. He ran as fast as he could, he knew he was not as fit as the two musketeers who followed him but he would reach the river first.

MMMM

Porthos was just ahead of Aramis as they cleared the last house in the village. Ruiz was not far ahead of them now and he was slowing down. Aramis wanted to recapture the man, he wanted to see Ruiz brought to justice. Wanted to see him pay for what he had done, not only to Porthos and himself, but for his part in the whole fiasco with the zealots. Innocent people had been killed, and Ruiz was there, helping organise a group of misguided zealots.

When Aramis realised what Ruiz was doing he sped up. Ruiz intended to throw himself into the river. He had seen the river, swollen from recent rain, when he had been searching for the zealots' camp. He knew it was fast flowing, with large rocks dotted about. To jump in at the point Ruiz was heading for would mean certain death. Ruiz wanted to take a coward's way out, he did not want to face his crimes.

Ruiz reached the river, they were not going to reach him in time. Porthos was literally a few paces behind. Ruiz wasted no time, he jumped.

MMMM

Porthos knew about the river and had worked out what Ruiz was doing. As they neared the river he was aware of Aramis speeding up. But they were too late, Ruiz had jumped.

As he skidded to a halt on the edge of the steep bank he had to grab Aramis around the waist to prevent him inadvertently following Ruiz into the river. Aramis stumbled right on the edge of the bank sending stones into the river.

They watched as Ruiz was tossed about, smashing into two boulders in quick succession. His head smacked hard on both occasions, he was almost certainly dead.

Porthos realised he was still holding onto Aramis, he let go. They were both breathing hard. Porthos bent at the waist, resting his hands on his knees. Aramis turned from the river and with his hands on his hips looked skywards shaking his head.

'Damn,' he said, then he sighed.

Porthos stood up straight, he briefly rested his hand on the marksman's shoulder and squeezed it.

'I agree,' Porthos said. He glanced at Aramis, expecting to see him slipping into a maudlin state. Aramis looked relived. Perhaps this was something the troubled musketeer needed. The man who had caused his friend to have panic attacks and prevented him from sleeping was gone. The fact that Aramis' memory of their kidnapping had returned was a good sign. He hoped that his friend would finally be back to his normal self.

With nothing else to be done, they walked back to the tavern.

MMMM

Athos opened his eyes slowly. D'Artagnan was sat on the edge of his bed, but he was looking anxiously towards the bedroom door which stood open.

'Why is your face bruised?'

D'Artagnan looked down at him, 'I wasn't paying attention, Ruiz got away. They went after him.'

Athos tried to sit up, d'Artagnan helped him.

'How long have they been gone?'

'A while now.'

With perfect timing, the two missing men appeared at the door.

'Threw himself into the river,' Porthos said.

'Dead?' asked d'Artagnan.

'Yes,' replied Aramis, 'he was determined.'

Porthos sat on a chair and grabbed a bottle of wine, he poured himself a generous cup. He looked over to Aramis who had remained standing just inside the doorway. Athos watched as Aramis glanced over at Porthos and nodded almost imperceptibly.

'I wanted to say…that…'Aramis paused, he took a breath then continued, 'I was affected, more than I let on. Our captivity, it…'

He trailed off, Athos could tell he was struggling to get through what he wanted to say.

'I should have told you about it. I should have told you that I was not sleeping and having flashbacks. I could have put you in danger…I'm sorry.'

Athos let out a breath he did not know he was holding. Finally, Aramis had admitted he had been having issues. He knew it must have been difficult.

Porthos rose from his chair, walked across the room to Aramis and grabbed him in a brief embrace. He put his arm around his friend's shoulder and practically pulled him across the room and pushed him down to sit on the other bed, thrusting his own cup of wine at him. Aramis took it with a small smile.

'You could have told us, we would not have judged you,' said Athos, 'it was obvious there was something bothering you. I would rather you did not keep anything like this to yourself in the future.'

Aramis bowed his head slightly at the comment, 'I know,' he said.

MMMM

Aramis lay in his bed. He wondered if he would sleep. The events of the last few days and weeks ran through his mind. It had been difficult. He had denied to his friend, his brothers, that he was affected by his captivity. He felt guilty for potentially putting them in danger by his own inability to speak up about his issues.

When he had finally spoken about the flashbacks and the panic attack the others had been understanding. They had let him speak about it without interruption. Athos had been disappointed, but he had made it clear that he understood the difficulty that Aramis had talking about the issues.

He had felt relieved to finally speak, out loud, about the flashbacks. He had described how they had made him feel. He told them about the sleepless nights. The dreams, waking frequently, not knowing where he was. He even told them what had happened between him and Porthos when he had been attacked the day before by the zealots.

Ruiz and Pottier clearly believed in what they were doing, but what they were doing was wrong. Their actions had affected so many people. They had killed people, they had stolen irreplaceable items. Ruiz had been instrumental in his and Porthos kidnapping.

Now that they were all gone, and his memory of the kidnapping had returned, Aramis knew that he could move on. Perhaps he had been stuck in his perpetual loop of flashbacks, because they were still going about their strange quest. Now they were gone. Could he move on?

The zealots, were religious. But they were not faithful to God in the same way that he was. They had taken the teachings out of context. Aramis was at peace with the fact that the zealots were wrong in many ways. He would not let their behaviour affect him anymore.

Porthos, lying on the bed next to him, was breathing evenly, Aramis was not sure if he was asleep. He wondered if his friend was waiting for him to fall asleep. Waiting to see if he was still being plagued by the dreams. He had not slept properly for weeks. At least not without the help of the sleeping draughts.

He felt himself relax, his eyes closed. Tonight, he now knew, he would sleep. And he would sleep well.

The End

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for all the lovely reviews.