Hey guys! As the replies to reviews seem kinda wonky right now, I'll just answer here. Before I start, you should all know that you're beyond awesome! Also, the next chapter turned out a lot longer than anticipated. I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. Please let me know what you think!

at Vestal46: Thanks a lot for your reviews. I'm really glad you like my story.

at FierGascon: Again a big thank you for your reviews. Angst in ch10 and creepy in chapter 9 is what I aimed for, so I'm happy that worked. And I hope I caught all the accountants wandering around in my story, thanks for the tipp. ;)

at Debbie: I'm afraid I don't know any Dirty Harry movies, but I love your reviews. They continue to make my day each time you post one. And yes, the drugs will have some unpredicted side-effects on the road to recovery. Do you think I could read the story you mentioned? I haven't found it yet on fanfic.

at pallysdeeks: Thank you for taking the time to review! I agree, being in a nightmare yet not - it's a perfect description. I hope you stay with the story, your anticipation prompts me to write faster.

at Awesome-Sauce-Eater: No worries, only one reader figured it out. And yes, that's a question we'll be answering later in the story. Thanks for mentioning it, reminded me not to forget.

at Tidia: Thank you so much for your continued support! It really means a lot. Read on to find out what tying him down does to D'Art. ;)

at GreenWaters2: Thanks for the compliment! And yep, Athos and the others are not going to let this go easy.

at Maryg: Thanks a lot for your reviews! Your compliments make me really happy. And D'Artagnan's reaction... well, you'll see. ;)

at Issai: Heartbreaking is what I strive for, so thanks a lot! And yes, binding him might not have been the best of ideas. Find out what happens below.

at gamineduna: Thank you for reviewing! I thought that the women were not represented often enough in fanfics, so I really wanted to include them. I'm glad you like what I did there.

at cynthia: Thanks for the review! It's much appreciated, as are the compliments. ;)

at GoGirl212: Yeah, I guess writing inspires me to write more. :D Thank you for your continued support, it makes me really happy. And including the ladies has been a lot of fun so far.

at Honey: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked it. Remy is the first villain I love to hate, so I'm really glad you think he's a good bad guy.

at Helensg: Thank you so much for your reviews! A headless horseman... now that's an idea. And your wish is my command: Athos whump is coming up in the next few chapters.

at Deana: Yes, that head injury will play a role later on. And thanks a lot for all your reviews! They really make my day.

at Shadow DarkFlower: Sorry for all the cliffies, but I really love them ;) Just for you, there isn't really one at the end of this chapter. And thanks to you too for taking your time to review!

at watlocked: Thanks for the compliments, I really appreciate them. Especially the one about characterization, cause I really try to get that right, so thanks a lot!

Okay, here goes chapter 11. It's past 2am here, but I wanted to publish today. Please forgive any typos, I'll spellcheck again tomorrow.

Chapter 11

d'Artagnan's senses returned to him one by one. First came smell, a heavy odour of sweat mingling with lighter sensations of a woman's perfume, dust mixing with fresh air and the distant earthy whiff of apples. Then hearing, a man's light breathing and the peaceful sound of birds outside contrasting his own laboured breath.

The realization that he wasn't alone sent a wave of adrenaline crashing through his exhausted body and his eyes snapped open to reveal a large well-furnished room. Still imposing on the comte's questionable hospitality, then. Expensive carpets littered the mahagony floor and the huge window had painted glas set in. Even the bed was extravagant and sported a baldachin. It was as different from his own rooms at the Garrisson as it could get and d'Artagnan felt a pang of regret at the notion that he'd probably never see them again.

As he tried to turn and look at the rest of the room, his sense of touch finally came back, informing him loudly that his wrists were shackled to the headboard and his legs wouldn't be moving sideways any time soon either, being tethered to the foot of the bed. Furthermore, even the little motion made his head spin with the all too familiar sense of vertigo that signaled being as high as a kite. d'Artagnan groaned inwardly, tried to kick his sluggish thoughts from a slow trot into at least a canter.

Why was he in this decidedly nicer room than his previous cell? He also felt new bandages on his hand and around his torso, which begged the question why they'd take care of him. As much as he picked his brain, he just couldn't remember although there was somethin nagging at him. His fever... he'd had a high fever. Perhaps they didn't want him to die just yet and brought him here to treat it.

Was that it? All he could remember were visions of living corpses coming to haunt him, interrupted by even more gruesome pictures of his brothers dying in front of him or coming to his rescue only to realize that he wasn't worth it. Porthos laughing at his helplessness to escape the manacles a second time. Aramis mocking his poor state of health. Athos turning away from him in disgust. Leaving him behind again and again until d'Artagnan couldn't take it any more. All in all, d'Artagnan judged, he'd been pretty out of it.

Squinting at his bonds now, a slow smirk graced his beaten features. This time, he'd make Porthos proud. Or at least he woudln't disappoint the gentle giant, because the bindings were sloppy at best and allowed far too much room to move to be effective, even with just one functional hand. The knots didn't prove a challenge either and were easily cast off. The ropes on his feet received the same treatment, although he first snuck a glance at the guard that was in the room with him. Dozing at a table. Idiot.

d'Artagnan did inhale sharply as he noticed the man looked exactly like Aramis. Damn those drugs. It had happened before, his father turning out to be Remy. Athos turning into Ouvrard, a mean sneer on his hateful countenance. This time, he wouldn't be fooled, d'Artagnan decided while he slowly and quietly got up, the scrapes on his bare feet touching the warm rug beneath him in another small discomfort he could ignore. The pain in his back rose steadily, as did the haziness of the world around him. Nonetheless, d'Artagnan did manage to focus his vision on the guard's belt, where a dagger beckoned. Just a few steps more, he urged himself forward, stumbling. Reflexively, he thrust his hands forward to catch himself on the edge of the table and bit his lip hard as his broken fingers found the edge of the wood.

He must have made a sound, because the guard was waking up. Cursing, d'Artagnan grabbed the dagger and the same moment his captor's sleepy eyes landed on him, he had the blade at the man's throat.

"Quiet!", he hissed, sensing the movement of the guard's neck even as he lifted the blade in a backwards arch and thus forced back the head that looked agonizingly like his brother. The same brown eyes that had watched him spar at the Garrisson a thousand times now seemed to scrutinize him with concern.

"Stop looking at me like that!" d'Artagnan's anger at the situation rose to the surface, his hand shaking and drawing a thin line of blood from the tanned skin of the not-Aramis. The moan that escaped the older man slid right beneath the boy's skin, prompting him to swallow guiltily and ease the knife back a fraction. This allowed the guard to speak, to call out his name with Aramis' voice. "d'Artagnan, please stop."

"Stop?", he replied, his pale face as taut as a bowstring, "Like you stopped when you beat me? Like you stopped Remy when he trampled my hand into pulp? Like you stopped when they came to hurt me over and over!" The last one was a shout, something the young musketeer regretted as soon as the words left his mouth. Because as satisfying as seeing the not-Aramis wince was, the chances were high that someone else had heard it.

"Get up!", he therefore ordered, hectic now. Thankfully, the man complied and offered no resistance at all when he was pushed towards the door. He even shifted and took most of d'Artagnan's weight by positioning the Gascon slightly behind him with his arm and the dagger around his shoulders. d'Artagnan did notice, but didn't comment, uncaring of his enemy's reasons. Instead, he demanded the keys to the prison, surprised when not-Aramis chuckled. "It's open."

The fact that it was true and the door opened silently nearly made him pause until he realized the men probably hadn't meant for him to ever escape from the bed. Their mistake. As he entered the hallway, candles in golden sockets provided a warm light that was reflected on the blade he still had poised above not-Aramis' vulnerable carotid artery. It also illuminated the two men that were running at him, causing d'Artagnan's pulse to skip a beat as his drugged vision seemingly recognized Athos and Porthos. Wrong. Don't be fooled again, he reminded his traitorous heart. Their leather boots slid to a halt when d'Artagnan called out. "Stay right there or I'll slit his throat!"

Could he? Would he really be able to kill this man in order to make his escape? Yes!, his mind supplied while the rest of him still wavered. I'm not going to back down. Not ever. I'll do it. Determination blazed through him, causing him to square his shoulders, put the dagger right back on not-Aramis' skin and level his steadfast glare at the men.

Athos wasn't proud of it, but as he spied the scene at the end of the corridor, he gaped like an owl, eyes wide with astonishment. For one heartbeat, his mind was overwhelmed with the contradicting income. One, d'Artagnan was up. Two, Aramis had left the room. Three, Aramis had not left the room by choice, which was proven by the steel at his neck. Four, d'Artagnan was the one holding the weapon and five, he was threatening to kill one of their own.

Caution asserted itself and Athos stopped his approach. His arm prophilactically shot out to steady Porthos next to him. "Put the weapon down, lad", he said, confused when d'Artagnan's face closed even further when he heard Athos speak. The boy was no doubt allowed his anger towards his fellow musketeers, but pulling a weapon on them was going too far.

After all this was over, they'd have a long conversation on the topic of appropriate responses. Oh, and Aramis' would get his for letting an invalid take him prisoner in this spectacular fashion. A glance at the seething Porthos promised Athos that he wasn't alone with his conflicting emotions, but as their inofficial leader, he chose the high road of reason. "d'Artagnan, think about this. What are you trying to achieve by hurting Aramis?" And us, he added silently while he traded a look with Aramis. Their medic was remarkably calm, if anything, he seemed frustrated by his inability to speak. Athos' attention quickly shifted back to d'Artagnan when the boy swayed dangerously, pulling the Spaniard with him. Another thin line of blood welled up.

"This is not Aramis! Stop lying... stop lying to me!" The open desperation was like a hard slap in the face. A wake-up call to Athos. Of course the boy would think he was still at de Balzac's. What else would bindings and drugs suggest? Having one of them always in the room obviously hadn't been enough prevention. Now, how could they convince d'Artagnan that he was not dreaming?

"Remember when we met up after you'd escaped Vadim? I asked 'So you are still alive?' Nobody but me, Aramis and Porthos ever heard that. You're wide awake, boy. It's me."

"Liar!" d'Artagnan's hands were shaking and Athos was afraid he'd hurt Aramis, although his friend seemed unconcerned. He could probably disarm the youth before anything happened, but not without injuring d'Artagnan in the process, which only left talking as a viable option.

"No, I'm not lying. After the fire, you asked me whether the ghost of my dead wife was trying to kill me. And I said..."

"No, she isn't dead, d'Artagnan. She survived." They both said it at the same time and a second later, the dagger clattered to the floor, discarded. d'Artagnan's posture fell as his reason to save his pride while facing his enemies evaporated. Instead, he continued to move back and forth slightly on his feet, so Athos bridged the distance between them and grabbed his shoulders. d'Artagnan looked at him with gratitude as he felt Athos' support and the swordsman felt a mountain crumble off his chest. Still, he didn't fail to notice the smallish sense of unease that crackled between them.

"Let's get you back to bed", Athos said evenly. He wasn't surprised when d'Artagnan protested that he was fine and Athos purposefully looked at Aramis, who was bending down to retrieve his weapon from the floor. "Strange definition of fine."

"Good point", d'Artagnan conceded and reluctantly stepped back. He tensed when Athos followed without letting go of his arm.

"Do you trust me?", Athos asked lightly.

"No", d'Artagnan replied, but there wasn't any malice behind it. Athos tried not to take it personally and blamed it on the drugs. Perhaps it had been meant as a joke anyways.

"Good. One of us needs to be the voice of reason here", he said, keeping his tone light while he eased his little brother back down on the bed. The boy's eyes skipped straight to the restrains that were scattered at both ends. "What's up with the kinky stuff?"

Porthos and Aramis, who'd followed behind, guffawed at the boy's crude wisecrack. Even Athos felt himself relax. It was good to have him back, battered though he was.

"We were concerned that your moving would hinder your recovery", Aramis stated diplomatically and proceeded to list d'Artagnan's injuries. "You have deep bruising on your ribs, bruises on your arms and legs, at least three broken bones in your hand, abraded wrists and ancles, a deep sword-cut on your back that was infected until yesterday. You were also running a fever and somebody must have choked you, because..."

"Err, no", d'Artagnan cut in, his right hand going to the bluish line around the front of his own neck. "That was me, actually."

"Why?", Athos asked, incredulous. He sat down next to his protégé on the edge of the bed, close enough to feel the reassuring warmth of the boy.

"They put a collar on me and I needed to reach something that was out of my reach", d'Artagnan summed up lightly. At the expressions of fury from his companions, some of the remaining tension drained from his slim body and he smiled. "It's really not half as bad as it looks."

"That's good, 'cause it looks pretty darn bad", Porthos grumbled from his place on the chair at the table. Aramis grinned at the comment and rummaged through his pockets. As he pulled out a deep blue strip of cloth, Athos eyes bugged. "What is that?", he asked, sharper than he'd anticipated.

"It's a necklace. After d'Artagnan went all Mylady on us and got his neck injured, I thought I'd buy him the matching accessories."

"You can't be serious." d'Artagnan watched the necklace with a slightly open mouth and Athos had to admit that the boy's disbelief was amusing. He really should have known Aramis better than this.

"Oh, does that mean you don't like it? I even bought the one with this cute little brass sun that'll really flatter your complexion", Aramis whined and d'Artagnan obviously had to hide a grin. That disappeared soon, though, when Aramis didn't stop to advance and rolled out the necklace to fit it around the boy's neck.

"Don't you dare put this on me!", d'Artagnan protested, laughter in his voice. He swatted his hands at the marksman as if to shoo away a fly, which of course didn't deter anyone. Athos watched on, a tiny smile on his own features. As Aramis loomed over d'Artagnan, however, he could see the young man's muscles tighten in discomfort.

"Aramis", Athos said quietly and the Spaniard immediately drew back. "So I guess that's a no to jewelry from our sleeping beauty", he quipped. At the same time, the door opened and Constance and Sylvie came in, their arms full of food. Upon seeing d'Artagnan awake, they both took their time to welcome him back, unknowing of the drama that had unfolded in the corridor only minutes before.

"Sleeping beauty?", Sylvie repeated cheerfully.

"A title our young friend has earned after he slumbered for four days straight", Aramis stated. Sylvie laughed, then pointed at Athos. "If d'Artagnan is sleeping beauty, Athos can be the little mermaid."

They all laughed at Athos' outraged expression and his muttered "I'm not a princess."

"But you do deserve it after you jumped into in the raging river during a storm tide."

"Tumbled into it is more like...", Porthos grizzled, whereas d'Artagnan looked confused. He'd apparently missed something. It didn't help when Constance joined in. "You could start a club. Sylvie can be Cinderella, loosing her shoes in the mansion and all that."

"What else did I miss?", d'Artagnan asked, seemingly unsure whether he really wanted to know. Well, Aramis was happy to oblige and retold a somewhat embellished version of the story of their daring rescue, which had ended at the Lady's estate. "You slept the first day, then you shouted obscenities at us for the next and the third day, you were kinda... off."

"Off?" d'Artagnan's voice was laced with suspicion as he'd spied the grin on some of their faces.

"It was very endearing, I promise", Constance said. "You were talking quite a lot."

"Oh yes, and your language was wonderfully colorful", Aramis acceded, "Very rural."

"How so?"

"We could stand here and argue until the cows turn blue", Porthos said as an example, accompanied by a wide smile. d'Artagnan looked as if he could scarcely believe it. "What."

"Yes, it's as easy as falling off a piece of cake", Aramis said.

"I don't-"

"I can read you like the back of my book." Porthos again.

"Or I'm as blind as a stone roof", Aramis added.

"Stop!"

"You know, you can beat a dead horse to water but you can't make him drink."

"I hate you." Although he was loathe to break up the light banter, Athos could see how tiring the conversation was for their youngest, and there were still some things the boy needed to know.

"d'Artagnan", he therefore started, "before you go back to sleep, you need to eat something. And there is something else..."

"You drugged me. I know. I just can't figure out why", d'Artagnan interrupted and for once, Athos was glad of it. It was not a lie, but a very uncomfortable truth.

"Your body wasn't strong enough to deal with both the fever and the withdrawal, so we left you with two of the three drugs you received during your... stay at the comte's mansion", Aramis explained. d'Artagnan nodded in an understanding manner and only Athos saw his free hand curl into a fist on the blanket.

"So that's something to look forward to", he stated morosely. Constance put a hand on his knee, offering her comfort. "We'll all be there to help you through it."

Sensing the boy's reluctance to talk about the topic, Athos continued. "And then there's the mission. The King ordered us to escort de Balzac to the palace for questioning. We weren't able to do that yet."

"And by now he probably has hundreds of them guards patrolling the walls", Porthos said. To answer d'Artagnan's question why they hadn't tried again right after bringing him to the Lady's mansion, Athos answered that they all needed a few days to recover, especially Aramis, who'd received a concussion during their rescue. This revelation caused d'Artagnan's guilty conscience to surge forward. "Sorry about that. If not for me, you wouldn't have been there."

"Yes I would. We would've been there to catch the comte. And it's just a scratch, don't worry about it."

"A scratch like the ones on your throat?", d'Artagnan asked. Aramis laughed, brushing off the issue completely. "Don't worry about that one, either. That was basically our mistake for tying you down." After a moment of consideration, d'Artagnan nodded. Then his face turned thoughtful. "I might know a way into the mansion that doesn't involve battling a battalion of hired guards."

Athos interest was piqued. After all, the comte had told him that d'Artagnan had tried to escape twice, so he must know the layout of the house quite well. "Can you describe the way?"

"No, I'll need to show you. And it might be a tight fit for Porthos", d'Artagnan said with an apologetic look at the man. Porthos huffed loudly. "Did he just call me fat?"