The fire crackled into the night, spitting orange and red embers into the air as the wood burnt white between Porthos and Athos. Athos was sat nearest the fire, the amber flames heating his face and hands as he stared into it, thinking.

Porthos, meanwhile, could not do all his thinking inside his head. He was, as Aramis often put it, an open book, and anyone who knew him well enough could guess what he was thinking just by body language alone. He sat cross-legged on the wet grass, opposite Athos, his large hands drumming his boot as he fidgeted, his brain whirring with anxiety. More than once he unnecessarily poked the fire, sending the bright embers into the air along with a plume of choking smoke into the face of the man opposite him.

'Sorry,' he muttered after the third time, before he sighed deeply and sat back, the branch he had been using to poke the fire firmly in his nervous hands. 'We shouldn't have left that house.' he said after a while, looking over to Athos, who finally looked up.

'You said it yourself Porthos,' he muttered, pulling his cloak around him. 'No one has lived there for years.'

'But that woman seemed so sure.' His friend mumbled, snapping the branch into two, then three pieces, before throwing it over his shoulder with another sigh. 'She said she heard a man screaming.'

'Foxes?' Athos replied, his voice low as he pulled a skin of wine from his pack. They sat again in silence, save for the sounds of crickets and owls in the small forest they had camped in.

'But we didn't really look, did we?' Porthos growled, shaking his head. 'We just looked in the window and just assumed that no one lives there because no one opened the door for us!'

Athos slowly nodded his agreement and uncurled his legs, which were going numb from where he was sitting on them. As if on cue, a fox screamed somewhere in the distance; the two men looked at each other, the same thoughts running through their minds.

'Does that sound like a man screaming to you?' Porthos asked, an eyebrow raised. 'Because it doesn't sound like one to me.'

Athos sat back, his mind whirring. 'What do you suppose the time is?' he asked, wiping tired eyes as he tried to combat his need for sleep.

Porthos looked up at the sky, before sighing again. 'No idea. Maybe nearly midnight, perhaps just after?'

Athos nodded before standing up and brushing down his trousers. 'Come on.' he said, putting his gloves on and walking to his horse.

'What are we doing?' Porthos replied, coming to stand next to his friend as he watched Athos ready himself.

'I think you're right.' Was his reply. The swordsman looked at him, blue eyes round with worry. 'I think the woman was right. We need to go back to that house and look inside.'

'Now you're talking!' Porthos said with a hopeful chuckle. Minutes later and they were both ready- Athos instructed that they leave the horses where they were, as they were close enough to fetch if they needed any help, but their noise could attract attention.

As they approached the house Athos' stomach churned with anxiety and a very faint feeling of hope. The woman had seemed concerned when she mentioned the screaming, and after all, if it wasn't Aramis, then surely it had to be something?

The darkened, shadowy silhouette of the house loomed over them like a spectre; wreathed in darkness it looked menacing. Without a word, Porthos tapped Athos on the chest and motioned an upstairs window, where they could both see the faint orange, flickering glow of a candle.

'See!' he whispered, to which Athos nodded, adrenaline beginning to fizz in his body.

'You go round the back, and I'll take the front.' he instructed.

Porthos nodded and the two split up. Athos slowly climbed the steps to the front door, his hand now firmly wrapped around his pistol. His other hand curled around the doorknob, which he tried despite knowing full-well that it would be locked.

He looked down in surprise when the door opened easily; he was sure it had been locked when he had last tried it. Unease trickled into his chest, but he pushed it away as he stepped inside the gloomy house, eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness.

Something was wrong. He knew it; not just because of the fact the door was unlocked. It was something else, something suspicious about the entire house. He stepped into the living area, eyes flicking to the mantelpiece, caked in decades-old dust, and the sideboards which were thick with grime.

He swore under his breath and looked down as his weight caused the floor-boards to creak. Looking back up, his eyes roved the downstairs to make sure he was alone.

Nothing stirred. He continued his search, a frown now on his face. It was obvious that no one lived here, or at least used the downstairs portion of the house. He came out of the living area and peered up the stairs, to the blackness of the upper floor.

They had seen a candle, of that he was sure of. He put a foot on the bottom step to climb up, but as he did so he heard a noise from what he assumed was the kitchen, further down the corridor. Porthos? He wondered, before he waited for a few seconds for his friend to appear in the hallway. Another dull noise met his ears, and he stepped off the bottom step, his pistol firmly in front of him as he slowly walked forwards down the corridor.

The only inclination that something was about to go very wrong was when he heard a rapid succession of squeaks as someone ran fast down the length of the corridor, the floorboards creaking under his weight; before Athos could do anything to defend himself his gun arm was thrown upwards and into the wall.

He clenched his fist instinctively so he didn't drop his gun- with a grunt of pain he lurched backwards as someone punched him in the face and pushed him hard into the wall, before a hand laced around his throat and began squeezing; Athos' free hand flew to the man's fist, scratching and scrabbling at it as he felt his airway close as the man squeezed as hard as he could. The man didn't seem to even register this, as he used his other hand to clench his gun arm and start to smack Athos' hand against the wall until he finally dropped the gun, sending it skittering down the corridor.

With a garbled yelp he took this opportunity to punch the man choking him in the jaw, sending him to the side and thankfully loosening his grip; he followed up the punch with another blow to the face, before kicking the figure to the ground.

The man was up in seconds, and even in the dank evening light Athos could see his eyes were narrowed and full of anger. He sidestepped a vicious blow, before ducking as the man turned, unperturbed.

'Who are you?!' Athos tried to say, but all that could come out was a garbled mess of words as his throat protested. The man did not offer any idea he had even heard him; he came back up the corridor, both hands in front of him; Athos' eyes widened as the man grasped his coat and pushed him bodily to the ground, where he landed, winded, in a heap by the kitchen.

He looked around as the man started moving forwards again; his eyes caught a flash of silver- with seconds to spare he fumbled the gun into his grip; just as the man bent down to pull Athos back up the Musketeer brought the gun up and fired, sending the man off his feet and onto the floor, where he finally lay still.

Coughing and retching, Athos sat up, temporarily deafened by the shot in such close quarters. He scrabbled upwards, sinking into the wall and massaging his throat. He stiffened as he heard movement from behind him; before he could look round he was pushed bodily forwards with such force he was thrown off his feet entirely, hitting the floor with a surprised yelp.

He swivelled round just as a very large man came into view; he scrabbled upwards as the man stopped and looked down at the crumpled figure of the man that Athos had just shot.

'Thomas?' the man muttered, voice low as he continued to look down at the body on the floor. He looked back up at Athos as the swordsman stood up straighter, breathing heavily.

'Listen to me,' he muttered, his hands in front of him as the large man in front on him finally looked up. 'He came at me, he-' he didn't have a chance to finish his sentence as the other man's eyes narrowed and he came up to him, fist raised.

Athos managed to duck the first blow, but he wasn't so lucky with the second- he grunted out in pain as he felt blood pour from his nose. The other man roared in anger as he pummelled his fists into any part of Athos he could reach. After a well-placed punch to the side of the head made Athos see stars, he sank to the floor, blinking blood from his eyes as a cut opened up on his eyebrow.

The man suddenly stiffened and drew backwards, trying to scrabble for something that was behind him. He keeled over a few seconds later, and as Athos gingerly sat up again, his head bruised and bloodied, he saw the shadow of Porthos in front of him. He peered round and saw the other man had a knife deep in his back, the moonlight shining on the handle.

'Are you alright?' Porthos cried, falling to his knees beside Athos as the swordsman coughed wetly, wiping his bloodied nose with his sleeve.

'You're late.' he replied, groaning in pain as he sat back, eyes closed.

'Sorry,' Porthos muttered, concern evident in his voice. 'That door was harder to pick than I thought. When I heard the gunshot I just kicked it down.'

'I'm glad you did.' Athos nodded, before he sighed deeply and put a hand on Porthos' shoulder, using it to lever himself up. 'He's here somewhere, Porthos.' he muttered, walking into the middle of the room. 'I know it.'

'Have you checked upstairs?' Porthos asked, coming to stand next to him.

'Well between being throttled and then having my head almost caved in I didn't really have time, did I?' Athos replied tartly, before they both stopped as they heard a noise that seemed to emanate from below them.

'A cellar!' Athos muttered, before they both made their way to the area near the stairs. 'There must be a door somewhere...' he added; he looked up as Porthos let out a low whistle.

He walked over to where Porthos was standing, his hand already around the black door-handle. Athos nodded, stepping back to ready his pistol again as Porthos opened the door, which opened without so much as a squeak.

They descended the hard, stone steps in silence, Athos in front with his gun, Porthos behind. Athos saw the flickering of a candle somewhere to their left. As they stepped off the stairs he could see the room opened out into a cavernous space.

His eyes widened as he saw two figures in the middle of the room, barely illuminated by the flickering candle. One figure was stood, whilst the other was sat, bound to a chair.

'Evening, gents.' Astor's voice was immediately identifiable. 'I didn't expect you to come so soon.'

Porthos stared at the man sat down, shrouded in darkness. 'Aramis?' he muttered, voice barely more than a whisper. 'Aramis?' He peered closer, before finally realising that Aramis had a gag and a blindfold on, and his head was down, his chin almost touching his chest.

'He won't be able to answer you, for obvious reasons.' Dumont replied, voice light. 'Actually, he's probably still asleep.' he added, almost as an afterthought. Athos frowned, his gun-arm almost faltering entirely as Dumont reached down and gave Aramis' face a hard slap.

'Don't-!' Porthos growled, coming forwards- quick as a flash Dumont had aimed his gun under Aramis' chin.

'One more move and you'll have come all this way for nothing!' he hissed. There was a few seconds of silence before Porthos moved backwards, coming to stand next to Athos.

'That's better.' Dumont nodded, stowing the gun away. He laced his fingers under Aramis' blindfold and took it off; Athos could see his eyes were closed.

'Wakey wakey...' Dumont sing-songed, before giving his face another hard slap. Aramis groaned from behind the gag, moving his head upwards as he finally came back to consciousness from another drug-enduced sleep. 'Look whose come to see you!' Astor added, voice high.

His eyes flickered open, slowly focusing on the room around him.

'Aramis?' Athos muttered, elation coursing though him, coupled with a deep, encompassing anger. He could see that his friend was in a bad way; his face was more angular, his cheek-bones more precise through lack of food, and he felt the anger bubble as he saw the dried blood caking his white undershirt. But they had found him, and he was alive, and that was all he cared about at this moment.

Aramis' eyes widened as his eyes finally settled on his two dear friends; he flexed his bound hands and tried to say something through his gag.

Athos looked back up to Astor, who was looking down at Aramis as if he was a proud parent. 'You bastard.' he spat, eyes dark with anger.

Astor smiled at that, before reaching into his coat and pulling out a long knife; he held it at Aramis' throat.

'I'm afraid you've come here for nothing.' he muttered with a mock-sigh. 'If you two don't leave I will kill him. You've got five seconds.'

Aramis looked up, his eyes round and creased in a way that broke Porthos's heart. Athos tightened his grip on his gun.

'Or I could just shoot you now.'

'I bet I could cut his throat quicker than you could shoot that.' Astor goaded, bringing the knife closer to Aramis' neck. 'You might miss me and hit Aramis.'

'I'm a pretty good shot, or so I'm told.' Athos growled.

'Do you really want to take that chance?'

'Enough talk!' Porthos growled, voice loud in the silence. He pulled out a brown bag of money from his pocket and threw it on the floor, where it hit the stone with a dull flump.

'This is what you wanted, isn't it?' he muttered, voice dripping in anger. 'Well, it's all right there, courtesy of Treville and the King.'

Dumont looked down at the sack of money, before he snorted and shook his head. 'It was never about the money.' he finally said, looking back up to Porthos.

'Let Aramis go and we can talk about this.' Athos growled, finger tightening on the trigger.

'What, on my way to the hangman's noose?' Astor snorted out another laugh before shaking his head.

'Let Aramis go and we can talk.' Athos repeated.

'You see, I never really wanted to money.' Astor continued as if Athos hadn't even spoken. 'I just wanted to destroy Treville as he had destroyed my family...by killing his family.' With that he bent down even more, turning to Aramis as he started to move his hand down to cut his throat.

Athos fired once, meeting his mark, just as he knew he would. The two men watched as Dumont was flung backwards, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Athos was at Aramis' side in seconds, untying the gag just as Porthos cut the binds on his arms and legs from the chair. The Medic all but fell into Athos' arms as he was finally released; Athos cursef to himself as he felt Aramis' ribs under his hands as the two of them embraced.

'You found me..' he heard Aramis whisper.

'Of course we did,' he replied, hugging the other man more as he sank down onto the floor.

'Knew you would...' he muttered, resting his chin on Athos' shoulder. 'Knew you would...'

'Let's get you up.' Athos said after a few seconds; between he and Porthos they managed to get Aramis to his feet- Porthos smiled when, as soon as Aramis caught sight of him his face melted into a pained grin, before the two men embraced for a few seconds.

'H-how did you find me?' Aramis asked as they finally moved apart. He felt lightheaded as he teetered on his own; he hadn't been able to stand up for days, after all.

'It doesn't matter,' Athos replied, putting a steady hand on Aramis' shoulder. 'We have, that's the main thing...' he added, smiling sadly as Aramis nodded, fingers lacing into Athos's shoulder as he fought to keep upright.

He was free. He choked back as sob as he felt his body sag in relief; they had found him, just as he knew they would...

'Let's get you back to the city,' Porthos said, eyes roving Aramis' emaciated body. 'You need a hospital.'

Aramis allowed himself to be moved, limping, to the foot of the stairs. 'What did they do to you?' Athos breathed, looking at the bloodied scars on his friends' forearms, obviously from where they had used his blood to write the letter.

'I..' Aramis muttered, before looking at Athos with such a scared look that the swordsman dropped the subject and helped him up the stairs.

'Porthos, go and get the horses,' he instructed the other man, who nodded and disappeared out of the house.

'Come on, come and sit down for a second.' he muttered to Aramis, who stiffened as Athos took his arm.

'I...I've had enough sitting down...' he whispered, before realising his hands were shaking and his heart felt as if he had just ran a mile non-stop. Fuzzy images of Savoy flickered in his mind, and as he wiped his face with a shaky hand he knew what he had to do, as much as he hated the thought of it.

Athos, meanwhile, was still leading him into the living area to await Porthos' return.

'When we get back to the City we can get you checked over...' he muttered, before stopping as he realised Aramis had stopped walking behind him. He looked back and saw his friend looking down at the body of the first man Athos had killed.

'Aramis?'he whispered, concern in his voice.

'H-his name was Thomas.' The Medic replied, his expression unreadable. 'He was working with Dumont.'

Both men looked up as they heard Porthos shout from outside. Athos looked round to Aramis, who had resumed his staring at Thomas, as if deep in thought.

'I'm going to go out and get the horse sorted for you, alright?' he said. 'Will you be alright here for a few seconds?'

Aramis looked up and gave his friend a tired smile. 'Of course.' he whispered. With a nod, Athos disappeared, leaving Aramis alone with Thomas.

With great difficulty the medic knelt down, hissing with pain as his whole body protested. Quickly, he rummaged in the dead man's pockets, fingers curling round two small glass bottles.

Pulling them out his quickly he stowed the brown bottles of tincture in his own pocket, before painfully stepping over Thomas' body and coming to the door, where his friends were readying the horses.

End of part one.

Thank you for reading- please review!

The next part will focus much more on the tincture and the fall-out from Aramis' experience with Dumont and what it means for both him and everyone else.

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