Right, here we go. So sorry I haven't updated for ages, been struggling with this one.

Musketeers not mine, I'm just borrowing them for a bit then I'll put them back.


D'Artagnan woke as the dawn light filtered through the trees. He sat up, stretching his cold muscles and looking around. The others still slept; he could hear Aramis' steady breathing and Porthos snoring gently. Athos lay slightly apart from the others, his head pillowed on his good arm. Despite his breathing being steady, his face was still troubled and d'Artagnan knew that he hadn't told them everything. The Gascon rose to his feet and glanced around the small clearing, when he looked back; Athos was awake, his blue eyes regarding the boy. D'Artagnan wandered over to him as he pushed himself into as sitting position and crouched next to him.

"How are you?"

"Fine and fit." Athos winced as he pushed himself to his feet and the boy quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Really?" D'Artagnan crossed his arms and Athos glared at him.

"Enough to do what must be done." He nodded towards where Aramis and Porthos slept. "We should wake them." D'Artagnan nodded and moved across the clearing, stooping to pick up a small stone on the way. Athos watched the boy crouch next to Aramis and shake his shoulder. When he turned towards Porthos, Aramis placed a hand on his arm.

"Careful; waking him up tends to result in injuries." The boy merely grinned and hefted the stone in his hand. His wrist flicked and the stone landed squarely on Porthos' chest. The big musketeer awoke with a roar and sat up, glaring around as he heard d'Artagnan and Aramis laughing.

"You've been teaching him tricks." Porthos glowered at Aramis who only grinned.

"Tricks of self preservation perhaps; anything helps." He glanced over at Athos, noting with slight relief that the older man had cracked a wry smile.

"He said he was fine." D'Artagnans' voice was barely audible behind him and Aramis nodded before rising to his feet and moving across the clearing. As he approached Athos he appraised him carefully.

"How are you feeling?"

"Well enough." Although Athos' gaze was steady, Aramis could see that his breaths were measured. He raised an eyebrow at his friend and moved forwards.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He ignored Athos' glare and pulled his jerkin aside, carefully inspecting the wound.

"It's starting to heal but you're still in no condition to fight."

"Well let's just be thankful it's the left shoulder and not the right."

"You are the most stubborn man I know."

"I abandoned her once; I won't do it again."

"I understand." Aramis watched as Athos nodded his thanks and pulled his jerking back over his shoulder, gritting his teeth as he did so. "We had best get started then; the sooner this is over the sooner you can rest that shoulder."

They looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw Porthos approaching, holding a bundle wrapped in a travelling cloak.

"If we're heading off you might want these." He unwrapped the cloak with a flourish and Athos saw the sword, dagger and pistol in his hands. As Athos nodded gratefully and buckled his weapons around his waist; Porthos and Aramis shared a glance, their concern for their friend written in both of their faces. As Athos looked up, Aramis put on a bright smile.

"Well it's a good thing they brought your horse with them; not sure I'm willing to share mine." Athos' retort was cut off by d'Artagnan stepping forwards, leading both his and Athos' horses.

"So where are we going?"

"To the caves." Without another word they mounted the horses and followed Athos as he guided his horse through the trees.

Clara sat in the darkness of the cave; she could hear Bertrand and his men moving outside, snatches of their conversation drifting into the cave. Mercifully they had left her alone with the exception of the man standing guard in the rock passage. At first she had paced the cave, her fingers running over the rough rock walls. She did not need to be able to see to know there was no way out; she could remember every detail of the rock walls and the way that the tree roots grew and twisted through the cave roof. Left alone with her thoughts she saw in her minds' eye the form of Athos slumped in the cart as Simon had dragged her away.

She looked up as voices approached and shielded her eyes from the bright torches as men entered the cave. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Clara saw Bertrand smirking at her, a rope in his hands.

"Time to play, girl."

The musketeers and d'Artagnan had ridden for less than an hour when Athos held up his hand to stop them. He dismounted and tied his horse to one of the tree branches, the others followed suit, not questioning him. He gazed through the trees for a moment before turning to them as they waited.

"The caves are a short way through the trees; we must assume they will have men watching."

"We'd best deal with them quietly then." Porthos grinned and drew his sword.

They made their way through the trees, moving as quietly as they were able. They had not gone far when they came to the top of a low rise and looked over the top. The ground dipped on the other side, creating a deep bowl in the land. Against one of the far walls of the dip they saw the entrance to the cave through the trees. A group of men were outside; leaning against trees or resting on the ground. Despite their lazy demeanour, they were all armed.

"Fine guards these are." D'Artagnans' derision was clear.

"Fine or not, we are still heavily outnumbered." Athos' eyes narrowed as he spotted Simon amongst the men.

"We'd best stay hidden then and keep moving. If we're lucky we might be able to take a fair number out before they can come after us." Aramis lifted his musket as he spoke, glancing at the men.

"Fine; d'Artagnan with me, Porthos go with Aramis." They nodded and moved without another word, heading in opposite directions around the ridge.

After they had gone a short distance Athos paused and d'Artagnan glanced at him as he carefully aimed his pistol into the group. He fired and d'Artagnan could have sworn he saw Athos frown when one of the men fell. The boy who had been standing behind the now dead man looked up, his cold gaze sweeping the ridge and trees. From the other side of the ridge they heard the sound of pistols and more men dropped to the ground. D'Artagnan fired his pistol and as he began to reload he heard the boy shouting orders and saw the men begin to run up the slope to the ridge.

They fired at the advancing men, each painfully aware that they were heavily outnumbered despite the men that fell to each sound of their pistols. As the first men reached the top of the ridge Athos flipped his pistol round and drew his sword; neatly spearing the point into a man's throat as he reached the top of the ridge. To his side he could see d'Artagnan, the boy taking down men with each thrust and swing of his sword. As he killed another man he could see the shapes of Aramis and Porthos as they fought their way through the men that had gone after them.

Eventually the last man who had run up the slope fell; his chest slashed by Porthos' sword. They paused, looking down the slope; Simon stood with a small group of men he had kept behind. The musketeers and d'Artagnan did not hesitate before running down the slope and charging into the group, each of them dealing death mercilessly. Athos barely glanced at any man unlucky enough to cross his path as he made his way towards Simon. The boy saw him coming and raised the sword in his hand but a single powerful blow sent the blade spinning across the floor. Athos pressed the tip of his sword into the hollow at the base of the boy's throat, his breathing harsh with anger.

"On your knees." Simon did not hesitate to follow the snarled command, dropping to the floor. For the first time Athos saw fear in the cold brown eyes and noted the dark bruise that ran down the side of his eye and along his cheek.

"Athos." Aramis' voice was quiet and Athos realised that Simon was the only one of the men still alive.

"Where is she?" His voice was almost a growl and he pressed his sword forward. A grip on his arm stopped him and he saw Porthos out the corner of his eye.

"Easy, he can't talk if you put a sword through his throat." The big musketeer kept his grip on his friend's arm and turned to the boy that knelt before them. "You'd best tell him what he wants to know; I ain't gonna hold him all day."

"Bertrand has her; he's keeping her with him in the cave, said they were going to have some fun." Some f the fear had left the boy's eyes to be replaced with a savage glee when he saw them all glance towards the cave.

"If you've harmed her..." Athos eyes were blazing and he fought against the grip on his arm, his muscles tightening beneath Porthos' grip.

Simon laughed as he realised that he was not going to survive this and if he did then Bertrand would most likely kill him. His hand found the small knife that he always kept in his boot; if he wasn't going to survive then he would at least take this one with him. He shifted his hand, sliding the sword away from his neck and leapt forwards.

Porthos saw the boy move and released Athos, raising his own sword as he did so. There was no need, Athos had drawn his dagger as soon as Simon had moved and stepped to the side, driving the blade into the boys' chest and allowing his own momentum to carry him up the length of the weapon. As the boy fell to the ground, his lifeblood bubbling onto the floor Athos gazed down, his blue eyes cold.

"That was more mercy than you deserve." He looked up at the others, wincing as his shoulder throbbed; they said nothing for a moment until Aramis stepped forwards.

"Gentlemen, I believe a lady is in need of our assistance."