A/N: Wow! Thanks for reading!

I had to push to get this up for you all in time for the weekend - hope you like it!

Once again, thanks for your reviews, feedback, reactions, advice etc. It really is the best. Cheers!


Going Back

Chapter 12

It was dusk. The torches were lit outside the doors of the hunting lodge. The departing sun soaked the lawns and sky in blood as it began to dip below the tree-line. Athos stood at the foot of the stairs with Aramis next to him, barring the entrance to the lodge as Felix strode forward with an ugly brute of a man at his side. They were both heavily armed as though going to battle, not to a duel. Athos was unsurprised at the presence of the new man or the number of pistols and knives that hung from his belt. A bandage was just visible on Felix's left arm where Athos' bullet had grazed him as he fled the merchant's yard.

Porthos and D'Artagnan stood to the side, angrily clenching their fists or pacing nervously.

Felix smiled, "Hello nephew," he sneered at Athos. "Have you come to surrender? You threw away everything else – why not your life?"

Behind Athos, Maurice and Sophie appeared in the doorway. Maurice seemed to have aged another ten years; Sophie had tears streaming down her face.

"How could you, Felix? We know what you've done," she said desolately.

"Why, brother?" Maurice asked, his voice trembling.

"Why? Why?!" he roared. "Do you have any idea what it's been like knowing that you should have received so much more than what you got? Being denied what is mine? What should have been mine by birth? Knowing that I should have been worshipped like nobility and instead had to live without privilege under the false and lowly name of Lacroix like a dog? Of course you don't, you simpering fool. We are not all born to serve like idiots like you!"

"Silence!" shouted Aramis stepping forward, his hand moving to his pistol.

Felix grinned at the marksman. "Of course. A brave musketeer stepping forward to defend the ignorant. I shot you once already. How foolish of me. I thought you were clever, but clearly you didn't learn your lesson the first time."

"Foolish?" said Aramis, "You're delusional. There is no proof to support your claim. You think that because you were named Felix and you have blue eyes that you're worthy to be Comte de la Fere? You just hurt the only family you have. But please, we can help you – we can get you help. I was there, as was Porthos. We know the horrors of La Rochelle. Let us help you," he said trying to reach the man.

"Save your empathy and compassion for those who need it. I nearly died at La Rochelle. And that's what woke me up. I was tired of living as nothing. I knew it was time to finally lay claim to my title!" he roared, gesturing angrily at Athos who stood calmly watching the madman. "He and I are equals, except where he was given everything and burned it all away, I had to fight and still fight for what is owed to me, you Spanish bastard!"

Porthos growled angrily at these words but Aramis raised a hand to stop him.

"The differences between you and Athos are insurmountable but it all comes down to loyalty and honour; you sacrificed whatever honour you had when you began attacking the nobility because you couldn't accept the answers that were right in front of you, because you refused to make something of your life. You sacrificed your honour when you manipulated and lashed out at these good people who cared for you. You are not a de la Fere. Your only claim lies in your twisted mind. You are a murderer," he said coldly, his Spanish eyes dark with the promise of violence, and flashed with lightning.

"You bastard!" Felix snarled, shaking with fury.

"You're not even worthy of that name," said Aramis coldly.

Felix made for his pistol, but Aramis drew his first. "Make a move towards that pistol and you'll be dead before your hand can brush the surface. Both of you," he said drawing his second pistol and aiming it at the thug at Felix's side whose hand was twitching, eager to draw his own pistol.

"Is this the behaviour of a gentleman?" Felix asked with a sneer, breathing heavily as he pulled himself together.

"It is the behaviour of a brother," said Athos coldly. "And forgive us, if we find it difficult to trust a murderer and a hired thug to act with honour."

"Enough," he hissed. "You believe you're above me, Olivier? With you gone there is no other to claim the land. The lodge will be mine."

"You're mad," Athos said. "The King will never grant the lands to a murderer."

"He will if there are no witnesses to my crimes! En garde," roared the madman, pulling free his rapier and charging at Athos.

Athos drew his blade. Aramis kept his pistol trained on the thug.

The initial charge Athos sidestepped easily. The man quickly rebounded and began his attack.

He was surprisingly talented with a blade. He lacked the finesse of Athos, but this was a man with a past riddled with battles; he knew how to wield a blade to defend and to kill. He learned to fight without honour and without mercy but for survival, whereas Athos learned to fight like a gentlemen.

Felix, however, clearly did not know that Athos was far from a posturing noble. His blade had seen years of service and action in defence of his King, the crown, the innocent and his brothers.

Athos dodged another lunge and countered that with a riposte, followed by a hard punch to the jaw that had the man spinning away from him. He growled and drew a main gauche. Athos smirked and drew his grandfather's dagger. The man's eyes flashed as he recognized the blade and with a howl he threw himself again at the swordsman, his strokes coming vicious and wild.

He grew lucky in the wake of his rage and managed to get in a glancing blow to Athos' forearm. The wound drew blood, but Athos could tell it was shallow. The sight of the blood made the man more brazen as Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan grew more anxious. Aramis had taken his eye off the thug and was staring intently at his injured brother, duelling for his life.

Felix peacocked as though the match was already decided. He raised his blade again and moved in on Athos with a complex attaque au fer. Athos read the move and blocked the rapier while dragging his grandfather's dagger across the man's wrist. Felix howled and sprang back.

"Help me you fool!" he shouted at his cohort.

The thug pulled his pistol and a shot rang out across the field. The villain fell with a bullet hole in is chest that he would not recover from. Aramis stood with his pistol smoking in his hand.

"You coward!" shouted Porthos. "There's no one left to help you cheat now!"

Felix's head spun as though needing to confirm Porthos' words. His eyes were evidently panicked.

"Surrender, and I need not kill you. You will face a trial in Paris," said Athos.

The man laughed bitterly. "Oh yes? What do you expect the outcome of that to be?" he asked as he clutched his injured arm against his chest. "When you have nothing, you have nothing left to lose!" he shouted and leapt again towards Athos, with his arm raised. Athos ducked under the wild overhead strike and plunged his dagger into the man's side.

The man staggered. He pulled the blade from his side and cast it away. There was madness in his eyes now. He swung wildly and Athos kicked him to his knees, the rapier falling away from him as his knees hit the ground.

"Surrender," Athos said coldly. "You are defeated."

"You didn't deserve it. It should have been mine," he said, spitting blood.

"You're right," Athos said. "I didn't deserve to be born into wealth, no one does. I didn't deserve to be isolated as a child and lectured and disciplined endlessly. I didn't deserve to be punished for thinking that the townspeople were equal, or for talking to others my age. I didn't deserve the disinterest, disregard and disappointment of my parents when all I wanted was to be loved and accepted. And you did not deserve the love your family gave to you. With that you would have been a million times richer than I was. You were ungrateful," Athos said, turning away from the dying man on his knees.

"Athos!" cried Aramis as Felix sprang to his feet, a hidden knife in hand for one last desperate and violent surge. Athos spun to meet the coward, driving his rapier into the madman's gut as Felix's blade pierced Athos' chest.

They stood there for a moment before Athos released the murderer and he fell, impaled on the rapier, the knife falling somewhere by his feet.

Athos' chest was on fire. He staggered as his vision blurred. He heard the panic of his brothers around him. He could just make out the blurry figure of Aramis slide to his side, catching him as he fell and cradling him against his body. He stared up into the dark eyes of his brother, his words incoherent and echoing as though from far away. The last thing he registered before the darkness took him was the fear in three sets of brown eyes.

oOo