Left alone again, Aramis and d'Artagnan talked in a barely-audible whisper, not wanting Jean or his henchmen to hear them.
"Are you all right, Aramis?" asked d'Artagnan, concern for his brother coloring his words. "You arrived in this room unconscious, and then Jean kicked you. Are you in pain?"
Aramis replied, "I'm fine."
Since d'Artagnan had seen Aramis with a bullet or knife wound before, he didn't necessarily believe his brother now. Aramis always downplayed his injuries to spare his brothers any worry. He also hated not being at full strength to handle whatever situations came up, and he knew from past experience that his brothers would endanger themselves, if need be, to spare him. He didn't want that now.
"Aramis?"
"I will be fine. Have you tried getting out of these ropes yet? If we leave Paris with Jean, it may be very difficult for the others to track us. There are a number of ways Jean could go."
D'Artagnan said, "Whoever tied these knots did too good a job. I haven't been able to get them to budge." Then, he got an idea. "If we could think of something we could drop from time to time, something the others could see, they could still track us. But what?"
Silence reigned in the room as the two Musketeers wracked their brains to think of something suitable that they could actually get their hands on quickly.
"There is a spare supply of bullets for my pistol in my doublet pocket, d'Artagnan. I was going to do some target practice once Angelique and I..." worry for his half-sister caused him to pause. "Do you have any idea where Jean is holding her?"
"No. I have not been out of this room since I arrived. I have no idea how large a building this is, and I have not been able to move enough to try to find out. Not with that dog in the doorway."
Having spoken in just a slightly louder voice, the source of his inactivity made its presence known with another low growl. Aramis, despite knowing what was making the sound, still shivered another time. Angry at himself, he forced the feeling to the back of his mind. He didn't need to be distracted right now.
"We need to retrieve those bullets before Jean gets us out to his farm, preferably before we leave Paris. It may have to happen while we are traveling, though, as that dog watches every movement. Hopefully, our hands and feet won't be totally without feeling by then. These ropes are very tight."
He flexed his fingers, trying to keep them from going numb as long as he possibly could. He couldn't let Angelique stay in Jean's hands. Who knew what would run through his mind next. And once they were at the farm, hidden from the world, Jean would carry out his threats. He needed to be there for her, not lying here helpless on a cold floor.
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Constance, after informing Athos and Porthos of d'Artagnan's disappearance, looked at them with tear-filled eyes. She was so worried for the man she loved. Tears were something very few people ever saw from her, but she couldn't seem to help it right now.
Athos gently told her, "We will find him, Constance. He and Aramis both."
At the mention of Aramis' name, Constance's head shot up, her eyes wide with dawning comprehension.
"Jean has them, doesn't he?"
"Unfortunately, we believe so. Porthos and I are going to search now. You should go to the palace to the Queen right now. You need to be with someone who cares for you, and the Queen always appreciates your presence. It might take your mind off things just a little while, in a situation you cannot control."
Constance would much rather have stayed at the garrison in case there was news, but she heard the wisdom of Athos' suggestion, and slowly nodding, she reluctantly turned around and started to leave.
Stopping, she turned back to them and said, "You will send word as soon as you know something? Please?", her voice dying away as her fear encompassed her, her eyes adding to her plea.
"Of course, Constance. Now go, and we will find them."
Turning around towards the gate, Constance finally left through the garrison gates,her shoulders slumped in her worry. Athos and Porthos watched her go, feeling her pain. She was a very brave woman, and this was not like they had ever seen her before. Their hearts were torn as hers was, not knowing what was happening to their brothers right now.
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Constance entered Anne's rooms without even looking up. She was trying to hold back the tears that kept threatening to engulf her.
Anne took one look at her, and a moment later, her arms were around her friend's shoulders, guiding her to a low ornate bench against the wall.
"What is wrong, Constance?" And knowing her friend, she correctly guessed, "It's d'Artagnan, isn't it?"
Looking into her friend's eyes as she looked up, she read the answer in them. "Oh Constance, what has happened? Has he been injured?"
Constance, her thoughts suddenly sharpening somewhat, realized she couldn't tell her what had happened to d'Artagnan without adding fear to Anne's heart for Aramis. They had that in common, both in love with men they couldn't have, and unable to share it with anyone but each other. Now, they would have the same overwhelming fear smothering their hearts.
She began slowly. "There is something happening that you do not know about, Your Majesty." Just her using her title told Anne just how unsettled Constance was right now. They used first names when no one else was present other than themselves.
"What is wrong, Constance?"
"First, I need to tell you of what happened in the past few weeks, events that have been kept from you. I have not been here, or I would have told you."
This began to give Anne a sense of unease. "It's Aramis, too, isn't it?"
When Constance hesitated, then nodded, Anne felt her heart contract. "Tell me, please, and leave nothing out."
When Constance had finished relating what had happened on their last mission, and Aramis' abduction and near death, Anne's fear for her love was written all over her face.
"No one knows where they are now? This madmen has them?" she asked. At Constance's slow nod, tears began to form in her eyes.
"The Musketeers will find them. I know they will," Anne asserted, being the brave presence she knew Constance needed from her at this time, even though her heart was near to breaking at the uncertainty of what might be happening to her own secret love.
"You will stay here until we have word. We need each other right now. We will hear the news together when they return," not using the word 'if', but with all her heart saying, 'when'. Prayers were already forming and spilling from her mind into her heart that all would turn out well. "Please God," she silently implored. "Don't take the men we love from us."
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Since they could now hear men right near the doorway, Aramis and d'Artagnan fell silent. Aramis' thoughts turned to Anne and their son, wondering if he and d'Artagnan would turn the tables on Jean, and return to the women they loved, even if it had to be in secret.
In his mind and heart, he saw Anne, her glorious golden hair tumbling down around her shoulders at the convent, the soft blue of her dress complimenting her lovely skin and eyes. How he loved her! What he wouldn't give to spend the rest of his life with her and their son, loving each other and watching their son grow together. But it was a hopeless dream, one that had no chance of ever happening.
They had to win free and return to Paris, even if he could only gaze longingly at her and the Dauphin from the safety of the shadows. One way or another, they had to escape. There was no other choice.
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He must have fallen asleep for an unknown period of time. He awakened to a jostling motion. Momentarily confused as the mists of sleep still clung to him, his senses felt scrambled, but then he became aware of the motion of a cart or wagon underneath him. That cleared away the fogginess in a hurry. They were leaving Paris!
He couldn't see anything, and realized that they were covered with something that smelled suspiciously of...horses. Something from a stable then. Cloth had been jammed into his mouth, obviously to keep him from attracting any attention.
D'Artagnan! Was he here as well? Using hands that were almost numb by now, he felt around as far as he could reach with his fingers, praying that his brother was here, as well. He didn't trust Jean to decide not to bring him and dispose of him, possibly permanently.
He breathed a sigh of deep relief when his fingers came into contact with the feel of soft leather. He could feel d'Artagnan's muscles in his arm tense up at the contact. He was probably unable to tell who it was, so Aramis patted his arm awkwardly for reassurance.
Then, it dawned on him. They had been positioned in the cart/wagon back to front, not back to back. Jean obviously didn't want them to be able to reach each other's ropes the other way. But this would enable d'Artagnan to...
Just as he was forming the thought, he felt hesitant fingers patting his doublet. D'Artagnan had formed the same thought, and was searching for the pocket in his doublet with the bullets. Those bullets had been a gift from a grateful comte when he had assisted the man's daughter in getting away from a potential kidnapper. The man had bought them, had them engraved with fleur-de-lys, and presented them to him when he and his brothers had been on palace duty a few months ago. Athos and Porthos would know them instantly if they found them.
A little smile formed in the dark as he remembered that, and a moment later, d'Artagnan's fingers found the pocket and the bullets.