They had been traveling for quite some time. Aramis and d'Artagnan, shrouded with the horse blanket, couldn't tell if it was day or night by now. Gagged and covered, it was quite warm and stuffy.

D'Artagnan had waited until they went over some ruts in the road before rolling one of the bullets towards the back end of the cart or wagon they were traveling in. He and Aramis almost held their breath, hoping outriders weren't positioned behind the wagon. But no shout, no indication was made that anything had been noticed, and they both breathed a heartfelt sigh that their small signal had reached whatever road they were on without detection by Jean or his men.

They waited a while before chancing sending another bullet rolling, but like the first one, it went unnoticed, as well. They began to have a little flicker of hope kindled that their brothers might be able to find them.

The wagon ground to a halt a short time later, and the blanket was pulled back to reveal Jean's evilly grinning countenance.

"Having a nice ride, boys?", he taunted them. His facing morphing into a scowl, "Get them out!", he ordered his men.

Aramis and d'Artagnan were dragged feet first out of the wagon, heads and shoulders landing heavily on the ground as they were abruptly dropped.

Aramis, his eyes trying to adjust to the last rays of a setting sun, looked around for Angelique. He found her behind her father, her hand held fast in her father's. She looked so scared and helpless, a countenance he had only seen on her face once before, when his life had been threatened. His heart went out to her. This was all a living nightmare for her, her past life shattered in pieces now. Her eyes met his, and shone with her love for him. He couldn't let her down!

"Seems my recalcitrant daughter doesn't want to obey me any more. She is protesting when I tell her to do something. I need to teach her a lesson, then maybe she will listen and be the obedient daughter I raised once again."

Without warning, his fist slammed into Aramis' stomach, knocking the breath from him. He choked as the gag prevented him from fully letting his breath out. D'Artagnan struggled against his bonds, wanting to protect his brother but helpless to do so.

"Stop it, Papa! Don't hurt him. Can't you see he is short of breath from what you did?" Angelique, her face now full of tears in her distress, appealed to her father with hand outstretched.

Jean said to her, "He means nothing to me. He is going to be your schooling, daughter. Each time you do not do as you have been told, the punishment will be worse. Do you understand, Angelique?"

Silence reigned for a long moment, before Angelique bowed her head and nodded.

"Good! Now, get back up on the wagon seat and keep silence. I do not want to hear you. I just want you to be obedient to your loving father."

Signalling to his men, Aramis and d'Artagnan were lifted and roughly deposited back into the back of the wagon, where the blanket was once more pulled over them, concealing them from the world.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Athos and Porthos held a quick conference before they left on their hunt for their brothers.

Porthos said, "Jean won't leave the most obvious gate out of Paris, the one he'd would normally take to get to his farm, because he'd probably think that's where we would look for him."

Athos agreed, saying, "And he will not leave the opposite direction either. He is wily, and is trying to stay one step ahead of us, and probably will think that might be our idea. We need to check out the Porte Saint-Honore. It is just the right place for him to both leave and not lengthen his journey overmuch."

Porthos studied Athos a moment, then said, "One of your hunches?"

Nodding, Athos replied, "Let us just hope that it will be a correct one, for the sake of our brothers and Angelique."

Mounting, they headed down the busy Parisian streets in the exact direction, unknown yet to them, that Jean had followed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Their world once again narrowed to a small space in a wagon, unable to move much or see their surroundings. They did have a chance to get two more of the bullets off the wagon undetected, and Aramis prayed that Athos and Porthos would find them.

He was also working at a small chance of freedom of his own. Feeling around as much as he possibly could with his bound hands, he had discovered an old nail slightly protruding up from the bed of the wagon (thankful they had not landed on that when they were dumped on it), and had begun to saw away at the ropes on his wrists. It was slow going, as only a small part of the nail was exposed, but it was something and he would try his best to get free.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Athos and Porthos rode through the Porte Saint-Honore, hoping against hope that they might find some indication that their brothers had been brought this way. It was the slimmest of hopes, but they refused to consider that they wouldn't find them.

They hunted among the crowds of people passing in and out of the gate, and the ground underneath their feet, finding nothing. Just as they were both beginning to feel frustration and maybe trying somewhere else, Athos spotted something glinting in the sun off to the left. Dismounting, he walked quickly over to see what it was, picking it up and rolling it around in his hand.

At first, he thought 'what was a bullet doing here', but then he spotted the marking and his heart started to pound as he called Porthos over. Porthos, seeing the look on Athos' face, hoped they had just found something, anything, that could point them in the right direction.

Athos held out the bullet, and when Porthos saw the engraving, the same pounding sensation began in his own heart. They had been this way! They now knew which way Jean was taking to escape Paris!

Hurriedly mounting their horses, they rode down the road looking for more of the "trail" their brothers had left for them to follow.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Feeling the wagon make a sharp right turn, Aramis paused for a moment in his efforts to get through the ropes. Where is Jean going? he silently asked himself. He and his brothers knew these roads well, constantly galloping down them on one mission or another. This was a detour of some kind. Jean wasn't going to his farm, he realized, as that is the first place the Musketeers would look. He and d'Artagnan could end up somewhere else entirely! With that thought, Aramis resumed his efforts with even more determination and a slight feeling of fear now, something his confidence rarely allowed to affect him. He had just been through too much in a completely helpless condition, and he refused to let it happen again.

Ignoring the ache in his ribcage from the punch Jean threw him, Aramis sawed away at the ropes furiously, feeling and resolutely ignoring the stickiness of the blood dripping over his hand from his efforts. It was very slow going, but he worked at it determined to get through them before they reached their destination.

Just as the wagon hit a particularly nasty rut in the road, he finally felt the rope snap.