"Aramis!" Athos cried out, anguish in his voice.

His attention then switching angrily to his captor, he demanded, "Why are you doing this?"

The man in front of him's face contorted. "You, of all people, know exactly why, Monsieur le Comte. An eye for an eye. You took someone I loved more than my own life from me. I am going to do the same to you. An eye for an eye, shall we say?"

"I did not murder anyone. Your brother nearly raped an innocent young woman, Beaufort."

"He was having a little fun with the tavern's barmaid. You ran him through," countered Beaufort, his anger intensifying.

"He objected to my coming to the young woman's rescue as he tried to force his unwanted attentions on her. He drew his sword, and I had no choice other than to do the same or be run through."

"Be careful of you words, de la Fere," Beaufort growled. "They will now have consequences you will not like."

Beaufort snarled, grabbing at Aramis' hair and yanking his head back, causing the now semi-conscious marksman to groan in pain. The man shook Aramis' head back and forth, causing his face to crunch up in agony.

Lifting his foot, Beaufort used it to propel Aramis forward, falling across Athos' legs.

"We will be back tomorrow to begin retribution, Monsieur le Comte,"the man sneered, as he and his men exited the room, bolting the door behind them.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Athos was already reaching for Aramis before the door had closed.

His brother was riddled with bruises over most of his face and upper body. One eye was black and blue.

Athos, untying his brother's hands, pulled him gently up against his chest, calling his name. After a few tries, weary eyes opened to behold his brother, not his tormentors, looking at him.

"Ath...," he tried to say, only to start coughing.

"Do not try to speak right now, mon ami. Just rest. I am so sorry this is happening to you because of me."

Aramis didn't understand what he meant, managing to get a "No" out before coughing this time.

"It is, Aramis. He bears a grudge against me for something from my past, and he intends to punish me for it. He..." hesitating, he went on. "He intends to hurt you for my part in the death of his brother, because he knows that you are my brother in every way but blood. I wish there were a way to get out of here, but I have tried repeatedly, and this chain will not give an inch."

Aramis' face suddenly scrunched up in pain.

Holding him closer, Athos whispered, "Just rest, Aramis. Somehow, we will get out of here."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Porthos and d'Artagnan, having received permission to ride out in search of their brothers when they were over two days late returning to the garrison, had left early in the morning.

They headed down the same road they knew Aramis and Athos would have taken on their return trip.

Two-thirds of the way along that road is where they found a heavily-trampled clearing, showing them that there had probably been an ambush. Finding Aramis' hat and Athos' scarf told them they had been there, and were probably the object of the ambush.

Searching along the edges of the clearing, they looked for tracks showing which direction horses had headed afterwards.

They found what they were looking for fairly quickly, but after following the trail for about a mile, it disappeared. Evidently, he thought of covering up their tracks had not occurred in their minds at first, but a little later on.

The Musketeers decided their only choice at the moment was to continue along the direction the trail had been going, hoping the kidnappers hadn't veered off later on in another direction.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sometime in the middle of the the night, Athos felt movement from his brother. They had no light, so he couldn't see if Aramis' eyes might have opened.

"Aramis?" he gently spoke.

Aramis' voice, faint and full of pain, responded. "Wh...where are w..we?"

Athos figured his brother must not have heard or maybe not remembered anything he had told him previously which was understandable.

"We were taken, Aramis. These men...have a grudge against me."

"Why?"

"It is something that happened in my past, before I was a Musketeer. Our captor...believes I killed his brother without cause. He wants to..."

He couldn't tell him. How could he tell the brother he loved what Beaufort wanted to do? But..how could he not?

Silence descended in the pitch black room.

"Athos?" Aramis prompted.

Athos heaved a great sigh. "He told me that since I killed the brother he loved..." he couldn't go on.

But Aramis finished for him, "He would kill the brother you love."

"Aramis, I...I rarely feel helpless. But to feel that way when it could mean your life..."

"Athos, it isn't your fault. He is a madman. I don't blame you."

Athos hugged Aramis closer, but carefully because of his injuries. There wasn't anything more he could do.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Some time later, the bolt was drawn, and in came their captors. Beaufort was all smiles.

"Today is the beginning of my long-awaited revenge," nodding to his men.

They approached and grabbed Aramis by the arms, dragging him away from Athos and towards the far wall.

"Leave him alone!" Athos cried out. "Take me!"

"But my dear Comte," Beaufort sneered, "this is so very much more fitting. You will see what will begin happening in a few moments for the rest of your miserable life. It will be like a living death for you-like losing my brother was for me."

His men slammed Aramis up against the wall. Grabbing his wrists, they spread-eagled them as far up and apart as possible, attaching them with shackles to rings set in the wall. His feet were bound together and to the base of the wall.

Athos, sick at heart, watched helplessly. He could see the fear in his brother's eyes. Fear I am responsible for, he told himself.

"Now, de la Fere, meet Andre. He has the best aim with a knife that I have ever encountered. I have chosen him to carry out my idea."

The man indicated gave a little mock bow, enjoying the attention. Then, he drew a pearl-handled knife from his waist. The knife had obviously been given to him by Beaufort, as it was costly enough that someone like him could never afford it.

"Where would you like the first one to go, Monsieur le Comte?" asked Beaufort, enjoying himself immensely.

Athos was silent, his eyes glaring at the man.

No choice?" Beaufort continued, taunting him. "Turning to his man, he said, "You choose."

Hardly had he finished speaking, when the knife flew from the man's hand, hitting Aramis in his lower right side. The marksman screamed in pain.

Athos screamed silently inside, his pain the pain of his brother.