Athos shouted and screamed at them until he was too hoarse to make himself heard. He thought he would hear his brother's agonized cries for the rest of his life, tearing his heart apart.

He hadn't at first noticed that the man wielding the knife had a table on the far side of him, more knives laying gleaming in the torch light upon it.

He mixed his attacks up, sometimes throwing a knife that pierced flesh, sometimes deliberately missing Aramis altogether, although his victim couldn't tell which he was going to do each time beforehand. Sometimes, he would saunter slowly over to the marksman and make a cut or slash instead of attacking from a distance.

Athos could see that Aramis was still conscious, though barely so now. He had to be in so much pain, the swordsman agonizedly thought. And it is all my fault.

Beaufort finally called a halt to things after what seemed like an endless period of time. Signalling his henchmen, they filed out, but not without a satisfied smirk at at Arhos, and a comment.

"We will be back in the morning. Maybe your brother will die tomorrow, de la Fere. Enjoy his company tonight," laughing as he closed and bolted the door behind him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After they had left, it was pitch black again. Athos couldn't see Aramis at all.

He tried calling him softly.

"Aramis? Mon ami?"

But there wasn't a reply. No sound at all.

That caused panic in the ordinarily stoic swordsman.

"Aramis?" he called louder.

At first, there was nothing. Athos' heart sank in despair. Was he dead already? Did they kill him?

But barely had those thoughts run through his mind, than he heard a voice, whisper-soft, reply, "A...Athos?"

Athos' head shot up at the sound of that very much loved voice.

"I am here, Aramis. I am so sor..."

"D don't apol..ogize. N..Not your f..fault."

Athos heard coughing, and then Aramis trying to catch his breath again.

"S..sorry. C..can't to breathe r..right," Aramis said in a raspy voice.

Athos didn't want to ask him, but he knew he needed to know.

"Aramis, you are our medic. I...I have to know, brother. Did they...did they hit anything serious? Ribs, lung," although making himself sick thinking of internal injuries.

Silence.

Finally, Aramis said, "I'm having t..trouble t..aking any deep br..breaths. Hurts. H..hurts s..so bad."

Athos' panic level shot up higher. Aramis almost never admitted to pain, sometimes even highly upsetting his brothers by hiding his injuries. This admission from him worried him sick.

"Aramis," forcing his voice to remain calm and soothing, " rest as much as you can, brother. Maybe..." he wondered if he should say it, but hoped it might give Aramis enough strength to hang on, "maybe Porthos and d'Artagnan are headed our way. They will take Beaufort and his men apart."

Aramis didn't reply, and Athos, after a couple more tries, realized that he must have finally fallen unconscious at last. At least, he will not be aware of the pain for as long as he is out, he thought. A small mercy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Porthos and d'Artagnan had continued to head in the same direction the discontinued trail had indicated. They didn't really think the men they were trailing would stay headed that direction, but they had no other leads to follow.

But, to their great surprise, as the sun went down, it finally led to a clearing amongst the woodlands, at the center of which stood an abandoned fortified farmhouse, the kind of place men like these would love-isolated and secluded.

Remaining hidden behind the trees, they slowly, methodically began to check the building out. The only windows the building seemed to have were all in front, which could make it easier to approach it from.

But it was when they reached the back of the house that they knew they had found the right place. There, amongst a group of horses in a fenced area were the horses of both Athos and Aramis!

Excited now that they had located where their brothers had been taken, they nevertheless proceeded with extreme caution, reasoning that these men had to be dangerous to have captured two heavily armed veteran Musketeers.

They thought whoever was this band's leader had to be either stupid or supremely confident that this out-of-the-way building was so far off the beaten path that no one would find them. They would soon find out that either of those suppositions were dead wrong.

When they reached the back door, d'Artagnan quietly lifted the latch, and both of them's eyebrows instantly rose, that even doors were unlatched. They wondered if this rescue was too easy.

Pulling the door silently open, they looked around before proceeding. Not a soul was in sight, no weapons, nothing. This was too good to be true!

Finding a stairway leading down, they looked at each other. Keeping captives in an underground room made sense to them, so, hands gripping both pistols and swords, they moved slowly down the flight of steps, listening intently for any sound that could indicate that they might have been discovered.

But there was only dead silence.

Reaching ground level, they noticed right away that there was only one room with a bolt across it, and eyed each other again. Their heart rates sped up thinking they may have found their missing brothers.

They found torches on the wall outside the locked room, and quickly commandeered and lit one for each of silently as possible, d'Artagnan opened the door.

The sight that immediately met them was an astounded Athos against the far wall. "How did you find us?" he asked.

Closing the door to shield any sound they might make, they raced across the room to the swordsman, who however, waved them off, pointing to the opposite wall vehemently.

"Help Aramis first, please?" an almost panicked voice coming from him that they had never heard before.

Turning, complete shock registered as they beheld Aramis, spreadeagled to the wall, his body marked by countless cuts and slashes, several knives having been left in his body. He was covered in blood, and a pool of it had formed on the floor beneath him. His head hung down, eyes closed, face incredibly pale.

"Aramis!" Porthos' voice called out, shock and pain at what had happened to his best friend very evident. D'Artagnan didn't say anything, but the look on his face was very telling.

D'Artagnan had noticed a ring of keys on the wall near the door as they went in, and had grabbed them. He was very glad he did now, as he unlocked the shackles.

Porthos gently took Aramis in his arms, and they headed back to Athos, where they spread their cloaks and laid him down upon them.

Athos, whose gaze had never left Aramis, leaned over him as soon as he was released, tears overflowing as he softly spoke, saying, "I am so sorry, Aramis," several times, causing his rescuing brothers to wonder what had happened before they had arrived.

They hurriedly tore strips from their shirts, and bound the worst of his injuries, deciding to risk not doing more yet, as they needed to leave before they were discovered.

Porthos again lifted Aramis against his chest, his hear torn anew at hearing the faint whimper escaping his unconscious brother's lips from the movement.

Turning to the door, they froze as a mocking voice in the doorway said, "You weren't thinking of leaving my hospitality so soon, were you?"