Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan had reached the Court of Miracles, agreeing that they needed to stay together while they searched. The place, besides being home to the men who had taken Aramis and Flea, was also home to a great many other criminals, none of whom would welcome their presence.
They tried to hurriedly decide which one of a set of branching roads to take, knowing how like a rabbit warren the streets of the Court were, finally going left.
They hadn't progressed more than a few yards, though, when they heard what sounded like a large crowd roaring their approval for something.
All three of them looked at each other, the same thought on the minds of all of them. Aramis!
Breaking into a run, both pistols and swords in their hands, they followed the noise they could hear. It was as they neared a double gate that it was the loudest.
They silently and cautiously pushed the doors open.
What they beheld was the worst nightmare any of them could envision.
Men everywhere, both sitting and standing, around a scaffold, arms raised and thumbs down, like some kind of sick vote.
Then they looked at the scaffold in the center, eyes raising up. At the top of it was…..Aramis!
His hands were bound behind him, a noose around his neck, his eyes closed in silent prayer. Even as they watched, a man stood at the lever.
And then, before they could even move, he pushed it down!
Aramis fell helplessly through the now-open trap door he had been placed over, the rope tightening as he dropped.
Athos lifted his pistol instantly and fired. He knew he didn't come close to Aramis' uncanny ability to hit the center of anything he set his sights on, but sheer determination and desperation gave him the ability to sever the rope in two.
The crowd turned, almost as one, now setting their sights on the men who had spoiled their fun. Advancing on the Musketeers, they began pulling blades and pistols, some picking up rocks or debris off the ground to use as weapons. Fury filled the faces in the crowd even more when they noticed that the newcomers were Musketeers.
The Musketeers, desperate to get to their brother, found any way to get through blocked, so stood their ground fearlessly against overwhelming odds.
But before the crowd could unleash their fury on them, a mighty thunder of hooves sounded behind them.
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Aramis, deeply in prayer, still heard the increase in the crowd's clamor, instinctively knowing the moment had come. He barely had time to mouth the words 'into Your hands, I commend my spirit', when the floor dropped beneath him.
Helplessly falling through the now-open space, the noose tightened rapidly, cutting off his air and his consciousness. As he started to black out, his body slammed into the scaffolding supports.
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Rounding the corner, Treville galloped, and with him a troop of his Musketeers, all with swords raised above their heads. The fearsome sight was more than enough to halt the crowd in its tracks, staring.
Coming to a halt, Treville raised his voice to be heard above the crowd. "All of you. Go home. Now. If anyone of you are still here in five minutes, you will be arrested and taken to the Chatelet. Now, go!"
The crowd started to scatter as fast as they could move at the promise in his command , almost tripping over their own feet in their haste to get away from the threat.
No one, in the pandemonium, saw the wild-eyed, black-haired woman stealthily come up behind Flea, grabbing her around the throat.
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Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, now that the crowd no longer hindered them, raced across the courtyard to the scaffolding, fear clutching at their hearts at what they were afraid they would find. Treville dismounted, following in their wake, not knowing what exactly had happened right before he had arrived.
Climbing under the scaffolding, their eyes quickly found the crumpled body of their brother. Making their way over, they knelt at his side.
They could see the red groove around his neck from when it had choked him as he dropped. The noose itself had slipped a little further down, still around his neck.
Athos reached out and laid two fingers against Aramis' neck. Nothing. He tried again, a little harder this time. Still nothing.
Shaken, he laid his head against his brother's chest, listening intently for a heartbeat. Still nothing.
Leaning back, he finally looked up at his brothers, tears in his eyes, shock in his voice. "He is gone."
Porthos answered right back. "No..I don't believe it. He can't be."
Athos said softly, "Porthos."
Porthos didn't respond. He just gathered his brother's limp body into his arms.
As soon as he did, though, they all heard a faint groan.
Porthos' joyous voice said, "I knew he wasn't dead!"
Athos was stunned and so happy, he couldn't speak. D'Artagnan just grinned from ear to ear.
Athos asked him softly, "Aramis, are you with us?"
After a moment, they saw his lips move, but no sound emerged. Again, his lips moved, with the same result. Aramis' eyes flew open, panic evident in them.
Athos knew what was wrong. "Aramis, it is all right. Your voice will come back (he hoped). Your throat was injured," not wanting him to start recalling what he had just gone through for now.
But it was too late. He could see the look of horror come over his brother's countenance, as the hanging came back to him.
"It is all right, Aramis. You are safe now."
But Aramis was starting to shake with the force of his emotions. His breathing began rapidly to increase. Athos, laying a hand gently on his chest to try to calm him, could feel the wild beating of his heart beneath his fingers. Then, his body moving a little in his struggle, he cried out in pain, and went limp.
Athos said, "He has another injury, possibly from the fall. We need to get him back to….." halting as a woman with wild black hair appeared at the edge of the scaffolding, an arm wrapped around Flea's throat, and a pistol in her hand pointed straight at Aramis.
"This ends now!" she shrieked.
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I don't know why cliffhangers keep coming into my inspirations so often in this particular story!