Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan were knocking on Treville's office door right at the time he said he would have an answer for them.

They lined up silently in front of his desk, hopeful yet sad faces looking back at him as his gaze met their eyes one by one.

Never one to beat about the bush, Treville said, "You have my permission to find Aramis' assassin," pausing as he saw them glance at each other with slight smiles. "However," he said, "We need to be very surreptitious concerning how we go about this. The Cardinal, as you all know very well, has Louis' ear. If he hears anything about this, he will very likely twist it into looking like a vendetta for his own purposes, and convince Louis that his personal Guard are forsaking their duty to him to avenge their friend's killing."

"This is a legitimate mission, Captain," Porthos rejoined. "You know that."

Treville responded, "Of course I do. But I also know Richelieu, and what he is capable of. We need to be cautious. You know how he can twist matters that are perfectly legitimate to suit his needs, and make us look bad. Just keep things quiet as you investigate, is all I ask."

"We will, of course, do as you ask, Captain," Athos said solemnly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

One eye opened once again, a groan sounding as Aramis crawled slowly back to consciousness. It seemed to take forever, as the cobwebs misting through his head blurred his eyesight.

He tried to reach a hand up to rub his brow where a persistent dull ache resided, but wasn't able to. It took him a moment to realize his hand were bound behind him.

He was a prisoner then, he realized, noticing now that his ankles were bound, as well.

What happened, he thought, the realization of his predicament clearing his mind at last.

The last thing he remembered was going to sleep on his own bed in his room at the garrison. Nothing more.

Who had done this? Why? But the dead silence of the room gave him no answers.

As he looked around, all he could see were four dingy grey walls, and a small window set up high near the ceiling. It was from there that he had enough light to see anything. There was no furniture of any kind, nothing to relieve the dull greyness.

The door on the other side of the room looked like solid wood, and was undoubtedly locked or barred on the other side. There was no way he could even reach it anyway, since he discovered there was also a rope attached to the ones binding his hands, then stretching down to link to his ankles. Not even crawling for him then.

After what seemed like forever just lying there, although he realized it was probably more like several hours, he heard a key turning in the lock.

Two men entered the room dressed in nondescript clothing, hoods pulled over their heads.

"There are others here. I thought, from the emptiness and silence that I was alone," Aramis said.

There was complete silence from the men.

Deciding it wouldn't hurt to try humor, he continued, "Cat got your tongue?"

This also failed to get a response.

The men crouched down on either side of Aramis.

One of them pulled out a small brown bottle and a folded cloth.

Aramis watched uneasily, suspecting what they were about to do.

"There's no need to do that. I can keep quiet, you know."

But the men paid him no attention.

He watched helplessly as liquid from the bottle was poured onto the cloth. The man pocketed the bottle, then leaned forward with the cloth raised.

Aramis started to struggle, but the man's companion held him still while the cloth clamped down on his nose and mouth, and was held there.

He tried to hold his breath, but the fumes penetrated anyway.

A few moments later, his body went entirely limp, and his eyes closed.

The men rose and left the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Once the door closed behind them, one of the men turned to his companion, and asked, "Why did we just do that, Emile? He was already tied up and helpless. It doesn't make sense."

Emile responded, "Villefort pays us well. If he wants something done, we do it without question. It doesn't turn out well for those who question him. Trust me."

He could see the look of puzzlement on the other man's face, though, and said, "Strictly between you and I, he has a partner, a senior partner shall we say. She doesn't want their revenge carried further until she returns, which might be weeks yet. She owns the strings to the money bag, so his hands are tied. He's furious, but he can't do anything to that one yet (jerking his head towards the door through which they had just exited). I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his temper, that's for sure, and we won't be as long as we carry out orders. He wants that one kept drugged till she returns, so that's what we will be doing."

He began to walk away, then added, "Not a word of what goes on here leaves the building," giving the other man a stern glance. The man just nodded, and the two headed on down the hallway."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later on that day, the door to Aramis' makeshift prison opened.

Villefort sauntered in, stopping at the prone form of Aramis. Smirking, he crouched down, and grabbed a handful of Aramis' hair.

Yanking the unconscious marksman's head up, he said softly, as if Aramis could hear him, "How good it feels to have you in my power at last. Your day of reckoning is coming, Musketeer. It may be delayed, but you will feel my wrath. I promise you," dropping Aramis' head down sharply so it hit the floor with a thump. He stood and began to walk away, before pausing and coming back to deliver a vicious kick to the unconscious man's side. Then, he calmly strolled from the room, and locked the door behind him.

TBC