A/N: Thank you Laureleaf for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed Rochefort's demise. *g*

Summary: Aramis is kidnapped by a group of settlers needing a medic.

"A Twist of Fate"

Aramis stood over Porthos where he sat on a barrel outside the local trading post, dabbing at the bloodied mess on the side of his head. The cut was likely shallow, a product of getting beaned by a small ball some children had been playing with in the street.

"Stop laughing," Porthos snapped.

"No one is laughing," Aramis assured him, though he exchanged a look of mirth with Athos over their friend's head.

"I know what yer doin'," Porthos growled.

"I'm just trying to see the damage," Aramis promised. "It's a good thing you have such a hard head. I don't think you have a concussion."

Porthos continued to grumble grumpily as Aramis examined the injury. It had stopped bleeding.

"I can do a weave back on the ship if you want."

"'M fine." Porthos shrugged away from him and stood.

Athos gave Aramis a questioning look for confirmation, to which he nodded.

"Finish up restocking supplies then," Athos said and walked off.

Aramis sighed. "I shudder to think what acerbic backwater wine our captain is going to find for himself on this planet. I will not be patching up the hole he burns in his gut."

Porthos harrumphed, though whether in agreement or his own sour mood, Aramis couldn't tell.

"I'm goin' back to the ship to clean up."

He too walked off, leaving Aramis alone on the street.

"Yes, fine, I'll handle the supplies," he muttered to himself.

He went into the trading post and looked over the food stores for sale. Not much was appetizing, nor was there much variety. Aramis picked out some spuds and dried figs, paid for them, and then headed out.

As he was passing an alley, a sackcloth was suddenly thrown over his head and hands seized his arms roughly. He dropped the box of goods and instinctively rammed an elbow backward. One of the assailants released him and he threw a wild punch. Even blindfolded, he knew the general shape and size of a man and his fist connected with flesh. He was rewarded with a grunt, but there must have been more attackers because more hands grabbed at him and he was forced to the ground, arms wrenched behind his back and lashed with rope. His weapons belt was yanked off, along with his wrist band device.

Aramis let out a shout, trying to draw attention from anyone who could help. The hood was briefly removed and a gag stuffed into his mouth. Then he was blindfolded again and hauled to his feet and dragged off.

He struggled every step of the way, but there were too many and his efforts were hampered by his bonds. He wasn't sure how far he was being led, though it seemed like quite a ways. He knew when they left the town because leaves and twigs started crunching under their feet and he kept tripping.

His captors paused for a moment and the hood was finally ripped off. Aramis blinked as he oriented himself, and saw that they were now in the woods and that there were three assailants. He had no idea what they wanted or where they were going, nor could he ask with the gag still in place.

"Keep moving," one of the men said gruffly.

The other two seized him by the arms again and dragged him along, into the hills.

o.0.o

D'Artagnan looked up from helping Constance move around some crates in the cargo hold when Porthos walked up the ramp, blood matting the curls on the side of his head.

"What happened?" he exclaimed.

"I don' wanna talk about it."

D'Artagnan raised his brows. "Where're Athos and Aramis?"

"Athos went off somewhere an' Aramis is gettin' the supplies," Porthos replied, reaching up to poke at his head.

Constance intercepted him and tried to get a look.

He batted her hand away. "Aramis already did the fussin'. I jus' need to wash up."

She put her hands on her hips and huffed. "If you're sure."

"I am." He moved past her and headed for the stairs up to the main deck.

"Maybe we should go help Aramis with the supplies," d'Artagnan suggested.

Constance nodded, watching Porthos's brooding figure retreat into the upper level. "Good idea."

They left the ship and made the walk into town. It was a dusty settlement with tumbleweeds lazily rolling across the dirt road. They stopped in the trading post first, though Aramis had apparently already left.

Constance roved her gaze over the chinaware and wood carvings of water fowl on some display tables. "Is that a duck?"

D'Artagnan studied it for a moment. "A swan?"

She smirked. "More like someone tryin' to imitate a swan from pixelated data pictures."

He grinned. "Do you want something?" He cast an appraising eye over the painted porcelain plates, wondering which one she might like.

Constance turned and placed a hand on his chest. "Not from here. Though I would like to get some new curtains for our room."

D'Artagnan didn't know what was wrong with the ones they had, but he smiled and rubbed her arms. "We can buy some the next time we're on Beaumonde," he promised.

She beamed at him and they left the store, meandering up the street in search of Aramis or Athos.

Gunshots suddenly cracked the air, freezing them in place. D'Artagnan only hesitated a split second before bolting into a run toward the source. The town wasn't that large, and a few streets down, he and Constance pulled up short at the sight of a body on the ground and Athos standing a few feet away being handcuffed by the local sheriff's deputies.

D'Artagnan tried to push his way forward but was shoved back by a lawman. "Athos!"

"It's fine," the captain replied, calm as ever as he was led away.

D'Artagnan thought it was anything but fine. Constance clung to his arm and he squeezed back. "Come on, we need to get Porthos and Aramis."

o.0.o

The trees finally thinned and Aramis found he'd been brought to a small village. The gag was yanked out and the ropes around his wrists untied. He spat on the ground to get the rancid taste from his mouth.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "If it's ransom, I'm afraid I only have a few coins to my name."

The lead kidnapper recoiled the rope around his shoulder and elbow for future use. "Welcome to your new home, doc."

Aramis furrowed his brow in confusion. "I'm not a doctor."

"I saw you patchin' up your crew mate and talkin' like a doctor."

"I'm a medic."

"Good enough."

The man cocked his head and Aramis was once again tugged forward through part of the village and to a building where he was thrust inside. The space was average size, with a few beds in the back and pallets on the floor along the right wall. A couple of adults were laid out on those while two children sat on the mattresses in the back. A dark-skinned woman wearing a white head scarf looked up at their entrance.

"Doralee, meet our new doctor," the lead kidnapper said.

Her face lit up. "Praise the Lord."

Aramis was still trying to process this turn of events as the men left. They'd kidnapped him because they needed medical help?

"What's your name?" the woman, Doralee, asked.

"Aramis."

She smiled. "Aramis, the Lord has answered our prayers by bringing you to us."

"The Lord didn't bring me here; I was kidnapped," he rejoined.

"God works in mysterious ways," she replied.

Aramis scoffed and his gaze drifted back toward the door. No guard had been stationed outside. He wondered how far he'd get before he was spotted trying to leave though. But a strained cough from one of the patients gave him pause, and he glanced back over his shoulder at them, eyes lingering on the children.

"Has there been an outbreak?" he asked.

"No," Doralee said. "People get sick or hurt, an' most of the time they heal up on their own. But sometimes…"

Aramis felt a weight settle on his shoulders at the realization. "Sometimes they need a doctor," he finished.

He did not approve of these people's methods for obtaining said help, but as Doralee brought over one of the children, Aramis couldn't deny the fact that they were in need, and he had the means to help them.

The child had a linen bandage wrapped around her hand, and Doralee undid it to reveal a cut that had become infected. Aramis knelt in front of the girl, resigning himself to helping, just for the moment.

"Do you have comfrey?" he asked.

Doralee nodded. "Yes, some dried on the shelves, but it also grows nearby."

"Fresh is better," Aramis said. "I'll have to lance the wound and then a poultice can be used to draw out the infection."

The child flinched, trying to jerk her hand out of his.

"I'll be gentle," he coaxed. "And you'll feel better afterward, I promise."

"He's a doctor, Ruby," Doralee said, as though he was some kind of prestigious guest instead of hostage.

He still wasn't happy about the situation, but he might as well do what he could for the sick people here. After all, his brothers would be looking for him soon.

o.0.o

D'Artagnan and Porthos stood in the sheriff's office, both of them visibly fuming and on the verge of leaping over the desk to throttle the man on the other side.

"We've been over this!" d'Artagnan shouted. "Athos was trying to stop a robber."

When the chaos of the shooting had died down and d'Artagnan and Porthos had finally arrived at the sheriff's station, Athos was just starting to give his statement, explaining that the man he'd shot had come in to rob the tavern keeper and attacked him when he didn't hand over the coin fast enough. Athos had chased him into the street and ordered him to stop when the robber drew first, forcing Athos to return fire. Athos had just been the better shot.

The sheriff leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes in irritation. "We can't corroborate that until the tavern keeper wakes up. But 'e took a hard knock to the head, so who knows when that'll be."

D'Artagnan threw his hands up and spun away. Porthos made a grumbling comment about people getting hit in the head in this town.

D'Artagnan took a few steps toward the hallway that led to the holding cells where Athos had been languishing for the past few hours and would continue to until the only witness to the robbery could give his statement. Of all the times for Aramis to not be around when they needed a medic! D'Artagnan had no idea where the man could have gotten to, and he was loathe to think that maybe he had found a pretty girl to dally with and was ignoring their comms at a time like this.

It was getting late when a deputy finally came in.

"Harnish woke up," he reported. "Told it just like the man we arrested said. Josiah came in with a gun demandin' coin an' attacked him when 'e refused."

D'Artagnan whirled back toward the sheriff. "There, see?"

The man rose from his chair. "Alright then. We can release him."

"Thank you." D'Artagnan shook his head in vexation as the deputy went to retrieve Athos from the holding cell.

A few minutes later Athos emerged, hat and belt in hand.

"Are you all right?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Fine," he said curtly. "But I'd like to leave."

Without any further exchanges, they left the sheriff's office and headed back to the ship.

"D'Artagnan, get us off this planet," Athos said once they boarded.

D'Artagnan pulled up short with a wince. "Um, Aramis isn't back yet."

Athos shot him an incredulous look. "Where did he go?"

"Um…" He shared a look with Porthos. "We don't know. He wasn't answering us on the comms band."

Athos scowled. "Of all the nights for him to find some female distraction," he muttered, storming off with a rattle up the stairs.

D'Artagnan grimaced.

Porthos shook his head. "Aramis better be back bright an' early in the morning," he said ominously.

o.0.o

Night had fallen by the time Aramis finished tending everyone in the sick room. Doralee brought him a plate of food, which he hesitated to eat, but he knew he needed his strength if he was going to escape.

"You were good with Ruby earlier," the woman commented as she sat across from him at the table. "You'll fit in well here."

"I'm not staying."

She just gave him another one of those patronizing smiles. "This is your home now. There's even a house all ready for you."

"Excuse me?"

"We've been waiting for a doctor for a long time," she said. "And God finally brought you to us."

Aramis pushed his food away. "Enough. God didn't bring me here. Kidnappers did."

The perverted twisting of faith to justify their crimes was despicable and infuriating, and it felt like a personal affront to the faith Aramis held so dear.

Doralee didn't seem offended at all. She stood and gestured for him to follow. Aramis did, and she led him to his "house." It was simple and small but not a hovel. Doralee bid him goodnight and left.

Aramis sat at the small kitchen table and waited. He couldn't try to leave now, as trying to navigate the hills in the dark would be too dangerous. The fact that he wasn't under guard also made him cautious; these people apparently weren't worried about him escaping.

Yet at the first hint of dawn, Aramis slipped out of the house and into the woods. There was just enough pale light to see by. Unfortunately, he couldn't be sure he was even heading the right direction back to the town. But it was better than staying in that place and playing their twisted game.

He didn't get very far though before he stumbled across a tripwire. It almost sent him sprawling as it snapped, but then a huge cargo net dropped from the treetops on top of him, driving him to the ground. Empty cans were tied to the ends and clamored and clanged as he thrashed underneath it. Aramis fell still, aware of making too much noise, but he couldn't attempt to get out without rattling the cans.

It didn't matter because the villagers must have heard the initial ruckus and it was only a few moments before pounding footsteps caught up to him. The net was pulled off him and Aramis gritted his teeth as he was seized yet again and hauled back to the village.

An older, very tall man hobbled over as they returned. By his bearing, Aramis placed him as someone in charge.

"No one who comes here ever leaves," the elder said.

Aramis tried to shrug off his captors but they held fast. "My friends will come for me."

The elder snorted. "No one ever comes, and you will learn your place eventually." He nodded to the men. "Take him to the cellar."

Aramis struggled as he was dragged away toward a portion of the village where some cellar doors covered the ground. He was forced inside into a small chamber that had a mattress on the floor, a toilet in the corner, and long chains bolted to the opposite wall. A single lantern provided illumination. Aramis grunted as the shackles were snapped around his wrists and ankles. Then the men left, shutting the cellar doors behind them.

Aramis shuffled a few steps in the chains. They had enough slack to allow him movement from the bed to the toilet, but that was it. He gave them an experimental yank and wasn't surprised to find them secure. He sank onto the mattress despondently.

It wasn't long before the door opened again and Doralee came down, bearing a tray of breakfast.

"Why can't you accept that this is fate?" she asked, setting the tray down on the end of the mattress. "I see you wear a crucifix," she added, nodding to the collar of his shirt. "So you must believe in God's plan."

"I do," he said staunchly. "And this isn't it."

"How can you know? Who are we to question the Lord?" she pressed.

Aramis clenched his jaw and turned away to face the wall. He was done trying to reason with mad people. They would never be swayed from their twisted beliefs.

Aramis closed his eyes and prayed to the God he believed in that his brothers would find him soon.

o.0.o

D'Artagnan paced the cargo hold anxiously. Aramis still wasn't back yet, and while Athos had yet to emerge from his quarters, he was bound to be surly when he did if they weren't ready to take off immediately.

"I'm going into town to look for him," he told Constance.

She gave him a sympathetic look and nodded.

He took the ATV to get there quicker and parked it once he reached the town. From there he simply walked up and down the streets, scanning windows for a certain Lothario. But the town wasn't that big and Aramis was nowhere to be seen.

D'Artagnan was getting very annoyed. He didn't want to go back empty-handed and face Athos's wrath, which would be unfairly vented on the rest of them until Aramis deigned to show his face.

A glint of metal caught his eye as he passed an alley. He only stopped because the piece was thin, like a rapier, and was mostly concealed under a canvas cover. There wasn't really anything suspicious about it, except that there was also a small wooden box laying on its side and some figs smashed into the dirt, like there'd been a scuffle.

D'Artagnan went over and lifted the covering. His heart dropped into his stomach. It was Aramis's weapons belt with his sword and pistols. And…dammit, his wrist band.

D'Artagnan gathered them up and quickly made his way to the sheriff's office. The man was behind his desk, the same picture as of yesterday. Narrowed eyes focused on d'Artagnan as he rushed inside.

"Have there been any other robberies or muggings reported from yesterday?" he asked urgently. "Or was someone found injured? One of our crewmen is missing and I just found his things in an alley." D'Artagnan lifted the weapons as evidence.

The sheriff gazed back at him mildly. "Nothin' reported. But disappearances are common around here."

D'Artagnan quirked a confused brow. "What? What the hell does that mean?"

"People often get snatched by the hill folk," the sheriff replied. "Mostly tradesmen."

D'Artagnan blinked incredulously. "Why haven't we heard about this?" he demanded.

The sheriff lifted his brows and pointed behind him. D'Artagnan turned to the window where a bunch of postings hung. And sure enough, there was the warning, plastered in big bold letters. D'Artagnan mentally groaned.

"We have to mount a rescue," he said.

"Those hills are filled with booby traps. Anyone who tries to go up there will most likely end up dead."

"So, what, you're saying that's it? You just leave those people to whatever fate happens to them out there?"

The sheriff shrugged.

For the second time in two days d'Artagnan wanted to punch the man. Instead he tucked Aramis's belongings under his arm and hurried back to the ATV, then booked it back to the ship. The others were all up by now and d'Artagnan could see Athos silently fuming as he drove up the ramp into the cargo hold.

"Aramis has been kidnapped," he said before the captain could erupt.

That got them all straightening in alarm.

"What?" Porthos exclaimed.

"Yeah, apparently it's a common occurrence around here," he said sourly. "The hill folk come down and just snatch people. Tradesmen, according to the sheriff, who by the way doesn't think it's worth trying to rescue anyone."

Porthos bristled with ire. Athos, too, looked murderous, though d'Artagnan was pretty sure it was now redirected from their missing crewman to the ones who had taken him.

"Why Aramis?" Constance asked. "He's not a tradesman."

D'Artagnan frowned, then shrugged. "I don't know."

Porthos let out a groan. "Tradesman…dammit, Aramis was patchin' me up in the middle of town yesterday."

D'Artagnan's brows rose sharply. "So they grabbed themselves a medic."

"And the sheriff won't help?" Athos asked.

He scowled. "No. Said there's booby traps all through the hills and it's too dangerous."

"Great," Porthos muttered.

Athos's lips thinned in thought. "Porthos and I will go in on foot, gives us the element of surprise. But we'll also likely need the ship for a quick escape, so you two will need to have her ready."

D'Artagnan nodded. "Be careful."

"We will." Athos walked over to one of the storage containers and started pulling out weapons. "Now let's go get Aramis."

o.0.o

The sun beat hotly down on Athos's back as he and Porthos trudged through the woods into the hills. It made his leather coat cling uncomfortably to him, but he ignored the discomfort, focusing instead on keeping an eye out for booby traps.

"You think Aramis is all right?" Porthos asked after a while, breaking the monotonous rhythm of crackling twigs beneath their feet.

"The hill folk need a healer," Athos replied. "They'd have no cause to harm him."

"Aramis might give 'em cause," Porthos huffed.

Athos didn't respond to that because it was true. But it was also true that any sick or wounded would tug on Aramis's heart and he'd feel compelled to help them. He had a limit though; it was just a question of how long before he reached it.

Athos felt the wretched coil of regret slithering around his insides for not having looked for Aramis the previous night. Even though it wasn't unusual for him to find female company in whatever place they docked at for the night, he always told one of them when he was going off with someone. Athos had just been so irritated by yesterday's events that he'd been past the point of patience and hadn't bothered to look deeper. He was captain; it was his responsibility. And now Aramis had been missing for a day because of Athos's negligence.

So wrapped up in his morose thoughts, he didn't see the trip wire stretched across the ground. He heard the twang as it snapped though.

Hands shoved him behind just as Porthos yelled, "Watch out!"

Athos caught himself before he face planted and turned to find a crossbow bolt sticking out of a nearby tree. He traced its path and moved to a cluster of branches where a crossbow was wedged into a nook. He looked at Porthos and gave him a nod of thanks.

"We're getting close," Porthos commented.

Athos tapped his wrist band. "D'Artagnan, what's your status?"

"We found the village," his pilot responded. "We're staying over a hill and out of sight until you give us the word."

"It should be soon."

Athos signed off and continued his trek through the underbrush. Eventually he spotted some rooftops through the thinning trees and drew to a stop, exchanging a look with Porthos. He raised his wrist to his mouth. "D'Artagnan, go now."

They waited until the high-pitched whir of engines rent the air as the Luciole came swooping down to hover over the village, kicking up gusts and dust. The bottom hatch of the cargo hold was open and Constance was leaning out, braced in a harness with a shotgun primed and ready. Then Athos and Porthos drew their own swords and pistols and stormed out from the trees toward the crowd of people that had gathered at the disturbance.

"You have something that belongs to me," Athos shouted above the noise. "Return him. Now."

These people had grit, Athos had to give them that. All of them stood unmoving with hardened expressions. He clenched his jaw.

Above, Constance cocked the shotgun and shot a wind vane off a fence post.

"I won't ask again!" Athos yelled.

An older man stepped forward. "The people who come here are brought by God's will."

"I don't give a damn about God's will," he snapped. "We are leaving with our medic. Or perhaps you all would like to meet your Maker today." Athos adjusted his aim toward the self-professed leader.

Beside him, Porthos bored holes into everyone else, his own aim unwavering.

The moment was long and fraught with tension. Athos did not want to instigate bloodshed, but he would not stand for anything less than his man being released.

The village elder must have finally come to that conclusion, for he took a deferential step back. Athos moved forward, placing his sword to the man's back.

"Take me to him."

With Porthos and Constance covering him, Athos followed the elder across the village square to a set of cellar doors. He let the old man open them, and then pushed him inside first.

At the bottom of the depression he found Aramis, shackled hands and feet, curled up in the corner of a ratty mattress.

"Athos," he breathed, voice tinged with desperate relief.

"Are you hurt?"

Aramis shook his head as he quickly stood, the chains rattling.

Athos pressed his blade firmly against the elder's back. "Do you have the keys?"

The man nodded to a hook near the door. Athos snatched the key off it and tossed it to Aramis, who quickly set to freeing himself.

"I'm really glad to see you," Aramis said once the last shackle fell away.

Athos grabbed the back of the elder's collar and thrust him back out the door. Constance dropped a ladder from above and they made their way toward it, Athos keeping his guard up as he directed Aramis to go first, then Porthos. Finally he sheathed his weapons and climbed up last. Once he was on board and Constance had shut the hatch, he tapped his wrist band to tell d'Artagnan to get them out of there.

Porthos scooped Aramis into a bear hug. "What the hell are you doin' goin' an' gettin' yourself kidnapped?" he growled.

"Took you long enough to come after me," Aramis quipped back, patting Porthos fondly.

The large man stepped back with a grimace. "Er, yeah. We 'ad some delays."

"Which I apologize for," Athos put in. He looked Aramis over critically. "You're unharmed?" he asked again.

Aramis nodded. "They wanted a doctor." He snorted. "Too bad they didn't take the time to ask if I actually was one." His expression pinched. "I did help some of the injured and sick when I first arrived. It wasn't the children's fault what the adults had done."

Athos shook his head; Aramis didn't need to apologize for common human decency. If anything, it was a testament to his character that he was willing to help those who'd kidnapped him in the first place.

"What got you relegated to chains?" he asked.

"I tried to escape the next morning but got caught in a trap. That's when they decided to upgrade my accommodations."

D'Artagnan came rushing in from the main deck, taking the stairs down to the hold two at a time. "Aramis! Are you okay?"

Aramis smiled. "I'm fine. Thanks for the rescue." He then turned to Porthos. "How's the head?"

Porthos rolled his eyes. "It's fine. But let's not take any more jobs that bring us to this godforsaken place."

Aramis's expression fell. "I don't think God's forsaken these people. But…I don't believe he would bless their actions either."

Athos reached out to clasp his shoulder. "Nevertheless, I'll tell Treville not to give us any jobs in this sector for a while."

That drew a small smile from the others and a quiet "amen." Athos finally let himself release the tension he'd been holding onto. He'd gotten his crew back safely; he'd done his duty.