Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to either Alexandre Dumas or his descendents.


Chapter Eleven: The Truth Shall Set You Free

The mood at the inn that night was tense. Elizabeth immediately went to her rooms, leaving the Musketeers to arrange a watch on Philippe- the imposter Count- and Henri. Once done, Porthos followed Elizabeth up the stairs.

"Come in." Elizabeth responded to Porthos' knock. He entered and leaned his back against the door once it had shut.

"Yes?"

"Don't play word games with me Elizabeth. You know full and well why I'm here."

Elizabeth sighed, "Yes, I do." She motioned him in and leaned back into the chair she sat in before the fire. Porthos took the other. He waited impatiently while she seemed to gather her thoughts. It surprised him then, when she flew out of the chair and into his arms.

"I hate him!" she cried as tears streamed down her face.

Porthos had been in nearly every position imaginable with a woman, but never as a comforter. He patted her back awkwardly, "Who, Athos?" He immediately regretted his query. A woman in a rage was a beautiful sight- Porthos had always been of the opinion that the man who coined that must have been a glutton for punishment. A woman in a temper was simply fearsome, they all were; they tended to throw things like books, knick knacks and cutlery. This particular woman in a temper, however, was downright terrifying.

She pulled back from him and stood with her hands on her hips. "Yes Athos! Who else?" She gave him no time to respond but began a rant worthy of himself. "That bastard! That no good bastard son of a goat herder! How dare he play God with me? How dare he!" Oh, yes, Porthos thought, Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned. He rose from his chair when Elizabeth paused and held a hand to her side.

"Are you alright?"

She waved away his concern. "The goodwife bound them for me, but they still hurt a little." She growled then, "I'm going to kill him."

Porthos sighed, "Are you never going to tell me why you're so angry?"

She glanced at him from under her lashes, "Porthos, has it occurred to you that it might not only be a painful subject to relate, but also an embarrassing one?"

"Aw, girl, what could possibly be so bad that-" his eyes went quite wide at this point, "You didn't?"

Elizabeth drew herself up to her full five feet nine inches, "I certainly did not, but that didn't stop your friend from..." She trailed off and sat back down in her chair.

"Tell me." He whispered sitting down across from her.

"After Athos left the dungeon, you saw Henri come for me," she started from the moment she spoke with Philippe, and ended with their return to the dungeon. She could hear Porthos draw in a breath when she spoke of the others believing he had betrayed them. She left nothing out of her story. Her voice cracked a bit when she spoke of Athos' rape, but she didn't shed a single tear. She swore to herself she was done crying over that man.

Porthos sat very still for a moment when she'd finished, and Elizabeth wondered if he'd even heard her. Then he jumped up and strode across the room in such an astounding burst of speed that Elizabeth was still sitting when he reached the door and she realized his intention.

"Stop!"

He jerked the door open with such force it was a wonder it stayed on its hinges. She leapt to her feet and dashed after him, "Porthos, stop!" He was already at the door to the taproom. She held an arm to her side and nearly fell down the stairs in her haste to catch him before he did anything rash.

She was too late.

"I think Porthos wants a word with you." Aramis pointed out, looking over Athos' shoulder at the approaching man.

Athos turned in time to receive the full force of Porthos fist across his head. He fell back out of his chair and Aramis leapt to his feet.

"Porthos..." He began in an even tone, but Elizabeth voice from across the room cut him off.

"Don't you dare kill him Porthos!"

"How can you defend him? After what he did to you?"

Elizabeth reached his side then, one hand clutched to her ribs which pained her more than she would admit. Ignoring Athos, who was still on the floor, she turned the full force of her wrath on Porthos. "If you kill him, then where is my revenge, where is my justice?"

"But Elizabeth-" Porthos was still growling.

"You should probably let him." Athos finally spoke as he got to his feet, "He won't be satisfied until he's shed my blood. More of it anyway." He amended as he wiped a blot of red from his lip.

"You." Elizabeth rounded on him, "You... you..." at a loss for words she resorted to placing her fist in direct opposition to his nose instead. Aramis caught him this time and two Musketeers watched in stunned awe as Elizabeth pointed one long finger at Athos and let loose with a string of insults in several languages. "How dare you deign to give me orders!" She was yelling by this point, and they had attracted a crowd that now included d'Artagnan, but she didn't notice. "What right do you think you have to even speak to me after what you've done? I should let Porthos beat you into a pulp, would that make you happy? Would that assuage your guilt?" She sniffled and it was only then she realized she'd started crying again. "Nothing has ever hurt me the way you did. And nothing ever will. You betrayed my trust, and you violated it. You violated me Athos." Her voice was level, "May God have mercy on my soul, but I don't think I will- I don't think I ever can forgive you for that."

She brushed by Porthos on her way to her room. He turned to follow her, but instead slammed his fist into Athos nose, in almost the same spot Elizabeth had. It may not be what she wanted, but he could certainly justify the need to do it himself. Anyway, if she could punch Athos in the nose, so could he. He rounded on the other two Musketeers.

"I thought friendship meant trust, but trust must work both ways. You may have thought for whatever reason that I had deceived you, but I am the one betrayed. For Elizabeth's sake I don't kill you, but do not come near me again." He turned away then and followed Elizabeth up the stairs.

Aramis didn't catch Athos when he fell from Porthos' blow this time. "What have you done Athos?" He whispered.

Athos cradled his nose gently in his palm. It didn't feel broken. He sighed deeply. "I told you I was a bastard."

"Yes, but a bastard mean you said things that shouldn't have been said, but you were a monster if you did even half the things she was implying." D'Artagnan commented in a quiet voice.

"I did everything she implied."

"Damn it Athos!" Aramis exploded, for once not even caring if his God confined him for an eternity in Hell for his blasphemies. "How could you? We are Musketeers, the King's own bodyguard. We are the best of the best, and you..."

"I know full and well what I have done."

"And Porthos," d'Artagnan began, "I must confess that I understood little of what he was saying."

"I did." Aramis gritted out. "At some point Athos let it slip to Elizabeth that we believed he might have been in league with the Sons of the Sign. Isn't that right?"

Athos nodded wearily, not even bothering to get up.

"Athos," Aramis shook his head sadly, "what on earth could drive you to such measures?"

"Jealousy."

"You have destroyed a friendship that spans a decade and the only real chance you've had at love in your entire life for jealousy?" D'Artagnan asked stunned.

"For a man that has lived with the pain of betrayal for nearly his whole life, I think that was rather restrained." Aramis pointed out, "I'm surprised you didn't kill her outright."

"I nearly did."

"Do you regret it?"

Athos jerked his head around to Aramis. "Not killing her?"

"The other."

"How could I not? She was innocent of any wrongs."

"And if she hadn't been?"

Athos looked shocked for a moment, then thoughtful. "I honestly don't know. I would like to say I would, but I know not my own heart any more. Had she been guilty, I may have continued to hurt her without a hint of remorse."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "We are a sad excuse for Musketeers. Not once, but twice have we been part and party to a lady's downfall. Even if we could excuse the first as justice, we cannot excuse ourselves from the second."

"We?" Athos looked up at d'Artagnan, "You do not shun me?"

"Athos" Aramis crouched beside him, "you have been my dearest friend since I was still a young man, I would not and cannot turn from you now."

"Nor I." D'Artagnan interjected, "You are much as my father was Athos, I may not approve of your actions, but I will stand by you."

"And again we are the three Musketeers." Aramis quipped.

Athos looked at him a bit askew before bowing his head in gratitude. "I do not deserve such friendship."

Aramis laughed, "No you don't. But we will strive to make you worthy and to right the wrongs you have done. All for one my friend."

"I had nearly forgotten our creed." D'Artagnan said with a loud sigh. "It seems like so long ago, yet it could not have been more than four, five years? I feel old."

"You feel old? How do you think I feel, I'm nearly two decades your senior. Bah! You feel old." Aramis said as he sat in a chair near the table Athos was still sprawled in front of. D'Artagnan sat next to him and Athos hoisted himself from the floor to join them. Aramis ordered a round of whiskey and stood up for a toast when it came. "All for one!"

"And one for all!" They responded and drained their glasses.