Athos could feel tugging inside his chest. His eyes fluttered as he was vaguely aware something wasn't quite right. There was a bright light just behind his line of sight. There was pain, but he couldn't feel it. He just knew there was. After all he'd been shot.

It started to come back. Yes, he'd been shot. The sound of the gun, the white hot pain as the bullet tore through his chest, and Elle. Had she been shot too? Was she dead?

The tugging stopped.

Was he dead?

He waited for the sensation to start again. It didn't. He was suddenly so tired. Whatever semi-conciousness he'd been hovering in he began to fade out of.

His breathing evened out as the doctors congratulated each other and stepped away from their work. It would be a waiting game now.

Aramis awoke to a nurse shaking his shoulder gently. "She wants to talk to you,"

He came and sat on the bed next to Elle. She wrote, Desmond Doyle.

"Desmond? That's his first name?"

Elle shook her head. Aramis pulled out his phone and text D'Artangan that information.

"Can you remember anything else, Elle?"

She closed her eyes in frustration. If only she could speak.

Court martial. Manslaughter or maybe murder. Athos testimony...

"Right. Thank you, darling."

He stepped out into the hall and called the others. This narrowed it down considerably. So, it appeared this was all about revenge. Doyle somehow had used his sister to play them. Aramis felt like an idiot. If only he had been more diligent...

Just as he was hanging up with D'Artangan a doctor appeared in front of him.

"Your Athos's next of kin?"

"Yes,"

"He's in recovery now. The surgery was a success. However, he's not at all out of the woods. The next few hours, even days are critical."

"Can I see him?"

"Once he's out of recovery. He won't be conscious for a good while, though."

"Thank you,"

Aramis stepped into Elle's room to give her the good news. She smiled and closed her eyes in relief. Aramis planted himself back in the chair and kept his eye on the door and his phone in his hand.

"Desmond Doyle. There's a name I hoped I'd never hear again," Treville said.

"What happened?" D'Artangan asked.

He sighed, "About sixteen years ago Athos went on assignment with a small group of soldiers. It was only a training mission...or rather it was supposed to be. Once on site Athos noted Doyle was behaving strangely. He was agitated, and confrontational. It didn't make sense because he'd just cleared his psyche evaluation before the trip."

Porthos and D'Artangan listened intently.

"Two days into the trip Athos noted his behavior getting increasingly more violent. He sent him back to camp one day because he was out of control."

Treville passed a hand over his tired face. "When Athos returned to camp two hours later he witnessed Doyle strangling one of the local men who had been assisting them." He took a deep breath. "We don't know know why he did it. And it was too late for Athos to help..."

"Then Athos testified against him?"

Treville shook his head. "I never dreamed he'd take revenge. The way he acted at the trial I assumed he'd be institutionalized by now,"

"Well, apparently not." Porthos piped up.

"What are we going to do about this?" D'Artangan asked. "We have no clues. Nothing to go on."

"How did they get away from the ranch? On foot?" Treville asked.

"Don't know. It was a little...hectic." Porthos admitted.

"Right. Well, get back to the ranch and see what you can find." He ordered.

At the ranch they discovered two of Athos's horses were missing. It was a lead. Even if the trail was ice cold by the time they'd found it. Porthos called Aramis to join them, and Treville took his place at the hospital.

Eventually they discovered the horses running loose in the wild a few miles away. It was obvious they'd had an escape plan before they even entered Athos's home. And now, they were gone without a trace.