A/N: Thank you to Doubtful Guest and those Guests who I cannot thank personally for your reviews, and, as always, to everyone who reads my little fictions.

oOo

Chapter Fourteen

Eduard Mendez had enjoyed his life before his house boy had decided to give evidence against him.

All his servants were hand picked and consequently, knew their place. He had over thirty servants working at his villa in Nice, needed to service his every whim. Cooks, chef, valets, gardeners, house staff, butlers, grooms. The list went on. He did not own just one villa. The list was replicated in his other houses.

It was a stupid mistake to kill his rival in view of that particular servant, but he had come to see them as invisible and that he was beyond criticism in his own house. He had thought nothing of it, drugging the rival and then finishing him with his favourite knife, but when he rose from his brutal task, bloodied and triumphant, he had not seen the look of horror on his servant's face and the man quickly moved away, out of sight. When he did not return for his shift in the morning, no-one was particularly concerned. Servants came and went, sometimes forced, sometimes voluntary, but suddenly, things started to happen. He was paid a visit by the local gendarmes initially, followed by increasing visits by increasingly higher officials of France's law enforcement.

It was all very tedious.

His villa, or in particular, the garage where the deed was done, had been cleaned of all evidence, and the body had been disposed of in a most efficient way. Pleased that he had dispersed of his rival, his mood soon dipped when the Musketeers showed an interest in the incident. He had been called in for interview, accompanied by his best lawyers. He knew he was being covertly observed, but that was par for the course with the police.

Thereafter, he made it his business to learn a little more about this particular group of police operatives. They were trailed and photographed covertly and Mendez had studied those photographs.

When he finally found out where his house boy (and the man's wife, as it turned out) were, courtesy of calling in debts from a variety of very skilled people who knew their way around hacking and tracking, it had been a pleasure to dispose of the couple, although he would have liked a little more time in that house. His blood lust needed regular expression and this had served him well but not thoroughly.

He had been interested to see who would find them. He had flashed the woman his false i.d. card, sufficient that she had not examined it, as it held the photograph of a man she would know, de la Fere. Once inside, he had chased the woman up the stairs and into the bathroom after she had let him into the house. He had placed the i.d. card on the stair as he left the house as a taunt and a warning as to who they were dealing with. He enjoyed making people uneasy, especially police operatives. Sure enough, the man was one of the two who found the bodies, seen through the remote camera he had left secreted on the bookshelf. They would find the camera, of course, but not before he had seen the footage in the privacy of his apartment.

As it turned out, he had misjudged the determination of that particular Musketeer, but he had enjoyed their subsequent cat and mouse game, before finally leaving the country, no doubt leaving the man frustrated and angry. No matter, Mendez held grudges, it was all part of the pleasure and he knew that one day, he would return to deal with de la Fere. In the meantime, he promised himself he would dispose of all of them in the end and his contacts made sure the Musketeers heard about his wish. Not too soon though. He would let things settle before he re-emerged to pull their strings once more before he destroyed them, one by one. That one in particular, Athos de la Fere, who had become an itch under his skin. And so he had set his plan in motion, a hint of an appearance here, a sighting there before that dark, triumphant night in Paris. How good that had felt. He had almost cut his throat, before stopping himself with great difficulty.

The idiot truck driver had assuaged his lust for blood a few weeks later. The man had taken his payment and thought Mendez had fled the country, courtesy of the brief, parting message he had sent him. He was in the middle of respraying his truck when Mendez had quietly walked into his garage. He had actually welcomed him, offering him a drink, thinking Mendez wanted him for another job. The surprise on his face had turned to horror as he backed toward the inspection pit, before tumbling back into it. He never got a chance to climb out.

Ah, loose ends, Mendez thought. How it cleared the mind to tie them up. Now that particular ending had been very satisfying.

oOo

Two days later

"How are you feeling?" Kate asked, as she got Athos settled.

"Better for moving out of there, thank you," Athos replied, accepting the cup with the straw in it.

His hand shook a little as he raised it to his lips.

"I need to get out of this bed," he sighed, looking disdainfully at the cup.

"Soon," she replied, taking it back and placing it on the side table.

Kate was a no-nonsense nurse, he had found out, as she had deftly batted away several of his requests.

"I know you value your independence, Athos, but let's not rush things. Your body needs to be properly hydrated in order to heal and your blood pressure is still fluctuating."

"I will hold you to "soon," then," he murmured, running a hand through his hair.

"You may," she smiled and she crossed the room to look through the window, her back to him.

"Your friends are here," she said, as she watched the two now-familiar men making their way across the car park below.

She shook her head as she watched Porthos throw back his head and laugh as he pushed Aramis in the back. Aramis rebounded elegantly off a Citroen and took off at a run. Porthos threw up his hands but did not run after him, merely quickening his pace. They disappeared from view and Kate turned back, casting a hard look at Athos, who realised any further discussion was pointless.

"I'll leave you in their care," she said. "Do you need anything before I go?"

"Thank you, no," he replied, flatly. "Not at the moment."

Recognising that was his way of saying the matter was not closed, she shook her head and gave him a rueful smile, before turning toward the door. Before she could open it, however, it was flung open and Porthos and Aramis tumbled in, laughing, almost bowling her over.

Watching them, Athos could not suppress a smile as they pulled themselves up, apologising profusely and trying to regain their composure. Kate stepped around them and shot Athos an exasperated look before she disappeared into the corridor.

Athos was reminded to two rowdy schoolboys cowed by their headmistress.

"Sorry!" Porthos called after her, as they both turned and faced their friend.

"At ease," Athos smiled.

Aramis grabbed a chair and pulled it across the room, placing it next to the one already there.

"She's stern," Aramis laughed. "But rather lovely."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Athos murmured. "I wouldn't want to pick up the pieces."

"We've brought you something," Porthos said, to change the subject as he saw Aramis place his hand over his heart and give their friend his wounded expression.

Athos raised his eyebrows, as Aramis dropped his hand and produced a small, neatly wrapped package from his leather shoulder bag.

"Don't worry, it's approved," he said. "Kate said since the machines have gone now, you can use it."

Athos frowned and took it warily.

They watched as he began to peel back the paper. His cast was an impediment, but they had been thoughtful enough to wrap it loosely.

"A phone," he said, as the box emerged. He looked up at them, his eyes wide. "This is a pleasant surprise," he added, cryptically.

"It's just cheap and cheerful, 'til you can replace yours," Porthos said. "At least you can be in touch with the outside world now."

Athos's phone had been handed to them with his other possessions at their first visit. It was smashed beyond repair and had given them a shock; a physical symbol of what he had endured.

"Not for work, though, mon ami," Aramis said, quickly, taking the wrapping paper and putting it in a nearby bin. "This is purely for pleasure, all ready to go."

"Once again, I misjudge you," Athos said, softly.

"Why, what did you think we'd got you?" Porthos chuckled. "No, don't answer that," he added, as Athos opened his mouth to reply.

"I've put a playlist on for you," Aramis said then.

"Oh?" Athos said, as he thumbed the on-button and the screen came to life.

Well, that was a bonus, but the thought of what Aramis had put on there for him raised a concern. But at least he could stream his own music now he had the technology.

Scrolling through the music file Aramis had uploaded though, he broke into a smile.

"I did misjudge you," he murmured, as he scanned the list.

There were some of his favourite pieces of music; classical and smoky jazz among others. Plus, he discovered, some meditation pieces – but he was pleased to see these were mainly the sounds of water; raindrops and ocean waves – rather than whale song, which did tend to put his teeth on edge.

Porthos then handed him a small box and when he opened it, it contained the latest earbuds.

"These are from me," he said.

"Bless you," Athos murmured, suddenly touched by the thoughtfulness of the two men at his side.

They had been with him throughout his ordeal and now, they sought to help in his recuperation.

"We put some photos on there for you too," Aramis said then. "And some audio books."

"Photos?" Athos said, as he flicked through the photographs that had been uploaded.

Aramis's nieces, all big brown eyes and happy smiles. Treville, his hand held in a threatening gesture toward the photographer. Porthos, tucking into a sirloin steak, a large glass of burgundy at his side -

"You bastard," Athos growled at that one.

"Just wanted to show you what you had to look forward to," Porthos laughed, hands raised.

Some of the photos, from colleagues in the office, actually made him laugh; a sound that had Kate coming back into the room, as Porthos and Aramis joined in.

She carefully sat on the end of the bed, mindful of his foot, as he introduced her to Porthos and Aramis's sense of humour, in photographic form.

Finally, there was one photograph left to look at, in a separate folder, but Aramis reached out and put a hand gently over his.

"A warning on that one," he said, quietly.

Athos knew what this one would be. Aramis would know he would want to see it, as soon as he could. He would insist upon it, Aramis knew, and so it was there.

It was a photograph of the Alpha Romeo, taken at the scene, before it was loaded onto the recovery trailer.

It was a sobering sight.

But one that made him determined to get well and back on his feet.

He had a score to settle.

And this time, he would win.

The room had fallen silent as he looked at the photograph.

Finally, he looked up at his two friends.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "For all of it."

"You're welcome," Aramis smiled, as Porthos hummed in agreement.

"Enough excitement," Kate said. "Time to go, Gentlemen."

It took a little while, as they laughed and joked with her, much to Athos's amusement, but finally, she closed the door and leant on it, watching as Athos continued to scroll through the photographs, a small smile of contentment on his face.

She walked over and gently took it from him.

"Rest," she said.

He raised an eyebrow but settled back.

She carefully fitted the earbuds into his ears and selected a piece of music.

It was a good choice.

So, for now, he did as he was told.

To be continued ...