A/N: Okay, it seems this site has finally fixed its bug and the first chapter of this story is up. (So is the Picard one shot I posted Tuesday.)

Chapter 2

Aramis stood leaning against one wall of Athos's office, idling fiddling with his hat in his hands. Porthos, d'Artagnan, and General Alaman were all standing around as well, waiting for information on what their next move would be.

Aramis straightened when he heard footsteps on the balcony outside.

"General Baltasar will exchange Samara for the cipher machine at the Place de l'Eglise at four," Athos announced as he entered. He shut the door behind him.

"On a market day?" d'Artagnan said. "It'll be packed."

"Treville has brokered a handover with the kidnappers."

"Baltasar hopes to hide himself amongst the crowd," Alaman said thoughtfully.

"You know this man?" Aramis asked.

"All too well. I once thought of him as a friend. He was my most trusted lieutenant. What I never knew was that he always hated me."

"What makes you say that?" Porthos asked.

Alaman gave a humorless huff. "I was born the wrong color. An issue you may be familiar with."

Porthos fidgeted ever so slightly. "Nothin' I can't handle."

"We were ordered to destroy a village," Alaman went on. "Kill every man, woman, and child. Loyal Moors, like me. Innocent people, whose only crime was their race. I refused. Baltasar didn't. That was when I understood what type of man he really was."

Aramis exchanged a subtle glance with the others. They were going to have to tread carefully.

"It would be helpful if we could see the cipher machine," Athos said.

Alaman hesitated for a moment. "At the square," he replied.

Athos's expression shifted, as though his own suspicions regarding the general had just been confirmed.

D'Artagnan furrowed his brow and pointed an accusing finger at the man. "You don't trust us."

Alaman gazed back at him coolly. "I have no reason."

"Musketeers are men of honor," Athos told him seriously.

"The King of Spain swore he loved me, then had me arrested on false charges," Alaman replied vehemently. "He was a man of honor too."

None of them had anything to say to that.

After another beat of silence, Alaman said, "I will see you at the square."

With that, he turned and strode out. The musketeers had no choice but to let him go.

"I don't trust Alaman," Porthos said as soon as the general was gone. "Somethin's wrong."

"We promised them the cipher and we don't even have it," d'Artagnan added.

"Alaman swears he will produce it," Athos replied, though by his tone they all knew what that was worth.

"The only thing I believe is that he truly loves his daughter," Aramis put in. That, at least, would motivate Alaman to hold up his end of the bargain.

"We should get ready," Athos said, heading for the door. "We won't be able to take the dragons. Not only is market day too crowded but they'd be easily seen. Aramis, you'll need a musket."

Aramis nodded, following after him. He paused at the door when he heard what sounded like a faint voice hissing at him. But Porthos and d'Artagnan were already at the stairs and there was no one left in Athos's office. The slithering whispers came again, then fell silent.

"What is it?" Athos called.

Aramis looked up and down the balcony. He shrugged it off. "Nothing. Let's go."

The musketeers headed out, Aramis making a stop at the armory to grab a musket. They made sure to arrive at the square several minutes early. No doubt Baltasar's people would have done the same. And the place was packed. Merchants stocked their carts with their wares and traded with customers. People strolled about, either shopping or simply out for a walk. Children went scurrying with laughter through the street.

"As soon as Alaman has his daughter, we strike," Athos said. "Aramis's first shot will take out Baltasar. With their leader gone, his men should surrender."

They all nodded and spread out. Aramis scanned the surrounding buildings for an optimal perch and picked the one with an open paned breezeway on the second level. He slipped inside and made his way up to the vacant hallway where he quickly set a candle on the sill and lit it. He then checked the match cord in the musket before setting it alight and taking up position at the window's ledge. He spotted Athos at a carrot stand across the square with d'Artagnan. Using the musket sight as a guide, he did a slow sweep of the square. There was Porthos with Alaman slowly making their way toward the center.

A harsh whisper sounded indistinctly from behind him and Aramis snapped his gaze around. But the hallway was empty. He narrowed his eyes at the darker stairway but couldn't see anyone hiding in its shadows.

He gave himself a rough shake and forced his attention back to the task at hand. Two men and a dark skinned girl had entered the square. One of the men had a firm grip on her arm and a hat concealed his face. The other was clearly this General Baltasar, leading the way toward Alaman. Aramis lined up his shot.

A crow came flying at him from out of nowhere with a raucous scream, talons clawing at his face, wings flapping wildly. He reeled backward, flailing his arm and musket to fight it off. He stumbled and fell, hitting the floor hard—and in the next instant, the bird was gone. Aramis whipped his gaze around in search of it.

But instead of the crow, his eyes landed on the figure of Marsac standing at the top of the stairs. His face was blue, eyes crusted with frost. Blood spurted from his chest abruptly and began pouring down his dirtied shirt.

Aramis scrambled back until he hit the wall under the window. He cast his hand around for the musket but froze as more visages of the other musketeers who'd died in Savoy surrounded him. Their mouths didn't move, but the harsh, grating whispers assaulted Aramis's senses. It seemed like they were yelling it was so loud, even though he could barely make out any words.

Marsac stepped forward, raising one arm and pointing an accusing finger at him. Aramis finally seized the musket and pulled the trigger, but the ball whizzed right through the specter into the wall.

The rest of them closed in on him.

.o.0.o.

Athos loitered next to one of the vendor's stalls, subtly roving his gaze around the square.

"Try one, sir," the woman offered.

Athos took the grape and casually popped it in his mouth. When d'Artagnan made his way over after doing a circuit of the square, she offered him a stem too. Athos spotted Porthos and Alaman arriving. The general had a wooden box tucked under one arm.

"He's got the cipher."

D'Artagnan flicked a sidelong look Alaman's direction, then away again. "Second archway from the left."

Athos slid his gaze that direction, noting the two men looking around the square intently, hands a little too close to their weapons.

"Two more by the bread," he commented as he turned back.

And then there was Baltasar with another soldier and the general's daughter, making their way toward Alaman and Porthos. Athos and d'Artagnan held their position. A few words were exchanged, then the soldier nudged Samara toward her father.

"Come on, Aramis," d'Artagnan uttered, glancing up at the window.

Athos was growing tense. "What's he waiting for?"

They watched the exchange proceed to the point where Alaman handed over the cipher. Dammit, this was going too far.

Baltasar turned around and opened the wooden box—and it was empty.

Athos mentally reeled back in dismay.

Baltasar turned and threw the box at Porthos, yelling, "It's a trick!"

Athos and d'Artagnan drew their weapons.

"Down!" he shouted at everyone nearby.

One of Baltasar's men fired a crossbow their way but hit a woman in the back instead. She screamed and went rigid as she slowly sank to the ground. A musket shot struck the nearby archway. Athos tried to shoot back, but there were too many people running in fright by now. Another Spanish agent hit another peasant with a crossbow bolt. Athos couldn't get a line of sight.

D'Artagnan moved around the other side of the archway but was taken by surprise when an assailant knocked the pistol out of his hand. The two of them ended up fighting over one of the merchant stalls, as did Athos and the Spanish agent that came directly at him.

Stands were overturned and wares strewn about. Athos flipped over the stand he was trapped behind, knocking it over onto his opponent. He then fired his pistol through the wood into the man underneath.

Alaman was fighting two agents with a single sword, so Athos grabbed another pistol and shot one of them. The general cut down the other, then turned back and finished off the shot man for good measure. The battle seemed to be over, though citizens were still running and screaming in every direction.

"Samara!" Alaman called, turning in a circle. "Samara!"

Athos looked around as well. D'Artagnan picked his way toward him, but there was no sign of Porthos, or the girl. Wounded and dead lay all throughout the street.

Athos stormed over to Alaman. "You never had any intention of handing over the cipher!"

Alaman looked truly devastated by what had happened, that he'd lost his daughter once again. "That is true," he admitted. "But I had my reasons."

"Look at this!" d'Artagnan hissed, gesturing sharply at the havoc. "Innocent people are dead. A musketeer has been taken hostage! And you still think you have a winning hand?"

"I was once a man of status," Alaman bitterly responded. "A respected figure. Now I am hounded out of my own country. Believe me, I have no hand to play."

"Then why gamble with your daughter's life?" Athos demanded. He'd truly thought Alaman had been sincere in his goals here.

"Because I had no choice!"

D'Artagnan scowled and turned away. "More games…"

"I had no choice because I do not have the cipher." Alaman took a breath. "Samara does."

D'Artagnan's brows shot upward. "What?"

"I am sorry I lied. I put your friend in danger. I didn't do it lightly. Now, I humbly beg for your help. I don't know where they've taken Samara. Help me find her and I will give you what you want. The cipher and with it the formula for the gunpowder."

D'Artagnan shook his head like he didn't trust him. They frankly had no reason to. And at the moment there was a lot of damage control to manage. This was, after all, a Musketeer mission gone horribly wrong.

Athos frowned when he realized Aramis had yet to come down from his perch. Had Baltasar's men found him before he could take the planned shot, and they had two musketeers missing?

"Go back to the garrison for reinforcements," Athos told d'Artagnan. "Take Alaman with you."

D'Artagnan shot the general another scathing look that warned of repercussions should he try to protest.

Athos wove his way through the still stunned bystanders toward the building Aramis had gone inside. The place was quiet and empty, and he quickened his pace up the stairs. He did not expect to find Aramis huddled on the floor in the corner under the windowsill, hands clutching the sides of his head.

The marksman jerked his musket at Athos's entrance and squeezed the trigger. Athos flinched at the sharp click in the quiet hall, but then realized the musket had already been fired. He gaped at his friend in shock.

"Aramis?"

Aramis blinked rapidly. "Athos?"

Athos raised his hands non-threateningly. "Aramis, what happened?"

His eyes flicked to the side and widened in fear. "Don't you see them? They're all here. Marsac, and the others. I can't understand what they're saying!" Aramis squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as though trying to dispel whatever hallucination was plaguing him.

Athos's blood ran cold. "Milady," he breathed. He cautiously moved closer and crouched down in front of Aramis. "Listen to me, they're not real."

Aramis opened his eyes to look back at him, though his gaze kept shifting past Athos's shoulders. Athos couldn't help but glance behind him, but there was nothing there that he could see. But then, nobody had been able to see Thomas's ghost when he'd been haunting Athos.

Athos clenched his fists in anger. Damn it, of all the times for Milady to strike. And again, coming after one of his brothers instead of directly at him.

Aramis closed his eyes again and sucked in a harsh breath like he was trying to rally himself. "What happened?" he gritted out. "I- I wasn't able to take the shot."

Athos's chest constricted. "Baltasar got away, with Samara. Alaman didn't even have the cipher to trade them for her." He hesitated. "Porthos was taken as well."

Aramis whipped his gaze up, expression horrified.

"This was not your fault," Athos said firmly.

But he knew it was a futile gesture. After all, wasn't he blaming himself for this situation right here?

And now he was down two men and had no idea how to fix either situation.