The fire was dying in the hearth when Marsac awoke in the early hours of the next morning. He cast an eye over the fire, to where Athos was sleeping upright against a large rock; his hat was pulled down over his eyes, but Marsac knew from his breathing that he was still in deep slumber.

Sitting up gingerly he looked across to d'Artagnan- the younger man too was fast asleep, curled in on himself as he cocooned in a pile of thick covers. His eyes moved fitfully behind the lids, as if he were in the midst of a dream.

Athos had come back late that night, his face pinched with worry, Marsac had assumed. He and the lad had left him well alone- Marsac knee Athos would not want to be disturbed; he had lived and worked alongside him for long enough now to know when he exuded "go away" vibes. D'Artagnan was new, but even so he had seemed to have sensed the shift in attitude, the way Athos had kept himself to the side.

Now he was up, he quickly dressed and crossed to the other side of the cave system, heart already thudding in his chest.

The ride back to the safe house was short, yet filled with anxiety- he kept looking over his shoulder, expecting men to come charging out of the bushes any second.

Shame filled him- Aramis and Porthos should not have been taken. That was not part of the agreement at all.

He dismounted as he came into the graveyard, the watery morning light illuminating the dew on the long, unkempt grass as he trudged over to the main church; he could see the door was slightly ajar, and the orange glow of a candle could be seen through the stained glass window at the side of the building.

The air was cold as he crept down the nave, to the hunched figure he could see at the front.

He sat himself at the very end of the pew, and after a few seconds he turned his head- Rochefort was praying, his hands clasped in front of him as he muttered under his breath.

A few weighted seconds passed. 'You shouldn't have taken them. You should have done as we agreed.'

Rochefort smiled against the skin of his hands, before crossing himself and finally sitting up. He splayed out his hands in front of him, his face a picture of innocence. 'I got too eager. I am sorry, I know those men are your friends, but I had to see for myself, I-'

'That's not what we agreed!' Marsac's panicked voice echoed around the empty church. Rochefort sat back, considering.

'I said I could help you. I know what we agreed- I saw the opportunity and took it. Besides-' he sighed, shrugging as he fiddled with the clasp to his coat. 'Your friends are being well cared for, and I am holding up my part of the bargain. Now I need you to fulfil your side.'

'W-what do you mean?' Marsac frowned.

'I told you I need to study you to help you.'

'You have Aramis and Porthos- they are older than me, they can-'

'No. I need all of you. I am aware that there are more than just you three.'

Marsac swallowed. 'There is no one else, just us.'

Rochefort smiled, his chuckle rumbling down the pew like fetid wind. 'Come now. Do you really think I wouldn't have done my own research?'

'I..I..' Marsac was lost for words.

'There are five of you in total. Do not deny it, for I have been told by a very reliable source. I want all of you- what would be the point in studying only a small amount of the full group? You may have something that the others may not have, we don't know, do we?'

He stood as Marsac considered his words. 'Aramis and Porthos.' He finally said as Rochefort came to stand beside him, so close that Marsac also had to stand to get out of his way. 'They are safe?'

'My friend, you must trust me.' Rochefort put a hand on his shoulder. 'I only want to help.'

Marsac swallowed nervously again, before slowly nodding. 'Alright, I'll bring the other two. Give me an hour.'

'Excellent.' Rochefort smiled, bowing slightly as Marsac turned to walk back up the nave. 'I'll be here. You're doing the right thing.' He called after him, until Marsac was swallowed by the shadows.

Athos was up by the time he came back- he and d'Artagnan were preparing a light breakfast as he finally made his way back to the mine, breathless and shaky.

'Where have you been?' Athos called as he took a bite of hard cheese, before washing it down with some water as Marsac sat down.

'Couldn't sleep.' Marsac shrugged as he pulled a pitcher of water towards him and drank from it heavily. 'I went back into the surrounding villagers like you said, to ask if anyone had seen admins or Porthos.'

This piqued both men's interest, for they both sat up and stared across at him. 'Have you found them?' D'Artagnan asked, appetite now forgotten.

'I found out who had taken them.' Marsac nodded, heart thudding in his chest as he turned to lie to Athos. 'I managed to arrange a meeting, at the old church. Fitting, don't you think?'

'When is this meeting?' Athos asked, already standing and getting ready.

'As soon as we are able to get there.' Marsac nodding, rising too. He tensed as Athos strode towards him, his expression hard, before relaxing slightly as his face spread into a smile and he clapped him on the shoulder.

'Good work!' Athos nodded, relief flooding through his chest. 'Knew I could rely on you.'

'Yes…' Marsac's voice trailed off as the three of them gathered the rest of their things and prepared to ride back into the village.

A heavy feeling, weighty and uncomfortable, settled into d'Artagnan's stomach as they rode back into the city limits, to where Aramis and Athos had been taken.

Anxiety bubbled up, fizzing in his hands and legs as he sat looking out the window as they rumbled down the stony path towards the church.

'You alright?' Marsac called from his seat driving the horse. D'Artagnan didn't answer- he didn't know how to articulate his feelings, so he didn't try.

Athos was stoic and silent in a way that made him feel nervous- d'Artagnan couldn't shake the image of the other man, blood stained and breathing heavily, that night outside the church.

Finally the cart stopped, and the three of them got out. Marsac delved his hand into the weapons bag, pulling out a gun after a few seconds and handing it to Athos, who pushed it into his pocket. 'It's loaded.' He added as he turned away.

'Go and scout out the front.' He ordered, eyes on the church.

Nodding once, Marsac did as he was told, leaving Athos and d'Artagnan alone. Pulling out another gun, Athos pushed it into d'Artagnan's hands.

He looked down at the gun, before looking back up as Athos put a knife in his pocket. 'I can't do this.' He muttered after a while, voice wavering.

'Yes you can, lad.' Athos assured him. He would get used to it soon enough.

D'Artagnan shook his head, before pushing the gun back into Athos' hands. 'I mean I'm not doing it.' He replied, voice unwavering as he stared at Athos.

'You're one of us now.' Athos stared back, face set. 'We would do exactly the same for you.'

D'Artagnan scoffed. 'I never had a choice in this!'

'Do you think any of us had a choice?' Athos retorted, before forcing himself to calm down. 'There isn't a choice, lad.'

'I saw what you did in the church, all those bodies…' d'Artagnan swallowed, licking dry lips before continuing. 'Is that supposed to be me?'

'You'll learn to live with it. You've got to feel it.'

'So this is supposed to be what we do, and yet we don't even know why?' D'Artagnan's voice was incredulous.

Athos sighed. 'Do you really think knowing all the answers will help you sleep better at night?'

D'Artagnan swallowed hard, blinking up at the sky. 'My family. I still have time with them- it will be years before they notice I'm not ageing, and then I can leave…but I still have time with them.'

Athos looked over to him, at the young boy standing opposite him. Who was he to stand in his way. He stepped away from the cart, giving him a final nod.

'Take the cart. Ditch it before you hit your village.' He muttered, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the gun Marsac had given him. 'Take this. Throw it away once you have no more need for it.'

D'Artagnan nodded, smiling a genuine smile as Athos stepped away. 'Thank you. Are you going to be alright?'

Athos snorted at that, looking back up the church. 'Always.' He eventually replied. 'Now go.'

D'Artagnan didn't need telling twice. With a final nod to Athos he climbed into the driving seat and manoeuvred then cart around.

As he watched him go, Athos felt a pang on envy. It was quickly covered with a determined panicked feeling as he turned and made to follow Marsac up towards the church.

After only a couple of minute's driving, d'Artagnan had to stop. He sighed hard, unease flowing through him. He couldn't explain it, but something about the way he and Athos had parted made him feel uncomfortable, like something wasn't right.

He turned off into an alley, intending to stop the cart and search in the back for a bottle of wine to nurse on the journey home- he frowned as his coat banged against the wooden side of the car as he hopped off; Athos' gun hit the wood, making a horrible sound.

He fished it out and made to stow it in his belt- he couldn't stand having a weapon in his pocket, even in the relatively short time he had actually used and kept a gun like this.

He stopped as he felt the gun in his palm; frowning, he weighed it in his hands. It felt too light to be primed and ready for an assault, like the way Marsac had given it to Athos.

He twisted the barrel and peered inside- the heavy feeling returned tenfold, now making him feel sick to his stomach. The barrel was empty.

He looked back up, to the road from where he had just come. Athos was in danger, he knew it.

He swallowed hard, yet he knew what he had to do. Untethering the horse from the cart he mounted the horse, turning the reigns and directing it to go back, to the church he had just left.

Gun drawn, Athos carefully made his way into the building. Feeling a horrible sense of dejavu he made sure he covered all areas- he turned as he saw movement to his right.

'D'Artagnan?' Marsac mouthed from the other side of the church.

Athos shook his head, not needing to explain- he waited for Marsac to move closer, and together the two of them advanced, guns drawn.

A shadow crossed their view. A man stepped into the frame, unarmed and with hands raised in a way that showed he meant no harm.

'Where are they?' Athos called, voice dark. He was unwilling to entertain this longer than necessary. 'Where are Aramis and Porthos?'

'Do not be alarmed. They are safe.' The man replied, voice echoing. 'Just like I told your friend here.'

'My friend?' Athos frowned, turning to his left- he didn't have time to react as Marsac lifted his weapon and fired. The noise was deafening, the pain almost blinding as Athos hit the stone hard, clutching his side.

'Marsac!' He yelled out, pain encapsulating him as he felt warm blood flow from the wound. 'Why Marsac!?' He grunted, before trying to throw himself to the side as Marsac moved to his side, thick iron handcuffs in his hands.

'No…stop…' he grunted, bucking away as he was dragged upright into a sitting position. White hot pain took his breath away. 'Why, Marsac?!' He yelled again, anger mingling with the pain. 'I trusted you!' He threw out, struggling in his grasp. 'We all trusted you!'

'Calm down Athos-' Marsac grunted, barely avoiding Athos' head as he tried to headbutt him. 'This man can help us!'

As the words rang out, Athos finally understood. 'Oh Marsac.' He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. 'What have you done….'

'He-he said he has people who can help us!' He looked up to Rochefort, who was watching the scene with interest. 'If they can find out what stops us dying, they could turn it off!'

'Oh Marsac…' Athos repeated, shaking his head as he groaned, long and low in his throat. 'Not like this….not like this….'

Rochefort stepped forwards as Marsac finally stood, leaving Athos slumped on the floor. 'I do not intend to harm you.' He said, voice silky smooth. 'Like your friend said- I believe we can do great things together, I-'

'-wait.' Marsac suddenly spoke up, his eyes wide as he realised something. 'You haven't stopped bleeding.'

It was true- Athos looked down as blood continued to dribble down his shirt, pooling down onto the flagstone floor. 'You should've healed by now!' Marsac dropped down, using his fist to plug the wound. Athos, his hands bound, did not protest- he merely hissed out in pain as Marsac, his breathing suddenly skittery with panic, did his best to apply pressure to the wound.

'Why didn't you tell me?' He cried, eyes wide as Athos turned to look at him.

'It w-wouldn't have changed anything.' Athos replied simply, voice strained.

Marsac looked up. 'He needs help!' He shouted to Rochefort, who resisted the urge to roll his eyes- he clapped loudly, and seconds later a group of men entered the church.

'Take them to where the others are. Make haste- this one looks like he won't last much longer.'

Marsac shook his head, eyes wide, as he was grasped by each arm and hauled to his feet. 'He needs medical care!' He shouted as he was pulled away.

'He will get it, I assure you.' Rochefort replied, looking down at Athos as he too was dragged down the nave, a blood trail winding its way after him.

As the two of them were put into a waiting cart, d'Artagnan was watching. Eyes narrowed, he fisted the reigns of his horse- he moved off as the cart started to rumble down the streets, following the cart as it made it slow way towards its next destination.