Athos and Porthos had raced towards the gates when they had found Aramis gone, just as he had known they would do. Speaking to the veteran Musketeer who was on guard there though, they learned that no one had come that way.

Turning their attention back towards his living quarters, they ran their eyes slowly around the area, looking for any other way that he might have escaped.

"The gate is the way in and out," Porthos said in frustration. "Where on earth did he go? Could he be in the kitchen with Serge?"

"He would not have been so secretive in leaving just to go to the kitchen," Athos, said, his sharp eyes still moving, seeking his brother's excape route.

Then, he saw something and moved rapidly towards the window from which he had left, Porthos right behind him, still puzzled.

When he reached the window, Athos reached up to the top of the window frame, and Porthos brow cleared.

"He's a right sly one, our Aramis," he said, realizing from the tiny bit of cloth Athos had just pulled free from where it had snagged on a rough piece of the wood frame that Aramis had gone to the roof instead of to the gate. Just because no one ever did that didn't mean it couldn't be done. They both realized that he knew them so well he would have known they would have naturally gone to check the gates first, giving him the time to get further away from pursuit.

They almost smiled at his subterfuge, almost, before anger and frustration surged to the fore. He had a bit more of a head start on them having delayed them figuring out how he went, and they had no idea which way he would have gone.

Trudging their way up to Treville's private quarters, neither one of them wanted to be the one to have to explain just what had happened, but Athos knew it would fall to him as the Captain's lieutenant. Heaving a heartfelt sigh, he knocked sharply on Treville's door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

D'Artagnan and Laurent eyed each other silently, and then Laurent gave a short nod of his head, and, still with an arm around a slightly unsteady d'Artagnan, turned them around and guided them along a completely different corridor. He seemed to know the twists and turns well, and d'Artagnan hoped that it would lead them to safety, maybe a part of the place their pursuers wouldn't think of.

But he was unprepared for where they ended up. Stopping in front of what seemed like a solid wall, he watched confused as Laurent leaned him against a wall and proceeded to press both hands against the wall in several places.

But his heart sped up as he saw the 'wall' open. He almost couldn't believe his eyes when he beheld the bright sunshine and the streets of Paris before him. They had escaped!

"We did it!" he exclaimed, "How do th..."

Laurent gestured for continued silence, whispering in explanation, "They may already have discovered your escape. And, since I am missing, they will know how. They will be hunting for us. They do not know of this wall, so we have a little time. But we need to move as quickly as possible. Are you up to it?"

D'Artagnan just nodded, feeling very lighthearted just to be in the sunlight and fresh air, to be free after being tied and confined for so long.

"Follow me," was all Laurent said, heading towards the east of the city.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I do not need to tell you we need to find him before the men who are after him do, " Treville said, after listening with disbelief to what had just happened. "It may, however, already be too late He has had too much of a head start on us, and these men may have been keeping a watch on the garrison. However, I expect you to do the best you can. Dismissed!"

The curt tone in which he had addressed them told them he was not happy with what had happened or with them, and it also masked his upset over his Musketeer in danger, they thought as they headed back out the door, through the gates and into the streets to attempt to pick up a trail their brother wouldn't have been eager for them to find.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aramis struggled fiercely against his captors, all anonymous with their heads covered with dark hoods. But a vicious punch into his lower back left him breathless. They took immediate advantage of the underhanded hit, and shoved him to the ground face first. They worked with the efficiency of soldiers, Aramis thought, as he lay helplessly on the ground. Two men knelt on his shoulders, holding him in place, while another man produced several sets of shackles from a burlap bag. One of the sets was clamped around his waist. One of his arms was stretched out and held in place while a shackle ws clamped tightly around his wrist, then attached to a loop in the side of the chain around his waist. The other wrist was similarly restrained and attached on the opposite side, keeping his arms immobile. His legs were shackled together with a short chain in-between them to allow him to take short steps, after which the men holding him down laughed as the finally let him go.

"On your feet, Musketeers," he heard. He tried to get up, but had a difficult time with his hands tethered the way they were. He heard laughter again, but resolutely ignored it. After a couple more fruitless tries, his captors finally grabbed him roughly around the shoulders and hauled him to his feet.

They surrounded him. It was then that he became aware of something as a couple of the men's cloaks had fallen open.

Their leader saw his eyes widen at what he saw, and said, "Yes, some of us are Red Guards. We no longer need to hide anything, as where you're going you won't ever be in a position to tell anyone." That explained the experienced way they were working together, was Aramis' thought.

The man in front of him pulled a burlap bag over Aramis' head, the marksman's vision suddenly blocked out. "Move it," he snarled, as he gave Aramis a rough shove forward with no warning.

Aramis hesitantly moved forward as best he could, his sudden lack of sight and the way his ankles were chained causing him problems.

Red guards were involved in this? That chain of thought led higher, causing Richelieu's name to come to mind next. He knew the man was unprincipled, but would he go this far with one of the KIng's personal guard? And if he would, where were they taking him now?

Continuing to stumble along the way he was being led, he began to pray, hoping against hope that his brothers could find him, as it seemed that the situation might very well be difficult, if not impossible for him to escape from.

And then, the next thought froze him. D'Artagnan! What will they do to him now?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After winding through the streets for what seemed like forever to d'Artagnan, Laurent signalled for them to stop around the back of a tavern that looked familiar to d'Artagnan.

"We are not far from your garrison now," Laurent told him, which explained to d'Artagnan why the tavern looked so familiar to him. "I will leave you now."

"You are coming with me," d'Artagnan replied.

"Whether I wanted to be or not, I was a part of the men who kidnapped and held you prisoner," Laurent said. "They would arrest me and throw me in prison."

"I will vouch for you," d'Artagnan said. "You saved my life."

"I can't..." Laurent started to say.

"You were almost as much a prisoner of that brute of a brother of yours as I was, Laurent. We are going to the garrison together," taking him firmly by the elbow to emphasize his point, then pulling him forward.

A few minutes later, the gates of the garrison loomed before him. Home, he thought, and it felt so good to have reached safety. I need to find the others as quickly as possible, his speed picking up at the thought.

He no sooner came through the gates, still practically dragging along a very quiet Laurent with him, when he heard a booming voice, "D'Artagnan!" seeing both Athos and Porthos moving rapidly towards them.

Reaching him, they both clapped him on the back, saying with a little disbelief, "So they did release you for him."

D'Artagnan froze, hoping he had mistaken what he had just heard. "What?" he asked, in a voice now suddenly anxious with fear.

Athos and Porthos glanced at each other, their faces beginning to mirror d'Artagnan's in expression.

D'Artagnan uneasily asked them, "Where is Aramis?" looking from one to the other of his brothers' faces.

Athos spoke first, his words coming slowly and in a strained voice, "He found a way to get past our defenses this morning. He had been feeling guilty about your being held to get him. We were keeping a close watch...we thought we were keeping a close watch on him," he amended.

Porthos continued, "They've got him. I know it."

D'Artagnan looked stricken as he barely whispered, "He gave himself up for me."

Athos asked, "How did you get free and get here?" giving Laurent a questioning look.

D'Artagnan shook himself out of the daze he had gone into. Drawing Laurent forward, he said, "This is Laurent. He risked his own life to save mine."

They looked at the young man, then back at d'Artagnan with a question in their eyes.

"Laurent was a member of the men who took me..." getting no further as with a low growl, Porthos stalked towards Laurent, who shrunk back at the look on the massive Musketeer's face.

D'Artagnan stepped in front of a very angry Porthos, laying a firm open hand on his chest.

"Porthos, he saved my life."

Porthos' expression didn't change. "After kidnapping you in the first place."

"His brother is one of the gang's leaders, a massive man as big as you. He has been bullied all his life by his brother, who he had been forced to live with when their parents died when he was very young. I saw the way his brother treated him. Laurent was afraid to come here, even though his involvement was forced."

Athos now came forward, hand outstretched to Laurent, saying, "You have our sincere gratitude for what you have done for our brother here."

Lauren shook his hand, though still very nervous with Porthos staring at him.

But then, Porthos extended his hand as he too came forward, and Laurent visibly relaxed.

"We need to go back there, Athos," d'Artagnan said. "It may be where they took Aramis."

"I highly doubt it," Athos replied. "They will not want to stay where witnesses can lead a rescue mission. But they may be in such a hurry to get away that they may leave evidence behind that we can use. We need to get there as soon as we can," turning to head for the stables as he spoke.

The others went to retrieve their weapons. Within minutes, they were headed out the garrison gates, Laurent in their midst.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After being led blindly for what seemed forever, Aramis was stopped and made to stay in place. He could now hear what sounded like a key turning in a lock, and then a very large squeaky door being opened. He was pushed through, hands now latching onto his upper arms and hurrying him along. He had no idea of where he was, but he could feel cold drafts of air around him.

They walked for several minutes, turning down what seemed like long corridors. After another moment, he heard muted voices, but not what they were saying. Then, the bag was pulled from his head.

Blinking furiously in the bright light from their torches held aloft after his enforced stint of darkness, his vision slowly cleared.

He seemed to be in some sort of prison, but much more run-down than any he had ever been inside of, like it hadn't been used for a long time. But his eyes now widened in shocked recognition of the figure who had just come into his line of vision with a dramatic flourish of a crimson-lined black satin cloak, a look of self-satisfaction in his eyes, gloating in his supremacy.

'Richelieu!' he thought, still very much surprised by the man's appearance despite his earlier thoughts of the chain of command of this group of hooded man. It now made perfect sense why they kept themselves incognito. Richelieu was no fool. He could maneuver the King much of the time, but Louis wouldn't have stood for harming his personal guard because he would have figured if they could get to his Musketeers, they might get to him, too.

Richelieu strolled up to where Aramis was being kept in place. Looking him slowly up and down, a smile began to form as he said, "At last! You gave us a rather difficult time laying our hands on you, but you are at our mercy now." Waiting a moment, he said, "Nothing to say, you who have always had such a glib tongue?"

Waiting a moment, he continued. Rather theatrically, he said, "Cat got your tongue? Pausing, he appeared to be highly enjoying himself. Then, "Oh, you cannot respond, can you?" with a chuckle. Then, he looked to one of the men and nodded. The man pulled the now-sodden cloth from Aramis' mouth.

"What is this all about, Richelieu?" Aramis asked without a hint of the respect Richelieu demanded from everyone around him at all times. A hand slapped him without warning, and a voice said, "Keep a civil tongue in your answers, Musketeer!"

Richelieu took his time answering, enjoying the marksman's helplessness. Then, he responded. "You have been a thorn in my side for much too long. Cuckolding me with Adele, humiliating me before the Queen over the matter of that Gallagher's letter. But you went much further, didn't you, Musketeer? Daring to sleep with the Queen and fathering her child? The King would have your head for that, as you well know. But he will never get the chance. You will be punished by myself.

Look around, Musketeer. This prison has been abandoned for over a century. No one now even knows about it's existence- no one but myself and these men here. You will end your pathetic existence inside its walls. It will not be a standard execution, though. You have dared to put yourself on the same level with the First Minister of France. For that you also will pay,along with everything else you've done.

Look well, Musketeer, at your doom," sweeping his cloak as he turned around and pointed.

Aramis now beheld a ladder being lowered down what looked to be a hole in the floor. His whole body froze at the realization of what the Cardinal intended. An *oubliette! Rarely-felt fear rose up in him, invading his whole being as he began to struggle has hard as he could against the hands laid on him and dragging him towards the hole. Blows to his face, his body didn't stop him from struggling, but there were too many of them. He was dragged to the very edge of the oubliette, and looked down into blackness.

An oubliette is a concealed dungeon with no doors. Its name is based on the French word oublier for "to forget," because people left in the pit were supposed to be forgotten. The only way in or out of an oubliette is a trap door in the ceiling, which is also the only source of light for any of its occupants.