The effort of rubbing the ropes on the stone step had taken its toll on Aramis, he was panting when the rope finally snapped apart and could not stop himself from flopping to the floor on his side. Much as he wanted to get on with untying the ropes from his legs he did not have the strength to move for a few minutes.

He lay watching the torch, knowing he was already on borrowed time, the light had dimmed steadily as he had worked on the ropes. The sooner he could gather his wits and get to work on the rest of his restraints the better.

He winced in pain as the blood started to flow properly to his hands again, he flexed his fingers in an attempt to speed up the process. As he got his breathing under control and fought the urge to close his eyes and sleep the torch faded away.

Aramis watched as the flame on the spent torch was reduced to glowing embers and then nothing. He was left in darkness. He would have to do everything by touch.

With difficulty he pushed himself up to sit, he found the wall and leaned back on it for a few seconds. He reached up and pulled the gag from his mouth, coughing several times as he did so. A cold glass of water would be most welcome, he thought.

Now that he was in darkness movement did not leave his world spinning, although it did still make him feel sick. He waited for the nausea to pass before leaning forward and feeling along his legs until he found the rope that encircled his knees. With difficulty he untied the rope, the action leaving him breathless again.

The rope around his ankles proved harder to tackle. His hands were shaking with the effort and he found himself having to pause several times to sit upright, the concussion causing him more problems than he had originally thought. Aramis found the process frustrating. The quicker he tried to untie the rope the less cooperative his fingers were. He cursed several times at the time it was taking to free himself.

When he finally untied the rope, he sighed with relief and searched his right boot for the thin blade. He found himself smiling at his first piece of luck, the blade was where he expected it to be. Keeping a tight hold on it, he felt around with his left hand to find the step and the door.

Slowly kneeling up he felt up the door until he found the lock, he hoped the lock was a simple one that he could open quickly.

MMMM

D'Artagnan pushed the door to the Black Dog open. He looked around the room as he held the door for Athos. There were a few people dotted about. A serving girl was flirting with a couple of red guardsmen in the corner, whilst a couple of old men were deep in conversation at the table closest to the fire.

The tavern keeper watched the two musketeers as they scanned the room. Athos walked toward him whilst d'Artagnan remained by the door. Porthos had described Simon to them both, they hoped they would find the man in the tavern.

A movement on the far side of the room drew d'Artagnan's attention.

'Athos,' he said nodding in the direction of the man they were looking for.

Simon was staring at them both, wide-eyed. He was edging away toward a back door. Athos changed direction and headed towards him. The tavern keeper watching the drama unfold with interest.

Simon had reached the door and was trying to draw the bolt back whilst watching Athos advance on him. D'Artagnan took a few steps forward, as Simon managed to open the door. He hurried outside. D'Artagnan sighed, as he walked calmly across the room following Athos, who had reached the door and opened it to reveal Simon being held firmly by the collar of his jacket. The man looked terrified as he stared up at Porthos who was glaring at him.

'We want a word with you,' said Porthos, with menace.

'Monsieurs,' said the tavern keeper.

D'Artagnan looked across at the man, who had come out from behind his bar, throwing the cloth he was holding across his shoulder.

'Would you like a private room? I'm guessing you need to have a chat with your friend there about something.'

'Thank you, monsieur,' said d'Artagnan with a smile as he watched Porthos haul the unfortunate groom back into the tavern. They followed as the tavern keeper led them to a back room, where several barrels of wine and spirits were being stored.

'Take as much time as you need,' the man said with a wink as he shut the door.

Simon had found his voice and tried to shrug away from Porthos' grasp while speaking, 'get off me, I haven't done anything wrong…'

Athos held up the letter Simon had sent. Simon stilled his protests.

'Where is he?' asked Athos his voice betraying no emotion.

'You didn't tell us in your note,' said Porthos as he twisted the leather of the man's jacket.

Simon looked defeated.

'Did you think you were going to get away with it?' asked d'Artagnan

'He stopped me teaching the idiotic lad a lesson...then the other one interfered…'

D'Artagnan watched Porthos' expression harden.

'And why did Aramis 'ave to interfere?'

Simon tried to wriggle free from Porthos again but did not answer.

'Tell us what you have done with our friend,' said Athos.

'Tell him to let me go, and I'll tell you where he is.'

Athos rolled his eyes and shook his head, 'I suggest you tell us, now or…'

Porthos pulled Simon closer and said quietly in his ear, 'or I will make you tell us.'

Simon shivered and tried to pull away again, 'I was going to let him go...I just wanted to teach you both a lesson...He's in the empty house along the road, towards the church, the house has a broken upstairs window.'

'Is he hurt?' asked d'Artagnan as Porthos lessoned his grip on the man.

Simon looked down as he replied, 'I had to hit him hard, I knew I wouldn't be able to fight either of you, he was unconscious when I left him.'

Athos stepped forward to push Porthos back a couple of steps when it became apparent the big musketeer was about to hit Simon.

'You two go, I will wait with our friend.'

Simon looked a little relieved that Porthos was going.

D'Artagnan led the way back through the tavern, he nodded his thanks to the tavern keeper who said as they passed, 'my pleasure, he is a nuisance in here most nights. It's about time he got what's coming to him.'

MMMM

He could not help a quiet cheer of triumph when the door clicked open. Aramis sighed with relief as he pulled the door towards him. Beyond the door, he had hoped to find some light, but only darkness greeted him. Not wanting to risk standing, he felt his way forward with an outstretched hand and found another step, followed by another. The room he was being kept in was at the bottom of a flight of stone steps.

Slowly and as quietly as he could manage Aramis made his way up the steps, keeping low as he did so. The steady thump of his headache meant he did not trust himself to stand on the dark steps. The lack of water, rest, and his concussion had left him with frequent dizzy spell and waves of nausea.

His wandering, searching hand found another door. Aramis managed to pull himself up to stand using the handle on his side of the door. Hoping the door was not locked he turned the handle, the door was not locked. He pushed the door wondering as he did so if he would meet any resistance on the other side. Aramis knew he was in no state to fight anyone.

What Aramis had not planned for was the sudden onslaught of sunlight that met him. He had been in total darkness for some time, the shock of the light on his eye caused him to gasp in pain and stumble back. He flung his hands out to the sides and managed to stop himself from falling back down the steps, pulling himself forward to collapse on the steps, his eyes screwed shut.

Panting, he slowly opened his eyes. The initial shock of the brightness of the daylight eased, but he found he could not get beyond a squinted view. Shading his eyes with his left hand he reached up and slowly pushed the door the rest of the way open.

Aramis sat on the top step for a few minutes as he waited for his assorted symptoms to fade again. As his breathing settled he listened carefully, he was by now sure he was alone. The noise he had made opening the door and almost falling would have drawn the attention of anyone in the vicinity.

As his sight returned to some normality he looked around. He guessed he was in a house in the city, it appeared abandoned.

Aramis slowly climbed to his feet, steadying himself against the wall. He walked along the hallway he had found himself in, with one hand trailing along the wall as he did so for added support.

A noise behind him, caused him to turn quickly, which was a mistake, he had to grab wildly at the edge of a door frame to stop himself from crashing to the ground. He managed to pull himself around into the room, a spindly chair the only item within.

Aramis heard the noise again and knew that someone had entered the house. With no weapon other than the small knife he had used on the door, Aramis picked up the chair and held it out, ready to swing it at whoever had entered the house.

He knew he would not be able to put up a fight, but he was not going to give in too easily.

MMMM

Porthos walked quickly along the road, the worry on his face was evident and he knew it. He and d'Artagnan looked carefully at each house as they passed it. As they drew nearer to the church Porthos started to wonder if Simon had lied to them.

'There,' said d'Artagnan pointing upwards, 'broken window.'

Porthos followed d'Artagnan toward the house with the broken window. D'Artagnan pushed at the door, when it did not budge he took a step back and kicked it hard. It opened on the second kick, swinging back and hitting the wall.

Porthos took the lead into the house, which appeared empty. They walked across the hallway. D'Artagnan grabbed Porthos' arm and stopped him pointing across to one of the open doors leading off to the side.

The shadow of a man could be seen, they recognised it as Aramis, he appeared to be holding something, a chair, out to the side. Porthos realised Aramis had armed himself against a potential foe. Porthos sighed with relief and took a couple of steps forward. D'Artagnan stopped him again.

'Aramis, it's OK, it's us,' said the musketeer.

Porthos was almost amused to see the shadow of his friend visibly wilt, put the chair that he was holding down and sit heavily on it.

They reached the room together and peered in.

Aramis was sat sideways on the rickety chair, his arm hooked over the backrest, his breathing a little fast, his head bowed slightly. Their friend's face was half covered with dried blood and bruising. Porthos was impressed Aramis was still conscious, he was blinking and looked exhausted.

'How did you find me?' asked Aramis, as Porthos crouched in front of him and reached up to push the hair from his face.

'Simon told us where you were,' said d'Artagnan.

'Simon?'

'The groomsman from Labelle's estate. The one I wanted to teach a lesson to.'

Aramis looked a little shocked, 'Simon, knocked me out and left me here?'

Porthos managed a chuckle, 'he did say he hit you pretty hard, I don't think you stood a chance.'

The unfocused marksman swayed a bit. Porthos grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

'Are you hurt, other than your head?'

'Don't think so, but I'm thirsty...how long have I been here?'

Porthos glanced back at d'Artagnan with concern. Aramis must have realised what their worry was.

'The room I was in had no windows...there was a torch, but it burnt down...I have no idea how long it took me to get out.'

'We think he took you last night, after we left the tavern.'

Porthos watched as Aramis thought for a moment, he looked confused, 'it feels longer than that. It felt like I was in there for days.'

'I'll get you some water,' said d'Artagnan as he turned to leave the room.

Porthos listened as the increasingly weary Aramis described how he had awoken in the featureless room, bound and gagged and managed to free himself and escape. Porthos could tell his friend would not be able to stay awake for much longer, the energy was draining from him fast.

D'Artagnan returned with water and some cloths. As they went about cleaning their friend up a little d'Artagnan explained how they had come to find the missing marksman.

'Athos has taken Simon to the Chatelet, assaulting a Musketeer is not going to help him much,' said d'Artagnan as he wrapped a bandage around Aramis' head.

Porthos was wrapping bandages around Aramis' wrists, the skin rubbed raw by the musketeer's method of escape.

'Let's get you back to the garrison, then you can rest,' said Porthos as he helped his friend to stand.

'That is the best offer I have had for a long time...thank you,' said Aramis tiredly.

MMMM

After settling their injured friend in a bed in the garrison infirmary d'Artagnan and Porthos watched as the marksman fell asleep within minutes. They had managed to divest him of his doublet and boots and cover him with a blanket, but the man was too weary for anything else.

'We'll need to get some more water in him soon. He won't like it, but we'll have to wake him up,' said d'Artagnan.

'Leave 'im be for now though,' replied Porthos.

D'Artagnan looked across at Porthos who was looking at the floor lost in thought.

'This really isn't your fault, you know that don't you. Simon said he would have taken either of you to teach you both a lesson, it just happened to be Aramis who he found alone.'

Porthos looked up, the guilt had not faded from his face, 'I know, but if I 'adn't been so hands-on with Simon he might not have held a grudge against us. And Aramis only interfered because Simon was about to stab me.'

'Oh come on Porthos,' said d'Artagnan trying not to sound too exasperated, 'you know that any of us would have stopped Simon from beating those boys. I bet if you had not got there first Aramis would have stepped in.'

Porthos sighed and nodded, 'you're right,' he said, 'but it annoys me that the little twerp felt the need to hurt Aramis to get back at us both.'

'Well, he's paying for it now, isn't he,' said d'Artagnan.

'Ain't he just,' chuckled Porthos.

MMMM

Aramis wandered through the garrison gates and looked around for a moment, when he saw Porthos he walked over. Porthos could not hide the concern as he saw that his friend was still walking carefully and the bruising to his face was not much better.

'Should you be back yet?' he asked.

Aramis smiled, 'light duties, I was going spare sitting in my room all day. Why sit there when I can sit in the armoury...not that I fancy firing any guns yet.'

Porthos hummed his disapproval, he was not convinced the marksman was up to being back at the garrison. The man had spent most of the first day in the infirmary being roused every so often and forced to drink. It was obvious he was dehydrated as well as concussed. When he had fully woken up Aramis had insisted on going back to his rooms, which at the time Porthos had thought was a good idea, the peace would probably have done him good. But now the man was back, still looking pale, pretending he was fine. Porthos shook his head.

'I'm fine,' said Aramis.

Instead of heading for the armoury he turned towards the stables, taking Porthos with him, leading him by the arm.

'Where are we going?'

'You'll see, this is one of the reasons I wanted to come back today…'

Porthos wondered what Aramis was going on about as he allowed himself to be led into the stables. He paused by his usual horse and allowed him to sniff at his hands.

'Monsieur Porthos,' came a young voice from behind him.

Porthos turned, surprised, the voice belonged to the lad he had saved from being hit at Labelle's estate.

'What?'

Aramis, who was resting his hand on the boy's shoulder was smiling at him. The other two stable boys from the estate were hovering by one of the stalls.

'Athos spoke to Treville about them, the lads we've got at the moment will start to leave soon, they're all almost grown up...So Treville said we could hire these three as replacements.'

'What about Labelle?'

'What about him?'

'Won't 'e complain that we've nicked three of his stableboys?'

'You know the message we had to deliver to him?'

Porthos nodded.

'Apparently whatever it contained encouraged Labelle to quit his estate and leave the area. These three,' Aramis indicated the boys, 'were out of a job anyway.'

'Handy,' said Porthos.

Aramis smiled saying, 'isn't it,' he turned to the boys, 'you lads pay attention to the older boys, they know what they're doing. Musketeer horses are special.'

'We'll learn everything there is to learn monsieur.'

The other boys nodded their agreement before they all returned to their duties.

'Some lessons are useful,' said Aramis as he and Porthos walked back to the yard.

The End.

Authors note: Sorry, dear reader, but I have caught up again, there is no more backlog of stories. You will have to wait. I have another, longer, story planned out but have not started to write it yet.

Thanks for your lovely reviews.