Earlier that day
Athos woke with his head throbbing and his whole body tense from the immense pain he was in. He couldn't help but let a groan slip from his lips, regretting it instantly since he knew what was about to follow.
"Finally awake I see," the leader, Tomás, said from where he sat in his usual chair against the wall opposite where Athos hung.
Tomás stood up, his cloak dropping to flow behind him as he moved through the cell with ease. He began circling Athos as if he was the predator and Athos his prey. With one gentle push against Athos' back, he was sent swinging backwards and forwards, his shoulders tensing and twitching from the strain placed on them.
Like normal, Athos kept quiet, biting down on his tongue to stop a cry from escaping his lips. He thought of his brothers, out there searching for him. Whenever he did, thinking of them three looking for him to bring him home, it always calmed his racing mind. It had kept him grounded even in the darkest of times throughout his two weeks in the enemies grip.
His body was shaking, and not from the coldness of the air that surrounded him. He knew exactly why he was shaking, his body aching- craving for what he knew was about to come next. It always did, his body now depended on it to manage. However, the nightmares and hallucinations that came with the drug was another thing.
"Shall we play another game?" Tomás asked, his voice coming awfully close to Athos' ear with his breath brushing against the musketeer's neck. It sent a shiver down Athos' spine, having little to no energy to be able to suppress it down.
He heard the door behind him swing open; the fact that it was unlocked tormented him every time he drew breath. His escape was there, he could just walk out of the cell and never look back, but it was just too far out of his reach.
"What shall it be this time? I think we've had enough of pure beating, it's never that fun repeating it too many times," Tomás said, circling back around to face Athos. His eyes flickered to the bruises that covered his face and neck, angry purple ones disappearing behind his ripped shirt.
"Do it," Tomás ordered to the man that had walked into the cell behind Athos. Suddenly, a rag was covering his mouth, the man behind holding onto Athos as he struggled to get free. He grunted and thrashed, his mind telling him to fight back and that he couldn't go under again.
However, it took a matter of seconds before the drug hit, the oh so familiar sense of calmness coming over him before the rag was removed.
His breathing slowed and vision blurred, his head rolling to the side slightly as his body eased. However, he knew it was a short lived feeling… It always was.
Tomás began talking, circling Athos yet again with a smile that made Athos' stomach twist. His laughter rang in Athos' ears as images of his brothers flashed before him.
He flinched violently as D'artagnan crumbled to the ground, blood covering his face and hands as he screamed Athos' name for help.
"You can't save them," Tomás whispered, causing Athos' breathing to hitch as he flinched away from the voice, eyes snapping shut.
The laughter drowned over him, taking over all his senses and he balled his hands up in agony. He couldn't escape Porthos' pain or D'artagnan's cries, or Aramis' wide and unfocused eyes staring at nothing.
He was on the edge of the black abyss, terrified of what he saw and screaming to help his brothers.
Suddenly, he saw a woman; brown hair and green eyes staring back at him. He froze with his mouth open slightly to draw in a shaky breath. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, her soft gently touch calming the fire that ran through Athos' veins.
It wasn't real, he told himself. She was in England starting a new life... She's not real.
Before Athos knew it, the ground was coming towards him faster than he could stop it, dirt kicking up into his face and causing him to cough.
His body was covered in sweat and his hands shook, only realising then that he was free from his bounds and had a pistol in his grip.
He glanced around, seeing the streets of Paris that he used to walk through every morning to the garrison. People walked past, sparing him a glance before continuing on with their lives.
"Shall we play another game?"
His words rang through his head and bounced around, making Athos curious and fearful of everyone watching him. They were against him; they were here purely to play a trick on him.
He stumbled to stand, his eyes wide as he tried to find his whereabouts. The garrison stood in front of him and he blinked, unsure whether to believe it or not.
He was home.
However, it had happened before. He had stumbled upon the garrison, his brothers waiting for him with smiles on their face to find that it was just another trick, another illusion to chip away at his weakening grasp on reality.
"Athos!" Someone had called the second one foot had stepped through the open gates. He flinched from how loud and how familiar it was. It was familiar in a cold way, Tomás' voice but with D'artagnan's face.
His hand came up before he knew it and he was pointing a shaking pistol at someone who should be his brother... But then again, could he even trust his own mind?
Thank you so much for all the reviews, it made my day knowing you guys want more and actually like my fic. A little more waiting to see what happened to Athos when he got to the garrison, which will be the next chapter, I promise. Hope you guys liked this chapter, do you want more about what happened to Athos in his time in the enemies grip? I might do flashbacks while he's trying to recover...