Note: This idea was sparked by Donna Immaculata, and I also have to thank her for betaing :)

I should probably warn you this gets a bit darker, and there's a little bit of animal mutilation in later chapters. If you want fluff - run away! (I seem to be saying that a lot recently...)

Quotes are from CocoRosie's "Gallows". It's a nice vid/song if you want some nightmare fuel. Anyway, on to the fic!


Gallows

Chapter One

They took him to the gallows
He fought them all the way

"Do you think one of us should rescue him?"

Aramis was closely watching the card game a few tables down. d'Artagnan had foolishly joined in against Porthos and a couple of the red guard. But Athos seemed deep in his drink and quite unconcerned.

The older musketeer's gaze briefly wandered over to their table and back down to his glass. "He knew what he was getting himself in to."

"And we know how this ends… how it always ends." Aramis sat back with a sigh. d'Artagnan would end up penniless or in the middle of a brawl. That was just the reality of card games with Porthos.

Aramis got to his feet and was about to try to extricating d'Artagnan from his foolishness, but a man rushed in and crossed his path, making for the bar in a hurry. Nobody paid him any attention, his intrusion was lost amidst the raucous noise of the inn. Still, Aramis noted his gasping breath and pale face. The young musketeer followed, curiosity piqued, and saw the man's hands also shook as they came to rest atop the bar.

"The usual is it?" It didn't take long for the innkeeper to approach. "Jean… are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Make it a brandy… I was just on my way here, passing down the rue des Rosiers when I saw…" Jean stalled and put a trembling hand to his mouth.

"Yes?" The innkeeper leaned in, the drink forgotten for a moment.

"Guards… around a woman." He licked his dry lips and tried to continue. "Dead on the ground! Her throat was slit clean through, and the blood… there was so much blood."

"Another one? Dear God, what is the world coming to? I'll get you that drink Jean. Now sit down before you fall down."

Aramis had heard enough, he made his way back to their table. Athos raised an enquiring eyebrow as soon as he took his seat.

"Another girl found dead in the street… It's only just happened by the sounds of it."

Athos put his glass down abruptly. "That's what… the second this week? And five in all?"

"I think so."

Of course nobody was actually paying any serious attention to the murders. The victims were ladies of the night, and worth little more than stray dogs in the eyes of many. The musketeers only knew about the previous murders thanks to a visit to the morgue on unrelated business. Poupart had thought it of interest enough to mention in passing.

"We'll have to keep our eyes open. Maybe Treville will let us make a few enquiries."

Aramis gave a bitter smile. "I hardly think he's going to prioritise this over guard duty at the palace."

"Still, something needs to be done. There's a killer on the loose out there…"

Their conversation was interrupted by a roar from Porthos' table.

Aramis shot to his feet. "Here we go!"

~oOo~

When another body turned up Treville gave his permission for the musketeers to look in to the murders. Poupart hadn't been all that helpful, apart from providing locations for the bodies and a cause of death. They were all strangled or had their throats cut. The poor women had few personal effects, but what valuables they had remained with them, lockets, necklaces, rings… Robbery was no motive here.

Word reached the garrison one morning that another had been killed. The musketeers hastened along the streets, trying to reach the body before any evidence could be lost. Just as they rounded a corner onto a back alley they found a man leaning over the fallen women, pocketing a few trinkets from her body.

"Oi! Stop where you are!" d'Artagnan yelled.

Naturally the vulture took one look at them and hared away. d'Artagnan chased after him, with Porthos hot on his heels.

The alley fell silent as their harried footsteps faded away. Athos and Aramis were left alone with the body. She lay sprawled out in the middle of the alley, no attempt had been made to conceal her. As Aramis approached he was struck by the image of a fallen angel, her pale dress spread across the ground, and her long blonde hair splayed about her head like a halo. He stepped around to see her face and then froze. A sick feeling suddenly took him.

"What's the matter?" It hadn't gone unnoticed by Athos.

Aramis drew a couple of harsh breaths before answering. "I knew her… I saw her a few times at Madame Angel's. Her name was Amelie."

Amelie. She was warm, a bright girl, one who had fallen on hard times to end up in a place like that. Aramis remembered her smile, he recalled the touch of her skin beneath his fingers, and the brush of her lips against his own. She lay there with vacant eyes now, her skin was rigid and cold in death. Though empty, her eyes seemed to stare at Aramis... an involuntary shiver wracked his frame.

Athos gave the young musketeer a worried glance before kneeling to close the woman's eyes. "She's been strangled." He pointed out the marks about her neck. "Madame Angel's you say? Perhaps we should pay a visit… see if she knows of the other girls."

Aramis said nothing, he gave a slight nod and stood transfixed by Amelie's pale features once again.

Moments later d'Artagnan and Porthos returned, slightly out of breath and empty handed.

Athos raised an eyebrow. "He outran you?"

"Outmanoeuvred." Porthos frowned. "He knew these alleyways like the back of his hand."

"No matter. I doubt he had anything to do with the murder. She's been dead for hours. Can you and d'Artagnan arrange for her body to be removed? Aramis and I have a few questions to ask at Madame Angel's."

"Oh, so you get Madame Angel's and we get the morgue? You'll be buying the drinks tonight, my friend."

~oOo~

Athos placed a bottle of wine in the middle of the table and furnished his friends with a glass each. "Here you go, as promised."

Porthos poured out a generous amount. "So did you find anything useful at Madame Angel's?"

He gave Aramis a knowing look, bordering on a leer, but the young musketeer was still somewhat shaken. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Amelie lying cold and dead in the street, an empty gaze etched onto her face…

Athos cleared his throat and answered, seeing as Aramis offered nothing. "Well, I discovered that Aramis is quite popular over there… but more importantly the dead girls have all had an association with the place at one time or another."

d'Artagnan looked thoughtful. "You think it might be a patron with a grudge?"

"None of the girls I spoke to thought there was anything out of the ordinary. Everybody leaves satisfied as far as they're concerned. They say there has been no suspicious activity… no strange men hanging around."

"Apart from Aramis." Porthos shot a grin at the young musketeer, but Aramis wouldn't be drawn from his melancholy. He simply stared into the depths of his glass unmoved.

"The women who were murdered before, they had left Madame Angel's right?" d'Artagnan perked up as if he were on to something.

Athos nodded.

"Have you considered it might be Madame Angel herself, paying somebody to off those who leave? It would keep the girls scared, keep them with her…"

"Well, they're certainly scared alright. But…"

"It's not that kind of a place." Aramis' hard voice chipped in. "It's not run like… that."

A moment of uneasy silence passed around the table.

Porthos decided to break it. "So what have we got?"

Athos sighed. "A tenuous connection to Madame Angel's and little else… We'll have to post a guard there and increase street patrols at night. Maybe we can catch the killer in the act."

~oOo~

A couple of weeks passed with no murders, it seemed the killer had been scared off by the extra patrols. Still, Athos wasn't buying it and insisted they keep it up.

The musketeers still had their ordinary duties to attend to however, and it left the regiment spread a little thin. Treville was beginning to make noises about them finishing with the whole sorry business. They needed to make progress...

Aramis and Porthos rode into the garrison early one morning having just returned from a short mission delivering a package to a Comte outside of Paris. The sun was just beginning to chase away the tendrils of a cold night. Aramis gave a wide yawn before dismounting.

"Sounds like somebody needs to get their head down!" Porthos said as he slid from his own horse.

"Maybe I'll manage a bit of sleep… I'll have to be awake for patrol later, might as well sleep now if Treville doesn't need us."

"Well, we might not be at it much longer if Treville gets his way."

Aramis stifled another yawn. "It's a little hard to catch a murderer who has quit murdering…"

"We've still got seven bodies. Somebody killed them, and somebody should answer for it."

"Those bodies are in the ground…" A flicker of sorrow passed Aramis' face. "... and the trail is stone cold."

"He's out there. Somebody knows him… he's a father, a brother, a son, a friend. We just have to ask the right people the right questions. Perhaps you'll have to go and pay Madame Angel's another visit."

"If only it were that easy… Anyway, who says it's a man? Might be a woman." Aramis shrugged tiredly.

"Women don't kill like this, not usually anyway." Porthos frowned.

"Maybe they do and they're too clever to get caught, just like our murderer." Aramis gave a wan smile and looked around the courtyard. It had suddenly struck him that they were still holding their horses. Where was the stable boy?

Just then Serge emerged from the kitchen door, he spotted them and waved a hand. "Lads, you'll have to sort your own horses out."

"What? Why? Where's Pierre?" Aramis asked.

"Missing." The older man gave a tight shrug of his shoulders. "He never said a word to nobody about leaving. He's just… gone."

"When did this happen?" Porthos fixed a serious eye on Serge.

"Just before you left. Nobody's seen hide nor hair of him since."

"What of his family? Has word been sent? Have they seen him?" Aramis fired more questions.

"Were you listening? I said nobody's seen him." Serge snapped, but then his tone suddenly softened. "He's got a sister in Paris, father's dead and his mother's somewhere out in the sticks as far as I know. And before you ask - his sister hasn't seen him."

The old man went to shuffle away and continue his business.

"Maybe he's gone to visit his mother…" Aramis spoke half heartedly, not really believing his own words.

"Without saying anything to anybody? Treville would have his hide for just upping and disappearing like that." Porthos scowled and started to lead his horse towards the stables.

Aramis followed close behind, his horse snorting impatiently. "Pierre will turn up, I'm sure he will."

The boy turned up three days later. His body washed ashore on the banks of the Seine.