Note: Here is the final chapter. I'm going to take the opportunity to thank you all now, you may not be feeling quite so benevolent by the end XD So thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting! I hope you enjoy...
Chapter Four
Aramis took to the streets, lungs burning with the effort of sprinting. Finally, here was their chance to catch the killer! It was a strange departure from his pattern, but the killings had differed enough already. Perhaps he was becoming bolder. Instead of striking in back alleys he was drawing his victims out to him. Or perhaps he just wanted to end the ones who had been hunting him down, and this little game had to be employed to split them up.
Suddenly Aramis came to an abrupt halt. There was another option.
Perhaps he was drawing them out, drawing them away from the garrison… His victims had started out as ladies of the night before he moved on to their stable boy, and then the musketeers themselves. Perhaps he was moving up another step on the ladder. Perhaps he intended to finish off the musketeers by cutting off the head of the snake... Cut off the head and the body will founder.
Aramis swore.
Treville.
And then another terrible thought dawned upon him. Maybe the killer had never even left the garrison. Maybe it was already too late.
Aramis turned about and desperately ran back the way he had come. He sent up a quick prayer, half hoping he was not wrong. While he did not want Treville's life in danger he did not want to be abandoning someone to die down a back alley by the Notre Dame.
Aramis hurtled through the archway, sweat running down his face and into his eyes. Then he took the stairs two at a time and crashed into Treville's office.
"Aramis?! What is the meaning of this?" He yelled.
Breathing raggedly, Aramis slammed the door and put his back to it. "Apologies, Captain… But I believe you're in danger."
It was hard to get his words out through each panted breath, but he had to get the Captain to understand.
"We found notes… splitting us up… but it was just to draw us out… He's here... He's coming for you."
Treville glared up from behind his desk. Candlelight flickered and cast strange shadows about the room… Slowly the Captain slid his chair back.
"No doubt he is."
Aramis frowned, how was he being so calm about this?
"Sir? We must barricade the door. Will you help me with the table?" He set his hands down against the heavy oaken structure and made to heave it over.
"It won't do any good."
Aramis stopped and straightened, facing his Captain. "Why not? We have to try. The battle isn't over yet."
Treville hadn't moved from his chair. The Captain just stared thoughtfully up at Aramis in a way he found quite disturbing. "I knew he would come. I knew I would face him eventually…"
At that Aramis was astounded. He took a step towards Treville's desk and the Captain reflexively moved back. "All this time you knew who it was?!"
Still he remained outwardly calm. "I suspected… I spoke to him before… it was after Savoy. I didn't think he would come back."
Aramis took in a harsh breath. "You can't mean Marsac… we buried Marsac… I shot him myself. The rest all died in that accursed forest. I sat with their fallen bodies."
Blood and snow and steel...
"I brought one back alive."
Blood running into eyes, down frozen flesh, across marred hands...
"You only brought me back, Sir…"
Red running into white, stealing black feathers, and shrieking and shrieking and screaming and SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMINGSCREAMINGSCREAMING.
"A head injury can do strange things to a man…"
Aramis closed his eyes tightly and pressed a hand to his temple.
The office seemed to flicker and fade… trapped… the desk disappeared, replaced by a bed… small room… Treville was here and there… no way out…
He sat with head cocked, watching the man before him with cold eyes. He did not blink. He did not need to blink. His frame was straight and to attention, though not for the benefit of this so called Captain…
"Can you hear the screaming?" He asked.
The man said nothing.
He squinted slightly, trying to see beneath the flesh. "I want to pick your bones apart and find out what you are made of… There is something screaming inside you. Can't you hear it?"
"That's enough, Aramis." The man's voice was hard.
But that was just another curiosity. "I will take your voice apart… separate each word, each letter… Why stone? Why hard as stone? I am not him."
"Aramis, please…"
His face transformed into a snarl. "I AM NOT HIM! Heathens… heathens… all of you, made up of sins. That's what I will find in your bones... in your voice... dust of sins. You've stolen me away and smothered me with sins… No matter… No matter… I will strip you of them eventually."
"Let it go, Aramis."
He looked down to find a ruined animal on his lap. Perhaps it had been a cat once… it was pulled apart. Black fur gave way to exposed bone, and organs spilled out across the floor. His red fists were clutching tightly to the remnants.
He looked up from the filthy floor and bared his teeth. "I will have you one day."
A knock came at the door then. The man backed up to open it, not willing to take his eyes away… They spoke in hushed voices, but snatched words of dust slipped through...
"... together with the head injury, the cold and the trauma… I don't know… I can't promise anything…"
"... can you give him something? I don't want the others to see him like this…"
"... keep him under… if he wakes… if he's like this… send for me…"
Aramis drew his hand away and looked at Treville with pure confusion on his face.
"Sir? I don't… I can't…" A sudden feeling of dread took his heart. Aramis put a hand into his pocket and felt sick as his fingers brushed against paper. Tentatively he pulled out a piece of parchment and unfolded it to find a familiar scrawl.
'I will fill your mountains with the dead. Your hills, your valleys, and your streams will be filled with people slaughtered by the sword.'
He dropped it as if he'd been burned. That wasn't his writing, he couldn't have written it, why was it in his pocket? This felt like some waking nightmare.
And yet the nightmare he had had felt so real… Even now he could recall the slick wet feel of blood between his fingers.
"I did this? No… I couldn't… This isn't me… Stop looking at me like that. Stop it!"
Treville looked wary, as if he were facing a wolf. The Captain got to his feet and made to come around his desk. "It's alright Aramis, just sit down..."
But there was a flash of white sparks behind his eyes and a pain shot through his head.
Blood… stab… kill… He is the one that matters. His death will free you… You came here to do this. DO IT!
Aramis opened his eyes again and found Treville against the wall. His rapier was hovering just before the Captain's throat...
A note of fear tainted his voice. "Sir… I didn't mean to… I don't know how this happened… I..."
Treville's eyes were shining as he pressed his head back against the wall. "It's alright, Aramis."
Aramis clutched his head and then looked up with a roar. "I AM NOT HIM!"
Suddenly a blade slid effortlessly to his own throat. "Who are you then?"
His eyes tracked sideways to lock onto Athos as he hissed."I am René."
~oOo~
He was only meant to be a soldier for a time. Half his life had been spent in the seminary until an unfortunate incident with a beautiful lady… He took on a name as he took on the sins. Aramis. But it was only for a time.
Still, time slipped by, month after month and year after year until the soldier seemed to forget he had ever clasped his hands in prayer. Yet Aramis clung onto some form of faith, as tenuous a hold as it was. Deep at the heart of him there was a terrible contradiction that set the man at war with himself. He could not be a man of God and a man of the sword. Thou shalt not kill - and yet he slaughtered so many. The same lips he prayed with left a trail of kisses down the neck of another man's wife… sin after sin after sin… It was easier to separate himself. Split himself into two. Aramis and René. The soldier and the priest.
And then he suffered living through a massacre on powdered ground.
The screaming had never really stopped. But eventually Aramis couldn't hear it.
René became impatient. The sins were mounting up, and Aramis showed no sign of stopping nor returning to his true vocation. Something had to be done. Somehow he had to strip the sins away.
He would start with the lovers. It was easy enough to lure the ladies of the night down a back alley. They were happy to see a familiar face.
"Aramis! Where have you been these past weeks? My bed grows cold without you."
"Forgive me. Duty has kept me busy." He would not lower himself and speak of warming her bed, but words were not at all necessary. More often than not a dashing smile was all it took before the women clasped his hand and followed him away.
"Oh, Aramis…" Her dirty hands pawed at his clothes, at his flesh… He would need to wash afterwards… clean away her sinful touch. And then when she leaned in for a taste he took her delicate neck between his fingers…
"Ara-" He stole her breath with his hands, not soft kisses as she expected. Squeezing, crushing, breaking… Tighter and tighter… Her face paled… eyes widened… lips worked wordlessly… Just as a dying animal lashes out, her hands flailed at him, scratching, clawing… She could not harm or mark him. The wretched creature grew weaker, her pulse dulled beneath his fingers. When her body became dead weight he let her drop to the ground. For a moment René leaned over the carcass. He peered into her sightless eyes and wondered if he could watch her soul depart. He had felt it yearning to be free, smothered by so much sin...
And so the man of God choked out the dust of sins from their throats. They wouldn't confess freely, so he had to draw it out… Hands against flesh… soft and hard… squeezing, crushing, breaking… And with the stubborn ones, where sin lay so deeply ingrained, he had to cut it out.
He hungered for more. The attachments of flesh were being cut away, but the attachments of brotherhood were strong. They would not be severed so easily. He just needed a way in… a foot in the door. And the stable boy was easy.
René asked the lad for his opinion on a horse. Though Pierre was young he grew up on a horse farm and had a good eye for confirmation. It wasn't unusual for the musketeers to seek his thoughts on a prospective purchase. He readily agreed to meet René by a yard near the Seine.
"Pierre! It is good of you to come." René painted on a cheerful smile. "I feared she might be a little high at the croup and over at the knee… She's just through there."
The boy gave a shy smile in return. "Always happy to help a musketeer."
As soon as Pierre turned his back René brought the butt of his pistol down viciously on his head. Again and again the gun came down until blood flecked the air. When the body was still, René paused in his work. He stared down at the ruined flesh lying in brittle straw, red amongst yellow beneath him… The boy hadn't even cried out. René drew an arm across his face, wiping away sweat and specks of blood. For a moment there was nothing… no mission, no ties to break… Just himself, and this body. The boy had not been bathed in sin like the others. Was his soul meant for Heaven? He rolled the carcass over and his shattered head lolled. The eyes were tight closed. Had his soul taken flight?
When he was finished, René threw the boy's body into the river and washed the stains from his hands. He had to move on.
"Maret! Come here a minute… I think I might have found something."
It was easier than he expected to murder a musketeer. He supposed they were brothers, they trusted so deeply. Maret followed René down an alley and to a pile of crates where he pointed out a non-existent smudge of blood. When Maret bent down René drew the dagger from his sheath.
He shot up and spun around. "Aramis? What are you-"
The look of confusion turned to shock when René mercilessly thrust the blade into Maret's chest. He drove forwards with his free hand to cover Maret's mouth and smother his scream. The musketeer had no time to defend himself... his agony lasted only a moment. The light left his eyes so quickly. René dropped the dagger to one side and watched. The eyes were hollow, the soul had gone. Blood spilled out and seeped across his jacket. It gathered on the ground and ceased when the heart had emptied. There was nothing left. Just remains.
René straightened and pulled a note out of his pocket. He carefully placed it by the body. They needed to be reminded of the bible. They needed to know the fate of those who strayed from God.
Allais was no match at all. He should have watched his back. It was just another mistake in a long line of mistakes for the lad. René drew up behind and drove his head into the wall, knocking him senseless. While Allais reeled from the blow, René pulled his sword from its sheath and ran him through. The lad shrieked like a stricken rabbit. When he fell to the ground the sword slipped out. René watched him for a moment... he twitched, blood bubbled between the lad's lips while his jaw worked uselessly. René watched so carefully… and then it happened, between one breath and the next that didn't come. His soul departed.
The lad's face was left frozen with an eternal expression of horror. René pulled himself away from it and turned his attention to the note in his pocket. This one he placed over the wound with care, and he thrust the sword back in to keep it in place. There was no screaming or twitching the second time...
And then René turned his back and slipped away, letting Aramis return to catch the man fleeing in a panic… Aramis would not have heard the scream.
Paquin was a little harder. René broke into his room easily enough, but the noise of the lock giving way must have woken him. As soon as René took up the musketeer's dagger and advanced towards him Paquin reared up to block René's wrist.
"Aramis! For God's sake, Aramis! What is wrong with you?!" The man bellowed.
"I am not him!"
René tried to wrench his wrist away. In the struggle both men fell from the bed, crashing into the bedside table. They rolled on the floor, trading blows, each trying to gain advantage over the other. Paquin put up a good fight, but being addled with sleep and unprepared, he was no match for René. The dagger claimed its victim, sinking into his chest so easily.
René placed him back in bed, almost as gently as a parent would tuck in their child. He dropped the note and returned to his own bed, where Aramis would sleep and wake none the wiser.
Father Chardin was a mistake.
"Aramis, back again so soon? Have you made any progress with the murders?"
René flinched at that name. "Father, I have come to confess my sins."
"Oh, of course, please step this way."
He admitted everything. But he was denied absolution.
"My son… I cannot absolve you of these sins. You admit you will kill again." The priest sounded shaken to the core. Did he not understand? "All I can do is pray with you. We will ask God for his help in setting you right."
"I am bringing him back to the righteous path! Do you not understand this is necessary?"
"Thou shalt not kill, Aramis."
"Please Father… I need the sacrament. I need to hear the words..."
"These are the only words you will hear unless you choose to pray with me - Thou shalt not kill."
"Father… I am doing God's work. Cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from blood!"
"Thou shalt not kill, Aramis. Come to me again when you are ready to pray." The wooden box creaked as Father Chardin left.
René shot out and caught him by the arm, throwing him down to the ground. He straddled the priest and relentlessly dashed his head against the flagstones, over and over, shrieking "absolve me!" with each blow. A river of blood ran over the cold stone floor… and finally he stopped, breathing hard with exertion. René hunched over the dead priest, holding his face an inch away from those slack features… He examined each rut and pit of aged skin. It needed taking apart. There was holiness somewhere within. He would find it.
And so René dragged the priest's body to the altar, leaving a trail of red behind him. Perhaps absolution would spill out if he removed the eyes… René took his dagger in hand and set to work. He ripped open those dark robes and started cutting words 'thou' 'shalt' 'not' and 'kill' into cooling flesh.
When he finished he stood back. There was nothing… no absolution. It wasn't here. Not in this man, not in this place. Perhaps he would have it when Aramis was torn away… He had to get back to work.
René went to wash his hands clean in the font before returning to Porthos' room. For a moment he considered running the sleeping man through. It was another tie to sever. But a sudden pain unfurled behind his eyes and Aramis seemed to stir from within. He rebelled at the mere thought… So René slipped away and allowed Aramis to wake Porthos for his watch. Perhaps he should save those three for last.
Treville was the next target. Cutting off the head of the snake would deal a blow to the regiment. And he had told the Captain he would have him one day… Only those few musketeers stood in the way, but they were simple fools and easily gotten rid of with a diversion. He would just have to let Aramis run away with it for a moment. All it took was a couple of hastily written notes, and then he went to retrieve Porthos.
The final note for Treville was left in his pocket.
~oOo~
Aramis came to face down on the floor. There was a hand on his neck, keeping his head down, and an arm across his back. He struggled a moment before stilling… Something was terribly terribly wrong, he couldn't remember doing anything.
"I think he's back with us. Aramis?" Porthos… so it was Porthos holding him down.
Fear ran unbridled through him. "Help me… please."
Porthos pulled Aramis upright and sat on the floor with him. Treville was back in his chair, with a seeping red line scoring his cheek. Athos stood at the ready a few feet away and d'Artagnan hovered in the doorway. Both had their swords out… There was tension in the room thick enough to cut through. Porthos' blade was cast haphazardly to one side. He put his large hands to Aramis' face and drew their foreheads together. Porthos' cheeks were damp, had he been crying?
"I didn't do anything…" Aramis whispered.
Porthos' voice seemed to tremble. "You did…"
"Please, Porthos, you have to believe me." In that moment it felt like there was just the two of them in the room.
"I wish I could… but you were the only connection between the girls, aside from Madame Angel's… The last anyone heard of Pierre he was talking to you about a horse. Aramis… you're not buying a horse." Porthos paused to shudder in a breath. "The whole thing with Allais… you were there, there was never anybody but you. And I wouldn't have believed any of it… but Paquin's place was a mess, and in the middle of it all was the ring you showed me. Still, I didn't want to believe it… but you were just seen placing the notes. We never left. We've been here waiting for you… Oh God, Aramis, the priest…"
Porthos clutched tightly at Aramis' face, the young musketeer found that he was shaking.
"It wasn't me." Aramis choked out.
"You don't know what you're like do you? You can't see yourself… I had to hold you down, Aramis. You were like a wild animal. I never imagined I would have to..." Porthos shut his eyes tight and pressed his lips together, trying to hold something in.
Aramis put his hand to Porthos' wrist. "Help me… Porthos."
He opened his shining eyes again and looked at his friend so regretfully. "I said I would never leave you, and I won't."
"I need your help…" Aramis drew back slowly. "Will you not help me?"
Porthos' head dropped down, and his eyes settled on the floor. Aramis clutched at his hands.
"Porthos? Please... answer me!" His grip tightened and Athos moved in.
Treville got to his feet and tried to intervene. "Here, let me, you shouldn't have to…"
But Athos raised a hand. "It's alright, I've got him."
Aramis' hands were wrenched behind his back and bound tightly. Still, he did not take his eyes away from Porthos.
"Aramis, I'm going to get you up now." Athos hauled him to his feet and waited a moment for Aramis to take his weight. "We're just going to go outside."
d'Artagnan moved to flank him with Athos, and together they moved to the door. Aramis was in a daze… Porthos still hadn't spoken, he didn't even look up.
Treville's voice was the last thing he heard faintly from the room. "It's my fault. I should have realised. I should have done something."
His two friends held him steady down the stairs. Aramis was still in something of a stupor, where were they taking him? Things were moving too fast, he hadn't a chance to catch up or take hold. What was happening? Why was this happening? And then it all became clear when a contingent of guards marched through the archway. Aramis baulked at the sight of them. Athos and d'Artagnan's supporting hands suddenly turned restrictive. They held him in place, keeping him from running.
"Aramis, the guards are just here to escort us. There's no need to fear them." Athos spoke evenly and lightly, as if they were about to have a nice stroll around the city.
"Escort us where?" Aramis asked nervously.
"I… I think you know where." There it was, the crack in his voice that betrayed the fact all was not well.
So he was to be caged like the wild animal Porthos thought he was.
They pushed him forwards, but after that Aramis fought them all the way.
~oOo~
His brothers visited him behind bars. Aramis faded in and out, all too aware now of the moments he wasn't aware… The moments he was something else. Porthos had tried to explain, but Aramis was stolen away before the whole story could be told. He was left feeling half a man…
On one occasion he had come around to find Porthos pressed against the bars, the large man's face was stained with tears. Aramis moved closer and reached out a hand, but his friend moved away, recoiling from his touch.
"Porthos?" He asked tentatively.
"I'm sorry." The man shuddered in a breath. "There is just something in you that scares me."
At hearing that, a sick feeling unfurled deep in Aramis' heart...
The next time Aramis slipped away, he woke to find his hands tightly clutching the bars of his cage. Athos stood back, nearly touching the opposite wall. He looked as white as a sheet and seemed to tremble slightly. Aramis felt so lost and confused, it was like being thrust into the middle of something he had no understanding of.
"Athos?" He whispered.
The older man nearly flinched at the sound of his voice, seemingly still in shock.
What on earth had passed between them?
"I don't know what happened… Athos, you have to tell me, what did I say?"
For a moment Athos looked at him as if he were trying to fathom something in the depths of Aramis' eyes. But the horror never left his face. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if lost for words.
"Athos, please…" Aramis reached an arm through the bars towards his friend.
At that Athos' eyes widened. He abruptly turned to leave as if chased from the room by some nightmare.
"What did I say?!" Aramis yelled after him.
There was no answer, save for the slam of a door.
When d'Artagnan came, Aramis was himself. There was no greeting. The lad just sat down cross legged and leaned his back against the wall, facing Aramis.
For a moment he was quiet, and then he drew out a pistol and placed it on his lap. "I was hoping you wouldn't be you."
Aramis eyed the pistol warily.
"It would make this easier." The lad's voice was tainted by sorrow.
Aramis' voice was a hoarse and horrified whisper. "Do you mean to shoot me?"
"I came to put a rabid animal out of its misery. Better this than…" d'Artagnan looked away for a moment, unable to finish his sentence. Once he had swallowed his tears back, he met Aramis' eyes. "But since you are you, I will give you a choice."
d'Artagnan placed the pistol down on the ground in front of him. "Do you want this?"
This time it was Aramis who backed away from the bars.
"No… I do not."
~oOo~
The sun was high in the sky when he took to the stairs and stepped out on the raised platform.
There were crowds of people watching. It was a spectacle… he was a spectacle. Still, an eerie silence reigned as a nearby voice bellowed out the list of his sins.
True to his word, Porthos was there, looking up with shining eyes. He had never left. Athos was nowhere to be seen, and d'Artagnan had turned away, pushing back through the throng to escape…
Idly, Aramis wondered what he had said to Athos. He would never know now. All Aramis knew was that there was something evil within him. He had seen it in the fearful eyes of his brothers. It needed to die, and if he had to die…
The bellowing voice stopped just as bells began to toll the hour.
There was a length of rope in front of him.
But no screaming. Aramis was silent as he stepped forwards.
Still, he heard screaming... though he couldn't tell if it was something inside him or the voices of his brothers.
It stopped.
Everything stopped.
And our screaming
Is in his screaming
