Notes:

Oh wow! Thank you so much for your kind responses! They are amazing to read, give me all the happy feels.

But on with chapter 2! I hope it lives up to your praise!

Blood Ties

Chapter 2

It felt like hours since Athos had a visitor. Hours, but without a window he had no idea what time of day it was. If he was forced to guess, Athos supposed maybe he'd been missing for around 18 hours? However, with no one to miss him until 9am the next morning, anyone looking was likely 8 hours behind in their investigations. Because they would be investigating, Athos had no doubt in his mind about that. The Musketeers were held two things above all else; their elite skill set and their tight knit bond. The agents worked in groups of four (with the exception of Athos, Aramis and Porthos who were "too bloody minded" to accept a fourth – direct quote from Treville) but the Regiment as a whole were fiercely protective of one another. Slight one and you slighted them all. If Treville thought for a second there was foul play involved in Athos' disappearance every single agent would be pulled to work the case.

But of course, that would all only happen if Aramis and Porthos decided to tell Treville. Athos knew that wouldn't necessarily have happened. The pair may have thought they were covering for him by keeping his missing status quiet. Perhaps they thought he'd found some girl after they'd left and had over slept for work (although that would be a first – Aramis would probably hand out the party poppers at the idea of his Grumpy Cat getting laid). If they didn't raise the alarm until after lunch, or even the next day? Athos swallowed nervously. By the time they mobilised to look it might be too late.

The door clanged open again, drawing Athos' attention out of his own thoughts. He watched Charles shuffle into the room. Athos' mouth opened to offer a greeting, but froze when he saw the look on the young man's face. His mouth was set a tense line, his eyes avoiding Athos as he stepped into the room. He didn't look happy, it was a look Athos had observed before. What order was Charles begrudgingly following this time? For the first time the door wasn't swung shut behind Charles, instead a man stepped forward, hand gun held carefully, clasped in front of him. The gun, Athos was sure, was positioned in such a way to ensure he knew of its existence. A silent warning against trying to escape.

Athos shuffled in his seat, attempting to sit up in his tight bonds as his eyes jumped from the stranger's weapon back to Charles.

"What's going on?"

The boy didn't answer, he didn't even look up, but his hand did slip to his side, pulling his knife from its resting place on his hip.

"Charles…" Athos breathed the name as a warning, watching as the blade rose, clutched in the boys unshaking hand.

His breathing picked up as the blade moved closer, eyes focused on the metal as it glinted and reflected the artificial lighting.

"You don't need to do this, Charles - Charles!"

The knife was at eye level. A breath hitched in his throat as Athos braced himself, waiting for pain, but then the blade dropped. Athos swallowed, watching as Charles sliced through the ropes holding his wrists in place.

What the…

"Don't be stupid," Charles murmured so quietly Athos had to strain to hear as he bent and sliced his legs free, "Please. He will shoot you if you try to run."

Athos nodded ever so slightly, beginning to roll his shoulders for the first time in what felt like years. The stretch almost pulled a grateful moan from the man, though he forcefully bit the sound back.

"You're to follow me," Charles stepped back and slide his blade back into place.

The stranger with handgun still in view suggested to Athos he had no choice. He stood, ignoring his stiffened, wobbly legs. Charles made a sweeping motion with his hand and Athos stepped in front of him.

"Turn left," Charles muttered from behind his shoulder. Athos did briefly consider making a grab for Charles knife, but hesitated. Partly because he could hear the third set footsteps he guessed belonged to the man and handgun, but just importantly, he didn't want Charles implicated in him attempting to escape.

Treville, if he were here, would have scoffed at Athos' 'soft heart'. Athos could practically hear the man's voice, tickling in his ear, reminding him that collateral damage was necessary for survival. Normally Athos might agree, but Charles was every inch the prisoner he was. He wasn't bound or chained but the threats offered by Rochefort would control him just as well.

Athos wasn't about to get the kid shot in the cross fire as he attempted an escape.

Instead Athos followed Charles' instructions, allowing himself to be walked down the long corridor. It was the same grey concreate of his room, without a single window. Perhaps, Athos noted, he was underground. It would make sense, fit with everything he had seen. Maybe a basement complex?

The odd group stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway.

"Open it."

The handle was cool in Athos' hand, the door just as stiff and heavy as the one to his cell seemed. He stepped inside, eyes scanning the room. The room was much the same as the one he'd been from. No window, though no chair either. He flicked his gaze up, noting a large metal ring set into the ceiling. Rope hung from it limply, reaching a third of the way to the floor. Athos stepped further into the room and turned to face Charles.

"What's going on?"

The boy bent, grabbing the few feet of rope which sat, pre-cut by the door.

"Your hands."

Suddenly Athos understood. His gaze flicked to the ring again and then down to the concreate directly under it. There were a few dark stains sunken into the material, left over blood from the last poor sod to be strung up in the room. His heart thundered against his ribcage. He knew exactly what kind of room this was.

Charles grabbed for Athos' wrists beginning to bind them. Athos attempted a few times to catch the kid's gaze, but Charles refused. He was ashamed. He'd known this was coming, where he had been leading Athos. The guilt was etched into his features, making the kid look even younger. To Charles, whatever was about to happen was wrong, and he, by association, was guilty of allowing it. It seemed the boy was judge and jury over his own conscience. By the pained look on his face it was clear he'd found himself guilty. Athos, however, had already seen the sanctions dished out if orders weren't obeyed. He couldn't expect Charles to face those for him. He wouldn't.

Athos offered up his wrists without complaint, shuffling a little closer as Charles continued to tightly bind them.

"Hey," Athos' lips barely moved as he muttered to Charles. The boy looked up, a hesitancy swimming in his gaze.

"Orders is orders… Right?"

Charles blinked, surprised by the words offered. Athos offered a small nod; the kid wasn't to blame. He had as little choice as Athos himself. He frowned but, after the meaning of Athos' action became clear, he offered one of his own.

"Step back," Charles indicated the spot under the loop. Athos followed and raised his hands, allowing them to be ties tightly to the rope above his head. Charles pulled the rope tight, until Athos was right on the edge of being stretched onto his toes. The pull strained his already sore shoulders, the burn far worse in the right socket. Now that he was adequately secured the gun man stepped back and jerked his head at Charles.

"Go on. Tell Rochefort he's ready for La Fère."

La Fère… Athos's eyes closed, his heart thundering somewhere in his throat.

Ready for La Fère... The list of people who could have organised this just shrank to one.

Athos eyes stayed tightly shut as attempted to control his breathing, so he missed Charles' final look before he exited the room.

"His badge!"

Slam!

"His gun!"

Slam!

"His car has not been moved since last night."

Aramis' hands slammed down next to Athos' discarded items on his boss' desk. His white shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his golden rosary beads sneaking free of the shirt and dangling in front of Treville's face.

"There's something wrong. We tracked his mobile, found it in a bush two blocks from the bar where we left him. Athos doesn't just take off on a whim!"

"Captain, Aramis might need ta' stop shoutin'," Porthos came to a stop from his stalking up and down the office and shot a pointed look at his friend, "but he's right. Athos doesn't disappear."

Captain Treville ran a hand over his jaw, eyes focused on his agent's face, looking up at him from this ID badge. Shaggy hair and unkempt beard which was a firmly because I can decision after Athos had left the army. Pale skin, bright blue eyes with the hint of wrinkles beginning at the edge. He'd known the boy since he was fourteen, over twenty years now. He'd watched him hit rock bottom and then dragged him back up. Treville had watched him enter the army, kept an eye on him as he'd excelled at the life he had chosen once he'd finally set his mind to it. When the time came Treville had offered him a place in the Musketeers, not because he felt sorry for the man or because they had history, but because he had more than proven himself and earned his place in the elite company.

Now though, he had a sinking feeling.

"Sit down. Both of you."

"Sit – sit down?!" Aramis looked about a hair width from losing his cool. His dark eyes smouldered, his normally perfectly quaffed hair and goatee wild from the amount all the stress finger runs through his hair.

"I can make it an order if necessary, Herblay."

Aramis glowered, he didn't appreciate being second-named like a teenager in front of his headmaster, but sank down all the same, Porthos following only a moment after. He, at least, seemed to have his head screwed on.

"Captain what's going on? What aren't you telling us?"

The pair watched their boss sigh, a hand rubbing along his lined face, "How much has Athos told you of his past?"

Aramis snorted, but Porthos decided he could be helpful.

"Nothin'. He doesn't. Well he's private. We know he served in the army before the Musketeers, but that's about it… Why?"

"Of course. Stubborn man. Right…" Treville pinched the bridge of his nose, "What I'm about to tell you is private and Athos will probably try to put a bullet in me for telling you but this is important."

He fixed them both with an unsettling look until they both nodded. Even Aramis had calmed down, apparently realising that whatever their Captain had to say was significant.

"I've known Athos since he was fourteen. His father was military, we served together. His father was killed in combat a few weeks before Athos' fifteenth birthday, I was the one who delivered the news to the family. The news broke his mother, and that left Athos and his brother without much support."

"His, his brother?" Aramis received a glare for outburst and held up a hand in apology before Treville continued.

"I promised their father I would look out for his boys, I failed in that." Treville reached into his desk and withdrew a dark brown file. Porthos took it when offered and flicked it open. Inside the file was a single piece of paper, two mugshots and a set of blurry prints. He took a closer look at the top photo. Good looking guy, pale skin and buzz cut hair. His eyes were an electric blue and uncomfortably familiar.

"Thomas de La Fère…" Aramis read over his friends shoulder, frowning, "The name meant to mean something?"

"The man you're looking at is Athos' younger brother."

"Aged 34. Charges of drug possession and distribution, burglary, insighting prostitution…" Porthos read from the conviction sheet, "First conviction aged, sixteen?" He let out a low whistle before dropping the file back to the table.

"Started young."

Treville nodded, "Only he didn't. The police got the wrong brother. Thomas was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Athos he…"

The man faultered, eyes turning to each to the men in front of him. Athos, if he was still alive, would surely kill him for this.

"He had a hard time after his father past. His mother collapsed in on herself and I'd just been recruited into the Musketeers myself. My life got busy and I let the La Fère brothers slip through the cracks. Athos got in to a questionable group, they convinced him to sell coke in school. The money must have been good because Thomas was desperate to join in. One day Athos gave in asked him to go and collect from a supplier. He was meant to collect a package and deliver it to Athos' boss, who'd give Thomas a cut to sell. He thought he was just letting his brother in on the money… Athos had no idea the police had been closing in on their supplier. He sent his brother into a drugs bust. Thomas got caught in the middle of it with two kilograms of Cocaine."

Aramis let out a string of curse words which received a glare from his Captain.

"Sorry."

Once his agent seemed appropriately chastised, the Captain continued, "Athos tried to explain but the police wouldn't hear it. Thought he was just a boy trying to cover for his brother. In the end Thomas got 7 years. Thomas swore Athos knew about the bust and set him up. Left the court room swearing he'd get even. After that refused to see Athos, or me. As far as I'm aware he still holds that grudge."

"So, what…" Porthos ran hand over his forehead, fast feeling a headache coming on, "You think Thomas has something to do with Athos going missing?"

Treville pulled out a second photo. It was a grainy CCTV photograph, but Thomas de La Fère could be made out, head close to a man with slicked back blond hair. Porthos recognised the building as a motorway service station about an hour from Paris.

"I wanted to show Athos this last night and prepare him for this possibility but somehow you all never made it back to the office."

Aramis at least had the decency to look guiltily at Porthos.

"The time stamp is days ago. The man pictured with him has been identified as Marc Rochefort, a high up thug in the Guard."

Porthos' brow arched, "The street gang?"

The Captain nodded, "Rochefort has been under surveillance for a while. Been arrested a number of times for charges ranging from drugs to human trafficking – no ones ever managed to get anything to stick."

Treville's finger jabbed at the CCTV picture. "This was sent to me yesterday morning, I wanted to warn Athos myself. If his brother is back in Paris, he needs to be on the alert. And if he's making friends with the sort of Rochefort we all need to be worried."

Porthos blew out a breath, reeling on the information their Captain had just thrown at them. He cursed his friend and his secrecy, but supposed he couldn't blame him.

"Do we know where this Rochefort hangs out?" Aramis drew the CCTV picture towards him and studied the blonde figure. Porthos had a suspicion the sharp shooter was committing both faces to memory, just on the off chance they were ever in his riffle's cross hairs.

"I've compiled a list of bars and clubs he's been known to frequent. With any luck he'll be at one of them."

Aramis nodded and, with a glance at Porthos, stood up, "Email it to my mobile. We'll let you know if we find anything."

Porthos followed moments later, grabbing his own leather jacket before chucking Aramis his suit blazer.

"Stay in touch. I'll have the rest of the team ready to mobilize at a moment's notice," Treville stood, knuckles pressing to his into his desk, "I'll makes some calls, see what I can't dig up on either of them. Be careful though. Both of you."

Porthos slapped his friend on the back. Aramis lead the way to the door and disappeared. Porthos stopped for a moment and glanced over his shoulder to his commanding officer.

"We'll bring him home, Captain. We don't leave brothers behind."

"Olivier – It's been too long!"

A figure appeared in the doorway; a tall, broad man with close cut hair and tattoos snaking out of his sleeve cuff. The man stepped in and smiled, his hands spread wide as if their meeting was a welcome surprise. It was only the eyes which suggested this reunion was anything but happy. His gaze burned.

Athos swallowed. His chin raised, firmly ignoring the fact he was hung by his wrists. It hurt, but he'd be damned if he was to let his face show that.

Settle, There were Treville's words again, Centre yourself and settle.

"Agreed Tommy, but I do have a phone… The theatrics seems somewhat excessive."

Thomas' eyebrow shot up, arms coming up to cross over his chest.

"It's a pity, I'd hope your wit might have improved with age…"

Athos swallowed carefully, "Sadly my stubbornness hasn't either."

He watched his younger brother's thumb run across his bottom lip, as if he was considering Athos as some business deal or new investment. He impassive stare sent uncomfortable pricklings down his spine.

"You name has though. Who the hell is Athos Alexander, Olivier? The La Fère name not good enough for you? Ashamed your little army buddies might find out about your convict brother?"

"I was never ashamed of you, Thomas."

"No," Thomas' eyes shone. He took a step forward, face settling uncomfortably close to Athos' face. He could feel hot breath on his cheek, smell his brother's cologne which was nothing like the Tommy he remembered.

"Would have been insult to injury right? Since you put me there… Abandoned me."

Despite the ache in his right shoulder Athos stood tall, unmoving under his brother's gaze. He hit back with his own stare.

"I didn't know," Athos held his brother's gaze. He hadn't believed him all those years, had made up his own truth in his mind to focus on. Thomas was deluded, he believed his own lie. Athos' jaw set, "I had no idea the police were there. I tried to tell them after you were arrested. The detectives, your lawyer. No one would listen. No one listened but I tried! Even after you were convicted I tried! I sent you letter after letter after, you ignored all my calls. I turned up for every visit day for the six months you were in jail. You wouldn't see me!"

"Why would I want to see you? Why would I want to talk to my only brother, the guy who sent me into his drugs deal and got me arrested?" Hands snapped out suddenly and shoved Athos' shoulder blades. His feet skidded out from under him, his whole body weight yanking down on his shoulders. A groan was ripped from Athos' throat, fire igniting in his right arm as something tore.

"I didn't know!" Athos coughed. He dragged his legs back under him, his shoulder dulling to an intense throb as the pressure was relieved, "You've convinced yourself I did this to you, and maybe I did, but it was an accident! An accident Thomas."

Athos knew, he just knew he was wasting his breath. Thomas had nursed this hurt since he was a teenager, had stroked and nurtured his grudge throughout his time in prison and into his new life as a felon.

"I own it," Athos swallowed around his dried mouth, "I got you arrested. Mistake or not it was my doing. But the second time, the third? You cannot blame me for that Tommy. That was all you…"

And that did it. Athos saw the clenched fist it collided into the right side of his face. Pain exploded along his right cheek bone and a metallic taste erupted on his tongue. He coughed, blood dripping into the corner of his mouth.

"You left me! You abandoned me!" The next punch hit Athos' gut, knocking the air from his lungs and forcing his weight back into his shoulders as he doubled over.

As the next blow fell, this time against his ribs, Athos realised the truth didn't matter. The truth, it had been said, was relative and what mattered now was Thomas' truth. He believed, deep down to his core, in Athos' guilt. That was his reality. Or rather, the only reality which counted.

The next cough that erupted from Athos' lungs sent blood droplets spattering to the floor. Thomas only paused for a moment, before his fist connected with his brother's jaw again.

"I've waited so long for this, Olivier," Fingers wound themselves into Athos' hair and yanked his head backwards. Athos hissed as his eyes were forced to stare into his brothers face. The brother who'd followed him around in admiration as kids, who'd turned to his arms for comfort after their father had been killed, who's eyes were now dancing with euphoria at seeing his brother in pain.

"I'm going to take my sweet time with you…"

His legs were swept from under him, his whole weight jerking his injured shoulder, pain blackening his vision for a heartbeat.

The pain didn't stop.

Athos lost count of blows, lost track of time. His feet had lost their footing and his mind had lost his smart remarks. Pain roared in his veins, thundering throughout every inch of his body before erupting in and around his shoulder joint. Every breath came as an effort, taken around a sharp pain which spoke of at least one broken rib.

"I'm going to see Rochefort. Cut him down before he chokes on his own blood."

A hand slapped against his cheek, the act practically a caress in comparison to the rest those hands had done, "In a bit, big brother. Like I said, it's been too long."

Athos didn't raise his head, he didn't think he could, but listened as footsteps clattered around him.

"No, Olivier. Don't pass out. Common, please…"

Charles?

Suddenly the strain on his arms dropped away and Athos felt himself crumple to the floor. Strong arms caught around his waist and lowered his body the rest of the way.

"Don't you dare sleep, come on now," Water splashed onto his face, wonderfully cool against his skin, before the plastic of a water bottle neck was pressed to his lips. Athos gulped gratefully, past caring as water dribbled from his mouth and down his cheek.

"Good. Now open your eyes. Let me see them."

Athos groaned, he didn't want to open his eyes, he wanted to sleep, to drift. More water splashed onto his face. He felt his body being moved, until his back was propped against the wall.

"Olivier, come on. Now…"

"Don't," Athos' voice scratched through the little room, lifting his heavy eyelids to the harsh light, "Don't call me that..."

Charles' face swam into vision, his nervous gaze fixed solely on the man's face. He released a nervous breath, smiling as Athos finally acknowledged him.

Carefully Charles reached out a hand and pushed Athos' sweat soaked hair from his forehead, "Don't call you what?"

"Olivier…"

Charles soaked a rag and rubbed it over Athos' tender face. As he pulled it away, Athos could see the material was stained with red.

"But it's you name?"

"Not anymore."

Charles raised an eyebrow, rubbing the moistened cloth over his cracked lips, "What should I call you then?"

"Athos. I'm Athos now."

"Alright then," Charles sat back on his heels, "If you stop calling me Charles."

Athos' head rolled to the side, his muscules over stretched and sore, although his eyes stayed stuck to the young man's face.

"Mean I can call you Kid after all?"

Charles blinked, surprised at Athos' words, but then smiled, "Not so much… But my friends used to - well Constance calls me d'Artagnan…"

Athos rolled the name round in his head, testing it out, "S' a mouthful…"

Charles - no, d'Artagnan - nodded in agreement and shrugged, "True… Was my name back, back before... I always hated Charles, mother had no imagination."

A laugh bubbled from Athos, but before long turned into a coughing fit. d'Artagnan gripped his shoulder gently and helped him lean forward. The boy winced as he watched spatters of crimson blood hit the concreate floor.

"Athos, what…"

"Ribs," Athos muttered as he was placed back against the wall. He raised his left and brought it to rest on his chest. Gingerly his fingers began their inspection and pressed gently on each rib. The third drew a moan from deep within his throat, "Least one broken…"

"Your lungs?"

Athos shook his head, "I'd feel a full collapse. Might be a puncture, rib's probably actin' like a plug."

d'Artagnan swallowed, a hand running over his tied back hair, "That sounds safe…"

"Beggars can't be choosers… Though would be a shit way to go…"

The boy huffed, rocking back on his heels. Athos watched as he scrubbed the balls on his hands into his eye sockets. His shoulders took on a hunch again, stress screaming from every muscule.

"I can't… Athos I can't get you out. I can't, I can't - they'll kill her, or kill me and have for Constance work of the debt in some back room seeing 10 men a night. I can't I-"

"I know…" Athos' hand crept out and found the boy's leg.

d'Artagnan looked up and Athos saw the glisten in his eyes before the man scrubbed them away.

"If I could…"

"I know," Athos' hands kept a tight hold on the boy's knee, "So do something else for me… This is important though. I have friends, friends who will come looking for me… If I'm-"Another cough erupted, shaking through Athos' body. More blood spilled from his mouth, which d'Artagnan helped clear up with his rag and water bottle. Athos nodded thankfully before continuing, "If they're too late-"

"Athos-"

"No listen," Athos' eyes pressed closed for a second, pushing down a wave of nausea which threatened to bring up the water he'd only just drank, "If they're too late, if I'm not around, give them this message, can you do that?"

d'Artagnan nodded, though, after realising the beaten man's eyes had shut, murmured a "yes".

"All for one… Say it to them. Big guy, dark skin and curly hair or a tanned man with a ridiculous moustache and goatee. You'll do it?"

But they were out of time. The door floor was flung open, a happy crow erupting from the opening before d'Artagnan could offer his promise.

"You're awake! Oh Olivier good job, always so stubborn. I'd hate for you to miss our time to catch up," Thomas shot a look at d'Artagnan, "Leave us. This is family business. Out."

The boy scrambled to his feet, noticing how Athos didn't even flinch at his brother's voice. His feet hesitated, stomach twisting uncomfortably with the realisation of what would transpire when Thomas was left alone with his brother.

Thomas' eyebrow raised, "Now!"

I'm sorry… d'Artagnan promised, before fleeing from the room.

Notes:

Well I hoped you liked chapter 2! Any predictions or guesses are welcome! I love to hear theories!