"I don't understand why I can't go in with you two," Laurent frowned.

"Because I said so," Athos replied.

They had parked the car a street away from Mendoza's hotel. Team Two was parked nearer to the hotel but Rochefort, Flea and Charon had been deposited on the sidewalk a few blocks back by Ninon. The woman was to set up her position in the same building as Aramis and Porthos was tired of his friend whining all the way that she would pick the good spot by virtue of getting there first.

"Are you saying you don't have the skill to make do with the spot you get?" he bumped shoulders with the man who was pulling out his rifle case.

"Appealing to my ego? You know me too well Porthos!" his friend placed a hand over his heart as he grinned and shouldered the case.

But Porthos didn't miss the telltale lines at the corners of his friend's mouth that told him Aramis wasn't happy with the plan and the big man knew it had nothing to do with the loss of the best vantage point. His friend didn't like that he would essentially be left blind on the outside since Athos and Porthos could not wear the headsets inside the hotel. They wouldn't be able to communicate as they were used to in these assignments.

"But I'm a part of this team," Laurent crossed his arms before his chest and firmly planted himself in the space between the open door of the car; effectively blocking their way to the equipment on the car seat beyond.

They did not have the time for this, or the patience Porthos decided.

"And Athos' the leader of this team," he pointed out, "his word is the law."

"So you're like a monarch?" Laurent snapped.

"A benevolent dictator," Athos replied.

Porthos secured his weapon in his belt at the small of his back and adjusted his shirt over it with a grin. It wasn't the man's fault the Captain had stuck him with their team, but his attitude wasn't helping him either. The new addition to their team looked from him to Aramis and clenched his jaw shut when the sniper winked at him.

"Think of it as participant observation," Aramis said, "You participate and observe from the car,"

"Treville said that I –"

Porthos cringed at the words; the poor man was only digging himself a deeper grave. He shook his head as Aramis made a show of looking around.

"I don't see Treville here, do you?" he leaned forward until he was enough in the man's personal space to have him bending backwards, Porthos hated the suddenly violent glint in Aramis' eyes as he spoke next, "and I don't think you'll be telling on us would you?"

Laurent nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again.

Porthos couldn't blame him and glanced towards Athos. It was times like these, when Aramis let the brutality reflect in him that the two of them were reminded of just what horrors their brother had witnessed in his life. But then Aramis smirked and it had that familiar playful curl to it.

The tense lines of Athos' shoulders eased.

Porthos felt the clenching around his heart loosen.

He chuckled as Laurent flinched when Aramis reached towards him, cringing when the hand moved past him. Aramis picked up the headset in the car seat behind Laurent and with a grin like a vampire tasting first blood he tucked the plastic band around the new comer's neck.

"See, you get to use the cool gadgets," he leaned back with an easy laugh, "and they don't."

"About that," Porthos pulled out his mobile phone and the second pressed speed dial.

He watched Aramis pull out his mobile phone and roll his eyes. The sniper answered the call with a resigned,

"Who's this?"

"Common sense," Porthos grinned, "I'll keep it on call while we're in there."

"Not what we're used to but it's the best option we have," Athos nodded.

Aramis' smiled pocketed his phone before pointing first at Athos and then at Porthos.

"Don't go in until I'm in position," he said.

"And don't get trigger happy," Athos reminded him, "with any luck you won't have to fire a single shot today."

The main room had a moldy stench about it that was edged with the sourness of cheap wine enough to make him swallow back the gag reflex. Yet the bar was empty under the murky lights save for the barkeep wiping down a glass with a stained cloth. Pale glow of the morning fused through from the foggy glass of the closed window, casting a smudged shadow of the spiral staircase set in the middle of the room.

Tucking his laptop under his arm he weaved through the tables, a few of which were occupied by men in twos and threes. He followed Dujon to the table set by the far wall where sat a man bulging out of his chair as he devoured the breakfast spread before him.

"He's here boss,"

Mendoza spared them a glance as he cleaned his plate; a grunt of acknowledgement followed before he swallowed, smacked his greasy lips and brushed the crumbs off his thick chin.

"Yes, The Hound is it?"

The young man raised an eyebrow.

"Is there another hacker you've asked to this dump?"

"Are you as good as they say?"

"I don't know what they say and I'm not going to waste my time trying to find out," the Hound pulled himself to stand straighter, "do you require my expertise or not?"

A smile slithered onto Mendoza's face, the young hacker suppressed a shudder as it reached the man's eyes where a strange sense of cruelty lingered. Unbidden in his thoughts came another set of eyes, the blue depths of which he had searched for this same sentiment; it hadn't been there. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on his laptop.

"I see I'm not needed here," the Hound said.

He had only taken a few steps away from Mendoza's table when his path was blocked. He glanced up at the man who up until a few seconds ago had been nursing a mug of coffee at his table. His friend was flanking him and the hacker suddenly realized that every patron in the main room was on his feet. The hacker counted seven men, each one glaring at him.

"Au contraire young man, we do need your talent very much," Mendoza smirked.

The man hefted out of the chair and nodded at Dujon. The young hacker found himself being herded after Mendoza as he lumbered up the spiral staircase, the wrought iron shuddering under his weight. Mendoza's men followed and the small group filed through the narrow corridor that had a line of doors on one side and open windows on the other. The Hound shivered slightly as he was led into the room at the far end. The stale dusty air of a space rarely used tickled his throat and he wondered if he could open the only small window that was there.

Mendoza nodded towards the chair and the desk that were the only furniture present.

"Your work station," he said.

The young man traced a finger over the desk and found the tip caked with dirt.

"Charming," he grimaced.

Mendoza nodded to the briefcase set by the table.

"Your payment,"

He clenched his jaw and offered a clipped nod. What he was about to do would pay him two fold other than the money Mendoza was giving him. If all went according to his plan, by the end of it he would have had his revenge on Athos, he would have a nice sum to donate to the children's hospital and he would be leaving a nasty surprise for the arms ring Mendoza had set up in this city.

"You are sure that this person you're channeling my money through is safe?"

"Athos has family out of the country, by the time any suspicion arises the money trail would have gone cold," he opened his laptop and booted it up. Of course he didn't tell Mendoza that he planned to expose him and Athos as partners by this money transfer. He was leaving bread crumbs for the authority that would end up with Mendoza and Athos both behind bars.

The Hound set to work, only half paying attention to the man who came up to Mendoza and whispered something in his ear. From the corner of his eye he saw the large man stiffen and hiss back something that the hacker didn't catch. But he did note how the room emptied as the men moved out into the corridor and towards the staircase.

He had just made a passage into Athos' bank account and turned the laptop for Mendoza to enter his own account number when a booming laugh floated up from the main room.

"I'll have some eggs and coffee, what about you Athos? And no alcohol this early for you!"

Athos.

The man had said Athos.

Athos was here.

The Hound stared through the open door at the corridor where the voice had echoed out from below. .

He looked to Mendoza, eyes wide in shock as the man glared back.

It occurred to him belatedly that he had let slip Athos' name.

"You don't mind if we take a look upstairs? We'll need a room for our stay in London," this time the voice was low but he had a feeling that it was the screaming silence in the hotel that had carried the words up to them.

"Dujon," Mendoza said.

And then he heard the staircase rattle.

Porthos watched the small object roll down the stairs, recognized what it was a second later and yanked Athos down from the few steps he had taken up the staircase. Blinding white light followed the ringing in his ears as the flash bomb went off even as Athos fell on his side. It was only through instincts that the big man managed to roll over his friend to keep him from the assault he knew would follow.

The world sloshed about him in myriad of washed out colours and he was distantly aware of Athos trying to get him off himself. But he was only focused on the ping of bullets that was too close to comfort and the deep seeded need to protect his brother.

He hissed when a trail of fire scorched a path through his bicep.

Porthos didn't hear Athos curse, didn't notice Athos grabbing the weapon from the big man's back before he forced his face over Porthos' shoulder and snaking an arm out he returned fire.

"Porthos? Porthos you with me?"

The voice was barely audible against the ringing in his ears.

"Yeah," he raised himself onto shaky arms, " 'm here."

With a grunt he flopped back down on his friend when Athos' other arm moved to shield his head as another ping sounded. The retort of the weapon in his friend's hand followed and sent his gut churning. Porthos groaned and realized that the arm Athos had about his head was pressing against his ear with the hand cupped against the other one in an attempt to muffle the sounds and ease his dazed state.

That was why it took him a second to realize that the gunshots were distant now and that his friend had stopped firing from where he was pinned under him.

"Oh thank you Aramis," Athos breathed out.

Porthos flopped onto his side and tried to keep the rising bile down. With a groan he landed onto his back and scanned the area around them before clenching his eyes shut. He didn't need to move his gaze, the world was moving enough around him. His mind belatedly told him that the waiters and barkeep had disappeared in the commotion.

He just wished they wouldn't bring trouble back to them.

Porthos felt his friend patting his stomach before clumsily reaching for the mobile tucked in his pocket. He opened his eyes again and hazily watched Athos smirk as he pressed the mobile it to his ear.

"About time," he said.

Aramis was lying on his front, wondering if the dust stains would come out of his jacket and heroically refraining from reaching into his pocket for the lollipop, the one he had brought along for his morning sugar fix. He watched through his scope as his friends entered the building before shifting his view to the upper corridor of the hotel that was visible though the line of open windows.

His breath plumed out over the cold metal of his weapon, but his numbing fingers were steady over the trigger as he glanced at his mobile phone that he had propped up before him.

His first clue was the movement on the upper corridor. Aramis didn't like the way the men were converging towards the edge of railing that he assumed marked a staircase.

And then came the bang and grunt from Porthos' phone.

"Charon, Flea get in there and get them out," he spoke into the head piece, "Laurent bring the car to the curb,"

He reached for his phone and pressed it to his ear that wasn't linked to the headset. Lining a shot he fired. It didn't hit anyone but the warning worked. Mendoza's men ducked and stopped firing down the circular railing.

"We were not assigned sight A and you don't give orders to Team Two," Rochefort's voice came in his ear.

"Team One still has point on this one,"

"But Athos is the leader and he is–"

"I'm still a part of Team One that is taking point here so get in there and get them out," he fired again when a couple of men dared to rise again, "or you'll be meeting some unfriendly friendly fire Rochefort."

He listened for his brothers on the other end of the phone even as he spoke in the headset.

"Ninon?"

"I got it," said the woman.

As Ninon fired a warning shot through another window to keep the men on guard, Aramis forced himself to not demand a reply from the phone stuck to his ear. Distraction in the field was more fatal that any bullet he knew that, but he couldn't deny the fear coiling in his belly.

"We're going in," Flea's voice came over the communication link.

"Watch your backs, I don't have eyes in the ground floor," Aramis told them even as he tuned into the rustle he heard from the phone, "Eyes on the back door Rochefort, we don't want them getting reinforcements" he spoke into the headset.

A grunt of acknowledgement was all he got but Aramis decided not to push. it He held his breath when he heard a gasp through the phone and fired another warning shot.

"About time," Athos' voice came through.

Shoving down the tremor in his voice he forced a smile in it instead.

"Having a party without me Athos?" he asked, "that's low,"

"Thanks for crashing it though,"

"How bad are we talking?" he asked.

"Flash bomb, Porthos got the brunt of it," Athos told him, "I think a bullet grazed him too."

"Where?"

"Arm,"

"He's responding?"

"Now he is,"

"I'm fine! Quit poking it!" Porthos' loud growl came through the phone, the ringing in the big man's ears evident by his loud voice, " 'm fine 'Mis! It's a scratch!"

"It's a graze," Athos corrected him.

"Stop touching it!"

Relief flooded him at the sound of the argument. As long as his brothers were talking he had proof that they were relatively fine. And the fact that neither of them was slurring words settled Aramis nerves enough to shift his focus to the two he had sent in to get his friends out.

"We got 'em," Charon spoke in the communication link, "heading out now."

"Laurent the car?" Aramis asked.

"I'm here,"

"And what about you Athos?" Aramis silently urged them to move out already, "and don't lie to me, you're in pain."

"Thank you for pointing it out to me,"

"Athos,"

"It's my ankle,"

"Now was that so hard to say?" he smirked and glanced down in the street as the four figures staggered out of the hotel door.

By now he was sure the police would on the way and Leon would likely have their hide for this, but since they were going to be skinned for this any way he fired another warning shot through the upper windows of the hotel.

"Rochefort?"

"I have a runner,"

"Let it go," Aramis told him.

"I can catch him,"

"Rochefort abort!"

But the man made no reply and Aramis cursed under his breath, he was going to strangle that man. He grit his teeth and ordered Ninon to pack it.

"You leave first," he said, "I'll follow."

"And Rochefort?"

"I'll keep them occupied as long as I can," he said.

Aramis took another shot and the men peeking over the window ledge ducked. It was a good thing the men weren't firing blindly out towards him he decided. He was sure it wasn't to keep innocents safe from stray bullets; Mendoza would just not want any unnecessary murder traced back to him.

"Aramis," Athos voice was a warning and a question rolled into one.

"You have a talent my friend," he grinned, "don't put pressure on that foot and no I don't need to see you to know what you're up to."

He could easily picture his friend scowl and try to stand on his own feet. Pulling away from the phone, he spoke in the communication link instead.

"Flea how bad is Porthos?"

"Not too bad considering,"

"Ninon?"

"I'm almost out."

"Laurent?"

"I got them,"

"Take them straight to the hospital," Aramis ordered, "don't wait for me at the rendezvous,"

"Aramis," Athos snapped in his other ear.

"Still here mon frère,"

"We're not leaving without you,"

"Yes you are,"

Distantly he heard the police sirens approaching and Aramis hurried to pack up, his phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder. The argument on the other end was echoing in both his ears simultaneously and he couldn't understand a thing.

Closing the rifle case he gave as shrill a whistle as he could without giving away his position. The silence that followed was a pleasure. Aramis smirked to himself.

"Laurent you're at the wheel?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then get them out of here," he pulled off the headset and turned to the phone, "I'll meet you at the hospital Athos."

There was a pause and Aramis wished he was not the one causing the strain in his friend that he could feel through the piece of technology next to his ear. Porthos was hurt, he knew so was Athos, it wasn't fair that he was asking the man to leave him behind on top of all that.

"I will meet you there," he repeated.

"You better," Athos' voice was tight.

And then he cut the call.

It was purely instincts that he ducked when the firing started. But Mendoza was having none of it. The Hound watched him heave to his feet and move towards the door, stepping into the corridor. Two shots, one after the other struck the wall before the man; paint and plaster spraying on his face.

Growling and cursing Mendoza staggered back into the room.

"YOU!" a thick finger pointed his way, "You brought him here! Who are you working for? Did the police send you in?"

The young hacker closed his laptop and back tracked as Mendoza snarled and lurched forwards. Dodging the man barreling towards him he ducked under the wild swipe of Dujon and came face to face with the dark muzzle of the gun that Mendoza had pointed at him.

"Are you another one of Cornet's men?" Mendoza demanded.

He pressed back into the wall and tried not to flinch at the sound sporadic firing that echoed out to him. His mind went to the switchblade he carried and not for the first time in his life the young man lamented the limit to his violet streak.

He didn't like the sight of blood.

He definitely didn't like the sight of his own blood.

Especially with the knowledge that it should not be out in the open and visible to him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he ground out.

His heart had raced up to his throat and his mind was searching for a way out, going through possible exits at a mile a minute.

"Don't lie to me!" Mendoza covered the short distance between them.

The man's wide eyes and heaving breath filled his vision as the young hacker discounted the idea of a sprint out the door; Mendoza's men were that way. He could go for the wide open window of the corridor but then the shooter outside would take him out.

His eyes snapped back down as the muzzle of the weapon pressed against his sternum.

"You and this Athos, you work for Cornet?"

The Hound pulled his gaze up, turned his attention away from the spit gathering at the corners of Mendoza's mouth and flicked it towards the small closed window in the room.

He was aware of Dujon beside him but he knew the man wasn't armed.

The young man tightened his hold on his laptop and mourned its possible loss for a second; it wasn't his favorite but still a big sacrifice to save his life he decided.

A smirk appeared on The Hound's face and Mendoza stepped back in surprise.

The young hacker swung back his laptop and slammed it against the hand holding the weapon. Amidst the yelling and cursing he dove for the briefcase sitting by the desk, clasped it before his bent head and ran into the window.

A split second sound of breaking glass enveloped him and then he had hit the ground too soon.

Had hit the ground too hard.

His lungs paused as the shock vibrated through his bones.

The Hound gasped.

Thanking his luck that hotel was a low scale building.

His chest ached.

"Guess the movies forget this part," he groaned and pushed himself up.

He forced his breathing to not get too deep; he was pretty sure he had bruised his ribs. The young man refused to believe it could be worse.

"Hey! Stop!"

From the corner of his eye he saw a yellow headed figure coming towards him. His shoes scrabbled onto broken glass as he clutched the briefcase in a shaky hand and pushed himself into a run. Fear shoved away any lingering pain and adrenaline surged in his veins as he sped up.

"Stop!" the man after him yelled.

The young man sprinted across the narrow strip that was between Mendoza's properties and the river and through the broader empty patch of the store beyond, before he turned into the alley on the other side of the building. The footfalls behind were gaining on him and he dashed across the street as the police sirens neared.

His pursuer remained on his tail as he rushed into the alley beyond. Breathing heavily he eyed the open dumpster and the barrier of wire mesh beyond. Throwing a smirk over his shoulder at the man at the mouth of the alley he took a running jump onto the dumpster, wadded into to get to the other edge and used its height to cross the barrier.

His breath left him with a woosh as he landed on the other side.

Distantly he thought he heard the man behind him arguing with another man but The Hound didn't wait to see. Instead he ran across the street and onto the sidewalk on the other side. He only glanced back the way he had arrived as he stepped onto the road to cross the curb.

He never saw the bright red vespa that rammed into him.

Hot white pain exploded in his side.

Lanced from his chest down to his hip…

…the kicks are relentless.

They are too many for him to handle alone. He had given up on putting up a fight long ago; his only strategy is to keep from getting a concussion. Curling into a ball as tight as he could the boy wraps his arms around his head.

His tormentors don't miss their mark often.

Another hit to his ribs and he gasps.

But then a voice.

A woman's voice and the hits cease.

He ventures his face out of his arms and peeks up blearily.

"Find Athos," the woman says, "he's the one behind Alexander d'Artagnan's murder."

Athos…

…"Athos," he groaned.

"Is that your name? Athos? Hold still please," a woman was speaking to him.

The voice was not the one from his memories. Small hands eased him onto his side and sheer curiosity forced him to blink his eyes open. Auburn curls from under a bright red helmet framed a worried face. The cobalt blue eyes were filled with worry as they looked down at him.

"Hi there," she smiled.

He stopped breathing for an entirely different reason this time around. The smile was blinding.

"Can you hear me Athos?"

"Huh?"

"Athos?"

He groaned and forced himself up despite the woman's protests.

" 'm not Athos," he said.

He squinted at the woman before him before his eyes drifted to the red scooter beyond. His mind lazily joined the dots and he groaned again.

"Stop moving around and it might hurt less," the woman said, "I'm Constance, I'm a nurse and I can help you."

"You hit me?" he asked.

"Well yes," she bit her lip, "but you weren't watching where you were going either."

He started to nod but decided against it when the street bobbed in his view.

"Can you tell me your name?" Constance asked.

"No,"

"Concussion then,"

"No I mean –" he was too tired to explain himself.

Tapping into his last reserves of fortitude he clasped the briefcase and forced himself to his feet. Constance steadied him as he swayed; he flashed her a smile but knew it came out as grimace if the woman's expressive eyes were to go by.

"Sit down,"

"I haffta get to Athos," he said.

"You need to wait for the ambulance,"

"No ambulance, no hospitals,"

"Look you're in no condition to be roaming about in the streets!" Constance held him still and raised the hem of his shirt, "you're probably bleeding internally –"

"Hey!" The Hound managed an indignant glare and pushed himself away from her.

Constance arched a brow and glared right back.

He decided he had never met a woman this beautiful or this frisky as he dodged the oncoming fingers.

"For the love of –!" the woman snapped, "just sit down you idiot!"

"No!"

"You're face is all scratched, you're bleeding from your hairline, your breathing is all wrong and you stink like something the cat had dragged through her litter box. But so help me I will not have you die on the roadside because you refused medical attention!"

And for the first time in his life he knew he was in love.

That was his last thought as the world blacked out.

TBC

a HUGE thank you to all the lovely people who read, follow, favorite and review this story. The people who left me your thoughts on the first chapter, THANK YOU, it was great and absolutely amazing feeling to see you all still interested in the 'verse. Highly, highly motivating. And a special Thank you to Clara and Ruth, my guest reviewers I cannot thank personally. You all are amazing!