Porthos stumbled through the door and into the spacious living area of the wooden house- he nodded gratefully to the old woman as she walked from her kitchen and into the living area, her lined faced creased with concern as she looked at the two bloody, muddy men in her house.

'Jack, lock the door,' she called as her husband came in, his hair plastered to his face as he too came into the house. He nodded and turned round, sliding the dead-bolt across the door and closing all the curtains in the house.

'Put him down here..' the woman said as she came round to where Porthos was stood with D'artagnan still on his back. 'On the rug by the fire in the parlour.'

'I-thank you...' Porthos muttered as he crossed the wooden floor and into the parlour, before carefully manoeuvring the younger man off his back and onto the floor by the crackling fire- the Gascon groaned, his eyes wide as he looked round.

'Where are we?' he whispered, his face pale. He shivered violently on the floor, his skin erupting in goosebumps again as welcome heat touched his flesh.

'You're with people who can help,' the old lady said kindly from behind Porthos, already busying herself with getting bowls of hot water, towels and bandages from the old drawers dotted around the lower part of the house.

D'artagnan looked up at Porthos, a confused look on his face. Porthos nodded back- despite being thankful for the help, and he truly was, a distinct feeling of unease fluttered in his stomach.

'Now, lets take a look at you...' the lady said, her voice low and comforting. She knelt down, smiling a little as D'artagnan flinched at her touch.

'My name is Marie- I used to be a nurse when I was younger,' she giggled as her husband snorted from behind her; her laugh tinkled and put D'artagnan immediately at ease. 'A lot younger!' she added, pushing her greying hair from her face as her fingers, still nimble and gentle, began to deftly undo the Musketeer's coat and assorted shirts, reaching the skin beneath.

'What a-about the men?' D'artagnan muttered, teeth chattering despite the heat.

'They know better than to come in here,' Jack replied darkly- Porthos turned and saw he was peering through a small crack in the curtains, a gun in his arms.

'Who are you?' he asked, looking from the man to the woman, who was preparing some cloths to clean the wounds.

'We can explain once we get this young man sorted out...' the lady said, looking to Porthos. 'I promise you'll get answers.'

Porthos nodded as sudden wave of tiredness nearly overcame him- he was now sure these people meant them no harm, no matter their story. He knelt next to D'artagnan before accidentally flexing his manacled wrist.

He swore loudly as the metal cut into his wrist, before remembering who was beside him and covering his mouth. 'Sorry,' he muttered to the old woman, who chuckled and shook her head playfully.

'Here,' Jack said from behind him- he passed Porthos a small key. 'This should work,'

'Thank you,' Porthos replied gratefully, quickly undoing the locks on both his and d'artagnan's wrists.

'That feels better, eh?' he asked the Gascon, who smiled weakly and flexed his own wrist.

'Much be-better.'

Porthos sat back with a sigh, enjoying the free movement of his hand again. 'How is he?' he asked Marie, who was busy dipping cloth into the warm water and gently cleansing D'artagnan's wounds.

'Most are superficial, which is very good,' she reported, eyes creased in concentration as she worked.

'I can see he has a wound in his shoulder, which I'll need to stitch.' She then turned to his hand, sighing in anger as she looked at his broken finger. 'And this needs binding.'

She leaned forwards and reached into a small basket, pulling a log from inside and throwing it into the fire- 'He's going to catch his death if he doesn't warm up soon,' she explained before getting back to work. 'Jack can give you both some of his old clothes to put on,' she added.

'What can we ever do to repay you, my good lady?' Porthos breathed, his own aching bones and muscles finally beginning to settle as he leaned against a chair by the fire, relief now coursing through him. D'artagnan was going to be alright.

Marie laughed her tinkling laugh again, making Porthos smile a little. 'We're just glad we could help, aren't we Jack?'

'Of course,' Jack nodded by his place on a chair near the door.

'We j-' Marie's voice stopped as they heard a noise from outside. Marie, Jack and Porthos all looked at each other.

'They wouldn't dare come here.' Marie said first, her voice firm. 'They just wouldn't.'

'Might be an animal.' Jack added, standing up slowly.

Porthos' heart dropped into his stomach. They should never have come here and put these good people in danger. 'We should go,' he said, bending down and starting to gather his belongings.

'You'll do no such thing!' Jack muttered, shaking his head. 'We invited you here and we're not about to just let you leave.'

'But we've just brought danger to your door!' Porthos argued, before gathering his knife and heading to a spot beside Jack.

'Then if it is danger, you can help us combat it, yes?'

'Of course,' Porthos nodded, steeling himself. 'I'll go first,' he instructed, Musketeer-mode clicking into his brain once more. 'Stay behind me,'

Jack nodded and stepped back, watching as Porthos readied himself by the door that led back into the kitchen and the front door.

Suddenly there was as a crack of broken wood- Porthos guessed those bastards had broken the dead-lock. He wondered how many where there behind the door- he would take on them all and damned the consequences …

He counted to three and steadied himself, before throwing open the door with a crash and rushing in, growling in anger. He grabbed the first man he saw, wheeling him around and punching him in the jaw, sending him spiralling into a chair and onto the floor.

The man let out a pained groan and a yelp of pain, throwing up both his hands in surrender from the floor as Porthos thundered towards him, knife raised. Porthos stopped mid-step, his eyes wide as his brain caught up with the situation. He knew that voice.

'Aramis?' he whispered, his knife slipping onto the wooden floor as he rushed to his friend- he clasped two arms around the medic and hauled him to his feet before embracing him in a strong hug.

'Nearly had you then!' the larger man muttered as he grasped Aramis' shoulders. 'I'm so glad to see you!'

'Almost, but not quite!' other man chuckled, closing his eyes in relief as he sank into the embrace. The two men released each other after a few seconds, smiling at one another, before they heard a groan from the door.

'Athos!' Porthos cried, turning and catching their leader as he all-but-fell into the house.

'It's alright, I've got you..' he muttered as he turned to the door where the other three were still waiting. 'Let's get you in the parlour, we can-' he stopped as the parlour door shot open again and Marie stormed out, something large and metal in her hands.

'Marie, no!' he cried, but it was too late- with one fell swoop she bashed Aramis' over the back of the head with whatever she had in her arms, with as much strength as she could muster.

Thankfully, it wasn't a very strong hit- Aramis still gasped out in pain and almost buckled to the floor, however; Marie stepped away as Porthos gently pulled her backwards.

'It's alright- he's my friend, someone whose being hunted too!' he explained.

Her eyes were wide as she dropped the frying pan onto the floor, where it landed with a loud clang.

'Sorry,' she whispered, shaking slightly as she looked up at Porthos. 'It had all gone quiet in here so Jack and I thought you'd been killed. Jack went to get more ammunition but I knew I just couldn't just stand there, so I picked up the heaviest thing I could find...' she trailed off, looking down at Aramis with concern as he heaved himself back into a standing position.

'My lady I should be the one apologising,' he countered as he rubbed the back of his head, before flashing her a tired but still-winning smile.'I saw our friends being graciously let into your home and wanted to be sure you were friend, not foe.'

He looked across at Porthos, who was still supporting a near unconscious Athos. 'Perhaps I should have knocked.'

'Perhaps,' Porthos agreed with as snort, before he dragged Athos into the warmth of the parlour. He gently placed him down next to D'artagnan- Marie knelt down again and continued her work.

'We need some more hot water, and fresh towels for this other young man,' she instructed Porthos as she motioned Athos; Porthos nodded and walked back into the kitchen.

Aramis sank into a wooden chair, resting his head in his hands as the warmth from the fire sank into his tired body.

'Are you injured?' Marie asked him, giving him a comforting smile. 'I used to be a nurse,' she added.

Aramis gave her another tired smile and shook his head. 'I'll live, my Lady,' he whispered, before looking down to his brothers on the floor.

'Taking care of them is all I ask.' he whispered in a low voice.

Marie smiled and nodded, before turning back to her work. 'There is broth on the stove-' she said after a few seconds. 'Spoon yourselves a bowl.'

'We are forever indebted to you,' Aramis whispered, meaning every word as he stood up- both of them looked up as Jack came back into the room, a box of ammunition in his arms.

'Thank you, my love, but I am afraid you're about five minutes too late,' Marie giggled as Jack and Aramis locked eyes.

'Whose this, then?' Jack asked, eyeing Aramis warily.

'They are friends of the two men,' Marie explained as she sorted out the stitching for D'artagnan and Athos' wounds. 'Now come and make yourself useful helping me, my darling.' Jack nodded and knelt down by his wife, whilst Aramis walked back through the house into the kitchen where Porthos was gathering fresh bandages.

'I'm so glad you're alive.' he said in a sombre voice to his friend as he sat down on a chair.

'So am I, as it happens,' Porthos chuckled darkly. He sobered as he saw Aramis' expression.

'I thought I'd lost d'artagnan at one point,' he admitted heavily, running a hand down his face. 'What happened to Athos?'

'One of the men...Freddy, I think...stabbed him before they let us go.' Aramis replied, voice low and angry. 'Near on had to carry him the whole way with a knife embedded in him,'

'Bastards..'. Porthos growled, grasping the fresh towels tightly. Aramis nodded his agreement before pointing to Porthos' wrist, which was red-raw and bore the marks of his handcuff. 'Did you try the gun trick, too?' he asked, eyebrow quirked.

'No,' Porthos shook his head, before nodding to the closed parlour door. 'Jack gave me the key, and I-' he stopped mid-sentence and looked back to Aramis.

Both men seemed to have the same thought at exactly the same time- a hot, sickly feeling wound through their stomachs as their eyes swivelled to the parlour.

They walked in slowly, eyes adjusting to the scant light- Porthos could see Marie and Jack on the floor, tending to Athos and D'artagnan. Had he got them wrong after all?

He cleared his throat as he and Aramis came to stand by the fire, looking down at the scene. 'Jack, I want to ask you something,' he started, suddenly unsure of how to proceed.

'What's the matter?' Jack asked as he was busy tending to Athos. Aramis could see the knife had been removed and the blood-flow was being well staunched as Jack was preparing to stitch. 'Perhaps we've got this wrong...' he whispered.

'How do you have the key that unlocked the handcuffs?' Porthos decided to just go for the question directly. 'Are you working for those men who captured us?'

Marie sat back, her hands tainted scarlet as she gave the men a small smile. 'Of course we're not working for them,' she whispered. She looked across at her husband, who was stitching the wound in Athos' side.

They all waited in silence until he was done- when he had snipped the last of the thread he too sat back and fixed Aramis and Porthos with a look. 'I used to be a solider.' He started, washing his hands. 'When I got out I turned to manual work- labouring, carpentry, forestry. For a time I was a blacksmith...I made the handcuffs, yes, but not for the men who captured you specifically.'

'How come you have the key?' Aramis pointed out.

'I made a skeleton key for each handcuff.' Jack replied, shrugging. 'It was common practice when I was young. It was just fortunate I had kept it for that particular type of handcuff- the skeleton keys work for each different type, and I had thrown most of them away when I stopped working.'

The old man sighed and stood up, wiping his hands dry. Marie did the same, before smiling across at the two musketeers as they peered down at their friends.

Both D'artagnan and Athos had their eyes closed, but they looked peaceful and warm by the fireside, their wounds stitched and cleaned. Every so often they wouldsee D'artagnan open his eyes and look around for a while, which Aramis took as a very good sign.

'They'll live, but we do not have any medicines that can combat infection or other illnesses.' she explained. Aramis smiled across at her, his heart truly full of joy and gratefulness.

'How can we ever repay such kindness?' he whispered.

'By getting yourselves and your friends home safely.' She replied with a smile.

'What if those men come to your house and-'

'They won't.' Jack muttered darkly.

'How can you be so sure?' Porthos asked, frowning a little. 'They'll do anything to kill us.'

'They know better than to come to our door,' Jack explained, 'they never normally come to this side of the river.'

'So...you know what they do here?' Aramis asked. 'You know about it all?'

Marie and Jack looked at each other, a sad expression on their faces. 'When we first knew of what was happening across the river we didn't believe it.' Jack said darkly. 'Thought their boasts were just lies and bravado- to make us scared of them.' He sat heavily on a wooden chair before continuing. 'Then our son disappeared.' he looked across to his wife- Marie gave a brave smile, but Aramis could see raw pain in her eyes. 'About twenty years ago now,' she whispered.

'We never knew what happened to him, but deep down we came to the conclusion that he'd been taken. Jed and his Father kept making comments to us, veiled comments of what might of happened to our son...'

'Why did you not go and get help?' Porthos asked.

'Who would believe us?' Jack snorted, shaking his head. 'This is a small community. Word would have got out that we'd told the soldiers.' He looked across at his wife again. 'I would not risk my wife's safety for anything...' he sat back, before he swallowed and cleared his throat. 'Perhaps I should have.'

'We will get justice for your son,' Aramis growled, nodding at Marie, who smiled across at him. 'You have my word, on my honour as a Musketeer.'

'Thanks lad,' Jack replied, nodding his thanks. 'You're a braver man than I ever was,' he added sadly.

'You were doing right by your family-' Aramis said, '- that is the bravest choice.'

They all looked up as they heard voices, muffled and distant, coming from near the house.

'I thought you said they'd never come to the house?' Porthos muttered from the window.

'They don't!' Marie called, one hand on her crucifix around her neck.

'Well they're coming this way.' Porthos replied, before stepping back and taking a deep breath.

'You have to get out.' Jack said, as the voices became louder.

'No, we must stay and protect you-'

'Son,' Jack replied, showing Aramis his gun. 'I can at least still do something useful-' he shot his wife a grin. 'No matter what the missus might say!'

Aramis nodded before looking down at Athos and d'artagnan, and then across to Porthos- Marie seemed to read his mind. How were they going to get them to safety?

'Quickly, take them round the back of the house!' she ordered, before she and her husband rushed off first.

'Quickly...' Aramis repeated, grasping Athos around the middle and heaving him out of the room.

'A..mis..' he heard their leader groan.

'It's alright Athos, you're alright...' he muttered, pulling him out into a cold corridor and out to wards the back of the house. 'We've found Porthos and D'artagnan...' he explained, to which Athos moaned out his acknowledgement.

'But now the men are coming so we have to get out.' Aramis muttered as he finally pushed open the door that led out to the back of the house. He moved over to let Porthos through, who was supporting a semi-conscious D'artagnan through the house- they looked across at Marie and Jack, who were readying a horse and a small cart.

'It only fits two,' Marie said as the four men reached them. 'We never needed one any bigger.'

'Then Athos and D'artagnan go,' Aramis said firmly, before Jack helped him hoist Athos into the back of the cart.

Porthos helped D'artagnan into the seat and wound the reins around his wrists. 'You'll need to get you both back to Paris,' he explained, eyes creased in a frown as he looked across at the Gascon.

'Can you do it?' he asked.

'Course...I can...' D'artagnan smiled weakly, gripping the reins. 'As long as w-we don't get l-lost.'

'Yeah..' Porthos snorted, hoping against hope that didn't happen. 'Raise the alarm and send Treville here.'

'What about you two?' D'artagnan muttered, before turning to find Aramis- he saw him gently easing Athos into a comfortable position in the cart.

'Well, you know us,' Porthos chuckled. 'We'll always find a way out.'

'Go now, before it's too late!' Marie whispered urgently, eyes now lined with fear.

Aramis knelt down in front of Athos, worry in his eyes. 'You're going to be alright, Athos...' he promised, nodding at the man before him as his head lolled. 'You'll get back to Paris and you'll be fine.'

''Mis...you c-can't stay...' Athos breathed, exhaustion evident in his face. 'You and P-Porthos will die...'

'Not if I can help it!' Aramis replied with a chuckle. He stepped back and onto the sodden grass as Porthos put a hand on his back.

'We'll be alright Athos- don't worry about us!' he muttered, before they all looked to their left as they heard dogs barking. Athos locked eyes with the medic for a final second before Jack slapped the rear-end of the horse, sending it jolting forwards and rattling into the night.

The two musketeers watched it go until it was swallowed by the mist floating above the forest floor.

'Here now-' Jack now muttered, motioning for the men to follow. They all ran back into the house, but this time Jack turned right and down a steep, rocky set of steps that led into a cellar.

He creaked open a trapdoor embedded in the floor, exposing the entrance to a pitch-black tunnel.

'Used to be a mineshaft.' Jack explained as he fetched a lantern and lit it.

'When the mines dried up it was used for the transportation of illegal goods by the people who lived here before us. Alcohol, sometimes stolen money.'

'I've never travelled all the way through, so I don't know where it heads out.'

'So it could be a dead-end?' Porthos asked, nervous.

'There's doors that open up every so often along the route,' Jack replied, handing Aramis the lantern.

'Go quickly, before they get here!'

'What about you and Marie?' The medic asked, worry in his voice.

'We're not afraid of them, lad.' Jack smiled. 'Just get yourselves out.'

'We'll come back, I promise!' Aramis muttered with a nod, before he and Porthos gingerly made their way down the ladder and onto the soft earth of the mineshaft.

'We'll hold them off here- just get out as fast as you can.' Jack said from above, his voice echoing. The Musketeers looked up with worried faces as he then stepped backwards and placed the trapdoor back- absolute darkness, save the light from the lantern, enveloped them.

Aramis gulped as they heard something heavy being dragged over the door, barring the men's way of getting to them.

The two men looked across at each other before looking forwards; they silently started making their way along the mineshaft, wondering what else this night would bring them...

Hope you enjoyed that extra-long chapter! I just didn't know when to stop!

Next chapter up soon!

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