When Jed went back to his family home, the place was silent. As he stepped inside the wooden house, shutting the door behind him with a snap, he thought it looked more like the skeleton of a house than an actual home.

The rooms were bare save for handmade dressers and tables, with an old, crooked rocking chair in the far corner, looking out the window to the forest beyond.

His boots tapped on the wooden flooring as he walked to the kitchen, and in the scant morning light he could see holes and rotted portions in the surface; nails stuck out and he spotted one or two beetles scuttling about, vanishing under a skirting board with flaking black paint on it.

Throwing his scarlet coat onto the scrubbed wooden table in the middle of the room he stepped to the far wall, which housed the pantry. He had to get out of here.

He heard a noise somewhere outside; probably a bird or a rabbit running around, he told himself. His skin prickled in anticipation as he pulled a burlap sack from his inner pocket and began emptying the contents of the pantry into it. He was going to be on the road for a long while, he guessed- enough time to get out of the area. Perhaps time to get out of France itself.

He had only now plucked up enough courage to come back to prepare to leave; life in the woods was harder that he had thought.

He couldn't believe what had happened- he cast his mind back to that night. It seemed like years ago, but he he supposed it could only have been a matter of weeks since he'd watched his Father and eleven of those idiots being dragged out by those other Musketeers.

He'd hidden behind a tree as they took them out, throwing his coat into the undergrowth so it didn't attract attention. He'd watched as they'd all struggled; as his Father was hauled out their eyes had connected.

Jed had pulled back, hands tightly gripped around the tree as his Father locked eyes with him; he opened his mouth, and Jed's heart had dropped into his stomach. He was going to sell him out. He knew it; he and his Father had never got along, and Jed was sure he was about to yell that he was over by the tree, to arrest him too. In the end, though, his Father shut his mouth and allowed himself to be dragged outside, not making a sound.

There was a creak above him- Jed stopped and looked up, but there was no other noise. It was just an old house, he told himself. His mind turned to his Mother; he hadn't seen or heard from her since that night. He wondered where she was, what had happened to her. He didn't dwell on it.

As Jed threw a loaf of bread onto the top of the bag he stood up, ears working like a hound. The front door had opened.

He placed the sack onto the ground and delved back into his pocket as a new noise pricked his ears- what was it? It was a strange noise, but he knew it was coming closer.

Step, Step, Tap. Step, step, tap.

He drew out the knife he kept in his pocket, thumbing the blade. He wasn't afraid, had no reason to be. This was his house.

Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap.

He tensed, but didn't turn around. He hadn't been careful enough, he told himself.

The noise stopped, and the house fell silent.

'You shouldn't have come back here.' a voice said, oddly familiar. Jed racked his brains to remember- when he did he had to stop himself snorting. All worry and anxiety fled him. He drew the blade closer to his hand, hiding it from sight as he walked over to the window, still not looking behind him.

'The whole of Paris is looking for you and you choose to return here.' The voice said, a darkness to his tone. 'Foolish boy.'

Jed snorted now, shaking his head. 'What makes you think I'm alone?' he asked, staring out to the woods.

'No one with half a brain-cell is stupid enough to return to the scene of their crime...' the voice replied tersely, before he heard it again as the man moved further into the room. Step, step, tap.

'We've been watching the house- we knew you'd return eventually.'

'We?' Jed asked, fingertips clenching around the blade.

'Oh yes,' the voice said, 'The four of us. Remember?'

Jed remembered; he felt a pang of regret, of a wasted opportunity. 'So you all got out?'

'You sound surprised.'

'No, just disappointed.' Jed now turned, eyes locking with one that got away. 'I won't make that mistake again.'

The man in front of him shook his head, eyes dark. 'It's over- I'm to arrest you and take you back to the city.'

'I don't think so.' Jed muttered, eyes narrowed and a horrible smile on his face. 'You say the others are out there?' he nodded his head to the door. 'Once I'm through with you I'll get them too.'

The man scoffed, shaking his head. 'We can do this the hard way or the easy way.' he started, his nerves starting to fire in anticipation. 'It's your choice.'

'No,' Jed growled, moving the blade in his hand so he could get a better grip. 'It's yours-' he stepped forwards, hand raised.

The man seemed to be expecting this- he moved to the side, hands out to deflect the blow; he grabbed Jed's arm and twisted, but Jed was quicker-he moved to the side and elbowed him in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards with a grunt of pain.

He followed up the blow with a punch to the side of the head, knocking him sideways and into a tall wooden cabinet; once he was back on his feet properly he launched at the man with the blade, but still the man managed to avoid it. He was good, Jed would give him that.

He gasped out as he received a punch to his own jaw, sending him skittering backwards a few steps.

'You think I won't kill you?!' Jed shouted, eyes dark as the man stood up straighter, a line of blood trickling down his face.

Jed moved the blade back into a better position in his hand and came forwards again- this time he went for a high blow, arm raised above his head.

The man growled out and threw himself forwards, into the path of the blade- right at the last second he grasped Jed's arm and forced it downwards so the blade was between them; Jed growled out in exertion, feeling sweat fall down his face.

His grip slipped, and he knew it was over then. It happened in a split second; the blade was pushed forwards and with all the weight Jed had been using to get it to the man in front of him, it was too late to redirect it. His eyes widened as he felt it penetrate his chest; he sank to the floor, hands around the knife.

Aramis stood backwards as the bastard took his last short, painful breaths. He leant his walking stick against a crumbling wall, and with a groan of pain as discomfort rippled across his stomach, knelt down, careful not to get blood on his trousers as he looked down at the dying man; he bent down so his face was as close to the other man's face as he could get.

'Told you I'd come back and kill you.' he whispered. As he stood up he felt only minimal satisfaction- he had wanted him to hang. A small part of him had wanted him to be tortured in the dungeons, his screams ricocheting off the walls. The better, humane side of him was just relieved he had finally been found and stopped.

He looked down as the man by his feet gurgled up some blood, his face a stark white against his black hair

The Musketeer breathed in deeply, steadying himself. There was no more that could be done for him now.

He picked up his walking stick again, and massaged the side of his head; another bruise to add to his collection. He stepped forwards, around the dying man; a pool of blood was slowly moving outwards, soaking the wood and seeping into the cracks.

Step, step, tap. Step, step, tap. Jed didn't even have the strength to look up- his eyes swivelled to follow the Musketeer's footfalls, and the tapping of his walking stick as he passed on his way out of the door.

As Aramis stepped outside the first person he saw was Treville. His Captain's face was lined with concern as he walked forwards; his eyes widened as he saw the blood and the blooming bruise on his Marksman's face.

As he opened his mouth to speak Aramis waved away the concern. 'He came off worse, believe me.' he muttered, to which Treville gave him a look.

'We wanted to question him, to get information-'

'He may not be dead yet,' Aramis said, voice dark. 'You can probably salvage some information if you're quick.'

Treville nodded, and as he passed Aramis to go into the house he put a gloved hand on his upper arm, squeezing it a little. 'Are you alright?' he asked, eyes searching the younger man's.

Aramis gave him a small smile. He thought back to everything that had happened here, in these woods, in the barn around the corner. He thought back to their slow recovery, the slowly abating nightmares, their midnight walks together when they couldn't sleep. He thought back to the infection in his stomach wound that had caused him to use a walking stick for the past few days, and for many days to come. He nodded, putting a hand on his Captain's shoulder and squeezing it in return.

'I will be.' he replied, before motioning the house with his eyes. 'If you're quick you can get some answers out of him.'

Treville nodded, gave him a small smile in return, and stepped into the house, shutting the door behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Aramis turned his back on the house and began his slow walk towards the trees. Athos watched him approach, eyes never leaving his friend as he slowly made his way to where he, Porthos and D'artagnan were standing.

As the medic came to a stop next to him Athos looked him up and down, taking in the bruised face. 'Been in another fight, I see.'

'He attacked me- he ended up regretting it.'

Athos nodded at that, before tapping his shoulder with a gloved hand. 'Come on, I spotted a tavern on the way here...' he muttered, before mounting his horse.

'One more stop first.' Porthos reminded them, patting the man of a large horse that was reigned to a brand new cart. The cart was filled with blankets, firewood, wine and food .D'artagnan smiled as he mounted his own horse- he hoped Jack and Marie would accept their gifts. They all felt guilty that their cart had been destroyed, and no one had found their old mare.

Aramis smiled as he gingerly got onto his own horse; it was their way of thanking them for everything they had done to help them.

As the four of them slowly made their way towards the couple's house he turned his head and looked across to the wooden house, and the barn that poked out from the corner. There may be horrible, despicable people in the world, he thought to himself, before moving his horse forwards to join the others. But there were good people out there, and that was why they did their job, despite the horrors they sometimes endured.

The End.

Well, hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Please review one last time, even if you've never reviewed before- I'd really like to know your thoughts on this; it really helps me improve for the next fic ^^

I have got at least three more ideas for multi-chaptered fics, more chapters planned for an expansion to my ABC of hurt/comfort, plus another one-shot anthology, so the ideas aren't stopping yet!

As ever, thank you for reading this little tale of mine, and I hope you read again once I post some more!

Until next time...

Happyday girl

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