Wow, such a huge and welcome response to the last chapter! Those chapters are my favorite chapters to write...the brotherhood, protectiveness and comfort...such feels! Thank you so much for your kind reviews...they really make it easier and more enjoyable to write!

So, Athos is going to have a little chat with Amyot in this chapter. He may be a bit on the murderous side though. Not surprising, considering. I think the Inseparables are realizing just how much our Gascon means to them. We already knew, but it took a bit for them to catch on. Just a warning...there be swear words in this chapter. Anyway, I'll let you get to it!

Chapter 11 – Athos and Amyot

Athos stood at the locked door, the key to the room held tightly in his hand. He took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart then looked at the only thing separating him from the man whom he wished to rip apart, piece by piece. He wanted to hurt him, to make Amyot feel the pain that he had forced upon d'Artagnan. He wanted to kill him, ever so slowly, for the nightmares the young Gascon was now suffering with, and probably would be for weeks, or months to come. He wanted so much to end the pathetic excuse of a man, but he couldn't do that. Amyot had to be taken before the King where his crimes could be acknowledged and his punishment doled out. Death would come soon enough, but Athos wished it could be by his hand. He shook his head and cursed silently to himself. Wish as he may, it was not his place to exact final punishment upon the man since his crimes weren't just against d'Artagnan, but of France itself. That being said, it didn't mean that Athos couldn't cause some pain and he smiled coldly as he unlocked the door and entered the dark room.

Amyot still lay on his side, but he was now awake, his body trembling. Athos then remembered the musket hole in the man's shoulder and smiled at the thought that they had all forgotten that maybe it would need to be treated. In due time, Athos thought as he stepped up to stand over the man. He glared down at Amyot, who had turned his head so he could look up at the musketeer. The man smiled when he saw the rage simmering in Athos' eyes. "Is the brat dead yet?" he asked, his smile turning to a sneer when Athos growled low in his throat.

"No. The boy is strong and will make a full recovery," Athos said, his hands fisted at his sides.

"The boy is nothing…a weak, blubbering pig," Amyot spat.

"Yet he managed to shoot you and save us, all while injured and shackled to the wall," Athos stated, his voice filled with pride.

"Only because of the traitor, Jean. He will pay for his betrayal."

"He is now under the protection of the King's musketeers. No harm will come to him," Athos calmly said.

Amyot chuckled, then coughed when the movement made the pain flare in his shoulder. "You have no idea the extent of my reach, musketeer! Jean will pay…the boy will pay…France will pay!" he hissed.

"I know much more than you could possibly imagine, Amyot. You have lost and you will pay for your crimes, as will your co-conspirators," Athos said as he moved around the man and lifted him at the shoulders. He dragged Amyot across the room until he was leaning against the barrel on the platform that d'Artagnan had been knelt upon.

"How could you possibly know anything, musketeer?" Amyot breathlessly asked.

"That is not your business and it is not why I have come here," Athos replied.

Amyot glared up at the man. "Why have you come then? Your little puppy perhaps?" he sneered.

The backhand the man received whipped his head around and he could not contain the cry of pain. When he turned his head back to the front, he was met with Athos' face mere inches from his. "When you speak of d'Artagnan, you will speak with respect!" Athos hissed.

Amyot laughed as he wiped blood from his chin where it had dripped down from the split in his lip that Athos' strike had caused. "Respect for that insignificant whelp?" he spat. "He is a weak, sniveling coward who screams at the slightest touch! Amazing how low the musketeers have sunk to allow such vermin into their ranks."

Athos drew back, willing himself to remain calm. "d'Artagnan is stronger than you could ever hope to be. He is a man of honor and infinite loyalty," he drawled. "Something you would know nothing about."

"If he means so much to you, why did you continue on to deliver your letter rather than come to his rescue? You had to know what would happen to him, yet you allowed me nearly two days alone with him. Of course, he said that he is not a musketeer so maybe that is why, hmm? Maybe his life isn't important until he is commissioned?" Amyot said. He smiled when he saw the emotions that swirled through Athos' eyes.

White hot rage filled Athos, but he would not let this man see it. He knew that he was just as responsible for what had happened to d'Artagnan as the man before him was, but at least his part was from a sense of duty that he knew the Gascon understood. He glared at the man, then smiled. "d'Artagnan is a musketeer in all but title. He has proven himself more than worthy to carry the honor by his actions while under your interrogations," he said. "The fact that he told you nothing is all that I need to know, and his majesty, King Louis will be made fully aware of how his best recruit handled himself."

Amyot scoffed at Athos' words. "He didn't tell me about the letter because he didn't know, that I am sure of. He was not important enough to be given such information. If he had known, he would have spilled his guts right away. You merely had him with you so that if you were set upon, you could give him up to hopefully gain yourselves a chance to reach your courier. Why else would you send him ahead, alone and unprotected? Was the letter so important that you were willing to sacrifice your puppy?"

Without warning, Athos lunged forward and dug is finger into the hole that d'Artagnan's musket had left in Amyot's shoulder. The man howled in pain as Athos pressed deeper inside. "Do you want to know about the letter, Amyot?" he hissed as he delighted in the screams of pain from his prisoner. "Do you want to know what brought you and your entire operation down? What was so important that now all of your men are dead, and your fellow conspirators will be soon enough? Do you want to fucking know?!"

Amyot glared up at him, his teeth clenched as the musketeer continued to press into his wound. Athos smiled at his silence and continued. "The letter was nothing! A blank piece of parchment…a trap set for your spy in the court. It has been thought for some time now that there was a spy, and that person's identity was suspected, but something was needed to confirm that suspicion. If the messengers of the "important" letter were attacked and the letter was not delivered, then all would be known. The letter was delivered though, and the courier made aware that an attack had happened. My guess is that word of the attack has very nearly reached Paris and soon your spy will be imprisoned and waiting for you to join him."

"You lie, musketeer!" Amyot snapped.

"Do I?" Athos queried. "How do I know about your spy then? All of this for a blank piece of paper. How does it feel to be so thoroughly disgraced?" he added as he pulled his finger from Amyot's shoulder wound.

Amyot gasped and nearly lost consciousness, but finally, after several deep breaths, he looked up at the musketeer and grinned. "You abandoned your puppy for a blank letter," he said. "Was it worth it knowing he will bear the scars for the rest of his pathetic, meaningless life?"

"d'Artagnan fulfilled his duty, as did I. He will recover, fully, and you will be executed for your crimes."

Amyot, knowing that he was defeated and would surely be dead within the week, decided he had nothing to lose. He would inflict as much pain as he could before he left this world. He glared up at the musketeer and smiled once again. "Do you want to know what I had planned next for your puppy?" he asked gleefully. "It gets lonely here for the men…far away from their women. Someone as pretty as your puppy would make a perfect plaything, hmm? Though, maybe you and your men already know this? Maybe that is why someone such as him was allowed to become a recruit at all. Maybe he…"

Amyot was not allowed to continue with his vile words as a fist slammed into his mouth. He reeled back, his head slamming into the barrel of water behind him. Before he could recover enough to know what had happened, two hands closed over his throat and began to squeeze. He gasped for air, but it was of no use, the grip on his throat was too strong. He struggled against his attacker, but with his arms and legs restrained and his air cut off, he quickly weakened. His vision faded and he was aware that these would be his last moments alive. Suddenly, however, the hands around his neck were gone and he sucked in large, painful breaths. He could hear voices, but the blood rushing through his ears like waves kept him from hearing what they said. He took several more deep breaths and tried to rise, but his vision blackened and he fell into the deep abyss of unconsciousness.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Porthos glanced over his shoulder as he walked through the doorway of the infirmary. Aramis was fussing over d'Artagnan, checking his wounds and changing his bandages, taking advantage of the boy's drugged slumber. Porthos did not wish to leave his friends, but Aramis had remembered that their prisoner had been badly wounded and would need to be fixed up, at least enough so that he would survive long enough to face the King. Since the medic was needed to take care of their Gascon, Porthos had been instructed, politely, to go down and not only make sure that Athos hadn't killed the man, but to bring the prisoner to the infirmary for treatment.

"Should just let the bastard suffer for what he did," Porthos hissed under his breath as he turned to make his way to the tunnel beneath the manor.

Several minutes later found Porthos just nearing the room in which d'Artagnan had been tortured. What he heard when he reached the door made his blood boil. He came through the door just as Athos flung himself at Amyot, his fist slamming into the helpless man's face. Porthos had no time to really register what had happened before Athos' hands had closed around the prisoner's throat. Porthos stood in the doorway for several moments, perfectly happy to watch his brother end the man who had caused so much pain to their Gascon, but then Aramis' voice sounded in his head, and as much as he tried to fight against it, the voice won out in the end and the large man rushed forward and dragged Athos off of Amyot.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Athos screamed as he fought against Porthos' hold.

"I'm keepin' you from makin' the biggest mistake of yer life!" Porthos shouted back. "'e 'as to go before the King, Athos!"

Athos struggled further, but then the fight went out of him and he sagged back against the bigger musketeer. "If you had heard what he was saying…I…"

"I 'eard 'im and believe me, I would love for you to kill the fucker. Hell, I want to kill 'im myself, but we can't," Porthos said.

"Louis could be told that we had no choice," Athos said.

"I 'ear ya, Athos, but this scum needs to go before the King. It ain't up to us to render 'is punishment…no matter how much we want to."

Athos sighed and watched as Amyot tried to lift himself, only to fall back and go limp on the platform. "Why are you here, Porthos?" he finally asked once the bigger musketeer had let loose of him.

Porthos looked upon the unconscious Amyot with disgust before meeting his friend's gaze. "Aramis sent me. He remembered that Amyot had been shot and would need treatment if he were to reach Paris alive," he answered. "He wants me to bring him to the infirmary."

"No!" Athos cried. "He will not go to the infirmary where d'Artagnan is. If Aramis wishes to treat him, he will have to do it somewhere else. I will not put d'Artagnan through the pain of seeing this piece of shit."

Porthos nodded as he gave his friend a quick grin. "Fine…I'll take him to another room where Aramis can work on him," he said.

"Fine," Athos hissed. He stood back as Porthos went to the unconscious man and roughly dragged him over his shoulder. Amyot groaned in pain, but did not awaken, not even when his head knocked into the door frame when Porthos stepped into the narrow passageway outside of the room. "Oops," Porthos uttered, a deep grin on his face when he met Athos' eyes.

When they reached the door at the top of the stairs and went through to Amyot's room, they considered leaving him there, but quickly decided that it was too lush and comfortable for what the man deserved. They searched a few rooms in the hallway near the infirmary and found one room with a small cot that would do. Porthos deposited Amyot on the cot then turned to Athos.

"Is 'e gonna be alive once I send Aramis back down 'ere?"

Athos rolled his eyes at this friend and nodded his head. "I will not touch the man," he drawled. Porthos watched him for a few moments, then tipped his head and left the room. A few minutes later, Aramis came into the room with a tray that held bandages and rags. He looked at his friend, then at the man on the cot. He could see bruises forming on the man's neck and blood covering his face. He looked at Athos and raised a brow when the musketeer looked back.

"He said some things. Pissed me off," Athos said with a shrug.

"Well, you can fill me in once you go fetch me water and wine so I can clean his wound. I'm not sure if the musket ball is still in there, but if it is, the bleeding may start anew," Aramis said.

"The ball is still in there," Athos said matter of factly.

"Oh? Did you check for an exit wound?" Aramis queried.

"No, I felt it when I went exploring," Athos answered.

"Athos," Aramis said with a slight scowl.

"Don't, Aramis…just, don't," Athos snapped before turning and walking from the room.

Aramis sighed as he made his way to the man's bedside. Amyot was pale and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. Aramis set the tray he had brought on a small table beside the cot then pulled up the one chair in the room. "Don't think I'm going to be gentle with you…not after what you put d'Artagnan through," he whispered as he began to inspect the man's injuries. "I only need you to live long enough to kneel before the King," he added as he sat back to await Athos' return.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

By the time Aramis had the wound in Amyot's shoulder clean enough to attempt to remove the musket ball, the prisoner was panting and gasping and near delirious with pain. When Athos had returned and told the marksman what Amyot had said he had planned to do with d'Artagnan, Aramis had lost any empathy for the man he'd had and even informed Athos that he had been too easy on him. With the wound now clean, the medic took a narrow instrument he had found in the infirmary and began to dig for the musket ball, eliciting a loud scream from the man on the cot. He felt a sense of satisfaction at the sound that was completely opposite of his usual demeanor in such instances, even when working on an enemy. He did not enjoy inflicting pain, but in this case, the more the better. Athos watched his friend work, and though he secretly delighted in hearing Amyot scream, the look in Aramis' eyes bothered him. He understood how the marksman felt, for he too felt it, but it wasn't like his friend to get enjoyment from causing pain. It spoke to just how deeply they felt about their young Gascon friend. When Athos had returned to the infirmary to get the water and wine that Aramis had asked for, he'd found Porthos holding d'Artagnan's hand and whispering to him, which was something Porthos did not normally do, no matter who it was who was hurt. The large musketeer had seemed somewhat embarrassed by being caught, but he hadn't let go of the boy's hand either. Athos smiled at the memory, then returned his attention to scene in front of him.

"Do you require my help?" Athos asked as he moved toward his friend.

Aramis glanced up and frowned. "A gag would be nice…or a hand over his mouth," he said with a shrug.

"Yes, well, maybe if you dig a bit deeper he'll pass out," Athos drawled.

As if on cue, Amyot gasped one more time, then fell limp against the cot. Athos looked down at him in alarm then turned his gaze to the medic. "Is he still breathing?" he asked.

Aramis put his hand near the unconscious man's mouth and waited. "Yes, he still lives," he answered. "At least I can get him done without listening to him."

Athos nodded and moved to the other side of the cot, ready to assist Aramis if needed. It was an hour later when Aramis tied off the last stitch and leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's done," he said.

Athos glanced at his friend and nodded. "Good. Now let's tie his ankles and wrists to the cot and be done with him for now."

Aramis cut four lengths of the bandages he had used and handed two to Athos. He was just finishing securing Amyot's wrist to the cot near his hip when he glanced up, his breath catching in his throat. At the sound, Athos looked up too and followed Aramis' gaze. Standing in the doorway, his arm wrapped around his middle and supported by an exasperated Porthos was d'Artagnan. His eyes were glued to the man on the cot and a look that neither Athos nor Aramis recognized was on his pale face. Athos stood and faced the two men in the doorway.

"d'Artagnan?" he tentatively asked as he continued to watch the young man.

d'Artagnan finally looked up at his friend. "I…I just had to see," he said, his voice weak and shaky. He turned back to look at the man who had caused him so much pain and swallowed deeply, then before anyone could react, his knees gave out and he fell toward the floor. Athos rushed forward as Aramis came up off his chair, but it was Porthos who kept the Gascon from hitting the floor. By the time all three musketeers had their hands on the young man, he was out like a light.

That's it for now. I am off work the rest of the week so won't be able to start on the next chapter until next week. I will try to get it up by the end of the week. I hope you liked this chapter and really hope you'll let me know if you did :) Take care!

Cindy