Thanks for the comments on the last chapter - it was great hearing that you enjoyed the twist at the end. Thanks also to AZGirl for her wonderful beta skills.
Looks like this chapter will be the longest of the story. Hope you enjoy!
The feeling of something hard and damp beneath his cheek was his first conscious thought, and had d'Artagnan wondering why he'd fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable location. He moved to roll away from the cause of his discomfort, only to find himself unable to do so. The realization brought him to another level of awareness, and he mumbled an incoherent, "What?" The action brought a flash of pain to his jaw, and he groaned miserably as the sharp sensation shot upwards along his cheekbone and into his brain.
Squeezing his eyes against the deep ache, he breathed deeply several times in an attempt to quell the pain. When it had dimmed in intensity, he forced his eyes open, blinking several times as the sight of a hard-packed dirt floor came into focus. Frowning, he shifted his gaze further, noting the roughly-hewn wood walls in the low lighting. His surroundings weren't at all familiar, which served only to deepen his confusion.
Growing frustrated, and still feeling as though his mind was shrouded in fog, he attempted to roll onto his back again, this time registering the placement of his arms behind him, which prevented the movement. An attempt to bring his arms forward revealed the fact that they were tightly bound at the wrists, and with that realization, his memory came flooding back. Within an instant, he'd remembered walking with Constance, the fearful expression on her face as he'd paid Bernier, and then the man's ridiculous demand for more money. It was at that point that his memory deserted him, and his brows furrowed as he tried to force his brain to recall what had happened next.
"Awake, are we?" Bernier's voice cut across the room, startling d'Artagnan as he realized he wasn't alone.
With effort, he raised his head off the ground to look past his boots, finding the giant man standing several feet away. Stifling the groan that bubbled in his chest, he let his head drop back to the ground, unable to hold it while lying in such an awkward position on his side.
He could hear Bernier's footfalls as the man moved closer, and found himself suddenly feeling intensely vulnerable, prompting him to begin an odd shimmy that moved his body backwards to an unseen wall, where he partially propped himself up against its support.
Bernier had waited patiently for his captive to reposition himself before he crouched down closer to the Gascon's eye level. "I was beginning to think I'd hit you too hard."
The comment was accompanied by a mirthless grin that had d'Artagnan's skin crawling. He glared in reply, biding his time as he tried to understand what had happened. When Bernier simply continued to watch him, he gave a silent sigh and asked, "Why am I here?"
The money lender considered him for a moment before he said, "Are you really a Musketeer?"
The non sequitur threw d'Artagnan for a heartbeat before he narrowed his eyes and countered, "And what if I am?"
The giant's grin widened as he read his captive's expression and confidently stated, "You're no Musketeer."
d'Artagnan considered trying to convince the man otherwise, but could see no benefit in doing so. Instead, he reiterated his earlier question. "Why am I here?"
"As motivation, of course," Bernier replied smugly.
It took the Gascon several seconds before his aching head connected the dots and comprehended the giant's intention. Summoning more courage than he currently felt, he scoffed. "If you think Constance will pay anything for me, then you're stupider than you look."
The comment drew the expected glare, and d'Artagnan held his breath for a heartbeat as he waited to see if Bernier would retaliate. With effort, the large man smoothed his features as he responded. "She'll pay," he stated confidently. "You didn't see the look on her face as I was leavin' with ya."
Confused, and not knowing how to reply, the Gascon chose to remain silent instead. His captor interpreted the silence as agreement and his lips split in a wide, smug grin. Standing up, he placed his hands on his hips for a second as he said, "Now, don't go anywhere." His eyes flashed with amusement at his joke. "I've other customers to deal with, but I'll be back in a few hours."
d'Artagnan watched as the large man retreated from the room, exiting via a stepladder to a door set into the ceiling. "I can hardly wait," he muttered to himself, as he found himself alone. Alone, and helpless, he conceded, as he shook his head in disgust and tried to ignore the numbness of his hands.
Just yesterday he'd been joking about saving a damsel in distress; today, he was that damsel. "They'll never let me live this down," he said under his breath, already envisioning his friends' ribbing. The thought sobered him as he added silently, 'Assuming they find me in time, that is.'
He sighed, settling his head against the wall at his back as he waited to be rescued.
Aramis had come back within an hour of departing the garrison, but despite his quick return, Athos still found the time dragging as he waited for the three of them to be reunited. Briefing the Captain had taken almost no time at all, and as he'd expected, Treville had given them free reign to do whatever was necessary – within reason – to get d'Artagnan back and put Bernier out of business.
When the marksman had arrived, he'd spotted Athos sitting at their usual table in the courtyard, positioned to watch the entranceway, and he'd taken a seat next to the man. For the next hour, Aramis had sharpened and then polished his main gauche, the already deadly weapon's edge glinting dangerously in the sunlight when he'd finished.
Athos was the complete opposite of his friend, sitting as still as a statue, something he knew that always surprised his friends, but which allowed him to think without interruption. Little did they know that underneath his calm façade, his mind was in turmoil, and his emotions roiled just beneath the surface of a thin veneer of forced composure.
Once, over a glass of Treville's best brandy, and following a particularly nightmarish mission, Athos had admitted to his commanding officer that he was nowhere near as collected as others thought him to be. The Captain had merely smiled knowingly and dipped his head in understanding, as he compared Athos to a duck gliding over water – serene to the naked eye, but churning like mad beneath the glassy surface. The former comte had initially frowned at the analogy, but upon reflection, had to agree. It was a trait that he now prided himself upon, knowing that his enemies would underestimate what he was capable of.
Porthos' arrival broke him out of his ruminations, and at his side, he noted how quickly Aramis straightened, one hand already moving to replace his dagger into the sheath at his back. They stood as one and moved forward to meet their comrade, the look on the large man's face a contradictory mixture of excitement and worry that made him difficult to read.
Stopping in front of them, Porthos wasted no time. "I've found 'im. He's taken over Broussard's old lodgings at Rue St. Jean."
The three turned in tandem towards the stables as they continued to talk. "Do you think that's where he'll have d'Artagnan?" Aramis asked, absently patting his weapons belt and confirming the presence of his pistols and sword.
Athos caught the shrug Porthos offered in reply, before stating. "It doesn't matter. We've no better lead, and need to start looking somewhere."
It wasn't the most promising start they'd ever had to a mission, but it was also far from the worst. Taking comfort in that small bit of good news, they moved swiftly through the process of saddling their horses, riding out through the garrison gates a scant fifteen minutes after Porthos' arrival. The large man led them unerringly to the building that supposedly housed their target, leaving the horses two streets away from their destination to help mask the sounds of their approach.
As they crowded against one corner of a building across the street, Aramis asked, "Any way of knowing if he's home?"
Porthos gave a quick dip of his chin as he eased away from the wall and gave a low, piercing whistle. As he sank back against the building's support, a young boy of seven or eight ran towards them, Athos' brow lifting in silent surprise as he made directly for their location. Joining them in their somewhat sheltered position, the boy immediately made eye contact with Porthos.
Crouching down to the child's eye level, Porthos asked, "Well, what do you have for me?"
"He got back about ten minutes ago," the boy confidently stated. At Porthos' raised eyebrow, he added. "He was alone. No idea if anyone else is inside."
The large Musketeer dipped his fingers into the purse at his side and pulled out a coin, which he flipped to the young man. Catching it easily, the boy asked, "Want me to keep watchin'?"
"No, that's alright," Porthos replied. "You run along now and stay outta trouble." With a cheeky grin, that was eerily reminiscent of d'Artagnan's, the boy scampered away, disappearing just as quickly and quietly as he'd appeared.
"Very useful network you have here," Aramis remarked with a smile.
Porthos grinned back before turning his attention to Bernier's house. "How're we doing this?"
Athos had been silently appraising their target, noting the single door at the front, and the two windows on the upper floor. Even with three of them, it was a large amount of space to cover, forcing them to split up and likely encounter the enforcer on their own. The idea of repeating Aramis' earlier experience was less than appealing, yet he didn't think there was any other choice. With a sigh, he faced his companions to share his instructions. "We go in together and check that first room. Aramis, you'll stand guard at the door, and yell the moment you spot Bernier."
"Athos, no…" the marksman began to protest.
"Aramis, you've already been injured once, and I won't have it happening again. Besides, we need someone at the door in case he makes a run for it," Athos stated firmly. Reluctantly, the marksman nodded in acquiescence.
"Porthos, you and I will check the house floor by floor, heading to the cellar if there is one, before moving upstairs to the top floor," Athos finished. With a last check of their weapons, the three moved swiftly across the street, Porthos pushing the door open easily, his expression one of surprise to find it unlocked.
As they'd discussed, Aramis stood guard inside the entryway, watching nervously as his friends moved about the rooms on the first floor. When they came up empty-handed, they moved in sync towards a trapdoor set into the floor which could only lead to the cellar. Porthos lifted it while Athos covered him, pointing his pistol into the darkness beyond. When nothing moved below, the older man cautiously led the way down, Porthos following immediately afterwards.
They were fortunate that a torch still burned, providing a small amount of illumination in the otherwise dark room. Athos' first glance took in the empty room, surprised to find that the cellar wasn't being used for storage. A second look located the Gascon, the young man either asleep or unconscious against the far wall. "d'Artagnan." The name escaped his lips without conscious thought as his legs carried him to the Gascon's side.
Athos dropped to his knees next to their friend, his eyes scanning the young man for signs of life, and the tight band of worry around his chest loosening as he noted the even rise and fall of d'Artagnan's chest. Alive, he told himself, letting his head dip to his chest in a moment of relief.
"He alright?" Porthos asked.
Athos raised his eyes to his friend's, offering a short nod in reply before turning his attention back to the Gascon. Placing a hand on the young man's shoulder, he gave a gentle shake. "d'Artagnan, wake up." He was pleased when their friend's eyes began to flutter almost at once, clearing seconds later as they focused on him.
"Athos," d'Artagnan breathed out, his gaze shifting next to the large man. "Porthos. You found me." The statement was accompanied by a grin, despite the pain it must have caused as the motion pulled at bruised and swollen skin. The smile faded in the next moment as the Gascon looked beyond them. "Bernier?"
"Haven't found him yet," Porthos replied, his tone sombre. Athos prepared to rise, but the large man stayed him with a hand. "No, you stay here and get him untied. I'll make my way to the top floor."
Athos was torn. As their leader, he felt responsible for the others and was loathe to have either of his friends go up against Bernier alone. On the other hand, Porthos was the logical choice to go in search of the enforcer, possessing the greatest strength and skill when it came to close quarters combat. As if reading his mind, Porthos' expression softened as he said, "It'll be alright, Athos. You can follow me as soon as d'Artagnan's free." Reluctantly, the older man nodded, turning to the ropes that bound the Gascon even as the larger man was climbing out of the cellar.
d'Artagnan shifted as best he could onto his side to allow Athos access to his hands, already anticipating the welcome freedom of having his arms loose. Rather than wasting time trying to undo the knots that held his friend fast, Athos pulled out his main gauche and sawed through the thick rope. He noted how difficult it was for the young man to bring his arms forward, and assisted by gently placing first one limb and then the other into the Gascon's lap.
"Thanks," d'Artagnan said with a grimace, already feeling the pins and needles as proper blood flow was restored.
Athos turned his attention to his friend's ankles, and moments later, the rope confining them dropped to the floor. Preparing to get up, he asked, "Do you think you can stand?"
d'Artagnan dipped his chin in reply, raising his right arm in an unspoken request for assistance. Athos gripped the young man's forearm and rose, pulling the other man with him. The Gascon swayed for just a second before nodding. "I'm good. Let's go find Porthos."
Athos was about to protest d'Artagnan's involvement, but the steely resolve in the young man's eyes had him biting his tongue and leading the way out. He was pleased to find the Gascon keeping up with him, suggesting that the strength had already returned to his recently bound limbs. As they exited the cellar, Athos caught Aramis moving towards them, relief obvious in his expression. He ordered the marksman to maintain his position with a quick shake of his head. With a scowl, Aramis stepped back, watching as Athos and d'Artagnan flew by and ran up the stairs to the second floor.
Athos halted at the top as he tried to figure out Porthos' location. A cry of pain offered a direction and he headed for a room at the end of the hallway, arriving just in time to watch Porthos stagger to his feet, while Bernier dashed towards the window. Athos didn't hesitate, aiming his pistol and pulling the trigger, the ball just barely grazing the giant's arm.
Porthos watched the enforcer slip easily through the window and onto the roof outside, his intention clear as he moved in the same direction. "I've got 'im. You follow from down below," he threw over his shoulder at Athos. Turning on his heel, the older man exited the room, only to run into Aramis who'd raced upstairs after hearing the gunshot. "Porthos?" the marksman questioned.
"Tracking Bernier via the rooftops," Athos replied, already moving again towards the stairs.
"I'm going after him," Aramis called, his feet carrying him swiftly down the hallway.
The older man reached the front door, taking a moment to glance behind him and frowning when he failed to spot d'Artagnan at his back. He'd automatically assumed the Gascon would follow him and only now realized that wasn't the case. Muttering a curse beneath his breath, he stepped out of the house and moved several feet away from the row of buildings. Scanning the rooftops, it took only a moment to spot Bernier, closely followed by Porthos. Several feet behind them, d'Artagnan was quickly closing in, while Aramis brought up the rear.
Allowing another curse to slip past his lips, Athos threw himself into motion, splitting his time between glancing upwards to keep track of the men, and ensuring he didn't run into anyone on the street. While his position seemed to be the easier one to be in, the men above him didn't seem hampered at all, smoothly jumping over the expanses that separated the buildings, and nimbly maintaining their balance on the oft-slanted rooftops.
Another quick glance upwards showed Porthos nearly on top of their quarry, and Athos threw his head down as he sped up, wanting to be as close as possible once Bernier was caught. A loud cry of pain stopped him in his tracks and had him once more looking upwards for any sign of his friends. He spotted Bernier, d'Artagnan at the man's heels, but wasn't able to see any sign of Porthos. He wavered for several long seconds until Aramis drew closer to the edge and yelled down to him, "I've got Porthos. Go; stay with d'Artagnan!"
Aramis' words were enough to have him moving again, and he ran as quickly as possible in an effort to catch up to the two men ahead of him. As he raced along, he cursed the awkwardness of the sword swinging at his side, which forced him to keep one hand on the weapon, lest it trip him. His breathing was laboured as he struggled to keep up, and a small part of his mind registered his shock at the stamina of the men above him.
Finally, it seemed that their chase might come to an end as d'Artagnan drew closer, reminding Athos that his friend was unarmed. The realization sent a fresh rush of fear through him, and he cursed his own stupidity at not having given the Gascon a weapon. About to call out to the young man, he was shocked to see d'Artagnan throw himself at the giant's legs, bringing them both down in a tangle of limbs.
Athos could only shake his head in wonder at the Gascon's brave, but foolish act, as his eyes scanned the area for a way to get up to the roof where Bernier and d'Artagnan now faced each other. Before he could locate a viable access point, his attention was drawn back to the roof where the enforcer was rapidly encroaching on the Gascon's position, taking one swing after another at the young man. Incredibly, none of the hits landed, d'Artagnan quickly ducking and weaving away from each strike.
As he watched, the young man made his move, catching Bernier's arm and pulling with the momentum of his swing. The surprise attack left the giant man off-balance, and he stumbled sideways as d'Artagnan continued to pull on the captured limb. For a moment, the tide seemed to be turning in the Gascon's favour until Bernier's foot caught on something. As he tripped and began to fall backwards, d'Artagnan followed, not realizing until it was too late that they were both going down. Unfortunately, their fight had brought them to the edge of the rooftop, and Bernier was on the verge of falling off the tall building.
"d'Artagnan, let go!" Athos called frantically, wanting nothing more than for his friend to stay safe. Before the echo of his words had died away, Bernier was over the edge, dragging the Gascon with him. "No!" Athos cried, unaware that he'd even done so as both men toppled from the three-storey structure to land in the alley between two buildings.
The sound of bodies hitting the cobblestone street was horrific, and Athos would swear that he had heard the sharp crack of bones breaking as the men had impacted with the ground. The drop had lasted a mere heartbeat, but he found that he was now frozen in place, unable to make his feet move towards the young man who'd proven his innocence a few months earlier. Swallowing thickly, he closed his eyes and squeezed his hands into fists, desperately searching for the courage to check on the men, while knowing with certainty that they were both dead.