I'm going to borrow the name Zad for Porthos' horse, which is the actual name of the horse Luke Pasqualino is riding in the show. I'll borrow it for this cause all horses need a name!

Please review and let me know what you think! I write as I go on, ideas are very appreciated!

And oh. Prepare yourself :)

Four.

"Right or left?" D'Artagnan asked as the road in front of them separated into two. Sun was coming down over the top of the trees, and they were all eager to find somewhere to sleep for the night. They had been on the road for 11 days now, and they were getting worn out. The pace was incredibly slow, and they knew they had at least another five days in this pace before they would make it to Paris. They had talked about getting a cart that one of their horses could pull, maybe they would save sometime, but these small paths wouldn't be able to fit a cart. Porthos had happily suggested they knock Bastien out, hang his body over one of the horses as they cantered for a while. Athos had not approved. They would just have to make due. At least they were getting there, they should be at least half way to Paris by now. If they chose wisely in this crossing.

"Athos, what do you think?" Aramis asked politely, moving Belle to stand next to Roger.

"I am not certain." Athos said quietly, looking down both roads. He had no clue whatsoever, and he was pretty sure Aramis knew that. But he played along. "But I would guess the right path."

"Good, that's settled then." Aramis grinned, asking Belle to walk again. "Left it is!"

The men behind him grinned, well not Athos of course, as they all followed him down the left path. They rode on for a few minutes, happily bantering about how you can always trust Athos' sense of direction – just go exactly opposite of what he is telling you and you'll be fine. Athos tried to defend himself, which was really difficult to do knowing Aramis was completely right. He had no sense of direction. He couldn't get the hang of maps. Thankfully he knew most of the roads from memory and so did his friends.

"Hey guys?"

They all stopped and turned at the voice belonging to d'Artagnan coming from behind them.

"What is that smell?" D'Artagnan wrinkled his nose. They were all smelly, the sun had been high all day until now, and he could feel the sweet trailing along his own spine. Wearing all these layers of clothes while the sun was up was not the greatest thing they all knew, but it was necessary. This wasn't the smell of sweat though… No, this was something else…

He turned to look at Aramis who was holding his hat with one hand, pulling his fingers through his hair with his other, then smelled them, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he smelled inside his hat.

"My poor, beloved hat." Aramis sighed, putting it back on his head. He would have to take care of that smell, it would most certainly ruin his reputation if he smelled like fish. There were some things women just simply did not like. His eyes wandered to Porthos, who had a big, wide grin splattered across his face. "It's not funny!"

"Oh but it is, ey." Porthos grinned.

"No, guys… I know Aramis smells like fish, that wasn't what I was thinking of. There's something else… There's something burning."

This made everyone tense up, all of their spider-senses working overtime trying to smell what d'Artagnan was sensing. And he was right. There was the smell of something burning.

Athos only had to send Aramis and Porthos a look over his shoulder, before the two men had left their ropes to their comrades, galloping at fast speed through the heavy vegetation.

It didn't take them too long before they heard the sounds of panic rising through the forest. And something was burning all right – a whole village to be exact. People were running, screaming, panting and crying in panic, as the wooden houses were aflame. Some people were desperately throwing whatever buckets filled with water that they could find, but it was to no use. The flames were hot and uncontrollable. Windows were shattered, people were crawling out of their front doors, collapsing at the doorsteps, their neighbors running out to help.

Porthos and Aramis called their horses to sliding halts, their mouths open at the sight in front of them. They were too late to save the village, but maybe they could help some of the people… Maybe they could tend to the wounded and…

Loud laughter made both their heads turn, and they laid eyes upon a pack of four men, three of them holding torches as the man in front carried bottles of what probably contained something flammable. They were all laughing as they rode past the still untouched houses, throwing in a bottle, only to follow it with a torch. Blam, and another house was doomed.

Aramis and Porthos didn't have to talk. They shared a look before urging their horses to fast gallop again, sliding down the hill, straight into the village. The sound of them unsheathing their swords got the attention of the men, and by the time they turned around, our two Musketeers were all ready on top of them. One of the men with a torch was falling out of his saddle before he even knew what was coming, Aramis sword slashing him hard across his abdomen. Aramis rapier wasn't sharp enough along the edges to actually do any damage while slashing, but the force Aramis could lay into it was definitely enough to knock the man out of his saddle and leave him whimpering on the ground.

Porthos broadsword, 'Balizarde', together with the enormous force Porthos could swing it, on the other hand, could easily empty the content of any man's inside. He was swinging his sword dangerously towards the leader of the pack, who were looking at the sword in front of him, but not showing any worry. His eyes gazed behind Porthos, a smile spreading.

"Porthos!"

Athos' voice rumbled like thunder behind him, heard through the panicked screams and Aramis rapier clashing with another torchbearer. Porthos turned just in time as Bastien jumped up towards him, grabbing him, and with great force, pulling him out of his saddle before he had time to brace himself. His horse, Zad, stumbled, trying to keep his balance as the weight had shifted too suddenly, too roughly, but wasn't able to keep his feet steady as the big man dragged him down.

For a second there seemed to be hooves and legs and arms everywhere before Zad managed to gain control of his sprawling feet, and rolled off Porthos. Porthos had found the reins and as Zad stood he followed him up, allowing the big animal to pull him to his feet in the same time as he found his sword, bringing it up with him. He let Zad go, and turned. He was angry enough to the point where he would've probably not noticed if any body part had been missing, and now he turned around with anger radiating from his dark eyes, Balizarde twirling in the air. And he was growling, deeply and loudly, as he turned to face Bastien. The sight in front of him was nothing he had expected.

Aramis was in between him and Bastien. Bastien was sitting on a horse's back, the other four men on their horses behind him, all of them smiling happily, one of the men still holding a torch, one still holding a bottle. Athos and d'Artagnan was standing next to Porthos, Athos had one hand carefully on Porthos' shoulder, his other holding his rapier. D'Artagnan too was armed with the blade in one hand and his pistol in the other.

Aramis' hands were tied behind his back and Bastien had a firm grip of him with his left hand's fingers entangled into Aramis unruly hair, forcing his head back. With his other hand, Bastien held a dagger pressed towards Aramis jugular, the sharp blade brushing the sensitive skin by the neck, small drops of blood sliding down towards his chest. He was breathing lightly, carefully, not daring to take deep breaths in fear of his throat being split.

Treville's voice came rushing through his ears; 'Don't underestimate the man. He will slit your throat if he gets the chance.'

Aramis met Athos' eyes, looking to his leader for help. Athos blue eyes didn't reveal anything to the untrained eye, but Aramis could see how Athos was frantically searching for a way to get out of this. Aramis realized that the words Treville had told them were most likely going through all of their heads at the moment. They all stood still, no one moving, no one daring to breath. No one said a word until Bastien did. He leaned forward towards Aramis ear, so close that his beard brushed against Aramis cheek, but his eyes locked with Athos'.

"I thank you for the good company. You men have been most honorable, treating me well even though I know I never deserved it. Therefore, I will not slit this sensitive throat, even though it's one of my favorite past times. But we must part, I have matters I need to tend to. So, farewell, my musketeers."

Everything after that happened fast. The dagger was removed from Aramis neck, but something hit him over the upper part of his back, and he tumbled to one knee. What was that? Liquid? Seconds later something bounced off his back, and he could feel a burning hot sensation trailing down his entire backside, spreading like wildfire. The heat was more intense than anything Aramis had ever felt before.

He heard a scream, and it took his brain seconds to recognize the voice as his own.

Before he knew it, Athos and Porthos were grabbing onto him, pushing him down into the grass and pushing him around. A knife freed his hands and he flailed in panic.

Had… Had Bastien just put him afire?

A gunshot was heard and one of the men galloping away fell from his horse. Unfortunately not Bastien, who waved his good bye to d'Artagnan who stood there angry, his smoking gun in hand.

"Aramis, hey, it's us!"

Aramis could hear Porthos voice roam through his head, but he couldn't comprehend the words, the meaning, all he could focus on was the burning heat to his entire backside. But something rough had grabbed onto his flailing wrists, and all off a sudden Athos was there, inches from his eyes.

"It's us. Let us help. Stop thrashing."

Aramis gave a small nod, and allowed himself be manhandled by Athos and Porthos as they roughly pulled at his clothes, needing to get him out of his smouldering doublet, something easier said than done due to Aramis belt, the blue fabric, and all those weapons covering him. Porthos literally grabbed onto the blue piece of fabric and pulled at it, having Aramis rolling out of it. Soon enough Aramis could feel his hands being pulled back as the hot leather slid off him, and he fell forward, putting his hands in the wet grass in front of him, coughing slightly, his vision spinning from being thrown around like a ragdoll along with the radiating heat. Gentle hands lifted his linen sweater, trailing over his back, as a large hard squeezed his shoulder.

"How does it look?" D'Artagnan asked worriedly, sheathing his sword and tucking his pistol away.

Athos looked a lot calmer than he had upon seeing one of his brothers covered in flames. "The fire didn't reach the skin. It's red and hot to the touch but no real bad burns. We'll use that salve he has for when I burn in the sun."

Aramis let out a small, relieved laugh. Every summer they would all get nice, dark suntans, while Athos turned into a red lobster with funny patterns. It never ceased to amuse everyone, except Athos of course who always pulled his hat down further below his eyes.

Aramis rolled over, sitting up leaning against Porthos' shoulder as he looked around. The village was still on fire, people were still running around, but houses collapsing had suffocated the screams. Athos was suddenly dragged back to what was happening around him.

"Okay. Here's what we do. Porthos and I will ride, see if we can figure out which direction Bastien went. In the meantime, do what you can here, tend to the wounded, and try to kill the fires. Don't overdo yourself." Athos said, nodding to Aramis and Porthos, before turning to d'Artagnan. "And that goes for you too."

D'Artagnan nodded, usually he would answer something like 'yes father', but now was really not the right time. Athos and Porthos nodded as they got up on their horses, and they were off at full speed. D'Artagnan helped Aramis to his feet, gently brushing the grass off him, as Aramis bent down to take his doublet and weapons he had been ridden off. He looked down at the leather in his hands, it was burned, but not burned through. He pulled it over his shoulders, it was still hot to the touch but definitely not as bad as it had been. He wrapped his blue linen around his waist, buckling his belt and weapons back in place. His back was sore, but it was no more than a hot, stinging sensation of bad sunburn.

Aramis looked up and met d'Artagnan's eyes, and he gave him a short nod and smile, walking up to him. D'Artagnan grabbed his chin in his hand and moved his head up a bit to a have a look at his neck, blood still evident on his neck. Aramis had already forgotten about how close he had come to losing his power to talk, but now his fingers moved up there, feeling the small cut under the tips of his fingers. It was nothing, he cut himself worse every time he shaved.

D'Artagnan didn't say anything, he just let go of Aramis chin and smiled lightly, Aramis nodding to him, before the two of them headed into the village, trying to lend a helping hand to whatever they could.

Night had fallen by the time Athos and Porthos came back to find Aramis and d'Artagnan still tending to the wounded. There wasn't much more that could be done, Aramis has stitched up several cuts, tended to the worst of the burns with his magic salves, as d'Artagnan had tried to help the villagers still standing with cleaning up in the village. The fires had all died out a long time ago, along with most of the screams. Not many had died, a few being caught in their houses, but the damage was mostly to the buildings, not the people.

Athos and Porthos rode up to d'Artagnan and Aramis in silence, Belle and Buttercup following Athos as he called for them. The horses trusted each other's masters, almost as well as their own.

They left the ruined village and were on their way, riding at a slow pace in the same direction Bastien had left for. They were all silent for quite the time before Athos spoke up.

"I'm sorry, Aramis."

Aramis twirled his head in his leader's direction, frowning. "Why?"

"I should've been able to keep Bastien under control. He caught me off guard. He jumped up onto Roger from behind me, and used my own dagger to cut the ropes. I'm sorry, I should've paid more attention to him."

"Don't apologise Athos. None of us were prepared for that. We didn't know he had anything to do with the fire, but since he knew those people I'm assuming he had the whole thing planned in case he would get caught." Aramis said grimly, riding up next to Athos. "We lost him, and it's not your fault. We all trusted that man a lot more than we should've. But we will find him. At the next village we reach we will send word to Treville. For now we will ride on for a few more hours, trying to get into the right direction, and stop if we need to."

"We should raise the speed some if we're not to give him too big of a head start." Porthos said, turning to look at d'Artagnan. "Can you handle that?"

"Gallop is fine, trot is not."

Porthos had a look over at Aramis as well, who nodded tiredly, before the four of them set off in an easy, but steady canter through the woods.

It was four very tired musketeers and four very tired horses that found lodgings many hours later. Leaving their horses to the stable boy, they all went inside to find a room with four, four!, beds in it.

D'Artagnan was asleep before Athos had finished the first glass of wine. Porthos was asleep only moments later, enjoying sleeping in a bed, and sleeping in a bed all to yourself. They didn't mind each others company, but finally getting your own bed after quite the time, they were all cherishing it. Athos drowned his glass of red wine before helping Aramis out of his clothes as he saw the man struggle, not being able to stretch and reach his arms normally without wincing in pain. Athos pulled his doublet off him, and hung it over one of the chairs, before helping Aramis to wiggle out of the sweater. Aramis was exhausted by the effort, and sat down quietly on a chair, his front towards the backrest which he folded his arms on top of, leaning his forehead down to rest on top of his arms.

Athos grabbed some of the clean cloths they had gotten, dipping them into the cold water from the bucket standing next to him, before, very carefully, he cleaned off Aramis' back. Small blisters had started to form, the skin was still an angry red, slightly swollen and very hot to touch. Even though Athos was as gentle as he could, barely touching the skin and making sure not to put any pressure on it, Aramis was still flinching. Athos wasn't to worried about the actual burn, it was the size of it that worried him. They had all been scarred by fire once or twice, but never anything this large. Aramis entire back was swollen and red, everywhere from up in between his shoulder blades, down to the lower back.

"It's fine Athos. It will be." Aramis said tiredly. He didn't want anything more than to just go to bed. "Get me my bag will you?"

Athos didn't say anything, but put the cloth back into the bucket, and went over to get Aramis' bag, handing it to him. Aramis pulled out a small glass jar, containing some white mass, which he handed to the man behind him. Athos unscrewed the lid and recognized the scent straight away. He wasn't sure what it smelled, he couldn't pinpoint the scent, but he knew that was the way he used to smell half of the summer after Aramis had dealt with his skin. Now the table had been turned as Athos took a rich amount of the cream onto of his fingers, and gently applied it all over Aramis' back.

The effects were immediate as Aramis exhaled relieved, the cool salve doing wonders for his pain. Athos smiled as he put the jar aside, pulling Aramis' shoulders to get him to sit up, handing him the bottle of wine from the table. Aramis drank several long mouthfuls before putting the bottle down, patting Athos' shoulder as thanks, before laying down on his stomach in the bed he had claimed as his.

Athos emptied the bottle, and two more, before he managed to get into the bed left untouched. He was exhausted, but his nightmares would never let him rest. It wasn't just his wife in front of him anymore, with the fire licking the walls and the torch in her hand. Now he turned in the manor to see Aramis there as well, his body covered in flames and his scream echoing down the long, empty hallways.