The first rays of dawn had barely peeked over the horizon when Athos' eyes began to flutter open. She rose from the ground and positioned her body so it was in his direct line of sight, wanting to be the first thing he saw upon regaining consciousness.
As Athos struggled to open his eyes, he tasted a flat, medicinal taste on his tongue. Drugged, his muddled mind managed to deduce. Fighting through the black haze, he forced his eyes to stay open and focus on the person standing in front of him.
"Catherine," he breathed with incredulity.
"Athos," she returned coldly, her blue eyes snapping with deep-set hatred.
His eyes swept the glade, noting his brothers were secured to trees, as was he. "You did this? Why?" Disbelief and a touch of hurt colored his question.
Her laugh was caustically bitter and ripe with distain. "After everything, you still don't get it."
She turned her back on him to face the rising sun. "How is it that you have thoroughly ruined my life and yet you still can't see that!"
Her body literally trembled with white-hot rage. "You humiliated me, destroyed my family, betrayed your own brother, and disgraced your heritage! And for what? That whore!" she spat as she spun back to face Athos. "And after all she has done, you still love her. What kind of man does that make you?"
Her words ripped at his conscience for he knew there was much truth in them. Many a desolate night he had asked himself the same question. What kind of man was he?
Even to this day, he had to question his motivates, his feelings, towards Anne. He had planned to ride off to meet her, after d'Artagnan's wedding, only to be brought up short by Treville and duty. But he had given into his weakness later, and had ridden off to the crossroads, leaving his life, his duty, and his brothers dangling behind as if they were inconsequential. The very things that had saved him, he purposely abandoned in order to meet her. To this day, had she been there, he couldn't honestly say what he would have done. And that was the shame that ingrained itself on his soul. He might have thrown everything away, for a murderess and a whore. He bowed his head with self-disgust. Catherine was right. What kind of man was he?
Furiously, she stomped over, grabbed his dark, wavy hair and yanked his bowed head up until she could see into his eyes. "I'll tell you what kind of man you are. One that doesn't deserve to live."
He stared up at her, struggling to find the right tone between demanding and pleading. He wasn't sure what would set off this deranged woman, and if he didn't get it right, he would be condemning his brothers to their death for his follies. "Kill me, but let them go. They did nothing to you, mean nothing to you."
A cruel, feral smile deformed her features. "But that, dear Athos, is exactly the point. They," she let go of his head and gestured wildly towards the other three musketeers tied to the trees, "mean a great deal to you. To simply kill you isn't enough. I want you to suffer, as you have made me suffer. To watch, as everything you love is destroyed. My only regret is the whore is not here too, but this shall have to suffice."
Horror transformed Athos' face as his greatest fears shifted towards reality. "No. Catherine. They did nothing to you."
"Oh yes they did. They saved you, in Pinon. Better that they had left you to die. How many times have these brothers," her voice rose to a shriek, "saved your miserable life? These strangers whom you apparently love more than your own flesh and blood brother. My betrothed. How could you betray Thomas... and me?"
Athos let his eyes drop to the ground as he lowered his head once more. Softly he said, "You are right. I have betrayed Thomas with my actions."
Slowly, he raised his pain-filled green eyes and sought out her crazed blue ones. "But what if Anne was telling the truth? That Thomas raped her and she was only trying to defended herself?"
In his heart he knew it was the wrong thing to say, but at times, he still clung to that false hope, even though his rational mind knew it was just another one of Anne's lies.
The smack across his face snapped his head back, slamming it against the tree's trunk. Blood trickled from the corner of his split lip. Black dots danced in front of his eyes for a few moments as he fought to remain conscious.
"My God, Athos. You still take her side. How can you be that blind? That stupid!"
Anger flashed in his eyes and defiance his tone. "She was my wife! I loved her!"
"She was a whore. Once a whore, always a whore!"
Catherine's eyes grew narrow and calculating as she leaned towards him. "That's what this is really about, isn't it Athos? You were jealous of your younger brother. Thomas, who was everyone's favorite. Your parents, everyone, always doted more on him than you. With my own ears I heard your father say, on more than one occasion, Thomas was more fit to be his heir than you."
Straightening, she took a step away, her hands clenched tight at her sides. "How could I have been so blind. You were glad she killed your brother, the one who upstaged you."
"I loved Thomas. Protected him," Athos cried out with distress.
"Until she came along and once again your baby brother took away what was yours. No wonder you let her live. It was your way of winning over your brother, even in death."
"I punished her. I did my duty. I hanged her."
"And yet, she still walks this earth, doesn't she? She may have tricked you the first time, but since then you have chosen to let her live. Her over your brother. Her over your family. Her over me!"
The crescendo of her voice cumulated in a scream of anguish that shook the heavens. Worn out from her emotional storm, she bent and rested her hands on her thighs, as she struggled to regain her breath.
A hush settled over the glade and Athos' plea, though barely whispered, was clearly audible. "You are right, Catherine. I deserve to die for all the things I did. For the hurt I inflicted on those around me. So kill me, but, please, spare their lives."
Slowly standing upright, the maniacal gleam in her eye told Athos all he needed to know; there was no reasoning with Catherine. Whatever sanity she once had was gone, leaving behind only the caustic shell of a vengeful woman.
Deliberately, she moved across the glen to where the three musketeers were slowly reviving. After their eyes opened and they realized they were tied up, they began to struggled against their captivity. However, they quickly ascertained they couldn't break loose, so they ceased fighting their bonds and peered questioningly at Catherine and Athos.
"Catherine? What are you doing?" Aramis asked the estranged woman.
"Exacting my revenge," she coolly answered as she turned her back on them to stare directly at Athos. "Which one first?"
Desperation colored Athos' features and voice. "Catherine. Please. I'm begging you. Kill me, but let them go."
"Athos!" d'Artagnan exclaimed in horror.
"Your time for begging my forgiveness has long passed. Perhaps if things had been different at Pinon, maybe I could have looked past your indulgence of your whore of a wife. But no, once again you tossed me aside for a bunch of commoners who were deserving of nothing. You gave Pinon to them! What should have been mine! You are a disgrace to your heritage."
"I care nothing for my heritage. I never have."
She strode up to him and resoundingly slapped him across the face once more. "But I do care! Deeply. And you denied me what was rightfully mine. And for that, they shall die."
Turning once more, she walked over to the tied up musketeers and slowly moved down the line, examining them. "You. A noble of one of the oldest families of France. Befriending a common solider, a farm boy, and..." she halted in front of Porthos, "a gutter-born, half-breed mongrel."
Pulling one of Thomas' pistols from her belt, she aimed it at Porthos' head. "He'll be the first to die."
Before Athos could utter a word of protest, she pulled the trigger. At such close range it made a mess, splattering Porthos' innocent blood on her clothes and face. But Catherine didn't even seem to notice. At the sound of the gun firing, the musketeers had all screamed, then the grove of trees grew quiet; one voice had been silenced forever.
Fighting like a wild animal against the bonds tying him to the tree, Athos attempted to free himself in order to stop this mad woman. But the rope would not give way and simply cut bloody grooves in his skin. Catherine dispassionately watched Athos struggle and when he finally gave up his futile attempt to break free she calmly asked, "Who shall be next?"
"I implore you. Stop this madness, Catherine," Athos begged, his voice choked with emotion. "These men have done you no harm. This senseless killing makes you no better than her."
The moment the words left his lips, Athos knew he had made another fatal mistake and cost another one of his brothers their life. A cold fury settled on Catherine's features as she reloaded Thomas' pistol then discharged it into Aramis' heart. Athos watched with horror as the light dimmed, then was extinguished in those handsome brown eyes. He let out a moan that was ripped from the depths of his tortured soul.
Dispassionately, Catherine went about loading the pistol for the third time. Tears streamed down Athos' face as he pleaded with her to stop this outrage, but nothing he said moved her in the least.
She deliberately walked over and stood in front of d'Artagnan staring down at the youngest musketeer. "He reminds me of Thomas. Is that what you fancy in him, Athos?" She turned and looked over at the self-exiled Comte. "Was he your redemption? A pathetic attempt to replace your noble brother with a base-born farmer?"
Placing her back to Athos again, but being sure she didn't block his view, she aimed her pistol at the boy, who was staring brazenly back at her. "He has spirit. Let's see how long it lasts him."
Before she finished her sentence, the shot rang out, piercing d'Artagnan's midriff. Even as the boy groaned and slumped over as far as his ropes allowed, Catherine had indifferently moved away, seemingly unaffected by the atrocities she had committed.
Drawing near Athos, she halted and gave a quick glance over her shoulder at the Gascon before looking down to address the swordsman. "He'll take days to die. Days of misery while you sit here, helplessly, unable to ease his suffering. A small taste of what you did to me."
She stared at the man she had once loved. Now, when she looked at him, she only felt hatred fueled by a mind broken long ago.
"Goodbye Athos. I don't envision our paths crossing again."
As silently as she came, she disappeared back into the forest. A ghost whose vengeance was complete.
Through the tears choking his voice, Athos called out to d'Artagnan who valiantly raised his head to look over at his mentor. Unable to stop the words from leaving his lips, the boy whispered, "It hurts."
"What have I done?" Athos sobbed.
Author's Note: OK, I apologize for totally blowing the word count this time on the challenge. I suppose I could have ended the story here. However, that seemed cruel and it just didn't feel finished. Those of you who write probably know what I mean. Sometimes you have no idea where a story is going or will end until you get there and you just go 'Oh yeah' this is the end.