He woke slowly, his mind trying to grasp where he was, because he sure wasn't in his bed, or anyone else's for that matter. He could comprehend little. As he began to focus on his situation the first thing he noticed was the pain as it seared through his back when he tried to stretch. He jerked back into his original position, which appeared to be lying in the foetal position on a cold, dirty, concrete floor. The noise he heard as he moved told him that the mixture of dull throb when still and sharp pain in movement that he could feel came from his wrists and ankles being shackled.

He lay perfectly still, trying to keep his breathing calm, eyes adjusting to the gloom. From his position he could see the bottom corner of a door and what looked like the end of another shackle lying abandoned on the floor. So he wasn't the first. He did have to wonder what happened to the other, or others, that came before him, but only briefly. First he had to work out how he came to be here, and how in hell he was going to get out.

Did the others even know he was gone?

Aramis and Porthos met in the yard just as the sun was pushing through the morning clouds. For once they'd had a sober night, retiring fairly early after a strenuous mission. They were due at the palace early for security detail while the King and Queen went on some outing or other. Not their favourite job, but one that needed to be done on occasion. Now they waited on the third member of their party.

"Where the hell is he?" Porthos grumbled.

"He'll be here, there's still time." Aramis stretched back, turning his face to the sun as he lifted his feet onto the bench.

"Not much time! We'll need to ride like hell to get there if he's much longer."

"Perhaps he didn't behave himself last night as we did my dear fellow." Porthos just grumbled in reply. Aramis laughed. "Is that why you are so grumpy? Because you didn't get to the pub last night?" He laughed harder when Porthos just rolled his eyes. Definitely true.

They waited for another few minutes, but soon the other Musketeers on shift started to arrive, which told them time was definitely running out.

"You're right Porthos. He's not coming. Do we fetch him on route? Or do we tell the captain?"

Porthos shrugged. He didn't want to land his friend in trouble, but he knew Aramis was thinking the same as he was. What if it wasn't as simple as picking him up? What if he wasn't there either?

It seemed like hours since he had woken in this painful position, but in all likelihood it was less than one. He was thirsty and hungry, and in all honesty, terrified. He had been cataloguing his aches and pains by making tiny little movements, and there seemed to be very few parts of him that were not in pain. Some places that hurt were definitely not making him happy. Still, he did not seem to be in danger of losing his life from his injuries any time soon. He would have to wait and see who came through the door ahead of him, and what they were planning to do with him when they arrived.

But his mystery kidnappers were not his biggest worry. Instead he was terrified of what the rescue party that would surely come for him would do.

Firstly he'd told Aramis and Porthos when they left him last night that he was going straight to bed. He hadn't done that, and he was going to get his arse kicked (again) for lying and for not following their advice.

But secondly, and most worryingly, when someone got back from his own mission this morning that had kept him away for a few days and found out what had happened he was going to explode.

Basically, if he survived this, Athos was going to kill him.