Hello! This story was sparked by a YouTube video of a man who got lost in the Paris Catacombs; my mind just went haywire and this idea was born. I'm taking a bit of artistic license with time periods and things, but I hope you won't mind! Lots of whump/darkness/claustrophobia and also lots of brotherly moments between the guys in this fic! I hope you like this first chapter!

Onwards!

Rain tinkered onto the roof of the stables in the garrison training ground, sending rivets of water down onto the ground below. Grey clouds bobbed and misted overhead, and there was a peculiar silence as the rainstorm continued it's barrage of the City. Aramis sighed, taking another swallow of his warmed ale; it was the only upside of rainy days like this.

D'Artagnan was sat next to him; the wet air made his hair flatten to his head, and he looked as miserable as the other Musketeer felt. The younger man threw a stone onto the sandy training area, watching as it skittered over puddles and came to rest in a pile of sodden hay. 'So much for a training session,' he muttered, pulling his coat around him.

'There'll be other times, lad.' Aramis smiled across at him. 'At least no one will get an injury slipping up- you'll be really complaining then!'

'S'pose….' D'Artagnan agreed, nodding at his friend with a smile. 'I'm just bored.'

Aramis nodded at that: since he and d'Artagnan had been booked in for a morning training session, Treville had given Athos and Porthos work instead of them, and now they were at quite a loss for activities.

'Well, perhaps the others will be back soon,' he reasoned, stretching his own unused muscles, 'and then we can take the horses for a run...' He stopped, a grin forming on his face as he spied two familiar figures trudging through the gates. 'Speak of the devil!' He chuckled, raising a hand in welcome as Porthos and Athos slowly made their way towards them.

'Had enough of the rain, too?' D'Artagnan asked, sniffing as they came level. Athos looked sideways to Aramis; his eyes were dark, and at once Aramis knew they hadn't returned to seek shelter from the rain. 'What's happened?' He asked as the smile slipped off his face, voice low as he looked from Porthos to Athos. 'What's wrong?'

'Duval.' Porthos growled, eyes narrowed.

D'Artagnan looked from one Musketeer to the other; he had been with them for the past few weeks, and as much as he enjoyed their tutelage and company, he was still often left in the dark when they had conversations about things he knew nothing of. He knew the name must herald something bad, as Aramis clenched his fist around his ale tankard and had to take a steadying breath before asking 'what of him?'.

'He's out, Aramis.' Athos said, his voice steady and measured.

'Out?' Aramis' voice hinted at indignation. 'What do you mean, out?' He looked across at his two friends, and d'Artagnan could see that even in the grey light of the day that his face was ashen white. 'They can't have let him out?'

'No, Mis, they didn't.' Athos replied, looking across to Porthos. He licked his lips, unsure of whether to continue, but reasoning his friend had to know. 'He escaped.'

Aramis's eyes went wider than d'Artagnan thought eyes could go. 'What?' He asked, the word urgent. 'What did you say?'

'He killed two guards and the Musketeer assigned to guard him,' Porthos ploughed in, figuring if he had to know he better know the truth. The Musketeer had been a relatively new addition to the team, but he knew his loss would be felt within the garrison.. 'Then he hid in the bushes until nightfall and made his escape.'

'I can't believe this...' Aramis put his hands in his head, shaking it a little. D'Artagnan had never seen the normally jovial Musketeer lose control like this- he looked across to Athos, who gave him a small reassuring nod to let him know that the other man would be ok. He watched as Armais breathed in deeply, straightened up and looked back at the two men with a controlled measure of calm. 'When?'

'Last night.' Athos replied, leaning against the wooden struts of the training area. 'The alarm was raised about two hours ago. We had a look for him but he's vanished.'

'Right,' Aramis nodded, breathing in deeply. 'Alright- so, what are our orders?'

'Treville doesn't want you anywhere near the case,' Athos replied, already preparing for the onslaught, 'given your...history, as it were.'

'He seriously thinks he can just-'

'Yes, I do.' Treville's voice cut in from behind them. Aramis stood and turned, eyes dark as he opened his mouth. Treville put a hand up to stop him, 'I understand you want to help- but after everyone that happened before I deemed it unwise to put you in that situation again.'

'What happened last time won't happen again!' Aramis replied, 'I promise.'

'I can't take that chance,' Treville shook his head, eyes apologetic but firm. 'I can't lose two Musketeers to this man.'

'Aramis has as much as a right to help find him as any other man,' Athos put forward, giving his captain a minute shrug, 'at least he'll be with friends this time.'

'We'll make sure nothing happens,' Porthos agreed with a nod- Armais looked up at his two friends, a grateful smile now on his face.

Treville sighed, but seemed to relent. 'I want an end to this- find him. Dead or alive.' He added before giving his men a hard nod and turning away. 'Take the boy with you.'

D'Artagnan withheld a nervous gulp as three pairs of eyes suddenly pounced on him. Athos gave a nod before turning away to sort out his weapons. 'We leave in ten minutes- be ready.' He ordered, before walking away to speak with Treville.

D'Artagnan stood as the two remaining musketeers exchanged looks. 'What's so bad about this guy?' He asked, a frown creasing his eyes.

'He's a vicious maniac with no place in civilised society.' Aramis answered shortly, eyes dark-d'Artagnan knew this was a good an answer he was going to get at the moment, so he let it drop a little. 'We better get going.' He finished; Athos made his way back to them, face stoic and ready. He looked at Aramis, eyes roving and seeming to pierce his soul. 'I'll be fine,' Aramis told him, to which Athos nodded. 'I know you will be.' He replied, and as a foursome they walked back out the garrison to the city. 'We'll make sure of it.'

The rain had begun to die away as they made their way through the sodden streets of Paris. Everywhere they looked people were hurrying to and fro before making their ways home- word got around fast about the flurry of activity from the Musketeers. Many had been drafted in from other missions and tasks, and their presence was like a wave as they searched Paris for Duval. They had forgone their horses for their feet- many of the other musketeers were on horseback, but they wanted to be quick on their feet if they did spot him.

'What if he's already made his escape?' D'Artagnan asked, looking across to the other three men waking in silence beside him. 'If I was him I would try and get as far away from here as I could.'

'He could never get far enough.' Aramis growled.

'We'll find him.' Athos added, voice hard. 'No matter what it takes.'

D'Artagnan opened his mouth to ask what had this man done to make them all hate him so- as he did so there was a high scream from a street to their left.

'Lord, no...' Aramis whispered, before the four of them took off running in the direction of the panicked cries and shouts of the Parisians. 'Out the way!' Porthos yelled as they fought their way through the sudden clamour.

A woman had her head in her face, tears leaking from her eyes as she looked upon the scene- a man was lying on the ground, blood obscuring his face. His neck had been viciously cut; blood ran in rivets as it joined the water soaking the streets.

'Oh, God...' Athos growled, crinkling his eyes a little. He noticed a young girl at his side, barely coming up to his knee; he put his gloved hand over her eyes and pushed her into the direction of her parents, who picked her up and hurried her away.

'Where did he go?!' Aramis was asking some of the witnesses, 'where?!'

'I saw a man in a black cloak run that way-' a younger man called over, pointing to a long alleyway to their right.

'Quick- we may still catch him!' Athos shouted, and the four of them took off running in the direction the man had pointed in. Aramis was off the mark first; he ran faster than the others, and soon he was alone as he ran through the deserted backstreets- he skidded to a halt as he turned a corner and ran head first into a cloaked figure who had been hiding around it. They both sprawled on the ground- Aramis groaned in pain before a well aimed kick found it's mark in his stomach. Struggling up he caught sight of the man he had knocked over as his hood was pulled down. 'Duval!' He yelled, launching himself at the other man with a snarl.

The man was older, but wiry- he pulled himself away with a broad laugh; the sound made Aramis feel sick.

'Aramis, is that you?' He asked, his voice laced with poison. 'Dear god, it is!' They both stood up, breathing heavily.

'Duval, you come quietly or you come dead, whichever you prefer.' Aramis growled, hand already at his sword.

'I think not,' Duval answered with a sickening smile. He stepped closer, and was just opening his mouth to speak again when they both heard the shouts of the other three.

They locked eyes for few seconds, during which Duval gave another horrible smile and Aramis glared across at him. 'I'm not going back.' He promised, before launching himself at the Musketeer- Aramis instinctively covered his face and let himself drop to the ground- he had enough dealings with this man to know that he had a knife in his hands. The punch to his face caught him off guard and he felt his nose start to bleed beneath his hands as he clutched at it.

Suddenly the pressure of the other man on him lessened, and he turned his head to see him running down the street again, closely followed by Porthos and d'Artagnan.

'Aramis?' Athos' voice sounded far away. 'Aramis, you need to get up!' He groaned as he felt two hands clasp themselves in his coat and heave him upright. 'Come on, that's it...' He heard Athos mutter, before he swore as he caught sight of his face. 'Are you hurt anywhere else?'

'He got away again..'

'Aramis! Are you hurt anywhere else?' Athos took a look at him at arm's length, before running his hands around his stomach. Relief tinged when his hands came back dry and not red with blood.

He gave a long sigh as he collected his thoughts- Aramis ripped himself from his grasp and wiped the blood from his nose. 'We've got to get after him!' He muttered, before they both turned as they heard lone footsteps coming up behind them.

'Found...him...' D'Artagnan panted- he had evidently just sprinted back.

'Porthos?' Aramis asked, panic rising as he saw he was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't lose Porthos too.

'Guarding...the door..' D'Artagnan replied, before giving a cough. 'He's making sure he won't get out.'

'Get out?' Athos was confused. 'Get out of where?'

'The catacombs.' The younger man explained, before waving his arm to get the others to follow. 'Porthos closed the door on him.' Athos and Aramis exchanged a look before following- they quickly made their way through a leafy part of the city before drawing level with a large church. They ran the length of a large, crumbling grey wall, at the end of which stood a large black door. Porthos stood in front of it, a hard look on his face.

'He ain't going anywhere fast.' He stated as they stopped in front of him. 'I ordered the keeper to lock up the other entrances, leaving just this one.' He then produced a key and twirled it in his hands, 'only thing is, I've just locked this one.' He tucked it in his pocket. 'Oops.'

'You can open it back up,' Aramis muttered, voice dark as he wiped the last of the blood from his nose. 'I'm going in.'

'Like hell you are!' Athos growled, shaking his head. 'He's not getting out- we just wait and go in to retrieve him in a week or so.'

'I want him alive.'

'Treville said-'

'I don't give a damn what Treville said-' Aramis gave him a long hard stare. '-death is too good for this man.'

Despite himself, Athos wavered under the hard expression of his closest friend. 'I...this is madness...' He started.

'Sometimes you have to fight madness with madness, my friend.'

Athos looked to the others, but he knew they were firmly on the side of the man in front of him. 'I give the commands,' he said, finally giving in. 'If I say stop you stop, alright?'

'You have my word.'

'Good.' He took a deep breath and nodded for Porthos to unlock the door. 'Treville said get him dead or alive- at this moment I'm inclined more towards the dead part,' he muttered as the door opened. A warm, fousty smell caught their noses- d'Artagnan crinkled his nose but said nothing.

'We keep as quiet as we can.' Athos muttered, looking back at the other three. 'Ready?'

'No,' Porthos snorted with a shrug, 'but let's go.'

Athos nodded and made his way through the door. 'Close it once we've lit the torches.' He ordered, and together they carefully picked their way into the corridor. He hoped this would be quick- he had heard stories of this place, and he only hoped most were untrue... Once the torches that were lined up against the wall were lit he nodded to d'Artagnan, who swung the door shut behind them all, enveloping them in total darkness apart from the orange glows of their torches.

Thanks for reading, LOTS more to come!

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Next chapter up soon!

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