Authors note: Last chapter. Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favourites.

Chapter Seven

The small weedy man had a gun trained on Porthos and Aramis who were both still sat on Porthos' bed. The Comte was glaring at d'Artagnan a dagger in his hand.

'No,' said the small man as Porthos made to speak, 'you make a noise, you die.'

Aramis noticed that d'Artagnan had paled and despite his injury had moved away as far as he could. He was also aware of Porthos stiffening behind him, either with anger or fear, Aramis could not tell. He wondered if the Comte was responsible for d'Artagnan's injury as well as Porthos'.

'No one has ever escaped my oubliette. You were supposed to die down there,' the Comte said as he stared at d'Artagnan, who had regained his composure a little and was glaring back.

Aramis, who was thinking clearly for the first time since he had regained consciousness, realised d'Artagnan was the one in danger. He did not know the full details of what had happened at the Chateau but it was clear the Comte was a threat to the young man. He was in no shape to assist his friend, due to his injury and Athos remained unconscious, sprawled across the floor. That left Porthos, who, although sporting many injuries was the most mobile of them at the present time.

But, for Porthos to help they needed a distraction, and Aramis realised he was the one who had to make it.

He scrambled up and lunged at the weedy little man with the gun. Of course, the man fired the gun, but Aramis hoped the shot would miss its target. It did not. Pain radiated out from his left arm and he collapsed to the floor, landing on Athos' still form. The stitches in his side ripping as he fell.

MMMM

The Comte was moving towards d'Artagnan who had nothing to defend himself with. Only Athos was armed and he was lying unconscious on the floor. D'Artagnan was watching the Comte closely. Porthos knew he had to do something, but what? Then Aramis did the only thing he could do, he moved to distract the man with the gun. The gun shot made the Comte stop and turn. Aramis fell to the floor with a fresh wound to his arm. A lighting assessment of the injury told Porthos that, although bad, would not prove fatal, and could be left untreated for a little while, he could concentrate on helping d'Artagnan.

Porthos moved quickly, he grabbed the small man and threw him bodily to the floor, leaving him stunned. He then tried to reach the Comte before the Comte reached d'Artagnan. He was not quick enough. A struggle between d'Artagnan and the Comte was already in place. Although the Comte was clearly not a fit man, he was in better health than d'Artagnan. The man had managed to pin d'Artagnan back down onto the bed and was trying to thrust his dagger into the young man's chest. D'Artagnan was using one hand to try to push the Comte away and the other was wrapped around the Comte's hand in an attempt to deflect the dagger.

Porthos grabbed the Comte from behind. But the man was stronger than he looked, perhaps through determination, and Porthos found himself struggling to pull him away.

They all paused when a second gunshot sounded.

MMMM

D'Artagnan was not in a good position to be dealing with the attack, although he did not think any position was good for dealing with a crazed man with a dagger. The man was clearly deranged, his eyes were wild with fury. Surviving his plunge into the oubliette had clearly upset the evil man.

Under normal circumstances, fending off an older man with a dagger would probably be relatively easy, but he was weak and in pain and lying on his back. When Porthos loomed into sight above the Comte, d'Artagnan was relieved. But he quickly realised the Comte was determined and Porthos was not having an easy time trying to remove the danger. Porthos was carrying his own injuries and was not at his usual strength.

The gunshot made them all pause. Something fell to the floor behind Porthos.

D'Artagnan managed to move the Comte's hand away from him as Porthos, using the distraction, finally managed to whirl the man around and shoved him away, into the wall of the infirmary. The man stumbled back, dropping the dagger to the floor as he fell.

D'Artagnan looked across the room and saw a very pale and panting Aramis lying awkwardly on the floor, Athos' guns still in his hand. At Porthos' feet lay the man who had been with the Comte, a knife still clutched in his dead hand. D'Artagnan realised the man had been trying to stab Porthos and Aramis had managed to shoot him.

Movement by the wall made him look towards the Comte who was trying to regain his footing. A scrape of metal and movement from Aramis drew d'Artagnan's attention back. The marksman had managed to wrangle Athos' sword from his belt and held it up with a very shaky hand to Porthos.

Porthos took the sword and turned back to the Comte threateningly, although d'Artagnan detected a shake in the big musketeer's arm. The action of the last few minutes taking its toll on the still injured man.

MMMM

The door to the infirmary burst open, Treville, sword drawn, rushed in, several musketeers in tow. He stopped, stunned as he took in the room and the positions of the various men within.

Porthos was standing in the middle of the room a sword held out in front of him pointing at the Comte who was huddled by the wall. At Porthos' feet lay the body of what Treville guessed was one of the Comte's men.

D'Artagnan was sat up in his bed, he was panting and dishevelled, he looked shocked.

Athos was flat on his back, apparently unconscious on the floor. Aramis was lying across Athos' legs blinking hard and breathing quickly, clutching his bleeding side with his bleeding arm.

Treville realised he had not moved for a few seconds as he took in the scene before him. He quickly stepped forward and brought his own sword up to point at the Comte reliving Porthos, who took a couple of stumbling steps and sat heavily on the edge of d'Artagnan's bed.

'Get him out of here, straight to the Chatelet…I want two men guarding him at all times,' Treville barked at the men who had followed him into the infirmary.

The Comte was bundled out of the room. The body of the other man quickly followed. Treville turned back to the others. Porthos had recovered enough to move to Aramis' side. The marksman was barely conscious, his stitches had clearly been pulled by the recent activity. Treville helped Porthos to move Aramis back to his bed. The injured man had passed out by the time they had laid him down.

MMMM

Athos groaned and slowly opened his eyes. D'Artagnan smiled at him.

'What happened?'

It took d'Artagnan a few minutes to fill Athos in on what had happened after he opened the door and was knocked out by the hilt of the Comte's sword. He looked over to Aramis' bed, Porthos was stitching the wound on his arm whilst Lemay was dealing with the sword wound. The pale, unconscious marksman oblivious to the ministrations.

'Is this a record for him, getting the same injury tended to by three people?' asked d'Artagnan.

'Probably,' said Athos as d'Artagnan helped him to sit up.

Athos looked across to the door as Treville pushed it open. The Captain nodded a greeting as he entered.

'The King, is pleased that we now have the Comte in custody. He even had no issue with me sending him straight to the Chatelet,' he said as he cast an eye over his men, assessing their various states of health.

'What about his tenants?' asked d'Artagnan.

'Baron Doubey, will take them on. He asked me to pass on his thanks to you for capturing the Comte.'

'He came to us, we didn't capture 'im,' said Porthos as he finished the last stitch on Aramis' arm, 'how did he get in here anyway?'

'I believe he slipped in when we returned. They must have been hiding, waiting for an opportunity to get in here when there were fewer people around,' replied Treville, 'I think the King intends to use his position to get the man hanged very soon.'

'Hanged?' asked Athos, 'not a befitting execution for a nobleman.'

'By the time he is hanged the Comte will no longer be a Comte, he will have been stripped of his title. The King will make sure it happens, he can be…persuasive…when he needs to be.'

'Or he'll throw a tantrum until he gets 'is way,' muttered Porthos.

'More than likely,' said Treville with a slight smile.

MMMM

A few weeks later…

Quite a crowd had gathered. The day was pleasant, warm with a clear sky. Hangings always drew a crowd, but word had been spread that this was a little different. The man to be hanged was of noble birth. D'Artagnan found it distasteful, that people would flock to see someone die.

He was still walking with a stick, his ankle not fully healed. Athos walked next to him, with purpose. Aramis and Porthos walked behind talking quietly.

'You do not have to witness the execution,' said Athos.

'I know, but I want to be reassured that he's gone.'

'Have you been sleeping better?' asked Athos, who had not seen much of them for the last few days.

'Yes, the dreams have stopped, I think Porthos had a harder time, he didn't want to admit it, but he struggled to get to sleep to start with.'

D'Artagnan glanced back at the two behind them. After the Comte had been captured Porthos had spent several days unable to sleep until, finally exhausted, he had passed out on the bed next to Aramis'. He had slept solidly for a day. When he awoke Aramis, who had slowly recovered from his own injuries, had patiently listened when Porthos talked about the torture he had endured. D'Artagnan still believed he had been the lucky one of the two of them, although horrific, his torture had lasted seconds, Porthos' had lasted for hours.

They found a spot towards the back of the crowd and watched as the guards brought their prisoner forward. The Comte, was dressed smartly, he clearly still thought of himself as a nobleman. He walked nonchalantly towards the gallows, and took each step slowly, drawing out the time he had left.

D'Artagnan glanced to his right, Porthos, his face hard with repressed emotion was shaking slightly. Aramis had reached his arm across the big musketeers back and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder, a sign of solidarity. Porthos took a deep breath and nodded to Aramis who smiled reassuringly.

Athos' did the same to d'Artagnan who had not realised that he too was shaking. He hoped that knowing the man who had tortured them, and been a tyrant to his people, was dead would help him to put the whole affair behind him. Even though he was almost fully recovered physically and he was sleeping now, there was still the nagging doubt that the man was still out there.

But that was about to change.

The noose was slipped over the Comte's head, the priest finished a prayer and made the sign of the cross. The hangman performed his task, the crowd cheered.

Vietto was dead.

D'Artagnan let out a breath, he turned with the others and walked silently away.

The End