AN: This fic was born from a random idea I had when I should've been working on one of my two in-progress stories, so naturally I dropped everything to write all three chapters in the course of two days. Athos insisted. I'll try to get one up every other day since they're already finished :)
If guilt were a maze, it would be a cave, and it would fall on Athos. What's in this cave? The darkness of lacking hope, the bright lives of his brothers, the burden of responsibility, and each of the boys' astounding abilities to self-sacrifice. Athos' spirit is strong and sturdy, like the solid rock of the walls, but all it takes is one crack and everything threatens to crumble.
Athos wasn't entirely sure how they'd gotten into this mess, though he was fairly certain that he was in no way to blame. It was probably Aramis's fault. Or maybe D'Artagnan's. And Porthos had been acting suspiciously too.
But whoever's fault it was, they were well and truly in trouble. Athos was sitting back to back with D'Artagnan, their wrists bound so tightly together to an iron ring set in the floor that he had lost almost all sensation. Aramis and Porthos were in a similar state nearby.
It should have been an easy mission: investigate the disturbance in a series of underground caves near a small village less than a day's ride outside of Paris and return when it was sorted out. But the 'slight disturbance' had turned out to mean 'secret underground criminal cartel,' and they had not taken kindly to Musketeers snooping around.
So here they were, trussed up like turkeys with no means of escape. Three men were muttering to themselves, circling like sharks as they watched them. Athos could sense their wariness. He smirked.
They were right to be wary.
Footsteps echoed on hard stones outside and Athos glanced towards the door, noting the way their guards stood up straighter. Whoever was coming must be important.
A moment later a tall figure strode through the jagged archway to their miserable prison. A sneer was already plastered across what little of his face wasn't badly pockmarked. He had an aura of cruelty that Athos sensed he'd have no trouble using against his brothers.
A threat, then. And a serious one, considering their defenseless state.
"What is the problem?" the man hissed. His voice had a sibilant quality and seemed to reverberate off the walls. "I told you to stash them somewhere and return at once."
"We was goin' to," one of the men said hesitantly. "'Cept we was worried they might escape, so maybe one of us ought to stay and guard 'em?"
D'Artagnan shifted restlessly at Athos's back, clearly already considering the idea. Athos could feel where D'Artagnan's blood had seeped into Athos's own sleeve from a cut on the boy's arm, but thankfully it was shallow.
Porthos had also been injured; he'd taken the butt of a pistol to the head when he tried to fight his captors long after a normal man would have surrendered.
Athos supposed he ought to be grateful for his friend's hard head. A normal man would have a cracked skull, but Porthos was hardly affected by the blow whatsoever.
"A guard will not be necessary," the scarred man said haughtily.
Athos fought the urge to smirk at his arrogance. It might actually be enjoyable to wipe the smug look off his face.
"But what if'n they escape and go fer help?" one of the goons asked timidly.
The leader fixed him with a cold glare, stalking forward until he was standing next to Aramis and Porthos, who were nearest to the door.
"I've heard," he began, eyes meeting Athos's with cold intelligence. "That the king's Musketeers never leave a man behind. Is that true?"
No one spoke for a moment, and the man's face hardened. In a motion quicker than Athos could follow, his hand leapt and caught Porthos a ringing blow across the jaw.
Porthos rocked backwards against Aramis, who tried to crane his neck over his shoulder to check on the large Musketeer. The bastard must have known Porthos had a head injury, for now he smiled cruelly, flexing his hand menacingly.
"I'm still waiting for an answer," he said softly. His hand rose slightly, as if to hit Porthos again.
Aramis stopped him, as Athos knew he would. "Yes, it's true."
The man smiled at him, a cruel, predatory thing. "How interesting." He stepped neatly around Porthos, still sagging slightly against Aramis, and turned to look at Athos once more.
"You see, men, we will not need to set a guard, because our friends here won't be escaping. That is, not unless they want to leave a man behind."
Faster than Athos could follow, his foot shot out and stamped down with all his strength on Aramis's ankle.
The crack of breaking bone nearly drowned out Aramis's agonized gasp, but it wasn't enough to mask Porthos's enraged cry. He threw himself against his bonds, straining to get to the sneering man, but stopped suddenly when his motions jarred Aramis, drawing a pained sound from the other Musketeer.
The man's cruel smile only grew as Aramis attempted to hunch forward over his broken leg. His foot was lying at an awkward, twisted angle that made Athos's stomach roll.
"I really doubt he'll be escaping on that," the bastard said, feigning concern in a manner that made Athos's fingers itch to tighten around his throat. "Enjoy your stay."
With that he turned, intentionally brushing against Aramis's leg as he went and drawing another hissed breath from the man.
As soon as his cronies had filed out behind him dutifully, Porthos growled aloud, trying to twist his head around to look at Aramis without jarring the injured man further, but their arms were bound together from wrists to elbows, and after a moment Athos watched him sink back to simmering stillness, fury written on his thunderous face.
Aramis's face had drained of all color, and his breath was coming in sharp pants. "Aramis," Porthos murmured. There was a helpless quality in his voice that made Athos want to break something.
"I'm fine," Aramis gasped.
"Your leg is broken!" D'Artagnan pointed out, his voice higher than usual with worry.
"Really?" Aramis actually managed a faint smile, much to Athos's surprise. "I hadn't noticed."
"How bad?" Athos asked quietly, concern curling in his belly. Porthos turned to look at him, obviously deciding that if he couldn't see Aramis then he'd at least watch someone who could.
"Clean break, I think," Aramis ground out. His foot twitched slightly and he groaned under his breath. The sound made Porthos stiffen against him. "Hard to tell without being able to feel it, but I don't think it's too bad."
"But it's still broken," D'Artagnan pointed out.
"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious," Athos said dryly. He turned his attention back to Aramis, who even by the faint torchlight from the tunnel outside had gone visibly greenish. "Is there any chance you could walk on it?"
He knew the answer even before Aramis shook his head wearily. "No, I don't think so," he muttered, letting his head fall back to rest against Porthos's shoulder. The larger Musketeer shifted slightly to give him a better angle, resting his cheek against Aramis's hair.
Athos sighed bitterly, realizing that the leader of the cartel had cleaved through all his burgeoning escape plans in one go by hobbling Aramis.
His sigh must have been louder than he thought, for Aramis rolled his head around to look over at him. "You should go," he said quietly. "You can bring reinforcements."
Behind him, Porthos had gone very still. "If you're fucking suggesting we leave you…" he began furiously, but Athos cut him off.
"I think we'd be better off sticking together for now," he said diplomatically, trying to ignore the burning glare Porthos was vainly attempting to shoot at Aramis.
"What, just wait until they decide to kill us?" D'Artagnan sounded indignant, and Athos knew he, too, was trying to glare at him. "Why did they even capture us in the first place?"
"That is precisely what I would like to find out before we make any sort of escape attempt," Athos said patiently.
He felt D'Artagnan shiver against him and cursed the fact that their captors had ambushed them in their own camp, so the only one still wearing his jacket was Porthos. The caves were bitterly cold, and Athos did not doubt the temperature would serve to make them lethargic, further complicating any plans to escape.
Aramis had turned his face away once more, resting tiredly against Porthos, and Athos decided that since there was nothing better to do, they might as well get some sleep. "You need to get some rest, all of you," he said, ignoring D'Artagnan's snort of disbelief. "We'll have no chance of going anywhere if we're exhausted."
D'Artagnan grumbled behind him for a few minutes more, but at last he awkwardly propped his head against Athos's shoulder. Soon enough he was snoring.
Porthos lasted longer, sitting as still as possible so as not to jostle Aramis, but at last the long journey and the battle caught up with him. Soon he joined the chorus of snores.
Athos was contemplating taking his own advice when Aramis suddenly lifted his head from Porthos's shoulder, slowly turning to look at Athos.
Is he asleep? he mouthed, tilting his head at the large Musketeer.
Athos raised an eyebrow as another snore rippled through the cave. What do you think?
Aramis sighed, glancing down at his leg. Athos followed his gaze and winced. The area around his ankle had swollen noticeably, straining against the leather of his boot. His foot still flopped at an unnatural angle that made Athos feel nauseous.
"Athos," Aramis murmured, voice pitched low to keep from waking the others. "You know you have to escape."
Athos looked away. "We are not discussing this, Aramis."
"Yes, we are," Aramis insisted. "If you don't go for backup, we'll all be killed. You know this. Whatever reason they kept us alive, it's not a good one."
"That is immaterial. Porthos will never leave without you."
"But you can."
Athos blinked at the statement. It was true. He would hate it, and the guilt would be churn like acid in his gut, but he could leave Aramis behind, hidden somewhere safe, if it freed him to go for reinforcements. It was the cold, logical decision, and Athos hated himself for being able to make it, but he could.
"You and D'Artagnan need to escape," Aramis continued grimly. "I know you have a way to get free. Free us all, and then Porthos and I can find somewhere to hide if I can't convince him to go with you too."
Athos couldn't help it: he actually snorted with unexpected laughter.
Aramis eyed him crossly. "Yes, yes, I know it's unlikely, but maybe he'll listen for once in his life," he muttered.
"He isn't going to like this," Athos pointed out, the moment of levity lost.
Aramis rolled his eyes. "Why do you think we are discussing this while he is asleep?"
"Fair enough."
"Now, do you or do you not have a way to get free?" Aramis asked. Athos blinked, reaching around with careful fingers until he brushed the back of his belt. Sliding his fingers along the underside, he came at last upon the carefully concealed razor that he'd had worked into the belt itself.
"Yes, I do."
Aramis smiled. The expression was bleak against his pale face. "Good. Cut yourself free and try not to wake D'Artagnan. Then do me."
"Why can't I wake D'Artagnan?" Athos asked, slightly thrown by the fact that Aramis was giving the orders.
"Because he'll wake Porthos, and the pair of you will want to be ready to go long before we free Porthos, or he'll threaten to bring the whole place down upon you if he thinks you're planning to leave me." He caught Athos's eye and grinned wryly. "I love him, but he can be an idiot at times like this."
Athos nodded. He could imagine exactly how Porthos would react to the idea that they leave Aramis behind, even if he did insist on staying with him.
His fingers had gone numb from the tight restraints, so it took him a lot of slow, careful sawing at his bonds before he was finally free. His bonds fell away, freeing D'Artagnan as well, though miraculously the boy slumbered on even when Atos carefully extricated the shoulder he'd been using as a pillow. He rubbed some feeling back into his hands before scuttling over to Aramis.
"So, fearless leader, what's the plan?" Aramis asked as Athos cut him free. He tried to grin cheekily, but it fell flat in the face of his evident exhaustion.
"This place is built like a warren. The way they brought us in looked seldom used, so we'll head out that way and do our best to avoid detection. Once we get out, we'll head back to the garrison and return with reinforcements."
Aramis raised his eyebrows at him. "That's your master plan?"
"I didn't have much time to think of anything better," Athos shrugged. Aramis's bonds came away at last and he tried to haul his arms around, hissing as circulation picked up once more.
"We'd best wake the others," he whispered. "D'Artagnan first."
Athos nodded and headed over to D'Artagnan, placing a hand over his mouth before shaking him lightly. For simplicity's sake, he left it there until he had finished explaining the plan, cutting off the inevitable questions.
Once D'Artagnan had been brought up to speed, and his dozen questions answered concisely, Aramis twisted slightly to shake Porthos's shoulder, wincing as he tried to keep his leg still.
Porthos came to abruptly, glancing around wildly for a moment before taking in the fact that they were all free. "What's all this, then?" he growled, shifting carefully until he was bracing Aramis up with the side of his shoulder rather than his back.
"It's an escape, obviously," Aramis muttered. "Athos will lead you all out the entrance tunnel and-"
Really, it was surprising he made it that far before Porthos cut him off with a growl. "I'm not going anywhere without you."
"Porthos, be reasonable," Aramis pleaded. "I can hide away in some forgotten corner and be perfectly safe while you ride off for help."
"They can ride off and we'll both hide in some forgotten corner," Porthos said stubbornly, glowering at Athos as if daring him to argue.
"We haven't time to discuss this. D'Artagnan and I will go for help. Do you need our assistance in finding a suitable cave?"
Porthos shook his head. Aramis broke in once more. "Porthos, please, just go with them. I'll be-"
"Not going anywhere." Porthos didn't even look at him as he said it, already shifting to clamber to his feet. Aramis swayed alarmingly at the loss of support but managed to keep upright.
Porthos reached down and hauled him to his feet with a gentleness that belied his size and seemed reserved exclusively for Aramis. The smaller man failed to fully bite back a groan at the motion but stayed on his feet once up.
Athos looked at them and felt fear clench his heart. So many things could happen while he was gone, and he had no way of knowing if he and D'Artagnan would return in time. But they had no choice, and so with a heavy heart he murmured, "Be safe," and clasped their hands.
As he led D'Artagnan down the corridor, he thought he heard Aramis murmur, "God go with you."
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