A/N:

And the Award for the best quote spotting goes to...

Continuous quote spotter: Jmp! For spotting quotes since episode 2.

Quote detective: Debbie! She knows not only the quotes but also who said it in which context.

Expert quote spotter: Helensg! For spotting quotes from two episodes in a single chapter.

Special thanks to pallysdeeks, Justaguest, arduna, Luthien17 and Deana for also recognizing quotes.

And to all you other readers and reviewers out there: all of your clicks and comments are awesome! They make me very happy. I would also love to hear about any of your wishes or feelings about the next chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Some people just want to watch the world burn. For them there is beauty in the glorious flames licking at buildings, symphony in the screams of victims and peace to be found in the pieces left behind. Some people can never feel anything except through the terror of others. Some people are helpless to stop themselves and their monster inside, simple bystanders at the scene of their bloody crime. Some were hurt in the past and if beauty is pain, there shall be beauty in everything. And some people wholeheartedly believe in the terrible catharsis they need to cause. In their own dark diaries, they're the teachers of mankind, mothers and fathers of a new and better future.

Athos coughed. Analytical thoughts ran like an endless movie, keeping him caught in his seat. Mrs. Richter was of the latter category. Mrs. Richter had taken her name, the German equivalent of the word judge, and set herself up as judge, jury and executioner of innocents. Mrs. Richter had won, they had lost. Was this the new and better future?

He coughed again, blinked slowly, tried to straighten in his seat and failed. If this was the future, the future would be gray. Dust coated everything and it was gloomy after most of the lights had shut down. Some people were moving, stumbling as if they were all zombies in a horror movie. Some people were not moving at all.

Athos coughed, spitting blood on the floor from a cut inside his cheek. His blue empty eyes were roaming through the corridor, caught in shock and pressed into the theater seat. Somebody rushed by, a fairy woman sobered up by the living nightmare they were immersed in. She screamed like a true banshee, claws caught in her hair as she fell to her knees beside the dead pumpkin king. The sound pierced the cloud of fog around him and suddenly, the signals he had been receiving reached his brain with overwhelming force.

He coughed, rocked back into the leather backrest while his fingers curled around the armrests of his wheelchair. He jumped as if hit by a bolt of lightning, hair flying as somebody grasped his shoulder and pulled him completely back into his body. It was the fairy, tearstreaked and frantic in her pleas. Her make-up was holding tight to her features, though, glittery and beautiful in her heart-wrenching pain.

"Hilfe! Helfen Sie mir, er atmet nicht!" He's not breathing, Athos repeated mentally and stared at the woman without comprehension.

Who?

Aramis. Was Aramis still breathing? Aramis had been running right at the explosion, at the bomb. He'd obviously not made it. The bomb had detonated, but where was Aramis?

"Please! Please, help!"

He couldn't help, he had to find Aramis. Athos gruffly shook off her fingers and spiraled himself forward, opting for a route right around the teenager's body when the guilt hit. Aramis would never allow him to do this were he here. The Spaniard would despise Athos for not caring about the civilians first. Treville's words from training shot through him like an order. Civilians first. Nonetheless, he hesitated while his heart reached into the bowels of the hospital towards his brother's whereabouts. Where was Aramis? Was he alive?

"Step aside, let me look at him." He couldn't leave. He could not search for the medic, not yet. Civilians first, no matter how much it hurt.

"What's his name?", he asked, mostly to occupy the crying banshee next to him. Slipping out of his seat, he sat down next to the boy. As close as he was right now, he estimated the youth to be around twenty years old and in good physical condition beneath the fluffy orange costume. However, there was no pulse and a big head wound to consider.

"Nikolai."

"Take off Nikolai's dress. I need to reach his chest", he instructed calmly. As expected, the woman obeyed, clinging to authority and the task like a lifeline. Her manicured fingers were slim and pretty as she worked on the zipper of the costume, nearly as quick as Aramis'.

Athos carefully turned the boy's head aside so that he could examine the wound. Light brown hair obstructed his vision and a sizable pool of blood was staining the hospital hallway. The fairy had exposed the kid's chest, which was sprinkled with freckles here and there. It wasn't moving and with each second his hopes of survival were dwindling.

"Start compressions in the middle of his chest. Push down as hard as you can to the rhythm of Staying Alive by the Bee Gees. "

"Like that?" She was determined now.

"Yes. Continue."

The musketeer gave up on seeing anything in the low light and felt along the skull for the wound. Suddenly the bone gave beneath his very light touch and he found a hole the size of a penny. A small piece of metal, perhaps a spatula, poked out of it and something squishy was leaking out. Brain matter, he thought grimly and tried to keep his stomach inside his own body as he dry heaved. Nikolai had a piece of metal lodged deeply in his brain, and it was apparent that it had been moved, probably by the impact with the floor. This would have ruptured his brain, killing any possibility of life.

Athos leaned back, took a deep breath. Coughed in the dust and tried not to break beneath the strain of having lost a life. It was his fault the young man would never again smile, kiss somebody or simply open his eyes. The freckles on his chest blurred as Athos cried a single tear of regret before he firmly locked his emotions down and threw away the key.

"Stop", he told the fairy, who looked up at him as if he could move mountains.

"Do we need to do mouth-to-mouth now?" She'd seen it in his face, that's why her high voice was trembling like his tired muscles. The banshee didn't believe it yet, but she knew. And this made him the herald of death, a role he despised.

"I am so sorry for your loss", Athos said without inflection, too close to losing it himself to offer solace. He winced as she let loose a wail worthy of the mythical creature she was impersonating. Her blond hair fell into her face as she bent down to caress her friend's body.

"Please don't leave me." She whispered time after time and stayed lost in an embrace with Nikolai's limp body.

"I'm sorry." With a strength he hadn't known he still possessed, Athos pushed himself back up into the wheelchair. Nikolai's face morphed into Aramis as Athos blinked and dizzily fought a blackout. The numbness was threatening to spin a cocoon around him again, but Athos pushed a fist down into his knife wound and the pain brought him back. Hot needles against the cool detachment of impending shutdown.

Aramis. Civilians came first, but there were no other civilians in the corridor and he could see nurses and doctors in the bigger ER room. Off to his left, sirens announced the arrival of reinforcements. He could find Aramis now. He had to make sure Aramis was safe.

The thought lent him wings as he drove around pieces of the wall, doors that were bent inside and around capsized trolleys full of medical equipment. The closer he got to ground zero, the worse the destruction became. He could already see the entrance to the room, yet there was no beaming Spaniard in sight.

Would there be anything left to bury? What if it wasn't even recognizable any more, burned to a crisp? What if he'd only find pieces? His stomach was in open rebellion, bile pushing against his stubbornly closed mouth.

His wheels crossed the threshold to the wrecked chamber and Athos' breath caught as he surveyed the chaos no human could possibly survive. The barrels were completely shredded, the thick plastic strewn around the room and sticking in the walls like an alien decoration. There was a little wood in the corner that might have been a banana crate before but could be used as kindling now.

"Aramis. Aramis, don't leave me." His words and thoughts echoed the woman's feelings in the corridor, a black hole of grief and confusion and the nagging question of why. Why hadn't they stayed outside, why had they gone inside, why had Aramis not deactivated the bomb in time? Why had they been too late, why hadn't Aramis achieved his goal? Why had he failed, why…? Anger took over.

"Aramis!", he bellowed in an unexplainable rage and hit the wall with bone-breaking force. "Aramis!"

"Athos." It was a whisper in the dead of night but also a ray of sunshine. A way out of this catastrophe. It was the voice of a living being, a promise.

"Aramis, where are you?" He was already moving, carelessly bumping against trash and pushing the wheels with bleeding knuckles towards the door. He stopped right in the doorway as he heard a raspy intake of air, followed by a single sound of hope.

"Here."

Turning left, he chucked away the remains of the broken iron door as if they were a sheet of paper. He didn't even think about the action, solely focused on the twitching hand that could be seen beneath it. Aramis came into view as the door clattered to the ground. He was covered in even more dust than Athos and looked thoroughly bruised. His head was lying on his outstretched arm, eyes halfway closed but aware. His body spasmed in aftershocks every once in a while, feet kicking out feebly.

"Thanks for lifting that. Bit heavy", he managed to say between grimaces and coughs that sounded just like his brothers'. The elder musketeer let himself fall to the floor again, overcome with the madness of his warring emotions. Anger, relief, fear, worry, happiness.

"You fool", he murmured and pulled the man's head onto his lap, grateful for the warm flesh and the faint heartbeat through the clothes. Had somebody asked him to let go of his brother right now, Athos wouldn't have been capable. He held on.

"We refuse to die", Aramis said and grinned, his teeth white in the darkness.

"Why were you so close to the explosion?" Athos voice was rough and strict, a commanding officer. In contrast Aramis chuckled light-heartedly.

"Had fifty seconds. Saw a dozen detonators, too many cables. Checked the barrels and saw water inside, so I dumped the bomb into the middle one. Hoping for short circuit or something, I dunno. I ran. Felt the boom and dove behind the doors. Heatwave, blackout", he summarized with a lot less verbosity than normal. Seems like explosions disable charm for a while, Athos thought wryly. Having checked his brother over for injuries, Athos was mostly certain that the Spaniard would be back to his tricks soon.

"You're a fool", he repeated, stroking his brother's hair absently. All the while, he couldn't conceal an affectionate smile. Leave it to Aramis to make it through hell in one piece. Neither of them had any ambition to move, so they were in exactly the same position when the rescue forces eventually found and evacuated them.

The medics were a team of very efficient triplets. Dark skin, bald heads and funny German accents that indicated their origin from Bavaria. Their hands were certain and only prodded where it was necessary, so Athos warily granted them access to his brother. Said brother squeezed his hand reassuringly even as they took them away in separate ambulances.

One of the triplets, Athos couldn't guess whether it was Paul, Gerrit or Johann even though they had introduced themselves only a minute ago, was riding with him and patiently explained what would happen to Aramis while he worked on Athos. He must have recognized the tension leaving him as soon as he began to talk about the Sniper. Perceptive man. "He has a lot of blunt trauma. We need to make sure his internal organs aren't damaged. This will take a while, but since you are next of kin we will keep you updated?"

Athos simply grunted. Moving seemed too much of a chore right now, his body as heavy as if the sky was resting on his shoulders.

"Hallo? Herr Athos, Sie müssen wach bleiben..." Need to stay awake. Need to… sleep.

He woke to the sound of a woman bossing around somebody else and immediately relaxed. It was a warm and caring voice with just enough bite to scare off the children, light of tone and easy in her experienced confidence. Anne was here.

Athos opened his eyes and acknowledged her after he'd checked on the other two beds in the room: Aramis and Porthos were sleeping soundly. In the meantime, Anne was wearing her amour of choice: an elegant black pantsuit paired with high heels and a simple white top beneath. All eyes were drawn to her neck and her hands, though, where thick golden jewelry with a few large emeralds showed off her wealth and position. Even more emeralds in her updo subtly suggested a crown. Athos nodded to himself, satisfied with the impressive figure she cut. The policeman opposite her did not stand a chance.

"I need to interrogate them. They could be valuable witnesses", the officer said, although his sour tone indicated that he thought it unlikely.

"My men are protected by diplomatic immunity. Furthermore, they are exhausted and injured. You will not wake them to conduct your interview."

"One of them is awake!" His voice became louder, which earned him a disapproving glance from Anne. She didn't even turn around to check whether the man was correct. To her it apparently didn't make a difference either way.

"Call your superior. You are not qualified to be here and impose on foreign dignitaries." Oh, Anne was losing her patience. Athos slowly turned his aching head and wondered how long this tug-of-war had been going on. At least the officer seemed to have gotten the memo and trudged off.

"That was brilliant, Anne. Poor chap never know what hit him", Aramis suddenly complimented. Whereas Anne nodded with a polite smile, Athos' eyebrows came down slightly in a suspicious expression. He glanced at the hospital bed to his right.

"Porthos?"

"What?"

"None of you were actually sleeping?", Athos asked, a little embarrassed that he hadn't spotted the deception right away.

"Nah, sleep is overrated." The man shrugged, then he turned thoughtfully to Anne.

"Is it legal to take out a life insurance policy on someone you aren't related to?"

Taken aback, Anne crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I don't know. Why?"

"Well, somebody should benefit from their bad decisions", Porthos claimed and pointed at both his comrades. Aramis laughed, which quickly morphed into a wince he tried to hide.

"I managed to disable my bomb", Athos submitted in his defense. Aramis didn't take offense at the implication, an obvious sign that he wasn't back to normal yet. Before the trio could dissolve into bickering, Anne stepped between them.

"What were you even doing there? Constance informed me in the morning that you were interviewing witnesses but then you weren't reachable all day and I had to receive a call from the hospital to find out where you are." She was worried and frankly, she had a right to be. Athos sighed and quickly recounted the story. Porthos added his input to the tale and soon a picture was forming in their minds.

"You are lucky to even be alive", Anne muttered and Athos noticed that her glance was lingering on Aramis a little longer than necessary.

The door opened before they could discuss any further plans. A man with black hair and a cane entered. His beady eyes roamed over them and their visible bruises before he addressed Anne.

"Good morning, Madame. My name is Ferdinand Meister. I'm the chief of police." Taking her hand and kissing it without permission, his sleazy grin widened. "According to witness testimony, Athos of the Musketeers was seen tampering with an explosive device just prior to the explosion. I would very much like to hear his statement. All of you men's statements, beginning with how they were injured."

The beetle eyes held no sympathy at all as the chief of police surveyed the lines around Aramis' and Athos' throat.

"Moreover, there is the question of their credibility since they were reported in company with a known terrorist."

"Rubbish." That was Porthos. Athos, already taking a great dislike to the interrogator, remained quiet and watchful.

"The Chancellor might not believe their words, Mr. Meister, but she will certainly believe mine."

"The Chancellor? This isn't about politics, this is about finding and prosecuting the terrorist Charles d'Artagnan before he can kill any more people."

"Everything is about politics", Anne said calmly. Her stance and her position between the German and the musketeers proved that she would gladly get Chancellor Merkel involved if it would help her cause. In response, Meister changed tactics.

"Where is he? Are you hiding him somewhere? I know what you Musketeers are like."

"What are you talking about, monsieur?", Aramis interjected all doe eyed. Athos suppressed a smirk.

"He was seen with you yesterday afternoon."

"Well, he's not with us, I can assure you that", Athos said drily and indicated the room.

"Harboring a fugitive is a crime and diplomatic immunity only goes so far." Was that a warning or a threat? The amount of posturing involved definitely suggested the latter. Athos frowned, a gesture that was mirrored on Anne's fine features.

"Conflict between France and Germany is a high price to pay if there is any doubt", she answered. To the untrained eye it must look as if Meister hadn't even managed to rock her boat, but Athos could see the strain in her rigid shoulders. Aramis could see it as well, because he quickly diverted the attention to himself.

"Well, I challenge that assumption. I have no choice", the Spaniard said with a smile, "Since you have the whole story backwards, I shall endeavor to challenge anything you say."

"Oh?" Interest lit up the chief's face. His ringed fingers tapped on his cane.

"That boy saved our lives. You should be lookin' for Mrs. Richter and her butler. They set up the bomb and they tried ta kill us."

"Mrs. Tamara Richter is grieving for her husband, who you know was killed in the initial assault on the Richter home. She will be questioned but only as a victim. She's a highly esteemed citizen. I highly doubt her involvement", Ferdinand Meister replied. Athos noticed that he didn't take any notes and showed no surprise whatsoever. The old man hesitated for a moment, though, and Athos hoped that they'd finally gotten through to him. Then the supercilious expression returned onto the pale skin in full force.

"Also, Mrs. Richter does not have and has never had a butler. Perhaps you should talk to your men about lying to the police, Madam."

Anne simply stared him down, neither giving an inch until Meister turned on his heel and stalked out. In the doorway he halted. "I don't know whether you are confused or mislead, but Charles d'Artagnan is a conniving individual and the German authorities will not rest until he is brought to justice. Do not interfere, gentlemen, you're already walking on very thin ice."

Involuntarily, Athos wondered whether in Meister's opinion justice equaled a fair trial or a bullet to the heart. What a despicable man he was, but the fact remained that the chief of police would not lie to them. "If Mirco is not a butler, who is he?"

"And most importantly, where do we find him and Richter?", Aramis added. "Can we even verify any of our claims? What can we prove?"

"We need to find at least one of them", Anne agreed, "It'll be the only way to exonerate d'Artagnan."

They thought about it for a while. Athos was mostly busy keeping up with the ridiculous theories Aramis was coming up with: the more they talked, the more lively the Sniper became. The medication he'd been given to ease his concussion symptoms and the deep tissue bruising was obviously working well.

"Remember what I told you about the butler?", Aramis inquired after a while. He was leaning back against the pillows on the headboard in a tired manner, but his mind was chipping away at the problem like a stone mason.

"Extrovert. Sportive. Grown up poor", Athos summarized.

"Yes. I based that assertion partially on his hands. They were calloused here and here", he said and showed them parts of his own palm. "His skin is tanned. He has a bad back from lifting things or pulling hard without the right techique. He lives in a port town. He's a sailor."

"That's a rather long shot", Athos admonished while Anne send a message to Constance on her phone. Once it was done, she looked at all of them sharply.

"This must be done properly. According to the rules. Another misstep and we might have to leave this country."

"Damn the rules." Athos' voice was quiet but filled with determination. Aramis smiled at him from across the room as they all threw off their covers.

"My sentiments exactly. Let's go catch us a ghost."

German translations:

Hilfe! Helfen Sie mir, er atmet nicht! - Help! Help me, he is not breathing!

Hallo? Herr Athos, Sie müssen wach bleiben. - Hello? Mr. Athos, you need to stay awake.