This is the last bit. It's been fun even though I know it is no-where near the standard of others. Thanks for being kind and patient enough to humour me. 
*
Norah woke up, feeling groggy and sick. She was on a bed in a strange room. Her head pounded as she tried to sit up and work out what had happened. She realised she was dressed only in her chemise, 'who had undressed her?' she wondered, looking around the room for clues.
It was a strange room, full of sacks and old saddles. It smelt horsey and the bed was tucked away in the corner of it, hidden.
'Stables?' She thought. But where and how the fuck did she get here? She tried to think back, looking around as she did. She last remembered dancing with Rochefort. Norah threw up into the thoughtfully positioned chamber pot.
She saw her dress, hung on a hook. She looked over it, and found it had been removed carefully, so as not to destroy it. There on a stool lay her corset, again, undone with care. He had obviously taken his time and as she was passed out he had all the time in the world. She shuddered, what else had he done?
She inspected her chemise and the rough sheets on the bed, but found no evidence of anything. She didn't feel as if he'd forced himself into her either, and remembered the last time when he'd told her he liked his victims awake and screaming.
'No,' she thought. 'I've been spared that for now at least.'
She returned to the bed, sipping at the water Rochefort had left behind, hoping it too hadn't been drugged. It tasted alright.
Norah lay back and closed her eyes, fighting to remain calm, remembering that this was what they had been planning. She thought about her next move, no doubt the door was locked, and the window was too high to even look out of. She saw it was beginning to get light and wondered if anyone had noticed she was missing yet. She suspected so and that cheered her. Getting up she wandered around, trying the door, just in case. She found another smaller hidden door and opened it. Inside was a small table with some odd looking instruments on it, puzzled, she looked further in. She saw a noose had been slung over a beam, ready for her she supposed. She slumped against the wall and closed her eyes again, terror welling up.
She breathed out slowly, she had been told so many times to remain calm, to look and to think clearly. She could almost hear Athos now. She could do it, and she opened her eyes again. There was a small cabinet against the wall, a chair and a table with candles on it was next to it.
'Odd' she thought and crept around the noose to get a better look. She picked the lock easily enough using one of her combs, just as Porthos had shown her. Shaped like a long pin it was a useful weapon, one that was easily overlooked. She put it back in her hair, mentally thanking Lady Caitlin for lending it to her.
It was well oiled and didn't squeak as she had supposed being in such a damp dirty place. Her nose wrinkled as the smell of vinegar hit it.
Her mouth fell open in horror. There were lots of small jars, filled with what she assumed was pickling vinegar.
Each contained a finger, the ring finger by the look of it, and they all looked small enough to be female.
Norah looked away, almost throwing up again.
This is where he brought his victims, where he tortured them and finally murdered them. He had been doing it for years and no one had ever discovered it, let alone found any proof. Norah felt her courage fail her, she backed away from the dreadful cupboard, tripped and fell.
Hélène climbed the rough wooden steps, careful to use only the unbroken ones. Steadying herself at the top, she tried the door. It was locked of course. Looking up, she saw the heavy bolt. It was clean and clearly used regularly. She doubted it would make a noise and was right.
Slowly opening the door, she peered into the room. She saw a dim glow of a candle at the far side and crept towards it. Only now did she think how handy it would have been to have a weapon if some sort.
She froze as a rat ran suddenly across her path. Ugh she hated rats. Steadying herself she moved onwards.
Hearing a sudden crash, she ducked down, heart pounding. Hearing a wail of despair she took a deep breath and ran towards it. Barely registering the macabre scene around her, she saw Norah sitting on the floor hugging her knees.
"Norah!" She fell next her and hugged her tight. "Norah it's ok, I've got you."
Another noise, too loud to be another rat startled her. She looked out and saw Rochefort approaching.
Holding Norah even tighter, she buried her face in her hair, terrified.
"Forgive me" she whispered, kissing her friend, then disappeared behind the door just as Rochefort got to it.
He was badly hurt, bleeding from his nose, a cut lip and eyebrow. He limped a little and held his ribs.
"Oh, you've ruined the surprise " he pouted. Norah scrambled back away from him. He laughed.
"It's alright. This room comes later, much later. Shall we go back to bed?" He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up, then kissed her. She turned away and he slapped her hard.
"I like it when they fight, remember?" He grinned. Grabbing her hair he dragged her back to the bed.
"I was ever so careful with your lovely dress" he mocked. "Don't worry, I haven't touched you yet. I wanted to save it for when you woke up. Well, maybe I did a little bit, whet the appetite you know?" He glanced at her neck and breasts and leered.
"Get on the bed"
Norah took a deep breath.
"No."
He punched her.
"Get on the bed."
She got up, stood in front if him and looked him calmly in the eyes.
"No"
His grin faltered, and he went to hit her again. This time she was ready and ducked out of the way. He laughed and tried again, again she moved easily out of the way. His laugh hardened.
"I told you I like it when they fight. You're going to be the best one I've had." He lunged for her, but she had been practising against the best and he was injured. She twisted away and landed a fist in his throat for good measure. Rochefort was furious now, choking but still he laughed. Time seemed to slow for Norah. She felt as if she might have a chance.
"That feeling you just got." He coughed. "Forget it." He went for her again. This time she punched his hurt ribs. He screamed with fury and pain. She removed the hair pin and stood ready.
"I'll fucking gut you you bi..." Suddenly, he fell to the floor. Norah looked up and saw Hélène standing there holding a now broken chair.
They looked at each other for a second.
"I'm so sorry." Hélène whispered. "I didn't know..if I had I'd never have.."
"I know." Reaching for her dress and corset flung them over her shoulder. "It's ok." Norah hugged her friend. "It's fine."
Hélène nodded gratefully, averting her eyes, embarrassed that they were full of tears and held onto her friend tightly.
"We need to go before he wakes up. Do you know the way home?" Norah asked.
Hélène nodded.
"I am home. You're still at the palace, these are the stables."
The two friends smiled and left, it was snowing again and Norah's face was starting to throb where it had been hit and the drug Rocheforte had used made her wobbly again in the cold air.
Rounding the corner, they saw the musketeers with Treville and Richeliue, talking urgently, huddled around a fire.
"How the fuck did he escape?" Porthos was furious, "you should have let me finish him." He rounded on Athos. "If she ends up dead I will kill you. Do you understand?"
"Porthos, please." Aramis stepped in front of Porthos. "We couldn't let you kill him, you'd have hanged for it."
"As much as it pains me, Aramis is right." Said Richelieu, glaring a little at Aramis.
They had stepped outside the stable for a minute, trying to calm Porthos before he beat Rochefort to death with his bare hands. When they had returned he was gone.
Athos looked haggard as he watched his friend's suffering.
"That stable's needed fixing for ages now. He probably used the hole we had patched up for tonight." Hélène called out. She and Norah walked towards them, still holding onto each other tightly.
The men looked around at her, their faces angry. D'Artagnan was already running to see it this was the case.
Porthos' face was disbelieving at first, then lit up. He ran to Norah and caught her as she stumbled again.
He checked her for signs of injury,
"Are you ok? Are you hurt?" He carried her gently to the others.
"I'm fine, unhurt." She laughed between his kisses. "Well, my face is a bit sore and I feel like I've been up drinking all night, but otherwise I'm ok" She burst into tears and buried her face in his chest.
"Where is he?" Richelieu asked Hélène.
"I'll take you. But I'm not going back in there." She led Richelieu, Athos. and Aramis towards the building they had left Rochefort in.
"I'll take you home shall I?" Porthos asked Norah gently, kissing her head, breathing her in. He'd thought he'd lost her.
"Yes please." She answered in a small voice.
"Tell them where we are when they get back." He told D'Artagnan.
"Yes, of course." D'Artagnan nodded.
After he'd laid her in their bed, Porthos looked down at Norah and smiled. Removing his own clothes he got in beside her, took her in his arms and pulled her tight to him. Smiling up at him she brought his mouth to hers and kissed him, as surprised as she was when her tongue sought his.
He gently rubbed her sore cheek with his thumb. She pulled him close, wanting more. They kissed for a long time, their hands unhurriedly exploring each other's bodies. Slowly their kisses grew more urgent, his hands grasping her arse, pulled her onto his cock and he turned them both over so he was leaning on his arms looking down at her. He watched her face as he slowly withdrew and pushed back in, and caught his breath at how turned on it made him feel seeing her like that. He did it again, and felt himself lose control when she made her half gasp- half whimper.
He fucked her, harder then, and she put her legs around his hips, drawing him in closer. They both came, his arms giving way so that he collapsed onto her. Laughing he moved over onto his side and kissed her again.
Norah turned and wrapped her arms around him smiling sleepily, half lying on him, her face against his chest.
Tomorrow he would ask Treville. It was unusual but not unheard of for a musketeer to be married. He thought briefly of Athos and chuckled at that whole mess.
Removing a stray bit of ivy from her hair he kissed her, closed his eyes and slept.