A/N: So here's to hoping people are still interested in this 'verse. There may be police procedure and medical inaccuracies in this, my research and understanding is limited in both.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable in this story, not making any money.

"We know one another's faults, virtues, catastrophes, mortifications, triumphs, rivalries, desires, and how long we can each hang by our hands to a bar. We have been banded together under pack codes and tribal laws." – Rose Macaulay

Sitting back in his chair he rubbed his eyes and winced at the dry itchy feeling of it. Pulling away his hands the young man stretched his arms over his head and winced at the pull along the slope of neck; but it did nothing to loosen the knot at the base of it. There was a tightness coiled in the back of his head from staring at the screen too long.A glance at the corner of the screen before him declared that he had been at it for sixteen hours.

No wonder his back hurt and his rear was numb.

He twisted in his seat and tried to soften the twinge between his shoulders even as he entered the last command. The rapid keystrokes were rewarded with a window opening on the screen and a live feed of a building front came into view.

It was five in the morning. He was not expecting the front door to open and the man to emerge this early; a backpack on his shoulder and a long case in one hand.

He watched as the man zipped up his hoodie coming down the stairs, then turned around as though calling out for someone even as he stuck his free hand in his pocket and hopped from foot to foot. A taller figure emerged from the doorway, walked past him and towards the black car where he dumped his duffel bag at his feet. Crossing his arms before him the big man leaned back against the car and dropped his chin to his chest.

It was a five minutes wait and then he appeared out of the door.

Olivier d'Athos d'La Fere.

His chair squeaked as the young man sat forward, shoulders hunched as he moved closer to the screen and tried to clear the grainy image as best as could. He had spent a couple of years to track down this Athos, gone through countless databases to find the name, his only advantage being that the name was rare.

It had still been a disappointment that this man did not match the face of the man who had been caught on camera while leaving the alley where he had murdered Alexander d'Artagnan.

But the young man was sure that this Athos was involved in the murder somehow, the woman had said that he will have the answers. That was why he was spying on him from afar, he wasn't sure he could hold himself back from attacking the man should they come face to face.

His attention focused back on the screen as the three men drove away and he pulled out from the camera feed; closing the proverbial back door quietly behind him. Now that he had built this door, he would have to use it wisely.

His mobile phone buzzed and he frowned at Dujon's number.

Picking up the phone he paused to gather his bearing. Inhaling through his nose the young man blew out a breath before he accepted the call.

"What?" he pressed the device to his ear, "I told you I won't pass on any information to your boss; that's not how I work,"

"Boss agreed to your conditions," Dujon said, "I'll be coming to get you in five hours, pack your stuff."

"Good," he nodded, "I've the perfect candidate for this."

He cut the call and glanced at the screen where he had pulled Athos' picture form his work profile. The man had the perfect 'grey area' occupation to frame him for dark deeds and old family ties in France that wouldn't raise flags for the money transfer until after the sum had moved along. What he had done to this Athos in the past few days would be child's play compared to what he would unleash on him now. The young man felt a spark of guilt and stamped it down with a vengeance, yet he couldn't meet the cool blue eyes of the man in the picture and hastily closed the window on the screen.

Pushing away from the desk the young man got to his feet, reaching out for the wall when the world swayed at his sudden change in position. As the blood rushed to his toes he swallowed back a hiss at the tingling in his feet and ignored the headache just making itself known.

A tiny part of him knew he should eat something and get something for his suddenly parched throat but the rest of him just wanted to sleep. If only for the hour and a half before the grocery truck arrived for Mr. Enzo's pizza shop downstairs that he would help unload. It wasn't that he needed the money, but simply that he liked having someone to talk to even if Mr. Enzo did most of the talking. The man was always grateful for the help and eager to share the stories from his childhood.

A slow smile appeared on the young man's face at the thought, sometimes he wondered if Mr. Enzo was just as lonely as him.

Shaking his head to dislodge that thought he staggered the short distance to his bed, shoved aside the pile of clothes he had been meaning to wash and flopped down onto his side. Smushing his face in the pillow he willed the burning in his eyes to go away, because it wasn't only out of exhaustion that they stung.

It was a strange sense of isolation and yearning that had abruptly lodged itself in his throat. The ache in his lungs that was his father's memory rose in a wave to drown out the world. Pursing his lips against it he focused instead on the man he had found. After all these years he was so close to solving his father's murder, in just a few hours he would destroy the man who was behind it.

A frown etched on his face as sleep took him, his last thought was of Athos and how from all that he had been able to find out about him, nothing even remotely hinted Athos to be the evil man he had hoped him to be.

Sliding off the towel from around his neck Athos wiped at his face before rubbing it through his sweat damp hair. He dumped the towel on the bench beside him, ran a hand through his hair to push them back from his forehead and took a mouthful of water from the bottle he had picked up from next to his feet.

The sound of a body hitting the training mats reached him just as the thin crowd before him cheered.

"Who's next?" Porthos' voice asked loudly.

Athos rolled his eyes and screwed back the cap on the water bottle.

From his place he could only glimpse the action that had most of the people in the gym enthralled. He couldn't blame them, watching Porthos toss people across the training mats wasn't something that could ever get old. Checking a fond grin before it could cross his lips Athos got to his feet and plucked at his sweat drenched shirt in distaste.

"Is that all then?" Porthos demanded from the audience.

The new recruits hooped and clapped as some unfortunate soul took the challenge.

Athos made his way over to the training mats at a leisurely pace.

Captain Treville had decided to round the teams off at his company to even numbers of four and that had brought an influx of new faces. The new faces who were not smart enough to stand down when Porthos asked for a sparring partner. It was an unspoken rule; the three men from Team One only sparred amongst themselves, mostly because Athos and Aramis were the only ones who lasted more than a few minutes on the mats against Porthos.

"Alright, someone who knows how to fight this time,"

"I'll take you on!"

Although Athos was quite sure that when the Captain had asked them to supervise and help assimilate the new recruits into the company the boss hadn't had this in mind. Athos was entertaining a theory that their Captain had hoped that the three of them would pick out a new recruit to join their team instead of their superior ordering them to force one into their perfectly gelled group.

A smirk pulled at his face at the sneaky tactic he could see failing and he tempered it as the crowd parted to let him through.

Athos reached the mats in time to see Porthos flip a man over his shoulder and catch him in a headlock. The man was tapping out after thirty seconds. The challenger had a sheepish grin on his face and a new respect in his eyes when Porthos hauled him back to his feet.

The big man caught his friend's gaze and winked at him.

Athos raised a brow and mused that this was at least a good way to let the new recruits know about the dynamics of this work place, about how it was unhealthy to get in the way of the Inseparables as the three of them were known here. They were already giving him a wide berth after all, and Porthos did love his reputation as the unbeaten sparring champion at Treville's Security, Investigations and Retrieval Company.

"The show's over ladies and gentlemen," Athos turned to the crowd, "I'm sure the Captain will appreciate if we pretended to be working when he arrives."

Some chuckled, others nodded and the crowd dispersed.

"Still unbeaten," Porthos grinned as he padded over, "what? No congratulations for me?"

"And add hot air to that already inflated ego?" Athos raised a brow, "no thank you,"

He looked past Porthos where Aramis was standing on the other side of the area covered with blue mats. The younger man wasn't looking their way, leaning a shoulder against a pillar his face was turned to the wide windows far on his side where the early morning sun had lightened the sky.

It would be 'office time' soon but Athos knew that was not on his friend's mind at the moment. It was in the way he had his arms wrapped about his middle and the distant look in those dark eyes that spoke of a mind trapped in memories just scabbing over. It had only been a little over a year since that nightmare of a training exercise…

… "Something's gotta give Athos, it can't come to this –" Porthos draws his hand over his face then lets his head hang between his shoulders. Elbows pressed onto his thighs he stares down at his hands before looking up at him.

The grief in his eyes will not let Athos look away although he wants to.

"It can't go on like this," Porthos says, "he has to talk, he can't just not talk, you know it's just –"

The big man jerks his head in a frustrated abortive move. Athos doesn't tell him that he misses their brother's voice too, that Aramis' silence is starting to frighten him.

"He'll come around Porthos," he says, "he has to,"

And he ignores the way his voice wavers…

… Porthos had followed his line of sight and Athos pretended he didn't hear the curse that fell from his brother's lips. Instead he shook his head when the big man called their friend's name from halfway across the training mats.

"Aramis!" Porthos tried a bit loudly when the first few tries failed.

Their friend swung his head in the direction of the voice and a grin lit up his face even as his eyes shifted from one man to the other.

"Really? You're not going to congratulate me either?" Porthos demanded, spreading his arms wide as he looked to Athos and then back at Aramis, "still undefeated champion here."

And it was the Aramis from their childhood who glanced at Athos.

It was a fleeting look but Athos felt his own grin curl at the corner of his lips at the message he saw in those dark eyes; a gleam of mischief demanding a quick silent alliance that could only be reached after the decades of friendship like theirs.

Porthos' eyes widened, but he had intercepted the message a second too late.

In a juvenile move that none of their instructors would have approved Athos and Aramis tackled Porthos to the mats. The big man fell laughing as the two of them squirmed to keep him down, unsuccessfully latching onto his arms and sprawling over his legs. They had done this a thousand times over and still it came as a surprise when Athos felt his friend lift him off and dump him on Aramis. Porthos pinned them under him and with an arm across Aramis' neck he pressed Athos' face against the mats with his free hand.

"Give up," Porthos demanded, "surrender!"

"In your dreams," Athos muttered.

"Never!" Aramis managed past a chocked laugh, "You'll never take us alive!"

And Athos grinned against the vinyl wrinkling under his cheek even as he tried to kick off his friend. He bucked and shoved, but his efforts only hindered Aramis' who was trying to wriggle out to freedom too. The loud laughter from under him dissolved abruptly into snickers as the sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat reached Athos.

He stilled; felt the pressure on his face lessen and glanced at Porthos from the corner of his eye. The big man closed his eyes in a resigned sort of gesture, the only movement in their sudden stillness was from the chuckles that seemed to be bubbling out of Aramis' chest from where he was stuck under their combined weight.

"You three,"

Athos turned his head and ruthlessly ignored the sheepish grin on Porthos' face as the man rolled off of them.

"Captain," Athos said.

"Gentlemen,"

Feeling anything but a gentleman Athos pushed himself to sit up with as much dignity as possible. He resisted the urge to uselessly dust off his clothes as the other two followed his lead and came to stand with him before the Captain.

Porthos on one side of him, Aramis on the other.

Silently electing him as the one to face this down.

Captain Treville arched a brow.

And suddenly it wasn't the gym at work but the headmaster's office at their boarding school.

…the scent of leather bound books hangs in the warm air and his uniform is getting heavier by the minute in the toasty roam. Athos imagines steam rising from their damp sweaters and hopes that the growing stain on the carpet under their feet doesn't turn into a puddle.

At his side Porthos is still, lips pursed in a thin line and eyes set on the far wall. It's the stillness that gives away to the fact that that his friend had long since checked out mentally despite the physical presence and the somber outward appearances.

Athos envies Porthos' remarkably neat edged selective attention.

On his other side Aramis has the most contrite look on his face; if not for the slight upwards twitch at the corner of his lips and an unrepentant gleam in the dark eyes when they slant Athos' way.

"…and right in the courtyard no less."

Swiping away damp hair stuck to his forehead, Athos turns his attention back to what the headmaster is saying.

Because one of them has to pay attention to that.

And it seems he's the one left to court the questions.

Again.

This is their second year here and the fifth snowball fight that Athos would deny they had started. He bites back a put-upon sigh, Aramis loves snow and Porthos loves the outdoors in general. There will be a lot more of these talks coming their way Athos is sure. He's just glad the no one out of the three of them knows about the times Aramis had dragged them out in rainstorms.

For all his tendency to be the first one with chattering teeth, his friend loves the cold…

…that thought dissolved any lingering amusement that he felt at their situation. Athos knew his friend hated the cold now, after that training exercise a little over a year ago. The one that had ended in a massacre and left every snow blanket stained red for Aramis.

Some things had changed irrevocably.

"You were supposed to keep an eye on the new recruits," said Treville.

"I sent them off to the showers,"

Thankfully the gym was empty save for the four of them; Athos wondered how they could have lived this down if the new recruits had witnessed it. Resisting the urge to glare at the men on either side of him he resigned himself to the idea that with these two around he would never be able to actually grow up.

"You have a new assignment. Oh-nine-hundred, my office,"

With that the Captain marched out the way he had arrived and Athos felt Porthos shift on his feet beside him. A glance to his other side revealed shaking shoulders and Athos cuffed Aramis upside the head. His friend retaliated by abandoning all efforts of keeping his laughter in check.

"You do know he can't give us detention Athos," Aramis grinned, "or did you forget that?"

"He can still stick us with guard duty,"

"I think he learned not to do that," Aramis shrugged, "not after Porthos scandalized the farm animals."

"I saved that duckling from the pigsty,"

"And I'm sure mama duck and her friends only wanted to bestow a thank you hug," Aramis nodded, "why were you running again?"

"Because the demented beasts were snapping at me," Porthos shuddered at the memory.

Aramis laughed and Athos herded them towards the locker room. Dialing in the combination he reached for the clothes he had hung in there upon his arrival in the too-early hours of the morning; sometimes being the Captain's most trusted men had its disadvantages.

"Treville could have us as a secondary team to Rocheforts'." he tossed over his shoulder as he bent to grab his shoes.

"Not after Aramis brought that ferret in the surveillance van," Porthos grinned up at him from where he was pillaging his duffel bag.

"It was adorable and it wasn't his fault that the man had trained him to help him in burglaries," Aramis glanced back at him from the depths of his locker.

"You could have told us that you've caught the thief before that thing had unplugged every wire in there," Athos said.

"And miss out on Rochefort blowing his fuse at finding the burglar all tied up in the side alley? And that after he had spent so long playing mission impossible? Never!" Aramis closed his locker and turned to Athos, "and you were the one who broke Rochefort's nose last time we worked together. Treville had to foot the bill."

"He brought bodily harm to Porthos,"

"He jabbed me in the chest with a finger," the big man rolled his eyes.

"And Athos jabbed him in the face with a fist, seems reasonable" Aramis grinned.

He thumped him on the back as he walked past Athos and out the locker room. The heavy door closed with a snick and Athos raised an eyebrow without turning around to face the bench where he had left his toiletry bag.

"He stole my shampoo didn't he?" he asked.

"Whad'ya think?" Porthos grinned.

And some things never ever changed.

With a shake of his head Athos reached for his mobile phone and swiped the screen and it BARKED. He would deny to his last breath that he jumped in his skin at the horrible sharp sound. Curling his hand in a fist around his mobile phone Athos looked to Porthos when his friend swore roundly. The piece of technology kept on barking even as Athos tried in vain to silent the thing.

"Don't tell me it's him again!" Porthos got his feet.

Placing the mobile phone back in the locker Athos pressed a hand over it to further muffle the incessant barking. He turned to his friend with a bland stare.

"Unless a canine spirit has descended in my phone I'd say it's him,"

"You sure you don't know this Hound?" Porthos stared at his friend's hand when the mobile phone finally went quiet.

Athos picked it back up and stared at the screen where the face of a pitbull greeted him from behind the words THE HOUND. This was what had met him when his email account had been hacked a few days ago and he had handed his laptop over to Serge for debugging. The old technician had been livid because apparently this same Hound had hacked into the company database too, Serge was pretty sure that this person had come looking for Athos' files.

"I'm locked out of it now," he said.

"This Hound is good at what he does," Porthos shook his head, "but why are you the target?"

Athos shrugged and pulled out the battery of his mobile phone. Putting both items back in his locker he closed the metal door and locked it. This was getting out of hand; pursing his lips Athos glanced to his friend and found the same sentiment reflected in Porthos' gaze.

"Who did you annoy this time?" Porthos asked.

Athos couldn't stop the smirk from reaching his face.

"Would you like a chronological list or an alphabetical one?" he asked.

The picture was of a building that could politely be called vintage. It was a squashed looking structure with paned windows that were thrown open at the two upper levels and shut tight on the ground floor. The only door visible in the picture was closed too.

Detective Inspector Leon tapped the picture.

"This is where he'll be for breakfast this morning," he said.

"It's Mendoza's property," Porthos pointed out.

"Yes, this hotel and the building next to it," Leon said, "we cannot go in without a warrant and right now there's no solid ground for that."

Treville looked at the three of his best men. He didn't miss the way Laurent kept glancing towards them; the new recruit was perched into one of the chairs by the Captain's desk and hadn't moved ever since the Inseparables had entered the office.

"This is a recon assignment," Treville said, "do not engage Mendoza or his men; especially if one of his client's is there."

"A client who might be buying illegal ammunition?" Aramis flipped through the folder in his hand, "what gives you the idea we'll even try to look his way?"

An all too innocent glance came his way and Treville' eyes narrowed, he knew that grin on Aramis' face.

"Your purpose in there is to find out anything you can about Cornet," said the Captain and pushed forward four other pictures lying on his desk, "this is Cornet and his men. As of nine days ago they had officially been declared as gone off grid."

Athos picked up Cornet's picture and glanced up at Leon.

"He was your man on the inside?" he asked.

The Detective Inspector leaned a hip against the Captain's desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest before he gave a short nod. Treville could relate to the strain that was rolling off the man, losing a man in field was never easy.

"It was a deep undercover assignment, Cornet and his men had infiltrated the ranks from various points of Mendoza's set up." Leon nodded towards the picture in Athos' hand, "he was a good man and good at his job, extremely cautious. When he missed his last check-in two weeks ago we thought it might be his routine paranoia. But then the other three didn't make any contact either and it soon became apparent that they weren't active at their positions in Mendoza's ranks."

"How deep undercover are we talking?" Porthos took the picture from Athos and frowned at it, "are you sure that he didn't –"

"No," Leon snapped, "he didn't turn sides, Cornet would not do that."

"We will not believe that he had gone local until proven otherwise," Treville said.

It was uncanny the way the men from Team One looked at each other at the same instance, before turning to him in unison. The Captain decided he would one day get to the bottom of the reason as to why he let these men question his authority this way. No other team would even consider calling out the Captain on his stance.

"He was my friend," Leon said before Treville could offer an explanation, "Your Captain knew him too. Cornet had risked a lot going into this; he would not throw it all away for anything Mendoza can offer him."

Porthos nodded slowly as he placed the picture back on the desk, his jaw set in determination that was reflected in Athos' hardening eyes and the sudden press of Aramis' fingers against the folder he had been going through.

Loyalty to your friend; that was one thing Treville knew his men understood completely.

"You're not the only ones who had gone down this lane," Leon drew a hand through his hair, "especially since no evidence had turned up otherwise. We had thought that there'll be bodies at least by now but there's nothing. And now they're considering scrubbing three years worth of information on the presumption that Cornet and his men had turned."

Captain Treville collected the items scattered onto his desk and piled up the folders.

"You will be scoping sight A; get in and find out if you can overhear anything concerning Cornet," he said, "Team Two will be looking into sight B."

He raised his hand before the three of them could voice the objections clearly on the brink of being materialized.

"I will tell Rochefort that Team One will take point in this," he said, "You can take the conference room for debriefing but you leave in half an hour gentlemen, and remember recon doesn't mean you leave yourselves defenseless."

Aramis pressed a hand on his heart and stared at the Captain as though offended.

"I will never let them go in without me watching their backs," he said.

Treville smirked at the sniper and glanced fleetingly towards Laurent.

"And aren't you glad now that I had taken on Ninon on Team Two? She can watch over them and your attention wouldn't have to be divided now," he said, "and likewise I'm sure you'll find Laurent here a good addition to your team as well."

He drummed his fingers on the laptop on his knees, it wasn't his personal one but the one that he took when working out of his flat. It had lesser tricks and no personal data, precaution was a necessity with the clientele like his.

"I'm putting my neck out for you y'know," Dujon turned in his seat to face the young man in the back, "the boss wasn't convinced easily,"

"As far as I know Mendoza reached out to me," he stared back blandly, "something about my work being highly recommended,"

"Don't get too cocky kid," Dujon turned away with a growl, "and what sort of a name is Hound anyway?"

"The Hound," he corrected the man, "you should at least know the proper name of the man you're vouching for."

Dujon snarled under his breath and glared at the driver who had been grinning. The Hound ignored him and watched the world roll by from the car window. This job was getting too personal and he didn't like the way everything he had come to know about was churning in his gut. He reminded himself that somehow that man was responsible for his father's murder and forced his thoughts back on the task at hand as the car slowed to a stop.

He got out in front of a three story building that looked like it could be beautiful if someone had paid it a bit of attention. It was at least in a better condition than the one next to it and the young man wondered what Mendoza would need two rundown buildings for.

With a shake of his head he stopped short his thoughts that had taken a dangerous turn, that path would lead him to evaluating his own choices and The Hound didn't want to bring that to the forefront. His father's disappointed frown flashed in his mind and for some strange reason a pair of disapproving blue eyes followed in his thoughts.

The Hound shoved it all away into a corner of his mind and crossed the pavement to the thick front door of Mendoza's hotel.

TBC

Thank you so much for reading!