D'Artagnan realised that she had been stupidly gaping at Treville for the last few minutes and clamped her mouth shut with a light squeal that she quickly covered with a cough. She felt Porthos chuckling beside her and refrained from elbowing him in the ribs. They were supposed to be looking serious and forlorn after all, she supposed.

"Show some decorum, if you please, d'Artagnan," Aramis murmured to her from her other side. She tried not to roll her eyes, and then fought to contain her smile as she felt Athos move behind her and punch Aramis lightly in the back.

"Eyes forward, mouths shut," he whispered behind them. There was a smile in the menacing tone of his voice.

She wanted to turn round and ask all of them how they could be so calm, how they could remain the soldiers they had always been when their captain was standing in front of them relaying the news he just had. She had thought, they must have thought, that it would be years before this suggestion of peace was relayed to them.

She was back to gaping.

A moment later she realised that Treville had stopped addressing his troops and had disappeared into his office. The musketeers lined up in the yard had lowered their eyes from the balcony and were now talking animatedly around her. Now what? She had no idea what to do.

Luckily someone else seemed to. Porthos and Aramis both moved away from her and headed straight forward to their usual table, while a hand was pressed to her back and she was propelled forward to follow them. She slid into her seat at the back, Athos climbing in next to her. It had taken her an absurdly long time to realise that he always sat facing the yard, never trusting that they were safe. She supposed she had just been distracted enough by his presence to notice much else.

His thigh pressed tightly against hers and she dropped her hand below the table, grabbing for his and squeezing it tightly. She grinned at him happily, barely noticing that for once Aramis didn't point out how obvious it was that both of their hands had disappeared, and any musketeer worth their salt would think something was weird about it. Glancing around the yard, d'Artagnan realised that today she could have sat on Athos' lap and it was unlikely that anyone would notice. The few men who were still in the yard were huddled in small groups , no doubt having similar conversations to the one they were about to have.

"So..." Porthos began.

"Indeed," Aramis agreed with a smile.

D'Artagnan grinned at both of them, then lifted the cup of wine that was still sitting where she had left it when Treville had called them all to attention in the yard, barely half an hour after he had returned from a summons to the palace that morning. She motioned quickly that the others should do the same, and soon all four had raised their glasses, gathering them in the air above the middle of their table

"May he rest in peace, the miserable bastard," Porthos said grandly, with a quick wink.

"Miserable bastard," they all echoed, cups briefly clinking together before they drank a toast to the death of their nemesis.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, lost in their thoughts of what this could mean for all of them. Charline was the first to ask the question.

"What is the King going to do without Richelieu?"

"I don't know," Aramis sighed. "Make a decision for himself?"

Porthos snorted. "Have you met him?"

"I know, I know. Ridiculous suggestion."

"I imagine he'll get a new adviser," Athos drawled, removing his hand from d'Artagnan's with a final stroke of his thumb across her knuckles and laying it on the table, as a boy from the kitchens approached to offer them some food.

"Oh God," Aramis' head dropped to the table, causing the boy to jump as he placed a pot on the table before scurrying quickly away. "What if the new one is worse?"

"Worse?" Porthos spluttered through the wine he was in the process of swallowing. "How the hell could anyone be worse?"

"Oh, I don't know," Charline said dryly. "I think we've met a few people since I arrived here that you could say were worse than him."

"Maybe," Porthos agreed. "But we got the better of everyone but that bastard."

"True," Charline grinned, standing to ladle stew from the pot into their waiting bowls.

"Still," Athos said quietly. "Better the devil you know..."

Aramis rolled his eyes at him. "Ever the cheery soldier, eh, Athos?"

Athos raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think I'm mistaken in pointing out that you actually said it first, Aramis."

"Perhaps, but I listened to little d'Artagnan here, and cheered up a bit!"

Charline froze in the middle of handing a bowl of food to him. "Sorry, who?"

Aramis raised his hand and took hold of the no-longer-offered crockery. "Um, clever d'Artagnan? Masterful d'Artagnan?"

She rolled her eyes and thrust the bowl sharply into him.

"Hey! You nearly spilled that!"

"Oh shush. You're lucky I didn't pour it into your lap after this morning." She glared at both him and Porthos, who both replied to it with a grin.

"We told you, d'Artagnan," Porthos said quietly, "You're far too clean when you come down here in the mornings."

"A little dirt never hurt anyone," Aramis chimed in, nodding at the splatters of dried in mud that still graced Charline's cheek and her jacket. The mud that had dried onto her trousers was thankfully beyond his vision. "And besides, a dirty face hides the lack of beard rather well."

She kept glaring at both of them as they began to chuckle at her, then turned and gaped at Athos as he joined in.

"What?" he asked, smiling innocently.

"You're backing them up?" she said incredulously. "They attacked me!"

"Tackled, d'Artagnan, tackled," Porthos interjected.

"Think of it as part of your training," Athos grinned.

"And we'll just think of the expression on your face as we grabbed you as one of the funniest things we've seen in some time," Aramis toasted her with his wine, then all three of them started laughing properly.

"I hate you all," she grumbled, digging into her food and doing her best to ignore the impressions of her as she fell into the mud, no – was thrown into the mud, that Aramis was doing across the table. She was going to get them back for this one, absolutely. She wasn't particularly a morning person to begin with, but to arrive yawning into the yard and be instantly tackled to the ground by two overgrown children was not quite the way she had imagined being brought fully awake.

For that she had planned a little stolen time in the stables with a certain brooding musketeer. Who was now laughing at her, and so who was also going to be experiencing the repercussions of this little escapade.

"Athos, Aramis, Porthos," Treville called from above them, causing them to quieten down instantly. "D'Artagnan too, get up here."

Charline gave them one final glare before climbing out from her seat to mount the stairs to the captain's office, not waiting for any of them. She knew fine well that huffing about it wasn't going to stop them laughing any time soon, but huffs were not something she had ever been able to avoid when she was annoyed. More's the pity.

Despite the summons, she paused to knock on Treville's door before opening it to enter the room. He was seated at his desk; his favourite position when dealing with the four of them. She supposed it gave him a sense of some control, which was never easy when conversing with Aramis and Porthos, or herself and Athos if she was entirely honest. She sometimes wondered if the captain at all regretted his close relationship with the four of them. For all they always followed his orders with little question, that didn't mean they didn't give him a good few headaches along the way.

Treville looked up as she entered and just raised an eyebrow in question.

"They're on their way," she said, flushing slightly. He would work out instantly that they had been teasing her, of course.

She didn't have to wait long before she heard footsteps behind her, heralding the arrival of her three musketeers. A second later she was grabbed round the shoulder by Aramis' arm and squeezed tightly while he laughed gently and pressed a kiss to her temple. She shoved him off, but grinned at his exaggerated look of hurt.

"Are we finished?" the captain asked dryly.

"Sir," Aramis said, nodding as he fell into place with a little more distance between him and d'Artagnan. The captain just shook his head.

"Well, as you know Richelieu died this morning," he began.

"Yes, sir," Porthos said, smiling.

"And may he settle well in his proper place," Athos said, his face giving away nothing when Charline glanced round at him.

Treville clearly took his meaning, but his facial expression didn't change at all, either in agreement or censure. "Indeed, Athos. Indeed. Now, the King has already called for a state funeral to be organised, which will take place a week from Sunday..."

Aramis groaned. "Please tell me he's not asked for all musketeers in attendance?"

The captain smiled. "The musketeers will of course be represented, Aramis. And I had a good mind to make you four go, but alas the King has another request that needs to be fulfilled, and I thought your time might be better spent elsewhere."

"You see, Porthos?" Aramis grinned. "I knew the captain loved us."

"As if I ever doubted it, Aramis."

"Perhaps Captain Treville is just saving himself the hassle of having you two there when he will have to go himself," Athos pointed out.

"And you two?"

Athos just shrugged, but Charline knew the answer. The captain had to attend, but after the events of the previous few months there was no way he would ask them to go and pretend to mourn for that man, any of them.

"This is not an easy task, but there is no one else I would trust with this job. You must leave as soon as you're organised."

"For where?" Charline asked, intrigued. It was difficult to keep the excitement from her voice, although she tried as Athos had stiffened beside her at Treville's suggestion of danger in their mission.

"Spain," Treville said. "The King has asked that we fetch the Comte de Rochefort, one of the cardinal's men, and bring him to Paris."

"Why does he need fetching?" Porthos asked.

"Because he escaped from prison. He's a wanted man, but the King says it is vital he is brought safely to Paris. Your instructions," Treville stood from behind his desk, holding out a rolled up length of parchment, which Athos automatically stepped forward to retrieve. "You'll leave first thing in the morning. Be ready."

They took their captain's words as the dismissal it was and left his office quickly, d'Artganan practically bouncing down the stairs and back to her seat.

"Cheered up then?" Porthos asked, grinning at her as he sat back down on the opposite side of the table. Aramis followed him as Athos sat back down beside her, already frowning at the paper he had been given.

She tried to snap her facial expression back into a glare, but it just didn't work. "Absolutely," she admitted. "Actually getting out of Paris? It's been driving me mad!"

Since the removal of Milady de Winter from their lives, and the extended time it had taken for her to recover from the whole ordeal, Charline hadn't been allowed to do any work that was considered too risky, or that would take her out of the city. She wasn't entirely sure whether Athos or Captain Treville should be thanked for this lock down, but she had certainly argued with Athos about it on a number of occasions on the last couple of months. She did not need to be mollycoddled, despite what the (now rare) nightmares may have suggested.

Oh well. The captain had obviously decided that her incarceration was over, and she was not going to let a concerned Athos stop her from enjoying it. However sullen and silent he may become.

"Well?" Aramis asked.

Athos sighed. "It could be fairly straightforward..."

"But...?" Porthos asked.

"But I know of the Comte de Rochefort, and I don't think anything will be straightforward with him."

"Oh good," said Charline, grinning.

Athos just sighed quietly beside her.

"Come on then," Aramis said as he pulled himself up from the table. "We've time for some training for a couple of hours before we head home."

Charline got up eagerly to join him and soon she was sparring confidently with him, with Porthos calling instructions from the sidelines. She noticed that Athos had moved out from his seat and walked round the table to lean against it and watch. She could feel his eyes burning into her and it made her squirm pleasantly, but she forced herself not to focus on it and concentrated on getting the better of Aramis.

They trained her thoroughly; swapping in and out to push her to limits they hadn't tried to since she'd left the sickroom two months previously. Quickly, d'Artagnan realised that they were doing this for Athos' benefit; to show him that she was ready to be doing things slightly more dangerous than royal guard duty, and basic missions. She was grateful, and it pushed her to keep going until all three of them were a sweaty mess.

"Enough," Athos said, eventually. "We're done for today."

D'Artagnan let her arm drop with relief, rolling her shoulders to stop the muscles tensing before she had a chance to wash properly and soothe them. She moved to slump against the table by Athos' side, not caring what she must look like with her face scarlet and her hair plastered to her face and head. She noted gladly that Athos' tension had waned somewhat, and she doubted that they were going to have an argument that day about whether she was ready. Not that she was convinced it wouldn't happen later instead.

Aramis and Porthos sheathed their swords and used their empty wine cups to help themselves to the water from the trough in the training yard that was always kept full for sparring musketeers. Thirst sated, they took their leave, announcing their intent to retire to their beds straight after supper.

Charline and Athos both snorted at the same time.

"Well, perhaps we'll find time for a drink or two," Porthos grinned.

"Just don't be late," Athos warned, although he knew it wasn't needed. Tipping their hats with a grin, the two of them headed towards the gate. Athos turned towards d'Artagnan and opened his mouth to speak, but d'Artagnan halted him with a raise of her hand and snuck quietly behind them to hover at the gate and watch them make their way down the street.

Her eyes widened gleefully a moment or two later when they paused at the approach of three young ladies, pulling their hats off swiftly as they began to do their best to impress them. Charline quickly slipped from the gateway and headed up the street, keeping to the shadows of the buildings as she approached. She stopped a few steps away, pausing to see if either musketeer noticed they were under surveillance. Nothing. How easily they were distracted by a pretty face.

Aramis was the unlucky one. He was closest to the large patch of mud that had been left by the morning's rain, and with his current distraction it was the work of a moment to place her sword in front of his legs as she ran the few paces and barrelled into him, knocking his knee out of lock and sending him sprawling into the mud. Luckily, the three ladies saw her coming and jumped out of the way of the splattering mud in the final second of his spectacular fall.

Porthos stared at his friend starfished in the mud for a moment before he burst into deep and loud laughter, looking over his shoulder to see Charline with her hands braced on her knees as tears of laughter ran down her face. Aramis pulled himself up to a sitting position and glared at her in fury, while the ladies quickly vanished behind him.

"You little...!" he growled.

"Now, now," she laughed. "Don't get huffy Aramis; just think of it as part of your training!" She folded her arms and raised an amused eyebrow at him until he shook his head, smiling. He reached up for her hand to pull himself up, but she took a step back. She was not that stupid. Mock-frowning at her he clambered to his feet, his arms held out by his sides as he looked in dismay at the mud that was dripping off of him.

"Bye!" Charline said cheerfully, waving innocently before she started jogging away. "Oh, and Porthos?"

He looked up at her, tears of mirth running down his face.

"I don't know what you're laughing at – this just means that your payback is still to come!" she saluted him as his mouth dropped and Aramis started laughing, then ran back to the gates, surprised to find Athos leaning against them with a smile on his face as he watched her approach.

"Feel better?" he grinned.

"Much," she nodded. "Now I'm going to go and get out of my own dirty clothes. I wonder if I should ask for hot water for a proper bath? I might have mud dried onto my skin to. Who knows. "

He raised an eyebrow at her, smiling hopefully.

"Now, didn't you say we needed to take it easy tonight?" she asked, her eyes wide in mock innocence. "I think I better just get myself something quick to eat, and get undressed and go straight to bed. You, I think, should probably get yourself home. Shame I can't get one of the stable boys to scrub my back. Oh well, I'll just have to do what I can. I really can't wait to take these bindings off though, they're feeling rather tight today."

She started to walk away, hearing him growl a little behind her. She laughed lightly as she walked over to their table, aiming to pick up what she had dared to remove of her outfit in the heat of her training, and the dagger and pistol she had left there. As she lifted them up she felt Athos march behind her over towards the stables. She looked after him in puzzlement, until one of the young stable boys came out and walked over to her.

"Athos says you've to help him in the stables, sir," he said quietly, not meeting her eyes in his nervousness.

"And what are you to do?" she asked, suspiciously.

"I've to have a break and go and get some dinner from the kitchens," he said, smiling a little but still not looking her in the eyes.

"Well, best be off then, eh?" she watched as the boy scampered off to the kitchens, excited at getting an extra meal into him for the day, then looked over to the stables and narrowed her eyes. Athos knew fine well that if he summoned her in the barracks she had to obey; she wasn't a musketeer after all.

She put her things back down on one of the benches and walked briskly over to the stable doors. "Athos?" she called. No answer.

She stepped inside and paused to let her eyes adjust to the murkiness. She walked into the darkness, peering into the stalls as she passed but seeing no sign of Athos.

She jumped as hands reached round her from behind, sliding to hold tightly around her waist as a face buried itself into her shoulder and lips pressed gently against her neck. She sighed and tilted her head to one side, giving Athos more access.

"Are you really going to send me home alone tonight?" he asked softly, his lips trailing down her jaw line in a series of little kisses.

"Yes," she breathed, refusing to give in, but closing her eyes to the sensation of his lips on her neck again.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his hands separating as one trailed up to rest against the bandages that kept her breasts away from him, and the other skimming downwards, passing by where she suddenly desperately wanted him to touch her and squeezing her thigh gently.

"Yes," she gasped, her stubbornness and her desire suddenly fiercely at war with each other.

"Really?" he asked, letting go of her suddenly. She felt a rush of loss before he suddenly grabbed her arms and spun her on the spot. He grinned briefly at her before burying his hands in her hair and bringing her face to his. He sought her lips in a burning kiss, full of desire and need, and d'Artagnan found herself instantly breathless. Her knees trembled as they opened their mouths simultaneously and he walked her backwards until her back was against the wall of the stables and his body was pressed tightly against her. She was gasping when they finally broke apart and he grinned at her through his own heavy breaths. "You still sure?"

"You fight dirty Athos," she tried to frown at him.

"That was the idea," he grinned, kissing her briefly again.

Untangling her hands from where they were tightly wound around his neck, she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. She walked past him and headed towards the door, leaving him gaping stupidly behind her.

She paused a few steps by the door, keeping them hidden for a few moments more. "I still want that bath," she called over her shoulder. "And if you make yourself useful I may decide to stay."

He chuckled behind her, then walked quickly up behind her. He kissed the back of her neck then whispered in her ear. "Oh, I think you'll find I can be very useful, d'Artagnan."

He strode past her and out the door. When she got her breath back and emerged from the stables a few moments later, he was waiting patiently by their table, her belongings in his hands. She walked over and took them from him, putting her jacket back on and securing her weapons. The yard was empty, but they still didn't talk about their plans. Instead they simultaneously began walking towards the gate and turned to the left to head towards Athos' apartments.

Charline's whole body was tense with impatience as she waited to be alone with him. Suddenly, the promise of a new adventure tomorrow wasn't the most exciting thing was happening to her.

Glancing to the side, she saw the Athos was watching her. When she caught his eye he winked slowly and she caught her breath and their pace quickened. Adventures could wait.