A/N
Sequel to To Conquer Death, You Only Have To Die. This takes place about two weeks after the ending of To Conquer Death (i.e.: about four months after the showdown at the Louvre, six weeks after Henri spoke his first word and two weeks after Milady re-entered France). If you haven't read To Conquer Death, I strongly suggest doing so before reading this sequel. Many things and actions from this story refer to what happened in the first part, and why it happened.
I'm so sorry for the long wait! I have no apology other than the fact that real life sometimes has other ideas and can be an uncooperative diva. But here I am! I hope you enjoy it...
Many thanks to fredbasset on AO3 for doing the beta for this story again! Thanks for all the explanations and comments and for helping me with the tricky use of English grammar and vocabulary which is not always obvious to a non-native speaker like me.
Many thanks to oberon24 who once again read the story as a WIP and pointed out the holes in the plot I had missed; she brainstormed with me when I had written myself into a corner, listened to my wailing, provided most needed feedback and -most of all- dotes on our favourite Musketeer as much as I do. She's the best like-minded friend when it comes to Aramis!
And finally, my heartfelt thanks to BootsnHats for making this possible at all; I would neither write nor post fan fiction if it were not for her.
All remaining errors, typos and holes in the plot are solely my responsibility. The Musketeers are property of Alexandre Dumas and BBC One. I only borrowed the characters and the concept of the show for this work of fan fiction.
Chapter 1
Bad News
When the phone started ringing, Athos was busy with the report on the Montérégie case Porthos had finished the day before. Without looking away from the papers, he grabbed the receiver and uttered an absent-minded greeting.
Later, much later, he would recall this moment with great clarity; the point in time that marked the switch from lightsome bliss to impalpable anxiety, the first stirrings of what would turn out to be a whirlwind carrying everyone in its vicinity with it, right to the vaults of hell. As yet, when he reached for the phone, he was unaware of the fact that this conversation would line up with the few moments of great importance and far-reaching consequences that had been etched on Athos' memory forever, small moments in time he would never forget for the rest of his life. Moments he could recall even 370 years later in another life, so great had been its importance, so momentous the incident.
"Allô?"
"Athos?"
"Captain, what can I do for you?"
"Tell me if you're all in the office at the moment. I need to speak to you."
"What is it?"
"I'd really rather not talk about it on the phone. Besides, it concerns all of you, so I'd like to come by and..." Tréville trailed off for a moment, "break the news personally. Unpleasant news. Plural."
Athos leaned sideways and glanced over to d'Artagnan's office through the open door. "D'Artagnan is here, Porthos and Aramis are out and about, but they should be back within the hour."
"I'll be at your office in about half an hour, can you try to reach them and ask them to hurry?"
"For heaven's sake, don't keep me in suspense, what is it? You sound way too serious for my liking."
Tréville sighed. "See you soon." He ended the call.
Athos stared at the receiver in his hand for a full minute, trying to understand what had just happened, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Tréville had just hung up on him. He tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress the dreadful feeling stirring in his stomach and rang Porthos' mobile. After ordering both his companions back to the office immediately, Athos slowly returned the receiver to its cradle, lost in thought. Everything could have been perfect; or at least as perfect as Athos could wish for a life he had not hoped to ever be blessed with. But, he mused, probably it would be asking too much of fate to grant any of them more than a handful of months of blissful happiness.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
A month ago, Aramis had finally moved in with Anne for good and d'Artagnan had gladly taken the offer to lease Aramis' apartment. Since then and as far as Athos was informed, Constance had spent more nights at d'Artagnan's place than in the guest room her aunt provided for her, but then none of the Inseparables had expected anything else. Athos had only reluctantly let d'Artagnan go; he had to admit he had got used to having the young man around, and now his apartment felt strangely void of life. When Athos had used to be more than content with the solitude his apartment always held for him before, now he turned on the TV more often than not to bridge the silence when he came back from the office late in the evening.
On one of those nights, when he had bade his friends good night after a late diner at Franck's, almost dreading returning to his Gascon-free rooms, he had stumbled over somebody crawling around in the dark hallway. Literally. A shriek from the floor had made him jump and curse in an un-comtely way and he had tried to identify what or whom he had stepped on while groping for the light switch. The shadow on the floor had turned out to be a young woman who had just moved in a few days ago. She had lost her contact lens and while searching for it on the floor the light had switched off and only a moment later Athos had planted his boot on her backside. In the dim hallway's light, he had recognized her immediately, even before she had offered him her hand and introduced herself as his new neighbour, Ninon Larroque. Since then, his apartment was not as deserted any more; now and then Ninon materialized in the doorframe with a bottle of wine and a bundle of problems on her mind and asked if Athos would mind sharing wine and misery with her. He didn't mind, not in the slightest. After all, he was still a master of the art of drowning problems and unwanted thoughts in alcohol, albeit not as skilfully as he had in the old days. In this new life, even misery didn't find him as often as it had done before. In fact, nowadays he drank rarely, and almost only in company and mostly for pleasure. Ninon, Athos found out, knew nothing of her old life, had a clingy and annoying ex-boyfriend who called at least twice a week, and permanent trouble with her colleagues at school. He'd liked her instantly.
Everything could have been blissfully perfect: d'Artagnan and Constance happy and in love like the epitome of two lovebirds, Aramis and Anne finally able to share a life together, completed by the son Aramis had never been able to acknowledge in his old life. Porthos had recently started to vanish early from the office and Athos had wondered if the big man had again picked up his liking for gambling until Aramis had shared his suspicion their friend was dating an as yet anonymous woman. Aramis had promised to wheedle a name or at least a short description of the mysterious woman out of Porthos, but had provided neither so far. Athos had ruminated on the mathematical probability that the woman's name was either Alice or Elodie, but the call from Tréville had made those musings redundant for now.
Yes, it could have been perfect. But calls like this one bore witness to the many troubles one faced when living the life of a Musketeer. After all, that's what they still were, no matter the century, and nothing had ever gone smoothly and uneventfully in their lives. It was as established a reality as was the fact that the sun rose every day.
Athos sighed and picked up the receiver to call a client and postpone his next meeting. The chances were high that whatever Tréville had to tell them would be likely to take up some time.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
When Tréville entered the room, four pairs of expectant eyes immediately fixed on him. The Musketeers had gathered in the meeting room and were sitting around the big table. Coffee mugs in varying states of full to empty crowded the table, along with notepads, mobiles and a half-eaten croissant Porthos had brought back from their off-site meeting. One look at their captain's face was enough for all of them to know he was about to deliver bad news.
"Bonjour, Messieurs," Tréville greeted and closed the door. After quickly scanning the room he went over to the window, looking out as he began to speak. "I asked Athos to summon you all because it concerns all of you. It saves me the trouble of repeating myself." He harrumphed and finally turned around to face the men. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news," he muttered, settling his eyes on Aramis. "Monsieur Autriche was found." He paused for a heart-beat or two, before he added, "Alive."
"What?" Aramis stared at the captain disbelievingly. "But it's been half a year, how can he still live? Rochefort killed him!" The shocked expression on the marksman's face shifted. "Where?" he rasped, "How?"
Tréville raked a hand through his short hair. "The gendarmerie in Courville-sur-Eure located and rescued him while following a trail on another case. In the end, some insignificant complaint about domestic violence or nighttime disturbance finally set them on the right track, and they were able to free him. He had been captured in a remote farmhouse near Friaize, a village of 200 souls, southwest of Courville. He's in a fairly good condition, though he suffers from malnourishment and a severe infection apparently caused by the shackles he was bound with and the poor hygiene conditions. He's in hospital right now."
Athos knew their captain well enough to know there was more behind the news of Anne's husband having been retrieved alive. He waited for Tréville to go on with his report and didn't have to wait long.
Before Aramis had recovered from his shock and could ask more, Tréville continued. "Unfortunately, Monsieur Autriche is convinced his wife is responsible for his abduction. I've not spoken to him personally, but from what Capitaine Morel told me, he accuses his wife of having had him abducted and captured. He claims his wife wanted to murder him and he's only alive because of the goodwill of his guards, who apparently refused to kill him. He seems full of hatred for her," Tréville concluded.
This were indeed bad news, Athos thought, watching Aramis' face turn into a stony mask.
"It's ridiculous, of course," Tréville carried on hurriedly, directly addressing Aramis now. "And his accusations won't hold, but I hate to say we still haven't been able to connect Rochefort to Monsieur Autriche's abduction. And the gendarmerie in Courville-sur-Eure are bound in law to look into his accusations."
Aramis slowly raised his eyes to look at the former Minister of War. "What do you mean? We all know that Anne has nothing to do with it, it was Rochefort. He confessed to me. Anne wanted to divorce him, what would she have gained by abducting and killing him?" Aramis had spoken in a flat and toneless voice, had hardly raised his voice at all, yet the words echoed deafeningly through the quiet room.
Porthos, seated two chairs away from his friend, leaned over, putting a calming hand on the other's shoulder. "Aramis, everyone knows this, but the police need evidence to prove it. Your statement obviously isn't sufficient. The more so, if Autriche argues the converse."
"I'm afraid your testimony of what Rochefort confessed to you won't be enough to convince either Autriche or the state attorney. It seems Autriche also accuses his wife of adultery," Tréville mumbled, "Capitaine Morel mentioned it. It puts you on the list of kidnapper suspects, too."
Athos' face dropped, unable to keep his facial features calm and unaffected. "Your're kidding," he remarked, uttering the first thing that crossed his mind. "That's downright ridiculous." That said, he remembered a quote he had picked up somewhere and kept in mind because it had proven true so many times, stating that ridiculous rhymed with dangerous and the first often entailed the latter. Something that seemed so obvious and ridiculous from the beginning often ended in a highly dangerous situation. At least for them. They had had lots of such situations during their time as Musketeers.
"This was Rochefort's plan all along, right? His counter-insurance. He'd kept Autriche alive, fed him with false accusations, made him believe his wife was behind all this. I bet he described Aramis and what he and Anne had planned in great detail. Even if Monsieur Autriche knew of the unlikelihood that his wife would ever do something like this, after months of listening to vile lies and hours and hours of contemplation, everyone can be convinced to believe whatever you wish them to believe." D'Artagnan put to the point what was whirling through every man's mind, once more proving the sharp-wittedness few considered the young Gascon capable of.
"Fact is, Monsieur Autriche apparently never heard of a man named Rochefort. It seems he also never met him, the men and one woman he described who were responsible for his abduction and fed him once a day in the old farmhouse don't match Rochefort's description. Unless Rochefort was disguised, which I don't believe, he was never anywhere near Autriche. Or at least never in his line of vision. However," Tréville added with a sigh, looking even more haunted than before by what he was about to say, "there's another name that popped up in the investigations. Monsieur Autriche mentioned a name he overheard once or twice." Tréville paused, eyeing the men around him before he continued, "Grimaud."
"What?" Porthos gasped. "This can't be true. Grimaud?"
"Incidentally, I stumbled over this name yesterday evening in our investigations regarding the criminal network Rochefort operated within. Lieutenant Martinez from the 6th arrondissement is in charge of the Autriche abduction case and he called me this morning with the report that the gendarmerie in Courville-sur-Eure had found Autriche. He knew I was working on the case from our side as well after the Rochefort incident, trying to make the connections. I asked him to fax the reports to me as soon as he got them from Morel, especially Autriche's statement. When I read the report and found the name Grimaud appearing there, too, I instantly contacted Morel in Courville-sur-Eure. I told him our department is investigating in matters related to Grimaud and Monsieur Autriche and he briefed me on everything they had so far."
"Did they know each other back then?" D'Artagnan asked. "Rochefort died years before Grimaud showed up in Paris. Is there any known connection between these two?"
Tréville shook his head. "I've no idea. Back then it was unimportant, I never thought about it. Now, I don't know, maybe they met somewhere through the dubious company both kept. Though it might just be a coincidence, this Grimaud could have nothing to do with our old friend Lucien Grimaud. But I doubt it, the way things are going for us at the moment."
"Can we speak with Monsieur Autriche? How long will he be in hospital, respectively when will he return to Paris? We need to clear up those accusations as soon as possible."
Tréville eyed Athos. "You know I can't let you interview him, apart from the fact that it is not even my case now. It's a police matter, and I don't think it would be wise if any of you approach him. Not in the current situation and with the accusations he brings forth. However, no one can stop his wife if she wants to see him. Since Autriche had no papers on him I would in fact suggest she officially confirms his identity, just to be on the safe side. Even if Autriche doesn't like it." Tréville turned and addressed Aramis, "I don't deem it wise if you accompany her. After all, he accuses you of being the reason why Anne supposedly wanted him out of her way as well as the cause of her adultery."
"One of us could go with her," Porthos interrupted immediately, feeling the anger and tension radiating from Aramis.
"We'll see," the captain mumbled. "I'll know by the end of the day when he'll be transferred to Paris. I asked Lieutenant Martinez to keep me informed on everything and made a formal request with the Contrôleur général's office to get assigned to the investigations, or at least involved."
An awkward silence settled over the room, each man mulling over what their captain had disclosed. What it meant for them, what their next steps would be. How it was possible Rochefort had found a way to haunt them even after his death, to deal further blows especially to Aramis.
Athos eyes drifted to Aramis, watching him closely. Aramis had mainly been Rochefort's focus, and he was the one who would suffer most from whatever plan it was Rochefort had set to work. With a whiff of guilt, Athos remembered he had recently lacked to ask about the issue with the marksman's blood results. Porthos had mentioned not too long ago there still was something amiss with the latest blood tests. He made a mental note to ask Aramis later about it.
Porthos also studied his friend beside him. He could see how Aramis' world fell apart before his inner eye. The marksman stared at the table in front of him with unseeing eyes, and Porthos felt a stab of pain seeing their brother suffer. It wasn't fair that even in death Rochefort was able to strike a killing blow to them, especially to Aramis, much like the Cardinal had done after passing away.
Tréville cleared his throat. "There's more." For a moment, he winced and had a flashback to another time and place, when Athos had uttered exactly the same words, breaking the news of Aramis' treason and fatherhood to their captain and his fellow brothers, and adding, as if the first two revelations hadn't been bad enough, a third, final blow to Tréville's long list of worries. There's more... Well, Tréville knew his words would as much be a blow to the guts as Athos' words had been all those years back.
The looks he received to this statement all bore the same expression, except for Aramis, whose face was devoid of any emotion. The men dreaded what more he could possibly tell them to top the last half hour's revelations.
"A routine check of this month's passenger lists produced another familiar name. It was purely coincidence that the lists landed on my desk and I skipped over them at all. However, beside a couple of wanted persons, one name particularly caught my eye." As if to reassure himself that he would get the name right, he grabbed a sheet of paper from the stack he had put down on the table earlier, swiftly scanning its content. "One Anne Claire de Winter entered France via immigration at Charles de Gaulle on November 13th." He looked up from the paper, catching Athos' gaze. "I'm sure her British passport is faked, though the immigration officer found nothing wrong with it." He slid a paper with a color print out over the table towards Athos.
It was slightly grainy and taken from an angle indicating it was from a surveillance camera at the airport's immigration department. The woman on the photo had her face turned away from the camera, looking up to the ceiling on the other side of the camera's location, so her face was only partly visible.
"Is this your ex-wife, Anne de Breuil?" asked the captain.
Athos didn't have to take a closer look to recognize her. Nevertheless, he stared at the picture as if he needed to let it burn into his mind. Using a passport with the name of Anne de Winter could only mean one thing.
His look, when Athos brought up his head again, told Tréville everything he needed to know. "The immigration officer remembered she put emphasis on being addressed as Milady, rather than Madame. For me, this could only mean one thing. The question now is why she would use a false passport to re-enter France instead of returning with her French passport as French citizen. Do you know if she has married in the meantime? Have you any knowledge of what she might want in Paris, and since when has she regained her memory?"
Athos shook his head slowly, trying to calm somersaulting thoughts.
Tréville let up on Athos and turned to Porthos. "Didn't you say Richelieu was in London, too? We need to check if we find connections between these two. I certainly could live without having the two of them work together again. Milady de Winter entering the country with a false passport is bad enough, dealing with her never does bode well."
"Did she have connections to Rochefort? Is she here to finish what he wasn't able to do?" d'Artagnan asked of no one in particular, peering at Aramis with a queasy feeling. "What if Rochefort and Milady worked together?"
Porthos and d'Artagnan shared a look of concern. From one moment to the other, an avalanche of problems and threats had been set off, intending to bury and crush them. When they had thought they had rid themselves of the danger Rochefort had exposed, the problems had increased threefold. Aramis' life started falling apart before his eyes, the re-appearance of Anne's husband accompanied by his accusations most likely only the tip of the iceberg in the matter. They dreaded to think about what it might mean for the divorce proceedings and child custody. How Athos felt about the re-appearance of Milady in his now-time life they could only guess, but he looked more than troubled. That they all could have done well without Grimaud arriving on the scene in addition to all this went without saying.
Tréville answered with a sigh. "That's something we need to find out as well. We have a host of work to do. As soon as I have more information from Capitaine Morel and the green light from on high that my department can work on the case, we need to concentrate on Grimaud and his connection to Rochefort. See how much of a threat he is to us or if he is just a run-of-the-mill criminal who happened to work with Rochefort and has nothing to do with the Lucien Grimaud we knew. The other thing we have to investigate is Milady. Does she work for Richelieu respectively, has Richelieu regained his memories at all? If that is not the fact, we can drop this trace right from the start. What is her agenda, does she have connections to Rochefort and what is she up to, secretly re-entering the country?" Tréville ticked off the points on his list with his fingers. With a sideways glance to Aramis, he continued, "Third and most importantly, we need to produce and present ironclad proof that Rochefort was behind Autriche's abduction. We know it was him, but we haven't found any clear proof in black and white yet. We cannot have Autriche running around accusing the Queen, or Aramis, of having had a hand in it."
Aramis, whose spirits had finally revived, rose and strolled over to the window facing rue Dante. There he turned, facing the others, and started to speak.
"I'm not sure how wise it is if you're investigating this case," Tréville continued before Aramis could say a word, addressing the younger man. "Obviously, you're number one on Autriche's list of most hated human beings at the moment."
"Anne came to us after her husband vanished and after the police started investigating, we didn't even know each other before," Aramis countered angrily, slowly starting to walk up and down alongside the conference table. "How dare he utter such false accusations! He was the one who cheated on her!" Aramis looked at the others. "I was with Anne again not before I had been captured by Rochefort. That was weeks after her husband's abduction!" There was a whiff of pleading to Aramis' voice, and it brought a stab of pity to his brothers' hearts hearing it. "There must be a way to prove this. She reported him missing before I even knew of her existence. It's all in the police files."
"Reporting him missing is no proof you two didn't know each other before, or plotted together against Monsieur Autriche. I fear, it's not that easy," Tréville stated calmly. "But we'll sort this out. I just want you to be prepared for a rough time coming." Tréville regarded Aramis for a moment and could see how despair carved its first lines of worry into the marksman's face. It wouldn't be easy for Aramis and Anne to weather the coming time, especially since there was still the child Monsieur Autriche had together with his wife and whom he would most likely lay claim to now with regard to child custody.
"It's unfortunate my department was not involved in the investigations right from the start," Tréville spoke on. "Nevertheless I have every intention of seeing this case solved until year end." That would roughly give him four week's time to keep this promise, certainly not an easy venture, but he was determined to see it through.
Porthos grabbed Aramis' sleeve before the marksman could yet start another circuit of the room. "Sit down," he ordered, pulling his friend to the chair beside him. "This is ridiculous and you know it. In a few days, this case is solved, believe me." Porthos' reassurance was most welcome, though not as convincing as the big man might hope. "Besides, he had already signed the divorce papers, right? No police officer in the world would ever believe a wife would abduct her husband a few hours before the court hearing, especially since she'd been the one filing for the divorce. They might as well charge him with false abduction and perjury just to avoid the court hearing." Porthos patted the marksman's shoulders. "We've faced worse, haven't we?"
Aramis offered his friend a weak smile. He was grateful for Porthos' support and efforts to cheer him up, but the words held hardly any consolation.
Finally, Tréville pulled out a chair, too, and sat next to Athos. He startled the younger man out of his thoughts. "Time to assign tasks. Would you look into the appearance of...," the commissaire fished for the right word for a moment, eventually settling with "Milady? You know her best and might get an inkling of what she's up to."
Athos huffed a disbelieving laugh. "Do you think she'll contact me and disclose her plans?" Athos glanced at his former captain for a moment. With a sigh, he nodded. "Very well, I'll look into it. Let me see what you have."
Tréville slid a bunch of papers over to Athos. "This is everything my men were able to gather so far. Porthos," he addressed the big man, "maybe you really can accompany-" again the slightest of hesitations to switch through the possible forms of address, "Anne to the hospital. Keep yourself to the sidelines, try to get a vibe for Monsieur Autriche, see what's behind his accusations, if it's only wounded vanity or if there's more."
Porthos nodded.
Tréville turned to their youngest. "D'Artagnan, I know you've probably done nothing else for the last few months but research, but can you screen the names the gendarmerie in Courville-sur-Eure provided me with? I'm sure you have access to enough appropriate sources, all of which I don't want to hear anything about." He handed the young man some papers. "Also, check everything you've already checked, every source, every bit of information, about connections between Grimaud and Rochefort. We need something we can pin on either Grimaud or any of Rochefort's other helpers."
D'Artagnan nodded. "I've a couple of new portals I've access to and can-"
He was interrupted by Tréville raising his hand and cutting him short. "I don't want to know anything about it. I'm sure most of the things you do are either illegal or within a legally grey area, so just... look into it."
The Gascon grinned and animatedly nodded his head again. "I'll also try to access the CCTV in and around Courville-sur-Eure. Maybe I'll find something. Or have you already checked it?"
Tréville shook his head. "I don't know if the gendarmerie there has thought about it, but as long as I'm not formally assigned to the case I can hardly request the footage. So..." He gestured to d'Artagnan to do whatever the young man thought wise, as long as he didn't inform the 5th arrondisement's commissaire principal about it in minute detail. The less Tréville knew about LaFère Security's modus operandi the better.
Tréville finally turned to Aramis. "Would you look into Grimaud? Connections, friends, family, upbringing, whatever you can find. I'll give you the papers we have from the Spanish. At least for a short period of time, Rochefort and Grimaud were inmates at the same prison. We don't know yet if they ever had contact there, it's one of the biggest prisons in Spain with well over a thousand inmates. Rochefort served a long prison term while Grimaud was there only for a couple of weeks." Tréville looked up from his papers. "The jail administration denies categorically they could ever have had contact."
Aramis slowly nodded, reaching over to take the bundle of papers Tréville shoved his way. "He's a French citizen?"
"Yes. All basic data is in here. See what connections you can uncover. Dig into his past. If we can't find anything currently tying him to Rochefort, there must be something in the past."
Aramis' mobile on the desk started vibrating. He grabbed it and frowned when he saw the caller's name. "Anne," he muttered and took the call. After a moment listening, his expression changed and he replied, "I know, Tréville is currently here, he told us." Aramis looked up at Tréville, listening to Anne again. "What? Why-? What do they say?"
From the one-sided conversation, the others could make out that Anne had apparently been informed about her husband's re-appearance, but they had no idea why Aramis suddenly looked alarmed and angry.
"They can't do this. Wait for me, I'll be with you right away. – No. Do they have a warrant? – You don't have to go with them." Aramis had risen while talking, staring incredulously at their captain. "Wait a minute." He lowered the mobile. "Two officers showed up at home. They informed her that her husband had been located alive and requested her to come with them to the police station for interrogation. Do they have the right?"
Tréville's face morphed into an irate storm cloud. "I'd expressly asked them to wait until I get back to Lieutenant Martinz later. I wanted to give you the chance to tell her," he added, more gently. Then, determinedly, "Give me the phone, I'll speak to them." He waited for Aramis to hand over the mobile.
Aramis returned the mobile to his ear. "Anne, Tréville will speak to them. I'll pass you on." He handed it to Tréville.
"Bonjour, can you pass on the phone to one of the officers, please," Tréville asked, rising from his seat and strolling over to one of the windows. "This is commissaire principal Peyrer from the 5th arrondissement's commissariat, what is your name and rank?"
The Musketeers watched Tréville listen to the officer's reply. Then a thunderstorm broke loose. They watched and listened to their former captain giving the man on the other end a dressing-down that lacked nothing of the fury and vehemence the Musketeers had to endure frequently in the 17th century.
When he was finished, Tréville ended with the words, "You'll wait outside the house until I'm there and not speak with Madame Autriche in the meantime. Now pass me on again to Madame Autriche." After the phone had been passed on, he once more spoke with Anne. "I'll be there as fast as I can, do not speak to them. I'll accompany you to the police station, but I think it might be wise to ask your lawyer to meet you there. It's your right and just a precaution, but better be safe than sorry. See you soon." He handed the phone back to Aramis, who ended the call after another short exchange of words with Anne.
"Are they treating her as suspect?" Athos asked.
Tréville hesitated for the slightest of moments before answering. "No. Such questioning is regular procedure."
The tiny pause before his answer told Athos everything he needed to know; in the eyes of the police Anne had moved from not involved to suspect.
"I'll come with you," Aramis said.
"No, I don't think that's a good idea," Tréville countered. "We have nothing to fear and this will soon be over, but I don't want to offer Autriche and his lawyers even the tiniest chance of using anything against us. I'll handle it."
A knock on the door stalled any further conversation. Constance slipped in without waiting for an answer, pulling the door shut behind her. "Two police officers are here, asking for Aramis. They are here to escort him to police headquarters for interrogation."
Aramis turned and stared disbelievingly at Porthos as if his friend could tell him what was going on, or would at least go outside and make them go away.
Porthos' mien changed from surprised to murderous, the mouth contracting to a thin line. He shared a similar thought about making the policemen go away, but his involved brute force as well.
Athos pushed back his chair violently and rose, looking from Aramis to Tréville. "What does this mean? Captain?"
All eyes turned to Tréville for an answer.
A/N
Bent history/changed past life: The Musketeers' past life runs parallel to the show plot until approx. series 3 episode 8, then this story's history differs from the show's history.
In this 'verse, the Musketeers returned to the front together with Tréville before the king died and Lorraine's troops laid siege to Paris. The Inseparables died in the war-deciding battle of Rocroi in 1643, only a few days after Louis XIII had died and the Dauphin had ascended the throne. Let's assume there was no committed relationship between Athos and Sylvie at that time and Elodie – sadly – arrived in Paris virtually the moment the Inseparables were about to leave for the front (Porthos and Elodie may have exchanged a few letters, though...). Let's further assume that before they returned to the front, Athos was able to finish off Grimaud (let's say in ep. 8) in exactly the same way he did in ep. 10. Needless to say, Milady returned to Paris and met Athos before the Musketeers left for the front and was furthermore able to go into service first for Tréville and later for Queen Anne.