Had a couple of requests for this story recently, and I'll definitely get on that, but this was something that had been kicking around in my head for a while now. Besides, there are too few female characters in this as it is, I can't have them all sitting on the side lines.
The basis is, obviously, A Rebellious Woman.
It was always a nice surprise when Athos glanced at his ringing phone, and Ninon's flawless face smiled back at him. The less nice part was when he answered and was immediately greeted by a terrified voice declaring: "Athos I need your help."
The genuine fear in her voice killed any instinct Athos might have had to make a joke, getting straight to business. "What's happened?"
"It's Richelieu's meddling, I'm certain, but I've got no proof, and I can't do anything-"
"Ninon," he called softly. "I need you to tell me what's going on so that I can help. Start from the beginning. What's Richelieu done?"
He heard her take a steadying breath, the tremble in her inhale enough to tell him just how badly she was shaken up. Ninon never lost her composure, not ever. This was bad.
"Alright. I don't know what he's done, not exactly but he… I… I've been arrested Athos." The words fell into empty silence as something hollowed out in Athos' gut, too surprised to even feel much of anything beyond a mental 'oh.' When he didn't say anything for too long a pause, Ninon chuckled uncertainly, sounding on the verge of tears. "You- You're my one phone call. I just- I didn't know what else to do. I've got lawyers but…"
Forcing himself back into gear, Athos did his best to reassure her. "No, you did the right thing. We'll get this sorted out, I promise you, alright?"
"Be careful Athos," she said quietly, sad in a way he didn't understand. "A gentleman should never make promises that he knows he can't keep."
"You know me Ninon. Do you think that I would lie to you?"
"I think you'd lie to a woman doing her best not to cry."
Athos let out an amused huff because it was what she needed from him. "Then it's a good thing that a woman like you knows better than to cry at something fixable. Now, I need details. What are they charging you with? Who arrested you?"
"Red guards stormed my house and loaded me into a police van. I never thought to ask where they were taking me, I- I was terrified, Athos." That last part was said so quietly that he wasn't sure if he was supposed to have heard her or not, and his heart shattered as her words did. "They said something about charging me with kidnapping but I'd never even heard the name before! A girl I think it was… Fleur maybe? I don't know. Whoever it is, I had nothing to do with it, I swear."
"I believe you," he said instantly, waving Aramis over with an imperious hand. He was silently grateful that he was already at the office – they could get through this much quicker. With his free left hand he scribbled down the name Fleur and 'missing persons?' and shoved the post-it towards Aramis, ignoring his questioning frown as he focussed back on Ninon. "I've got Aramis finding out what he can about Fleur. Why do you think that Richelieu is involved?"
"What isn't that man involved with in this city?" She asked bitterly. "Red guards busting down my door seemed like a good indication, as well as the fact that he's been after my blood for weeks. He's never forgiven me for my mother sinking his political campaign decades ago and I've been helping to organise protests against his garrison. The Red Guards shouldn't be allowed to exist anymore."
"You don't have to convince me, don't worry. I didn't know you'd been campaigning." He wasn't offended that she hadn't told him, but it was normally the kind of thing they would talk about during their infrequent dinners.
"I haven't been. Not personally. But I've been putting concerned parties in touch with each other, and that's enough to put me on Richelieu's radar. He's been waiting for a chance to get his revenge and somehow he's using this Fleur person to do it."
A desk over, Aramis started waving at him to get his attention. Athos crossed over as fast as he could. "Ninon, I think we've got something on Fleur." He had a quick scan over the report Aramis had managed to dig up, and frowned. "A girl called Fleur Baudin went missing about three weeks ago from a school not far from your house. Ring any bells?"
"That's the name they said, I'm certain of it. Why would I have anything to do with it? A lot of people live near where I do and I would have had no cause to come into contact with her, would I?"
Athos kept scanning the file then swore aloud sharply. Beside him Aramis twitched. "Her mother is Therese Delacroix. That's a name even I remember."
There was silence for almost a full minute and Athos was starting to worry that the call had disconnected, before Ninon cursed softly on an exhale. "Fleur Delacroix? Oh my god, I met her!"
It wasn't a surprise, even if it was bad news. The Delacroix family were ancient money, almost as old as the la Feres, and equally as full of it as his parents had been. Athos had met Therese once, and she hadn't taken more than two minutes to recite her family line all the way back to the famous Eugène Delacroix, and then began bemoaning the fact that no one fully appreciated her 'cousin's' work, as though she had personally known the man. Needless to say, Athos had avoided her ever since. He'd never actually been introduced to Fleur, his parents considering her too many years younger than him to be suitable as a potential match. Given that she was half his age, he was very grateful for their 'consideration.'
"That's not unexpected," he reassured her gently. As he did so, he scribbled another note for Aramis that read 'Gather the others. Trouble.' The marksman didn't wait around to ask questions, scrambling away without a word.
"She was nice," Ninon reminisced quietly. "The polar opposite of her mother. She went missing?"
"Three weeks ago. She vanished at some point in the middle of the school day and no one's been able to work out who the last person to see her was. When was the last time you saw her?"
Ninon sucked in a hard breath. "You're not suggesting-"
"Of course I'm not," he cut in easily. "But I need to know so that I can work out what your prosecutors are thinking. You've told me you've had nothing to do with it and I believe you, don't worry. Besides, you're not wrong when you say that Richelieu has every reason to want you to go down for this and he's enough of a bastard to do it."
"Thank you Athos. For believing me." Her voice was very small, and a smart man might have heard the slight catch there. Athos was not a smart man, not when it came to her.
"Of course."
"I hadn't seen Fleur in months. I think I've only ever seen her twice – at parties I don't remember. One was hosted by Therese, I think, but I couldn't be certain. I have to attend so many of them and they're all exactly the same."
"I remember that well enough."
"You have no idea how smart you were to get out when you were young. They won't let me leave now. Well," she corrected sadly, "They probably won't have anything to do with me now. Such fair-weather friends I have."
"The Musketeers will stand with you. That's not nothing."
"No," she agreed. "It isn't. Thank you." She hummed suddenly, alarmed. "Athos, they're telling me that I have to go."
"Don't fight them. They won't let you back to a phone if you do. I'll come and see you as soon as I can, alright? It'll be okay, I promise."
"Please help me," she whispered, then was gone. It was, frankly, terrifying to hear a woman as untouchable as Ninon brought so low with so little warning, and Athos had to take a fortifying breath of his own before pushing up from the desk. He could see his teammates lingering in the entrance way of the main room he was in, and he headed in their direction with a weary sigh.
"Treville's office," he ordered when he was in earshot. "He needs to know and I refuse to explain this twice."
Three sets of eyebrows rose at that – involving Treville meant that this was bad. Despite their evident hesitation, they all followed him without complaint.
For once, Treville wasn't tied up in a meeting, so he could hear them out without making them wait, no matter how annoyed he appeared to be at the sudden interruption. The annoyance quickly faded as Athos explained what he'd been told, replaced with deep-rooted concern.
"You're certain that she's innocent?" He asked eventually, when Athos had told them everything.
"She says she is, and she's never once given the Musketeers reason not to trust her. If she tells me she's innocent, then I believe her."
Treville raised a quelling hand at the note of iron in Athos' voice. "You don't have to convince me, but you're the one who spoke to her. Just making sure I've got everything straight."
Athos didn't apologise, but he at least had the grace to look contrite. Across the room d'Artagnan was frowning to himself, deep in thought. "If Richelieu did have something to do with it he'd have to be communicating with someone in the police force, and probably some judges as well. He's not stupid enough to meet with them face to face which means he's got to be talking to them electronically, either phone calls or emails…"
His implication was clear, and while he had absolutely no problem with delving into Richelieu's personal files, it wasn't exactly proper procedure. He looked at Treville, deferring to him. Their Captain was frowning, his mind clearly running down the same track as Athos' and finding no more answers than he had. "You could get in and out without anyone noticing, right?"
d'Artagnan actually looked slightly offended. "I am actually good at my job," he muttered, aware that they would all hear him anyway. "I could get absolutely everything and no one would be any the wiser, I promise."
Still looking displeased, Treville nodded. "Do it. Tell me if you find anything. In the meantime, I want to know what happened to this girl – Athos, you said you know the mother?"
"'Know' is a very strong word Sir," Athos protested, but he knew that it would be of no use.
"I'll take what I can get," Treville said, smiling slyly as though he knew exactly what Athos was thinking. "Take Aramis with you and ask around. Find out what was going on in this girl's life before she disappeared – any new acquaintances, any upset at home or at school."
Athos didn't say anything, but he was fairly sure that if Fleur's life had been anything like his own then there would almost always have been upset at home, especially if Ninon's assessment of the girl had been correct. He wouldn't be surprised if they found out that she had run away.
"Porthos, head on down to the Red Guard offices. We need to officially request their investigation files, unfortunately."
"Sir," Athos protested instantly, "For starters, they'll never give us anything we ask for, especially not this and either way, you can't send a Musketeer in there alone. Not after everything that's happened recently."
Treville's eyes flashed in warning, the only outward sign that Athos was dangerously close to crossing a line. He felt silent in an instant. "I had no intention of sending Porthos alone. He's going to be taking the available half of Bravo team with him, who you'll find in the main office. And as for them not handing over the reports we want, well, it's a good thing we have a hacker on hand, isn't it?"
Athos' smile was one part approval, two parts apology. From Treville's slight tilt of his head, his message was understood and accepted.
"Do you want me to focus on getting Ninon's files or on getting into Richelieu's files first?" d'Artagnan was already planning how he would approach each problem, Athos could tell. He had this mischievous, focused glint in his eye that usually meant trouble for someone somewhere.
"Focus on Richelieu. There is a chance that the Red Guards will give us the files willingly, and I'd like to give them that chance if we can."
They all nodded their agreement, and headed out at Treville's wave of dismissal. Porthos instantly headed off down the corridor to scrounge up some support from Bravo team, while d'Artagnan lingered long enough to tip an imaginary hat in farewell, his eyes lingering worriedly on Athos for a moment, before scampering off down the corridor with the energy only afforded to youths.
Aramis, mercifully, left off until they were in the car park. "So, Ninon, huh?"
Aware that this had been coming, Athos couldn't bring himself to do anything more than sigh in frustration. "Must we really have this conversation?"
"That exact response is the reason that we should. Sharing is caring Athos." Aramis' smug grin was only a cover for genuine concern, and that was the only reason Athos didn't just punch him right then and there.
"There is absolutely nothing to talk about. My friend – Our friend – is in trouble and we're going to do what we can to help her. Incidentally we get to piss off Richelieu, and god knows we don't do that often enough already."
"And your desire to do this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you've slept with her?"
Aramis said it with such a casualness, that Athos barely even noticed what he'd said until his reply was out of his mouth. "We always agreed that our relationship wouldn't get in the way of work."
It was the loaded silence following his words that clued him in to just what he'd said, and instantly his jaw snapped closed in furious censure. Goddamn Aramis.
The marksman didn't say another word for a good five minutes, letting Athos guide them through the daily traffic without interference. Eventually he hummed softly. "So, you did sleep with her. I had always wondered."
Annoyed at himself as much as Aramis, Athos' glare was cold. "Who I sleep with is none of your damn business. This has nothing to do with any of that."
Aramis raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Of course it doesn't. That's why you're crushing the steering wheel, yeah? Look, I have absolutely no room to judge-"
"Which is why you should shut the hell up."
"-But it's not like I would judge anyway. Athos, you're not a goddamn monk. Newsflash, it's 2015 and it's perfectly acceptable for two people who like each other to sleep together. They don't even have to be in a relationship. Welcome to the new age."
"I'm married," Athos hissed, then instantly regretted saying a thing. Aramis' expression had gone blank with surprise.
"Is that what this is all about? Jesus. Look, I don't pretend to know what you feel for Milady, even after everything and I'm not going to diminish your feelings by trying to, but what the two of you have is not a marriage. And even if it was, a person can be in love with two people, Athos. Love is never a sin, no matter what you've been taught to believe."
Athos sighed heavily, wishing he could be anywhere else. "Ninon and I discussed it ages ago," he admitted eventually. "We were both attracted to each other and we knew it but we weren't willing to be stupid about it. We've both learned our lessons in that regard. In the end we realised that our attraction wasn't enough – it wasn't what either of us wanted and so we broke it off. Agreed to be friends, never looked back."
"Except you slept with her."
"How do you know that wasn't before then?"
Aramis smiled his knowing smile that made Athos want to punch him repeatedly. "Because, my friend, I know you. You wouldn't have slept with her until you had made sure you were all on the same page – hence those conversations. And if you concluded those by parting ways…"
There was no getting away from it, Athos realised. "It was after Venice," he admitted almost silently. "A mistake, on both our parts but… I don't know. We couldn't help ourselves, I guess. In the morning we both said that we'd made a mistake and promised to forget about it and move on. Until right this minute, I'd kept my promise."
Aramis let the silence fill the vehicle once again before another thought occurred to him. "d'Artagnan's been living with you since before Venice. How did he not notice you'd spent the night away from home?" The lack of an answer was all the conformation Aramis needed. "The little shit knows about this, doesn't he? That's why he looked so concerned before we left. He never said a word, the git."
"I made him promise not to say anything. He was only doing what I'd asked of him."
"I'm still annoyed," Aramis said, but it was clear that he didn't really mean it. He couldn't blame d'Artagnan for Athos' emotional constipation, after all. "Are you going to be okay with all of this?" He asked after another contemplative pause. "I don't just mean Ninon, as if that wasn't bad enough, but everything else. The people we're going to talk to… I'm guessing that you know them from Before, yeah?"
"My parents got on well with the Delacroix family. I think they liked to argue over who was richer. That 'friendship' quickly fell apart after the scandal that I caused, and it was only partially my fault. The woman we're going to see – Fleur's mother – is truly awful. Whatever you do, don't let her start talking about genealogy lines, or we'll never get to leave."
"Your childhood makes me want to cry tears of blood," Aramis remarked.
"You're not the only one," Athos agreed, smiling. He wasn't okay with this, and he wasn't convinced he'd be able to cope with it either, but he had his friends to prop him up and besides, Ninon was counting on them.
Therese Delacroix was everything that Athos had remembered, but amplified a hundred times. It was obvious within moments of meeting the woman that her primary concern was not her missing child, but the negative press such a situation might bring to her family name.
On arrival, a housemaid had ushered them through the door with great haste as soon as they'd presented their badges, and had shown them through to a back room where Therese had sprawled herself over a priceless chaise lounge, wafting herself slowly with a delicate-looking fan. Athos had to resist the urge to duck his head into a bow and announce himself as he had been taught to do – he had a feeling that he was going to be fighting back similar urges the whole time he was forced to be under the Delacroix roof.
The woman was old, getting into her sixties at the very least, but still maintaining her sharp features and long, silver hair that was pulled back into a fierce bun. The hairstyle was tight enough that Athos could see it stretching the skin of her face grotesquely. Sharp green eyes watched them enter.
"Madame Delacroix, two gentlemen here to see you from the Musketeers," the housemaid announced to the room at large, despite there only being one occupant. "Monsieurs Aramis d'Herblay and Athos de Breuille."
Apparently unconcerned about haste, Therese slowly pulled herself upright and waved them forwards imperiously. As soon as Athos' face was hit with the glare of the light, Therese's face scrunched up in concentration before unfolding into fury.
"This is no de Breuille you stupid girl," she screeched at the petrified maid. "Look at his nose! He's a la Fere and you know that I will not have vermin like him in my house! Think of the scandal! You're lucky that I don't have you thrashed-"
"Madame," Athos cut in, wishing that he could step in and slap the stupid woman off her goddamn high horse. Aramis was damn near vibrating at his side. "The girl is not at fault. I introduced myself as de Breuille and she had no reason to distrust me. I assure you that I did not come here to tarnish your good name, but rather to save it."
Therese still looked furious, but her attention had been successfully diverted from the poor maid, who took the opportunity to scurry from the room with tears in her eyes. Aramis watched her go with palpable sadness. "Well, we will suffer no pretence under my roof, la Fere. You will state your full name now or you will leave my house."
For all that Athos hated his family, he still bristled at the way she drawled out his name, as though it wasn't worth the breath required to speak it. He kept the dislike from his face with great effort. "Of course Madame. I was born Olivier d'Athos de la Fere, but as I told your maid, I go by a different name these days."
"No wonder. I know your name la Fere, and now that I know it I recognise your face. Never in generations has anyone brought such shame upon their family as you did on yours."
Aramis looked ready to lunge for the woman's throat and Athos wasn't entirely sure he'd stop him if he tried, so he decided it was best to push this conversation in another direction. "I am sure you are right Madame, but we did not come here to discuss my family. Rather, we came here to discuss yours."
Therese instantly looked wary. "What about my family?"
"Your daughter, Madame. She is missing, is she not?"
For a split second, Therese genuinely looked as though she was struggling to remember, but then recognition dawned and she waved her hand in acknowledgement. "I was told that they've arrested someone for that already."
Aramis apparently couldn't restrain himself any longer, blurting out, "Don't you even care?"
Without any attempt at subtlety, Athos stamped down on his foot. "What my partner here means to say, is that your daughter has not yet been returned to you. It is our job to rectify that situation, but we have reason to believe that the person arrested is not responsible for your daughter's disappearance. We were hoping that we could get to the truth."
"I have already had to endure policemen sniffing around my house, and my family. Why should I let anyone else do the same?"
"Because we want to get you your daughter back, Madame," Aramis forced out through gritted teeth, "And to do that we need information. We are not the police – the Musketeers are a specialised unit and we have a far greater chance of finding Fleur. Would you please be willing to answer our questions, so that we can get out of your hair?"
Athos was actually impressed at how well Aramis was holding himself together. He'd had years of training when he was a child at letting the insults fly over his head and not taking a single word to heart, but Aramis had grown up in an environment where words were everything, and every one of them meant something. Taking this kind of abuse must be hitting him hard.
Therese sighed heavily, letting them know just how much of an imposition this was for her, but acquiesced with a nod. "Ask your questions."
"Had Fleur been acting strangely before her disappearance? Become withdrawn or distant?"
Therese waved an uncaring hand. "I wouldn't know about that. One of the maids, Freya, she always looked after Fleur. I only saw her for dinner in the evenings."
Athos and Aramis shared a long, loaded look as Aramis pulled out a notepad to scribble down notes. Athos hummed in acknowledgement. "How did she seem at dinner the night before she disappeared?"
"As she always did. I do not allow children to talk at the dinner table so she was always silent and that night was no different. It was a night like any other."
"Had Fleur mentioned meeting any new friends to you recently?"
"Talk with Freya. She would know."
Athos mentally ran through his list of questions and scrubbed almost ninety percent of them out – they could only be answered by someone that had actually spoken to the person in question and clearly Therese was a woman who subscribed to the 'seen and not heard' method of raising children.
"Do you know of any reason why someone would wish to take your daughter? Someone that might hold a grudge against your family for instance?"
Therese laughed, as though there was anything remotely funny in the situation. "Plenty, dear boy. So many that I could not name them. No one has asked us for money, so it must be someone hoping that they can smear my family name. I can assure you that will not be allowed to happen."
'Oh, good,' Athos thought viciously, barely keeping himself from saying it out loud. He'd met very few people he despised more than Therese Delacroix, and given that he made a living hunting down criminals, it was truly quite a feat.
Aramis nudged at his foot, and he glanced over to meet his gaze. 'We're wasting our time,' his expression clearly read, and Athos felt himself inclined to agree.
"Thank you for your help Madame, that's all. Might I trouble you to know the whereabouts of your maid Freya? We would like to speak to her."
"She doesn't finish work until five," Therese informed them smartly, her eyebrows drawing together. "After that, she may do as she wishes."
"The life of your daughter may depend on finding her sooner rather than later," Aramis announced, not willing to avoid that awful truth for another moment. "While we sit around waiting for five o'clock to pass us by, Fleur might be out there somewhere in the world, dying. Taking five minutes of your maid's time will not be the end of your world, but it might just be the end of Fleur's, so I suggest you tell us where Freya is."
From the stunned expression on Therese's face, it was clear that she wasn't used to being spoken to in such a manner, and Athos took a vindictive amount of pleasure from watching her scramble for composure. "If the gentleman insists," she said eventually, still sounding shell-shocked. "She will probably be in the kitchen at this hour. Ask the other staff."
They both took that as their invitation to leave and headed for the door, glad to leave that harpy of a woman behind them. Almost immediately they ran into another servant, this time a boy who looked no older than nineteen. He managed to point them in the direction of Fleur's room, informing them quickly that Freya had taken to spending some time there every day to make sure it was ready for whenever the Mademoiselle came home, before hurrying off down the corridor. Clearly the staff were not permitted to linger while on duty.
As the boy had said, there was a woman in her mid-fifties dusting the shelves in what could only be a young girl's bedroom with a sadness on her face that you would expect in a mourning parent. Whatever Therese hadn't been for the girl, evidently Freya had.
"Excuse me, might we interrupt you for a moment?" Athos asked hesitantly.
Broken out of what was clearly a deep reverie, Freya jumped. "Ah, apologies Monsieurs, I did not hear you come in. What might I do for you?"
"We've been sent here from the Musketeers. We're looking into Fleur's disappearance and we were told that you were the person to talk to about what she'd been up to."
At the mention of Fleur's name, the woman looked unspeakably sad before she was able to control herself. "I looked after her most of the time, yes, but I don't know what help I'll be to you. As I told the other policemen, Fleur hadn't been acting unusual at all."
"Not a thing? No new friends, activities? Maybe some new habits?"
Freya frowned, thinking. "I can't think of anything," she said distantly. "She hadn't mentioned anything specifically and she seemed as bubbly as always… Wait, there was one thing, stupid really. Habits, you said? For the last few weeks, she'd started plaiting up her hair before bed, so that it was wavy in the morning. She said that she was to be a respectable woman, and all respectable women had to look the part or no one would take them seriously. It's probably nothing, but it stuck in my head. Fleur had never really cared about looks until then."
Something in Athos' very core had gone stone cold, and he couldn't even bring himself to reassure the woman that no detail was too small when it came to an investigation, leaving a slightly baffled Aramis to take care of all of that instead. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, was just frozen. Aramis, growing increasingly worried by the sudden freeze, took control and gave their thanks to Freya before steering him for the nearest exit.
He managed to get him onto the pavement and halfway down the street before tugging him to a stop and trying to snap him out of it.
"Athos, you're scaring the shit out of me, okay? What the hell is happened? Was it something Freya said? Shit."
It was the beginnings of genuine panic in Aramis' voice that eventually got Athos' brain back into working order, booting up like an old computer until it was wheezing steadily once more. He blinked, then shook his head to clear it. "I'm okay, I'm back."
Aramis swore aloud, and threw himself into a hug. "Don't ever do that again you fucking lunatic. What was that?"
"I just- It doesn't matter. What Freya said, about respectable women having to look the part – I've heard that said before." He was marching back towards the car before Aramis had time to ask, leaving the marksman to trail after him in confusion."
"By who? What does it mean?"
Athos paused long enough to look over his shoulder, feeling the icy cold grip at his heart once more and hold it fiercely. Aramis knew exactly what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.
"What it means, is that Ninon has been lying to us."
Aramis had the car keys out of Athos' hands before he had a chance to even unlock the doors, tucking them behind himself so that the only way Athos could get them back was by going through him. His team leader glared at him sharply, well aware of what he was trying to do.
"Aramis-"
"No, listen. You're pissed off right now and you have every right to be. I'm not going to try and get in the way of that. But I will protest if you try to drive a vehicle with me in it when you look as though you might consider driving it straight into the nearest building, okay? I'm driving."
Athos looked like he really wanted to protest, but arguing would waste time and he wanted to be moving. "Fine," he said sharply, twisting away to head for the passenger side door. "We're going to see Ninon."
There were a hundred reasons that was a bad idea, but Aramis wasn't willing to fight Athos on this, not when he was in that black, angry mood that shut them all out. He slid into the driver's seat in silence.
As a fitting mirror of the mood inside the car, the heavens had chosen that day as the day to open their doors and submerge Paris under a deluge fiercer than Aramis had seen in years. Driving was difficult when you couldn't see more than a few metres ahead of you, and Aramis was glad all over again that he hadn't let Athos drive. They'd have never made it to where they were going.
The silence in the car was strange. Aramis had never been someone to suffer in silence, and whenever he was uncertain or uncomfortable, he would cover it up by becoming the loudest, brightest person in any given room. Athos was his polar opposite in that regard.
They'd gone about a mile before Aramis couldn't stand it anymore. "Did you grow up around people like that?"
Athos maintained his silence for a full minute before he gave in with a sigh. "More or less. My parents were like that. Thomas wasn't. And we had household staff that looked after us from day to day who acted like actual human beings."
"You have no idea how amazing it is that you turned out a normal person," Aramis admitted with a flicker of a smile.
The returning smile was bleak and empty. "I hunt down criminals for a living. We are none of us normal."
"Normal is relative. You don't treat people like interchangeable cattle for starters. How did you manage to be around people like that and not try to strangle anyone? I'd have been throwing punches in there if we hadn't needed her help."
"You forget that I was born into that environment. I thought that was what normal people acted like, and I was the odd one out. It wasn't until I was 18 and I made my own life that I started to understand the rest of the world wasn't like my parents. You have no idea how relieved I was when I found that out."
"You left home at 18?" This was actually a story that Aramis knew, but he was aware that Athos was clinging to the last of his calm with his fingernails, and talking seemed to be helping him to keep his grip.
"I went to university – in England, so that my parents couldn't visit me. It wasn't until I was already there that I'd also left Thomas behind as well. Not sure he ever really forgave me for that."
They were straying into dangerous territory here, so Aramis steered them further away. "England, huh? Which university?"
Athos, unexpectedly, went pink with embarrassment. "Cambridge," he admitted eventually, his voice small.
Despite himself, Aramis spluttered. That was something he hadn't known. "You went to one of the best universities in the world?"
"The only way my parents would have let me go to university was if I went to somewhere prestigious. I applied to Cambridge to satisfy them and when they gave me an offer… It seemed petty to refuse. I had a sports scholarship – from the fencing."
Aramis whistled appreciatively. "That's pretty impressive. What did you study?"
"I did a joint honours. English Literature and Physics – a slightly strange combination by anyone's standards but I didn't want to choose between them."
"And I'm certain you got Firsts in everything anyway, didn't you?" He let Athos see the pride in his face before he turned back to the road.
Athos blush was enough of an answer, and Aramis let him avoid the question. He would never cease to be surprised at just how amazing Athos really was, and how much he hadn't told them simply because he didn't like anyone to think he was bragging. He knew he'd had a privileged childhood, and that was good, but he used it as an excuse for all the good things he'd managed to do in his life so that when he looked back, he didn't see that he'd really achieved anything. It was both heart-breaking and awe inspiring.
There was still a long way to go before they got to the prison, so Aramis kept the conversation going with casual ease. "Did you have any tutors that you didn't like?"
There were about a mile away from the prison when Athos finally clammed up, his flow of university anecdotes running dry to be replaced with cold, worried silence. Aramis, watching him from the corner of his eye, felt something solid settle in his gut heavily.
"Athos, you don't have to be the one to do this, yeah? I can go and talk to her if you want. No one is going to blame you if you want to take a step back from this."
"No," Athos said firmly. "This isn't about the investigation, or Fleur, or any of that. This is about me looking her in the eyes and asking her why she lied to me."
"There could be any number of reasons for it," Aramis reasoned. "Just because Fleur had picked up that phrase, it doesn't even mean that she'd got it from Ninon. And if she had it might just have been something she overheard at a party. There's no reason to jump to conclusions here."
Athos shook his head. "There was something in the way she was speaking on the phone. I didn't want to acknowledge it before, and she buried it under everything else but she was keeping something from me the whole time. I don't think she was involved in Fleur's disappearance, I believe that much. But this is something I need to ask her about, face to face."
Aramis pulled into the carpark and flicked the engine off. "If you're certain, then alright. Do you want me to come?"
The suggestion was considered, then turned down. "Best not. Call the others and fill them in on what we know. See if any of them found out anything more useful."
Aramis watched him dart off into the rain with sad eyes, making sure he made it to the door before he pulled out his phone. He guessed that Porthos was probably still tied up in bureaucratic bullshit at the Red Guard garrison, so he dialled d'Artagnan's number first.
He picked up on the second ring. "What can I do for you? Learn anything interesting?"
"Interesting and awful. Ninon lied to Athos."
There was a brief, loaded pause before d'Artagnan let out a heartfelt, "Shit."
"Yeah. He's visiting her now."
"Wait, wait, you're letting him go and see her alone? Are you crazy? Aramis you know what this will do to him-"
Feeling slightly vicious at the insinuation that he didn't know what he was doing, he cut in sharply. "d'Artagnan calm down. It's not like they slept together, or anything."
It shut d'Artagnan right up for several seconds before Aramis heard him clear his throat uneasily. "He, uh. He told you, didn't he?"
"Whatever could you mean?" He kept speaking before d'Artagnan had a chance to reply. "Could you possibly mean how you've been keeping secrets from your friends? How even when it became pertinent information you continued to not tell us something vitally important? What about-"
"Aramis, I gave him my word," d'Artagnan broke in, sounding as though he was in pain. Aramis almost instantly felt bad – he was taking an easy dig at d'Art simply because he was frustrated and it certainly wasn't fair of him to blame the hacker for trying to do right by his friend.
He sighed heavily. "I know. He told me that too. Said that I wasn't allowed to blame you for doing as he had asked."
"Do you blame me?"
"No, I guess. I'm just- This whole thing sucks, you know? Therese Delacroix is a woman I would happily never meet again in my life."
"That bad?"
"I'm not sure she'd even really noticed that her daughter is missing. The only thing she was genuinely bothered about was how much of her staff's time we were going to take up asking questions."
"Christ."
"Yeah. The sum total of it is that rich people are terrible, and Fleur had picked up a phrase that Ninon is fond of using. Athos is, theoretically, going to get the true story of their acquaintance out of Ninon now. What have you dug up?"
d'Artagnan let out an irritated hum. "Richelieu isn't stupid. Or at least, he has someone in charge of his electronic security who knows what they're doing. Every firewall I manage to navigate, another one is suddenly in my way. It wouldn't be a problem if I could just smash through them but I think someone would probably notice if I started tearing their system to shreds."
"Probably. Still think you can do it?"
"Please. You're talking to the best hacker in the world, remember? I'll get there, it'll just take some time."
"Any word on how Porthos is doing?"
"The Red Guards didn't attack on sight, which is better than I thought it might be, but they're being awkward buggers by the sounds of it. They're leading them round enough loops of jurisdiction that even a lawyer would get dizzy, but Porthos seems to have a handle on it. It's our right to request the files. If they outright refuse, then we could theoretically sue them."
"Maybe that's what Richelieu's counting on. That would take too long to help Ninon and it's not like the Red Guards don't have the money to pay us off."
"Probably. Too bad they didn't count on me."
Aramis chuckled. "No one ever does. Keep us in the loop."
"I will. You too."
He hung up the call and tossed his phone onto the dashboard, rubbing at his face tiredly. They were supposed to be having a quiet week, a small Christmas gift from Treville that for once they could afford – evidently it wasn't meant to be. He leant his head back against the headrest, and fixed his eyes on the doors Athos had disappeared though, hoping that this wouldn't be enough to damage their team leader permanently.
Athos breezed through security in a daze – his badge meant that he was allowed to carry a handgun with him wherever he went so the whole process was fairly redundant – and he was almost surprised when he ended up in a private meeting room, a chair waiting for him in front of a panel of inch-thick glass. Ninon wasn't yet there, so he was free to take a few minutes to try and centre himself.
This wasn't something he had any idea how to deal with; when was he going to stop being taken in by pretty faces and pretty lies? He could remember his initial hesitation when Ninon had called him, the tremble in her voice that wasn't fear, but he had wilfully ignored it, refusing to believe that he could possibly have been entranced by two different women in his life. Was he really so gullible? Evidently so, or he wouldn't be here.
The door on the other side of the glass was swung open and Ninon was marched in, her slender hands held in place by handcuffs that had rubbed the skin of her pale wrists red. Her eyes fixed on him like a lifeline.
She wasn't wearing any make up – highly unusual for her – and her hair was in disarray around her face as though she'd slept on it and not tidied it up come morning. She was so beautiful it was painful.
She was tugged into the chair on her side of the room and her cuffs released so that she could reach for the phone beside her. At Athos' glare, her guards retreated to the corridor and shut the door firmly behind them.
"Athos," she whispered into the phone as soon as he'd picked it up. She was making her eyes wide and innocent, trying to make herself look like the scared little girl she had never been. It was a shame he couldn't believe it.
"You lied to me," he said without beating around the bush. He wasn't about to give her the chance to talk him in circles any more. She reeled back as though he'd struck her, her beautiful face twisted up into a horrified mask. Athos did his best not to feel a thing. "You told me that you barely knew Fleur."
"What-" She bit back whatever she was about to say, trying to collect herself. "I don't."
"According to her maid, she'd started worrying about the way she looked. Apparently she said that as a respectable woman, she had to look the part – sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
Ninon's face shut down into pained understanding, realising that she'd been caught out. Athos wanted to feel glad about her defeat, but he just didn't have the heart to feel any pleasure about her suffering. His expression softened. "Ninon, I want to help you. Really, I do. But you need to tell me the truth, right now, or there's nothing I can do."
"Do you think I did it? Do you think that I took that girl from her family?" Her voice was small, but not accusatory. Just curious.
"No. But having been forcefully reminded of what Therese is like, I'm not sure that I'd blame you if you had."
It was a peace offering, and no one was more surprised than Athos that he was the one offering it. Ninon took it gladly. "I know what you mean. It was because of how Therese was with her that I got to know Fleur. You're right, I didn't tell you the full truth before – I knew Fleur quite well. Although, I didn't know the name Baudin. I only ever knew her as a Delacroix. I met her at a party of her mother's about a year ago, and we got talking. I think she was hoping that I would be the mother to her that she desperately wanted – she had a maid who she loved dearly, but I think she was hoping for someone more… glamourous. Children never realise what they have, I suppose."
"So you took her under your wing?"
"In a manner of speaking. She just wanted someone to look up to who didn't treat her as though she wasn't even there. She liked to listen to me read."
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"At least a month ago. It didn't… We didn't part well." Her mouth twisted unhappily.
"What happened?"
"Fleur had been talking for a while about leaving home, going to live with her father. Her parents are still married – people like us don't suffer the indignity of divorce, as you know – but he spends most of the year in Saudi Arabia as a business man. He and Fleur are very close but Therese would never allow her husband the pleasure of having custody of their daughter. She would rather make everyone miserable to make a point."
"That sounds about right," Athos said sadly. It was exactly the kind of thing he had come to expect of people like the la Feres and the Delacroix. "What happened between you and Fleur?"
"I told her that she shouldn't give up on her mother. I tried to convince her that she would be safer staying at home, and she didn't take kindly to what she saw as my meddling in her affairs. She stormed out and I haven't seen her since."
"Do you think she might have run away from home?"
"She would have wanted to, I'm sure. But Fleur wasn't worldly wise in the slightest – her mother had made certain of that. If she had run away then she wouldn't have got further than the end of the road."
"Could she have gotten lost?"
Ninon shook her head. "She was sheltered and naïve, but fiercely intelligent. She wouldn't have wandered far enough to be unable to remember the way home."
Athos used his free hand to rub at his face. "Did Fleur mention anything to you that might have something to do with her disappearance? Maybe she met someone new that she told you about?"
"No, there was nothing. I promise Athos. I lied to you before because I knew how it would look if I told you the truth, but I'm not lying now. I should have told you the truth from the start."
"Yes, you should have," he agreed readily. There was no point in denying it to make her feel better. "You used our relationship to manipulate me when you needn't have done. Do you really think so little of me that I wouldn't have heard you out?"
Ninon looked close to tears again, and this time at least it seemed genuine. "No, that's not- Athos, I didn't keep the truth from you because I didn't trust you. I am terrified, Athos. I just… panicked."
Athos looked down at his lap, completely unsure of how to deal with that. Instead, he picked up a different thread of conversation. "You think that Richelieu was involved in this somehow. Did he know Fleur at all?"
"I doubt it… But now that I think about it, Richelieu's political career may have received funding from the Delacroix family – I can't be sure. It was years ago. I'm sure him and Therese would have got along swimmingly."
"I'll have someone look into it. People like them tend to stick together when it's convenient for them. If that is the case though, I wonder what made Richelieu turn on them."
"Could be anything. Therese is quick to offend and wouldn't ever apologise."
Athos nodded knowingly. "Is there anything else you can think of that might help us get to the bottom of this?"
Ninon frowned, thinking hard. She looked tired, he realised, as he watched her. There were bags under her eyes and the tremble in her limbs, while only slight, was enough that he could see it where she gripped the phone like a lifeline. "No, I can't think of anything," she said eventually, sounding defeated. "I swear to you. I won't lie to you again."
She looked sincere enough for Athos to believe her. "Okay. I'll keep digging and see what I can find. Are you okay?"
She blinked in surprise, then let a self-deprecating smile escape her. "I'm in prison Athos."
"I've been arrested before. I know what it's like." She obviously wanted to ask him about that so he kept talking before she got the chance. "I just need to know that you're alright."
"I…" She glanced about the bare room she was in, then down at the plain blue overalls they'd given her. "I'm okay. But I need to get out of here Athos. I don't… Please help me," she said. Athos didn't know if she was aware she was repeating her earlier sentiments from the phone call, but he doubted it. Now that he could see her face when she said it, he realised just how deep her pleading went. Ninon was terrified and had decided that Athos was her only chance.
"I'll do my best. Even if you weren't involved, I don't want any harm to come to Fleur and the only way of ensuring that is to find her. We'll get this sorted out."
"I believe you," she said weakly. The door behind her opened, a guard poking his head in to see if they were finished. Athos waved him in.
"I'll come and see you again tomorrow, alright? Hang in there."
Ninon didn't look up from where she'd fixed her eyes on the floor, hand apparently unwilling to unclench itself from the phone. "Thank you."
Aware that if he didn't move now then he'd never leave, Athos forced his feet to march him to the door and back through security. He didn't look back.
"So, Richelieu isn't involved in anything directly," d'Artagnan announced, clearly irritated. "He's smart, which is a pain in my ass. From what I've been able to piece together – which, incidentally, was hard as shit and I definitely deserve a raise – he's managed this through an assortment of his lieutenants and face to face conversations that he was able to disguise as genuine meetings. It helps that Richelieu and Therese Delacroix are old friends. No one thought twice when they met up for dinner."
Aramis raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Richelieu has friends?"
"You met Therese," Athos reminded him. "Snakes tend to band together." The marksman tilted his head in a 'fair point' sort of gesture.
"What I was able to find out that could be of importance, is that there has long been some contention between Richelieu, Therese and Henri Baudin – Therese's husband. Therese and Baudin are separated, and have been for years. He spends most of his time out in the Middle East working and only ever comes back to Paris to see his daughter on the holidays."
"Has he been back in Paris recently?"
"No, he hasn't. But, his right hand man and best friend – Pepin Allistaire has been here six times in the last year or so."
Athos frowned. "Is that usual?"
"Not in the slightest. Now, the only reason this came up at all was that Allistaire is an important name in business, apparently, so when he met up with Richelieu in January, some people took notice. There was a minor press release saying that the Red Guards were inquiring about a new supply line for various things – nothing to make a fuss over. The whole event vanished into obscurity."
This was looking like a solid lead, to anyone who knew where to look. "So you're thinking that Baudin had Richelieu kidnap his own daughter so that he could take custody of her?"
d'Artagnan was nodding, looking vaguely proud at everything he'd managed to uncover. "It makes sense given what we know. If it wasn't for Richelieu trying to set Ninon up to take the fall, I'd be half convinced to just let them get away with it."
"Can't say that I disagree," Aramis muttered, frowning. "But why would Richelieu turn on Therese?"
"Finding that took a wider search than I'd initially tried, which is why this took so long to piece together. It wasn't until Ninon mentioned the Delacroix family funding Richelieu for me to think about checking out their finances. Therese can be as high and mighty as she wants but the brutal truth is that she is flat broke. Her parents poured most of their fortune into projects that never paid off, Richelieu's political career being a prime example. All of Therese's current wealth is all thanks to Baudin's salary."
Athos had retained enough of his parents' upbringing to be entirely unable to cut off the vicious laugh that bubble out of him at that. In an attempt to not seem completely heartless, he had the grace to try and disguise it as a cough, even if Porthos' knowing look meant he had been entirely unsuccessful.
Perhaps wisely, d'Artagnan chose to ignore him. "It turns out that Baudin donates a significant amount of money to the Red Guards every year. He's their largest individual benefactor. I'd guess that if Baudin threatened to cut off that funding, Richelieu would do pretty much anything asked of him."
"So Baudin blackmailed Richelieu into it and, as per usual, he found a way to work it to his advantage." As he spoke, Athos took in the passport photo of Baudin d'Artagnan had managed to get. He was younger than his wife, but life had aged him unfairly so that he looked several years older. Despite the obvious weathering, his face was a kind one, if a little unremarkable – not the kind of man you would expect to have the guts to blackmail one of the most powerful men in France. "Baudin's brave, if not particularly smart."
Porthos looked over all the information spread out over the table like a king surveying his kingdom. "Right then. Where's Baudin?"
"There's the snag," d'Artagnan said with a grimace, looking annoyed at himself. "I don't know. I can't find evidence of him leaving Saudi Arabia but he hasn't been at work all of this week, despite the fact he hadn't booked leave. I've not managed to get access to his personal accounts yet."
"Maybe Richelieu decided that he didn't want to be blackmailed? He might have gone back on their deal," Aramis suggested.
Athos was already shaking his head. "He wouldn't risk his funding. There's got to be something else going on. Baudin's friend, Allistaire. Where's he?"
"Still in Paris," d'Artagnan said, pointing at the laptop sat open beside him. "I'm tracking his cards. As soon as he tries to buy anything, we'll have a location."
Aramis grinned at their hacker. "Thought of everything, haven't you?"
"Why does everyone seem surprised when I'm good at my job?" d'Artagnan bemoaned, but he was smiling despite his words.
"Someone should probably go and see Richelieu, shouldn't they?" Porthos said after a few minutes of companionable silence.
Athos sighed, and let his head thunk down onto the table with heartfelt frustration. "I'll talk to Treville," he said, without lifting his head. "He'll probably insist on being the one to deal with Richelieu directly."
"He's been antsy about letting us get close since that whole mess with Adelmant. I think if he had his way then we'd never see Richelieu again," Aramis said.
Porthos huffed. "I wish that were possible."
"Not at Treville's expense," Athos said quietly. He was well aware of Treville's self-sacrificing tendencies, but this was one sword that he shouldn't have to throw himself on. "I'll go with him."
It was clear that his team wanted to disagree with that, but they were cut off by d'Artagnan's laptop pinging loudly. He poked at it curiously. "I have a location on Allistaire, not far from here," he announced after a moment. "Who's doing what?"
Athos thought quickly. "Since Porthos couldn't get the files out of the Red Guards, you're up. Think you can get working on that now?"
"No problem."
"Okay then. You two," he said to Aramis and Porthos, "Head off and pick up Allistaire. We're not arresting him officially, just bringing him in for questioning at this point. Make him feel safe – he might tell us the truth that way. In the meantime I'll go and… try to explain this shit to the Captain."
Allistaire was understandably distraught when two gun-carrying, heavily muscled men appeared out of nowhere and requested that he kindly follow them. To the man's credit, he held it together while they escorted him back to the Garrison and got him set up in a private interview room, settling themselves down opposite him.
He looked between them warily. "What's going on?"
"Please don't be alarmed Monsieur. We just want to ask you some questions." They'd learnt years ago that interviews tended to go best when Aramis asked questions politely and Porthos sat in intimidating silence.
"About what?"
"You are probably aware that Henri Baudin's daughter, Fleur, recently went missing, are you not?"
"Of course I am," he said sharply. "Henri has been beside himself. What's that got to do with me?"
"Please Monsieur, we're not accusing you of anything. We just wanted to know if you had any pertinent information you might be able to share with us. We now have reason to believe that Fleur's disappearance is somehow linked to Baudin."
It was the wrong thing to say – Allistaire's face shut down. "Henri loves his daughter. He wouldn't have anything to do with her disappearance."
"We're not saying that he did. Baudin runs a major international company – he's a valuable man. If someone wanted to exploit him, then surely his daughter would be the easiest way of doing so."
"I don't know what you're trying to imply-"
"I'm not implying anything Monsieur," Aramis said calmly, refusing to react to the growing anger in Allistaire's voice. "But it can reasonably be assumed that someone in your position would be perfectly positioned to help someone wanting to gain control over Monsieur Baudin-"
"No!"
"And given the amount of time you have been spending in Paris lately Monsieur," Aramis continued in the same, level tone, not letting Allistaire talk over him, "I am forced to think that perhaps your involvement in this matter is not merely a series of conveniences."
"No!" Allistaire shrieked, so agitated that he had forced himself to his feet. Porthos tensed in response and the man backed off quickly, looking surprised at his own anger. "It wasn't like that- I didn't- I'm not-"
Still steady and calm, Aramis gestured at Allistaire's vacated seat. "Perhaps you would like to tell us exactly what happened Monsieur."
The man paced back and forth a few times, trying to get himself to calm down but he gradually made his way back to the table and resumed his seat. He kept his eyes on Porthos warily. "I don't…"
"Just start at the beginning Monsieur. Take as long as you need."
Allistaire sucked in a long breath and nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay, I can do that. It was months ago, when it all started. Henri got a call from his daughter, like he usually did at the weekends, but for some reason this one got to him more than all the rest. He hated that his cow of a wife had custody of Fleur, especially when he knew how Therese treated the poor girl."
"Why didn't he take her to court?"
"He didn't want to put Fleur through that. But this phone call changed things. Fleur was desperately unhappy at home, and Henri couldn't bear it any longer. He told Therese that she was either going to let him take custody of Fleur, or he was going to drag her through the courts and divorce her. He knew that Therese would never allow that to happen."
"So what went wrong?"
"Therese had more of backbone than Henri had thought. She started making all these threats against him, saying that she'd never let him take Fleur without making sure that she completely destroyed his company first. She might have been surviving on his money, but she had the connections to make her threats a reality."
Aramis hummed, trying to figure out if Allistaire was telling the truth. He certainly appeared to be, but people could be deceptive. "So Henri came up with a different plan."
"Yes. He knew that if he came to Paris then someone might pick up on it later, so I was to act as the mediator between him and his contacts here."
"Why did you agree to get involved? You must have known what you were doing was illegal."
"I've known Fleur since she was a baby. She might as well be my own daughter – it hurt me to see her so upset with how her mother treated her. I was willing to do anything to get her out of that place."
"Do you know who you were meeting with?"
"I could point him out if I saw him, but he was careful never to use his name. Baudin said that it would protect me if anyone found out what he was doing."
Porthos and Aramis shared a look – that sounded like something Richelieu would do to protect himself. "Do you know where Fleur is now? Or Baudin?"
"I don't. I promise. I was told that everything had been arranged and when I saw the news story about Fleur's disappearance, I figured that everything had gone to plan. Baudin was supposed to come to Paris to meet with her but he's dropped off the grid. He isn't answering his phone, and I don't know how to contact him. I'm worried."
"When did you last hear from him?"
"The day after Fleur went missing. I wasn't expecting to hear from him for a few days, whilst he got everything set up, but after about a week I started thinking something had gone wrong. I didn't know what to do."
He wasn't certain, of course, but Aramis felt inclined to believe Allistaire's account of events. It fit with all the details they already had, and the man seemed sincere enough in his retelling of it to be convincing.
"Alright Monsieur. I want to keep you here for a little while, so that we can take your official statement, but it's nothing to worry about. Thank you very much for your cooperation." He and Porthos rose to leave in unison.
"Wait! Am I… In trouble?"
Aramis smiled at him, letting a flash of teeth show. "That's not up to me, I'm afraid. Good afternoon."
Treville was about as amused by events as Athos had expected him to be. His enthusiasm didn't grow when Aramis and Porthos turned up to deliver their report from Allistaire. All roads pointed to Richelieu's door, but they were under no illusions that they'd manage to make any of their accusations stick long enough to convict him of anything, and even trying to do so would make them targets for his wrath. They'd poked at that particular bear too often already in the last year.
"What do we do, Sir? We can't in good conscience let Ninon take the fall for this when she had nothing to do with it, and we still have no idea where Fleur is."
"But if we go marching up to Richelieu's door, it's as likely to backfire on us as it is on him," Treville cautioned. "We can't assume that having the truth on our side is going to do us much good when we're going toe to toe with someone like Richelieu."
"The longer we debate over this, the easier it will be for him to sweep all the evidence under the rug, not to mention making Fleur and her father disappear for good."
"He won't hurt Baudin without risking his funding," the Captain reminded them. "And he can't hurt Fleur for the same reason."
"But then where are they both? Baudin's funding can only continue for as long as he keeps his job and he's not been going to work for the past week. His best friend doesn't know where he is."
They were interrupted by the arrival of d'Artagnan, who waved a pack of freshly printed sheets at them. "Ninon's report. Nothing on it matches up with anything we've learned so I'm inclined to believe it's entirely made up. It would never stand up in an honest trial."
"Richelieu wouldn't need it to. This is enough to completely destroy Ninon's social standing, and her connections are her power. Without them, she wouldn't be anywhere near as great a threat to him." Athos frowned as the thought occurred to him. Even if they got all this sorted out, it wasn't something Ninon would escape from unscathed.
"Which would strengthen Richelieu, but it still doesn't explain why Baudin's missing," Porthos reminded them. "There's got to be something we're missing here."
"I might be able to help with that," d'Artagnan put in. "While I was waiting for the file to come through, I did some more digging. It turns out that one of Therese's new household staff recently left employment from the Red Guard. His reasons for leaving were listed as 'unreported.' I have no proof of anything, of course, but I'm thinking that Therese might have found a way to weasel into Baudin's deal with Richelieu and offered better terms."
Athos grimaced. "It certainly sounds like something she would do. But what could she offer Richelieu that would be worth more to him than Baudin's money?"
"Maybe Ninon," d'Art suggested. "There's enough in this report that's true for someone not looking for lies to miss them completely. Burying the falsehood under truth has worked in the past."
"So," Aramis said, frowning. "What the hell do we do? Even if we could go up against Richelieu, I feel compelled to remind you that a lot of our evidence was obtained illegally. Hacking is useful, but still, technically, against the law."
They'd known that from the start, but it was still painful to be reminded that at the end of the day they had nothing. Silence fell over them, tense and unfriendly.
In the end, it was Treville that snapped them out of it. "I need to talk with Richelieu, and it's best I do this alone. No arguments," he said, when he saw all four of them start to protest. "This is an order. You are all to wait here until I return. If I'm not back in… two hours, Athos is in charge and I want you all to avenge me. Are we clear?" He was smiling, and it brought them some comfort but the mood was still tense as the Captain headed for the door.
"Now what the hell do we do?" Porthos asked as he watched the door swing shut.
Athos, feeling terrible right down to his core, shrugged. "We wait, I guess."
"Waiting sucks," d'Art griped sullenly. Athos wasn't inclined to disagree.
Treville was back in an hour and half, as it happened. He looked pale and drawn, as though he'd just been in battle – though to be fair, facing off with Richelieu was its own kind of warfare – and he took his seat a little more heavily than he usually did. He didn't comment on the fact that not one of them had moved since he left.
"So," Athos said, when the silence stretched, "What happened?"
The Captain sighed heavily, and put his head in his hands. "Ninon will be released. Fleur and Baudin – who were being held under 'quarantine' until Richelieu picked a side – are both free to go and my understanding is that they'll both be heading to Saudi Arabia by the end of the week. Therese will be… discouraged from trying to stop them."
There was a pause, as the four of them looked at each other in confusion. "This is… good news?" Aramis asked hesitantly, aware of how downtrodden Treville appeared.
"In a way. We've got the outcome we hoped for, and I'm glad of it. But…"
"This is going to hurt the Musketeers, isn't it?" Athos could see it in the defeated slope of Treville's shoulders, and he wondered just how much they had sacrificed to get their justice.
"Yes. Richelieu must have worked out that we could only know as much as we did by getting into his files, or by having a mole in his organisation. He seemed fairly sure that it couldn't be the latter and so…"
"He knows it was me, doesn't he?" d'Artagnan said quietly, already knowing the answer. "He's suspected me for a while. He's not stupid enough not to have worked it out by now."
Treville managed to pick his head up from his hands at that, forcing himself to meet the Gascon's gaze. "I promise you d'Artagnan, whatever happens, the Musketeers have your back. I will not let Richelieu hurt you for doing exactly what we asked of you."
"Thank you, Sir."
"It's late," Aramis said, when the room had gone still once more. "We could all use some rest. Why don't we call it a day?"
There was a subdued, general agreement, so they all filed out of the office sedately, aware that it felt like they were marching to their doom. d'Artagnan especially seemed withdrawn, not that any of them blamed him.
A silent conversation in the car park lead to them all piling into Athos' car, and heading for his house – none of them were willing to be separated quite yet and there was plenty of space for all of them to spend the night. Sometimes, it felt good not to be going home alone.
What none of them were expecting, was a ruffled, tired looking Ninon appearing on their doorstep the next morning, a thick winter coat wrapped around herself like a safety blanket. As soon as she clapped eyes on Athos, she threw herself into his arms.
Surprised, if not displeased, he held her tightly as she gripped at his shoulders, burying her face into the side of his neck and murmuring a thousand words of thanks. Her eyelashes tickled. To Athos' undying relief, the rest of the team seemed to realise that this moment was not meant for them, and made themselves scarce (though he was fairly certain that Aramis had his ear pressed to the door in the next room).
"You don't need to thank me," Athos said eventually, when it became clear that Ninon wasn't going to stop on her own. "It's my job."
"It was more than that, and you know it. Thank you," she said again, then pulled back to look him in the eyes. "You had no reason to help me after everything I did, but you did anyway. I will never stop being grateful for that."
"What happens to you now?" Athos asked, wishing to divert them from an endless series of gratitude that he didn't want. "Life as usual?"
"Unlikely," Ninon scoffed, her face sliding out of its grateful glow to crumple instead into a fierce anger, her eyes catching the light dangerously. "Being innocent won't matter a jot to half the people I know. The Larroque name will not recover from this; you know that."
"Yes, I do," Athos said, trying to sound apologetic about it and not quite managing it. She knew of his distaste for upper class politics. "So what are you going to do?"
"What any self-respecting person should do when they've been slighted. I'm going to go to goddamn war against that pious bastard."
That was certainly unexpected. Athos blinked in surprise, and kept his expression purposefully blank, concealing the sudden rush of emotions that had taken root. "How, exactly, are you planning on doing that?"
Her smile was sly – she'd been waiting for the question. "Treville has been trying to recruit me for years, has he not? Well, you can finally sign me up. If being a Musketeer will give me the opportunity to ruin Richelieu's day, then sign me the fuck up."
It was always so unexpected to hear her swear, that Athos couldn't help but laugh aloud, a delighted little sound that he could almost have been embarrassed by if it hadn't made Ninon's face light up with pleasure. "You're certain? You want to join the Musketeers?"
Her expression was triumphant, the kind of look a conquering queen might wear as she accepted her crown. The image was always one that had fit with Ninon. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Richelieu is going to learn exactly what it is to have Ninon de Larroque's displeasure."
This is 12,500 words guys. I am out of control. I wrote this in two days. I have exams to worry about goddamn it. I do not need plot bunnies in my head.