You've got your reasons

And me I've got mine

But all the reasons I gave

Were just lies to buy myself some time

Ocean Of Noise – Arcade Fire

Iris woke up to a quiet room. A sliver of light was making it's way through the window, telling her that dawn was almost upon them. Her body ached as she moved out of the position she had fallen asleep in – a blanket draped over her shoulders, and her legs folded against her chest.

Athos was still asleep. She could hear his soft breathing, and could just see him through the darkness in the room. The fire had died out some time in the night.

When they'd finally parted last night, he had coaxed her into eating something. She'd even accepted the glass of wine he had handed her, and not long after that she had drifted off to sleep.

They hadn't spoken much, and she knew it was because neither of them knew what to say. Her emotions last night had been all over the place.

Glancing back out the window, she let out a sigh and stood up. As quietly as she could, she put on her boots and grabbed the jacket that still lay over the back of her chair. Before leaving, she glanced at Athos and felt her shoulders fall. Even in sleep, he looked exhausted. The bottles of wine on the table were both empty.

I've brought you more trouble than I'm worth, she thought and reached for the blanket she had slept with. Carefully placing it over him, she stood back and watched him. Here was a man who had stayed by her side, despite not knowing why it was needed.

Sighing again, she put on her jacket, and grabbed the now empty basket on the table that had contained their food.

The inn was quiet. Though she knew the travellers would soon be up and ready to leave, it was still just early enough for anyone to be awake. The counter stood empty when she came to the front room, so she just left the basket there and headed for the door.

She could feel the dew in the air the moment she stepped outside. The sound of birds welcoming the day filled the air, and she allowed herself to smile. Yes, she would prefer Paris to these lands in a heartbeat – but nothing could compare to stepping outside and feel the nature coming to life around her. The sound of the city brought a different sort of comfort, but this was what she'd grown up to love. Her mother had often brought her through the fields in the morning, taking her to that special place where they would watch the sun rise together.

Iris began walking through the wet grass, needing to move. The cool air did wonders for her head, so she took a few deep breaths to rid herself of the lingering feeling from last night.

She hadn't meant for things to get so emotional. Part of her had expected her to just tell him what was needed, and then be done with it. Instead she had discovered that she could barely do that.

She had been right about her fears of telling Athos who was the reason behind her fear. She had seen the fire in his eyes as he had urged her to continue to speak. Whatever his reasons were, he had genuinely wanted to help her make it right.

And instead she had made him promise to help her get past it. Over the years, that's what she really wanted... wasn't it? If she ever were to confront Demont, it would be for her own peace of mind. Had he actually mistreated her, things might be different. There was the part where he had moved her to the cellar of course, but as much as she considered it she couldn't see the crime. She had heard worse stories of how noblemen had treated their servants.

Iris spotted a large rock nearby and moved over to sit down. A small hill spread out before her, and through a barely visible layer of fog, she saw rays of sun appear behind a line of trees.

But the crime would have come. Though she could barely stand the thought, she knew he would have found a way to force the marriage. And then what came next... a shudder went through her at the thought. It was part of the reason she had never been close to any man. In fact, other than friendly or comforting embraces, she hadn't willingly let herself be held by anyone till last night. And what surprised her most, was that she hadn't wanted it to end.

Through the window, Athos watched her shadow move a little bit away from the inn, and then settle on a rock nearby. He had pretended to sleep, and didn't open his eyes till she closed the door behind her.

There had been something between the two of them last night, when he promised he would be there for her and vice versa. And then, as the moment ended, he became all too aware of how close he was to her, and abruptly moved away from her again.

And yet, after almost two bottles of wine and a long inner discussion with himself, he still couldn't come to a conclusion on what it meant.

There was a part of him that wanted to turn his back on all of it; it was the same part that night after night dragged him into drunken oblivion. The part that believed he should stay away from women altogether. And then there was another part, a small light in the darkness, that seemed to grow stronger whenever Iris was near.

He remembered how Aramis had said she had a way of affecting the people around her. Though he wouldn't have admitted it before, now it seemed quite obvious that he himself had fallen under her spell. And he didn't mind.

The sun had moved to the top of the trees when he finally walked out to her. Iris glanced up as he came to a stop by her side and then she brought her eyes back on the sight before her.

"My mother loved to watch the sun rise," she quietly muttered after a moment. Athos sat down next to her and let his gaze go over the land before them. "She used to say it was the worlds way of letting us know it's okay to start over."

She moved slightly on the rock so she was facing him.

"I didn't get a chance of saying this last night, but I really do appreciate you being there for me. Even if I don't show it," she added. When he turned back to her, he was glad to see her smiling. "It's hard for me to admit I need a helping hand every now and then. But I would hate for you to think I might break every other moment."

"I can assure you that I do not think you weak. Despite whatever you have been through, you still wake up every day with the urge to go on. I admire that."

He stood up and looked towards the stables.

"Speaking of going on. I believe we can cross ways with the others just short of Melun if we leave now."

Iris sprang up and walked past him. Though there was still a trace of last night in her eyes, she seemed to have found herself again.

"By all means, lead the way."

They had left the village some time after the sun had risen. On the way, Aramis and D'Artagnan had competed with one another of who could make the most references to Porthos loss last night, much to his annoyance.

"It's very funny. You're both so very, very, funny," he muttered as they went on their way.

He perked up a bit as he saw two riders come towards them from another road.

"Ah, finally. I might get some peace from the two of you."

Aramis let his eyes fall on them as well. There didn't seem to be anything wrong – in fact, both of them seemed in quite good spirits, which for Iris didn't seem out of order, but Athos was happier than normally.

"And just what is it you two have been up to?" he asked cheerily as they neared. Iris shrugged, as she moved her horse to ride next to him.

"It's rather a long story," Iris began, and was quickly supported by Athos. "A problem arose, and we took care of it, nothing more. We'll talk about it when we return to the garrison."

He glanced at Iris who gave him a grateful look. The few hours they had ridden, neither of them had discussed what to tell the others but she knew he had just given her the time she needed to figure out what to say. She didn't want to lie anymore – especially not to Aramis who was watching her carefully.

"It's too bad you couldn't be there," D'Artagnan spoke up, pulling the attention away from Iris and Athos," last night, Aramis and I witnessed something quite wonderful."

"Indeed we did," Aramis joined in, as the last shred of worry he had held for Iris evaporated. Behind them, Porthos was muttering profanities under his breath. "Porthos finally met his match in the art of trickery."

"Did he now?" Athos muttered, feeling quite at ease in that moment. Iris turned to look at Porthos with a mischievous smile.

"I've heard of your tendency to tweak the rules," she admitted to the musketeer who slightly narrowed his eyes. "But I suppose if you do it too often, sooner or later karma will-"

"Not you too!" he exclaimed with a groan. "I had hoped you would be on my side Iris, not his."

"And what do you mean by that?" Aramis asked, a look of mock-hurt on his face.

"I mean, one of you is more than enough," Porthos explained, looking at his friend with the hint of a smile. His eyes showed joy as Aramis dramatically threw a hand over his eyes.

"And here I thought five years of friendship was worth something. How you hurt me, Porthos."

"Oh, listen to yourselves," Iris muttered as the two of them stared each other down, waiting to see who would laugh first. "With all this bickering, one might think the honeymoon is over."

A strangled laugh escaped Athos, which he quickly hid with a cough. Iris bit back her own laugh, and carefully kept her eyes straight ahead. She knew that if she were to look at him now, she might not be able to stop laughing again.

"Didn't I say you would come to appreciate the irony?" she noted, sensing the others watch them with curiosity. They weren't used to see Athos react like this.

"I have a feeling we've missed something as well," Porthos muttered, shaking his head to himself.

Aramis had turned his eyes towards Iris again, and began to feel a smile creep onto his face. If he had known she could bring this side out in his friend, he might have begged her to return much sooner.

The sun stood high on the sky when they reached Melun. The streets were busy with people who went about their business, but quite a few stopped what they were doing to watch them pass by. Musketeers were rather a rare sight around there. Soon enough they found a place to station their horses, and continued on foot as the streets became too small for all of them to get by.

Though she didn't know the exact location of his home, Iris knew Henri lived in a small quarter by the Seine.

As they walked with the water on one side, and a row of houses on the other, she spotted him. He looked like he had done the last time they had seen each other. He was no rich man, but somehow he always seemed to wear finer clothes than a man of his status normally would. His long dark hair was tied back at his neck, like it always was. Henri Lavelle was indeed a man who preferred finer things, which was visible by how his clothes seemed a bit tight here and there. He used to brush it off by saying he at least would die a happy man.

"And there he is," she pointed him out for them, as he stood some distance away in a deep conversation with a young woman.

"I'm not sure what I had expected," Aramis muttered as Henri turned his head their way and suddenly grew tense, "but this is far from it."

"He does not seem pleased to see us," D'Artagnan noted and turned his eyes towards Iris. Though she had told them good things about the man, he couldn't help but think they were about to be proven wrong.

"I'm sure it's just surprise," she said dismissively, trying to ignore the tense feeling that was coming over them all. "Once we get talking, you'll see-"

A shot was fired, and a second later, Henri sank to his knees. The five of them reacted instantly. As Iris and Aramis moved towards Henri, Athos closely followed by Porthos and D'Artagnan ran in the direction where the shot had been fired.

People were screaming and running around, so Iris and Aramis had to push their way towards Henri. When they came close, Iris saw his hand press against his chest, blood seeping through his fingers. Swallowing hardly, she glanced at Aramis who kneeled next to him.

"Let me help," he said quietly, feeling doubt creep up on him. There was only so much he could do when it came to patching someone up, and in his experience, someone in Henri's condition was as good as gone.

Henri seemed to know this, as he pushed Aramis hand away.

"Don't bother," he wheezed, closing his eyes painfully. "Even if you could do something about it, I wouldn't deserve it."

"Don't be an idiot, Henri," Iris chided him as she sank down on his other side. Reaching out a hand to support him, she glanced around. "We have to get him away from the streets," she muttered, scanning the crowds that had gathered for any dangers. Aramis did the same, and then looked back at Henri. Something told him the shot had been rushed – it was meant to kill, and it would, but it should have been instant.

"My... my house is just down... down to the right," Henri stammered, removing his hand from the wound to point at a small yellow house. Aramis swiftly put a hand around his shoulders and helped him up. As they moved him towards the house, people parted to let them pass. A small trail of blood followed them, colouring the cobblestones red.

People moved away as the three men came thundering down the street, pistols drawn. At an intersection they stopped and looked around wildly.

"There! The one in the dark hood," Porthos exclaimed, and they all rushed down the right street.

"We need to surround him," Athos muttered, nodding down a side-street to the left that led to a small square. "Otherwise we could do this for the rest of the day."

As he took off down a street to the right, D'Artagnan took the middle and left Porthos to move to the right.

Porthos moved quickly, keeping his eyes open for any sighting of the shooter. As he noticed him disappearing into a crowd, Porthos walked around and came up behind him. Not far away he saw Athos and D'Artagnan move closer as well from different sides. When the shooter spotted them, he quickly turned around and found himself face to face with Porthos.

Before he could do anything, Porthos fist shot out, knocking the man to the ground.

"Efficient," he heard Athos mutter.

"Well, I try," Porthos crouched down and reached out a hand to withdraw the hood to reveal his face. The grin was immediately wiped away.

"What do you know," he sneered.

They placed Henri in his bed, and Aramis left to find something to dull the pain.

Iris tried to reason with Henri, to let Aramis at least try something, but Henry brushed her away again and again.

"I should have known you would come for me," he muttered, and slid further down the pillows that had been stacked behind him. Iris frowned at him.

"So you do know of the informants who have died?"

"Of course I do," he looked away from her as Aramis appeared with a bottle of what seemed like fine brandy and a glass.

"Quite a collection you've got," Aramis gestured back to where he had come from and handed the bottle to Iris.

As she poured a healthy dose of it, she handed it to Henri and watched him drink. When the glass was empty he let out a satisfied sigh.

"Explain to me then," she began, taking the glass and filling it for him again, "if you knew, why not do something? We've been trying to figure out who's behind it and so far we have nothing."

Henri reached for the glass again, but Iris moved it just out of his reach and watched him expectantly.

"Well I... I was... I am so ashamed of what I did," he admitted and turned his eyes away from her again. Aramis pulled a chair over next to the bed and sat down, watching the dying man with narrowed eyes.

"You must understand..," he whispered pleadingly, turning to Aramis instead. "I didn't know... she seduced me you see."

"No," Iris felt her hand close around her glass. "Don't tell me this is your fault. Don't tell me you did this because... because of..."

When he nodded she huffed and stood up from her place on the bed.

"Iris, I didn't mean to... she was so beautiful."

"I'm sure she was," Aramis muttered darkly, starting to feel angry himself. He didn't take kindly to betrayal. Still, it was nothing compared to what Iris felt. Of course, she had known him personally so it would hit closer to home.

When they returned to where the shot had been fired, all that was left was a small pool of blood on the cobblestones. Porthos carried the shooter over his shoulder, and he looked around for any signs of the people they had left behind.

"They cant have gone far, that shot seemed pretty severe..." he mumbled. D'Artagnan moved over to a woman who stood nearby.

"Excuse me, the man who was shot here not long ago, where is he now?" he asked, and was pointed towards a yellow house nearby.

The door stood ajar, so they didn't bother knocking as they entered.

"Where do you think they've gone?" D'Artagnan asked as Porthos let the shooter down on the floor. Just then Aramis appeared, closing a door behind him. The sound of Iris voice could be heard, though they couldn't understand the words. He looked at their raised eyebrows, and then shrugged.

"Well, if he wasn't dying already he would certainly wish he was now. I've forgotten just how angry she can get."

"Why would she be angry?" Athos asked, glancing at the door. Her voice rose even higher and then fell again.

"It would seem monsieur Lavelle has, albeit unknowingly, passed valuable information on the identities of the informants," Aramis explained, and leaned against the door. "He says there was a woman who seduced him, and by the time he woke up all his documents on the matter were gone."

"Who was the woman?" D'Artagnan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I had to leave before he got to that part. She seemed ready to tear him apart, and frankly I'm not in the mood to stop her."

His eyes fell on the man on the ground, and his eyes narrowed as he saw his face.

"Wait, isn't that-"

"The man who stole my money last night, yes," Porthos muttered, glaring at the unconscious man. "It would seem he's been following us all along. Someone really didn't want us to speak to Lavelle."

"Perhaps we should whilst we can," Athos moved towards the door.

Iris was standing with her back against the wall, at the far end of the room. Betrayal radiated from her, so strongly that he almost stopped and walked back out.

"... and these men depended on you. Who can they trust now?" she sneered, looking at Henri, who lay in the bed, clutching a bottle of brandy. He had stopped using the glass, and was now simply drinking straight from the bottle.

"You have every right to be angry," he began, as she snorted and shook her head, "and I do regret my actions. I should have been more careful."

"This woman you speak of," Athos cut in, as the other filed in behind him. The room had begun to feel very small with all of them inside. "Who was she?"

"Oh she... she was beautiful," Henri admitted, closing his eyes as he pictured her in his mind. "Dark hair, and green eyes... she wore fine clothes, which makes sense, a woman like that could only be a woman of high status."

He swallowed hardly again and took another swig from the bottle.

"I think she called herself Lady Clarick, but I didn't put much attention to her name as... well," he looked at them knowingly but shrank back as no one reacted.

"I'm afraid that is all I can pass on..." he ended and glanced at Iris again. "I should have had the courage to inform you or Treville, but-"

"But you didn't. I sent these boys, boys Henri, to you because I trusted you to look out for them, and what did you do? You sold them out for a woman, but it's alright, she was beautiful."

The last word came out as a hiss.

"When this is over I might find it in myself to forgive your mistake, but I cannot stand being near you right now."

And with that, Iris walked out of the room without a second glance.

A/N

Here comes another one, one of those I couldn't stop. It might be the last one before I have to hand in my project, which is in a few days, but we'll see...

The story moves forward! Next up; The musketeers return to Paris, with a new lead and a man to interrogate. Meanwhile, Treville comes in trouble with the king.