A/N Apologies again for the cliff hanger! It's just good to keep you on your toes every now and then...

Thankyou once again to my wonderfully encouraging reviewers: Flo, Mazcotmaker, Dani Malfoy Granger, obh614, Annika Sparks, Annerizu-san, Tianne and AnonymousVDAddict.

It's to see some of you coming back after each chapter to tell me what you think, it's making me write faster! ;-)

He was lying sprawled completely over her, his head flopped down next to hers, tucked into her shoulder. She couldn't move.

"Athos?" she whispered, her voice raw with fear.

"I'm alright," he whispered back, so low she could barely hear it. She could have sobbed with relief.

"Don't move," he continued. His lips were brushing her neck as he spoke. She had to concentrate to hear him. "Let him think he got me. Is your pistol ready?"

"Yes."

"Good. He will move if he thinks the way is clear. When you see movement, tell me, shoot, and we'll run."

She waited for what seemed an age, peering over the top of Athos into the woods, her eyes mercifully shaded by her hat. He was heavy on top of her, but all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and hold him close to her. Her heartbeat had still not calmed after the awful eternal moment when she thought she had lost him, and she wasn't sure it ever would.

She tried not to think about whether he could hear her heart pounding in her chest.

Suddenly, a movement in the trees across from them caught her eye.

"There," she whispered. "Ready?"

"When you are."

She took a deep breath and lifted her pistol, firing quickly into the space she was sure the assassin was hiding. Before she could let her breath out again Athos was already on his feet, pulling her with him and the two of them rapidly made their way up the rest of the hillside and into the temporary safety of the woods.

She ducked behind a tree and leaned against it, her hands grasping her knees as she bent over and tried to catch her breath. Her legs were shaking and her head was pounding.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Athos asked softly from the tree beside her.

She shook her head. "No," she gasped. "I'm alright. You...scared me, that's all."

"Sorry about that," she could hear the grin in his voice. "Worked though didn't it?"

She lifted her head, a smile already on her face to return to him. It most certainly had worked, for all he had given her a heart attack when he'd slumped onto her, apparently dead.

Now she had another one when she looked at him and saw that half of his face was covered in blood.

"You said you were alright!"

He reached up and touched his bloodied cheek, pulling his hand away to look at it and shrugging. "I am. It just nicked the side of my head."

"Just 'nicked' the side...?!" she broke off, a wave of nausea going through her, and put her hands back on her knees taking deep steady breaths.

Suddenly, he was in front of her with his hands on her shoulders, gently lifting her up until she was standing upright. He lifted her chin with one hand and made her look at him. "I'm fine. I promise, alright?"

She could do nothing but nod, although the amount of blood that was saturating his face still made her feel ill.

"Come on d'Artagnan. We need to get the others and get the Queen out of here."

He started to move away, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Wait," she said. "You'll frighten the Queen looking like that."

He quickly searched his pockets for a handkerchief, but came up with nothing. With a roll of her eyes she grabbed the hem of her shirt, ripping a section off.

"Here," she scrunched it up a little and leaned up to wipe the blood from his face. She avoided making eye contact but she could feel him staring at her while she worked quickly. She blushed a little as she finished, taking a slight step back from him.

"Thank you," he said softly.

She shrugged. "I needed a new shirt anyway. Here, take it and put pressure on the wound until Aramis can look at it."

Their fingers brushed as she handed it to him and she pulled her hand back sharply, clearing her throat.

"This way." In a flash he was gone; pushing his way through the trees and leading her to where she presumed he knew they would find the others. She stuck close to him, most definitely not enjoying the view as he pushed his way through. Honestly.

It took them less than a minute to find the others, the Queen already mounted in front of Aramis, Porthos holding the reins of the other three horses.

"How many?" Porthos waited until d'Artagnan had mounted and then passed all the reins into her care.

"One I think."

"Let's go and check shall we?" Porthos grinned at Athos and the two of them plunged back into the trees.

"D'Artagnan? Are you alright?"

She turned to Aramis, who was staring at her in concern. The Queen was also looking at her strangely.

"I'm fine, why?"

"You look a little pale," he said. "And there's blood on your hands."

"Oh. It's not mine, it's Athos'. He's alright, we just, uh. We'll explain later."

He nodded in understanding. The Queen did not need to know of how close they had come.

"Are you alright your majesty?" d'Artagnan bowed a little from the waist as she asked, but the Queen had no time to respond as Athos and Porthos came crashing back through the trees.

"Time to ride!" Porthos shouted. D'Artagnan threw him and Athos their reins then followed Aramis, who had instantly moved off at Porthos' shout.

As the four horses galloped through the woods d'Artagnan fell back a little and called to Porthos. "What's wrong?"

"Not just an assassin," he called back. "We need to lose them, quickly."

They rode for what seemed like hours, cantering through the woods after the first initial burst of speed, trying to make sure their horses would last. They paused on a few occasions, d'Artagnan using her father's looking glass to check their progression. At last she deemed that they had moved far enough ahead, and Athos ordered rest.

The stopped in a small copse and d'Artagnan quickly gathered the horses and led them to the stream that ran along the edge of it. She gave each of them a reassuring rub, apologising for not being able to relieve them of their saddles or any of their tack. Horses had always been her favourite animals on the farm, and they seemed to understand her too. She lost a few minutes with them, making sure they each bent their heads to drink. When she turned back to their copse she realised with a start that it was almost empty. Everyone but Athos had moved away.

"Where is everyone?" she asked. Athos was reloading all of the pistols, his hat and sword on the ground at his feet.

"Fish and wood," he said. Answering her question in his usual taciturn manner of when he was busy.

"The Queen?"

"Gone to help."

"Oh."

Silence stretched out until she realised something with a start. "Did Aramis look at that head wound? It needs treated."

"Later."

"But-"

"Later, d'Artagnan," he looked up at her to soften the harshness of his reply. "Assist me."

He held out a pistol to her and she moved to take it from him, taking care to sit near him where she could keep an eye on him and make sure no more blood started seeping from the wound she could now see above his ear.

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes until footsteps put them on edge. Both of them raised a loaded pistol. It was just Porthos, however, returning with the Queen carrying bundles of sticks to start a fire. Aramis followed moments later with a brace of fish.

"I'd like to cook for you all, if you don't mind. To thank you."

The Queen smiled at them all sweetly as she spoke, and not one of them tried to turn her down.

They regretted it quite severely when they were trying to chew through charcoal in the shape of fish a short while later. It felt to d'Artaganan like trying to bite through and swallow a log, but she followed the example of the others and politely turned down the offer of more, with a gesture suggesting that she was full. While the others were trying to compliment what the Queen blithely announced was her first ever time of cooking, Charline put her plate round behind her and quietly tipped the content onto the ground.

As she did so she was struck suddenly by a memory of doing the same thing when she was small, while her father was not so good yet at cooking, and she was too young to take over the role. She used to choke down as much as possible, before offering the plate under the table to the dog, who seemed to have no taste buds to speak of.

She didn't have long to be melancholy, as Athos was suddenly on his feet. She caught on quickly when Aramis mounted his horse before Porthos handed the Queen up to him. D'Artagnan pulled her eyeglass from her belt once more, keeping it in hand so she could keep an eye on their hunters as they rode away at haste.

It wasn't long before they realised that they could not continue to outrun the pursuing men, with five people on four horses. Porthos demanded that they make a stand, but before an argument could break out Charline spotted the top of a building through the trees. A convent.

"Two of us shall wait there with the Queen, while the others ride on to Paris to bring back the regiment." Athos seemed to be in two minds about who would follow each part of his instruction.

"Porthos and I will continue. You should remain with Aramis and go with the Queen." It was the only logical plan, but he frowned at her as she suggested it. She rolled her eyes at him. Damn him and his chivalry, she was no mere girl and he knew it.

"I don't like it; we won't get back until tomorrow at least." Porthos was frowning at her, but she believed that his concern was for the three being left behind, rather than keeping her safe, so he escaped her ire for now.

"We'd better hurry up then, come on!" With a kick to its flank, she moved her horse into a rapid canter, Porthos catching up with her after a couple of seconds.

They cantered in silence for a while, until Porthos suddenly began to chuckle beside her.

"What?"

"You really know how to piss him off, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked haughtily, but her heart sinking a little at the same time.

"You didn't feel him glaring daggers at you as you rode off then? I thought he was going to explode when I glanced at him."

She shrugged, a fake gesture of nonchalance. "Well, it was the only way we could go, wasn't it?"

"And that was your decision to make, was it?" Porthos laughed again.

She sighed. She really needed to stop letting her temper get the better of her. Porthos was right; she hadn't given Athos his place, and whether Charles or Charline she should be expecting to be in trouble for it.

"Shit," she muttered.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone deal with being in love the way you do," he glanced at her, a wicked grin on his face.

She blushed scarlet. "I told you that you were being ridiculous! I'm not more in love with Athos than, than you are!"

He pulled his horse to a stop, moving to the side of the road. She followed suit, dismounting when he did.

He gestured towards her flushed face. "The evidence most definitely suggests otherwise."

"Shut up," she huffed, crossing her arms. "Now what the hell are we doing?"

"We're going to take a stand!"

"But...Paris! We need to go and get the others."

Porthos grabbed hold of the reins of both their horses and started pulling them off the road. "Well, it'll be easier to get there without being followed and killed, won't it?"

"Athos will kill you," she said, an eyebrow raised but a grin spreading across her face.

"Well, he's only going to know if we lose, isn't he?" he winked at her, and she moved to join him.

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When they reached Paris some hours later, with new information and a new desperation to get back to the others, they were anxious to find the regiment were not there. The captain, on hearing the details, sent Porthos and d'Artagnan to investigate, while he went to the King.

With every moment that passed, and every new lead they found that led them somewhere else, Charline was beginning to panic more and more about having left the others behind, and showing no signs of heading back to them.

When she chased after the ghost of the woman smelling of Lavender, losing sight of the flash of colour she had seen as she reached the streets outside the dead man's office, she was aware that her emotions were on their way to getting the better of her. She kicked a stone on the ground when she realised she was never going to catch up with her, cursing after the spectre, and cursing at pain now coursing through her foor.

"D'Artagnan?" Porthos appeared beside her, as calm as ever.

"I lost her," she said quietly. "But she was definitely there, I swear it."

"I believe you. Did you see her?"

She shook her head. "No, but I recognised the scent."

"Come on, we need to get back to the barracks and wait for Treville," Porthos suddenly appeared slightly anxious.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, let's go."

He started walking away, back to the barracks, but she caught up with him quickly and tried her best to match her stride to his long one.

"Porthos, don't start turning into Athos now! What is it?" she demanded.

He sighed. "The woman. Can you think where you recognise the scent from?"

"No, not off the top of my head. But I definitely do, why?"

"I think there's a good chance that this woman may also be the other woman, the one that we are trying to identify."

"Ah."

"Exactly, so perhaps it's best that we get a move on and get back to the others as quickly as we can."

They hurried on, relieved to find Treville back from informing the Cardinal of the attack, but disappointed again when he told them the regiment were hunting with the King, and it could be some time before they got the message he had sent.

"We need to do something, we have to go back!" d'Artagnan said forcefully.

"I am not suggesting we just sit and wait," the captain replied, an eyebrow raised at her tone. "Any ideas? The two of you and me with an injured arm cannot be the best we have to offer."

"I have an idea," Porthos grinned.

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"Athos! Aramis!"

She waited with baited breath for one of them to answer the captain's shout.

"Down here," Aramis called back. "We're fine."

She let out a sigh of relief, following the motley crew of stable-boys and messengers that they had assembled down to the floor of the cellar. She pushed her way through the group when they stopped, smiling to see Aramis and the Queen standing in front of her, a fierce looking nun smiling from behind them.

She faltered slightly. "Where's Athos?"

Aramis opened his mouth to answer her, just as a gunshot reverberated around the corridors of the cellar, making them all jump and stopping her heart completely for a second.

"He went after Gallagher," Aramis said quickly when the noise died down.

Without a thought, she turned and pushed her way through the group, running quickly down the tunnels as she frantically searched for him. Vaguely, she could hear footsteps following her.

She stopped suddenly when she heard his voice speaking softly. She listened while he spoke to Gallagher, trying to reason with him, offering him a way not to die. She held her breath, still out of sight around the corner. Her pistol was ready, just in case.

Another shot rang out and she threw herself around the corner, her heart in her throat as she dreaded what she might see.

Her knees gave way and she held onto the wall for support when she saw that Athos was fine, standing with his back to her in front of Gallagher, who was now on the ground. She was still standing there, stopping herself from running and throwing her arms around him in relief, when Porthos and Aramis arrived, having followed at a slower pace.

Aramis came to her and lifted her gently back to her feet, patting her on the head with a grin when he let her go. They both moved aside as the nun d'Artagnan had seen with Aramis came through, moving towards Gallagher to give him some comfort in his last moments.

"Come on, we'll wait outside," said Porthos, and he and Aramis turned and walked away.

She was going nowhere without Athos though, so she waited a moment, watching as the nun squeezed his arm before kneeling down. Athos stood there for a second longer, looking at Gallagher, before finally turning round and seeing that she was still there.

He walked over to her as she swallowed hard. Why did it feel like this, seeing him again? She had only been out of his company for less than two days, but it felt like a lifetime. She supposed that not knowing if he had been alive or dead for the duration of their separation probably had something to do with it.

Now he walked towards her, that breathtaking crooked smile on his face. She smiled back at him.

"You're alive then," she breathed when he stopped in front of her.

"You too," he grinned at her. "Come on." He took her by the elbow and led her out into the corridors. She counted the seconds until he let go of her. Seven.

As they walked back through the building she filled him in on what had happened in Paris, missing out the part where she and Porthos had gone against his orders and stopped to fight. He blanched at the idea of the German assassination attempt.

"It makes no sense."

"No," she said. "No, it goes much deeper than that. There was a woman Athos, a female assassin. Porthos thinks it may be the same woman who was in league with Labarge."

He stopped as they entered an empty hallway, reaching out to pull her to a halt beside him. "And what do you think?"

"I think he's right," she said, hiding her excitement that he was specifically asking for her opinion.

He was looking at her oddly, saying nothing but with a quiet sadness emanating from him. She said nothing and just let him look.

After a few seconds, he reached out slowly and rested one hand on the side of her face. She desperately wanted to lean into the touch, but she remained frozen. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she was definitely going to let it.

He paused like that for a few more seconds, saying nothing, and not moving. Eventually, his thumb gently stroked her cheekbone, just once. "I won't let anything happen to you Charline. I promise."

He leant forward and gently kissed her on the forehead, and her eyes immediately filled with tears as she sucked in a sudden breath. He let go of her and was gone in the next second, out of the room and into another hallway that led to the front door.

She stood frozen to the spot, refusing to let her traitorous hand from getting its way and moving up to touch the spot where he had kissed her, like some damsel in distress. Instead she concentrated on fighting to get her breathing back in control, and frantically wipe at the tears that were just starting to spill down her face.

"Get a grip d'Artagnan!" she whispered furiously at yourself. "It was a brotherly kiss for God's sake. Enough."

She couldn't help but hope, though, that perhaps there had been something else in his eyes when he had looked at her, something else in the promise he had made.

But no. She couldn't afford to think like that. He thought of her as a sister, the same as the others.

"Enough, you foolish girl!" she whispered to herself once last time, tightening her fists and wiping her eyes with them.

She straightened her spine, took a deep breath, and headed out to join her family.

A/N I know changed details of the episode with where Treville was etc, it just made sense this way!

More soon...

Banana x