Sorry for the delay. First I didn't know what should happen next and then, when it hit me, I had no time to write it! Work is crazy right now. I will try to update my other fics soon as well. Thank you to all my readers. Please review. It makes me happy.

This is shorter than usual. Don't worry, all will become clear...

"I'm really starting to regret this," mutters Porthos.

"It'll be fine, stop worrying so much," Athos replies. "It's all thanks to you that this is even an option."

"I suggested having her followed to make sure she left the country, not so we could go looking for her!" the larger man complains.

"And if you hadn't, I don't know what we'd be doing now."

"I'm still mad at Aramis you know," Porthos adds, quietly.

"I know. But you'll get over it. You always do," Athos tries to pacify his friend.

"This time it might take longer…."

The two of them had left Paris almost immediately, stopping only to pack their bags and collect some food. They left separately and in different directions, confusing the Red Guards stationed to watch the garrison and rendezvoused outside the city to being their journey.

After Athos had spared Milady's life, Porthos had used his connections in the Court of Miracles to make sure she was followed, wanting to make sure that she really left France and their lives forever. But she hadn't left France, at least not yet. The cardinal seemed to believe her dead, so she had no worries on that front. After packing her bags and collecting her money from the bank she had headed north out of the Paris. At first it looked like she was headed for Normandy and Le Havre, but soon became clear that she was veering off course.

Concerned as Porthos was by this information, he and the others had been far more concerned with d'Artagnan's situation, deciding to wait until other matters were solved before dealing with Athos' not dead wife once again. But now Athos was glad she hadn't left. He was holding onto her presence as a way to save them all.

"I don't know how you're going to convince her to do what you want anyway. Last I saw, she pretty much hates you."

"There's a very thin line between love and hate," Athos comments in response.

"So you're going to play on her feelings for you?" Porthos asks, incredulous.

Athos shakes his head. "I have no idea. I haven't really thought that far ahead. I'll drag her back to Paris kicking and screaming if I have to."

"I knew you hadn't thought this through properly. We might both end up with knives in our backs," Porthos mutters darkly.

"I thought it was my job to the pessimist?" Athos asks, raising an eyebrow. Porthos chuckles in response.

They stop only to eat, drink and change horses, because for all they know she will have left before they get there. They can't afford to lose any time.

"I wonder what she's doing there anyway?" Porthos remarks, breaking the silence which has settled around them.

"I highly doubt she's joining their order," replies Athos drily. "She's really not the type."

"You don't say? But what else could she possibly be doing at a convent?" Porthos muses, before silence falls upon them again.

Athos wants to suggest that maybe their informant got it wrong, that her doppelganger was seen making for the convent. But if that is the case then they've lost track of her, and he doesn't want to think about that option.

The truth is much more shocking than either of them could have expected, and is waiting for them in the courtyard of convent when they arrive. As they enter the gates leading into the beautiful old building, the two dismount and lead their horses into the shady courtyard. They don't see any nuns, only a little girl playing on her own in the courtyard. She can't be much more than four or five. Porthos and Athos watch as she picks up stones and then carefully lines them up on the floor. When the line is completely straight she looks up at them, bright blue eyes boring into them.

But before she can say anything a nun bustles out into the courtyard to welcome the guests.

"You are welcome here sirs. Please come in, rest yourselves and your horses. I only ask you leave your weapons outside the building. Our convent is a place of sanctuary," she tells them.

"Thank you sister," says Porthos, looking at Athos, who has become deadly silent. His friend seems unable to look away from the little girl and she returns his stare with equal intensity. "We do not plan to stay long. We are looking for someone, a woman who has taken shelter here. It is of the utmost importance that we speak with her."

"There are many women here who have taken shelter, sir. That is the very nature of our convent," the nun replies with a matter of fact tone.

"She arrived here only a few days ago," Porthos adds. Yet the nun shakes her head.

"I am sorry sir. No new sister has arrived for over a year."

Porthos looks at Athos. Could his information have been wrong? But Athos isn't looking at him. He has crouched down on the floor in front of the little girl. The nun also notices this and moves towards them.

"Lucille, come now. You must go inside," she goes to usher the girl away, but Athos stops her, standing between her and the child.

"We want to speak with the girl's mother," he tells her.

"Then you must pray she hears you from heaven," answers the nun. "Now please, I think it best you both leave. The person you seek is evidently not here."

"Yes she is and I will see her now," Athos says quietly, standing up yet with an air of authority which will brook no argument, the nobleman in him assuming control. "Lucille?" he turns to the little girl, "is your mother here?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. "No. My mother's in heaven. But my aunt is here. She arrived a few days ago," she tells him. She then cocks her head to the side and examines him. "Are you a musketeer?"

"Yes," he replies dropping to his knees in front of her, "yes I am."

"Are you my father then?" she asks, eliciting a gasp from the nun. "My aunt told me my father is a musketeer and that he's handsome and brave. Is that you? Because then I wouldn't have to leave and go to England. I don't want to go to England with my aunt."

"That's quite enough Lucille!" snaps a voice from behind them all. Athos doesn't need to turn around to know it is her. His stomach tingles from the proximity. She stalks past them all and puts a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Run along with Sister Maria. I must speak with these gentlemen." She kisses the top of Lucille's head before sending her away.

Once Sister Maria and Lucille are gone, Anne turns to the two men.

"Come on then, let's get this over with," she says, and walks out of the convent gate, head high, leaving them with no choice but to follow.

"So let me understand. You haven't come to kill me, but to take me back to Paris to confess all to the king so that he can have me executed?"

"Well we're not aiming to have you executed. That's just a happy side effect of the plan. The main aim is to bring down the Cardinal." Porthos informs her. Of course, he hasn't told her about Aramis, that would be plain stupid, but he has given her some information about d'Artagnan's fate.

"Would you be surprised if I refused your kind offer of escort back to the capital?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Porthos nudges Athos in the ribs with his elbow. He's not said a thing throughout the whole conversation and right now Porthos could do with some help.

"Can you tell anything but lies?" Athos finally says, addressing his wife.

She looks at him, seemingly surprised. "I wasn't expecting that to be your first question, husband dear."

"No, I'm quite sure you weren't."

"It was better for her that she not know me as her mother. That would cause too much pain. And place her in danger," she states, quietly.

"So you do care about something other than yourself?"

She slaps him then, her hand resounding against his cheek with a sickening crack. He raises his hand to his face. Porthos moves subtly to the side, close enough to make a move, should he need to, and to hear the conversation.

"How dare you? I loved you. You were the one who would have had me killed for the sake of his honour!" she cries.

"What was I supposed to do? Forgive you for killing my?" he asks her.

"I did it out of love! I couldn't bear the thought of losing you!" she retaliates.

"You should have thought of that before you began your little scheme!"

"I never meant to fall in love with you. He told me to seduce you, marry you and kill you, inheriting everything. But I fell in love, damn you! And then when he came to tell me it was time, I couldn't do it. But it was too late. Thomas had overheard everything. And in that moment I lost everything," she hangs her head. He's never seen her so defeated.

"As did I," he concurs, taking a step closer to her until their foreheads are touching.

"Is she….?"

"Yes." It's one word and it changes his whole life.

The silence hangs between them heavily. As one they sink to the ground under the burden of this revelation.

As evening draws in, Porthos is getting nervous. He knows they need to start getting back to Paris. They've been gone too long already.

"I can't do it," Athos tells him.

"This was your bloody idea!" Porthos growls.

"Before I knew she was the mother of my child!" Athos rounds on him angrily.

"About whom you'd never have known if she had anything to do with it!" his friend shouts back.

Athos walks up to the wall and punches it, recoiling in pain when his hand hits the stone.

"Idiot!" cries Porthos. "That's not going to help any."

Athos leans his head against the cool wall, trying to fight back the panic and grief he is feeling. If only he'd known then… what would he have done? Let her have the child and then kill her? Did this make her crimes any less terrible? Does the claim that her work for the cardinal was to raise funds for their child's future, so she wouldn't have a life like her mother, make it any better that she has killed so many? That she wanted to kill him?

"You need to make a decision. If you want to let her go, I'll understand. And so will the others. Aramis especially. But whatever you decide, we need to act," Porthos tells him.

Athos thinks of his brothers, in Paris, of Thomas, dead on the floor, of Anne and everything she has done, and of Lucille and everything she has before her.

"You're right. I'll settle this," Athos replies, before striding into the convent to look for Anne. Porthos shakes his head and sits down to wait for his friend.

By the time Athos emerges from the building it is dark and Porthos has dozed off. Athos kicks him lightly to wake him up.

"Saddle up the horses. We're leaving," he tells his friend.

"Huh?" Porthos is confused by sleep. After blinking a few times he takes the hand extended towards him and pulls himself up.

It's then that he sees her, the little figure at Athos' side, clutching her little bundle.

"Lucille, this is Porthos, my very good friend. Porthos, meet Lucille. She will be coming to Paris with us. Close your mouth Porthos, you wouldn't want to swallow a fly." Lucille giggles at this.

"Umm…the other matter?" Porthos asks, too bemused to string sentences together.

"We found a solution satisfactory to all parties. I will tell you along the way. Come on, we need to get moving," Athos tells him, going to untether the horses.