A.N. Ok it's official. This story has gotten away from me. It was originally supposed to be a two-parter. Now it looks like there are going to be at least four chapters. The rest of the story (I sincerely hope) would be finished by the weekend. Unfortunately no guarantees as to the time though… A huge thank you to everyone who followed, favourited or reviewed the first chapter… You guys made my day.

Sarah (Guest), and the other Guest reviewer, thank you so much for taking the time to let me know your thoughts

Here is chapter 2… Enjoy

"You said her name was Anne". It came as no surprise to anyone that it was D'Artagnan who was the one to get them back to the matter at hand.

Favouring him with an almost fond look, Athos obliged him by continuing with his tale. "Yes. However she was a thief and a criminal. She created a false identity with the intent to deceive me. And it worked. Till Thomas discovered…" here he stopped abruptly.

"So we can safely assume she is not going to be using the name she gave you", Aramis spoke before Athos could trying to spare him any embarrassment at what he would see as a weakness.

"So 'ow do we find her?"

"We could always look for Madame de la Chappelle, although I do believe that name would be just as useless", Aramis' tone was decidedly sarcastic, the frustration of the almost impossible task getting to him. They had no name and if this woman was as good as Athos feared she was - and there was no doubt in his mind that the older Musketeer whilst not scared for his own safety was definitely worried for the rest of them - then it would take a miracle to find her.

"Madame de la Chappelle?" As usual it was D'Artagnan's curiosity which broke an almost awkward silence.

This time Aramis was the one who looked at him fondly. "Ah yes! The lovely Madame de la Chappelle from the trial of Ninon de la Roc. I forgot you were not present at the monastery. You were with the beautiful Madame Bonacieux at that time", he finished seemingly not noticing the grimace flitting across the youngster's face at the mention of Constance.

Athos decided to intervene before D'Artagnan could rise to the marksman's bait. "She gave false evidence against Ninon accusing her of witchcraft and I have no doubt it was she who obtained the confession under duress".

"Why?" asked the youngster from Gascony before answering his own question. "Ah the Cardinal. Of course".

"Yes" Athos confirmed once again favouring his protégé with a smile.

"So how do we find her Athos?" the young man asked his mentor repeating Porthos' question from earlier.

"We do so by finding her current identity".

"But we have no idea what that is", Aramis countered.

"That is true, however I have no doubt that Anne is not done with us yet. She will come for me and when she does we will have our opportunity to catch her". Athos told them in his usual stoic tone as if he was addressing nothing more than the weather.

"You want to use yourself as bait?" Porthos questioned the disbelief evident in his voice. "Are you crazy?" he almost roared the next minute producing a flinch from both D'Artagnan and Aramis.

Athos however had not moved a muscle. "Yes I do want to use myself as bait and no I'm not crazy", he answered calmly.

"Porthos is right Athos. This could be dangerous. I mean she did try to kill you once in Pinon", D'Artagnan was the one who intervened this time trying to get the leader of their company to see reason. Athos however was well known for his stubbornness. "I was unprepared for her last time. I will not be so this time. Besides I will have all three of you to watch my back", even as he said this with conviction his eyes displayed his true emotions. He still wondered how they could stand by him after knowing everything.

"Of course my friend. We will always be there to protect you", Aramis told him softly.

"'ow do you even know it's her?" The question came from the ever practical Porthos. "I mean sure I'm willing to take your word for it. But 'ow didja find out who it was?"

Athos hesitated. It was clear that he still hadn't told them all his secrets. The silence lasted a good amount of time for Porthos to almost begin regretting his question. He was about to tell the older Musketeer to not bother answering when Athos threw something at him. The big man caught it instinctively and found that the older Musketeer had given him a locket.

"Open it", was the quiet command and Porthos obeyed. "Forget-me-nots?" asked Aramis having come to stand behind Porthos to see what it was he held. Then realising the importance of the flower, "Ah! Just like the box in Gallagher's saddle bags".

"They were her favourite flowers", Athos confirmed.

"Forget-me-nots?" the question came from D'Artagnan this time the note of fear clear in his tone.

"Yeah, that's what's in 'ere. Why?" Porthos asked him confused.

"D'Artagnan?" Athos questioned softly the concern in his voice evident.

Beads of sweat had appeared on the young man's forehead and his dark, healthy skin-tone had become pale, almost white. He swallowed and posed the question again. "Forget-me-nots?" only this time it came as a gasp more than anything else.

Athos' face displayed open confusion as did the others', but D'Artagnan seemed as if he had lost his voice and could do nothing to allay their bewilderment. Instead he stood up almost swaying dangerously before walking over to the trash can in the corner of the room and puked his guts out.

When it seemed like he was almost going to fall into his own vomit a hand at his back steadied him. "Easy", soothed his mentor's voice, even as he was pulled back into his strong arms. "Here. Drink this", Aramis held a goblet of water in front of him and D'Artagnan obeyed. "Slow sips", the medic ordered gently when it seemed as if the Gasconian was going to gulp down the contents of the goblet to soothe his stinging throat.

When he was done Aramis took the goblet back from him and Athos guided him to the only bed in the room. "Sit", he ordered gently almost pushing him down on it and moving to kneel in front of him.

D'Artagnan did as ordered although he wouldn't meet the eyes of anyone else. When it was clear that the youngster was not going to look at them or say anything, Athos grasped the other man's chin gently pulling his head up trying to catch his eyes. However his protégé only flinched and pulled back from the contact. Tears pooled in his eyes and he refused any sort of contact with any of them pulling back hugging his knees and tucking his chin on top of them. At the moment he looked like a small scared child than a brave soldier and a King's Musketeer. And it was cleared that what or rather who he feared were the three men in the room.

Trying to ignore the stab in his chest when D'Artagnan had pulled back, a concerned Athos stood up and looked at the other two. All they could offer was a shrug of their shoulders. It seemed they were as ignorant as he was. Sighing he realized that the only one who could answer what was going on with him was the youngster himself. Loathe as he was to put him through any further pain Athos knew he had to get some answers. "D'Artagnan look at me please", he asked gently and when that produced no effect, his tone changed to one of command. "Look at me", he repeated and this time the youngster did so, a soldier's instinct telling him to obey his commanding officer.

Even as he met Athos' eyes his lips started pleading on their own accord. "I'm so sorry… I had no… Athos you have to trust me… I didn't know. I didn't know", he repeated his hands clenching and unclenching almost compulsively.

"Didn't know what?" Athos' tone had gone back to being soft. Once he again he had knelt in front of the youngster and taken his face in his hand and this time D'Artagnan let him, his eyes almost pleading with his mentor to believe him. "I didn't know who she was when I met her", he offered almost in a whisper.

Once again stunned silence greeted another damning pronouncement. For a moment, just for a moment Athos' eyes retained their gentleness before they became almost glacial and the older man stood up moving away from the bed and turning his back on the youngest Musketeer.

"You know Anne", his voice was so cold that D'Artagnan flinched. When no answer was forthcoming Athos turned back towards the young man and raised an eyebrow his features still cold. All the other Musketeer could do was nod timidly.

"'ow?" This time it was Porthos who questioned him.

"It was… I…" he stuttered, however it was Aramis who put the pieces together. "She's your mysterious benefactor".

"Yes", was all he could manage.

"Wait if she's working for the cardinal why would she help you become a Musketeer?" was the almost thoughtful question from the marksman.

A shrug of the shoulders was the only answer D'Artagnan was capable of giving. He was wondering the same thing himself. Athos however knew how his wife's mind worked and knew her intentions had been to break the Musketeers from the inside using D'Artagnan. He refrained from voicing his theory out loud for the present. Despite the almost uncontrollable anger he felt, he had no intentions of hurting the man who had become family to him. A younger brother. Just like Thomas. Someone else Anne had hurt. And all to get to him.

Guilt, overwhelming guilt threatened to crush his soul. He needed to get out of here. Needed to escape this room where his past and present were merging. Mocking voices inside his head were telling him that he had once again failed to protect a brother from Anne's clutches. Only this time she would take his soul instead of his life. For Athos knew D'Artagnan and knew him well enough to know that the Gasconian was too much like him. He would feel the same crushing guilt Athos himself felt; the same sense of responsibility; the fear that he had let his family, his brothers down. And the nobleman knew that he was the only one who could reassure him that the man had no reason to bear so heavy a burden. Yet knowing all of this he could offer no comfort. He seemed to have nothing left to say; nothing to give.

A hand on his shoulder stopped his self-flagellation and Athos realized that it was the lighter one of the Gasconian. The youngster was reaching out to him offering him comfort, reversing their roles. He turned back to face his three brothers once more and saw the empathy and understanding in their eyes. Thankfully there was no pity. He was not so sure he could handle that.

Gently but firmly Athos removed D'Artagnan's hand from his shoulder, pretended not to notice the flinch from the youngster and walked out of the room.