A/N

I promised Richelieu; I promised a happy end; there might even be stuff for a sequel... Enjoy!

Chapter 20
~Epilogue~

"We have an assignment on Saturday," Athos announced as soon as he stepped through the door to join his brothers. "Security service at the Comic Con."

Porthos and Aramis stared at their undisputed leader with wide eyes, mouths hanging open slightly, both men nursing similar thoughts. While Aramis didn't believe in extraterrestrials and wondered if Athos had gone mad without his closest friends knowing about it, Porthos wasn't averse to believing in extraterrestrial life and squinted his eyes to make out if Athos had been replaced by some alien replica. No money in the world would ever motivate Athos to attend a Comic Con or similar events, neither private nor on business.

Only d'Artagnan beamed up excitedly. "Um, great! Or not?" he added with a sideways glance to his older brothers still staring at Athos.

"You're not serious, are you?" Aramis finally was able to express, almost at the same time as Porthos opened his mouth.

"What do you want there? It's a dull job, surrounded by strange people in costumes and actors who think they are important," Porthos stuttered, trying to speak around his astonishment.

"And we have not nearly enough manpower to do such a job," Aramis added, in the absence of a better argument.

"We are enough men for the job. We're not responsible for the whole security, just for the British panel on the second floor, so calm down. I thought you'd be happy to hear it," Athos replied dryly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aramis still stared at Athos, trying to see the older man's point. "Are you serious?" he repeated, because now he was convinced Athos was definitely wrong in the garret.

"The British panel, Aramis," Athos replied, stressing every word as if he was speaking to someone dim-witted. "They'll have a big corner with Dr. Who stuff, and that's where we are posted. One of the actors making an appearance is the current Doctor himself. If you get what I mean." Expectantly watching the younger man he saw understanding dawning on the others' faces.

"Richelieu?" Porthos asked, having finally made the connections as well.

"The very same," Athos answered, a sly smile adorning his features. "And here's the plan," he started, explaining to his brothers how they would do the job.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

On Saturday, LaFère Security showed up about an hour before the doors opened to the fans, making themselves familiar with the location. Being in charge of only a manageable area on the second floor meant they didn't have to care about the overall security of the place but were only responsible for the actors attending the British panel; which were only few, Peter Capaldi being the most prominent one.

They endured the hours ticking away until finally the Doctor himself showed up, taking a seat behind the long desk at the place that had been prepared for him. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan moved a little closer to the area where two actors from Dr. Who and one from another TV show willingly answered questions, handed out autographs and let the fans take pictures. The discussion on the small platform was over and the next one was due in about half an hour, so the Inseparables could concentrate on the fans swarming to the long desk with the actors. Aramis had vanished the moment Capaldi had made an appearance, but a short while later Porthos spotted him at the end of the queue waiting to get to talk to the Doctor. Aramis had removed the name tag and his belt identifying him as security personal and also switched his black shirt. Now he looked like the average fan, sans costume. Porthos grinned.

When he finally stood directly opposite the man, Aramis simply stared at Richelieu. He couldn't detect any hint of recognition in the older man's face.

"Hello," Capaldi greeted Aramis in his most charming voice, grabbing another printed picture from the pile, "would you like to have a personal dedication?" The man smiled expectantly at Aramis. If he wondered why his fan still stared at him wide-eyed, he didn't let it show.

"For Adele, please," Aramis rasped through gritted teeth. This was harder to bear than he had expected.

The actor scribbled over the picture, holding it out to Aramis with a smile afterwards. "There you go."

Out of the corner of his eye Aramis saw Athos move closer at the back of the booth and he could literally feel Porthos nearing him from the right side. He stretched out his left arm to grab the autograph. "Thank you, Adele will very much appreciate it." Then his right arm shot forward and he punched Richelieu square in the surprised face. The former cardinal's head flew back and he keeled over with his chair, probably hitting his head hard on the floor. At least Aramis hoped he did. Next, a flurry of activity started around him.

The other two actors seated further to the left looked shocked and rose from their seats, uncertain what was going on. Some of the fans nearest to the desk had screamed in shock, moving away from Aramis while others pushed forward, mobiles already in hand to take pictures. Athos quickly stepped to Richelieu, bending down over the man.

Porthos pushed his way through the gathering crowd. "Let me through, security. Everything's under control. Move!" he hollered, shoving people aside. He reached Aramis together with d'Artagnan, grabbing his friends' arm. "Everything's under control, no need to worry," he shouted once more, leading Aramis away through the crowd. "Step back, please!"

D'Artagnan trailed behind them until they had reached a corner, Porthos dragging Aramis along the floor to a small room. There, the Gascon mused, both men were probably laughing their asses off for a moment before going on with the plan. D'Artagnan returned to Athos who just helped the actor get up again.

"Are you hurt?" Athos asked, looking the man up and down. There was already a bruise forming around the former cardinal's left eye; he would soon sport a formidable black eye.

"Well, obviously, as you might see. I also knocked my head."

"Do you need medical assistance? D'Artagnan," Athos addressed their young friend, "go and get the paramedics."

"No," Capaldi quickly put in, "that won't be necessary. I'll just go to the restroom for a moment and assess the damage myself. Did you catch the lunatic?" he asked, staring at Athos.

"Yes, my colleagues have taken care of him, they'll see to everything, don't worry." Athos knew exactly what 'see to everything' meant in Aramis' case; he might as well have told Richelieu here and now that sadly the lunatic had been able to escape without the possibility of getting ahold of his personal data. If the actor wanted to press charges he would have to charge against a person unknown. It was unfortunate but unavoidable and Athos was looking forward to informing the man of those circumstances. He watched their former counterpart make his way to the restroom, then bent down to pick up the chair.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance, but everything is under control. Monsieur Capaldi will be back in a few minutes. Please go on," Athos gestured to the bystanders, nodding towards the other two actors who had taken their seats again. He retreated to the far right side of the booth where d'Artagnan joined him. Watching the activities go on they waited for Porthos to come back; they still had two more hours of security service to pass until the doors were closed and their assignment was over. And they were one man down, though they all hoped no one would notice that from now on only three security people from LaFère were observing the place.

Porthos joined them half an hour later after reporting the incident to the responsible head of security, admitting ashamedly the culprit had managed to escape before they could get hold of the personal data. Porthos had assured the head of security that one of their team members was already chasing the fugitive and would give a report as soon as he had caught him again. That Aramis was quasi chasing himself was a fact Porthos wisely didn't mention.

Capaldi threw them black looks every so often, the Inseparables returning them with what they hoped were guilty looking innocence. Otherwise, the actor gave not the slightest hint he knew who they were or who he had been. Since they all knew how Richelieu had died and it was more than unlikely that Aramis' punch had caused even the slightest of heart-attacks, the man would end this day with a black eye, a sore head and a question as to why one of his fans had hit him with brutal force.

They met with Aramis at the office after the assignment, the marksman welcoming each of them with a sincere and heartfelt hug. "Thank you," he whispered into Athos' ear before letting go of the man. He couldn't suppress a grin anymore and soon the men's booming laughter echoed through the office.

"You should have seen his face the second before I hit him," Aramis gasped through fits of laughter, "utter and total incomprehension."

"He still wore that expression when I heaved him up," Athos joined in, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"I wonder if he'll ever regain his memory, and if so, if he'll remember this moment," d'Artagnan mused, once he had enough breath to voice something.

"Thank you, all of you," Aramis uttered sincerely. "It's not the revenge I would have loved to have for what he did, but given the times we live in, I guess it's all I'll ever get. In any way, it felt good." He grinned happily before announcing, "Drinks are on me tonight!"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The very same evening of Aramis' revenge on Richelieu, Athos shared the news of Constance's application with d'Artagnan, offering him the decision whether or not they should hire her.

"I know I should have told you earlier, but I wasn't sure of your reaction. If you say no, it's fine. If you need time to think about it, take however long you need."

After a speechless moment of surprise, d'Artagnan smiled at Athos. "Is it really her? Of course you have to hire her. Please, Athos! I would -" the young man gulped, face growing serious, "I would love to see her again," he finished, quietly, seriously.

The look d'Artagnan displayed spoke of so much hope and joy and expectation, that Athos had to swallow hard, his heart suddenly hurting. He hoped it was the right decision and he would not have to see the boy's hopes crushed. "I'll tell Charlène tomorrow."

On the first day of August, when Paris was emptied of its residents and the sun burnt down relentlessly on streets and buildings, Constance Bonacieux had the first day in her new job. Athos and Aramis showed up early in the office to greet her and give her a warm welcome to the firm, before Charlène showed her around and explained everything she needed to know. Porthos appeared an hour later, coming from a client meeting, and he had problems supressing the broad smile which had plastered itself on his face the moment he had laid eyes on the young woman. The smile was still there two hours later. Who was not there was d'Artagnan.

Still sharing the apartment with Athos, the young man had spent more time than usual in the bathroom this morning. The older man had shouted through the closed door d'Artagnan could come to the office whenever he was finished, no pressing assignments waiting for them this day. He had not thought the young Gascon would take hours to finish with his morning ablutions. Slightly worried, he grabbed his mobile to call the boy, but was put through to voice mail.

Shortly before lunch the office door opened and d'Artagnan entered.

Aramis, who had an unobstructed view of the entrance, immediately saw d'Artagnan blanch, the facial color dropping a shade, the olive skin turning the tone of a sun-bleached wheat field. Aramis rose to get a better look.

"D'Artagnan," Charlène shouted excitedly, "finally. I'd like to introduce you to my niece, Constance." She dragged the young woman from behind the counter to meet with d'Artagnan in the reception area. "Constance, this is d'Artagnan."

Constance smiled at d'Artagnan, stretching out her hand.

The Gascon grabbed the hand, shaking it a tad too vigorous. "Hi, I'm Charles," d'Artagnan mumbled, "but everyone calls me d'Artagnan. So, you also can call me d'Artagnan. Or Charles, whatever you prefer. Um, nice to meet you," he stuttered, not making the best of first impressions.

The young man's color, Aramis noticed with interest, had changed again. A slight rose tint covered the cheeks now while the ears had gone almost a dark red. Amused, Aramis watched Constance blush, too. The marksman knew women like none other, or at least he was convinced he did. This, he knew, was true love at first sight, if he'd ever seen it. The sparkle in the young woman's eyes and the way she looked at d'Artagnan left no doubts. Aramis was sure two kindred souls had just found each other.

"My aunt has already told me a lot about you. I'm glad I was offered the job here. She says you're from Gascony?"

"Yes. You're new to Paris, too, right? If you'd like, I can show you around a little after work."

Now Constance beamed, though beamed was not the right word; she shone from her innermost part, the glow almost blinding those watching it. "That would be great! Thank you, I'd really love to..., um, if you could show me around."

Athos, who had watched the scene leaning in his office's door, didn't deem himself as being one versed in the art of knowing and understanding women. That was and had always been Aramis' métier. However, seeing Constance beam at d'Artagnan the way she did, he compared it to watching the sun rise after the darkest of nights, filling the room with warmth and light and hope, turning the world around into molten silver, allowing a brief glimpse of paradise. Only, this was the phrase he had already used to mentally describe the moment he'd watched Anne meet Aramis, after they had retrieved the marksman from Rochefort's clutches. So, instead, he thought witnessing Constance and d'Artagnan stare at each other, was like regarding the fresh and new morning's dew on the lavender coated fields of the Provence in the first light of sunrise, clear as crystals and warm like Caribbean waters, speaking of the promise that this day was going to be the first day of the best summer of one's life, a summer filled with warm days, lazy evenings, love and happiness and wonderful memories a thousandfold. And Athos was sure it was exactly this. The first day of the best life d'Artagnan would ever have, a life filled with the love and hope and happiness he had not been granted earlier. The Gascon's Musketeer life had been too short; this life, Athos hoped, would make up for that loss. And Athos felt blessed to be able to be part of it again. And, he mused, if he was really, really lucky, he would once more be allowed to walk the bride down the aisle, when the time came...

Porthos, watching from his side of the office, was still grinning like a madman, and he was under the impression he wouldn't be able to stop it today. He couldn't care less, though.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Just under half a year after the disappearance of Anne's husband the police still had found neither Monsieur Autriche nor his corpse. Everyone was convinced Rochefort had killed the man, but because no proof in that regard had been found, he could neither be declared dead nor could Anne divorce him. Aramis, his brothers knew, suffered from this circumstance more than Anne, and more than he was willing to let the others know.

Tréville, though the case was not his jurisdiction, still had two of his men working on it, and he was convinced he would soon be able to present results. In case the police had proof of Monsieur Autriche's death, even without a body, he could be declared dead immediately. Tréville had every intention of reaching this goal by year's end, and he told Anne and Aramis so when they had come to the police station one sunny October morning to provide a DNA sample from Anne's husband. Later, Tréville joined them and the rest of LaFère Security, sans Charlène who was off sick, for lunch.

It was not really surprising to his brothers and those close to Aramis that, after the main course, the first word Anne's son Henri uttered were neither maman nor ball. It was papa the toddler repeated happily in a kind of singsong while grabbing at Aramis' beard with his tiny fingers. Aramis stared at the child in his arms wide-eyed, unsure if he heard right, while little Henri proudly babbled his first ever-spoken word on and on; it seemed he liked the sound of it as much as he loved to pull at Aramis' whiskers. When he looked over to Anne, everyone could see a shimmer of tears in the corners of the marksman's eyes; the roguish grin on the erstwhile queen's face was telltale enough about who had taught the child this word, whispering it in the infant's ears time and again. It was a token, visible to anyone, of the place and role Aramis would hold in the life of Anne and her child; a fact which pleased Aramis' brothers beyond all measures.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Anne Breuil landed at Charles de Gaulle on a cold and wet November evening, the touch down disturbing her in her musings. She would have to wait until her return to London to see if her former employer, once the most powerful man in all of France, was interested in her service again. First, she had other important things to see to; Richelieu was not the most pressing point on her list of old acquaintances and hated foes she was determined to seek out.

She wondered for how long her ex-husband and the close friends he had managed to rally around him once again, had known of their old lives, and if the little seamstress and the former queen did, too. In the end, it was not important, and there were others she needed to see first. Those who would fit perfectly into her little revenge campaign.

"Bonjour, Madame de Winter," the young officer greeted her over eagerly, handing back the faked passport, "welcome to Paris".

"It's Milady, not madame," she hissed, grabbing the passport. Then she made her way through security.

Oh, she already knew whom she would start with...

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To be continued

A/N

I'm truly overwhelmed by the feedback for this story. THANK YOU so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following. I never thought this story would receive such a response. I'm really touched and still floating in a bubble of bliss. :-)

Some readers asked for more in this verse, and I realized I would like to continue the journey with our four boys in modern day Paris. There are still some old foes and issues I haven't addressed yet and would like to write about, so many possibilities. Louis confronting Aramis; Anne's husband; Aramis' blood results; Milady; Grimaud; and many more. There'll be a second part where we'll find out more about all these things, but it will take a while - hopefully not too long. I'd be glad to see you again then... ;-)