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It was a beautiful day in France. The winter sun was shining, the Cardinal had been in meetings with the King all day; birds were singing, Paris wasn't yet covered with the winter snow. In short, it was a wonderful day to be outside. The four most famous members of the Kings own Musketeers were taking a leisurely route back through Paris, having been away for the past week on some apparently urgent business for the King. Urgent business that had cheerfully thrown a whole bag full of wrenches into the Cardinal's latest dastardly scheme.

As soon as they dismounted at the Garrison (a full day earlier than they were expected), Captain Treville emerged on the balcony from his office. His expression was of the careful kind of calm that was infinitely worse than his most raw fury. "You four" he called, the Musketeers' heads snapping up to see him. "So glad you could make it."

Aramis glanced at Porthos, the same 'uh oh' passing between their eyes. Alas, that was the only moment of communication they could have, before Treville's trademarked bark split the air.

"My office! Now!"

Pausing on the stairs, Athos grabbed Aramis' arm. His face held the same look it often did - the one that said there wasn't enough wine in France to enable him to deal with them. Or possibly that he was struggling not to throttle Aramis where he stood. "What did you do now?!"

Aramis adopted an expression of wounded innocence. "Why must you assume that it is always me that did something?" A hand almost self-consciously adjusted his hat. "It could have been Porthos."

"Porthos has spent the majority of the last week with me" Athos reminded him coolly, face not losing its expression. "So, my question stands."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

For once, Aramis wasn't even fibbing. He remained as clueless as he imagined the King would be on any given day about the running of the Kingdom. Which, come to think of it, wasn't exactly a rousing endorsement for their monarch.

"You two might want to come in quickly" d'Artagnan whisper-called, darting his gaze back into the office. "That vein on Treville's forehead is making an appearance again."

"The little one?" Athos asked curiously "or the big one?"

"Does it matter?"

"Mmm" Athos hummed, tilting his head a little to indicate yes.

Aramis took it on himself to explain. "The little one, we're okay. The big one? Captain's trying to stop himself strangling us."

d'Artagnan popped his head around the doorframe. "The big one" he said decisively, righting himself again.

"Strange" Aramis shrugged, delaying the inevitable for just a little longer. "He's usually in such a good mood after we've left for a while."

"You'll be leaving permanently if you don't get in here!" Treville yelled, voice echoing once around the Garrison training yard.

"Coming, Captain" Aramis called sunnily, bounding the remaining distance into the gloomy office.

Captain Treville was wearing an expression which meant absolutely nothing good. In fact, it was the expression he normally wore when he was trying to remind himself why he had ever accepted being the Captain of the Musketeers in the first place.

Athos would like to think that it was an expression that he hadn't had cause to see very often - unfortunately, he couldn't.

Although he was the Musketeer lieutenant, Athos was also (regrettably) all but inseparable from Porthos, d'Artagnan and Aramis. As a group, they had caused that expression more times than all the rest of the Musketeers put together. Possibly even twice over.

Aramis grinned brightly at the Captain, apparently oblivious to the danger of doing so. "Did you miss us, Captain?"

"Did I-?" Treville trailed off, icy eyes burning into Aramis. "No, I didn't miss you." He leaned his hands on his desk, glaring towards the Inseparables. "Do you want to know why?"

d'Artagnan frowned thoughtfully. "We were only gone for a week?"

"Only a week?" Porthos asked wonderingly, glancing at Aramis. "Felt longer."

Athos look one look at the thunder brewing on Treville's face and nudged Porthos in the ribs. "Not the time, Porthos." He turned his usual deadpan expression on their Captain. "I gather your week was not as restful as you had hoped?"

"Not in the slightest." Treville's ice cold gaze bore into each Musketeer in turn. "I have had to spend the last week dealing with the Cardinal." Treville paused staring pointedly at each of them. "Would anyone care to guess why?"

Athos kept his silence. Any answer that immediately sprung into his mind was not one that Treville wanted to hear. Nor was it one that the others would appreciate hearing.

d'Artagnan, however, shrugged a shoulder. "Did we stop him from assassinating someone again?"

Athos stepped on d'Artagnan's foot, glaring at the younger Musketeer's outraged squawk.

Treville, fortunately, seemed to ignore d'Artagnan's comment. "Did any of you happen to go by the Cardinal's palais on your way out of Paris?"

The overly pleasant way the Captain had asked the question really ought to have rung alarm bells.

Athos mentally reviewed the route he and d'Artagnan had taken out of the city. "d'Artagnan and I kept well clear. The Red Guards weren't in the mood to share territory when we left."

Treville hummed softly, seeming to take Athos at his word. Athos had never given him reason to doubt it. Blue eyes turned slowly to Aramis and Porthos. "And you two?"

Aramis and Porthos suddenly developed an intense fascination with the wall above Treville's head.

The thunder on Treville's face cracked. "Did you set fire to the Palais Cardinal?"

Aramis tried on a winning smile. "Set fire is such an ugly term, Captain" he offered brightly. "And hardly any of it is made of wood. So technically, no, Captain, we didn't."

Athos watched as Treville fought to remain calm. "Would either of you care to explain how parts of the Palais Cardinal caught fire?"

Porthos cleared his throat. "Well you see, Captain, you told us to distract the Cardinal so that we could escape Paris uninterrupted. Aramis and I were having a minor disagreement with the Red Guards-"

"They started it" Aramis added mutinously, oblivious to the stupidity of doing so.

"-and a torch or two may have fallen over as we left?" Porthos finished, glancing hopefully at the Captain.

Sometimes, when the Musketeers got one over on the Red Guards, their Captain would look amused, almost quietly proud of them.

It was not so today.

"You threw the torches at the Red Guards and didn't notice that - God only knows how - the Palais caught fire?" Treville demanded, all but growling the words.

Aramis inclined his head, a tiny smile stretching his lips. "That's another way of putting it, Captain."

Athos braced himself for the inevitable eruption.

Treville did not disappoint.

He spent the next twenty minutes (loudly) detailing every single complaint he had heard against them from the Cardinal. Complaints that he had been forced to either agree with or apologise for after the Cardinal had proved - with witnesses - that Musketeers had been seen fleeing (the Cardinal's word of choice) the area after the fire (more akin to a small charred patch near the stables although apparently nobody had been bold enough to tell His Eminence that) started.

Another ten minutes was devoted to informing them of all the plans that their idiocy had forced him to cancel (plans he had been very much looking forward to) - and how even the King was disappointed in them all.

Athos sympathised. The professional relationship between the Captain and Cardinal Richelieu was a very delicate thing - Aramis and Porthos' parting gift (though brilliant) had pushed the scales into the Cardinal's favour. The Cardinal had always been ruthless in pushing his advantage.

In a moment of silence (no doubt the Captain just catching his breath before launching into another spectacular dressing down), Athos decided that they had learned their lesson - or at least as much of one as the Musketeers ever learned (very little). "What do you need us to do, Captain?"

Treville eyes glinted like cold steel in the morning light. "Well, short of marching into the Palais Cardinal and offering grovelling apologies - which I know is never going to happen, Aramis, unless you want to volunteer?"

Aramis wisely shook his head, muttering an apology Athos almost believed.

Treville looked dubious but let it pass. "There is one thing the four of you can do."

It was in that moment that Athos knew he was going to regret asking.

Treville's punishment wasn't actually all that bad.

Staying in a cottage a few days ride from Paris, waiting for a letter to be delivered by a private courier was the punishment Treville had deemed worthy. Athos wasn't quite sure it merited all four of them, but Treville had insisted; something about how with all four of them there were less chances of them making a mess of everything. It wasn't Musketeer work - or at least not up to their usual standards - but it was a refreshing break from the chaos of Paris. And if it was this or face an angry Captain (and a Cardinal out for revenge) then Athos would take this a dozen times over.

"I somehow doubt that this is what any of us had in mind when the Captain told us to get out of Paris for a few days" Athos drawled, glancing around the countryside. Quiet, peaceful - another few hours and it would start to get on his nerves.

"Actually" d'Artagnan piped upcheerfully, tearing up blades of grass. "The Captain told us to get out, because the Cardinal wanted us shot, and he wasn't inclined to stop him."

"Which really is a bit much" Aramis sniffed, lying back in the shade of a tree. "We only set fire to one little building."

"Little?" Porthos scoffed. "It was the Cardinal's palace, Mis."

"It was barely singed" Aramis shrugged, perfectly nonchalant. "And the Captain did ask us to distract him."

"And" d'Artagnan added brightly. "The Cardinal can't actually prove that it was us in particular."

Athos' glare put their musings to an end. "And yet, here we are."

Aramis shrugged again, passing Porthos the bottle of brandy they had been sharing to combat the chill of the winter day. "I think he was rewarding us."

Athos shook his head, grabbing the brandy before Porthos could hand it back to Aramis (the two had been hogging it for far too long). He took a long drink and gestured around the countryside. "If this is supposed to be a reward, it's not meant for any of us."

Ignoring their palpable confusion, Athos smirked and took another drink of brandy.

Oh yes, it definitely was not a reward for them.

Triumphant footsteps echoed through the not-even-slightly singed corridors of the Palais Cardinal, the Musketeer Captain all but strutting through the doors to the Cardinal's private sitting room. "I hate to admit it, but our plan worked perfectly" Treville announced, the Cardinal glancing up from the merrily roaring fire.

"Your men believed I was ready to bring them up on charges for throwing a torch near my stables?" Richelieu's eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Surely they don't believe me to be quite so petty."

Treville decided not to remind him that they had plenty of reasons to believe just that. "Give me a little more credit, Armand."

"You sold it well, I am sure, Captain." Richelieu looked almost contrite. He rose to pour another cup of his tea and a glass of wine for Treville. "How far away did you send them?"

Treville accepted the glass with a nod of thanks. "Let's just say that they won't be troubling either of us for at least a week."

"A whole extra week" Richelieu mused, eyes twinkling wickedly. "Whatever shall we do with ourselves?"

Treville stretched his legs towards the fire, feeling the warmth sinking into his cold feet. "Much as we do every other week, I assume, only with much less sneaking around" he replied easily. "Yell at each other in public, then come back here for dinner and long discussions very late into the night."

Richelieu smiled. It was one of his rare smiles; the honest ones, not the cold ones he used on the sycophants at court. He leaned back in his chair, languid and comfortable. "I find myself quite at leisure, Jean, what shall we discuss tonight?"

Treville grinned, swirling the dregs of wine in the delicate crystal of his glass. "We have all week for discussion, Armand" he remarked, savouring the silence around them. "My Inseparables are out of Paris and we have no pressing work to occupy us. Tonight, we celebrate."

Richelieu's eyes sparkled anew. "Dinner and an early night it is" he proclaimed, already standing to summon his staff. At Treville's frown he offered an elegant raise of his shoulders. "With your men, my dear Captain, I have learned to take the moments offered to us. Who knows how soon they may be causing us trouble anew?"

Try as he might, Treville could not dispute that assertion. His men were the sole causes of all the grey hairs on his head. "Dinner and an early night sounds perfect" he agreed, catching Richelieu's hand as he passed. "We'll have our week, Armand. I promise."

And they did. For a whole week Treville was free to spend as much time at the Palais Cardinal as he wished (and he wished to spend quite a lot) - not a single ordinary Musketeer dared to question it. It was the closest thing to a holiday either of them could ever get with the way their lives were. On the eighth day, however, the Musketeers came riding back into Paris with one of the Cardinal's spies as a prisoner, and started Treville's headaches all over again. His only consolation was that one day he would retire and they would be Athos' problem.