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Porthos recoiled as a pistol shot hissed past his right ear a bit too close for comfort. Turning, he saw it embed itself in the man who had been seconds away from stabbing him in the back. Retracing the shots trajectory, he found himself staring into a face that he knew as well as his own.

“This wasn't quite how I had envisioned seeing you again.”

“Aramis!”

Porthos whirled around, alerted by some sixth sense, his blade meeting one belonging to a man that just hadn't had the courtesy to die, hearing a clash of steel behind him and knowing that Aramis was dealing with the other remaining assailants. With two of them, it didn't take long before they were surrounded by bodies and Porthos was able to catch Aramis up in an embrace.

“It's good to see you, old friend.”

“Of course it is; you would have been dead if I hadn't arrived when I did. Why aren't you in Paris?”

“I would've been fine. I'm on my back to Paris; they sent me to Spain. And you can hardly talk. I thought you'd joined a monastery?” Porthos' eyes narrowed at the shifty look on Aramis' face. “I know that look. What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did any... Okay, so there might have been some nuns visiting the monastery and I might have … well, let's say that it was best for all involved if I returned to Paris.”

“You never change. It'll be good to have you back. It's been different without you and D'Artagnan and Athos has been like a bear with a sore head.”

“D'Artagnan?”

“Shacked up with the lovely Lady Constance in wedded bliss.”

“Is this meeting by invitation only or can anyone join in?”

They had both been completely oblivious to the approaching sounds of hooves until Athos spoke.

“Well that depends if you're going to yell at us for not paying attention or not. Besides, you're late.”

“We can't be late; you weren't expecting us. And even if we were late, blame D'Artagnan; he's the one who couldn't drag himself from his wife's bed.”

The four of them descended into hugs, backslaps and good-natured banter until they were interrupted by yet another voice and turned to see Captain Treville sat astride his horse, a wry grin on his face.

“As touching as this reunion is gentlemen, if it's not too much to ask, France is in need of her best musketeers.”