Several weeks after Aramis and the Musketeers had left the abbey, a farmer arrived with a young woman in the back of his cart. She was awake, but unresponsive to anything. She had medium skin with blue eyes, while her hair was growing out from having been completely shaved off. An ugly, ill-healed scar was on her right cheek, marring what was otherwise an attractive face. She kept murmuring to herself, though the words were unclear.

The farmer told the brothers, "As it was told to me, she was found in a field a couple weeks weeks ago, in much the state you see. She was covered in filth and barely wearing rags, however. That farmer and his wife cleaned her up, got some food in her, and clothed her. The only word she says is 'Douai.'

A number of folks have worked together, taking her as far as they could and finding another to take her on, to get her here, hoping you would know who she is or be able to help her."

One of the older brothers, acting as the abbot, thanked the farmer, offered him food for him and his team as well as lodging for the night and arranged for some of the others to take the woman to a room. None of the men recognized her, unfortunately. Lisanne, the older female orphan, was sent for so she could be assigned as the woman's caretaker until arrangements could be made to move her to the their sister convent..

As soon as he had a chance, Luc snuck in to look at the patient, As he gazed at her, he remarked to Lisanne, "She seems familiar, but I've never seen her. How can that be?"

AAATTHHOOOOOOOSSSSS!

The young woman sat up long enough to release the pain-filled wail, then fell back to the bed, catatonic once more.

The Mother Superior heard it down in her office and pulled out a sheet of parchment. By the time one of the sisters tending the woman got to her office, the letter was nearly finished. "Ah, your timing is just right, Sister Theresa. I want you to arrange for this letter to be delivered to Minister Treville in Paris. Maybe he will know who our mystery patient is."

"Begging your pardon, Mother, but why the Minister? She called out Captain Athos' name."

"That she did, but we don't know the reason for it. There could be an animosity between them, in which case it wouldn't suit either of them to have the Captain here. No, the Minister will know the best way to proceed."

"Of course, I hadn't thought of that. Who could hate the Captain, after all. I'll send the fastest boy I know."

Athos lay on the ground, nearly unconscious from all he'd put himself through, not just in the past few days, but in the past few minutes. The injury Grimaud had dealt his shoulder had seriously weakened him and whatever Therese had just done to him was the final blow. He was ready to give up.

"Athos, my love," he heard her voice, one he had not heard in several years. "You need to get up. You have to move from here."

"How did you get here? Why have you stayed away?"

"I am not what matters at the moment. You must get up. Please, my love, for me."

Athos struggled to his feet and stood there, swaying. He somehow found his sword in his hand and once he felt steady enough, he followed the familiar figure. He tried to touch her, but she was always just out of reach. She wouldn't answer his questions about where she'd been, just tell him that he was the one that mattered.

After a bit of walking, she stopped. "You can manage on your own from here."

"Kay, tell me," he nearly begged.

"You know I cannot come to you, love. But you still have too much living to do. I could not let you give up."

She ran her hand down his cheek in a familiar gesture, then disappeared from view. Athos ran forward, yelling, "No, Kay! Don't leave me!" and fell once more. This time, however, his three friends and several of the women were there to help him.

A short while later, as Elodie was treating Athos, the other Musketeers were having a short but serious talk.

"You both heard him." D'Artgnan sighed. "He yelled Kay's name. And he wasn't drunk this time."

"No, but he was sick with fever. And had apparently just been poisoned. Either one of those alone can make a man retreat to a happier place. Combined, it's no wonder he found her for strength." Aramis pointed out.

Porthos took a pragmatic stance. "Doesn't matter. When he wakes up, if he doesn't say anything, neither do we."