On a ladder from there to here I'll climb
All this clatter between my ears I find
Does it matter if I can't clear my mind
There's a right and a wrong time

The Ladder – Andrew Belle


They had spent the better part of an hour to comb through the streets for any signs of the men who had pursued Athos and Iris, before admitting defeat and made their way back towards the garrison. They made a quick stop at the morgue to inform the undertaker of the body they had left behind, and they were assured that he would be brought there at the earliest convenience.

The sun had risen, and the garrison was already busy by the time they returned. Treville looked up when they entered, and Iris could immediately see that the man had been pacing back and forth for a while now. He looked them over, and a bit of the tension he carried in his shoulders eased away.

"It would seem you've had quite the morning," he noted as the five of them stood before the desk. Treville stood on the other side, looking them over carefully. Each of them seemed exhausted.

"There's nothing to report from the night itself," Athos began explaining. "When we were on our way back we discovered we were followed, and sought cover to assess the situation."

Treville frowned, and waited for Athos to continue. On their way back to the garrison, he and Iris had already informed the others of what had occurred before their arrival.

"We went on to seek them out, and eventually split up to search more of the area. I was attacked by one of them, and managed to shoot him before he got too close – D'Artagnan and Porthos found me at that point. A moment later Aramis and Iris appeared."

Their captain's frown deepened and he began scratching his chin.

"This man – is he dead?" he asked, and Athos nodded his head.

"I don't believe he, or the ones who were with him, are the men we are looking for," Iris interrupted. Treville turned to look at her. "When I asked him about it, his eyes showed no recognition to the matter. He was however very reluctant to give any sign to why we had been followed."

"So you're telling me," Treville began, sitting down in his chair, "that not only have we nothing new in our case, but now we also need to be on the lookout for someone carrying a personal vendetta against one of you?"

"Doesn't have to be personal," Aramis mused, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's plenty of people out there with a hatred to us."

"But if they came to kill musketeers, why retreat when we appeared?" D'Artagnan questioned with raised eyebrows. Porthos grinned, but it didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"Perhaps they didn't think they could take us all on at once."

A silence settled on the office. Treville glanced at Iris again.

"Could there be anyone who would hold a grudge against either of you? Something that could potentially make someone want to have you killed?"

Iris looked at Athos out of the corner of her eye. His face showed no emotions.

"No one comes to mind," she assured him, carefully keeping her own face as expressionless as possible. Treville slightly narrowed his eyes, and turned his attention to Athos who shook his head. After another moments silence, he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, I suppose all we can do about this is to keep an eye out for each other," he said, and added, "You all deserve a bit of rest. We'll continue the investigation later."

With that they were dismissed, and they quickly left the office. Out in the courtyard, Porthos and Aramis went straight to their rooms, and D'Artagnan and Athos moved towards the gates.

"Athos, wait."

He turned around to see Iris walk towards him.

"In all the excitement I almost forgot to return these," she said, and held out his gloves.

"You should keep them," he said, taking a step towards her. "I believe you need them more than I do."

Giving him a thankful smile, she put the gloves in her coat pocket and sighed.

"I didn't expect such an event-less night to turn into a high-risk game of hide and seek."

"Neither did I."

"For a moment, after hearing the shot being fired... Well, I thought that perhaps..." she admitted, her words trailing off. There was a faint tug at the corners of his lips.

Nexttime, for your peace of mind, we wont split up."

"Oh, next time?" her voice had turned playful and her brows were raised.

"Should there be a next time, of course," he quickly corrected himself.

"Well then," she moved a bit closer to him. "A word of advice; next time you get the urge to drag me down a dark alley... warn me first."

As he watched her disappear through the opening that led to the rooms, Athos found himself wondering whether she had been serious or not.


He found D'Artagnan lingering just outside the gates, and the two set off down the street. The Bonacieux residence lay just a few streets away from Athos' lodgings, so they would every now and then come across the other on their way to and from the garrison.

Though they walked in silence, Athos could sense the younger man watch him. D'Artagnan seemed to be on the verge of asking him something, but every time he opened his mouth he quickly closed it again. After a few minutes of this, Athos finally caved.

"Speak your mind, D'Artagnan, before you burst," he muttered, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"I was just wondering... could there be a chance the men who came after you are working for your wife?"

Athos winced slightly, and closed his eyes for a second. He had all but forgotten how he, after being saved from the flames of the château he had grown up in, had confessed his secrets to D'Artagnan. Over the weeks that had passed since that night, neither of them had spoken of it again, and Athos was grateful for it. Despite D'Artagnan knowing everything, it didn't make it any easier to talk about.

"I've considered it myself, and somehow I doubt that she would have me killed in such a quiet way."

"But perhaps it would be best to inform the others of-"

"No."

Athos stopped and looked at D'Artagnan with a grave expression. D'Artagnan had stopped as well, and was now looking at him with a look of worry.

"If I believed her to be a threat to all of us, I would inform the others. As I don't, there is no reason to say any more of the matter."

D'Artagnan fidgeted where he stood.

"Athos, I'm sure Porthos and Aramis would understand..." His words trailed off, as Athos eyes darkened. A moment later it was gone.

"You gave me your word, D'Artagnan. Leave it be."


D'Artagnan let his eyes follow Athos as he made his way across the street to his lodgings. He suspected that the musketeer would wait till he had left before making his way to a quiet tavern where he could drink away any thoughts of his vengeful wife. Letting out a groan at the stubbornness of his friend, he moved towards the way that led to his current lodgings.

After saving Athos from almost being executed, Aramis and Porthos had explained that Athos had women trouble and therefore spent every night drinking himself to oblivion. He would never have imagined the extent of the troubles Athos carried with him.

Had I not dragged him from the flames myself, I might never have known, D'Artagnan thought and shook his head to himself. There was no blaming Athos for wanting to keep his past a secret, but he should at least know that his friends wouldn't judge him for what he had done.

When he entered the Bonacieux residence, he found all his thoughts of Athos' troubles evaporate. Standing by the dining table, Constance looked up from the laundry she was folding when he entered. Glancing at the window, she put aside the freshly cleaned shirt, and picked up the next item from the basket that stood on the floor.

"You've had a long night," she commented, as he leaned against the wall near the fireplace.

"I spent the entire night keeping close watch over a house in an abandoned part of town," he explained, and yawned as though to prove his statement. She huffed, and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is that what musketeers do these days, house-sitting? Have you had enough of worming your way into trouble?"

"We're investigating a few strange murders," he rolled his eyes, and moved towards his room. "I've just come back for an hours rest... perhaps two," he added with another yawn.

Constance shook her head as he left, and glanced at the rest of the laundry that still needed to be folded and put away. After that she had a few errands to run.

What I wouldn't do for a few hours rest...


As Elaine was sick, it had become Iris' chore to change the sheets in the comtes room. Normally, she would stay as far away from that particular room as possible, but she had never been one to neglect her duties and therefore walked in and went about her work as quickly as she could.

She stiffened slightly as the voices of the comte, Garrett Demont and his son Andre carried through the adjoining room to where she stood. Feeling her heart beast faster, she almost made a tear in the pillowcase she was removing.

"... you seem awfully sure," she heard Andre say, just loud enough for her to hear. For a moment she was torn between leaving so she wouldn't be blamed for eavesdropping, and finishing what she had begun. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she continued her work. Despite how much she tried not to, she could easily hear the conversation between the men.

"Why would I not be, my son?" Garrett answered, sounding more joyous than was usual for him. "Everything is coming into place, is it not?"

"But surely you cant mean it – it's unconventional, irregular... it's a mockery to our name!"

Iris expected an angry outburst, and was surprised when it didn't come. The comte usually never allowed his son to speak to him this way.

"Irregular, perhaps... but it has been a long time coming, and I have made my decision."

"And how can you expect her to go along with something like that?"

"You make it sound as though she has a choice to make – what could be more desirable for a young woman than to rise in status, and gain security?"

"She's a maid! She cooks and cleans – she is not suited to bear the title of comtesse!"

Iris, who had finished and was about to leave the bedroom, froze in place and felt her jaw drop.

"She will learn!" Garrett answered, now with an edge of irritability. Almost as though the two of them had had the discussion several times before. "Her 18th birthday nears, she is almost a fully grown woman. This has been her home all of her life, and with the promise of marriage it will be her home for the rest of her life."

"But father-"

"You will accept it, Andre. She will be my wife, of her own free will, before you know it."

Feeling tears sting her eyes, she left the room as quietly as possible. Not noticing what happened around her, she all of a sudden found herself before the door that led to her prison-like room, and the moment she had slipped through and closed it behind her, the emotions inside her broke free.

Sliding down the wall, she clamped a hand over her mouth to cover the broken sounds that came from her with every sob.

She should have known. Of course it all made sense now. Over the past couple of years she had had the feeling that he was keeping her around as though he owned her. But of course, of course, that would never be enough. "You make it sound as though she has a choice to make", his words echoed in her head, causing her to sob even harder. Simply being near him was hard enough – but marriage. Marriage was forever. She had always believed she would leave the mansion at some point, when she was ready. She would tell the comte that she would be going just like her mother had done many years ago. Now she understood that he would never allow such a thing. Even if he had to hunt her down, Garrett Demont had decided to make her his wife. And he was a man who stood by his decisions.


Iris woke with a start and felt herself slightly shivering. It had been a long time since she had thought of the comte, and even longer since he had stopped haunting her dreams.

Throwing the covers aside, she looked through the window. It couldn't be more than an hour since she returned to her room for a bit of rest. Exhaling deeply she stood up and reached for the weapons that lay on her table. There was no chance that she would fall asleep again in any near future, so she might as well take a walk to clear her mind.

As she walked through busy streets, crowded with people going about their business, she allowed herself to consider what she had thought as she stood in the dark alley with Athos.

During the first couple of months since she fled from the Demont mansion, she had been looking over her shoulder every other moment to be sure that she was safe. With the exception of a few times when her paranoia had made her believe she had seen Andre watching her from afar, there had never been any sign of her being followed. By the time she was commissioned, she had allowed herself to relax, and believe that she was forgotten by the Demont's.

Her reluctance to speak of it her past was more than just it being uncomfortable for her. If she admitted to anyone how she had lived and what she had escaped, surely she would sooner or later have to face the comte again. Over the years Iris had trained to be tough, but the thought of being near him was enough to make her weary and afraid. Something none of the musketeers, or anyone else for that matter, should see.

Still wondering if there could be any chance that her past had caught up with her, she looked up to see where her feet had taken her. Standing at the edge of a market place, she let her eyes wander. A flash of red hair caught her attention, and she soon tucked her fears away in her head, and moved forwards.

"Do you need a hand?" she asked as she neared a woman carrying several rolls of cloth. The woman peered over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at Iris for a moment before remembering why she looked familiar.

"You're D'Artagnan's friend," she muttered, and moved the rolls of cloth around to better hold them.

"As are you," Iris commented, giving her a friendly smile. Glancing down at the cloth the woman carried, she spoke again. "Really, I'd be happy to help."

"Thank you, my home isn't that far from here but I appreciate the help all the same" the woman said, after being relieved of some of the weight. Producing a friendly smile of her own, she turned to the woman. "I feel like I should introduce myself again; I'm Constance Bonacieux."

"Iris Chevalier."

"Of the musketeers, if I remember correctly," Constance continued, gesturing to the pauldron on Iris' shoulder.

She had begun walking in a slow tempo, with Iris following.

"The one and only."

"How does that work, exactly? Being a female musketeer?"

When women asked that question, Iris usually felt irritation at the judgement that seemed to radiate of them. Constance, however, seemed genuinely curious.

"The same as for every man, I suppose. I just happen to turn a few heads when I'm out and about."

"I can imagine. D'Artagnan told me just the other day of how surprised he and the others were when you showed up."

The two women chatted back and forth on their way to Constance's home, mostly discussing how Iris could possibly stand to live with the musketeers.

"When you learn to stop listening to certain conversations," Iris explained, "it's easy to be comfortable there."

Iris asked about how Constance had come to know D'Artagnan and questions of her husband.

"He travels a lot," she explained, not looking particularly bothered by the fact.

When they reached the house, Iris set aside the rolls of cloth she had carried.

"It's been a long while since I've been able to have a conversation with a woman that didn't look at me like I'm a disgrace to women in general," Iris admitted. Constance laughed, and shook her head.

"I myself have a hard time to remember the last time I've spoken to a woman who can think for herself. And it's good to know there's someone who can keep an eye on those four men – god knows I cant carry that responsibility on my own."

Smiling to herself, Iris had a feeling she and Constance would get along quite well.


A/N

As always, I thank you all for reading!

In the next chapter, Iris adjusts to life in the garrison, gets to know her new friends better and has a run-in with a drunken Athos...