This chapter just kinda came to me, so I had to post it right away. Obviously since I'm writing this as a fan fiction I own none of the characters I'm currently writing about except for Katherine, the rest of them belong to the works of Alexandre Dumas. Please feel free to comment and review, but again, I don't want to deal with flamers.

"Open up, we have prisoners!"

The guard accepted the piece of parchment that was slipped through the small opening in the door and closed it almost as soon as he had taken it from Porthos' hand. In that second that they had, Aramis gently patted Athos on the shoulder in reassurance while Porthos adjusted the weight that he bore on his shoulders. They had taken only a few more moments back at the monestary to change their clothes and adjust the letter that D'Artagnan had attached to the door before they had left. After all, they couldn't show up with two prisoners for the Bastille if the letter would only permit the entrance of one. Not everyone was immediately meant to be taken to the Bastille, so the circumstances had to change slightly in order for them to throw off any kind of suspicion. Within moments the heavy door was swung aside and a guard was ushering them in, looking at the limp body that hung over Porthos' shoulder. "Take this down," the guard ordered as he handed Aramis the letter back. "The captain will deal with you shortly."

With the first part of their plan now behind them, they hurried off toward the staircase and immediately hid themselves from sight as they moved into the depths of the prison itself. But it was only when they were safely on the other side of the gate at the very bottom that they allowed their charade to be dropped, with Athos straightening himself and removing the blanket that hid his uniform from his shoulders while Katherine, now clad in boy's clothing, slid from her Uncle's strong shoulder and landed softly on the floor below. "We did it, we are in," Porthos declared happily, handing over a sword he had concealed on his person to Katherine for later use. "Of course we got in, it's a prison," Athos told his friend quickly, taking the hat that Aramis offered to him. "The trouble will come when we want to get out." They all looked up, shuffling off to either side of the staircase and behind the pillars as they heard footsteps approaching them. Guards hurried up the steps, not bothering to take in any of their surroundings before they moved up toward the courtyard, where a change of the guard was sure to be taking place. And just on time, the chimes of midnight sounded.

"You have to go now," Katherine told them quickly, her blue eyes hovering at the gate. "Go, find Philippe. He said we'd only have ten minutes." All three men looked to each other and then back at her, confused by her words. "Are you coming?" Athos asked, but the girl shook her head firmly. "We have no idea how many guards are around his cell. If I stay here, then at the very least I can warn you of impending dangers and hopefully buy you some time." At the look of worry that crossed their faces, the girl smiled brightly. "Do not worry for me. I learned from the best." The familiar sound of a drawn sword bounced around the hard stone room, her free hand resting on her hip in the very way she had been taught to hold her sword long ago. It was true, they thought silently. Katherine had taken lessons at her own insistence from the time that she was old enough to hold up a sword without falling over, and if trouble should happen upon her, she knew enough to keep herself alive, or at least put up a good fight. Despite her appearance in clothing, however, people would still be able to tell that she was a woman from the way in which she had styled her hair as well as the figure that lurked beneath the material of her shirt. If nothing else, they might be more hesitant to fight her. "Let's go."

All three men ran down the corridor, taking the directions that D'Artagnan had left them in the hopes that they would be able to handle whatever trap lay in wait for them. And yet, after having read the note that had been left in the door for them to find, the young woman was beginning to question the motives behind his desire to help. She had known D'Artagnan for as long as she could remember, having been a constant presence in her life since Aramis had first brought her into the monastery She knew him to be a dedicated and loyal man, someone who seemed to fear nothing as he raced head on into danger for king and country. So why did the life of one man make such a difference to him? Yes, he was the twin brother of the King, that she knew without having even laid eyes on him. But what was it that made D'Artagnan get involved in something so political when his only alliance had ever been to the reigning King of France? The entire situation made precious little sense to her as she stood there, listening intently for sounds of trouble that might be headed in her direction. Ten minutes was an awfully short time in which they could race through the bowels of the fortress prison and find a single prisoner. Would they be able to do it in time for them all to escape with their lives?

A drop of moisture hit the floor. A rat scurried across the straw of a cell while an inmate shifted to try and get away from it. The smell that had hit her when they arrived had almost knocked her over, so strong were the odours of rot and bodily fluids. While the people of Paris were discontented with their way of living right now, she could guarantee that none of them would want to be down here for long. There was no way for the rays of sunshine to leak into this dismal place, no way for the prisoners to look up at the sky and pray for some kind of miracle to befall them so they might not die alone and forgotten in their cells. Katherine had to wonder if there really was a crime that was bad enough for anyone to end up here for the rest of their miserable lives. The King thought there was, she thought bitterly as she looked around her in disgust. The King who was supposed to govern his people with a fair hand and good judgement, the very man who was supposed to be their leader in times of crisis thought there were punishments that warranted imprisonment in here. And worst of all, he had sentenced his own brother to dwell in such a place, merely for the fact that they shared a face and a parentage that neither of them could help. God forgive her, but she wanted nothing more than to reach out and slap this man for being such a heartless beast.

Suddenly her head turned back toward the very same corridor in which the three former musketeers had disappeared, her sword raised in preparation for trouble. The footsteps were hurried and drawing closer, which meant that it was either them returning with their imprisoned prince, or guards who had been alerted to their presence. Katherine adjusted her fingers around her sword, knees bent in preparation for whatever might round the corner within the next few seconds, whether it be friend or foe. She could handle herself, she knew that. With all of the training she had gotten from the four of them over her twenty years she was sure that she too could have been a musketeer, if not for the issue of her sex. Not that the others would ever allow it. Porthos and Athos maybe, but Aramis and D'Artagnan? Never.

Athos was the first to round the corner, instantly allowing Kate to relax a little and straighten as she glanced back at the staircase. "I get the feeling that we're not coming out the way we came in, so how exact-" She raised her sword again, eyes wide with fright as she spotted the figure that stood at the back of the group, an iron mask hiding his face from being properly seen. But Aramis was quick to jump in front of the point, guarding the young man from any pending attack. "No, Kate! This is Philippe." Her head snapped between Aramis and the others, finally coming to rest on the body that stood behind her guardian. He seemed just as uncertain of her presence as she did his, with his shoulders rounded and hunched forward a little as he attempted to drop his face from her gaze. But the mask wrapped itself all the way around his head and was hardly concealed by his evident shyness. "You will forgive me if I do not take the time to curtsey," she said slowly, dropping her sword again. "But I'm afraid that we are running out of..."

She stopped again, her ears trained on the coming sounds that emanated from the steps. In a flash she was pointing back toward the spots in the wall that they had hidden in before, pushing Athos and Porthos to the one side while she headed for the other, Aramis hot on her heels with Philippe in tow. With a raised finger to her lips she motioned for the others to remain silent, hiding herself behind the pillar just enough that she could see who it was that came down the stairs from the courtyard above. They were close, moving rather quickly against the steps. And the boots they wore on their feet were of a much harder material than her own, for she could hear the heavy tread that the others had brought with them when they had descended the steps initially. Thank goodness she didn't have a pair of boots like the ones they wore with their uniforms, or there was no possible way she could have been quiet in a place like there, where every sound echoed off of the walls. And as her bright blue eyes watched the staircase intently, she couldn't help but turn her head and glance over at the boy that had been rescued, the very one she was risking her life for. Was he truly the King's twin? It was impossible to tell with that mask on his face...

In that moment she realized that he was looking back at her as well, and the modest young woman in her immediately dropped her gaze and turned her head away, focusing on the task at hand. That was highly improper, she chastised herself silently, staring like that. And at the King's brother no less! What he must think of seeing her like this, a woman dressed like a man and carrying a sword as if she knew what she was getting into. But she did know, came that quick reminder. And she had been the one who had wanted to come along and help, so there was nobody to blame but herself if something went wrong and she was hurt. Giving herself a mental shake, Kate turned her eyes back to the staircase in time to see a flash of black cloth and an insignia that was all too familiar to her eyes. But before she could say anything, Athos and Porthos were out of their hiding place with their swords trained at his throat, Aramis not too far behind. D'Artagnan, for his part, simply stopped in his tracks and looked around at them all as if he had been in a similar situation before. "You will not get out through the courtyard," he told them simply. "Men are assembling there as we speak."

"Do not trust him, it's a trap," Athos told the others as he pressed his sword a little more firmly against D'Artagnan's skin. "See for yourself." Unsure of what to do, Porthos headed up the stairs and took a look at the courtyard, leaving Kate and Philippe to remove themselves from their hiding place and come into view. This seemed to take the captain by surprise as he looked at the sorrow filled glance he got from the young woman before his eyes turned from her, coming to rest on the only other figure who did not threaten his life. "For all you have suffered, I would gladly have endured it myself to keep it from you," he murmured. And then he turned to Aramis. "You should not have brought her here. It's far too dangerous for her." A frown crossed her features as she sheathed her sword once more and folded her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm no longer a child, Uncle. That babe you carried on your shoulders during your visits with Papa does not exist anymore."

"D'Artagnan is right, the courtyard is filling with soldiers " Porthos said as he closed the gate behind him and joined the others. "This way." Always their fearless leader, D'Artagnan ignored the swords that were pointed at him and pushed on ahead, leading them down the corridors and around the corners that would otherwise have turned them completely around. All the way along, Kate caught glances at some of the other unfortunate souls that were locked away in their cages, her heart aching for those she saw in such a state of being. "You cannot save them all, Katherine," Aramis told her as he ran alongside her. "It is best that you focus on the good you are doing now." At that her eyes lifted a little, glancing up at the masked figure who ran just ahead of her. Yes, she was doing some good right now, wasn't she? More than she probably could have ever dreamed of doing while she spent her days working around the priests of the monestary, waiting somewhat impatiently for Papa to return from his visits with the King. But if she could not save them all, then she was determined to save the one person who might be the voice against their injustice.

As they continued to run down the corridor, their positions seemed to change only slightly. Katherine had taken notice of how close between Athos and D'Artagnan that Phillipe seemed to be, and so she remained close to him as well in case they should happen upon something unexpected. Porthos and Aramis brought up the rear of their group, though Katherine's wandering eyes were always glancing back at her father to ensure that he was close by. Only when they rounded the final corner and reached the door that stood at the very end did they regroup once again. "If we leave this way, they will know that you helped us," Aramis said quickly, looking at his old friend and the lock that he pulled aside. But D'Artagnan shook his head. "It doesn't matter now." With one swift movement they had pulled the door aside, showing the empty courtyard that would lead them toward the river and a chance at freedom. It was so close that Kate thought perhaps they might actually make it unscathed, turning herself around to the man who had pulled himself out of their way. "You must come with us," she told him quickly, reaching out to touch his arm. "If the King will know that you helped us free Philippe then your life is in danger. Uncle...please do not go back." The older man lifted his head a little to look down at her, meeting her eyes with the same intensity that his own blue ones held. "Alas ma petite, I cannot go with you. My duty is to my King."

The brunette shook her head, ignoring the wisps of hair that had fallen from her braid and now clung to the sides of her face. "He will have you killed if you go back. You heard Papa. The King will know that you were part of this." Never before had Katherine spoken in such a way to her Uncle, whom she had come to love dearly for all of the attention he had paid her as a child and the kindness he had shown her. No one else aside from the four friends had paid the child any mind, seeing her as more of a bother, an interruption to their otherwise quiet lives. And yet in that moment, D'Artagnan came to understand just how much that child had grown up as he watched the fear radiate in her eyes, mixed heavily with the stubborn look that he knew all too well. His lips parted as if to answer, until the sound of approaching horses brought an abrupt end to their conversation and forced them all to turn their heads toward the archway. The King had found them, and had brought with him a large number of men who could easily handle the wagon of guns and ammunition that also accompanied him. "Fire!"

Without a second thought Katherine pulled herself away from D'Artagnan and quickly moved to the front of the group, shielding Philippe and the others as best as she could until they were all safely on the other side of the closed door. But the fight was sure to continue as they hurried back down the corridor toward a second door, rounding the corner to retrace some of their steps before they heard yet another attack coming from that side. The soldiers of the Bastille had noticed their newest prisoner to be missing from his cell and ran forward with swords drawn, yelling angrily before they found that door to be closed as well, held tightly against them by four older men who were determined to keep them at bay. Helpless for what to do, Katherine looked up as Philippe tapped her shoulder, nodding down to the beam of wood that lay on the ground. In an instant, they had picked it up and moved toward the door, using it to help barricade them inside the alcove. "We're trapped," Athos muttered, glancing back at the way they had intended to exit. But with soldiers on both sides of them, that didn't seem as likely to happen.

"Katherine, your side!" In their efforts to move safely back inside and search for another way of leaving, Katherine had not noticed the wound she had gotten from moving to protect Philippe. One of the bullets that had been fired seemed to have caught a part of her side, tearing open the skin and soaking the white material of her shirt with the tell-tale signs of blood. She quickly pressed a hand against it, shaking her head as she looked up at the others. "I'm fine, it's nothing." But Athos was quick to kneel at her side and lift the corner of the shirt, assessing the damage that had been done to her flesh. Aramis and the others were not far behind in their worry, eyes turning down to the gash that she had received for her efforts at being a protector. Philippe, for his part, looked away from the exposed skin around her middle. "We'll need to wrap it, to stop too much blood from being lost," he said, brushing his rough fingers along her side before she stepped just out of his reach. "I said I was all right," she said stubbornly, pulling at the edge of her shirt until a tear had formed. Thank goodness the silly thing was far too long for her body. "We'll just use this and I shall deal with it later." Katherine continued to pull along the bottom of her shirt until she had a solid strip of material in her hands, wrapping it firmly around the wound with a small grimace from how tightly it pressed into the skin. She allowed Athos to tie it off, holding the shirt a little higher so that he could see what he was doing before she dropped it, hiding her make-shift bandage from view though the stain of blood remained visible.

With that accomplished, Athos rose and drew his pistol, moving to the corner of the corridor that would make them visible to the enemy they had first attempted to avoid. The lock of that door would not hold them for long, and as Louis was not a patient King in terms of wanting results, he was sure that they would be upon them soon. The other three followed suit and filed in alongside him, aiming their pistols at the doorway in preparation. Philippe tried to follow, but was gently moved back to a safer place around the corner before he could step into view. And when Katherine made the effort to move forward, she was rewarded with a stern look from D'Artagnan. "Do not let them get to Philippe." Though annoyed at being removed so quickly from their battle, the girl nodded and drew her sword with her right hand while her left wrapped itself around her abdomen to apply pressure to her bandage. If anyone should get by them in an effort to harm Philippe, they would have to get through her first. "You have my word, Uncle."

The old man nodded in approval, snapping his head back to the door as the first bang sounded. It did not take long for them to throw the door open, running forward with raised swords as they prepared to fight for their King. All of them were musketeers, wearing the blue uniform that had replaced the black that they now opposed. And so it was to begin.