Hey guys! After a few days of being unable to log into my account for whatever reason, I'm finally back and ready to post another chapter. The formatting will change a little this time around as I take a comment into account and try separating things the way I used to before people initially complained, so bare with me just in case. More details and feels will hopefully be explored during this chapter. Don't worry, I won't forget to share the background I'm working on for Katherine...it's a timing thing, you know? Further reviews are always welcome.

Chapter V

"You cannot leave us now."

It was late afternoon when Katherine had finally risen from her cot to find herself covered in a blanket and alone with D'Artagnan in the infirmary, none of them others in sight. She'd risen gingerly from her place and tucked the corner of her shirt back into the top of her skirt before she folded the blanket and began moving about again, this time with a little more ease than she had felt the previous night. His bandages had been removed and his wound cleaned before she had dressed it again and resumed her place by his side. This time however, she sat on the very edge of the cot and held his hand in her lap, finding that her knees did not wish to lower her much further after the time she had spent praying already. Instead she simply sat there, brushing her thumbs over the back of his hand as her blue orbs looked at him sadly. Still he had not stirred, though the signs of life in his chest remained, and Katherine was beginning to worry that he might never wake.

"Papa and the others still need you," she murmured softly. "Philippe still needs you. How can you expect him to be King without you there to guide him?"

And what about me, she added as an afterthought. There was still so much that he could teach her, so much for him to explain about his way of life and how things looked from his view of the world. His stories had never failed to fascinate her as she grew and allowed herself to consider the possibilities of the future. And despite her foolish dream of one day serving as a musketeer to the King, he had always been supportive of her desire to do something meaningful with her life, knowing as well as she did that she was not meant for the quiet life that her father chose to lead within the walls of the monastery. Her spirit was far too wild for such a place.

Pressing her lips briefly against the back of his hand, Katherine straightened again and looked at his pale features, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his cheek. "Sometimes I think you are a fool to be as devoted as you are," she admitted, touching his brow. "You spent the whole of your life wanting to be a musketeer...only to be harmed by the one you intended to protect with your life when you took your oath."

His skin felt cool against her hand despite the warmth of the room and the heavy blankets she had piled onto him in an effort to retain any heat from his body. But he was still breathing, which was enough of a miracle alone for the girl to send her thanks upward in silent meditation. As she cradled his hand in her own, gently squeezing his fingers from time to time, Katherine couldn't help but allow her mind to wander back to the events of the night before, trying to piece together what exactly had happened to them all. It felt almost like a dream now, something she had experienced in another lifetime or place that didn't seem all together real. They had been hunted down by the King of France, who attempted to murder his own brother in cold blood before the man who had saved his life repeatedly in the past had become the target of his dagger. Even now, she could still see it as if it were happening at a much slower pace, leaving her absolutely helpless to have stopped it.

Her eyes shot up as she heard someone approach the door of the infirmary, heavy boots sounding their arrival as the oak door was pushed aside to reveal her father's form with his hat in hand. "Katherine, I need you to step outside with me for a moment."

The tone of voice that he used was rather even, but almost commanding at the same time, which gave Katherine reason to pause and raise a brow. "I will not leave him, Papa."

The old musketeer stared at his daughter for a moment before giving a resigned sigh and moving further into the room, approaching the cot on which both of his loved ones rested. He held his hat formally in his hands, something she noticed right away but did not yet question. There was a reason for his wanting to remove her from the room, and while she was not pleased with his feeble attempt, she could not ignore his order completely.

"The King has summoned you to the palace. He and the Queen wish to conference with us, and it was requested that you also be in attendance."

Her mouth fell agape as she looked up at Aramis with an expression of shock and confusion, breathing a heavy sigh before she shook her head. "You must have heard incorrectly, Papa," said the young girl swiftly, her grasp tightening around D'Artagnan's hand a little. "I am no one. There is no reason for the King to want to see me because I have done nothing to warrant his attention."

But underneath it all, her heart began to pound a little. If Louis had truly been replaced by Philippe, then what could he possibly want with her? Katherine was nothing more than a common girl who had stubbornly refused to let her father and uncles ride off into death and leave her alone in the world. She had been of no help in his rescue, save for the slaughter of one man who might have attempted to take his life, and then fled with the broken body of his father in the middle of the night.

"I am not yet so old that I cannot hear when my King commands me," came Aramis' steady reply, grasping his wrist with his free hand as he leaned back into his stance. "We are to be there in the morning." He could see the desire to defy the King's orders in her eyes as she sat beside his friend, but he knew that she would never dare refuse aloud. Despite his initial desire for her to remain a quiet member of the monastery Aramis was all too aware of the fact that Katherine wanted to be a musketeer to protect her King and country the way that he and the others had done in their youth. And while the issue of her gender made it impossible for that to occur, there was still a fiery spirit in her that chose not to accept this as her fate just yet.

"Go..."

The whisper of a single word caused a gasp to pass through her lips and the girl to fall from the side of the cot to her knees on the floor, pressing her body as close to him as she could get. His fingers tightened a little around her hand as he turned his head, evidently worn despite his unconscious state for the past several hours. "Uncle," she breathed, bringing his hand to hold against her heart.

"God be praised," whispered Aramis as he crossed himself and approached the side of the bed. "You gave us quite a fright, old friend."

D'Artagnan gave a weak chuckle and looked upon them both with a slight twinkle in his eye, a sign of his old self making an appearance. "Did you really think I could leave you all in this mess?"

Aramis smiled, "It would not be the first one we had to get out of without you."

His eyes then turned to Katherine, who continued to kneel silently at his side as tears began to roll quietly down her cheeks and she pressed her lips tightly together to prevent any of her sobs from sounding. But, in his usual manner, D'Artagnan saw right through the child and offered her a tiny smile. "It is alright, ma petite. I am here."

Hearing his affectionate nickname for her proved to be too much for the girl as Katherine leaned forward and pressed her face lightly against his shoulder. He could feel her wet tears against his skin and turned his head a little more, allowing his face to brush against the softness of her hair. "I thought I was going to lose you," she sobbed quietly, shoulders quaking slightly. "I thought I had failed to save you."

D'Artagnan closed his eyes, breathing steadily for the first time since his body had absorbed the shock of the attack. "One day, I shall have to leave you. But today is not that day. You could never have failed me." As her fingers still held onto his hand from before, he did his best to gently tighten his hold on her for a brief moment before he had to allow his body to relax because of the pain he was in. There was a dominant throb in his back from where Louis' dagger had broken the skin, and he noticed now that all he wore on the upper half of his body were a number of blankets that had been put across him and tucked in as tightly as one could manage. Now slightly confused, the captain lifted his head a little and looked around the unfamiliar room with a frown.

"We're back at the monastery," Aramis explained. "Katherine had you brought here right away."

"And I pray you forgive me for what I had to do, Uncle." There was a slight trace of begging in her tone as she knelt beside him, lifting her head to kiss the back of his hand and hold it firmly against her heart. "I could not see your wound through your uniform."

He knew immediately what that must have meant. The old uniform he had chosen to wear to the Bastille that night was no longer in the same condition he had kept it in since the colour was retired. He had not yet seen what had been done to the material, but in his mind he could imagine just how tattered it would now appear after being subjected to her desperate attempts to remove it from his broken body. It hurt a little, to think that the uniform was no longer something he could wear with pride, but D'Artagnan hid his silent grief as he looked over at Kate, breathing slowly. "It does not matter," he told her simply. "It was but a piece of cloth."

The brunette shook her head a little, hanging it guiltily. "Papa and the others kept their uniforms for the same reasons you did. And I destroyed it. I know how much it meant to you." But D'Artagnan would not allow such negative feelings to be had about the uniform, and shifted himself slightly on the cot with grit teeth to bring Katherine's hand to his own lips before he lay it against his heart.

"You saved my life, ma petite. That is a debt I can never repay."

He held onto her hand for a moment. "Now," he began slowly, his voice a gentle whisper. "If the King has summoned you to court, then you must go. It is your duty to serve him in anyway that you can, especially while I am here and unable to do so."

The stubborn look returned to her eyes as she frowned, staring down at him as her blue eyes met his own. "I will not leave you alone in here until you are able to leave," she vowed. "I promised His Majesty that I would see you well again." Digesting this for a moment, she could see how his eyes betrayed his thoughts and the hope that now shone brightly in them. She could only assume that he had known about the desire to switch the twins around, and thus was aware that Louis was no longer in power without having to be told. Still, she could tell that he was busy thinking of what to say to her next.

That always was his way, she had come to realize. D'Artagnan never spoke without first considering what his words were and the impact they would have once delivered. "I should not want you to break your word to your King," he began, looking up at her. "Nor can I allow you to disregard his command. If I would be the reason for you to refuse, then I shall accompany you to the Palace tomorrow."

Everyone seemed to freeze at this announcement, with Aramis sharing a rather surprised look with Katherine before they both turned their attention down to the body who moved so painfully upon his cot. "You are not funny, Uncle," Katherine told him shortly, allowing herself to rise from her knees and stand at her full height as she rested his hand back at his side. "You are in no condition to move anywhere, least of all on a journey to the Palace." The very idea was absurd! D'Artagnan was fortunate to have survived his wound at all, and he was still in danger of contracting another illness while his body attempted to make itself whole again. Moving him would be foolish, absolutely foolish.

"I shall not be the reason that you ignore the King's wish for your presence," he replied, shifting on his cot as he struggled to try and adjust his arms. "Nor shall I ever forgive you if you use me in such a manner." Now she was torn and looked helplessly at Aramis for some kind of way out. She had sworn to Philippe that she would save his father's life if there was a way for her to do so, but now that very same man was threatening her with the worst possible thing he could think of and forcing her to do something else completely. With both arms moved and pressed down, D'Artagnan began the struggle to force his body upright, which he only achieved with the help of Katherine and Aramis on either side of him. The blankets previously covering his chest quickly slipped further down his body as he moved until at last he was hunched forward and panting from the exertion. As Katherine sat herself back on the edge of the cot to keep him supported against her shoulder, Aramis grabbed the blanket that she had folded earlier and threw it around him in an effort to keep him warmer.

"No one will forgive me for allowing you to do this," she murmured, wrapping her arms gently around his muscled chest. "You still should not be moving." Katherine could feel the heavy breathing in his chest as he leaned into her body, turning his head slowly until it came to rest against her neck and brushed her hair. There was no way of fooling anyone into thinking that he had strength enough to do this.

"She is right, D'Artagnan," Aramis told his friend in an effort to be the voice of reason. "You are fortunate to be alive at all. A journey to the Palace in your condition may very well endanger your life."

The stubborn musketeer breathed a heavy sigh, gently shaking his head against the soft skin of her neck. "My son..." Katherine closed her eyes against the stabbing pain she felt in her heart at those two words, trying to push them from thought. Of course he would want to see the son whom he had saved from death, having only just learned that the poor boy existed. It seemed only natural that he would wish to return to his duties as soon as possible, eager to fill the role that he had never properly been able to fill for his own flesh and blood. He had been around Katherine growing up, of course, but she was not his daughter. She could never hope to sit in that place in his heart, a space reserved for the children that he had helped to create.

"Send word to His Masjesty that I will come at his request," she told her father softly as she looked up with saddened eyes. "Do not mention his father."

Removing her arms from his chest and back, Katherine slowly slid off of the cot and rose to her feet before she took a moment to smooth her skirts. She turned briefly to both men and gave them a small curtsey with a bow of her head, turning to leave the room entirely. "Kate," D'Artganan called to her.

"I will pack what we require for the journey." Without looking back she spoke to them, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. And before he could call out to her again, she hurried out the door and down the corridor, leaving the two men alone together in the infirmary. D'Artagnan sighed softly, trying to ease his body into moving just enough to erase the stiffness from his joints.

"I feel as though I have upset her," he said, turning his head a little to look up at Aramis. "And yet I don't know how I managed to do it."

Aramis gave a small shrug and bowed his head, resting on the edge of the opposite cot as he folded his hands together. "You cannot expect her to be happy that you are coming," he said reasonably as he lifted his head a little. "Katherine has seen a great deal of pain and misery in the time that she has lived here with me, but never have I seen her so afraid of something as she was when she thought that she was going to lose you." None of the four men who were part of her life had any kind of blood connection to the child who had been left on the steps of the monastery twenty years ago, but it was no secret that she regarded them as her family, and they saw her in the same light. Even when Athos and his late wife had welcomed Raoul into the fold a few years before, the aging musketeer had come to love her like his own. Porthos, who had never allowed himself to love just one single thing before in his life, had instantly become attached to the tiny babe that bewildered him so.

And to think, it had all started because one of the younger priests had found the child at their door, wrapped tightly in a thick woollen blanket and crying her little heart out at being alone. He'd once said it was a moment of weakness that had allowed him to take the child into his arms and not send her away to an orphanage, but now he knew that he too had fallen in love with the little girl. "She loves you," came the simple explanation "As a daughter should love her father, she loves you."

"You have always been the father figure for her, Aramis," D'Artagnan said with a dismissive wave of his hand before he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "She cares for you far more than anyone else in all of France."

A small chuckle sounded deep in the throat of the priest, who looked at his friend with twinkling eyes. "You really are blind sometimes, my friend. Katherine may call me 'Papa,' but she would have done exactly as you did for Philippe if ever she saw that one of the four of us was in danger. Of this, I am absolutely sure." The idea of Katherine putting herself in front of death for his sake was a feeling that did not sit well with D'Artagnan, who frowned at the very thought. That was not the way that the world worked at all. It was a father's job to risk his life to spare his children, and not the other way around. Sometimes he thought that she didn't see it, but in the years that he had spent watching over Louis, whom he had secretly known to be his son, his love for Katherine had taken full control of his heart on numerous occasions. He knew that she didn't always see it, especially now that she had grown into such a head-strong young woman who seemed to insist that she did not require the same attentions as before. Still, he loved her dearly.

"I know she is displeased, but she must go if Philippe wishes for her to be in attendance when you speak," he said, groaning lightly. "And I cannot allow her to remain here to tend to me."

Concern grew evident in Aramis' aging face as he rose, gently pressing on D'Artagnan's shoulder until he had lain back down on the cot and readjusted the blankets around him. "I suggest you rest," he somewhat ordered. "We shall be leaving in the early morning...and the journey will be slow in order to accommodate your condition. Katherine will worry enough as it is."

Giving a small nod in agreement, D'Artagnan closed his eyes and allowed his head to lay back against the pillow, his body slowly being overtaken by exhaustion. "At least she will go," he murmured. "That is all that matters." Aramis said nothing as he continued to watch over his friend for a few more moments, contented with the fact that he had drifted off into a restful sleep. All the signs pointed toward him being out of danger for the time being, though he was not thrilled with the idea of moving him so soon after the encounter at the Bastille. To a man with a great sense of honour and devotion like D'Artagnan, it would be important for them to be present when summoned by the King at court. But for Katherine, Aramis knew that her primary concern would not be the meeting she was supposed to attend. It would be the man who would cause her a great deal of heartache before it was all over.