Elodie knocked on the door to d'Artagnan's office and from inside, the captain called,
"Come in."
After a quick look of reassurance to Asher, she opened the door. D'Artagnan was at his desk at the far end, the dark feather of his quill fluttering as he wrote carefully by candlelight. They had built a number of windows for this room, but it still grew dim by this time of day. Constance was in the office too, sitting in the plump red chair by a window across from her husband, little Marie bouncing on her knee. Only after every few words, d'Artagnan would shift his gaze from his letters to his wife and watch her with the baby contentedly. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. When Elodie entered with Asher, however, Constance stopped bouncing the giggly baby and d'Artagnan's grin turned into something flatter.
"D'Artagnan," began Elodie, "This is-"
"Asher Gauthier," the captain interrupted as he dropped his quill and stood up from the cluttered desk. Constance got up too as she shared a knowing look with Elodie. She carried Marie the short way over to her mother, who took her into her arms and proceeded to straighten her little white dress and flatten the soft blonde wisps on her head. Asher had only glanced at the baby before being distracted by d'Artagnan's cold stare. From his years as a musketeer, particularly in missions of infiltration, the man knew how to hide his true feelings and tell a good lie. This did not seem an occasion for it though, as the look upon d'Artagnan's face clearly showed his emotions. He did not like Asher.
"Captain," greeted Asher, "it's a pleasure." And the two shook hands, d'Artagnan's grip perhaps stronger than necessary. Then Asher turned to Elodie and the baby on her hip. His face softened and he sighed happily.
"Asher, this is Marie-Cesette… Your daughter," said Elodie delicately, moving towards him. Asher opened his arms to take the child.
"Marie, this is your papa."
Elodie's heart broke a little at saying that. To her, 'papa' was a grand title reserved only for Porthos. But things were different now. She had to accept that. It took a moment for Asher to decide how to hold Marie, but they both eventually settled and Marie began her usual play of trying to touch people's faces. Asher laughed as he tried to gain control of the baby's hands, but in the end, he just let her strike his cheek with the force of an infant, though it still made him flinch. Constance stood by d'Artagnan as she watched the scene with a smile on her face, her hand subtly on his back to remind him that it was not his place to have any part in this.
Elodie, in turn, had a hand on Marie's back as she looked up and told Asher,
"You know I prayed that you two would get to meet. Even if just once. And now you have."
"It's a dream come true," he said with a laugh, "It means everything to me to see you alive and well, after all this time."
"Shall we go for a walk? The three of us?"
Marie's presence was proving an effective cumber for Elodie and Asher's resentment towards each other. Elodie wanted to talk more, with Marie there too she thought further conversation would go more smoothly.
"I'd like that," smiled Asher. Elodie turned to Constance. She needn't say a thing, as Constance promptly said,
"Take all the time you need."
Confident that Asher would not drop her child, Elodie left her in his arms and started towards the door, Asher in tow. Just before leaving, d'Artagnan spoke up.
"Hold on," he said and went back to his desk. When Elodie saw what he wanted them to wait for, she smiled and went towards the desk too. D'Artagnan picked up the small wicker rattle, the bells inside jingling. At hearing the slight noise, Marie started babbling and shrieking. As d'Artagnan placed the toy in Elodie's hand, he looked her in the eye with a pressing look. Elodie understood. She would have to talk with him as well later. Asher's presence changed things. She only prayed that he would not cast her out.
Now armed with her precious rattle, Marie shook it all about, occasionally hitting her father in the chest with it. The newly reformed family walked the streets of Paris together, admiring fanciful cloth and shiny trinkets in the arcade near the garrison.
Elodie didn't know what to ask first. After what he had revealed already, she wasn't sure if she wanted more answers. Once again, as Elodie was stuck in contemplation, Asher was the first to speak,
"Why did you come to Paris?"
"It's a long story…" Elodie trailed off. Asher just looked at her expectantly as Marie finally silenced her noisy rattle by chewing on the wooden handle with her budding teeth.
"Soldiers came to our home not long after you left. I fled and came across a band of women. They took me in and together we built a secret village in the woods. It was amazing…" she trailed off again, thinking back fondly on the place she called home for so long and the women there that she grew to love.
"It's where Marie-Cesette was born and-" Elodie suddenly stopped to consider what she was about to say, but shook her head to herself and said, "And where I met Porthos."
"When was this?"
"A little over ten months ago. It was then that I learned about Frieberg."
Asher stopped in his tracks. It took Elodie a few seconds to notice, so she was slightly ahead of him as he viciously said,
"Oh so then you just jumped into the arms of the man nearest to you?"
"Don't, Asher," warned Elodie, a stern look in her eye, "It wasn't like that at all."
Asher rolled his lips and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. He was obviously trying to contain a rising outburst.
"Only an hour ago you were dead to me. I never did anything to deplore your memory, I can assure you."
Asher jostled Marie in his arms. She was growing restless, and Asher was without experience. Wordlessly, Elodie walked up to him with her arms open. He handed the baby over to her with no reluctance. Elodie cooed at her and shook the rattle for her. Marie grabbed the toy back from her mother and started shaking it herself again. This easily settled her, and Asher and Elodie continued down the mostly empty arcade. They walked slowly with the silence between them hanging over their heads until they floated by a collection of dusty second-hand carpets for sale.
"But what about you?" began Elodie, "How did you come to Paris…? You fled from battle but then what?"
Asher paused, pretending to take an interest in a red and blue carpet decorated with ugly flowers. Elodie could tell that he too was wondering how much he should confess.
"I was alone in a foreign land… I was on my own out there for weeks until I found my way back to our farm. But when I got there it had been razed to the ground, just like everything else for miles. I assumed you were either dead or had gone away to a place I'd never be able to find. Then I- I met some people and travelled with them for a while. Then things started to fall apart and I decided to try my luck in the great city of Paris… I had only been here a few weeks when I ran into you. Amazing how luck would have it, aye?"
"Lucky indeed."
Elodie looked around at nothing, trying to put the pieces of his story together in her head. With one hand on Elodie's shoulder, Asher reached over and stroked Marie's chubby cheek with a hooked finger. She just shook her rattle and babbled nonsense in response. Up ahead were some steps, on one side of which the carpet collection continued. Elodie and Asher made their way up them.
"But what have you been doing?" asked Elodie, "Where have you been staying?"
Asher ran a hand over the very short hair on his head and said,
"I've been doing a few different jobs for people. Fixing roof tiles and the like. And I've just been living with some other fellas in a house on the Pont Notre-Dame."
"I see."
Now at the end of the arcade, they turned and aimlessly followed a street that led them to a market square. Though it was getting to be late in the day, merchants and vendors here were still out selling their wares. Mostly vegetables and hard, dry bread.
"But I suppose I'll be living with you now. With both of you."
Elodie looked up at him, a little worried.
"Oh. Well, we live at the garrison-"
"Wait here a moment," he interrupted. He had spotted something in a far corner of the square and jogged over. Elodie reluctantly stayed put. She craned her neck to see where he went, and it looked to be a flower stall. She blushed to herself. Elodie had never been one for romantic gestures, she was simply too bashful when it came to such things, but she definitely appreciated them. While she waited, she lightly tickled Marie and cooed at her some more, much to the little girl's delight. A moment later and Asher returned, holding something behind his back.
"What's that you've got?" asked Elodie. Asher just grinned and revealed his purchase by whipping it out from behind his back. It was a single dried sunflower. The head of it was about the size of Marie-Cesette's. There was scarcely a tinge of yellow left on the petals, and they had all shrivelled and folded into the deep black centre.
"I remember how much you like sunflowers," said Asher, hope lilting his voice.
"I wanted to grow them by the front window," Elodie sighed, tears beginning to sting her eyes. With her free hand, she reached out and took the flower and gazed at it. It was ugly. It was dead. But it was also beautiful and alive with memory.
When she and Asher were married and she started living in his house, the house his father and grandfather had built, Elodie tried her best to make the place more homely. What she always dreamed of having at that house was just a small patch of golden sunny sunflowers. Asher didn't agree. He'd rather pay closer attention to their more economical crops and what livestock they had. Elodie had accepted it then, but the sunflower remained her favourite flower. Though she hadn't even thought about sunflowers in a very long time.
"Thank you, Asher," she whispered and he cupped her face and smiled warmly. Then Marie tried to grab for the sunflower. She only got two petals before her mother pulled it away, laughing. They fell away from the head like autumn leaves. Marie stared at the petals in her little hand, opening and closing it and rubbing them with her clumsy fingers. Then she watched them float to the ground in pieces, totally entranced.
The three of them carried on for another hour before returning to the garrison. Some of that time was spent chatting about nothing, and the rest, for the first time, was spent in a comfortable silence.
"Is this is it then?" d'Artagnan asked, his tone cutting and angry. He was finally alone with Elodie in his office after an afternoon of her galavanting around Paris with this new man. But he wasn't a new man, nor was he an old one. He was Asher Gauthier, the man who rose from the dead, but d'Artagnan knew he was no Christ.
"What're you talking about?"
"The husband you thought is dead has returned, so why would you stay here?" said d'Artagnan, pushing off from the back of his chair. Elodie was stunned. She frowned for a moment, trying not to cry before managing to say,
"I'll leave as soon as possible-"
"But I don't want you to leave is the thing," interrupted d'Artagnan, his tone suddenly changed. Though it still sounded like he too was trying to stifle how upset he was,
"You may not be a musketeer but you're still an invaluable asset here. Constance adores you and Marie- we all do. You're practically family, and…"
The young captain rolled his lips, head bowed before continuing,
"And I promised Porthos I'd keep you safe."
Elodie scoffed,
"I can take care of myself thank you"
"Oh I'm well aware of that," grinned d'Artagnan. It was true. He had made a promise to Porthos before he left that he would make sure his new wife was kept safe. It was also true that d'Artagnan knew that Elodie was more than capable of doing that herself. But how would d'Artagnan let her go? How would he explain to his brother that he let his wife leave for someplace where he couldn't watch over her? Elodie saw all this in his face, the same conflict she saw in herself.
"I'm just not sure what to do," breathed d'Artagnan, "I was hoping you'd decide for me."
"Decide whether I stay or go?"
Although d'Artagnan's side of the conversation had turned somewhat facetious to try and ease the dark mood, Elodie was still acutely aware that the future of her family was hinged on what was said in that room. At least the near future.
"Well, I can't say I want to leave. And even if I did I don't think it's fair to run off before Porthos knows what's going on."
"Fair enough," d'Artagnan said with slight mirth.
"So you'll allow us to stay?"
"Him too?" spat d'Artagnan irritably. If anything at least the captain's opinions were clear. Elodie just shrugged apologetically.
"He can work," she suggested.
"I don't know, Elodie… Is it appropriate for him to be here, to live here?"
"That's for you to decide."
D'Artagnan groaned. He took a moment to pace over to the window overlooking the yard. Down below some musketeers were returning from a mission. D'Artagnan sighed and pivoted on his heel to shake a pointed finger at Elodie as he said,
"I will allow it for the time being. Only for your sake and for Marie, but it will be up to you to explain it to Porthos."
Then he turned back and leaned on the window frame.
"Thank you, d'Artagnan," said Elodie, "No matter what happens, I will make sure you are not at fault for any of it."
She spoke the last part with a subtle air of accusation. She was starting to resent him. D'Artagnan seemed to consider her life to just be another problem he had to deal with.