Asher hadn't returned. Elodie thought when he stormed off that he would be back within a day, but he wasn't. Part of her was relieved. If he really was gone, then he'd made her dreaded choice for her. The other part of her was gravely concerned. Anything could've happened to him.

"Are you sure he's not just on a job?" Constance asked her when she expressed this concern on their way to the community house. She navigated the streets carefully atop the food-laden wagon, gently pulling the reins. Elodie was sat next to her, Marie fussing in her lap. The little girl wanted nothing more but to pet the horses.

"He hasn't come back the last two nights," complained Elodie, "I just want to talk with him."

"Well do you know where he is?"

Elodie sighed, the prospect of searching the whole city not one she wanted to face. Then she remembered something,

"There's only one place I can think of. The Pont Notre-Dame. That's where he was living before he found me that day."
Constance glanced at Elodie, brows raised as she said,

"The Pont Notre-Dame? That's rather classy."

"Is it?"

"Well, much more than the garrison… You should go. If you seek him out, he might be more open to understanding your side of things."

"Hmm maybe," contemplated Elodie. She shifted Marie to hold her closer. Elodie couldn't wait to get to the community house where she could set the baby down safely in a basket. Until then she endured the wagon ride.

"You can go this afternoon," said Constance, "The sooner the better."

"But the meal-"

"Will still be served. I only need your help for the first hour or so."

Constance looked over at Elodie kindly, waiting for her to accept.

"Yes alright," she said. Constance smiled,

"And I can take Marie for you."

"Oh is that what this was all about? You just wanted some time with her, huh?" joked Elodie. Constance laughed deeply before saying,

"Of course."

Two hours later and there was finally a lull. More people were turning up to be fed every week, which was a good thing, it was just more work. Elodie undid her apron and passed her ladle on to one of the local girls. She walked through to where the food was being prepared. There was a lull in here too. The women were standing around chatting, Constance acknowledged her when she came in, meeting her eyes and smiling. Elodie smiled back before bending down under the table by the wall. Marie-Cesette lay there in her basket on top of her yellow blanket, sleeping on her front, her cheeks a glowing pink from the warmth of the cooking fire. Her wicker rattle was still grasped firmly in her hand. Elodie stroked her hand, her cheek, and the slightly sweaty fair locks upon her head.

"I asked Lorenzo to escort you," said Constance from behind her. Elodie turned on her haunches on the floor.

"He's readied two horses if you're all set."

Elodie nodded and pushed herself up, grasping the edge of the table rather inelegantly on the way. She found that a strand of hair had come undone and was tickling her face. She took the time to re-pin that part of her hair, the whole time gazing down at the floor in deep thought. Constance stood patiently.

"What if I don't find him?" Elodie asked when she looked back up at her friend. Constance rolled her lips and then brought them tightly together in a manner that swelled her cheeks. It was evident she didn't know what to say. Or perhaps there was just nothing to be said.

"And if I do, what then?"

After a brief moment, Constance brought Elodie into a hug and said into her ear,

"We don't let men push us about. Remember that."

Outside, a tall dark man was waiting. Wordlessly, Lorenzo helped Elodie onto a horse and got atop the other. Elodie looked down at Constance who simply said,

"Good luck."

The bridge was thankfully somewhat close by. And the houses atop the bridge were quite fine indeed, just like Constance had said. As Elodie rode up with Lorenzo, she gazed up at the first few. They were all identical; built with stone, a cross mounted at each blue roof peak six floors above. Elodie began to wonder if Asher had lied to her. How could he afford to live here?

There were thirty to each row. When they began approaching the first house of the row on the left, Elodie slowed and dismounted.

"I'm going to have to knock on every door," she grumbled, then turned to Lorenzo who had just planted his feet on the cobbles. The young musketeer had been quiet on the way over from the community house and he remained quiet still.

"I'll be quick about it, just wait here," she told him, handing him the reins of her horse. Her musketeer escort stood on the street holding both horses and Elodie walked up to the first house. A mousy maid answered the door promptly.

"I'm looking for a man by the name of Asher Gauthier, do you know where I can find him?"

The maid didn't say a word and slammed the door in Elodie's face.

"Never mind," she mumbled to herself and walked over to the next door, Lorenzo not far behind. This went on for a while, each house offering varying levels of rudeness. Then halfway down the row, Elodie walked by a house that had been damaged by fire. Some of the perfect stones that graced every other house had been blackened and chipped, and the glassless windows had been boarded up. Nobody lived there anymore. So Elodie walked past it, Lorenzo with the horses in tow. Just then, the faint sound of a chorus of deep laughter was heard. Elodie kept walking, but Lorenzo stopped in his tracks and spoke aloud for the first time that afternoon,

"Did you hear that?" he asked, and Elodie turned to him. She had heard it but had thought nothing of it. She looked around for a moment, trying to discern where the laughter might have been coming from, and listened intently to try and hear it again.

"It came from there," Lorenzo said, pointing back at the house scorched by fire. He was a musketeer, she trusted his sense more than she did her own. Lorenzo followed Elodie closer than he had been as she walked to the front door of the abandoned house. The door too had been blacked around the edges by flame but was still in one piece. She knocked on it, her heart thumping in her chest. She was met with no answer. But as she turned to leave, quite relieved, she heard a rustling from inside. Then a man called,

"Who goes there?"

Elodie glanced back at Lorenzo, he had both reins in one hand, the other on his pistol.

"I'm looking for a man by the name of Asher Gauthier," she called back.

"Oh? And who are you?"

"His wife!"

Elodie heard a commotion behind the door. Shuffling and stern words she couldn't make out. Then the door opened with a creak. There stood Asher, dusty and dirty and smelling like the worst tavern in Paris, yet he was still clean shaven.

"What are you doing here?" he said after a moment of confused looks toward her. Elodie did her best to breathe through her mouth, the stench coming from inside the house was unimaginable. What she could see inside was abysmal. There were three sleeping mats on the charred floor in front of an elegantly patterned settee with numerous holes. There were at least six men in that room alone. With dirty faces, they all stared at her from behind Asher. Elodie could only shake her head, trying not to cry. She turned to leave, her heart broken all the more. Lorenzo had his eyes on Asher as Elodie walked away.

"Elodie, stop," he called, "Don't get on that horse-"

"You've made yourself clear, Asher," Elodie snapped, "You'd rather be here in a place like this than with your family."

She was embarrassed to be crying, especially on a street like this, but she couldn't help it. She had a flurry of strong emotions inside her, it was taking all she had to keep them inside.

"I was angry. I had nowhere else to go-"

"You didn't have to go anywhere!" she screamed at him. She was shocked by her own outburst and took a moment to breathe. Lorenzo stepped closer. Elodie wiped away her tears and told Asher,

"No. No, I'm not doing this with you out here."

"Then come inside," he pleaded. Elodie scoffed,

"I'm not going in there," she said contemptuously, "Look, if you want to be a part of Marie's life then by all means, come along."

She didn't really expect him to accept. At this point, Elodie would've been content in not knowing him any longer. He had shown his true colours. But he was still the father of her child, and if she knew nothing else about him anymore, she knew that he cared about Marie-Cesette.

"Denounce him," Asher said seriously. Elodie was taken aback but stayed strong.

"Not. Here," she said and turned to get on her horse. Lorenzo helped her up and stared Asher down for a moment before stepping backwards to get on his own horse. Elodie and her musketeer escort did not move on right away. Though she still wasn't expecting him to, she waited for Asher, her eyes on the end of the bridge where carriages were rolling by. At the last second, Asher wordlessly walked up to Lorenzo, and the musketeer helped him up onto the horse behind him.

When they got back to the garrison, Asher was immediately asked to help with the horses by the stable boy. A humiliating request, Asher complied anyway. While he had been living at the garrison in Elodie's rooms, it was under the condition that he pull his weight. As Asher began taking off the saddle of one of the horses they had ridden in on, Elodie followed him around.

"You did yourself a great disservice by going back there, you know," she said, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Wandering Paris at night…" Elodie shook her head, "You could've been killed."

Asher irritably dumped the saddle on the fence and it came down with a thud.

"But that's what you want, isn't it? So your life can go back to the way it was," he said looking her dead in the eye, antagonising her. Elodie's face fell.

"Is that what you think of me?"

She had had the horrible thought that if he were gone that it'd solve her problem, but she never wanted him dead.

"You've given me no reason to think otherwise…" Asher said, flailing his arms, "You never thought to tell me that you don't love me. That you'd rather be with that lousy general of yours. Who isn't even here by the way. He's probably going to die out there. What then? What would become of my daughter?"

Elodie stood there in the stables, tears prickling her eyes and saw no similar emotion on Asher's face. He was angry, he was frustrated, but damn it so was she.

"Don't you see how hard this is for me?!" she shouted at him. The few people behind them in the yard and even from inside the main building were staring and Elodie lowered her voice, partly in shame, and partly for her own benefit. She could feel herself getting riled up. She wasn't going to let Asher get to her.

"You think I should go with you back to Burgundy because as my first husband I should uphold our vows over the ones I made to my second. But Asher…" she said, "I value those vows too. Staying here isn't about whether or not I love you, it's about respect! And it's about what's best for my child."

"What's best for her is being with her father," he said flatly and went around to take off the horse's bridle. Elodie scrunched up her face to stop the tears when he couldn't see her and swallowed before walking over to him. She spoke calmly when she said,

"There are many things to consider and that is one of them… Porthos might yet denounce me. I just want us to wait, alright? Just wait here and be pleasant to one another. Does that sound fair to you?"

"Fine," Asher said dismissively and Elodie gave a tight-lipped smile and a nod with tears in her eyes. Lorenzo tried to stop her as she walked across the yard, but she ignored him.

D'Artagnan returned from his three-day mission that evening. He was informed almost as soon as he rode through the gate about Asher's outburst and subsequent bolting the other night. He called for Elodie immediately, and she showed up to his office with Marie on her hip, not knowing what to expect.

"So. I hear our guest ran off the other night," he said, his hands on his hips as he paced the floor. He was covered in dust from the road and stank of horse. Elodie did not sit down as she jostled the fussing baby in her arms.

"Yes, but I brought him back today."

"Where was he?"

"In a rat-infested burned out den for drunks," Elodie spat, a stifled cry caught in her throat. She was still annoyed with Asher, infuriated even. She wasn't able to filter what she revealed to the captain, but she wasn't sure she even wanted to. D'Artagnan saw the pain on her face and stopped pacing.

"What was he doing there?" he asked. Elodie breathed out a laugh,

"He lived there! He told me he was taking good jobs, but really he was… I dread to think."

Marie was still fussing, she didn't care that her mother was upset, it was her bedtime. But Elodie still used her as a small distraction. She rocked her and kissed her head and hugged her tightly.

"How could a soldier have ended up living like that…?"

Elodie stopped rocking Marie, frozen in place. She could feel the resentment inside her forming into something even more sinister. Something like betrayal.

"Well he's not…" she started, then paused. She looked down into her daughter's face, her big blue eyes blinking slower and slower as sleep was finally finding her. Elodie prayed that same peace might find her.

"He's not what?" d'Artagnan pressed.

"Has Asher spoken at all about how he survived Freiberg?" Elodie asked slowly.

"No," d'Artagnan said unsuspectingly. He waited for Elodie to continue, but she was starting to fall apart. Her vision was blurring with tears and she couldn't speak, all her words stuck at the base of her throat.

"Tell me, Elodie…" the captain pressed again, his tone now stern. Elodie squeezed her eyes shut, tears now rolling down her cheeks.

"He deserted didn't he?"

D'Artagnan had come to the conclusion all on his own. He had always known there was something villainous about that man. Elodie nodded, tears pouring as she clutched her baby close to her chest. D'Artagnan looked at her, a mess of a woman, and he yelled as he punched the shelf next to him, hard.

"How dare you bring him here. You let me harbour a criminal, a deserter!"

"I'm so sorry," sobbed Elodie. She sat down in that plump red chair and put a hand to her face. D'Artagnan continued to shout,

"You knew the whole time and you said nothing. This cannot get out. If the red guard heard about this… The queen-!"
"No one will know!" Elodie assured, "He won't be back here, I promise. Just- just please don't hand him over. He'll be executed, and I- I-" and she broke down completely. She didn't even think yet of the implications of what she had just done, all that she felt in that moment was sorrow. She was losing Asher all over again. Should she have been more attentive?

D'Artagnan resigned to comforting her despite his anger. He knelt down next to her and just held her, his head resting on hers as she cried, rocking back and forth.

"Like you said. No one will know."

D'Artagnan came with Elodie to meet with Asher in her apartment after a lengthy spout of crying, followed by trying to get Marie to calm as well. As soon as they were inside, Elodie tensed, and she knew it must be the same for the others. Asher was sat at the table, picking at his nails. When d'Artagnan came in behind Elodie, he immediately stiffened and leaned back into his chair, the wood creaking. Elodie went straight through to the other room to put Marie down. As soon as she was on her back, the baby stretched her arms up to her head and smacked her pouty lips. When Elodie came back through, d'Artagnan and Asher were staring each other down. The tension and the silence in the room was piercing. Elodie looked to d'Artagnan, wanting him to start things off. He did not. He only stared, a small smile playing on his lips. With the men at opposite ends of the table, Elodie stood to the side, formulating her words carefully.

"Asher," she started, her voice not as clear as she had hoped it would be, "you can't stay here anymore."

Asher smiled to himself,

"You wanted me to wait here."

"Yes. Well…"

Elodie looked to d'Artagnan for help, but the captain did not even look away from Asher for a second. She took a deep breath and said,

"There is a place where you can stay. The family of a friend of mine owns a tavern. It's nearby. I'll pay your board."

"Elodie…" murmured d'Artagnan in warning. Elodie paid him no attention.

"I am still open to you being in my life, but surely you must realise that you are a different man to the one I once knew. That's why I'm wary of allowing you to be a father to Marie-"

"Hey! She's my daughter!" Asher called out, affronted. D'Artagnan glanced at the wall, on the other side of which Marie was sleeping. Asher had no argument, at least not in front of the captain, so merely grumbled.

"I'm wary of allowing you to be a father to Marie… Until you find yourself again," Elodie said sadly, with all sincerity.

"Pack your things," said d'Artagnan after Elodie's words had a moment to sink in. Asher pushed his tongue over his bottom teeth and rolled his lips before nodding. Every move he made was with purpose. He got up out of his chair and sauntered over to the windowsill. He took hold of the dried sunflower he had given Elodie the day they were reunited, and plucked a single papery petal from it.

"This is all I have," he said, and he tucked it into the pocket of his breeches, probably tearing it in the process. Elodie stared at him as he did this, and d'Artagnan looked on confusedly. Was now the time for him to become a poet? Elodie pulled out her purse from her skirts and spilt its contents onto her hand. 22 livre in total, she handed it all over to Asher, much to d'Artagnan's dismay.

"Here," she told him, and he took the money. They met eyes for a moment. His were filled with regret as hers were with tears. Elodie wrapped her arms around her husband.

"I'll see you soon," she whispered. D'Artagnan opened the door and held it for Asher. He slipped from Elodie's hold and trudged out with not so much of a word. He didn't ask to see Marie.

Now alone, d'Artagnan gone to take Asher to the tavern, Elodie sat at the table, expecting to cry. But she found herself just sitting there, fiddling with her skirt, staring at the sunflower. She had cried too much over Asher Gauthier. There were no more tears to give.

She got back up and walked over to the windowsill, drawn to the flower on it. She picked it up by its thick fuzzy stalk and looked it up and down. Then she went through to her bedroom and hid it away in a chest. When Asher had first given it to her, she had loved it and the memories it held. Now she realised that it was just one dead sunflower.