This is the very first story I've posted under this account, and it's quite the work in progress as my thoughts continue to develop. Please note that this is a work of pure fiction, using some of our favourite characters from this classic piece of literature, and that I do not want to see any flamers spamming the comments section. It's for pure enjoyment only, and because my brain would not stop with the "what if" scenarios after I watched the movie again. Please feel free to comment and let me know what you think, but be reasonable, okay? I've left the rating rather light for the time being, but depending on what thoughts come to mind, that could very well change in the future. So enjoy!

Chapter I

I'm coming with you."

Aramis couldn't help but roll his eyes a little, a groan of frustration sounding in his throat. The dangers that he was headed for were sure to bring about his death now that their plans of replacing Louis with Phillipe had failed so miserably. France was still in a dangerous place because of their king, and they themselves were now being hunted down by the musketeers for their efforts to restore peace and order to the country they loved so dearly. He had returned to his room only for a few things before he was to meet Athos and Porthos in their meeting room beneath the monastery the only safe place that remained for them. And in doing so, he had encountered the very person he had hoped to avoid because he knew that she would not willingly allow him to leave again without her presence. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, praying that God would forgive the lie as he shuffled through a drawer with his back still turned to the speaker.

"Do not lie to me, Papa. You may still look on me as a child, but you know well that I'm twenty, a woman," came the voice again, a little firmer this time. "And you know as well as I that I will be of use to you tonight where ever you go. Do you not think that the King has already sent people here to look for you?"

He turned rather sharply to look at her, finding that the distance between them was not as great as he had originally thought. Out of instinct, his hand reached out to gently touch her cheek. "You were not hurt?" The young woman shook her head, her loose curls moving gently around her face. "No, they did not harm me. I told them that I did not know anything of where you were, and that was the truth." He took only a moment to look over her before he turned back again, rummaging through another drawer all together. They had been saved for this exact moment, he thought to himself hurriedly as he threw things all over the room in an effort to locate them faster. So where on earth had he put them? Of all the things he could have possibly misplaced over the years since he had retired from the musketeers, why couldn't it have been something of less importance that he had lost? "I moved them, Papa."

Again Aramis spun around to look at her, his eyes a little wide in confusion. "I don't know what made me do it, but I moved them down to the crypt just before the King's men arrived. I knew I could not let them find them." The apologetic look on her face was quickly replaced with a look of surprise when the older man moved forward, gently kissing the top of her head with a bright grin of his own. "Clever girl," he praised softly. This must have been some heavenly sign, for her to have moved them so discreetly in the moment when he knew they would most be needed. And perhaps it was also a sign for something more. Katherine might not have been a daughter of his own making, but when the young girl had been left as a babe on the steps of monastery Aramis suddenly found himself unable to turn her away and leave her in a place where others like her would be taken. At one point, he had simply dismissed it as a weaker moment in his life where he had longed to have some kind of family of his own after his years of service to the musketeers. But as time had passed, the old man came to realize that there was another reason entirely for his keeping Katherine and raising her, although he had been a little saddened to learn that she had not wanted to become a nun and follow the same path that he had chosen for himself. Still, as he looked at the young woman before him, he knew what needed to be done. "You may come with me, but we must leave now before they decide to return and look again."

He knew that she didn't understand what was going on. He had been careful to make sure that she was not initially included in their plans, for fear of what might happen to her if they were to be caught. To bring about his own death was one thing, but to potentially bring harm to the thing he loved most dearly in this world was something that he could not allow. And yet as soon as he saw the look on her face, he knew that she had been planning something for a while now, meaning that she was perhaps the best prepared for the four of them. "Come, we must hurry." Taking a hold of her hand, Aramis quickly looked both ways down the corridor before he started to move, their footsteps soft against the stone floors. Clearly Katherine had thought to remove her shoes before she had come to see him, which was good for it would make their escape into the crypt much swifter that night. And indeed, it took them only a short while to descend the stairs and head for the secret passage way, where they were greeted by one of his Jesuit order. Katherine had seen the man before, and had never fully understood why there was a hooded figure who stepped from the shadows, watching for people who might approach the doorway. All she knew was that they had been nowhere else in the monastery except for there, and that none of them were quick to step into view unless her father was present. She quickly placed herself behind Aramis, who only waved the man away before moving on. There was much to explain to the poor girl, he knew, but now was not the time.

He turned them quickly into the room and bolted the door shut, pulling her along with him. "Papa, when are you going to tell me what...Uncle Athos!" Momentarily distracted by the presence of two others, Katherine let her thought drop as she hurried forward and into the open arms of yet another man, who hugged her tightly against him. Athos had found the girl to be quite the comfort to him after the death of his son, helping to fill a void he never thought could heal. It had been a combination of her and Phillipe that had made him feel almost like the man he had been when Raoul was still in his life, and while he was initially rather startled to see her with Aramis that night, he couldn't help but feel slightly comforted by her presence there when he knew that they were riding into certain doom. Still, he had to wonder why it was that she had been brought down there, especially when Aramis was all too aware of the number of soldiers and musketeers that were after their heads right now. "Are you alright?" she asked him, pulling back to look between him and Porthos with anxious eyes. "What's going on?"

"Katherine," came the soft voice of Aramis. "I'm afraid there is much that I need to tell you, but I do not have the time that I wish I did. A young man's life currently hangs in the balance right now, and we need to find a way to get him out of the Bastille." The Bastille? The name of the heavily fortified prison rang in her ears as she looked up at Athos, his face almost unmoving. She couldn't possibly have heard him correctly. The very idea of attempting to break into the Bastille and rescue one of its prisoners was absolutely absurd, not to mention incredibly dangerous for everyone involved. Her lips parted to ask him yet again what it was that he was hiding from her, but as she turned back in his direction she saw that his gaze was otherwise taken with a dagger that had been lodged into the back of the door, along with a few pieces of paper. "D'Artagnan," he muttered quietly, moving them all and offering the first note to Porthos. "It's a trap," declared Athos with a heavy sigh, "but we must go. We cannot leave Philippe to rot in that prison any longer." Porthos nodded his head in agreement. "Then to the Bastille we shall go."

Each step that Aramis took to cross before them sounded with a soft scrape, his boots against the loose stone flooring of the crypt. "Katherine, if you please." The girl straightened a little as she too crossed before them, moving to the opposite side of the room and the secret hiding place she had chosen in which to lay their old uniforms, black from the days of the old king. She reached out to brush the dust from them, fingering the insignia of the musketeers gently before she caught herself and instead hurried back over toward the three men. "I thought to save them so that we could wear them in one last battle before we died. And so we shall." At Aramis' words, Katherine stopped short of handing him his uniform. "Died?" she whispered, fear laced in her voice. "Papa..."

Despite his age, Aramis moved toward the girl with a gentle ease, helping to lower her lightly to the bench at the table before he knelt down beside her. That seemed to be the hard part, she noted, as his face contorted into a slight look of discomfort. His age really was beginning to creep up on him after so many years of active duty. "Kate," he began, using the pet name that they had adopted over the years. "The young man who we wish to rescue from the Bastille is the King's twin brother." Katherine gasped, a hand covering her mouth. "Louis shut Philippe away after he learned the truth from his father, thinking that Philippe knew who he was and would come to take his crown away. And with all of the pain that Louis has caused his people, we tried to replace him with Philippe to save France from entering a war with itself." The girl sat there in stunned silence, looking between the three men who now gathered around her without remorse on their faces. They had tried to remove the King? But wasn't that treason? And if they had failed, as it seemed they had done, what would Louis do to them now? That had to be the reason that the soldiers and musketeers had come barging into the monastery that night in search for them, for Louis was sure to want them dead now that they knew the truth and had tried to carry out his greatest fear.

And yet her heart ached a little for the man they spoke of. How horrible it must be to have been put into such a prison without knowing the real reason as to why you were thrown in there. She had no real love for the King, but she couldn't imagine that he was heartless enough to throw his own brother into the Bastille simply for being his brother. Though apparently he was, which angered Katherine more than she could possibly say. "Then we're running out of time," she said softly, brushing her hand against the cheek of the man who had raised her with such love and tenderness. "We can't leave the poor man there. He doesn't deserve to be in the Bastille." Aramis shook his head gravely. "No, he does not." "Aramis, we are going into untold dangers when we ride to the Bastille," reasoned Porthos, looking down at his friend from where he stood. "That is no place for a woman." Athos nodded his head. "We do not even know what we will be getting into. We cannot risk Katherine's life as well." But the young woman stood slowly, looking at the three of them with the same boldness in her bright blue eyes as they had seen countless other times in her youth. "I am the one risking my life, Uncle. You cannot have included me up to this point, telling me what you have without allowing me to continue on from here."

Uncertainty was clear in their faces as Aramis struggled slowly to his feet, aided by Katherine's steady hand for the last bit. "D'Artagnan is the captain of the King's musketeers, and he will know just as much as you, if not more. I might be able to serve as some kind of distraction to buy you more time if needed. And besides, he always did like me." A coy smile lifted the corner of her lips, knowing that she was right. For whatever reason, D'Artagnan had taken quite an interest in her as she was growing up, always calling on Aramis to know how she was coming along in her growth and if there were complications of any kind. She had never understood why, but had gratefully accepted him as another Uncle, someone who cared for her just as his three friends did. For this above all things, she had always considered herself to be luckier than the King of France himself, who could no boast of such love even if he had the heart to try. "Please. Let me come with you."

Silence filled the room as the speaking seemed to come to an end, instead becoming more of a mental conversation shared between friends who had known one another for a great length of time. Her eyes moved back and forth between them as she searched for a sign, some kind of definite decision that would tell her where she stood in this new mess they had found themselves in. The fact that she was a woman was evident, and therefore a strike against her for wanting to accompany them on their mission. But considering that it was probably their biggest reason for her to remain where she was, they were taking quite a while to determine whether or not they would let her go. Finally, it was Athos who spoke. "She is younger than we are, and her being a woman might work to our advantage if the guards prove to be a challenge." Porthos was quick to nod his approval, his eyes immediately turning to Aramis, who seemed to be looking at Katherine with the same straight look he wore when he was finally at peace with himself. "Very well," came his gentle voice. "But you will have to wear something more appropriate."

A grin spread itself slowly across her face. "I have just the thing."