HOPE AND LOSS

~ 0 ~

Four years, 10 months and 15 days later

The crowd in the tavern jeered as Marcheaux landed another punch at Clairmont's already bloodied face, causing more blood to drip down from his nose. The boy stumbled into the Red Guards standing behind him and they pushed him back into the 'ring' as Marcheaux threw another punch using Clairmont's momentary distraction to grab his arm and twist it behind his back, the bones in his hand cracking as Marcheaux squeezed his hand tightly.

"Finish him!" Feron ordered, chuckling as Clairmont cried out in pain. Marcheaux smirked, punching the boy in the face yet again, sending him crashing to the ground. He raised his arm for another punch, hand curled into a fist. But as he moved to punch him, a gloved hand met his fist, halting the punch in mid-air.

Marcheaux looked, growling angrily when he saw Elizabeth Beckett standing in front of him, eyes furious. Marcheaux shoved her pushed her hand off him, glaring at her as Treville marched up to him. Ellie stepped around Marcheaux, knocking his shoulder slightly, and crouched down beside Clairmont as he panted.

"You want to fight so badly - I can send you to the front," Treville growled as Marcheaux stalked to a nearby table, pouring himself a drink.

"Isn't there enough violence and brutality in the world without this?" Constance demanded as she and Ellie helped Clairmont to his feet, helping him sit down in a chair. "Clairmont, why have you come here?"

"They were," he hissed as Ellie touched the cut on his face, "they were talking shit about Ellie."

Ellie sighed, rolling her eyes. "They're always talking shit about me. That doesn't give you a reason to come in here and start fighting them."

"I didn't start it," Clairmont whispered quietly, his eyes locking on to Ellie's as she prodded his hand.

"That explains a lot," Ellie muttered, glaring at Marcheaux as he stalked off towards his table.

"A little innocent amusement, Minister Treville," Feron drawled as he swirled his wine. "Nothing more."

"Feron," Treville sighed, "I should have guessed you were behind this."

"Why am I not surprised?" Ellie muttered, glaring at him over her shoulder,

"Come now," Feron consoled, sarcasm dripping from every word. "The Red Guard and the Musketeers have always maintained a healthy rivalry."

"These are cadets and you pit them against trained soldiers!" Constance growled as she wiped the blood off Clairmont's face.

"That one really does need a little more training!" Feron chuckled. "Run along, boy! Hide inside the skirts of Madame D'Artagnan."

"Being Governor of Paris does not give you the right to treat the Red Guard as your only personal thugs," Treville said, glaring at Feron.

"Terrorising and persecuting the people," Constance added, holding Clairmont's uninjured hand as Ellie made sure it wasn't too broken.

Feron stood up, leaning heavily on his stick. "We are at war, Treville. This city breeds insurrection, revolution." He took a step closer to Treville, stumbling slightly. "The Red Guard are all that stand between us and anarchy. Now, why don't you take your infant musketeer, go home and tuck him in nicely? It must be near his bedtime. Boo – boo – boo!"

Ellie stood up and walked towards Feron, seething anger. "These are my men, Feron, I won't have you insulting them."

"Last time I checked; you weren't the captain."

"As long as Captain Athos is away fighting a war, you're all too cowardly to go and join, I'm the Captain. Ok?" She spun on her heel as Treville and Constance helped Clairmont to his feet. "Let's go."

She ignored the jeers as they barged through the crowd, swinging open the tavern door so hard it hit the wall behind it.

"That was awesome," Clairmont panted as they walked down the street.

"Just…stop getting into fights," Ellie replied, putting her hat on her head. "It's stressing me out."

~ 0 ~

"What if we steal all their clothes?"

Ellie sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the top of her nose. "How is that getting revenge?"

"They'll have to walk around Paris naked?"

"So," she turned in her seat to look at Clairmont, "you want to steal the uniform of the entire regiment, including their swords and guns, and put it where, exactly?"

Clairmont snapped his fingers. "Good point. The only flaw in an otherwise perfect plan."

"There are plenty of flaws in that plan!"

"What are you two doing?" Brujon asked as he sat down next Ellie, pouring himself some wine.

"Plotting," Clairmont said as he steepled his fingers under his chin.

"Don't ask," Ellie said as Brujon opened his mouth. "It's not worth it." She snatched the cup out of his hand, downing half of it in one go.

"No, please, be my guest," Brujon muttered sarcastically as he poured himself another cup.

Ellie smiled sweetly at him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Sharing is caring."

Brujon swatted her arm and Ellie sat up, laughing. "Is that why you stole my shirt this morning?"

"Mine had a hole in it," Ellie replied indignantly, setting her cup down. "Besides, you have five different shirts. I have two."

"Yes, because you keep putting holes in them."

Ellie pointed a finger at Brujon as he chuckled, "that is not my fault."

"Oh, of course not. Blame us, the cadets."

"I'm not blaming you; I'm just saying that your sword skills are so appallingly bad that you keep ripping holes in my shirts."

Ellie shrieked with laughter as Brujon tackled her off the bench, the two falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and swords.

"I hate being the third wheel," Clairmont muttered, taking a bit of an apple, dropping it almost immediately when the juice stung his lip.

Ellie sat up, crossing her legs as she tossed her hair back. "You know what the solution to that is, don't you?"

"I am not going on a date with one of your friends," Clairmont exclaimed, shaking his head furiously. "They are terrifying."

"Marie is not terrifying," Ellie replied, "merely…." She trailed off, failing to find the right word.

"Intimidating?" Brujon suggested.

"Intimidating," Ellie finished, snapping her fingers.

"Please tell me you haven't broken that table again," Constance said as she stopped on the top of the stairs, sighing in despair at the three of them.

"That was one time, Constance," Ellie told her, turning her head to look at her friend. "And it was entirely Clairmont's fault."

"How was it my – "

"Do you find Marie terrifying?" Ellie asked, interrupting Clairmont's inevitable rant.

"Marie? No, she's a sweetheart," Constance replied, walking down the stairs and standing on the last step. "Slightly intimidating at times, maybe."

Ellie stood up, smirking. "Told you." She turned to face Constance; eyes alit with a mischievous glint. "Hey, you know that old bathhouse."

"What, the one where the Red Guards always go?" Constance asked, sitting down on the stairs.

"Yeah. I might've just had an idea on how to get revenge," Ellie replied, grinning.

Clairmont looked at her. "Does it involve stealing clothes?"

"Possibly."

~ 0 ~

The door creaked as Treville opened it, walking into the dining room. Ellie looked up and smiled at him, taking her feet off the table and sitting up properly in her seat.

"Constance, Ellie. You asked for me? What's the urgency?" He asked suspicion arising at the gleam in Ellie's eyes. "What've you done now?"

"Well," Constance said as she grabbed Treville's old jacket from the back of the chair. She threw it at him, and he caught it, frowning. "I think you're going to be needing this."

"What are you two up to now?" He sighed. "And how much of it is Ellie's idea?"

"Actually," Ellie said standing up, "I only came up with the place. These two," she pointed between Constance and Clairmont, "came up with the plan."

~ 0 ~

"Marcheaux and the Red Guard regularly use the old bathhouse," Clairmont said as they hid behind the crates on top of the bridge overlooking the docks. "They can drink and gamble there all night. Amongst other things."

"It has everything we need?" Constance asked, glancing at Clairmont and Ellie.

"Everything," they said together, smirking.

Treville pulled Constance to one side, ignoring the scheming friends in front of them. "Constance," he whispered, "I am a Minister of the Crown."

"Well, for one night you can be a Musketeer again," Constance replied, patting his shoulder.

"And that's an order," Ellie added, chuckling quietly at Treville's expression of despair.

"Why did I ever make you acting Captain?" He muttered as they walked down the stairs and towards the bathhouse.

"I've no idea," Ellie replied. "It's definitely not your wisest decision. Even Constance wondered what you were thinking."

They snuck inside the bathhouse as the Red Guard made their way into the baths, jeering at one another as they dropped their towels onto the floor, quickly jumping into the steaming water. Once all of them were inside, Marie came out, smiling politely at the men as she shut the door.

"Thank you," Ellie whispered, winking at her friend as she passed. Marie chuckled quietly as she left, watching as Constance quickly wedged a mop between the door handles, baring the door shut. Ellie then began throwing the Red Guard uniforms on to the floor into a pile, smirking in glee as Constance set a candle on top of the clothes, tipping it over with a poker. The fabric instantly caught alight, flames licking over the leather and metal, smoke drifting into the air.

The two women quickly left the bathhouse, crossing the bridge so that they were stood on the opposite side of the river, facing the only exit from the bathhouse. They pushed through the crowd that had gathered, word getting out of their antics and stood at the front of the docks as smoke began drifting out from under the large wooden doors.

It wasn't long before the panicking, naked men burst through the doors, quickly shielding their privates when they realised that a crowd had gathered on the docks, blocking off all their exits.

"Not so cocky now, are we?" Constance called, laughing as the musketeer's standing by the doors started chasing after the men, jeering at them as they ran away.

"That was brilliant," Ellie chuckled, leaning on the wooden fence as they watched the mortified Red Guards run back to their garrison.

~ 0 ~

For a Friday evening, the garrison was surprisingly hectic. Cadets ran about the yard, brandishing their swords as they laughed at one another and the older musketeers sighed despairingly, disappearing off to the tavern before they got involved in another ridiculous scheme.

As the evening wore on, the cadets found themselves drawn to the large house two streets down from the garrison where some of them had been living for the past three years. A high stakes card game was taking place in the dining room on the ground floor and the room was filled with cadets interested to see what happened.

Ellie sighed, leaning back in her chair as she examined her cards. Judging from the looks on Tomas and Clairmont's faces, her cards were better than theirs. Brujon sat down in the chair next to her with a heavy sigh, setting a bottle of wine on the countertop beside them and kissing Ellie on the cheek.

"What's that for?" Ellie asked, turning to face him as Clairmont grumbled about his card choices as he tried to pick one.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

Ellie nodded, smiling. "Of course." She leant forward and kissed him on the lips, smiling as Brujon flipped some of the cadets off as they wolf-whistled at them.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door and the murmur of voices quietened down slightly as one the newer cadets opened the door, talking to whoever was there.

"Beckett!"

Ellie growled quietly as she stood up, glaring at Clairmont as he tried to look at her cards. "What?"

"Minister Treville's summoned you to the palace," the cadet said, nodding to his head to the door.

Ellie frowned and turned to face Brujon. "Since when does he summon me?"

Brujon shrugged, "must be important. I'll finish the game and sort this lot out; you go see what he wants."

"You sure?" Ellie asked, throwing her jacket on and grabbing her sword belt. "They're a handful."

Brujon chuckled at the indignant cry of 'hey' from the gathered men as Ellie flipped her hair out from under her jacket collar. "I'm sure."

Ellie stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you!" She called as she darted through the crowd, running down the stairs and into the street, buckling her sword belt on as she walked. It was still daylight despite it being half eight at night and the streets were still busy with vendors. The tavern nearest the garrison was overflowing with people, the majority of them sitting on the barrels outside the building, wine bottles strewing across the floor.

Ellie waved at the patrons as she passed, jumping over an overturned barrel and turning down the street that led to the palace. The Guards standing by the gates nodded at her as she squeezed through the gap in the doors and carried on towards the palace.

"Since when do you summon me?" Ellie asked, standing in the doorway to Treville's office, arms crossed. "You never summon me."

"I decided that, for once, you could come to me," Treville replied, smiling at her.

"Well," Ellie said as she walked into the office, "it'd better be bloody important, I was in the middle of a card –"she trailed off, staring at the four people in Treville's office, eyes wide "game."

Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan were standing by the bookcase of scrolls, smiling at her as she stared at them in shock. Ellie took a hesitant step forward, staring at Aramis as he smiled nervously at her.

"Five," she began, walking up to Aramis, "fucking years!" She punched him on the arm, emphasising her point as he tried to hide behind Porthos. "What the hell?"

Aramis winced, holding his arm as Ellie stepped back, panting slightly. "I'm…sorry?"

"Damn right," Ellie exclaimed. Suddenly, she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. Aramis slowly hugged back, frowning at her sudden change in mood.

"You get used to it," Treville called, smiling as Aramis hugged her back tightly.

"Do we get a look in?" Porthos asked, sulking. Ellie laughed and let go of Aramis, immediately hugging Porthos, Athos and D'Artagnan at once. It was a bundle of hugs, kisses and a few tears as they all reunited for the first time in four – technically five – years.

"Alright, that's enough," Treville called, chuckling. "Sit down and we'll catch you up on the past five years."

"Five years?" Athos asked, frowning, as he sat down. "It's been four."

"Four years and ten months," Ellie replied, putting her feet in D'Artagnan's lap as soon as he sat down, "not that I'm counting."

"She's been counting," Treville amended, ignoring the glare Ellie sent his way. "She's also been acting Captain since you left."

Four pairs of eyes swivelled to face her, a mixture of disbelief and awe on their faces. Ellie shrugged, tucking her hair over one shoulder.

"And the King was okay with that?" Porthos asked, eyes wide.

Treville sighed, crossing his arms. "It was the Queen who asked for her to be made Captain. I had nothing to do with it, believe it or not. Needless to say, Feron wasn't entirely happy."

Ellie snorted. "He hates me ever since I interpreted his first 'boxing match' with the cadets."

"And almost got jailed for it," Treville muttered, opening a bottle of wine and filling his glass with it. He leant forward and handed it to Athos. "Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"As if, you knew what I was doing and agreed with it!" Ellie exclaimed. "If the cadets weren't being pitted against the likes of Marcheaux, then I wouldn't have to intervene. In fact," she pointed a finger at him, "I wouldn't have to intervene at all if they didn't run stupid fight clubs."

"Hang on," Aramis called, handing the bottle of wine to D'Artagnan, "what fight clubs?"

Ellie growled quietly. "Feron seems to think that our cadets can be used for his amusement and makes them fight his Red Guards."

"But surely they would see that he was baiting them?" Athos asked, frowning.

"They do," Treville replied, a cold tone to his voice. "They usually end up fighting them because they've been talking crap about Ellie or Constance."

"Don't," Ellie said, putting a hand on D'Artagnan's chest, noticing the anger radiating off him. "I don't need you lot getting into fights too. We're big girls, we can defend ourselves."

"But you shouldn't have to defend yourselves!" D'Artagnan cried, throwing his hands in the air. "We should've been here."

Ellie grabbed his hand. "Will you calm down? It's not a big deal, we handled it and moved on."

Treville chuckled quietly. "What's your definition of handling it?"

"Shut up," Ellie said quickly, glaring at him. "They don't need to know about that."

"About what?" Porthos asked slowly. "Please tell me Ellie did something stupid."

"I didn't do anything stupid," Ellie replied quickly, "I merely assisted."

Treville raised his eyebrow at her. "Is that what we're calling it?"

Aramis glanced at Porthos, confusion on their faces at the evident inside joke occurring in front of them. The latter shrugged, swallowing the remainder of his wine in one as Ellie and Treville continued squabbling.

"What else have we missed?" Athos asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the stupid thing Ellie did.

Ellie sighed, putting her hands behind her head. "Not much really – what?"

D'Artagnan had suddenly sat upright in his chair, staring at Ellie's right shoulder, mouth agape. "When, what – how?"

Ellie frowned, looking down at her shoulder. "What? Oh."

"What are we looking at?" Porthos asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"She's got a pauldron!" D'Artagnan squeaked, pointing at it furiously.

Ellie giggled as they all stared at the Musketeer pauldron sitting proudly on her shoulder, the fleur de lis gleaming in the candlelight. It wasn't a fancy design like Aramis', nor was it completely blank like Athos'. Surrounding the fleur de lis were several roses, the vines wrapping themselves across the symbol embossed in the middle. In keeping with the new Musketeer blue they'd taken up a few years previously, she'd had a blue leather trim put on the edge of the pauldron, the main leather a dark navy that matched her new doublet.

"I also have a hat," Ellie added, throwing it at Aramis with a smirk. "I'm a proper Musketeer now."

"I haven't got a hat yet," D'Artagnan grumbled, throwing that hat back at Ellie, which she caught effortlessly.

Athos chuckled quietly. "So, other than Ellie becoming a Musketeer and practically becoming Captain, what else have we missed?"

"Feron being a dick," Ellie muttered, taking a big swig from the wine bottle.

Treville sighed, giving Ellie a pointed look as she swallowed her gulp. "What Ellie means, is Feron is in charge of the Red Guards and is also Governor of Paris – as you know. The Red Guard and their captain Marcheaux currently outnumber us and have used that to their advantage, taking over taverns and terrorising the people."

"They're even more unpopular now than before," Ellie added, glaring at the desk furiously. "Ever since the war began, we've had hundreds of refugees fleeing the towns bordering Spain and coming here, to Paris. The Musketeers have tried their best to look after them, helping them to build a place to live near the docks and protecting them from the Red Guards."

"But Feron continues to lack control over his guards, allowing them to run around drunk and beating up our cadets," Treville finished. "Ellie got arrested trying to stop one of these attacks and spent two nights in the Bastille."

Ellie could feel the anger radiating off the four men sitting next to her and didn't blame them. Marcheaux had a vendetta against her and Constance and did everything in his power to try and get them arrested or in trouble.

"You got thrown in the Bastille?" D'Artagnan asked, turning his head to look at her. Ellie simply raised her eyebrows in response and D'Artagnan sighed. He turned to Treville. "You didn't try and stop it?"

"Oh, I tried, Feron claimed she was causing disrupting official Red Guard business and injured a soldier. Louis couldn't argue with that – neither could I or the Queen - and she got arrested. The Cadets refused to do anything until she was released, and the majority of Paris came to a standstill."

No one said anything as they took in what Treville said. Ellie glanced over at them and they all wore matching expressions of anger and hatred, Porthos finishing his cup of wine in one swallow.

"And now you get to hate them too!" Ellie exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air, the remaining wine in the bottle sloshing about.

"You're acting as if this isn't a big deal," Athos said, staring at her.

"Because it isn't." Ellie stared back at him. "There are bigger issues than me getting arrested. Like a little thing called the war."

"Some things never change," Aramis sighed, rolling his eyes fondly as Ellie stood up, putting her hat on her head.

"Oh, very funny," Ellie replied, sticking her tongue out at him. "I don't want to leave, but I've got a house to run." She looked at Treville and she immediately shook her head. "No. I don't need more children in the house."

"They don't have anywhere to go," Treville told her, smiling.

Ellie groaned, throwing her head back. "Treville," she whined, gently stamping her foot. He raised his eyebrows at her and she sighed. "Fine. Fine. But they're paying rent if they're there more than a day."

Treville chuckled. "I'm taking that as a yes. I'll let you head home, then. I've got a meeting with the Queen I need to attend."

Ellie grabbed D'Artagnan's hand, pulling him for his chair and dragged him out the room, Porthos, Athos and Aramis following behind laughing. The palace was quiet for early evening, very few courtiers running about looking stressed.

"So, what's this house?" Aramis asked, sliding up to Ellie and putting an arm around her shoulders.

Ellie kissed his cheek, smiling. "I bought a house with my commission money and now some of the cadets live there. It's cheap and I'm nice – apparently – and I feed them."

"Where is the house?" Porthos asked as they walked out the Louvre, Ellie waving at the soldiers on duty.

"Rue Saint Pierre," Ellie replied, linking arms with D'Artagnan as they walked. "The landlady's son got injured in the war and she couldn't afford to look after him and the house, so I offered to take it off her hands."

"Wait, the big house on the corner near the bakery?" Porthos asked, eyes widening in shock.

"Yup," Ellie nodded. "I've got about twenty cadets staying with me but the majority of the time there's about forty of them playing cards and getting drunk." Ellie sighed. "I'm like their mother."

Porthos laughed. "How times have changed."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Remind me again why I missed you?"

"Because we're irreplaceable, Elizabeth, darling," Aramis replied, winking at her. He dodged to the side, avoiding her hit at his shoulder and laughed as she glared at him.

The Musketeers were back together again.

A/N: The final instalment is here!