Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades

Chapter Four: About Time

Jacques' hands trembled at Isabel's words. She tried her best to look herself over. Her head throbbed with every slight move and she could feel the back of her hair caked to her head with blood. She tilted her head forward and could feel something crusted on her neck as well. She still wore her uniform. Had she been discovered while she was unconscious? Did they know? What would they do to her? What did it matter? She would be gone if she came out of this alive. If, the word hung in her mind.

Isabel squeezed Jacques' hand again, sensing her panic. "Do not worry. They do not know and I will not reveal you," she whispered. "I give you my word."

"What," Jacques stopped, she felt like she was about to be sick. "What happened? How did we …" Jacques didn't finish. She was finding it hard to concentrate.

"You do not remember?" Isabel asked.

"No, milady."

Isabel felt Jacques slump against her again. "Jacques?" Isabel waited for a response. She looked over her shoulder, trying to see the injured woman. "Jacques?" She felt Jacques shift slightly.

"Yes, milady," Jacques finally said. Isabel fought to hear her.

Isabel hadn't even noticed she was holding her breath until she let it out. "Your friends gave up their swords to save your life and instead of letting you go, they took us both. That was this morning."

Jacques moaned, causing Isabel's heart to jump. The only comfort she could think to offer was to squeeze Jacques' hand again. This time Isabel felt her gently squeeze her hand back.

"Do not worry though. As I said, strong women can do anything, and we are," Isabel stopped as she noticed one of the masked men approaching, the man who had held the knife to Jacques' throat that morning. Isabel raised her chin and gave him the looked her mother called her defiant look.

He stopped walking and stared at Isabel. He laughed and then grabbed Jacques' horsetail, pulling down so that he could see her face. Her eyes could barely focus on the masked faced and his breath made her even more nauseous then she already was. She wanted nothing more than to hit him at that moment.

"We were beginning to think that you were dead." He laughed again then yanked her horsetail upward, forcing Jacques' head forward. She bit her lip, refusing to let him hear her cry out. "Whatever you two were talking about, stop it or I'll kill him now," he hissed at Isabel and then kicked Jacques hard in her hip, sending both women over onto their side. This time Jacques could not hide the pain and cried out, but her cry was muffled by Isabel's yelling.

Isabel cursed and glared at the man, wishing for a blade. She would show him who was truly weaker; Isabel silently vowed that he would know that woman were not weak as she watched him walk away. His creepy laugh echoed behind him.

"Jacques," Isabel called quietly. She felt Jacques move. "I have a knife in my right boot. I've been trying to get to it all day without any success. If you can reach it, we can cut our binds." She waited for a response, nothing came. "Jacques?" Isabel felt her move again.

"I will try, milady."

Isabel brought her boots up as far as she could to their hands, but it was no where close enough. "Jacques, we must sit back up."

Jacques forced herself to sit up with Isabel. Her head protested and every movement made her feel sicker. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but first they had to get away or Jacques knew she would be truly joining at least two members of her family. Isabel brought her legs under herself. Jacques felt with her fingertips for Isabel's boots and the top of the knife. She slowly pulled it out, before carefully turning the blade around to cut the ropes that were at their wrist. It was slow and painful. Jacques could feel her blood dripping down her fingers. She had cut her hand flipping the blade around. But she continued, despite the pain and lack of strength, she knew Isabel was right. They were strong women and they could do anything they set their mind to.

"D'Artagnan, how much longer are we going to search? We will never find them alone," Roman asked. Ramon sat behind Siroc, riding Jacques' mare.

"We will find them, Ramon," d'Artagnan snapped, emphasizing the will. He kicked his horse, urging her forwarded. He wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up.

The three had spent most of the morning searching for the horses on foot. They had finally found the horse d'Artagnan rode and Jacques' mare eating grass by the river. The three had been searching since without rest. But d'Artagnan refused to rest or do anything but track his friend and the woman they had been assigned to protect. He would not stop until he knew Jacques, no, Jacqueline, was safe. She was hurt. He had seen the blood and the look in her eyes. He would not rest until she was safe, and not just safe, but with him.

Siroc and Ramon felt the same, but the long hours of the day were starting to take a toll on them. It was dark and the new moon made it impossible to see. They were tired, hungry and quickly losing hope that they would find them. But to return to Paris for help would not be the best idea either. Captain Duval and the king would be furious that they had failed in their duty and let another musketeer be taken, and by the time they returned they most certainly would not find them. At least, they would not find them alive. They had to resolve this themselves.

D'Artagnan pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head. The night was much cooler than it had been the previous night. He looked up at the sky, thankful that he could still see the stars. He closed his eyes and silently prayed for help. As he opened his eyes, he abruptly stopped his horse. "Did you hear that?" he asked his friends.

"I most certainly did," Siroc said, his fatigue forgotten.

"As did I," Ramon acknowledged.

Siroc brought the mare up next to d'Artagnan, who had been leading. D'Artagnan looked over at his friends. They seemed to know what he was thinking because they dismounted without d'Artagnan saying a word and tied the horse to a nearby tree branch. They would go the rest of the way on foot.

Jacques had managed to cut their binds. Her head continued to swim, and it had been a long and tedious task. But she had done it and cut their legs free as well. Now that they were free, Jacques wasn't sure what to do. She could barely sit up and she knew Isabel would have a better chance escaping alone.

"Milady, you must go alone," she whispered. "I don't think I can walk."

"Well, then we will continue to sit like this because I'm not leaving without you," Isabel whispered back. "Do your friends always take this long to rescue their charges?" she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not usually, milady," Jacques laughed lightly then stopped when pain shot through her body.

Isabel had also stopped laughing but for another reason. The masked man who had been so brutal was coming back, sword in his hand. He grabbed Isabel's arm roughly, expecting to drag both prisoners to their feet. But instead was surprised when Isabel punched him. The knock barely fazed him and he threw her to the ground.

As he moved toward Isabel, Jacques used what strength she had to bring Isabel's knife up, putting the full length of the blade in his thigh. He screamed in pain and backhanded Jacques, sending her flying. Jacques lay on the ground, her body shaking. She didn't have the strength to move. He was coming; she could feel it. He was going to kill her, but all she could do was lay there.

He wanted nothing more than to kill the man who had just stabbed him and bested him that morning. He brought the blade to strike but a hand stopped him. He looked into the eyes of the man who had saved his life and lowered his sword.

"He will be dead soon enough. Leave him and bring Lady Isabel," he ordered. Reluctantly, he did what he was told.

Three pairs of eyes watch from the bushes the trail of horses and lanterns negotiating a narrow path through the dense forest. There were five men and Isabel. D'Artagnan shuddered and his hands began to shake. They would have left Jacqueline for only one reason. She was dead. His anger was growing and he wanted nothing more than to avenge her. He looked over at Siroc, whose hand was on his arm, and knew Siroc was thinking the same thing. He nodded his head and all three moved in to attack.

When Jacques opened her eyes again, everything was black. She was cold, bloody and dirty, but more importantly, she was still alive. She heard the shouts in the distance and the clashing of steal. Her friends were close. She lifted herself to her knees and then willed herself to stand. One foot in front of the other, that's all it takes, she thought, as she began to move through the trees. She held one hand in front of her in case she fell and used the other to grasp the trees to support herself. She could see the lanterns burning. It wasn't too much farther and then she would be safe. Safe, what a strange thought, she thought.

Jacques stumbled and fell to her knees. Her entire body shook violently, but she could see them now. D'Artagnan, Siroc, Ramon and even Isabel were countering every one of their opponents' moves and one by one their opponents fell. Jacques smiled. These were her friends. She got up and kept moving.

As soon as the fight was over, d'Artagnan rushed to Isabel. His hands had not stopped shaking. "Where is Jacques?" He grabbed her by her shoulders.

"He is in the clearing. Not far from here," she answered, stepping back out of his grasp and right into Siroc. She jumped and spun around, surprised. Siroc only smiled and took off his cloak, putting it around her shoulders. "Thank you," she said. Siroc only nodded.

"Can you take us to him?" Siroc asked, pulling Isabel away from his upset friend.

Before she could answer, a gun fired. The four spun around. The man Isabel had vowed to show that women were not weak stood just behind d'Artagnan, his gun aimed point blank at him. D'Artagnan looked into his eyes as the man fell to his knees then toppled over onto the ground. As the musketeer looked up, his heart leapt. Standing amongst the trees, Jacques stood next to one of the bodies holding a gun. It took all of his strength not to run to her and kiss her right then.

"Jacques," Siroc said.

"Amigo," Ramon called.

Jacques was glad to see them but it was d'Artagnan whose gaze she held. "It's about time you showed up," she teased before darkness claimed her once again and she passed out.