A Turn for the Worst

The next morning, the four had agreed to meet at Cafe Nouveau for breakfast. There was a silent promise amongst them not to mention what happened the night before. Each of them ordered what their stomachs desired and waited patiently.There had been occasional awkward glances sent to Jacque by Ramon, but
it had been out of mere astonishment. No longer could he think of Jacque as... well... Jacque. But he had learned to love his friend like a brother, and he promised himself that he would not send Jacqueline to her death. He would keep that promise till he himself died. "So, Jacque..." he said to get his comrade's attention.

She turned to him. "Yes?"

"What do you think of my date for tomorrow evening?" Ramon asked, pointing to a cute brunette. She caught Ramon's gaze and waved to him with a shy smile.

Jacque felt the corners of her mouth turn upward. "I'd say that's the best one you've found so far. She's pretty and modest. I like her," Jacque was relived to see that Ramon had not changed much of his attitude toward her, but Siroc was another matter.

The inventor had been more silent around her, less inclined to interact with her. When their eyes would meet, he would turn away and avert his attention to something less trivial and unimportant just to break the small connection. She made up her mind. She was going to have a one on one talk with him before the end of the day.

"Great," d'Artagnan muttered. "The crimson pigs are here." He saw the Cardinal's captain, Bernard leading a small group of men into the cafe.

"Attention citizens of Paris," Bernard said loudly. He made sure to have everyone's attention upon him before he continued. He held a piece of parchment in his hands and read from it. "The runaway fugitive, Jacqueline Roget, has been spotted near the musketeer garrison and its neighboring areas. The reward has been increased from 1,000 pieces of gold to 2,000 pieces. If found, she is to be brought in alive and unharmed." He glared at the table that the musketeers sat at. "And if one is found helping this wanted criminal, they will be severely punished for treason to His Majesty the King. A threat and crime committed to the Cardinal is no different than committing them against the king himself."

A low murmur filled Cafe Nouveau. Heads were brought together and words were spoken of plans on how to capture Jacqueline Roget. Before any questions could be asked, the Cardinal's men had left. Bernard nailed the new poster on the doorframe of the Cafe.

"2,000 gold pieces!" said a man in a corner.

"Can you believe it?" answered another. "Imagine what I could do with that much!"

Jacque felt three pair of eyes on her. She felt her heart stop, and her face drained of all color when she heard the news. "No..." she said under her breath. She could feel a warm pressure on her arm. D'Artagnan had placed his hand on her elbow.

"Jacque..." he didn't know what to say. What could he say? Just when things seemed to be turning for the better, this had to happen.

She didn't respond to him; she just sat there impassive and void of expression. She heard snickering coming from the table next to them. They were saying something about capturing the alluring woman Jacqueline and using her for their own pleasure before they would return her to the Cardinal. That set her off. She stood violently, almost tipping over her chair, and stormed to
the other table.

"You will do no such thing," she spat. She grabbed the man by his shirt and glared into his small beady eyes.

"What are you going to do about it, musketeer?" the man said, spitting on the floor next to her boots.

She didn't realize what she had done, but before she could register her actions, the man was favoring a bloody nose. She could feel arms around her waist and chest pulling her away from the man she stood over. "Let me go!" she said, flailing.

Siroc was quite surprised to feel the strength that she had. He was a fool to believe for a moment that she was as delicate as most women in Paris. "Calm down now!" he hissed at her. With a powerful shove, he pushed her to d'Artagnan. "Take him back to the garrison."

Ramon was busy keeping the other men from starting a fight with Jacque. He threw them a story about Jacque's father dying, and how he was still unsettled and in mourning. They tried to push through him, but Ramon stood his ground.

D'Artagnan kept a strong hold on Jacque, unwilling to let her go. She still struggled against him, but he overpowered her. By some miracle, he managed to pull them out of Cafe Nouveau and onto the street. When she had calmed, he let her go. "What's wrong with you?" he asked when she furiously straightened her clothes. "Doing something that stupid would have surely gotten you exposed."

Then she gave him a look that stopped him dead. Her eyes were unreadable, her expression stoic. She looked at him, and he could feel his soul being pierced. His heart ached for the pain that he knew she was feeling, and it hurt him even more that he could do nothing to help her. He wanted to know what she was thinking, why she was looking at him like that. Suddenly, she seemed so far from him. No matter how far he reached, he could never be close enough to touch her and hold her. His lips parted slightly to say something else, but she turned her back and left him.

"Jacque," he called to her, but she did not turn back. 'What was that about?' he thought. She had never looked at him that way. She looked like she was lost, and she made an ultimate decision. But for now, he was satisfied that she was walking back to headquarters and not to the fight.

He heard steps behind him. "How is she?" Ramon asked, looking at Jacque's retreating form.

"I don't know. She didn't say anything to me," d'Artagnan said. He could feel his heart breaking for her. By god, she was a strong woman. He knew that she wanted to tell him everything that she felt, but she could not do it as Jacque Laponte. She still kept her guise.

Siroc joined them soon after. "Is she going back?" he asked.

D'Artagnan nodded. "She should have some time to deal with her feelings. Things are getting uglier by the minute for her. She needs us."

"She's never asked anything of us when we first met. If not back then, it's now more than ever," Siroc agreed.

'Dn that man! Dn him!' she cursed in her mind when she thought of the man in red. She paced from wall to wall in her room. Her hands were fidgeting with her clothes and with her hair. Her thoughts were running wild, pure hatred blinded her common sense. She stopped at the window that she had snuck intothe night before.

It was an innocent trip. She wanted to see her father again, but she didn't want to visit him as Jacque Laponte. She wanted to see her passed on father, not as a soldier of the king, but as his daughter. She wore a dress of a violet shade for him. It was his favorite color, but he only admitted it to her, not her mother or even Gerard.

Giselle, the dressmaker, was nice enough to offer a discount for the dress. Luckily, the dress naturally fit her size. It wasn't too small or too big; it was made as if to fit only her. Jacqueline purchased it the moment she saw it, and she decided that she would visit Claude Roget.

How had she been spotted? How? Now, surely, Mazarin would find out where she was. That could not happen! Her revenge was now beyond the mere killing of his captain. She wanted to liberate France, her country, her home. She felt the rage flow through her, and she could feel her heart beating faster and faster. Her hand balled up into a fist and she punched through the window.

She watched as most of the shards burst from the window. She could hear them raining down on the stone ground just outside. She felt some of the glass pieces cutting into her skin. She couldn't feel it, the pain. She saw the blood drip from her hand, but she ignored it.The pain she felt in her heart was not for her own safety; it was for her friends. Siroc, Ramon, d'Artagnan... they would be executed as well if Mazarin found out that they were helping her. No, she wouldn't allow that to happen. She loved them, even Captain Duval. She made that decision when she looked at d'Artagnan outside Cafe Nouveau. She did not
want to hurt him in any way; she did not want to make him suffer
because of her. She knew... she knew that she could not stay with the musketeers.

D'Artagnan knocked on Jacque's door again. "Jacque, you there?" he called out. No answer. He knocked again looking at Ramon and Siroc with a confused expression. "Are you sure Jean said he didn't leave his room?"

"Positive," Ramon said. "He told me that Jacque went in since we came back from breakfast and never came back out."

Siroc stood silent. Something felt wrong. His eyes never left Jacqueline since the announcement of the raise in reward for her capture. Her expressions evolved from fear, to hate, to rage, then to total disbelief. How long had he known her? They had been comrades for half a year now, and he had been able to pick up a few habits that each of friends possessed. Jacque was hardly emotional and never allowed anyone to see her true feelings. But what would happen if those pent up feelings were let loose suddenly. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Jacqueline was... "Gone."

"What?" d'Artagnan asked. He looked at Siroc as though he had not heard him correctly. There it was again. The fear he had not felt since the day that he thought Jacqueline was dead when he pulled her from the river. He felt Siroc move him to the side.

"She's gone," he said, his voice breaking. He didn't bother with the door knob and kicked it open once again. As he expected, the room was vacant. 'Stupid woman,' he thought. 'How can we protect you, if you run from us?' He ran out of the room and ran straight to the stables.

D'Artagnan and Ramon wasted no time. They too followed him and mounted their horses. "I'll sweep the streets," d'Artagnan said.

"I'll take the outskirts, if she's gotten that far," Ramon said.

"I'll look around the river," Siroc lied. Years and years he had spent observing and analyzing not just machines and inventions, but people as well. If an innocent that was accused of murder was desperate and had no way out, they would go straight to the source. He knew where Jacqueline would be heading. She was going straight to Mazarin.