Small Bit of Hope

Ramon paced back and forth between the hallways of musketeer headquarters. His left arm was wrapped around his waist and his right never left his face. He had been worried and felt panicked when d'Artagnan and Siroc had not returned. He did as he was asked, rather pleaded to do, by d'Artagnan and sent the letter off on the fastest ship they had. It had taken an hour, but the task was accomplished. When Ramon returned, his comrades were nowhere to be found, and worse yet... neither was Jacque.

The sun had set long ago, but Ramon knew he would not find sleep. Captain Duval had expressed his concern earlier on in the afternoon about d'Artagnan and Siroc's whereabouts, but Ramon covered for them. He told Duval that they mentioned Carl saying something about a citizen's residence being vandalized, but Ramon did not mention that it was the Roget farmhouse, and he did not mention that it was the Cardinal who was behind the brutality.

Ramon sighed, looking out into the distance towards the streets of Paris. As much as he could feel the worry tugging at his heart, his eyes were reluctantly closing. The strain of the past few days were beginning to show in his appearance and posture. 'One more round,' Ramon thought to himself. He had continuously searched the musketeer grounds hoping to spot d'Artagnan or Siroc, but he had no luck in finding them. He forced himself to go around one more time before he decided to go to his room and pass out on his bed.

His feet knew the routine already. He treaded through the training grounds, making his way to the stables. He weaved in and out of the outskirts of the garrison, his feet no longer making distinct steps but long dragging shifts of weight. He rounded a corner when a body suddenly pushed past him, nearly knocking him back into the wall.

Ramon managed to catch sight of a dark ponytail or what was left of it. The tiny band that usually held all of d'Artagnan's hair now only hung from a few strands. Some of his hair had been matted down on the side of his face by what looked like sweat and... blood.

"D'Artagnan?" Ramon called out. But the body ignored him and disappeared into the musketeers' private quarters. Shortly afterwards, Ramon heard the booming sound of a door slamming shut. It would be a miracle if Duval and the others did not wake after hearing that.

Ramon rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what it was he just witnessed. D'Aragnan looked... enraged. He had never seen that look at d'Artagnan's face before. Ramon jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Siroc's bloodied and bruised face.

"What the hell?" Ramon had to blink several times to make certain that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. "Siroc? What happened to you, compadre?" His training reflexes kicked in when he saw Siroc leaning forward, almost as if he were going to fall to his knees. Ramon held his friend up, shifting most of the inventor's weight to his own shoulder.

Siroc used his free hand to wipe the small amount of blood away that was forming in the corner of his mouth. "He found out." He welcomed the help that Ramon provided for him. He did not think that he could have found his bed on his own. The fight that that he had with d'Artagnan had drained all of his energy, and after his confession...

He ran his tongue over the corner of his lip. When he had said that he loved Jacqueline, d'Artagnan snapped. Siroc thought that d'Artagnan would kill him, and that he would have to fight for his life. But that did not happen, at least not exactly like that.

D'Artagnan merely stared at him for a moment, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. It wasn't a look of betrayal that he saw in d'Artagnan's eyes... it was fear. But it quickly faded, and was replaced with an expression of rage. He walked up to Siroc, grabbed his shirt, and punched him in the jaw with as much strength as he had in his body.

Siroc expected that reaction the moment he expressed his feelings for Jacqueline, and he let himself receive the punishment. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, and d'Artagnan was nowhere in sight. He was mildly surprised that a rapier was not protruding from his chest.

D'Artagnan most likely tried to calm himself, and the only way he could was to just leave Siroc where he lay.When he got back to his horse, he noticed that d'Artagnan's was gone as well. Siroc figured that d'Artagnan would head back to Paris, to headquarters. What did surprise him was that he caught up to d'Artagnan after a half an hour of riding. Siroc was not sure if he should ride next to d'Artagnan or keep his distance. He didn't feel like receiving another blow to his jaw, so he kept back a few paces from his friend.

"Comrade?" Ramon's voice shattered the memory that Siroc was reliving.

"What happened? Where is Jacqueline?" Somehow Ramon managed to make it to Siroc's room without waking up the others. He was practically carrying his friend, and the only sounds that he heard for a while were Siroc's feet dragging on the floor.

Siroc kept his mouth tight, trying not to open the wound on his lip further. "She was captured... Mazarin has her now..." he grimaced. If he didn't receive the beatings he did from d'Artagnan, he would have given them to himself. She was so close to them! And yet, they were powerless to do anything.

For years he had given his life to protect Louis, to protect France. It was a honor to do so, and it was a grand status to hold, but now it felt so insignificant. Suddenly, everything that he had done in his years of being a musketeer felt empty... almost laughable. How could he put so much effort into a young boy who rarely acknowledged him, into a country that didn't know of his existence, over a woman, a friend, who loved him dearly though she could never be his? She offered more to him in these past few months than Louis or France ever did his entire life.

Siroc felt himself being pushed onto his bed, and he gratefully accepted the soft texture against his body. He was drained physically and mentally, and it was only the fact of getting Jacqueline back that kept him conscious on the ride back from the farmhouse. His nerves jumped whenever he drew in a breath, and his head was forming a pounding headache.

"Siroc," he heard Ramon start. "If Mazarin now has Jacqueline in captivity, how will we get her out? It is almost impossible." Ramon hated to say it, but it was true. Next to the king, Mazarin held an impressive amount of power. To break out a fugitive while she was in Mazarin's hold was hardly possible. They were lucky to break Gerard from his imprisonment when they did.

"We will get her," Siroc said, feeling sleep take control of his body. "If I have to give my life... I will get her..." his words became slurred, and his eyes closed.

D'Artagnan stared at the ceiling in his room, unable to break out of the horrid scene he witnessed hours ago. Jacqueline had slipped through his fingers, and she was now held captive under the man she had spent so much time avoiding. It was only a matter of time before Louis would find out that Jacque Lepont was Jacqueline Roget. And it was all his fault! He promised her that nothing would ever happen to her, and yet where was she now? He was a failure; he had failed the one person he loved
with all his heart.

D'Artagnan turned in his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He felt the tears sting his eyes, wishing that it was Jacqueline he was holding rather than a soft mass of feathers that he slept on. He heard his door open, but he didn't have to look to see who entered his room without permission. "Go away Ramon."

"No," came the short answer. Ramon closed the door behind him and walked to the edge of the bed where d'Artagnan's head lay. "Siroc cannot help the way he feels, d'Artagnan." He hardly ever involved himself in others' affairs, but this one was special. He had to see d'Artagnan and Siroc make amends; Jacqueline's life was depending on it.

"I know," d'Artagnan said, his voice was muffled in the pillow. "I just... lost it." And he knew it. He had hit Siroc out of fear, not anger. He felt fear of losing Jacqueline to Siroc, and he reacted in the only way he knew. He finally had Jacqueline after wanting her for so long, and it was never a fear of losing her to a sword that he held... it was losing her to another man. But after what he had done, he felt foolish and stupid. He regretted everything that he had done to Siroc, even punching him when Siroc said he loved Jacqueline as well.

His friend had never betrayed him, and Siroc showed no signs of starting. D'Artagnan, Ramon, and Siroc had fought side by side countless times in their years of friendship. It just now occurred how completely opposite his two friends were. Ramon was quite emotional, being a passionate poet. But Siroc was quiet, and he isolated himself from the others all the time.

He shut himself up in that small lab of his, and at times he would not come out for a few days. This was the first time that d'Artagnan had ever seen Siroc express his true feelings. And it was the strongest feeling that a human was capable of. 'Jacqueline -is- a special woman,' d'Artagnan thought. 'Only she could have broken down Siroc's guard without even trying.'

Ramon still stood next to the bed, making no movement to sit or leave the room. "He is not a threat to you, d'Artagnan. Si, he loves her, but he would never take her from you. And this is hardly a time to be bickering about who loves her more. We should be thinking of a way to help her." Now that he got a good look at d'Artagnan, he shuddered picturing the fight that his two friends had gone through. He thought Siroc looked bad...D'Artagnan barely had his shirt left.

D'Artagnan finally sat up and looked at Ramon. The Spaniard was right; Siroc was still his friend and always will be. Jacqueline needed the three of them, and she relied on their friendship to keep them together.

His eyes were full of determination. There was only thing that they could do. "We need one week, Ramon. We must delay the execution of Jacqueline Roget for one whole week. Otherwise, all hope is lost."