Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to either Alexandre Dumas or his descendents.


Chapter Twelve: The Past is Another Land

The lines had been drawn. To one side stood Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan. To the other Elizabeth, Porthos and to everyone's astonishment Gustav. Apparently, he had been quite impressed by Elizabeth's actions in Auvergne. It was the general consensus that had Elizabeth decided she wanted Athos killed, Porthos may have to fight Gustav for the honor. This, of course, irked Athos to no end.

"How is it we're trusting him?" He complained to Aramis about two days from Orlèans.

Aramis raised one eyebrow in a mocking sort of concern, "Has he given us any reason not to?"

"Does it matter? He was one of Philippe's soldiers. Do we really know where his loyalties lie?"

"Don't you think we learned our lesson from Porthos about trust? I'm prepared to believe him until he shows us otherwise."

Athos grunted.

Aramis smiled to himself. "What is it that bothers you: that we trust him, or that she trusts him?"

Athos whipped his head up. "Do you think that she might-?"

"Athos," Aramis began, "if it bothers you, perhaps you should talk to her..."

"Oh, yes, that's a wonderful idea. 'Hello Elizabeth'" His voice took on a sarcastic note, "'I was wondering if you might want to talk to me about your feelings for Gustav. I realize that you hate me and that I'm an utter bastard, but I thought you might want to know I don't like that idea of you with him.' That's great Aramis, thanks for the help."

"Well, if you never talk to her, how can you ever make amends?"

Athos growled, but didn't answer.

Elizabeth was beginning to wish she had never told Porthos about his friends distrusting him. It was now all he would talk about. All day. Every day.

"I have known them how many years? And still they distrust me. And d'Artagnan, we've known him six years if that!"

Elizabeth sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry Lizzy, I'm ranting."

"Do not call me Lizzy."

"I beg your pardon?" Porthos sounded shocked, mainly because she'd just shouted at him.

"I said don't call me Lizzy, he called me that."

"Athos?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Him too."

Maybe twenty yards back, Athos shushed Aramis and strained his ears to hear her.

"I don't understand." Porthos was saying.

"When I knew Philippe, he called me Lizzy. I was never very fond of it then, and I certainly don't like it now."

"How is it you know him? That's one of the things that still confuses me."

Elizabeth sighed, "It's a very long story."

"It's a very long journey."

She smiled and began as Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan eased forward so they could listen as well. Her background was a mystery, and all of them had particular reasons for wanting to hear it.

"When I was still a young girl, my father and I moved to the south of France."

"You were not born here?"

"Are you going to interrupt me every two seconds?"

"No, me dispiace."

She looked at him for a long moment, and he cracked. "Where were you born?"

She smiled at him. "I was born in Italy." She raised an eyebrow at him, "And when I was no more than ten years, my father and I moved to France."

"Why?"

Aramis resisted the urge to tell him to shut the hell up.

"That, my friend, is none of your business. My father and I moved near a small village called Mônt Parsonaux. Before you ask," she held up a hand, "it's not there anymore. The villagers believed it to be cursed and left many years ago. When we arrived, my father became fast friends with the local parson. He was the younger son of a lord to the west, and my father, bright man that he was, decided it would be an amazingly wonderful idea to betroth his daughter to that man's son. Even that small amount of noble blood satisfied his desire to marry his only daughter off well. He would have preferred better, but one takes what one can get on such short notice."

"You were betrothed? What happened to him? Who was he??"

"You've met him Porthos." She turned and pointed, "Philippe, he's riding about ten feet behind us."

Porthos turned on his horse in time to see Gustav pull forward from his position where he had been trying to listen in, but not in time to see the three Musketeers do the same. "You were betrothed to Philippe?" From the disbelief in his voice, she may as well have just proclaimed her heritage as divine.

"Oh yes. Charming idea is it not?"

"Quite."

She gifted him with a brilliant smile before continuing. "My father, may he burn in flames eternal, let it known that in his will, my husband and I would become the sole owners of a rather extensive set of land. Philippe, charmer that he is, immediately pushed for our wedding, and when that failed, killed my father, hoping to push me into marriage."

Porthos growled.

"My thoughts exactly. It obviously didn't work. He bragged to some friends about the murder, and when I confronted him, he confessed it, telling me it was all for love. I left, went to visit some family to the east, and had no reason to return until this started." She gestured back towards the cart and sighed, settling herself back in the saddle.

Porthos looked at her for a long moment. "There are some gaping holes in that Elizabeth."

"And?"

Porthos sighed. "You don't trust me?"

"You've never told me your checkered past. Why should I share all of mine?"

"Because we are friends Elizabeth, that's what friends do, they share."

"Well," She said with exaggerated patience, "share."

Porthos was silent for a time. Finally he swore loudly. Profusely. In multiple languages.

"You see?" She smiled, "There are some things that are just not meant to be." Elizabeth reached out and laid one of her gloved hands on his. "There are things in my life I trust to no one Porthos. It's just... not safe."

He raised an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut. It was Elizabeth who ended up breaking the silence.

"So," she said with forced cheerfulness, "how far are we from Paris?"

"About a week, why?"

"Just wondering. Where are we stopping tonight?"

"Blaes."

"Ah." She replied, as thought this fact may hold some amount of importance to her.

"You've been to Blaes?" he asked.

"Ah... no actually. What's a Blaes?"

"It's a city."

"Oh," she looked at him from under lowered lashes. "Why do you bring it up?"

"Because that's where we're stopping for the- wait, you brought it up."

"I did not." She sounded offended.

"You did."

"No, I didn't Porthos. Are you feeling alright?"

Porthos rode in silence for a moment before he observed her shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

"That's not funny."

"I thought it was."

"Well, you thought wrong."

"It wouldn't be a first."

"I would think not."

"But it doesn't happen often." She amended.

"I would think not." He echoed.

She smiled at him.

He smiled back.

Athos sighed, loudly.

"You're just hating this aren't you?"

Athos turned to Aramis. "Leave. Me. Alone."

"We're in this together. I'm on your side remember?"

Athos sighed again.

"You do realize the sullen brooding thing isn't terribly attractive, don't you?" Aramis pointed out.

"Shut up." He looked up past Gustav who was staring at Elizabeth with a look he had to admit he just didn't like. "I'll be back." He told Aramis and spurred his horse forward towards Porthos and Elizabeth.

"God go with you my friend." Aramis muttered under his breath, "You need all the help you can get."

"Elizabeth!" Athos called out and watched her back go as straight as a broom handle.

"What?" she said shortly without turning around.

"May I speak with you?"

She reigned her horse in and waited for him to catch up. Porthos caught her eye for a moment but she waved him on.

"Sure."

Now that Athos had her attention, he wasn't entirely certain what to do with it. "Well, I was just thinking that... well... maybe if I..."

"You what?"

"I'm not certain, but surely there is something I can do that will prove to you that I regret- what I did to you."

Elizabeth gave him a scathing look, "I do not doubt you regret anything Athos. What does this have to do with me?"

"Well, I wanted to know- I wanted you to know that if there's anything I can do- if there's anything you need- I'm here for you."

Elizabeth looked as if she might commit murder, "Here for me?" In her anger, she seemed to grow in stature. "You're here for me? Do you remember what happened last time you were here for me?" When he looked as though he might interrupt, she held up a hand. "You know what, never mind, I don't want to think about you or this or anything else right now."

"But Elizabeth," he grabbed her arm.

She looked down at where his hand was on her. "Don't touch me."

He let go, "Elizabeth, talk to me."

"Athos I-" But they were interrupted as the trees around them erupted into gunfire.