Men

Lauren stepped out of Siroc's lab, heading for her usual morning jaunt to the kitchens. She stretched her arms up over her head and yawned. Gil and she had been out rather late, probably arriving back only just before midnight. Lucky for her, Siroc and Ramon had been out on some investigation for the Captain and d'Artagnan was tied up with Jacqueline. If any of the girl's guardians had seen her late return, she might have been in a great deal of trouble.

She started walking through the halls as a new notion occurred to her. How did Gil tell Duval about the Cardinal and recruit's meeting without divulging where and why he overheard it? She was pondering this line of thought with a small grin on her face when a voice called out, "So it's true." Lauren's heart jumped, and she paused, glancing around confusedly until she saw a shadow in the crossing corridor up ahead.

Stepping forward slowly, she asked a little too loudly, "What's true?"

"There is a little girl living in the garrison that dresses outrageously." Lauren could now make out the voice and some of the perfect features of the handsome new recruit.

"I'm hardly small or scandalous," she said airily, striding confidently past the hall without stopping to introduce herself. She did not feel like making friends with a spy today, especially one that had caused Gil so much alarm.

The recruit was overly friendly today. He reached out and took her arm firmly, drawing her back into the door- and windowless hall. "Now where do you think you're going? It's very lonely to be new here, didn't you know?" He was very close to pinning her against the wall. Lauren could smell his hot breath.

"I'm sorry, but I don't provide anything for lonely Musketeers." She said coldly, her feelings flashing from fear to anger. She slid out under his arm and stepped briskly back into the hall, trying to find a witness or at least put plenty of distance between them if it cam to running.

The man called after her, "You're making a great mistake—do you know who I am?"

Lauren whirled to address him from ten feet away. "You made it quite clear who you are: a filthy, disgusting, repulsive scoundrel." A touch on her shoulder made her jump in fright, spinning to meet the new intruder.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle," Gil said, eying the man before them a little too roughly. "Is he bothering you?"

"I'm fine, we were just having a discussion," she brushed off Gil's touch, not wanting to be near anything male at the moment. The feelings of anger, shame, and fear made her hands shake, and she just wanted to get away from everyone.

The handsome man dared to speak again in a sickly sweet tone. "Oh, I see now. Monsieur, you would do well to keep a better watch on your whore."

Though Lauren was a bit shocked, she could brush off the name calling and just walk away. Gil apparently could not do the same. "Sir, you have impugned her honor. In her place, I demand satisfaction."

Lauren turned on him sharply. "Stop it, Gil. Violence solves nothing."

"No, I can't let him get away with this," he said, staring down the recruit. "He needs to learn a lesson."

Nodding his head, the Cardinal's spy accepted. "I'll send my second to meet with yours to agree on terms."

"No, you won't. This is not happening—" the girl told the recruit. Whirling back around, she pleaded, "Leave it alone Gil. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me." This situation was spinning way out of control, and she could not have someone getting hurt over something as silly as her reputation, especially a dream reputation. But all was for naught. Both men went their separate ways, and Lauren was left alone in the middle of the hall with a feeling of dread in her stomach.

Jacqueline knocked on the door to Lauren's room. When a weak 'yes' came from inside, she opened the door to find Lauren lying on her side in bed with a pillow over her head. The female musketeer cleared her throat and said, "Gil told d'Artagnan who told me what happened. I know I'm just recovering from a head injury, but do you want to talk about it?" Her tone was laced with a little bitterness, but she shook it off. Now was the time to help the girl.

Lauren sat up and let the pillow fall to the floor. She sighed and rubbed her face with both hands. Jacqueline took this as a good sign, and she closed the door and sat down beside the girl on the bed. "So tell me, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" Lauren asked, meeting the woman's eyes. "I'm confused—mostly about Gil. Sometimes I think it's nice to have him around, like I just want someone to hold my hand or shoulder to rest my head on. But then, like this morning, I start telling myself that I'm being an idiot fawning over irrational men, and I want to revert to a radical be-alone-forever strategy. Maybe I should just become a nun and get away from stupid boys forever."

Jacqueline gave a small smile; so many times she had thought much of the same. "I know what you mean, but I don't think a nun's life is for those who just want to escape men."

"I figured as much," the girl answered with another sigh, leaning back against the wall. She looked out the window at the grey autumn sky. "For so long I scoffed at other girls' foolish obsessing over men, and now I find myself doing the same—I'm such a hypocrite."

Jacqueline leaned forward and turned to make her appeal. "Why don't you let Gil take you out tonight?"

Lauren's eyebrows shot up about a mile. "You want me to go on a date after all this? With him? The Jacques who pouted whenever Gil came near now wants me to spend time with him?"

The female musketeer broke out a grin. "Ah, but if he's out with you, he's not here to bother me." Jacqueline now stood, stretching sore muscles a little on the way up. "You need to get away from all these rough soldiers and have some fun with the boy who adores you… Both you and I know that there are some men out there who know how to take good care of women."

"I guess," the girl sighed in reply, remembering that she had already agreed to go out with him the night before in the garden. She stood as well, straightening her musketeer outfit and stepping over to the door. Before she slipped out, she met Jacqueline's eyes and wickedly added, "And I think you should take your own advice and go out with d'Artagnan tonight."

The comment caught the musketeer off guard, and she could not think of a response until Lauren had already left. Shaking her head and exiting the room as well, she muttered, "I wish… If only he didn't think I was crazy…"

Wine

Lauren let Gil open the door for her and pull out her chair at the bustling evening Café Nouveau. He took a seat across from her at their small table against the wall. For a few moments, the girl just enjoyed this instant in time—watching the people move about the great room, gaping at the belly dancers out tonight, appreciating the music from the group in the corner, listening to French chatter, and admiring the colors and styles of the seventeenth century clothing.

The waitress came and went; Lauren allowed Gil to order since there were no menus. Actually, I just don't care—I'll try anything tonight. It's high time to let loose and live. For some reason she did not pause to remind herself that it was all a dream. A barmaid swept by to leave two goblets and a bottle of wine on the table. Gil poured for the both of them, Lauren looking at the rich red liquid dubiously. A dark drop slid down the side of her glass, reminding her of blood. "You don't have to fight him, you know," the girl burst out. The pair had not dared speak of that morning's incident to each other, but the wall had to come down if she were to enjoy herself tonight.

Gil met her eyes, his hazel reflecting the flickering candle flame on the table. Lauren could not speak when he captured her with his gaze, so she waited speechless and breathless. The boy's hand went to the inside pocket of his Musketeer vest as he said, "I have something for you." Pulling out a handkerchief, he unwrapped it to reveal a sleek midnight blue drawstring bag, handing it to Lauren. "Happy birthday." She took it gingerly, letting her fingers savor the rich feel of silk. "Open it," Gil urged softly, breaking into her thoughts.

The girl obliged him, opening the laces to reveal a small hand mirror, framed with gold and about the size of a makeup compact. She turned it over to see the jewels pressed into the back: a diamond in the center surrounded by rings of aquamarine, blue topaz, and sapphires, darkening with each successive ring outwards. Lauren looked up, open mouthed. "I can't accept this—its way too much!" She put her palm out, returning the generous gift immediately.

Gil shook his head; he reached out, using his own fingers to close hers around the mirror. "You want so little; I just want to give you something special. Keep it. It's an old family heirloom" The musketeer gently pushed her hand back.

Lauren opened her fingers, looking at the beautiful piece again. Without another thought, she reached for the wine glass, taking a long drink. What can I do? And the answer came to her instantly—she leaned over the table and gave Gil a wine flavored kiss.

The musketeer accepted her thanks and generously showed so her with his own. But the couple had to break apart quickly when a woman arrived with their food, sliding the plates in front of them and leaving with a small smile. Lauren's face reddened and she looked down at her plate, thinking, And I always thought Public Displays of Affection were disgusting… Her blush deepened, and she picked at her food.

Siroc looked up when the young pair entered his lab. Gil guided Lauren though the door with his hands supporting her at the waist. D'Artagnan also turned sideways on the bench where he was sitting; his shirt was off so that the resident doctor could tend to a scrape on his upper arm. Gil noticed immediately, asking, "What happened?" In this brief moment of distraction, Lauren escaped his hold and stumbled forward.

D'Artagnan's exhaled sharply as he explained, "That new recruit is a little overzealous in the practice courts." Gil's jaw tightened, but he did not reply.

Meanwhile, Lauren had danced her way over to d'Artagnan. She plopped down on his lap and curiously examined the cut on his arm. The wounded musketeer pushed her off gently with amazement plain on his face as he looked to Gil. Siroc turned directly to interrogate Gil. "What did you do to her?"

Gil looked slightly exasperated. "I don't know; she had a few glasses of wine and ended up like this—it's like she never drank before."

Lauren announced in a slurred, sing-song voice, "I don't drink, it's bad. I'm not old enough. I'm only eighteen!" She laughed as d'Artagnan held her upright in front of him.

"I think you need some sleep," the legend's son told her, looking pointedly at the dazed Gil who had yet to move from the doorway. The young musketeer got the hint, the glance spurring him into action. He came over to take Lauren's arm to help her walk, but the tipsy girl planted her feet, not wanting to go. Gil bent slightly and swept her off her feet, carrying her to her room. The boy gently laid her down, pulling off her boots and tucking her in under the blankets. Siroc stood ever watchful, blocking the light from entering the small room with his body in the doorway, but he looked away when Gil leaned down to give the girl a goodnight kiss.