4. Plots
Jacqueline walked through the open door of Siroc's laboratory. Ramon, sitting on the edge of the worktable, saw her first. "Hey, Jacques, where'd you go? You missed one great fight. See, ten Cardinal's guards showed up at the café and—"
"Sorry I wasn't there," she cut in, and Siroc looked up from his notebook in interest at her lack of concern. "Do you know where I could find d'Artagnan?"
"He's with the Captain," Siroc answered. "Did you need something?" He moved closer to her and perched on the edge of the table that Ramon had vacated.
"Just to find—d'Artagnan!" she exclaimed as he entered the room, fuming.
D'Artagnan slammed his fist against the wooden door. "The Captain has me under house arrest; I cannot set foot outside the garrison until this damned assassin is caught!" he replied to their inquiring looks.
"It was necessary," Siroc broke the silence, logical and concise as always.
Ramon gave a low whistle. "That's going to hurt your social life. I guess Jacques and I will have to pick up the slack. Eh, mi amigo?"
"Jacques?" d'Artagnan saw his friend for the first time.
Jacqueline cleared her throat to assume her deep voice. "Erm, yes. D'Artagnan, could I speak with you? Privately," she said pointedly.
He was slow to respond as the past night flashed through his mind once more. "Ah, yes, of course. We could go to my room," he suggested. Jacqueline nodded and followed him out under the uncomfortable gaze of Siroc.
D'Artagnan gracefully opened the door and allowed Jacqueline to enter first. She did not sit down this time, rather choosing to stand and meet him man to man. He faced her, as unyielding as he had ever been.
Jacqueline positioned herself less than a foot away from him for full effect. "I want to apologize for what I said last night. It was out of line, and I'm sorry. I could not stand to lose my closest friend over something so stupid." She looked up expectantly.
"I accept your apology," he said simply, studying her strangely with a furrowed brow.
They stood in silence, faces close together. Jacqueline squirmed after a minute, whispering harshly, "Is that it? After all that, you have nothing to say! God, you're infuriating!" She threw up her hands in exasperation.
"What do you want me to say? What is it about me that irritates you, Jacqueline? Tell me." He gripped her arm.
"D'Artagnan, no! I will not talk to you like this," she shook off his touch and gave him the cold shoulder.
"Why? Be honest for once in your life, Jacqueline, and say what about me bothers you, and I'll tell you what I don't like about you," he challenged.
Jacqueline sniffed heatedly, "You don't like things about me?" Slight offence and much curiosity were apparent in her voice. "Like what?"
"Like the way you do that deep cough whenever you accidentally slip into your normal voice, and how you walk funny, not like a man or a woman. You are always hitting me whenever I say something totally innocent, and then you tell me that I fight too much. Sometimes you stare in the mirror forever adjusting your hair when I just want to eat breakfast, but I never say anything. You also do these little feminine things like brushing off a chair before you sit down or wiping your mouth with a napkin when there is nothing on it. Good God, can't you just be a little messy for once? And how you sit down and cross your legs sometimes when we're alone—it's not very ladylike…" He trailed off, realizing that he was openly criticizing.
Jacqueline gaped at him throughout his little speech, rocking back and forth on her heels with irritation. "Well in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly trying for ladylike behavior right now," she huffed, taken aback. "Besides, a gentleman shouldn't concern himself with a lady's legs." Jacqueline shot him a look of malice.
"I thought you weren't being a lady. Should I treat you like one or not?" he asked back.
"Well, I… I don't like this game," Jacqueline announced, crossing her arms on her chest.
"Why don't you try it? It's oddly liberating," d'Artagnan dared her to fight back.
"Fine!" She uncrossed her arms and marched up to look straight into his eyes. "You're an arrogant, cocky, egotistical, womanizing pig who is annoyingly noble! You have to fight every man you see and disgrace every woman you meet. You never share your true emotions because you have no feelings. There! Are you happy now?" Jacqueline had no sympathy for the hurt look on his face. "I came to apologize, and now you've made it even worse."
"I didn't know…" he whispered looking at her wide-eyed.
"Now you do." She let herself out, slamming the door in her wake.
D'Artagnan shook his head. He punched the door for added effect and rested his forehead against it as he tried to control his breathing.
"That was so touching," a Spanish accent drawled at d'Artagnan's back. The Musketeer tensed and glanced sideways at the chair where his rapier rested. With the swiftness of lightning, he had lunged sideways to draw the blade and face his enemy.
Cardinal Mazarin paced the length of his makeshift chambers. After the attempt on his life, he had moved underground at night, hiding away in the secret rooms where he kept his most incriminating texts and artifacts. He had cleverly left a decoy in his real room to impede any pesky questions pertaining to his whereabouts.
Now his main concern was capturing d'Artagnan. He was certain that that Musketeer was behind it; the assassin's build matched his own. The King vehemently denied that his favorite Musketeer could have anything to do with it, so Mazarin was unable to get an arrest warrant. The Cardinal knew differently; d'Artagnan had openly shown his hostility when he delivered Bernard's sword and on other previous occasions.
But with Captain Duval protecting him inside the garrison, there was no way to get to him. Mazarin's greatest hope was for the Musketeer to conveniently disappear. "Remy!" he called for his new Captain of the Guard.
The red clad man appeared at the doorway, "Your Eminence," he answered.
Mazarin paused in his pacing to order, "I need you to set up a loose perimeter around the Musketeer garrison. Tell your men to follow the Musketeers Ramon, Siroc, and Jacques, the close friends of d'Artagnan. We need to coax him out of his shell."
"It will be done, sir," Remy bowed to leave.
"And make sure they are disguised. I don't want anyone to trace it back to the Guards."
Remy bowed again and left to inform his men.
