Chapter 5 - Circumstantial

D'Artagnan walked back home in a daze, still holding the handkerchief in his hand, reflecting, with a good deal of sarcasm, on the turn of events. He was just so fortunate these days. A beautiful girl had appeared out of nowhere, but she just had to be the lady friend of one of his soon-to-be fellow Musketeers. (That might explain, too, how she knew who he was.) His life just couldn't get any better.

And he hadn't even known her name! Now he couldn't return her handkerchief - except maybe through that André, whom he rather disliked now for some reason. Well, her initials he knew - "A.D." Whatcould her name be? He pondered this as he walked on.

For all his thinking, he couldn't shake off the thought that she and André were somehow … related. And not as Musketeer-lady friend sort of way.

There was some secret between the two, he was sure of it.

"Hey, D'Artagnan," a loud voice cut into his thoughts. "Did you just bump into a streetlight?"

Porthos's assumptions were accurate, as usual. "Something like that," muttered D'Artagnan. "But something shorter, more bright, and leaving more darkness in its wake." He left Porthos to ponder over that, and walked on - smack dab into Athos and Aramis, who had been following close behind Porthos and had heard everything.

"Now, now, D'Artagnan, don't feel so glum," Aramis reassured him. "Porthos just lost to Athos (as always) in a card game, and is just looking for someone else to pick on so he can attempt to keep his big head up in society."

"Hey! I heard that!"

"Good!" Aramis called. "Sorry, must go confront the portly Porthos now." D'Artagnan couldn't help a laugh as Aramis and Porthos got into yet another of their constant arguments; here was a sport in which both candidates were evenly matched. It always ended in a stalemate of sorts, with no ill feelings.

"What's going on, boy?" Athos's calm voice roused D'Artagnan from his reverie. Anyone else might have looked at Athos and proclaimed that he had a heart of stone, but not D'Artagnan. Athos might not look it, or say it, but D'Artagnan knew when he was concerned about him. To D'Artagnan, Athos was almost a father.

Then Athos noticed the handkerchief in D'Artagnan's hand and gave him a look of disapproval. "Let me guess - did you meet a lady?"

"Yes and no, in a sense," D'Artagnan sighed. "I barely even know her, and she just turned out to be that new Musketeer's lady friend." He described the encounter completely to Athos, hoping for some advice in turn.

But D'Artagnan would never have expected the stoical Athos's face to suddenly darken suspiciously. The older Musketeer clenched his hand on his sword hilt, and his murderous-looking expression made D'Artagnan step back warily.

"Are you all right, Athos?" he ventured.

"Yes," said Athos, although he did not look it. "All I can say is, stay away from the lady. And be careful around André. Trust me, boy, you'll be thankful for my advice in the long run."

"You mean that short little thing?" Porthos interrupted, guffawing and cutting off whatever D'Artagnan might have said in reply. "Him! That midget! Ahahaha, if you can prove he has a lady friend then I'm the King of France!"

"Kindly watch your mutinous talk, sir," said a voice behind them, "or you might have something big on your hands."

They all turned around to find André, the new young Musketeer, twirling his sword. Porthos guffawed.

"Well, well, look what we have here!" he chortled, evidently having found someone to pick on.

"Shut it, Porthos!" D'Artagnan elbowed his friend in the side, but he probably didn't even feel it. "I have a duel with the guy!"

"Oh you do?" Immediately, Porthos brightened up even more, if that were possible. "Then I'll be your second!"

"I have no seconds," André pointed out. "That would go against the rules of dueling."

"Whatever," said Porthos airily. "Then I challenge you to a duel, too!"

"Look here, I'm not looking for a fight," said André, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "We're all fellow Musketeers here."

"Oh all right, then," interrupted D'Artagnan, before Porthos could speak. "If you tell me who that girl is and how she's related to you, then you won't have to duel any of us."

It was turning out to be a life-or-death situation, after all, D'Artagnan reasoned. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis have no compunction for others, new Musketeer or no, when it involves friends like me.(Especially since André had asked for it himself.) Faced with such odds, couldn't André possibly be moved to tell the truth? Anyone would do that, right?

Or run … but technically, the new Musketeer was surrounded – and no sane Musketeer would ever have deserted his courage like that.

"What kind of a deal is that? Well, I suppose it could work ..." D'Artagnan was beginning to grow hopeful as he looked at the small Musketeer pondering to himself.

"...No."

"What?" Did he just outright refuse to tell the truth? Just like that?

"I said no, and I mean no," reiterated André, his arms crossed lazily as he leaned against a wall. "All you wanted to know is whether she is my lady friend? Well, I can tell you this much - no."

"Well, you didn't fulfill the deal, exactly," Athos pointed out.

"So..." The young Musketeer looked uncertain … but D'Artagnan knew exactly what was coming.

"You'll have to duel all of us," Athos stated serenely.

D'Artagnan drew his sword and stood in a fighting stance, waiting for André to get ready. The guy was looking downright nervous as he fumbled with his sword, and D'Artagnan suddenly remembered when, ten years ago, he had been in the exact same situation, and felt some understanding and sympathy for the new Musketeer.

But that didn't mean he would let anyone beat him in a duel. D'Artagnan was a Musketeer, after all, bound by law and code to carry out his duty … which included duels when challenged, apparently. And there was no way he would lose to a novice … especially someone related to a certain girl ... Involuntarily, D'Artagnan tightened his hand on the hilt of his blade.

Finally, André seemed to have gotten himself together, and he stood, his eyes meeting D'Artagnan's. It was at that moment that D'Artagnan fully took stock of his opponent for the first time, and something hit him. This young man looked oddly familiar…

"D'Artagnan, would you like to start?" asked Athos, from off to the side, where he had been leaning against the brick wall of a nearby house. His voice jolted D'Artagnan out of his thoughts.

"I'll let the youngster start," said D'Artagnan (he had been waiting to call someone else that for too long!), and barely suppressed a smirk as André glared venomously at him. Both of them raised their rapiers, but they hadn't even started the duel when –

"Halt! You are all under arrest!" shouted a deep gravelly male voice from behind them. André gave a very un-Musketeer-like squeak as he gaped wide-eyed at something over D'Artagnan's shoulder.

D'Artagnan, Porthos, Aramis, and Athos just groaned.