Chapter 6 - Chaos and Confusion

They all turned around to face the four guards dressed in red uniform, all holding unsheathed swords. The Cardinal's guards. They were surrounded.

"Musketeers, fighting duels! Well, well!" the tallest of them, who looked to be the leader, jeered. "You all know what that means - arrest! And who knows, we might just be able to think up some other suitable punishment, too! Imagine the look on Monsieur de Tréville's face when he hears about this -"

A clang sounded as the guard's sword went flying off into the distance.

"Or he may not."

The tall guard gulped at the sword raised to his throat. D'Artagnan smiled innocently from behind the blade he was holding. "Will he?"

"N-no," said the guard nervously, backing away into a wall. D'Artagnan saw the wicked gleam in the guard's eye, and his secretly unsheathed dagger, a second too late.

Since when did they carry daggers around as well …? Almost as if they'd predicted his actions …

"D'Artagnan, watch out!" someone roared from behind him, and D'Artagnan felt himself being suddenly shoved to the side, so violently he almost fell. He turned.

It was André. André had saved his life.

Maybe, just maybe, he was not the suspicious person Athos believed him to be …

Before D'Artagnan could even begin to wrap his mind around that fact, André staggered and fell to his knees, his hand clasped weakly over the hilt of the small dagger embedded in his side.

"André!" D'Artagnan shouted, and ran to the youngest Musketeer's side. He was distantly aware of the sound of metal clanging as Athos and the others fought the guards, but all he could think of was André, who had slumped against him, deathly pale and breathing shallowly.

"D'Artagnan ..." the young Musketeer whispered, his eyes wide open and glassy.

"Hold on, André. You'll be all right. You'll be all right," D'Artagnan found himself saying frantically, unsure of who he was reassuring, himself or André.

He knew that running from the scene of a fight would prove to be a crushing blow to his reputation as a Musketeer. But he had no choice – worry about that later. Without a second thought, D'Artagnan lifted André into his arms and began running home, praying that it was not too late.

André - or rather, Annette - hadn't really been watching herself, either. She had seen the blasted guard draw his blade - and after that, everything had been a blur. She had run with the speed of light, shoved D'Artagnan out of the way, and felt something sharp plunge into her side. There hadn't really been any pain, just a strange feeling of numbness that had seemed to spread throughout her body. She had fallen, but D'Artagnan had caught her.

She hadn't expected anything to be this way. The horrible guilty, frantic expression on D'Artagnan's handsome face as he looked down at her, the sounds of fighting in the distance, then D'Artagnan picking her up and running ...

She knew they suspected her of something now. Ever since D'Artagnan had found the handkerchief and made the connection … being a female Musketeer had just gotten a whole lot more dangerous.

She half wished that they would know the truth before ….

Then the numbness overcame her, and she lost consciousness.

Now Annette awoke to find herself in darkness.

Is this what it is like to be dead?

"Oh no! André, please wake up! Please!"

Wait, that voice sounded familiar. D'Artagnan! He couldn't be dead too, could he? No, he was telling her to wake up ... so she must still be alive!

Then there was hope after all …

She opened her eyes, noticing that the numbness was gone from her body, but also, that there was no pain.

The first thing she noticed was that she was lying down on something soft that could have been a bed. The second thing she noticed was that D'Artagnan was hovering over her, looking extremely worried, but when he saw her open her eyes, a look of such relief passed over his face that she thought he might break down then and there.

"André! You're all right..." D'Artagnan choked on his words and stopped talking entirely.

He saved me. He saved my life. No one has ever done anything of the like for me before...

All of a sudden she found herself throwing her arms around the Musketeer. For a moment, he hesitated, then she felt him put his arms around her lightly.

"Thank you," said Annette sincerely, "thank you for saving my life."

"No," said D'Artagnan fiercely, letting go of her. "I owe you my life, André."

There was a short, uncomfortable silence, during which neither was sure what to say. Then Annette decided to change the subject.

"Where am I?"

"Oh, this is my house," said D'Artagnan, gesturing randomly about the place. "You were wounded by that dastardly guard, and I brought you here to heal you ... Thank goodness for that potion – it heals most wounds within three days." He paused. "And thank you, again. For saving me, I mean. It was my fault, and I owe you my life." And then, so low that she could barely hear … "Perhaps Athos was wrong after all …"

So they did suspect her. Athos, in particular. She'd have to avoid him, then.

It was jeopardy, continuing on like this. But she knew no other way out, no way to tell them the horrible truth without being caught and thrown into jail … and then, goodbye life. She might as well have returned and met her death that way …

She shivered involuntarily, but thankfully D'Artagnan didn't notice. He seemed deep in thought, and she didn't want to interrupt, but …

"I, uh, need to go home," she said quickly, getting up and walking towards the door. But she only managed two steps before her legs gave, and she braced herself for an unpleasant landing on the hard tile floor.

But it never came. She felt someone supporting her, and opened her eyes to find D'Artagnan holding her extremely close to him ... too close for her liking. Their eyes locked, and she gulped.

He had such nice brown eyes ... She shook herself mentally.

"Th-thank you," she said hastily, and pushed him away again, feeling her face grow hot. She stood quickly, glad that she was able to keep her balance this time, and teetered towards the door.

"You don't look very well," D'Artagnan called. She thought he sounded just a bit shaky.

"I'm all right."

It came out softer than she would have liked, and she groaned inwardly. Oh Lord, she sounded as though she was whispering sweet nothings … She felt herself blush even harder, as pleasant daydreams suddenly filled her head.

She managed to compose herself sufficiently, refusing his offers of a ride and whatnot, and walked out relatively steadily, leaving a gaping D'Artagnan in her wake. As she hobbled shakily down the street, a hand to her side, every now and then pausing for breath, she again thought of D'Artagnan, that handsome and gallant Musketeer.

Maybe he wasn't such a bad person. After all, he had saved her – twice.

And when he had caught her...

What would it be like to kiss him?

STOP! She told herself irritably, but she felt her cheeks heating up (again) and a small smile cross her face as she made the long trek back home.

D'Artagnan shook himself after André had disappeared out the door. That Musketeer. So stubborn, just like himself.

And what just happened ... his brain teased.

STOP IT!

He had merely caught André. That was it. And he had just happened to hold André a little too close to him, was all. Nothing had happened!

But he couldn't shake off that strange feeling he had when he had looked into André's eyes in those few moments. It was as though sparks had been flying between them.

Nonsense! No, no, no! For God's sake, he's a MAN!

That, and the other Musketeer's strange, soft voice … why did it sound so much like the voice of the girl he'd met on the street just a while ago?

He must be hearing things.

D'Artagnan slapped his forehead in frustration. Now I'm REALLY going crazy.