Family

Family

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Blades. This work is merely an expression of ideas by a fan. No infringement is intended.

Authors note: This fan fiction was published in a book of fan writing for Karen Cliche in 2005. The following was editing and set for that publication.

Family

By Hedanicree

Chapter One: When it Rains, it Pours

Jacques Leponte stared out the small window in her room at the street below. The rain beat mercilessly down on the few people that were brave (or stupid) enough to venture out in the downpour. Thunder echoed somewhere in the distance, but its sound did not stir her from the two small figures that were among the few people in the street.

A little girl, not more than ten, stood pulling something away from a small boy, who looked older and was much larger than the girl. The boy was yelling, but through the sound of the rain, Jacques could not hear what he was saying. The boy finally let go of the other end of what Jacques realized was a bag and shoved the girl into the large puddle that had formed behind her. Jacques waited for her to start to cry, but the tears never came. Instead she clinched her fist, stood up and punched the boy, knocking him down. The boy’s eyes went wide. He stared up at the girl, shocked that she had hit him. The little girl stood over him with the bag in one hand, and her right fist still clenched tightly.

Jacques turned away from the window and threw herself on the bed. The sight was too much for her. That little girl was who Jacques felt like most days. D’Artagnan constantly pushed her like that boy had done to the girl, and it was becoming mentally exhausting trying to prove herself on a daily basis. Jacques knew she had strength. The fire the little girl showed when she stood up and faced the boy was exactly the way she would stand her ground with Gerard when they played as children and he had pushed her a little too far.

But Gerard had been gone for six months. It was one thing to stand your ground with members of your family. It was completely different to have to continuously prove yourself to a man who did everything in his power to test her and remind her that she was of the weaker sex. It didn’t matter how many times she beat him in practice, he still pestered, flirted and made remarks about her masculinity in front of Siroc and Ramon. She always made him pay for it.

Jacques’ strength was waning. She had been slipping recently. D’Artagnan had been there to cover for her, but she still found herself resenting the only person who knew her secret because she still had no one to talk to, no family. And he was, after all, only a man. She could only expect so much from him. But, she knew it was only a matter of time before someone — Siroc, Ramon, Captain Duval — found out who she really was. Jacques grew tired of the entire façade.

She had requested a week off, but instead was being sent on an assignment with her three friends to Le Havre, escorting one of the young king’s cousins home. A matter of utmost importance, Duval had said. Jacques hadn’t argued. There wasn’t much she could say. But, at least, Captain Duval had given her the rest of the day off.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She took a depth breath before she stood up, adjusting her undershirt and tunic. There was a second knock.

“Jacques,” d’Artagnan’s voice called.

“Come in,” she said. She didn’t bother to hide the irritation. Besides, he was the last person she felt like dealing with.

He entered her room, shutting the door behind him. “We’re going to the café for supper,” he said.

She finished with her shirt and turned around to face him. “Well enjoy your supper,” she snapped. She didn’t feel like eating with him or anyone for that matter.

The smile that had graced his lips as he entered the room faded from his face. She was apparently in a foul mood. “You’re not coming?”

Jacques said nothing. She just glared at the gray clad figure in front of her.

D’Artagnan crossed his arms, a defensive stance to prepare for her reaction to what he was about to say. “For the last week you’ve been nothing but irritable and moody.”

Jacques rolled her eyes and turned away from him, reassuming her spot by the window.

D’Artagnan walked over and stood behind her, close enough that they were almost touching. He was tired of her attitude. All week she had been snapping at him, Ramon and Siroc. “Are your wrappings to tight or is it just a female thing?” He paused before leaning forward and whispering, “Jacqueline,” in her ear.