This is the first in a series of missing scenes, codas and episode inspired one-shots from season 3. Since the first ep has premiered in the UK, I now feel safe to post them. Some are beta'd by the wonderful Sharlot, some are not since I don't want to overload the poor dear. She has enough work to do. . Some are just things I thought were missing or wished were explained. I have a few in the works – they won't all be in episode order, but we'll start at the beginning since everyone has now seen it. (or mostly everyone!) Hope you enjoy!

Episode 1 – Spoils of War

Home is Where the Heart Is

"You're leaving us?"

Aramis exchanged a look with Athos, his joy at being reunited with his brothers tempered by the sorrow in the little girl's eyes. With a pat to his friend's shoulder, Aramis crouched down in front of Mary, his hand caressing the child's soft cheek.

"I 'm afraid I must. I've been hiding from who I truly am far too long."

"Who will take care of us?"

Aramis squeezed his eyes shut as a tear tracked through the fine layer of dirt on her face.

"The monks will make sure you grown up safe and happy, little one. I promise." He forced a smile onto his lips, hoping she would not see how much her reaction was breaking him. He had grown quite fond of the little ones under his charge these last few years – a fierce sense of protectiveness and love he believed he would never feel again. But after the skirmish against the Spanish, he knew he could no longer stay. This was not where he should be.

He'd been lying to himself – to God – all this time. He didn't belong here despite his convictions and beliefs. He was a soldier. No matter how difficult it would be to return to that life, to be close to those he left behind, he could see no other path for himself other than the one he'd tried so desperately to forget.

"But who will protect us?"

Aramis sighed and dropped his eyes, unsure of how to respond. His heart was being torn in two different directions. He knew his life was best served protecting France as a Musketeer, but it was obvious the monks were not capable of doing what was necessary to protect themselves and the children with the war so close. He shuddered to think what might have happened if he had not been there, if his friends had not come along to confront the thieves and secret the innocents to safety. Could he truly abandon them all for his own selfish needs?

Before he could respond, Luke stepped forward, crouching down beside him. The lad placed a hand on Mary's arm and squeezed it tight. "I will," he promised with more maturity and conviction than Aramis had ever heard from him before. "Aramis has taught me all I need to know. I will protect you all."

Mary looked from Luke back to Aramis, hope dawning in her bright blue eyes.

Aramis swallowed the lump in his throat, overwhelmed by the pride he felt for the boy beside him. He smiled at Mary.

"You will be all right."

He shifted his gaze to Luke as the boy stood, taking the little girl by the hand.

"We will," he vowed as Aramis rose. The boy leveled his shoulders, standing tall before his former tutor and held out his hand. "I swear it."

Aramis smiled and took the boy's hand in his own before pulling him into a firm embrace. "Goodbye, Luke," he whispered, placing a kiss on the boys hair. "Always go with God."

Luke pulled back, his eyes bright. "And you, Aramis of the King's Musketeers."

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

"Are you all right?"

Athos pulled his horse alongside Aramis' breaking the silence they'd kept since leaving the monastery hours ago.

"No," the former monk confessed. "I miss them already. But I know I don't belong there. Perhaps I never really did."

Athos could hear the guilt in his old friend's tone, but was unsure if it was leaving the monastery or taking refuge in it to begin with that had triggered the emotion.

"You did a good thing, Aramis. Caring for them. Teaching them. You gave them something to hold on to when their entire world was shattered beyond repair. That's something to be proud of." It was obvious Aramis was torn between the two worlds he had found himself a part of. The children had relied on his strength, his compassion. So much had already been taken from them, and he knew they would grieve the loss of the one person they had grown to trust, but Athos could not regret Aramis' decision to return to them. There had been a hole inside them these last four years. A hole that could only be filled by the man whose absence had created it to begin with.

"It is. I only wish…" Aramis struggled to put his thoughts into words. Athos waited patiently, knowing his friend would find a way to verbalize the thoughts that must be running rampant inside his mind.

"I'm glad I was able to be there for them, I am, but I wish I had been there for the three of you."

Athos dipped his head, hiding his smile from the others. He had been relieved when Porthos and Aramis had returned to the monastery, laughing, arms entwined, their easy camaraderie once again surfacing. It had taken the big Musketeer a while to forgive his friend for leaving them, but Porthos could no more remain angry with Aramis than the sun could fall from the sky. Athos had told him to give Porthos time. It seemed time was something they would all need to mend their wounds.

"You were," he assured him, his voice soft. "Whenever the battle overwhelmed us, tried to take our resolve, we would remember that you were still alive, safe, and that no matter our fate, through you we would live on."

"You were always in the forefront of my mind," Aramis admitted. "Even when the Abbot chided me about the stories I told the children about the Musketeers, instructing me to let go of the past, I found I could not stop thinking of you all, wondering where you were, if you were safe."

"You told the children of us, but you never told them who you really were. Why?"

Aramis shrugged, his gaze trained on the road before them. "They needed to feel safe. Like the war could no longer touch them. Having a Musketeer – former Musketeer – as their primary care giver did not seem like such a good idea."

"Yet you told them stories about us."

Aramis grinned as he ducked his head, glancing at Athos from the corner of his eye. "I needed to entertain them somehow. But perhaps the intent was more selfish than anything."

"How so?"

"Telling them about you kept you all close. My memories were all I had – all I believed I would ever have. Despite the Abbot's encouragement, I couldn't let them go. Perhaps that was why he believed me unworthy of taking my vows."

"You can't change who you are, Aramis. You're one of us, whether you are on the battlefield or behind the gates of a monastery."

Aramis nodded slowly, his smile tempered by the sadness of loss. "I know that now. I am just sorry it took me so long to come to that conclusion."

Athos reached across and laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. "As long as you've figured it out, I believe we can deal with everything else."

He kicked his horse and caught up with the others, pleased to find Aramis' mount right beside him. Exactly where he belonged.

Fin