Hi everyone! So hears Chapter 4! Sorry this one took a bit longer to write, I've been swamped with essays this week, so I had to briefly but this story on the back burner! But I'm back, and now its the weekend, so lots of time for writing!

Charlotte and Aramis' reactions were particularly hard to write for this chapter, and they come off a bit melodramatic at times, but hopefully you can forgive me for that. Thank you again to my two amazing friends (you know who you are) for reading through and editing this chapter for me! You really are the best!

Word Count: 3,985

Disclaimer: Still don't own the Musketeers :(

Enjoy!

Charlotte was fuming when she left the garrison. The rage on her face was evident to all, and the people around her parted quickly to let her pass. She was so angry in fact that she barely registered that she'd left her belongings back in the courtyard and would inevitably have to collect them later, where she'd likely have to see Aramis again.

How dare he insinuate that she couldn't look after herself, that she was weak and feeble? She'd spent the majority of her life trying to bring herself away from that image. Why did he, of all people, have to reduce her to a pathetic damsel when she strived to be seen as so much more?

It was then, as the situation finally hit her, that the anger slowly seeped out of her body and hot, fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. The realisation that despite all she had worked for, that was how they all viewed her almost broke her heart.

That was how she arrived on Constance's doorstep, her eyes streaming tears and the most heart wrenching expression on her face. Her friend ushered her in without a word, settling her into a chair by the fire, and pulling her trembling form into her arms. Slowly Constance rocked the young girl back and forth as she dissolved into uncontrollable sobs. They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds escaping from between Charlotte's lips, as she caught her breath every couple of minutes. Eventually she started to relax in her friends arms, but couldn't help longing for a different pair to comfort her.

"Oh sweetheart," Constance soothed, rubbing her hands up and down her back. Her sobs had finally begun to subside replaced by the occasional hiccup. Slowly pulling back she reached up to cup her face, wiping the salty water away with her thumbs. Tears still glistened in the young girl's eyes as she stared back at her friend in anguish. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Oh Constance," she wailed. "I've done something terrible… I had a fight with Aramis." She explained, sitting up properly and scrubbing away any remaining tears.

"That doesn't sound like Aramis." Constance contested, leaving her friend by the fireside as she went to the other end of the kitchen to make some tea.

"I snapped at him unjustly." Charlotte admitted sadly, now deeply regretting her actions. "He made a passing comment, and I took it the wrong way."

"Now, now, don't worry yourself." Her friend comforted, pressing a warm cup of sweetened tea into her hands. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding." She assured her as she settled into the opposite armchair. "What exactly did he say?" She queried.

"He implied I need to be protected," the young woman growled. Although she wished she hadn't acted so hastily, the statement still grated on her nerves. She was anything but defenceless.

"Oh Charlotte dear, I know how you feel about this…"

"When he grabbed me, all I could see was his face…"

"He's not Jacques, Charlotte." Constance said firmly, grasping the young woman's forearms to hold her attention. "If I know Aramis, he wants to protect you not because he thinks you're unable to, but because he'd feel useless if he was unable to… Do you understand what I mean? He's just doing his job." She nodded quickly to show her understanding. She knew the Musketeer would never hurt her. His grip on her arm had been light at worst, barely restraining her from leaving at all. Aramis was kind and gentle, nothing like he had been like.

"Are you sure there's not something more to this?" The sudden question startled Charlotte out of her thoughts.

"Whatever do you mean?" She dodged, avoiding Constance's gaze so as to not give herself away. Surely she wasn't that transparent?

"I know you Charlotte. We both know you have a fierce temper and if this was any normal argument you would be seething right now. And it's not like Aramis to get riled up so easily. Is there something going on between the two of you?" Charlotte blushed fiercely at the question, turning her face away to stare down at her mug of tea.

"I don't know," she stuttered, uncomfortable under her friend's scrutiny. "When I'm around him my heart beats faster and I get butterflies in my belly." She paused briefly to try and garner her friend's reaction to this information. Constance simply nodded for her to continue, a small knowing smile dancing across her lips.

"And when he held me today, I thought my heart would stop all together. He's so sweet, and kind, and considerate, oh and the look he gets in his eyes when he talks out the things he loves; so passionate, but comforting and tender all at the same time…" Charlotte rambled on. Just imagining the way he'd looked at her when they'd almost kissed in the courtyard sent tingles across her skin. How she wished she'd had the courage to close the distance between them before they'd been interrupted.

Locked up in her thoughts as she was, Charlotte failed to notice Constance's smug smile as she took in the young woman's dreamy expression and sparkling eyes.

"You're in love with him," she explained softly. She watched in amusement at her friend's reaction.

"That's impossible! I only met him three days ago!" Charlotte exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the arm in frustration. Only Constance's keen senses picked up on the slight tremble in her voice, and the fear in her eyes.

"Love has no timescale," Constance shrugged, making her way to sit on the arm of Charlotte's chair. "Love isn't something to be feared Charlotte," she soothed, wrapping her arm around the young girl's shoulders. "You deserve to know what it feels like to be loved and cherished." She gently squeezed her arm.

"Now, let's get you out of those clothes and into a nice hot bath. I've got the perfect dress for you! Bonacieux just finished it yesterday." She quickly changed the subject, sensing her friend had some serious thinking to do. She swiftly bustled her into her bed chambers to undress while she went to fetch the water. Before she left, she poked her head back through the doorway.

"Charlotte?" She called, causing the girl to turn from where she was staring out of the window. "Never run from your feelings. Your heart will never lie to you."

Aramis felt absolutely dreadful. Ever since Charlotte had stormed out of the garrison he had deeply regretted his actions, and had since been consumed by guilt, disgusted by the way he had treated her. More than anything he was frustrated with himself; he felt they had come so far today and then he'd ruined it by arguing with her. What good was he if he could so easily get mad at a woman, a woman he loved, and lay a hand on her to force her to stay against her will?

He had had no right to grab her like he did, but in the heat of the moment it had made sense. Now as he reflected on his hasty actions, he allowed himself to sink deeper into the realms of self-pity. That was how his friends found him, huddled away in a dark corner of the garrison, his crucifix held tightly in both hands as he mumbled a quiet prayer.

"Aramis, snap out of it!" Athos ordered, roughly pulling his moping friend to his feet. He knew the man felt bad about earlier, but he needed to get a grip. If he reacted this way every time Charlotte and he got in an argument, then they were all in for wild ride.

"I'm a horrible person. I don't deserve to be a Musketeer." He moaned, staring remorsefully up at the setting sun as he wandered aimlessly around the courtyard, his hat pressed firmly against his chest. His friends shared a look, before rolling their eyes simultaneously.

"Oh don't be so melodramatic! Just because you're in love doesn't mean you get to be brainless," Porthos chided, striding over to Aramis and shaking him forcefully to try and gain his attention.

"It was just a fight." D'Artagnan added.

"Exactly! Now be a man, and go apologise and makeup! You're pathetic like this." Porthos demanded, desperate to get his brother back to normal. In this state he reminded him far too much of the shell that had returned from Savoy. The marksman looked at each man carefully, trying to determine whether they all believed he was simply overreacting.

"You got angry Aramis because you care about her, and you don't want to see her get hurt." Athos intervened, sensing their friend was returning to them. "She obviously had her reasons for reacting the way she did, but that doesn't mean you get to wallow here all night." He summarised, piercing him with a steely look. Aramis shrunk underneath it briefly, before straightening himself and placing his hat back on his head.

"I apologise my friends, it seems I let my emotions get the better of me." They all nodded their acceptance quickly as they walked over to their table, happy to see his trademark smile back in place. Porthos came up behind him and clapped a hand down on his back, a cheeky grin on his face as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"So, Athos tells us you're in love." He drew the word out, exaggerating the vowels as Aramis shoved him away half-heartedly, causing the man to laugh loudly. "So it's true! Finally going to settle down are we?" He teased. The charmer decided to dutifully ignore the remark.

"I'm beyond hope now aren't I?" He smiled shyly, as he took his seat on the bench. Being tied to one woman forever didn't sound as bad as he thought it would, especially if that woman was Charlotte.

"Honestly? I'm surprised you aren't serenading her from beneath her window right now," D'Artagnan joked, earning a chuckle from his fellow Musketeers. "Constance?" He suddenly exclaimed, standing abruptly as he saw his landlady enter the garrison. "What are you doing here at this time of day?" He quickly rushed forward to meet her. She smiled up reassuringly at him as he ran his hands down her arms.

"I just walked Charlotte home," she explained, sparing a brief glance in Aramis' direction. "I'd just turned to leave when she remembered she left some of her things here, so I told her I'd come and collect them." She paused for a moment. "She's not quite herself you see."

"I know the feeling..." Porthos alluded, settling his gaze on the back of the marksmen's head. "He's in love," he concluded, rolling his eyes affectionately. Despite the mood swings they'd had to put up with over the last couple of days, he was generally pleased his friend had found happiness. God knows he deserved it.

"He's not the only one," Constance sighed, remembering her earlier conversation with a certain love struck individual. This immediately sparked Aramis' attention. To have experienced these feelings alone was remarkable in itself, but to have them reciprocated would be something else entirely. He hadn't even dared to allow himself to dream what would happen if she already felt the same way as he did. He stood quickly and moved to seize his chance.

"Anyway, if you could help me locate her hat and coat I shall be on my way," she finished quickly, acutely aware that she may have given away too much. Besides, she'd rather she made it home before dark.

"Now Madame Bonacieux, we can hardly allow you, the honourable men that we are, to walk around the dangerous streets of Paris alone. Especially at this hour." Aramis bartered, slowly walking over to where he had placed Charlotte's things earlier and draping them over his arm. "I shall be more than happy to deliver them to Mademoiselle Treville with the upmost haste. If that is agreeable to you?" He sent a small wink in her direction, spreading his arms out as he waited for her answer.

"Laying it on a bit thick there, aren't you 'Mis?" Porthos chortled, referring to the man's blatant and obnoxious amount of charm. It was extremely obvious what he wanted, what mattered now was whether Constance was willing to give it to him. She hesitated for a moment longer, only reacting when she saw the raw desperation in his eyes.

"Fine, but if you hurt her…" she warned threateningly. He grinned widely at her, and after muttering his profound thanks, hurriedly made his way out of the garrison, sending them all a quick salute as he left. His friends smirked at his hastiness, knowing they now had their spirited Aramis back, hopefully for the foreseeable future.

"I think you've made his night," D'Artagnan commented honestly, before offering up his arm to Constance. "Come on, I'll escort you home."

It was undeniable that as Aramis wove his way through the streets of Paris he had a distinct spring in his step and a boyish grin plastered across his face. His resolved wavered however, when he found himself outside of Treville's town house rather sooner than expected. Hesitantly he raised his gloved fist to knock. After a small nervous gulp, he swallowed any remaining fear and rapped hard on the wood three times.

Charlotte had only been home for little over half an hour when someone knocked at the door. She felt emotionally drained after the day's revelations, but had determined to stay up and wait for her Uncle to arrive. Since her return, she had settled herself in front of the freshly lit fire and divulged for a short time in the leaves of her favourite book.

Placing it on a nearby stool, she stood slowly and gathered up the heavy skirts Constance had forced her into. However, regardless of what she'd said at the time, the pampering had done her the world of good and as Charlotte made her way into the foyer she marvelled at the way the silky material swished around her feet.

She wondered idly if this could be her friend at the door, despite the fact she'd expressly told her not to venture out again tonight for such a trivial matter. She would have been fine to collect her things in the morning. When she finally wrenched open the door she was unprepared for what lay behind it.

"Aramis?" She gasped softly.

The man in question looked up from where he'd been staring down at the ground. His eyes instantly brightened as a timid smile spread across his lips.

"What are you doing here?"

It felt like Aramis had been stood on the doorstep for an eternity when the door finally opened, flooding the street with light. He looked up upon hearing his name leave her lips, a warm fuzzy feeling settling in his stomach at the way it sounded, how her voice almost seemed to caress it. He felt his breath catch in his throat when he at last laid his eyes upon her.

She looked a vision, a goddess put before him quell his every sorrow. The style of the dress was distinctly like Bonacieux and therefore most likely designed for Constance, but it fit Charlotte like a glove, like it had been destined for her. She stood before him now, her golden curls like a halo around her, draped elegantly in skirts of midnight blue. A powder blue bodice emphasised her figure, the straps wrapped over her delicate shoulders, and a white off-the-shoulder shirt billowing down to her elbows. An old crochet shawl was cloaked over her shoulders to fight off the evening chill. She was perfect. A beautiful image of innocence and grace sent from Heaven by God himself. Aramis had scarcely felt more blessed than in that moment; her mere presence sent shivers down his spine. It took all of his will power not to kiss her senseless there and then.

Believing his shivering to be from the cold temperature, Charlotte quickly ushered him inside before he could object. They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, before Aramis removed his hat and cleared his throat.

"I brought your things," he explained, gesturing with said items. Charlotte slowly reached forward to retrieve her hat and coat, and after mumbling a quick thank you, began to make her way into the sitting room. Aramis followed behind her, watching the gentle sway of her hips. He waited briefly in the doorway, as she lay her coat across the arm of the chair. She placed her hat on top before turning quickly to face him.

"I'm am sorry for the way I reacted today," she said calmly, chewing her lip nervously as she took a step forward in his direction. "It was unjustified for me to get so angry with you, and for that I apologise," she confessed, flashing her eyes up to meet his brown orbs. He waited for a beat before surging forward, never breaking eye contact, and clasped her hands tightly in his own.

"Fret not Mademoiselle, there is nothing to forgive," he comforted, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. "It is I who should be apologising, I had no right to lose my temper like I did…" He stuttered, not used to begging for forgiveness like this. Usually he charmed his way out of any situation, but Charlotte deserved better than that.

"Aramis…" She whispered softly, gently trailing her fingers along his jawline.

"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me Mademoiselle…" He pleaded almost silently, staring deeply into her swirling blue irises.

"There's nothing to forgive…" Charlotte assured, reaching up to press her lips gently against his own. Their first kiss was sweet, chaste and simple, everything they had each hoped it would be and more. She pulled back slightly, hesitant as she searched his face. His impish smile was enough to reassure her, and she caught a brief glimpse of the desire burning in his eyes before he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, hugging her to his body as his mouth hungrily captured hers in a searing kiss.

While their first kiss had been innocent and gentle, their second was heated and passionate as they clung almost desperately to each other. Charlotte expertly slid her hands down his chest, unbuckling his belts and buttons before discarding his coat onto the floor and resting her palms on his white shirt, his comforting warmth seeping through the thin fabric. All the while Aramis swiftly navigated them around the room, his hands entangled in her long hair, their lips still locked in an endless dance, until finally he pushed her curvaceous body up against the wall. He placed one hand by her head to support himself as he leaned over her, the other caressing the curve of her neck as he titled her head back to further deepen the kiss, earning him a tantalising moan.

Eventually they both reluctantly broke apart, panting heavily. They both shared a look as breathing started to calm, and Aramis began trailing small kisses down her neck and jawline.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," he murmured against her skin, eliciting a small shiver through her body, a wolfish grin morphing on his face.

"Well, you've kept me waiting long enough," she retorted with a smug smile, causing him to admit a low chuckle as he leant back to examine her face.

"Yes, it would seem I have," he chortled, hooking his thumbs through his braces. "I certainly hope you shall punish me appropriately," he continued, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Charlotte allowed herself a low laugh before taking a step in his direct, looping her own hands around his braces to pull him closer. Trailing a hand along his bare chest, she looked up at him through her long lashes.

"I've got a few ideas," she giggled cutely, reaching up to whisper her plans in his ear.

"You know, when I pictured you punishing me, this isn't exactly what I imagined," Aramis groaned, heaving a large hale bale out of the stable and into the dark courtyard. He dropped it heavily down behind one of the wooden targets, then leaning back and resting his hands on his hips, blew out a loud breath.

"That's because your minds always in the gutter," Charlotte quipped, reaching up to tie her hair into a low ponytail with a piece of ribbon. She quickly walked over to the table and picked up his musket. "gAnyway we never finished our lesson. Now quit complaining and show me how to use this thing." She ordered softly, twisting the weapon back and forth in her hands as she examined it.

"You know we're going to wake everyone up," he remarked, glancing up towards the quiet barracks. "And trust me, you don't want to see Athos when he wakes up on the wrong side of a hangover," he grimaced, recalling a particularly nasty incident involving a bucket and a dagger. No one should be subjected to that reaction.

"We'll be fine, everyone's probably out drinking themselves senseless by now," she assured him, twirling around in a circle, her arms spread wide to illustrate the empty garrison. "Besides, I did so enjoy our last session." She teased, alluding to their almost kiss earlier that day.

She smiled whilst shouldering the gun, imitating the way she'd seen him hold it earlier. She mimicked the disgruntled pout that now adorned his face before bursting into a fit at giggles at his seriousness.

"Fine," he grudgingly complied, before rushing forward to retrieve his musket as she rested it against her neck. "Just don't hold it like that!" She leisurely surrendered the weapon and jokingly rolled her eyes. She watched silently as he quickly assessed the condition of his musket, quirking her eyebrow at his obsessive behaviour. Boys and their toys.

Finally finishing his appraisal he began to detail the basic workings of a matchlock musket, then loading the ball and lighting the match he brought the barrel up to eye height. He spent a few more seconds lining up the shot before pulling back on the trigger, not surprisingly hitting the wood dead centre. He sent a cheeky wink her way at his triumph.

"Alright show off, let me have a try." She held out her hand expectantly waiting for him to deposit the necessary equipment. Once in her grasp, Charlotte carefully began to load the musket, glancing up at her instructor every couple of seconds to check she was doing it right. Despite her confidence this morning, she really was wary around guns. She'd seen too many farm accidents not to be. Sending him one more fleeting look, she settled the stock against her shoulder and fired. A great pluming of smoke erupted from the barrel, clouding her vision and irritating her lungs causing a small cough to bubble out of her chest. She quickly assessed her shot, then beamed up at Aramis as he made his way over. "It's not as hard as it looks," she shrugged, a playful smile dancing across her full lips, gesturing towards her shot. "I don't know what you're all complaining about." He sent her a brief disapproving look at her sarcastic remark, before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her body close to his. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder at the smouldering hole carved out of the target.

"You, my dear, are a remarkable woman." His eyes had darkened considerably as he gazed down at the angel in his arms.

"You're not so bad yourself." She smirked, pulling him towards her by the lapels of his coat, their lips moulding together as they moved together in perfect synchronisation.

Ooh! They finally kissed! Hopefully now there'll be less mood swings to deal with, but I doubt it. There will always be drama when it comes to the Musketeers!

Charlotte's reaction has now been partially explained, but obviously I can't give you guys all the details yet, or it would ruin the story. Still, anyone got any ideas who Jacques might be?

Please read and review!

Jess xx