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Aramis was starting to wonder when he would get his strength fully back. The trip outside had shown him that he still needed to take it easy. The wound still reminded him of his ordeal, as did the broken bones.

There were reasons why he was considered a bad patient. He hated lying in bed for hours on end. He was determined that he was going to be up and around every day, even if it was walking around his room, or sitting in a chair at the window. He had already asked Treville if he could do some work with the weapons, as long as the work could be done in his room, and sitting in a chair. Giving permission, he asked if d'Artagnan could bring him some of the pistols to clean, to give him something productive to do. When he asked about trying to go outside again, though, the answer was a resounding "No!", not only from Treville, but from his friends, as well.

Actually, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan were enjoying taking care of him. He had given them such loving care so many times in the past when they were injured or sick. This was a chance to repay the favor to him, and they were taking full advantage of it.

Athos came and pulled up beside him a chair one day. He asked Aramis if he could think of anyone he might have arrested or killed in the past year that could have looked to an outsider like he had been abusing his authority. Aramis looked offended at the question, but Athos said, "I am not saying you did anything wrong only that it might have looked that way to someone uninvolved."

Aramis wracked his brain, but couldn't think of any situation that fit. Athos told him to just keep it at the back of his mind, and maybe something would come to him. Of course, people didn't always see things rationally either, so it could, and probably was, a mistaken identity situation, which might be impossible to identify.

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Albert was the one on watch one a that night, when Athos left Aramis' room. He was not expecting what he saw. He stared as if he couldn't believe what he saw. "Athos!" Athos was a Musketeer? How? Albert had only been back to the family home for a few months. He had been out of the country for several years. Athos' family had been neighbors as he was growing up. He had heard about Athos' marriage, and the hanging. He had also heard that Athos had left the family home, but just assumed he had gone to the Court, as so many other nobles did then.

He had never liked the man. Athos had the looks, the easy aristocratic manner, the money that Albert had never had. He had also always envied Athos' skill with a sword. He never forgot the time Athos and he had been sparring with their swords, and Athos had seemed like it wasn't even any contest, like he could end it whenever he wanted. And did. Albert didn't like being second-best at anything. It rankled him. And now, here was an old nemesis (albeit just in Albert's head), standiing between him and his revenge. "So, this Aramis is his friend, is he? We will see, we will see," Albert whispered.

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The day came when Treville decided Aramis could be on limited duty, as long as it was only taking care of weapons and ammunition on the garrison grounds. This freed the others to return to their regular duties. Aramis was overjoyed to be once again productive and released from room restriction, and enthusiastically threw himself into his duties. He was dead tired and sore at the end of the day, but felt like he was once again useful.

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Albert and his brothers noticed the change in routine, and stepped up their plans.

"We will wait a couple of days, to further lull his friends into a sense of well-being, that everything is back to normal, then we strike." Albert was eager to get things underway, but was no fool, and he could wait a few days longer if necessary.

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A few days later, Aramis went down to the armoury to work again. He was so happy to be contributing, and his body was trying to get back to normal. It was maddening, though, that he still wasn't able to be free to do all things yet. The musket wound stitches still pulled if he stretched too far, and the broken bones had not completely knit together, either. But Aramis knew he was a very bad patient, he wanted to be well instantly, and that wasn't going to happen. He sighed in frustration.

Halfway through the morning, he heard the bell that sounded when all men were to muster for an emergency. Dropping the musket he had been working on, he headed out to join the muster.

Treville was looking flustered, and telling the assembled men, "The Palace has asked us to join the Red Guard to put out a nasty fire several buildings over from here. They figured the more hands, the better. Athos, you and I will direct matters for everybody, whether the Red Guard like it or not."

Athos turned to Aramis and said, "You are not yet well enough to fight fires. I would like for you to stay in your room until we get back. I am leaving d'Artagnan with you."

He could see that Aramis was preparing to protest, and cut him off. "We need to know you are safe, and you are still healing. It is one thing to be working in the garrison a few hours a day, another entirely to have to move quickly to avoid flames and falling debris. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you there."

Turning, he left behind a disgruntled Aramis, who slowly trudged to his room, as everyone else but d'Artagnan headed out of the garrison gates on their assignment.

Reaching his room, he flung himself down on his bed and decided he would get some rest. Turning over on his side, he was soon asleep, arm flung up over his head.