A/N: There're probably some mistakes in this chapter about guns. I don't know much about them save for the little bit of research I've done for this chapter. Unfortunately for Aramis good things don't last as evidenced by a trip to the gun range with Constance and d'Artagnan.

Thanks to Issai for beta reading. Any remaining mistakes are my own doing.

An Incident at the Gun Range

The Halloween decorations are popular with the neighborhood, as Athos said they would be. Halloween itself goes well, too, especially since d'Artagnan didn't eat all of the candy like he did last year and Athos found a good spot to hide it from him. Unlike last year, they don't bother with dressing up, much to the neighborhood kids' disappointment. d'Artagnan had asked if they were going to, but Aramis gave a shoulder shrug and Porthos and Athos a noncommittal grunt, leaving nothing to come from the query.

They have a long stream of kids, all happy to get their share of candy. At the end, the Treville's stop by so the kids can get their candy and show off their costumes. The energies that were leading up to Halloween, keeping everyone on an even keel, peters out as the week wears on.

The next weekend, on Saturday morning, Aramis finds himself at the police department gun range with Constance and d'Artagnan. They'd set up the meeting early in the week with d'Artagnan asking to tag along to practice his own skills and perhaps pick up something new from Aramis.

There's a handful of people at the range when they arrive. They recognize a few of the officers there, a couple officers and one Musketeer. The other two officers must be new, Aramis thinks. The first part of their time is spent warming up, practicing with their handguns on the inside range. Then, when they're ready to head outside, d'Artagnan gets a call from his family and ducks out of the first part of their rifle training.

"I'll catch up with you," he says, pressing the green button on his phone to answer it.

"You still up for this," Aramis asks Constance.

"Of course. Now, let's go." She heads outside, not looking back to check that he's there. He smiles as he moves to catch up with her. She really was the best of the female candidates and will be a great addition to the force and not just for her skills. As respected as the Musketeers are in the community, being an all-male task force makes it impossible for them to talk to some witnesses and make connections in the community to people who are afraid of men. Aramis hopes that the next round of recruitment brings in more female candidates to help them fill this weak area.

They walk to one of the more secluded areas of the shooting range. It has a range of targets which will be good for Constance to start off with. He's brought his rifle, which he keeps locked at the range for safe keeping. He used to keep it at home, but as he worked through more of his PTSD and Treville's kids were around more, he found he felt more comfortable with it kept at the range. It's not the same one he had in the Navy, but a similar model. The one he had in the Navy had been taken in as evidence and destroyed after he'd been found guilty of murder and insubordination. Truthfully, he's glad not to have that rifle, as tainted as it was with the end of his service, he's not sure he'd ever been able to use it.

The first part of the session Aramis shows Constance how to assemble and disassemble the rifle, then asks her to do it a few times. She's had experience with rifles in the past, but it was minimal, so her first couple times are stumbling efforts, but she improves with each attempt.

"Safety with a rifle is very much the same as it is with a handgun, but it bears repeating because safety is of the utmost importance," Aramis says and runs through the familiar safety rules. Constance doesn't groan or sigh. Gun safety is a big part of Musketeer training. Every officer has to re-certify yearly. Guns, however, are rarely used when they're on duty. De-escalation training is part of the first set of courses they take and weeds out many candidates. They take refresher courses on de-escalation as often, if not more than they do for re-certifying for their guns and failing will put you on administrative leave.

Aramis then talks her through setting up a shot and firing. He makes it seem rather effortless as he hits the target perfectly even while giving her directions and being watched. She knows she'll have trouble with that, even though it's Aramis.

"Don't expect to hit the target your first time. Ask Treville, it took me a while to calm the nerves and understand the basics before I was able to even come close to hitting the target."

"You?"

"It's not an innate skill. There are some traits that make it easier, but I still had to learn. Now, make sure to keep good posture. Copy my stance." He waits to see her get in position. When she's a little out of proper position, he helps her readjust. She doesn't complain, knowing that this is part of training and she trusts Aramis.

"Now, you're lined up for the closest target. Do you see it out there?"

"Yeah," she says, spotting the target through the scope.

"I want to you take your time, as much as you need, and try to hit the target."

"Okay." She's hesitant.

"You want me to wander off for a few minutes," Aramis asks quietly.

"No. You're fine. It's just…"

"Hard to shoot with someone watching?"

"Yeah, but I want you watching so you can help me fix what I've done wrong."

"Okay, then you need to do your best to pretend I'm not here. If you're going to try for sniper training, then you're going to have to get used to ignoring distractions anyway. So, you might as well start now."

Constance works to settle her nerves. It's not so much Aramis that she's worried about shooting in front of. It's simply doing something unfamiliar in front of someone. She knows that as the first female Musketeer she's under more scrutiny, no matter what Treville says. Whatever she does will be a reason to allow or deny future females into the ranks. Like Treville, Aramis won't judge her. She's not here as a test or even officially as a Musketeer, but that doesn't mean the pressure is gone.

As she expects, and Aramis said, her first few tries go wild. Aramis helps to correct her as she asks for help. Towards the end of their session, she's hit the target a few times. She is ready to take her final shot when she hears a short series of shots close to where she stands followed by a cry of pain and frantic scuffling.

"Aramis," she hears d'Artagnan call out as she clicks the safety on the rifle and stands to investigate. Aramis is nowhere in sight, but she does see d'Artagnan running towards her, looking worried as he looks at the edge of the small hill they're on.

"Aramis?" She moves to try to find him, spotting him lying still at the bottom of the small hill. He's moving some, looking up at the dazed as they carefully make their way down. The hill is just five or six feet high, but there's no sense in rushing and falling on top of Aramis. She's happy to see him sitting up by the time they reach him.

"Those were shots, weren't they," Aramis asks, looking at them as he tries to blink the confusion away.

"Sounded like it," Constance says.

"There's no one out here," Aramis says. "The last person left in the middle of you practicing. You weren't out here, were you, d'Artagnan?"

d'Artagnan bites back the question over his shooting skills. Aramis is confused and possibly injured. "I was inside this whole time. The phone got passed around and I wasn't allowed to go until I talked with my grandparents. I was just coming out when I heard the shots and your cry."

"Who was it then?" Aramis looks around, moving to get to his feet. When he nearly falls over, d'Artagnan moves quickly to steady him, guiding him back to sit on the ground.

"You okay, Aramis," he asks, visually examining the man.

"Yeah. I'm fine." The dazed tone does nothing to convince them.

"Are you hit anywhere," Constance asks, doing her own visual exam.

"Um…" Aramis looks at himself.

"Nothing that I can see," d'Artagnan says.

"Me either. Some scrapes and probably bruises," Constance says.

"Concussion?"

"Possibly. We should at least get him inside."

"I'm right here, you know," Aramis says quietly.

"Sorry, Aramis," Constance says. "Do you think you can stand now?"

"I could before. Just got up too fast."

"I'm sure. Just to be safe though, because I'm sure you don't want any more injuries, let us help you up and steady you. Okay?"

"Fine." Aramis sighs but doesn't fight as they help him to his feet. He is more unsteady still than he'd like, but he is finally able to stand. The walk back to the indoor range is slow and long. They don't want to rush Aramis, so they let him set the pace, which he unconsciously sets at a slow walk.

"I'm going to get this rifle put away," Constance says. "Do you mind taking him to the lounge?"

"No," d'Artagnan says. "I'll check for other injuries, too. Maybe he'll start to come around more."

"Still right here," Aramis says, though he allows d'Artagnan to continue helping him to the lounge area where he sits at one of the tables.

"I know, but you're unnaturally quiet. It's a bit concerning." d'Artagnan grabs the first-aid kit and comes to sit in a chair in front of Aramis.

"What is? The shots fired or my quietness?"

"Both, of course. Do you mind if I check?" d'Artagnan points to Aramis' sleeves.

"Fine." Aramis tries to unbutton them himself, but his fingers won't work the buttons.

"Let me," d'Artagnan says, gently pushing Aramis' hands aside. He quickly unbuttons the sleeves and pushes them up. Aramis' hands appear to have taken the brunt of the fall, though his forearms do have a few scratches and reddish marks that might become bruises in time.

"You don't seem too concerned about the shots fired."

"I am but we are at a gun range. It could've been a misfire. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened. Remember those new police recruits last year? They were such terrible shots and goofing off that even Richelieu had to admit they weren't police material."

"I know, but those were aimed at me."

"I didn't see any hit the ground near you and there were no shell casings on the ground near where you fell."

"You don't think this is suspicious given the stalker that's been following me?"

"Aramis, there is no stalker. We've looked. We've searched every clue, looking into any idea we had and found nothing."

"So, you think it's all in my head, too." Aramis stands quickly, ignoring the dizziness that hits. He throws out a hand to catch the back of a chair to steady him.

"I never said that." d'Artagnan stands and moves forward to try to catch him.

"You don't have to." Aramis takes a step back.

"What's going on in here," Constance asks, walking into the room. She quickly comes up to stand next to them. "You were supposed to look after him, d'Artagnan, not aggravate him. You're still dizzy, aren't you, Aramis?" She turns to look at him.

"I'm fine."

"Still, you should get checked out at the ER. You know as well as me that head injuries are nothing to trifle with and I don't want to send you back home for the weekend with a potential head injury. Athos and Porthos would be rather angry with me if I did."

"I'm fine. Let's just pack up and go home," Aramis says, pushing d'Artagnan and Constance aside. He's still unsteady, but he forces himself to walk confidently.

"No," d'Artagnan says, putting out a hand to stop Aramis. "You're going to the ER."

"I'm fine. I'm just going to go home and rest. That's all I need." Aramis pulls away, stumbling this time. He catches himself on a chair, but hisses.

"I'm calling Porthos."

"No," Aramis says harshly.

"You need to go to the ER and you're not listening to us."

"Stop it, both of you," Constance says. "Put that phone down, d'Artagnan. This is only going to make the situation worse. Now, why won't you go to the ER, Aramis? You'd make anyone of the rest of us go if we were having the problems you are."

"Is it really that much of a secret," Aramis asks. Tired of trying to keep steady on his feet, he sinks into a nearby chair. He's not seriously injured, he knows, but he might have a concussion and his body generally aches, which will only grow worse as the hours wear on.

"This was a clear accident. Me and d'Artagnan will tell them that. I doubt it'll mean anything more than a day or two of sick leave." Constance wonders if Treville had spoken to Aramis about the number of sick days he'd taken, warning him against taking more or if this was more of Athos and Porthos suspecting all of the accidents were tied to his depression.

"I really just want to go home, Constance."

"Let's look at it this way, Aramis. It might be nothing, but going and finding out that it's nothing is a lot better than it being something serious and having to be rushed to the ER, right?"

Aramis sighs, but nods. "Yeah. Don't let them know though."

"They're going to find out eventually," d'Artagnan says.

"Then they can find out later. I just don't want them there right now."

"Okay," Constance agrees. "You need help getting up?"

"Probably. Is the rifle stowed away?"

"Yes. You ready to get going?"

"Sure." Aramis pushes himself up, wobbling when he goes dizzy. d'Artagnan and Constance steady him on either side. Once he's steady, they make their way to Constance's car.

"Why don't you two sit in the back," she says, steering them to the backseat doors. "That way you can lean to get more comfortable, if you need to. We've got a bit of a drive in with traffic, I'm sure."

Aramis nods, the movement making his stomach queasy. He really just wanted to be sitting down again.

They get him in the backseat. While he buckles himself in, d'Artagnan joins him and Constance takes the driver's spot. She's glad that she was the one who drove them out here. d'Artagnan, she knows, is still very uncomfortable with city traffic and Aramis will drive, but when he's having flare-ups of his mental illnesses, he's far less likely out of fear of something happening. It never has, but she knows he sometimes has nightmares about having a panic attack while driving.

"You're sure you don't want Athos or Porthos there? They can be there by the time we get there," Constance asks as she starts the car up.

"No. I'll let them know later. Their reaction won't be any worse then as compared to now," Aramis says and closes his eyes to ease the growing queasiness in his stomach and headache. Constance lets it go, exchanging a worried look with d'Artagnan, who simply shrugs his shoulders.