Well hello again! Only a couple of days later too! I'm very much enjoying writing stages of Aramis and Anne's relationship in this modernAU so, be ready for some more updates over the next several days. I've gotten two more installments almost ready. So yay! I'm writing these fairly chronologically at this point, so we can watch his relationship with Anne evolve, but I'll also be throwing in some MissionFic oneshots between the Aramis/Anne pieces because I like action and whump too. ANYWAY...this jumps forward two months from when we last saw them.

Enjoy!

The point of it all is to love friends completely and utterly, at their best and worst, and to love more than just the good things.
Arka Pain

Aramis pressed his back against the crumbling wall, forcing a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. His chest ached, but the sharp pain that had punched into him after taking a bullet to his body armor had started to fade...sort of.

He reached for his radio, pressing the talk button.

"Diablo to all Alpha callsigns — anybody read me?"

The radio squawked angrily with feedback, and he quickly turned the volume down, holding his breath as he heard voices around the corner. He knew his brothers' voices better than his own, so he knew immediately it wasn't them. Given the nature of their current mission, that left only one other option.

Aramis closed his eyes briefly and took another slow breath. Then he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the K-bar sheathed on his chest and pulled it free. He side-stepped until he was within reach of the corner.

When the first man came around it, Aramis slammed the blade hard into the man's unarmored chest. He ripped the knife free and ducked away from the sudden spitting of gunfire cutting into the brick next to him. He ran back down the alley he'd come up only a few minutes ago and cursed as shouts rose behind him. He ducked around another corner as more gunfire sent brick shards flying behind him.

He kept running, ignoring the throbbing pain in his chest, and his increasing shortness of breath.

He rounded another corner into a group of four armed men.

Instinct saved him.

As soon as his brain registered the threat, he went on the offensive. He kicked out at the nearest knee and then sliced his knife across the man's neck as he fell. Aramis spun, slamming his elbow into someone's ear, and then punching out with the same arm, slamming a firm palm into another's sternum. The man fell, coughing out his breath and Aramis kicked out at him, his boot catching the man's chin and putting him out for good. He drove the knife backwards, feeling it sink into the softness of someone's stomach. The body fell away as he yanked the knife back.

Hands grabbed at his shoulders, yanking him sideways and throwing him bodily aside.

Aramis tucked his shoulder, rolling gracefully up to a knee. He brought his arms up in time to block a kick aimed at chest and then pushed up in time to knock away a knife arching towards his head. He threw out a sharp jab, feeling teeth give way and cut into his knuckles. The man dropped, groaning, and cradling his mouth. Aramis stepped into a hard hook that put the man on the ground, unconscious.

Breathing hard, chest and head pounding, Aramis looked around quickly for any more threats. Finding none, he pulled uncomfortably at his body armor, and moved away from the bodies. He slid down another alley, wiping at hot blood dripping down his temple.

He had to find the others. They'd been separated by two full blocks when Aramis went down, knocked clean out of a second story window by a shot to center mass when someone got the drop on him from behind. He'd landed in a dumpster, which mostly broke his fall but between that and the bullet, he lost time. When he woke up, he was still in the dumpster and his brothers were nowhere to be seen.

He paused, bracing his back against another crumbling wall.

"The RV," he whispered to himself. "Think, Aramis. Where's the RV."

They'd go there first and wait for him. If he didn't show up, he knew Porthos would tear the city apart to find him, no matter what danger it put him in. He couldn't let his brother take such a risk. He had to get to him first.

He closed his eyes, trying to picture the map they'd studied on the flight over. After a few moments, he thought he had an idea of where he might be and where he needed to go. He allowed himself one more slow breath, one more moment to compartmentalize the pain his body was trying to get him to acknowledge, and then he was moving again.

Porthos paced at the entry to the clearing where their evac helicopter was waiting.

Athos stood sentry a few feet into the clearing, eyes glued to the path that led to the city.

"He'll come," d'Artagnan said nervously. "Right? He'll find his way."

"Of course he will," Athos agreed immediately. "Aramis has more training than any of us. He can take care of himself."

Porthos didn't say anything, just continued to prowl back and forth. Aramis may have more training than any of them, but he also tended to attract trouble more than any of them.

Several tense minutes passed.

"We shouldn't have left," Porthos snapped suddenly. "We should have tried to find him."

"His radio went out, Porthos. He was on the other side of a kill zone. We could not have gotten to him and you know that. You need to trust his training."

Porthos whirled.

"And what if his radio went out because he got found? What if he's back there somewhere hurt and waiting for us to come for him?"

Athos's jaw clenched, but he didn't reply.

"Two minutes," d'Artagnan reminded quietly. "Then that chopper is leaving with or without us."

"I'm not leaving without Aramis," Porthos snarled.

"We won't," Athos replied calmly.

Porthos stared at the path.

Another minute passed and the helicopter started preparing to take off.

Porthos was watching the path so intently that at the first rustle of a branch, he was already moving. He was halfway across the distance between them by the time Aramis tore into the open. His eyes were hyper focused, and his chest was heaving with too deep, too short breaths. But all Porthos could do was reach for him, wrap a hand in the shoulder strap of his body armor and drag him towards the chopper.

Athos appeared at Aramis's other side, wrapping a hand around his elbow to move him along faster. d'Artagnan was already on the chopper when they got to it, arms ready to pull Aramis up into the open space between the seats. Porthos and Athos threw themselves in after him and Athos shouted at the pilot to go.

Porthos manhandled Aramis into the center of the chopper floor, skimming his hands over his brother's body, looking for injuries. He was bleeding from a cut on his temple and another above his brow. Blotchy bruises were forming on his jaw and cheekbone and there were splatters of blood across every piece of his clothing. Aramis had his eyes clenched closed and was pulling at the neck of his body armor like it was choking him.

Athos shoved a head set into Porthos's hands and then fit another one over Aramis's ears.

"Get his armor off!" Athos ordered over the headset before covering his microphone to shout something at d'Artagnan that Porthos ignored. He reached for the shoulder straps on the armor, pulling at them roughly.

"Easy, brother," Porthos soothed. "I got it. Easy."

Porthos finally freed him of the armor, shoving into d'Artagnan's waiting hands. Aramis was pulling at the collar of his sweaty t-shirt now. Athos leaned over him and pulled up the hem of the shirt, nearly to Aramis' chin.

Porthos had to swallow back a wave of nausea. Aramis's chest was a mass of dark blotchy bruising. It started at a single, concentrated point to the right of his sternum and spread out from there.

"He must have taken a round," Athos said into the headset. "Calm him down! I'll find an oxygen tank!"

Porthos reached forward, taking Aramis's face in his hands. He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching.

"I know it hurts, 'Mis, but you've got to breath with me. With me, now. In….out... In…out." He continued the exaggerated pattern until Athos shouldered him out of the way to shove an oxygen mask over Aramis's mouth and nose. Then Porthos leaned in again, pressing his forehead back against his brother's. He wrapped one of Aramis's hands in his own to stop him pulling at his collar, but kept his other hand curled around the back of Aramis's neck.

And they breathed together.

Eventually, a hand wrapped around his wrist. Aramis, he knew, seeking an anchor point.

They stayed like that until the chopper landed back at the military base they were operating out of for this mission. When the engines were quiet and the pilots gone, Porthos opened his eyes and drew back. Aramis was blinking at him with clear, aware eyes, breaths puffing into the oxygen mask. But his hand stayed wrapped tightly around Porthos's wrist.

"Let's get him inside. D'Artagnan, find the base doctor and bring him," Athos instructed quietly.

Their youngest leapt to the ground and took off at a jog. Athos climbed out next and reached up, waiting for Porthos to shift Aramis towards him.

"Ready?" Porthos whispered.

Aramis nodded, stripping off the oxygen and tossing it aside.

"I'm good," he insisted, sliding towards the edge of the chopper under his own power. "Just lost my breath before."

"I'm sure," Athos replied with a quirked brow but stepped back.

Porthos forced himself not to hover as he followed Aramis off the helicopter. With shaky steps, Aramis led the way back to their temporary quarters. Porthos shared an exasperated look with Athos as they followed him.

Once inside, Aramis dropped heavily onto his bunk, bracing his hands on either side of him. Porthos closed the door after following Athos inside and watched as Aramis stared down at his boots, as if contemplating what to do about them.

"Want to tell us what happened?" Athos asked blandly, dropping to a knee in front of Aramis and pulling at the laces of his boots.

Aramis blinked, but seemed to recognize the order for a report, no matter how casually it was given.

So Porthos listened as Aramis clinically recounted getting shot, falling two stories into a dumpster, and then fighting and running his way through the city to get to the rendezvous point.

"I knew I was running out of time, that you couldn't wait much longer. So, I had to push hard once I got out of the city. I started hyperventilating, that's all."

"We'll let the base doctor be the judge," Athos replied, frankly.

Aramis rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Instead, he seemed to notice for the first time that his hands and forearms were covered in dried blood. Porthos watched him stare down at the stained skin and saw the first tremble roll through his hands.

"Why don't you go find food, Athos," Porthos suggested. "I'll get him cleaned up and the doc can check him out."

Athos was watching Aramis's hands as well, but he nodded and stood. The door clicked closed behind him and Porthos hooked a hand under Aramis's elbow.

"Come on, brother," he urged gently.

Aramis let himself be guided to the bathroom. It had two shower stalls with flimsy curtains. Porthos reached into one and flipped the water on. Aramis was pulling at the hem of his shirt, but his face had gone suddenly gray.

"Just let me help you, you stubborn ass," Porthos grumbled. He pulled at the hem of Aramis's t-shirt and helped him peel it off. Porthos couldn't not stare at the bruise on his chest after that. It seemed to have spread even since the helicopter. "Damn, brother," he hissed in sympathy.

Aramis made a sound of agreement and pulled at his belt. A few moments, and a near faceplant into the tile wall later, Aramis was standing safely under the spray. Porthos busied himself gathering the shed clothing and did his best to give Aramis a few minutes of privacy.

A glance a few minutes later showed Aramis scrubbing at his arms with a bar of soap around the edge of the curtain. Porthos hovered near the sinks until Aramis turned the shower off. He saw in the mirror the towel that had been hooked over the curtain bar disappear and a moment later Aramis shoved the curtain aside, towel around his waist.

He moved to stand next to Porthos, staring into the mirror. In the reflection, Porthos watched him trace his fingers across the edge of the massive bruise.

"How am I supposed to hide this from Anne?" he asked softly.

Porthos arched an eyebrow.

"Why would you try to hide it?"

"We've only been dating two months. This is a lot to throw at someone after two months."

Porthos studied Aramis's reflection in the mirror. Aramis was studying the bruise with a furrowed brow. Porthos remembered Adelle, he remembered how she always left Aramis feeling wrong footed, like he was doing something wrong just by being himself. Adelle never handled Aramis taking injuries on ops well and Porthos knew he'd hidden more than a few minor injuries from her over the time they dated just to save himself the lectures.

"How come you haven't brought her to meet us yet?" Porthos asked before he could stop himself. He was suddenly concerned Anne didn't want to meet them. Adelle had never understood how much Porthos and Athos meant to Aramis. She had dismissed their brotherhood as a nothing more than an annoyance. If Anne was doing the same…

Aramis's eyes cut over to him in the mirror, wide and startled.

"What?" he asked, sounding confused.

"It's been two months and she hasn't even been to our apartment. You stay over there a few times a week, but you've never brought her to meet us. Why?"

Aramis looked away from his gaze, working his jaw for a moment before returning his eyes to Porthos's.

"I don't want to ruin it."

Porthos nearly gasped at the hurt that lanced through him. Aramis's eyes widened.

"Not because of you," he added quickly, "because of me."

Porthos softened.

"What?" he asked, baffled — as he always was — by how little Aramis thought of himself.

Aramis looked away, busying himself with his toothbrush.

"She doesn't ask questions right now. She knows I'm in a commando unit and that I think of you as my brothers, but she doesn't — she doesn't know any of the bad things. So, she still looks at me like I'm — she doesn't look at me like I'm —"

"Broken," Porthos finished for him softly.

Aramis's shoulders drooped.

"Yeah."

"You're not broken, Aramis. Nothing about you is broken." He'd said it a thousand times and would say it a thousand more until Aramis believed it. Aramis went on as if he hadn't spoken.

"But if I bring her to the apartment, she'll see all of the locks. She'll see that I lock all of them, even if it's the middle of the day, even if you're there too. She'll ask why we don't sleep there and then I'll have to explain that I never sleep when I stay at her place because I can't sleep without Esmé. I'll have to explain about the knife and the gun and going for a run at two in the morning and —"

"Stop."

Porthos turned, pulling Aramis around to face him. He braced his hands on either side of Aramis' jaw and forced him to meet his gaze.

"Stop," he pleaded more gently. "You're afraid if she meets us, you'll have to let her see the rest of you too."

He could see the truth of that in Aramis's eyes.

"The me she knows now is terribly charming and irresistible. Why ruin that?"

Porthos ignored the comment and the attempt at bravado.

"But what you're failing to realize, you idiot, is that she could still want to be with you anyway. Why wouldn't she? The whole you is the absolute best person I know."

"You're biased."

"Maybe so, but it doesn't change my point. She deserves to make that choice for herself. And you deserve for her to make it with eyes wide open, so that you don't ever have to doubt."

Aramis was quiet then, eyes holding Porthos' gaze steadily.

"What am I supposed to do?" he said eventually, pulling away from Porthos's hands and turning to face the mirror again, fiddling with his toothbrush again but not actually doing anything with it. "Next time I see her just be out with it all? 'Oh, hi Anne, I've been meaning to mention I was nearly murdered in an ambush five years ago where everyone else was murdered and now I have near crippling PTSD that comes complete with panic attacks, nightmares and irrational paranoia. I can't sleep without my dog and at least two weapons close at hand. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to vibrate out of my skin, so I go on long runs in the park in the middle of the night until I feel like I can breathe again. I live with my best friend, who is also more of a brother than my actual brother who ran away and left me behind days before I literally watched my mother die. My abandonment issues are second only to my codependence with said best friend/brother. Oh, and by the way, I was shot recently, so my chest is one massive bruise. Not to worry, I was wearing body armor and it's a regular occurrence, so I'm used to it. All good?'"

Porthos sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

"Maybe give yourself a break, 'Mis, and start small. You don't have to word vomit everything at her the next time you see her, but just stop locking yourself away from her. Let it come out naturally, bit by bit and give her a chance to know you — the real you that isn't always charming and irresistible but is still my favorite person on this whole stupid planet."

Aramis glanced at him then, a small smile pulling at his lips. Then he sighed, abandoning his toothbrush, and facing Porthos of his one free will.

"How do I even do that? And what the hell do I do if she sees something she doesn't like?"

"Well, if she for one second doesn't value you for who you are, then she'll have me to answer to."

He didn't mention Adele, or that not every woman out there was like her. He didn't like the small look Aramis got in his eye when her name came up, as if he were still feeling like a failure even if her standards weren't hanging over him anymore.

"And you start by letting her beyond the curtain. Invite her to the base to meet us when we get back, like all the other girlfriends and boyfriends and husbands and wives. Let her be part of this bit of your life."

Aramis's brow pulled together a bit, but he nodded slowly.

"And don't try to hide this." Porthos pointed at his bruised chest without touching it. "Tell her what happened, edited version if you want to, but tell her, let her see it. Watch how she reacts. Let that guide you going forward…or not going forward."

Because that's what it came to, for Porthos. He didn't want another Adele in Aramis' life. If he thought for a moment that Anne would be like her, Porthos would run her off himself.

"And if it scares her away?" he asked quietly.

"Then she didn't deserve you, brother."

Aramis grimaced at that, but Porthos didn't push. They both looked towards the door when they heard voices in the bunk room.

"Come on, let the doc check you out."

Aramis rolled his eyes but didn't resist Porthos pulling him to the other room.

Aramis leaned against some crates that where strapped down by a cargo net, staring down at his phone. They were wheels up in just a few minutes and he if was going to call Anne, it had to be now. He pressed a hand lightly to his chest, feeling the muscles cramp and twinge under his black t-shirt.

He almost slid the phone into his pocket, but as he looked up, Porthos caught his eye and gave him an encouraging nod. With a sigh, he pulled up her name and tapped it, walking down the ramp to get at least the illusion of privacy.

She picked up on the third ring, sounding out of breath.

"Hey, you!" she greeted brightly.

"Busy?" he asked, maybe hoping for an excuse to back out of what he'd called to say.

"Nah, just got back from a run, so your timing is actually great. What's up? Miss me?"

"Very much, in fact," he answered honestly.

"I miss you too," she replied warmly, and he could hear the truth in her voice.

"Not for much longer. We're coming back today."

"Really?!" She was excited, he could hear as much. He found himself imagining her bright smile, the way it lit up her eyes.

"We won't land until late this afternoon, but…" he hesitated and then drew in a breath and forged on, "I wanted to know if you would like to come to base and pick me up? Be there when we land?"

She was quiet for a moment and he had just started to wonder if he'd made a terrible mistake when her voice came across the line, tentative, but hopeful.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," he replied firmly. "I want you to be there if — if you want to be."

"Yes! I do. I want to. When? Where?"

He spent a few minutes relaying directions to the base, explaining how to get on and who to talk to. He'd have to have her added to a list, Treville would have to escort her from the gate or send someone, but she didn't seem at all annoyed by theses details.

"I'll be there," she promised, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Good," he replied softly. "My brothers, Porthos and the others, they'll be here too if you'd like to meet them."

"I would love that." She sounded like she meant it.

Aramis felt something like hope swell in his chest.

"I'll see you later then."

"I can't wait."

He hesitated a moment, brushing a finger across the butterfly bandage above his brow. He knew there where stitches hidden under a small white bandage taped to his hairline near his temple as well. His chest ached with the reminder that while body armor could save your life, it didn't make you invisible.

"I fell I should warn you…"

He heard her draw in a breath across the line, but she didn't speak.

"It's been a tough go of it the last day or so. I'm not — I'm a bit…roughed up."

He winced at his own wording, knowing it conveyed enough to worry without conveying enough to reassure.

"Are you okay?" she asked sharply, alarm ringing in her tone.

"I am. I will be," he amended honestly. "I just didn't want to take you by surprise."

He heard her take a few calming breaths.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For warning me…and for inviting me to be there when you get home. I really can't wait to see you, Aramis."

He felt something heavy lift from his chest at the warmth in her voice.

"I can't wait to see you either."

He looked over his shoulder when Porthos shouted at him from the top of the ramp.

"I have to go."

"I'll see you soon," she promised and then hung up before he had to.

He moved back up the ramp, rubbing absently at his chest and staring down at his phone with a vague sense of awe.

"Well?" Porthos prompted, nudging him over to their usual area to relax during travel.

"She's coming. I need to tell Treville. He'll have to get her an escort from the gate."

Porthos grinned.

"I called him while you were talking to her. He'll make sure she's taken care of."

Aramis looked over at him with an arched brow.

"I had a feeling." Porthos shrugged, smiling, and Aramis couldn't seem to stop himself from smiling in return.

Aramis squinted into the late afternoon sun as the ramp lowered, shifting his back on his shoulder, and moving with the others when it was low enough to start down it.

Constance rushed d'Artagnan as soon as his feet hit the tarmac, leaping into his arms with all the enthusiasm and adoration she always had.

Normally, Aramis would have made arrangements with Porthos and Athos for after they got back. They'd either go to their favorite bar, or grab take out and go back to his and Porthos's apartment, or just go straight back and sleep. Athos would often take the couch even when they weren't returning from an op. This time, instead of immediately going towards Porthos's truck, he found himself looking around for Anne. He felt his mouth pull into a smile when he saw her, his feet taking him towards her without thought.

She was leaning back against her small blue sedan, blonde hair rolling down to her shoulders in soft waves. She pushed off when she saw him notice her, moving to meet him.

He should introduce her to the others. He should quiet the worry he saw in her eyes as she noticed the bandages on his head. He should be dignified and chaste and proper.

Instead, when he reached her, he couldn't stop himself from threading a hand into the hair at her nape, wrapping the other around her hip, and leaning in to kiss her. Her hands came up automatically to curve over his shoulder, around his back. Something in him settled in a way he hadn't even known he needed and when he pulled back, he only went far enough to look her in the eye.

"Hi," he whispered across her lips.

She smiled, big and radiant and one hundred percent for him.

"Hi," she said in return.

There was a half cough, half snicker from behind them and Aramis pulled back a bit more.

He cleared his throat and shifted, keeping his hand on her hip, and sliding it around her back to pull her closer to his side as he turned to face his brothers.

"Anne, I would like you to meet two men I consider to be brothers."

"I'm Porthos." The larger man stepped forward immediately, hand outstretched. Anne met his grip immediately, smiling brightly at him. "I'm so happy to finally meet you."

"And I, you," she replied honestly before looking to Athos.

"Athos," he introduced himself, holding out a hand as well.

"I've heard so much about you, I feel like I know you both already," Anne said as she shook Athos's hand as well.

"It's all lies, whatever he's said," Porthos teased with a grin.

Aramis laughed, sliding his hand up Anne's back when she looked at him, her smile so bright he couldn't help but smile in return.

"You must be Anne!" Constance called out as she dragged d'Artagnan behind her towards them. "I'm Constance d'Artagnan. This is my husband, Charles."

"Just call me d'Artagnan, everyone does," he added quickly, smiling warmly.

"He's the annoying little brother of the family," Aramis told her in a staged whisper.

"Hey!"

"Anyway, we were wondering if you all would like to come over for dinner. I've been cooking all day and would hate it to go to waste," Constance announced.

"She says that like d'Artagnan won't happily eat leftovers for days," Porthos muttered as an aside to Aramis, who grinned. He looked down at Anne, still tucked against his side.

"We don't have to," he whispered to her. "I know it's a lot all at once."

"I would love to have dinner with your family," she replied immediately.

Aramis hoped his smile didn't look as relieved as it felt.

Hours later, he followed her into her apartment, quietly closing the door behind them and locking it. He trailed his fingers over the deadbolt briefly, wondering when he would be ready to tell her about how many locks he had to have on his own door. After today, for the first time he thought the day might actually come.

"Thank you."

Aramis turned from the door, carefully easing his jacket off his shoulders, and hanging it on the hook on the wall.

"For what?" he asked curiously.

She smiled, stepping into his arms when he opened them to her.

"For letting me into your world, even just a little, even just for today."

Something in his chest ached and it had nothing to do with the bruising there.

"I want you in my world Anne, I do. It's just…"

She put her fingers against his mouth, silencing him.

"I didn't say that to make you feel guilty." Her keen blue gaze studied him for a moment. "I know there are things you haven't told me."

His heart started pounding and he wondered if she could feel it.

"And that's okay," she assured warmly. "There are things…" She sighed deeply. "There are things I haven't told you either. But I will, one day. All I need to know is that you'll tell me one day too."

"I…"

Something in him froze up, going rigid at the very thought of explaining what happened with the SAVOY operation, about his PTSD because of it, and everything that entailed. Something must have shown on his face, or in his eyes, because instead of getting upset or hurt over his hesitation, Anne's gaze impossibly softened.

"It's okay," she promised. "You don't have to tell me anything right now, either way."

She backed away, hands lacing into his so she could tow him along after her.

Feeling like a coward, he let himself be led and let the conversation drop.

But later, holding her in his arms as she started to drift into a sated sleep, he felt braver.

He had told her about being shot in his body armor, warned her about the bruising and then watched her closely after he'd stripped off his t-shirt. He'd watched her eyes widen, fingers shaking as she hovered them over the nasty bruising spread across his chest. He had waited for her eyes to harden, for her to make a comment about how 'this is what happens when you choose a job like this' or 'you should think about retiring, being normal' or worse, 'I can't do this'.

But neither of those things had happened.

Instead, with tears welling in her eyes, she'd leaned close and pressed her lips gently to his sternum, feather light with her touch even though the worst of the damage was a good two inches to the right of where she made contact.

"My poor Aramis," she'd whispered against his bruised skin and something in his heart had soared.

He tightened his arm around her back now, looking down at the crown of her head. Her hair was tangled and spread out in disarray over his shoulder. Her cheek was resting high on his chest, above the bruising. Her hand resting against his where it was draped across his abdomen. Her fingers absently traced the jagged tears in the skin across his knuckles.

"I hope," he started, but shook his head and began again. "I want to be able to tell you one day," he confessed softly. She shifted, carefully adjusting her position so she could look up at him without jostling against his chest. He looked down at her, holding her gaze earnestly. "But I can't promise you answers when I don't know if I'll ever get to a place where I can give them."

She blinked patiently at him, no judgment or disappointment in her eyes. Instead, they shone with warmth and understanding.

"It's hard for me to talk about some of it...about most of it," he admitted quietly. Then after a moment of hesitation, added, "It's hard for me to trust people."

She reached up slowly, tracing a careful finger down the bridge of his nose, across his cheekbone, down his bruised jaw, then lifted it back up to ghost a touch over the butterfly bandage above his brow.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'll earn it."

When he looked back later, Aramis would say that was the moment he fell in love with her.

So freaking soft.

I enjoyed this one. I got to whump my fav, indulge in some bromance AND have Anne and Aramis take a good step. Aramis is gone for this girl at this point, which is fine, because she is clearly gone for him too. Too bad I'm at the helm here, because I like angst (angst with a happy ending that is). So don't get to comfortable my lovelies.

The next installment should be headed your way by Friday!

To any of my fellow Texans that have been snowed in by this freakish winter storm, stay warm!

See ya!