A/N: Thank you guests Jmp and Uia for your reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed chapter 1's drabble. I know I promised whump, but this one I was still trying to get a feel for the characters, so it came out more lighthearted. The next one has hurt Aramis.

"Traitor"

The thrill of a fight may have made Aramis feel alive, but there was a certain allure to the artistry of deception. And the danger was no less severe, should he be found out. But he'd swiftly and efficiently gained a measure of trust from the group of insurgents by "killing" a musketeer before their eyes. Aramis hoped Porthos hadn't over exaggerated his fall and actually injured himself in the staged shooting. The large musketeer had complained that he never got the chance to try his hand at acting. Athos had pointed out that he had, in fact, had numerous opportunities to intimidate people under false pretenses.

"It ain't hard to act threatenin,'" Porthos had argued.

"That's because it's your default disposition, my friend," Aramis replied.

"Come on, I want to do somethin' more."

Thus, this had been the compromise. Porthos's death scene would go down in infamy. Aramis only wished he could have stayed to appreciate it until the end, but he'd had to run, and consequently get caught up in the riffraff who'd been impressed with his daring.

After that it had been a mission of intelligence gathering, trying to put together the murmurings of dissent and learn about solidified plans to move against the monarchy.

Unfortunately, the problem with playing the traitor is there's always a chance of running into a legitimate one.

Gerard was a member of the Red Guard. Aramis took a small modicum of smug satisfaction that the Cardinal's acclaimed men were not above reproach. However, it was looking very unlikely that he would get the chance to enjoy seeing such treachery rubbed in Richelieu's pompous face. Though he had tried to duck behind some cover when Gerard had ridden into the courtyard of the abandoned church, Aramis had nevertheless been spotted.

"That man is a musketeer," the Red Guard said without preamble, pointing him out.

Aramis held back a sigh as he was forced to step out in response.

"He killed a musketeer," the leader said, though there was a flicker of doubt in his gaze now.

Gerard frowned. "No deaths have been reported."

"Perhaps you of grunt position did not warrant notification," Aramis replied blithely.

The guard sneered, then turned sharply to the leader. "I assure you, he's a musketeer. You have a traitor in your midst."

"Two, actually."

They both turned narrowed eyes on him.

Aramis arched a pointed brow and gestured at Gerard. "He's a traitor as well. Just to be clear."

"Kill him now," the Red Guard demanded.

Well, this could only spiral out of control. Aramis noted some of the men moving closer to him as their suspicion grew.

The leader, Pierre, was regarding him shrewdly. And then he gave a clipped nod, and one of his men pulled out their pistol.

Aramis stiffened and flinched as the shot rang out, but though his muscles had seized in anticipation, he hadn't felt the fire of a musket ball tearing through him. His would-be executioner, however, dropped like a sack of potatoes.

There was a split second of stunned silence before another report cracked the air and a second man fell as three familiar figures swept into the ruins. Steel screeched as swords were drawn from their scabbards, and soon the courtyard was full of the discordant clang.

Aramis spun toward the nearest man and threw a right hook into his jaw. He ducked as a rapier sliced through the air and grabbed the pistol from the man he'd just knocked out. Bracing the barrel on his forearm, he took quick aim and fired before the sword could find his chest. He then discarded the spent weapon and scooped up the fallen blade in time to parry a thrust from Pierre.

But there were two more men advancing on him and he couldn't fend them all off. Fortunately, Porthos's blade was there a second later, sliding down the steel of Pierre's rapier and freeing Aramis to take the other two.

Pierre gaped in shock. "I saw you get shot!"

Porthos gave him a wide, toothy grin. "Convincin,' wasn't it?"

"You had the easy job," Aramis threw out, stabbing one of his opponents through the chest.

"You think dyin' is easy?"

Aramis laughed, taking down the other man as Pierre blustered in the face of them. "I wouldn't know."

He feinted right, drawing Pierre in on his left, and Porthos stepped in to body slam the man, sending him to the ground. Aramis pivoted around and followed through with a blow to the head with his pommel, just to keep him down.

The sounds of battle had started to lull and he looked around to find most of the insurgents dispatched. D'Artagnan was finishing off the last and Athos was bending over the body of the Red Guard and divesting him of his weapon. Presumably he was alive to be taken in for questioning.

"You're early," Aramis pointed out.

Athos stepped over the bodies as he moved toward them. "Porthos got impatient."

"I'd say we was right on time."

Aramis clapped him on the shoulder. "That you were, my friend. Sorry I missed your funeral. Was it good?"

"Very moving," d'Artagnan replied, coming to join them as well. "Not a dry eye to be found."

"There wasn't actually a service," Porthos grumbled. "And I had to stay sequestered in the garrison so's no one from this lot accidentally saw me."

"He's irritated he's missed the card games these past few nights," d'Artagnan whispered none too quietly.

"No one said playin' dead was goin' be so restrictive," he groused.

"One must embrace his role fully and to the end," Aramis said with a grin. "So I take it your thespian days are over?"

"Yeah. I'll stick with fightin' outright."

"Did you learn anything of immediate importance?" Athos asked, ever the pragmatist.

Aramis shook his head. "All the weapons they had are stored here. Pierre had boasted he had a way into the palace, but until Gerard arrived, no one else knew how he would manage it."

"Then we've caught all the traitors involved. The King should be pleased."

"And the Cardinal livid," Aramis added, having almost forgotten that bit of glee to look forward to.

Both Porthos's and d'Artagnan's grins widened at that, and even Athos had a twinkle of anticipation in his eye. It was a small victory against a greater enemy.

Because no matter how many traitors they weeded out, there were always sinister antagonists moving in the shadows with power and the throne in their sights. Thus, a musketeer's duty was never done.