Summary: Aramis and Anne, what a dangerous night to fall in love.

A/N: Thank you guests Uia, Laureleaf, and UKGuest for reviewing! Sorry, Uia, but d'Artagnan doesn't make an appearance until chapter 19 next.

I heard this song and immediately thought of Aramis and Anne. It'd make a perfect fanvid, though I couldn't find one that's been done with it. So once again I have to settle for words.

All the dialogue is from episodes 1x9, 2x4, and 2x9; they're not mine.

"Dangerous Night" - Thirty Seconds to Mars

We burned and we bled, we try to forget
But the memories left are still haunting
The walls that we built from bottles and pills
We swallow until we're not talking

Aramis followed the nun down to a chamber filled with bottles and distillery equipment. An amused smile quirked his lips.

"You sell this?"

"Saving souls isn't cheap," the Sister replied.

He walked over to the apparatus on the center table. "My father had a still just like this," he reminisced, reaching up to rap the metal. "He made grape and honey brandy all the time." Looking at the spigot, he asked, "May I?"

"Mm-hm," she nodded in assent.

Aramis picked up a tin cup and filled it with some of the brandy. Raising it to his lips, he paused to inhale its aroma, eyes closing as memories of another life pervaded his mind. He took a hearty drink, closing his eyes to savor it, and then opened them in again in mystification. No, he couldn't be imagining it…

"It's exactly like my father's."

But how? What manner of trickery was this on his senses?

"Probably because I use his recipe," the nun spoke up.

Aramis turned toward her, blinking in confusion.

"You still don't recognize me, do you, Aramis?" she said almost sadly.

His entire body tensed. That's right; she'd used his name before he'd even introduced himself to the inhabitants of the convent. He hadn't thought anything of it because these were Sisters, but now with his father's brandy…

A thrill went up his spine. He drew closer carefully. She had her head tilted down and slightly away but did not move as he slowly reached a hand up toward the headpiece acting as a shield.

"Isabelle?"

She looked at him then as he brushed the trailing flap over her shoulder so he could look her fully in the eyes. Recognition speared his heart and he found himself backing away as the shock threatened to unbalance him.

"Isabelle is gone. Now I am Sister Helene."

Aramis didn't know what to say. He could only stare and retreat further from this apparition from his past, one he had never thought to see again, and now here, of all places, after all this time…

Seeming unaffected, Isabelle began speaking of bottles and cloth. "It'll be gruesome, but effective."

He could scarcely catch his breath. She spoke so casually of preparations for war, while it felt as though one of those glass bottles had exploded inside his heart, splintering it into a thousand pieces.

Aramis shook his head. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a nun. This is a convent," she replied cheekily.

"You know what I mean," he interrupted, moving closer out of a growing inability to keep still as the love of his life stood before him once again and refused to acknowledge their history…

"Aramis," a lilting voice intruded. "Athos needs you." The Queen drew to a stop, eyes wide as she took in the scene.

Aramis held a hand to his mouth, not trusting himself to speak, to breathe. For all he wanted Isabelle to say, words were failing him on his part.

He gave himself a small jerk and turned to the Queen. This was not a reunion to be had with an audience, and yet he could not bring himself to move, to let her slip away from him again.

"You should go," Isabelle prompted.

Aramis looked at her once more, trembling now with roiling emotion while she stood steadfast and calm, perhaps sympathetic to the maelstrom her revelation had evoked in him.

The Queen remained fixed as well, and so Aramis finally tore himself away and made for the stairs. This was not the time. They were under siege. He had to collect himself, find his center for the battle to come.

I…I am a man on fire
You…a violent desire

Aramis checked his musket for the dozenth time, ensuring the match cord was still burning, the hammer cocked, the weapon primed. The movements by rote kept his hands steady and thereby his mind.

The Queen entered the room. "Here." She carried a handful of powder packs and began to stuff them in the pouch on his belt.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

While most nobles would be reduced to a whimpering puddle in some corner, Anne had done nothing but offer to help since this horrible turn of events started. Aramis marveled at her gentle heart and humility, and her fortitude under such harrowing circumstances.

"That nun," she said, eyes fixed on her task. "The one you were with downstairs."

Aramis's stomach sank at the reminder. This was not a conversation he should be having save for with the woman in question.

"I'm sorry," Anne went on. "My arrival was a disturbance."

"You did not disturb anything," he assured her, discontent to let her bear the guilt of awkwardness.

She finally looked up. "I may be cosseted, but I'm not a fool."

Aramis glanced at the ceiling, torn between brushing her off as was proper or opting for honesty.

"I knew her…once." And then, on an impulse driven by the desperate need to give voice to the tumultuous feelings inside, he added, "We were to marry."

Anne looked briefly surprised, but her expression smoothed swiftly. "And you changed your mind?"

Aramis inhaled audibly and turned to face her. "She fell pregnant," he divulged. "And the marriage was arranged. I was happy." The corner of his mouth quirked. "I was in love, and so was she. But then she lost the child and her father…took her away and put her in here." He paused somberly. "I never saw her again. Not until today."

And she'd had no words for him, nothing but wry quips and talk of brandy.

Anne didn't say anything, though her lips moved as though she wanted to, and there was a look in her eyes that bespoke more understanding than Isabelle had granted him in the distillery.

Athos came into the room. "I think they're about to—"

One of the window panes shattered in the wake of an echoed gunshot, and Aramis threw a protective arm around the Queen as she ducked.

Athos stood there, exasperated. "Attack," he finished.

Aramis ushered the Queen away from the window, keeping her head low.

Athos reached for her. "Come with me to the chapel."

Aramis returned to his post, bracing his musket and sighting down the barrel. A volley of gunshots echoed around him, but he took his time before pulling the trigger, his mark true, and the sniper fell from the trees. He hurried away from the window to reload.

"My parents always hoped I'd end up in a place like this," he shouted over the rabble.

"They wanted you to become a nun?" Athos shouted back incredulously.

He chuckled as he stuffed the musket ball down the barrel. "A priest!"

Athos went to take a shot. "Why didn't you?" he asked when he drew back again.

Aramis grinned and strode toward the window, pistol up. "'Cause I found I was better at dispatching people to Hell!"

What a dangerous night to fall in love
Don't know why we still hide what we've become

He sat bowed forward on the small bench, head in his hands. Death followed him everywhere. Not just the lives he took in battle, but the lives he failed to save. Those twenty soldiers in Savoy. Marsac. And now Isabelle.

But it went back even further than that, all the way back to the first death that weighed upon his soul—that of his unborn child.

Why was he always the one left behind? Why, when he would gladly give his life for those he loved?

"What are they building?" the Queen's voice called out from the room he was supposed to be guarding. It drew him from his morose thoughts and he tuned back into the incessant hammering below.

"A battering ram perhaps," he replied wearily. "Or a ladder."

He knew he should be more concerned. Their deaths were on the horizon, and yet a small part of Aramis thought, yes, it's about time. Ever since Savoy there had been that lingering question of why had he survived when all his other brothers had perished? Why had Isabelle, who'd lived peacefully in seclusion all these years, been cut down the day Aramis once again darkened her doorstep?

But though his current disposition was on the dour side, he also knew that he must, and would, fight to his last to protect the Queen. And though he shouldn't, he ached for that battle to begin now, to not leave him waiting. For in waiting all he had was his guilt and grief.

He ran his hands through his hair again, pressing against his head as though he could release the compression in his chest. He heard the soft foot falls whispering across the stone floor.

"A few years after I married, I too fell pregnant," Anne said.

Aramis looked over sharply to where she was leaning against the archway.

"It was perfect," she went on, voice laden with thick emotion, eyes glistening in the amber candle light. "I could feel my child inside me…moving and kicking." She smiled even as her eyes held tremendous loss. Gaze drifting to the side, her tone took on solemn reminiscence. "I had his whole life planned out. What he would do and…be like. And then…I lost the baby."

Aramis straightened, caught by her words and the story that resonated with the pain in his heart.

"Six years," she said, moving forward. "And I've never forgotten that child, not for a single day. I am certain that Sister Helene never forgot you."

His throat constricted, and he looked away.

"Or your baby."

That lump in his airway tightened and hot moisture pricked at his eyes. He tried to swallow them both back. "All these years I believed Isabelle was the only woman who could make me happy." He paused, heart cracking as the truth became clear to him. "But she was right. It was a lie."

"You're grieving," Anne responded, stepping closer.

"She knew me better than I know myself," he pressed on. His love of adventure, of danger, was a poison that seeped into those around him, long before he'd ever taken up the sword. He saw that now.

"No, Aramis," Anne said earnestly, coming to kneel before him. "You are brave and honorable."

He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

"And kind," she said, reaching out to grasp his shirt sleeve. Her touch infused warmth where he felt cold before.

He could feel her gaze upon him, could feel the sincerity of her words. Her soft breaths were like a whisper on the air.

"Any woman would be fortunate to be loved by you."

He slowly shifted his gaze back to hers, but found he could not hold it. Nor could she. The moment was suddenly poised on the cusp of something greater, deeper. Anne's fingers flexed and coiled at his arm. The air seemed too close all of a sudden, like gravity had intensified and was pulling them toward each other.

Do you wanna cross the line?
We're runnin' out of time
A dangerous night to fall in love

Aramis let himself slip into it, falling forward until her mouth moved up to meet his. Their hands roved over each other—shoulders, hair, cheeks. Touching, testing, seeking solace in the only other person within these walls who could understand one another's pain.

They broke apart, the headiness paused for a breath's sake. Aramis didn't move. Should the Queen come to her senses, he would allow her to collect herself and never speak of it again.

But with unwavering eyes, she trailed her hands down his chest and took the musket from his lap. He rose then, their gazes locked as assuredly as this tidal force they found themselves spiraling in.

Aramis pressed his mouth to hers, hands reaching up to cup her head. She returned the embrace with equal ardor as they moved fluidly toward the bedchamber. There was no thought of death or dying, only the comforting union of two bodies finding their own light before the breaking of a red dawn.

Started a stranger, a lover in danger
The edge of a knife
The face of an angel, the heart of a ghost
Was it a dream?

The next morning he found it hard to regret his actions, though he most assuredly regretted Athos walking in on them. It was treason, Aramis knew this. However, given their odds of survival weren't looking very good, he could very well take the secret to his grave. And he would protect Anne until his dying breath.

It was just a night, a moment of weakness, of loneliness, and yet that connection they'd wantonly sealed had left Aramis's heart feeling full of something he'd thought lost to him forever. Isabelle wasn't even buried and he'd found love again. It seemed a betrayal almost, save that he knew Isabelle would not begrudge him this. She had chosen the life she wanted, and it had not included him. He had chosen the sword, and it had led him here.

It was easy to indulge these feelings, to smile at the memory of Anne's angelic face, the softness of her melting against him, when there was still a good chance they could die. But then reinforcements arrived and they prevailed, returning the Queen to Paris and the arms of her husband, the King of France.

The fantasy was over. For that was all it could be.

And then came the announcement. The Queen was with child. Aramis felt himself go rigid at the news. The timing…the struggles the Queen had faced trying to become pregnant these past several years… It couldn't be, and yet one look from her and Aramis knew.

I…I am a man on fire
You…a violent desire

He should have cut off his feelings right then, but he had always been a man ruled by passion and his heart so often overruled his better judgement. One chance encounter in the hallway and Aramis had laid eyes on the child—his child. One he could never claim and yet the bond between them was instantaneous, seeded ten months ago at conception.

Aramis's heart and soul was bound to them both, and he could no more deny them than he could deny the breath in his body.

He knew the danger, knew he should heed Athos's warnings. But since when did he ever not bravely face danger head on? For King and country, for honor and duty. For love.

And wasn't that the most treacherous road of all.

What a dangerous night to fall in love
Don't know why we still hide what we've become

Aramis dished up a bowl of soup and carried it over to Anne where she and Constance were "guests" in Emilie's tent. The shock of their arrival had nearly done him in, and it'd taken immeasurable restraint to skirt the line between playing the role of deserter and protecting them against the sought-for violence against the Spanish Queen.

"Here," he said roughly before lowering his voice to a whisper. "With the respect, Your Majesty, are you completely out of your mind?"

"I thought I could help," she replied dismally. "That she might listen to reason."

Constance flapped the blankets on the bed, nervous gaze darting from them to their hosts, or more accurately, captors.

"Faith has little to do with reason," Aramis said. "If Emilie foresees your death tonight, God knows how I'm going to get you out of here." He raised his voice again. "You should try the broth. It's good."

"Take mine," Emilie called from where her mother was helping her remove her coat of chainmail. "I'm not hungry."

"Thank you," Aramis said with a deferential nod. He picked up the bowl and handed it to Constance, whispering once more, "If you need me, I'll be close by."

If he could have stayed in the tent without arousing suspicion, he would have. But despite that risk, the pull was too great, and Aramis knew he could not let himself go there. The more he was around Anne, the greater the draw, as powerful a force as gravity. She felt it too; he could see it in the way her eyes always found his. They were two wayward bodies inescapably pulled into each other's orbits.

Do you wanna cross the line?
We're runnin' out of time
A dangerous night to fall in love

The next morning when Emilie granted the Queen's release, Aramis stopped Anne on her way out of the tent.

"Don't ever do that again."

They had been lucky, no, saved by the grace of God.

"I will always serve my country," Anne replied. "But perhaps this time it was unwise."

Aramis nodded. "Foolish is the better word."

"You are talking to your Queen, Aramis," she said with a teasing grin, settling a hand upon his chest.

"I know."

Her touch burned through the leather of his coat, setting his heart afire. It pained him to look away.

"We promised each other," he said breathlessly.

Anne slid her hands down to his hips. She was so close he could breathe in her scent of rose and jasmine. "A Queen is allowed to break her promises."

She leaned in to cover his mouth with hers and he let her, his arms coming up around her waist. For just a moment, they were in a dream world again, removed from the reality of court and France.

But the danger was ever present, and the soft rustle of the tent flap had them drawing apart. Constance stood there, slack-jawed, before quickly turning away.

Aramis sighed as Anne hurried after her. The circle of those who knew this secret was expanding, and while he trusted Constance to be discreet, it was just another life put at risk because of his actions. He had started something he could not stop, and a small part of him began to wonder when the hourglass would finally run out on him.

I…I am a man on fire
You…a violent desire

"I never meant to keep any secrets from you," Aramis said on the landing, watching Porthos's tense body language carefully. "But you must understand why I had to."

His friend looked taut with anger, but after a moment Porthos lifted his head and sighed. "Do you love 'er?"

Aramis gave a rueful half smile. "If she were an ordinary woman…it might be possible. But she isn't," he quickly added, eyes downcast.

"You have a child," Porthos nearly whispered, and there was pain and shared remorse in the weight of his tone. Aramis truly wished he hadn't needed to keep this secret, knowing Porthos would have been a solid anchor at his side, sharing this joy and sorrow with him.

But it could not have been. None of it could be.

Aramis let out a despondent breath and shook his head. "I should have just walked away, but…" He looked back at Porthos, hoping his friend would continue to understand. "I've never met a woman like her. Her courage, her endurance, her kindness." Even now, those qualities shone with a radiance in his heart. "And she needed me."

And, perhaps, he needed her. After Isabelle, after all the losses he'd faced. Brotherhood sustained him thus far but Anne filled a void he'd carried for far longer.

Porthos's eyes took on a hardened firmness. "If you really do love 'er, there's one thing you can do to prove it." He paused, as though knowing the weight of what he was about to say would strike as true as any mortal musket wound. "Deny it ever happened."

And it hit its mark. Aramis stiffened at his friend's demand, his chest hitching at the words that followed, an echo of Athos's previous warnings.

"That boy is the King's son, Aramis. That can't change…no matter what."

No matter what. He knew that, he did. But how did he quench the passion inside him? The love that burned so fiercely?

He should have walked away.

But it was too late for that now.

A dangerous night to fall in love
A dangerous night to fall in love

Aramis lingered as the others took their leave of the Queen after settling her into the safety of the convent. He no longer had to keep the reason why a secret, which gave him both a measure of freedom and restraint. And so he held the distance between him and Anne like a chasm.

"In time I must return to confront my enemies," she spoke up.

Yes, that was their plan, once they had a weapon they could use to discredit Rochefort once and for all.

"But you can escape, Aramis," she added more softly. "Live a different life. Far away from danger."

"I've never fled from danger in my life," he replied.

Anne's expression pinched with distress and she took a step forward into that chasm. "Won't you save yourself for my sake? For the sake of my son?"

Her voice quavered, and Aramis could only gaze back solemnly.

Anne dropped her gaze. "Our son," she amended, unable to look him in the eye.

And then that chasm was not so impossible to cross, not when her heart was clearly breaking and all Aramis wanted to do was comfort her.

He closed the distance between them. "How could I live with myself if I abandoned my duty?" His own heart fractured with the palpable force held taut between their tethered souls that could never be acknowledged. "My only concern is for your safety."

And that could be his only concern. Not her heart. Not her comfort. And certainly not his.

"I swear I will not allow anything to happen to you…" He took in a shaky breath. "Because of me."

He turned and started to walk away.

"Aramis," Anne called.

He paused in the doorway to look back.

Anne shifted, eyes pained and fixed away. "Whatever happens…" Her voice cracked, but then she lifted her gaze with soft resoluteness. "I will never regret what happened here."

Aramis hesitated. The words were a balm and a burn, for neither could he.

No matter where this danger led them next.

Do you wanna cross the line?
We're runnin' out of time
A dangerous night to fall in love
A dangerous night to fall in love
A dangerous night to fall in love

It had all come out. Their forbidden love. That one night of passion. The dauphin's true parentage. Aramis had played the gamble in an effort to keep everything he loved close and had lost it all in the process.

But then some miracle painted the truth as lies from a Spanish spy. Rochefort met his fitting end, and all the damage was wiped away. The Queen saved and restored in the eyes of her husband. Aramis, proven innocent of a crime he was, in fact, guilty of. Everything went back to normal.

Except it couldn't. The weight of what had almost come to pass rested squarely on Aramis's shoulders, and he could not chance it happening again. Time would inevitably run out on him once more; perhaps it had been running out on him all along.

He'd made a vow to God should he be spared, yes, but more than that, he'd made a vow to his brothers. To love and protect. And this was the way to uphold that. He'd been selfish before, and it had nearly cost the lives of everyone he held dear. He could not put them at risk again. He could not put Anne and their son at risk again.

He'd told her he would never run from danger, but Aramis saw the truth now—he was the dangerous one. He'd said to Athos once, in the heat of battle, that he forsook the priesthood because he was better at dispatching people to Hell. He was not wrong, but he refused to be the one to dispatch his brothers in kind.

And so for love, he had to leave. For all of them.