A/N: Thank you to everyone for ready this recent instalment of The Christine Series! I really appreciate everyone for taking the time to review and read and drop me some PMs telling how they feel about the stories I'm working into this verse. Your continued enthusiasm means the world!

Here's the last chapter for this episode, but there's plenty more in store! Cheers!

By Any Other Name

Chapter 13

They woke the next morning and surveyed the damage of the home.

Much of the West wing was still intact including the Pink and Green rooms that Christine and Athos had stayed in. Christine was relieved that they were able to salvage the Queen's red dress. Porthos liberated libations from the kitchen and they had a hearty meal before leaving.

Aramis would ride with Christine in the carriage for the return journey. Though he insisted he was quite recovered, he was still weak from the loss of blood and his headache lingered. Athos would ride Bella back to Paris – his own head injury having only been minor and not requiring stitches.

Christine emerged in one of her preferred gowns and not one of her formal courtly gowns, and the musketeers all smiled to see their friend at ease despite her injured arm.

The trunks were piled high and the jewels were safely stowed as they set out to return home. Aramis slept for the first part of the trip, his head in Christine's lap as she lovingly carded her fingers through his hair.

They arrived in Paris and Treville's eyes grew wide upon seeing the Comtesse and Aramis in bandages. Athos gave their report and when he was done he sat back in his chair.

"Christine performed exceptionally," Athos reiterated. "She controlled the situation at all times. She saved my life and managed to fight off her own attackers when the fight began. The King should know of what she has done for the crown."

"Please, Athos, Captain. I am no musketeer. I insist that the King not be made aware of my involvement and that his full praise should fall on the regiment."

"Not a musketeer?" Treville asked, his eyebrow rising. "You impersonated a Duchess to recover jewels for the crown, you executed the entire operation, you saved my lieutenant and my marksman in the midst of battle, and you managed to blow up half of an estate in the process. I think that more than qualifies you to rank among this lot," Treville said, and the others couldn't help but grin at the slight admonishment.

Christine grinned back and gave a small laugh. "True, but I also would prefer not to be on Louis' bad side when he realizes the weaponry was all destroyed in the blast. I'd like to keep my position at court among his favourites," she said and, uneasily, they laughed slightly, knowing how likely it would be that the King might be displeased that they were unable to recover the munitions despite the bounty of the returned jewellery.

"That's the difference," Treville said, "You're much more clever than we are." He gave a rueful smile and an exasperated sigh. "I'll inform the King of what he needs to know. Perhaps the rumours were false and it was simply an auction for precious stones…you're all dismissed…And Christine, thank you."

"It was my honour, Captain."

oOo

The night was cool, and Aramis drew his wife closer to him as he felt her shiver slightly. He was careful not to jostle her arm, which was still recovering. The bruising had faded slightly and she no longer required the sling to support the arm, and though she would never cause him to worry by admitting to her pain, he knew those eyes well enough to know when certain motions caused the still healing joint to flare. His own injury was healing well beneath its bandage, and he had returned to duty

The window was open and the soft breeze fluttered the pages on the book he had been reading. She had fallen asleep against him as he read to her in the comfort of their library. He held her and savoured every moment of their peace – the smell of her hair, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she dreamed, the warm crackle of the fire as it combatted the cool evening air, the softness of her cheek as it rested against his chest. The way she held him tightly, even in her sleep, certain that he was hers and he would protect her.

He stared down at Christine, at his world, and for the millionth time since they completed the Gardeau affair, he sent a prayer of thanks to his God that they had survived and had not been too badly injured.

The King had exalted in the return of the jewels and the additional wealth that the Musketeers had recovered. There was no mention of the destroyed weaponry nor of Christine's involvement. When asked about her injured arm, Christine had laughed it off.

"A consequence of my carelessness and nothing more," she said and listened patiently as the King informed her of his medical opinions. Only the Queen looked concerned, having been party to Christine and the musketeers' scheme, but with a reassuring smile from Christine, she was comforted.

A bird called from outside interrupting the stillness of the night and Christine stirred.

"I'm sorry," she said, raising her chin to stare into her husband's face, "I must have drifted off. What terrible company I must be."

Aramis grinned at her and kissed her softly. "The worst," he agreed and kissed her again. She grinned impishly at him and sat upright.

"Was I sleeping long?"

"No," he said, "but snoring worse than Porthos!" he laughed.

She laughed too and went to strike him with a cushion. She gasped as her elbow stung once again, but regretted it immediately seeing the concern steal the laughter from Aramis' eyes.

"I'm fine," she said, "It is almost recovered. I have nearly my full range of motion back. It only hurts when it's moved at odd moments, and much less so than it did," she admitted. He looked at her sceptically, and took her hands in his. His thumb gently stroked her fingers, resting slightly on the gold band with the red stone, her symbol of their marriage. He felt the sigil, the three stars of their family as it hung near his heart.

Her grey eyes caught his brown ones and she frowned slightly. "I'm alright," she said again, kissing him softly.

"I know," he said, brushing her hair behind her ear, "But you very nearly weren't."

She sighed and lowered her eyes for a moment before returning them to his gaze. "You're right," she said quietly. If he was startled by her admission he did not show it.

"I was glad to be a part of this mission and proud to stand by your side…but I will admit that a life of subterfuge is not the one for me."

He looked at her and smirked. "But you were so good at it," he said.

"Hardly," she replied. "I hated the lies and pretending to be someone else. I hated being on edge the whole time, fearing that I might do or say something that would risk injury to one of you."

"It was hard for me to see you that way, to worry about the risks you were taking and the danger you were in."

"I know. It felt so odd. Like wearing a shoe on the wrong foot or a glove on the wrong hand. I hated it," she said. "I didn't like trying to manipulate those men – it was so contrary to my nature," she said so piteously that he couldn't help but kiss her once more.

"I'd be lying if I didn't say that despite your qualms you did an excellent job. You were the strong, intelligent and fearless woman I fell in love with. I'd also be lying if I didn't tell you how relieved I am to hear you admit this."

"So," he said coyly as he drew her against him, "Does that mean you won't be becoming a Musketeer?" he kissed her neck and grinned as she laughed.

"No," she said. "I much prefer being married to one. I do so love a man in uniform."

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