A/N: Welcome back dear readers! I've been in a bit of a funk lately and have tried escaping into my little AU world here. I've been struggling with what I wanted to capture here, but hopefully you all like it! As always, your notes and reviews are really appreciated! Cheers!

Weighted Scales

Chapter 1

It was late and the mood in the infirmary was tense.

Two of the beds were currently occupied.

Aramis stood over Athos, carefully checking the bandages wrapped around his chest. It was late, and the medic's strain was obvious. Porthos sat next to D'Artagnan and gently wiped his forehead with a damp cloth.

Porthos eyed the medic as he stood from Athos' bed, staggered slightly and winced as he straightened his shoulders.

"You should take a rest," Porthos grumbled, "We've done all we can for now."

Aramis raised an eyebrow at his friend - his eyes roving over the brawler's own bruised cheekbone and the slight cut to his brow. "I'm fine mon ami, but you should have something to eat. It's been a hard day."

Porthos frowned. "I saw that blow you took to your back. Ya can't tell me you aren't feelin' it."

Aramis smirked. "It's hard not to, but it's only bruised," he said and sighed. He ran his hand through his hair as he looked back at where Athos lay resting peacefully.

"Has Christine been told we're back?" Porthos asked.

Aramis shook his head. "No, not yet. I wanted to wait until they woke." Porthos nodded and replaced the cloth on D'Artagnan's brow as he shifted in his sleep. A gentle knock on the infirmary door had both men raising their heads to greet the visitor.

Etienne entered cautiously. "The Captain has just returned from the palace. He's asked to see you." Aramis frowned slightly.

"Don't worry," said Etienne coming to stand between Athos and D'Artagnan's beds. "I'll look after them."

Aramis met the calm face of the other medic and nodded. Porthos rose and clapping Etienne on the shoulder, he followed Aramis from the Infirmary up the wooden staircase to Treville's office. With a look at Porthos, Aramis knocked twice.

"Come!" came the familiar bark from behind the closed door.

The two musketeers entered and met the aggravated gaze of their Captain. It was indeed late, and the Captain had missed dinner; his audience with the King had lasted longer than expected.

He shuffled piles of parchment on his desk. A few unopened missives fell from its surface. Angrily, he tossed the stack of parchment he had been holding onto the desk's messy surface and stooped to recover the notes that had fallen. Clearly his time with the King had worn his patience thin.

"Well?" Treville barked, "What do you have to report?"

Aramis and Porthos were startled by the Captain's aggravation. They hesitated which only seemed to frustrate him more.

"I have spent the last hours watching the King and his courtiers plan yet another ostentatious party, suggesting my men perform shooting tricks and feats of strength for their entertainment, while the people grow hungry, and war looms on our doorstep. Then I return to this garrison to find I have two musketeers in the infirmary after what was supposed to be a routine delivery of a letter and rumours of a dead nobleman's son. I need an explanation. Now," said Treville leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, his blue eyes blazing and awaiting a report.

With Athos injured, it fell to Aramis to report to the Captain. He straightened his shoulders and swallowed the groan that threatened to escape him again (though perhaps he was less successful at hiding his grimace).

"Our ride out was uneventful save for some rain," Aramis began. "We met the Comte de Gaulle and his son the Viscomte and delivered the missive. The Viscomte seemed to recognize Athos, though Athos remained calm and tried to keep to our task. The Comte himself is in failing health, though his pride and spirit are undiminished. We awaited his reply. Having received it, we left and planned to return to Paris in the morning," he said, producing the sealed note from the Comte from his doublet.

Treville took the letter and frowned, but said nothing. Aramis continued.

"We returned to our rooms at the inn. The Viscomte followed us and insisted on challenging Athos to a duel. Athos declined, but the Viscomte persisted. The match was brief, and Athos won easily. The Viscomte…was embarrassed," Aramis said, glancing at Porthos who nodded his support. Treville had moved his hand and was currently consoling the bridge of his nose with it, his eyes closed, as he listened to Aramis' report. "We set out early in the morning, but were quickly pursued. The Viscomte had summoned a dozen men to seek mollification for his wounded pride. A battle ensued. One man shot D'Artagnan's horse from under him. He hit his head in his fall. He was conscious earlier, but the ride back was difficult. He is suffering from a mild concussion."

"And Athos?" Treville asked.

"It was as the battle ended," said Porthos helpfully.

Aramis nodded. "It was over. We had defeated most of the Viscomte's henchman, the others retreating the way they came. Athos once more had defeated the Viscomte. The Viscomte was incensed, but Athos showed him mercy and turned away from him, thinking the man disarmed. He wasn't."

Porthos growled lowly at this.

"The Viscomte stabbed Athos. In the back. He had a blade, but whether hidden or recovered from the ground, I didn't see. I…was too slow to stop him before he had plunged the weapon into Athos. I shot him. He's dead," Aramis finished.

"And where were you in all of this?" Treville asked Porthos.

"I was –"

"Porthos was with D'Artagnan. He had taken a blow to the face, but was able to defend him from at least a half dozen men where he fell," said Aramis, meeting Treville's gaze with a fire in his own eyes in defense of his brother.

"Three musketeers hurt and a dead nobleman, but you seem to remain unaffected," said Treville scathingly. Aramis stiffened, but nodded.

"We didn' have a choice, Captain. The Viscomte…he wanted to kill Athos. 'Mis had to –" said Porthos, fervently.

"It doesn't matter," said Treville, "You were seen. You are known Aramis. You cannot just kill a nobleman without consequences. Things are different now!"

Aramis' eyes darkened. "I will not apologize for killing a man who was intent on killing my brother! He stabbed Athos from behind as he offered him mercy."

"Just once I wished you'd use your head instead of following your heart," said Treville.

"Should I have let the man kill Athos then? I had to remove part of the broken blade when we returned to the infirmary. As it is, Athos lost a lot of blood and it will be a few days for him to recover fully – and that's only if he doesn't develop an infection from the wound!" said Aramis defensively.

"You are reckless. How will you take care of your people as a Comte when you can't even keep yourself out of trouble?" Treville shouted.

His face flushed as he met the Spaniard's dark gaze. He knew he had gone too far as all the air was pulled suddenly from the room with his words. He knew that Aramis took his new responsibilities seriously and he was as skilled at caring for others as he was talented with a pistol.

"I have never taken a life unless it was absolutely necessary," said Aramis coldly. "Am I dismissed, Captain?" he said, a little peevishly.

"You are, my Lord. Return to your home. Etienne will be fine in the infirmary with the wounded. He will send word should you be needed," Treville said coolly, matching Aramis' tone.

Aramis was startled and made to protest but Treville silenced him with a curt "Dismissed."

With a silent glare, Aramis turned and marched from the office pulling the door sharply behind him, leaving Porthos with a deeply frowning Captain.

They were silent for a moment as they listened to Aramis' boots on the steps outside. Eventually Porthos looked at the Captain. He was seated at his desk, worry replacing the anger in his eyes as they lingered on the door the marksman had just stormed through.

"He didn't have a choice, Cap'n," said Porthos quietly. "You know 'Mis. He would never kill someone if there was any way around it."

Treville sighed deeply and leant forward placing his elbows on his desk, his clasped fingers supporting his brow. He raised his head so his eyes met his soldier. "I know that Porthos. I know exactly the man that Aramis is. The problem is that Aramis is no longer just a musketeer. He's the Comte now, and he has a target on his back – one that I'm not sure he's yet aware of," said Treville sadly.

Porthos tensed at the mention of the threat to his brother.

"It's all politics. Christine is a favourite of the King's, as is Aramis now. With their marriage, Aramis has suddenly been elevated to the higher circles with the eagles and they are vicious. It is dangerous, Porthos. Their competition at court will look for any opportunity to discredit the pair of them, tarnish their names or worse," said Treville. "I have no doubt the Viscomte deserved it. I have two men lying in the infirmary because of his actions, and you too are a sore sight from the encounter, but I fear for what the consequences of the altercation might be now. A nobleman is dead, and deserved or not, if he has the right connections, justice can be deaf and dumb as well as blind."

Porthos suddenly saw the age settle in on Treville. He knew that the Captain's relationship with the marksman was similar to that of a father and son, and he could tell that the Captain was regretting his words and his handling of the entire situation that had just transpired. He also knew that the man was acting from a place of protection and anxiousness on the medic's behalf – only exasperated by Aramis' own impetuousness and righteousness.

"Don't worry Captain, Aramis knows you didn't mean it. He knows you're comin' from a good place. He's worried about the others – you know how he gets. He's sore too – took a nasty blow himself. That's why he was a bit short with ya," explained Porthos.

If possible, Treville frowned even deeper. "That explains the grimace and why he was standing so stiffly…"

"Want me to go after 'im?"

"No," said Treville, "Let him cool off and rest. I will speak with him in the morning."

Porthos nodded as he turned to leave. He hesitated at the door.

"I know Athos and D'Artagnan are restin' and gonna be fine, but you shouldn't 'ave made him leave," said Porthos quietly.

Treville sighed again. "I know…I just lost my temper."

Porthos grinned. "Ya, he's got a talent for that. It's also what happens with fathers and sons. He loves you Captain. Everythin'll be fine in the mornin'. You'll see."

oOo