I would like to reply to a comment about how I write characters. I didn't know, believe it or not, that there are specific ways to let my readers know that a character might be written differently than their character from the show at times. I think the term is OCC, and I will be happy to give warnings next time.

With Athos, there were a number of times on the show that spoke to me of the powerful emotions he held inside of him, which I wanted to give him in my ff. Of course, there is the whole Milady story. He had strong feelings for her, both for love, and later for hate. Commodities was rife with pent-up feelings, as was The Return. In Trial and Punishment, we see a little of the passion in him. His feelings for his brother, Thomas, were also strong, as shown in how he reacted to his death and the near-hanging of Milady. I believe he has those same strong feelings for his Musketeer brothers, and I love bringing some of that out. But I understand that I should warn when I do something different than the show did.

In Aramis' case, I believe when he, or most of the time the others as well, were injured, the writers were very wrong in having them with no signs of any of the damage in the very next scenes. It doesn't make sense. If they are hurt, that needs to be shown to make sense. There were several times, Through a Glass Darkly, Trial and Punishment and Prisoner of War to name a few, where he sustained injuries that were made light of to progress on and further the plot. I just tend to focus more on what could really happen when someone is injured, and also on the love the brothers, one for the other.

I refer to Aramis as "their" brother, not as a pet, but as a very beloved friend, as they each see the others as family.

I really appreciate everyone's reviews, your thoughts on my story. Feel free to share any time, and I will attempt to respond.

Here comes Chapter 13!

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Several days later, Aramis was progressing quite well. The poison in his system was greatly diminished, and the wounds from the explosion were healing nicely. Of course, this have Aramis the mistaken idea that he was well enough now to try things that were still on Dr. Lemay's 'list' not-to-do's, such as getting out of bed.

After his latest attempt on his own, where he had nearly landed on his face on the floor, his brothers decided to have a little takl with him. They knew their brother very well. He hated feeling confined to bed. It was at this stage that he usually thought he was well enough to do things, and he could be very persuasive and persistent, when in reality he wasn't quite as far along as he thought he was, and could very well undo all his progress if he wasn't careful. The reason he had been healing so well was precisely because he had been doing what Lemay had ordered.

Seeing them all coming around the bed, Aramis knew they were not happy with his attempts at getting back to normal. "I feel...", he began, only for Porthos to interrupt him.

"Aramis, you have told us you were fine when you were passing out while riding, when you had a musket wound in your side, when you had been knocked on the head by a pistol barrel. We love you and we know you. We came way too close to losing you this time. You don't want to push things too far too fast."

"Dr. Lemay told us to keep a close eye on you, Aramis. He told us to follow his instructions until he releases you," Athos continued. "We do indeed know you. When you are taking care of us, you tell us to take it easy and let ourselves heal, that moving around too much at this stage could undo all of our progress. But you do not practice what you tell us to do when you are injured or ill, and right now, you are both."

"But...," Aramis began again, accompanied by a woebegone face that his brothers knew was designed for sympathy.

"No, Aramis," Porthos overrode him. "We are going to make sure you follow his insructions because we care and, like I said before, we love you."

Aramis' face slowly fell, realizing his pleas would go unrewarded, and he heaved a huge, dramatic sigh that caused his brothers to fight hard to suppress the grins it illicited from them.

Not agreeing with, but understanding Aramis' frustration, Athos said, "Dr. Lemay also told us that if you can follow his regimen for another week, he believes he might be able to give you permission for more movement."

These words gave Aramis a glimmer of hope for the end of his confinement. His brothers knew him, thougn, and Athos continued. "Just remember, his approval will only be given if you take it easy now."

But Aramis' hope wouldn't be extinguished, and he remained buoyant and smiling the rest of the day.

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Constance had given Anne the good news that Aramis was going to recover. She had been so worried for him, but had not been able to go to him. It would have been far too dangerour for them both to invite any suspicion. But now, she could rejoice that he was going to live!

She also had been forced to hide her emotions around the palace, too. Any changes of her demeanor would have sent signals to the palace staff and the many members of the aristocracy who lived there, who watched everything she did, hoping to curry favor. If she had begun looking sad or worried, they would have noticed immediately.

She was well aware of these things, and any changes of expression or deviation from a normal routine would start the rumors, which she tried so hard to avoid. Not for the first time, she wished she could have been born to a simple unknown family, and lived a life away from the glitter and pomp.

Women from royal families and from the nobility were only important in society to give birth to the all-important heir, and to be a gracious and smiling presence at Court functions, balls and other importants events. Their lives were to always be at the whim of their husbands. Their thoughts and feelings were almost always taken as if they were of no importance.

She felt like dancing on air right now, but only in the privacy of her own apartments, and only because her ladies in waiting were not in her presence. She still had to be very careful. Looking too joyful would also illicit questioning looks and suspicion.

Unknowingly echoing a sigh as her lover had done earlier in the day, she wished for the umpteenth time that that she was free to marry and live with the man she loved, even in a simple cottage far away in the country where they could be happy.

If wishes were horses, beggars might ride, she sadly thought.

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The next week went by quietly. Aramis was on his best behavior, although they could see that he was pining for the promised 'release' to be set free.

At the end of the week, Dr. Lemay arrived and made his examination. To Aramis' absolute delight, the good doctor did release him to begin his next stage: sitting up, followed by standing and walking. He told him there was now no sign of the poison left in his body, just the aftereffects of the simultaneous trauma of poison and injury, plus the toll that all of the other injuries his body had sustained the past few weeks from what had once been thought to be accidents. He saw no reason to think that Aramis wouldn't recover completely. Everyone was overjoyed with his prognosis.

Telling them he would be back in about a week or so for another checkup, he departed.

Aramis insisted on sitting up as soon as Lemay left, and this time, no one gave him any reason not to do couldn't prevent a wince as he lifted himself with a helpful hand from Porthos at his back. He was practically grinning from ear to ear once he was up with some pillows at his back.

Next day, he insisted on sitting up on the edge of the bed, then slowly getting to his feet. As like his endeavor the previous day, he again winced as he moved, but insisted that it was only because he hadn't moved for so long.

His recovery continued throughout the week, and finally, he made it down to the table he and his brothers always ate their meals around. They all enjoyed a meal in the spring sunlight, jubilant at one progress after another.

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Treville didn't release Aramis back to full active duty yet, though. He was allowed to work in the weapons room few hours each day, cleaning and repairing the pistols and muskets, which made him feel like he was again contributing to the garrison.

No one had seen or heard anything from Bernard in all this time.

But one day, that changed.

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Treville was unexpectedly interrupted from his work very early in the morning one day day by the guard at the gates bellowing for the Captain. Frowning, he strode out his office door and down the steps, calling out, "Andre, what's wrong?"

The guard met him halfway across the compound, hurrrying from his post at the gates. "Captain, something very odd, sir," he said, starting back towards the gates.

Treville followed, wondering what was up. He soon found out when he reached the garrison entrance. There on the ground directly in-between the gates was...a chicken?

Then, looking further, he saw a musket laying underneath the chicken-a chicken with its head blown off.

Treville was, to say the least, shocked. It was a rather shocking, yet creepy thing to be left on their doorstep, so to speak.

Who in the world...?

Bending over to examine the gruesome mess, he swore. The stock of the musket had the Musketeers insignia carved into it! What in the world was this supposed to mean?

Slowly standing back up, he bellowed for David, one of his veterans, and Francois, one of his best cadets. He assigned them to work on finding out where the chicken and musket had come from. Someone had a very strange sense of humor, if that was what it was supposed ot have been staged for.

This was not a good beginning to his day, he grumbled to himself as he walked back to his office.

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Two days later, in the twilight of the evening, he got called again. Leaving his office, he saw the guard, a different one, beckoning to him from the gates. With a sinking feeling, he headed once more to the entrance, wondering if it was another strange offering.

Whatever he could have imagined, this wasn't it. On the ground was a dead dog. On looking more closely, he saw a feather under its collar.

"What in the world...?" he thought.

Then, he looked more closely at the feather. "Athos!" he shouted.

His lieutenant came out of his room, running towards Treville. Reaching him, Treville silently pointed to the dog's collar.

At first, Athos couldn't figure out what his Captain was trying to tell him. Then, he started, and looked sharply at Treville, saying, "It is an identical match for the feather in Aramis' hat. What..."

Treville interrupted him, telling him about what had previously been found at the gates.

"I don't know what is going on, but I don't like it. I don't like it at all. We will get to the bottom of this."

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Three days passed. Then, in the middle of the night, Trevill was awakened by a guard at the gate shouting his name again.

With a sense of foreboding, he left his room, and noticed that Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan came out of theirs, as well. Athos shared, thought Treville.

The all strode quickly to the gates, where the guard was again pointing to the ground.

There on the ground was a dead cat, wrapped in a scarf.

Almost as one, they all gasped. The scarf was almost an exact match in color and texture to the one Aramis wore around his waist!

"Bernard!" Athos said, in a voice that sounded retribution for the renegade attempted assassin.