Authors note: This chapter is quite long, but I could not sensibly split the narrative anywhere else. The next chapter is shorter.

Nothing in Common

Chapter One

'What 'appened to you?'

'I've been robbed,' said Aramis as he sat down heavily beside Porthos who was eyeing his friend with concern.

They had watched as the dishevelled marksman had crossed the garrison yard to sit at the table with them. He had a black eye and bruising across his cheek, his doublet was muddy.

'Are you hurt?' asked Athos looking Aramis up and down.

'Other than my pride, no I don't think so. He was very good, grabbed me from behind and I barely had a chance to react before he hit me. When I woke up they were gone, as were my gun and sword.'

'They knocked you out?'

'I'm not concussed.'

Porthos was not so sure. Aramis looked a bit unfocused and was clearly making light of a serious incident. He watched as Aramis reached out to pick up the cup of water that d'Artagnan had poured for him, when he winced at the action Porthos knew the marksman was hiding another injury. Knowing his friend would probably not admit to it he simply reached up and grabbed his shoulder.

Aramis dropped the cup and cried out in pain. He looked at Porthos in shock.

'What did you do that for?'

'You're hurt…and you don't want to bother us with it.'

D'Artagnan could not suppress a chuckle, 'he's got you there,' he said.

Aramis sighed, 'I might have bruised my back.'

'Come on,' said Porthos rising, 'I want a look.'

Aramis glanced at Athos who nodded his agreement that the marksman should do as he was told.

'Do all your conquests give in this easily?' asked Aramis as he allowed Porthos to pull him up to stand.

'N'ah, only you.'

'This is ridiculous…'

Athos looked at Aramis sternly, 'do you want me to tell Treville you are unfit for duty? Because I will.'

Aramis glared at them all, Porthos knew he was not really angry, he was probably just embarrassed at the situation. Soldiers should not get attacked, but they were all human and occasionally people took them by surprise. He knew that the week before one of the Red Guard had been attacked and left unconscious, unceremoniously dumped in a puddle. That had caused them all a chuckle, but it was different when it was one of their own.

Once in the privacy of the infirmary Porthos had to help Aramis take off his doublet, he was struggling to shrug out of the garment, without wincing.

'It must be some impressive bruising…' said Porthos as he pulled the doublet off Aramis' arms, 'except it ain't bruising…your back is bleeding.'

'What?'

'Take your shirt off, your back's covered in blood.'

'How…?'

As Aramis struggled out of his shirt Porthos held up the marksman's doublet, there were no marks on the leather to correspond with the bloody wounds on his friends back. He looked across at Aramis who had paled a little as he tried to work out what had happened to himself.

'Aramis, how long were you unconscious for?'

'I didn't think it was very long…but it must have been long enough for them to take my jacket and shirt off, do whatever they did to me and put my clothes back on me before I woke up.'

Porthos cleaned the blood from his friends back, there were several slices across the flesh, each deep enough to bleed but none so serious they would need stitching.

'It's weird,' he said as he dressed the wounds, 'why would they go to that much trouble?'

Aramis did not respond, Porthos looked at him.

'You OK?'

'Yes,' replied Aramis eventually, 'I just can't work out why someone would do that.'

MMMM

'Is he OK?' asked Treville once Athos had finished telling him about the attack on Aramis.

'Yes, he's sore from the wounds on his back and will no doubt be feeling the effects of the attack for a few days, but otherwise he is more embarrassed and a bit confused as to why he was treated as he was.'

'It is very odd. A lot of trouble to go to, just to injure someone,' said Treville. He thought for a few moments, Athos could tell something had occurred to him, 'I wonder if it's the same person that attack the Red Guardsman?'

'If there are similar injuries I would say it is a fair assumption,' replied Athos. The attacks could be linked, but it was not unusual for soldiers to be attacked by disenchanted locals.

'I have a meeting at the Palace later today, I'll see if I can corner the Captain of the Red Guard or the Cardinal and try and find out what happened to their soldier…I imagine Aramis is keen to find out who stole his gun?'

Athos nodded with a slight smile.

'None of you have duties tomorrow so feel free to help him,' Treville continued, 'perhaps stop him getting in any more trouble?'

MMMM

It was the Cardinal who found Treville, sweeping up to him along one of the ornate Palace corridors. His approach silent as always.

'I hear one of your men was attacked this morning?'

Treville, as always, marvelled at the Cardinals intelligence gathering skills. The man knew everything that went on. A servant could sneeze at the other end of the Palace and the Cardinal would know before they had a chance to blow their nose.

'As was one of your guard last week, I believe,' responded Treville.

'My man was an idiot. He was inebriated and picked a fight with a couple of men in the tavern, breaking one of their arms. From what I have heard he was later attacked, and left unconscious in a quiet alley a few streets from the tavern…do you suspect it was the same man who attacked them both?'

'Possibly, was your man hurt?' asked Treville, although he thought the red guard has been attacked as revenge for the fight in the tavern.

The Cardinal paused, he looked at Treville through slightly narrowed eyes. He could tell that Treville was fishing for information about the attack. Treville realised he was probably not going to get what he wanted without first giving up some information.

'Aramis has several knife wounds to his back. Not serious, but bad enough that they will leave him scarred. The attacker must have stripped him of his clothes to assault him, then redressed him. He wasn't even aware of the wounds until he returned to the garrison.'

Richelieu nodded, 'I think it was the same man, Simon was left with marks on his back as well…a most odd occurrence…for two soldiers to be attacked in such a similar manner…had Aramis done anything to provoke the attack on himself?'

Treville knew what the Cardinal was implying. Although he did not let it interfere with his work Aramis was known to enjoy the odd discreet assignation with some of the finer ladies of Paris.

'I do not believe so,' said Treville trying not to sigh, the thought had occurred to both him and Athos that the attack on Aramis might have been one of revenge by an angry husband. But now that he knew the attack on the Red Guardsman was so similar he was sure they were linked.

Richelieu turned to leave before pausing to say, 'the fact that nothing was stolen from them, means this was an attack on them…I shall inform the King, he will not be pleased that his soldiers are being attacked. I am sure he will want this investigated.'

With that Richelieu strolled away, his robes swinging as he rounded a corner out of sight. Treville had not been given a chance to respond to his last statement. He was confused, the Cardinal had implied that his guardsman had not been robbed. But Aramis had been relieved of his gun and sword. Perhaps, thought Treville, the robber had good taste and preferred the better quality of Aramis' well-kept gun?

MMMM

Armed with the knowledge of Treville's brief conversation with Richelieu, Porthos pushed his way through the crowd in the tavern. He knew Simon would be there, the man wanted to win back the money he had lost a couple of weeks before. Porthos would be only too happy to allow the man to think he was winning his money back if it meant he got more information about the attack.

Simon was sat with a bottle and a cup at a table in the corner of the room. Porthos sat down, with little ceremony, opposite the slightly overweight guard. Porthos often wondered why Simon had not been kicked out of the guard years ago. Although he was probably the least obnoxious of the men, he was a sore loser at cards. They had a frosty relationship, where Simon frequently accused Porthos of cheating and Porthos frequently beat him in the consequent brawl.

Without even speaking Porthos dealt the cards and they began to play. He allowed Simon to win the first few rounds before he struck up a conversation.

'This man who attacked you,' he said as he placed his hand down on the table, 'did you see 'im?'

Simon paused and looked at Porthos through narrowed eyes, 'why?'

Porthos sighed, he had hoped the man would be stupid enough to just answer his questions, but it was not to be. He knew Aramis would not appreciate it but he was going to have to tell Simon why he was asking questions.

'Because we think Aramis was attacked by the same man.'

Simon leant back in his seat, a smirking sneer playing across his face.

Porthos spoke again before Simon could make any disparaging comments about his friend, 'but Aramis managed to find his way back to the garrison. 'e didn't need scraping off the street…from a dirty puddle.'

The smile fell from Simon's face and Porthos wondered if he had gone too far defending his friend. He quickly lost another hand of cards to keep Simon on his side.

'No, I didn't see him…but I know it wasn't either of the men I fought in here,' he said with a renewed smirk.

This interested Porthos, he nodded to the man to continue.

'The two men I beat in here,' Simon continued smugly, 'they both stank of wine, I think they'd poured more of it on themselves than down their throats. No, the man that attacked me smelt different,' he paused thinking, 'although I can't think what the smell reminded me of, something flowery.'

Porthos took in the information as Simon dealt another round, he watched as the guardsman tried to hide a high value card up his sleeve. He wondered if that is what had caused the original fight, Simon had tried cheating before and been found out. Porthos decided to let him get away with it this time, but he would not allow Simon to take his money. As the round progressed Porthos added his own secreted cards back into his hand swapping out the low value ones. Simon did not notice, he was too caught up with his own deception.

'…and you 'ad nothing stolen?'

'No,' said Simon as he watched Porthos lay down a winning hand, and scoop up the money with a grin.

After taking his winnings from the confused man and collecting up his pack of cards, being careful that Simon did not see him remove the two cards from his sleeve he headed back to his rooms.

MMMM

The following morning Aramis walked with purpose through the market, watching the locals as they went about their business. Athos and d'Artagnan followed him, he knew they were concerned about him, but other than feeling a bit stiff and sore he was fine. What really annoyed him was that he had allowed himself to be overpowered in the first place.

He had been grabbed from behind and dragged into a side road as he was walking to the garrison. The attack was so quick and had taken him by surprise that he did not even have a chance to shout or react before he was knocked out. He knew he had been a little preoccupied, but he should have noticed the threat before he had been attacked. He had felt very pathetic as he walked into the garrison. There was no way he could hide the fact he had been attacked. He knew he would have bruising on his face. The cuts to his back had been a disturbing development, when Porthos had told him he was bleeding he could not quite believe it. He knew there was an injury, and he had hoped that the others would not notice, but that was not to be. Porthos was too astute in such matters.

As they made their way through the market d'Artagnan grabbed Aramis' arm and pointed at a stall selling weaponry. Aramis' gun was for sale at the front of the stall. They approached the stall holder. Athos circled around to the back of the stall and d'Artagnan stood a little behind Aramis who picked up his gun and examined it.

'A fine piece monsieur,' said the stall holder, thinking he was about to make a sale.

'Yes, it is…do you know what the punishment is for selling stolen goods?' asked Aramis giving the man a hard stare.

The stall holder paled, he glanced around at the three, armed soldiers, who surrounded him.

'Um…I…didn't,' the man stammered and looked on the verge of passing out. Aramis knew this man was not the one who had attacked him, he was small and would not have had the strength to drag him off the street.

'Perhaps you could tell us who sold the gun to you? And we may be able to leave you in peace?' suggested d'Artagnan who had moved closer to the frightened man.

Aramis raised an eyebrow to the man as an indication that he should tell them what he knew.

'It was Masson, he…acquires me things to sell occasionally…but I would never sell stolen things…if I knew they were stolen.'

Aramis did not care about the stall holder's morals, but he did want further information from the man, he put his arm around the small man's shoulders and pulled him closer and lightly tapped the end of the gun on the man's chin. The action pulled at the cuts on his back but he did not care.

'Where might we find Masson?'

'He…he's usually harassing the tarts about now, trying to get a free…a free lunch,' the man had frozen when Aramis had grabbed hold of him. Aramis let him go and reached out to straighten his jacket before giving him a gentle shove into his stall.

Aramis turned his back on the man, taking his gun with him, and walked towards the corner of the market where he knew a group of prostitutes would be plying their trade. Athos and d'Artagnan followed.

As they approached they heard a woman tell a man to go away, in an unladylike manner. The whore pushed the dirty looking man back and disappeared back into the house. The man turned and made eye contact with Aramis. The man looked shocked, his hand moved to his waist and Aramis recognised his sword hanging from a loose belt.

The man, who Aramis was fairly sure was Masson ran off. Aramis took off after him. Athos and d'Artagnan followed close behind.

Masson darted along the narrow alleyways. Aramis was gaining on him slowly. As they passed another street Aramis was vaguely aware of Athos and d'Artagnan being held up by a crowd of people who had been thrown out of a tavern by a cantankerous landlady.

Aramis turned a corner and found that Masson had stopped dead, in his panic he had run into a blind alley. Aramis came to a halt a few yards from the man.

'I'd like my sword back,' he said aiming his reclaimed gun at the man. He had not had time to load the weapon, but Masson did not know that.

Perhaps he should have drawn the borrowed sword instead, he thought, as Masson charged towards him? Aramis quickly flipped the gun around and went to hit Masson with it. The man was no soldier, but he had been drinking and was scared, he did not appear to notice he had been hit with the butt of the gun. Masson grabbed Aramis by the shoulders and tripped him, forcing him to the ground. He landed hard on his back. The air knocked out of him and his back screaming from the impact on his wounds, he was left stunned for a few moments as Masson scrambled up and made a run for it.

MMMM