A/N: This is the last chapter of this story. I hope that you've enjoyed it. It certainly didn't quite go where I thought it was, but I like the ending. It was supposed to end with a party where Tim and Aramis talked, but I like the two of them baking in the kitchen better because it sets up for later stories (which are in the Whumptober collections).

The next half hour they spend looking through the book. Aramis lets Tim flip through the pages. In the tense silence, he makes occasional comments about cookies that are really good or a spot of dried food on the page that brings up a memory. Each of his sisters has the same book, them being a gift from their grandmother one year. His dad had protested some when Aramis got a cookbook, too, but he didn't keep it up, especially not after seeing how happy Aramis was in the kitchen.

They settle on four different types of cookies to make: chocolate crackles, thumbprints, sugar cookies for cutouts, and spritz. With their recipes set, they start work on getting the doughs together. It's awkward at first with both hesitant to speak much, resorting instead to an awkward silence broken by brief requests for items or questions.

"You know I used to use your dad's kitchen back in college to bake cookies," Aramis says as he's cleaning up some of the bowls and measuring cups so they can start on the next dough. One's already in the fridge chilling and Tim stands ready with a dish towel to try things off. "The dorms didn't have kitchens and I wanted to bake, so he'd let me come over."

"You've known him for a long time," Tim says as he dries a bowl.

"Since the day I turned eighteen and tried to enlist because my girlfriend broke my heart," Aramis says fondly. "He called my parents and convinced me to keep my scholarship and join the ROTC instead if my heart was still set on the military after the summer passed."

"Oh." Tim pauses for a moment, considering if he should ask a question. "Do you regret being a soldier?"

"Because of what happened, you mean?"

Tim nods, drying dishes.

"I never really thought about it. I guess not."

"Even though you're sick now?"

"Well, I'd rather that all not have happened but if I hadn't joined then I'd have never met your dad and gotten to know you all. I did have a lot of fun in ROTC and until everything went bottoms up, I enjoyed learning and doing my job. I was a sniper and training as a medic, too."

"Were you any good? As a sniper?"

"Among the best. Part of it's a skill and part of it is training. Back then I could take out any target they directed me at. I had one miss and that was nerves at the beginning. Now, though, even holding a pen makes my hand shaky sometimes."

"Maybe you'll be able to get back to it with some practice. Dad always says that practice makes you better," Tim says.

"He's right on that but this will take a little more than practice." He hasn't even wanted to pick up a gun for any kind of practice in months.

"You mean your illnesses and stuff?"

"Yeah. They tend to get in the way of everything. It doesn't matter how much or little I want to do something, they're always there interfering." Aramis pauses for a moment. "Though everyone seems to think that they're getting better."

There's a long moment of silence before Tim speaks, "Well, last year at this time you were sick and had nightmares and freaked out if me or Ben came near."

"I was a mess last year, wasn't I?"

"Mom and dad were really worried but you're a lot better now. They still worry though."

"Oh."

They lapse back into silence as they work on getting the thumbprint cookies divided out. As Aramis gets the dough rolled into small balls, Tim rolls them in the egg white and chopped walnuts. After a few minutes, Aramis speaks again.

"You… um… you can ask more questions if you want."

They continue on in silence for a while longer until they get two trays ready to go into the oven.

"Do you still have nightmares," Tim asks once they've put the trays in the oven.

"Yes, but not as often. Athos or Porthos usually stays with me when I do so they can wake me up quickly." Aramis leans against the oven, enjoying the warmth seeping through the oven door. Despite their work, he's chilled.

"That's good. I… I think that was the worst part. Waking up to you screaming in a nightmare." Tim glances down at the floor, fiddling with the dish towel he'd cleaned his hands with.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you couldn't help it, but it was scary. I mean, I have nightmares and they seem pretty bad, but I never scream. So, it must be really bad what you dream of. I can't think of anything that bad."

"It was bad." Aramis stares past Tim looking out the window and just when he's starting to see the tiny, dead bodies, he remembers Lemay's training. He shakes his head and tells himself to stop.

"Stop what, Aramis," Tim asks.

"What?" Aramis looks down at Tim, confusion clear.

"You said 'stop.' Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, Tim. You're fine. It's just something my therapist taught me to stop my thoughts from wandering."

"Does it work?"

"Sometimes. It's hard and takes a lot of work. I don't always get it right."

"Well, it seems like it worked this time."

"Yeah." Aramis knows that it didn't completely work. Tim distracted him.

"It's your turn."

"What?"

"Well, it's not really fair if I'm the only one who gets to ask questions. You can ask me a question now."

"No, that's fine. You don't have to answer any questions," Aramis says quickly.

"It's okay. It's only fair."

"Okay. Um… what do you like most about school?"

"Geography. And PE."

"Geography? Is that learning the different states and stuff?"

"Yeah. It's really fun because we spend a few days on each state and we learn lots of different things about it, like all of the important things that happened."

"That is always a lot of fun." Aramis pauses a moment to look in the oven; the cookies are nearly done but they have a few minutes left. "Let's start getting the next batch ready." As they get started again, Aramis tells Tim he can ask his next question.

"Why'd you leave back in April? Was Meg's crying too much?"

"Partly. It set things in motion, but it was to prevent it from happening again."

"What? Prevent what? The massacre?" Tim doesn't know everything that happened in Afghanistan but he knows that there was a massacre, it involved children, and Aramis was the only one who lived. His parents tried to keep the truth from him and Ben but in a house with a man screaming at nightmares and having flashbacks from PTSD, hiding the truth was difficult.

"No, I… I was staying with my sister when I left the Navy, but I had a flashback and nearly hurt my niece, Olivia. I scared her bad enough she was in tears. I didn't want that happening here. Not to you three and it was all getting worse back then. I was worried I couldn't control it and I really can't sometimes. Just last weekend I hit Athos in the middle of a panic attack and don't remember even doing it."

"He's okay though, right?"

"Yeah. The black eye is fading. Athos kept saying it was okay, but it doesn't help much." Aramis stops his work to take out the cookie trays, leaving them on the racks to let the cookies set a little more before taking them off.

"Well, Athos always says what he means, so if he said it was okay, then it was. And I don't think you meant to do it. Right?"

"No, I didn't mean it at all. I wish I could take it back."

"Then, you're fine. He's not mad. He's probably more annoyed that you're still upset about it."

"Probably. That sounds like Athos. The both of them are really nice. Good friends."

"Yeah. So, what's your next question?"

"What don't you like about school?"

"Math. It's no fun. The stuff is too easy, but my teacher won't give me any harder work."

Aramis takes the cookies off one tray, setting them carefully on the rack before handing the spatula to Tim. "I'll hold the tray while you take the cookies off," Aramis says. Tim immediately grabs the footstep and sets it next to the breakfast bar where the racks are. He takes the spatula and starts carefully transferring the cookies to the racks.

"I might be able to help you with the math," Aramis says once the cookies are on the racks. He takes both over to the other counter where they start loading them up.

"How?"

"Well, I'm not the best in school but math was something that I always enjoyed. It's how I got part of my scholarship to college."

"Really?" Tim knew that Porthos was really smart and almost went to grad school for science and that Athos was good at business law, but he didn't know that Aramis knew math stuff.

"Yeah, and you're already learning some this afternoon. Fractions. When we start the spritz dough, we'll look at those ingredients more. Okay?"

"I can learn math from baking?"

"Yeah. There's lots of math you can learn from baking. There's fractions and ratios, multiplication and division. We'll triple the sugar cookies so you can see. Some of the extras we can send with Porthos when he goes to the Boys and Girls' Club tomorrow morning."

"Okay." He'd been wanting to learn those things in school, but his teacher didn't want to even explain them to him, telling him that it'd just confuse him.

"So, what's your question," Aramis asks.

"Um… I don't know."

"Go ahead and ask. It's fine."

"Did you really go down to the Christmas Market the other weekend to see if you could go on the field trip?" Tim blurts out the question, regretting asking it right away.

"Yeah. I did." Aramis tries not to show his nervousness. "But I failed miserably. I knew it would happen. Everyone did, but they decided to let me try."

"If you knew you weren't going to be able to go because it'd upset you, then why'd you say yes when I asked?"

"Guilt, I guess. And I hoped it might help." Aramis shrugs his shoulders, focusing on his work.

"Help make me like you more?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you," Tim says after a pause. Tim stops rolling dough balls in the egg whites and chopped nuts.

"No, you were fine in asking. I should've said no." Aramis stops his work, looking down at Tim.

"No, I… um…. I knew what I was doing. I did it on purpose."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew you wouldn't say no and I knew that you wouldn't be able to do it."

"Oh." Aramis leans against the counter, slowly sinking to the floor as he realizes how he was manipulated by Tim, set up to fail. He'd known he did it out of guilt, but he hadn't realized that Tim did it deliberately and that hurt more than he thinks it should. "Oh, Tim. I…I…"

"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I promise I'll never do it again." Tim's words are frantic, increasingly loud, and mixed with tears, his breathing coming in hitches as he's overcome with emotion. "Please, 'Mis, please. I'm really, really sorry. I won't do it again."

"Do you two need help in here," Sarah asks from the doorway. The sight of Aramis on the floor, staring ahead, muttering lowly and Tim kneeling next to him in tears, repeating his apologies has her itching to get in and fix the problem, but then Aramis seems to come back to himself.

"No, Sarah. We're good here."

"Okay," she says, believing him because she doesn't hear a hollowness to his voice. She is walking away as Aramis starts speaking.

"Tim, please calm down. Take a breath, okay?" Aramis rests his hands on the boy's shoulders as Athos and Porthos do sometimes when he's having a rough time. He knows that it helps to ground him a little and the warmth is comforting.

"I'm really, really sorry, Aramis. Please forgive me." Tim's breathing it a little slower and there is a slowing of the frantic tone, but he's still quite upset.

"It's alright. I forgive you, Tim."

"You do? Why? I knew what I was doing." Tim sniffs loudly as he gives Aramis a puzzled look.

"Just because you made a mistake, doesn't mean you don't deserve forgiveness. And in the grand scheme of things, this isn't really that bad."

"Did you forgive that Marsac guy?"

"He never apologized. You took responsibility for your actions and you feel remorse. I'm guessing that you won't do this again? And I don't mean just with me. That you won't play this type of game with others?"

"No, never. I promise. Never again."

"Good. Now, you okay with a hug?"

Tim nods.

"Then come here." Aramis holds out his arms. He's gotten better in the last couple of months with being touched, but he still takes a couple calming breaths.

"Thank you, 'Mis," Tim says, his head resting against Aramis' shoulder as they hug. Suddenly he backs off a little, meeting Aramis' eyes. "Is it okay to call you 'Mis?"

"Of course," Aramis says. Tim gives him a smile and goes back to hugging Aramis. "And, you're welcome. Just remember your promise."

"Always."

They stay on the floor for a few minutes more before Aramis remembers the cookies.

"We should probably finish up the baking before our dough is too soft to bake," he says. Tim nods and lets go of Aramis so they can both get up and get back to work. There's some sniffling in the silence, but the tension is gone.

"With the sugar cookies, can we have Ben help with the cutting? He'd probably have a lot of fun picking the shapes," Tim says.

"Sure. He can also help us with the decorating. We'll need the help if we're making a triple batch."

"He'd really like that, too."

As they continue working, the comfortable silence is often broken by conversation between the two. Tim starts asking questions about baking and Aramis tells him stories about growing up, learning how to bake from his mother and grandmother. By the time Treville, Athos, and Porthos walk through the front door, the two are smiling and laughing as they work. The noise is a relief to everyone and Treville decides to forgo talking with Aramis about the field trip, especially having heard about the talk Athos and Porthos had with him as well as how this baking session with Tim went. He's happy to see a lighter, more comfortable relationship between Tim and Aramis. Like Athos and Porthos, Aramis is like an uncle to his kids and Treville never liked that Tim was hesitant of Aramis.

Their night ends with everyone joining in the kitchen to decorate the massive number of sugar cookies they make, snacking on some as they work. As they fill up on cookies, Sarah makes sure that there are some fruits and vegetables out on the table, too. And Aramis feels far more at home and happy than he's felt in months. Perhaps, he thinks, he can accept this new normal because if this is it, he can't find anything wrong with it.