Authors note: I've taken some liberties with the timeline of the series, (Doctor Lemay is not dead 'cos I like him and was annoyed when they killed him off!) consider it a bit AU if that helps. I was tempted to give this piece the subtitle of 'plot hole' I think I've plugged them all, my apologies if I have not…
It's Aramis and Porthos whump (but mainly Aramis).
Chapter One
The tavern was busy. A group of soldiers from a different garrison had returned to Paris after several months away. They were celebrating their return loudly, raising cups of wine frequently and shouting at each other.
D'Artagnan followed Athos across the room, they skirted around a couple of women who were plying their trade to some of the soldiers and earning themselves appreciative shouts and probably enough trade to keep them both busy for the next couple of nights.
Porthos and Aramis were already sat at a table away from the soldiers. A bottle of wine between them. It was clear that Aramis had been drinking for a while. Aramis was busy talking to the serving women who did not look impressed. Aramis' usual charm seemed to have left him as the alcohol took its toll.
The evening progressed pleasantly enough to start with, but Aramis managed to spill a cup of wine at one point and almost caused an argument with the neighbouring table. Athos bought the men at the table a round of drinks to appease them.
It was not often that Aramis was the one of the four of them who had drunk too much. Athos usually took that role. One or the other of the rest of them would see him home after he had been sat silently drinking in the corner of whichever tavern they had ended up in. Athos was a quiet drunk, not particularly violent but did need to be looked after firmly.
Aramis tended to become a bit verbose, which was what had happened during the evening. D'Artagnan wondered aloud if the wine had not been watered down as much as usual and had affected their friend, who had been the first to arrive at the tavern, more than it usually would?
Porthos had been drinking the wine and seemed to be heading in the same direction as Aramis. Getting a bit too boisterous as the wine began to affect him.
Porthos had decided that he would be the one to see Aramis back to the garrison at the end of the evening, describing him as a damsel in distress. The light-hearted comment had not been taken well by the inebriated Musketeer, causing him to lean forward and point a finger at Porthos. Almost at Porthos, Aramis was pointing slightly to Porthos' left and his finger wavered quite a bit as he spoke.
'I can look after myself,' said Aramis with indignance.
'You'd never survive on the streets,' retorted Porthos with a snort as he took another swig of wine, he had almost drunk as much as his friend.
Aramis leaned back again, 'at least I didn't end up relying on stealing to survive, and have to live with that regret.'
D'Artagnan glanced at Athos who looked a little concerned at the direction the remarks between the two men were taking. Porthos' response equalled Aramis' and perhaps exceeded it.
'I'm not a bastard, who needed rescuing from a whore house, by his father, before he was forced to sell himself…'
Aramis stared at Porthos for a few seconds as the words sank in. They all knew a little about each other's backgrounds, but rarely really talked about their younger lives. It was clear to d'Artagnan that Porthos had managed to say something that had hit Aramis hard. Despite his charm and poise, Aramis was the lowest born of the four of them. It was not something that had ever caused an issue. Had Porthos just used the fact that he now knew he was really of noble stock against his friend?
The two men had always seen a kindred spirit in each other due to the upbringing they believed they both had, even if Aramis had been luckier in later childhood than Porthos.
Aramis pushed himself up from the table.
'Your real family, the noble one, was not a particularly good example of the aristocracy, so I don't see why you've become all high and mighty…'
Aramis had shouted at Porthos, his words slurred. Porthos pushed his chair back and rose from his seat, squaring up to Aramis. Athos stopped d'Artagnan from standing when it appeared their two friends might come to blows. The older man seemed to know that the drunk Musketeers would not cause any more of a scene than they already had.
After staring at each other for a few seconds Aramis walked off. He stumbled a couple of times and had to be steadied by one of the soldiers from the other garrison at one point. The slighted man took a seat at a table closer to the fire, sat with his back to the rest of them. Porthos sneered at his friend before sitting back down heavily.
Athos shook his head, 'I will make sure he comes to no harm...it will make a change for me to look after one of you.'
Porthos was looking away, it was evident he was embarrassed and annoyed at the argument, fueled by wine and a long day in the heat of the summer sun. They knew the two men had not meant any of the vitriolic remarks. Once they had sobered up they would apologies, probably tease each other a little and then carry on as normal. Their friendship was too strong.
After a few minutes of warily watching his friend across the tavern, Porthos turned back to d'Artagnan and Athos.
'Sorry,' he said.
'Why are you apologising to us? You were both as bad as each other,' said d'Artagnan with a smile.
'Yeah,' said Porthos with another glance at Aramis who had been given another cup of wine by a couple of soldiers they recognised from the other garrison. 'He's rubbish when he's had a drink.'
'You are not much better, Porthos,' said Athos with a shake of his head.
Porthos nodded.
'I'll apologise to 'im in the morning when we've both sobered up a bit.'
'See that you do,' said Athos.
MMMM
The following morning...
To anyone watching the four men as they walked through the city, there would be nothing untoward. But to anyone that knew the four soldiers, it would be obvious that something was amiss.
Aramis was walking a little behind the others, his hat pulled low over his eyes. The astute observer would have spotted the Musketeer was suffering from too much alcohol the previous day and was now trying to hide it.
Treville had despatched his best men to look for an escaped prisoner. The Captain had told them the prisoner had been seen near some storage barns. The Musketeers were sent to recapture the condemned man.
'You need to at least pretend to be fit, Aramis,' said Athos loudly enough to not need to turn around.
'I'm fine,' came the surly reply.
Porthos smirked, 'guess I can 'old me drink better then.'
Porthos glanced back at his friend and laughed again, Aramis scowled at him.
Athos allowed the pair to get a little further ahead of himself and d'Artagnan before speaking to the younger man. They were far enough behind to speak normally.
'Have they apologised to each other yet?'
D'Artagnan shook his head, 'I think Porthos might have just blown his chance of getting an apology. Aramis said to me earlier he had every intention of talking to him, but after that remark, I don't think Aramis will be ready for a while.'
Athos shook his head, 'we had better keep an eye on them, the sooner we get this building searched the better. They nearly came to blows earlier, I do not want a repeat of that in public.'
The two Musketeers hurried to catch their friends up, keen to prevent any further arguments, or worse, between the two men.
The four men entered the derelict building. The dust motes that had been hanging in the air were disturbed, dust kicked up as they walk. The building had clearly been empty for some time.
Aramis had moved closer to a flight of steps, reaching out a hand to steady himself on the steps. Porthos smirked again, d'Artagnan shook his head in annoyance at his friends, as he wandered over towards a wall. Their behaviour was not a good example.
Athos signalled for them to stop. They listened, a creak above them made them all look up, all except Aramis who was rubbing his hand across his forehead, the headache he had been suffering from causing him to finally become distracted.
For a split second none of them moved, the shock at what was happening rendering the four men paralysed. Athos was the first to react, he pushed d'Artagnan ahead of him, propelling him from the building as the first of the wooden beams crashed down. The old building was collapsing. Years of neglect having caught up on it.
Porthos, acting on instinct, seemed to realise that Aramis would be slowest to react. He grabbed the Musketeer by the arm and pulled him around, spinning the confused man towards the doorway. Aramis stumbled, losing his footing as he left the collapsing barn ending up sprawled across the ground.
The dilapidated building continued to fall, the roof caving in as the walls crumbled.
Athos hooked his hands under Aramis' arms and dragged him further away, both men were covered in dust and dirt.
Aramis twisted around, staring at the building as d'Artagnan took a few steps forward.
'Porthos!' yelled Athos as he released Aramis and straightened up.
There was no sign of the soldier escaping the barn.
Athos put his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder pulling him back in line, away from the cloud of dust that was billowing from the now fully collapsed building.
Aramis scrambled up, his headache forgotten, and started moving forward with purpose, looking for his missing friend. Both Athos and d'Artagnan grabbed him, he tried to shake them off shouting his friend's name.
'No, Aramis,' said Athos firmly, 'he can't have survived that…'
The three friends stared at the collapsed barn, the dust not quite settled on what had become Porthos' final resting place.
After a few minutes, Athos let Aramis go. The Musketeer slowly walked towards the rubble that had been the brick-built barn. He stood at the edge and crossed himself. D'Artagnan started to walk up and down looking at what was little more than a pile of bricks and wood, searching for any sign of the body of their friend.
'Why didn't he get out? He was right next to me...he...he pushed me out of the way...he saved me…'
Athos rested his hand on Aramis' shoulder, 'it could have been any one of us, it could have been all of us.'
Aramis turned away and walked a few paces before turning back, 'I was going to apologise...about last night, but then he laughed at me so I didn't...now I can't…'
Trying, and failing, not to allow tears to spill from his eyes Aramis turned away again and walked off.
'Will he be alright?' asked d'Artagnan.
'I don't know,' replied Athos before he turned back to the remains of the building.
MMMM