Going Home
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Porthos realizes just who is family really is.
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They stood just outside the gate, watching as Treville rode away with his father and sister, under arrest for attempted murder, murder, and the selling of women.
His thoughts on the matter carrying no weight of guilt or sorrow, only relief that now he knew who he was. Who he was, was not that man's son. He could not even bring himself to think his name. He would never say it aloud again, and he would never accept the inheritance of this debauchery.
He bowed his head to look away, and Aramis held out his pauldron to him. "The Captain thought you might want this?"
Porthos looked down at his identity as Aramis placed it in his hands. "Yes, that," he offered.
This is who he was, a Musketeer. He was a man of honor. Not because it had been given to him, but because he had earned it, proved his worth, and his loyalty to these men, right here beside him.
Aramis searched his face for an answer, "All for one?"
He looked back at his good, best friend, "Yes, there's that", and he smiled, hoping Aramis could see the answer he was looking for in his face.
This was his family. These were his brothers. United they stood and divided they fell. He learned the truth in those words today. For the briefest of moments, he had stood without them, and had felt the worse for it.
He thought he had found his father, and perhaps a home.
In his dreams the reunion had gone well; forgiveness was in reach. In his dreams, his father was misguided in leaving them, or he was unaware of what had happened to them. There was always a good reason, a reasonable reason – not this. This was ugly, cruel, and unclean. This place was not a home, it was a cesspool.
Aramis took the pauldron from him, and placed it back on his shoulder where it belonged. He looked down at it, back in its proper place and felt whole again. Suddenly, the air about him again was clean.
d'Artagnan broke into a ridiculously happy grin, pleased that everything seemed to be getting back to the way it was between them. The four of them could do anything; accomplish anything, as long as they were together.
Porthos shared his happiness.
What could he have been thinking? This is where he belonged, here with these men. These men who had come back to help him, to save him from his father, who was a mad man, a murderer, a man who would hold a woman against her will, and sell her to the highest bidder.
They came back and saved him from a sister, who was just as tainted and twisted.
He shook his head and embraced Aramis as if he had not seen him in a century. "Thank you for coming back."
Aramis's eyes shown bright, "We would not leave you here in danger Porthos."
When he let him go, d'Artagnan looked at him expectantly, so he grabbed him and embraced him also, laughing as the boy gripped him tight. He clapped d'Artagnan on the back and stood back to look at him as if seeing him again after a long absence.
Athos reached out his hand, and he gripped it firmly. Clearing his throat, Athos suggested, "Let us go home." Porthos agreed, "Yes, let's go home."
As they reined in their horses and mounted in unison, Porthos took a brief look back at the estate; and in that moment let it go.
They rode back to the city, back to the garrison, side by side.
That evening, as they sat quietly in the garrison yard, looking up at the night sky, words were not spoken. All was well; they were together, back in sync with one another.
Porthos' thoughts fell to his mother, as he looked up at the bright stars.
He remembered her as a strong woman, who had survived many hardships. She had endured capture from her country, the deathly trip across the ocean, servitude and heartbreak. He remembered her love for him, and her many sacrifices. Her face was etched into his consciousness.
She just could not survive the fever.
He wished she could see him now, her son, a good man of standing, a Musketeer, a fine warrior. He would never forget it was her strength and her blood that forged him into the man he was. He would honor her every day of his life, and vowed from this moment on to never think of his father again. Too much time and effort had been wasted. No more.
Athos' thoughts fell on Anne. As always, she brought out two sides in him; love and bitterness. Love for the woman he thought he had married. Her love for life unmatched by any woman he had ever met. She had mesmerized him. Now, he could see, it was a love for self-preservation, not for their union.
She had come to him, but as always her motives were duplicitous. How is it he still felt….what?
Was it that he still loved the idea of her? What did this say about him?
He looked to Porthos and chastised himself. He needed to stop thinking. Porthos was still here with them. Porthos was his rock, his foundation, his friend, who had saved his life many times over, and in many ways. There would be no more thought of Anne tonight.
Aramis rubbed the crucifix about his neck, and thought of his Queen, his lover, and his child - his child, an innocent, who would never know the truth of him. Would he be able to glean anything from this experience with Porthos so that it would not be so with his own son? As a man, what would he have his son think of him?
He clamped down on these thoughts, instead pleased that his brother was nearby. What would he do without Porthos? His best friend, who had kept him from the brink of the gravest of mortal sins?
Melancholy be damned. Porthos was right here, and he would not leave them. He asserted that this night, joy would be the emotion of the hour. He moves closer to Porthos and puts his arm around his shoulders and grips tight.
d'Artagnan looking to the stars, speaks aloud, and shares his heartache.
"Constance must not really love me. Even now, she chooses him over me. She thinks we should not have happiness, that we are somehow cursed, and that we don't deserve to be together. He is dead, and cannot hurt us."
Porthos looks to him, thinking of his own circumstance, "I don't think that's it at all. I think she's afraid that what she feels for you is too good to be true. That if she gives into it, it would be like it weren't real at all. It would be like a trick had been played somehow, and the joke would be on her. Like happiness couldn't possibly be in the cards."
d'Artagnan thinks on this, looks away from the stars and turns to Porthos, "Then what do I do?"
"She will see the truth of it d'Artagnan, I guarantee it. When she comes to her senses, just tell her not to speak of it again, and to kiss you. Tell her to hold you, and not to let go of what you have. Live for now, and put the past behind you."
d'Artagnan smiles and is glad Porthos is home.
"Here, here", exclaims Aramis, "that is good advice."
Athos chuckles softly, "Good advice indeed."
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Thank you for reading. I needed just a little bit more from our Musketeers in that episode. Please review and tell me what you think.