A/N: This short story is in response to a request from AZGirl who wanted to know the backstory behind something I'd written in my last story Treason; the section that sparked the request is included below. As is always the case, the story took on a life of its own and I hope it still satisfies. Five chapters in all, set in season one, and will be posted one per day. Enjoy!
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
from: "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.
From Treason:
The need to be in each other's comfort outweighed their physical needs, which resulted in them sharing a room and bed for the night. It would hardly be the first time they'd done so and, while none would readily admit it, each of them slept easier pressed against the warm bodies of their brothers. d'Artagnan had been slow to accept the idea of sleeping in the same bed with them, and had been even more uneasy the first time he'd displaced one of the others, forced into bed due to an injury, thus driving another to sleep on the floor. But the three had been persistent in their efforts, soothing his fears with calming words and soft touches, and showing him through their actions that they would always take care of one another, the simple give and take between them just another demonstration of their deep bond.
The first time he'd observed them sharing a bed had been after Porthos' injury as he'd protected Bonnaire. The injury had been grave and d'Artagnan had been certain that he could see the white of the man's bone underneath, a sight that made him retreat quickly lest he embarrass himself with the ill-timed purging of his stomach. Aramis clearly understood the severity of the wound and he and Athos had argued about the need to tend to Porthos quickly in order to save his life, d'Artagnan finding the dynamics between the men disconcerting, having only witnessed their incredible devotion and solidarity up to that point. The revelation of Athos' title and ownership of the grand house to which they'd retreated had only created more questions and the tension between Aramis and Athos continued long after the medic had cared for Porthos' injury.
Athos had remained at his friends' sides as Aramis had painstakingly cleaned and stitched the deep slice, dousing it liberally with copious amounts of the Comte's wine and possibly, d'Artagnan thought to himself, taking a bit of enjoyment in the fact that so much of Athos' favorite drink was being used in the process and would never find its way into the older man's stomach. The thought made him wonder again at the ties between these three men, who seemingly presented a united front to the outside world, but when viewed through the eyes of an insider, showed more cracks and fractured crevices that one would imagine.
When Aramis had finished tending to Porthos' wound, he'd stayed close, watching for any signs of infection or fever which would be just as deadly as the shock and trauma of the initial injury. Athos had wandered off then and none of them had tried to follow, d'Artagnan poking around the room they were in while keeping a half-eye on Bonnaire, Aramis having ensconced himself firmly in a chair at Porthos' side. It was hours later when Athos reappeared, his face drawn and haggard, obviously deeply troubled at being back in his family home. A glance in Aramis' direction confirmed that the medic had concluded the same and his features softened somewhat, although it was difficult to tell whether he was ready to completely forgive the older man for his earlier lapse in judgement.
As evening approached, draping the old house in darkness and deepening the shadows that lingered in the corners of the room, Porthos finally showed signs of waking. The sigh of relief emitted by the Spaniard might have been missed by his patient and by Bonnaire, but both d'Artagnan and Athos heard it, sharing a look of understanding in a rare moment of silent communication. The moment brought a flush of warmth to d'Artagnan's chest since he'd often observed the others sharing their thoughts with nothing more than a glance, but he had not been a party to the experience until now.
The spell was broken seconds later when Porthos groaned, a low, rumbling sound that came from deep within his chest and conveyed the full agony that he was in from the seriousness of his wound. Aramis' body language grew tense immediately at the sound, his joy at seeing his friend waking turning to worry as the large man was almost overwhelmed by the wall of pain that was crashing down upon him. Aramis' hand was in Porthos' even before the large man was fully aware, the medic's other hand carding through his friend's hair as he whispered words of assurance to the man, doing his best to ease the transition from sleep to wakefulness.
Minutes went by in strained silence, the only sound Aramis' soothing voice. Eventually, Porthos managed to get a grip on the pain, aided in large part to how hard he squeezed Aramis' hand if the look on the medic's face was any indication. As Porthos' breathing evened out, Aramis' head lifted and he nodded to Athos, the older man moving immediately to the medic's side to help lift the large man to a seated position. They held him there, Porthos' eyes squeezed shut against the ache in his shoulder, until he was ready to move, the two men at his side instinctively attuned to him. The three began to shuffle from the room, d'Artagnan following along behind, his curiosity piqued since he couldn't recall any conversations between Athos and Aramis that indicated where they might be taking their friend. The trip was relatively short, Athos leading them to a bedroom where a double bed sat against one wall, the dust cover already having been removed and the blankets pulled back.
The process of settling Porthos into the large bed was accompanied by more soothing words and touches from the medic, the man unwilling to leave the large man's side until it was clear that he was resting as comfortably as possible, his injured shoulder propped up by several pillows to keep the weight off his wound. When Aramis was satisfied, he stood up to take a step away from the bed, another look in Athos' direction conveying a message that d'Artagnan was not privy to. Athos held the other man's gaze for several seconds and d'Artagnan felt the desire to fidget as he waited to hear what was being silently communicated between the two. As the Gascon was preparing to interject, Athos' face shifted, the expression changing from determination to acceptance, and a smile appeared on the medic's face, the man apparently having been the winner of their silent battle of wills.
While d'Artagnan watched, Athos removed his doublet, hanging it over the back of a chair before sitting down at the edge of the bed to slip off his boots. The young man watched incredulously as Athos leaned back in the bed, tucking in closely to Porthos' side while being careful not to disturb him or cause him any additional pain. Once he was settled, Aramis pulled the blankets up to cover both his friends and then placed a hand on Athos' shoulder, letting his touch communicate what words could not. Lifting his hand away, Aramis turned from the bed and with a nod of his head toward d'Artagnan, bustled them both out of the room.
The Gascon was astonished at what he'd just witnessed, unable to understand why the older man had gotten into bed with their injured friend and even how Aramis had convinced him to do so in the first place. When they'd put enough distance between themselves and the bedroom, but had not yet reached the sitting room where Bonnaire waited, d'Artagnan lifted a hand to Aramis' arm, pulling him to a stop. "Why is Athos in bed with Porthos?" he asked, concerned that perhaps the large Musketeer's condition was worse than he'd imagined.
Aramis gave a soft smile as he replied, "Because Porthos is hurt."
The answer did nothing to assuage the Gascon's puzzlement so he pressed on, doggedly determined to understand. "Is Porthos in danger?"
Aramis' brow furrowed slightly in confusion before easing into an expression of amusement, "Nothing more than the usual concerns with wounds such as these, but he so far seems free from infection and should recover well." The medic began to turn in preparation to walk away, but d'Artagnan's hand on his bicep halted him once more. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the young man.
"Then why is Athos staying with him, and in bed, no less?" the Gascon asked.
Understanding began to dawn on Aramis' face and he reminded himself that to an outsider, their behaviours might seem somewhat strange. Nevertheless, it had been a very long time since they had allowed someone outside their group to witness their most intimate interactions and the realization stunned him, given that d'Artagnan didn't feel like an outsider at all. Placing a warm hand on the young man's shoulder, the medic tried to clarify, "d'Artagnan, we are brothers and, as such, we will always care for any among us who is sick or hurt." The expression on the Gascon's face didn't change and Aramis realized he'd need to explain further. "As soldiers, we have all experienced times when we have been vulnerable and needed others' help. In those times, we have discovered that the warmth of a brother lying next to us eases our pain and helps us rest easier."
The Gascon's face lightened and Aramis knew the boy was finally beginning to understand. d'Artagnan nodded as he questioned, "So, why didn't you stay with Porthos?"
Aramis' brow furrowed once more as he countered, "I'm not the one needing comfort and Athos will feel much better after resting in the safety of his brother." The answer completely confounded the Gascon but the medic didn't give him any further opportunity to probe further, walking away to return to Bonnaire.
Aramis seemed to think that it was for Athos' sake, not Porthos', that the two should share a bed for the night. The medic's reply was completely unsatisfactory and created more questions for the Gascon, but it was apparent that he would find no more answers tonight. Breathing out a sigh of frustration, d'Artagnan resigned himself to the fact that he would remain in the dark for a while longer. Moving down the hallway to the sitting room, he had no idea that Athos' true needs would be revealed to him later when he returned to the estate to find Athos alone with his home burning around him.
A/N: Thank you to AZGirl for the quote at the start of this story and for help with the title!