Aramis

The bandits were far too close for comfort. Orage could not reach her top speed while carrying two riders. He handed the reins to Anne, then leaped off the horse. The impact of the fall caused him to roll when he hit the ground for the second time that day. It was definitely not the way he liked to dismount. He knew how to fall, but training with Porthos on the level ground of the garrison was nothing compared to having his fall broken by branches and rocks.

He got up in one swift movement. Fortunately, his mare followed his orders, and ignored the Queen's attempts to redirect her. After making sure that his horse was rushing towards safety, Aramis focused on his enemy by using his favorite method - drawing a bead on one with his musket. Then he took up his pistol. He hit both of his targets, and now had two less enemies.

He had no time to reload his weapon. He was preparing to fight when he realized that one of the men intended to ignore him in order to pursue the Queen. Aramis did not hesitate. Within seconds, his main gauche was buried deep in the raider's back. Unfortunately, the musketeer was then attacked before he could retrieve his dagger, leaving him down a weapon. The situation was grim.

His enemy was still in the saddle. Aramis neatly sliced his sword into his opponent's leg, then threw himself under the animal's belly in order to avoid the rider's blade. However, he then found himself facing two other men who had already dismounted. He leaped forward in a desperate attempt to fend them off. The odds were not in his favor. In fact, even if he had been in top condition, the challenge would have been formidable

His rapier plunged deep into the man's side. Aramis quickly closed the distance between them, his other hand blocking the knife that was searching for his flesh. The blade sliced into his skin, and he knew the cut would hurt later. He managed to seize his injured opponent. Using the momentum of the wounded man, he lowered his body to the ground, using his enemy as a shield. The man screamed as his comrade's sword sliced into his back instead of into Aramis.

However, he was too heavy, and Aramis fell to his knees. The other bandit could not come any closer, because the dying man was in the way. However, he still did his best to reach the musketeer. Aramis parried the attack aimed at his head. He knew that the man on horseback had his gun pointed at him. The marksman dove towards the dying man, grasped his knife, and threw it at the gunman. The wild angle did not allow him to kill his opponent, but the shot went wide. He stepped aside as the other man attacked him, but he did not manage to take advantage of the opening in his opponent's stance. His rapier only scratched the bandit's arm.

The musketeer knew he would lose his life if he did not end the fight quickly. His still-healing body was aching, and he was panting heavily. Aramis feigned an attack on the bandit directly in front of him, but at the last moment, he turned the trajectory of his blade, leaving a deep cut on the man's chest. He hoped that his opponent would be distracted by the injury. The marksman leaped forward, trying to finally reach his enemy. The bandit avoided the fatal blow. Aramis' rapier succeeded only in leaving another gash on his flesh. The musketeer lost his balance. To his surprise, he dodged the blade aimed at his neck, but nothing could effectively stop his fall. He managed to trip up the bandit, and pulled the man down with him. One of his enemy's hands found the marksman's throat, and started to strangle him. The other hand clutched a main gauche, and attempted to stab him. Dark spots started to dance before his eyes. Aramis knew his chance of surviving such a fight were close to nil. In desperation, he seized the hilt of his dagger and embedded it in the bandit's leg. The blade hit an artery, and blood spurted from the wound. Aramis finally managed to free himself from the man's grasp. However, his relief was short-lived. He suddenly knew that something was very wrong. He had forgotten about the man on horseback, who had now his reloaded pistol pointed at Aramis.

"Time to die, musketeer!"

Aramis knew he was probably about to die. In fact, he was sure death was near when the dagger left his hand. The shot rang out loudly. Aramis froze, waiting for the searing pain to hit his body, but it never came. The bandit slumped over on his horse. He then fell off his mount in slow motion, with one foot still caught in the stirrup.

Porthos was suddenly at his side. His gun was still pointed at the place where the now dead man had been a few seconds ago. Aramis released a shaky breath, then sank to the ground. He was exhausted, but he was safe. Porthos was here. He could allow himself a few moment's rest.

"Aramis!"

"Anne?" blurted out Aramis.

Porthos knelt near him. "Safe and sound."

The marksman finally relaxed.

"I need a medic!" A desperate yell penetrated into his consciousness. The noise did nothing to relieve his pounding headache.

He could feel a pair of hands on his chest. He opened his eyes.

When did I close them?

He looked into Porthos' face. His friend's eyes were full of raw panic.

"You already have one in your arms. Isn't that enough?" Aramis inquired, teasing his friend gently. God, he was tired!

"I'd prefer to have a medic who is not trying to bleed out on me!" replied Porthos gruffly. "Aramis! Are you with me? How badly are you injured?!"

"I'm fine," the Spaniard mumbled reflexively. "Just-tired…"

"No! You're dying on me!" Porthos' hands desperately searched for a wound to apply pressure to.

"Porthos, it's not my blood! One of the bandits bled out on me!"

The big man friend just shook his head, unable to believe it. He looked terrified.

"I'm fine! Just few bruises-and maybe a cut or two," Aramis added, remembering how he had stopped a knife with his hands. "Help me up please! I really need a bath." He struggled to get up by himself in order to force his brother to help him. He was grateful that Porthos immediately steadied him. The marksman felt uneasy when he saw how pale his friend was.

"Porthos?" He cupped his the big man's face with his hands. "What's wrong?"

"I… I was sure you were dying, and I could do nothing to help you. Aramis, over the last few months, I have seen you severely wounded so many times… I was so afraid you would not survive."

Aramis could see the toll that his wounds had taken on his brother, and he felt very guilty. How could he have scared his friend so badly? Suddenly, he recalled Porthos pleading with him not to die.

"You played Death for me, and won," he murmured. "I suppose you were cheating as usual?"

"What?!"

"I heard what you said. And… I am alive because of you. I just… could not let go. It would have been too cruel to die on you."

"Well, at least we agree on that point," said Porthos quietly, gently ruffling his hair.

Aramis wanted to lean into his brother's embrace, but he remembered that he was covered in blood. He opted to instead to pat Porthos on the arm.

"We should check on our uninvited guests." He gestured towards the bandits. "Then we need to head back. Did I mention that I desperately need a bath?"

"Along with a beautiful woman?" teased Porthos. Aramis stiffened.

Why can't I hold the woman I love in my arms? Why am I so afraid of her touch?

"Jesus!" muttered Porthos, "I just remembered that I sent Tannard for a medic. Athos will be in a panic."

"Then we need to hurry up." Aramis took the opportunity to evade his thoughts.

He went to retrieve his weapons from the lifeless bodies. All the bandits were dead. Aramis knelt close to one of them. He closed the man's eyes, and whispered a prayer. He went from body to body, and said a short prayer over each. Meanwhile, Porthos searched the bodies.

"Mis!" Aramis looked up to see Porthos standing in front of him, holding a fistful of pendants. All five were in the shape of the fleur-de-lys.

The marksman cursed under his breath.

"Have you ever heard of bandits wearing something like that?" asked the dark skinned musketeer.

"No. But I don't like the looks of it. We should bring them to Tréville," he muttered, suddenly too tired to stand. Porthos caught him, then supported him on the walk to his horse. The bandits' mounts were grazing close by.

"We should take those horses with us," suggested Aramis. "Since I don't have Orage, I'll need to ride one of them anyway".

"No! You'll be riding with me. It's a good idea to bring them with us, though."

Aramis knew he should protest, but he could not find the strength to do so. He obediently mounted Nuage, then relaxed against Porthos when he felt his friend swing up behind him.

"Why am I not afraid of you?" Aramis asked suddenly. He could feel Porthos shrug.

"You trust me, right?"

"No… I mean yes! Of course I trust you…but I also trust her… and when she wanted to kiss me, I just could not bear it. Ever fiber of my being rejected her touch. It doesn't make any sense, Porthos!… I was abused by men! I thought about how much I had missed her… about how I am so unworthy of her... but when I think the same thing about you, I don't panic when you touch me. And you are stronger than me! Even when I'm in good shape, I have little chance of beating you in hand to hand combat… So why am I fine with you, but when I'm with the woman I love, I'm terrified?"

"Mis, I'm not saying anything to encourage you to continue your romance with the Queen. Find another woman. An unmarried one."

"I didn't ask for your advice on my choice of lover," growled Aramis. After all, it was obvious that Porthos was right. "I just want to understand my ridiculous reaction!"

"First of all, you know me better than her, and you've known me longer. We've survived many life and death situations together. Secondly, our relationship is not sexual. A third reason? I cannot order you to do anything. We are equals. Finally, from what you've told me, she made the first move at the convent… Aramis, she took advantage of your despair."

"Don't talk about her like that! She had my consent - my very enthusiastic consent, I might add."

"I suggest you try again-with another woman. Pick a woman who is your equal-a woman who you can feel free to tell that you are interested in just dinner...not in dinner with breakfast in bed the next morning. Oh, one more thing - make sure she doesn't have a husband who will accuse you of treason for sleeping with her. But I suppose the scenario I've described sounds very boring to you. As far as relationships are concerned, you live for drama, Aramis."

"Even if I listen to you, what am I supposed to do now?"

Aramis felt Porthos' hand on his forehead.

"What are you doing?" the marksman inquired.

"Just checking to see if you've a got fever. Or perhaps the bandits gave you a concussion? You're delirious, Mis! You're asking me for advice on your love life?!"

"I have hurt her, Porthos… I told her that they had broken me… I had hoped she would recoil with disgust… but she just said that she forgave me. How is that possible?!"

"I think I understand." There was a smile in Porthos' voice.

Aramis leaned his head against his friend's arm. It was beyond him why he still had the gift of this amazing man's friendship.

Thank you, Riversidewren. I thank also all my readers and reviews. Your presence means so much for me!