AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! An especially big thank you to sweetsakuya, who made me laugh at the thought that Athos's drinking problems began the first time he walked in on Aramis and Porthos together and he has tried ever since to rid his head of the image with "the 17th century version of brain bleach."

At last they came to a place where the sheer drop of the cliff gave way to a sandy shore. The river broadened and calmed, its surface smooth and unbroken. Athos had decided they would search for Aramis on foot rather than try to drag the horses through the tangle of bushes lining the banks. They led their horses off the narrow path and tied them in a clearing ringed by thick underbrush. It would be no help to anybody if a pack of surviving bandits stumbled upon their horses and ran off with them.

Upriver, white spray rose from wild-looking rapids, wreathing jagged rocks that stretched from the water. D'Artagnan winced internally at the shape Aramis would be in after going through all that.

"We must spread out to search," Athos ordered. "I will cross the river and search the far bank. D'Artagnan, you and Porthos will search along this side. If you find any signs, shout out. We will find him," he added, meeting Porthos's gaze with a serious expression.

As Porthos moved away, Athos grabbed D'Artagnan's arm. "Watch him," he instructed gravely. D'Artagnan nodded, worry twisting his stomach. In his head, he kept imagining coming upon Aramis's lifeless body, battered beyond recognition. He wondered what Porthos would do.

D'Artagnan and Porthos moved down the shore, eyes roving the beach and shallows for any sign of Aramis. They'd been searching for over half an hour when D'Artagnan caught sight of something fetched up against a fallen tree. He hurried over and retrieved Aramis's favorite hat. It was soaked through from the icy river and the feather was missing. Porthos approached silently and pulled it from his hands.

"Porthos, I'm sorry…" D'Artagnan began, but Porthos growled savagely. His expression hardened and he turned back to the river to continue searching. D'Artagnan followed, feeling his hope flickering dangerously in the wake of Porthos's desperate fury. If Aramis was gone, who would calm the big man's rage?

About ten minutes later, Porthos held up his hand. D'Artagnan stopped, listening. He could hear voices in the trees. "…telling you, I saw one fall in the river!" A man's whining voice was saying. "If'n we find the body, there'll be some loot on it. We ought ter get somethin' from this thrice cursed blunder."

D'Artagnan's blood boiled with rage and Porthos growled softly. These men wanted to strip Aramis's body! They could not allow these thieves to get their grubby paws on Aramis. He glanced at Porthos, who nodded, and together they crept into the trees.

It was the work of a moment to locate the voices. Five men, sporting various minor injuries, were crashing through the brush towards the riverbank. Porthos pointed to the two on the left and looked pointedly at D'Artagnan, who nodded. In front of them, the men had suddenly clustered around something on the shore. "Look 'ere," cried a man with a thin face. "Blood! I reckon he can't be far." D'Artagnan crept into position in the bushes behind him.

"What if he's still alive?" another man asked.

"Then we slit 'is throat," the weasel-faced one, who seemed to be the leader, said with a laugh. His compatriots guffawed sycophantically, sending fury coursing through D'Artagnan's veins.

On the far side of the group, Porthos was in place. He nodded to D'Artagnan and the pair leapt out of hiding, causing the little group of bandits to shriek in surprise. One pulled out a rusty blade and rushed at D'Artagnan, who disarmed him easily. To his left, he saw one man knock the gun from Porthos's hand, only to be flung heavily into a tree. That was all he had time to notice before he was flat on his back, fighting for his life. The second man hadn't bothered with a blade. He just charged bodily, knocking him off his feet and trying to choke the life out of him. D'Artagnan scrabbled for purchase and managed to pull his knife free from his belt. He thrust upwards heavily, pushing the man's body off him as he fell.

Looking around, he saw Porthos removing his blade from the body of his defeated opponent. Only the weasel-faced man remained on his feet. Porthos smirked grimly and took a step towards him, only to freeze when the man gave a cruel smile and pulled out a gun he'd had stashed in the back of his belt. Porthos's own gun lay far behind him where it had fallen in the bushes near the trees. D'Artagnan felt his mouth go dry.

"You don't want to do that," he called, trying to keep his voice even, reaching for his gun unobtrusively. "You can't kill us both, and I'll get you as soon as you shoot. If you drop the gun now, we'll let you leave in peace."

The man laughed. "I'll take this one with me then." His eyes gleamed manically as he looked toward the man Porthos had just impaled. "He killed my brother." D'Artagnan saw his finger tighten on the trigger and jerked forward, knowing even as he did so he could never make it in time, not with his own gun tangled in his belt.

Porthos closed his eyes as a gunshot cracked through the forest. Across the river, he heard Athos shout in alarm. D'Artagnan stared at Porthos in confusion as the other man opened his eyes and looked down at his chest, where blood had miraculously failed to appear. He glanced at D'Artagnan, who shrugged and turned to look at the bandit in time to see him fall to his knees with a shocked expression, blood pouring out of a hole shot directly through his heart. D'Artagnan glanced past him, wondering if someone had shot him from behind. There was no one there. He and Porthos realized what that meant at the same moment and turned around, readying weapons in case a new attack was coming from behind.

It wasn't. Instead, a man stood at the edge of the woods, holding Porthos's gun loosely by his side, his other arm braced against a tree for support. Soaked through, covered in bruises, and bleeding from a dozen cuts and scratches, Aramis still managed a small smile and a wink. Porthos made a sound in the back of his throat halfway between a growl and a sob and strode towards him. Aramis took a half step forward and swayed alarmingly. Porthos caught him before he could fall and crushed his lips against Aramis's.

Aramis is back! Now D'Artagnan is really confused...

I'll try to get another chapter up sometime tonight. Please review!