When Aramis had returned to Porthos' room, both his brothers were still in the same spot where he had left them.
Porthos' eyes lit up when he saw the full tray in Aramis' hands.
"And that's why you're my favorite." He joked.
Aramis hummed in amusement, "Because I'm the resourceful one or the handsome one?"
"The first," Came the chuckle.
Aramis laughed as he set the tray on the table for them. He brought the plate of bread and cheese to Athos and placed it on his lap. The swordsmen stared at it for a moment longer than Aramis liked.
"Eat it," He ordered keeping his voice firm, "Or I'll get the oatmeal."
Athos huffed in annoyance but a slight smile was evident on his face. If Aramis hadn't been watching him so intently, he would've missed it.
Porthos on the other hand, seated himself at the table and dug right into his food. Aramis was reminded that neither he or Porthos had eaten anything since lunch yesterday. That would explain his brother's immense appetite. But then again, this was Porthos...
"Sit down and eat something, Mis," Porthos spoke up, "You can't play medic on an empty stomach."
Aramis looked up into the warm brown eyes and smiled at the teasing. He sighed and sat down across from his brother and also tucked into his food.
"True," He took a sip of wine, "But I don't play medic, Porthos. After all these years, surely even you know that."
Porthos shook his head fondly. Despite the sarcasm, Porthos knew the marksman was right. He had never seen anyone in the Garrison with as much medical knowledge as his brother. Though he never had any formal training, Aramis had watched physicians before and was gifted in his skill with battle wounds.
Often there wasn't enough time to go out to find a doctor, so whenever a soldier took ill, Aramis' superior knowledge had been sought out. Porthos truly believed that the man should have been a seamstress. He had never witnessed anyone stitch a wound as neatly as he did. A patient was never left with a scar under Aramis' care.
Aramis had taken the role as their health care provider very seriously. He would never allow another doctor to touch his brothers unless he was there to supervise. He was usually the one to care for their injuries and had often worked to heal them, whenever they were hurt.
"I think I'll have to chat with Treville to see if we can get the day off," Aramis informed.
"Sounds like a good idea." Porthos agreed.
"There's no need to do that on my account." Athos insisted looking at the two of them sincerely.
Aramis looked at Porthos and than at Athos clearly puzzled.
"And what exactly do you suggest we do?"
Athos shrugged looking back at the floor.
"You and Porthos shouldn't have to miss your duties because of me," The guilt in his voice was obvious, "Go on and see what Treville needs. I'll be fine here."
Porthos shook his head, "There's no way we're leaving you here alone today, Thos."
"Especially not with the way you're probably feeling," Aramis added.
"It's not like I haven't dealt with a hangover before," Athos tried to keep the irritation out of voice, "Treville can let it go if I'm late, but you two are usually on time. What are you planning to do if-"
"There's no if," Aramis cut in, "We want to be here with you today. I'll just tell Treville that we need the day off, that's all."
"And you think he'll agree to that?" Athos raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," Porthos smirked, "Aramis has a way with words. Especially with the captain."
"Thank you, Porthos," Aramis straightened the collar of this uniform in mock offense, "At least someone still believes in my incredible capabilities."
Athos rolled his eyes again. It felt like that was his only response to Aramis' sarcasm.
"No arguing," Porthos' voice changed to sound a bit firmer than before, "We want to be here, alright?"
"Why?" Athos couldn't stop the question from escaping his mouth, but once it was out he regretted it.
Aramis' eyes softened and he looked down at his plate. He looked as if Athos had said something truly hurtful. He was instantly reminded of the look his brother gave him last night when he insulted him coldly.
Shaking the memory away, Athos forced himself to listen to Aramis' words.
"Because we love you," Aramis raised his head and looked at Athos right in the face, "Don't you know that?"
Athos suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He didn't know what to say. He knew his brothers loved him, of course. Had he failed them so terribly that they questioned wither he believed them or not?
Athos blinked in shock, "I...uh... I don't-"
He knew he owed them an explanation, but he didn't know if he could provide one for them. How could he tell them? What would he say?
"Athos," Porthos broke in gently as if he could read his thoughts, "Just take it slow."
Athos released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Maybe if they had stayed this long with him, they would listen to the truth after all.
"I don't know why I..." He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. He took a moment to gather himself before looking at Aramis, "When you were speaking to me, I knew what you what you said was true. For a moment...I hated you. I hated the sight of you. I don't know why?"
Athos would have been lying to himself if he thought that he hadn't seen the hurt in Aramis' eyes. He knew he had put that hurt there and it ripped him apart inside to know that he had been responsible.
"I'm sorry, I can't do this." He stood up quickly and was headed for the door, but Aramis stood up and blocked his way.
"Move, Aramis." He ordered not wanting to have this discussion.
"No," Aramis shook his head, "I won't let you go. Not like this. What happened last night was an accident. You were drunk-"
"Hitting you was an accident, yes," Athos shot back, "Drinking wasn't. I went there deliberately. I wanted to forget her and lose myself in the alcohol."
"Because you've been hurting," Porthos reasoned standing up as well, "I'm not saying that it's right, Athos. Only that it's understandable."
Athos sighed in exasperation. How could they not understand? Did they not see how evil he was? What a foul thing he had become?
"I don't deserve your sympathy!" He shouted, "You should throw me out of your sight! Look at what I did to you," He gestured to Aramis in anger, "I'm a monster!"
"No, your not!" Aramis shouted back furiously, "Don't you ever say that again, do you understand?"
"Why? It's true," Athos countered back, "Look at me! Look what I've become! The second I lay my eyes on her, I become someone I hardly recognize."
Porthos sighed, "Than maybe it's time to let her go."
"I can't!" Athos turned to stare at the big man, "Don't you get it? Are you blind! Look at me! I still want her! She's a cruel, evil, hideous, monster and I still love her!"
A silence reigned through the room.
"Athos..." Aramis sighed closing his eyes,
Athos knew that he was losing control of himself. He needed to get out of the small room before everything overcame him. He felt his chest tighten in anxiety and walked forward to go to the door.
"Stop!" Aramis pulled him back, "Stop running from this! You know you can't. Where will you go? Back to the tavern? Don't you know that doesn't work?"
Athos shrugged Aramis' hand off his arm. He knew his brother was right, but he wasn't ready to face it yet.
"Leave me, please?" Athos begged, "It's best for both you. Don't be involved with someone like me."
Aramis frowned as if he didn't understand what Athos had said. Because he probably didn't. He didn't know why he was doing this.
As Athos made his way to the door, Aramis walked after him. Athos kept going, not wanting to stop to argue anymore.
"Athos wait," Aramis called.
But, Athos kept walking. He had made it to the porch and stopped dead in his tracks when he heard an unmistakable shout.
He spun around just in time to see Aramis doubling over and falling to the ground. He was holding his stomach painfully, not seeming to be able to get up.
"Aramis!" Athos shouted running over to the fallen man. He fell to his knees and laid a hand on his shoulder.
Aramis had his eyes squeezed shut in obvious pain and was trying to take deep breaths to control the pain.
"What's wrong?" Athos tried to keep his voice calm, but his hands were shaking, "Aramis, tell me what hurts?"
"My...my stomach." Aramis groaned.
Athos didn't even realize that Porthos was next to him until he heard him speak.
"Lemme get you to bed, Mis."
Aramis nodded clenching his jaw shut tight.
Porthos got his hands under Aramis and as gently as possible lifted him up in his arms. Aramis still gave a cry of pain and Porthos hurried over to the bed to lay him down.
Once he was safely disposited on the bed, Porthos leaned over to grasp his hand tightly.
"Mis?" He whispered, "What do you need me to do?"
"Don't know..." Aramis winced, "My stomach...hurts."
Porthos let go of his hand and worked quickly to undo his shirt. He then lifted the cotton material up and felt sick at the sight that met his eyes.
Aramis' torso and ribs were covered a large deep purple bruise. It looked as if his ribs were broken, but without feeling them, Porthos couldn't tell.
"Aramis?" He gasped, "What the hell happened?"
"What?" Athos came around to his side. He couldn't help but drop his jaw at the bruising.
"Didn't hurt yesterday," Aramis bit his lip.
"Why didn't you say anything, you bloody idiot?" The big man growled, "How long have you been hiding this?"
Aramis just kept his eyes closed remaining silent.
"Answer me!" Porthos shouted feeling his composer slipping.
"Couldn't tell you...in front of Thos," The Spaniard admitted reluctantly.
Athos felt his stomach drop. He couldn't believe the words he had heard.
"You...what are you talking about?" He asked voice shaking.
"Athos, don't...don't feel bad. It was an a-accident."
"You mean when I kicked y-" Athos stopped to shocked by his own words to speak any further.
He didn't have to say anything though. Because as Porthos was examined Aramis' torso, he seemed to find the spot that was causing him pain. He pushed down on it was gentle as he could, but Aramis screamed out in pain.
"Easy, easy," He soothed, "I'm sorry."
Aramis paled dangerously, "M'gonna be sick," He mumbled.
Porthos quicky brought bucket by the bed and Aramis turned on his side to heave into it. Porthos sat by him, rubbing between his shoulders and moving his hair from his face. He whispered words of comfort to him, hoping to ease him through the pain as best he could.
Athos just continued to stare dumbfounded at Aramis' words.
It was only when Porthos himself seemed to pale that he was able to snap out of the shock.
"What is it?" He asked.
Porthos looked at Athos with worry written all over his face. He couldn't seem to speak, so Athos came over to see what he was looking at in the bucket.
Bright red blood was not what he had expected.
"Go get the doctor!" Porthos ordered. When Athos didn't move, he yelled, "Now!"
The shout prompted Athos into action. He bolted from the room and ran down the stairs jumping on the first horse he saw. As he galloped out of the Garrison, one thought kept spinning in his mind.
"This is all my fault."