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Porthos

He reluctantly left Aramis after placing a cold rag on his forehead, and glanced towards Athos.
'Why don't we make them more comfortable, and lay the lad down 'ere?'

Louise seemed to consider it for a moment before she nodded her agreement. 'Be gentle'.

Porthos snorted. He did not need to be reminded to be careful with his wounded brother. Louise must have understood his reaction, because a shadow of a smile ghosted her lips.

Porthos glanced towards Athos. To his surprise, his leader seemed to follow their conversation, and stood up. However, Athos had no idea that Porthos was thinking about his comfort, as well as d'Artagnan's.

They moved their precious burden close to Aramis. The Gascon whimpered softly when they laid him down. He moved slightly, as though searching for something. He settled down when Athos took his place near his head and started to stroke his hair.

'He knows that you are here for him!' whispered a surprised Louise.

'It's a good sign, isn't it?' asked Porthos, a glint of hope in his eye.

'It means that he is not in a coma, and that your presence is really important to him,' she replied slowly.

Porthos realized that she was being careful not to give them false hope, and that she was slightly confused by the boy's reactions. However, she did not know d'Artagnan. She did not know how stubborn their pup could be. That was why she had told them he was doomed. Porthos knew his reasoning might be faulty, but he could not keep himself from believing that d'Artagnan would survive.

After making sure that Athos had everything he needed to take care of both of their unconscious brothers, Porthos followed Louise outside. He breathed in the fresh, cold air with relief. It was a nice change after the smell of blood, infection, and herbs which reigned in the house.

'The bandits you fought with-they are coming after you,' Louise explained. She told him everything that she had learned from her husband. He cursed under his breath.

'There is a place we could hide Aramis. I think it wouldn't be too risky for him to take a little ride. But to be honest…,' she hesitated, searching for words. 'Since he is your medic, I prefer to have him here. Moving the boy is out of the question-he needs you all here. And I need Monsieur Aramis' help with him. However, I also need to know that I am not putting my village at risk. That is, not at too much risk.' She corrected herself, eyeing the musketeer expectantly.

Porthos sighed, desperately looking for a good solution. The idea of leaving his ailing brothers here and having to hunt down bandits did not please him. He knew too little about the men searching for them. However, if they were camping in the ruined farms, he could ride there with Athos. He was very reluctant to leave d'Artagnan and Aramis. What if the village was being watched? If so, when they left, the bandits would come for Aramis, who would be defenseless. They had not attacked so far. Maybe after their fight, they had learned to respect musketeers. That would explain why they had DEMANDED Aramis instead of just coming to claim him.

'May I talk to this Antoinette? And to your husband, Madame?' he asked, 'And one more thing, please tell the villagers that if anybody comes asking for us, I want to speak with the person who makes contact with them.'

She nodded. She led him to another house. Porthos felt quite lightheaded. However, he tried focus on assessing the village as a place to be defended. It was not badly situated. After recent rains, the river was quite deep, and was flowing rapidly. The assault was unlikely to come from that direction. Luckily, the rain would prevent any plan for arson. The setting of the village would have given them a good chance if they had been fit to fight. Maybe Aramis would be able to support them with gunfire.

Antoinette was an elderly woman. She gave a detailed description of the man who threatened her, but Porthos did not find it very useful. He was quite sure that the bandit had tried to intimidate the poor woman into convincing the others of the necessity of giving up the wounded soldier. It seemed that Louise was a healer who was held in great esteem. It was doubtful that any of villagers would act against her will.

'Louise is a good girl. She saved so many people after the fire. Only three of them died. She has a gift.' Antoinette was very fond of the herbwoman, 'She offered to teach Claire. After all, the poor child has no chance to get married. At least being a healer will grant her some status.'

Porthos hid his smile. Louise was several years older than him. Listening to someone calling her 'girl' was somewhat amusing.

Antoinette handed him a closed jar. 'I've heard that little brother of yours is very ill. I kept this for special occasions. Maybe it will help him. It's a really good confiture—rose petals and honey. It should help.'

Porthos knew such a jar was very expensive. He felt humbled by her gift. The musketeers were endangering the villagers with their presence, and yet these people were being so nice to them. Their kindness was overwhelming.

'I cannot take it, Madame. I am sure he is under the best care possible. Madame Louise will give him everything he needs.'

'I know. But I also know she doesn't have anything like this. My grandson gave it to me. He is a soldier, just like you.' There was so much pride in her voice.

'That's just one more reason I can't take it. Thank you, but I'm sorry-I must go. My brothers need me.' He bowed slightly and withdrew, feeling awkward. God, how he wished Aramis could have been there-he would have known exactly what to say.

Outside, Louise's husband was waiting for him. Their conversation was short, but Porthos got all the information he needed. He could count on six men who had at least a little knowledge of weapons. Porthos decided to seek Athos' advice.

He returned to his brother and stopped, mortified. Athos was openly sobbing, his face buried on d'Artagnan's arm. Claire looked too terrified to approach the musketeers. Porthos was at his brother's side in a few quick steps.

'Athos?' He placed one hand on Athos' shoulder, the other hand simultaneously reaching for the boy's chest. He felt relieved when he felt a rapid heartbeat.

'Athos?' He focused on his leader, gently shaking him. Athos flinched. He lifted his head, his eyes full of anguish and utter despair.

'Athos, he is alive. It was only a nightmare. D'Artagnan is alive,' Porthos soothed him, his voice gentle. He felt as if he was calming down a wounded horse.

Athos drew a shaky breath, then checked the Gascon for himself. Porthos' heart shattered when he saw Athos bow his head in relief, gently kissing the lad's forehead.