.

Tag to S2E3

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aramis watched out his window as Porthos and Samara spoke in the courtyard. After she eventually walked away, Aramis went and sat on his bed, carefully touching the lump on the back of his head that he'd obtained when Tariq Alaman had ignited the exploding powder. He'd been thrown backwards from the blast and had a painful landing, but they'd all been fortunate to not have been injured severely. With a sigh, Aramis thanked God for the twenty-fifth time that none of them had been inside the building when it had exploded.

A hand touched his arm, and Aramis opened eyes that he hadn't realize he'd closed.

"Hey, you all right?" It was Porthos.

Aramis removed the hand from his head. "I'm fine."

"Liar," said Porthos. He sat beside him and grabbed his head, trying to find the problem.

"Ow!" Aramis exclaimed when Porthos touched the bump. He flinched away but Porthos didn't let go as he prodded it.

"That's a big bump," said Porthos.

"I know, I can feel you stabbing it," Aramis replied sarcastically.

"Concussion?" Porthos asked, looking at Aramis and grabbing his face to look into his eyes.

Aramis sighed. "Slight, perhaps."

"Feel sick? Dizzy?"

"Earlier, but I'm just tired now," Aramis told him. He looked down to Porthos' leg, where he could see the bulging bandage through his breeches. "Don't worry about me," he said, guiltily. "I'm so sorry about your leg."

Porthos shook his head. "It's all right; we can't expect every plan to go the way we want it to. I don't blame you for it."

Aramis sighed, remembering the crying baby that had momentarily distracted him, resulting in Porthos taking an arrow to the leg.

Porthos didn't know about that, of course. "You're pale; lie down." He pushed Aramis down to the mattress and grabbed his legs, swinging them onto the bed.

The motion made Aramis dizzy. "How are you walking so well?" he asked.

"You know me," said Porthos. "Quick healer. Besides, you said yourself that the arrow didn't hit the bone."

"Miraculously," said Aramis.

Porthos sat on the bed. "I mean, it hurts and I won't be dancin' for a while, but I'll be fine."

Aramis smiled at him. "Did I see a hint of romance between you and Samara?"

Porthos blinked. "When did you—? Oh, just now? You were spyin' on us!"

Aramis chuckled. "It's not spying when you're out in the open."

Porthos nodded. "True. No, I wouldn't say romance; I could never be what she'd want."

Aramis thought that to be a very odd statement. "What?" he said, starting to push himself upright. "Why on earth would you think that?"

Porthos pushed him back down flat. "She said that I should go back to my roots." He gestured to himself.

"Roots? But you're French…oh." It took Aramis a second to understand.

"Exactly, I'm French;" said Porthos. "And that's all I want to be."

Aramis nodded before realizing that was the wrong thing to do to himself. "Ooooh," he involuntarily moaned, closing his eyes when his head responded with a spinning throb.

"Hey, no movin'," said Porthos, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing it with concern.

Aramis was surprised at the sudden increase of pain and he raised a hand to put on his head. "I was fine before," he gasped.

Porthos nodded. "Our bodies catch up after the danger is over." He shrugged. "Mine already caught up and I'm feelin' better now…probably because I'm back and not stuck in that place anymore." He looked at Aramis, who still had a pained expression on his face. "Looks like it's your turn now."

Aramis reopened his eyes with a sigh. "I'm fine."

Porthos huffed. "Sure you are. Move over. No! Don't move." He limped over to the other side of the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and carefully lifting his wounded leg onto the bed.

Aramis was reminded again of had happened that day and he sighed, wishing that he didn't have to keep the dauphin a secret from his closest friend. Oh how much easier his life would be if he had Porthos to talk to about it!

"Hey," said Porthos. "Stop thinkin' whatever it is that you're thinkin'; everythin's fine now."

Aramis glanced at him without moving his pounding head. "Everything's fine?"

Porthos nodded and patted his arm. "That's right; and whatever isn't fine will be. Just rest."

Aramis thought about that for a moment. Whatever wasn't fine would be, whether it looked that way at the moment or not. Comforted by that thought, Aramis smiled.

THE END