Chapter Twenty Six - Broken Ribs

Porthos (with Aramis)

Porthos winced. He clutched his arm around his chest as he tried to walk normally. He knew he had a cut to his forehead that was bleeding, the sight probably making him look a little scary. Several of the early rises of the city were staring at him and avoiding him as though he had the plague.

He stumbled on. It had been his own fault. He had definitely picked the wrong men to cheat at cards. Oddly he had not realised the men were together. They had ganged up on him. Three to one. Not unbeatable odds. If he had been prepared.

He had stepped out of the tavern saying he would be back in a couple of minutes. Of course, he was off, taking his winnings before they realised he had been cheating. Only the men already knew and were simply biding their time. As he stole away into the night he turned into an alleyway to take a shortcut and was grabbed, tripped to the ground and given a good going over. There had been nothing he could do to prevent the kicks to his body and head.

When he had come around, as dawn began to wake the city, his money and weapons were gone. Struggling to his feet Porthos had known he had cracked ribs, he could not take a proper breath. Blinking he had begun the walk back to the garrison.

Rounding the corner he walked through the gates wondering who he would meet first.

'Well you are a sorry sight, my friend,' said Aramis who had been rubbing down his horse.

Porthos just looked at him, waiting for what was to come.

'Are you expecting me to berate you?' asked his friend.

Porthos could not hide the look of guilt.

'I'm not Athos or Treville...it's not as if I never get myself in...awkward situations.'

Porthos watched Aramis say a few quiet words to his horse, wondering if the medic was apologising to his mare for abandoning her. The horse snorted and appeared to nod her head before going back to the hay she had been eating.

Brushing the straw from his doublet Aramis crossed the yard to Porthos looking him up and down as he walked.

'Ribs?'

Porthos nodded.

Aramis looked critically at the cut to Porthos' head for a few seconds before looking him in the eyes.

'You know that is going to need stitches. If you push me over or hit me whilst I'm putting them in I will thump you back.'

'Sorry,' replied Porthos remembering the last time Aramis had stitched him up.

With a hand laid gently at the small of his back, Aramis guided Porthos towards the infirmary.

'I thought you were good at cards...without having to cheat? Or is it the danger, the possibility of being caught? Perhaps we should find you a genuine battle to fight in…'

Porthos remained quiet as his friend continued to talk. He knew Aramis was trying to keep him distracted. He allowed the man to tend to him, stripping him of his doublet and shirt, cleaning the cuts and grazes, applying a salve to the bruises and preparing to stitch his head.

'Thank you,' said Porthos quietly.

'Thank me by being more careful next time,' replied Aramis with a smile.

Porthos managed a smile in return, both men knew there would be a next time.

Some things never changed.

The End.