A/N: Thank you Anonymous, pallysAramisRios, and SnidgetHex for reviewing! No part 2 for the last one, just little whumptober nuggets with these prompts.

No. 26 - Waterfall

Porthos swung his schiavona down with a mighty blow, the force of his strength knocking his opponent to the ground. The mercenary tried to throw his blade up to block the next strike, but Porthos's momentum punched right through his guard, his sword spearing the man's chest. Porthos whirled to meet the next foe. Eight against four was hardly any odds at all, not when those four were musketeers. Still, being ambushed when they were carrying confidential correspondence for the King was never a good thing.

The clamor of clanging steel resounded through the trees as the musketeers fought with fierce flourish. There was no doubt in Porthos's mind they'd emerge victorious.

But then he saw Aramis's opponent driving him back too close to the river's edge. Aramis had to know it, because he increased the efforts of his defense, digging his heels in and pushing back. And then that entire patch of loose soil gave way right beneath his feet. Aramis's arms pinwheeled as he suddenly pitched backward into the raging river.

His opponent almost lost his footing as well but managed to catch himself. Porthos charged him with a bellow, cutting him down before he could put up a fight. He paused long enough to throw a dagger through the air and pierce another mercenary before that one could help his comrades outnumber d'Artagnan, and then Porthos was off like a shot down the river bank.

"Aramis!"

He could see the marksman bobbing through the rapids, flailing his arms as he struggled to swim, but the current kept battering him back and forth, determined to drag him down the very center.

"Aramis!" Porthos shouted again, whipping through branches and foliage as he fought to catch up. There was a waterfall up ahead.

Porthos was three seconds behind, but it was long enough to watch Aramis get swept over the falls and disappear. He skidded to a stop at the ledge and frantically searched the misty froth below, but he couldn't see anything.

Athos scrambled to a halt at his side a few moments later, harried eyes looking down. Porthos turned toward him urgently.

"We have to find him."

Athos held an arm out across Porthos's chest as though to prevent him from simply jumping off the cliff after their brother. His other hand snagged Porthos's sleeve and tugged him away from the ledge so they could take the long way around.

Snapping twigs announced d'Artagnan's arrival as he came barreling through the woods to catch up.

"The last of the mercenaries are dead," he reported, then swept his gaze around. "Where's Aramis?"

"He went over the falls," Athos said stoically.

D'Artagnan's eyes widened in horror, and he quickly fell into step behind them as they quickly made their way through the forest and down to where the river straightened out.

Porthos frantically scanned the bank, but there was no sign of Aramis.

"Aramis!" he yelled.

"Aramis!" d'Artagnan echoed.

Athos looked grim as he also searched the area, but he didn't say anything as they pressed on.

Porthos's heart was hammering inside his chest. Aramis couldn't be lost. He just couldn't be.

"Over there!" d'Artagnan suddenly shouted, pointing wildly.

Porthos didn't see anything at first, but then a spot of dark leather finally caught his eye on the opposite bank. Aramis was floating in a tangle of brambles growing out over the river, not moving.

Porthos plunged into the water. The current was mild here, and he was able to wade across, the water level coming up to his chest. He reached Aramis, who was floating face up at least, and pulled him free from the scraggly branches. He then tucked him against his chest and swam with him back across the river to where Athos and d'Artagnan had remained on the bank. They quickly splashed into the shallow edge and helped pull Aramis all the way out, laying him on the shore. Athos immediately bent over him to see if he was breathing. Porthos watched tensely, his soaked clothes eliciting a chill throughout his body.

Athos jerked upright. "He's alive. We need to make camp and get him warm."

He and d'Artagnan set off to do that, leaving Porthos to sit with an unconscious Aramis. Porthos started working on getting the marksman's wet leathers off, then his own. Once d'Artagnan had a campfire going, Porthos picked Aramis up and carried him over to lie beside it. Athos returned with their horses and quickly divested them of their saddle blankets, which they wrapped around Aramis and Porthos. All that they could do then was settle in and wait.

Aramis woke near sunset, groggy and immediately coughing up some water. Porthos propped him up on his side to make it easier and rubbed his back until he was done.

"Mm," he moaned. "What…happened?"

"You went for a swim," Athos replied blandly.

Porthos huffed. "And that swim turned into a dive off a waterfall."

Aramis squinted at them, looking too out of it to be following the banter. Porthos felt a twinge of worry over that. But then Aramis hummed and closed his eyes.

"Well," he mumbled. "Good thing I wasn't carrying the letters."

Porthos straightened with a grimace. "Damn, I was."

D'Artagnan got up and went to dig through his coat pockets, pulling out the soggy papers. "I'm sure they'll be fine…" he said, albeit sounding unconvinced.

Athos merely shrugged. "At least it's not blood stains this time."

Aramis choked on a garbled laugh that turned into another fit of coughing. Porthos braced him again, holding him through it.

"You and heights," he muttered.

"At least he always manages to land on his feet," d'Artagnan put in cheerfully. "Well, more or less."

"Perhaps one day God's angels will make me fly," Aramis mused.

"His wonders to behold," Athos said wryly.

Porthos shook his head. He wasn't sure he really believed in angels, but someone sure did seem to be looking out for his brother.