Porthos edged closer to the thicket of trees. When he saw his friend running full pelt towards it pursued by the baron, he knew he had to intervene. He had hoped to free Aramis without the baron being aware. They could disappear into the night and the baron would be left red-faced at the loss of his prize. A musketeer would have made a fine gift to the Spanish noble with which the baron had regular dealings.

Aramis had escaped on his own, although not without alerting the baron to his flight. The baron was on horseback and could not follow Aramis into the thicket. He galloped around the outside and waited at the obvious spot where Aramis would emerge. Aramis did not emerge.

Porthos moved closer, the darkness hiding his advance. The baron was only interested in the thicket and the man that was evading him. Porthos pulled his gun ready to deal with the baron. Porthos would have no problem incapacitating or killing the baron. His friend meant more to him than a man who was spying for the Spanish. And they had orders to deal with the baron as they saw fit.

The baron was pushing his way into the thicket. Porthos broke into a run, some sixth sense told him his friend was in trouble. The trouble was about to get worse.

He skidded to a halt at the point where the thicker trees began, he paused for a second to settle his breathing then pushed through.

The baron was standing a few feet ahead of him, oblivious to his presence. Porthos took a small step to the side so that he could see what was drawing the baron's attention.

Aramis was lying on the ground, covered in blood, breathing hard. His shirt was ripped and tattered. He was trying to pull himself up but struggling. Had Aramis' life not been in imminent danger Porthos would have laughed. But the brambles that were holding Aramis hostage also meant he was an easy target for the chuckling baron. The baron had his gun raised, finger on the trigger. Aramis would not stand a chance.

Porthos did not hesitate, he shot the baron in the back of the head. But he was a fraction of a second too late. The baron was pulling the trigger at the same moment that he was hit. A reflex saw him complete the task of firing the weapon. The shot went wide but the consequence of the weapon being fired was for Aramis to react and try to move out of the way. Only making his predicament worse. Although, thought Porthos, as he rushed forward, getting tangled further in the brambles was preferable to being dead.

In a rare moment of panic, Aramis was tugging at the brambles desperate to free himself. Porthos guessed his friend had not had time to take in the fact that the baron had collapsed a few feet away. The baron was no longer a worry to either of them.

'You're safe now,' said Porthos who was forced to grab at Aramis' wrist to stop him from getting himself tangled further.

It took Aramis a few seconds to stop moving and realise what had happened.

'Porthos?'

Porthos managed a smile, 'yeah, here I am, saving you. Again.'

Aramis focused on him and managed a smile. Porthos could tell his friend was in quite a lot of discomfort as the smile was slightly forced. And Porthos was not surprised that Aramis was in discomfort. He was well and truly trapped by the brambles.

'I'm going to have to cut you free of this,' said Porthos as much to himself as to his friend.

'I would be grateful,' muttered Aramis, who tried to move forward again.

Porthos pushed him back a little, 'keep still then, only move when I tell you, or you're going to make this worse.'

Aramis tried to relax but his body remained tense. Porthos reached up and pulled a few loose spiky tendrils from Aramis' hair that were in danger of scratching his face and eyes.

Porthos tried to imagine what he would feel like in the same situation. Aramis appeared to have finally worked out that he needed to keep still, or he would make his predicament worse. He was totally in Porthos' hands. On the occasions, Porthos had been the one trapped or restrained in some way it had always been hard to remain calm. That creeping fear would not leave. Even when he knew that help was there, that he was in the process of being freed. Those few seconds as ropes or chains were removed were always the worst. And Porthos knew it was not going to take a few seconds to free Aramis.

The way the baron had fallen, forward into the brambles, was helpful, his body weight was holding a fair amount of the spiky branches out of the way. Porthos was able to get to the side of his trapped friend without himself getting trapped. He pulled a dagger from his belt and started to cut Aramis free.

'You hurt, other than the obvious?' asked Porthos as he worked.

Aramis was quiet for a few seconds, 'no. I was kept in a room by him, not tied up or anything. They didn't beat me. I'm probably bruised from the initial fight. I managed to punch one of them and got slapped about a bit afterwards.'

Porthos nodded his approval.

'They didn't interrogate you?'

Porthos eased one of the tendrils off Aramis' arm eliciting a hiss of pain as the thorns were pulled from his skin.

'No,' said Aramis between the odd gasped breath of pain, 'they kept me awake though. Asking me over and over again if I knew anything and who I was with.'

'So you've not slept?'

'Not since they grabbed me. Not sleeping, not eating, not having anything to drink.'

'Sorry,' said Porthos, 'I didn't bring anything with me.'

'Think I can last a bit longer.'

Porthos concentrated on his work, he could feel the odd thorn scratching his wrists where his sleeve had pulled away from his gloves. A small price to pay as he freed his friend. And nothing compared to the scratches and gouges that now covered poor Aramis.

He continued to cut the bramble, ensuring the bits he cut were moved far enough away from them both. As Aramis freed his right arm, he looked at his flesh, turning his hand over several times. Porthos knew his friend would be in a lot of pain and the discomfort would continue for some time. It was a shame Aramis was not wearing his doublet, he would not have suffered anywhere near as bad if he had.

'Didn't you get caught in some brambles once?' asked Aramis as he started to help in his rescue, holding back brambles as Porthos cut them and unpeeled them from his body.

Porthos nodded, 'yeah, like you I didn't have my doublet on but unlike you, I didn't willingly run into the bushes.'

Aramis rolled his eyes, 'if I'd seen them, believe me, I would not have run into them. By the time I realised what I had done it was too late.'

Porthos chuckled, 'I got knocked out and fell back into them. D'Artagnan had to pull me out, it was not one of our finer moments.'

He enjoyed seeing the mirth in Aramis' eyes as he continued to recount the unfortunate tale for him. As he talked, he started to work on the loop of brambles around Aramis' foot. His friend's struggles had pulled the vine-like tendrils taught around his ankle.

'Keep still whilst I do this bit, I don't want to slice through your boot.'

He glanced up at Aramis, who nodded. As he freed his friend's leg Aramis pulled away a little, rotating his foot as he did so. Porthos was pleased to see that he had no issues with the movement.

'Let's get you up,' said Porthos as he scrambled to his feet.

He caught hold of Aramis' arms firmly and eased him upwards. They got as far as Aramis kneeling before the trapped man shook his head with a hiss.

'Small of my back,' said Aramis, his eyes screwed shut and head bowing forward.

Porthos steadied Aramis and leaned around to find a final spiky tendril caught across his back. The thorns were each embedded in his flesh being tugged as they tried to get Aramis to his feet. Porthos began easing the bramble away; as each one came free, blood pooled in its place, leaving a macabre reminder of Aramis' misadventure in the thicket of trees.

Once finally free of the thorns, Porthos pulled his friend up to stand. Aramis was steady on his feet, although he was pale.

'The tavern where I've got us a room has a back door. We can slip in,' said Porthos as they pushed out of the thicket. 'I've made friends with the landlord, he's no fan of the late Baron. He'll help us with water, I'm sure.'

Aramis nodded but did not respond.

Porthos continued, 'you need to rest for a bit before we leave for Paris. I don't think you'd last long on a horse at the moment.'

Aramis chuckled, 'It's not often that the worst injuries are received during the escape.'

'No,' replied Porthos, 'you almost got away with it, this time.'

'Almost,' echoed Aramis.

The End.

Whumpee: Aramis. Featuring: Porthos