A/N: A little brotherly love, anyone?

Chapter Twelve

Aramis had been thrown out of Athos's room once again, while Kate worked her magic on his grumpy friend. He had detected a certain tension between the two, but then there was tension between Athos and everyone he came into contact with these days. The days of him lying quietly watching the world go by was gone. He had had a few exchanges with him. He could hardly call them conversations, but since Porthos had gone on his one-man mission, Athos was particularly withdrawn. Dark shadows had appeared under his eyes and Aramis was under no illusion that Athos had suffered at least one nightmare, according to Kate.

Staring out of the window at the car park below, Aramis smiled when he saw a familiar car pull in to a vacant bay. He watched his large friend lever himself out of the car and then lean in once more to collect a bag from the passenger seat.

He swiped his hands down his face and straightened his back.

A familiar warm feeling spread through his chest to know that Porthos was back, hale and hearty. He had spent too many hours on his own and was beginning to doubt any benefit his was bringing to his friend in the room down the corridor. As much as he wasn't looking forward to this, though, it was going to be good. Athos had a lot of frustration to vent.

He walked quickly to the waiting room door, to intercept Porthos.

The lift doors at the end of the corridor opened with a hiss and the big man stepped out. Seeing Aramis in the doorway ahead, he stopped, locking eyes dubiously with his Spanish friend.

Aramis folded his arms and leaned on the door frame.

Porthos raised the bag of doughnuts hesitantly.

Aramis turned and walked back into the waiting room, an invitation to follow. Porthos dropped his head and tightened his grip on the bag. When he reached the room and peered in, Aramis had his back to him, staring down into the car park. Porthos realised he had seen him park up and had been waiting for him.

This was it then.

"Brought doughnuts," he said, his voice a low rumble.

"So I see," Aramis replied, his back still to him.

Porthos dropped the bag on a chair by the door, feeling a little ridiculous. He walked over and stood next to Aramis, following his gaze down into the car park. Three minutes must have passed, though it seemed like ten to Porthos. He wasn't used to such silence from Aramis.

"What were you thinking?" Aramis finally ground out.

"I've been thinkin' about that," Porthos replied, softly, not taking his eyes from the car park below; spying his car, and thinking he could have made a better job of parking it. "I don't think I was thinkin'"

He turned his head and looked at Aramis's profile.

"Not rationally, anyway," he conceded.

"You can say that again," Aramis said.

"Not rationally ..."

"Shut up!" Aramis interrupted, turning angrily to face him.

"Sorry," Porthos muttered. "Go on, ball me out."

"Oh, I don't need to," Aramis huffed. "Nothing I could say would compare to what our friend in there is going to give you."

Porthos sighed.

"Both barrels," Aramis added, leaning forward until their noses almost touched.

"Yeah, been on the end of that before," Porthos replied.

"You're lucky he is bedridden," Aramis said, a little softer. "Or he would probably do you some damage."

"Tear me a new one," Porthos nodded.

"Or two," Aramis said, turning back to stare out the window.

Porthos reached up and slung his arm loosely around Aramis's shoulder.

"Shouldn't have left you like that," he said. "I just thought you would be better to watch over him, while I ..."

"I thought you said you weren't thinking," Aramis interrupted, tersely, but he did not pull away from the comfort of Porthos's arm. He had been sorely missing the warmth that their brotherhood offered each of them. He suspected Athos was too, but at the moment, he was a little untouchable.

"I did, didn't I," Porthos chuckled then.

He started to laugh, a low rumble that went from his chest to his throat.

Beside him, Aramis shook his head, though he too, allowed himself a huff of laughter.

"Best get in there then," Porthos said, as the amusement died away.

Aramis took a deep breath.

"Porthos," he began, as Porthos crossed the room and picked up the bag of doughnuts.

"Yeah?" his friend replied, turning around so they faced each other, a few feet apart.

"Don't tell Athos about the mechanic," he said, sincerely.

"What?" Porthos frowned.

"Spare him the brutality. Later maybe, but not now."

"But it's a lead," Porthos growled.

"I know," Aramis replied, holding up his hand to stop Porthos arguing.

"Tell him about the truck, but not about the … blood."

Porthos sat down and Aramis joined him after a few moments, the two friends sitting side by side.

"All I'm saying is," Aramis said, "He has been through a lot and has had to relive a lot of terrible memories. Not to mention the guilt he feels ..."

He raised his hand again as Porthos opened his mouth to protest.

"I know, but the fact remains he does feel guilt toward that couple," Aramis interjected. "Just let us spare him what we can, yes?"

Porthos finally nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line, seeing the sense in what Aramis was saying. At the moment, anyway.

"I'll tell you what I'll spare 'im," Porthos said then. "I'm goin' to make sure he doesn't have to testify."

Aramis sat back with a sigh.

"This is going to contradict what I just said, but don't deny him his day in court, Porthos," he said, softly. Before Porthos could say any more, Aramis stood.

"Come on, let's get this over with, shall we?"

"So, I'm forgiven?" Porthos grunted, as he stood.

"One down, one to go," Aramis replied, slapping him on the back.

As they walked down the corridor, Aramis reached over and took the bag from him and gave him an encouraging smile.

"It'll be fine," he said.

Porthos straightened his back and ran his hands down the side of his jeans.

"Depends on your definition of "fine," Porthos sighed.

Aramis led the way to the door ahead and reached out to open the door.

"Look who I found," he said, brightly, stepping aside to give the occupant a view of the doorway.

Porthos stepped self-consciously into the room, as Athos turned his head.

The last time Porthos had seen him he had been in the ICU suite, surrounded by machines, tubes and wires. Now, he was propped up on three pillows and covered in a white sheet. The bottom of the hydraulic bed was raised; half his thigh exposed and the white cast visible from below his knee. The sheet was draped over one shoulder, his other cast beneath it, but the other hand was free of the needle that had been in situ the last time Porthos had seen him, which seemed like a lifetime.

This room was quieter and there was a window. There was also what looked like a small room in the corner.

The door suddenly opened and Julia, one of Athos's nurses came out. Porthos caught a brief look at what looked like an office beyond.

"Oh," she said, seeing him standing awkwardly in the doorway, "You're back," she smiled.

Aramis stepped forward quickly and handed her the bag of doughnuts.

"Sorry, Julia, can you find a place for these?" he said quietly, giving her a full-on look and hoping she would take the hint.

Feeling the tension in the room and looking from Porthos to Athos, who seemed to be locked in a staring contest, thankfully, she did, giving Aramis's arm a squeeze as she relieved him of the bag.

"Thank you, Julia," Athos murmured, as she hurried through the door.

Aramis didn't leave with her, but tactically retreated to the other side of the room, curious as to how this would play out.

Porthos looked over his shoulder at Aramis, who was now leaning against the wall, next to the window.

"Thought you said he wasn't talkin'" he said.

"Oh, he has talked," Aramis said, looking at Athos pointedly. "Not always with such a civil tongue."

Athos gave him a sharp look before turning his attention back to Porthos.

"Hello, Athos. You look better," Porthos tried, as a opening gambit as the door closed behind him and he took in his friend. "The new room suits you," he added, pushing it a bit.

Truth be told, Athos did look better and it wasn't just the new room. For one, he wasn't flat on his back and out of it. Despite the obvious broken bones, he looked comfortable.

Athos looked at him, his green eyes then taking him in slowly from head to foot. Porthos stood still, allowing his inspection.

"I've been ..." he began,

"I know where you have been," Athos said, curtly.

"Athos ..."

"Your actions were foolish in the extreme. Bordering on suicidal," Athos ground out. "If you had encountered him ..."

"But I didn't," Porthos said, cutting him off. "I'm not stupid, Athos. I was only goin' after the truck."

"You told no-one where you were!" Athos replied, quickly.

"Because I needed Aramis to stay here with you!" Porthos growled.

"Not your decision," Aramis said, from across the room, allowing his own frustration to finally surface at Porthos's words.

Porthos turned to look at him, lost for words, as he realised the position he had put himself in with his two friends.

"I brought doughnuts," he blurted out.

Athos raised his eyebrows and Aramis dropped his head and looked at his feet.

"Doughnuts," Athos said. "You think I can be placated with doughnuts?"

"I'm sorry," Porthos suddenly said, his eyes shining as he dropped into the chair next to Athos.

Athos continued to look at Porthos, the fight visibly going out of him at the sight of him, fit, well and contrite, at least. Athos took a shuddering breath and lifted his hand, his expression softening.

Porthos quickly took it in his and drew it to the side of his own face, holding it there before standing and leaning over. Still clutching his friend's hand, he kissed Athos on the side of his head, the other hand holding his head gently.

"If anything had happened to you ..." Porthos murmured.

"Exactly how I felt," Athos replied. "And Aramis too, who bore the worst of the worry," he added, his eyes finding Aramis, who had now wrapped his arms around himself, though he still stared down at his feet.

Porthos looked quickly over at Aramis.

"I'm ..."

"You've already said sorry," Aramis said, looking up at last, his own eyes bright. "Just, don't do it again."

Porthos let go of Athos's hand and sat down again.

Athos took the opportunity to raise his freed hand and cover his eyes.

Both his friends fell silent, watching as Athos breathed heavily through his nose, his lips pressed in a tight line as he struggled to compose himself.

"So much blood," he said, softly to himself.

"I know," Porthos said, quietly, before glancing at Aramis, who shook his head minutely.

"I'm sorry," Athos suddenly said, dropping his hand down. "I'm just ..."

"Angry," Porthos said.

"Frustrated," Aramis added. "And bored."

Athos huffed out a short laugh.

"Yes, all of those, I suppose," he replied.

"Thank you," he added, after composing himself.

"We haven't done anything," Aramis said, pushing off the wall and coming across to join Porthos.

"Just sat with you."

He pulled a chair up and sat down next to Porthos, before side-glancing him;

"Well, I did, anyway."

"Sorry," Porthos grumbled. "I was 'ere in spirit."

"Gentlemen," Athos sighed, "I owe you my thanks. I could not wish for two better friends."

"Brothers," Porthos said, firmly.

"Brothers," they all said, as one.

To be continued ...