For The Greater Good

Prompt: #9 "Run!"

Smoke and debris still settle around them, and Athos' ears are ringing from the explosion as he drags himself out from underneath the remains of a cabinet and looks around for his brothers. He sees all three of them struggling to their feet, covered in dust and disoriented like he is. The bomb - or whatever it was - must've exploded in the room behind them, now reduced to a pile of rubble, and it was just their luck they'd had a wall and a closed door between them and the blast. Not that there's anything left of the wall now. Or the door. Athos shakes his head at the smoldering mayhem.

"Anyone hurt?" It's more coughing than a question from Aramis, who has grabbed a swaying d'Artagnan and is giving him a quick once-over.

"Nah." Porthos' affirmation is accompanied by a groan as he pushes out from under a broken table top. "I'm in one piece. How 'bout y'all?"

"Fine," Athos relies automatically. He picks his hat up, dusts it off and places it back on his head. His body feels sore all over, and his hip and left thigh smart as if he's been kicked by a horse, but nothing important is bleeding, and that - as far as he is concerned - fits the definition of "fine".

"Aramis? D'Artagnan?"

"Fine!" D'Artagnan is quick to echo Athos' reply, although he looks a little cross-eyed and Aramis is dabbing at the back of his head with a handkerchief.

"He's lying," Aramis comments dryly. "But I assume he'll live."

"An' yerself?"

Porthos wades over to his best friend, picking his way through upended furniture and loose bricks.

"Fantastic," Aramis says, and even from where Athos is standing he can see the large bruise forming on one side of the marksman's face and one blackening eye.

Athos grimaces at him. "Then let's get out of here. I'm not confident about the stability of this building."

He looks at the ceiling and the supporting beams, some of which look badly damaged.

The house emits a creaky groan. It's a sturdy, fairly large brick building, and the damage seems to be confined to the back of the building, but Athos knows enough about architecture and statics to be worried. He's not the only one. All four of them quickly gather their hats and dislodged weaponry and begin to navigate their way to the front of the house.

They're traversing the front hall which looks largely unaffected by the explosion when a prolonged 'crack!' resounds above their heads. Four heads look up to find a fissure running across the ceiling that splits open all the way to the front door. The whole building seems to give a shudder, and chunks of clay rain down.

"What- ?"

"Oh no!"

"Run!"

Athos doesn't have to shout it twice. They limp and scramble across the hall. To Athos' dismay, he sees the front door splitting apart under the pressure of the wavering building. The whole door frame is sagging as the wall around it ripples and sways. Above them, with a sudden lurch, the first floor drops several inches, about to cave.

Porthos is the first one to reach the sagging entrance. He kicks the broken door aside and wedges himself underneath the heavy beam that seems to be the one thing keeping the entire construction from collapsing. With his neck and shoulders, the big Musketeer pushes upward.

"Porthos!"

Athos is by his side and, with both hands, he helps Porthos stem the weight pressing down on him. He feels the entire building tremble through his palms. Porthos' face distorts, and his thighs bulge as he keeps their way out from folding in on itself.

Aramis and d'Artagnan have reached them, wide eyes skipping from Porthos to Athos and the collapsing entrance and back.

"Bloody hell, Porthos, you-"

"Get outta here, Aramis!" Porthos grits through clenched teeth, so white in his dusty face. "Get outta here, all o' you! I'll hold it up 'til you're out!"

Athos feels the pressure increase. His boots slip on the floor as he looks for purchase. Any moment now, they'll all get buried under tons of rubble.

"You too, Athos!" Porthos bellows harshly. "Yer blocking the way. Go! Go!"

Aramis, supporting a dizzy d'Artagnan, is staring at Porthos. D'Artagnan's face is frozen in horror. Athos feels his heart sink.

"No!" Aramis shouts at his friend. "No, you'll get crushed! There'll be no time for you to-"

Porthos has no time for this. "NOW, Aramis! Take 'em! I'll be right behind ya. Please! GO!"

They've all been in this position. Even d'Artagnan, their youngest. That moment when "one for all" comes to a head, and neither of them has ever shown a blink of hesitation to save the others, even when it could have meant giving their own lives. And, as always, it's a seconds-long tug-of-war between the brothers: eyes locking in shock, in denial, in preliminary grief - and in the final realization that this is what they'd all do for each other. They're musketeers. Sacrifice. It's in their blood.

Athos sees Aramis' shoulders droop and hears d'Artagnan gasp in disbelief. Then he makes a decision. He catches Porthos' grim gaze, the soulful eyes darkened in determination. Then he nods.

"See you on the other side, brother."

And then he ducks out from under the door frame, pushes d'Artagnan through the opening and pulls Aramis along by the lapels of his doublet. They're outside, stumbling a few steps and falling over each other when, with a great, heaving sigh, the building collapses behind them and Porthos disappears in a cloud of bricks and mortar and billowing dust.