Porthos
Something was amiss. The sensation was reaching him through his deep sleep, which was giving him an escape from pain. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and realized that he had been left alone in the room.
D'Artagnan is probably in the palace with Constance and Athos probably is looking for oblivion and absolution in wine… and Aramis… where is Aramis?
Porthos sat up slowly. The room was dim, a few candles were giving faible light. He reached for the glass of water on the stool near the table. The musketeer welcomed the small addition of wine in the water.
He gave himself a moment of respite and then slowly stood up. The room did not spin around him, which gave him some hope. He went towards the wardrobe to find something to put on. His legs shook a bit, but they followed his commands.
Reassuring…
The door opened. Porthos pivoted towards them looking for a weapon. Fortunately, it was just Lemay who entered the room.
"Monsieur Porthos!", he leapt towards the musketeer and tried to take some of his weight, "You should be in bed. What do you think you're doing?!"
The wounded man allowed to be lowered on the bed.
"Where's Aramis?"
"He's in the Palace.", there was something suspected in Lemay's voice.
"Why? He's not fit for duty!", the musketeer protested worriedly.
"That's true. He saved the King.", the physician replied sadly.
"Is he hurt?!", Porthos asked with trepidation.
"Poisoned. It's bad, Porthos. That it is why I've come here."
The dark skinned musketeer felt suddenly sick.
What he's trying to say?! Does he want me to give chance to say goodbye?! No. Aramis will survive. He has to.
"I offer you, Monsieur my carriage to get you to the palace", Lemay explained.
No! It cannot be so bad! A few minutes ago you were angry at my attemptions to stand!
"Is he dying?!", Porthos ask with dread.
Lemay hesitated for a moment.
"I hope that a friend's presence will ease his torment.", he replied slowly.
Porthos could not find any words. He allowed Lemay to help him with his clothes too aware that otherwise his stubbornness would only cause delay and time was of the essence.
Porthos felt awfully weak when he finally reached the carriage. The steps leading inside suddenly felt incredibly high, but he managed to get in. He leaned his sweaty head against the wall.
They travelled in silence.
Another bad sign.
However, Porthos felt too exhausted to ask any questions. Maybe Lemay seemed a bit unfocused. Though the musketeer could not be sure as paying attention to the surroundings, the doctor included, was a true challenge.
Porthos remembered vaguely that they arrived to the palace. The musketeers guards solemnly greeted them. Fortunately there was no chance for them to express their compassion. The dark skinned musketeer was certain he could not bear it.
Finally, Lemay opened the door and let him in. He froze upon seeing Aramis. For a long moment the only thing he saw was the raw fear in his brother's eyes. Only then he understood that Aramis was not noticing him
Only some demons of his past.
"Mis…", he whispered and slowly started to approach to the bed as he was coming near a panicked horse.
The marksman caught his gaze.
"Marsac… Don't abandon me here… please!", he whined so miserably that Porthos' heart hurt.
"I won't leave you, brother!", the dark skinned musketeer swore vehemently. He grasped marksman's hand. The skin was too hot and dry.
"Mis…", Porthos choked on his name.
"Please…", whispered Aramis, "Porthos…", there was no recognition in his voice but a desperate plea for help. The musketeer understood now why Lemay had asked his presence. He glanced at the doctor standing at the threshold.
"Can't you help him?!", he exclaimed.
"I'm doing my best. That's why you're here.", he replied stiffly, "There are some herbs I prepared to give him if you'll be able to make him drink. The more he drinks the better. Don't hesitate to call me."
"How long is he like this?", Porthos had the impression that he had lost a few days.
"Two days", Lemay answered guiltily.
"He was abandoned like that for two days?!", he could not believe it.
"No! Monsieur d'Artagnan came here quite often. And there was a guard with him all the time. He was never left alone."
"A guard?!"
Is Aramis treated as a suspect or worse - a prisoner? It doesn't make sense. But if the Queen came here too often and someone guessed their relationship?! Then he'd be in Chatelet waiting for his execution…
"By Captain Treville's order". Lemay replied quickly stopping Porthos' musing, "Do you need anything from me Monsieur?"
"No… Wait! How's Constance?!"
"She's recovering. It's too early to say she's out of woods but I'm optimistic."
It's a relief. I like her and I can't imagine myself consoling d'Artagnan. It wouldn't work.
"Porthos! No!", Aramis screamed with fury and despair.
He must have seen me killed...
"Mis, please, open your eyes..", Porthos pleaded changing the wet cloth on his friend's forehead.
He hoped for a sign from his friend but the marksman remained unresponsive buried in his nightmares.
Porthos was getting more and more tired. Finally, he succumbed and lied down close to Aramis in hope that his touch would ease the memories and images that were tormenting his friend. He struggled to remain alert but finally he fell asleep.
A loud scream awoke him abruptly. Aramis was sitting on the bed, gasping for air. In the faint light of a candle Porthos could not see his face clearly. The marksman hands were searching for a weapon which he would not find. Not in the random bed in the palace.
"Mis?", Porthos tried but his friend flinched away. He hit wall with his back and remained motionless his eyes wide and full of horror.
"Don't touch me!", the marksman cried.
He curled up in the corner shivering.
Is it time to call Lemay? No. I'm the only one who can reach Mis…
"Aramis, you're safe. I won't touch you if you don't want it.", Porthos stated firmly.
"But I have to want it. Don't I? To ask you to touch me… to rape me for Athos' sake. I have to obey to save him… Am I right?", marksman's voice was soft and bitter. The pain so palpable!
"Aramis! You're safe! Nobody will hurt you!"
As I would have been able to protect him before… how can he trust anyone that he's safe?
The marksman's steady gaze met his. The decision was made and the ailing man was bracing himself for its consequences.
Porthos stood up to distance himself hoping that his action would be more understandable for his feverish friend than his words were. Aramis focused on him confused but vigilant.
The dark skinned musketeer was not sure how he should react to ease his brother's fear. He could not bear the very thought of leaving him alone here.
What if Aramis exactly needs this?
The marksman was visibly exhausted.
You may ease his torment. Lemay was not talking about the physical pain. He called me here to help my brother fight his memories. Those all horrible things he had experienced. I'm so useless. I'm waiting for the last of his strength abandon him, so he won't resist my will. I am doing the same his tormentors did though I'm doing it for his sake.
Suddenly it was too much. Porthos collapsed on the floor. He was still very aware of his surroundings, only he had no idea what to do and no energy to act. He lost. He lost, though his beloved brother was still alive. But he was not here.
And may never be again.
A/N
I know I am hopelessly slow with the updates. Please, forgive me. I'll do my best.