When the giant's hand had fallen away from the stranglehold he had over Aramis' nose and mouth, the marksman was unable to halt his fall, dropping to land on his knees, gasping for the air he had been denied. His body desperately drank in air as quickly as it could, shaking slightly from his efforts.
It took Aramis a few moments before he was very much aware of anything happening around him.
He felt movements near him. He recognized his brother's voice as Porthos was at his side immediately, moving with great speed despite his massive size. He felt his friend putting his arms around his shoulders to support him. All Aramis was aware of at the moment was that the pressure was gone, and he relaxed in those protective arms as he slowly began to be able to breathe a little better.
He heard Athos and Porthos' voices now, and managed to say something about not expecting an attack. Porthos leaned down and told him not to talk yet. Athos said that whoever these men were, they never seemed to give up, and Aramis, hearing his words, couldn't control a shiver that ran down his spine at that prospect.
Then, the memory of seeing the four men appearing and distracting them returned to him, and with it, a burst of energy that propelled him to his feet, where he began running. Right before his near-blackout from lack of air, he had vaguely seen them run down the street behind his brothers and then veer to the left.
His brothers were startled when he suddenly pulled free of Porthos' grasp and, moving with much more speed than any of them would have thought he could have had given what had happened, took off down the street.
They looked at each other briefly in consternation, realizing what, or rather who, had caused his reaction, and then turning, ran after him. Their brother would have had a clear view of the 'brawlers', and knew which direction they would have gone. The only problem was, he wasn't in prime shape to be taking them on at the moment.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Aramis had remembered seeing the 'brawlers' head down the street behind Athos and Porthos, then turn sharply to the left before disappearing. All he wanted right now was to catch up with them and prevent their getting away with the attack, not taking into consideration his own depleted bodily resources as he ran.
The medic in him was warning him that he wasn't in good enough shape to be doing this, but he did his best to ignore it. He could feel his lungs protesting vehemently, but pressed on doggedly in the direction his quarry had gone.
When he reached a place in the street where an alleyway branched off he hesitated, then slowing his pace, turned down it. Moving slowly now and staying close to the walls of the ancient timbered houses leaning precariously above his head over the alley, he advanced. His ears were attuned to any sound that might warn him of impending danger, but it approached on silent footfalls.
One minute he was unimpeded, and the next a hand had once more settled over his mouth, while his opponent's other hand wrapped itself around his middle and tugged his body sharply against his attacker's chest, in almost exactly the same position he had just been rescued from.
He briefly though, 'not again'.
Hw struggled, but it didn't do any good. His first brief captor had taken too much out of him. He was again short of breath, which severely hindered his attempts to pull free. The man wasn't nearly as huge as his now-deceased companion, but he was very muscular, and used those muscles to prevent him from pulling away or crying out for help.
Strangely, there seemed to be only one man in the alleyway. There was no sound to indicate others being present. They must have split up to try to divert them, he thought.
Aramis heard a deep, low voice in his ear. "You may have got away the other times, but you're not going anywhere now," he bragged.
Turning Aramis swiftly around, he slammed him up against the wall behind him in one swift motion, then punched him in the back, winding him further.
Before the marksman knew what he was going to do, in one swift motion he took his hand away from Aramis' mouth, intending to silence him with a rag he pulled from a back pocket. He had just pulled it free, when a body slammed into him from the darkness.
The man recovered quickly, probably using his past experiences in a life of crime, and backing away, pulled a wicked long dagger from his belt.
"You should have stayed out of this," he said. "You're a dead man," pulling his arm back to hurl the dagger.
He was stopped in mid-motion when a shot rang out, jerking his whole body around before he dropped to the dirt of the alley.
"Is he all right?" Athos called to d'Artagnan, who had been the one to tackle the now-dead assassin. Returning his pistol to its holster, Athos joined d'Artagnan kneeling next to Aramis.
Their brother surprised them by being the one who breathlessly responded, "Never...better, my..." Interrupted by a bout of coughing, he continued, "I'm fine."
Porthos, who had just joined them, replied, "You'll be knocking at the pearly gates, and still saying you're fine," earning him a look from Aramis that was part smile, part glare, and mixed with exhaustion..
D'Artagnan, assisted by the glow coming from the lantern Porthos now held high above them, lifted his head from checking Aramis over to say, "No additional injuries. He was very lucky," he said, continuing, "except for being even more out of breath than before. He hadn't got all his breath back from his encounter with the giant yet, when he ran into this one," indicatin the man lying still in the dust behind them.
Porthos said, "What were you thinking? Taking off like that. You could have...," stopping when he felt Athos' hand clasp his shoulder gently but firmly.
"Now is not the time, Porthos," he said softly, indicating their now nodding brother, who had given in to his exhaustion from the attacks. As he fell asleep, his lungs still took occasional deep, ragged breaths with a little hitch as they slowly returned to normal.
All of Porthos; worry and frustration at his perceived brother's reckless pursuit disappeared at the sight of his beloved brother's upper body sagging in d'Artagnan's arms.
Handing the lantern to d'Artagnan, he gathered him gently and lifting him up to rest against his chest, Porthos breathed a sigh of relief, echoed by Athos and d'Artagnan, and they headed back to the garrison. By the time they reached the gates, Porthos and his brothers' hearts were just very happily relieved that, despite two attempts that night, he was safe and relatively unscathed.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They had barely come through the gates when Treville strode rapidly towards them across the compound.
"What happened?" he demanded, a clear note of concern threading through his words.
Athos filled him in as they continued walking, wanting to get Aramis into his bed as soon as possible.
Reaching his brother's room, Porthos turned the doorknob. "He is leaving it unlocked again?"
Athos replied, "As a rule, yes."
Porthos waid, "I'm going to have words with him about that. I've never thought it was a good idea, but right now, it's a downright terrible one."
Athos agreed, commenting, "It is not easy to get into our garrison. But nothing thus far seems to have stopped these men. Locking the door is a very sensible idea at the moment."
Moving into the neat, clean room, filled with books, a pistol or two, and neatly folded clothes, Porthos laid Aramis down softly, not wanting to wake him up. His brother immediately snuggled his arms around the pillow his head now lay on, an unconscious little contented sigh escaping him that brought a smile to his brother's faces.
Next to his bed sat a small table, containing a Bible and a rosary, a testament to their brother's strong faith that those items were closest to him while he slept. The key to his room was the only other item on the table.
Making sure the shutters were closed and latched, they moved quietly out, locking the door behind them.
Porthos, after retrieving a blanket from his room next door, let himself back into his friend's room. Relocking the door behind him, he wrapped himself in the blanket, and stretched out on the floor next to the bed. He was asleep almost as soon as he had laid his head down.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Aramis had slept through the night and nearly to midday before awakening. As he stretched his arms high above his head, memories of the night before returned to flit through his mind, and he sat bolt upright and swung one leg off the bed.
He was not in the least surprised to find Porthos waking up on his floor. His brother was almost as much a mother hen when it came to his friend as he was himself. He couldn't remember a time that he had been injured or ill and not found Porthos wrapped in the same blanket he was now flinging off of himself.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, a strern expression on his face as he looked at his brother.
"I would have thought that was obvious, mon ami," Aramis cheekily replied. "I am getting out of bed."
No. You're. Not. Porthos emphasized each word, getting to his feet and crossing his arms to emphasize his point.
"But I am just..."
"If you say that one more time...," Porthos was just warming up now. "You could barely breathe last night. Then..." he paused, outrage evident in his voice. "Then, of all the reckless things you've done since I've known you...," pausing for a moment.
"Yes?" Aramis dared to say in the moment's silence.
The word was enough to start Porthos up again. "You were nearly killed. You could barely breathe, and you take off...alone...after four men?"
"Well..."
But Porthos wasn't going to be stopped now.
"You had no idea what weapons they were carrying. It was so dark in the alley, it was the perfect place to waylay someone. That someone being you, the one they wanted in the first place. Did you think of any of those things?"
"Well, no, but..."
"You're lucky we found you before the second man finished what the first one had started." Aramis, knowing his brother so well and how much he was loved by him, also knew Porthos needed to work out his emotions, so he didn't really try to stop him.
Now that Porthos had verbalized his anger, the worry and fear surfaced to color his words. "I could have...we could have lost you last night, Aramis. I dont' think I..." and the tears from his remembered panic slowly traced their way down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, my friend. I was angry at these unknown assailants. I thought if we could track them down, we could get to the bottom..."
Porthos interrupted him, saying, "One against four, and that one not in peak form? Aramis," he was speaking softly again, his eyes boring into his brother. "Not alone. Never alone against those kinds of odds. I'm the gambler. I wouldn't even place a bet that long."
Aramis could hear the raw emotions coming from his brother. It had never been his intention to crearte the hurt htat he could now hear.
Porthos was continuing. "If we hadn't got there in time...if you had died..." trailing off, not wanting to voice more of his great fear now.
Instead of speaking, Aramis walked into, and allowed himself to be enfolded by those massive arms. He had truly not conceived that what he had done would effect his best friend as badly as it obviously had. He would never intentionally hurt Porthos or his other brothers. His only ill-thought out intention had been wanting to finally terminate this unknown vendetta before one of his brothers was injured or killed. He seldom thought about the danger to himself, placing those he loved far ahead of self.
They were totally silent for a short while, before Porthos backed up to look Aramis in the eyes.
"So, are we going to get a little more shut-eye?"
Aramis heaved a dramatic sigh, saying in a plaintive tone, "Needs must, mon ami. Needs must," turning with a flourish back to his bed and plopping himself down with a forearm over his eyes.
Porthos just rolled his eyes and grinned.