Tréville sighed as he re-read the tiny scroll of paper between his fingers, resisting the impulse to crumple it up and flick it out the window with a loud curse. He could feel a headache building in the back of his head, thumping against his skull and creeping down into his shoulders. It would be easy to second-guess himself, but Tréville firmly pushed his doubts away. He had made his decision, whether right or wrong, and it was time to see what his Musketeer's choice would be. Although, it is no choice at all, the captain thought ruefully. He knew exactly what his man would say.

A knock on his door drew him out of reverie and he straightened in his seat as Porthos came in. The big man stood before him stiffly, resolutely staring into middle distance. Their relations had been chilly since Aramis' abrupt disappearance. Porthos did not know why Aramis had been sent away, but he knew that it had likely required Tréville's approval, no matter how reluctantly that approval had been given.

"You asked for me, Captain?"

"I did, yes." Tréville neatly folded the letter in his hands and deliberately set it on his desk. "I have news."

Porthos' eyes flickered towards Tréville and them resumed their fixed gaze on the wall. "About what?"

Tréville paused a moment before he responded. Do I risk one man for the sake of another? Especially if that other man is as good as lost? He shoved away the doubts that crept in. "About Aramis."

This time Porthos' gaze landed squarely on the captain's face. "And?" Porthos' voice was neutral, but Tréville could see the tension in his Musketeer's shoulders.

"Things have not gone to plan."

"Of course they haven't," Porthos muttered disgustedly. "Where is he?"

"His last message said he was leaving Torino."

"Torino? You sent him back to Savoy?" Outrage laced the big man's words as his expression darkened.

"It was out of my hands," Tréville snapped. "His presence was requested and I was not in a position to refuse."

Porthos' face twisted into a snarl and it was a moment before he swallowed enough of his anger to speak once more. "So where is he now?"

The captain sighed. "I don't know. That is the problem. He indicated that he would be moving to Susa and then continue into France. That was a week ago. He should have easily made it to Susa by now, but there has been no word."

"Damn it," Porthos bit out sharply. "You would not be telling me this if you didn't think he was in trouble."

Tréville inhaled deeply, fighting down his own mounting frustration. It had been simmering ever since he'd been forced to turn over one of his best men for a mission he thought was ill-conceived. "Yes. Aramis had a partner on this assignment. We believe his partner is dead."

Porthos tilted his head down at the news and rubbed a tired hand over his face. When he looked back up, his expression was furious. "So what you are telling me is that Aramis is in hostile territory, missing and alone."

"Yes."

"You should not have allowed this to happen."

"It was out of my hands," Tréville repeated.

Porthos' eyes narrowed. "You are his captain. If you cannot keep him from such things, then who can?"

"Aramis is not a child to be protected, Porthos. He is a soldier and he serves France. He will go where his country needs him in whatever manner the Crown chooses, whether I agree with it or not." The captain wearily leaned back in his chair.

"You are going to send someone to look for him." Porthos framed the statement as a demand.

"No, I can't. What I am telling you right now is information that I should not even have, as I was excluded from the execution of Aramis' mission." Tréville clenched his teeth. The Cardinal's audacity knew no bounds. "An official extraction is out of the question. The current political situation between France, Savoy and Spain is too delicate."

Porthos lifted his chin in defiance. "I would like to request a leave of absence, effective immediately."

Something inside Tréville loosened. This was likely a mistake, but he refused to leave his man stranded in foreign lands, especially when that man should never have been there to begin with. It was a feeble gesture at best, and he ran a high risk of losing two of his best Musketeers. Should Aramis never return, however, Tréville suspected that he would lose Porthos anyway. "Request granted."

"I will need to borrow supplies from the garrison."

The captain nodded. "You are free to take what you need." He paused. "Porthos, I want you to fully understand that you will be on your own."

The big man shook his head. "I won't be on my own. I will have Aramis with me."

Tréville gave him a short nod. He could do nothing but admire Porthos' unwavering confidence. They discussed a few more details before Tréville dismissed his Musketeer. The captain watched as Porthos turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the office, his spine straight with purpose. Tréville had done what he could. Now, he would simply have to trust his men. The Musketeer captain picked up a quill and dipped it into a pot of ink, bending over a fresh scrap of paper. Perhaps it was time to reopen old lines of communication and call in some favors.

Porthos thundered down the stairs, taking them two at a time. His breath puffed in small clouds of white mist, hanging in the icy air. Porthos barely felt the chill, still suffused with the heat of his anger. He admired and respected his captain, but he feared he would have said or done something to regret if he'd stayed in Tréville's office a minute longer.

Damn it, Aramis. There was no particular reason why he should be upset with his absent friend, but at the moment, Porthos was not feeling particularly selective as to where he lay his blame. And damn you, Tréville. Damn you for keeping this from me. He supposed there may have been good reasons as to why the captain would allow one of his Musketeers to be whisked away into foreign territory without a trusted comrade to watch his back, but Porthos could not think of any. None were good enough to justify sending Aramis back to Savoy without Porthos at his side.

The big Musketeer made his way back to his room and began to pack, cramming his belongings into several bags. He would need clothes, blankets, and trail rations. He would also have to stop by the armory to pick up as much ammunition and weaponry as he could realistically carry. Paris was still firmly in the grip of a prolonged winter, and Porthos was fairly certain that conditions would not improve near the mountains. Despite that, he would only be carrying the bare minimum, as he was more interested in traveling fast and light than traveling warm and safe.

A firm knock sounded at his door and Porthos jumped at the unexpected sound. Annoyed at the unnecessary interruption, he whirled to find Athos standing in the entryway.

"What do you want?" Porthos demanded.

Athos calmly considered him, his sharp blue eyes raking over the half-stuffed bags and gear piled up on the bed. The swordsman appeared completely unbothered by Porthos' steaming fury. He met Porthos' question with one of his own.

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes." The big Musketeer resumed his packing, his mind already plotting out the fastest route to Susa. He would need to exchange horses as often as possible to make sure his mounts were fresh and able to withstand the pace at which he planned to travel.

"What did Tréville want?" Athos sounded disinterested, as if he was asking about the availability of baguettes at the local bakery.

Porthos growled as he glanced over his shoulder. "I really do not have time for this."

Athos merely raised his eyebrows in the face of Porthos' mounting temper. The big man found Athos' flat steadiness to be both amusing and infuriating by turns, and at the moment, it was definitely irritating. "He had news about Aramis," Athos stated. It wasn't a question. "I am assuming it was not good."

Porthos sighed as he paused his frantic activity. Clearly, Athos was not going to leave. The man could unfortunately be as stubborn as Aramis. "Yes, he did, and no, it was not."

"So I ask again. Where are you going?"

There was another pause before Porthos answered. Even through the haze of his indignation, he was aware that Tréville had given him sensitive information. Now the question was whether he wanted to share that information. He warily watched as Athos joined him by the bed. The swordsman picked up items that Porthos had gathered and began to neatly place them inside Porthos' bags, patiently waiting for the big man to speak. A memory of Athos standing bloody and shaking, protecting Aramis' prone figure, flashed through his mind.

"To Savoy," he finally said. Porthos hated the way the word felt in his mouth. "A small town called Susa."

Athos frowned. "Tréville is sending you to retrieve Aramis from Susa?"

"No. Officially, Tréville is not doing anything, and I am simply taking a leave."

"I see." The swordsman glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes and Porthos could almost hear the gears turning in Athos' mind. "Would you care for some company?"

Porthos started at Athos' offer. It was quite unexpected. "What? Why?" he asked bluntly.

Athos shrugged nonchalantly. "I have had a strong, recent desire to visit Savoy and to see its mountains. I hear they are quite a sight this time of year."

Porthos raised an eyebrow as he considered the man beside him. Despite having Athos' company forced upon him by Aramis for nearly half a year, Porthos still had a difficult time understanding the man's motives and desires. Sometimes it seemed like he had none, and simply drifted wherever his orders took him. It had not taken long for Athos to earn his commission after his arrival at the garrison, and they had ridden out on several missions together in the past few months. Porthos could not deny that the man was a skilled fighter and had become a worthy Musketeer. If nothing else, he would be an excellent ally to have in a fight. Porthos reluctantly had to admit that Athos' help would raise his chances of finding Aramis and bringing him back to France, and at the moment, Porthos was willing to do almost anything to achieve said goal.

"You will have to clear it with the captain," Porthos finally said.

"I am certain he will not object," Athos replied with unruffled assurance.

"I'll be leaving as soon as I am done packing," the big man warned. "I'm not going to wait." The need to leave pounded urgently at Porthos, making him restless and sharp.

Athos nodded. "I will be ready." The swordsman hesitated before continuing. "Someone once told me that Musketeers watch each other's backs. As a fellow Musketeer, I will watch yours in Aramis' stead until we find him." Before Porthos could respond, the swordsman left to prepare for what would likely be a long and uncertain journey.

tbc

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