More Than Our Captain – Porthos

By Rowana Silverwind

Spoilers: This story is an episode tag to "Prodigal Father" in Season 2 and contains spoilers.

M.M.M.M

Porthos was quiet on the ride back to Paris, but the other Musketeers seemed to understand he needed the space. While he had smiled and joked with them in the end, it had been a trying few days. He was still battling the mess of emotions that had come with meeting his father for the first time. Not to mention finding out what a lying bastard the man was. It did little to help his mood. He wasn't sure what was worse: that he shared blood with the man, or that he had nearly been taken in by the lies. He reached up and tugged at the straps of his pauldron just to make sure it was still there. Hard to believe he had nearly given up everything he'd worked so hard to achieve.

Porthos wasn't the only one being quiet. Treville trailed behind the four friends, his face a mask of stoic calm as he watched the road. Porthos glanced back at him a few times with a frown. Finally he nodded to Aramis to keep going and slowed his horse to join their former Captain. Understanding they needed privacy, the other three moved on ahead at a lively trot, but still within sight.

Porthos matched the pace of Treville's mount and the pair rode in silence for several minutes, neither apparently willing to break the silence first. Finally Porthos asked one of the questions that had been troubling him. "Why didn't you tell me the truth from the start?" he asked, with a touch of accusation.

Treville regarded him carefully. "You needed to find it for yourself."

"Even if it meant leaving the Musketeers?"

"Yes. Even then."

Porthos mulled over that idea for a moment. It would have avoided a lot of misunderstanding and blame if he'd just heard the full story from the start. Then again, he couldn't say for sure if he would have believed it without speaking to Belgard himself. Until now, he had believed in Treville almost without question, but the man was only human. The Captain had kept this secret from him. It was a little harder to trust so completely knowing that.

"I want to hear the whole story," Porthos declared, crossing his arms over his saddle. "From the beginning."

Treville looked surprise, but the determined glare on Porthos's face warned him not to deny the request. He nodded slowly. "de Foix, Belgard, and I were soldiers together. We were young, reckless, and foolish. Not unlike some other young men I know." He gave a small smile as Porthos snorted at the implication. "Belgard even saved my life once. When he left to return to his father's estate, the three of us swore a blood oath to come to each other's aid, whatever the need."

Treville paused for a long moment, lost in his memories, while Porthos waited patiently. Treville rarely spoke of his past. He was normally calm and calculating and kept his life very private. It was hard to imagine him as a reckless or foolish. Then again, he also seemed to be a man who had learned from many, sometimes painful, mistakes.

"I didn't see Belgard again for some time. Not until he asked us to make good on that oath," he continued, with a sigh. "He was...changed. He spoke of losing his father's inheritance and demanded we take you and your mother away immediately. I refused at first. I couldn't believe the man I believed to be my friend would ask me to do such a dishonorable thing. Then he threatened to kill you both unless we did as he asked. So we agreed."

Treville swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "de Foix and I kidnapped you in the dead of night. We left you on the edge of the Court of Miracles."

Porthos narrowed his eyes with a flash of anger. "Why there?" he questioned. "Of all places, why that den of thieves?"

Treville met his eyes with a touch of deep regret. "de Foix and I were soldiers. We had no households where your mother could stay. We thought it was the best way to keep Belgard from ever finding you and making good on his threat. But I regretted the decision. I returned the next day. I intended to find your mother and give her a place her at one of the estates outside of Paris. But she was gone and the Court would not let me pass."

Porthos nodded slowly, turning away with a grim look. He knew how protective the Court was of its territory. Even so, it angered him that his mother had been so callously tossed aside simply for being inconvenient. She deserved better than to die in that slum. That Treville had eventually tried to help seemed like too little, too late.

"I can not ask you to forgive me," Treville murmured quietly, but sincerely. "But know that I am deeply sorry for what I did. It has been a stain on my heart I can never repay."

"What's done is done," Porthos grunted in a husky tone.

He couldn't meet the older man's eyes. Part of him didn't want to forgive him. Wanted to hold onto the hate that burned inside for what had been done to himself and especially his mother. Yet he couldn't bring himself to truly hate Treville. The Captain had always had faith in him, despite what others said about his background. Which only reminded him of another painful thought.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked suddenly, turning to regard Treville with sharp eyes. "That you made me a Musketeer because I deserved it?" His eyes searched his Captain's for the truth he desperately wanted to hear.

Treville met his eyes squarely and sat proudly in the saddle. "Every word," he said fiercely. "No one has ever deserved it more. I never would have found you if you hadn't set yourself apart from the rest. I knew you would make a fine Musketeer before I even knew who you were and when I did...I could not have been more proud."

Porthos ducked his head to hide a pleased smile. He touched his pauldron fondly, feeling great pride at the words. Of course Athos and Aramis had always said as much, but it meant more coming from the man who would always be his Captain. He knew the past few days had created a rift between them. The truth would always be a burden they would both bear, but it lightened his heart to know he didn't have to bear it alone.

That just left one question he longed to ask, but was almost afraid of the answer. "My mother." He paused in an effort to find the right words. His memories of her were flashes of a beautiful woman who worked hard to raise him, despite the cost to herself. Yet how much of that had been truth and how much simply the wistful imaginings of a child? "What was she liked?"

Treville genuinely smiled at that. "She was a brave woman. Strong, determined, and much smarter than anyone realized. She had already guessed why we came that night and was ready to fight both of us to defend you. I only had the honor of meeting her once, but I can see you are very much like her. She taught you well."

Porthos turned away to hide the wetness in his eyes. "That she did," he agreed.

It was a pity he couldn't say the same about his father. He clenched his fist on his reigns. It pained him to think he shared blood with that man. His mother had refused to speak of his father whenever he asked and now he knew why. Maybe he had always guessed the truth would be painful, but as a child he had allowed himself to entertain ideas of his father being a great man. Maybe he had been a soldier who died valiantly on the battlefield or an adventurous sailor lost at sea trying to reach the New World. They had been childhood dreams and he knew it, but it didn't make the truth any harder to stomach.

Treville regarded him seriously, guessing the reason for his anger. "You can't choose your blood, Porthos," he admitted. "But it doesn't define who you are. You define who you are."

Porthos clenched his fist tighter and looked up at the sky. "Yeah," he agreed softly. He turned to Treville and gave a tight nod and a small grin. "I'm a Musketeer."

Treville actually smiled back, looking relieved and proud. "Well said." He glanced ahead, more relaxed as though a great burden had been lifted. "Then may I suggest we catch our fellow Musketeers before they get into trouble." He clicked his horse into a trot down the road where the other three had disappeared around a bend in the road.

Porthos shook his head in amusement and urged his own mount to follow. Belgard might be related by blood, but he would never be family. Porthos was sure of that now. He had a family. Maybe it wasn't perfect, but it was his. It was time he got back to it. It was time to go home. Besides, he already had a father.

"He was a father to all of us." - Porthos, We are the Garrison

M.M.M.M

Author's Note: This one took me a bit longer to work out, but I really wanted to do something for these two for this episode. Special thanks to "Oldenuff2knowbetter" for the awesome suggestion to ask about Porthos's mom! I hope you enjoyed this one even though it was a bit shorter. As always reviews, suggestions, and critiques are welcome! Last chapter should be up late tomorrow!