18th July 1916
Porthos sat hunched over in his dugout, with his head in his hands. There had still been no news of Aramis and he stubbornly refused to believe that his brother was dead. By now he knew Aramis' parents would have received a telegram informing them that Aramis had been reported Missing in Action, he had sent his own letter explaining that he did not believe Aramis was dead. But it had been five days since Aramis set out with the patrol which never returned, with 1st Division not taking part in the next offensive Porthos hoped that with the much needed break he would be able to find some information that might lead him to Aramis.
Athos was being reluctant in helping Porthos, and he knew it was because Athos did not want to hope. When he had already lost his brother and had seen many men go missing to be later found dead or not found at all.
While Aramis may have survived the massacre and be taken to a Field Hospital, he didn't know the extent of Aramis' injuries and he was worried that Aramis may die alone. Aramis' biggest fear all his life was the fear of being alone. Porthos knew if Aramis had died, then he would never forgive himself. Aramis was the kindest person he had ever met and he liked people, so for him to end up dying without his friends wouldn't be fair to the person who had been Porthos' brother his entire life.
He shook himself and banished the thoughts from his mind and latched onto his hope and belief that Aramis was still alive. He wasn't dead, Porthos just knew it. While he still believed Aramis was alive, it still meant that he was no closer in finding out where Aramis was. There was a slight chance that Aramis hadn't been taken to a Field Hospital, he could have been found by some French civilians and they could have taken him to their house to care for his injuries before determining him strong enough to travel the distance to a Field Hospital.
Porthos sat up and rubbed a hand across his face and looked up at the sky, as if it held all his answers and would tell him where Aramis was. "Where are you Aramis? I know you are not dead. So where are you?"
Aramis groaned, he felt so hot and had no control over the shivers that shook his body. He had tried many times to force his eyes open, but his eyelids would just not budge. He tried with all his might to open his eyes, for leaving them closed allowed for the haunting memories of the massacre to take a firm grip over his thoughts. Every now and then he would feel a cool and comforting hand rest on his forehead and he would find himself leaning into the touch.
If he didn't concentrate too hard he could almost believe it was his mother who was resting her hand on his head and running her fingers through his hair. In these peaceful moments he was able to drag his thoughts away from the massacre and instead he could focus on happy memories of home. The mishaps he, Porthos, Thomas and even Athos would get into, caring Isabelle with her sharp tongue and perfect Anne who could match his wit but not hesitate to help him even if he did not ask.
He did not know how long it had been since the massacre, but his head still ached and while he may not be very aware of his surroundings he knew his friends were not with him.
He heard the scraping of a chair and tilted his head in the direction of the noise; a soft hand came to rest on his forehead. "I wish we knew your name" murmured the nurse sat beside him.
Aramis was confused, why didn't they know his name? Yes he left his personal things in his dugout, but he had still been wearing his dogtags when he was on the patrol.
The nurse continued speaking to him, "Your dogtags must have been lost when you were changed out of your uniform. You've been here six days; your family would have been informed that you were missing by now. I wish I knew who you were so I could write to them and tell them that you are alright."
The patrol was six days ago?! Porthos would be back with the Battalion by now, they would have told him I was missing. He better not get himself killed! Otherwise I'll bring him back to life so I can kill him myself! Thought Aramis, he then began to fight to open his eyes. He managed to open them a little; the nurse gasped and leaned over him.
"Porthos" murmured Aramis, his eyes beginning to flicker shut to his annoyance.
"Is that your name?" asked the nurse gently as she held his hand.
Aramis shook his head slightly, he was beginning to lose his fight with consciousness but his worry for Porthos kept him fighting that little bit longer.
"A friend?" questioned the nurse quickly, as she too could see Aramis was slowly sinking towards unconsciousness.
Aramis nodded, "Porthos…Du Vallon…1st Division…Gloucestershire…Regiment…" as Aramis' eyes slipped closed, he saw the nurse's smiling face and knew that she would get word to Porthos that he was alive. And so Aramis let the darkness consume him knowing that it would stop the pain in his head.
Before he lost all sense of awareness of what was going on around him he felt the nurse run her fingers though his hair and heard her softly say, "I'll get word to your friend, I promise."
Aramis slipped back into unconsciousness with a smile on his face.
"Du Vallon!" Porthos spun around at Treville's shout, seeing the Captain gesturing to him.
Porthos jogged over and stopping he saluted the Captain. "Sir?"
"I have some news for you" said Treville as he led Porthos into the Officer's dugout, Porthos could see Athos sat at the table slowly drinking from a flask. Treville gestured for Porthos to take a seat and sat across from the younger boy. "It is about your friend"
"Aramis?" Porthos questioned sitting up straighter, from the corner of his eye he saw Athos copy his movement and putting his flask down on the rickety wooden table.
Treville nodded, "A nurse from the nearest Field Hospital contacted me"
"So he was taken to a Field Hospital?" asked Porthos excitedly,
Treville smiled, "He suffered a blow to the head which is just a small injury, but he developed a fever which kept him unconscious and unable to inform anyone of his name"
Porthos frowned, "But he would have been wearing his dogtags"
Treville nodded, "I said as much to the nurse, but she explained that his dogtags must have been accidentally removed with his uniform. And with Aramis being unable to talk meant that the orderlies and nurses were unable to be sure who Aramis was. But Aramis regained consciousness earlier today and gave the nurse your name and this regiment."
"He'll be disappointed to learn that he was unconscious while a nurse undressed him" smirked Porthos, as a grin slowly spread across his face. He looked over at Athos, who raised his flask in a silent toast and took a sip.
"Can I go and see him Sir?" asked Porthos, as he fiddled with his hands in his nervous excitement.
"Technically I am not allowed to let you, but civilian family members in some cases are granted permission to visit their loved ones at Field Hospitals. So if anyone asks, Private d'Herblay is your cousin. Understood?"
Porthos grinned with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Understood Sir." Porthos rose to his feet and saluted Treville before he turned and left the dugout feeling more relaxed than he had in the past six days.
As he walked through the trench he caught sight of Darrel Elliot looking at him. He had learned from Athos that while he had been injured at the Field Hospital Aramis had taken Darrel under his wing, something Porthos thought Aramis would never do after Jimmy Marshall was killed. So Porthos smiled and nodded at Darrel, the younger boy's face broke out into a smile knowing that Porthos was telling him Aramis was alright. Porthos' heart lightened at the sight, ever since his brother's deaths Darrel had become a shell of himself and no longer smiled or laughed. Knowing that Aramis had helped the boy continue fighting only proved what Porthos already knew about Aramis. That his friend was kind and caring enough to put his own wants and needs aside to look after someone else. Despite the pain of losing Jimmy after watching over him, Aramis was still prepared to do the same for Darrel.
Porthos looked up at the blue sky, the sun seemed to be shining brighter, but his brother was still alive, that was all that mattered.