Leaving Constance to sleep, I went to the barracks to see my brother and the others. I had only just heard of their troubles, and that one of them had been wounded. I dressed plainly, not wishing to be noticed, covering my hair and wearing a shawl over my head to pass for a simple woman as I went to the one place which could comfort me. Most disappointingly, I felt no better upon arrival. Approaching the courtyard, I saw Porthos by the stables with a woman. They were conversing, but as I neared, I saw her rise up to place a chaste kiss upon my cheek.
Suddenly I felt nauseous, blinking as I watched the woman turn and saw her beautiful features for myself. She was of a dark ethnicity, beguiling and pleasing to the eye. As we passed, she nodded to me acknowledgement and only habit made me respond in kind. I blinked after her, turning to watch her walk away with the light sweep of her fine cloak. A part of me withered, a sense of hopelessness overcoming me. How could I compare to a woman such as her? Even with the briefest of glances, I sensed her spirit. Kind. Learned. Whatever the cause of her melancholy, it only served to deepen her character. Suddenly, I felt less than adequate.
I almost turned around to leave, but Porthos had seen me and called me by name. Now I had no choice but to enter, drifting towards him where my gaze dropped to his leg which he was favouring clearly. "Was wondering when you'd appear, you always seem to know when we need you, sweetheart." Making to ruffle at my head, I did not answer his playful jest and only continued to look at his leg. Why were they always returning hurt in some manner? One day, and I feared it might arrive soon, they would return with a wound I could not heal and it would claim them.
Upon seeing that I was not answering him, or bearing any expression upon my face, Porthos halted, his hand lingering over my head. "Hey, what's the matter with you?" Instead, he lowered his hand to my face, taking my chin to lift my face so that I was made to look upon him. "You look like you've seen a ghost." Had today ended differently, I might have become a ghost myself.
"You are hurt," was all I said. "Do you need stitches?" Blinking, Porthos slowly released me, looking uncertain and confused.
"Well…I suppose I could do with a few. Aramis tried, but you know how it is…I can't stand it unless it's you doing the stitching." I nodded in understanding.
"Give me a moment, and I will bring the supplies to your room. Take off your breeches and cover yourself with a sheet." Without another word, I turned to retrieve the supplies from where I knew I could find them. My mind could only focus on one thing at a time. One emotion. One task. At present, that was calm and heal. I left Porthos in a stupor, unaccustomed to this tonelessness of mine, but it was not his fault. I should tell him so, otherwise he might worry.
Taking the supplies to his room, Porthos had already settled himself upon his bed with the sheet covering himself, concealing everything but his leg which was large, muscular, and were it any other time, I might have blushed furiously. However, I barely even blinked. "What happened?" Still maintaining the eery calm, I set to work upon inspecting the wound, delicately touching Porthos' thigh where the wound was prominently situated.
"Small crossbow bolt hit me, I had to pull it out so I could use it as a weapon. Lucky for me, Samara helped keep me from bleeding out." Samara must be the name of the woman I saw.
"She is beautiful," I found myself saying quietly, already setting to cleaning the leg of the crusted blood whilst pressing a clean roll of linen upon the open wound so that it would not bleed freely again. Porthos hissed in pain.
"You saw her?"
"She is beautiful. I am happy for you," for a moment, I sensed Porthos staring at me. I continued to work, cleaning and cleansing the wound.
"Madeleine…there is nothing between us. We were simply thrown together as hostages and we helped one another, that's all." A brush of his fingers graced my cheeks, but I did not react, only continued to work as I prepared the thread. "She is going to Morocco to start a new life, and I belong here. I'm not going anywhere, Madeleine." Barely comprehending his words, I hummed distantly, focusing upon the thread to pass it through the eye of the needle. "What's happened? Why are you like this?"
"Everything is fine,"
"Clearly not. You can tell me, Madeleine," this time when Porthos touched me, he gripped my arm and gave a firm shake, starling me so that I dropped the thread, blinking at him with a stare as his face grew serious and stern. "Tell me, did someone hurt you?" I could not bring myself to answer, but my silence was taken as an affirmation in Porthos' mind. "Who was it? Give me a name and I'll break their limbs and each of their fingers one by one. Talk to me, Madeliene." I stared. "Madeleine!" The sudden shout was like a shock of cold water striking me all at once, my pulse flaring in fear before all at once, I was sobbing.
It came to me then and it would not stop. The tears. Such endless tears. Porthos floundered, all rage forgotten as he stared at me whilst I heaved with uncontrollable sobs. "Please, please don't cry sweetheart, I'm…I'm sorry I yelled, I'm not angry, not with you…come on love, you know I hate it when you cry." Picking at my hair uncertainly, Porthos seemed utterly lost as to what to do. As always, however, his natural sweetness warmed my heart until the hollow feeling was fulfilled with the sense of soft adoration and affection.
"Forgive me…forgive me…" choking back my desire to weep, I pressed my hand to his open wound and hurriedly applied pressure, for it had started to bleed again. "I am sorry, Porthos, now is not the time, I will close your wound for you…"
"That doesn't matter," catching my face in his hands, Porthos forced me to look at him once more as he looked at me with a fierce gaze which set my pulse racing. The breath caught in my lungs as I stared at him. "Just tell me who hurt you so I can go and hurt them, wounds be damned." Unable to help myself, I giggled at his curse.
"Porthos…" shaking my head, I lowered his hands from my face, placing a quick kiss upon one of his fingertips, then made him press down upon his own injury so that I could focus upon the needle.
"You need to tell me, Madeleine. No one is allowed to harm you, not a single hair on your head."
"No one hurt me, Porthos, so you would only be chasing ghosts,"
"Then why…?" I sensed him trying to think, to puzzle the riddle before him as I quickly found the needle and thread once more. His thoughts were a convenient distraction, for when I moved his hand aside and began to close the wound, he barely even noticed. I made the stitches firm for his thigh was muscular and strong, prone to tearing open any injuries with even the slightest pressure. Then I bound him up securely, finishing my practice with flawless precision before finally, I kissed two of my fingers and touched them to the injury.
"A kiss for a swift recovery," I recounted, rousing him from his thoughts. He looked down in amazement, having not realised that I was already finished. "I will leave you now to dress, but you must rest your leg, Porthos. I will return every day to ensure that the stitches hold."
"Hold on, not so fast," catching my hand as I had risen to take away the bloodied water and cloths, Porthos kept me beside him. "You still haven't explained what happened to you today. Something did, I want to know what so I know how to help."
"There is nothing…"
"Please, Madeleine," his sincere imploration caught me by surprise, his soft brown gaze enriched by the candlelight. "Talk to me." Helpless against such sweet pleas, I found myself sinking back onto the bed beside him. Porthos covered his leg so that he was no longer exposed and I felt him shift and twist as he wriggled underneath to put his leg back into his breeches, pulling them into place before he was able to pull the sheet aside. All the while I had stared at one spot on the floor and had not shifted my gaze, not even when he moved so that he was sat beside me, with one arm curling itself around my shoulders. "Madeleine?" Seeing no point in hiding the truth, I finally relented.
"I was sentenced to hang today." Beside me, I felt his entire body stiffen until it was unforgiving as rock.
"What?" The guttural growl tugged at my gaze, pulling it naturally towards him. His face was caught between horror and rage, staring at me openly and without reservation. I blinked mindlessly at him. For the longest time, neither of us spoke. What was there to say? His arm had slackened around me, but eventually it renewed its grip with increased strength. "What happened?" So I told him. I told him how the prince was suffering and struggling to breathe, how it seemed likely he would die. I told him how Constance had taken him without telling anyone to the common washhouse so that the steam would ease his lungs.
I told him that when I found her first, Rochefort had declared us both criminals, and the king sentenced us to hang for kidnapping the dauphin, and were it not for the words of the physician, Constance and I would have hung upon the gallows for treason. Once again, we lapsed into silence. I had begun to cry again, silently this time. The tears just flowed and I had not the power to stop them. It was upon seeing my tears Porthos was stirred once more, prompted to do something, anything, to try and comfort me. "It's alright, you're safe now Madeleine. I won't let nothing hurt you," I smiled weakly, reflecting upon his grammar but did not correct him for it.
Instead I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of him brushing away my tears, listened to the mellow hushes as he pulled me against him and hid me within his large refrain. I sat so neatly in his lap, I became so utterly enveloped that I would have been contented to hide there forever. "I've got you, I've got you. You're safe, sweetheart." His words only brought back the urge to weep, but even as I cried he held me and stroked at my hair, placing soft kisses upon my head and even gathered me up so that he could kiss my cheeks to erase the trails of tears. "We'd never have let them hang you, Madeleine, you know that, right?"
"What if you had not known in time?" The whisper of my fear came in a pathetic tremor. Porthos tightened his grip.
"We would have. We'll never let you down, darlin'. Believe me, I'd sooner let them lynch me then let anyone hurt you, and letting you die is out of the question. We'd have saved you. Even if I had to pull you from the gallows myself." I mewled weakly, feeling small, vulnerable and utterly helpless. I almost died today for a crime I did not commit.
"You are the sweetest man I know, Porthos." With his cheek resting against my head, I felt him smile.
"I mean it. Not just me, but every man here in the regiment. We'd take on the world for you if we had to. You don't realise just how much you matter to us, do you?" His words were surprising, for although I knew myself to be favoured as a familiar face amongst the musketeers, I never imagined myself to have such influence. "The world would never be right without you, Madeliene."
"You give me too much credit. In the grand scheme of things, I am of little consequence. The world would continue even should I meet an early demise."
"Maybe for the rest of the world, but for us, it'd be like night without the moon, or a day where we never see the sun again." Breathing in these words, I allowed them to settle within me. A treasure without measure. I nudged my head against him.
"You have grown poetic, Porthos."
"Well…maybe I've just had the right inspiration." For the sake of my sanity and heart, I chose not to ponder over these words. It would do me nothing but harm for they would only lead to disappointment. "How you feeling? Better?"
"You always make me feel better," I spoke before I could guard my words, the drained sensation having loosened my lips a little too much. I bit down upon my tongue, but Porthos took them in good humour, chuckling as he smoothed back my hair and rested me against his arm so that as my head tilted, it was nestled neatly and held by his dependable strength.
"Good, I'm glad of that." Stroking back my hair once more, his thumb caught at my mouth, lightly pulling down upon my lip. A powerful urge to bite down upon his thumb suddenly gripped me, and I had to lock my jaw to keep from doing so. "We should probably get going before someone comes looking. Athos will kill me if he walks in and makes assumptions seeing us this way." And thus, my heart was so effortlessly crushed. Perhaps it would have felt less painful if Porthos had simply put his hand through my chest and squeezed it into a prune himself. He spoke so casually, but his words told me more than I needed to know. He did not want to be caught with me like this. He did not want others to assume incorrectly, because he did not feel any romantic interest in me. I exhaled softly.
"Yes, as you say…we had best go." Suddenly I felt as if everything had turned to lead in my body. Each movement was a chore, a struggle, even breathing seemed pointless for a while thereafter. I wanted to find a place to hide and simply be forgotten, to bury myself somewhere so deep that even my disappointments and fears could not find me. I did none of those things. Instead I stood myself up and walked away, thinking it best that I returned to Constance. I spoke to no one else, I did not even bid farewell to Porthos. I simply walked away, losing myself to my own thoughts and the hollow feeling which felt as familiar as an old friend.