Not again

[praiseandglory]

When Porthos stepped into their tent and found himself in a strange, yet familiar hallway, he knew exactly where he was. On either side of the hallway were doors - to rooms, suites, and many more strange places beside. The noises of the camp were gone, but the smell remained, on him, of gunpowder and blood, soot and grime. His usually elegant clothes had seen better days, his now longer hair was tied back and mostly hidden under a kerchief that might have once been white. His pistol was empty and he needed to clean his sword - Treville's sword.

The battlefield was now miles and years away, for all that it was also, somehow, right on the other side of a door. And, in his current mood, that made his blood boil as surely as Spanish insults.

"Not again!" he yelled, and punched the nearest wall with a gloved hand. He winced at the pain, but there was a dent in the wall now, and that felt slightly better.

Comments

[praiseandglory]

Porthos looks back at him at that, holding his gaze before he points out, "You're good at it."

[averygoodshot]

"Porthos," Armis replies, feeling a flush of both anger and remorse. "At least let me explain."

[praiseandglory]

"What's there to explain?" he scowls, daring Aramis to find something he hasn't already told Porthos.

[averygoodshot]

"Too ma -" Before continuing, Aramis steps inside and closes the door. "Too many women were threatened because of me. Too many women died. I had to do something. Aftrr the Queen. After Rochefort. I know I hurt you, Porthos, and I am sorry for that. Sorry beyond measure. Perhaps my life is made up of regrets, I don't know."

[praiseandglory]

"I'm sure abandoning your brothers will keep all those women safe," Porthos replies gruffly, unbuckling his sword and dropping it on the bed. His glove and armored gauntlet come off next, and the kerchief over his hair.

[averygoodshot]

"It was my penance!" Aramis nearly shouted. He rarely lost his temper with Porthos, but this is one of those moments. He takes a step forward, face flushed, before he stops himself. "Perhaps it's true: I could have fought and died in the battlefield. Is that what you rather I had done, Porthos? Forsaking my promise to God?"

[praiseandglory]

"Is that what God would rather you'd done?" Porthos shoots back with a scowl. He has stopped undressing, and is facing Aramis in his anger. "Forsaking your promise to your brothers? You chose to make Him that promise, forsaking us - and yourself."

[averygoodshot]

"Myself?" Aramis's eyebrows get lost in his hair, fallen in his face in his upset. "I haven't endangered you in what I've done, Porthos. I haven't gotten you killed, have I? Which is more than I can say for others."

[praiseandglory]

"You haven't got my back!" Porthos erupted, glaring at Aramis. That was the truth of it; he might yet die, in this war of theirs, and he was all right with that. But not having Aramis at his back made every day an uncomfortable struggle, despite d'Artagnan and Athos.

[averygoodshot]

Those words were ice on the heat of Aramis's fiery anger. It's the truth, after all, isn't it? His shoulders fall and he takes a deep breath.

"I am sorry that I didn't go to the front with you, Porthos. I am," he says quietly, taking a step forward. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

[praiseandglory]

"And now?" Porthos challenges him, still glaring. "What now, Aramis?" He made it sound like a thing of the past, but he was still wearing that bloody robe.

[averygoodshot]

They aren't in France at the moment, are they? Here they are in this place, which, for all Aramis knows, no longer houses the Queen, too.

No matter where he is, they cannot be together.

"Now," Aramis breathes out, "I would like to be your friend again. If you'll have me."

[praiseandglory]

"No," Porthos replies, not to the offer, but to the answer. It isn't what he was asking. "Now, are you a priest, or a Musketeer?"

[averygoodshot]

That is the question.

Looking right back at Porthos, Aramis gives the question the weight it deserves. He will do a good many things, but he's only liked to Porthos once. He doesn't plan to do it again.

"... I don't know."

It's not the bst answer, but it's an honest one.

[praiseandglory]

"Then I think you'd best go," Porthos answered, ignoring how hard it was to say those words.

[averygoodshot]

"Porthos." Aramis can see that effort. Surely Porthos doesn't mean that.

Does he?

[praiseandglory]

"Go," Porthos repeats, more forcefully this time, with a deeper scowl.

It was easy enough for Aramis to stay away for a couple of years. He ought to be able to manage to send him away now.

[averygoodshot]

Hurt flashes across Aramis's face as he takes a step back.

What could he have said aside from the truth?

He will honor Porthos's wish, at least for now.

At the door, he says, "If I recall, we were to go on an adventure." Looking over his shoulder, he adds, "if you'd like to do that, you can find me."

Assuming he's still here. There's nothing, after all, at the Nexus keeping him here, after all, aside from the hotel itself.

[praiseandglory]

"If I recall, our motto wasn't all for one, one for God," Porthos retorts under his breath, after Aramis has left. Now he feels like punching something again, and he has no Spaniard handy to do the job.