A new story! Wow, I'm basically a writing machine now, lol :D! I'm excited for this one, actually, and have a lot of ideas. I hope you enjoy. Make sure to read and review.
"Aramis, don't!" Porthos yelled, grasping for his best friend's wrist tightly, afraid to let go. "I can't lose both you and d'Artagnan on the same day." His gut seemed to seize up at those words. "Please, Aramis! Don't!"
"I have to, Porthos," replied Aramis, turning his head to look at the burning garrison. The fire's flames were reflected in his tear-filled eyes. "There can still be men in there!" He coughed, feeling the smoke practically invading his lungs. Looking back at Porthos, he smiled, his teeth shining brightly against his ash covered face. "You won't lose me today, my friend," he finally said, pulling Porthos' forehead against his own. "I promise."
With those words, he ran off into the fire, the flames practically engulfing him.
When realizing what just happened, Porthos fell to his knees, letting the tears freely fall down his face. They stained his dirty cheeks, and fell silently onto the ground, seeping into the dirt. The big man suddenly felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Athos standing above him, his eyes full of sadness … and fear.
"He's not gonna make it out, is he?" Porthos asked, staring at the blazing fire before him. The tears would not stop falling.
"There are men that need you," Porthos," said Athos, helping him up. "Come."Porthos obeyed immediately, quickly wiping the tears away with his sleeve. He and Athos began searching for and tending to men.
In a couple of minutes, d'Artagnan - with Constance in his arms - walked out of the fire, coughing and gasping. It took all of Porthos' strength not to embrace him in a huge bear hug. Instead, he thanked God that they were both alive.
Once placing Constance down and making sure that she was breathing, d'Artagnan stood up and looked around. "Where's Aramis?" he asked, feeling worry seep into his heart.
"He … umm … he went in there … To try and save more men," Porthos replied, his voice slightly trembling.
D'Artagnan's face dropped. "No," he whispered, looking out into the fire, the fire that Aramis was frantically searching in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Porthos drop his head and take a deep breath.
Athos just had this unexplainable expression on his face.
All three of them knew that it wasn't likely for Aramis to return…
Aramis looked and looked for some kind of movement within this raging fire. As everything around him burned, he could feel his entire body begin to ache. He barely noticed the large piece of hot wood flying towards him…
… But he fell on his knees just in time, the heat exhaustion taking its toll on him.
He covered his mouth as he began to cough, still forcing himself to keep on searching.
Soon enough, his coughing became a struggle to breath, and Aramis couldn't stop himself from falling further on the ground. He slowly began to crawl back to the direction he came from, keeping his eyes closed and trusting whatever instinct he had left in him. He didn't even know if they were right or not.
He wiped some sweat off his forehead, beginning to see torch lights and hear someone calling his name.
But suddenly, he felt agony spread through his entire side. It traveled from his abdomen, straight to his chest. He cried out, but still made himself keep on going.
Finally, he saw someone.
And with that, Aramis collapsed, feeling nothing but darkness surrounding him.
Porthos turned around when he heard a familiar scream. He gasped when he saw Aramis, lying on the ground, the fire creeping up around him. "Aramis!" he yelled, running over to the man's limp body. "Athos, d'Artagnan, I found him!"
He was quick to pull Aramis out of the fire, gathering him into his arms and picking him up. "Oh, God, Aramis, you're alive," he cried, hugging the other man tightly. The motion elicited a stifled scream from Aramis; guilt poured over Porthos. He looked down at him, seeing the huge burn on his waist. Without wasting another second, he yelled, "Athos! He's hurt! We need a medic!"
The two other Musketeers ran over to him, their eyes wide when they saw Aramis.
"D'Artagnan, get the physician," said Athos, kneeling down beside Porthos. He looked up at him, and continued, "You and I will get him out of the fire. He doesn't need anymore flames in his system."
Porthos nodded and easily picked Aramis up, carrying his unconscious burden away from the fire. He gently laid him down near Constance, who was sitting there and watching everything, sobbing.
She whimpered when Aramis groaned and curled into himself the minute his body hit the ground, beginning to tremble. "Grimaud did this to him," she said, reaching for Aramis' hand. "He did it. He caused him so much pain."
"Don't worry, Constance," Porthos quickly assured her. "He'll be fine. He always is."
The woman shook her head. "After everything he had been through," she said. "I doubt it. That monster did so much to him. He's strong, but he's not that strong. Nobody is."
The broken plea shattered Constance's heart, and she couldn't help but pull her into an embrace, holding onto him as tightly as her strength would allow her to. She gently ran her hand through his unruly hair, in this friendly, loving way.
"Did you call a physician?" she asked, never taking her eyes off of Aramis.
Athos nodded, saying, "D'Artagnan is fetching him."
"He's not here, Aramis," Porthos said sadly. "He's … gone."
As the memory came back to him, tears forming in his eyes. "Treville's dead." he stated. "He's dead. They all are." And then they started falling. "This is all my fault. I didn't s-save them … in time."
"We need to get him somewhere safe," Athos said sadly. "Let's wait for the physician. He'll tell us what we need to do next."
"Agreed," Porthos replied. He took Aramis' shaking hand and squeezed it. "You're gonna be just fine, my friend. Everything will be alright. I promise."