Aramis curses for the blood staining Porthos' shirt. Perhaps free of that ashen world, the wound will finally heal. He can only hope that adrenaline will carry him long enough to restitch it properly. Already he feels lulled by their new, comparative safety. He feels as if he could sleep for years, now finally able, but he will need to get through the stitches without his hands shaking with exhaustion first. The sooner they reach home, the better.

Aramis pulls Athos in against his side, ready to steady the both of them on their journey home.