“But I did need you.” Athos swallows against the tightness in his throat; he hates thinking about those early days in the musketeers, days when he would have welcomed death. God knows, he had almost gotten his wish a few times. Athos may be a prideful man, but he knows that he once needed looking after. And no one had looked after him as well as Porthos. “As did Aramis.”

He clears his throat. “For my own selfish reasons, you see, I am glad you left that place."