Evening My Lovelies!

To you lovely new readers: Hi! x

To you lovely people who have read my stuff before: I told you I wouldn't keep you waiting for long! x :D

Unfortunately though this isn't a new long story but rather one of the one-shots I mentioned in my last story (Consequences Of Grief) that I had planned. This is the first one-shot I've written and published so please be kind if you deem it review worthy. I'm not used to not dragging out the whumpage for multiple chapters so hopefully it doesn't seem too rushed...

I'm planning on releasing a bunch of one-shots while I work on my next long story so there will probably be another different one up in the next week - week and a half.

I have a list of one-shots I'm going to work my way through but I'm always open to suggestions/requests so if there's anything you'd like to see let me know and I'll see what I can do :D

This particular one-shot was requested by one of my lovely reviewers from my other stories Deana. I hope this lives up to whatever idea you had in mind when you requested it.

Enjoy!

xxx

The Mission

"Well that was a waste of time," grouched Porthos as he and Aramis exited the tavern. When his friend failed to respond to him the larger musketeer turned to face him, an exaggerated look of annoyance settling on his face as he saw the look his friend was giving the young barmaid who had felt it necessary to escort them to the door.

"Knock it off 'Mis," scolded the larger musketeer playfully as he lightly smacked the back of his friend's head. "She's too young for you anyway," he added as an afterthought, rolling his eyes when he saw the flirtatious marksman send the young woman a wink before turning back to face his friend.

"What?" asked Aramis innocently, though he failed to hold the expression for too long before a pleased smirk grew in its place.

"Information 'Mis," reminded Porthos as the two began to walk off. "We're supposed to be gathering information on the threat to the King. Not trying to get into bed with the local tavern girls."

A faint blush grew on the medic's face as a disgusted and equally disapproving glare was sent his way by a couple of elderly woman they passed on the road. He shrugged it off fairly quickly though, especially when Porthos let out a snort of amusement at his reaction.

"No need to be jealous mon ami," grinned Aramis as he flung his arm over the larger man's shoulders. "She did mention a sister…"

Porthos looked mildly interested for a moment before remembering what they had been sent to this small village for in the first place.

"Focus 'Mis," smirked the larger man before adding, "Or do you want to be the one to tell 'Thos that we don't have anything?"

Aramis quickly shook his head; their friend and brother had been in a foul mood the last few weeks and it had only gotten worse during their trip to the village they were currently standing in. To go to him with nothing except for tales of how Aramis managed to almost make the pretty tavern maid swoon with his eyes alone was not going to make the morose swordsman's mood any better.

"Point taken my friend," nodded the medic, "Though it is getting close to the rendezvous time, maybe we should head back anyway. Hopefully our fearless leader has had more luck and we can be on our way back to Paris soon."

"God I hope so," groaned Porthos as the pair turned to head to where they had tied up their horses, the village not used to receiving many visitors and so lacked both suitable stables and an inn so the men had chosen to camp by the river just outside of the village.

It was as they begun to approach their horses, the pair debating how best to inform their brother of the lack of information, that both musketeers noticed something was amiss.

Years of training and working together had made it so the men could communicate without words. After sharing a significant look with the other, ensuring that each of them were equally aware of the potential danger, the two men continued walking casually, slowly letting their hands move to their weapons while their eyes quickly searched for whatever, or whoever was spooking their horses.

True to their instincts an attack came mere moments later and both men thanked the training they had received for being able to react so quickly to the ambush.

Unfortunately what they had not been counting on was the sheer number of men attacking them. Whilst they easily had their opponents beat in terms of skill they were severely and dangerously outnumbered and outgunned.

"Get to the horses!" exclaimed Aramis as he ducked under a swipe of a blade whilst thrusting his dagger into the thigh of another man. "I'll cover you! GO!" he shouted, spinning on his heels and firing his pistol at one of the men sneaking up behind his friend before spinning again to parry another blow of a blade, his movement fluid and almost dancelike as he worked to get control of the fight.

"Aint leaving ya 'Mis," snapped Porthos as he head-butted the man his blade was currently locked with, only to then cry out in pain as the blade of another man swiped across his arm, leaving a deep and bleeding cut on the limb.

The pain was just the distraction one of the other men needed to get the upper hand against the larger musketeer. With his comrades keeping the musketeer focused he kicked, hard, against the back of the musketeer's knee, making the man drop to one knee with another grunt of pain. Without wasting a moment the man then used all of his strength to smack the butt of his pistol into the musketeer's temple, the force being enough to knock Porthos out and send him crumbling to the floor.

"PORTHOS!" screamed Aramis, rage and terror filling his voice with equal measure as he watched his brother collapse to the ground.

"Drop your weapons musketeer!" ordered the man who had knocked Porthos out. When Aramis did nothing but tighten his grip on his weapons and let out a menacing growl the man lifted Porthos into a sitting position by the back of his shirt, the man's dagger instantly finding a home resting against the skin of the unconscious musketeer's neck.

"I wont ask again musketeer," demanded the man, "Drop your weapons or watch me paint the ground with your friend's blood."

Rage contorted Aramis's typically cheerful features into a snarl but the threat to Porthos was too great for the medic to ignore and so with a glare he complied, gently lowering his weapons to the ground, his eyes never leaving the dagger pressing against his unconscious brother's throat.

"Release him!" ordered Aramis once his weapons were on the ground. When the man made no move to do so his glare intensified. "I did as you asked now, Release. Him!"

When the man nodded, his grip on the dagger loosening slightly, Aramis began to calm, realizing too late that the nod hadn't been to him but rather to the man behind him as mere moments later he too was met with a blow to the head strong enough to knock him out.

When Porthos awoke an hour or so later the first thing that truly registered in his pain-dulled mind was the sight of his brother suspended by chains in the middle of the room, the medic's eyes were open, if slightly dazed, and were watching him with obvious concern.

"…'Mis," breathed Porthos as he tried to move closer to his trapped friend, only to find himself hindered before he could even take a step by the thick chains and shackles keeping his trapped against the wall.

"You good 'Mis?" asked the larger man, deciding that if he couldn't physically reach his friend then the least he could do would be to ask and hope the man didn't try to hide injuries or downplay his condition for his own benefit.

"Been better," shrugged the medic as best he could given his current predicament. "On the plus side though I think it's safe to say we found the men plotting against the King."

Porthos snorted, a smile tugging at his lips, despite the situation, thanks to his brother's all too cheerful and positive outlook on their current situation.

"You mean at least now you don't have to admit that all we learned from our trip to the tavern was the bar maid's name and that she has a thing for a well groomed man in uniform?" teased Porthos, letting out another snort of laughter when Aramis appeared to think about it for a moment before nodding.

"You do realize that we now have to explain how we managed to get ourselves captured to him instead?" enquired Porthos with a raised eyebrow.

Aramis opened his mouth to respond but was quickly cut off when the door to their cell opened and the man who had previously held a dagger to Porthos's throat entered, twirling that same dagger in his hands as he observed the two men, his smirk growing at the dark look Aramis was sending his way.

"For the King's guard you sure fell to my men quickly," smirked the man as he moved closer to Aramis, not missing the way Porthos tensed the closer he got to the chained man.

"You had us outnumbered ten to one and took a hostage," reminded Aramis with a snarl as he all but spat in the man's face, though judging by the look in the medic's eyes it was something he was seriously considering doing. "In a fair fight you would be dead before you could draw your blade."

If the sheer venom in his brother's voice surprised Porthos as he growled at the man he did a perfect job of hiding it as he watched the situation unfold.

"Not much incentive for me to fight fair then," shrugged the man as he placed the dagger back into its sheathe.

"Now," said the man as he turned to face Aramis, blocking all but the marksman's face from Porthos's view. "You're going to tell me exactly why you were snooping around town for information about me and what the musketeers and the King know of my plans."

Despite knowing he was probably going to painfully regret it Aramis burst out laughing. "You're delusional if you think I'm going to tell you anything," spat the musketeer once his laughs had died down.

Infuriated by the musketeer's flippant attitude the man let loose several strong blows to the marksman's abdomen, causing the man to not only grunt in pain but also gasp for breath as the air was knocked right out of him.

"ARAMIS!" roared Porthos as he watched his brother's face contort in pain.

Barely giving the musketeer a chance to gain his breath back the man continued his relentless assault on the chained musketeer, only stopping once he both felt and heard the crack of one of the musketeer's ribs, the marksman letting out an agonized scream as the latest punch broke bone.

"Leave him alone you son of a –"

"I'd watch that mouth of yours musketeer," sneered the man as he turned away from a now gasping Aramis to face Porthos, "I can make things a lot more painful for your friend here if I wished. All I would need would be the right motivation."

Catching the meaning behind the man's words Porthos clenched his jaw shut, unwilling to put his friend in more danger then he was already in and so being forced to settle for glaring at the man instead.

Aramis, who by this point had recovered enough that he could see past the dark spots dancing across his vision, lifted his head and sent his brother a silent request for him to calm as well as reassurances that he was fine.

Aramis, much like Porthos, had gathered that it was only a matter of time before one of two things happened, either their host would get bored of Aramis's stubborn denials and move on to Porthos, possibly killing the sharpshooter before doing so, or Athos, who had more than likely noticed their absence by now, would come to their rescue and if that was to happen then they needed to give their friend the best chance they could and the only way they could do that would be to have at least one of them uninjured.

Porthos hated what his brother was asking him to do, but he understood. He might hate being able to do nothing but watch the pain grow in his brother's eyes as the assault on his body continued. He might barely be able to stand the disgusted feeling he had for himself for keeping his mouth shut as punch after punch landed hard against the skin of one of the few people he truly cared about and he could hate the tiny part of himself that was both glad it wasn't him and worried for when it would be him.

He could take all that as he understood the logic behind it and while he dearly wanted the man to leave Aramis alone he also wanted nothing more than to be in perfect health for when Athos, who he had no doubts was searching for them right that second, came for them. The only thing getting him through watching his dearest friend being used as a human punching bag was imagining all the ways he could make the man in front of him pay for each and every single one of the bruises, cuts and breaks he inflicted on Aramis.

However after several hours Porthos's self-control was beginning to fade. His confidence and belief in Athos and the likelihood that he would find them remained unshakably strong, but it was his belief in himself that was fading.

The man, who they had learnt was called Renou, had been in and out of the room during those hours and each time he returned he appeared angrier at both musketeers' refusal to speak and unfortunately that anger translated in harsher beatings for Aramis.

Seeing the condition of his friend worsen with every visit made Porthos's resolve crumble and he knew he was extremely close to throwing caution to the wind and doing everything in his power to get Renou away from his brother, something Aramis himself had expressly forbidden him from doing during their brief time alone.

One of the only good things that had happened during their time as prisoners was that they learnt that Renou had absolutely no idea there was a third musketeer closing in on him, meaning that when Athos came, he would have the element of surprise.

At the thought of Athos, Porthos couldn't help but send up a silent prayer for the man to get to them soon. Aramis's face was now covered in blood courtesy of a broken nose, split lip and a long gash across his right eyebrow that would have impeded the man's vision if the eye hadn't long since swollen shut already.

Judging by the screams that had torn their way out of his stubborn brother's mouth Porthos was also fairly confident that the sharpshooter was sporting at least a couple broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder.

The larger musketeer was in the middle of cataloging his brother's injuries in his mind, ready to give either Athos or whatever doctor they might need an idea of the damage done to their friend, when Renou returned.

Porthos tuned the man out as he asked the same questions he had been asking for the last several hours, choosing instead to focus on the last few injuries his brother was sporting… There was the head wound and possible concussion that he got during their capture, several deep bruises already visible on his skin and Porthos had no doubt there were many more lying under the marksman's torn and bloody clothing.

He was just finishing off when the sound of gunfire caught the attention of everyone in the room.

Both Aramis, who was barely conscious, and Porthos immediately saw the confused and slightly worried look that settled on Renou's face and couldn't stop the smirks that grew on their own.

"Who have you brought here?" demanded Renou as he glared daggers at the barely conscious Aramis. When the exhausted medic merely gave him a toothy, and somewhat bloody, smirk the man turned to Porthos, demanding the same of him.

When Porthos too refused to answer Renou kicked him hard enough to knock the wind out of him and have him instinctively curling into himself. Renou had just pulled the dagger out of its sheathe, fully intending to use whatever means necessary to get the answers he was looking for, when the sound of a pistol being primed for fire froze him in his tracks.

"If you value your life monsieur," spoke the newcomer, his voice ice cold and full of dark promises of pain, "You will drop that blade and step away from the musketeer."

"…Bout… time… 'Thos," wheezed Porthos as he fought to get breath back to his lungs, but even with the pain he was in he couldn't stop the smug smirk that grew on his face at the sight of his brother.

Athos had clearly fought through several men to get to them if his disheveled appearance and blood spattered clothing was anything to go by. But Porthos found he could care little for any else other than the look of fear that flashed across Renou's face at the dark, fearsome look Athos was sending his way.

Realizing he was beat Renou complied with the musketeer's order, though it didn't stop the man from spitting at the swordsman as he approached.

Athos raised an eyebrow at the man before tilting his head slightly so he could see Aramis, who was watching his tiredly through his one good eye.

"Aramis?"

"…Alive," sighed the man tiredly, a groan of pain escaping him before he could stop it, though the presence of his brother was enough to keep him conscious and alert. "… Lost track of… what hurts though," he added as an afterthought, missing the flash of unbridled fury that shot across both Porthos and Athos's faces.

"I got a list," interrupted Porthos, the look he sent Athos telling the man exactly how much pain Aramis had suffered.

Aramis blinked, clearly surprised and impressed in equal measure by his brother's statement, "…Really?"

With a smirk that looked more forced than genuine Porthos nodded, his eyes quickly narrowing into a harsh glare when Renou shifted slightly, bringing the attention of the men in the room back to him.

Without another thought Athos used the butt of his pistol to knock Renou out cold, watching with an expressionless mask as the man crumpled to the ground.

Athos made quick work of both securing their newest prisoner and of finding the keys hidden on said prisoner.

"Stay awake Aramis," ordered the swordsman gently as he undid the chains keeping his friend trapped before gently easing the barely conscious man to the ground, quickly covering him with his cloak when he noticed the medic's faint tremors.

"I'm going to get Porthos," added Athos as he looked into Aramis's eyes. Pain, that was something that was abundantly clear but it warmed his heart to also see the determination and relief that flooded his brother's expression as well. "Stay awake," he reiterated before moving to release Porthos, the two men quickly returning to Aramis's side while listening to Porthos list off the numerous injuries their injured friend had sustained.

"Treville's going to have you on light duty for at least a few weeks, you know that right?" teased Athos the following morning once Aramis was once again awake.

Thankfully none of the marksman's injuries required expert medical attention so they were able to handle them themselves. There had been little they could do for the bruises so they had settled for cleaning the numerous small cuts and gashes, ensure they wouldn't develop an infection. Athos, as Porthos's skills lay far from needlework, had sown several of the larger gashes, such as the one on Aramis's eyebrow, while the larger musketeer had reset the dislocated shoulder.

It was the pain of the joint being reset that finally proved too much for the exhausted medic and mere moments after it was completed Aramis, much to the brief alarm of his brothers, had passed out.

Both Athos and Porthos had taken shifts to watch over the man, as he slept, neither man comfortable with letting the medic out of their sights for too long just yet.

When morning had broken with no sign of any of his injuries worsening both musketeers had shared a sigh of relief before moving to complete their preparations for the day a head.

Porthos had chosen to handle preparing Renou for transport, knowing full well that Athos wouldn't say anything against him if he used slightly more force then was necessary to tighten the man's restraints and nor would he speak up if Renou 'fought back' during the preparation, earning him a few bruises from Porthos getting control of the situation.

While Porthos handled Renou, Athos was in charge of watching and taking care of Aramis, the medic doing his friend's heart a world of good when he opened his eyes and took away the worry consuming him.

Aramis audibly groaned at the thought of light duty though he had to admit the lighthearted chuckle his reaction gained him from his brother almost made the ordeal worth it.

"That means no goodbye visit to Marlene for you 'Mis," teased Porthos with a beaming grin as he finished up with Renou, the musketeer barking out a laugh at the sheepish look that settled on his brother's battered face when Athos raised a single eyebrow in question to him.

"Do I want to know?" sighed Athos, already having a good idea as to what was going on.

"…Probably not," admitted Aramis quietly, a soft chuckle escaping him before he could stop it, though he instantly regretted it when it sent a shockwave of pain through his broken ribs, of which it turned out he had four.

"You were supposed to be gathering information," reminded Athos with an exasperated sigh, though he did offer the musketeer his hand to squeeze when the pain of his ribs became apparent.

Porthos couldn't help himself, the smirk on his lips only growing as he added, "Oh he gathered information. He found out her name, that she's single and has a thing for – "

"The important thing," interrupted Aramis, effectively cutting off what Porthos had been about to say while also sending a weak glare the larger man's way. "Is that not only are we all okay but we also have the man responsible for the threats against the King in custody."

Athos let out his third sigh in as many minutes before pushing himself up to his feet. He had long since gotten used to his brother's antic's, and if he was being completely honest, it was a relief to hear and see the battered medic continue on as normal despite his injuries.

"Come on," said Athos as he helped his injured friend gently to his feet, "You're riding with me." When Aramis looked ready to protest Athos silenced him with a look before his expression softened considerably as he helped the injured man up onto the horse, quickly settling in behind him and wrapping an arm gently around the medic's waist to prevent him from falling off.

"I can ride on my own," grumbled Aramis, though his words were somewhat negated by the fact he subconsciously nestled back into Athos's warmth, a tired sigh escaping him as the horses settled into a soft trot.

A fond smile tugged at Athos's face at the action, tightening his grip on his brother ever so slightly the musketeer dipped his head and whispered, "rest Aramis, you're okay now."