D'Artagnan came back from the blackness when a hand insistently tapped on his cheek. He was disoriented at first, not knowing what had happened or where he was. Opening his eyes, he looked up into the chocolate brown ones of his brother, full of concern.

"What happened?" he asked Aramis.

Instead of answering his question, his brother asked him, "Where are you wounded?" his eyes anxiously scanning d'Artagnan's body with the the knowing eyes of a medic.

Trying to sit up, the Gascon was quickly stopped by his brother's hands.

"I need to know where you are hurt, mon ami," he asked again.

Now that he was awake, d'Artagnan was increasingly aware of a throbbing that was insistently making itself known.

"Shoulder," he said.

Aramis automatically rose, with some difficulty and a grimace that d'Artagnan noticed, causing a frown of worry in his eyes.

"You're injured, too," he said, worry coloring his words as he now began to mimic the medic in scanning his brother's body, as Aramis made his way slowly around to d'Artagnan's other side, as from his first perusal he knew there was nothing on the right shoulder.

Ignoring d'Artagnan's outburst, he squatted down to examine the wound, revealed by the blood staining his doublet shoulder.

"We need to get your doublet off. I cannot see the wound properly to treat it," he said, reaching his hand down to assist d'Artagnan in sitting up.

The Gascon had put his other hand on the ground under himself to help leverage himself into a sitting position. By the time he was, in fact. sitting up, he was panting through the pain.

Betweem them, they got his doublet off, d'Artagnan well aware of the grimaces his brother was unable to completely mask.

He let out a yelp when Aramis' fingers began probing the wound, even though Aramis tried to be as gentle as possible. Then, the fingers stopped, as Aramis said, "I think I can get it out with my fingers. It's close to the surface," and before d'Artagnan could reply, had his fingers in the wound.

D'Artagnan hissed at the intrusion, but tried to remain as still as possible. It didn't take long, and a few moments later, his brother held up a bloody bullet triumphantly.

Next, he pulled some cloths from his medic bag, and wrapped them securely around d'Artagnan's shoulder.

D'Artagnan was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to know something, and asked Aramis again about his injury. Aramis was busily mixing something in a cup, and didn't reply. D'Artagnan knew that his brother was quiet good at hiding injuries and being very stubborn about it, and persisted.

Instead of answering him, Aramis once more hunkered down close to d'Artagnan's side with the cup. "This will take away the pain," he said, handing him the cup.

D'Artagnan was barely finished drinking the vile concoction when his eyelids began to droop. "What did you put in that mixture?" he accused, his words slurring.

"You need rest, d'Artagnan," Aramis replied. "That and a mixture for pain will have you back in good form in no time."

The last thing d'Artagnan was conscious of before falling asleep was his brother holding his side with brows furrowed in pain.

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Now, Aramis set to work on the damage he himself had sustained. Glancing at the sleeping form of his brother, a little smile played around the edges of his mouth. He is just as fierce for out wellbeing as we are, he thought to himself, his fondness for his brother evident in his face. And he is just as stubborn.

Maneuvering himself out of his doublet, he gasped as the movement jarred his wound. At last able to take a look at it, sadness was reflected in his eyes. Well, he thought, I've had a good, long run. I've cheated death so many times. This time, though ... leaving the thought hanging.

He had done as much as he could, after cleaning and bandaging it. But the bullet was in too deep to reach with the simple implements he had. He just hoped there would be no blood poisoning.

His last thought as he stretched out on the ground and succumbed to sleep was, I wonder if we have a chance of Athos and Porthos finding us ... in time.

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OK, this was unexpected. I sat down to write the new idea I had for a story, and this came out. When I started to write, I was figuring maybe a one-shot. Now, I'm not sure how many chapters it will be. It's amazing how inspiration works! Sorry it was so short, but hopefully, the next chapter will be normal length.