DISCLAIMER: I do not own the musketeers

Pain, everything hurt.

That was his first thought as he wearily opened his eyes. Staring up at the rocky ceiling above him he desperately tried to piece together what happened to get him into this situation.

He remembered a mission… Confusion crossing his features as he tried to remember the details, a delivery mission his still slightly foggy mind told him, a crucial letter had to be delivered to a close friend to the King. It contained confidential information and Treville had entrusted him and his brothers to protect and deliver…

Wait! His brothers!

Panic rose in his chest as he desperately tried to get up, move and locate his seemingly missing brothers. Only to be stopped when an excruciating amount of pain waved through his side. Breathing though the pain he decided to first take stock of his injury, if he were bleeding out then he wouldn't be able to be any help to his brothers if they were in a similar state as him.

Pushing down another wave of panic at this thought he slowly moved his hands to the location of his pain, fully expecting to be met with a gash, open wound or at least a fair amount of blood, however his fingers ghosted across thread. Stitches? Who stitched me up? Stitching was usually his job being the self-appointed medic of the group. Breathing through the pain Aramis slowly moved into a slightly sat up position and stared at the needlework. Too neat to be Porthos he observed with fondness at his bear-of-a-brother's atrocious needle skills. So that leaves either Athos or D'Art blanching at the thought of forcing his youngest brother to stitch up his skin Aramis did a visual check of the rest of him. No other injuries that required attention, some bruising undoubtedly but all manageable he decided.

Aramis's attention then turned to getting up and finding his brothers, however his focus was torn from this when a pained groan was heard from behind him. Biting his cheek to stop himself from groaning in pain he maneuvered himself up and turned to the source of the groan, shock marring his features as he saw his beloved brother Porthos, unconscious but showing signs of waking, lying on the ground with what appeared to be the remnants of a blanket, torn into strips, wrapped around his leg as a makeshift bandage, while a bloody lead ball lay on the ground near him. Musket ball he surmised well that explains his injury at least. Removing the bandage carefully as to not to cause his already wounded brother any more pain he checked over the wound. Neatly and carefully stitched, much like his wound. Definitely done by one of his other two brothers. Placing a hand on Porthos's forehead he was also pleased to feel no signs of fever.

Seeing no other injuries on his brother aside from the occasional cut, which by the smell of wine on the skin, had already been cleaned but were too shallow to require stitching Aramis decided to attempt standing again. He still had two more brothers to find after all.

"'Mis?" a groggy voice from beside him stopped his attempt, turning back to his brother he saw a pair of pain-filled but lucid eyes staring back at him. "I'm here Porthos" he smiled placing his hand on his brother's arm for more reassurance. "Wh... What happened?" Porthos croaked out. Wincing at the rawness of his brother's voice but not seeing any water near to offer Aramis simply focused on the question asked "To be honest, I have no idea" he said running the hand, not resting on his brother through his hair, already missing his hat. "It would seem we were attacked during our mission, I woke up a little while ago over there" pointing to the spot he previously occupied.

At this announcement Porthos's expression changed from pained confusion to panic as his eyes ghosted over Aramis's form looking for injury. Seeing this Aramis immediately went to calm him "I'm fine, took a sword to the side would be my guess looking at the wound" lifting his shirt to show Porthos "hurts but is manageable, either Athos or D'Artangan took care of it. Same as they did the musket wound in your leg… Speaking of our brothers can you sit up I don't know where they are… or where we are for that matter and it's easier to defend yourself if your not on your back."

Nodding Porthos pushed himself up into a seated position, grinding his teeth against the pain when he shifted his leg. Looking around for the first time since waking up Porthos noted that they seem to be in a cave of some sort, though where exactly he had no clue. He remembered delivering the letter as ordered and the start of the journey home, him and D'Artangan had decided to have a competition to see who could throw the most pebbles into Aramis's beloved hat before he noticed or before Athos had had enough and stopped them, which ever happened first.

His trip down memory lane was interrupted however by Aramis's shout of ATHOS! Turning his head sharply to the direction of the shout Porthos could see Aramis kneeling over what appeared to be an injured Athos.

Not one to stay still when his brothers needed his he pushed himself to his feet, once again grinding his teeth as the action sent waves of pain though his leg and began to limp over to his brother. What he saw made him wince in sympathy for his friend as he had clearly taken the brunt on the attack. Whilst he and Aramis had most superficial wounds minus his leg and Aramis's side Athos had, if the splint was anything to go by, a broken hand, luckily not his sword hand though and several deep cuts across his body all of which had been lovingly stitched, not to Aramis's standard but still neatly enough to minimalize any possible scaring. Porthos also noted the beginnings of a rather nasty looking bruise on Athos's temple suggesting the possibility that their friend may have a concussion.

He was about to suggest that they attempt to wake their fallen brother, knowing that head wounds even minor ones if left untreated can be dangerous when Athos began to show signs of awakening. Shifting himself to the floor to be by his brothers side when he woke he watched as Aramis patted Athos's face, calling him name to further aid the man in waking up.

"'Mis?" a clearly pained voice spoke "P'thos?" Both men smiled at this, their brother's head wound clearly causing no memory issues. "We're here, my friend" Aramis replied repeating the action of placing a hand on his brother's arm as he had done to Porthos. "You were wounded during an attack as we returned from delivering that letter to the Kings friend do you remember that?" Silence followed Aramis's question for several moments before he received a nod in reply. Smiling at his friend Aramis continued "My guess would be that following the attack our young gascon friend was able to get us into here and treat our wounds –"

"Clearly the whelps been lis'ning when 'Mis rambles" Porthos interjected with a cheeky grin aimed at the marksman.

"I do not ramble!" Aramis retorted with an air of mild offence at the insinuation "ANYWAY as I was saying D'Artangan seems to have set your hand and cleaned and stitched all your wounds as well as Porthos's leg and my side" he finished lifting his shirt to show Athos the wound knowing full well that his friend's protective nature would insist on seeing it before anything else.

"Wh… Where is the boy?" Athos asked breathily, his ribs were bruised he concluded if talking caused him the pain that it did.

"That my friend" Aramis replied running his hand through his hair again, with a look of confusion growing on his face, "is a very good question"