So " Jmp " wished for Aramis, hurt and completely lost in a foreign country and the others desperately searching for him.
I hope you like it!

He stumbled through the woods, holding onto every tree and bough he got a grip. His vision was blurry and every breath hurt. Aramis tried orientate onto the moss, hoping that it will be the right direction. After, what felt like hours, he finally saw the end of the woods. The musketeer was nearly running, which just increased the pain. But the joy of finally having a chance to find some civilization overwhelmed him. He went over a small field of grass before he met with a road. "God bless you." He mumbled, following the lane. As it was about to get dark outside he finally saw a small house at the horizon. He tried his best to get there fast, his wounds holding him back unfortunately. But Aramis fought through the pain, which claimed his whole body by now and made it to the inn at sunset. He pushed the door open and stumbled into the house, leaning against the next wall he found. His look searched the room and found a man, thin and tall. He served a few guests and then made his way up to Aramis.

"Was ist denn mit Ihnen passiert?" The landlord asked in a foreign language. German, Aramis guessed. "I need a room for the night," he tried in French nevertheless. The tall man looked at him confused, trying to understand something from the words. As Aramis noticed the german wouldn't understand he tried in Spanish, hoping the landlord would maybe get one or two words. "Necesito una habitciòn para la noche, por favor."

"Es tut mir leid, ich verstehen sie nicht." The man excused for not understanding the french stranger. But he didn't seem as polite as before, since he had noticed Aramis was from france. The German wasn't very inclined to the French, and neither were the French to the German. While Aramis tried to search for the right words in latin or any other language he once has heard, the man pointed at the door. "Nein." The musketeer understood this one for sure. He sighed and wanted to discuss this, but the man looked angry by now, so he decided it was the best to leave.

Aramis walked out and looked for a place he could sleep at. At least it was spring, so it wasn't that cold in the night and sleeping outside wouldn't be his biggest problem. The musketeer soon found a small cabin. Some planks weren't there anymore and the door wouldn't close completely. There was a small table inside and a broken bedframe. Aramis even found a half-burned candle, which he lit.

Even if his body wanted nothing more than to sleep, he needed to stay awake a little bit longer. Slowly he removed his clothes, until he stood there only in his briefs. With the candle in the one hand, he looked over his wounds. Most of them were just bruises and cuts, but his rips and his leg bothered him. He was sure that one of his rips was broken and another one sprained. The sprained one maybe hurt as hell, but the broken one could be life threatening if it pierced through his lungs. Unfortunately the medic couldn't do much about it now. He just had to hope and move carefully. However he could deal at least with the gaping wound in his thigh. Maybe not as good as he would like to, but he could stop the bleeding. So he took his shirt and ripped it into pieces, which he bound around his leg. He had nothing with him to disinfect the wound, so Aramis had to hope the wound wouldn't cause an infection.

After the medic has had made sure that he probably won't die in his sleep, he laid down on the floor carefully. Because of his broken rib he was only able to lie on the back and hoped that he wouldn't turn in his sleep.

12 hours earlier…

"What do you mean he just disappeared?!" Porthos shouted, clenching his fists. "I don't know. He said he would bring this woman home, but would be back in the morning…" D'Artagnan ran a hand through his messy hair. "He's probably still with there, no need to worry. Do you know anything about the woman, d'Artagnan?" Athos remained calm. It wasn't something unusual for Aramis and had happened many times. It was just unusual, 'cause it happened in Germany. Not even the women here are save from him, he thought amused.

The gascon struggled with the strange name. "She was called something like Hoffmann."

Porthos was the first one who went out. They didn't speak the language, only new a few words, so they just asked for "Frau Hoffmann?" anyone who came along. The most shook their head confused or scared. Finally a young girl, she was 13 at most, smiled and pointed down the street. She also told them something more, which no one understood. Still they thanked her and went where she has gestured.

"Can I help you, Messieurs?" A man asked them with a thick accent. He was fat and ugly, and showed yellow teeth while he smiled. "We're searching for a Madame Hoffmann." D'Artagnan explained, happily to have found someone who spoke their language. The fat man nod and scratched his chin. "She lives in the house on the corner right there. But I don't think she is at home today. Her husband and her rode away a few hours ago."

"Were they alone?" Athos asked curiously. The German shrugged his shoulders, "don't know." He eyed up the three musketeers, until his gaze stopped at the moneybag at Porthos belt. Porthos sighed, giving the man two coins. "No go on."

"I saw a man and her entering the house at night. Haven't seen him leave by now. But the Hoffmans had a wagon with them… I could swear that there was someone inside. They said they would ride to the next city to a big market."

Athos asked for further directions and as they knew where to go, the Musketeers ran to their horses. They didn't know what had happened to their friend or why, but they needed to find him soon.

Now…

It was a short rest his body has had, as Aramis woke up by sunrise. He sat up slowly, groaning as a sharp pain raised from his ribs. He took a look at his thigh, where the bandage was dark red by now. He needed to stitch the wound soon or he will bleed out. Aramis stood up, holding on to the table beside him. He felt weaker than yesterday, which he ascribed to the blood loss. He left the cabin and looked around, not sure where to go. He tried to remember in which direction the town was he came from, but couldn't. But then the musketeer remembered how he was brought out of the town last morning. He may was bound, gagged and blindfolded but was able to feel the sun shining into the wagon from the left side at first, but soon it felt like it came from the back. It wasn't much of information and he wasn't sure of his senses were right, still the marksman decided to walk into the east.

He didn't made it far, until his leg gave in and his lungs burned. Aramis sat down at a tree, trying to catch his breath. His vision was blurry by now, everything around him seemed so far away and his pain so near. He closed his eyes, trying to find a solution for his problems. But his mind was twisted and so he didn't know what to do anymore. He wasn't able to stand up again, he didn't know where he was or if someone would ever come along this way. He had to hope and pray.

24 hours ago…

Aramis woke up with a smile on his face as he looked at the beautiful woman in his arms. "Caro", he whispered, as he kissed her neck gently. He didn't want to leave but he had to. They were supposed to be in Hamburg by evening to give important letters to one of their royal familys. They had to be very important, if musketeers were trusted with this task. For safety everyone of them had one of the four letters.

Caro smiled and kissed her lover, before she sat up and onto his chest. "Don't go." She bit her lip seductively. Oh, Aramis wanted to stay so bad, but he had a duty to fulfill. "I would love to, but I-"

"You stay." Her voice was just as sharp as the knives she hold onto his throat. Aramis was confused, still he looked for his weapons. They laid on the floor at the other side of the room. Great. "Okay, keep calm." He lifted his hands carefully. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can talk about it."

"Oh I think so." The door of the bedroom has opened and a blonde man in a expensive looking suit came in. Monsieur Hoffmann, Aramis guessed. Aramis used the moment in which Caro looked at her husband to take her knife and throw her off.

"You thought so, huh?" Hoffman hold up a gun and pointed it at Aramis, then he waved in two more men. Aramis sighed as he noticed that he had no chance at all and let the weapon fall. The two men grabbed him immediately and threw him onto the floor. There, his hands were bound behind his back and he was brought up again.

"So here's the plan. We can take it easy on you or the hard way. What do you like?"
Monsieur Hoffman came up to Aramis who struggled in the tight grip of the two men. "What is this about?"

Hoffman smiled. "You don't know? Oh let me explain. You and your friends have an important letter with you. I want it. It's simple, you see?"

Aramis shook his head, saying he wouldn't know what he even meant.

Soon, he found himself on the ground again. The two men beat and kicked him until he spitted out blood. "Do you want to tell us now where the letter is?" The letter. Hoffmann clearly only knew from one of the four secret letters, which comforted Aramis at least a little bit. Even if they found the paper on him, they wouldn't have everything they were supposed to deliver. Moreover he had a chance to be let go then and get his brothers to arrest Hoffmann. Aramis shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking from."

Hoffmann grew angrier and told his guards something in german. They lifted Aramis up, and just as the marksman regained the strength to hold his weight alone a sharp pain spread from his thigh through his whole body. Shocked, he looked down and saw a knife stuck in his flesh. He let out a pained groan, desperately too not scream in front of these men. One of the guards twisted the knife slowly, until Aramis couldn't hold it back anymore. He screamed and then sank together.

Aramis was gagged and blindfolded, before the guards dragged him down. He regained consciousness as he was thrown into a wagon.
"We will bring him into the woods. If he hasn't died till then, he will there."

"And the letters?" Caro asked.

"We have to search for the others. We didn't find it as we searched through his things."

Now…

"Athos, d'Artagnan! Look!" Porthos made his horse stop and pointed at a wagon, which was still a few miles away. It was the first time they meet someone on this lonely road and the possibility that it were the Hoffmanns weren't that small. The musketeers turned and hit in the woods, where they hoped to stay unseen.

The wagon came nearer and soon it was right in front of them. "Now!" Athos shouted and ran out of their hideout. Porthos and the Gascon followed him, weapons armed. The wagon hold, but instead to surrender, the man shot at Athos. The bullet missed his head just a few inches. This was the death sentence for the man. Porthos shot first, hitting him in the chest. He was dead immediately. The woman screamed and cried. D'Artagnan dragged her down from the wagon, his gun still pointed at her. "Who are you?"

The woman stuttered until she told them her name. Caro Hoffmann. D'Artagnan tightened his grip on her. "What have you done to Aramis?" Caro didn't stop crying and just shook her head. Her look laid on her dead husband. "Tell us or we will kill you too."
Still, she didn't answer.

Athos sighed and bound her to the wagon, next to her husband. "We will take care of her later. We have to search for Aramis. He has to be somewhere near."

It was nearly evening as they finally saw a silhouette leaning against a tree. Porthos dismounted and ran up to the lifeless figure. "Aramis. Aramis, mon Ami." The big man shook him carefully, trying to wake him up.

Aramis eyes fluttered open, though his vision was blurred he recognized his brothers. "You've found me." It was nothing more than a whisper, but they heard it. "Of course we did."

Athos kneeled beside the medic and looking at his wounds. "We need to get you to a doctor. Now."