Another chapter! This one's shorter, but I do like it. I hope you do, too. Thank you for all the love so far.

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-M

Chapter Two: Take The Shot

"Take the shot, 'Mis," Porthos said softly, but urgently. "If you wait any longer…"

"I know, dammit," Aramis snapped, his finger hovering over the trigger and his sight lined on the enemy. Killing him wouldn't have been a problem if Athos wasn't standing right in front of him, his hands tied in front of him and a gag in his mouth. Pascal - the man who had taken him captive and was now negotiating with d'Artagnan to let the swordsman go - seemed to have no intention of moving, purposefully using Athos as his human shield. He knew that the Musketeer regiment had at least one sniper, and he certainly did not expect him to shoot one of his own.

Closing his eyes, Aramis let out a heavy breath. If he was being completely honest with himself, he was not sure if he had it in him to send a musket ball flying through Athos just to get Pascal. Thankfully, the conniving bastard was taller than his brother, so Aramis just had to aim at Athos' shoulder, and he would graze Pascal's artery, making the death quick.

"'Mis, you can do this," the man at his side assured, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have to do this. The minute you take the shot, it'll be over, and you'll be able to get to him and treat him. It'll be fine."

"And what if I miss?" For once in his life, Aramis was truly afraid that he wouldn't be able to hit the intended target. Even while injured, he always had full confidence in his skill, but when it came to something as serious as having to shoot someone so dear to his heart, he couldn't help but question if he was good enough for such a job.

"You never miss," Porthos murmured in reply, a small smile on his face. "You always say it yourself. Now you gotta take the shot, Aramis. Do it."

Sighing one last time, Aramis poured all of his concentration into aiming his musket and pulling the trigger, whispering a quiet apology right before he did it. He jerked at the familiar sound and watched as the ball shot forward and into Athos, just like he wanted. Before he got up, he made sure to watch as Pascal let go of him and fell to the ground, clutching his neck even though it was no use. He was gone in seconds.

Aramis wasted no more time in running over to his fallen comrade, who had collapsed on the ground once d'Artagnan cut the ropes wrapping around his wrists and removed the offending gag. He slid to a stop beside Athos and immediately started inspecting his wound. "Gracias a Dios," he whispered, and then said, "It was a clean through-and-through. I'll just wrap it for now, and when we get back to the garrison, I'll clean it and make sure it doesn't get infected."

"See, I never doubted you for a second," said Porthos, clapping Aramis on the back. He frowned when his brother flinched, but understood that Aramis was probably in a little bit of shock.

"Neither did I," Athos agreed, and reached up with his good arm to cup Aramis' neck and press their foreheads together. "Thank you, mon ami," he said quietly, feeling the poor marksman shaking in relief. He could tell how guilty Aramis felt, how ashamed he felt to have had to do that to a friend. "If it wasn't for you, I would surely be dead. I wouldn't have trusted anybody else to take that shot."

"It wasn't right," replied Aramis. "I never want to do that again."

"Let's pray that you won't have to," said d'Artagnan, smiling assuringly. "Now how about we head home? Athos is in dire need of a bath."

"Oh, shut your mouth," Athos scowled. "You wouldn't be much better off if you'd been in captivity for three days." He grunted as Aramis helped him up, still glaring at the younger Musketeer. "Maybe you should try it sometime, see how it feels.

"I'd rather not have to shoot one of you again," said Aramis, allowing himself a small grin. Even though his actions were still heavy on his heart, he was more than thankful that everyone was relatively safe and well. The best thing he could do now is move on and not fret too much about it. Because what good would that do?

"Alright, well we'll definitely try our best not to have you do that," replied Porthos, silently promising Aramis - as well as himself - that he would do whatever he could not to let anything like that ever happen again.

The End