Hello! This is my first ever Musketeers fic ^^ I've only seen the first couple of episodes and I'm already hooked! Aramis is just amazing, and this idea is set around the first episode! Hope you like it!

Aramis really had no one to blame but himself- he should never have missed a wall that size. After all his light- footed quick stepping and his artful dodges to avoid the blades of the red guards, he wasn't really looking where he was going...he certainly didn't expect the stone wall that had once been part of the keep of the castle they were fighting near to be so close.

Stars exploded in his eyes as his head connected with the hard surface- thankfully he had dispatched the guard he was fighting just seconds before, so he was able to fall ungracefully to his knees, eyes clenched shut as pain enveloped his head. He was barely aware of his head hitting sodden grass, darkness creeping into his eyes- but he was suddenly aware of someone pushing on his shoulder. d'Artagnan, asking if he was alright.

He reeled from the touch, both because of a sudden sensitivity to sound and the fact that he was Aramis; of course he was alright.

He waved away the concern as he sat upright, before lurching to his feet. The world whirled sickeningly for a few moments, causing him to clutch on to the wall he had hit for stability. He cleared his throat, eyes creasing in a frown as he felt something warm run down his cheek. He poked at his head, wincing as he felt a large lump growing rapidly on his it, just above his hairline. Perfect. Just what he needed.

He turned, blade already in hand as he heard the growl of another Red Guard- he dodged the attack by feigning to his left, but he felt his head protest with a sudden throbbing pain. He let out a warning yell as he ran his blade through the other man, who fell at his feet with a groan- at least he wasn't him, he told himself.

'd'Artagnan! He heard Porthos yell, and he turned, wincing, to find the young man had Gaudet on the ground, his blades criss-crossed against his neck.

'We need him alive!' He shouted, running down the grassy slope, his own blade still out in his hand. Porthos shoved a cowed man into the wall, a warning look in his eyes. Aramis barely heard d'Artagnan speaking to Gaudet; he was too busy staving off the pain still erupting in his head- he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head a little.

He opened them as he heard d'Artagnan stepping away; he was about to go and tie up Gaudet when he saw him take up a blade of his own- 'd'Artagnan! He shouted across, eyes widening as the younger man stepped forward.

A gurgling sound told him all he needed to know. He sheathed his blade with a sigh as Gaudet sank to the ground. He looked at d'Artagnan, before gingerly rubbing at his head- seconds later he heard Porthos whistle across to them. 'The uniforms. They're all here.' He said with a smile.

He closed his eyes briefly, partly from relief and partly to quell the pain in his head- he blanched slightly as a sick feeling nearly overcame him.

'Are you alright?' D'Artagnan asked, stepping away from the body of the man who'd killed his father to come to his side, before putting a hand on his shoulder.

'Hit my head, is all.' He gave the younger man a small smile. 'I'll be alright in a minute... Go, I think someone wants to speak to you.' He added, nodding his head in the direction of Constance.

He groaned loudly as d'Artagnan made his way down the slope, letting out all the pain that had built up- he didn't mind doing it in front of Porthos.

'How did you not see that wall?' His friend joked, sheathing his sword. 'I was being thrown around by that brute and I still missed it!'

'Yes, well...I don't know...' Aramis muttered, bereft of a comeback.

His legs felt like jelly as they walked back to their horses. 'Come on, we've got a friend to save...' He muttered, pain still very much floating in his head.

The tavern was busy, hot and noisy- the stench of stale sweat and spilt ale stuck in Aramis' nostrils as he slowly took in a breath, steeling himself for the wave of nausea that followed. He growled in the back of his throat, clutching his tankard tightly- he was fine, just tired. He had had a lot on his mind for the past couple of days. A long sleep was what he needed. And yes, maybe his head did hurt a bit.

Porthos threw out a loud guffaw at whatever sarcastic jape d'Artagnan had just made; the sound set his teeth on edge. He shot the larger man a look, the sick feeling rising again. Athos looked up too, from his lone spot by the fire, but Aramis saw him look back down into his tankard seconds later.

'You ok?' Porthos asked as Aramis took a large gulp of his ale, before quickly pouring more into his tankard.

'Fine, like I said ten minutes ago, and half an hour ago...oh, and around two hours ago!' Aramis snapped back, before sitting back as his head erupted in pain.

'Alright, tetchy...' Porthos grumbled, giving Aramis a sideways glance as he fumbled around for coins in his pocket. 'It's your head, isn't it?'

'I said I'm fine, Porthos!' He growled, feeling his head swim again as he lurched to his feet.

'Whoa...' D'Artagnan held out an arm for the man as he teetered on the spot- he eyed the tankard Aramis still grasped in one hand. 'How many have you had?'

'Not nearly enough...' Aramis muttered darkly, before nodding his head towards Athos. 'Make sure he gets back safe, alright?' He added, suddenly aware that he had started slurring his words.

'And you're going...?'

'Home. To bed.' Aramis muttered, opening and closing his eyes as the world started spinning again.

''Mis, are you sure you can manage?' Porthos asked from the other side of the table.

'I'm perfectly fine, just...got a bit of a headache, is all,' Aramis smiled across at him, the mere expression moving the skin on the top of his head- he withheld a wince, saving it for when he turned round and, without another word, managed to walk from the room.

'What's the matter with him?' Athos asked from his solitary table, eyeing his friend's slowly retreating back.

'He hit his head- got quite a nice bruise coming along,' Porthos shrugged, before looking for a barman to request more ale.

'He doesn't look right.'

'Who does when they've hit their head?'

'Someone should check on him.' Athos muttered, making to stand up.

'I'll do it,' d'Artagnan said, also making to stand up, 'it's my fault the fight started, I should have listened-'

'Lad, I think you'll find it's my fault.' Athos muttered shortly. He threw some coins next to the younger man's hand- d'Artagnan looked up reproachfully. 'I'll go and see if he's alright...stay with Porthos and celebrate. I'll be back in a moment.'

D'Artagnan nodded, sitting back down. Athos nodded once to Porthos, who was starting to look worried himself. 'I'm sure he's fine.'

'He probably is- and if he's merely drunk I'm going to hit him... I've wasted valuable drinking time!' Athos quipped, taking a last gulp of his wine before making for the door.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he arrived at his friend's rooms. Without fail, Aramis would light the candle outside his bedroom door- so he could find his doorknob quickly after a late-night wander to a woman, he always said. Athos frowned at the candle, and then at his door, wreathed in darkness.

He stepped closer, rapping on the door loudly with his knuckles. 'Aramis?' He muttered through the door. ''Mis?' No answer.

He was probably sleeping, he mused as he stood idly behind his door- a creak behind him told him someone was peering out being nosy. 'What?' He asked of the man in his nightgown, eyes narrowed at him. The door shut seconds later.

Athos sighed, making to turn away, but something itched in the back of his mind...his friend really hadn't looked right at all.

He grasped the doorknob, feeling on edge once more as the door opened easily- Aramis always locked his door.

'You better not be naked, because I'm coming in...' Athos muttered, stepping into the room. It was dark and cold, and for a moment Athos had to squint to see properly. His eyes roamed the room, taking in the wash basin that had been tipped over, the blankets scattered on the floor, and-

'Aramis!' He whispered urgently, rushing to a figure he had thought was a large blanket thrown on the floor. His friend was slumped next to his bed, one arm resting on the mattress, while the rest of him was on the floor.

He knelt beside him, but not before lighting a candle to see better. 'Aramis?' He repeated, shining the light on his friend's face- one side of his face was swollen and bruised, and there was a large lump at the top, still smeared with blood. 'Good God...' He whispered. Aramis suddenly stirred, wincing in the bright light. 'Neghmm...' He protested, fingers curling into his bed sheet. 'No light...'

'I have to see, you idiot.' Athos muttered, placing the candle on his bedside table.

'Athos?' The word was gravelly, and sounded like it took too much effort. 'Why...you here?'

'To see if you were alright!' Athos returned, before turning to fill up the small wash basin again. 'No, stay there!' He muttered as Aramis attempted to stand up too. 'I don't want you to collapse again.'

'Me, collapse?' Aramis spoke with his face pressed into his sheet, muffling his voice, 'never.'

'Hmmm...' Athos replied, before fetching a sponge and returning to his friend. 'Right, let's get you on the bed; I need to clean that head of yours.'

'Didn't know...you were a...doctor...' Aramis attempted a snort, but all Athos heard was a moan of pain.

'Come on, you can tell your stupid jokes later, yeah?' He muttered, before grasping his friend under his arms and carefully pulling him upwards- the sudden change in pressure made Aramis groan, but he didn't stop until he was safely on the bed, staring at him with reproachful blue eyes.

'Ouch.' He shot at him, wincing.

'Well that's what you get for headbutting a stone wall.' Athos replied, before picking up the soaked sponge and squeezing the water out. 'I want to make sure you don't get that infected- we can take you to the matron in the morning.' He explained, gently turning Aramis' head with a finger before dabbing at the crusted blood. 'Did you lose consciousness?'

Aramis gave a little shrug, too preoccupied by his stinging head to answer properly.

'You're one class A idiot, aren't you?' Athos muttered, shaking his head, 'why didn't you tell us?'

'Busy saving your sorry hide...'

'No, that's not excuse to ignore your own injuries!' Athos replied, glaring at him. 'Porthos could have given the evidence while you went to the matron!'

'I s'pose...' Aramis hissed out, eyes now squeezed shut.

'There's no supposing about it!' Athos muttered, sighing as Aramis groaned low in his throat. 'I've done as much as I can do.' He muttered, throwing the bloodied sponge back into red water and placing it back on the floor. 'Think you can sleep?'

'I'd like an ale...'

'Well tough- I don't need you further injuring yourself.' Athos shot back, before picking up his friend's legs and hoisting them onto the bed.

'Not a child...' Aramis protested weakly, but he relaxed nonetheless as his head met his pillow.

'Yes you are- the biggest child I know...' Athos replied, shaking his head with a smile. 'Now try and rest, it'll do you good.'

He turned to place the wash basin on the sideboard, just in case Aramis tripped over it in the night. 'Thanks.' He heard his friend mutter, voice high with pain. 'For coming to look for me.'

'It's what friends do, isn't it?'

Aramis moaned a reply he didn't quite catch, before he attempted to roll over- a muffled groan told him it had been an unsuccessful attempt. He shook his head at the sight, all thoughts of joining the other two for more wine now totally gone from his head.

He walked over to the rickety chair by his friend's window, casting a glance at the world outside- dark and silent. With a small groan of his own as his overworked muscles protested, he sat on the chair, leaning his arms on his knees.

'Don't you have...somewhere better to be?' Aramis muttered in the darkness, his silhouette on the wall cast by the candle shaking slightly.

'Not right now.'

'Oh...' Aramis squeezed his eyes shut again. 'Alright...' Was all he could think of in reply.

'Just sleep, 'Mis. I just want to make sure you don't try and get up and fall over again.'

'Whatever...makes you...happy... ' Aramis muttered from his bed.

Athos snorted, shaking his head. He sat back, pulling a forgotten blanket around himself before settling down for what would probably be a very long night.

Well, I hope that was ok! Like I said, I've only seen the first two episodes so far, so if their characters are a little off, I'm sorry ^^

Thanks for reading, and please review!