Breathing

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  "I'm finished on this side," Aramis sighed. "Let's switch sides so we can close him up on the right."

*****

Aramis felt no better for having gotten his angry emotions out into the open. In fact, he felt worse than before. He was in a foul mood, feeling disgusted that his friend's health was needlessly put in jeopardy all because of a frivolous order given by the king.

A heavy silence hung in the air while they busied themselves stitching Athos's right side. Aramis was halfway done when a faint moan escaped from Athos, who was beginning to stir.

"Oh no, he's coming around, Aramis." Captain Tréville said with alarm.

"Damn, I'm not done yet. Just a few more minutes, Athos. . ." Aramis continued sewing, his pace quickening with a renewed sense of urgency.

Athos let another moan escape. He winced away from the needle Aramis was trying to push into the flesh of his sensitive right side.

"Athos, don't move." Aramis ordered sternly. "I need you to hold still so I can finish. I know it hurts but you must lie still."

Athos continued writhing, forcing Aramis to pause his work. "I wish I had Porthos here. This would be the opportune moment for payback. I'm sure he'd be happy to oblige."

"Excuse me?" The captain was lost to the inside joke.

"The method Athos and I use to prepare Porthos for surgery—we knock him out. Well, Athos does anyway. Porthos swore to get his revenge and return the favor next time Athos needed surgery." Aramis chuckled at the thought.

"I don't believe Athos needs any further injuries at the moment, Aramis. That would not be an advisable way to render him unconscious at this time." The captain frowned.

"You're right, Captain. How much wine do we have left?"Aramis asked, motioning to the flasks.

"We have one and a half—still plenty—but it will take time for the wine to take effect." The Captain reminded.

"I don't. . . need wine." Athos forced, his jaw clenched. "Just g-get it over with, damn you."

"Athos, we have plenty of wine. Why not drink some to help alleviate the pain?" Aramis encouraged.

"No. . . it won't. . . stay d-down. I want nothing. . . to come. . . back up again. Hurts. . ."

"I know the stitching hurts, Athos." Aramis smoothed the sweaty hair from his friend's face. "This is why I wish you would drink some wine to take the edge off."

"No. . . not. . . not your stitching. My sides are b-burning," Athos winced, his breaths shallow and rapid. "What happ'ned?"

"When you vomited, you tore the stitches out of both wounds in your sides. I finished your left side and was halfway done with your right. . ." Aramis paused.

"Mmm. . ." Athos mumbled.

"I was doing well until my patient woke up and started talking to me and questioning me in the middle of surgery. It's rather distracting, I should say," Aramis quipped.

Captain Tréville couldn't help but smile at the comment. He knows the men well enough to recognize when Aramis uses humor to lighten a grim predicament, oftentimes masking his fear with humor and lighthearted bantering.

"Just get it. . . over with." Athos panted. Beads of sweat rolled down Athos's face to his throat, leaving his neck glazed with a layer of sweat.

Aramis looked to the captain, who nodded quietly to proceed.