CHAPTER 27

"Are you laughing?" Aramis asked in amazement.

Tears were still dripping down Athos' face as he tried to turn away, but Aramis wouldn't let him. "You're crying and you're laughing?"

Athos gave a few sniffs, but otherwise remained silent.

Aramis let go of Athos' chin and sat back down puzzled. Then it dawned on him. "You're ticklish!"

"Am not," Athos gasped as he fought for control over his traitorous body. If Aramis and Porthos confirmed that it was true, that he was ticklish, he'd never live it down. And he had a feeling they would not be above tickling him if they could use it to their advantage. "You were hurting me," he declared, seeking to deflect suspicion. "Those Spaniards used me as a punching bag. I am very bruised and my skin is very sensitive, from pain."

"I'm sadden at how they treated you. Your skin is bruised and sensitive no doubt. However, you are good at tolerating pain, so I don't think that is the issue. I think," Aramis declared with a huge smile, "Athos, the finest swordsman in all of France is ticklish. Oh, let's hope that doesn't get out, or your enemies might use it against you."

"Only you and Porthos would be that cruel," Athos muttered under his breath.

Porthos, who had caught some rabbits and was bringing them over to the fire, stopped in his tracks when he saw that remnants of the tears on Athos' face.

"What did you do to him, Aramis?" the overly concerned streetfighter asked as he let the rabbits drop into the grass. "Why is he crying?"

Aramis rose to his feet, brushing a stray twig or two off his breeches. "Those, Porthos, are tears of joy."

"He's crying 'cause he's happy?" Porthos glanced between the two men, unable to fathom what was going on here.

"I am happy because our fine medic here has declared I will regain full use of my sword hand." As if to prove the point, Athos raised his bandaged hand and wiggled his fingers, but only a little, because it still hurt to do so. However, he was so desperate to hide the truth he'd try anything to deflect the issue.

Athos could continue to try to change the subject, but Aramis wasn't going to let the swordsman's new vulnerability remain hidden. "I gave him a most thorough examination and I'm pleased to say with some rest and food he will make a complete recovery."

"Still don't explain why he was cryin'. He's usually so damn stoic it makes you want to haul off and smack him just to make him cry. So, how'd you manage to bring tears to his eyes?" Porthos continued to study Athos as he sat on the ground, a faint flush staining his fair skin. "Has he got a fever? He looks kind of red. I mean, I don't know, you're the medic and all."

"Porthos. That is an excellent point you bring up," Aramis said with glee, having been handed the perfect opportunity unknowingly by his friend. "You are exactly right. We all should learn some basic medical skills in case I'm not around."

Athos wasn't sure where this was going, but his gut told him it was not going to be in a direction he liked.

"We should all be able to diagnosis common medical issues, such as, oh I don't know, say broken ribs."

Now, Athos knew exactly where Aramis was going. The flush on his neck and face grew pinker. "That's not what Porthos said." Glancing meaningfully at the rabbits on the grass, he added, "I'm hungry. I'll help skin the rabbits so we can eat faster."

"Even if you had two good hands, which you don't, you are not getting near those rabbits. I don't want to have to eat trail rations because you hacked them to pieces. And don't even think of offering to help cook," Aramis stated in the firmest of manners. "No, I will skin them and Porthos will cook them, right after I teach him a simple medical procedure."

"No!" Athos exclaimed loudly.

"He's right, Athos. Ain't no way you're gettin' near them bunnies," Porthos agreed with Aramis. He'd been the first to witness Athos' attempt at cooking while they were on the road to Dieppe. To say it hadn't been pretty was a huge understatement.

"Meant no to the medical part, not the cooking part," Athos clarified. "I freely admit I can't cook."

"Anything else you'd like to freely admit?" Aramis coaxed the swordsman.

"No. I do not think so," Athos said stubbornly, while glaring at Aramis as if he could stare him into submission.

"Have it your way," Aramis said under his breath before turning to face Porthos. "I'm going to show you how to detect broken ribs by gently using your fingers to probe the surface of the rib cage."

The streetfighter turned a wary eye towards the bruised flesh covering Athos' torso and he saw the swordsman blanch. "I dunno, Aramis. Do you think that's a good idea? It looks like it will hurt him. I don't wanna hurt him."

"You also don't want him to die because he has a broken rib and it punctures his lung."

"But didn't you already check him out? You know if his ribs are broken."

"I did and I do know. But the point is you don't know. What if I wasn't here? You'd need to know yourself."

"I could tell him," Athos interjected, but Aramis swiftly cut him off.

"You lie. About your injuries. All the time. You are not to be trusted," Aramis countered and the swordsman ducked his head a little at the truism. "No, Porthos must learn for himself."

Glancing back up at Aramis, Athos asked, "If I admit it, will you not have him check my ribs?"

"Admit what?" a confused Porthos asked, looking back and forth between the two musketeers.

"Sorry, Athos. But it's too late. You had your chance.'"

"Chance for what? I don't know what the hell is going on between the two of you, but I'd like to know," Porthos demanded, getting a little disturbed by this bizarre conversation.

"See, Porthos wants to learn how to check for broken ribs," Aramis said twisting the streetfighter's words again.

"That is not what he said," Athos retorted, though he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

Porthos had enough and yelled, "Stop it. Both of you. Explain what is going on here!"

The other two musketeers grew silent as they entered into a staring contest.

"Athos is ticklish," Aramis said, without breaking eye contact.

"So much for doctor-patient confidentiality," Athos groused as he frowned at Aramis.

"I distinctly recall you saying I was not your doctor."

"Semantics," Athos replied as he finally looked away from Aramis and up at Porthos. "Aramis is correct. The skin on my torso is a little…"

"… a lot…"

"…sensitive. It makes me uncomfortable to have it touched," Athos attempted to state with quiet dignity.

"What he means is he is ticklish, extremely, on his ribs." A gleam appeared in Aramis' eye. "And I bet he is ticklish in other areas too."

"You even attempt to touch…"

"…tickle…"

"…any other area and I will be forced to defend myself by whatever means necessary," Athos declared lifting his chin high.

"Is that a challenge?" Aramis asked, a wicked twinkle in his brown eyes.

"Absolutely not," Athos replied. "It was merely a statement of fact. One you have no need to act on." The look in Aramis' eyes worried him, so Athos added, "Please."

"As you are truly injured and to test out my theory, that you are ticklish in other places, at the moment would be cruel, I shall cease and desist." After a second and under his breath, he added, "For now."

Athos caught the words and frowned. He had a feeling this was the beginning of a very long and, for him, unpleasant journey.

Still grinning, Aramis reached down and picked up the rabbits and walked towards the stream. "Get dressed, while Porthos and I prepare dinner. Your jacket and pauldron are there. We brought it along with us since you forgot it."

Athos looked with awe and humility at the familiar black doublet he'd not noticed until then. "Thank you," he said softly,

Porthos glanced down at Athos, over at the retreating Aramis, and then down at Athos again. "You're really ticklish?"

With a sigh that could be heard all the way down by the stream, Athos confirmed the fact.

"Wow. Somehow someone like you, being ticklish." Porthos shook his head and then smiled. "Who'd thought." After a few seconds of thought he asked, "So, if we were fightin' hand-to-hand, I could use it against you."

With another sigh, Athos reluctantly affirmed, "Yes. I suppose so."

Porthos' grin got a little wider, then turned to a frown. "Well, we're gonna have to figure out how to stop that from being something your enemies can use against you."

"Yes, I'd only want my friends to be able to exploit it," Athos said mockingly.

"Exactly. When you're better, we'll practice until you are no longer ticklish."

"I'm not sure it works that way."

"We'll see won't we."

Reaching for his shirt, Athos muttered, "I can hardly wait."

NOTE: If you've read my works before, you know I like to throw a light interlude in now and then...right before the storm.