It is all right for you to have felt that way; there is no shame in a feeling, and even less in being critical of one's own actions.
[He reassured. Though he was out of sorts himself, though he was almost breathless with this flurried release of everything that had been plaguing his mind, it would have felt boldly wrong and hollow-hearted not to provide any comfort in return. Not to put his chips in with his friend's, to play against the odds of which he spoke. Of which they both spoke.
Questioning their methods was no form of treason. They were a group built on questions. Questions propelled and changed the direction of progress, after all.
But of wanting to be released from life and battle early? This he would not blame Combeferre for, as he had done this himself. But...
But he could not help chastising him, all the same. Reminding him, at least. Squeezing Combeferre's hand in return, he argued,]
Foolish man. Brave, and true as any I could know, and absolutely to be looked upon in awe; of your loyalty, and your sentimentality, and your valour. But says the foolish man: 'what would I have given to save you?' Says the foolish man, who is a doctor, 'what wold I have given to save them all, even my enemy, who was after all, really my brother?' He says all this, and sees visions of the wounded he left untended, and feels innumerable guilt for deaths he could not prevent... and not once thinks of his own.
[Jehan couldn't bare to scold him quite, as that would be hypocritical. What was more, he truly believed in the value of what Combeferre had done at the barricade; in his noble allegiance to Enjolras' ideals as much as his person.
But at heart, were they two not the most pacifistic of the group? Willing to pick up a gun, to fight, to die, yes; but in doing so, they both had managed to betray a fundamental moral of theirs, he felt. They had both managed to fight stupidly; to break their own rules for a better tomorrow that during the battle they decided they would not see.
Looking up, he took another deep breath, and put it plainly:]
Before Bahorel was run through and died, we watched both you and Enjolras fall first. For he fell when he shot the traitor, and pledged not to leave the site alive. And you fell with him, when you agreed to share his fate. A doctor who would save everyone but himself? The gallantry touches me beyond words; and yet to hear it breaks apart all hope.
[He had been troubled by that, and then by the shock of Bahorel's death. Grimacing and closing his eyes, he shook his head.]
I was as foolish as you. You say I was taken, and you should have liked to trade for me; no. I went. I went on my own, I know not by what madness but those deaths, and I knew without doubt that I would die for doing it. As I did it, I must have known. I did not know how I would die, though. That they would spare more bullets for me than you had left for your own muskets, or that I would not be able to even see the world as I left it; and there was the terror. I hate it, it chills me still. It was not a soldier's death, but then perhaps I did not deserve one.
I don't know if I can ever bring myself to be less upset at us. That you and Enjolras promised to die uselessly, and that I did. We are all of us fools; but at least you wear it charmingly.
no subject
[He reassured. Though he was out of sorts himself, though he was almost breathless with this flurried release of everything that had been plaguing his mind, it would have felt boldly wrong and hollow-hearted not to provide any comfort in return. Not to put his chips in with his friend's, to play against the odds of which he spoke. Of which they both spoke.
Questioning their methods was no form of treason. They were a group built on questions. Questions propelled and changed the direction of progress, after all.
But of wanting to be released from life and battle early? This he would not blame Combeferre for, as he had done this himself. But...
But he could not help chastising him, all the same. Reminding him, at least. Squeezing Combeferre's hand in return, he argued,]
Foolish man. Brave, and true as any I could know, and absolutely to be looked upon in awe; of your loyalty, and your sentimentality, and your valour. But says the foolish man: 'what would I have given to save you?' Says the foolish man, who is a doctor, 'what wold I have given to save them all, even my enemy, who was after all, really my brother?' He says all this, and sees visions of the wounded he left untended, and feels innumerable guilt for deaths he could not prevent... and not once thinks of his own.
[Jehan couldn't bare to scold him quite, as that would be hypocritical. What was more, he truly believed in the value of what Combeferre had done at the barricade; in his noble allegiance to Enjolras' ideals as much as his person.
But at heart, were they two not the most pacifistic of the group? Willing to pick up a gun, to fight, to die, yes; but in doing so, they both had managed to betray a fundamental moral of theirs, he felt. They had both managed to fight stupidly; to break their own rules for a better tomorrow that during the battle they decided they would not see.
Looking up, he took another deep breath, and put it plainly:]
Before Bahorel was run through and died, we watched both you and Enjolras fall first. For he fell when he shot the traitor, and pledged not to leave the site alive. And you fell with him, when you agreed to share his fate. A doctor who would save everyone but himself? The gallantry touches me beyond words; and yet to hear it breaks apart all hope.
[He had been troubled by that, and then by the shock of Bahorel's death. Grimacing and closing his eyes, he shook his head.]
I was as foolish as you. You say I was taken, and you should have liked to trade for me; no. I went. I went on my own, I know not by what madness but those deaths, and I knew without doubt that I would die for doing it. As I did it, I must have known. I did not know how I would die, though. That they would spare more bullets for me than you had left for your own muskets, or that I would not be able to even see the world as I left it; and there was the terror. I hate it, it chills me still. It was not a soldier's death, but then perhaps I did not deserve one.
I don't know if I can ever bring myself to be less upset at us. That you and Enjolras promised to die uselessly, and that I did. We are all of us fools; but at least you wear it charmingly.