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CHARACTERS: Combeferre, Jehan.
LOCATION: Combeferre's room ~~of horrors~~
WARNINGS: 200 year old spoilers. Some mention of death. Mostly going to be harmless, though!
SUMMARY: Combeferre offered to be a sounding board, and is being taken up on the offer.
NOTES: ITT: The future is hard.

[As he had made a habit, since his return, of paying Combeferre visits now and again; mostly for the benefit of picking up the novels he had offered, and occasionally on a call for discussing them; his absence would not be much minded in his room. It had become a less sensitive topic as days wore on, but as he didn't want to expressly trouble or unnerve anyone, he limited any forays onto the ship to the kitchens, and to Bahorel or Combeferre's rooms.

But, with the jump coming up no doubt soon, and an itching for the garden just under his skin and burning, Jehan made the decision to... move forward. There was something he did not want to do, but still ought to, if he was to trust himself to wandering again. And only one man had offered to be of assistance with that.

Not that he minded that it would be Combeferre. Quite the opposite; he found himself comfortable in his company, and it was easier to talk to him than most, after the man's own 'incident'.

Therefore, with an uncomfortable air that he tried to contain, and his mind set on doing this before it did itself in, he picked up a hand and knocked on his door.]

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'Ours' includes 'yours', do not pale from it.

[Jehan insisted. And perhaps he was more resolute in his language now, as language was a powerful thing. He rooted for Combeferre, even if he could predict no outcome. As it was, he stood by what he had already said: that in having what he had of Enjolras, Combeferre had more than any other man.

When the hand clasped over his own, he gave it a gentle, warm squeeze and nodded at his words. He was not ashamed of his feelings, or of debating them publicly, only of putting a burden on a friend who had enough of his own, or worse, troubling him. This he had not wanted to do, but everyone had their limits. Being lost for a week had pushed Jehan well beyond those limits, and he could not help the inward collapse.]

Thank you. Your kindness in this has been indispensable. I do feel a bit better, and I will mull your words carefully, and remember them, should the density of it all become too great again.

[He was grateful, too, for the element of deeper friendship. He'd always thought them all quite close, but he knew he was on the periphery of that closeness. That was nothing to a writer, nothing to someone who liked to wander, and think, and fill themselves with feelings of a million different natures and times, who had a home to return to in the South, and some little family, and who was in love with a pretty someone they barely spoke, with and who had nearer friends in Paris, such as Bahorel. But on board this ship? With only dour thoughts, and nowhere to go? Shakily and secretly in love, far from home, with only the very best of friends all together? That might have made him feel left out in a way he would not have blamed any of them for-- but he hadn't. Those deeper friendships, and indeed, that affair (though no longer 'shaky', it would seem) cemented that he could not. They had been very good to him, he felt.

Though as Combeferre continued to be more directly good to him now; naming off traits he felt were admirable; Jehan sank into his shirt collar, turned a violent shade of pink by degrees, and wished he could evaporate into his coat.

Panic alone kept him quite alert! For he was afraid, now, that perhaps he had made it sound as if he were fishing after compliments? Practically groaning, he shook his head.]

That-- you really think too much of me. I am no more intelligent than you, no more kind than he, understand no better than our elder, Bahorel. I am not nearly as good-looking as Enjolras, and I thank you for your advice regarding mirrors, but I do not need the daily reminder of how I look; I think I can recall it, and I have eyes to see my clothes with before I put them on.

[Managed to tease in return, but his voice was small; sheepish and nervous. It had lost the lilt to it of when he spoke on a subject he knew well; and tragedy was that; and took on the guise it wore in any other matter.

Especially clandestine romances that involved himself.]

...I cannot say you are altogether incorrect, though. I do fail to see where I could be more tempting than any other, far better suitor of any other time. Again, I know that he does-- [here, once more, he smoothed out the paper, pausing to give it a brief, affectionate stare.] --love me. But I am concerned, I suppose, that he sells himself short, or too quickly, because of what we know of our death, and the impermanence of this ship. I worry because I love him, and so much that you cannot imagine Michel. [Which, of course, Michel probably could, but Jehan had once again hit a subject he knew and had gathered speed and energy in his rambling.] I worry because the thought of sharing him, or losing him, or even-- I admit with utmost embarrassment-- insisting he stay the night in yours, or Enjolras' rooms again fills me with a pain so acute that if he knew it, I think he'd assume I was mad. But I am a poor liar, and he will know it. ...Do you truly think he-- we-- are making a wise choice?

[Jehan trusted feelings on the whole. But he felt that if wisdom gave emotion its blessing, he would no longer need to worry.]

Would he mind it though, do you suppose, if I were to say to that to his face. I can, after all, hardly own Enjolras, though yes, in those most important ways, I suppose that he already IS mine, truly as much as he could belong to anyone.

[That was comforting, and comfortable enough, truly, and then Jehan was squeezing his hand, and he was returning the smile.] Please do think on them, yes. I do not know if they will do any good in the long run, but...they are based more on what I know.

[They had been good to Jehan? Ah but who, in his turn had been good to them, especially to Combeferre when he'd had need of it? Which of them was he closest to here these days besides Enjolras? The answer was too easy. It was only natural that they be good to Jehan in return, now wasn't it?]

[He had to laugh, somewhat amused, as Jehan started turning colors there. And here he had been so careful to avoid overly flattering him too.]

I do not think too much of you at all. I only tell the truth. You are kind, intelligent, and while Bahorel knows things too, you combine all of those into something different, something that is altogether you. As for whether you are tempting...

I do not think that Courfeyrac is selling himself short in choosing you. I think that he is growing up here, realizing the things that matter to him. They would matter had they happened here, or had they happened at home. If those things that he sees in you now that he's had the chance are among what he values...it only makes sense he values, and loves you. So many things would have changed, had we lived as well as died. It's often in those moments, isn't it, when Hell is at the door that we come to know both what we want, and what we are. He is something of a new person here. We all are. We were baptised in blood before we left that world, and started here anew. That applies to both you and him and I see nothing foolish about being a part of this, understanding that things have changed and are not truly bad.

I know that none of us can say how things will go, but yes, the two of you are a wise choice to me. Good for each other even, if you'll let yourselves be. You understand the most important things already in each other. I think the rest of it, the trust that you are the right one for him...it's also going to come in time. But you are going to need to be open to that. Are you?

Well, I might not advise to walk directly to him and say, 'Ah! But you are our angel, and my angel, and I own you.'

[There was a mischief in his eyes, just briefly, as he glanced up at Combeferre.]

But to say to a friend that he is all of ours, because he has imbued us with his spirit, and that that includes you? Why, you may make him blush even, but I doubt such a truth would bring him anything but pleasure. Surely, every friend and-- I should say even-- every man or angel desires positive recognition from those they love. Ownership? Indeed not. Perhaps you took that idea from the same place you fathomed the one about leashing people?

[Here, he arched a brow at him: evidence that they had been spending too much time together, of late. He nearly had the look down.

On the matter of Courfeyrac again, he made great sense, and by the end of it, Jehan looked some combination of affronted and desperate, as if he was not sure if he'd been insulted or found out. That was to say... on the one hand, he wanted to rebel entirely, with his whole soul, against the idea that he might not think them a lasting or true fit. He believed very strongly in love, and was known to become infatuated in his quiet ways, and stuck to that infatuation with a loyalty that was almost, at times, a bit pathetic. Granted, besides a few young romances parted by distance, such infatuations were one-sided. In Paris, mess that it was, they were carried on in the usual manner that poets preferred: glances, that sustained muses of feelings, that sustained emotional connection, that sustained writing. But truth be told... truth be told, perhaps he was not so different than Courfeyrac. He was very young, and had never fully enlisted in a real, lasting romance either. He wrote about it, and read extensively about it, and by his very nature in the art of it supposedly pined after it. But that was just the thing... the act of pining, one might say, was to Jehan as love-making was to Courfeyrac; addictive, normative, and almost expected of him.

Maybe he had also doubted his ability to go beyond that.

But after a moment's faltering, he suddenly looked very stalwart; almost violently so.]

Absolutely. Absolutely, I do think so, because-- because I do not care if it is immodest, but I think he is very happy, very at ease when he is with me and that brings me unspeakable joy. I know that I am at my gladdest when I am with him, and while I will spare you any limericks on the matter, I daresay that we have all grown, and are fresh, and new, and becoming something else. And whatever he has become, I adore it, and so I must trust that it I will not ruin it, because I too much enjoy the way he sighs over my terrible clothes, and gets crumbs on the sheets, and laughs like music at a tempo too fast.

[SO THERE.]

[Combeferre tried not to meet his eyes at that because he knew that he would snicker if he did, but well, losing battles, and all of that. He glanced at Jehan, and then did catch himself laughing, just a little.]

I suppose that you ARE right. Not so much the owning bit perhaps, but telling him those other things? It would be well worth it so he knows, perhaps. I think that Enjolras often sells himself short too, so for that reason alone. As for the leashes? Enjolras is not the one who strayed, now is he?

[~~Oh in a few weeks time, this part of the conversation will be incredibly amusing. To some of them.~~ Watching Jehan's face through this was interesting. He would have asked what the poet was thinking, but, well, it felt a bit rude to intrude that way. He could guess at least, and then, when it seemed settled, he smiled at the poet's face. There he was. Intrepid.]

I think that he is very happy too. I...have seen Courfeyrac laugh, and smile, as you say but it is deeper now. The emotions ring...truer I think? If I were going to guess at it that's what I'd say. And you two clearly are, whatever you've become, in love and love the people you're becoming as well as who you already were.

I think it may be because of that. That I have often been a bit...intrusive in your romantic endeavors since we arrived. It's good to watch and see that.

And THAT is why you dress yourself as you do. At last! The truth!

Edited 2013-09-03 00:46 (UTC)

He does sell himself short, I have wont to have noticed. Or, rather-- he does not sell himself at all, for he sees the values in ideas and the worth of change and entirely forgets to value himself, in the process. It is not so much that he looks at himself and cringes and sets the bar low, as Grantaire does, but that he does not look at all, too busy otherwise.

[At least, this is Jehan's impression. As for leashes;]

Ah! So you only put to the collar those who stray? How like a scientist. All minds that wander must be shackled to a single concept, for protection.

[Teased, trying not to smile at his edges; and failing helplessly.

Though yes, there it was. Intrepid indeed.]

You speak it so well, you must truly have taken notice of us. And I am grateful of it, and for your opinion as his dear friend who knows him, and as mine who would council me. When you are so absolutely consumed; as I must admit I am; by warm feelings, your fretting becomes deeper when you fret, and your joy becomes larger when you're cheerful, and everything is distorted by these measures. I feared a distortion. But gratefully, it seems there is none. Then, it is so; we are very much in love with one another.

[He took a breath, and his smile came a little easier than it had in... well, weeks maybe.

Until he coloured and shrugged his shoulders up at the comment on how he dressed.]

What-? No. That is not why I dress like this, I simply-- I simply do dress like this, for... for no other reason. [But the way he stammered, a little worse than usual, and the particularly violent shade of pink on his cheeks might say otherwise.] What is so wrong with it? No, no; pray, upon second thought, don't answer. All of you, such experts on fashions... I am hopeless, and cannot keep up.

[At least Albert thought well of how he dressed.

And really now. Was it such sinister logic, to dress a little more badly than usual, if it meant a bit of tucking and primping and general occasions for public contact that would seem natural to Courfeyrac's personality? He had not expected anyone to notice, thank you!]

[Comebeferre is nodding at that part,certainly.] You put that well. He does not often notice himself, not for others, I do not think. Too busy for that indeed when there are others about, I would think.

Indeed. Though minds may wander as they like, but bodies may find danger when they do such a thing. It is meant for protection more than anything else, truly, I should think. [Somehow, he is managing not to laugh too much at this. ]

Indeed, I truly HAVE taken notice of this and am glad to do both things. That excess of feeling does you credit,overwhelming though it must be. But I am glad for both of you there is no distortion. You, both of you, deserve to find happiness. That you have it with each other is amazing, and you already share so much. That IS quite worthwhile.

You simply do dress like it. [Combeferre can't help but smirk a little there.] I suppose it still gives you an advantage when it comes to Courfeyrac though, which is smart. A plot worthy of him, I should say. There IS that at least.

Minds wandering can be much more dangerous than bodies wandering; hence the battle for control of minds has led to the death of bodies in many wars over the years.

[He reminded, almost a bit imperiously, plucky from the current topics at hand. It revived him from the previous depth of his pain well, if not entirely; rousing, though not curative.]

We might all be accused of an excess of feeling... but I suppose I never have seen anything wrong with it, or that it lessens anyone's manliness, or fortitude, to be in such a way. Thank you, then. I place my faith in such things with your blessing.

Ah! You say that, but you grin at me cruelly. [He shifted, embarrassed.] ...Is there any harm in such a 'plot', if I admit that some of the carelessness is played up for just that reason? Terrible, that you would call it what it is and fluster me like this...

[And he is flustered. No one is surprised.]

So it has. And that continues to be the trend, I fear. Another thing that is a universal that I would have wished to see changed for the future, perhaps, but...it is hardly surprising as that.

[His radiation obsession does come to mind here, but he's not going to bring that up for the moment, thank you. He has no wish to disturb Jehan in such a way again. The ramifications of how the threat was used though...Very real psychological wars were fought over the issue even though the actual end of the world never came. It's an interesting tactic.]

No, no it does not lessen anything the way you put it. Strengthens it perhaps, instead. Why else does one press on against the odds if they are not granted that strength by something? I think your faith well placed indeed.

I grin in amusement perhaps, but surely not to be cruel to you. I do not see much harm at all. I think it quite cleverly done in fact, if it works. And... [He's already ducking a little, before he says what he is thinking next.] Really, who among us would note the difference?

Of course I fluster. That is my TASK in this. Self appointed, though it may be, I do take it quite seriously.

Men call themselves progressive because they easily forget the past, and ridicule it when they think to remember it. One wonders if men ever think, in their time, of being obsolete in the future and being told that their strides were backwards, and barbaric and hilarious. It is a folly of men, I think, that they forge ahead without looking back. That folly has not quieted yet,.

[He agreed... well, a little more floridly. (He never can quite seem to spare anyone the trouble of lecturing on the lessons of the past, and this setting's snobbery against it only put him more up in arms about it; being now from 'the past' himself, and not only in his sentiments.)

He is thankful, though he does not know it, that Combeferre does not bring up radiation warfare again. How his heart could not bear it, just now.

As to the other topic...]

You have noticed. [Reminded, ducking too, well into his collar, but more from sheepishness; clearing his throat and speaking more lightly.] Tormenter, who likes so well to observe and take note of all things, from butterfly wings to mechanics, yeast cultures to electric; who would take something as darling as that and put on the cap of science and not philosophy!

[Teased back; well, it was a bit true though, really...; under his breath.

Snorting softly, he reached out (he was still not too far) and gave him a playful, light swat.]

Is it the task of a scientist, to observe as if we are animals in a zoo? Or the task of a brother, to observe simply to make sure we blush? I did not know I had one, if that is the case; I submit my horror at either conclusion.

Have we done such ourselves, at home, do you think? Joly and I more than the rest of you perhaps.

[Combeferre can recall a few conversations of medicine where this has come up at any rate, and now, being a part of somewhere that has been skipped over almost completely in terms of what others will remember, it's given him cause to contemplate his own behavior of the past.]

I do regret that now, in newer ways than I had before. We focus so much on the present, and the future that we still discount so much. An instinct, for me, but not one which I approve of in myself. Remember the lessons of history and philosophy. I often forget to do that much. It's one thing I've come to learn here, I suppose. And something I must rectify.

[He will work on that, at any rate. It's not as though there is a lack of information or material that he's been presented with in the media libraries after all. And the other topic is, of course, better.]

I HAVE noticed. [And at this point, his spectacles are slipping down his nose, and he is laughing at the swat.] But I notice nearly everything as you point out. Who says that love cannot be both things as long as it is not reduced to merely science? Hmm?

As to my SPECIFIC task...it depends on the day, really. As to yours...let us consider what that may be, actually.

I would not accuse, no. I would not call a want for progress a snub of things past.

[...Though yes. If they had, and if Jehan were willing to say it, perhaps Combeferre and Joly the most, out of necessity. Not out of cruelty or ignorance, as was much more common; alas.]

More... I would say that thinking men progresses in anything, beyond thought and means, is a bit arrogant. We will always want for the same things, and be, fundamentally the same. As we are always born anew, it is only through remembering the knowledge of the years before we were even a concept of fate that we do not start anew, I believe.

You do yourself a disservice, to; for I have known you to be a philosopher, and have respected that in you very much. Should you see some error in your manner of thinking, only you are at liberty to decide it is an error, and I have every faith that you of all men will seek to be without error-- you are good like that.

[And he meant that. Of the many men he'd call good; and really, Jehan's opinion wasn't that difficult to come by... but his deeper sentiments, he hoped, were; Combeferre was really among the best. He was measured, and kind, and thought very much before acting, and then acted in the interest of all parties... what other definition of 'good' could there be?

But Jehan does roll his eyes a little, at love being a science.]

I thank you to take your surgeon's fingers, gloved and poised with the scalpel, away from the cheery, springtime concept of love; who must fly like a nymph on the wind away from every attempt to grasp it, or to understand it. It's effrontery, to think that it can be observed, and logic applied to it, and noted. It will laugh, and call you quite silly, and change its form to thwart you.

[He promised.]

My specific task? Why, what would you consider that to be? I cannot think I have much use at all, beyond talking a lot.

That does have a measure of sense. I think we often do take the past for granted, particularly as we pursue new things here. I think that is not uncommon here either, if it comes to that.

[Combeferre considers those in engineering, those who he has been learning from, and well. At times he would say there is a pursuit of progress, much like his own, that leaves him dizzy, even so. And he is smiling at Jehan's next words.]

Ah but at times one needs a friend to point it out all the same in order for it to be noticed. Still, yes of course. I must consider it more carefully, I think, before I come to a conclusion as to the errors in my thinking, if they exist. But that I am able to do so, and to recognize the flaws in myself, well. I do not know if I am so good as you seem to think, Jehan, but you flatter me, and give me hope I may continue in the path.

And as for love...

[He does think, to some degree that it is something one can observe perhaps, that there is a sort of law to it, or well...]

Perhaps it is our reaction to love then, that can be measured, rather than the quality itself. I mislabel, I think, and treat the way I view it as a general approach, as though it were an appendix or rupture I could repair or analyze. You are too right about that and that I am sometimes too scientific for my own good.

As for your task? You are the burst of air that sustains us all, and reminds us that good triumphs and has a greater strength than we can say. You are the representative of that. Directly. And you have very much use in that.

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