quatre: they will put away the sword

[untamedantinous]

There are a number of kitchens to be found in the mansion, as most people know. Enjolras is in one of them, flour speckling his flannel shirt and black jeans. There is a recipe book open on the counter near him, open to a page on baguettes. The young man in question is currently absorbed in kneading some dough: once again, something new to concentrate on. (Yes, he had known that Combeferre and Courfeyrac were only here for a day, but that does not really make it much better.) So, inspired by Laertes -- and, perhaps, the underwhelming boeuf bourguignon the mansion had provided the other day -- he is attempting a French classic. Perhaps a homemade baguette will taste better than mansion-provided food.

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[timebethine]

"I could say the same of many great thinkers; Aristotle and Marcus Aurelius likewise had their faults--" And there's the chicken again, ringing so loudly that Laertes nearly leaps out of Lucien's arms. "That cannot have been forty-five minutes."

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras jumps too, a little more startled than he would like to admit, eyes wide and lost for just a moment before he realizes that Laertes is talking. “Ah—it doesn’t seem like it was, but the chicken would not lie to us,” he says, knowing how ridiculous that sentence is and attempting to sound as grave as he can.

[timebethine]

Laertes can't help laughing at the gravity in Lucien's voice--nor can he help kissing that serious frown. "The chicken is a knave and cannot be trusted."

[untamedantinous]

“Perhaps so,” as he returns the kiss. “But my baguette calls to be divided, and then you may have me for —however long I must let it rest again.”

[timebethine]

"Tell me more of the great minds of the First Republic," Laertes urges as they head back toward the kitchen. "That will certainly pass the time while we wait."

[untamedantinous]

“Ah, well! There are many I could speak of; of course. Would you prefer to hear about the ones whose writings I gave to Claudius? Or others, unjustly killed by them?”

[timebethine]

Laertes considers the names he remembers from his brief, intense research jaunt. "Tell me of Saint-Just," he says. "He did great harm in pursuit of a perfect republic; I would know what cause he thought deserved so many of his countrymen's lives. He was younger than I am now when he died. I cannot ... I cannot imagine holding such horrific power."

[untamedantinous]

"The safety and security of his compatriots and their defense of the republic, for the most part. He was a great friend and admirer of Robespierre, and a part of the Committee of Public Safety -- they were charged with ensuring the defense of the Republic from both foreign and domestic enemies. The Committee itself likely had far too much power, it served as a provisional government for much longer than it should have."

He pauses a moment, and sighs. "I think they may have gotten so used to seeing threats and defending from them that they could not discern innocent from guilty at a certain point. Desmoulins and Robespierre and Danton were all friends, for the most part, at the beginning." While he has been speaking, they have presumably made their way back into the kitchen.

[timebethine]

"What lesson wilt thou take from this?" Laertes asks as he follows. He recognizes all too well how it shatters the bonds of love, to be ever watching for threats.

[untamedantinous]

"It does not matter so much, here, especially since -- things ended how they did, at home." (Did he plan on surviving their revolt? That's another question entirely, and one he is not willing to go into at this time.) "But --I am aware, if I let myself slip...if I go too far in pursuit of justice, I could easily become another Saint-Just." It's quiet, said mostly to the dough as he separates it into three equal pieces. He clears his throat a little. "It scares me," he adds, even quieter.

[timebethine]

Laertes lays a hand on Lucien's shoulder and squeezes. "And in thy friends, thou seest the remedy--a line thou canst not cross. A love that asks what new world justice can build, and not what enemies it can destroy."

[untamedantinous]

He glances up from the dough that he is folding over and gives Laertes a brief smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I--yes. I...they...you make me less cold. If I was not, I know it would be all too easy to fall into, ah, who I was at the barricades."

[timebethine]

"Needst not speak of it, unless thou wouldst," says Laertes gently. "I'll listen."

[untamedantinous]

He shrugs. "Claudius knows of it, you may as well, too. Grantaire does not know all of it." He finishes forming the dough into three equal sized balls and covers them, settling back against the counter. "I mentioned, I think, after we were forced to speak truths...I killed a man, for dishonoring the barricade. He had killed an innocent, so I killed him. It was very easy to distance myself from everything, in pursuit of our goals."

[timebethine]

"It sits ill with thee," Laertes guesses. "Even believing that what thou didst was just."

[untamedantinous]

"Yes. It should not have been as easy as it was. Even when it was another man, someone who could have been my brother had things gone differently -- it was still easier than I would have liked it to be."

[timebethine]

"Because it was justice? Or some other reason?"

[untamedantinous]

"Yes, because it was justice. It was what needed to be done for the republic." He sighs. "I cannot let myself be as -- literal as they were, for want of a better word. Even though it would be far easier."

[timebethine]

"What wouldst thou be?" Laertes asks. "An thou hadst thy choice, what wouldst thou be?"

[untamedantinous]

"I don't know." He scrubs a hand across his face and sighs. "Not the angel of the republic, not Grantaire's marble statue... Human?" There's half a laugh there. "I sound ridiculous, I am sorry."

[timebethine]

Laertes gathers him up in a tight hug, rising on his toes so that he can slot his chin over Enjolras's shoulder. "No--no, an thou couldst be anything in the world, I'd have thee be a man. I'd have thee know mortal joys and sorrows, and live on the scale of a man, and not a republic."

[untamedantinous]

There's another tired-sounding laugh, and he carefully wraps his own arms around Laertes, clinging just as tight. "I am trying. It is more difficult than I anticipated."

[timebethine]

"It is," Laertes admits. "But this is the work of being a man: loving, and being loved. Making bread. Dancing and laughing. Making thyself a part of the world."

[untamedantinous]

"Thank you," he says quietly, nuzzling at Laertes' cheek. "I did not mean to unburden myself so in the midst of all this...baguette mess." --Well, he hadn't meant to at all, really, but Saint-Just had come up and brought out all his insecurities. "You keep me grounded," he adds quietly. "If you had been in Paris with us, we would have been -- you, me, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, we would have been a force to be reckoned with. Even more of one than we were.'

[timebethine]

"But instead, we're here. Thou needst not be a force--and if thy friends return, thou canst be a man with them." He kisses Lucien's jaw, his cheek, the curve of his lower lip. "I would have fought beside thee, if I found myself in thy Paris three hundred years after mine own time. I would have been proud to do it. But now, I'm proud to be thy friend, and to have no more pressing duty than to learn to make baguettes with thee."