"The Shadow Spreads"
When Samuel awoke, it was dark outside. Combeferre had neglected to wake him up, and, indeed, wasn't even in the room. He was quite alone. He sat up, and got out of bed, brushing out his shirt, which had become wrinkled and rather dusty.
For some reason, Combeferre's room didn't seem as safe when he wasn't in it. No lamps or candles had been lit, and it was all the sort of dusty darkness of not-quite-twilight. Samuel shivered, and pulled the rug off the bed, wrapping it about his shoulders. All of a sudden, he felt awake and older--he felt terribly old. He could feel that he wasn't Dimitri at all. It was Samuel who was old.
"Combeferre," he said sharply. He wasn't frightened, but he was tense; he knew Combeferre wasn't there, and he said his name anyway.
Looking about, he realised someone was sitting in Combeferre's chair. It wasn't Combeferre. It was someone tall and very slender, who sat with his legs crossed. It wasn't easy to tell what he looked like apart from that, because of the darkness.
"Who are you?" Samuel asked. To his surprise, he discovered he still wasn't frightened. He was annoyed.
"Samuel, you're being mad." The other person stood, and reached out a hand. "Little brother, mad." And Dimitri ruffled his brother's golden hair. "What do you think you're doing?"
Samuel frowned. "I'm doing what you wanted to do."
"I can see that. It was what *I* wanted to do, petite. It wasn't for you to do. And I wouldn't have let you anywhere near it if I had done it."
"But I wanted--!"
"I know. But I would not risk your life. You're mad to think you can do it now. You haven't grown up." Dimitri took Samuel's chin in one hand. His fingers pressed hard enough to be uncomfortable. "Do you understand? Even now, you're like a little child. It's in your face, in your eyes. You've not grown up at all. Children don't go to battle, Samuel."
"I'm eighteen, as old as you are."
"No, you're not. You never were, and you shan't be ever." Dimitri shook his head. "Now, stop this nonsense. Go home to mother and father. It's only a short distance."
"What about Courfeyrac?" Samuel thought of Courfeyrac's glowing face. "What about Feuilly?" He thought of Feuilly's black eyes. "What about Combeferre, Dimitri?" He said the last with the most worry.
"You're to tell the truth. Tell them who you are, and go home."
"I don't want to."
"Child!" said Dimitri scathingly. "You're too much of a coward to believe in the truth, and too full of pride to accept that it isn't cowardly to live." With that, he released Samuel sharply and turned away.
"Come back!" shouted Samuel, furious. "Damn it, I--"
But Dimitri was gone, and he was in the dark room alone. The feeling of old hit him again, very hard, and filled him until he thought he'd seen everything in the world for a thousand years. He felt as though he'd been part of every single person and animal and piece of land there'd ever been, and because people are hurt and animals killed and land destroyed, he felt as though he'd been wounded more times than anyone could count. At the same time, because people are joyful and animals give birth and land is beautiful, he felt as though he'd been part of all the life and happiness that had ever occurred. There was so much feeling that he felt as though he'd break and split and die from all of it.
He woke to Combeferre shaking him gently. "Samuel. Samuel."
"Combeferre?"
"Yes? Good lord, you must have been tired. You slept three hours and never showed any sign of waking."
Samuel sat up, and got out of bed. "Thank you for getting me up." He picked up his book and put his coat on.
"Are you going? You needn't. Whyever are you?"
"I need to grow up. I'll come back. Soon," he promised, and kissed Combeferre's cheek. "Au'voir."
Combeferre stared as the door closed.
When Samuel awoke, it was dark outside. Combeferre had neglected to wake him up, and, indeed, wasn't even in the room. He was quite alone. He sat up, and got out of bed, brushing out his shirt, which had become wrinkled and rather dusty.
For some reason, Combeferre's room didn't seem as safe when he wasn't in it. No lamps or candles had been lit, and it was all the sort of dusty darkness of not-quite-twilight. Samuel shivered, and pulled the rug off the bed, wrapping it about his shoulders. All of a sudden, he felt awake and older--he felt terribly old. He could feel that he wasn't Dimitri at all. It was Samuel who was old.
"Combeferre," he said sharply. He wasn't frightened, but he was tense; he knew Combeferre wasn't there, and he said his name anyway.
Looking about, he realised someone was sitting in Combeferre's chair. It wasn't Combeferre. It was someone tall and very slender, who sat with his legs crossed. It wasn't easy to tell what he looked like apart from that, because of the darkness.
"Who are you?" Samuel asked. To his surprise, he discovered he still wasn't frightened. He was annoyed.
"Samuel, you're being mad." The other person stood, and reached out a hand. "Little brother, mad." And Dimitri ruffled his brother's golden hair. "What do you think you're doing?"
Samuel frowned. "I'm doing what you wanted to do."
"I can see that. It was what *I* wanted to do, petite. It wasn't for you to do. And I wouldn't have let you anywhere near it if I had done it."
"But I wanted--!"
"I know. But I would not risk your life. You're mad to think you can do it now. You haven't grown up." Dimitri took Samuel's chin in one hand. His fingers pressed hard enough to be uncomfortable. "Do you understand? Even now, you're like a little child. It's in your face, in your eyes. You've not grown up at all. Children don't go to battle, Samuel."
"I'm eighteen, as old as you are."
"No, you're not. You never were, and you shan't be ever." Dimitri shook his head. "Now, stop this nonsense. Go home to mother and father. It's only a short distance."
"What about Courfeyrac?" Samuel thought of Courfeyrac's glowing face. "What about Feuilly?" He thought of Feuilly's black eyes. "What about Combeferre, Dimitri?" He said the last with the most worry.
"You're to tell the truth. Tell them who you are, and go home."
"I don't want to."
"Child!" said Dimitri scathingly. "You're too much of a coward to believe in the truth, and too full of pride to accept that it isn't cowardly to live." With that, he released Samuel sharply and turned away.
"Come back!" shouted Samuel, furious. "Damn it, I--"
But Dimitri was gone, and he was in the dark room alone. The feeling of old hit him again, very hard, and filled him until he thought he'd seen everything in the world for a thousand years. He felt as though he'd been part of every single person and animal and piece of land there'd ever been, and because people are hurt and animals killed and land destroyed, he felt as though he'd been wounded more times than anyone could count. At the same time, because people are joyful and animals give birth and land is beautiful, he felt as though he'd been part of all the life and happiness that had ever occurred. There was so much feeling that he felt as though he'd break and split and die from all of it.
He woke to Combeferre shaking him gently. "Samuel. Samuel."
"Combeferre?"
"Yes? Good lord, you must have been tired. You slept three hours and never showed any sign of waking."
Samuel sat up, and got out of bed. "Thank you for getting me up." He picked up his book and put his coat on.
"Are you going? You needn't. Whyever are you?"
"I need to grow up. I'll come back. Soon," he promised, and kissed Combeferre's cheek. "Au'voir."
Combeferre stared as the door closed.