Work Text:
“You should be careful.”
The words of Antoine de St. Just cut Camille Desmoulins like a jagged blade across the chest. He never trusted that man. After Camille’s fifth number of Le Vieux Cordelier was published which criticized the Jacobin party and their efforts his life in the Jacobin Club was finished.
He took comfort in Georges Danton’s company and he felt now more than ever he needed a reliable friend. Georges had come to see Camille who was distraught after the Committee of Public Safety, headed by St. Just, had come to arrest Renault who had made the most recent publication. Camille knew there was no saving his dear friend.
Georges embraced his crying companion and walked him back home to his wife, Lucile. The two of them fed Camille bread and the finest wine available.
“The more you say that this is your fault the more others will believe it.” Georges told him, placing his hand on Camille’s shoulder. The poor revolutionary had been sobbing for hours and had just now stopped dabbing his nose and eyes with his handkerchief.
“I know you blame yourself for what happened to Renault,” Georges continued. “But he knew the risks that all of us are taking. And the people of France are finally starting to see the light thanks to your writings in Le Vieux Cordelier . Who else could attack the Jacobins so swiftly? It had to be you!”
“I saw the fire in his eyes.” Camille said as if recalling a memory. “When he arrested Renault St. Just had no sympathy in his cold eyes. They just burned with a sort of rapture at watching everyone at his feet fall before him. I am afraid of that man, Georges.”
Camille clutched onto Georges’ lapels and slowly rested his head against his chest. Lucile cleared her throat and excused herself to make some tea, which Georges had heard before. It was the same excuse she always used to give them some privacy.
Georges stroked Camille’s soft curly brown hair and said in a low murmur, “I won’t let him hurt you. Soon we will bring down the Jacobin Club and the Reign of Terror will be over."
“I wish I had your confidence.” Camille breathed into his shirt. “I only feel brave through my publications.”
Georges gently lifted his friend’s chin so he was looking up at him and said, “Camille Desmoulins, you are the bravest man I know.”
Georges’ lips met Camille’s in a silent kiss and heaven seemed closer with every second it lasted. Camille relaxed into the kiss as Georges held him close. His fears of St. Just were behind him as he focused solely on the steady pulse of their hearts.