Note: Welcome to this story! It's not much, just a little exploration of families renewing and renegotiating relationships in the wake of sudden, profound change. It's set just at the beginning of Chapter 15 of Caro, and takes place over the course of three days in July. Each chapter is a separate little story, and together they form a triptych.

Enjoy it, and I'll be back at the end.

1. So Secret And So Close

The bright rays of summer sunshine made the walls of the bedchamber glow, and the merry song of the lark greeted Romeo's ears as he woke. Something warm pressed against him. He flexed his hand just a little, and was delighted to feel the soft skin of a woman's breast beneath his palm. With a little tickle of breath, the owner of the breast laughed sleepily. It was a child's light giggle, and Romeo's heart thumped to hear the voice of Juliet, the fair creature he was privileged to name his wife.

For as long as he could remember, Romeo Montague had heard tales of marital happiness. His parents, nurses and tutors had expounded upon the joys of love, and had promised that he, too, would know this wonderful state. Though he had spent much of his eighteen years waiting in increasing frustration for the fulfillment of this promise, he now refused to believe that there had ever been a time when he was not transported with the bliss of love.

Juliet stretched, providing a delicious view of her naked torso. Romeo seized the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and nuzzle between her breasts. This caused her to collapse with a giggle that quickly turned into a purr. Juliet eagerly opened her gates to Romeo, and the morning caper began.

They sported and juggled with boundless energy, until Romeo's eyes rolled back in his head, and Juliet drummed her heels wildly upon his buttocks. Spent at last, they rested in each other's arms as they regained their breath. The sun was high in the heavens by the time that they rose from the bed to dress for the day.

This seemed to Romeo to be an entirely agreeable way to start the morning, and he decided that mornings should proceed thus for the foreseeable future. He promenaded through the house with Juliet on his arm, reveling in her admiring glances at the fine ornaments that adorned the Montague family's home. They passed a sitting room where Romeo's father was perusing his morning correspondence, and Romeo straightened his spine and strutted a little. His father seemed to have gained a new respect for him since he had come to the fulfillment of his manhood, and Romeo considered that to be yet another pleasant dividend of his marriage.

Romeo and his father nodded courteously to each other, and the tour continued. The next stop was the library. Romeo did not know the extent of Juliet's interest in books, but he thought that she might like some of the comfortable, padded benches placed in cozy nooks along the walls. He pushed the door open and made a grand gesture to usher Juliet inside. As he had hoped, she smiled at the warm wood paneling and elegant furnishings.

It turned out that they were not alone in the library. Romeo's cousin Benvolio had been reading by one of the windows. He scrambled to his feet and bowed politely to Juliet. "Fair cousin," he said, "it is an honor to encounter thee this morning."

Juliet dropped an equally graceful curtsey. "The honor is mine, Benvolio." She looked delighted to have said the words, and Benvolio smiled in response.

"Good morrow, coz," Romeo said.

Benvolio glanced at him, and his smile faded, to be replaced by an expression of wary uncertainty. His eyes suddenly seemed large and liquid, and Romeo could see great rings beneath them, as though Benvolio had not found much sleep the night before. Distressed that anyone should be unhappy when he himself was so full of joy, Romeo put out his hand to his cousin. But Benvolio stepped back. He picked up his book and nodded to Juliet.

"I shall leave thee and thy new husband in peace," he said. He started to move towards the door, but Romeo reached out again and this time caught Benvolio by the arm. Benvolio's eyes flashed with momentary irritation, but he said nothing.

"Tarry a while," Romeo said. "We have not yet had the time to sit and have speech together, thou and Juliet and I."

Benvolio would not meet Romeo's eye. "I would not disturb thy time with thy new bride," he murmured. He tried to move, but Romeo held him fast.

"Wherefore dost thou avoid me?" he asked.

Benvolio looked away, but he did not deny the accusation. "I do not know thee of late," he said after a moment.

Puzzled, Romeo released his arm. Benvolio did not move, but neither did he lift his gaze from the floor. Juliet glanced at him, then at Romeo. A small frown flitted across her brow, but was quickly chased away by a look of understanding.

"Romeo," she said, her voice as sweet and calm as ever, "Thy lady mother has invited me to behold her herb garden. I believe that she wishes to instruct me in matters proper to married women."

Romeo blinked. He had heard nothing of the sort from his mother, but Juliet gave him a meaningful stare, and he decided that now was not the time to argue the point. He nodded, murmured "Of course," and kissed his wife's hand, exactly as he had seen his father do when taking leave of his mother. Juliet made a small reverence to Benvolio, and slipped out of the room.

Benvolio watched her go, his expression thoughtful. This intrigued Romeo, and an idea burst into his mind. When the door had shut behind Juliet, he turned to his cousin. "Benvolio," he said, the beginnings of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "art thou jealous?"

That got Benvolio's attention, and he turned sharply to face Romeo. "Jealous? Nay!" he said, with a snort of nervous laughter. "I am glad that thou hast found a lady love, and I do not grudge thee thy happiness."

"Then what troubles thee? Since the moment that Signior Capulet gave his blessing to our marriage, thou hast been distant. I should think that thou wouldst rejoice along with me. Thou hast gained a lovely new cousin, our quarrel with the house of Capulet will end –"

"Mercutio will recover from his wound in time," Benvolio put in.

"Ay, and Mercutio will be well." Romeo smiled. "These are all cause for joy. Wherefore wilt thou not rejoice?"

Benvolio opened his mouth, then shut it again. He dropped his gaze to the floor, and shook off Romeo's offered hand. His step was distinctly less than certain as he made his way to one of the benches and sat down heavily, gazing out at the light that filtered through the thick, wavy glass. Romeo followed, but remained standing at a small distance.

"Wilt thou not speak?" he asked. "I would make things right between us, but I know not how I have offended."

Benvolio sighed. "Beg pardon," he said. "My sleep has been troubled these past days, and I find that my mind wanders even in daylight."

"He will recover, gentle coz. Thou didst tell me so thyself."

Benvolio twisted around and glared at Romeo. "Because thou hast not yet stirred one foot to call upon him in his confinement."

The bitterness in Benvolio's voice wounded Romeo sorely, the more so because Romeo knew that he had earned it fairly. He considered trying to defend himself by pointing out that he had a new wife who needed his attention, but thought better of it. Though it was far from a lie, it was also not the entirety of the truth. Nothing had prevented him from stealing an hour or two to pay Mercutio a visit, and it was likely that his parents and even Juliet would have approved and sent him off with their blessing. But whenever the idea came into Romeo's mind, it brought a tremendous discomfort that sat in his belly and would not permit him to act upon his intentions. He knew not whence this discomfort came, only that he always found himself putting off the short walk to the ghetto.

"Wilt thou not see him?" Benvolio asked. "Perhaps he can discover what has become of the Romeo I thought I knew."

It was the second time that Benvolio had spoken thus, and Romeo began to realize that his sweet-natured, gentle cousin was, in fact, very angry at him. Somewhat warily, he sat down on the bench, a little further from Benvolio than he would otherwise have done. "I do not take thy meaning," he said, stammering a little as he spoke.

Benvolio's face twitched, and for a moment, Romeo thought he might weep. "Why didst thou deceive us?" he asked.

"Deceive you?"

"Twice in the span of but a single day. Thou didst give us the slip after we left Capulet's feast, and then again when thou didst run off to wed without a word to thy friends or kin."

Romeo could not think of an adequate response. Everything that Benvolio had said was true, though it sounded uglier than he recalled. "I thought all for the best," he offered. "Juliet willed it so."

"Hide not behind thy lady's skirts," Benvolio snapped. "Thou needst not explain thy actions. I know full well why thou didst deceive. Perhaps," he added, his voice softening a little, "I might have done the same."

Now Romeo was thoroughly confused. "Speak not in riddles!" he cried. "Either thou knowest or thou dost not know; either thou art a friend to my cause or thou art angered. Canst thou not speak plainly?" He suppressed an urge to strike Benvolio and settled for grasping handfuls of his own hair in frustration.

Benvolio leaped from his seat and pounded his clenched fist once against the wall, then leaned forward until his brow touched the wood. His shoulders trembled, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with unshed tears. "I cannot speak plainly. My mind is awhirl. I know not how to forgive thee, for I know not where the fault lies in this matter. I am angered and grieved, but perhaps I myself am the proper target, not thou at all."

He sounded so miserable that Romeo could not leave him alone. He approached Benvolio and laid a hand on his shoulder. Benvolio shivered at the touch, then sagged. Romeo put an arm around him and felt the shuddering of his body as Benvolio breathed through tears that did not quite come.

"Why didst thou not tell us?" he moaned. "Had Mercutio known that Juliet was thy wife, he would not have fought Tybalt on thy behalf."

"I would that no one had fought Tybalt at all," Romeo answered.

"I know, but that is not the issue." Benvolio took a deep breath, straightened, and pressed his fingers against his eyes. "Thou hast known Mercutio as long as I have, ever since we were babes. Surely thou canst not have forgotten how quick he is to defend those that cannot defend themselves."

"I had no need of defense," Romeo said, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.

"But Mercutio did not know that. He still does not know."

That brought Romeo up short. It had not occurred to him before, but now that Benvolio said it, he saw the logic. So much had happened since Monday, and Mercutio had been confined in the ghetto, in the house of Eliezer, the Jewish surgeon. He had witnessed none of the events of the past two days, not the Prince's inquisition, not the extraordinary visit of the Capulets to the home of the Montagues, nor the astonishment of the citizens of Verona when Romeo and Juliet had stood together with their parents on the steps of Saint Peter's church and Friar Lawrence had blazoned their marriage to the whole city.

Romeo released Benvolio and wandered a few steps away. He did not like to think of Mercutio confined in that strange-smelling house. Such thoughts inevitably brought with them the horrifying memories of Valentine's steady, monotonous weeping as he clung to Romeo and the cold shock that had flowed through him when Benvolio had uncovered the terrible wound on Mercutio's chest. And the memory of that wound brought with it an even deeper shame that Romeo could hardly bear to ponder. It was cowardice, and he knew it, but he was powerless against it.

"He should know," he offered, knowing that his words were not enough, and hoping that Benvolio would find it within himself to understand. "Mercutio should know of my marriage. I would have told him then -- perhaps I should have told him then -- but there was no proper moment, not with Tybalt there. Would he have laughed, dost thou think?"

"Tybalt?"

"Nay, Mercutio."

Behind him, Benvolio gave a soft snort of laughter. "Wherefore dost thou care? Perhaps, or perhaps not. He has laughed before, and it has not hurt thee."

"He laughed at maids who were not Juliet," Romeo said.

"Ay, and they were simple maids, not thy lady wife. What harm could his laughter have done compared to the harm that was done to him?"

"I wanted nothing to hinder our one-hour marriage."

Benvolio seized Romeo's shoulder and spun him around. "Hast thou so little faith in thy Friar after all? Or art thou such a prating natural that thou dost not comprehend the sacrament of matrimony? What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder! What harm could the laughter of a youth, thy friend, have done even to thy one-hour marriage?"

For that, Romeo had no answer. As the silence between himself and Benvolio grew more awkward, he wished that his father would sweep in and make things right, as he had done when Romeo and Benvolio had been small children quarrelling over toys. But Romeo knew the Holy Writ as well as Benvolio did, and he knew that it was also written that a married man should cleave to his wife, and not his parents. He was married now, and he would have to soothe this new quarrel on his own.

"What can I do?" he asked. "How can I make this right between us?"

Something in his voice must have conveyed his desperation, for Benvolio's expression softened. "Perhaps it is not so hard as we make it out to be," he suggested. "Wilt thou give me thy word that thou wilt not perpetrate such deception again?"

Romeo almost made a quick reply, but then held his tongue and thought for a moment. "I know not," he admitted at last. "But I will give my word that I will do all that is in my power not to deceive thee, and that I will place in thee the full measure of the trust that thou hast earned."

Benvolio nodded. "That is enough, I trow. What of Mercutio? I know that he misses thee. Wilt thou not spare an hour to see him?"

"Perhaps . . ." Romeo began, but then had to pause as the deep shame rose up inside him. "Perhaps thou may'st greet him from me when thou dost see him again."

It was not enough, and Romeo knew it. Benvolio said nothing, but disappointment radiated from him as light from the sun. Romeo looked away so that Benvolio would not see the fiery blush that he was sure was spreading over his face. But it seemed that today was a day for total honesty and the release of secrets, so Romeo took a deep breath and put voice to his shame.

"I cannot face him," he said, in a small voice. "I was at fault in his injury, for it was I who pulled him onto Tybalt's blade. He would not be in the surgeon's home were it not for me."

He did not look up, not wanting to see the hatred that he knew would fill Benvolio's eyes upon hearing that tidbit. But Benvolio merely sighed and then chuckled a little. Romeo heard weariness in that chuckle, but no malice, so he looked back and rejoiced to see Benvolio smiling a little.

"I am glad to hear thee admit that," Benvolio said. "I am reasonably certain that Mercutio will forgive thee thy trespass if thou dost ask it of him, but thou must do so thyself."

Romeo sighed, and then nodded. "I will go this afternoon, then," he said. "Should I tell Mercutio about Juliet?"

Benvolio snorted. "If thou dost not, who will? I have not told him. Juliet is thy wife, not mine. It was thy choice to wed her, and it is thy part to acknowledge thyself as her husband."

"Then I will do so. Wilt thou forgive me now?"

At that, Benvolio's smile broadened until it lit his entire face. "I think I have already forgiven thee, cousin mine," he said. "Did I not tell thee that I might have done likewise in thy position?"

Romeo nodded. "Ay. But thou didst not, while I did thus. Come, embrace me now. I would gain a wife, but not at the cost of my friends."

Benvolio stepped forward and gave Romeo a quick, firm embrace. "I am glad now," he admitted. "I can look upon thy face once more. I did not wish to lose that."

"And thou hast not. Look, I will go to Mercutio now. And thou shouldst take thy ease. Too much of worry hast thou had."

Benvolio did not argue the point, but gave a weary nod. "Ay. Much has happened, perhaps far more than thou knowest. But perhaps all will turn out for the best."

"Of course," Romeo said. "Thou and I are friends once more, and Mercutio will recover and rejoin us in time. There is no force in heaven or on earth that could tear thy friends from thy side, gentle coz."

Benvolio gave a broad smile, and embraced Romeo once more before Romeo left to set out on his errand.