Mercutio would rather have forgone breakfast with his uncle, but when the Prince of Verona requested your attendance then it was usually best to comply – even if your name were Mercutio Escalus. Sometimes, epecially if your name were Mercutio. After yesterday's little spot of drama down in the crypt (and yes, he'd have to concede Valentine's point on that one – he had been an ass and they were all fortunate events hadn't turned out worse than they did), doubtless Escalus would want to establish for himself precisely how Tybalt was taking things.
Mercutio darted a glance at the man in question who was wandering out from a remarkably brief shower clad only in a white towel, clean-shaven, and towelling off his damp hair. Tybalt made his way across to the chest of drawers as he folded the towel in his hand and threw it into the laundry hamper with a casual yet accurate underhand toss with barely a glance, then selected clothing.
"How formal is the Prince at private breakfasts?" whispered Tybalt then glanced over his shoulder at Mercutio, taking in his black jeans, scruffy trainers and dark t-shirt with a faint frown.
"Fairly casual. Don't worry, this is just breakfast, not a formal court occasion," replied Mercutio with a grin. "Just relax – whatever you wear should be fine."
Tybalt arched an eyebrow but said nothing as he selected a pair of charcoal-grey slacks and a black button-down shirt that looked to be a silk blend from the way it draped as Tybalt tugged it on. Mercutio had to hand it to the taciturn Capulet – even dressed down, he still managed to look better groomed than Mercutio on his better days. He ran a hand through his shock of ginger hair ruefully.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk then spotted a large dark green bag resting on the chair seat beside the desk.
"What's in the bag?" he asked curiously, craning his neck to peer in.
"Nothing for you," replied Tybalt, his husky rejoinder terse. Mercutio wondered if the curt tone was for the question or irritation over the way he was still unable to talk above a whisper. He knew Tybalt's throat still pained him from the way he would catch brief sight of a grimace of pain upon his face that smoothed away the moment he thought he was being observed; he never complained of discomfort, but then that was nothing new.
He pushed himself away from the desk and came up behind Tybalt as he fiddled with his buttons; Mercutio rested his chin on Tybalt's shoulders as he reached around to brush the long slender fingers out of the way. "Let me," he said quietly, glancing up at Tybalt in the mirror. Tybalt's eyes had widened in surprise briefly, but after staring at Mercutio for a moment he nodded and lowered his hands as Mercutio began to do up the shirt.
"I'm sorry about yesterday – and about early this morning," he said after the first couple of buttons. "I'll admit I got worried when we couldn't find you. I found your pill bottle on the desk – nearly empty, I was afraid -"
"That I'd taken them all?" murmured Tybalt. He shook his head. "No. I wasn't sure how long I would be gone, and pill bottles rattle too much."
"Why did you leave? It wasn't just me and Valentine, was it?" He finished fastening the last button and wrapped his arms around Tybalt, who sighed.
"Not entirely, though it was what pushed me to act. There were... certain things I needed."
Mercutio glanced to the sword that hung from the bedpost. "Your father's sword?"
Tybalt nodded. "And some other things of... personal value. I also needed to find out what my aunt is up to."
"You learned something, you said?"
Tybalt shrugged and pulled away from Mercutio; he stepped back and let him go. "Some, not as much as I'd hoped," answered Tybalt as he made his way to the bed and sat down to pull on socks and shoes. "But maybe the Prince's intelligence services will find it useful enough." Fully dressed, he rose once more and picked up the bag before heading towards the door, the cat leaping lightly down from the bed to pad along at his heels like a large fuzzy black shadow.
"Dining hall's this way," called Mercutio as he jerked his head towards the stairs; Tybalt ignored him and carried on to the door of the suite that had been given to Romeo and Juliet. He knocked and waited; the door opened as Mercutio caught up to him. Marlowe the cat darted into the room as it opened and Juliet smiled delightedly up at Tybalt.
"I brought some of your things," said Tybalt quietly as he handed her the bag. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure what I should bring – there are a few dresses, your tablet, your jewellery -"
Juliet silenced him by flinging her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the lips. Mercutio noted with interest the way Tybalt's eyes flew wide in surprise even as the hand holding the bag dropped to his side and the other hand lifted almost automatically to embrace Juliet, his eyes then fluttering closed as he bent his head down towards his cousin.
Juliet broke off the kiss and grinned up at Tybalt as he opened his eyes again.
"Silly goose," she chided him. "That you managed to bring me anything at all – Tybalt, I had no idea! You must have taken a terrible risk, but I love you for it." She gave him another quick kiss before releasing him; he silently held out the bag to her.
"Come in!" she told him as she took it. "You too, Mercutio!" she added as she spotted him. "Romeo's just shaving; he'll be ready soon." She grabbed Tybalt's hand and tugged him after her into the sitting room, and Mercutio was amused by the almost docile way Tybalt allowed himself to be led. Mercutio sauntered in after them.
Juliet pushed Tybalt down onto the settee then sat down next to him as she set the bag on the coffee table and began to go through the things he'd brought. Mercutio wandered over to stand behind the settee so he could peer over their shoulders; as Juliet pulled out the tablet with a relieved grin, Romeo strolled in from the bedroom, fiddling with the top button on his white shirt.
"Ah, Mercutio!" he greeted his friend. He paused as he took in the sight of his wife sorting excitedly through the bag, breaking off with a delighted squeal each time she discovered a much-loved treasure to fling her arms around Tybalt and kiss him.
Mercutio slung an arm around Romeo's shoulders, his lips close to the Montague youth's ear. "If it helps any, I think Tybalt is perhaps every bit as uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of your wife's affections as you are to witness them," he murmured. "Look how stiff he is."
"I would have thought him delighted – after all, he's loved her for years," replied Romeo sotto voce.
"When you've been hiding your feelings all your life, it's hard to shake the habit," answered Mercutio softly. "Besides, I'm sure he knows you're right behind him." Mercutio grinned as he raised his voice a little. "Don't you, Tybalt?"
"Hello, Romeo," Tybalt answered, his voice rough and stilted. Juliet glanced around with a happy smile.
"Oh, love, look – Tybalt managed to bring me some of my things! All my jewellery, a few of my favourite dresses – and look!" She held up a tatty old stuffed toy rabbit. "He even remembered Bunny!"
Mercutio blinked and stared at Tybalt. He'd risked taking the time to fetch not only valuable things like the jewellery and the tablet, but an old, threadbare stuffed toy?"
"You always loved him," rasped Tybalt softly. "I could hardly leave him behind. You'd had him since you were two."
"Oh cousin," she said gently as she stroked his cheek with a fond smile. "Only you would have remembered or cared."
"Nurse is still at the house. Your mother tried to dismiss her but your father is keeping her on until she decides what she wants to do."
Juliet blinked, and suddenly she started crying. "I miss her!" she whimpered.
Mercutio put a hand on Romeo's shoulder as his friend moved forward; Juliet was already reaching for Tybalt who held her gently and stroked her hair as she cried. Romeo frowned at Mercutio, who merely jerked his head back towards the bedroom.
"Mercutio, my wife is upset – don't you think I should be comforting her?" demanded Romeo as Mercutio closed the door behind them.
"No, I think you need to leave her to be comforted by the one person who knows what she's feeling and missing right now, far more than either of us do," replied Mercutio. "Your wife has basically lost everyone who raised her from a child except Tybalt. And she's the only family he has left. They're both hurting right now and I think they need each other more than they need us. Sorry, Romeo, you'll have to make do with me instead." He pressed his back against the door and smiled, though he could feel the grin slipping as Romeo sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"You're being remarkably calm and level-headed for once, Mercutio," said Romeo and gave his friend a rueful smile.
"Don't get too used to it," quipped Mercutio lightly.
Romeo sat on the edge of the bed and glanced up at Mercutio. "So. Any idea what happens next?" he asked.
"Well, Juliet gets her feeling out and soaks dear cousin Tybalt's shirt whilst he awkwardly hugs her and expects you to come bursting in any minute and finish off what you started back in the piazza over a week ago, then -"
"I mean, what happens to all of us, Mercutio? Where do we go from here? We can't stay in Verona. But I have no idea where we go, what we do – to the outside world, we're dead."
Mercutio sighed. "My uncle has some plan in mind to get us out of the city. New identities for all of us, fake papers, bank accounts, the works. We start a new life elsewhere, and he tries to pick up the pieces."
"For how long?" asked Romeo.
Mercutio shrugged. He'd never been much of a one for looking to the future. He'd always lived in the here and now; though his uncle had spoken of the plans to get them out of the city, it had never occurred to Mercutio what would come after or to consider what their lives would be like away from Verona. He'd lived all his life here; he couldn't imagine living anywhere else.
Valentine had always been the imaginative one.
He jumped as there was a knock at the door behind him. He turned and opened it to find himself staring at Tybalt.
"There's a servant at the door. It's time to go," he whispered roughly then turned away without glancing back to see if they followed.
"Mercutio," said Romeo in a low tone as Mercutio made to follow; he glanced back, curious. Romeo draped an arm around Mercutio's shoulders as he leaned in close.
"I don't pretend to understand what's going on between you two. But it confuses the hell out of me at times. Why him?"
"Well, you're a married man and Benvolio's not my type!" He patted Romeo on the arm and grinned then ducked away.
"One day you'll give me a straight answer!" laughed Romeo from behind him as they made their way back into the sitting room.
"I wouldn't hold your breath!" Mercutio answered with a laugh.
Juliet splashed some cold water on her face and then they followed the servant down towards the large dining room. Juliet took Romeo's arm with a warm smile as Tybalt and Mercutio followed behind them. Mercutio linked his arm with Tybalt's; Tybalt shot him a startled glance then frowned as he shook his arm free, not in the mood for games it seemed. But as they made their way down the sweeping curved staircase Mercutio felt Tybalt briefly stroke the back of his hand with a couple of fingers; Mercutio glanced sidelong at him and Tybalt glanced away, a faint blush stealing up his neck from the collar of his shirt and across his ears.
Mercutio managed to restrain a smirk as he turned towards Tybalt. "So I suppose you-" he began in a low voice, but got no further as a sudden violent explosion erupted across the hallway, engulfing the foot of the stairs in fire and a billowing cloud of dust and smoke.
Mercutio had a brief moment to notice that Juliet, though startled, didn't scream; he felt Tybalt's hand close over his upper arm and then Mercutio felt himself being bodily thrown back up the stairs. He stumbled and clutched at the bannister as he stared back down the stairs; Tybalt was reaching for Juliet and Romeo, dragging them back up the stairs and away from the flames licking up the bannister and devouring the carpet a stair at a time. Of the hapless servant who had been leading them downwards there was no sign.
"Run!" Tybalt managed to call hoarsely as he shoved Romeo up the stairs towards Mercutio, his free arm around Juliet's waist as he followed swiftly. Though pale, Juliet seemed calm – trusting, no doubt, that her cousin would see her to safety. Mercutio grabbed Romeo's wrist as he hesitated, and tugged him upwards as the sound of gunfire echoed around the staircase walls.
"Come on, we need to get the hell out of here!" he called.
"What's going on?" asked Romeo as he glanced back to his wife and Tybalt.
"Keep going!" Tybalt rasped.
They raced up the stairs then pressed themselves against the wall as a contingent of Royal Guards pounded down the stairs in full riot gear and armed with submachine guns. The rearmost Guardsman caught at Mercutio's arm.
"Get to safety sir!" he ordered. "The palace is under attack. The guest wing is under secure guard."
"Who is it?" asked Mercutio.
"No idea. They're not wearing colours or house devices. Go, this stairwell isn't secured yet!"
As Romeo yanked at his arm, dragging him on up the stairs, Mercutio yelled back, "What of my uncle? Is the Prince safe?"
"He's en route to the secure bunker sir! He'll send for you as soon as it's safe!"
Romeo dragged him away up the stairs, Tybalt pressing close behind with Juliet close by his side.
They sprinted down a corridor then halted as they turned the corner to find four men scattered dead upon the floor, all riddled with bullet wounds. Mercutio frowned as he stared down at the bodies.
"These aren't my uncle's men," he said slowly as he toed one body in black featureless body amour. "That's not standard Guard issue. Nor are these guns."
Tybalt crouched by another body. "I know this man," he said softly. "I have seen him in the employ of Paris, the Prince's cousin."
"He's attempting a coup?" exclaimed Romeo. Tybalt nodded as he plucked the gun from the man's lifeless hand.
"With Capulet support," he said slowly as he inspected the gun. "This came from one of my uncle's warehouses."
"From one of father's warehouses?" said Juliet in bewilderment. "I don't understand – why would there be guns in one of his warehouses?"
Tybalt hunted through the dead man's pouches and retrieved several clips for the gun, shoving them in his pockets before straightening to face his young cousin. "There are many things about your father's business you never knew, Juliet," he said quietly. "Not all of his deals were... innocent and above-board."
"Your uncle is a gun-runner?" said Mercutio slowly. Tybalt nodded briefly.
"Amongst other things. He has his fingers in several pies, some more legal than others."
"Perhaps the revelations about my... father-in-law's businesses can wait until we're somewhere quieter?" suggested Romeo.
Tybalt nodded. "We should arm ourselves in case we run into more of Paris' men," he suggested.
"Makes sense," agreed Mercutio as he relieved another dead man of his gun, Romeo doing likewise. Juliet regarded them with worried eyes.
"What about Juliet?" asked Mercutio.
"Juliet's never handled guns like these, only small sport pistols and rifles," answered Tybalt. "She's a good shot but the recoil on one of these would make them unwieldy for her." He glanced up as the sound of distant gunfire came closer. "We'd best go."
They fled along the corridor and up another flight of stairs, heading in the direction of the guest wing. As they reached the end of the corridor, they heard shouts behind them; Romeo and Mercutio turned as one to stare back down the corridor, raising their guns as a group of infiltrators appeared at the other end of the hallway.
"Tybalt, get Juliet out of here! We'll hold them off!" shouted Romeo as he raised his gun and opened fire.
"Romeo, no!" screamed Juliet; as Mercutio risked a quick glance back over his shoulder, he noted Tybalt was ignoring her protests and dragging her swiftly away from danger.
He turned to face the approaching intruders, raising his own gun and offering a silent yet fervent prayer to any gods that might be listening that they all survived this.
He squeezed the trigger and the gun bucked and roared in his hands.