Jasminta Blossom- Thanks! ;-D Thanks for your suggestion, too!
ComedyMonarchy- You're absolutely right! ;-D
Guest- Thanks, I'll note that song down. :-)
So sorry for the long wait! I have a lot to write in the next chapters, so I'm giving myself space between each one! I hope this makes up for the long wait! Over a month! Jesus...
This is for Henry V and his victory at the Battle of Agincourt 599 years ago. Rock on, Hal! Rock on!
It was thundering it down. Romeo and Benvolio ran through the empty streets, slipping and sliding towards the ground constantly as the wet tiles caught them off balance. Cars drove past through puddles, soaking them even more, but the duo barely noticed, so desperate to find their distraught and irrational friend that they took no notice of their similarly frustrated surroundings. Benvolio caught his cousin's arm as he slipped over again, staring into his wide and frantic brown eyes.
"Where could he have gone?!" Romeo yelled over the harshness of the storm as the cold, bitter wind sent spears of equally freezing rain into his face. His hair was a mess- as was Benvolio's- and it flew about all over the place, as well as plastering itself in front of his eyes so that he could barely see. Romeo pulled himself up, only to slip and fall again.
"Come on!" Benvolio roared over the howling of the wind and the rain. "We should look down there!" He pointed to a street which led to a small pathway which, in turn, led into the woodlands that covered the area around the backstreet near the hostel that they were staying in. "Mercutio may have gone back to where we ran the other day when George disappeared!"
Romeo nodded, determinedly, and climbed back onto his feet. He steadied himself and the two hurried along down the street that led to the woodlands, but hopefully, to where Mercutio had gone.
Maybe, they'd find George too...
Hyde looked out of the window at the storm that raged outside. Through his green, vivid and impeccable eyes, Hyde could sense the tension that plagued nature- and also George- so well.
"Pathetic fallacy…" he thought to himself. "Nature feels what you are feeling and shows it."
It was certainly showing his mood tonight.
He turned to see George sat on the bed, facing him and watching him with a serious expression in his brown-eyed face.
"Thunderstorms are common over here," he explained. He turned back to look outside. "I'm used to them. He isn't."
That's all Lennie was referred to as, nowadays. He.
George nodded, not really hearing what he was saying, and stood up. Hyde turned and held out a hand, his expression strangely soft and comforting for once.
"Come here," he whispered. Then, "I won't bite."
George raised an eyebrow. "What's the catch?" he snapped.
Hyde lowered his hand, hurt showing in his extra-terrestrial like eyes.
"No catch," he hummed. "I just thought that you'd be scared, that's all."
"I'm not a child," George protested, "so stop treating me like one."
"I'm only doing to you what you do to him," Hyde snapped back. "Sorry, I won't be nice to you anymore, then."
He turned away and looked out of the window again. George immediately felt guilty and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry."
Hyde turned and glanced down at him from his superior height. He nodded. "Apology accepted."
George turned away to suddenly find himself being pulled into a tight hug. He protested, but eventually he hugged him back, albeit reluctantly.
Hyde rested his chin on top of George's head and let out a contented sigh.
"You are so much more than what you perceive yourself to be," he suddenly said.
"How so?" George replied, trembling with fear.
"You created me," Hyde replied, "and now you're stuck with me. That takes guts, George. Fucking guts."
George couldn't help but laugh. "So I have two kids to look after now, do I?"
"No," Hyde replied. "I can look after myself."
"But I have to look after Lennie," George replied, "which means that I have to keep an eye on you, too."
"I can look after myself," Hyde repeated.
"I know you can."
"But I have to keep an eye on you too, George. Unfortunate for me, but fortunate for you, you are too dear to me to lose. I hate you with a passion, because you've cursed me with this life due to what you did to him, yet I love you in my own way. In ways, you're like a father, but in others, you're…"
"What?" George asked, not wanting to know what the answer would be.
"You know what I mean," Hyde replied, deliberately biting down on the smaller teen's ear to make his point clear. "You know what I mean."
George flinched from the bite. "I thought you said that you don't bite?"
"Not in the violent way…" was Hyde's smirk, flirtatious and utterly seductive and suggestive reply.
"Creep," George chuckled, feeling his eyelids droop from lack of sleep. Hyde noticed and smiled, running a hand through his hair fondly. "Tired?" he whispered. George shook his head, but was caught out by a yawn that clearly showed that he was. Hyde laughed and pressed his chin against the smaller teen's head. "You are delightful…" he purred, running his hands through George's hair again. "Too perfect."
A frown then shadowed his already tense features. "Do you think that we could…?"
But he looked down to find George's head drooped down, pressed against his chest in sleep. Hyde sighed, ran a hand over his own face and growled. He looked towards the window to see the storm still pounding the glass with a determination to get inside. It was a miracle how the weather reflected his mood- it really was.
He looked down at the sleeping teen, who now pretty much slumped against him in his embrace, and Hyde simply tightened the embrace, trying to calm himself down.
But he knew that that was near to impossible these days. He could feel the call to fall asleep again. To let Lennie awake and be free for a while, but he tried hard to fight it off. He did not want to sit in that chair again; never in a million years did he want to sit in that chair again.
He would change when his body would eventually force himself to, but he knew that the longer he held it off, the more painful it would be. The blue-eyed armoured man had decreed it to be so, unfortunately.
Oh, how he hated that man!
Hal was sitting in the crèche area with the rest of the Gang, Kate leaning against his shoulder as she slept beside him with his arm draped around her protectively, when there was a loud bang from outside. Thor peered out and shook his head.
"How is it?" Hal called from where he was sat near a pool table. Thor turned to look at him. "It's not dying down," he said. "The others should hurry before they die of hyperthermia out there."
"Who's out there?" Hal frowned, wondering whom in their right mind would be out there at this time of night and in this weather.
Thor opened his mouth to answer, but never got to. The girls stormed in, Hermia in front, and she did not look happy
She came and stood in front of Hal, furious venom in her dangerous green eyes. Hal opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him to it.
"What did you do?! What did you say to him?!" she hissed, her looks so pissed that they could kill on the spot.
Hal's brow rose in confusion. "Wha?" he gasped, sitting up, clearly puzzled.
"You heard me! What did you say to Mercutio?!" she all but screamed.
"I-what?" Hal shook his head. "I didn't-"
"Yes, you did!" Hermia shook her head, rage clearly evident all over her face. "You said something to him, and now Mercutio's ran away!"
Ned sat up. "What?!"
Hermia turned to him and nodded frantically. "It's true! Because of HIM." And she turned to glare at the confused monarch again.
By now, Kate was awake, and stared at her husband in confusion. "What does she mean, Henri?"
Hal shook his head in horror. "I don't know!"
"Yes, you do!" Hermia shot back. "You know damn well what you did!"
"No, I don't!" Hal protested back. He was stood up now, his impressive 6'4 frame glowering eerily over her. But if this intimidated the Italian girl, she certainly did not show it. Instead, she stood up on her tiptoes to glare up fiercely into her friend's face.
"I. Do. Not. Know. What. You. Are. Talking. About," Hal unnervingly stated into her face, his blue eyes cold and furious and seething with rage.
That was when she slapped him across his face, her nails piercing his skin. HARD.
The young king staggered backwards onto the floor, clutching his wound with a hand and crying out in pain. Kate immediately fell to his side, shielded him with her body and glared up at the other girl, daring her to come any closer to her husband.
Harry rushed over and placed himself between the two fighting teens, his arms outstretched to stop her from coming any closer to his dear cousin.
"Please, stop this!" he pleaded. "Violence leads to more violence! Please, think on what you're doing! Before you do anything you'll regr-"
He was cut in mid sentence, as Hermia shoved him away and the poor teen was sent flying to the floor with his cousin.
Hal saw this, and stood up, gently rejecting his wife's attempts to help him up, and clutched at his face with one hand, still staggering slightly. However, this did not faze him in his anger, nor did it make him any less intimidating to the other people in the room as he stood up to his famous 6'4 height. He glared down at her, dark, vengeful and pure fury in his gaze.
Now, Hermia looked scared. Truly scared.
"You do not," he breathed, his outrage clearly evident in his voice, "hit a KING. Nor do you use violence against my beloved cousin. By Jove, you have committed a great sin, and must now pay the price for it."
Loki, who stood next to Thor, watched with a serious look on his face. He admired this man, but knew that his temper would not get him anywhere if he were to be a great king like his father- Henry IV- had been.
Harry stood up and placed a hand on his cousin's arm. Hal turned to look at him. "Nay, gentle coz," he sighed. "Do not hurt her. Do not strike her. In her anger, she knows not what she does. And neither do you."
Hal's features softened and he nodded. "I thank thee, gentle Harry. You are indeed a true saint worthy of Christ himself."
Harry blushed and stepped backwards to allow his cousin to speak. Hal looked at the Italian girl again, his face stern and angry.
"Consider yourself lucky that my cousin has a good heart to spare you, lady. Next time, you may not be so lucky. I do not know what you speak of about Mercutio. If it was about my father, who he so unjustly insulted, then he deserves what he gets."
Kate gasped in shock, but Hal ignored her. "My father may have had his flaws, but I will not let his legacy or memory be tarnished, you hear me? Never. Mercutio spoke out of line-"
Kate placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Hal, you spoke about his father unjustly in return. That makes you no better than him."
Hermia's eyes flashed with anger. "You said what about his father?!"
"I said that he had no right to insult my father, just because he hadn't grown up with one himself."
Hermia and Juliet both gasped in horror and shock. "No one EVER mentions Mercutio's father to him! Don't you realise what you've done?!" Hermia yelled, her eyes filling up with tears. "Don't you realise how much this will affect him?!"
Hal shook his head. "I do not know what happened to his father, all I know is that he didn't grow up with one."
"You idiot! You bloody idiot!"
"Why?" Loki piped up from where he stood with his brother and Sigyn. "Why is he an idiot if he doesn't know what happened to that kid's father?"
"Because, Loki, Mercutio lost his father in a very… tragic way at a very young age."
"How?"
The Italian girl glared at him. "None of your business, loner."
Sigyn's eyes flashed. "Hey! You leave Loki out of this!"
"Well, then get him to keep his big mouth shut, floozy!"
Loki saw red. "Leave her alone," he snarled. "You leave her alone right now."
Thor stepped in. "Stop it. Right now. Fighting won't help us find your friend any quicker."
Loki looked at Thor in astonishment, before frowning, nodding and stepping backwards, Sigyn holding his arm protectively.
Hal ran his hands through his hair, sighing heavily in stress.
"What did happen to his father?" he eventually asked carefully after a few minutes of tense silence that had felt like years.
"It's not my place to tell you," Hermia replied, her voice and expression both equally serious and tense. "It's Mercutio's past, not mine. He does not remember what happened, but we do."
"We?" Hal repeated, frowning in confusion.
"Us Italians: Romeo, Benvolio, Juliet and me."
"No one else?"
"Tybalt does, and the adults, too. It was a…sad day indeed."
Hal sat down back into his seat, Kate's hand tight in his own. "Tell me what happened," he said, "so that I can know what my words did."
Hermia looked over to her cousin, who nodded.
The Italian sighed and nodded. "Alright, I'll tell you, but promise me that you won't tell Mercutio what I've told you." She looked around the room to look at all of the people gathered around the area. "That goes for ALL of you. Promise?"
They all slowly nodded.
She sat down in a nearby seat and held her hands together. "It all started on a day like any other…"
Benvolio and Romeo pushed through the trees that stabbed at them like knives as the rain continued to pound down on them like a hammer. Through his blurred vision, Benvolio thought that he could see a light in the distance, orange and faint, but still reassuringly there. He grabbed his cousin's arm.
"Look! Over there! That light!"
Romeo's eyes widened and he quickly nodded in response. The two 17 year olds pushed their way through nature's inferno, arms covering their battered and wind-torn faces, hands clenched tightly into their clothing and each other's hands.
Finally, they reached the light's destination to find that it was coming from some sort of enclosed cave that was pushed into the very back of a medium-sized cliff that overlooked the deep part of the forest that the two Montagues had been pushed into by the storm.
The two didn't care for that though, as they practically flung themselves into the entrance of the rock cave, seeking refuge from the battering, howling inferno that drowned everything in sight outside. They shuddered in cold as their clothes were soaked and chilled to the bone. Romeo shook his soaked, dripping head and sneezed loudly. Benvolio stripped his coat away, flung it further into the cave, grabbed his cousin by the arm, flung his coat aside as well before pulling them both into the cave, desperate for warmth from they were certain would be a fire.
As they ventured near into the cave, rain trickling down into a curved, abstract trail behind them, the two could see a figure sat next to the fire. Their back was to the entrance of the cave, and they appeared to be staring at the wall, hands wrapped around drawn-up knees, shivering intensely.
"Go away," came the figure's sudden statement.
The Montague boys looked at one another in shock before turning to the figure again.
"Go away," the figure repeated, voice shaking. "Leave me alone."
"After we're drowned to the bone after looking all over for you?" Benvolio replied, eyes narrowed. "Hardly."
The figure's head whipped round, revealing them to be no other than Mercutio, his eyes widened, shock, scared, terrified.
"GO AWAY!" he screeched, staggering to his feet and throwing an arm over his face while his shaky legs stumbled backwards in a desperate attempt to flee. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"
The two stepped forwards to stop their terrified friend, but at the moment when one of them touched him, he screeched like a banshee and threw his arms out to get them to let him go.
"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!" Mercutio wailed, cried, begged, all but screamed. "AAAAAHHHHAHHHAAAH!"
The two immediately let go, and the teen fell to the floor, wailing, shaking and scrambling backwards to escape.
"GO AWAY! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU TWO AGAIN! YOU TRAITORS! YOU LET MY FATHER DIE!"
"Nay, gentle Mercutio!" Benvolio knelt down beside him, grasped one of the boy's flailing hands and squeezed it reassuringly. "It was not us that killed your father! You know it wasn't!"
Mercutio response was to reach out and kicked Benvolio in the stomach. Hard. He then leapt on the disadvantaged teen and proceeded to beat him heavily with his fists.
"MONTAGUE LIAR! YOU LIAR, YOU LIAR, YOU LIAR! YOU KILLED MY FATHER!"
He howled as Romeo pulled him off of the other teen from the waist behind, and flailed, arms, legs, and tears flying everywhere.
"MY FATHER WAS KILLED BECAUSE OF YOU! A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSES! YOU KILLED MY FATHER! YOU BOTH KILLED MY FATHER!"
Benvolio staggered to his feet and grasped Mercutio's flailing hands, squeezing them tightly in his own so that he couldn't use them to fight again. Mercutio screamed full blast, as if the sheer physical contact was burning him alive.
As he struggled against the contact, Benvolio noticed a long trail of scars down his arms, and tiny looking piercing marks banded across his flesh.
"Mercutio…" he gasped, the urge to suddenly vomit engulfing him. "You harm yourself? You take drugs?"
But Mercutio was screeching, his face swollen with tears, his eyes, puffy and red from crying, his hair wet and mattered, his clothes soaking wet and his voice was getting hoarse.
Romeo continued to hold his friend firmly by the waist, holding him to him and trying to calm him by whispering sooth words.
Eventually, Mercutio's cries quietened and he fell to the floor like a sack of heavy potatoes. He could barely crawl, but he pushed himself to the very edge of the cave wall and curled up into a ball, rocking backwards and forwards as his hoarse voice croaked with spent tears that were all but gone.
Benvolio and Romeo looked at the boy in disbelief- sheer shock written all over their features. What on earth happened to him? What happened to the fun, wacky, manic, unique, brilliant Mercutio that they all knew? What the hell had happened to lead him to this?
Cautiously, the two young adults slowly edged closer to the sobbing boy. As their shadows loomed over him, Mercutio quickly glanced up and threw an arm over his face.
"Please!" his voice was hardly audible now after all that crying, and the two had to strain to hear it, though they could sense the heartbreak and desperation in it. "Leave me be!"
"Nay," Romeo replied, bending down to his distraught friend's level. "We will not leave you when you are in such distress."
"It is you that causes such distress," Mercutio spat back, his eyes narrowing and murderous.
Benvolio knelt down next to his cousin. "Mercutio-"
"Nay!" Mercutio could barely yell, yet his stubbornly decided to do so, anyway. "I hate you!"
He kicked at him, and Benvolio grabbed his hands. Mercutio hissed at him in response. "Mercutio, I did not kill your father, you know it was an accident."
"No, it was murder! You, you, and the Capulets, you murdered him!"
"No, it was-"
"LIES!" Mercutio howled and screeched through a red, sore throat, coughing and crying as he threw his head back and wept openly. "Lies! My brother and I became desolate because of you!"
Benvolio's eyes were by now also flowing with tears. He shook his head, trying to prove his innocence, but the distraught boy refused to listen.
"How could I have forgotten about it all these years?" Mercutio sobbed into the ground, his face pressed against the dirt as tears trickled down his face and turning the ground a darker shade of brown. "How could I have forgotten such a horrible thing all these years? How could I forget him? My own father?"
Benvolio reached out to touch his friend's shoulder, but the latter snarled and shrugged him away.
"You're finally crying now, are you? Good. Fuck off. The pair of you. Just, fuck off."
The Montague pulled his hand away, his tears bouncing onto his clothing and onto Mercutio, who didn't care or notice.
"Mercutio, please, just LISTEN!" he cried. "We didn't cause your father to die! It was the Montague nobles and the Capulets who did. It wasn't our fault!"
"You were there," Mercutio replied. "You were with me, yet you do nothing to get me away, nor did you go to get help. You just ran away and hid like the cowards you are."
"We were four!" Romeo protested. "We were all four years old! What were we suppose to have done?!"
"You should have gotten help. You should have…"
"We were scared!"
"So was I- yet I called for help."
"Mercutio, please-"
The child of Mannicini raised his head. "If you were my true friends, you wouldn't have let him die while I lay there in his own warm blood."
And it was those words, that single sentence that made Benvolio realise that nothing would be the same anymore for them. Something had grown and died in Mercutio, brought on by Hal's unknowing words, and had changed him. The sudden memory of his father's death had transformed him into something darker, more chilling, less remorseful, and that truly scared the two Montague cousins. What was to happen to him now that he was suffering from this PTSD so soon? What about the competition? His life? Would he get over it? How long would it take if he could? All of these questions swirled around their heads silently and yet their tension made it all the more noticeable and prominent for them.
What were they going to do?!
