Hello faithful readers and welcome back! Chapter 17 is finally here. Wow. This story is older than Cornadopia (well, technically it has been older than me for a little while now...) But I assure you this is NOT the last chapter. In my mind, everything before this was Act One, and now it's Act Two.

DISCLAIMER - Me no own nothing Shakespeare owned.

Special thanks to all reviewers (*cough*brookeblue*cough*Pargoletta*cough*DarkAlessa*cough*). I am loving you and the reviews.

Enjoy please! (and as I've said before, sorry to all Capulet-likers - from a slightly insensitive Mercuito fan.)

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It started like any other day, though Romeo was with them and Allegra was not. After he had been assured by the Prince his cousin that Tancredo Capulet's daughter was safe in the royal kinsmens' watch, Mercutio prepared himself to wait for her and sought out Benvolio and the other Montagues.

He was happier than ever to see Romeo again. Up until the day he had met Allegra, Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo were almost never apart, but since he and Allegra had begun courting and Romeo had found a new maiden to throw himself into, Mercutio barely saw him anymore. When Mercutio found Romeo and Benvolio on the street, he joined them immediately and it was as though nothing had changed.

At least, to Mercutio and Romeo, nothing had changed.

Benvolio, always a quiet gentleman but never quite like this, fell behind his friends as their steps were stiumuated by their exicted talk of their loves. Benvolio was used to his cousin bouncing from one maiden to the next, declaring undying love for one maiden and then another the next week. Mercutio, though, was shocking. Benvolio had thought his friend's feelings for Allegra were bound to come and go, like Romeo's, as Allegra was the first girl he ever had feelings for. The previous day, Mercutio had shielded Allegra with his life. Benvolio knew that was not something anyone would do unless they were very, very much in love.

Sighing as he sat himself down on the fountain next to his quick-moving, chattering friends, Benvolio recalled the night of the Capulets' masquarade. Romeo's latest true love, Rosaline, was all he had spoken about, and Benvolio, Mercutio and the others had tried to get him out of it. Eventually, Mercutio mentioned this ridiculous fairy... Mab? Queen Mab, that was it. Benvolio snorted just thinking about it. Where did Mercutio think of these things? And how was it that he went from not believing in love to failling in love all in one night? It was good to see him so happy, but Benvolio never imagined Mercutio leaving him to be left alone and forgotten because of a maiden.

"Benvolio, how now, cuz?" Romeo asked after he and Mercutio had finished hysterically laughing about something. Benvolio shook his head, uttering the most sincere smile he could force out of himself, and small as it was, Romeo believed it and went to listen to Mercutio's latest speech, along with their other friends. Benvolio was disgusted with himself. He felt no different from when he was a child and he was left out of a game.

"Begging your pardon, sir," came a little voice. Benvolio turned to see a little messenger boy bowing to him. The boy spoke softly, and his eyes wandered. Benvolio got the feeling he was disturbed. "Are you not a Montague?" the boy asked.

Benvolio stood. "Ay, boy. Here, a coin for thy trouble. What dost thou bring?"

The boy handed Benvolio a letter that had been folded many times. "A note for yourself and your family, sir. Master Tybalt says 'tis urgent."

Benvolio got a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Thank thee," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Good day."

The boy nodded and ran off into the crowded plaza, looking back as though he regretted ever being there. The sinking feeling in Benvolio's stomach turned to a cold, hollow pain as he read the note.

Mercutio and Romeo, oblivious to the fact that a note had even been delivered, stopped their ping-pong game of joking for a moment and caught their breath.

"Ah, Mercutio," Romeo laughed, his deep brown eyes lightening. "Never have I seen thee so firey. And thyself, of all in Verona."

Mercutio poked him. They had spoken of Romeo's shock about Allegra, but Romeo had never gotten over it. Still, while Mercutio could have told Romeo to get used to it, the idea of his love for Allegra had been reborn inside him.

"Ay, I am on fire."

"And for Allegra?" Romeo grinned. "What is Allegra? Speak of her, Mercutio. Thou owe'st it to me. Thou art a poet. A bad one, but a poet nonetheless. Speak."

Mercutio spoke without consicousness. "What is Allegra. Huh. Only such a maiden that Venus would envy, that fairies would bow to, whose hair a simple man would shop with, whose skin the swan would think her own." Mercutio saw Romeo was hysterically laughing, and shook his head. "Bah. I act like thee."

"Thou act'st most gay!" said Romeo.

"Ay, quite like thee!" Mercutio said, rubbing his fist against Romeo's short, chestnut-colored hair.

Midday came soon, and Benvolio had read the note again and again. He looked at Mercutio and his heart sank even more. He didn't know how to tell him Allegra was definitley not coming.

"Ah, midday," Romeo said. "I must go. But I will meet with you at this spot to-morrow. I mean thee, too, cuz!" he added, patting Benvolio's shoulder.

"Aw, Romeo, have you no soul?" Mercutio asked. "You will leave poor me with the bore Benvolio and no maiden to distract me?" Romeo simpered, and Mercutio waved his hand. "Oh, you with your own maiden. Hump off, then."

Romeo smiled. He ran away, calling, "Tomorrow, Mercutio! Good day, Benvolio, everyone!"

When Romeo was gone, Mercutio turned his attention to his other best friend, just as Benvolio had feared. Benvolio sighed. He actually felt tears coming on. He kept his head down and stood still, ignoring Mercutio when he poked him.

"Alive, Ben? Asleep? Or bored as I am? Shall we go find some tavern or some other distraction? Allegra looks not as though she shall come soon, on my life."

Benvolio built up the courage to look at his friend's bright face. "Not soon, nay," he said. Mercutio narrowed his eyes at the note and grabbed at it, and Benvolio turned away.

"Thou wilt not show the letter?" Mercutio asked, grabbing at it and finally suceeding. "Thou tease!"

"Mercutio -" Benvolio began, but Mercutio opened it and walked away as he read it. He brought it to the others, who looked over his shoulder as he read it.

"Mercutio, stop!" Benvolio cried, but the Montagues shook their head. "Mercutio, 'tis grave news!" Benvolio would have tried harder, but Mercutio was too fast a reader.

Mercutio's face was pale as the moon. His look of excited pleasure turned around completley. Benvolio saw the pain. Mercutio shut the note and trhew it on the ground, walking back to fountain as though he was going to wash off the note's germs. The Montagues all had their eyebrows raised.

"Mercutio, who sent thee this?"

"Is it grave news?"

They all began to crowd him. Benvolio thought he had never seen him so pale.

"Ay," said Mercutio, "'tis grave news. Tybalt... Tybalt hath sunk lower than even I could drag him, and I his only defeater." He raised his head. "Benvolio," he said, his voice rough.

"Mercutio, I thought 'twas best I did not say -"

"I had to know!" Mercutio cried, running to the note and stomping on it.

"Benvolio," Abram said, "what didst thou not tell him?"

Mercutio kicked the note at them. "Tybalt has Allegra."

"WHAT?" said Balthasar. "You jest!"

"Just read the damned thing!" Mercutio panted. "Read it and drown it and damn it..."

"I shall read it. Let me read it." Benvolio opened the note in his trembling hands.

Montagues -

I ask that you all search your thoughts. Allegra Capulet promised to come to you at midday. She shall not. At this time, she is alive and well. If you find her in time, I will spare her life. If you come not after her, it will be as good as killing her. Should you tell a soul of her being with me, I will show no mercy.

Think of her little life and of your bastard ways,

Tybalt and Simon

"Mercutio," said Benvolio, "Sit down and think before you act. If you do not act wisely, Allegra will lose her life."

"No mercy," Mercutio said as Benvolio led him to the fountain. "GOD IN HEAVEN!" he erupted, and Balthasar actually screamed. "Tybalt's a devil! I thought Allegra was safe! I should have been there -"

"There was naught thou couldst do." Benvolio spoke as calmly as he could. "The Prince brought Allegra home. Thou couldst not stop him."

"I did not try hard enough! Ah, there is a sickness within me." Mercutio held his stomach, as though he would vomit. "I taunted Tybalt too far. I had it coming. I am the worst lover in the world."

"Thou art not," Abram said. "And 'tis to get at the Montagues, not only thee."

There was a silence. Mercuito and Benvolio exchanged glances.

"Abram, thou speak'st correctly," Benvolio said. "I know Tybalt. He's challenged me many times. He hateth the Montagues more than anything." Benvolio's eyes widened. "He shall blame Allegra's death on us."

A few others gasped. Benvolio made sense, as did Mercutio. Tybalt wanted revenge on Mercutio, and, as always, to destroy the Montagues. Mercutio was revlieved to know what was happening, but the thought of Allegra alone, probably in the dark somewhere, probably with Simon - it was like he was ripping apart.

"So he shall definitley kill her?" asked Balthasar.

"Nay," said Mercutio, suddenly raising his head. "He shall not definitley kill her. He wrote he times us." Mercutio swallowed. "Should we not find her in time, then ... but if we do, he shall only blame hercapture on all of you."

"And you," Benvolio added through a cough.

"Alas, what more can he do to me?" Mercutio growled, almost to himself, wondering how much more he would be able to take. "Whatever happens," he said, clenching his fists, "Tybalt shall not win."

Benvolio stood. "Think before you -"

"There is not time," said Mercutio, standing also. "I know not how, Benvolio, but we shall find Allegra. We must go."

"If thou go'st, wherefore think thou Tybalt may spare thee?" Benvolio asked.

"He may not. My blood, i'faith, should be dearer to Tybalt than Allegra's. So if the King of Cats should find satisifaction in killing me till his debt is emptied on his sword, I will not care; then will I see my love freed." Mercutio said this without realizing it, but meant it. "Now, we cannot tell anyone. Tybalt shall find out if we do - I know he shall. We must do this in secret."

"Do what?" Benvolio asked.

"Anything," Mercutio said. He tried his hardest to hold onto a little spark of optimism. "Her safety is my only prize."