The opportunist felt short of breath. He had taken that opportunity to declare himself as villain, but as he ruminated over the idea his viewpoint shifted. The build-up of the moment had excited his weak little heart. The idea of him being the true antagonist all along consumed him suddenly. However, it was true that he had sent the marigolds, packaging them in a stray envelope Rockwell left behind and sending them to the one man he knew for sure would understand not only their meaning—but deserved to see it.
"Why?" Arthur repeated his question, staring at Venice, prying for answers.
Ven turned to him, his smile falling away and his shoulders sinking. "I did not intend to send you cruelty, I meant to warn you." He admitted at last, slumping on the couch, exhausted. Dante crawled over, his nails digging into the shoddy carpet and his face healing slowly. "Zadig…?" Venice whispered, "You told me about this."
"Told you about what?" Arthur said, annoyed.
"He told me that you would be the subject of cruelty soon and that I should warn you." A smile passed over his face. Tears threatened to well up in his eyes.
"Warn me about what? What cruelty?" Arthur felt a peculiar feeling rising up. Although he was never pugnacious before, he hastened to throw himself at Dante. Succumbing to violence he would strangle the butler until he explained himself.
Dante did not reply, only watch him pitifully. Sebastian watched grimly, holding Ciel back. Impatient Ciel wanted to get out of the stuffy apartment and go home. He wanted to rest with a comfortable dinner and lay down in his silky sheets, dropping off into the abyss of sleep in peace until the new day brought something new—something productive.
"I don't know!" Venice cried, "I really tried to get Zadig to tell me but he's so stubborn! All I understood was something very terrible is awakening, some sort of league of horrid beings that concerns all like him, all those butlers I mean… I don't know what this has to do with you, but I suppose anyone who has anything to do with his kind are by default included in whatever it is…"
Sebastian stepped forwards and grabbed Dante's hair gruffly, pulling him up. The white streak fell from his fingers and landed on his face, a cobwebby mess. Dante stared up at him, his lips parted as if in deep thought.
"What is it? What was so important the cruelty is involved? This man, from what I've gathered, will or could live for many years yet, but what does this have to do with your master? Or mine?"
Dante only grinned, licking his teeth and, just as Sebastian was about to raise his fist, said: "I only heard about it… I know nothing about it."
"Have they come back?" Sebastian said, disgusted. He dropped Dante and turned back to Ciel. "Young lord, let's go home. It's getting dark and soon enough we won't be able to find a cabby."
"So quickly?" Ciel scoffed, "You hardly allowed time for any closure. What will we do with them?"
"We let them carry out their lives and we shan't meddle further. But first we need some antidote to make sure that poison won't come crawling back."
Until this point Venice had been quietly crying, his heart in rambles. "Them…?" He muttered through tears. "Who are they? You know something, sir."
Sebastian did not respond and approach Rockwell. Rockwell, who had composed himself since now pulled a vial from his pocket labeled with a thin "A". Sebastian collected it and gave it to Ciel to drink.
"Now, I trust that the poison only was set to cause distemper?" The butler asked.
Rockwell nodded, "But of course."
Arthur lingered, watching Ciel and Sebastian leave without a trace. He knew they would arrive home safely, but once they exited his line of vision his knowledge of them dwindled to only the vague memories he had. Shortly afterwards Rockwell made a curt bow and left the three alone.
Lock looked at Arthur. "What do you plan to do? Why have you stayed?"
"I want to know your son's side of the story. I feel like there is more to him than you think. But most parents are ignorant in that respect. You know your child much less than you think you do." Arthur responded, cheering up at once now that the big matter at hand had been settled sufficiently. Ciel was healed, the dolls wouldn't be distributed, and Lock would continue with his macabre acts. But Venice remained a mystery. When Arthur tried to peer into the darkly ringed eyes he felt cut off, as though a brick wall fell between them and he could only look through the cracks and the murky other side.
Venice looked up quite suddenly when Arthur sat beside him, causing the couch to sink. "So tell me, Ven, why are you crying? Everyone got away alive in the end."
"You'll laugh at me," Venice replied quietly.
"I may as well, but it won't be a mocking laugh." Arthur responded.
Lock sat across from them, regarding the two expectantly. Arthur gave him a questioning glance. "Just as you said," the doctor mumbled, "I don't know anything about my son outside of his dreams and what I made of him."
Venice tried to smile as he began, gaining energy as he went on: "I'm crying because I feel so much. Nothing bad has happened and I know it's shameful for a boy my age to cry and feel upset without reason. But here I sit, brazenly weeping for the silliest reasons. I cry because I love you. I love you like I love my father, like I love Rockwell, like I came to love Ciel and Zadig and Sebastian."
"How could you love us when you've only seen us for moments?" Arthur said, though he knew the answer.
"I have so much love inside my heart that I don't know where to put it, so I placed it upon all of mankind as a whole. I love mankind. I feel that they are genuinely good at heart and that their actions are a result of their upbringing and not who they truly are. I tried once to put all my love into a single person. At first I placed it upon my mother, a nonexistent figure in my life. This projected love could not last long because it had nothing breathing to connect to. It had nothing to latch onto and feed off of. I tried in vain to continue loving this mother even though I never heard her laugh or say a single word. And if I did, I don't remember it. I love you the way you might love the bright blue sky or the final note of a beautifully orchestrated piece. I love Lock like a father and I love Rockwell like an intelligent author I've never met. I love him despite his personality. Then I tried to project it on someone I spotted in the street or some character in a book. I became so terribly infatuated that it was unhealthy and counterproductive. In the end I decided to gather this endless love and direct it at humankind."
Arthur stared pensively at the boy and nodded to himself. "I see. But do will you still love mankind when you hear of the horrible things that they do?"
"Yes."
"Then listen well. In a town not far off from here a group of boys, no older than you, gathered together on a daily basis and preformed violent and cruel acts on neighboring cats. They would pick them up by their tails and cut off all their toes. One at a time they would dissect the being with twigs and rocks, laughing each time it cried out. I will spare you the details. You are a smart boy, so I assume you know the rest. Do you still love mankind?"
"Slander them as you will," Venice said, though fresh tears had poured down his cheeks as the images of the cats flashed before his eyes. "But I stay true to my words. Those boys perhaps knew no better or had a warp in morals. But I still love mankind as a whole."
"You say this," Arthur observed, "But you realize you're doing it all over again."
"Doing what?"
"You're projecting your love at a being not present directly in your life. Just like you did your mother; you idealize people. Listen, I know man well, I have been with them all my life and I am much older than you. I don't agree nor do I disagree. I think that your soul is precious and that Dante made a great gain when he agreed to attaching his will to your being. We need more people like you, especially where I'm from. You know, you remind me of a friend…
"I have an Italian friend named Feliciano. He has an endless pit of love inside him as well, just like you, Ven, and he does not know where to place it again. He fears that he will suffocate if he keeps it bound inside his chest for too long. So, he puts it, rather than in mankind where he will be constantly disappointed like a mother and an unruly child, he puts it in nature and in all the good that there is."
Venice's eyes gleamed with a sort of pride bubbling up. He wanted at once to meet this Feliciano. "But," he caught himself saying, and this surprised him, "—but goodness is not something tangible and it is even less identifiable."
"True," Arthur grinned, "He projects it to good things that he knows are good and are irrefutably so. He loves good cooking and food. He loves the summer skies and the winter snow. The sweet sound of singing, the way stars gleam in an open field, the way people are kind without hidden motives—he makes a point to openly proclaim those, and others, as his focus in life. I wish I could do that. Then again I'm a bitter old man who has thought too much and lived too little."
A hush fell over them as Ven contemplated what to say next. Again, he was moved deeply and wanted to cry, but he tried to abstain. He looked over at Arthur, who sat hunched over. His darkly colored trench coat was stained by time and wear in areas. Sandy blonde hair fell into his sage eyes and something else was there, too. Some omnipotent force rested on his shoulders—crueler than time and more useful than wisdom. Arthur was old, Venice understood that, and he knew it very well. Arthur's self-laceration was made obvious by the way he held himself. Every day he fought with himself, fought with his morals and tried to tend to them and make them more beautiful and righteous. He fought with himself so much he grew tired of it and had to find a new victim, someone else to inflict his pent up rage. But that would only cause a new inner debate and he would try then to make amends by being more charming or kinder with someone else.
Venice had seen it all before in other patients who visited his father. For instance, a young, feisty woman entered the tiny office, dragged in by a bedraggled older sister. The sister complained loudly enough to wake Venice from his nap. She begged Lock to fix up the bad temper because it was too much. "Mother's gone blooming mad! And then, when she tells her off she goes to father who drinks himself silly on a nightly bases—and how badly that goes!" she had cried out. Then, after a quick chat with the temperamental woman, Lock explained it in a hushed voice. Venice heard it all and made sure to memorize it. And here was Arthur with that same characteristic.
"Arthur…?" Venice said at length.
Arthur looked over at him.
"Are you afraid?"
"I…" Arthur scratched his neck, "I don't really know. I've been threatened before."
Venice nodded.
"You know, Zadig didn't have to convince me to send the flowers. Once I heard that you were in danger I was so terrified at once I decided to send them! If only I knew more about that ridiculous language. I would have sent you something better."
Venice stood. Lock did as well, but he turned away and left Venice standing alone with Arthur. "Well, I'm afraid."
"You don't have to be."
"Things will change from now on, won't they?"
"For you, I'm sure they will. For me: I don't think it will be noticeably quick enough."
Venice bent down and picked up Arthur's hand, pressing a kiss to the coarse knuckles as a sign of respect. With his elders Venice was especially gentle. This made Arthur feel older and consequentially sadder.
"Good bye, Venice. I fear that this was the first and last time our paths will cross." Arthur said, collecting his things and making for the door.
"So be it." Venice chuckled lightly.
"And, as it may be, Dante—who is nowhere to be seen—will cross with my life time many more times yet." Arthur looked around. Dante, or Zadig, and soon no longer to be Hector, had vanished from view. "But I believe you'll be seeing Ciel and Sebastian shortly."
Arthur turned and left, clambering down the stairs and entering the chilly night. A stray cabby loitered about in the front and he beckoned them over, asking to be carried off to his house. The cabby agreed in a heavy cockney accent, whipping his horse and riding off into the night. The skies were clear and each star glistened brightly, as though they were freshly planted in their positions.
Venice stared up at them from his window, feeling tired but more alive now without his "medication". And the skies—oh the skies! How far away they seemed. For a moment he fancied to reach out and collect one in his hands from how clear and bright they were. But they, just like his mother, were quite unreachable. But, Venice thought to himself, so be it.
And so we draw to an end of Part I: So Be It. Thank you for the reviews and keep them coming! I'm not done yet.
On a side note-I'm glad my original characters are to your liking! I'm elated to find that they weren't annoying or Mary-Sues. I tried my hardest to give every character as much depth and personality as I could. I hope that shows.