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What does one do at the loss of their lover? What does one do whilst their lover bleeds out on the floor, cursing your family and it’s enemies? Would one simply grieve silently and in pity, or out loud, announcing to the world that they have lost all joy and light in their life, that their whole world flickers into a merciless darkness with one single gunshot? Or would one be like Benedikt Montagov, roaring with rage and denying the impenetrable and daunting reality that his lover had died without ever knowing of his true feelings?
Rage flares through Benedikt as he trails behind his cousins, Roma Montagov and Alisa Montagova, out of the damned hospital and back into the chaos damned city. He can’t help but think back to the last words he’d ever hear uttered from Marshall Seo’s charming lips, the sentence that tears him apart from inside out. “You are all mad,” Marshall had said, bleeding out from the bullet wound that tore through his skin. Had he also meant Benedikt Montagov? Blood poured faster out of Marshall’s side as he spoke, his voice a broken thing, “You are all cursed. Montagovs and Cais alike. There’s a plague on both your damn houses.” In his dying moments, had Marshall’s anger for the Montagovs and Cais been strong enough to hate his best friend? Benedikt didn’t dare allow himself to wallow in the grief of believing the steep possibility that Marshall had hated him in his last wisps of life. As Marshall lay dying, Benedikt was held back by a Scarlet, his eyes begging for Marshall’s to look at him and let him know he’s okay, that he wouldn’t let go or stop fighting. Marshall was a fighter, he had to fight. He had won almost every fight he’s ever fought. Almost.
“An eye for an eye.”
Benedikt silently begged Juliette Cai and the Scarlets for mercy, but it wasn’t given.
“A life for a life.”
Bang.
In a fraction of a second, the pull of the pistol’s trigger, Benedikt’s heart was ripped out from his chest. A bloody and cruel murder. He had demanded Marshall to get up, to open his damn beautiful eyes, but he never would. Benedikt hadn’t a care in the world what the others in the crowded hospital room thought, he mourned Marshall as one would a lover, because that was what he had been. Benedikt loved Marshall silently in the loud stir of Shanghai nights, as the night’s flaming stars loved the moon, longing to reach it, but always being out of reach and unable to bathe in it’s love and beauty.
As the Montagov Estate rolls into view over the horizon, Benedikt falls out of step with Roma and slips quietly into the shadows of Shanghai’s alleys. He walks with no destination, just allows his feet to carry him further into the dangerous streets of the city. Benedikt could have been walking for minutes, or perhaps hours, no matter the time, his feet take him to an underground arena, one of Lord Montagov’s most prized investments. Common nights, Marshall would have fought in the ring, while Benedikt quietly cheered from the bar. But tonight, Benedikt fights. He is a better fighter than he lets on, all those days sparring with Marshall and Roma finally pay off. At the end of the night, after many brutal fights, Benedikt returns home to his disturbingly quiet and empty apartment with a few purple bruises and nasty cuts. They would all heal within a matter of days, perhaps a few scars would be left behind. A simple reminder of the pain they had once caused . But they are nothing compared to the tearing hole in his chest that would forever bleed, never sealing or scarring over. The pain would last for evermore.
The fighting drew on for weeks, which bleed into months. For months following Marshall’s death, Benedikt would be locked up in his empty apartment, staring through tears at Marshall’s door that had been left ajar. He’d never dared go in, afraid the pain would be too much to bear. At night, he’d walk aimlessly to a fighting arena or bar. Roma made sure to follow his cousin, knowing he’d be grieving and hurting. And knowing of the chaos that followed.
Tonight, exactly four months after the last time he’d seen Marshall’s charming smile, Benedikt is perched up on a bar stool at a White Flower burlesque club, drinking beer after beer. He is drunk and smells of alcohol.
“I found a Scarlet sneaking around our alleys. I put a bullet in his head,” a White Flower is saying to his drinking partner. Anger coils through Benedikt, the fucking blood feud.
An eye for an eye.
In his drunken state, without thinking, Benedikt launches out of his seat and at the gossiping man. He throws the guy out of his seat and onto the floor, holding on to the collar of his shirt. Benedikt throws a hard punch square to the man’s face, hard enough that it draws blood and splits his knuckles. He prepares to throw another, and the man intelligently throws his arms up, knocking Benedikt off him. Roma rushes to step in between them, “Alright, that is enough.”
“What is wrong with you?” The man asks callously.
“I said, that is enough,” Roma cut in. The man glares daggers a final time at Benedikt and listens. He has the brains to listen to Roma Montagov. He stalks off to the bathroom, presumably to clean up the gash at his brow.
Roma looks at Benedikt like he’s a different person, and perhaps he is. The Benedikt he’d been before Marshall’s death would have never done something so cruel, it would have been Marshall who threw the punch. Roma takes Benedikt by the arm and marches him out of the bar and into the dark alley. “Benedikt, what has gotten into you?”
He doesn’t respond, his head is spinning from adrenaline. The blood feud is the blood feud. Benedikt should have killed that man, an eye for an eye.
A life for a life.
Juliette Cai had taken the love of his life, and she will pay. “Take me to Juliette Cai.”
Roma looks stunned, he hadn’t anticipated such a request. “What? Why?”
A red rage burns through Benedikt, doesn’t Roma see? A life for a life. “She has to pay for what she did to Marshall,” his voice is sharp and brutal.
“Benedikt. I. I know what she did to Mars was cruel and unforgivable, but killing her won’t do anyone good.” So, Roma does see, and still he protects her. The lovers really have switched places, then a lover and a liar, now a liar and a lover.
“Aren’t you mad?” Benedikt yells, “She has betrayed you, more than once. She murdered your mother, Roma. And now she has murdered Marshall.”
Roma drew in a short breath, controlling himself, “I’ll take you to her on one condition.”
Benedikt narrows his eyes and nods. “Don’t kill her.”
The Cai Mansion is beautiful and grand, sitting at the edge of the city, watching over Shanghai like an eagle preying it’s next victim. Juliette’s bedroom is located on the far west side, where a lonely balcony hangs out. Roma instructs a now sobered Benedikt carefully as they scale up the high wall. They keep to the side of the building and in the shadows, untouched by moonlight. Roma climbs up silently onto the balcony and reaches out a hand for Benedikt, and pulls him onto the platform. Benedikt continues to hide in the shadows as Roma knocks rhythmically on the glass door.
Knock-knock-knock.
Pause .
Knock-knock.
Roma repeats the rhythm several times before the curtains are angrilly thrown open. Juliette stands on the other side of the glass, hands at her hips, a blade gleaming in her palm,“What do you want, Roma?”
Roma nods his head, gently asking her to step out into the moonlight. With a groan, Juliette stupidly unlocks the door and steps out into the cool Shanghai night.
Without a sound, Benedikt steps out behind her, holding a pistol to the back of her neck. Juliette’s shoulder tense up, she draws a long breath and tilts her head towards Roma, angered by her stupidity. The only thing restricting him from killing her is the safety pin. “Benedikt,” Roma warns, reminding him of his promise. Maim and injure, not kill.
“What do you want, Roma?” Juliette asks again in Russian, this time angrier than the last. She adjusts the grip on her blade, holding it towards Roma.
Roma narrows his eyes, “I don’t want a thing.”
“I want you dead,” Benedikt spits. His finger tightens dangerously on the trigger.
Juliette’s voice softens, her gaze still rests on Roma, “I’m sorry for what I did to Marshall.”
Under the moonlight, Benedikt can see the words hang thickly in the air, but go unsaid, it was the only thing that could save you, Roma.
Benedikt's jaw tightens. He could kill her, have his vengeance and avenge his fallen beloved. But, he doesn’t. He keeps his word to Roma and loosens the gun from Juliette’s neck. Her shoulders relax and she turns towards him, her hands dropping to her side.
“I truly am sorry. But, if you can trust me and stay quiet, I’ll take you to him.”
It suddenly hits Benedikt like a brick to his head, Marshall’s body was not taken back to White Flower territory, it was left to the disposal of the Scarlet Gang. Tears dwell in his eyes, he forces them back and nods.
The cousins follow Juliette down the side of the mansion and into the labyrinth of Scarlet alleys. She doesn’t stop until they’ve reached a crowded and dirty apartment complex. Benedikt notes that Juliette turns slightly towards their trail every few steps, perhaps to watch for an unwanted follower. Tyler Cai perhaps.
She leads them up a few flights of stairs and down a damp hallway. Why would the Scarlets gang leave Marshall’s corpse in a run down apartment? Juliette bangs rapidly on the door and she speaks in her usual Mandarin, “Open up. You have guests.”
Loud footsteps come from behind the door, someone running. The door swings open and behind the threshold, stands Marshall Seo looking alive and handsome as ever. His usual smirk playing on his lips. “Who has the pleasure of seeing a dead-” He stops short at the sight of Benedikt.
“Ben?” Marshall breathes. Helplessly, Benedikt launches himself at his lost love, enveloping him in a breathless hug. In case of it being a falsity, Benedikt grips Marshall’s shoulders tighter. Marshall, who seems to be finally coming to terms with what is happening, wraps his arms around Benedikt and tucks his head into his shoulder.
“Could you, perhaps, do this reunion inside? Where you will not be seen?” Juliette rushes.
Marshall lets go of Benedikt and pulls him inside by the arm, the door shutting behind the both of them. Leaving Roma and Juliette outside in the damp hallway.
Benedikt looks Marshall up and down, his head finally comprehending Marshall’s liveliness. Alone in the cramped apartment, they switch from Shanghai’s native language to their usual Russian. “Did you miss me?” Marshall has the audacity to ask. After months of hiding away and that’s all he has to say. A cheeky smirk on his lips and Benedikt does not know whether he wants to kiss it or punch it.
Benedikt resorts to shoving him backwards by the shoulders, “You’re an ass. Allowing me to believe you were dead. For months.”
Marshall’s charming smile disappears, replaced by a concerned look. A look foreign to Marshall. Benedikt would say it impossible, if he hadn’t seen the look once before. Marshall tilts his head to the side, and slowly reaches his hand up to Benedikt’s jaw, turning his head to reveal a nasty cut he had acquired in the arena a few nights back. Switching to gentle Korean, Marshall asks, “What happened?”
Benedikt jerks away. “Arena fight,” he mutters in Russian. His answer only pushes Marshall’s eyebrows closer together, confusion clear on his face.
“Since when did you fight in arenas?”
“Since you died.” Benedikt says, harsher than he had intended. Marshall sighs and looks down. His eyes widen again at the sight of Benedikt’s knuckles, bloody and bruised from the fight earlier.
Marshall turns and gestures for him to sit on the counter in the kitchen, grudgingly Benedikt listens. He hoists himself up as Marshall opens a cabinet under the sink and pulls out a bandage. He wets a cloth before returning to Benedikt, placing himself in between his legs, and begins gently cleaning up the wound. A moment flashes before Benedikt’s eyes, several months ago, Marshall had been sneaking around Scarlet territory. When he’d returned home that night, he was bloody and bruised, for hours Marshall sat perched on the kitchen table, as Benedikt is now. Benedikt stitched his cuts and bandaged the wounds. Now, Marshall stood in his place, gentle hands cleaning the blood, whilst simultaneously stitching up the hole in Benedikt’s chest.
They are silent for many moments, so many it worries Benedikt. Never before has Marshall gone so long, so silent. Marshall finally breaks and whispers, “I’m sorry. Juliette made me swear I would not tell you. She said it was for your safety.”
“Juliette Cai? She saved you?”
He nods, “She gave me some of Lourens’ experiments, the one that makes your heart stop, but you aren’t really dead. Then she fired her empty gun. After you and the White Flowers had left, she begged a doctor to save me. Since then, I have been living alone in this run down apartment.” Benedikt can’t help but worry about how lonely Marshall had been. He needs to be surrounded by people, it’s how he survives. He doesn’t do well sitting around lonesome. Marshall’s hands freeze when he finishes wrapping Benedikt’s knuckles. He doesn’t look up to meet his eyes, but continues.
“I wanted so badly to tell you. To save you from grief, but she said I could not. She said should the secret get out, Tyler Cai would hurt anyone who knows of my location. And I would not give him even the slightest of chances to hurt you. I’m sorry, Benedikt.”
When he finally looks up, Marshall’s eyes are swimming with tears. Instinctively, Benedikt moves to wipe them away. Marshall has never cried, not even when he was young and alone and without family. No one knows what happened to his family that left him alone, nobody but Benedikt. One night, perhaps a year ago, Marshall had come home late. His fist bloody and his face bore many bruises. It was that night, Marshall had finally whispered the story.
Early in the 1900’s, Korea had been conflicted. Korean Nationalists wanted independence from Japan’s protective watch, but Japan refused. This dispute led to many battles, and thousands of Koreans had been killed. Marshall’s father had been a soldier under the Nationalists. Before leaving for war, he’d warned Marshall’s mother of the dangers in remaining in Korea. His mother refused and stayed. When a condolence letter was dropped on their doorstep, Marshall and what was left of his family packed and fled. Their family had been poor, his mother did not have enough money for all of them, so she gave up her freedom for her two sons to make a better life elsewhere. Marshall was small, but he had understood his mother’s sacrifice. He’d never find any information about what had happened to her after he fled, but one thing was clear, she was dead. When the brothers landed in Shanghai, they’d quickly adjusted to the murders and crime in the city; they lived in alleys of White Flower territory. Marshall’s brother joined White Flower ranks to afford them some food, until he was killed one night, spying for Lord Montagov in Scarlet territory. That night he did not return. One night, which drew on into weeks, Marshall began to wonder where his brother had gone. In the midst of his search, he had met Benedikt, who in turn brought him to Roma. And through Roma, the truth was unraveled. The murderer was unknown, but one thing was clear. Marshall’s brother was dead.
And still that night, Marshall hadn’t cried. He’d simply taken the information and hung his head. That night, Benedikt had brought him back to his apartment, and helped Marshall set up a shrine for his family. Benedikt would do anything if he never has to see tears in Marshall’s eyes again. “It’s alright, Mars. At least now, I know you aren’t amongst the dead.”
They are a few inches away from each other, nose to nose. It is like they had once been, out on the boardwalk that floats over the Huangpu River, when Marshall had joked about his death by the hand of the monster. Benedikt now mirrored Marshall’s movements, placing a gentle finger on his cheek, making sure he is real and not a work of Benedikt’s cruel imagination. Marshall doesn’t pull away, he is there.
Marshall is alive.
“May I kiss you?” Benedikt whispers. Marshall nods.
Benedikt leans down and closes the gap between them, pressing a desperate kiss onto Marshall’s lips. Marshall’s hands wrap around Benedikt’s waist, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss and closing the space in between their bodies. Benedikt slips his hands under Marshall’s shirt, he softly runs his hands over the curves of Marshall’s body. He trails his hands up and up until he feels a broken bit of skin, a scar.
Benedikt pulls back, dropping his gaze to where his hand rests. Slowly, he rolls up Marshall’s shirt. He holds his breath as the scar is unveiled, wrinkly and pale pink. Benedikt touches it gently and smiles sadly at the scar.
A simple reminder of the pain it had once caused.
Marshall reaches up and cups Benedikt’s cheek, taking his eyes off of the scar. He rests their foreheads together and leans up for a softer kiss. Benedikt whispers into the small space between them, “I will not lose you, dorogoy .”
“You will not lose me. Never again, nae sarang. ”
As the door shuts behind Marshall and Benedikt, Roma and Juliette are left alone in the damp hallway. They don’t have words for each other, Juliette’s face remains blank, while Roma reels with the possibility of Marshall’ being alive. Roma, still confused, turns to leave, and before Juliette has a second to comprehend her actions, she reaches out and grabs hold of his wrist. “Wait.”
“What? You want me to be thankful for what you did to Marshall?”
Juliette is silent, she only wonders if Roma realizes that she did what she had to do. What she had to do to save him. The stupid and desperatly in love part of her begs for him to understand. But do you deserve his understanding? His forgiveness? a little voice whispers.
“I’m sorry, Roma. It was my fault,” She pauses to make sure he is truly listening. His head is turned to the side, just slightly, an indication he is hearing her out. “I was mad. I love my Scarlets. And you had betrayed my trust and everything I had thought we’d had. The woman who had practically raised me, she was murdered from your raid. And I needed someone to blame, someone to hold the guilt in my place. And that was you.
“We had told each other everything, every little and dirty secret. We had promised the feud didn’t matter, least to us. And I knew the most horrible way to enact my revenge. The night before I had left again for the West, I’d let slip of her location. It was purely in anger. I should have known better, but I was wholly blinded by my anger.”
Juliette felt small and vulnerable, but she kept her head held high. Roma turns slowly towards her, his expression horrifyingly unreadable. Perhaps one day they could forgive each other for their wrong doings or perhaps they would never and instead dig their daggers into each other's skin, watching proudly as blood drains from the other.
After a few moments of intense silence and staring, Roma sighs and pulls Juliette in for a hug and whispers into her hair above her ear, “You could have at least told me he is alive.”
Juliette chuckles, “It’s too dangerous. It still is.”
“Thank you for saving him,” She doesn’t need to see his face, she hears it in his voice and can imagine his smile as clear as day, “Benedikt would have torn down all of Shanghai, and he’d have done it lonesome.”
Suddenly, Juliette remembers the note Kathleen had found, “Roma. The monster, it’s gone.”
Roma nods, curiously, “Yes, I know. I was there.”
“No,” Juliette shakes her head furiously. She explains the note to him, the missing dead bug and watches as his face hardens.
They’re going to have to cut this reunion short, they have a monster to kill. Again.