The dull metal walls of the ship's interior produced the illusion that the shelter of the ship was every bit as frigid as the world beyond. The floor below my feet was composed of old wood, a change in scenery from the rest of the walls. The air was frosted, but not quite as crisp as the gelid mist outside. And as I seated myself next to a wooden crate, leaning against it as though it was capable of supporting my figure, Mercutio paced about, something I had never really seen him do. His boots clanked as each footstep descended to meet the ground, and one of his exposed hands stroked the flesh upon his chin, a stereotypical action that one carries through while pondering a worthy notion.
P

'What could he be thinking?' I wondered desperately, the question eating ravenously at my innards.
P

I was still debating inwardly myself whether or not exposing the fact that I had spotted Gabriel upon the dock was a wise conclusion or not. Images flashed of the discrete, lifeless expression drawn across Mercutio's face that night in the church, and they haunted me now, possessed my sanity. It was all I could do to relieve myself the shock of Gabriel's cruel grin, his devious expression. It seemed that every motion he had ever produced became dramatically exaggerated. His entire face reflected his emotion, or sometimes, none at all. This was an awkward moment, to be pondering the eternal mystery of Gabriel. And yet, it seemed without actually gazing upon him that often, I had seen enough of him to notice the subtleties he displayed.
P

It appeared that Mercutio was more skilled at concealing his wounds than anyone I'd ever met. Except for Clarence, perhaps. The two were so alike, yet so obviously contrasting all at the same time. And perhaps this was all nonsense, these strange, occult thoughts, or perhaps not.
P

"Mercutio!" I shouted suddenly, returning from my intermission of bliss back to my loss of sanity. "Must you pace this way! I am growing weary just watching you"
P

The comment hadn't been expected, not by Mercutio, (who ceased his heavy pacing vaguely long enough to give me a cold, but astonished glare), or even by myself. I was not one to allow such rupture to overwhelm my senses this way, to hand myself over to insanity. But this day, at this moment, I was a victim to insanity. All that had occurred was far too strenuous on me, as I was much too fragile to accept all the illogical events that had taken place before my very eyes. I was perhaps far too enthralled in my own desire for these events to claim false to really even hear myself speak.
P

I cannot recall if Mercutio moved again before the moment I gazed back up at him, but he certainly must have considering I found myself staring into a face that was his, yet was not. This face was contorted beyond reason, so frustrated that it appeared to change shape and form altogether, and although it was plainly Mercutio, I could not fight the feeling that I was face to face with a complete stranger. And I loathed this feeling, this impression of loneliness. I feared being alone more than one can imagine, feared it as strongly as I still do now, and it seemed for that sheer moment that Mercutio had really left me to fend for myself in a harsh, unforgiving world.
P

But slowly the face of an unknown party began to fade back into that of Mercutio. The lines in his face drew back into dry skin, and the irritation in his eyes became warm. He smiled at me dreamily, distantly, as though he were admiring me thoroughly. He gazed at me in a way that made me feel almost naked under his intense eyes, exposed. And my confusion turned to terror, though at the time I failed to comprehend why, as I realized that I recognized that stare; Mercutio was gazing at me the way that I gazed at Eliza!
P

"M-My friend?" I stuttered, attempting to break the awkwardness of the situation.
P

He blinked once, a long, exaggerated blink. When his eyelids rose again he had returned to the man whom I recognized. It was a relief, to say the least. Inwardly, I prayed that he would never looked at me either of the ways of which he had only moments ago. And how was I to know that indeed he would look at me again that way, the way that I looked at my fair Eliza?
P

A sigh escaped him. It was not an irritated sigh, or a distant, dreamy sigh. Simply a sigh, with no expression. His heavy hand rubbed reached back behind him, stroking his own shallow neck.
P

"My friend, I know that you are weary, but I am as well," he told me softly, so softly in fact that I almost did not recognize his voice. "Perhaps we should sleep. It will take a while to get to Coulon, and consciousness is our enemy right now"
P

Yawning, I nodded in agreement. There was no hiding the fact that I was exhausted, especially after all that had occurred. And after such a long journey outside in the wintry cold, I was more than happy to fall into slumber inside a moderately temperate atmosphere. I only hoped that we would not sleep for all too long, lest we be discovered by those unpacking the ship when we arrived. P

I pulled my reasonably warm jacket around myself like a blanket to contain my body heat. My head fell against the hard, wooden floor. I could feel myself shivering, various sections of my body quaking from cold. But I ceased to care. It was warmer in here than it had been outside, and for the moment I was safe. We were safe.
P

My eyes were closed as Mercutio eased himself down to the floor, his boots clanking against the wood as he stretched his legs out before him. I assume he mimicked my action in pulling his coat around his shoulders. I suppose he was a few meters away from me, his breathing heavy and ill. He sounded unhealthy, though I brushed the thought aside, knowing that my imagination would run away with me. And after all, I was probably sick as well.
P

Mere seconds before I fell asleep, I heard Mercutio's voice, his real voice, the one that was so familiar to me. P

"Roswell?" he asked in his philosophical tone.
P

"Hmm?" I muttered, somewhat irritated that he had broken my trance.
P

"Have you ever stopped and wondered about girls?" he went on, sounding as though he were wide awake.
P

I thought of Eliza immediately. Her beautiful face flashed in my mind.
P

"Many times," I mumbled, my voice sounding as though I had drunk too much wine, and was in the midst of losing consciousness in result.
P

"No, no, I don't mean that way," Mercutio corrected me. "I mean... why are we set up with them? Do you ever get the feeling that we're only with them because we're told to be"
P

His question made absolutely no sense to me. I suppose being as tired as I was at the moment did not help matters.
P

"I suppose so," I mumbled, not paying much attention to the question. "But it's late now, my friend, and I believe we should rest"
P

"Yes," Mercutio agreed solemnly.
P

And aside from the rocking of the ship, the waves lapping at the outsides of it, and Mercutio's occasional turning, there was no motion or sound as I slipped into a slumber so deep that perhaps upon being found, I might have been mistaken for dead. It was dreamless, this sleep, with no worries or cares... or Eliza. But I had done something very foolish in the midst of my ignorant bliss; I had ignored everything Mercutio had only just said to me. And had I not ignored him, perhaps what happened later would have been much less a shock to me...

A/N: The P are just to separete paragraphs... if this comes out as one huge paragraph I'm sorry! Fictionpress is being a bitch. Sorry it took so long to update this! I've been doing alot lately with school. Thank god for spring break! But anyway... I hope this chapter was to your liking. It kind of reveals the truth about Mercutio... poor Roswell is so naive sometimes. Oh, and one more thing (has nothing to do with the story): On my page thing (aren't I the intelligent onhe? lol) I have listed at the top under "homepage" a picture of me if you're really curious (or just need a good laugh at the way I look... bleh).