Amor Vincit Mortis

by Drago Martines

Such a day it was, that early spring day. The whole world was coming alive around him, but Drago Martines felt himself still surrounded by the darkness of a perpetual winter from which he could never escape. He closed the curtains of the window tightly for he simply could not bear to look out upon the spring world. All that was out there was life. He was death.

'Soon enough,' he thought to himself, looking over the gun in his hand. 'Soon enough there will be nothing left but death.' Since Cecile had run off in the dark of the night because she simply couldn't take being considered his sister any longer, he knew that this day would come. Maybe he'd known it for longer than that. Something inside him had certainly died the first time he ever pulled that trigger, when he saw the bullet enter another human being, knowing that it was he who was responsible for extinguishing that person's life. His friend, Tino, had often jokingly prodded him by saying that it would have seemed that it was actually he who was shot by his reaction, and that was certainly how he felt then and also now.

Cecile was gone. That much was his own fault and the thought never left him. The memory of that wretched room in that awful building where he had killed her, haunted his every waking moment, and replayed itself as often as it could in his dreams. Bernardo Martines had told his son only two things before he succumbed to death and those two things were simply "protect your family, my boy, keep them together." Drago did the best that he could, but he had barely been a child when they came to him for the first time. How was he to know that running errands for local gang leader would turn into this? Turn him into this? It didn't matter anymore. Cecile was dead. Annette obviously didn't need him any longer. He had failed.

Placing the gun back on his bureau, Drago picked up a tattered looking bible and turned it over slowly in his hands. With shaking hands he opened it to the inside cover. Ninety-seven tick marks were shining in ink before his eyes and with the quick stroke of his pen he added another. Number ninety-five was Cecile. Number ninety-eight he had reserved for himself. With his hands trembling just as they had so many years ago when mark number one had been made, Drago picked up his gun and pressed it against his right temple. Just as his finger tensed on the trigger, the door to his room flew open and his most loyal companion, Benvolio, stood in the doorway, open mouthed and gapping at him. "What in God's name are you doing?" Benvolio asked, after struggling for words for a few moments.

Two conflicting thoughts jumped in his brain at that moment: "Do it anyway," and, "If you truly are not a monster you will not make him see this.' The second thought eventually won out and he dropped the gun to the floor. "I…" he didn't continue. He couldn't. Benvolio knew perfectly well what he had been doing.

"I just can't believe that you would even consider…" Neither of them could say what had almost come to pass in that room, but they both knew the danger and tension hanging in the air was so thick it was almost hard to breath. Benvolio sighed and breathed deeply, taking in as much air as he could get through this tense atmosphere. "You're worrying me." Drago just stared at his friend, so Benvolio continued his tone getting more and more frantic the more he spoke, "You shut yourself up in your own little world and barely even leave the house anymore, except to work, which you've handled in a strange, careless way lately that just isn't you. Then I come up here and find you with that gun to your head."

Drago, had he not been frowning to begin with, would have frowned further. The last thing he wanted to be to anyone he cared for was a worry. "Benvolio…" he began, perhaps in an attempt to explain his actions, perhaps just to calm his companion down, in either case he got no further than the name before finding even fewer words than before to communicate his thoughts.

After a few moments of waiting for him to speak, Benvolio picked up the conversation again. "Get out of the house," he commanded. "Take the patrol this month."

"I already sent Tino to take the patrol."

"See, that's exactly what I mean. What good is Tino for patrolling? He probably found a bar and is drunk already. You know that, and yet you send him out. Go find him and send him back."

He knew that Benvolio was right so he took his long coat from its hanging place on the mirror and turned back to his friend. "I think I will do just that." Benvolio seemed a bit happier that he had actually agreed to leave, but as Drago picked up his gun from the floor, he began to worry again. He didn't take his eyes off of him until the pistol was safely tucked away in his coat pocket and he felt certain that his friend wasn't going to take it out again anytime soon.

"You take care of yourself, okay?" He asked of Drago as he departed.

Drago nodded and then slipped out of the dreary house into the brisk spring air. Tino had been sent off to western Queens much earlier that day, so if Drago didn't know the boy very well he could have wandered for days without finding him. Drago did know, however, that Tino would be headed for the neighbourhood of Rego Park as a new bar had opened in the area. Normally that wouldn't mean much, but this was Tino after all, so he set out in that direction.

*****
Despite a rather thorough search of the bar, Tino was nowhere to be found. The bar tender claimed to have seen him, however. He also said that he had drunk a great deal before leaving, as much was expected from him. After a small glass of wine, Drago returned to his wandering. It was only a few blocks later that he turned into an alley and was confronted a horrific sight. There was a young lady lying, obviously unconscious, on the ground. He was used to death, far too used to it, but something inside him said that she had to still be alive. Sure enough, when he knelt near her and pushed some of her chestnut coloured hair away from her face, he saw that she was still softly breathing. The thought strangely comforted him and he tried to wake her. Eventually she did wake and when she did so, she pushed him away screaming, "Get away from me!"

He felt his heart drop at these words and backed away a bit. "Easy there. I'm not going to hurt you." He couldn't even fathom hurting her, and seeing her there, gasping in pain was tearing him up inside though he couldn't quite comprehend why. "Come on, let's get out of here. Can you walk?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice shaking as though she was holding back tears.

"Wanna try? You can lean on me if you have to." There was simply no way he was going to leave her there, but she seemed suspicious of him in a way.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Drago Martines," he said simply as he watched her try to sit up. "If you need any help just tell me." He couldn't have taken it if she hurt herself further, but she seemed the independent type for she was trying to stand on her own. Without warning, she fell, right into his arms and everything suddenly changed. He held her tightly, unconscious of what he was doing. In fact, he felt that he was about to fall himself. Just holding her made him lightheaded, but he continued to hold her anyway. He felt as though his entire head was filled with smoke, not a thought was left in his mind. Perhaps most importantly, he did not feel one passionate desire for this ravishing woman, whose form he felt against his heart. He was lost in a deep love for her.

"Easy, Miss," he whispered, unable to say anything else.

"Sorry," she said apologetically.

"It's alright, now where do you want me to take you? Home? Hospital?"

She looked up at him with slate coloured eyes that he could only think of as beautiful. "I don't know. I think I'll be okay, but..." It seemed to him that she wanted him to leave her alone, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He simply had to see that she was safe.

"Let's get you home. Where do you live, Miss?"

"Rego Park lodging house"

"Okay, and which way would that be?"

"Um...over that way." She pointed with one arm and they walked off in that direction, with her leaning on him most of the way. When they arrived, Drago knocked on the door and it was answered by an angry red-haired girl, who demanded an explanation. "I...got jumped in an alley. He found me," the beautiful girl explained.

"Put her on the couch," the angry one ordered, and he obeyed quickly, wanting whatever was best for her. There he waited and listened as the two of them discussed whether or not to get a doctor. Eventually the angry looking redhead decided that they would and turned to him. "Do you know a doctor?"

"I do, do you want me to go?" He asked the question more to his beloved young woman than anyone else. She had definitely seemed opposed to the idea of a doctor in the beginning.

"Yes, please. If you wouldn't mind," she said, sighing slightly and with her blessing he left for Astoria again, this time taking a trolley so that he could get help to her much sooner.

Dr. Grygo was a good man. He had saved Drago's beloved sister, Annette, from almost certain death, and Benvolio also reported that he had asked very few questions. This was a quality that was quite admired by their group. He quickly left for Rego Park with Drago, again asking no questions of him and only one of her, when he got there. Perhaps this was why his question of "Have you contacted the police?" startled Drago so much. If anyone had contacted the police, he felt he was surely doomed. It was a thought would not have bothered him in least that morning, but now the mere sight of that young woman changed everything.

So then it goes without saying that he was quite pleased when the other girl exclaimed, "Certainly not!"

The doctor shook his head and continued with the examination, eventually he deemed that Drago's love would live, but would be in great pain for some time. This caused him a sense of bittersweet happiness. He didn't want her in pain in any way, but it would be even harder to bear if her wounds had been fatal. After making this proclamation Dr. Grygo turned to leave, but as he did so he sent Drago an unexpected and most pointed glare. "No charge this time, Drago. The next time though, I call the police." Then he quickly left. 'There won't be a next time,' Drago thought assuredly, 'I will protect her.'

"Thanks, Drago," she said to him after the doctor had gone.

"No problem, Miss."

"Not Miss, Bryn."

"Alright then, No problem, Bryn," he said, repeating the name over and over in his mind. To him it was the most perfect name in the entire world. "Do you need anything else, Bryn?"

"No, I don't. But thank you very much for what you did."

"It's no problem at all." He started for the door, not wanting to become an annoyance to her, despite the fact that he never wanted to be out of her presence ever again. Then he stopped and looked back at her. "You don't mind if I come back to check on you, do you?"

"Not at all."

Then she smiled. She smiled at him and surprising himself, he returned the smile. "Good-bye ladies." Then he made the journey back to Astoria much lighter than he had come to Rego Park. He had come there terribly lost and depressed. He left in love; he had something to live for again.

*****

Tino was already home when Drago got back. He was in the kitchen nursing a nightmarish hangover. "Glad to see that someone's happy," he said groggily when Drago entered.

"Glad to see that someone has not passed out in the middle of the road again," he replied in a somewhat biting tone. That was exactly what Tino had done on the last patrol. He was one of the most unreliable people that Drago could think of.

"I'll have you know that I feel like I was just hit over the head repeatedly with a concrete block. I'm not exactly in the mood to argue with you."

Drago shrugged and walked out of the kitchen, heading back up to his room. As he passed Benvolio on the steps, he whispered, "Thank you," and then continued on his way. Upon entering his room, he went directly to his trunk and dug around in it until he found a small box that was falling apart. Gently taking off the lid, he pulled out a delicate gemstone necklace and held in front of his eyes as if examining it. It had been his mother's, given to her by his father on their wedding day, and now he was preparing to give it away himself. Certainly, a wedding necklace would be considered far too forward of him, but didn't have any of those little sterling silver saint medallions that were traditionally given back home. This was the best he had, so it would have to do. He just hoped that she wouldn't be offended.

*****

A nervous pit in the bottom of his stomach kept him from going back for a few weeks. He was terrified that she would reject him for a number of reasons. It was forward. It was strange. He was a hit man. That sort of thing. A few weeks later, however, he managed to suppress the nervousness enough to make the trek back to the Rego Park Lodging House, and after staring at the door for a few minutes, he managed to suppress the nervousness enough to actually go inside. He slipped in silently and his eyes fell upon her. "Oh, Hello, Bryn. I was just looking for you."

She looked suddenly startled. "You scared me."

He quickly apologized immediately and she confirmed that she didn't mind. Doing so, she smiled at him in such a way that he almost forgot how to speak again. "How are you faring?" He asked, once he remembered what words were.

"I'm doing better, thanks to you."

"It's not my doing."

"If you hadn't been there..."

"I was just doing what a decent person should do." 'I would have had to be insane not to,' he added mentally. They talked a little while longer, the subject hardly straying from her welfare and his good deed. Drago was starting to worry that he would never have the nerve to present the necklace to her, and it would especially be a problem if the topic couldn't be steered in a different direction. "So, what's this place like?" he asked, being unable to think of anything interesting or particularly witty to say. He leaned against the wall nervously, but managed to hide his emotion. That was one of his most prized skills.

"It's alright. A place to stay, ya know?" She said, a smirk suddenly adorning her lovely face, "You gonna sit down, or are you just going to lean there all day?"

"I think I'll lean." He was far to nervous just standing there. If he was too close to her, he felt certain that he would pass out. What would the boys say then, Tino in particular? He'd never be able to live it down. "But I know what you mean. My sister stays in a place like this."

"Really? Where?"

"Not too far. Astoria...."

"That's not too far at all," she said, "You don't live there with her?"

"No, she wanted her space, so I let her have some." The thought still stung quite a bit even though it had been months since she ran away. She hadn't even really run away. The two of them were still as close as they had even been, but still it hurt somehow.

"That's good. Not too protective or anything." She looked suddenly pensive, which gave Drago the impression that she was thinking of her own family.

"I thought so. Do you have any family?"

"Unfortunately." Her tone seemed slightly bitter as though her family had caused her harm and because of this simple turn on one word, Drago had to fight had to stop himself from considering any rash action against her family.

"Are they a problem for you?"

"Just my brother," she said with a somewhat pained expression, "My parents died when I was little."

"As did mine."

"Everything just went downhill from there."

"That's terribly sad." He assumed that things going downhill for her had something to do with this brother he having the urge to destroy, despite the fact that he had no idea what he might look like or where he would be found. "Where are you from?"

"Chicago."

"Chicago," he said slowly, thinking over the distance in his mind. "That's a good ways away." She quickly affirmed this. "Well, if it wasn't I would be sure to take care of it," he said, lightly tapping the knife safely stowed away in his coat pocket.

"What do you mean?"

"It's my job to take care of these things." After the words escaped him, he had to mentally slap himself. Now it was out in the open. Now she was bound to find out and never want anything to do with him. "I am sorry. I should not involve you in this."

"No, tell me." She stood up and walked toward him.

He froze, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. "I get rid of people for a living," he whispered as quietly as possible. He saw her lovely slate eyes widen and closed his own eyes so that he would have to see the look of absolute fright and revulsion that he felt sure would follow. He was about to lose yet another thing that he valued more than any other thanks to an unexpected twist in his life when he was but a young boy.

Then she startled him. "Well, as long as you don't get caught...I guess that's a good profession."

Drago couldn't believe it at all. She wasn't running off. She wasn't screaming. She looked strangely calm, as though the revelation had only slightly unsettled her instead of terrifying her as he had expected. Then they were suddenly discussing it as though it were a perfectly normal topic. He couldn't understand why she didn't reject him, but whatever the reason, it made him love her more. "It's a hell of a life, but anyway," he stopped and looked at her. It was now or never. "I actually came here to ask you something."

"What?"

Talking a deep breath, Drago took his mother's wedding necklace from his pocket. "In Sicily, it's a tradition for a man to give a girl that he...deeply cares for...a saint medallion, but as I don't have any. I thought...you'd like this." He held the necklace out to her, ready to be rejected.

"I...I don't know what to say," she stammered.

'Here it comes,' Drago thought. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"No, you didn't offend me. I'm just surprised."

"Oh," he said, nodding and then he breathed deeply again before daring to ask, "So, will you take it?"

"Of course!" Those simple words made him feel as though the heavens had opened up and his prayers had finally been answered, so when he gently placed it into her hand he actually smiled, a full, real smile, something he didn't do very often. He didn't think the moment could get any better, but then see kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

"No, thank you, Bryn," Drago said as he turned to leave. 'You gave me something to live for again.'