A/N: So, yeah, Epilogue. Can't believe this is finally done. Over a hundred pages on word. In this chapter, I tried to combine Benvolio getting the last of America out of his system as he prepares for basically his life as a lord in medeival Italy.

Do you want some fun facts? Here ya go. I based the year off of when Ben told Jake he was born. His fiance's first name is a play off tranquil (tranquil and benevolent!). Her last name roughly translates to "fast time" which I though would be good because Ben's moving forward with his life. And the 2ndish to last paragraph is a reference to the chapter Ben's dream.

Review and enjoy!

After a whole summer had passed and Benvolio still insisted on obtaining the right potion, Friar Gabrielt must have known his story was not all that it seemed, but he did not complain (perhaps because of the generous donations the church was receiving from the Montagues).

It was two years after that summer that the friar made his small delivery- an amount of potion that barely would have filled his palm, but the potion just the same. Benvolio-now nineteen- was overjoyed. He would have taken it right then and there if not for the circumstances, but fortunately, a letter seemed to work with the potion the same way the human body did, as far as disappearing went. He at least hoped it ended up in his friend's possession.

August 1, 1326

Dear Jake and Matt,

So letters have never really been a strong point of mine. My past tutors have told me that my written communication needs work. And that I need to stop breaking good quills. Among other things. Well, anyways /\\/\/\/]/\[ sorry, that was another quill. As I was saying, this probably may come out worse that usual, because I'm a bit jittery. Nervous, maybe. I don't know why. It's not a big deal. Remember when I was the calm one? I guess its Tana's fault.

Sorry. You don't know who she is yes. I should have told you before I mentioned her. I wish I still had erasers. You guys still use pencils, don't you? What I wouldn't do for one of those. Of course, I could use that stuff that's a little bit like your chalk, but it would rub off and what a shame would it be if all you got was a blank piece of parchment, I mean, if this works. But things always work out, don't they? They do? I just need to spit this out already. (By the way, I've used idioms like that back here and everyone just looks at me funny. Three musketeers and all that don't exist yet.)

I'm getting married.

Not tomorrow, no, I still have time. The ceremony's the day after. There's just so many things to get ready, with all the celebrations and that, and if the dowry price is changed one more time I may just hang myself, and this is the first time I've been alone in days, and people are just constantly talking at me. And I can't even have a bachelor party because that just isn't done yet. Hmm. Maybe I should start a tradition. If I had enough people to come to a party who wouldn't think I was crazy. Never mind that.

Anyways, I'm getting married. Her name is Tanaquille Felicetemp. Her family is from Salerno- its south of Verona- a merchant family. She is small, with dark hair and green eyes like American grass. I've told her about my adventures in America, except for the fact that it was America and the future. I told everyone I traveled to England. She knows about you two…roughly…I sort of named you Matteo and Jacob. And described you as a little less insane. She told me I should go back and visit you one day, which should please you. I told her one day, maybe, if I could ever find you again. She thought snow sounded fun. Can you imagine? I'm rather enjoying the warm weather. You don't know how much I haven't missed snow.

Anyways, so yes, I'm getting married. I gave her a ring and everything. Of course, in Verona, men don't wear wedding rings, but I might have one made anyways, just so I can have one. And I'm a bit jumpy. But it's no big deal. No big deal, right? Just one of the most important moments of your life. I wish you guys could be here. As of now, Valentine is my best man. You remember, Mercutio's younger brother? He's only sixteen, but he's wise for his age. Anyways, it's good for the families, seeing as we're both heirs for the titles and all that-yeah, Valentine's supposed to be Prince after Escalus dies. Isn't that funny? Twas supposed to be Paris, but, you know, and with Mercutio, and all…so Valentine's the next male of age…

So, in other news, Uncle's doing well. I shouldn't have to deal with being head of the family for a few more years yet, and, I'm nervous about my weddings and the Capulets are moving out of Verona. I think that's it, really. Oh, I entered a fencing tournament. Lost horribly a couple of rounds in. It reminded me how much I dislike fighting.

Sorry if I left anything out. I can hardly imagine you two reading this. Your actions always were unpredictable. Just, well, write me back…if you can…sorry it's been so long… I hope the potion works…I'll try to visit you as soon as I can. How's college? On the slight chance that you graduated high school, that is. Yes, I'm joking. It feels like forever and no time at all since I've last seen you. Forever, you know, because you're not here, but like nothing, because, well, I know you're there. And I talk to you. In my head. Sometimes, even though I know you can't hear me. Because it helps when I pretend you can. You are the future after all.


Benvolio Montague

P.S. Wish Ami good luck with senior year for me. Hope to see you soon.

It wasn't hard to send, considering the concept of time travel and all. He just let a few drops of potion fall onto the letter, put the letter into an envelope, and watched as it disappeared.

Ben smiled to himself as he thought of all the dramatic scenarios in which the letter to arrive. Hopefully nothing happened to it. It would be just like his friends to accidently throw an envelope into a bowl of ice cream or something…

"Benvolio, sir!"

Benvolio jumped and dropped the vial of potion as Balthasar raced through the door and started babbling at top speed. "The all of Verona has been turned on its side by thy uncle's search for thee, sir…" Benvolio didn't hear the rest and he looked at the mess he'd made.

By the devil.

He clenched his fists as he realized he'd broken the vial and it was spreading over his only memento of the future that wasn't his memories, or the scar. The one scene of that one play that had captured him, Mercutio, and Romeo together before all the dying had started. The last bit of potion he had was seeping through the worn packet of paper that, against his better judgment, he'd started getting attached to. It seemed as though nothing could last in his life.

Whoever gets that better keep it safe.

Ben sighed and resigned himself to the fact that the papers where disappearing before his eyes- not even a sudden vanishing, as usual. They were slowly fading out of existence, as invisibility was suddenly spreading over it. Who knew what the potion did anymore? For all he knew, this paper could actually end up in England.

"If I may, sir, what is it that captures thy gaze?"

Benvolio jumped and whirled around quickly. He'd forgotten all about Balthasar. "Nothing," he croaked out quickly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "Nothing," he repeated. "Troubling thoughts, tis all."

Balthasar smiled knowingly. "Sir, tis not my place, but thy wedding is to be as perfect as if the angels set it."

Benvolio smiled half-heartedly back. "Thou hath named my hope."

The servant nodded and gestured to the door. "Ah, sir, thy uncle is searching for thee. Thou might find best to convene soon."

"Aye," Benvolio spoke absently mindedly. "Grant me a minute more."

Balthasar nodded and bowed. "Aye, sir," he answered, backing out of the room.

He looked once more at the spot where the letter had lain, wondering still if he should have added that the friar said more of the potion wouldn't be available for years to come, as he had to pay for supplies to be imported from the Orient somewhere. Did this make him a liar? Should he just have sent the consequences to blazes and taken the potion anyways?

Of course not. His wedding was in two days, and he wasn't sure how long the potion's potency would last.

Oh, no. The wedding. Tana. Benvolio glanced quickly out the window, measuring the position of the sun. No wonder Uncle was looking for me. I'm late for the meeting with the bishop!

Benvolio hurriedly shoved his ink and quill to the back of the desk, glanced everything over once more to double check that everything was in place, and started hurrying out the door and down the halls of Montague mansion. This was it, the final approval with both the church and Tana's family before the actual ceremony. He was getting married to the woman he loved. He was getting married!

And now my friends know.

There was something spectacular about having best friends that you knew better than anyone. Even though they were gone, you would always have a part of you embedded with their voice, so you'd never really be alone.

Benvolio never felt alone again. The morning of his wedding, when he woke up, he even could have sworn that he'd seen Romeo and Mercutio for a second.

Wishful thinking. Like they could attend a wedding.

And he never looked back again.